#rules and verses being added soon!

[swcllcwscng]

"Swords Descent!"

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~ Indie & Crossover Friendly Yanqing from Honkai: Star Rail, Forged by Pride ~

Main Blog: @adventurouswind

Promo image made by @axcat / @thenameoftheworld

~ Muse is estimated 14 years old, Mun is 34 ~

Rules / Verses ( added soon! )

Mains: @kanxing (Blade)

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[macabr3-barbi3]

*gets on knees* hello,,,,, I am,, muy hungr y.......... priest vox one-shot PLEAAAAASE.. perhaps Vox has taken a more Catholic turn with Voxtech to capitalise on the fact that being redeemed has suddenly become extremely popular since the Hazbin Hotel was rebuilt ('TRUST US! with YOUR redemption'), he doesn't ACTUALLY believe in any of it of course but anything for a buck. Idk how reader would end up there LOL but I can't stop thinking about him using the most dirty religious euphemisms AND MAYBE USING A ROSARY TO BIND READER'S(OR HIS IF UR FEELING REAL FREAKY) WRISTS RUFF RUFF BARK BARK BARK I'm totally normal (I'm losing my mind)

HELLO FRIEND I LOVE THIS (AND YOU SINCE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE LOL)

disclaimer that I am not religious, I took most of these bible verses and things at face value- Vox doesn't care about using them correctly why should I LMAO

going to Hell for this one lads anyone wanna carpool?

Tags: blasphemy, priest kink, fucking in a church, improper use of rosary beads, confession that is not up to code, exhibitionism? if you squint? improper use of bible verses

HOT PRIEST VOX IN THE BANNER FROM @chefskjssart AND THE BANNER ITSELF FROM @fraugwinska I LOVE YOU GUYS ❤️❤️❤️

When you arrive in Hell as the result of a car accident, the first thing you see is a billboard- there’s a television on it, of all things, one with a face that wore a confident smirk under eyes that seemed to promise something. What exactly it was, you couldn’t tell, but the bright, flashing words next to him caught your attention, like you were sure they were supposed to: “VoxTek presents VeeLigion- TRUST US! With YOUR Redemption!”

You spend a couple days trying to get your bearings, and you determine that Hell fucking sucks- before falling you had been stabbed a grand total of zero times, and within 24 hours you’d had a knife in you twice. Which, TV did a terrible job at depicting stabbings; it wasn’t a soft gasp and a betrayed glance at the person holding the knife, it was a burning flash of pain and a scream that echoed in your head even after you stopped, even after the wound miraculously healed and left you with holes in your clothing that exposed unblemished skin.

TV also painted a pretty inaccurate portrait of Hell as a whole. Sure, you’d been stabbed a couple times but it wasn’t all fire and brimstone- everyone else mostly left you alone, a fox-faced woman had given you a bandage and a half eaten sandwich while you sat bleeding in an alley outside, there were bakeries and regular storefronts, and maybe a few more sex shops than you had been anticipating. But it was a whole society like it was when you were alive, albeit with maybe less rules and consequences.

You see more advertisements from the guy with the television head (Vox, you had picked up from the newspapers and magazines that littered the sidewalks), promises of salvation to be found in his newly built church in Pentagram City, redemption at a low cost. You had seen other ads, from a place called the Hazbin Hotel, but regardless of how different Hell was from what you had imagined, you still figured that the Devil was bad- his daughter couldn’t have been much better. And the Princess of Hell just didn’t catch your attention like Vox had; come on, his head was a television, what choice did you have but to look at him?

And it was no real surprise that you had ended up here, despite the years of Catholic school and nuns striking the fear of God into you when your parents had decided that you were too much trouble as a teen and shipped you off for a few years. You had done your time, did the prayers and shit with your skirt just an inch or two above the regulated length, and as soon as you had the chance you were out of there, back to the fun life you had enjoyed before…

Even if you did now have the voice of Sister Lucy in your head when you went down on someone, telling you that idle hands- and probably lips- should only be used in service of the Lord.

But Jesus, was some premarital sex really enough to damn you to this shithole? The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to find your way to the center of the city to find that Church. Maybe the whole redemption thing was bullshit, but also maybe since it was a church they could give you shelter. A place to hide from the chaos on the streets while you figured out what the fuck you were going to do. You didn’t think you needed food to survive, really, but you would do almost anything for a hot meal in your mouth just for the comfort of it.

After getting directions- and another fucking stab wound, where the fuck were people getting these knives?- you make your way to the VoxTek church, and here’s another point against the Hotel. The thing is massive and gorgeous, blue and white stained glass that covered the building reflecting the red of the pentagram in the sky, Vox’s likeness front and center above the intricately detailed doors. It’s pristine, and perfect, and you’re suddenly very self conscious about the state of yourself, covered in blood with clothes that are the wrong brand of ‘holey.’ But you’re already here and on the steps, so there’s not much else to do but climb them and reach for the doors.

A tablet pops in front of you, ‘AdamAI’ engraved across the top. “Welcome to the VeeLigion church,” the thing says, the voice bored and haughty. “Entry starts at $5.99.”

“You fucking charge just to come in?” Maybe you shouldn’t swear at what looks like some sort of angelic device but fuck, really?

“A small price to pay for salvation!” It says, and little wings flick out of the sides to flutter, like it was trying to distract you. “Come on, don’t you wanna go to Heaven? It fucking rocks up there- Hell is dirty and smelly and gross, and-”

“Yeah people just stab you like all the fucking time,” you mutter, “but I don’t have any money.”

“Plan B then- you can sign this screen right here-” Some sort of contract appears on the screen, the letters too small to read properly, with a line at the bottom. “And the matter of payment can be discussed at a later date, at the owner’s discretion.”

“That’s a little suspicious.”

“You could go get stabbed again,” it snarks, and a pen pops out of the top. “Or you could go to that shitty hotel that doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing, with Lucifer’s brat. Choice is yours.”

You have to admit that the pristine glow of the church seems more promising than what you had seen of the Hotel, so you sign the contract and the doors swing open without the creak of heavy wood- when you touch it on your way in you realize that it, too, is actually metal, manipulated to look like wood to sell the facade of the building. “Good luck,” the tablet chirps, followed by something that sounds suspiciously like “you’re going to need it” as the door slams shut behind you.

It’s eerily quiet inside the church, likely soundproofed since you can no longer hear anything that’s going on outside. There’s no one else inside, no priest or other sinners, the stage at the front of the chapel empty except for the obviously simulated sunlight that streams through the windows at the back. Despite the cash grab at the door, the place does feel divine. It’s quiet and peaceful, and beautiful beyond belief. You wander up to the front, looking around to see if there would be some sort of pastor or something to show you what, exactly, you were supposed to do- to give you answers, to show you some kind of mercy in this hellhole.

A door slams somewhere in the building, and gradually a voice gets louder as they approach the chapel. “-told you, Val, that the church was a waste of fuckin’ time,” they’re saying, “but did you listen? Of course not- you’re shoved so far up Angel’s twinky little ass lately it’s a wonder you have time to plan your fuckin’ ‘holy orgies’ or whatever the fuck you’re calling them-”

And there’s the television you had been seeing on the billboards and ads- Vox in the flesh, priest robes dripping off his frame, one of those little hats somehow attached to his flat head. Even with his eyebrows drawn down in irritation at whoever he was on the phone with, he still has an air of confidence and cockiness about him that you can admire- and you had seen some of the magazines declaring him the hottest in Hell, and know that he has clean lines of lean muscle hiding under those holy folds of fabric. He paces back and forth across the stage a few times, throwing insults and jabs into the phone in his hand, and then he looks up and finally notices you. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, eyes widening in surprise, and then- “not you, Valentino, Satan, fucking narcissist. Someone’s fucking here- yes, in the church- fuck it, no, I gotta deal with this.” And the phone is slipped into one of the pockets of the robe. His whole demeanor changes- his posture straightens, his eyes closing and his face rearranging into something softer, more peaceful as he looks down at you. 

“Welcome, lost lamb,” he says, and you could almost believe him if it weren’t for the glitch that crackles across his screen at the words. “How may I help to guide you today?”

“Um… I’m not totally sure,” you confess, and his eye twitches in irritation. “I saw some ads and I was curious about the idea of a church in Hell. If you can actually get redeemed here then, you know, I’d love to give it a try-“ 

You don’t even get to mention your almost ulterior motive before he fucking laughs at you, the sound echoing with the acoustics of the place. “Fuck, so you’re a real one then? Y’know how many people I’ve had sitting in these pews that don’t give two rats shit about redemption, just wanted to see the fancy new fucking building and watch one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell strut around in this stupid fucking thing?” He plucks at his robes, the fabric fluttering around his body. “And now I've got a real one. Imagine that. Okay!” 

He claps his hands together and a small bench emerges from the floor in front of the stage as he drops to sit on the edge of it, legs hanging off so his feet touch the floor. “Fucking kneel, then,” he says, gesturing to the cushion, “Don’t these things usually start with confession? I don’t have all day if you have like, a million sins to confess.”

“Oh, right.” This part at least you knew, even if it usually took place in a booth and the other person couldn’t see you. You hadn’t really been planning on confessing when you got here, but at least it was an easy part.

You watch him patiently, waiting for the usual blessing, until he stares at you expectantly. “Well?”

Guess you were skipping that, then. “Um, okay. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” He waves a hand at you; a silent ‘get-on-with-it’ if you’ve ever seen one. “It’s been… ten years? Since my last confession-“

“No fucking wonder you ended up down here, doll,” he mutters, head tilted towards the ceiling and not even looking at you, “you were one of those ‘Easter and Christmas’ church-goers, huh? And you thought that would be enough.”

“Hey, fuck you,” you snap, flushing at how easy you were to pin down like that, and his head snaps back down to look at you, an eyebrow raised like he’s fucking bored. “Aren’t you supposed to be here to help?”

“Does it matter? Besides, I’m new to the job; sue me for a learning curve. Come on- what sins are you confessing?” His screen brightens suddenly, a grin directed at you that steals your breath. “Was it something fun? You kill someone?” His eyes go hooded, expression lascivious as he looks down at you. “Impure thoughts, maybe? Impure actions?” His gaze lingers on your skirt before he meets your eyes again.

Your face heats- you’re very aware, suddenly, of the position that you’re in- knelt on the floor in an empty church, the priest as far from saintly as one could get and hot as Hell even with his TV head, his knees spread apart where he sits on the edge of the stage and you essentially between them. Images race lightning quick through your head- pushing his robes up around his thighs, leaning forward with your tongue out to show him just how impure your actions could be-

A bell rings overhead and you’re reminded that you’re in a fucking Church, even if it is one in the center of Hell. You had come here for help, not sex. You shove the thoughts back. “Can you just- be a normal priest, please? With the bible verses and shit so I can feel like this wasn’t a total waste of whatever I signed before coming in here.”

He sighs but seems to acquiesce, placing his palms on the stage and leaning back. “That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one! Give me one sec…” His screen changes, words and images flying across it at lightning speed while he taps his fingers on the floor under his hands, sometimes slowing on a particular passage, and it occurs to you what he’s doing- he’s searching the fucking internet for a bible passage.

“Ha! This should do-” His face comes back, expression serene, and he leans forward and places a finger under your chin to tilt your head up, closer to him now  than you would have expected. “I know how you feel, my child, tempted by the sins of the flesh,” he says in an exaggerated tone. “‘For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses.” He winks at you with that smirk of his back in place, “but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.’”

You blush but can’t turn away with his finger on you, keeping you tilted to face him. “‘Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.’ Is that what you’re here for, doll? Mercy?”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can see the way his eyes track the movement of your throat when you swallow. “Y-yes,” you stammer, and your voice is weaker than you would like, your eyes half-lidded as you look up at him. “Mercy-” 

“In your time of need,” he offers, and when you close your eyes you feel his thumb trace over your cheekbone, his hand warm against your skin. “What do you need? Cause I’ll tell you- all flushed and trembling and sweet on your knees here? I don’t think a bible verse is gonna cut it, babe.”

He almost slides off the stage, dropping to a crouch so he’s level with your face. “Sir-” you try, and his grin is wide and dangerous.

“Father,” he corrects you, and if you weren’t already on your knees you would have fallen to them. “And I believe you still have to confess before we can move on.” He reaches into the pocket of his robes and pulls out something long and dangling- a rosary, you realize, and you can’t stop the flash of heat that rips through you despite the blatant blasphemy of what was happening. “Give me your hands.” And you do, helpless to refuse as he winds the beads around your wrists with the cross dangling between your arms as he finishes. He stands then, using a hand on the beads to pull you from the cushion and guide you forward on your knees when he sits on the edge of the stage again. You’re properly between his legs now, the fabric of his robes almost touching your nose, and he’s holding your bound hands atop one of his knees. 

“This is just to keep you focused,” he says when he sees you watching where he has them restrained in one hand. His other hand pets across your head, a finger briefly touching one of the horns that you had grown upon arrival. “Now then- tell me of your temptations, little lamb, and I’ll give you absolution. I’ll give you the mercy you want.” When he meets your wide eyes again, he winks. “Maybe something else, too.”

“Fuck, I’m- God, okay. Okay. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” You take Vox’s silence as a sign to continue, his hand still gently brushing through your hair, the other keeping a tight grip on the rosary beads. “It’s been ten years since my last confession.”

“Go on, my child,” Vox says, and fuck, it feels wrong that the words of a priest- regardless of how legitimate he was- are making your core clench, a strong jolt of arousal bolting through your body. “What brings you to confession today?”

You try not to tremble as you continue. “I have… behaved immorally in the past. And even now I’m having impure thoughts,” you whisper, and you hear Vox suppress a groan in front of you. “I- I know the Bible says not to fall prey to temptation, but it’s so hard to resist. I can’t stop myself from thinking about it- about what I’ve done. And about you.”

The fingers in your hair are gone, grip tightening on the one holding the rosary. “This is troubling indeed,” he says, like you can’t hear the smirk in his voice. “Tell me what you’ve done- what you’ve thought about. What you want now. Be specific.” There’s a soft rustling of fabric before you, a whisper of air across your face as Vox moves. You make an inquisitive noise and he shushes you. “Keep your eyes closed, dear- imagine you confess to the Lord himself. Show him how earnest you are in your devotion.”

You let your face relax, brow going slack and keeping your face tipped up. You can see through your eyelids the shine of the sunlight through the windows, artificial but warming and holy nonetheless. And like this you ‘confess.’ “I’m thinking about you touching me- in s-sinful ways. Your hands on my skin the way that others have touched me. It feels good, I can’t help but want it…” You feel a little ridiculous even with the flush of your cheeks and the need overtaking your body.

“Fuck,” you hear Vox whisper, and there’s another faint sound of movement that you can’t place with your eyes closed. “How did these f-f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘t͖͖̠̬͛h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́ sinners touch you?” His voice seems to fail him at the thought, a crackle in his vocals that betrays how much he’s invested in the moment.

“Like a harlot,” you say, and you hear a full groan escape him, a tug to the rosary when he leans a bit down towards you. His face is closer now; you can feel his hot breath as it ghosts across your lips when you speak. “They touched my bare skin- sometimes I lie awake at night and trace the path their hands have taken over my body, over my breasts, between my legs. I’ve let them fuck me, bent over tables and spread across beds, and God, I want more.” You let your voice take on a pleading edge. “I want it to be you- please, won’t you help me?”

You let your eyes flutter open, and the sight before you steals your breathe- Vox’s eyes are trained on you, his mouth hanging open with his face screwed up in pleasure as he fists his cock inches from your face, his robes drawn up over his thighs to jerk himself off in time with your confession. When he notices you watching him he smiles, all teeth and dripping saliva, looking more and more like the agent of damnation that he is than the holy man he’s pretending to be. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞t͖͖̠̬͛,” he growls, his vocals once again corrupted and fried when he speaks. “‘No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. G-G̯̯̩̙͆ͣ͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability-’” The last words are accompanied with a harder thrust of his hips, bringing him closer to the edge of the stage, the head of his prick nearly brushing your lips before its covered with his fingers as he continues to stroke. “‘But with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.’”

You know what he’s going for, but… “I think in this instance, ‘enduring it’ would mean not giving in to the temptation,” you murmur, and you let your tongue ghost over his hand when it gets within reach, just able to taste the saltiness of his precum on his fingers. “But I think I’m weak to it, Father- would you forgive me if I can’t resist?”

Static flashes across his screen for a moment. “Fuck,” he pants when he sees that you’ve kept your tongue extended, waiting for him. He loses the haughty, holy edge to his voice as his fingers tighten their grip, less of a stroke now to let the head of his dick tap against your tongue a couple times. “Can’t fuckin’ think straight like this, Satan- how am I supposed to keep this shit up when you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a devout whore praying for a cock in your throat,” he snarls, and releases the hand keeping hold on the rosary to cup your face. You waste no time in bringing your bound hands up under your skirt, shoving your panties to the side with trembling fingers to rub at your clit. The angle is all wrong, but any friction is good friction at this point, and Vox laughs breathlessly at the desperate way that you rock against your hands with your head held in his. “I might not be God but I can answer that fuckin’ prayer if you want.”

The way you shift to get a better angle to slide a finger into yourself brings you closer, your head resting more heavily in his palm, and you can’t resist giving him a wink- “Promise you’ll give me my absolution after?” You let your mouth fall slack, and groan around the length of him as he pushes past your lips, both of his hands abandoning their respective tasks to tangle in the strands of your hair and keep you still.

“I’ll give it to you, doll, I’ll fuckin’ give you a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟t͖͖̠̬͛.” He guides himself in further, deeper, until the head of his dick is just bumping against the back of your throat, whorish whines escaping the scant space between your lips when he starts to buck his hips, sucking to the best of your ability while you ride your own fingers and try to work your tongue against the solid erection that’s taken up a temporary residence in your mouth. His hands fist in your hair and tug you closer, your nose bumping the sharp lines of his abdomen and the solid weight of his balls resting against your chin with every jerk forward. A particularly hard thrust has your gag reflex triggering, the channel of your throat convulsing and fluttering around the head of his cock while his head throws back with a moan.

Tears prick at your eyes- your orgasm is a distant, intangible thing, the pleasure from your fingers sweet but not even close to what you needed, whimpering and drooling around Vox’s cock in a way that echoed around the beautiful chapel. When you look up at him his eyes are wide and frantic, harsh moans falling from his mouth and rumbling through his body so you could feel it against your nose pressed into his pelvis the way you are. 

A hand slides forward to brush at your tears, a smile more befitting the devil than any kind of priest taking up Vox’s screen, red lines of what could be drool dripping off the sides. “Fuck, gonna cum- you want it, angel? Your a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎b͔͔̳͈̊̆ͥ͂͜͝s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡t͖͖̠̬͛i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥ?” You can’t speak with his cock filling your mouth so fully, so you nod the best you can and grind your hips down onto your fingers, still bound together with the rosary. He chuckles low, once again keeping your head still so he can pound into the wet heat you’ve provided to him, the muscles of your throat clenching down every time he pushes far enough back. “‘Repent and be baptized, e-every one of you-’” he starts, the silky skin of his erection sliding pleasantly over your tongue a final time, then he stills. His cock twitches, and there’s a jet of hot, bitter liquid spilling across your tongue before he pulls out completely. “‘In the name of J̸̡̡̟͑ͭ̄͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧs̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅụ̴̴̾̀͟͡s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅ Ch̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅt͖͖̠̬͛, for the forgiveness of your sins.’” There’s another pulse of cum that lands on your cheek as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to smear it on your skin and then dip into your mouth for you to suck it clean as his cock gives one final twitch, a weak spurt against your lips closed around his thumb. “‘And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit,’” he finishes in his normal voice, that cocky smirk back on his screen when he finally pulls all the way back.

You lick your lips, rid yourself of the remnants of his release that you can reach. “Is that what that was? You don’t look much like the Holy Spirit to me.”

He groans looking down at you, the hand still in your hair petting almost affectionately through the strands. “We make do with what we have in Hell,” he says. His eyes flick down to your lap, where you still have two fingers poorly sunk into your pussy and are rocking back and forth on them. “Don’t worry, doll, you’ll still-”

He freeze, some notice popping up in one of the upper corners of his screen, and he shakes his head and groans as it clears away. “Quiet- someone’s at the door,” he murmurs, and takes his hands off you entirely.

You suppress a groan at the lack of contact,  fingers momentarily stilling and cocking an eyebrow at him. “How can you tell?” There’s no knock resounding through the building, no bells or chimes, and he holds a finger to his lips.

“I get an alert when someone interacts with the AdamAI. Just hold on a sec-”

There’s an audible gasp from the sinner that enters the church, and Vox looks down at you with a wicked smile. “Keep praying, my child,” he says softly, “and we’ll resume our discussion on the matter of your ‘repentance’ soon.” He stands to his full height and with a swish of his robes he’s gone, approaching the newcomer behind you and speaking in hushed tones- you catch something about a ‘private prayer session’ and resist the urge to snort, instead shifting a bit to get your thumb against your clit and rub soft circles. You don’t think you can cum like this but it's nice, sweet little zaps of pleasure that start at your core and echo through your body like the acoustics of the church you kneel in. You bite your lip to keep the sounds from escaping you as they talk, the low timbre of Vox’s voice making your body hum and tingle remembering the way he had moaned and clutched at your hair as he chased his release with your mouth around him.

Fuck, if Sister Lucy could have seen you now she would probably have an aneurysm. But its not her words echoing in your brain right now- it’s Vox’s soft “keep praying” that has your hands unable to stay still, your hips jerking minutely while you reach futilely for the edge of your pleasure, to tumble headfirst into it.

It takes a moment for you to realize that the Church is silent once again, and when you look up- and up and up, your head tilting all the way back like you’re searching for God himself in the rafters- Vox towers over you from behind, his eyes dark and hungry. He drops to his knees, a resounding crack on the floor as he reaches for you, his hand wrapping around the front of your throat to keep your head tilted back, and a low growl rumbles from his chest when he feels you swallow against his palm. “Such a well behaved lamb, to stick to your prays so devotedly in the presence of others,” he whispers, his tongue curling over the shell of your ear, and now that you’re alone there’s no shame in the desperate moan that you let loose- the way he says ‘lamb’ is so sickeningly sweet and exaggerated that you know the word he wants to use is ‘slut.’ “What kind of shepherd would I be if I didn’t give you a reward?”

His other hand comes down to grab the rosary, pulling your fingers from the slick heat of your cunt and bring them to his mouth- his tongue curls around them, the lewd sound of him sucking the juices from your digits right next to your ear, causing heat to pool in your lower stomach. Once he’s satisfied, he hoists you up with his grip on them, spinning you so that you’re facing him and pinning you to the edge of the stage. “Thought the ‘baptism’ was my gift,” you say as he lifts your legs up around his waist, shoving your skirt out of the way and just tearing your panties off your body, exposing you to the cool air of the church. “You should keep your metaphors straight.”

“Come on, I’m fuckin’ trying,” he mutters, pressing his screen to your forehead so you’re breathing in the same air. “Didn’t Jesus say some shit like ‘choose words that bring peace, not conflict’ or something? Take that holy advice, stop poking holes in my sermon, and let me show you Heaven.” He leans in before you can respond to tangle his tongue with yours, and considering where you are and what you’re doing, kissing a television is hardly the weirdest thing to happen to you today. It’s pleasant, even, a light hum of static where your lips meet his, his tongue almost vibrating with concealed electricity as he licks into your mouth like he’s trying to taste his own cum in the back of your throat.

When he pulls back for your answer, you can’t resist the truth- “That was Buddhism,” you deadpan, and laugh when static crackles across his body, a renewed erection pushing into your thigh when he uses your bound hands to lay you flat on the stage. He fumbles with his robes to get them up and around his waist again, and the laughter dies in your throat as the silky smooth head of his cock bumps against your drenched folds.

“You know a lot about religion for someone that seems to only know how to be on her knees for one thing,” he murmurs, and it's both shame and heat that flashes through you at the words while he slides his length back and forth through your wetness, pressing lightly against your clit and retreating, teasing. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up while I’m fucking the thoughts out of that pretty head, hm? Gimme a Bible passage since you know so much, dollface.”

“I don’t have access to the internet in my brain like some people but I’ll do my be- ahhh, fuck-” Vox cuts off your sentence with a solid thrust of his hips, the tip of his prick finally slipping in, and he works it in slowly, letting you adjust to it a few inches at a time until he’s buried to the hilt in your wet cunt and breathing heavily against your neck. “Oh God-”

“Thought taking the Lord’s name in vain was a sin,” he breathes, and licks down the column of your throat. He pulls back a little, the drag of him inside of you a delicious burn before he snaps forward again, punching the air from your lungs. He maneuvers the fingers of the hand still holding the rosary to press the wooden cross into your palms. “Come on, angel, give me something good.”

It’s admittedly hard to think with the way that he pistons into you, hips angled just right to hit that sweet spot inside that you had been missing with your bound hands, his free hand digging bruises into the flesh of your hip. You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind- “‘A-All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for- fuck, for instruction, for conviction, for correction, and for training in right-righteousness,’” you manage through the pleasure that courses through you, and Vox laughs, the action causing his body to shake against you. 

“Something better,” he demands, still drilling his cock into your pussy, hard thrusts that make your vision waver and your breath catch in your throat- how he expects you to talk during that, you weren’t sure, but you would do your damndest as you search your memory for something else.

“Fuck, uhhh… ‘If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with pointing finger… and malicious talk, and if you spend yourself on behalf of the hungry-’” You lose focus on the words you can see behind your eyelids when the hand leaves your hip to press a clawed finger to your swollen clit, a firm circling that has you choking on the words before they can finish leaving your lips. A whimper escapes instead, and Vox’s grin is wide and hungry as he stares down at you.

“‘And satisfy the needs of the oppressed,’” he continues for you, “come on, little lamb, you know the rest.”

“‘Then your light will rise in the darkness, and your light become like the noonday.’” Every muscle is tense, waiting for the thread to snap as Vox continues to fuck into you like a man possessed, his tongue lathing over whatever bits of skin he can reach. You can feel the orgasm crackling like electricity down your spine, unsure if that’s a side effect of Vox’s half-machine body or just how fucking good it feels. Either way, the cusp of release has never felt like this before, like you might pass out from the strength of it, from how all consuming the pleasure is before the peak has even hit.

The pressure against your sweet spots- inside and outside- intensifies suddenly when Vox tilts his hips, pressing down harder and slamming his thick cock against that bundle of nerves inside, the wet sounds of your coupling all that you can hear over your voice and his grunts of effort. “‘The lord will guide you always; he will… s-atisfy your needs in a- in a- oh fuck, God, Vox-”

You want the face he’s making framed in the living room of wherever you end up living in Hell; he could almost be a real priest with the expression of worship that’s taking over his screen, looking down at you like you’re Heaven incarnate. “F̼̼͓̙ͤ̋̅̚͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘, that’s right; cum on my cock, sweetheart, a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧl͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘, fuck-”    

It’s just as all consuming as you expected- even more so as you tip over the edge into blissful ecstasy, every part of your body clenching down, your hands on the beads, your legs around Vox’s waist, your walls around the hard length still pounding away at you. You’re not even a little embarrassed about the echoing of your cries as you cum, the sound bouncing off the walls of the church and coming back to you and Vox, who’s chasing his own release in the tight clench of your pussy. The lewd, wet sounds intensify suddenly, sharply, the evidence of your orgasm drenching the robes bunched around Vox’s thighs. A high pitched noise emits from him, and his screen goes dark when he follows you over the edge, hot pulses of heat into your slick cunt, walls fluttering and spasming and wringing every last drop of cum from him, resting thick and warm inside of you as his head drops down to your chest and the entire building seems to just power down.

You fiddle with the rosary beads in your hands, trying to see if you can get them undone on your own- and yes, there they go, a quick twist of the wrist and they’re sliding along your skin, your wrists sore where they had been digging in this whole time. His grip on the beads had slackened as well, so you pull out of his grasp and let your hands run down his body, properly touching him for the first time- and it was well worth the wait, even through the priest robes. His muscles felt firm to the touch, the skin of his arms soft where his sleeves had ridden up, and the hot air coming off his head when you traced your fingers along the ports and wires on the back of it was oddly pleasant.

“You keep touching me like that,” he mumbles against your chest, and you feel his dick twitch where it’s seated inside you still, “and you can be the one to explain to my business partners why power’s down across Pentagram City.” The building flickers back on slowly, the simulated sunshine once again streaming from the windows as Vox boots back up, a loading screen flashing on his face before it turns back into his eyes and mouth, quirked up at the sides while you run your fingers over his body and head. “Gimme like half an hour and we can go again without blacking out both rings of Pride, maybe.”

You laugh when he pulls out, collapsing in the space next to you, the stupid little hat tumbling off in the process while he adjusts his robes. “‘Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light,’” you quote. “Maybe a power outage will bring more people to the Church, you could play that up on your advertisements- then if we regularly fuck there’s a business aspect.”

His chuckle echoes in the chapel. “Where have you been all my afterlife?” He jokes, and his clawed fingers give yours a squeeze when they come down to your sides. “I know you’re probably half kidding but listen, I could use some of that religious knowledge if Val and Velvette insist on making me do this once a week- the fucking doesn’t always have to be a part of it, but-”

“Listen, if that offer comes with a place to sleep and a hot meal every once in a while I’m down.” You think back to the screen you had signed before coming into the church- “Shit, unless that tablet I signed means I don’t get a say? Guess I should have looked at it a little closer-”

“Oh, that.” He has the decency to look a little ashamed as he pulls something up on his screen, making a note before closing it again. “Sorry, just a contingency- if we didn’t have a way for financially challenged sinners to get here that would severely limit our target market so we added that contract as an option. Technically your soul is now owned three ways by the Vees as a whole until terms are settled, but we’ll renegotiate, figure something else out.”

“‘Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back,’” you quote at him- “you help me out and I’ll help you.”

“Deal.” He stands and pulls you up with him, and you place the hat back onto his head- it snaps into place with a soft click that you laugh at- “Magnets, babe, I work with what I have”- while he leads you to the back of the church to clean up and talk about where you would be going from here.

Bonus

You’re laying reclined on Vox’s living room couch a few days later, wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he pours a couple drinks for you. All things considered, going to the church that day had worked out well. You weren’t ‘dating’ Vox, but he was keeping you off the street, fed, and fucked, so you didn’t have much room to complain. Every once in a while you would go over some common Bible passages with him, try to play out a full confession so he could see how it was actually supposed to go to try and help with the church thing, but because of how you met you could hardly get out “forgive me, Father” before Vox was hard and pulling at your clothes.

He’s bitching about it now as he mixes things in glasses at the kitchen counter when his apartment door flies open and Velvette strolls in. “Vox, babe, the fuck are you doin’ at that fuckin’ church? Your ratings are absolute shite compared to the stand-ins we have and that should not be the fuckin’ case.”

He immediately jumps on the defensive. “Imagine that- maybe its because I’m not a real fucking priest? God forbid it take me a fucking minute to learn the shit.”

You pipe up from the couch, tipping your head back over the arm to look at Vox and Velvette upside down. “A good start would be not taking the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Traitor,” he hisses at you, and the demoness doubles over in laughter when static sparks between his antennae as he whips in your direction. “And you’re one to fucking talk- remind me how we met again?”

“You sure you wanna do that while your friend is here, Vox? I can live with the blasphemy of fucking in a church but I draw the line at full blown exhibitionism.” Velvette wipes a tear from her eyes while Vox’s screen tints pink. “And besides- we’re working on it, aren’t we, Father?”

Velvette’s irritated grumbling is ignored as Vox pushes her back out the door and approaches you on the couch, curling his claws into your hair, coaxing you to your knees for another confession.

[alxtiny]

Ad Astra per Aspera

Prologue.

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: -

Notes: i have taken pieces from various sources but my favouritism towards one piece has started to show TT TT

Series Masterlist | Episode 1

In the beginning, there was only one land—the land of Zaitsev. It stretched across a vast expanse, bordered by mountains that kissed the sky, and oceans that cradled the edges of the world. Zaitsev was a land of abundance, where forests teemed with life, rivers flowed with crystal-clear water, and the soil was fertile enough to sustain the most exotic of crops. Under the rule of the Great King, the people of Zaitsev flourished, living in harmony despite their differences.

The people of Zaitsev were a diverse mosaic. Their faces bore the marks of countless ancestries, their features varied like the colors in a painter’s palette. Some had skin the color of deep earth, others the shade of frosty snow in the sunlight. Hair ranged from the darkest midnight to the brightest dawn, and eyes gleamed like precious stones—emerald, sapphire, amber, and onyx. Their languages were many, their traditions rich and varied, yet they were united under one purpose, one ruler, one land. This unity made the ropes that bound together the land of Zaitsev.

The Great King was a man of wisdom, wisdom that came with age and etched itself into his skin. Under his reign, Zaitsev knew peace and prosperity. Disputes were settled through verse, and the scales of justice held complete balance.

But even in the most peaceful of lands, there are forces that seek to disrupt the balance. That’s when came The Sever

The Sever was not an immediate rupture, but rather very gradual, almost unperceivable unravelling. It began as whispers—rumours of discontent among the people, murmurs of disillusionment with the monarchy. Some said that the Great King had become too old, too distant, that he no longer could give what the country demanded. Others claimed that certain regions were being neglected, their resources diverted to the capital while they suffered in silence. These whispers grew louder over time, but they were dismissed as mere gossip by most. After all, Zaitsev had always been one, always been strong. How could it ever fall apart?

But the seeds of division had been sown, and they began to take root in the hearts of the people. Regional identities, that once held together the nation’s fabric like vibrant threads, began to take on a new significance. People started to think of themselves not as citizens of Zaitsev, but as members of their own regions. The differences that had once been a source of pride now became points of contention. The land of Zaitsev had begun to fracture. Figuratively and literally. Natural disasters were quick to hit. Lakes and rivers became seas and oceans. Mountains grew higher and trenches became deeper.

The Great King, sensing the growing unrest, tried to quell the divisions by bringing the leaders of each region together. He sought to remind them of their shared history, their common bonds, and the strength that came from concord. But his efforts were in vain. The divisions had grown too deep, the grievances too bitter. The Sever was inevitable.

It began in the farthest reaches of the kingdom, in the regions now known as the Northern and Southern Aurora Archipelagos. The people there had long felt isolated, sitting on the very borders, almost ignored by the others. They were the first to break off, as pieces of land that slowly drifted away and formed a cluster, proclaiming that they would no longer be ruled by a distant king who did not understand their needs.

One by one, the other regions followed suit. Hell Volhard, with its rugged mountains and frozen lakes, was next, followed by the fertile plains of Rosenmund. Etard, with its lush forests, and Wolff, with its rolling hills, soon joined. Kischner, Hinsberg, and Levaer, all declared their independence. Aldol, the region closest to the capital, was the last to secede, but it did so with a heavy heart. It was the end of an era.

The land of Zaitsev was no more. What had once been one was now divided into ten—ten regions, each with its own ruler, its own government, its own people. The integration that had been the foundation of Zaitsev was shattered, replaced by a peace that held the fragility of glass.

The Great King, heartbroken by the dissolution of his kingdom, fell into a deep despair. He withdrew from public life, retreating to his palace where he spent his final days in solitude. When he died, there was no grand funeral, no mourning across the land. The regions were too divided, too consumed by their own struggles to care. The king’s death went almost unnoticed, a quiet end to a once-great ruler.

The throne passed to the king’s son, a young man untested and unprepared for the challenges he would face. Unlike his father, the new king lacked the wisdom and patience to navigate the complexities of a fractured kingdom. He was brash, impulsive, and driven by a desire for power. But his actions only served to deepen the furrows that already existed. His attempts to assert his authority were met with resistance from the other regions, who saw him as nothing more than a pretender to a throne that no longer existed.

Chaos reigned. The people looked instead to their regional leaders, the elders who had guided them through the turbulent times of The Sever. These elders, each respected in their own right, became the de facto rulers of their regions. They spoke of the old ways, of the time before The Sever, and sought to preserve what they could of Zaitsev’s legacy. But their visions for the future were as varied as the regions they represented, and there was little consensus on how to move forward.

Of the ten regions, only Aldol remained with a ruler who commanded true authority. The new king, desperate to regain control, focused his efforts on Aldol, using its military strength to assert his dominance. He knew that if he could control Aldol, he could control the rest of the regions. And so, he began to draw the smaller groups into his orbit, offering them protection in exchange for their loyalty. Treaties were signed, alliances were formed, and slowly, the new king began to rebuild his power base.

It was during this time that the Premier Aldolar Council was formed. Composed of the king, the elders from each region, and other influential leaders, the council was established to maintain a semblance of order in a world that seemed to be falling apart. It was a front, a show of negotiation and security. But beneath the surface, tensions simmered, and it was clear that the peace would not last forever.

As life resumed its new course, the people of Zaitsev tried to adapt to their changed circumstances. The memories of the old world refusing to fade entirely. But everything had changed, and there was no going back. The people did what they could to survive, clinging to the hope of a better future.

It was in this climate of uncertainty that a group of dissidents emerged. They called themselves the Guardians, and they were determined to restore the world to its former glory. The Guardians believed that the divisions between the regions were superficial, a product of human foibles.

The Guardians were not content to simply dream of a better world—they sought to create it. They believed that the key to advancement lay in the perfection of humanity itself. If they could eliminate the flaws that led to division—the human emotion. And so, they set out to develop a formula, one that would make humans flawless, unyielding to influence, and capable of creating an infallible society.

The formula was the culmination of years of research and experimentation. It was designed with the purpose of eliminating the weaknesses. Those who consumed the formula would be immune to all emotions that made a human weak. They would be the foundation of a new society, a utopia where Zaitsev was whole once more.

But the Guardians’ vision of utopia did not sit well with the Premier Aldolar Council. The council, already wary of any group that threatened the broken peace, saw the Guardians as a danger to the new order. The idea of creating “flawless” humans was too radical, too unpredictable. The council feared that the Guardians’ plan would lead to even greater conflict, and so they moved quickly to abolish the group. The Guardians were outlawed, their members hunted down, and their research seized by the king’s forces.

The formula, its creation, and its components were taken away from the Guardians. The council feared that the Guardians might resurface, but they kept this concern hidden from the public. To the outside world, the Guardians were a failed experiment, merely a comment in the story. But what the public did not know, and what the media could only wonder about, was that ten people had already consumed the formula.

Among them were the king himself, who had secretly taken the formula in a bid to gain the power he believed was his birthright, and the chief Guardian, who had taken the formula to ensure that the vision of the old world would live on. The remaining eight were subjects from each of the ten sectors—carefully selected individuals who had been chosen to test the formula. They were ordinary people by most accounts: farmers, artisans, scholars, and warriors. Yet each had shown potential, something that set them apart from the rest. After consuming the formula, these eight were set free, their identities kept secret, but not from each other, despite the distance and differences they kept contact in secret.

The decision to keep the formula's success buried was not made lightly. The king and the chief Guardian both understood the implications of revealing the existence of these enhanced individuals to the world. If the truth were known, it could ignite a firestorm of fear and ambition that would plunge the fractured land into further chaos. So, the truth was buried, and the ten who had taken the formula became shadows, their identities known only to a select few.

Despite their enhanced abilities, these individuals did not become the flawless beings the Guardians had envisioned. The formula had indeed bestowed upon them certain extraordinary traits, but it had not eradicated the human flaws.

Among the ten, the king began to notice changes within himself. He became more paranoid, selfish and often lost all reason. He had visions. It was as if his heart harboured all of the worst. He began to see enemies everywhere, even among his closest advisors. The power granted by the formula had come at a cost, and the king was slowly losing his grip on reality. He was forced into solitary, his kingdom depended on the council and the rare moments when he experienced clarity in his thoughts

The chief Guardian wasn’t affected. He didn’t achieve the raw power he had asked for, he wanted more of the formula for himself. He gathered the remaining Guardians who had survived the purge and went underground, forming a resistance against the new king. His mission was one, to get the formula back.

But there was one more who had taken the formula—the scientist who had created it. She was the first to test the formula on herself, driven not by the desire for perfection, but by her unrelenting thirst for knowledge and raw curiosity. She had been a member of the Guardians, though she never fully agreed with their vision. For her, the formula was a scientific marvel, a puzzle to be solved, and she pursued its creation with the same dedication she gave to all her work.

The scientist had not anticipated the impact the formula would have on her. Like the others, she gained extraordinary abilities, but hers were of a different nature. She found that she could perceive the world in ways that others could not, understanding complex systems and seeing connections that were invisible to everyone else. The world became a map only she could read. It was as if her mind had expanded, unlocking new dimensions of the unknown world. She realised that in the wrong hands, it could be catastrophic.

Recognizing the threat, the scientist chose to disappear, taking the original formula and all her research with her. She knew that as long as the formula existed, it would be sought after by those who would use it for their own gain. So, she went into hiding, leaving no trace of her whereabouts. The king, desperate to regain control and fully realising the potential of the formula, ordered an exhaustive search for her, but she was always one step ahead. To this day, she remains the only person who can recreate the formula, and the only one who truly understands its full potential.

With the scientist gone, both the king and the remnants of the Guardians have attempted to replicate the formula, but all have met with failure. Without the original formula and the scientist's expertise, they were working in the dark. The copies they produced were flawed, often with disastrous results. Some led to death or madness, others to physical mutations. The promise of perfection proved elusive, and the failures only fueled the desperation of those seeking the formula’s power.

Meanwhile, the ten who had taken the original formula began to drift apart, each following their own path. Some used their abilities to further their ambitions, becoming powerful leaders or influential figures within their sectors. Others chose a quieter life, hiding their abilities and trying to live as normally as possible. But the formula had changed them, and their lives could never be truly ordinary again. They were marked by their powers, and by the knowledge that they were different.

The king, ever more paranoid, began to suspect that the ten were plotting against him. He saw betrayal in every corner and began to turn on those who had once been his allies. His obsession with finding the scientist and reclaiming the original formula consumed him, leading him to neglect his duties as a ruler. Aldol, the one region still loyal to him, began to falter under the weight of his erratic leadership. The other sectors watched closely, waiting for the moment when they could strike.

As the king’s power waned, the Guardians grew stronger. They had learned from their mistakes, and under the chief Guardian’s leadership, they became a formidable force once more. Their goal remained the same: to reunite Zaitsev and create a flawless society. But their methods had changed. They no longer sought to create perfect humans through the formula; instead, they focused on winning the hearts and minds of the people. The Guardians became symbols of resistance, heroes to those who still believed in the old world. That was until their chief disappeared off the face of the earth.

In the midst of this growing tension, the scientist continued her solitary journey, watching from the shadows as the world she had inadvertently helped shape spiralled into chaos. She knew that eventually, she would be found—either by the king or the Guardians. But she was not ready to reveal herself, not until she was certain that her knowledge would not be misused. She had seen what the formula could do, and she knew that its power was too great to be wielded lightly.

The search for the scientist became a race against time. The king, driven by his fear of losing control, intensified his efforts, sending spies and soldiers across the land. The Guardians, ever resourceful, used their underground networks to track any leads on her whereabouts.

As the tensions between the sectors reached a boiling point, whispers of the formula’s true power began to spread among the people. The story of the ten who had taken it became the stuff of legend, fueling both hope and fear. Some saw the formula as the key to restoring Zaitsev, while others feared that it would bring about the end of the world as they knew it. The media, kept on a tight leash by the king’s regime, could only speculate, but the truth had a way of slipping through the cracks.

In this fractured world, the paths of the eight special beings, the king, the Guardians, and the scientist were destined to cross again. The formula, once thought to be the key to a better world, had instead become fuel for a growing fire. Its promise of perfection was a farce, a false shield, and its true potential was yet to be fully understood. As more people, thieves, high ranking nobles and military officers became aware of its existence the rat race for it became evident.

As the world skittered around the edge of another great upheaval, the paths of all those who had been touched by the formula were bound to converge.

Over a century has passed since the King, plagued with nightmares, ruled Aldol, the crown now sits on the head of his grand nephew, a man of an analytical mind but lacking compassion and sympathy. Guilds of the Guardians remain scattered throughout the continents but since the chief vanished, they have remained largely stagnant. The whereabouts of the scientist and her descendants still remain obscure, but since then have been mostly forgotten about.

The eight subjects have lived their lives and left behind traces of their abilities, passing them down genetically to one of their children and then their grandchildren. The ones that have now grown up and found each other through a chance of fate, and formed an odd band of pirates, each wielding a unique power. They feel an unrest in their bones and pain the earth has felt. They scour the seas, in search of the formula and answers, and to find a cure for their abilities that seem to be cursed by something deep beyond their current understanding.

And the world knows them as ATEEZ…..

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

Comment under series masterlist to be tagged

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist: @sushi0517 @yandere-stories

[atiny-piratequeen]

*cracks knuckles* Okay, here we go!

I am opening commissions for June/July!

Most of my usual Commission Rules apply, however, for this round, I will be accepting 3-4 at this time, and I will only be accepting full payments at this time. Please be aware these slots are for JUNE/JULY. If you are not okay with waiting for them to be posted, or pay in full for them, I don't think I will be able to accept them this time around.

Info under the cut

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬-(All Prices are in USD and payment will be collected either via Paypal or Kofi if PP is not available to the commissioner. Commissioners are responsible for conversions)

Timestamps/Drabbles (Below 1k): $5USD

1k-$10USD

2K-$20USD

3K-$30 USD

Etc…

꧁ Works over 5k will have an additional $5 dollars added onto the total and need to give me at least a month’s time to complete, works over 10k will be an additional $10

꧁ In the event that I cannot reach your desired minimum WC (i.e, i fall just short of 2k, etc), you’ll only have to pay up to the % of the wc I fell short of. (ex, if a comm is 2k but I reach 1.5k, the price would be $15 and the $5 will be refunded.) The same applies if I happen to write over how much you paid for, you do not have to pay for the extra words. 

꧁ All commissions from any of my personal series (for example, if you’d like to buy a commission for something in AtT’s Verse, Ataraxia Verse, or Night Shift’s verse), recieve a 10% discount (drabbles and timestamps excluded)

-Do note that any comms in established universes are n o n canon events and unless discussed/agreed upon by me, do not expect a comm to be canon in my series past the confines of said commission

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞

-Most Genres (Fluff, Romance, Angst, etc)

-Smut (Commissioner must be 18 or older, absolutely no exceptions. Ever)

-Crossover Fandom Ships (You can inquire in dms which other bands I stan and I’ll let you know if I know them well enough to write the work being commissioned)

-MxM Fics 

-MxR Fics (feel free to let me know in the inquiry what the reader’s gender identity is and if there is any other personalized things you’d like for the work)

-Etc (Please check the works I have posted across this account and my other accounts for a general idea of the content I have written before and feel comfortable writing)

-**New** Anime/Video Game Fics, as long as I am familiar with the source material

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞

-Underaged Smut (No underaged idols, no underaged reader scenerios, absolutely no nsfw smut commissions to be accepted at all. Anyone who even inquires about underaged smut will be promptly blocked :) )--In the event of Anime Reqs, all characters will be 18+ regardless of canon

-Rape/Dub-Con/ “CNC” 

-Yandere Works in any capacity

-Works with a biggoted message (homophobia, transphobia, racism)

-Incest (Yes this inculdes adopted and step siblings/families)

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨

Anyone who’d like to commission me is welcome to inquire in my dms. Please keep your DMs open so we may maintain an easy two-way communication during the commission process. I am also open to using Discord as a means of communication.

 I will NOT be taking commissions through my ask box at all, if you are not comfortable with messaging me through dms or on discord, I will not be taking your comission. My ask boxes are not appropriate places to be exchanging payment information. 

Again, I do not accept nsfw commissions from minors (those under 18), please respect this and failure to do so will result in you being blocked. 

Once I talk with you on what you’d like to commission, I will send you my PayPal and I can begin as soon as I receive the payment.

Please allow two weeks minimum for commissions once the initial payment agreement is reached, as I also work outside of this and have other works to do alongside your commissioned work. 

Works 3k+ will require a minimum of 3 weeks to a month, and I will message you with updates along the way.

As the creator, I reserve the right to decline any commission request handed to me. Please be respectful in the event that I turn down your commission request, I am open to alterations to requests so that it may be more comfortable, but if I cannot write the work comfortably, it will be denied. 

All of these works, though commissioned, are still under my copyright, so reposting is absolutely not allowed. The works will be posted both here and ao3, but I still will not allow it to be reposted to other sites/accounts that are not my own

Works that are Ateez focused will be posted @atiny-piratequeen

Any non atz works will be on my multi blog @nocturne-overtures

Anime/Video Game works will be posted on @sin-hashira (Blog under construction)

Thank you so much for reading through. As per usual, reblogs are welcome always and I hope you all have a lovely day/night!

[mysticalsoot]

connor's godverse [source material]

godverse/godbur taglist; @lillylvjy @witheredroseanon @enanon (msg/ask if you wanna be added!)

due to the recent popularity, my autism latching to this au and the few requests to let others dabble in it themselves; I've decided to make this central post of the godbur-verse and all it has to offer. you may use godbur or goddess!wilma and write them how you wish but do credit me mainly because I want to see what others create with my ideas!! that is all, now enjoy my tism vomit.

main masterlist // godverse masterlist

meet wilbur and wilma, our characters in this story of power and love and god-like shenanigans. the two of them are godly twins who rule their respective sectors in their shared world. they're an unlikely match, almost polar opposites; but not quite.

WILBUR; the cat

strong-willed and fairminded; colder on the exterior but with a heart two sizes too big.

visually 27 yrs old // queer leaning // autistic coded // less present with believers // 6'7" tall

wilbur rules the left sector of the golden realm. he focuses on doing right with his devotees, guiding them on the path of what's right and moral, keeping them from going astray. he keeps his relationships professional and has yet to drift from that rule.

wilbur has many rules he holds himself to, but most of them are one's he's given himself; in fear he would fall from his holiness if he did not. there is nothing to fall to. what he knows is what is there.

he keeps piles of journals filled with every thought and idea he's ever had, most are to himself. most aren't very kind. he keeps his rules listed in one specific journal. one he's decorated with painted doodles on the front and flowers pressed in the pages.

wilbur keeps great distance between himself and his believers. his golden rule being;

'distance is good for the start, when it will end in distance too'

he fears attachment will wreck his thoughts and deem him unrulable if he was to ever lose a mortal he grew attached to. regardless if it's a common tradition for a mortal to be assumed by their god.

that is cut short when one particular mortal catches his eye and captures his heart with their love and kindness and appreciation for what he's given them.

his first rule he broke, was close communication. there was something about this one mortal that his mind cling to, and they seemed very keen on him too. they weren’t in any belief of any god in particular until he claimed them (get your mind out of the gutter).

little did he know, they would take to it as well as they did. they enjoyed his company and his words and guidance. reaching for his metaphorical hand to lead them to the best outcome. they trusted him, he was trusted. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t break the next rule soon after.

falling in love. he was enraptured by them, and their continuous devotion to him, doing all they could to see him. to be with him. to be by him for as long as they can. to stay living in his world.

despite his growing love for this sweet one, wilbur had to cast them out, back to their life. they were meant to be mortal and he couldn’t let his emotions get in the way of what’s meant to be.

when he finally awarded his mortal with a life in his realm; he felt his shoulders lighten and a big weight of worry lift from him. they were safe with him, even if it meant he broke his golden rule amongst many other rules. he finally understood when people said they would do anything for their love, because he’d do just that for them.

wilbur like any other god, adorns both fangs and white feathered wings. he can retract them at any moment he wishes, and often chooses to hide them; especially around his mortal. he doesn't want to scare or overwhelm them so he keeps those features to himself.

the left sector is the home of the eldest twin. the one with moral responsibility who doesn’t stray from the rules unless prompted, and even then he fights back. the world is covered in sunlight and flowers. a beautiful garden at the back door of wilbur’s home. a place to write and be quiet and play music and just be. where butterflies and bees and animals roam and scurry on the grass and through the fields, where one can admire what is around them without worry of what could be happening. a safe haven.

WILMA; the dove

laid back and relaxed counterpart to wilbur; the divine feminine

visually 27 years old // mtf, feminine preference // autistic/adhd coded // hyper diligent with believers // 6'3"

wilma rules the right sector, the world of beauty and art and femininity. she focuses on bringing love and art to her believers, showing them what beauty is in the world; especially if they hadn’t viewed it in such a way before.

wilma has closer relationships with her believers, not upholding herself to the same strict standards as her brother holds himself. she believes that each person deserves to have a heart and hand reach out to them, pulling them into a hug and away from danger.

through wilma's art you’ll find the many attachments she’s had to her believers but never once giving in. they must have the best mortal life possible, and she can’t meddle with that. it would be unfair to them, cruel even.

her golden rule is this;

‘you must leave them be, even if the heart screams otherwise, let them free like doves must be’

so she paints and she sculpts and her emotions end up seeping into her every piece, and each piece has its place in her home. unlike her brother, her work in creativity is more inline with what she thinks and feels rather than lists of rules and thoughts and worries. she’s a brighter being, sunnier and lighter. she finds peace in everything.

sketchbooks and canvases and have finished sculptures line the halls of her home, making it here through her efforts in the arts.

although her efforts to not let her attachments get the best of her are fruitful for a while, there is (as always) one mortal who causes her to break her only rule. one with a beautiful heart and mind that always finds the sweetness in nature and those around them. someone spiritually equal to her that she can care for and love on and be inspired by.

she grew closer and closer to this mortal, their shared attachment to one another grew into a deep and loving bond, that left the other with a feeling of emptiness when they couldn't have the other.

wilma fought her desire to bring this mortal to her, wanting them to have the best life in their own world they possibly could. she couldn't even dare disrupt it. they could do so much! so much, without wilma.

she fought herself and her mind and her heart, for months it was aching for her mortal. she needed them, but she couldn't give in. her mortal reached out to her many times, without response as she struggled to justify bringing them to her.

finally, after watching her brother give in to his own wants, she does the same. it isn't all that bad, and what's the worst that could happen? her mortal doesn't like it in her world? she could send them back! they'll be happy either way.

so she brought them to her, and they were finally together. her muse was with her, in front of her eyes and in the flesh.

wilma and her mortal spent their days in the flower fields and ponds, embracing and giggling and admiring one another. adoring each other and their flaws and beauties.

as with wilbur, and any other god; wilma has the same fangs and wings. she doesn't choose to hide them as her brother does, keeping them on display, besides when she met her mortal; best not to scare them off.

she takes great pride in her appearance and her special features, showing them off 90% of the time. they don't bother her mortal, so she keeps them on display and she tries her best to show them off.

the right sector is home to the feminine, the beauty and the art of nature. creativity, divinity seep into the ground of this sector. ponds and rivers and fields of flowers adorn this world and make it what it is. it's a safety net for creatives who don't feel there's a place to belong in their own world. a safe haven.

its euphoric in its sights and aesthetics, tunnels covered in vines and flowers, water flowing beneath it. golden light covers the sights in a blanket of love and peace that wilma admires greatly.

[pixelatedquarter]

Day 44 of Tourdust: I'm sending this from the other side of the apocalypse that just unfolded, trying to get it across while the veil is still thin, but I can't promise it will ever reach.

One thing they don't tell you about the so called Halloween 'veil' is that apparently doesn't only divide the realm of the living and the dead, but also the integrity of the timeline. Somehow, earlier than we expected to have news of our trick or treaters at the scene, we were informed they were witnessing a show from the pre-hiatus, or rather, what would have been the pre-hiatus until The Pumpkin King From The Chicago Hardcore Scene returned, in all his sunglasses-wearing milfy glory, to once again scream lyrics onstage.

Once this event unfolded it didn't take long for ghost sightings to be reported at the Pvris retirement home. At first we thought we knew what awaited, with one of them wearing a baseball cap, the ones of us most versed in tinfoil hatmaking considering perhaps at worst they were covering their costumes with sheets.

But we soon realized he was too tall to be our dear melodramatic femme fatale's dead soulmate (again); and then there were more of them. It was soon clear that ghost tricks had been summoned to obfuscate what the pumpkin king had in store for the trick or treaters, and for all of us, attending from our dear Andy's phone.

On the palm of his hand we were standing when we saw just how high the levels of sillyness were: we were safe from those ghosts for they had been busted by a sexy sexy guitar, a crack of lightning beat in time with the drums, and undoubtedly the big bad grandmilf wolf from shrek had been responsible, in his soulmate exalting poetry, of chanting the name of a star thrice. After all this tour trying to keep a semblance of matching, it's more than earned that tonight of all nights they'd each embody a wildly different member of a wildly different group.

Usually we receive critical hits of damage around the time Patrick gets his little moment to shine. We didn't even make it to the riff this time.

Faster than Beetlejuice became just a regular eyeliner wearing spirit, our werewolf turned into this ethereal human (perhaps evocative of being lost into dreamland in his nightgown, perhaps that's owed to the fantasy land he constructed around them), more an apparition of a lost soul handing out candy to the kids rather than the implied threat of a furry posing as a grandmother trying to trick us. And as the latter started singing the ever haunting tunes of Heaven, Iowa, cameras soon panned to the spot where Pete usually sits alone, as the now wigless, armourless, but just as toned god of thunder enveloped him in a hug, capturing both of them laughing, perhaps comforting each other, certainly having fun, before Thor bolted just in time to avoid missing his cue.

We know better than to make deals with devils, i promise, we do. No matter how good they look in eye makeup. But, sometimes it IS worth making a deal with Beetlejuice to get him to play I'm Like A Lawyer for our streamer. Besides, it's not like the pumpkin king, who would use the distraction of the new and devastating "when i woke up next to you" to turn into his skeletal form, would let any marriages come of it. Well, unless it's for the bit, or you mishear him state his intentions to be engaged himself to this devil. Wouldn't be the wildest thing he's said on riff. Truly, a second riff with Patrick was the greatest treat of the night and he damn well knows it, he's always been good at knowing his subjects.

And The Magic 8 Ball has always been good at knowing when to throw us for a loop. We thought 'surely. if it's reset, that means new rules will not keep showing up.' and oh how wrong we were. 'You will cover Halloween for Halloween' it told them, not giving them more than a day to practice a song that wasn't even theirs. 'And by the way, fuck the legal system' it added, for good measure, despite the lights not being as sexy as they were last time.

By the non-encore encore the only sensible member of this ragtag group, who managed to keep his full attire was the ghostbuster, the sounds from his guitar as effective as any proton pack, as powerful as the thunderous beat Thor kept on the drums.

And so it was time to end the night of trick or treating. The skeleton's bones rattled as his hips swayed, roses clung like vines intertwined with his rib cage, and a bony elbow pressed against this demon who could have been the devil himself 12 years ago, but certainly looked happier now. In spite of it all, it was Saturday again.

[floralneonlights]

Divine Warriors and Relics Overhaul.

The last major post I made was about the regions in my MCD rewrite but this time around it's going to be the Divine Warriors because they scratch my brain. Also this post is probably going to be LONG.

The Divine Warriors are characters we have heard before such as Irene, Shad, Esmund, Enki, Menphia, but I added two more as well, that being Drorit and Fionn.

I did rework some of the titles given to the Divine Warriors as I just didn't like them. Shad the Destroyer specifically felt too on the nose.

So, we have

Irene the Matron

Shad the Vandal

Esmund the Guardian

Enki the Astrophile

Menphia the Fury

Drorit the Defiant

Fionn the Traveler

I will explain some of the changes

Shad the Vandal

As I stated earlier, "Destroyer" felt too on the nose. While Vandal isn't a positive trait, it doesn't imply that Shad has always been a bad individual and was just know for delinquent tendencies, a loose screw in the guard. This allows Shad to be seen as more than someone who was always evil, although I would like to keep "Shad the Destroyer" as another title for him after the betrayal and uprising of Shadow Knights.

Esmund the Guardian

I just didn't like "Protector." That's just it. Nothing deeper.

Enki the Astrophile

Enki was known as "the Keeper" which felt too vague to me. In my version, Enki was an archivist so he was keeper of archives, keeper of knowledge. Although that doesn't explain the "Astrophile" part since that means lover of stars. I can't explain it any further than Enki has a relationship with nature thus the stars and the stars have always been symbols of knowledge in my mind. So that's what I'm doing here.

And then explaining the two NEW characters, Drorit and Fionn.

Drorit the Defiant

Her title is self-explanatory along with Fionn's. Drorit tends to create riots for a cause and doesn't follow the rules, she hates having to follow strict order and wants people to have the ability to have freedom in their choices instead of walking on a tight rope.

Fionn the Traveler

Self-explanatory BUT Fionn is a traveler by sea and is a water spirit. At first, he's a scammy merchant who tries to trick the Divine Warriors into a pitiful deal and only ended up joining for selfish reasons but ends up becoming very valuable to the group, actually being the most well-versed in magick.

Now let's talk about the changes to the Divine Warriors themself.

Irene

Irene in the rewrite is a Swan Maiden. If you don't know what swan maidens are, they are shapeshifting women who can transform from a swan to a woman but they tend to still have their feathers in their human form. They're usually married off to higher up power, like kings, and have their feathers plucked so they cannot fly away.

The cause for the up rising / the final straw was Irene herself being taken away and forced to have her feathers plucked so she could be married off to the King of Ru'aun. She soon runs away with two guards of the king and begins to study magick with the rest of her group. Along the way, she makes allies and builds of bonds with others.

Once the King is overthrown, Irene declares that no one person should rule an entire region, and then settles down as lord and founder of Scaleswind, where the rest of the group followed her. At this point, she had perfected her magick of light and healing. Healing was a lost magick even then, but with a witch's help, she was able to bring that art back to life. Since she is a swan maiden, a sign of purity and hope, it was easier for her to learn.

When one of the guards was overcome with darkness, that left the Divine Warriors as the only ones who could take him down as there was no need to bring innocent parties into this. Before the final battle, Irene asked one of the group to put a magick seal onto gems where, if they were to die, their magick would automatically go to that gem. Each member wrote an encryption onto the gem and went into battle by Irene's command, who held back as a final answer to the problem.

As she felt her friends die, Irene felt herself begin to fade. She didn't head to the battle ground for months as she became a recluse and her villagers and knights began to worry. And one day, there was a big, flaming light that walked down the road, and Irene the Matron was gone.

Phoenix Drop was named after this event as many people believe the light was a Phoenix signifying the end of an era.

Esmund and Shad

Esmund and Shad are put together here as they were both Royal Guards of the King of Ru'uan, Kieran. Esmund was the head guard of the kingdom, while Shad was still but a trainee despite being there for so long due to his rebellious actions. He tended to disobey the king for fun rather than to make a statement, which made Esmund very annoyed with him. The two bumped heads a lot.

When Irene was transferred to the kingdom as Kieran's fiancé, the two were assigned to guard her. They obeyed this command, Esmund because he would always obey the king and Shad because he just wanted to see who on Earth (Known as Terra because MCD is special) would marry him. When they saw a swan maiden without her feathers, both were horrified.

Even though both had sworn their loyalty to the king, more or less, they both realized how cruel this was and how they couldn't let an unwilling party be stripped of anymore rights. They hatched a plan and later escaped to meet with the archivist of Yggdrasil. They continued to run, going to Tu'La, Ivorian, Umbre'en, Aerania, and Rigguard. All places being of worth as Umbre'en and Rigguard were Shad and Esmund's home regions, respectively, which they had seen how Ru'aun's monarchy was slowly taking over the other regions and the protests surrounding this. This sped up the process over overthrowing the king.

Esmund became head guard of Scaleswind, but Shad became Irene's right hand man. They had also become skilled in their magick sets which complimented the other; ice and protection (shielding) and shadow and imprisonment.

Both loved Irene and they both knew she could only love one of them or even neither of them. Esmund felt peace with that, while Shad felt a pain in his chest whenever he thought about the possibility.

Although Irene showed feelings towards Shad, he became more and more bottled up with disgust and despair towards those around him, feeling as though he is still looked down upon as some sort of rebel because of his previous actions and not with all of the good he has done. The darkness in his magick was dangerous to learn, as dangerous as Irene's light magick, and it began to physically and mentally consume him as he lost more control of his thoughts and anger. Esmund, Irene and the others desperately tried to get Shad out of this state, but it failed.

Shad later escaped to the Nether/Underworld (It's Both) trying to attempt to build a kingdom of his own, which previously was just a place of darkness. Esmund felt defeated, and made sure to inscribe his relic to go to someone who was loyal and protected, and did not strive for power.

Esmund was the last person to fall to Shad, he was hoping and praying that maybe if he still stood up and fought, Shad would eventually be reminded of their training days, but that never happened. Shad lost his heart.

Irene had put a seal on Shad's relic, after she defeated his, at least, physical form which put the magic in his relic. The seal being it can only go to someone who had a kind, intelligent soul.

Enki and Zoey

Enki and Zoey are siblings in my rewrite. Zoey was roughly around 10 when Irene was around even in MCD and I thought it would be nice for her to be related to one of them somehow. Enki is a well known archivist in Yggdrasil, near the kingdom in Ru'aun as they get most of their resources from there. Actually, Enki is THE royal archivist, holding all files and letters the king has received and sent, along with anyone else in connection with him. He was a trusted figure. His magick was not seen as a threat during this time as he was more so of a support type rather than an offensive type.

Enki kept a book of myths and read them to Zoey every night as well.

When Esmund, Shad and Irene came to him, asking for help about getting away from the king, relaying all of this information, he was hesitant. But since Esmund was head guard and Irene was the queen-to-be, he felt obligated to show them the files they wanted to see. After a lot of convincing, Enki eventually joins them, not before giving Zoey the book of myths.

After the kingdom fell, he joined Irene and the others in Scaleswind as the archivist there, still visiting Zoey every so often. Similarly to everyone else, Enki had mastered his magick of plants and stars (the stars part is with support -- typically asking for support spells from the galaxy. Isn't as OP as it sounds, it's like Wendy's support magick from Fairy Tail where they either feel lighter or move faster.)

When Shad strayed from the path and the relics were made, Enki went to a remote island (later where the Enki Warrior Tribe is located) and left all of his archives there, out of the weather and where they would be safe, and handed his relic over to Zoey. The encryption was simple, only one of his relatives of the next generation can inherent his power. Enki did not have any kids as much as he hoped he would.

Despite knowing that they would statistically fail against Shad, Enki still went all in when fighting, hoping he wasn't wrong even in the slightest.

Menphia and Drorit

Menphia and Drorit have a lot of overlap between their goals and morals and were also married! Canonical wives in my rewrite.

Menphia comes from Tu'La, a very chaotic region where magick beings and demons roam freely, Menphia being a cat yokai (like KC/Nana). Due her upbringing, she's hotheaded and quick to join fights, she bites. But she is a very supportive person, puts her entire being into everything she does, and loves hard. Most of the chaos as caused by the king as he actually turned Tu'La into just an extension of Ru'aun, so of course she would jump at the chance to overthrow him.

Drorit is from Ivorian and is a big protestor. Ivorian is known for it's precious gems and materials, and her being a person of the public, was scared what might happen if the king of Ru'aun, a tyrant, were to get their hands on these gems. Drorit is a ride or die sort of person, she is willing to do anything for anyone for the cause she believes in. Every action she did was not void of purpose, so she easily joined the Divine Warriors.

We know the drill, kingdom fell, Scaleswind was made, they joined, and they mastered their magick. Menphia's being fire (including explosions and lava) and ground, and Drorit's being wind and flight.

When Shad betrayed then and attempted to make a kingdom, Menphia felt betrayed and Drorit was sickened. Menphia viewed Shad as a brother figure and the two were very close, seeing her... Brother, basically, being taken over by the magick he chose to learn hurt her. Drorit wasn't all that close with Shad but knew him as a honest and passionate man, which is why she was sickened to see the outcome. Drorit did the most damage out of them all during the battle while Menphia was one of the last people standing with Esmund.

Drorit's relic was meant to go to someone who stuck to their beliefs, much like Drorit. Menphia's relic is to go to someone who knows the ins and outs of every battle.

Fionn

Finally, Fionn.

A traveling merchant from Aerania, a region KNOWN for trade, and him being a water spirit. Water spirits can be a little devious and Fionn was just that, always being able to swindle people into giving him ever so slightly more money than intended. That's also what he wanted to do with the Divine Warriors as they caught him on one of their off days, until he say the gems they had in their possession with Drorit had taken from home. He soon warmed up to them, agreeing with them, and faking the passion. Like Flynn Rider/Eugene from Rapunzel.

Along the way, he realized how interesting they all were and how adventure was truly something he liked more than selling stuff for outrageous prices. He enjoyed being with them and learning about their lives.

Once the king was overthrown and Scaleswind was made, he.... Get this... Mastered his magick, being water and storms.

Fionn was the one who created the relics, he was the one who enchanted them and inscribed them with the seal. He had an old book he bought off another merchant that had the ability to take away magick and let it back out depending on how you write it out. He was the only Divine Warrior not to die in that battle as he was the one to hide the relics. Fionn's relic is meant to go to someone who understands the meaning of trust.

After Irene's disappearance, Fionn died from heartbreak.

This was just one big word dump and I am very sorry, but just a little more of you're time and I will talk about

The Relics.

Irene's Relic

Similar to the one that is in the original MCD, where it looks like a bunch of flames but instead it had light purple on the outside but a deep violet as the center. The relic is still in Irene's Dimension in the rewrite.

Shad's Relic

Somewhat the same as Irene's relic with the looks of flames, although they are more scattered and wide. It's also a light pink relic with a red diamond in the center. This relic is also in Irene's Dimension, so she can forever protect it.

Esmund's Relic

A square relic with rounded edges and carved like a diamond, it has varying hues of blue. The relic was in the possession of O'Khasis until Garroth faked his death in help with his mother, who handed him the relic to both protect him and the relic itself.

Enki's Relic

The relic resembles a bug with a pale green center and a dark forest green on the outside, some of it stemming off to look like "legs." The relic is in Zoey's possession BUT the Enki Warrior Tribe says that they have it to bring comfort to everyone else.

Menphia's Relic

A cross shaped relic with a vibrant orange hue that leads to a borderline red. The relic was found in the Nether when Aphmau was saving the werewolf pup from there. Shad had stolen Menphia's relic which caused the Nether to turn into a firey pit of hell.

Drorit's Relic

Two sharp, skinny diamond shaped relics with a piercing teal color. The relics were previously in the palace in Ivorian before the kingdom fell and was reborn with a tyrant, it is now in a treasure hunting guild known for criminal activities.

Fionn's Relic

A water droplet shape relic with a deep, blood red color. The relic was placed in a underwater temple, which Fionn had flooded.

If you have ANY questions regarding my rewrite, please ask. I am currently working on getting a stable rewrite on the characters right now so by all means, THINGS WILL CHANGE and have been changing.

Thanks for reading :3

[noctissyrin]

This was done by a friend of mine and I just wanted to join in and share my oc’s even though they have nothing to do with the Pokemon verse ^^

A/N: The story and concept of “Eternity of Dust and Stars” is owned and written by NoctisSyRin. Anyone besides the owner does not have permission to steal, borrow, change, edit or copy anything that has been written by the creator

📒: If they keep a journal, what is the saddest thing they've ever written in it?

Raewyn (Rae): Being a scholar she doesn't really keep a diary for security reasons as she was never allowed to openly document her thoughts in fear of being found out by the Overseer's Warden and Royal Guards. They comb through her chambers regularly in search of items they deem prohibited by their countless laws that get added to daily. However, upon Rae's immediate termination of her status upon freeing the Goddess of Stars - Aetheria from her prison within the Runic dungeon and fleeing of her kingdom entirely, Rae managed to salvage a few papers detailing the horrific practices and study that was performed that has been kept hidden from the public eye. The saddest thing that stands out amongst the crowd of Raewyn's countless sketches, articles and documents that she has preserved over her endless life is the cruel experimentations upon the “Ungifted” that have been recorded for over five centuries. All of which give vivid descriptions about how the Ungifted were treated, kept in small cages barely big enough to fit a large dog, fed scrapes of food and smaller portions of water that would hardly sustain a rat, and left to sit in their own filth and rot as they were quite literally harvested alive, torn apart limb by limb, striping them of whatever little magic that still flowed through their blood until there was nothing viable left to take from their “useless husks” as the cruel scientists behind these heartless actions would define them as. And all of this was done under the name of the Overseer's ruling Queen, Aion - the end goal being a hope for being able to fully harness this useless energy and somehow transfer it to those she deemed fit enough to rule by her side and aid her in her conquest of world domination. As of today none of their experimentations have succeeded thus far and many children and civilians have silently lost their lives under the cruel reign of the Endless Queen… That is until they crossed paths with the Throne of Tears.

Aetheria: Being a celestial draconic beast of immortality and granted the powers of a God meant to empower and aid their subject in a time of need, Aetheria has seen many horrible things while seated upon the Throne of Stars. Things she wishes she could forget but will remain implanted into her brain like a pesty itch she cannot get rid of. And with these things that she has seen she has documented it all within her domain of stars. Displaying all of the world's treason, sins and greeds, victories, and accomplishments out in the open for all to bear witness to as soon as the sun dips over the horizon and the sky blankets itself in a glorious inky darkness speckled with a vast array of shimmering lights. All it takes is for one curious and brilliant minded spectator to take one simple glance at the carefully cultivated arrangement of stars to understand the Goddesses griefs she has laid out for all to see. All they have to do is look.

🩸: Has your OC ever been severely wounded?

Raewyn: Yes, she has canonly died a number of times - both self inflicted or otherwise - and her self-sacrificing behaviors have gotten her into quite a number of sticky situations. She thinks just because she is a Phoenix gifted with the powers of resurrection that her deaths are as meaningless as they are endless, but little does she know - everything, no matter how insignificant they may seem at the time, has a limit.

Aetheria: YES! For nearly four centuries after she helped defeat the plague created by the Throne of Tears by giving life to the Overseer's (Phoenix’s), Aetheria's well meaning actions would quickly come back around to bite her in the butt and she would soon find herself being captured, tortured, studied and imprisoned by her own creations for an unseeable future. Its honestly a miracle that after all that time kept locked in pitch blackness with her own self being the sole company she has ever known - minus the few passing scientists who ceaselessly poked and prodded at her trying to draw more of her magic out for harvest - that the dragon is still very much sane. All of it would come to an end however when a little scholar's curiosity makes them wander far too into the Runic dungeons and past the sealed off barrier she's been enslaved in and free them.

😢: Has one of their Pokemon ever died, and how?

Raewyn & Aetheria: Pokémon don't exist in their world here unfortunately, but they have lost many friends and lovers, as is the curse of immortality.

🧬: Tell me about your OCs' family problems, if they have any.

Raewyn: Living in a society that is solely focused on being the best you can ever be and then being ever greater than that, Raewyn has had plenty of conflicts with her family both when in service of the crown as a scholar and when she was a refugee on the run after betraying said “crown”. She never really understood why it was customary to trample the weak and worship the strong, something that is common practice for those who have been hand picked to serve the crown or have naturally been born into royalty.

Aetheria: Aetheria on the other hand has had minimal family problems. This isn’t due to the fact that she was hand chosen by the Entity of Dust to serve as its Goddess of Stars but just because of different familial and societal differences. The celestial dragons are far more relaxed and empathetic toward their own and the other species around them, having a deeper and more intimate connection with life and all of the world's creations; they - as a species - are rather peaceful by nature except when threatened.

✂️: Have they ever had an argument that shattered their relationship with someone close?

Raewyn: Most of the time the little Phoenix’s arguments are with the celestial dragon Aetheria. They often buttheads as Rae has a more optimistic and gentle view of the world while Aetheria has grown jaded and cold over her centuries of enslavement and torture. Rae is a pacifist and wants to save the world and right wrongs and always tries to see the good in people no matter how far gone they may be while Aetheria has only one set goal in mind - kill Genesis.

Aetheria: The most prominent argument Aetheria has ever had that completely shattered a relationship was with her own lover, Nakimera who now goes by the name Genesis. The argument was spurred on by Nakimera’s desire to achieve Godhood like her lover after she discovered the remains of the fallen and what was assumed to be the perished Entity of Tears. Nakimera wanted to try and revive the Entity in hopes that it would grant her the status of a God after she has been denied of such title again and again during the ceremonial selection ritual that is conducted every time a God falls into ruin, so both her and Aetheria could rule side by side for as long as they lived. This was something Aetheria was fully against as the Entity of Tears brings nothing but calamity and destruction in its wake. In an act of desperation and fueled by the maddening whispers of the Entity that spoke to Nakimera without Aetheria’ knowledge, promising her fame and all her heart desired - to finally be a God amongst men. Naki fled into the night in search of the Entity of Tears temple and attempted the ritual meant to revive it - only for the ceremony to backfire horribly. As soon as the Entity was awoken it immediately set its previous plans - that being the full eradication of the world and everything on it - back into motion. Quickly it set its sights on the knocked out and dying figure of Nakimera who lay bleeding out on his sacrificial chambers floors and it forced its way into her vessel like a moth drawn into a flame, taking over her and eradicating any and all traces of the former owner of the body in a heartbeat. And thus Genesis was reborn anew and with it the horrors that it would soon unleash back on to the world.

🫣: Tell me about a time when your OC has been truly terrified/horrified by something.

Raewyn: When she accidentally witnessed firsthand what happened to all the “Ungifted” children that got taken away from their parents once they failed to prove to the crown that they were not in fact “useless”. She was never meant to see that but she did and now she is on the run with a bounty on her head.

Aetheria: When Aetheria saw her lover Nakimera turned into the reborn Entity of Tears during the war with the Throne of Tears and she knew that she would ultimately have to kill her. She never did and that is something she will come to regret at a later date.

⚔️: Have they ever been in a fight against someone really dangerous?

Raewyn: Being a wanted woman on the run by multiple nations, the dangerous situations Rae seems to always find herself in are endless. The poor little birdy just can’t seem to catch a break.

Aetheria: The worst fight Aetheria has ever been in is when she sealed away her lover and the Entity of Tears for the second time. At the time during this fight no one really knew how to kill an Entity at all - they only knew how to “trap” it. For 6 years Aetheria continuously fought off all of the Thrones armies and forces while simultaneously devising a plan that would hopefully bring the Entity of Tears plans to a halt. What was this plan? It was simple really, lure the Entity back to its temple and tear it apart limb from limb until it could no longer regenerate itself. You see, for as all powerful the Entity’s of the world may be they are surprisingly helpless when in the general area around their domain and although they may be defeated in their domain they are far from “killed” as that requires and whole other set of steps that needs to be taken in order to achieve that outcome. What those steps may be - only the Entity’s know that. And so Aetheria and her army of Overseer’s (the Phoenix’s she created with her own lifeforce) was forced to tear her lover apart piece by piece, engaging in battle that seemingly had no end, spreading their blood, entralls, limbs and everything else over a span of about 3 football fields until nothing but a shambling corpse remained. Prideful, vain and blinded by an unquenchable fury was the Entity of Tears downfall and it only realized its mistake when it was far too late for it to be able to make a run for it once it noticed it was not able to finish the fight it started. Terrified the Entity had one last trick up its sleeve, in a final ditch effort to preserve what little of its life remained the Entity gathered up the last of its strength and sealed itself away within an unbreakable crystalized capsule that resembled a moth’s cocoon. At the same time it forcefully ejected the source of its powers - the Weeping Eyes - out into the world and scattered them into various unknown places where they buried themselves within the soil and grew dormant near the earth core to await the next inevitable revival of their master.

⏳: Has your OC ever been "too late" to do/say something, and it had serious consequences?

Raewyn: The first time Rae was too late was when she realized that her kingdom wasn’t so docile and friendly as they try to make themselves seem. They managed to take over nearly half of the world’s population with the help of the Throne of Tears aid until their tyrannical reign was brought to a sudden stop with Aetheria, Raewyn and the rebellion's aid. The next time was the third revival of the Entity of Tears.

Aetheria: She was too late to tell her lover Nakimera that she never had to join her in Godhood for her to always love and cherish her and that just being a normal, happy, healthy and nerdy doctor was enough for her. It would have always been enough for her. Unfortunately the Entity of Tears got to Naki first way before Aetheria ever had the chance to intervene and try to save her lover from her untimely fate.

🛡️: Have they ever failed to protect someone they love, and what happened?

Raewyn: Despite Rae’s difference with her family she has always loved them from the bottom of her heart. The Entity of Tears took advantage of this and tried to use them as leverage against Rae to try and gain access to the Entity of Dust domain so that it could destroy that which it despised above all else once and for all but it ended up killing them as soon as her family wasn’t useful at all to it anymore.

Aetheria: Nakimera will always be one of Aetheria’s biggest regrets. I am not going to spoil her other regret because that’s for me to know only~

🥊: Has your OC ever been betrayed, and how did it affect them?

Raewyn: Yes. Many, many, many times. It’s not to be unexpected considering how she’s on the run and is working with the rebellion. Being constantly on the run like this while also dealing with the third revival of the Tears Entity has put a massive strain on Rae’s mental state and also challenged her morals more times than she’d like to admit. She always smiles despite how worn down and defeated she may feel.

Aetheria: Only by Nakimera.

🧪: What is the most sick they have ever been?

Raewyn: When she was in her “Flightless” arc. For reasons unknown to everyone but Aetheria, Rae was a Phoenix born with tattered and useless wings. Had she not had an impressive and downright natural talent for magics that caught the crowns eye at such a young age, Rae would have met the same fate as so many other “Ungifted” children that came before her. This wouldn’t keep her from scrutiny however and she would have to always prove herself worthy of being in the crowns court. Rae would also be known as the “Flightless Phoenix” or “The Broken One”.

Aetheria: Aetheria can’t really get sick unless there’s some all powerful supernatural cause at play that quite literally forces her to be sick.

💣: Has your OC ever hurt someone precious to them by losing their temper?

Raewyn: Despite the claims that Phoenix’s are quick to temper and even harder to calm down, Rae goes against all stereotypes of her species. She’s naturally level headed and nice to all that approach her, finding comfort in the more welcoming and empathetic species of the world and tending to hang around those more than the others. But Rae has hurt someone by losing her temper when she was a kid and didn’t have full control over her powers. She was exhausted and overworked trying to become one of the top scholars on the crown which caused a flareup in her emotions and she nearly burned down the entire school building in a fit of rage and she scorched her professors back and nearly took off his wings with how hot her fire blazed that day.

Aetheria: She lost her temper on Nakimera and her impatience to be a God a lot of times and this unfortunately was what created a wedge in their relationship and drove Naki to the brink and confused by the miscommunication they endured in their fights as she felt like she had to become a God for Aetheria to love her again.

⛓️: When was a time that your OC felt truly, inescapably, hopelessly trapped?

Raewyn & Aetheria: This is hella spoilery and I’m not going to answer this one~ Sorry~

©2024 NoctisSyRin do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[thecreativeforge-a]

Hey, everyone! I'm back! I know I wasn't away for long. I was actually planning on returning later due to IRL stuff, which luckily got finished earlier than I expected. I did update the blog a little, and here's what's new:

This blog is now mutuals only. I know it's a little finnicky with side blogs, so my askbox and messages are still open to everyone, but I will be writing with mutuals only. I am currently following everyone I write with, so please let me know if we're writing and I missed you. That said, if we're not writing and you're interested, drop me an ask/message. Please remember that this is a sideblog, and all likes/follow backs will be from my mun blog @mscattitude

My muse list has not changed by much. I removed Veronica (#hiddenfromsight) and added another DCAU muse, Ace (#aceinthehole). She will be aged up to her early twenties, and I will be writing my headcanon background for her soon.

I have a carrd for my rules and muses (again!). My OC info still leads to the google doc. Rules have been slightly updated, and I recommend you go give them a read.

I made some graphics for all my muses. I will occasionally use icons as well when the mood strikes me, but all the posts/threads involving my muses should have some graphics in them. If you'd prefer me not to use them with you specifically, drop me an ask/message.

I am finally using xkit! I am still learning how to, so be patient with me. But posts should be trimmed and more organized now.

What's still in the works?

I am still sorting through tags and clearing out some old ones which are unused. I might be making new ones, and I might be making a tag page for convenience, too. I may start using verse tags for long-standing relationships.

Thank you for being patient with me. It's good to be back 😄

[chaosmultiverse]

Mini Update

Moewdy, I'm making this just in case y'all were worried about me & to give you guys a update on my plans & progress on my blog remake!

So firstly just a life update, still homeless, still working on that, but slowly it feels like we're moving forward, just don't know to what yet. It is also my birthday soon! 27th of this month to be exact, I'll be turning 22 alongside my twin @playedbetter.

Now blog updates

I am still going to remake my blog, I think a fresh start would be good for me, my mental health & my writing ablity, when this happens I'll archive this blog & redirect you guys to my new blog/account which will be Chaosmultiverse at that point, right now it has a random name while I work on it.

With this remake I am resetting the majority of my plots & characters, I really want a fresh start & I want to be able to account for the Community Verse system I am gonna be using to make things simple for me from the get go, this does not apply to server Community Verses (DC GC for example) or my affiliate blogs, which is right now just @playedbetter.

(When it is closer to the remake launch I will make a call for those that either want to maintain plots & ships, or want to figure ones out from the get go)

As for progress here is where I am at in a few different regards.

I have found a way of using photoshop on my phone, so have beening icons, a dash icon, and things for headers and promo pics, I still have a lot to make before I have the amount I want but I have made the templates

(There will be a second stage later down the road when I have reliable access to a pc again where I will be remaking my icon templates & remaking/making new pics for the other things, I just want pics for in the meantime)

I have made some of the important OOC pages like a updated rules page & a about the mun, when it is closer to being relaunched I'll make sure these are still up to date.

I have also made a new muse page & a credits page, both are WIPs right now, the muse page isn't still 100% settled, with some muses added & removed from time to time (plus lack of icons) and the credits page isn't done either as it's actively being updated as I use stuff or get permission to use stuff.

I now mainly need to work on character bios, I have a few done and these can really very in how long they take to make, but I want it to be easy to find info about my muses so I am not skipping this step or doing it post blog opening

Besides from the bios the other big thing is important Headcanons & Info posts & pages, along with templates for the info pages, since I tend to be canon divergent or have world scale hc's it's important to me that I communicate them.

There are also some muses I want to do more research on, specifically some LOL muses and DC muses, in general I'm trying to make sure I have a good understanding of my muses.

I unfortunately don't have any time estimates, life is really unpredictable right now & that impacts how much time I can put into this blog, I will say it is safer to assume it will take longer than shorter, so a few months at least, in the meantime I am semi available on discord for talking, plotting & RP'ing with the understanding it may not fit into my blog.

[devourensarc]

// Alright!! Carrd is updated! Updated the connections section, added a little bit to his about (new height, sister, his big three astrology signs), and some more informational posts to his hsr verse. I also linked my post regarding zh.ongchi in my rules so that it's clear from the get go, and explicitly stated my cap on romantic dynamics per muse as well.

That being said, I will not be accepting any more romantic dynamics for Thoma outside the ones I have now.

I'll probably start spring cleaning on this blog very soon, which means clearing out mutuals who haven't interacted at all, even in an ooc manner. I'll be lurking a bit as I try and make some progress on this rough draft due tomorrow, but I hope you all are having a good Wednesday!!

[murdermade]

indie Orin blog from bg3. 21+ only, mutuals only, semi-selective and novella preferred. mun is 25+, goes by he/him pronouns. Penned by Jay/JJ.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT PRESENT HERE. ORIN IS NOT A MUSE I WILL HOLD BACK.

I do not write on discord, AT ALL.

purity culture not welcome here. Fiction has no reflection on a mun’s morals. Thank you <3

There will be Bhaalcest present here, it will be tagged bhaalcest cw

All graphics used on this blog are made by me, please do not steal.

I will usually take that first step and send you memes as soon as you follow me. I find it helps getting things started and making people feel at ease. if you don't want me to do this, please let me know.

blog links: rules||memes||shipping call||nsft call||like this post if you're okay with me changing orin into things to mess with your muses||bhaalcest shipping call||mains call||au verses||control consent post||novella call

other blogs: @taleswritten (multi, active) & @spawnmade (astarion, very active, main blog) @fademade (active)

wrecking havoc with: @spiderwarden & @ourwrittenstories & @mysticrosed & @relentlessgrief & @alluringlittledeath

@dvilsdesire & @fiendishfinesse & @bloodsoakedurge & @rhapsodyandwoe & @myrkulsapxstle (ask to be added!)

activity notice/psa: as of right now, I will be very slow to respond to things as I adjust to a new schedule in my life. I will do replies/asks as I have time for them, please be patient with me as my days are usually very busy but I promise no one is being ignored. I am also always accepting new threads/asks so no worries about that. as long as you realize there may be a wait, it's all good.

[selenafinley-rp]

Selena Finley - General Introduction

This is a general introduction of my original character. It is intended to get an idea of who she is, and serve as a "base template" for further developing her character depending on the storyline. Additional details may be added, and can vary depending on the verse. More visual references, outfit variations etc. will hopefully also follow soon!

Age: 24

Date of Birth: 31st of July (birth year may vary depending on the storyline, as a “default” I’ve set 1710)

Family: Alexander Finley (twin brother), Dorothea Finley, née Schönauer (mother), Richard Finley (father)

Ethnicity: Austrian-English (with a small part of Scottish ancestry on her father's side of the family)

Personality: introverted, calm, optimistic realist, stubborn when she wants to reach a goal, can make herself appear more bold in situations where she has no other choice

Skills: academic education - particularly in natural sciences (biology, astronomy, physics) and mathematics, languages (English, German - taught by her mother, Latin, Greek), piano, horseback riding, general upper class etiquette

Background: Selena comes from a middle- to upper-class family and grows up in a comfortable, protected environment. Her mother is originally from Austria, where she meets her father, an English merchant, during one of his business trips through Europe. After falling in love, the couple eventually gets married and Richard takes Dorothea back to England with him to start a family. His business flourishes over the years, and when his wife gives birth to not just one, but two kids, he is able to afford them a good life, including an extensive education.

Selena and Alexander receive tutoring in a variety of fields, from the arts and music over languages, history and geography to mathematics and natural sciences. Through this, Selena discovers her interest for the latter - particularly physics, astronomy and biology - which she becomes very passionate about, reading lots of books and papers from famous scientists and even starting to make observations and take notes of her own. Besides this, she enjoys spending her time playing the piano. She is an introvert, doesn’t mind being by herself most of the time, although she takes part in social gatherings with acquainted families if the etiquette requires it.

In relation to the time they live in, Richard and Dorothea are rather lenient parents, being gentle and loving with both their son and their daughter, although they also cannot refrain completely from compromising to dominating societal rules. When he reaches his later teens, Alexander joins the Royal Navy to pursue a career as an officer. Selena remains at her parents’ home; due to being a woman, many career parts remain locked for her, but thanks to her education, she is allowed to act as a Latin tutor for the children of other wealthy families. Her parents don’t force or pressure Selena into a marriage, although they would not have been unhappy either if she chose one of the young men from their social circle to be her husband. When Selena is in her early twenties, the family decides to move to the Caribbean to expand their business further, additionally it gives them the opportunity to keep closer contact with Alexander, who has been moved to serve on a ship in the new realms. Selena initially feels distraught from being uprooted from her life as she knew it, but once she gets more used to it, she is also fascinated by the new environment, the flora and fauna and all the potentially undiscovered things out there. However, she is not able to predict what other surprises this new life might hold for her …

Other info: Nowadays, Selena would be considered biromantic and demisexual, however due to the time she lives in, she obviously doesn’t use these terms as they don’t exist yet. She probably wouldn’t recognise her demisexuality as something unusual, as “saving oneself for the right person” fits right in with the values of the society she was brought up in. She also most likely wouldn’t ever become aware of her bi side unless she actually were to fall in love with another woman, as there obviously exists no representation of romantic love outside of straight relationships in her environment.

[fcreststridcr]

Do you like fox boys that explore, research, speak all things nature and has a love for mushrooms?

Then look no further, this is a crossover and oc friendly Tighnari from Genshin Impact blog!

~ Flourished by Pride, mun is of age ~

Rules and Verses(being added soon!)

🍃 ~ ♡ or ↻ and I'll check out your blog! ~ 🍃

[dream-this-nightmare-over]

Tancrede de Hautville imagine (special guest: louis x)

This one is for my fellow knight @lllostgirlll

You can find this imagine and lot more in my book of Imagines that is being filled continuously by new stories.

Hope you enjoy!

From smoke and remains of Acre, Rashid has saved y/n. Again.

Tancrede told her to run, but she wouldn't leave her friends to perish in cries that started from the ramparts. Only solace he found in days and months that followed, was Rashid's promise from that night when he came to warn them, that he will track her down and make sure to keep little rascal out of bloodbath way. Even though, both men knew, it was more likely y/n will be saving one of them than vice verse. But Tancrede had to do something before everything was lost. He held onto echo of imagined answer to his prayer, that she found tunnels and reunited with brotherhood of light that was waiting on the other side. Sometimes he thought all he brings is darkness.

He killed Nassir when he couldn't tell him if you are with them in Paris nor where you are, and started going on instead about ultimate downfall. It was stupid and careless thing to do, but he didn't want to risk your name finding way to streets of Paris. Mention of doom that's waiting for them, was like echo back from acre, you were doomed as long as he is around. Why couldn't you just ran off anywhere else, why did you tie yourself to grail? He cursed and spitted on rules that didn't allow women to be part of order.

Y/n was born in Outremer and quickly became entangled in web of deceit and power hunger. Rashid was first to notice her talent, and offered to horn her skills for greater purpose. But he didn't know the whole depth of her involvement with Christian knights. He knew she and Landry struck an alliance before brotherhood revealed itself to templars, offence otherwise punishable by death, if it didn't prove to be so lucrative. Exchange of information, assistance in action, dividing the spoils, bonded by secrecy of truth neither really understood without the other. You were link between two pillars that held east together. And yet somehow, by virtue of survival on your own, you belonged to neither. Rashid had soft spot for you since you joined as orphan, but you were wild untamed thing that only wanted one special templar to be king of your heart. It was holy grail you weren't trading.

Y/n sneaked into castle grounds with golden trio, the gang back together at last just like in golden days of mischief, following Landry's mad dash for one last rush of adrenaline as he settles Paris' debts once and for all.

But soon it became apparent y/n is chasing her own agenda.

She didn't need them, she could deal with it on her own, and was already dashing down corridors, when Tancrede caught up with her, grabbed her by forearm pulling her back to look at him. "Are you mad? This place is swarmed with king's knights. They will have you served as roasted dessert before you realize you are dead." Just then four knights passed and Tancrede pulled you with him behind wall. "You aren't doing it on your own. We aren't separating again." He whispered shouted.

Gawain added as he moved forward when he made sure air is clear. "Landry boy wouldn't appreciate losing his ranks." Short lived discussion was over for him, his mind was made up without it. He is willing to indulge all the wishes just to be out of here as soon as possible.

"Glad to see you alive. Knew you would make it" Tancrede said with smirk.

Now that he finally found her (when he was taken by Rashid, who had penchant for drama so it wasn't far fetch in imagination to think he orchestrated whole thing just to witness happy reunion), they were running in exile again. But this time together; last time the doom fell on them, everything was no man's land except love they saved for each other.

"Not thanks to you"

"You didn't need to save me" Tancrede still believed he would get out of rashid's game, if it wasnt for help from within.

"We can settle it buddy. Right now." y/n says turning form wall they were hiding behind and toward Tancrede in what looked like challange on a fight. if anyone saw them, two bickering behind back of third who is crouching keeping guard spying the hallways trying to figure out next move, while hushing other two with agitated hand movements that are being ignored, one wouldn't need more proof to assume Order is truly dissolved duo to madness that poisoned their ranks. It's easy to understand why superstitious propaganda could lit a zealous pier in absences of context.

Tancrede and you fell in bickering teasing that had been turning bitter since you saved him from Rashid and wounded his pride of taking care of everything on his own, which in return made him insufferable prat, specially because he didn't understand what you weren't saying: you did it not out of doubt for his knightly skill but rather out of knowing Rashid too good and knowing very well that pothead needs reasoning every once in a while. Moreover when he is faced with man who kills to save your name. Like you can't protect yourself. Just because their Rules were devoid of belief in women strength, is didn't mean you weren't worthy of knight title.

Papa Gawain grumpy old cat tired and irritated, down to last morsel of every everything, tired of you two, poor man just wanted some break, had to put a stop to this before yet another Landry's 'great idea' is jeopardized and they are sent back to piers.

'Stop it you two, will you?' he hissed.

Just then lone hooded figure came their way and abruptly  stopped in it's tracks. "What-"

y/n had knife to his throat in blink of an eye.

Tancrede rolled his eyes. "no. just no."

"Gawain, i see you brought your friends" Garry didn't even tremble. it was almost like he was ready for anything. perhaps previous confrontation with Phillip gave him boost of bravery. Standing up for yourself, letting go of pretense, they say does miracles to people.

Gawain came closer, sighing heavily "Where is louis?"

Suddenly y/n ran off down the corridor, embers of light gliding down her cloak as she passed torches.

With a nod to each other of approvement, Tancrede moved out of the way so Gawain could strike old sly with hilt of a sword, making him pass out so they could finally get going. Knight couldn't find it in himself to kill yet another person. Besides if Landry does his part, and from what they heard that went down in court room, they have chance of being far away before Garry reunites with a new ruler. Calling de Nogaret by sobriquet y/n gave him, was another sign he was again falling under influence of his old ally. 

'Hurry' Gawain called out as they chased after y/n

In Louis room y/n and young king were having a duel. Moon casted whole room blue, shadows slithering around them like even night knows it's dawn of time.

"Give me back what's mine and I might let this damned country still be a monarchy" y/n demanded with patience running out, as she held sword point at velvet chest.

"if you kill me, someone else will come. it's never going to stop." Louis said like it humored him to be a prophet, like he is talking from brick of hopelessness where man has nothing to lose anymore. His dopey eyes reflecting the blade coming up his throat. His face ashen, but eyes full of manic understanding he was challenging his little spy to disapprove.  "Do people always have such pleasure doing business with you?' he said sarcastically. 

He backed y/n off aiming for her ribs but y/n caught his sword with hers and deflated the attack. Clash of metal ringing through dance for destinies.

"Tell me where is it! We had a deal! y/n throws Louis off balance and he falls on his bed.

"Why is it so important? It's just a necklace. Oh let me guess. It will pay the way." he snickers tiredly. In death of your world, everyone's can go to waste too. "You cant save them. they are all dead man." he says darkly.

He stays there staring at pattern on duvet transfixed or lost in day's events taking toll on his young mind that can only take so much, and y/n uses the chance to stalk across the room and go through his drawers.

Louis reaches in pocket of his pants looking like he will exhale last pieces of his defeated soul. when he brings it out, y/n nudges aside his sword that was laying on the floor where he dropped it, coming closer.

"I should feel gratitude," he says dangling the chain from his fingers. "But i feel nothing."

The boy smiles, girl snatches the necklace keeping eyes on his, consumed by sudden urge to tuck piece of hair away from his face just to give him some warmth in return but she knew he is wounded wolf who will consolidate his reign again, and pain will stay with the night in which she has to disappear as well as any trace of their business affair.

And that's how kings die, y/n thought. Teach them they can have anything, then teach them they have no power to save the only thing they really want.

Aren't they all just Achilles in different time?

His voice is haunting lullaby cautionary tale of prince who had to lose to gain, bitter wisdom, why is there price for everything?

"There is no way out. you wont make it. You can run but you wont outrun yourself."

Y/n picked up his sword and layed it next to him on bed, but he didn't even move or gave signs he even registered, then joined others.

'Let's go" y/n urged them as darkness filled castle.

They reunited with Landry on the dock and y/n wondered if he found absolution he was looking for. Everyone knew Landry playing saint, putting everyone in danger to settle exuberant price for love affair, wont stop further persecutions, but they didn't stop him when he jumped off the ship and ran back into night that is alive with claws and swords. Gawain cursed as they tied the boat, someone asked if they should send quick prayer to find it again, but time was slipping away too fast and their friend was chasing trouble and they were chasing after him to cover his trace to jump in if he misses a pair of hands or a blade and it all felt for less than a moment because time is not theirs anymore, like they were back in East, surviving in unlikely alliance, still heroes of their story.

Tancrede gave her that necklace back in Acre. It was token of friendship and love and honest faith in better world. Y/n used it as secret compartment to get a message to Louis about his love. She thought it served its purpose almost like it was meant to serve as container of hope in grim world of politics and war.

Louis was right.

She didn't feel accomplished for telling him where Margaret was. Just emptiness of every soul she failed to save, all the ghosts traded for freedom.

Once on deck, warm hand on her back promised there is a way to live with shadows. His hand found hers under cloak. three squeezes. Like in old time. She looked up and he was giving her his most ardent loyalty from storms raging in his depths.

"I didn't mean-" he started

"I should have left you to rot."

"Maybe. Maybe i deserved it." He will never forgive himself for leaving her behind. Even if he knew she would never run away from danger. Fighting together in acre, until battle divided them and he lost sight of his heart; everything set in motion too fast: extracting the grail boarding the ship, eaten to death by grief of not being more persuading more valorous when it comes to standing up for things that really mattered to him. But deep down he knew, acre was y/n's home and she would find a way to make it out alive from every hell. He knew there was side of whole grail mystery that dwelled just out of peripheral in fata morgana they will never come to fathom as anything more than scorching ordeal, but he hoped all along, it will serve its purpose to save life of it's protector. Are we born with grief, or we wake it up with actions that shake the grounds of innocence?

"I should have saved her" she could have got Margaret out if only she wasn't so set on saving already damned knights.

"We all should have been better."

He kissed crown of her head and she closed her eyes as his beard tickled her cheek and whisper warmed her insides as it found way to her heart. "but you are one thing i have no regrets about."

As laundry and gawain managed the sails, y/n looked back one last time toward Paris in heavy fog of change. Nothing will be same from tomorrow. History in making, will we be remembered or all the secrets we keep will take us with them, was it worth it all the secrecy if end finds you either way whether you leave legacy or die in stables looking for revange on your dead lover's murderer? Will someone else carry it out on your behalf when you aren't around anymore?

Y/n thanked louis in her mind for keeping his part of bargain and clearing the posts of prying eyes. They sailed into the night unnoticed, gone from history book pages, it was only beginning of yet another adventure.

Locket safe under tunic. Heart heavy but in arms that loved.

Y/n are running away with the remnants of the greatest.

They didn't know where their ship was bobbing but it was carried by unanimous hope of sailing into the port of some new sunsets that won't pull them apart again. If nothing, they will build one themselves.

[spartanguard]

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason. <3

Tagged by @shireness-says (thank you, darling Dev!!!)

First fic: Drunk Dial (okay, it's not actually my first fic on AO3, but I posted it on tumblr first). It's exactly the kind of silliness I was into at the time.

Last fic: I'll be posting the final chapter of Sons of Love and Death tomorrow (though I highly doubt it will be my "last"--as in final--fic; just need the muse to focus on something)

Only once: All my fics have been for OUAT, and the vast majority Captain Swan, but I wrote two fics for crackships: A Pair of Barflies (Captain Beauty) and True Love is Like a Beard: It Grows (Captain Charming--romantic, which I need to specify because there are quite a few brotp fics in there).

Favorite fic from the fandom I’ve written in most: You mean I have to pick? I usually say Savage Garden, but it might be overtaken by Sons of Love and Death...but probably only because it's more recent.

Fic I wish more people read: All of them, haha. But particularly Sons of Love and Death and Most Wanted. They were both a lot of fun to play with different kinds of magic and worldbuilding.

Fic I agonized over: Sons of Love and Death started from a tumblr prompt sent to me in September 2015 and didn't see the light of day until July 2023. So definitely that one. (But let's be real, just about all of my MC fics.) Shoutout also goes to Two Booksellers of Storybrooke because I had to brush up on Shakespeare a LOT.

Fic that sprang fully formed: A good number of one-shots--particularly the ones inspired by songs (which I will be adding to soon)--but also Partners, because binge-watching SVU does that to a person.

Work(s) I’m proud of: SEVERAL! All of the above, for starters, but here's a few more:

A Tall Tail: My first MC/'verse (because it ended up expanding from there) and what got me any kind of following as a writer. I'd never tackled anything like that--let alone being new to fanfic writing--so that I was able to pull it off still amazes me.

Something In The Water: aka Mermaid Killian 2. Because pulling that off in a modern setting was incredibly fun.

Spinning Together: I just love that I was able to put together CS and colorguard (my other passion).

It's Getting Hard to be Someone: This was an idea that had been floating around forever and I'm really happy with the way it turned out when I finally got to write it.

I could keep going but I'd be here a while. But we all know that when we write something, we usually put a part of us into it, so it's hard not to have a fondness for all of them!

Tagging: @optomisticgirl @initiala @ohmightydevviepuu @kmomof4 and whoever else wants to do this!