#the writing demon took over me as I wrote this.. I have never written so much in one sitting..

[forthedancingandthethriving]

(Via ways I don't know how, because idk how to write them, it's the minister party time bitches!)

TW: Harassment

○●○

"Hey, Tulip?" Ash calls as he walks into the fashion room. He adjusts the suit he was wearing before glancing up. "Are you almost ready to go? We need to- uh.."

He was then witness to watching Tulip pacing back and forth, running her fingers through her hair as she muttered things frantically under her breath. He frowns.

It was no secret that Tulip was the most stressed about the upcoming party. The engineer had informed the group of the party invitation to the party held by the Prime Minister. She had been convinced to go, mainly because of the idea that the Meme Alliance Leaders proposed. They wanted to gauge and see the responses the Ministers, and Aite, would have to things like this.

It took a lot, a lot of work. Social engineering, Tulip herself having to pull some stunts, and some general meme fuckery, they had managed to get Princess Peach and Cynthia to have a presence and Renata, and Desmond with the princess and Ash with the champion. It took work, way too much work, but when those two got the invitations, along with the agreement to Plus Ones, it was a win for them all.

Still, it left Tulip stressed. And for understandable reasons.

"Hey, Tulip." Ash walks over and gently grabs her shoulder. She jolts in surprise and stops in her pace.

"Oh, sorry." She looks away, frowning. "I.. I was pacing and got too lost in thought."

"I don't blame you." He shook his head. "I mean, you're going back to somewhere you don't really like."

"Yeah." Tulip nods in agreement. She exhales. "But.. I have to." She smiles. "For everyone."

Ash pulls her into a hug. "And we'll be there to help." He then grins, adding on, "and maybe I can punch Archie again."

"Ash!"

○●○

That didn't take too long, Chester thinks to himself, sipping from a champagne glass. He stands underneath one of the windows, the setting sun's light pouring in through the window, gently bathing him in its warmth.

His azure eyes watch as Ash puts himself between Tulip and Archie, and some heated words are already being exchanged. Tulip looked like she was on the brink of a panic attack, with who he presumed was Cynthia attempting to calm her, the one who was probably Peach trying to de-escalate the situation, and the other male that was probably Desmond watching with a bit of a faraway look on his face.

"Shouldn't you be doing something about that?" A familiar voice cuts in through his hearing. Chester turns his head, raising an eyebrow.

He exhales softly, before turning his head to smile. Long golden hair in a low ponytail, dark green eyes, and a dark blue suit. Showing alignment with Travis Wrede, the Blue Minister.

"Why should I?" The aide to the Purple Minister hums. He raises the champagne glass to his lips. "I don't see any reason why I should be."

"That random boy looks like he's about to punch Archie in the face," Zeke Burkheart says like it's obvious.

Chester chuckles, sipping the liquid before he finally turns his head to look at Zeke fully. "Wouldn't you like that?" He challenges with a smile. "After all, you never did like Archie, did you?"

Zeke, knowing better than to challenge the second most powerful person in the country, instead aims his glare towards the group. "I don't understand why Tulip isn't over where with me."

Finally, seeing the situation getting to the point where Cynthia was now having to try and hold Ash back, Chester sets his glass aside. He looks back at Zeke with a hum. "Some people just tend to pull the blind backs and see the sun for the first time."

Leaving the heir to the Burkheart family confused with his words, Chester makes his way over to the escalating situation.

"— poor excuse of a brother!"

The aide chuckles at the aggressive words from Ash before he steps in between the group of five and the duo. "Now, now. I don't think there's any need to this fight."

Tulip, seemingly brought out of her panic by seeing Chester, quickly moves forward and pulls Ash back. She whispers to him, voice frantic, "that's Chester Damond! He's Aite's aide!"

"Mr. Chester!" Daisy puts on a familiar fake smile. "I didn't think you'd be showing up."

He returns the smile with one of his own, coated in honey and sugar. "Of course I would, Mrs. Orpheus. After all, I only leave once Ms. Tyron leaves."

He then turns his head to smile at Tulip, who nearly seems to collapse from her having his attention. He holds out a hand, and it takes a moment for her to register that he was asking for a handshake. She does just that, and Chester then claps his hands together. "Now, what in the world was this argument about? Surely it wouldn't warrant how loud you all were getting."

His eyes narrow at the reactions. Ash seemed genuinely remorseful, while Archie no doubt was just embarrassed he got caught by the Prime Minister's aide.

"He got up in Tulip's face and started demanding to know why she was here," Ash spoke before Archie or Daisy could, "and it sort of.. escalated. I'm sorry."

Chester watches as Tulip places a hand on Ash's shoulder and whispers something to him, probably something meant to be reassuring. He smiles at that display before he turns his head to the mother and son. "Well, Mrs. Orpheus? Do you have anything to add?"

He can't help but be a bit amused by the scowl that crosses Daisy's face. "I just couldn't help but wonder what my dear daughter is doing here." She masks the scowl quite nicely with a smile, one that could be mistaken for concern.

But Chester knew, and Tulip most certainly knew as well.

"I just can't help but wonder what Tulip has achieved for her to be able to be invited," Daisy muses, tilting her head.

Tulip tenses at that, Ash looks ready to defend her once more as well, but Chester speaks up.

"Ms. Tyron personally invited them."

That draws the attention of everyone around. People who had been pretending to listen were now looking at them with wide eyes. Tulip felt like melting into a puddle then and there.

"Well, if that's all, then I'll be going." Chester smiles at the group before turning on his heel and walking off. However, he just couldn't help but wonder - why in the world would Aite make him reveal that, should a fight break out?

○●○

Tulip's heart was pounding, and she was very, very sure she was on the verge of a panic attack. And yet there was no one around to comfort her. To pull her aside, tell her breath, and that she'd be okay.

Following Chester bringing up how Aite had personally invited them to the party, it was nothing but conversation after conversation with people Tulip had hoped she would never see again. She'd gotten so swept up into it, so busy falling back into the old habits of greeting and making small talk that she didn't even notice her support had gotten swept away.

Though, it made sense. Maybe the social engineering worked too well.

"Tulip!" called a girl from a family Tulip couldn't care to remember. She put on a fake smile.

"Oh, hi," she greets them with a wave. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was just wondering.." The girl's voice grew quieter, almost embarrassed as she spoke. "The boy you were with.. is he single?"

Tulip blanks for a moment. She was pretty sure romance wasn't really a thing on Ash's mind all that much, so the girl had to be talking about Desmond. She giggles nervously and rubs the back of her neck, "ah, well, it's not really my place to say. Why.. do you ask?"

"Because he's so handsome!" The girl squeals. "Nearly all the other girls are swooning over him. He's so aloof, it's so dreamy."

Tulip holds back a wince. Uh, no, he's probably trying to stay awake right now. She pauses then in her thinking. Or disassociating. I know I'm gonna start soon..

"Well now, who's this?" A familiar voice makes Tulip shake and grip the glass she was holding. The girl who was talking to seems to recognize the voice as well, she quickly rushes off.

"To think I'd see you at one of these again," the voice of Zeke makes Tulip's heart start to race from panic.

Not him. Anyone but him.

But the familiar blonde hair enters her vision first, followed by the face she had detested every time she had to come here, or those stupid family dinners, or anything else.

Zeke Burkheart looks down at her with a bit of a smirk, and Tulip is thankful that she doesn't just collapse then and there. She can feel bile creeping its way up her throat, and it was taking everything in her to not vomit.

"It's been far too long since I last saw you, little petal." Zeke hums as he plucks Tulip's glass from her hand. She's frozen in place, and she can hear her heart pounding in her ears. Little petal.. God, she hated that nickname too much.

"I-It has been a while," she stutters, unable to meet his eyes. Memories she didn't want to remember were coming back. Hugs and the sort. Ones that made her oh-so uncomfortable, ones that she was sure Zeke knew made her uncomfortable but still went with it because he wanted to be with her solely to get a stake in the family company and-

Zeke places a hand on her forehead, and it snaps Tulip out of her spiraling thoughts. Her eyes finally snap up to meet his, and he hums. There's a small frown on his face. "You're getting quite red, little petal. Maybe I should help you cool off somewhere."

"Th-That's really not needed!" Tulip manages to say, her voice shaking just a bit. This was a mistake, her mind screams at her, panic clawing its way past the logical barriers of her mind. You shouldn't have come here. You need to run. Get out. Leave. Another day, another time, just LEAVE!

"Come on, don't be a stranger." He chuckles, taking his hand into her's and intertwining their fingers. She feels rooted to that spot, like a deer in headlights. "We were engaged to each other once upon a time, weren't we? Why don't we—"

"I think that's enough," Peach's voice, of all people, broke through Tulip's hearing. Gloved hands gently grab her shoulders and pulls her away from Zeke. Not even aware that her vision was blurring, Tulip blinks several times to realize that Peach has grabbed her by the shoulders, and Desmond has stepped in front of her, putting space between her and Zeke.

"Who are-"

"Her chaperone," Peach cuts him off, voice stern. "And might I ask where your's is?"

Tulip holds back a small snort at how flabbergasted Zeke seems. "Well- Thats-"

"I think it would be a good idea to get back to them," Peach says as she lets go of Tulip's shoulders. She points a finger to Zeke. "Goodness knows they're probably wondering where their responsibility went off to."

Zeke stares at Peach before letting out a soft scoff, turning on his heel, and walking off back to the crowds of people.

"Thanks, Peach," Tulips exhales, placing a hand to her chest. Then, she raises an eyebrow. "How.. did you know that we had chaperones?"

"These are.. a lot like the gatherings I used to have in the Mushroom Kingdom." The princess answers, her voice no longer stern or tight. "Younger kids having a chaperone there wasn't abnormal, and I saw a lot of it here." She then looks at Tulip with a frown. "But.. are you okay? Desmond spotted that boy getting close to you, and he managed to flag me down."

Tulip shoots a small smile to Desmond, who returns it despite the sleepiness still clear in his expression. "Yeah, I'm okay. That was my.. ex-fiancé."

She can't help but laugh softly at the way their expressions quickly change from worry to confusion. "Yeah, that stuff happens here."

The Avatar couldn't help but feel a bit better as she discusses those things with them, making their way back to Cynthia and Ash. From there, it was smooth sailing. Until..

"Thank you, everyone, for showing up once again to a gathering like this." Aite's voice breaks through the chatter of people. It all dies down and attention turns to her, where she stands on the 'second floor' in front of the railing. Chester stood on at her side.

Tulip exhales softly as she prepares herself to listen. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Ash glancing between her and Aite, almost.. confused.

"The shining stars of this country, you all, are of coursed gathered her once more to make connections and to strengthen your companies," Aite speaks, and she.. begins walking over to one of the staircases, Chester close behind. Tulip straightens up at that.

"Is that not normal?" Ash whispers softly, seeing her do that.

"No," Tulip whispers back. "She never came down when talking! She's never even mingled in the parties!" And it never happened when she ran away either, because it would make headlines just mere minutes afterwards, considering there were some reporters here.

The rest of the people gathered seemed to have the same sentiment, with how they were quietly whispering.

"Many of you here are the backbones of our industries. Technology, fashion, machinery, everything. You hold power to do good, and of course, you do." Aite slowly drags her hand down the banister as she walks down the stairs. In her other hand she holds her folding fan.

"Which brings me to why I am diverging so much from my usual speech," Aite continues as she gets to the final step. She opens the folding fan and rests it over her mask, where her mouth would be.

"As of tonight, I am beginning my search for my successor."

The reaction was immediate, gasps and chatter became loud, and Tulip was sure she heard Travis (the Green Minister) shriek somewhere.

"Is that a good thing?" Cynthia asks, not needing to whisper since there was so much noise.

"No," Tulip manages to say, voice tight. "No, it means we are fucked." But she still couldn't understand. Why had Aite gone off script from her usual speech?

○●○

As Aite weaves and makes her way through the people, she merely hums and nods at those trying to get her attention.

"Ms. Tyron, I mean this respectfully," Chester whispers softly, "but what the actual hell are you planning?!"

She hums at him. The mic was now deactivated and handed to her aide, so she didn't need to worry about people hearing her. "Bait. After hearing that, Tulip is no doubt going to try and avoid me."

"Isn't that bad?!" Chester just looks more confused. "Didn't you want her to come and meet us?"

"Yes, but then it won't have the affect I want." With that, the Purple Prime Minister finally spots the group she's looking for. She smiles beneath her mask, and her heels clacking gently, she makes her way over.

"Tulip!" Aite calls cheerfully, just as the teen was attempting to hid behind Cynthia. Now having been pointed out, Tulip smiles nervously as she waves.

"M-Ms. Tyron! It's a pleasure to-!"

"Oh please, none of those formalities," Aite reassures her with a soft sigh, closing her folding fan. "I invited you here, Tulip, there's no need to be using my last name."

"I? Uh? Okay?" Tulip manages to squeak out, looking completely and utterly confused. The boy next to her (Ash, Aite believes) was looking between her and Tulip, a look of growing confusion on his face too.

"You must be Cynthia." Aite points her folding fan to the champion, and then to the princess. "And you must be Peach. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Tyron," Cynthia returns the greeting, nodding respectfully.

"You're friends of Tulip. You all can just call me Aite as well." Aite was smiling sincerely beneath her mask. She couldn't help but admit that the bewildered looks from all around her.

After making some small talk, the Prime Minister decides enough is enough.

"That reminds me, Tulip." She taps her closed folding fan to her mask. "Didn't you say that you had something to ask of me in your response to my letter?"

Tulips blinks, as if surprised that she remembered. "You.. remembered that?"

"Of course!" Aite tilts her head. "Why wouldn't I?"

The teen looks even more surprised, and Aite hums. "Why don't we head somewhere private?" She gestures to the group. "And your friends came come with, of course."

That now led to them walking down the halls to the meeting room Aite had set up some time ago. Chester was keeping up with the Prime Minister's pace, not paying too much attention to the quiet conversation happening behind them.

"What are you planning here?" Chester asks his boss, voice soft. "I am having.. so much trouble trying to figure out what you are doing."

Aite chuckles softly. "It's called matching their energy."

The aide was still, very, very confused, even once they got to the meeting room. As the group walks in, Aite gestures to the couches. "Have a seat. I'm sure it couldn't have been fun, standing around for so long."

She walks over to the drawer in front of the large window overlooking the capital of Renata. She shrugs off her fur coat before, finally, Tulip asks; "are you really looking for a successor?"

"By god, no!" Aite laughs softly, surprising everyone. "Absolutely no one there was qualified. The country would turn into a dump if I appointed any of them."

"Then why'd you say that?" Ash speaks up, confusion evident in his tone.

"Because I knew Tulip would be the only one to recognize what I was doing," the Prime Minister points out.

The aforementioned girl points to herself in confusion, and Aite continues. "You no doubt realized I was going off script from my usual speeches, coming down to mingle.. everything." She turns around and hums. "Which is why I'm telling you now; whatever you have to say to me, there is a very high chance that I will be willing to listen."

Everyone looked shocked, even Chester seemed surprised.

Tulip hesitates, glancing at the two women, and then the two teens. After getting nods, she exhales and stands up. "Okay, I.. I know this is going to sound crazy but.. if what you're saying is true, please hear me out."

Aite smiles. "I'm all ears."

Tulip looks back at Ash, a bit hesitant. He seems to know what she's saying, as he nods reassuringly.

"Well, you see.." Tulip begins to mess with her hands, a nervous habit. "I guess it's easier to explain that.. I'm sort of the reason Renata is the way it is right now. I'm.. the Avatar of the world."

Aite was quiet before she spoke, voice considerably more soft. "I've known."

"..What?"

"Tulip, with all due respect, I would definitely notice if my country's national IQ dropped a bit." Aite laughs gently. "And I've known it was you at the center of this all. Do you think I wouldn't try and figure that out?"

Tulip raises a finger, then lowers it with a contemplative look. Finally, she relents. "Okay, fair point." She then exhales softly. "Well, uhm.. you see there.." She takes some deep breaths, and Aite waits patiently. "There are.. other universes. My.. my friends here are from those other universes, and many of them have been forming an alliance.. called the Meme Alliance."

Aite lets out an interested hum, seemingly not turned off by the name alone. Tulip swallows thickly, and can't help but look back towards Peach and Cynthia for just a bit of help.

Cynthia takes the lead. "The Meme Alliance is essentially a way for all of us to stay safe, to rely on each other in case we need it."

Aite leans against the drawer as she considers. She then tilts her head. "Why exactly did you propose this to me? Surely there are others that can offer more."

Tulip hesitates, then she speaks, voice soft. "You.. seemed like the best option. Like you would actually.. listen."

The Prime Minister is quiet for some moments more. Her eyes glance over at the group. Then she hums.

"Well I don't see why I shouldn't agree."

That takes Tulip by surprise, especially as Aite turns her head to look out the window. "Wait, really?"

"If what you're saying is true — and I'm inclined to believe that it is true — then Renata would benefit from this." Aite smiles beneath her mask. "So, when would I be able to meet the rest?"

Her heart warms at Tulip's bright smile.

○●○

It was sometime after now. Figuring things out, Peach and Cynthia filling Aite in more about the Meme Alliance, and Tulip was very happy to know that, at the very least, she didn't have to worry about the Prime Minister being a dick.

Even as she was happily immersed in conversation with Peach, Ash couldn't help but ponder.

"Hey, Cynthia?" He turns to the champion.

"Hm?" She turns her head.

"Do you think.. Aite and Tulip are related?"

Cynthia pulls a face at that. "I.. I don't so, no." She looks at him, confused. "Why do you think that?"

"Their auras." He shrugs. "Aite's was really, really similar to Tulip's. Like, I could tell them apart, but when they were standing close together, it was really hard."

Cynthia frowns at that. "Hm.. How odd." She thinks about it before shaking her head. "Well, it's not like we can go back and ask her about it now. But maybe keep that in the back of your mind."

Ash nods and goes to respond, before a loud THUMP as Tulip fell face first to the ground.

"Tulip?!"

The only response was the girl letting out a slow, squeaky, and muffled shriek into the ground.

○●○

"You didn't tell them?" Chester asks, voice soft. The meeting room was empty now, the group probably having left the room entirely. He helps the Prime Minister unclip her mask, and he gently smooths out her hair.

"And make Tulip spiral?" Aite hums with a gentle giggle. She feels Chester gently brush his fingers over the purple scar on her cheek.

"Good point," her aide concedes. "I assume you'll still hide it even now that we're going to be a part of this alliance."

She nods, feeling him run his fingers through her hair. "Of course. I can't trust those Ministers with a matter like this. And telling a group of strangers my secret.." She shakes her head.

After some moments, Aite sighs softly. "Plus, I have to make an annoucment that no one met my standards for a successor."

That makes Chester laugh, and Aite smiles. She pauses to think about something. Then, she giggles softly.

How odd, she was smiling a lot more lately. And Aite didn't mind.

[irislunace]

I Love Us

Honestly, I'm so, so very glad AvA is the first fandom I've actually been an active participant in.

LONG RANT INCOMING

Throughout the years, I have "been in fandoms", but I never felt like posting my own art or works, commenting on vids (i didn't have a youtube account back then, still don't), or being anything other than a silent observer.

Back in March, when I came home from that math competition, and found AvMath in my recommendeds, and just clicked on it, I did not expect to get dragged into a fandom about stick figures, of all things. I remember watching AvPhysics directly after, then finding "Wanted", and watching it with no context. I remember going to the wiki, seeing all of the content that was made, and and binging AvM and the actual shorts and literally everything else.

And most of all, I remember thinking, "I wish I could just erase all of this from my mind and experience the magic all over again."

-

In May, I took a chance and went to Ao3. I knew it was a site to post fanfiction, but it had never been something I was interested in. But I was just curious, to see if fanfiction about this amazing fandom really existed. I didn't have an account, no; I think I just wanted to see.

There were about 1600-1700 fics on there about AvA, during that time. I didn't know how hits worked or kudos worked, but I just remember scrolling down until I could find something that looked like a lot of people had liked it.

And even then, I clearly remember the first fic I touched. "Identity", by LeenaFreeBird (I'll link it at the bottom). I absolutely loved it. I spent the rest of the month simply reading, and consuming all of the cool hcs, learning what fan terms meant, having an idea for my own fic that I thought, back then, I could never write.

Because I didn't.

I never made an account or wrote. I never left comments because part of me though people without an account wouldn't be able to, and that was just habit, at this point.

And even though I stepped slightly away from there in the months of June and July (we were in the process of moving halfway across the country, I had just watched the new Demon Slayer season, and upon recommendation had binged all of Haikyuu in a week), I always made sure to keep updated on whatever new AvA/M videos had been posted.

In August, I went back on Ao3.

SO MANY AMAZING FICS HAD BEEN WRITTEN IN THE SPAN I WAS AWAY.

I remember binging all of them for the month. I sat alone at lunch (as I was new I didn't have any friends), just reading them on my phone and getting sucked back into there.

In September AvI began. On a whim I logged back into my tumblr account that I had made like 5 years ago in 4th grade to post random rambling stuff about my life (I tagged nothing but my username wth), and redid my entire blog. I was sooo happy when one of my posts reached 100 notes.

I felt way stronger, and way braver. I joined the invite queue for Ao3, because I decided I DID want an account, and I DID want to post my own fics.

And everyone was (and is) SO NICE about it. They love my fics and posts (which I still consider really crappy, btw) to pieces, and always give me good comments. Even my bad fanart (another thing I got the courage to post during this time). Shipping wars never happen here (if they did, I wouldn't know about it). Rarepairs are appreciated, and we unanimously know the ships that should be completely illegal (not naming ship names here).

Everything and everyone is loved, and this is like the one little corner of the Internet where mostly all is safe and your opinion is valued. Sure, your fan theory may be wrong, but people here don't go and tell you "that's so stupid lol, no way that's true". They'll give you actual feedback, explain the evidence that falsifies it, or add to it because they like it.

Even on YouTube, if someone posts a yellue ship video, for example, they'll get hate, or "the color quad are just siblings lol", or "they r stickmen why are u shipping them". If someone HCs Blue as a girl (ik that's been debunked where we are at rn), they'll get a comment saying "it's stickman for a reason".

Like, let people have their opinions. Alan has never confirmed the color quad as siblings, or their origin story. I know he has said that he would like to avoid romance by not making female characters, but it's not like the people who ship yellue or grapeduo barge up to his door and demand he makes it canon. They're just peaceful, and everything that you're saying is fanon. For all we know, four different animators could have collabed on the sticksfight website and each animated a different character (not saying that's true, but we don't know).

And even with hollowhead pairs. Alan created them, yes, but how does Creator transfer to father in this scenario? We don't know, because he hasn't confirmed the hollowheads as siblings either. They still get hate on YouTube.

But Tumblr just loves everyone. The AvA community, for example, will always make you feel like you posted something good. They lift you up, not put you down. They appreciate your headcanons because it provides a new way of looking at things.

They appreciate you.

I feel so much better about putting myself out there, and I know I will do so more in the future. I now cannot comprehend how someone can see all of this content and think "they are just stick figures". No they aren't. They are stick figures with trauma, feelings, pain, heroic qualities, fatal flaws.

You, tumblr, makes me feel this way.

Thank you so much.

(I did not expect to rant about my entire journey when I was supposed to be talking about how amazing the AvA tumblr fandom is, but now that I have I'll just keep it. Here's the fic I was talking about)

[dreaisgrayte]

do you write for gyomei? if so could you write something along the lines of gyomei meeting a mother!reader who takes care of the orphan kids in her village, letting them stay at her house and providing them with everything they need,. and maybe gyomei stays the night to rest before going back on his journey to hunt a demon, but the demon ends up coming to him while trying to attack the house. but gyomei is there to protect everyone, and y/n is thankful for that. thank you!!!

I have never written for Gyomei, EVER. I'm not sure why... but I hope this is good! I wrote it in one day, which is surprising considering I wasn't sure how it would turn out. I should thank you! For getting me out of my comfort zone and possibly allowing me to make something...good? LMAO I hope it's something along the lines of what you wanted!!!!

Behind Me | Gyomei Himejima

Warnings: just a bit of demon death and wholesome children that eat rocks

Word Count: 2k

a/n: Everyone thank Anon for the suggestion!! it was a lot of fun to write someone new and from their perspective! AHH I hope you enjoy!!! <3 (it's also late so if there is anything I forgot in the post please tell me, my eyes are slowly shutting me off from the world)

Gyomei had endured a long day of trekking through the woods, hunting a troublesome demon, before coming across the border of a village. He could hear children running among adults who Gyomei believed to be strong enough. There was a small twitch to his senses as he was welcomed into the village, he could overhear the mention of an orphanage. As the scent of a good meal invaded his nose he wished to check on the children, perhaps staying the night if granted permission. Gyomei felt the vibration of someone near, the beads around his neck clicking together as he moved. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the orphanage.” His voice rumbles through his body. 

The person in front of him pauses, hopefully recognizing him to be the stone hashira. “Of course my Lord, would you like me to guide you there?” Gyomei couldn’t help but grin at the offer and respect for his position as a hashira.  

“That’s very kind of you, thank you for helping me.” He couldn’t help but get choked up after the person, likely a male based on their voice and strong grasp. Though Gyomei knew too many strong women to let that be a sole descriptor of sex. 

It took a small amount of time before the guide stopped. Gyomei could hear the pitter of many tiny feet and with the sun’s warmth fading on his skin he wanted to collect all of the children under his care. He would not make the same mistakes again. 

His heart sank in his large chest, a strong urge to start shedding tears over the past almost took over his every sense. “Oh, Chizu, what are you doing here?” A woman’s voice questions. The vibrations of her voice are soothing, the take away the worries Gyomei had rushing through his mind. Her very presence was like one of Kocho’s salves. He can feel her eyes finally land on his massive frame. He wondered if she was studying the scar across his forehead or the way his blank eyes refracted the very image he happened to be looking at. 

Gyomei’s eyes were the window into your soul. 

“I’ve brought one of the hashira to stay with you tonight.” The guide – or rather Chizu – replies. Gyomei can hear the way the woman sucks in the air, how her vibrations change to slightly protective. Good, she was willing to die for these children. The thought nearly brought him to sob. “Do you think the children will like him?” Chizu’s tone is humorous and without a second thought Gyomei is inclined to join in the jesting. 

“I make for wonderful climbing practice.” Both of them burst out in laughter and it brings a smile to his face, though laughing with kind villagers is so nice… he might start crying. 

After a moment the woman gingerly touches Gyomei’s muscular arm, the skin under her fingertips twitching. “I’m thankful for your presence my Lord, please come in.” He can feel her smile, the way she radiates kindness. He would stay here for the night and then make sure to hunt down the demon in the following days. Disgusting demons. He clutches his rosary, muttering chants to focus his mind on wiping away the muck of the world. 

Gyomei is yet again led into a short room, he can tell because he has to duck his head. Maybe the room isn’t short and rather Gyomei is too tall. “The children are all out back, washing up before dinner. Have you eaten yet my Lord?” The woman inquires. She pushes slightly on his forearm and after many years of having people try to signal things without saying anything, he knows to sit down. He’s met with comfortable tatami flooring. 

“I have not partaken in a meal yet… and please call me Gyomei.” He answers, bowing his head. The woman – he realizes he hasn’t asked her name yet – giggles softly. “Please tell me the name of the woman I am to thank for a place to rest.” 

There’s a moment of silence before he senses her kneeling next to him, the click of something being set in front of him. “I am simply the Mother, that’s what the children call me, at least.” He can hear the smile in her voice. Before Gyomei can comment on anything the rush of children takes away his breath. They are loudly talking about him. 

Woah! He’s so big! He’s like a mountain~ Can we keep him? I want to climb on him! Oh please, please, pleaaaassssseeeeeeeeeeeeee? Does he want this rock? Hey! That’s the rock I was going to eat!

“Excuse me Yeji, there will be no eating rocks,” Mother chastizes. The little one she was referring to groans dramatically. The woman next to you huffs before setting a hand on Gyomei’s arm again. He could get used to her calming touch. It was like how meditation made him feel. “I want you all to introduce yourself to Mister Gyomei, the stone hashira.” From what Gyomei can deduce, there are about 5 children in the room. 

“I’m Yeji! What’s a hashira?” A beat before the small girl gasps excitedly, “Do you eat rocks too?!” She exclaims. Gyomei chuckles – Yeji was his favorite, a strong girl in her own accord, especially if those rocks were in her system. 

“I’m Teke.” A little boy, he seems timid so Gyomei bows his head as a show of respect, hoping that Teke will see he means no harm. 

“My name is Pin and this is my little brother Rin.” A young girl bashfully introduces herself along with her younger brother who grunts in response. These children were cared for, tended with honesty, and safe. 

“I’m Ume… I got you this rock.” Tiny hands find their way to Gyomei and he allows her to set a miniscule pebble in his large palm. 

Gyomei bows his head to all of the children. It had been a while since he felt such…an overwhelming sense of righting the wrongs his past held. “Thank you Ume, I shall treasure this for as long as I live.” She squeals with happiness. 

“My Lord– er, Gyomei, do you need assistance with eating? I’ve brought some grilled meat and cold noodles. If you would like something else I’m sure one of the vendors will be happy enough to provide us with a meal worthy of your-” 

“Mama, he can just eat the rock.” Yeji – who you can imagine rolling her eyes like it was the most obvious choice – says. Mother quiets before a snort of laughter rings through Gyomei’s ears. She’s laughing so hard that her breath comes out in quick pants. 

It takes her a few minutes to calm down, the children giggling along with her in a harmonious melody. “I think Mister Gyomei should decide if he is the one to eat a rock or not.” She removes her hands from Gyomei’s arm, his warmth already missing hers. “But your mother worked so hard to prepare this meal.” Her timbre shifts to that of a whining child. The children hum in acknowledgment. 

“Mama does work very hard to fill our tummies…” Teke mutters quietly. 

“Teke is right! Let mister G…Gy…Gyoma eat Mama’s food!” Yeji yells. Gyomei fills with delight. These children, this atmosphere, it was almost too much. 

With the help of Mother, Gyomei enjoys a delicious meal – a few tears are shed because of the pure deliciousness present on his tastebuds. He could’ve fed himself but in all honesty, he preferred the way Mother fed him. “Now it’s off to bed with you heathens.” She laughs. 

The children rush to set up their mats, unfolding one for Gyomei. The cool air of night fills the room. “Mister Stone Man, ask Mama for a bedtime story, that way she can’t say no.” Pin is talking to him and he hears a scoff from his other side. 

“Pin, I would’ve told you a tale regardless.” Mother hums. As the night settles in Gyomei can feel himself grow restless. The tale was about the Demon Corps and Gyomei felt his duty weighing on him more now than ever. He was strong enough to handle it now, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

Mother was humming a lullaby with children surrounding her. He could see – well envision – himself falling into slumber, but his ears perk up at the sound of a twig snapping. Animals inhabit the surrounding woods, but this snap wasn’t on purpose. Something had tripped, the vibrations echoing malicious intent. He stills, one hand on his rosary. 

He turns to the last place he felt Mother, the look – if he could have one – must have conveyed to quiet down. He can hear her wake the children who had fallen asleep. She whispers to them calm instructions, her voice never breaking an inch in fear or distress. “Go to the corner. Cover the children.” Gyomei whispers. The creaking tatami signals she had done as instructed. Gyomei was strong this time. People listened when he told them to get behind him. He would protect them. Whatever the cost. His life mattered not if he did not give it to those he protected. Whatever was outside had to be a demon, Gyomei could smell the blood dripping from its mouth. The searing smell of flesh demons usually carried. It was disgusting.

It was approaching the house. Gyomei could act on his impulse and carry out the slaying, but through a calm reproach, he would stick to the group of people he was to protect. If he left their side that left them open to an attack. The house was far enough away from the rest of the village that he wasn’t worried about anyone else coming into harm's way. “Mama, what’s going on?” Yeji asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Gyomei’s muscles tense. 

It heard.

The figure appears, he can tell. “Well well well, fine dining just for me?” It sneers grotesquely. “A meaty steak and,” its voice pauses. “And some string beans to go along with it.” Gyomei can practically see the sickly smile that creeps up the evil one’s face. 

“Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu.” Gyomei feels the sinking disgust take over his body as tears flood down his face. 

“Why is this one talking?” The demon questions before striking out with it’s claws. Gyomei continues his chant, gliding backwards to the group of children. Without breaking his chant the chain of his axe and flail extend outward. The nichirin metal surrounds the demon, grunts of struggle echoing in Gyomei’s ears. 

This foe will not live. It will not take another life. The edge of Gyomei’s axe cuts the skin of the demon. It hisses in agony, squirming to be free from the chain wrapped around its body. Gyomei was blessed to have gone through rigorous training, hours of meditation, and being able to feel his other Hashira at work. This demon was not strong enough to defeat the pure strength Gyomei possessed. He could save these children. He would save these children. 

The axe handle snaps back with a tug, slicing through the demon’s throat, but not all the way. “W-who are you?” It gurgles out. 

“May you find peace.” Gyomei prays. “Amen.” Before a small pull severs the head of the demon. He’s panting, worn out from the short battle. His head spins with thoughts and prayers for the damaged creature born of hate. He decides maybe he’d like for Mother to sing him a lullaby, to ease him into slumber. The sobs of the children finally hit Gyomei when they surround his legs, hugging him. 

“You were so cool!” Teke cries out, probably both scared and impressed. 

“Thank you Mister Gyoma!” Yeji sobs, wiping her tear struck face on Gyomei’s pants. 

“Gyomei,” He looks up, wracked with emotions unnameable. “You saved us, thank you. I am eternally grateful.” 

Eternal. Yes, that’s how long Gyomei would fight for the innocent.  

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Thank you for the tag, @mosiva! ♡♡♡

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Four of these were easy choices and one was trickier, but in no particular order...

thrown into the nest (T, 10,565 words, WIP)

This fic possessed me. The first chapter took over my entire life for ten hours during which I came up with and wrote the whole thing -- I couldn't stop until it was done and posted. Two or three days later, the same thing happened with the second chapter. It's like I was exorcising demons into a doc file. It's also notable because maybe a week or two before I wrote it, I told a friend I would never write ABO fic. More fool me.

I love this fic because it drew together so many ace people -- I've never felt a greater sense of community than I did in the hours after this fic was posted, seeing the comments of people who saw themselves in Harry and Tom's experiences. It blew me away, and I felt so happy to have done justice to some small part of the ace experience. It was a different type of joy, and a bit more cathartic, to write compared to other fics of mine.

VII (M, 2,609 words)

I think I've said it before, but I honestly thought this would be one of those weird little fics that I wrote for myself and maybe five other people would like. It's grown beyond what I originally meant it to be, and while I really, really love the sequel too, this one holds my heart. It's disjointed and dark (for me), and it's one of the few that I've written that actually has Harry and Voldemort start out hating each other and move through it. (What can I say, I mainly write crack and fluff.) They're both feral and damaged and violent and cling to each other all the tighter for it by the end. I also like making the Unspeakables ethically (and morally) dubious and research-obsessed, and this was my first foray into that.

naïve melody (G, 2,904 words)

The Ferris wheel fic; another fic that I thought maybe five other people would enjoy. I'm still proud of the wistful tone it has, and some of the turns of phrase, despite the crack-tastic premise. It's sweet and silly and it makes me feel warm to re-read it. It might also be my favourite Voldemort characterisation of all the fics I've written.

engrave the silhouette of you (M, 10,480 words, WIP)

Look... I just like hurting them, okay? I used the "angst with a happy ending" tag because I need everyone (myself included) to know it's gonna be alright in the end. I have made myself a crying mess multiple times in the course of writing or plotting out this fic. This is very much a "how would the characters react in this situation if X happened?" fic that has grown legs. It's fun (and painful) to put myself in Harry and Voldemort's headspaces and then put us all through the emotional meat-grinder. But it's going to be fine. Eventually.

Capsized (M, 948 words)

Fun, not-previously-shared fact: this fic started out as a way for me to process my maladaptive daydreams and suicidal ideations through Harry. All of the things he imagines or considers are things that I have, as well. (This makes the one comment that says "MAKE HIM SUFFER YASSSS" really, really funny to me.) I wasn't sure if I would ever post it -- it took me five months to decide to do it, because it's extremely personal. But it felt good to put it all into words and make it... "pretty," I guess? It's probably as raw as I can make it while also trying to fit it into the HP world and have it be enjoyable to read.

(Honourable mention goes to Prompt-ober 2023, because it almost killed me to do it, but it was so much fun to write everyday for a month and have the same folks comment each day and chat with them throughout the month (I love you all ♡♡♡). However, that's like twenty-five different fics in one, so it doesn't count.)

Tagging @liquidluckandstuff, @i-dream-of-libraries, @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger, @aglassroseneverfades, and @hikarimeroperiddle

No pressure, do it if it will be a fun distraction! ♡♡♡

(Note: I recently locked my account to registered users only because of an AI scraper targetting Ao3. If you don't have an account and would like to read any of the above, just send me a message and I'll provide a file ♡)

[tciddaemina]

haha thank you @leviathiane for the tag

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Exactly 100 currently. I'm working on my 100th fic and am aiming not to post anything more until I've finished that one

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

yikes. yikes. uh, so its 2,351,346 words (2.3 mil). look okay i'm a sucker for long fics okay

3. What fandoms do you write for?

a lot of things. i tend to be a fandom generalist, so i'll bounce around a lot between fandoms and have even (guiltily) written a few fics for fandoms that i havent seen canon of. i tend to think that for any fandom i'm enjoying, there's at least one or two good fics in it I could make if so inclined by numbers though my top fandoms are one piece, then naruto (bc of cross-overs with aforementioned one piece), then LoZ, and then SVSSS.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

duty, given chance bureaucratic processes it's what isn't in the name Vitra te Ikran the thing that remains

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Sometimes, but not super often. Often just if someone leaves a super nice comment that's very touching or if someone has a question. I appreciate all my commenters but I often just end up feeling awkward if I try to respond to them all. If you ever have commented on one of my fics through, I love and appreciate you and I'm kissing you on the mouth

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

At the moment its probably three past the hour, my Katakuri/Sanji work, but when I get round to finishing no one left to tell the secret, my demon AU Shanks/Buggy fic, then it will probably be that one

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hhhhhhh, maybe the thing that remains? that one gets quite fluffy at the end. a lot of my works have happy endings though, so its hard to say.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Almost never. I get people being weird sometimes, like that one rando commenting on my Zoro/Kisame fic whining about how Zoro shouldn't be gay, but like. eh. eh. Cannot remember a single proper instance of hate or flaming.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Haha man. Lets look at the stats. Yeah, uh, 35 of my 100 fics are rated explicit, and some of these fics are pretty freaky. Look i've done size kink, i've done various flavours of monsterfucking, one of my series with the biggest following is one about a dude falling in love with and getting hot with a sentient suit of armour. I write some weird stuff

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I write some, but sort of only occasionally. For proper crossovers, I only really have my naturo x one piece series and my doom slayer x batman story. I tend to prefer aus, so like i have a hannibal souleaster au and a bleach elden ring au.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. Lets say no and hope it stays that way

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

My NiF fic with honour was translated into Russian as part of an event a few years back. That's the only one currently though

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really. Cher and I played around with something a while back but its sort of been on the back burner. I've got a stupid Supernatural fic I'm working on right now that is essentially co-written, just because discord friends are helping me figure out what the fuck happened in canon, since I never watched it 😂

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Trafalgar Law/Luffy. I write a lot of stuff and ship a lot of things but these guys are my absolute fave. Writing my big Lawlu fic took the better part of two years and got me through some hard times, so they just have a special place in my heart

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

This ones hard. There's a lot of fics I want to come back to but there's just not enough hours in the day. I'm overflowing with projects and sometimes I just don't manage to get back to them. I always mean to try go back, so I don't want to write them off. I'm gonna cop out on this one and not answer

16. What are your writing strengths?

World building, maybe? I have degrees in botany and anthropology, and studied ecology and zoology as well while I was at uni. I feel like world building, especially coming up with fun cultural stuff, is something I've learned how to do well, and its something I enjoy a lot. Other than that, idk, I feel like I have strong dialogue as well. It's never been something I struggled with a lot

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Conciseness. Not having run away sentences. I get carried away sometimes with long descriptions for things. Also repetitiveness sometimes. I sometimes catch one paragraph just rewording what I'd been trying to express in the last, which can bloat things. And goddamn though, my inability to keep projects small. I can't remember the last time I managed to finish a project in under 15k. It's a real problem.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It usually feels clunky, and I don't really do it unless its for a language that doesn't exist. Its too easy to make stupid mistakes if you're trying to write in a language you don't know, which can be annoying for natural speakers, and even if I do know a language and am confident having a character talk in another language still puts the readers in a weird position. Like I feel like its often done to instill a sense of mystery, but like as a reader I mostly just find it tiring to deal with. So yeah, nah. I'll do bits and pieces in made up languages when its useful to help create a sense of cultural depth, but not usually otherwise.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Cringes. Probably Harry Potter. That was sort of the kiddy pool of fandom back in the day and it was definitely where my main writing stayed for a while. I don't think I have a single HP story still up, except maybe VtI, which... yeah is a complicated case

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

It's a tossup between the thing that remains, which even two years after finishing just owns my heart and soul, and one hundred years past, which was my first ever Ganondorf/Link fic. That one was just so much fun to write and is so solid, like I'm still very happy with it, and its a fic I'm always happy to see comments on

@chershare, @everbright-mourning, @transmascgerudo, @zaera-d. i cant remember if you write much @sanguine-tenshi but hey just in case. also @shizunitis just in case you write any fic as well and wanna be included.

man its problematic that you tagged me leviathiane because otherwise i'd tag you 😂😂😂

[gigabyte-flare]

The Necromancer

A Gigabyte Flare One Shot

Summary: Ash is a seasoned Demon Hunter that stumbles upon the village of Tristram to assist with an ongoing undead infestation. However, a recluse Necromancer hiding out in the nearby Cathedral has other plans...

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: necromancer!Sephiroth x OC/Self Insert

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Sex (p in v), dubcon (OC caves like instantly), oral (f and m receiving), breeding kink

A/N: This is actually an old fic I wrote back in 2021 starring Sephiroth in a Diablo AU that never got posted anywhere. It's an OC/self insert, I hadn't started writing x reader fics at that point. I hope you enjoy it anyway! I wanted to share it because I really like how this one is written!

I wandered into the Slaughtered Calf Inn half awake and starved from my journey to Tristram. The air stank of death; there were rumors a Necromancer had taken up residence in the bowels of the Tristram Cathedral and was tormenting the town with his experiments. I practically collapsed at the bar; the innkeeper approached and slid a pint of beer, some bread and cheese in front of me. I ripped off a piece of bread and ate it.

“Couldn’t have found a worse time to come, traveler. We’ve had a bit of a…” the innkeeper cleared his throat before continuing, “undead problem.”

“That’s why I’m here friend,” I said as I motion to the two hand crossbows strapped to my waist, “I’ve come to alleviate your Necromancer problem.”

“Ay, he showed up about three months ago, cursed thing,” the innkeeper growled as he wiped down the bar, “what are you, some kind of mercenary?”

I shook my head, “I’m a Demon Hunter; I specialize in the slaying of the undead.”

“You’ll want to talk to Leah, she has the key to the Cathedral gate,” the innkeeper said before calling out, “Leah! Someone has come to take care of the Necromancer!”

“Oh! That’s fantastic!” Leah rushed in and approached the bar, “you must be the Demon Hunter!”

“I am,” I hold out my hand to shake hers, “I would have gotten here sooner but there seems to be undead all over the place around here.”

“You can thank the Necromancer for that, that bastard,” Leah groaned as she sat beside me.

I took a sip out of the pint, “what happened when the Necromancer showed up?”

“He murdered my Uncle Deckard, slit his throat right open and then he was revived and turned into one of his puppets right before my eyes. I had just enough time to run out and lock the gate before the whole place was overrun with undead.”

I watched as tears welled up in Leah’s eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

Leah wiped her eyes, “I’m just glad you’re finally here so we can kill that monster.”

“You’re not going anywhere Leah, I’m going to the Cathedral alone.”

Leah looked over and glared at me. When she was met with my cold stare, she let out a sigh and relaxed her shoulders, “I’ll take you to the Cathedral gate and unlock it.”

“Then you’ll come back here.”

“Yes. I’ll come back here.”

“Good, I’m going to retire to one of the rooms and rest up. Leah, would you mind bringing me to the gate tomorrow morning?”

“Sure, I’ll meet you there at sunrise.”

“Alright, see you in the morning then, Leah,” I say as I stand up from the bar and head into one of the rooms.

My sleep was restless; I couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching me from the shadows in the room. 

********

Sephiroth poured over the volumes of books that were kept deep in the bowels of the Tristram Cathedral. He had heard about Cain Deckard’s research on the lesser evils and decided to take the old man out in order to gain access to it. The fact that he now had his own large lair to do his experiments was a very nice perk. His jade, cat-like eyes scanned the pages of Deckard’s research, deeply engrossed in the writings. His silver hair, which went well past his knees, seemingly glowed in the low light of the candles in the room. Suddenly, he stood alert, his eyes wide, as if sensing something. His left hand wove in the air and clenched as he held Deckard’s research in his right hand. A pale blue light encompassed his left fist. The light glowed brighter as he stood there. He suddenly spread his fingers and his hand engulfed in a blue flame. 

A few minutes passed and a group of skeletons came into the room, dragging a woman into the room with them. She kicked and thrashed in an attempt to break free, but Sephiroth’s magic was much too powerful for her. Sephiroth slowly turned to the skeletons and the captive intruder. 

His jade eyes scanned her body up and down. Demon Hunter: he knew their kind, however he admittedly had never seen one so beautiful. She had haunting blue eyes, short brown hair that was styled asymmetrically to one side. 

She was thin, but muscular; he could tell she took good care of herself. His eyes lingered on her perky breasts, which bounced gently as she fought the restraint of his skeletal thralls. When his eyes finally met hers, her eyes were filled with hatred and death; he knew if his magic relented that her powerful hands would end up around his throat. He felt a warmth in his loins, something he didn’t think he could ever feel. 

He smirked at the woman, crossing his arms as he continued to watch her struggle.

“Did you seriously think you could just waltz in here and kill me?” Sephiroth asked, his voice cool but sinister.

She spat at him, “you fucking bastard, let me go!”

“I will not,” he purred as he approached her, standing within inches of her, “you intrigue me, Demon Hunter.”

“Are you going to kill me and turn me into one of your puppets?” the woman growled.

“I could do that,” his gaze lingered back to her breasts for a moment before he looked back into her hate filled eyes, “but you’ll be much more entertaining to me alive.”

The hate in her eyes suddenly yielded to fear and she started to struggle more violently, as if sensing what was going to happen to her. Watching her be consumed by fear excited him, he could feel it in his leather trousers. Dropping his arms to his sides before bringing up his left arm, he spreads his fingers on his left hand again, now glowing with a pale blue aura.

“Keep her perfectly still,” he commanded.

The skeletons tightened their grip on the captive girl, holding her still by her arms, torso and legs. Leaning in, Sephiroth takes in her scent by sniffing ever so subtly. She smelled sweet, almost like a wildflower, he wondered why. He felt his cock pulse at her scent, making the confines of his trousers increasingly uncomfortable. 

As if his right hand had a mind of its own, he suddenly grasped one of her breasts. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he was surprised by how soft and supple it was. He then grasped her other breast with his other hand even though it was still pulsing with power. The woman let out a soft whimper as she attempted to squirm, but the skeletons’ iron grip kept her in place. 

Sephiroth’s hands slid from her breasts, down the sides of her body and came to a rest on her hips. He didn’t understand what exactly he was feeling, as he never experienced anything like this. His left hand groped at her toned backside as his right gently grasped her chin and tilted her head back. His lips suddenly met hers and he kissed her gingerly. He could feel her tremble in his grasp as he kissed her. He released her from his grasp, brought his left hand up into a fist as his hand burst into blue flame.

“Bring her to the bedroom and place her onto the bed.”

The skeletons carried her into an adjacent bedroom, Sephiroth followed close behind. He watched as the skeleton thralls gently placed her onto his bed, it pleased him that she didn’t attempt to flee. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the thralls and they left the room. He closed the door as they left. He watched her intently as she lay on the bed, her legs spread wide as she propped herself up by her elbows. He began to unbutton his loose gray tunic, revealing his pale, but very well toned chest and abdomen. He pulled it off and tossed it aside before approaching the bed.

“Tell me Demon Hunter,” he began as he climbed onto the bed, crawling between her spread legs, “what is your name?”

“It’s… it’s Ash.”

“Ash… the remnants of a flame,” he said as he began to undo her trousers.

He slowly pulled them off, taking care to also remove her boots as well and he pushed them onto the floor. They fall with a loud thud. He gazed in awe at what he saw; Ash’s legs remained spread, her vagina fully exposed to him. It was oozing with juices and she smelled absolutely divine, inviting even. His cock was begging to be released but he wanted to savor her before indulging himself. 

“What is your name…?” Ash suddenly asked with a slight whimper.

“I am called Sephiroth,” he replied as he approached her very aroused entrance, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance my beautiful phoenix.”

Closing his eyes, he once again inhaled her natural scent. He felt chills throughout his body, almost as if he was getting high off her.

She’s in heat, he realized as he once again gazed upon her beautiful entrance, if I mate with her now, she will likely be impregnated from my seed.

This realization excited him; a devious smirk crossed his lips before his tongue caressed her clit. He felt her flinch in response; his tongue caressed it a few more times before his lips latched onto it, suckling her. He felt her heels dig into the bed and her fingers grip onto the sheets. After a few moments she moaned his name as one of her hands gripped the back of his head. His lips moved from her clit to the lips of her soaked pussy and he lapped up her juices. The taste of her was indescribable. His tongue slipped inside her and stroked her inner walls, making her squirm even more. As he indulged himself on her, he could hear her pull her tunic off and toss it across the room. Removing his mouth from her entrance, he gazed upon her now naked chest.

Her breasts were perfect. Round and perky, her nipples were erect from arousal. He looked into her blue eyes, now filled with lust. He climbed on top of her, placing a gentle kiss on one of her breasts, his lips cupping the erect nipple perfectly. Meanwhile, his deft fingers stroked her pussy before pushing two of them inside her. Moving his fingers in a come hither motion, she squirmed beneath him as he began to suckle her breast. He suddenly pushed a third finger inside her, causing Ash to let out a rather loud moan. His cock pulsed in his trousers, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled his fingers out of her, now soaked in her juices. He licked his fingers clean as he gazed upon her naked body.

“Ash, allow me to ignite your flame,” Sephiroth said in a lust filled growl as he undid his own trousers.

His member, now free from its leather prison, stood erect and ready. Ash let out an audible gasp as she gazed upon it. It was easily 10 inches in length. Now nude himself, he stood on his knees over her, slowly stroking himself as he gazed upon her form. Ash suddenly sat up, approaching his member, wrapping her mouth around it. He gasped as her head bobbed up and down on his shaft. Sephiroth growled as he tilted his head back. His fingers ran through her hair as she sucked his cock. His hips instinctively thrusted into her mouth, which she didn’t seem to mind thankfully.

“Oh Ash, my queen,” he moaned as he gripped the back of her head as he continued to thrust into her.

Ash, suddenly taking her mouth off him, laid back down onto the bed, spreading her legs wide open.

“Come, my king,” she whispered, looking up at him, her eyes pleading, “take what is rightfully yours.”

Without saying a word, Sephiroth climbed back on top of her, pinning her to his bed. One hand grasped his member as he led it to her eager pussy. When he felt himself in position, he thrusted into her hard and fast. Ash screamed, her fingers digging into his back as he pounded into her. Animalistic instincts took over his thoughts, all he could think about was breeding her. As if reading his thoughts, she angled her hips in such a way that he could thrust deeper into her body. Gazing down at her, his hands once again grasped her breasts as his lips locked onto hers. She moaned his name into their kiss as her legs wrapped around his waist, as if to beckon him to release inside her. He could feel his climax approaching as he fucked her relentlessly.

Ash suddenly began to violently tremble as she let out a loud, lust filled moan and in that moment, Sephiroth felt a burning heat release from inside him as he pushed inside her as hard as he could. His cock pulsed inside her, pumping his seed deep into the depths of her womb. Her legs tightened their grip around his waist, forcing him deep into her. After a few moments, he began to thrust into her again before another wave of ecstasy consumed him and more of his seed spilled into her body. He watches as her eyes roll into the back of her head, however, he does not relent. It was going to be a very, very long night.

[toomoonfic]

AO3 Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @dimplesandfierceeyes! I really enjoyed this trip down memory lane.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

So across my main account (jjjat3am, toomoon, boneflower, yvenger) + my hockey account (savedby), I've somehow managed 283 works.

2. What is your AO3 wordcount?

901 767 words. Getting closer to that million, huh.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Ah, tricky question. Right now I'm writing mostly in the Thai BL fandom, if I can label it that way. According to my dashboards, I've written across 59 different fandoms.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. you're not a ghost (I'm not afraid of you) - KinnPorsche, Arm/Tankhun 2. safe (right here in your arms) - KinnPorsche, Arm/Tankhun 3. devil is in the details - KinnPorsche, VegasPete 4. how does a penguin build his house? - Hockey RPF, Crosby/Malkin 5. this life (all I know) - Black Panther, M'Baku/Killmonger

Is it weird that I didn't realize that my KinnPorsche fics had gotten so much traction? But I guess it just proves what a huge fandom that was that a rare pairing got over 2k kudos in the case of ghost.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! I feel like communication with your reader is integral to building your community, and that's why I'm grateful to everyone that reaches out to me. I've noticed that I don't do it as much when my mental health takes a nosedive, which is why I still owe people replies from last year. I'm still doing it, but I hope it's not weird that people are getting replies like a year later.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm fairly allergic to angsty endings, so it took me a while of searching to get something that might fit this criteria. I'll go with some things never change, which is an Almost Human fanfic, so that's a definite throwback. It features robot death and I remember I exorcised some demons with it for sure.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Pretty much everything else? Just looking at some of the last things I've posted, holding on to patience (like a sunrise) my DBD fic was pretty much a typical Julija happy ending. In general that story is a very typical Julija fic start to finish.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not anymore, thank fuck. I did have a stalker back when I started posting hockey fic, that's why I made a whole other account, but that seems to have died down.

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

I've written 12 explicit fics in total, which is just funny when you think about it. The conditions have to really be perfect for me to be able to produce, and when I do, weirdly, it's mostly like, awkward handjobs I guess. I haven't mastered the art of the smut fic yet and likely never will.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest crossover you’ve ever written?

Don't do this to me. There's only one fic I've posted that I'm genuinely embarrassed to speak about and this is it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It's always a joy.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! Take a Chance on Me was written with @zevons and it's so close to my heart. I've done a bunch of collabs and I love them all, not just for the story but just for the connection with another author.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

This is also a difficult question for someone as disloyal as me...

I think ToddBlack has such a hold on me to this day, and it's still not totally let me go, so I'll go with that, their dynamic is so compelling to me.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

on the bridge between water and clay is never getting another chapter unless I decide that I'm really into Naruto again, which, okay, stranger things have happened I suppose.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm just the funniest person who's ever picked up a pen, personally. Strangely some people don't agree?? Weird.

I don't know, I never have a witty answer to this particular question, so funny is what I default to, because the funny moments in my fics are the ones that always stay most memorable to me.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh, descriptions for sure. Things like setting and what people are wearing, and the little details that really transport you to the place in a story. I don't really notice details like that in every day life so there's nothing I can base this on to improve myself.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't have many thoughts, I try to generally avoid it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I think it must have been Lord of the Rings.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I posted hung from ladders last year and I'd have to say it's my favorite thing that I've written in a very long time. It's a horror fic I suppose, but at its core it's a story about grief and how you deal with it, and I think in so many ways I was more honest in it than I anticipated I would be. I love it for what it represented for me in that moment but I also love that while not that many people read it, I think that it really impacted the people that did and through that I really felt that sense of community that I hadn't really felt in a long time.

I don't really connect with that many people on this website, so I'm not up to date on who writes and who doesn't, but I'm tagging a few people anyway, hopefully this isn't one you've done before:

@tungtung-thanawat, @mightymightygnomepriest @grasspetty @returning-spring

[loneamaryllis]

Today is the one-year anniversary of Precious Horcrux!

My little fic that started out as a oneshot has grown so much. I never could have imagined one year ago I'd be where I am right now.

I initially wrote Precious Horcrux as a oneshot belonging to my series of oneshots where heroines succumb to villains, and decided to keep writing more when it received such a warm reception.

Then I read more Female Harry fics, and I found a Snape/Harriet fic which kicked me down the Snarriet blackhole, where I still am today, quite happily.

So in a way, Precious Horcrux is responsible for all my HP fics written so far.

To celebrate, have a sneak peek of the next chapter:

(it's smut)

"Your breasts are magnificent, my dear."

He tipped his glass, spilling wine all over her chest. Instantly, the cool liquid made her nipples pebble. She suppressed a whine when Voldemort bent down and licked a wide swipe over the side of her left breast, collecting the wine from her skin. His hot tongue pressed down, worked up to her nipple, which he took in his mouth, eliciting a shocking bolt of heat between her thighs. Her cunt contracted around nothing, a gush of arousal leaking down onto the sheets.

Voldemort groaned, something appreciative and vaguely feral. He nipped at the soft flesh of her breast, again and again, small scraps of his teeth that keep sparking electrifying sensations in her lower body, then he bit down for real, sucking a bruise into her skin. She gave a moan when the pain hit, jerking in her bonds.

He moved on to the other breast, repeated the same process. The same punishment. More wine trickled down on her chest, the flat of his tongue licking it off her, followed by tight little nips of his teeth, then the assault of a bite, sharp enough that it truly hurt.

He did it again, lower, and between her breasts, and close to her collarbone, on both sides. His mouth was relentless, biting, licking, sucking, so hot in contrast to the cool wine he kept dripping over her, and she shivered and squirmed, feeling more trapped than ever.

His fingers ghosted over her sides, tracing her ribs, skimming over the spots he had sucked on, renewing the sting. Harrie's breaths were stilted, her mouth open despite herself, slick desire throbbing low, the heavy pull of arousal wrecking havoc on her focus. Every lick and every bite made it worse, until she felt so inflamed and needy she couldn't stop small, raspy whines from rolling up her throat.

At some point, between two thorough bites, Voldemort brought the glass to her lips, tipped it up. She took a swallow of the wine, the rich, fruity flavor suffusing her taste buds, the cool liquid providing some relief to her sore throat.

"Only the finest for you, Harrie," Voldemort said.

His gaze dropped down to her lips, wet and stained with wine. She froze, halting her squirming, her breath suspended. He leaned forward, and the tip of his tongue came to trace at the seam of her lips, very delicately. He made it a slow caress, the hot touch of this tongue like sweet fire over her nerve endings, bringing at once salvation and agony.

He lingered at the corner of her mouth, licking it once, twice, a third time, the tip of his tongue dancing there, almost slipping inside, and she still wasn't breathing, her heartbeat roaring in her ears, her body taut with dread. To her relief, there was no fourth time. His tongue trailed down, mouth sliding over her jaw, and lower, to her throat, to her breasts.

He sucked another bruise under her left breast, swiped his thumb across her nipple, groaned something into her skin, a word she couldn't make out. His mouth closed around her other nipple. He dripped wine down her breasts even as he was licking at her skin, and he looked her in the eyes, smiling a devilish smile, a red-eyed demon feasting on her.

Eventually, the wine ran out. Voldemort leaned back. A constellation of purple bruises bloomed on her chest, over her sore breasts.

"How beautiful you look, wearing my marks," he said.

He discarded the wine glass, reached into his trousers to free his cock, grabbed her by the thighs, lifted her, lined himself up. Then he dropped her right on his cock, gravity impaling her on him. She cried out, jolting, tensing, but it was done already. His cock had cleaved through her folds, found its way deep into her swollen cunt, and now it was throbbing there, huge and hot and scalding inside her.

"You're drenched for me," he murmured, with a slow roll of hips.

"Nnnn—"

"You enjoyed being chased, Harrie."

He lifted her halfway off him, brought her down again, sheathing his thick, heavy length back inside her. He set a steady pace, and from the outside, Harrie knew it looked like she was bouncing in his lap. The chain clinked with every lift and every slam down, and his cock scraped and rubbed her raw, pressed all the way inside her. Her chest shook with gasps, her muscles twitching from the strain of her position.

"And this, me licking you, marking you... you enjoy it too."

[merionettes]

part 1 of how rubicon got written is here. this is part 2, aka the essay about etc.

the thing about the storyboarding/drafting process that there is no way to describe is how totally obsessed i was for the duration. afterwards i tweeted something like, this is the closest i've ever experienced to demonic possession. i would get up, write all day—like, all day—and go to bed. turn off the lights. then i would just lie wide awake in the dark with lines and scenes and dialogue scrolling through my head until i gave in and opened my notes app. i could not turn it off even if i wanted to. and i didn't want to, i was riding that streak as far as it would take me. because i couldn't look down, right? i could sense what i was attempting to do and anything other than total tunnel vision full speed ahead eyes on the prize would mean i had to acknowledge it.

(context of what made this possible: i was unemployed at the time.)

for the first ~50k or so i was afraid that at any minute i could falter. when i got to the nationals meltdown, that was when i knew i could do it. like, no matter what happened after that, i had the willpower and the chops and i knew where i was going. even if the streak died.

but it didn't. i wrote 100k in a little under 4 weeks. i've never experienced anything like that in my creative life. 

—then obviously i had to get a new job and come back down to earth and it took 21 months to get from there to posting the epilogue. still. i will probably be chasing that high for the rest of my life. that was the part that like… made the rest of it possible. no matter how difficult or frustrating it was. that generated the roadmap. 

i've talked about this before in comments but i had insanely strong opinions about what was "right" and what wasn't. sylvain's narrative voice was a huge part of that. it's inextricable from the content; it shaped the story; it is the story. for the first couple months it also made me an unhinged stylistic tyrant. if there was one single unnecessary word that struck me as inorganic, as existing solely to make the sentence more digestible or to convey information beyond the fourth wall, it had to go. i could not rest until it did. 

once again: this is not generally the relationship i have with writing. lol. it's the demonic possession talking. this is why you have a ton of sentence fragments and stylistic tics and a refusal to let one single shred of information into the text that did not strike me as something sylvain would plausibly think or acknowledge he was thinking. and like, yeah. probably it didn't always make for the smoothest reading experience or the most satisfying narrative development. i'm dead certain there are people who picked this fic up and the bumps drove them out of their mind until they threw in the towel. i just didn't care. 

part of that was a reaction to my own old style���you know, the discomfort of shedding old skin. i'd look at those early scene attempts and see all the habits and crutches i'd been trying to move away from over the last two years and double down on The Voice. but part of it… i would get early feedback that wasn't at all wrong, like "what if [clarifying narration]," "what if [more interaction]," and i'd just think, but that's not true. in exactly those words! which is crazy.

(this is why it was fortunate this was fanfiction i was writing for free, i didn't have to compromise my bonkers experience any more than i wanted to.)

to be clear this feeling didn't last two years. i was eventually able to edit like a normal person. it did last probably longer than ideal. and the point when i was no longer running on unleaded creative adrenaline was when i started to really struggle with the middle of the story. i had to make choices as a writer, instead of relying on the purity of my divine vision or whatever, and i second-guessed myself a lot. it was much easier to feel that absolute bone-deep certainty of Right and Wrong, True and False. and the thought of fucking up when i'd gotten so far was unbearable—like, being so close to making the thing in my head reality and then dropping the ball and breaking the suspension of disbelief.

distance also made it possible to perceive what i was doing and be like, jesus mer what the fuck are you doing. why are you devoting so much of your time to a hobby, why are you investing so much of your life in something you will never be able to truly share, why are you living in a hole with no one else in it. why are you putting yourself through the wringer to get it down "right." why does it matter if it's as good as it can be. why do you care. why is this worth it.

i assume this was pretty obvious before this post, but if not it must be now. this story isn't really about figure skating. for me it's about writing; who knows what it's about for you. i didn't sit down and think, great, felix will be a metaphor. that's just how it happens. 

the experience of writing a novel for the first time: i'm saying this with my whole chest because at one point i wouldn't have, aloud. but what's the point in calling it anything else? i know exactly how much i invested in this. i'm the only one who can know. that's sort of the point. 

here's a giant collage of the inside of my head. i made it for myself and i take it very seriously. not exactly groundbreaking to say this is the ultimate exercise in solipsism. when you're doing that—what greater gift is there than to have someone else meet you in exactly the same place. any writer would kill for the kind of responses this story has gotten, and i don't mean praise. i mean the close reads, the free response essays, the total and complete validation that this thing inside your head that only you can see is real, actually. when i say thank you, it's not for liking it or praising it—it's for taking it seriously. i loved this thing. i still love this thing. thank you for taking it seriously.

[quarmasworld]

First time writing a fic

Hello jonsa fam, this is my first time writing a jonsa fic (well, any kind of fic actually :D)

I wrote it without thinking of any particular couple but rereading it, I think it's perfect for them <3

I guess it could be interpreted either as wolfish!Jon meeting Sansa after the resurrection somewhere at Castle Black, or wolfish!Jon and Sansa right after having reconquered Winterfell together, when it's still in ruins. It's not that important, but i just wanted to give you a sort of timeline :D

Enjoy and let me know what you think!

P.s. it's written in jon's pov 😌

Her eyes were like black ink, almost translucent, looking at me as if I could be her salvation. Or her ruin. Like she wouldn’t have minded either way.

Her copper hair was a waterfall, bright and alive with every breeze coming through the window, every breath she took.

She turned to me and she was asking a silent question. “Will you set me free?”

And I wanted so bad to answer.

As the world turned dark and shadows were all around us, I gave her my hand, as an invitation, as a deal, as a curse.

She took it, and smiled at me, faintly, like she was whispering a prayer she could barely remember.

I grabbed her hand and she melted on me, around me, inside me. I’d never seen a beauty like hers, so quiet, so scary.

She looked me all over once, twice, then her mouth was on mine, harder than I thought she could be, kissing me like she was grasping for air, for a way out.

“I’ve been waiting for you” she seemed to be saying, while her pale hands explored my hair, my neck, my shoulders. She gasped as my own hands gripped her waist then her curls, tugging her head back so my mouth could taste the length of her neck. Salty, like she had been bathing in the ocean, or like all the tears I had been holding back had covered her like a gown.

Her defty fingers were working on my shirt as mine were uncovering her back, caressing it like velvet. She started kissing my chest, healing all my wounds and scars with her sweet lips, and i was torn between asking her to live there, just above my heart, or leave me and my demons alone forever.

She moved away from me for just one second, and I realised I could never survive that second option. She looked at me, catching her breath, her lips swollen and her hair a mess, and I thought she was like a vision in a dream I never wanted to wake up from.

She grabbed her sleeves and pulled, letting her gown slip from her shoulders and puddling on the dirty ground.

All around us were debris, broken glass and rust and dust, all melancholic, decadent beauty. But looking at her - her curves and plains and smooth skin - made the place look like a fine palace, carved from marble and perfect and infinite.

She reached for me again and threw herself at me, and she was everywhere: in my hair, in my heart, under my breeches, creeping up my soul.

The vision she was froze me to my feet, and I felt like I was soaring up up up, away from my body as she stared at me, keeping me there, tethered to her, while her hands moved down down down and she was tugging at the laces of my pants. They fell to the ground with a quiet noise that woke me up from the dream, plunging me back into reality as I gripped her wrist and stopped her movements.

“I’ll set you free” I wanted to scream, to shout into the night sky and to the moon, as I hoistered her up and gently set her down into the makeshift hay bed in the corner.

“I’ll set you free every day of my life, if you let me” I whispered into her skin as I moved down her body. Letting her soar high high high, reaching a place she’d never gone to before.

[imptwins]

The thing is right, even before I was fully into dark kink (or 'proship' if you wanna call it that) I still wrote things with problematic undertones. Everyone does. Even the most wholesome media properties have dark themes. Steven Universe has characters - protagonists, mind - using, manipulating, lying to each other. She-Ra, Gravity Falls, The Owl House, all the most celebrated modern 'cartoons that appeal to adults' kinda shows have this kind of stuff in them, not to even mention anime and plain ole live action shows/movies. But before, I masked it. I had characters do things that were out of character for them to avoid something that would actually fall under a category or - much worse - I portrayed things that technically were in that category but just told myself I was skirting the line enough that it wouldn't actually fall into it. Most properties do this. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone who deals in mature themes - let alone outright porn - who hasn't ever depicted something that would most likely, without a 'headcanon' that there were negotiations beforehand, fall under a category of (sexual/)abuse, (sexual/)harassment, or simply rape. I've mentioned those tropes more than enough; a spur of the moment touch or kiss that one character is shocked about at first but realizes they like, mild blackmail, nagging, or duress played off as banter, the ever-popular Sleeping Beauty moments. Again, Steven Universe frequently depicts domestic abuse even from protagonists. I use SU as an example of this a lot because it was there for my whole 'arc' for problematic content; first being blind to it, then realizing the themes were there and feeling really conflicted and confronted, and then coming to appreciate that the show dealt with them in mature and realistic ways, that showed flawed people who made mistakes and weren't demonized for it, but were given the chance to learn and grow. Like I shouldn't have to point out how bad Pearl can be sometimes. A really big moment for me was when a close friend wound up triggered from one of my works, because they correctly pointed out that the consent in it was dubious at best. I wound up adding a dubcon CW, but I felt awful about it. Both because I'd hurt a friend and because that was what I'd written, without even really meaning to. It wasn't that I didn't understand consent, I knew that I was skirting the line when I wrote it. But I was so afraid of the tag, of the label. And as a result not only did I upset a friend, I also wrote something that wasn't as good as I could have. I shied away from it, when if I had have just embraced from the start that I was writing dubcon and actually leaned into it, there would've been more interesting and mature themes that I could have explored. Instead I tried to never quite cross the line, and it upset someone anyway. It should have been tagged from the start. But only ONE PERSON out of the like 30 people who read it took issue, because it personally triggered them. To be totally honest, I could have just ignored them, said 'one out of thirty must mean they're over-sensitive,' and went on with my day. I think this is what leads to SO MUCH mainstream work that has this kind of stuff in it. Someone doing something that by all rights qualifies as sexual assault, but just isn't tagged. Because people WILL just let them get away with doing it as long as they have some plausible deniability room that it wasn't really noncon or blackmail or abuse. But if they put the tag on? Now, people will simply call them a [accusation] without even really looking through their work. Those people probably wouldn't have ever been interested in the first place, but tagging it makes you a target. So, good job antis, you've created an atmosphere where people would rather not tag something and pretend it's not as dark as it is, or bypass tags, than just use them. Because you'll doxx and threaten people who conscientiously tag, and ignore works that straight up depict domestic abuse as long as it's coy about it, and pretend that's not what it is.

[darthvashtique93]

Aftermath

After the Chaos Lords' attack, cleanup became a monumental chore. While alien lizards had wreaked havoc in Gotham, other monsters spewing green vomit terrorized California. Dragons manifested in space, and other creatures—snakes, demons, possessed unicorns, murderous water beings, and etc.—popped out of portals across the globe. Heroes and villains alike fought side by side, but once the chaos subsided, the villains left the cleanup to the heroes, slipping back into their villainous routines.

Midway through the cleanup, Superman and other heroes finally returned from space, providing much-needed help that greatly sped up the process. Heroes with powers to swiftly repair buildings and bridges were dispatched, working round the clock. It took a little less than two weeks to restore order worldwide. Fortunately, the Chaos Lords had only visited Earth and no other nearby worlds.

Things had returned to a semblance of normalcy. Garfield had somehow received personal phone number of the Princess of Vlatava, who was a devoted fan of Tork and a powerful advocate for meta-humans. It definitely didn't hurt that, at one point, Garfield had leaped in front of her to block a blow that never came. Bart joked the princess would soon get over her infatuation with him as soon as her head trauma healed. Raven wasn't so sure. Garfield had eagerly showed her his texts with the queen-to-be. It seemed serious. At t the end of the day, Raven felt relieved that he was slowly moving on from his crush on her.

Presently… Raven drummed her fingers on the table in the school library. In their last therapy session, Dinah had alluded to college—a topic they had breached months earlier. She had, without Dinah's knowledge, submitted applications to Ivy League schools: Metropolis University, Ivy Town University, Empire State University, and Harvard. Sure, her grades were decent, but they weren't Ivy League material.

So why am I looking at a late acceptance email from Hudson University? My grades aren't that good, and Constantine wrote my letter of recommendation. What on Earth could he have written?

After school, Raven instantly teleported into Constantine's mansion. "Raven," Black Orchid greeted her.

"Hello," Raven replied, scanning the room. "Is Constantine here?"

"I believe Ms. Zatanna Zatara has recruited him to help with her magic school. May I be of assistance?"

Raven hesitated. "Well… six months ago, I asked Constantine to write a letter of recommendation for my college applications. I hoped he would screw it up. But I just received a late acceptance email from Hudson University. My grades couldn't have gotten me into any Ivy League college, so I want to see the letter he wrote—see if he added anything magical to it."

"Ah," Black Orchid said, a knowing look crossing her face. "I remember this day well. He had just exorcised a level 5 demon from a little girl, reminding him of one he couldn't save. He wrote it while he was deep in his whiskey. Allow me to locate it." The house shuddered, and a laptop appeared above Orchid's hand. "Allow me," she said, placing her hand on the closed PC. Seconds later, the laptop vanished, replaced by a piece of white paper in her hand. "Here," Black Orchid said, handing the letter to Raven. "Techno-magic," she added.

"Thank you," Raven said, taking the document.

"I watched as Constantine typed in his alcohol-induced state," Orchid continued. "He drunkenly telephoned someone named Tim Drake using techno-magic."

"What?!" Raven exclaimed, her surprise evident.

"Yes, it's a magic that allows technology—"

"I know what techno-magic is," Raven interrupted, staring at the essay in her hand. "I mean—he called Tim?" She read a few sentences, her disbelief deepening. No way he wrote this himself. "Trigondammit," she swore in her native tongue. "Why—I—thank you, Black Orchid," she said gratefully. "I have to go."

"I sense anger and embarrassment. Are you going to kill Constantine?"

"I may have to."

Raven had teleported to the mountain in a huff. She had set her things on her bed and prepared to teleport to Tim's apartment when a sensation hit her. She knew, she just knew, he was in the mountain—specifically, in their gym. So, not in complete control of her emotion, Raven marched through the surprisingly empty mountain. Sensing he was alone in the weight-room, she paused in front of the door and centered herself.

Once she felt her emotions settle, she entered the gym. Honestly, I should have known better, Raven thought in annoyance. She wasn't annoyed that Tim was hanging from a pull-up bar doing inverted sit-ups while holding a crossword puzzle in front of his face. It wasn't even the fact that he was shirtless. No, what annoyed her was that she should have known he was shirtless and mentally prepared herself accordingly. "Trigondamn," she muttered.

"Hey, Raven," Tim greeted without looking at her and without pause. "Our bond must still be in place because I felt you walking down the hall. I can also feel your displeasure at something." He paused and lowered, or lifted, his crossword book from his face. Raven looked away with a flush when he stared at her with his electric blue eyes. Honestly, was it a rule that you had to be considered good-looking for Bruce Wayne to adopt you? The Richard in this universe was still young, but Raven knew what he would look like when he turned 18. Even Jason Todd was shockingly gorgeous, if not obnoxious with an anger problem. Anyway, Raven returned to the present and said, "I received an acceptance email from Hudson University."

"That's amazing," Tim said, still hanging upside down…shirtless…glistening with sweat.

A small part of her wanted to purr at the sight. She swallowed thickly instead. "No," Raven shifted on her feet, "it's not." Tim gave her a curious look. "My grades aren't good enough for an Ivy League university. So, I figured Constantine—who wrote my acceptance letter—must have cast a spell or something." Raven watched as Tim's eyes widened with understanding. "Turns out, you wrote most of it."

"Yeah, he called me," Tim replied. "I don't know how he got my personal number."

"Techno-magic," Raven said.

Tim gave her another questioning look. "Techno-magic? The ability to talk to technology?"

"Something like that," Raven said. That was the one genre of magic she was unsure of.

"That's too simple. Is it technology that runs on magic?"

"Yeah…I guess."

"That is extraordinary. So, Constantine has—"

"No," Raven interrupted him, holding up a finger. "No, you will not go on a tangent or rant until after we have this conversation."

"I'm sorry," Tim apologized, blushing. "Yes, to answer your question. Constantine called me and asked to write your letter of recommendation, but I doubt that's why you got accepted."

"Well, it wasn't my grades."

"I think it was the other letter of recommendation I wrote and handed to the dean at a charity event," Tim admitted nonchalantly, resuming his sit-ups.

Raven's whole body shook with multiple emotions. "Why would you do that?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"Why would you apply to multiple Ivy Leagues and then ask Constantine to write you a letter of recommendation knowing there's an 18.7% chance he'd be blackout drunk while doing so?" Tim paused midway, turned his torso, and looked Raven directly in the eye with a smirk. "It's almost like you were purposefully trying to sabotage your chances of getting into college." Raven opened her mouth to respond to the accusation, but no words came out. "That's what I thought," Tim said, resuming his sit-up.

"Why does it matter to you?" Raven asked. "And can we please talk face-to-face, right side up?" Raven was having a hard time concentrating on their conversation.

"You don't enjoy watching me move?" Tim asked in a manner that could only be described as flirtatious. Raven gave him her best blank stare. "Give me a second," he smiled. Lifting his torso, he held onto the pull-up bar with one hand and undid the straps on his ankles with the other.

Placing his bare feet on the mat, he grabbed his water bottle that was nearby, and Raven looked away as he gulped down mouthfuls of water. "So…why are you upset with me he asked when he was finished drinking.

"I'm not upset with you," Raven turned to him. Now, he was standing in front of her, sweaty, blue eyes looking at her through damp bangs. This is way worse, Raven thought as she struggled to keep her eyes on his. I should have waited until he was done working out to have this conversation. "I'm not upset with you," Raven repeated. "I'm just wondering why?"

"Why were you trying to sabotage your chance at receiving a higher education?"

"Tim," Raven gasped as he took a step closer to her. Suddenly, she didn't know what to do with her hands. She couldn't pull her hood over her head, she was still wearing her school uniform. "I'm interrupting your workout," she muttered. Is my voice shaking? "I-I-I should go," Raven said, taking a small step back.

"Raven," Tim caught her soft hand in his rough one. Raven looked at their joined hands. "You're shaking," Tim said, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Raven's breath caught in her throat as her heart raced and heat coiled low in her belly. She was weakening under the intensity of his gaze, and her mouth was suddenly dry. "Yeah…it's cold in here," she said, suddenly dizzy. "I should go get a sweatshirt."

"I don't think so," Tim said breathlessly, before pulling her into his body. His free hand went to the back of her neck as he pulled her into a kiss. Instead of freezing like she had the first time, Raven responded instantly. Tim's mouth was hot and insistent against hers, though his lips remained soft. The world around her dissolved as she opened herself up to him. The warmth in her stomach exploded and Raven became hot all over when he yanked the ponytail holder from her hair, tossing it somewhere. T

he kiss deepened, growing more fervent as Tim tilted his head, tangling his tongue with hers. Raven wasn't sure which one of them moaned, but the vibration against her mouth sent shivers down her spine. Tim released her hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, crushing her to him, and Raven could feel his heart racing in his chest. His hand then inched up her spine, sending jolts of electricity through her body. Raven wanted to get even closer to him as this unfamiliar need arose in her. Sucking on his lower lip, Raven could taste the salt of his sweat.

Barely pulling away, Tim, their lips still tenderly brushing each other, Tim maneuvered them over to one bench in the gymnasium. Sitting down, Tim tenderly pulled Raven onto his lap so she was straddling him. Settling onto his lap, Raven gasped, and before she could register what she was feeling, Tim pulled her into a deeper kiss. While his fingers carded through her hair, his other hand worked its way beneath her sweater, still on her shirt. Raven could sense his desire to go further, as well as his hesitation to go too far. He was so sweet, but even half-demons like her needed air. Raven eased the intensity of her kisses, and Tim followed her lead. Eventually, they were both resting their foreheads against each other, panting. What did I just do? Raven pulled away to look into his eyes, but something happened. She was no longer looking into intense blue eyes; she was staring into angry green ones. "How could you do that to me? I trusted you!" Wally screamed.

"Wally," Richard said warningly, placing himself protectively in front of Raven. "Wally, let her explain."

"Was any of it real?" Wally cried, ignoring his best friend. "Any of it?" Raven sucked in a breath as her tears continued to fall. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Do you even love me?"

"Yes," Raven looked at him desperately, "I do. That's why I told you the truth."

"And how am I supposed to trust anything you say?"

"I'm sorry," Raven apologized. "I was desperate. The Justice League had just sent me away. I didn't know anyone else. I knew I wouldn't be able to get to Richard."

"So, you manipulated my emotions?"

"I was afraid you'd turn me away, too."

"I wouldn't have."

"Really? Can you honestly say if I came begging for help–if I came to you saying an interdimensional demon war lord was on his way here, and I was his daughter–you would have dropped everything and helped me?"

"Well, I guess we'll never know. You took away any choice I had in the matter."

"Raven?"

Raven blinked once.

"I think…you're not used to having full control of your emotions," Nightwing said to her. "I think you've been manipulating mine." Raven stiffened. "Not on purpose," Nightwing quickly added. "Not on purpose, but I think the feelings you're feeling…the feelings I'm feeling…are somehow coming from you. Think about it."

Raven frowned and thought. Is this what Kori was trying to tell her? Nightwing was right. Was that all this was? An overzealous crush holding so much emotion it spilled over and was affecting Nightwing negatively? Her frown deepened the longer she thought about it. It did and didn't make sense to her. Turning to Nightwing, she prepared a question but paused. She was 21, but likely had the emotional maturity of a 4-year-old being that a couple of months ago she wasn't able to fully embrace emotion without Trigon taking over. And…what she did to Wally years before was always present in her mind. Biting her lip, she realized Nightwing was right. It was just a crush with overflowing emotion affecting those around him. And it was only affecting Nightwing because they'd been hanging out nearly every day. He was right. This isn't love.

Raven blinked again. "Raven?" Tim called her name, this time placing a hand on her face. "I'm right here, Raven." Raven blinked, her body and mind returning to the present. She was staring at a very confused Tim…sitting on his lap. Oh my gosh, I'm on his lap, her body tensed as she began to panic.

"Raven?" he said her name again. Raven blinked as her body and mind fully returned to the present. "Are you okay?" he asked, genuine worry on his face.

"Omigosh," she gasped before quickly scrambling off his lap. "It's happening again."

"What's happening again?" Tim asked, remaining seated.

"I think I may be influencing you by accident."

Tim furrowed his brow as he stared at her inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"I think…I wanted you to kiss me so bad that…I accidentally affected your emotions."

"Excuse me?" he asked with a cocked brow.

"I may have accidentally manipulated you into kissing me."

"Wait," Tim's face remained serious, but Raven could sense the amusement radiating from him, "you're saying I wanted to kiss you because you wanted me to kiss you? That you accidentally forced me to kiss you?"

"Yes," Raven sighed.

"You're serious?"

Raven nodded. She then watched as Tim tried and failed to hold back a laugh. Now I'm confused. Tim laughed like Raven had just cracked a joke. And the sound did something to Raven's stomach. I love his laugh. Crap. Raven blinked and frowned at Tim. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Tim gasped between laughs. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at…Raven, no one forced me to kiss you. I kissed you because I wanted to."

"Tim…"

"No," he smiled as he stood to his feet, "I know my mind. Trust me, I know what it feels like to be manipulated. You did not manipulate me."

"But you kissed me," Raven stressed.

"Yeah," Tim said, humor dancing in his eyes. "Because I wanted to." He held her gaze, watching as confusion crossed her face and she took a small step back. It was almost like—his eyes widened. "Raven…did something or someone…?" Tim paused. He didn't know how to word the question. "Raven," he said, reaching for her hands, linking their fingers. "I like you. And it's not because of your powers." He saw disbelief and confusion cross her face. "I've felt your touch in my head," he continued softly, "I'd recognize if you were doing something in there. Raven…?" Tim was trying to make sense of what Raven just said. "Did something like that happen to you?" Tim knew he hit the nail on the head when Raven's face tightened. She looked down and away, and her arms wrapped around her torso in a show of vulnerability. His heart cracked. "Raven, is it so hard—what happened?"

"Nothing," Raven closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Nothing. It was a mistake…I was mistaken. I'm sorry," Raven tried to brush past him, but Tim's hand shot out. He wrapped his hand around her wrist. "Wait," he said softly. "Raven, is it so hard to believe that someone may like you…for you?"

Raven gradually turned her head to look at him. Her heart raced in her chest as she stood captivated by Tim's beautiful eyes. "Raven," Tim closed the distance between them. He cupped her face in his hands and stared deep into her eyes and asked her pointblank. "Raven, are you using your powers to manipulate me in any way, shape, or form?"

Tim's face became blurry as tears formed in Raven's eyes. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Why am I crying? She felt Tim's thumbs move as he wiped the tears away. "I…" Raven began in a broken voice. Her shoulders slumped. Admitting this would only bring back painful memories. But, she could sense Tim's emotions—his sincerity, his kindness, his lo—I can't lie to him. "No," she whispered, "I'm not using my powers on you."

"Were you using them on me that night I kissed you?" he asked kindly.

"No," Raven admitted tearfully.

"And were you using them on me just now?" he asked softly.

"No," Raven said.

"Well, if you weren't using your powers on me, that means my feelings for you are genuine. That means, that night, I wanted to kiss you. And, if the TV hadn't broken," he chuckled, "I would have kissed you longer, harder, and deeper…the way I just kissed you now."

"Tim," Raven gasped.

"I don't know what happened on your world all those years ago…but, Raven, my feelings for you are genuine. They're mine. No one is manipulating me, least of all you." He looked at Raven with a gentle gaze. Raven's heart raced. She didn't know what to say about that. Because if Tim liked her just for her, that would be mean…that would mean…Raven looked up at Tim with wonder. He likes me! "I…" she backed away. "I have to go. I'm sorry. I have to check…something," she said.

"Are you okay?" Tim asked, instantly worried.

"I'm fine…or…um…I will be. I just…I don't know what I'm feeling. I…need to go…."

"It's okay, I get it," Tim nodded. "I understand. I'll see you later…okay?"

"Okay."

Raven marched into the House of Mystery and Black Orchid greeted her. "Hello again, Raven," she greeted. "Something is wrong. You are…frazzled."

"I am, but…I need to see an old friend, and I'm not sure how long it will take. Can you let John know? I will have my communicator on me if there's an emergency. I just need…" tears gathered in her eyes again. I'm falling apart.

Black Orchid placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It is okay, Raven," she smiled comfortingly. "Do what you need to do."

Dick smiled at his phone, cooing at the screen as he listened to his wife. "And remember…formula. The blue canister with the bunny on it, not the red one." He curved his lips into a grin, but the moment was interrupted as he sensed something off—he was being followed. "What's wrong?"

"I am being followed."

"Old habits die hard," his wife replied, her voice light with humor.

"Apparently," he chuckled. "Alright. I'm gonna go have a chat with my stalker."

"Be careful, Dick."

"I will, Babs. I'll see you in a bit. Bye, John," he cooed at the baby before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, he approached the alley, feeling a mix of dread and determination. "Bad idea, Dick, bad idea. You promised you would stop. You're a family man now."

"Talking to yourself? That's a nasty habit," a voice emerged from the darkness. "Stupidly entering a dark alley alone? Tsk. Tsk."

The familiarity of the voice made Dick freeze. No way, he thought. As a figure stepped out of the shadows, his heart raced. She looked different—her face youthful yet hauntingly familiar. There was no doubt in Dick's mind; it was Raven—the teammate he had sort of buried ten years ago. "What would Batman think?" she smiled, a teasing glint in her eye.

"Raven?" He breathed her name in disbelief, emotions welling in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him.

"Hello, Richard," she replied with a small, almost nervous, smile. "It's been a while. Have you missed me?"

[creepylittlelady]

I need to know more about Lazari in your AU

She deserves more content from fans

Hi! I'm so sorry it took me so long to answer this ask, and also thank you for sending me an ask in the first place! I love answering questions, even if it takes me a bit to respond :3

I agree with you, Lazari deserves better. I mean like, even her own creator did her dirty man, SHE HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL!!! Her concept is so cool and her own comic did her SO DIRTY. I hate the treatment she gets from fans too.

Yeah I get it her comic was terribly written and was the origin of the 'I HAVE CRAYONS AND PAPER!!!!!' meme and the characters were poorly written and the lore was inconsistent and the fanservice was weird and the story/tone was ALL OVER THE PLACE. But like, don't take it out on my baby Lazari please she deserves better.

I wanna do some more silly headcanons of her this time around, I might make a separate post on more serious stuff about her ;)

So, let's get cracking!

Lazari Headcanons!

-She's on the Autism Spectrum, diagnosed and all :3. She also has ADHD, also diagnosed! She's the representation we deserve to see in this fandom lol.

-She's Chibiworks. Okay, let me explain:

SO, when Lazari first came into the Mansion, she was just an 8 year old girl with demonic tendencies who was abused by her hyper-religious mother who hated her. She hated herself, she was shy, and she believed that she was nothing more than a monster, a mistake. But all of a sudden she goes from that to the DAUGHTER OF THE EMPEROR OF THE UNDERWORLD, a literal DISNEY PRINCESS (cuz yk she's his daughter), and now she literally lives in a Magical Forest in a Magical Mansion of Serial Killers, Ghosts and Demons.

She thought that the world around her was super interesting considering she never got to see much of the outside. She loves drawing, so she drew about it. She drew about the potential greater stories unravelling around her, making her own characters based on concepts she learnt about whilst exploring.

She made I Eat Pasta for Breakfast as a way of letting her imagination go wild around this new environment she found herself in. She made characters to interact with the people that already existed, and gave them purposes.

(Btw, several of the weird stuff and the not kid-appropriate scenes in the comic are retconned out of this version.)

She also made Creepy Frozen Pasta, just saying. She also wrote The Seer. She wrote every Creepypasta comic in existence. Found a cool Creepypasta comic series? Lazari wrote it.

-She LOVES drawing. Her artstyle is very much manga-inspired and she loves creating her own OCs, which are littered throughout her work. A lot of them are directly based on concepts, such as many of Zalgo's followers in IEPFB being based on the idea of Zalgo having a cult of personality around him.

-She's definitely an animation meme kid. I'm deffo self-projecting but she is the DEFINITION of the weird kid. She makes animation memes of everyone in the mansion. She makes animatics of actual stuff that happened. She makes amateur dubs of her own comics.

-Manga is her biggest hyperfixation. She collects TONS of them, and directly draws panels from her favourite manga to improve her drawing skills. Her favourite Manga series of all time is Fruits Basket :3. Her room is basically just all of her drawing scattered around the place.

She specifically likes Horror and Shoujo anime, despite the fact that they're basically polar opposites. Alongside Fruits Basket, she really likes Madoka Magica!

-She definitely makes AMVs of her favourite animes. She deffo writes terribly written fanfiction about her favourite anime couples kissing and giggles whilst writing it.

-She's also a Gacha Life kid FUCKING FIGHT ME SHE DEFINITELY MAKES GACHA OCS. She definitely stays up until 2am with Sally watching 'Hated Child turns into Hybrid Princess' videos. Lazari gasps in shock every single time and Sally is just sitting there extremely confused.

-Sally is her best friend. She lore-dumps to Sally all the time about her special interests, and Sally listens intently and nods along. She even writes notes about the lore of her favourite series! Sally is a super supportive best friend, and any time any of the ghost kids make fun her for her autistic behaviour she puts them in their place.

-Despite this, the two of them argue a lot, because they're kids and just of course they do. Fun fact! The reason why Sally only appears like once in IEPFB is because Lazari initially wrote her in, then the two got into a fight and she took her out of the story. They made up soon after but Lazari thought it would be too awkward to add her back in and Sally just accepted it.

-She has a very unorthodox form of common sense. With that I mean she has none at all. Once the mansion was on fire, and Slender screamed at her to get up and evacuate. Her reaction? She told him to leave her alone and let her sleep.

-She really likes Vocaloid, and her favourite Vocaloid isn't even a Vocaloid. Her favourite, uh, singing bank, is Kasane Teto! She claims that her robotic voice (before the SynthV AI transfer) was pleasant to her ears.

-Her favourite Vocaloid Song is Kasane Territory, because of the animation meme of course >:D.

-She also definitely tried to make a Storytime Youtube Channel but everyone in the Mansion made her delete it because she was sharing personal information about them all. Like genuinely she'd be like 'SO THE OTHER DAY MASKY AND HOODY WERE ON A MISSION FOR SLENDERMAN AND THEY KILLED THIS ONE GIRL WHO LIVES AT THIS ADDRESS IN THIS STATE'.

She has like zero concept of Internet Safety.

-She's a massive Melanie Martinez fan. She got Sally into her music, and back when Melanie Martinez was like just getting popular she'd sing all of her songs super loudly in the shower. Once Slenderman referred to the house as a 'Dollhouse' and Lazari screamed 'DOLLHOUSE BY MELANIE MARTINEZ? HEY GIRL, OPEN YOUR WALLS, PLAY WITH YOUR DOLLS-'.

-She used to be a massive Roblox kid in 2017 and was also an MSP kid. Christ she was on so many virtual worlds, she was even on Animal Jam sort of.

-Fanon Masky, Hoody and Toby were invented by her. Fanon Masky was made PURELY out of spite for him. The first time they met was not pleasant, as he called her a brat. Lazari vowed to humiliate him in every way possible from that point forward. She found out that he hated children, hated Slenderman, hated Cheesecake, hated the texture of Crayons, and hated jokingly being called a twink by Toby.

All of that combined? You got the Crayon-having, Cheesecake-eating, Skinny, Scrawny, Slenderman dick-riding Fanon Masky that we all know and love. The other residents found out about this strange new version of him and it became so popular she drew individual fanarts of him and handed it to all of the residents. Even Slenderman has a picture of Cheesecake Masky on his Office Wall. Somehow Masky didn't find out about this until a long time after the fad ended.

In my AU Hoody is a selective mute who doesn't verbally communicate with anyone besides the Proxies, so he was deathly silent when he first met Lazari. She misunderstood this as him just being shy and so Shy UwU boy Hoody was made.

Fanon Toby is just a sarcastic persona Toby puts on to piss other people off. She misunderstood this as his REAL personality and alongside the waffles thing that Jeff and Ben always mentioned (Toby stopped liking Waffles long before Lazari came), Fanon Toby was made.

-She made the Dollmaker (yeah he exists) make her plushies of everyone in the Mansion + The Zalgo and a few of her OCs. What does she do with them, you may ask? She roleplays with them with Sally. They've made a bunch of random ships with this, and now they're both avid Slender x Zalgo shippers. They also ship EJ with a lot of people as he has such a versatile personality, but they mainly like EJ and Jeff.

Lazari also found out that Masky was sort of intimidated by Nurse Ann so she shipped them very vocally in front of him.

-She's a massive Sanrio-girl, and her favourite character is My Melody :D. She's watched the entirety of Onegai My Melody at least like sixteen times already.

-She tried to learn Japanese, and failed miserably. She can sometimes read Hiragana if Kagekao writes it really carefully.

-Her own handwriting is really terrible, almost illegible. It's a gift to be able to read anything she writes.

-She's a part of the Mansion's Literature Club, and Ben nicknames her the Natsuki of the club, as she's always insisting that Manga is literature.

-She argues with Slender, as he believes that comics and Manga shouldn't be considered literature, as they're all pictures and barely any words. Lazari TO THIS DAY debates him about it.

-About her demonic urges, they're manageable as long as you give her a random body part to chew on every once and a while. She doesn't lose her control like she once did when she first came, and she's not as dangerous anymore. She's like a saint compared to EJ.

-As she's a half-demon, she has some godly amount of brute force strength. She can carry someone thrice her size and force open any door, no matter how many locks are on it.

She also has an incredibly high pain tolerance. Once she got scratched up pretty bad by EJ when he was in a particularly bad Demonic State, the girl didn't even notice until Lulu noticed.

-About Lulu, she was actually assigned to show her around when she first arrived at the Mansion! Lulu had told Slender earlier that she wanted to take charge of whoever came after her, and has a really good relationship with Lazari. She's one of Lazari's favourite people.

-Her relationship with her dad is...strange. On one hand when she does get to visit they generally have a nice time, however due to how much she reminds him of his deceased little sister, sometimes he'll accidentally call her 'Lily', which dampens the mood a little bit.

-Stripes ADORES her. The two sisters are very close and Stripes just loves her so much, she even made her her Teddy Bear that she's famous for carrying around :3.

-She had a phase where she called herself an irl Yandere. Thankfully she stopped after like a month but it was very funny lol

-She loves Nightcore! And Trance Music, oddly enough. One of her favourite songs is 'Be Alive!' By Stian K. (Search up the song. If you recognise the song from a certain animation meme of her then you deserve all of my respect).

-Her favourite food is Chocolate Strawberries.

Okay, if you want to ask some more serious lore-related questions then go right ahead and I'll answer! I just have so much of Lazari since she was one of my comfort characters when I was little and first got into Creepypastas. I see a lot of myself in her and I'm so peeved that the fandom either completely ignores her or dislikes her, like she's got so much potential! She's an incredibly important character in my AU actually, and one day I'll make a post detailing her correlation with the greater story :3

Hope you enjoyed! If you're new to this blog and are just seeing this post, then I have an AU named 'Puppet Strings', with its own lore and interpretations of the characters. If you're curious, come check out my blog and you can ask me questions!

[sidhewrites]

Twelve!! Listen we are skipping an entire 3 scenes using the bracket method and I don't care, I wrote, I have written, I will write again. The chapter is also 90% Dialogue which will almost certainly be pared down in later versions, so it'll make up for it lol.

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[Josie suggests bringing renfield to the graveyard and holding their own seance, to recreate the ritual that summoned it and see who's haunting them, since weird stuff has been happening in the graveyard lately and at josie's home and nobody can figure out why. Eventually, Kaz lets herself get talked into it. or moreso strongarmed into it when she complains to lucy who thinks it's a great idea.]. kaz finds it completely ridiculous and shows up anyway

Note: possibly change ren to Kaz's kitty, and josie was going to drop thigns off at kaz's apartment and let him out?]

#

[Scene opens with Kaz and Lucy chatting at the graveyard, josie arrives]

"Who are you talking to?"

[What do you mean?

there's nobody there?]

"What? of course there is. She's right here. Josie, this is Lucy." I gesture vaguely.

[ha ha very funny. can we just get to work? the sooner we do, the sooner you can get rid of me.]

"Are you kidding? She's right here. Lucy, say something."

"Good evening?" she tries.

"Kaz, stop it. There's nobody there."

[and anyway at this point kaz realizes lucy's a ghost,]

"Wait you...actually can't see her, can you?"

Josie shrugs, exasperated.

"Uh... Lucy, how old are you?"

"Forever twenty-one."

"No, I mean...what year were you born?"

[1880s or whatever]

"You're being funny, right? Josie, she's being funny, right?"

Josie rolled her eyes. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, there's nobody there."

"I'm not in the habit of lying," Lucy said.

I don't believe it. I mean -- she can't be, right? She's goth, and she's adorable and spooky, but she's not... She can't be... "You're a ghost, aren't you?"

"I am rather spectral inclined, yes."

"What's going on?" Josie asks. Her frustration has given way to a shocked confusion. "Kaz, who are you talking to?"

"Lucy. She's, uh...Lucy, what's your last name?"

She gives me a smile, either pleased that I've finally put two and two together, or irritated that it took so long. I can't quite tell which. "Blue."

"Shut up."

"I'd rather not."

"You're not Lucille Blue," I say.

"You're talking to Lucille Blue?" Josie asks.

"I always preferred Lucy, if I'm honest."

[Transition]

I'm honestly a little surprised to see it. Josie has never trusted spirit boards, much less an actual Ouija board. She's definitely too steeped in pop-culture. In her mind, not only do ghosts exist, but so do demons or malevolent spirits or whatever.

Oh.

Uh.

Hm.

I glance at Lucy, then back to Josie. I may have to put more groveling on my to-do list.

Reluctantly, I join Josie on the ground, sitting opposite her with the candles and Ouija board between us. Renfield's breathing is unusually quiet as he watches us from his bed.

[Uh Mrs. Blue can you sit over there?] She points to the empty spot to her left.

"Is that meant to be me?" Lucy asks.

"I think she prefers Lucy," I say, glancing over my shoulder.

"Right. Sorry. Uh, Lucy, can you...sit over there?"

Lucy does as instructed. This time, I notice there's no noise when she walks, nor does she seem to disturb the grass at all. I watch her skirts swish over the ground, but there's nothing to suggest she'd ever been there at all.

"And Kaz, you sit..." Josie gestures to the spot on her right.

I can't help but make a face for being pulled into something like this. But Lucy is sitting there smiling at me as prettily as ever, with her dress so black it almost looks like shadows in the night, that I force myself to swallow. "I'm gonna have to do a lot of existential exploration after this, aren't I?"

"I'm not going to say anything," Josie says, while her tone says more than enough.

When the two of us are settled, Josie looks over to the Carrier again, considering the mass of shadows within. Renfield is a skinny cat underneath his fluff, and he's squished himself as far back as possible, looking like a ball of blackness with two gleaming eyes reflecting the dim light outside.

"He okay?"

She nods weakly, and reaches over to unlatch the door and take up the lead attached to his little harness. "Come on, baby boy. Come out." She takes him out carefully and places him in the cat bed, expecting him to curl up and go to sleep like he normally does when confronted with a flat surface. Instead, however, he stands stock still like he doesn't know how to handle four legs. He watches his front paws, and takes a single step forward, off the bed and onto the grass.

She watches him consider the next placement of his foot, then look up and regard us three. His gaze lingers on Lucy, and begins stumbling directly over to her.

"Can he see me?" she asks with delight. "Hello, darling!"

"Where's he going?" Josie asks. "Is he going to Lucy?"

"I think so," I say.

But there's something wrong in how he walks -- something worse than usual. He's getting tangled up in his paws, missing steps. My worry grows, wondering if he's got a neurological issue, up until he stands upright. Suddenly Renfield appears much more confident in himself. His steps are awkward but more confident, and he fixes his eyes on Lucy. There's a focus there that hadn't been present in years. A single-mindedness towards...something that none of us understand.

Lucy reaches her hand out, and I wonder if she would be able to pet him. But once he's just barely out of her reach, his focus wavers. Renfield regains his usual wall-eyed expression, and falls back onto all fours. He regards the grass for a minute, sniffing the cold air, and meeps.

"I'm coming," Josie coos, and scoops him up. This time, when she deposits him back into the cat bed, he curls up like nothing happened. She scratches behind his ears until his wheezy purring fills the air, and she looks up at me.

I don't have anything witty to say.  Josie was right -- that was weird. I'd never seen anything like that from any animal before outside of scary movies. If that had been happening for a month now... I swallow around a lump of guilt in my throat. I should have believed her earlier.

"Josie...?"

She doesn't look at me for a moment. "Let's just get this over with so I can put him to bed."

Lucy and I watch helplessly as she sets up the rest of the scene. She [does stuff to set up. Pulling candles and ash and stuff from her bag,] and finally a pendulum -- a small crystal on the end of a silver chain.

"That's quite the toolkit," Lucy observes

"She prides on herself on being prepared."

Josie sits, holding up the pendulum and considering it. She's the one running the show tonight, but I really hope we don't have to sit here watching a shiny rock wiggle back and forth for an hour before doing something more fun.

"If she asks a question, I can't promise I won't tap it."

"You're evil."

"What?" Josie looks up. She must have decided against the pendulum, because she puts it away while looking between me and where she thinks Lucy's sitting. "Are you guys talking about something"

"No."

Lucy places a delicate hand over her heart, the picture of innocence. "It's extremely tempting to sabotage attempts to contact the deceased."

"Lucy-- wait." I run a few calculations in my head. "You're... you're the deceased. Right?"

"My body is enjoying an eternal rest, but my mind still yearns to wander."

"Right. Cool. So doesn't that mean... -- Josie, she likes to interfere with people's seances and stuff. Doesn't that mean ... Lucy, doesn't that mean you're just giving them a successful ghost encounter? If you're -- you know ... that?"

Josie nods. "That sounds right to me."

[But i'm just having a bit of fun, I'm not actually giving them a ghost encounter]

"No...Lucy..." I frown. "Josie can you pick up the pendulum?"

Josie does, confused.

"Okay now...ask a question."

"Like what?"

I gesture vaguely. "You know. Anything. Something you'd ask a ghost."

"Okay...?" She holds her hand out and balances the pendulum. "This is yes..." she starts, letting it swing one way. "This is no," she says, letting it swing the other. "Does anyone... want to talk to me?" She grimaces, looking to me for some sort of hint of what else to do.

I nod, then point at Lucy. "Okay, go touch the pendulum."

She doesn't.

For a moment, nobody moves. Then Lucy shrugs. "Well, now I don't want to!"

"Luce!"

"What's going on?" Josie asks.

"She's got stage fright."

"It's not stage fright!" Lucy frowns. "I simply... don't care for performing just to prove a point. I'm not going to tap a crystal because it can channel energy between worlds.  That's not how it works."

"No, you're going to go touch a shiny rock because other people thinks it channels energy between worlds. Please."

"What's going on?"

"I will not!" she protests, indignant.

A breeze shifts around us, swinging the pendulum and sending a shiver down my and Josie's spines.

It's a fight not to argue when Josie says, "Maybe another time."

Lucy nods.

She puts the pendulum down, and shifts uncertainly. "So, Missus Blue -- Lucille."

"Lucy," she says.

"Lucy," I say, so Josie can hear.

"Lucy. Right. I don't know how much Kaz told you, but we're recreating the Ouija board session from the Haunted Archivists video as best we can. Hopefully that will attract the attention of whoever they spoke to that night, since they thought it was you."

"It wasn't me," she confirms.

"It wasn't her," I reiterate.

"Right."

It's about time we get started.

Tag List

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

[k--havok]

🖊️ for the ask game, for any oc you'd like!

🖊��Body writing? What would they write on their partner(s)? What would they want written on them?

Okay so! This is actually an idea that was floating around for Waking into Divinity! I even wrote a oneshot about it, so I'll go ahead and share that here! It's not writing per se, but demons in Waking into Divinity have special paints they can use on their bodies to amplify or nullify certain feelings and such. There are shapes and specific things they write on themselves in their demonic language, but usually it's related to poetry, sayings, or wishes for good luck.

The oneshot below is a little old in terms of lore, so there are some terms or some worldbuilding that is no longer relevant to the story.

Word count: 6,291 Warnings: Mentions of sex, mentions of violence, old writing Rating: 18+

--

Rylie sighed, smiling to themselves as they scrolled through old pictures on their phone. They leaned back against the couch, lost in their own thoughts. 

“Dinner,” Casrath said as he set a plate down in front of them. “Baked salmon sitting on a bed of asparagus with a glass of chardonnay.”

Rylie glanced up from their phone. “That looks amazing, Casrath. Thank you.”

Casrath grinned at them. “Anything for you, Rylie. I hope my skills have continuously improved for you.”

Rylie flushed. Keeping their phone balanced on one of their knees, they dug into the meal. Their eyes shone as soon as they took a bite of the fish.

“This is amazing. Like… really amazing.” They greedily dug their fork in for another bite. 

Casrath chuckled, his own blush gracing the tops of his ears. “Thank you, Rylie. That means a lot to me.”

As the two ate, Rylie continued to glance at their phone, still smiling, and continuously swiping through pictures. 

“Everything alright? You’re usually not this quiet.”

“Just enjoying the meal. And-- well, looking at some old pictures is all.”

Casrath tilted his head to the side. “Old pictures?”

“Yeah. When me and my parents went to DisneyLand when I was younger. See?” 

Rylie passed over the phone to him. “Um, don’t mind my clear awkwardness and growing pains, okay? I was 16 at the time.” 

“You were precious,” Casrath said, flipping through the pictures as well. In all of them, Rylie wore one of the biggest grins he’d ever seen. A pair of mouse ears sat atop their head in most of them. 

Younger Rylie had the same beautiful jade eyes, the same cute nose, and that same dazzling smile. Their hair may have been much longer, and their clothes a little ill-fitting, but that didn’t matter to Casrath. 

“I loved the Tower of Terror. It was my favorite ride there,” Rylie said. “Everything was amazing, actually. One day I’ll go again.”

Casrath chuckled. “I would take you there, then. If that is what you wish.”

Rylie shook their head, but their grin never fell. “Thank you, Casrath. I honestly miss it… even though I’ve only ever been there once.” 

“I understand all too well, trust me.”

Rylie nodded slowly, finishing their food and their wine. They swirled the last dregs of chardonnay around the bottom of the wine glass. 

“Hey, Casrath? Do you ever miss Hell?”

“Why, of course. You, and Earth, are most welcoming. But Hell is my home.”

A small tinge of red spread across Rylie’s cheeks. They pointedly looked away from Casrath, and swiped through their phone without really seeing the pictures to give their eyes and hands something to do. 

“So-- so I’m guessing… bedding me… isn’t the only reason why you want to take me, right? Or-- or is it?”

Casrath snorted. “That is merely one of many, many reasons, Rylie.” Scooting closer to them, he tapped his knee against theirs. “I would love to show you the lands I’ve conquered, the beauty of my keep, as well as some of the more mystical places. It is not all fire and brimstone, as you put it. There is much beauty there, and is as diverse as Earth, if not moreso.”

“I don’t think I can even imagine all that, but I’d like to try.”

“One day, you won’t have to even imagine,” Casrath murmured. He pressed a tender kiss right above Rylie’s ear. 

A shiver of delight raced down Rylie’s spine, but they tried to ignore it.

“What do you miss most?” Rylie asked instead.

Casrath rubbed his chin between two fingers. He relaxed back on the couch. “That… is a difficult question to answer. I miss many things, none more than another.” He wrapped an arm around Rylie’s waist, pulling them closer to him. 

Rylie could fight against his kisses, but not his touch. Never his touch. They sunk into his warm side, sighing softly. Casrath felt sturdy, strong, and simply comfortable. Although hard muscle covered every inch of his body, when relaxed, he made for the best of pillows. 

“Well, what are some of the things you miss right now? Like… I dunno. On your average Hellish day--” Rylie bit back a small laugh at their own joke, “--what would you be doing after dinner?”

“After dinner? Hm… let me see….” Casrath fell back into his thoughts. He idly rubbed circles with his palm across Rylie’s small love handles. 

“I suppose, after dinnertime, I would see to it that everything is as it should be. No incoming attacks, no major or sudden calls from Court, and I would retire and find whatever entertainment I seek in that moment.”

“What sort of entertainment is that?”

“Sometimes blood sports--”

Casrath paused at Rylie’s horrified look. 

“--I would not be participating, merely watching. It is a common and popular pastime in Hell.”

“Do, uh, demons actually, you know, die?”

“Well… yes. Of course.”

Rylie blinked slowly. “You know, I’m not ready to unpack that right now or process it. I’ll do so later. Uh, what other entertainment is there? That’s, um, not violent?”

“Well, of course there is popping some bottles of wine open and inviting some friends to the keep for a round of drinks. Sometimes I fly across my land, see whatever sights interest me most. Other times, I wish for more…” Casrath paused, and even his hand halted against them. “I suppose carnal pleasures is a fine descriptor.” 

“Ah, sex. Of course.” Rylie rolled their eyes.

“It is not always sex, Rylie. Sometimes I merely like watching--”

“Wait, so you’re a voyeur?” 

“Hm? No, no, you misunderstand me.” Casrath chuckled at that. “Why would I watch what I can have for myself?”

“Some people are into it,” Rylie said with a shrug.

“And that is fine for them, but no. I prefer… watching dancers.” 

Rylie blinked. Then blinked some more. They sat up and away from Casrath, turning in their seat to peer at him. 

“Wait, there are strippers in Hell?” 

“Dancers,” Casrath corrected, “is our term, but yes I suppose so. There are many dances that are performed. Some are separate from myself, and I merely watch. Other times… there is a more active role.” 

Rylie debated with themselves whether or not they wanted to pursue the conversation. Did they really want to know Casrath’s preferences when it comes to inhumanly beautiful demonic dancers?

Unfortunately for Rylie, their curiosity was one hell of a drug. 

“Um, how so?”

“Sometimes I have my concubines dance atop me. Other times, I dance with them. It is… a sensual experience.”

For a full second, Rylie’s brain short-circuited. Concubines. Dancing. On me. With them. Sensual.

Casrath frowned. “Is everything alright? Are-- are you overwhelmed?” Casrath scooted away from Rylie, giving them their distance and personal space back. 

“A-- a little bit,” Rylie admitted softly. “I don’t know whether to focus on the dancing aspect, you joining in, or the fact that you have concubines.” 

“Well, what would you be the most comfortable talking about?” 

“Um, the dancing. Definitely the dancing. Is there, like, poles?”

Casrath chuckled. “No, not exactly. There are many forms of dancing, and all have different requirements. However, no matter the form of dancing, we utilize different paints.”

“Paints? Like on your body?”

“Yes.” Casrath closed his eyes and leaned on his fist. “The paints are usually imbued with magicks. Or, other times, laced with special berries or dyes with… other properties.”

“What sort of properties?”

“Usually the paints enhance pleasure. But other times there are more functional uses, such as giving better stamina, cooling effects, and the like. Some grant enhanced swiftness, and others speed.”

“Sounds like a better use would be for, like, fighting then.”

“They can be used for battle, yes. Our paints--fa’loth is the term--have many, many uses.”

Casrath’s expression--so serene and graceful--pierced Rylie’s chest. Sometimes, they forgot just how far away home was, and how many amenities he was used to having were simply not available. 

Rylie couldn’t quite imagine Hell. They couldn’t imagine the scope of his land, the size of his castle, nor much at all. Everytime they tried, Lord of the Rings inevitably popped into their mind. 

But Rylie was certain Hell was no New Zealand. 

“Yes,” Casrath murmured, more to himself than Rylie. “That is most likely what I would be doing right now.” After stretching his arms out to the ceiling, Casrath climbed to his feet and gathered their empty plates and wine glasses. “But, for now, it is time to do the dishes.”

“Here, let me. Since you cooked,” Rylie said. And before Casrath could object, they took the plates from his hands. “How about you go… and I dunno. You could always go to the club if you want to dance.”

Casrath tilted his head to the side. “Are you certain? I thought you preferred my stay here, rather than out with others.”

Rylie blushed a little at that. “Well, it sounds like you still have some energy left. And you know me, I’m always tired.” Rylie bumped their forehead against his shoulder. Casrath towered so tall above them, that his shoulder was all Rylie could reach with their hands full. 

“If you insist. But I shall not be gone all night long. I shall return before dawn, and before you wake.”

Rylie smiled at Casrath. “That’s no problem. Now, go and get ready.”

Casrath chuckled at their impatience. “Perhaps you are simply wanting some quiet, alone time inside. In either case, I do not mind.”

Rylie smiled at Casrath, but didn’t respond. 

It was true that sometimes, they did indeed want their quiet time alone. But tonight?

Tonight, Rylie had a plan tumble its way through their thoughts. 

As soon as the dishes were washed, Casrath gone, and Beepers settled in for the night, Rylie curled on top of their bed with their laptop. 

They didn’t mention it to, well, anyone really, but they had taken pole dancing classes before. Only a handful, before the cost outweighed their food budget. Their curiosity had taken hold of them during that time, and since their parents had already moved by then and weren’t watching their every move, Rylie thought it would be a fun activity they could try.

Fun was the best descriptor for their time pole dancing. The second was exhausting. The last, expensive. But all of it was totally worth it. 

They didn’t have a pole in their apartment to dance on. And besides the basics, they didn’t know too much. But with the slight knowledge of exotic dancing as a backbone, Rylie figured it wouldn’t be too hard to google around for some tips on lap dancing. 

Rylie didn’t bother to pretend it was the wine causing them to think in such a way. Living for so long with someone so incredibly handsome, who had the best kisses and touches, and who always knew what to say to make their knees weak left Rylie reeling. 

Their stomach twisted with a mess of butterflies and nerves as Rylie fought to keep their focus on the task at hand. They didn’t have long, but they wanted to do this impromptu… dance routine right the first time. 

Getting up from their laptop, Rylie dug through their dresser before finding, stashed at the very bottom, a set of Victoria's Secret lingerie with tags still attached. With it in hand, they meandered into their bathroom. They didn’t keep much makeup on hand--they barely had a use for the stuff. However, after digging through one of the many messy bathroom drawers, Rylie dug out an old set of Halloween makeup hidden beneath cotton swabs they did indeed use inside their ears along with the extra free toothbrushes as given by their dentist.

Rylie barely glanced at the date as they tore into the red, orange, green, and black body paints and glitter. Glitter held no interest for them, but they greedily grabbed the red, orange, and black.

Rylie avoided looking at themselves in the mirror as they undressed. They couldn’t afford losing their courage and confidence now. Not after tasting phantom kisses on their lips and with heat already pooling in the lowest pit of their stomach. 

Keeping their head down, Rylie cut the tags off the unused lingerie. An impulse buy with the aid of Jess whispering terrible decisions into their ears as well as a sale, Rylie regretted it as soon as they had gotten home with the little lacy number. Black on black, the bra had not just loops of lace and frills, but an underwire with plenty of padding. Unlike their sports or even balconette bras, this one had a deep plunge in the center. The underwear matched, of course, with high-waisted black straps separate from the lacy piece. As the only thong in their closet, Rylie found themselves more than a bit mystified as they slipped it on over their rear. 

A deep sigh worked its way between their lips. They wiggled and squirmed as they fought to get the unrelenting bra over their head without having to undo the strap in the back. 

Rylie hated the “swing it around” method. It always rubbed rough against their skin and nipples. 

Still keeping their head down, Rylie bit their lip. Did they dare look up into the mirror?

They already know what they would see. A fat slob. Unproportionate, with a belly that hung just a little too over the hem of the panties. Their breasts already felt off in the plunge bra as well. It felt like every movement would cause them to pop out in the front. And already, the tops of their breasts were spilling out. 

Rylie sighed through their nose slowly before peering up at themselves. 

Flush with heat and wine, Rylie froze as they stared at themselves. 

Indeed, their hair sat messy atop their head. Their skin remained blotchy. But the underwear didn’t hide in their chub rub or thick thighs. The high bands accented their hips, while simultaneously the black color slimmed their ass and breasts down. 

The bra was ill-fitting, but for once was too tight, not way too big. Victoria’s Secret was always weird in its sizing, Rylie supposed. They turned around, and bit their lip at the sight of their entire exposed butt. 

They had to admit, it did make their ass look good. And although the bra shoved their breasts up an uncomfortable amount that Rylie was not used to, they found that they didn’t… hate the set as they so vehemently thought they would. 

In fact, although the bra was ill-fitting, the thong remained surprisingly comfortable. They already didn’t feel the string, and it reminded them of not wearing any underwear at all, almost. 

Rylie smiled softly at themselves in the mirror. “Who knew,” they murmured to themselves. 

Grabbing the black Halloween makeup first, Rylie tilted their head in thought as they squirted a little of the paint onto the tip of their finger. Not dry, but definitely getting up there in age. Best to use it now then later, they supposed. 

In a way its saving money. Rylie chuckled. 

After debilitating a little too long at themselves in the mirror, Rylie decided to use the black on their eyelids in a mockery of eyeshadow. Afterwards, they grabbed their cheap eyeliner and slapped it on as well. 

The green of their eyes popped against the black background of their eyes and… outfit. They hesitated before adding any more. What else could they do that wouldn’t look too stupid and costume-y?

They stood alone in the bathroom for several minutes on end, going back and forth as to what to do. A quick Google search also brought nothing useful to the table, either. Rylie couldn’t quite understand what Casrath wanted and would look for. 

Furthermore, they didn’t want to assume. It was his culture, not theirs, after all. 

After a short and quick two-step pace in the bathroom, Rylie gathered up the costume makeup and instead left to the living room to put them on the coffee table. 

Digging out a packet of tea lights Casrath bought just in case the power went out again, Rylie set them up around the apartment. Checking the clock, Rylie waited another ten minutes before lighting all of them.

Several sat on the bar guarding the kitchen, four boxed in the line of costume makeup they left on the table for Casrath to use as he wished on them, and several more on the windowsill and next to the TV. After flicking the lights off, a hazy glow rose from the little candles, bathing the room in small and smokey clouds of light yellow. The flames flickered and danced, casting soft and playful shadows against the walls and furniture. 

Rylie bit their lip as their heart thudded in their chest. It had taken them nearly three hours. It was almost time. 

Their hands shook as they sat on the couch, curling one leg under another and leaning back. Rylie couldn’t quite fight the urge to bounce their leg. Biting their lower lip, a sudden small wave of nausea grew as the minutes stretched on. 

Perhaps they had too much wine to drink. Way too much. Or perhaps it was somehow laced with something. Casrath would never do something so devious. Or would he?

No, Rylie shook themselves, he would never. 

A tide of gooseflesh rose across their arms. They shivered. The candles brought barely any heat, and Rylie never liked sitting in practically no clothes at all. No insulation meant no heat. 

As a child, Rylie never thought through their decisions. They would always act before thinking, and would sometimes act through several steps of a process before realizing how wrong they were. Such as in science class, when they measured their baking soda and vinegar wrong to the point where the mixture bubbled over and across their table. Or, even worse, when they thought Maxwell Grant liked them since he kept pulling on their ponytail. Just the idea of a boy liking them, at that time, caused them to have a crush. 

The fallout of their confession of that elementary school crush still sometimes popped up in their nightmares. 

Now, Rylie found themselves sitting on a precipice. If they didn’t stop now, didn’t blow out all the candles, run into their room, change, and clean up quickly, the point of no return would come and go without them. And they would fall. 

Muscles tensed, Rylie sat up. All too soon, however, that familiar creak of the front door echoed through their apartment. 

Panic surged through them. Gripping the edge of the couch, Rylie’s eyes darted around. Grabbing a blanket off the end of the couch, they flung it around themselves, blocking the sight of their body as Casrath poked into the apartment. 

He blinked slowly, looking around at the candles before his eyes settled on Rylie. A soft smile tugged at his lips. 

“What’s all this?” he asked. 

Tongue-tied and still vibrating with anxiety, Rylie shrugged, unable to form words. They tugged the blanket tighter around themselves. 

Casrath moved smoothly over to their side, gliding across the carpet. He took off his leather jacket and hung it next to theirs on the wall. 

Rylie couldn’t stop their eyes from drifting to how his plain orange tee-shirt hugged his biceps all too tightly. Their body, already heated, flushed further. The fact that he wore his jeans way too low on his sculpted hips also didn’t help. As Casrath sat besides them, Rylie caught the whiff of alcohol on his breath.

But no musk. No sweat. No stench of sex clung to his body like a second skin. No lipstick stains covered swollen lips. Besides a soft blush and his easy smile, nothing else seemed out of place. 

Casrath eyed them and the costume makeup on the table. He shifted closer to Rylie, wrapping an arm around them. 

“Your eyes are mesmerizing in this light,” he whispered to them, his voice dark and husky. “And you painted them.” His fingers caressed their cheek, leaving ghostly trails of heat. 

That damned frog remained in Rylie’s throat. They nodded, unable to meet his gaze. 

Casrath hummed to himself. His fingers traveled lower to their neck, and he traced circles all the way down to the soft spot between their throat and their clavicle. 

Rylie tensed as Casrath thumbed the erogenous zone. A shiver danced up their spine. 

His eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with desire, flashed. “May I kiss you?” 

“Yes,” Rylie finally said. Their voice came out cracked from disuse and nerves. 

Casrath leaned in, dusted his lips over theirs, before dipping his head down and kissing at that small spot he just thumbed. 

Shocks of desire raced through Rylie’s body. A small sigh escaped and they tilted their head to the side, allowing Casrath further access to their throat as he bathed them in small kisses. His tongue darted out, swirling against every particular sensitive spot, leaving Rylie wanton. 

Their speechlessness finally broke, Rylie licked their lips with their dry tongue. “Cas?” 

“Hmm?” he murmured against their throat as he nuzzled them. 

“R- Remember our conversation from- from earlier? Today? Before you- Before you left?”

“Of course. I remember all our conversations, Ree.” 

Rylie’s brain short circuited again briefly. Mentally shaking themselves, they continued, “well… I know you miss your home and- and such and- well- you see. You see, I wanted to- wanted to do something nice for you. And you know, I thought. I thought, um--”

Casrath leaned in and silenced them with a long kiss. His tongue darted against their lower lip. 

Rylie moaned, and Casrath swallowed it gleefully. He nipped their tongue as Rylie tried to return the previous gesture. 

They pulled back with a small gasp, their face glowing pink, and peered up at him shyly. 

His voice, deeper than before, resonated with a dark timbre. “Will you be dancing for me, Rylie?”

Rylie nodded, unable to find their words yet again.

Casrath released them, and stood up to push the coffee table away from the couch to allow Rylie plenty of space. As he did so, he picked up the costume makeup. 

“I- I didn’t quite know what- what you wanted so… I know its not the same and the makeup is old but….”

Casrath held out a hand for them. 

Rylie hesitated. If they stood up, the blanket would fall away. They gulped. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

Rylie hesitated again. 

“It’s a matter of tempered expectations.”

Casrath sighed through his nose. “What do you think my expectations are?”

Rylie looked away, frowning. “Whatever beautiful men, women, and enbies you had in Hell. Stronger, faster, with more stamina than any human.” Rylie scrunched up their nose. “Probably fitter and more flexible too.” 

Casrath’s hand remained hovering in the air. 

“And yet,” he said, “I have never had the pleasure of my tal’rith dancing for me. Nor the pleasure of a human doing so much to accommodate my needs and understand my culture. 

Rylie shrugged again. “That’s… that’s just the bare minimum, though.” 

“Not to me,” Casrath said. 

Rylie stared at his proffered hand, their heart thumping hard in their chest, and a bead of sweat rolling down the side of their temple. A burst of energy coursed through them, tensing their leg muscles. Far from the type to run, Rylie knew that, in that moment, they could have sprinted with ease. 

Rylie slid their hand into Casrath’s.

No more running. 

Rylie pulled themselves to their feet with Casrath’s assistance. The blanket fell away, revealing every inch of skin. Immediately, Rylie looked down at their bare feet, their entire face glowing in another blush as a second bead of sweat traced down the back of their neck. 

“Rylie.” Casrath’s fingers tilted their chin up. His eyes bore into their own.

They bit their lip, gulping again, shivering and sweating at the same time. 

For once, Casrath struggled to speak. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then breathed their name a second time. His eyes roamed over their face before dropping to the rest of their body. Rylie tensed, curling their shoulders in on themselves, and crossing their arms over their pelvis. 

Breasts were breasts. But any further…. 

Casrath gathered them in his arms, pulling them close to his body before diving down to press a kiss against their lips. 

This kiss-- oh.

Rylie gasped, parting their lips for him to explore their mouth. They moaned again, pressing their own tongue against him to taste him back. This kiss-- this kiss had heat. It had teeth, as Rylie took the initiative for the first time, and nibbled on Casrath’s lower lip. 

This time, it was Casrath who gasped. And as he pulled away slightly, Rylie pressed onward. A surge of confidence filled them as they pressed their tongue into his mouth. 

Casrath’s mouth ran hotter than their own. The tips of his fangs brushed against them as they tasted alcohol on his breath, the scent of ash, and something woody and natural beneath. Almost like pine, but just off enough to give them pause. Casrath did not proceed in the opening Rylie gave him, but continued to allow them to explore his mouth just as fervently. 

All the while, his hands traveled down their back. He stroked their hips, running his hand from the top of that second black band, down the flesh it pinched outward and accented, and further down to their lower hip and leg. His hands circled back around, and ghosted up the round hill of their ass.

Rylie tensed for a squeeze that didn’t happen. 

Pulling away, Rylie gasped as the need of air overcame their own desires. They panted, staring up at Casrath with wide and wild eyes. 

The strange and sudden confidence didn’t diminish. It still worked its way through them, touching every nerve. For once, Rylie didn’t allow their brain to run freely ahead of them. They acted before thinking, grabbing Casrath’s hands and spinning the two of them around as to switch their positions. 

Casrath fell back against the couch, sinking into it. He spread his legs out and stared up at Rylie. They recognized that look of lust and hunger, with his lip partially curled, exposing a bit of his fangs. 

Perhaps the wine from earlier had been a good idea, Rylie mused for just half a second before realizing, with one last thought, that they had almost forgotten the music. 

“Casrath,” Rylie murmured, and the voice which came from their mouth was unrecognizable to them; dark, heavy with want, and smooth. “Would you mind putting some music of your choice on? Something… slow.” They tossed their phone to him. 

Casrath easily caught the phone mid-air. After a bit of fiddling, a low, sultry tune slunk its way out of the tiny speakers. Piano-based, but with a hint of string and a saxophone. He set the phone down to the side. 

“Perfect,” Rylie said, and they proceeded to shut the rest of their thoughts out. 

They placed their hands on Casrath’s knees, and slid their body between them. Shifting their weight from foot-to-foot, they shook their hips back and forth. 

A long sigh escaped from Casrath’s nose as Rylie used their fingers to walk their hands up his legs, bobbing their head and shaking their hips in-time to the slow, waltzing music. Before their hands reached his crotch, they let go, standing back up to instead drag their own fingers down the side of their face, and then further down the side of their breast. 

Rylie allowed their eyes to fall shut and submitted themselves to the will of the music. They continued to dance, following altered steps of their previous pole-dancing class. The steps remained small as they danced closer and closer to Casrath, trailing their own hands down their body, across their face, chest, and hips. 

As they opened their eyes, Rylie reminded themselves that they were not the flexible type before trying to fling their leg over his shoulder. Instead, they slid their leg against the outside of Casrath’s, leaning forwards, and planting their knee next to his hip. 

Rylie sighed softly against Casrath’s lips, which now were only a few inches away. 

Casrath fidgeted. His eyes continued to roam over their entire body. His chest rose and fell in his own hard pants as he sat, tensed as a bow string. 

Rylie shot him a cheeky grin. 

That broke Casrath. He lunged forward, hooking his fingers around their hips, and dragging them onto his lap and into another dizzying kiss. A growl mingled with a purr rumbled in his chest, nearly drowning out the music. He ravaged Rylie’s lips, but rather than submitting, Rylie’s own deluge of an attack met him. 

They bit back harder, rubbed their tongue just as hard against his, and kissed his lips just as swollen as theirs. Rylie locked their fingers behind his neck, leveraging themselves to better position themselves on his lap. 

Casrath shifted beneath them as well, pulling them ever closer into his chest. Rylie’s knees sat outside Casrath’s upper thighs and their clothed crotch sat right above his own. 

With their heart still beating hard in their throat, Rylie pulled away from Casrath to gasp for air. Their hands and body no longer shook with unwarranted shivers. 

Casrath’s purr remained, and he rubbed circles into their hips with his warm palms. The touch was neither soft nor too rough. 

They sat back, peering down at Casrath with their head cocked to the side, barely a thought sparking in their mind. 

Casrath stared up at them with ever darker eyes. That demonic orange flame within raged, but for now, remained contained. 

The music, that soft piano, teasing string, and playful sax, still swirled around the both of them. 

Rylie smirked. Catching the beat of the music, they shifted their weight back and forth, a slow start to build to a full gyration. 

Casrath released a long, low moan at Rylie’s machinations. As Rylie rocked their hips back and forth along Casrath’s crotch, they trailed their fingers across his clothed chest, tracing nonsense shapes into the fabric. They watched, enraptured, as his eyes fluttered close and his lips parted yet again as another moan escaped from him. 

Heat pooled in their lower belly, and Rylie felt something unfamiliar, but all too knowable, shift beneath them as he hardened. It brought yet another smirk to Rylie’s lips, but this one a little more uncertain. 

When Casrath’s eyes flashed open, Rylie braced themself to be flipped around, for those lips to crash into theirs and for him to seize and conquer them. But instead, Casrath leaned in, and traced his nose against their own. His hands left their hips as he picked up the fallen costume makeup from the couch, and popped the lid open.

“May... I- I paint you?” Casrath breathed against their lips. His words bled into his heavy pants. 

Rylie merely nodded. 

Casrath squirted orange paint onto his fingers. He rubbed his fingers together, smoothing and thinning out the paint, before reaching up to brush his fingers along Rylie’s neck. 

Rylie shivered as the cold paint met their heated flesh. 

Rylie couldn’t see what Casrath was doing, but they could feel his fingers as he painted long, jagged lines down either side of their throat. He curled those lines toward their clavicles, before lifting his fingers, and then painting an unrecognizable, geometrical symbol. 

Casrath continued his own machinations, trailing his fingers to continue similar symbols on Rylie’s shoulders and down their arms. Rylie glanced down, watching as Casrath curled the paint around their biceps before drawing the same symbol on the back of their hands. 

The symbol was a simple one; a polygon with 6 sides, and yet in a shape similar to that of a Valentine heart. A dot between the sqggggggggggggguncertainty hitting them like a freight train. Up to this point, without a mirror, Rylie easily ignored the presence of their stomach. They didn’t have to look and see how it hung over the hem of their panties. Nor did they have to pay attention to how it already pressed forward and into Casrath’s own muscular front before even their breasts did. 

Not that they wanted that. A flatter stomach by itself would have been fine. 

Slowly, Rylie squeezed their eyes and shook their head back and forth. No. Not right now. Not when they had been on top for so long--

“Okay,” Casrath murmured, and his lips ghosted against Rylie’s once more in a tender kiss. The cold touch of his painted fingers brushed along their hips and thighs. “Is this better then?”

Rylie nodded. They leaned their forehead against Casrath’s. Carefully, with Casrath guiding their hips as he painted them, Rylie started to gyrate their hips once more. 

It was hard not to brush against his erection. Contained by thick denim against the side of his leg, everytime Rylie found themselves accidentally brushing their wet panties against it, Casrath shuddered. Using his shoulders as leverage, Rylie once again caught the wave of the looping music, and dove back into their wicked dance. 

Rylie played with Casrath’s hair as he decorated their body further with the red costume makeup. This time, he added details to the orange markings, crossing over the previous orange lines in twisted and detailed filigree. Casrath traced a line of red following their temples down to their jaw, curving beneath and connecting it to the orange alongside the sides of their neck. 

His heavy breathing continued to billow against their face with every shared touch. 

And as Rylie found themself lost within the sensation of his hands and the music, a soft moan slipped past their lips as they continuously ground against Casrath’s need. 

Then, he started to grind back. He snapped his hips upwards, rubbing himself back against them. 

God. 

Heat pooled in their own core, winding it tighter and tighter. 

And as Casrath reached around to grab a massive handful of their ass, squeezing hard and pushing them down against him harder, Rylie found themselves whimpering softly at their own need. 

Their eyes flashed open. They were not the fittest, and as such, already their hips and knees were beginning to hurt with the effort of keeping themselves upward. 

Casrath didn’t close his eyes, nor did they leave Rylie’s form. He raked his sight up and down their body as he continued to squeeze and fondle their ass, pressing them further down into him. He leaned in, but rather than kiss their lips, he instead nipped their clavicle before moving downwards to press the flat of his tongue against the tops of their breasts. 

He dragged his tongue in a long, sizzling lick across the top of their chest. He pressed another kiss between their breasts, right where their cleavage began. 

Rylie threw their head back as Casrath dragged another moan out of them. 

“We- we need to stop. I- I mean. I don’t want to but--” Rylie panted. 

A growl rumbled in Casrath’s chest, but with a long sigh, he pulled back. His eyes remained dark, his eyebrows drawn in, and his mouth parted in heavy breaths. 

“Yes. Yes, I-- if we do not….”

Casrath wrapped his arms around Rylie. He shifted their weight, tucking them into his chest. He buried his face into the top of their head, breathing deeply. 

“...If we do not, I will not be able to stop myself any longer from taking you right here,” Casrath murmured. 

Rylie flushed, but they nodded. “Oh.” They bit back their words, their begs for Casrath to give in for once. For him to flip them around, pull off his pants, and for him to fuck them right into the couch. 

No, Rylie told themself. We can’t. Not yet. It’s not time yet. 

“You-- you are a devious one, Rylie Hill,” Casrath said with a small chuckle underlining his words. He easily picked Rylie up off his lap to instead tuck them into his side rather than on his noticeable erection. 

“Only sometimes,” Rylie said. The smirk didn’t drop from their lips. “I- I don’t know if I did anything right. I’ve never really given anyone a, uh, lapdance before. But- but I wanted to do something nice for you. I don’t know.” They looked away as their senses came trickling back, and with it, embarrassment. “Sorry if I was heavy.”

“Rylie….” Casrath leaned his cheek on the top of their head. Picking the blanket up off the ground, he draped it over the both of them before turning the music off and hugging Rylie close. 

“You were wonderful. I do not have words in this language to explain how much what you did means to me. Nor do I have words to express just how much I enjoyed you.”

Rylie flushed. “Um, I don’t think you need words….” they glanced down at Casrath’s now covered lap. 

Casrath chuckled. “Indeed. But no, you are not heavy to me at all, Rylie. I am much stronger than I look.” He nuzzled the top of their head. “I- I know you will want to wash up soon, but- but do you mind staying here, with me, for a little longer?”

Rylie smiled softly. “Oh, Cas….” They turned, and pressed the smallest of kisses against his lips. “I don’t want to leave yet either. I can wash up in a little bit.”

Casrath’s purr grew louder. He picked Rylie up to put them back in his lap, but this time he held them almost bridal-style -- settling their head against his shoulder. 

“Perfect.”

[ashtonisvibing]

dancing with old friends

OKAY, third time's the charm with trying to post this! maybe tumblr's trying to tell me something-

ship: darkstache/damien x wilford (if not outright shown it's heavily implied. also obviously there's wilford x celine, but that's just canon so-)

notes: i originally wrote... a lot for this- i've now tried to post this twice before, so i'm not writing that all again. just be aware that this oneshot is a few years old and so it probably isn't good. i mean i think it's pretty alright, but maybe my taste is shit lol

don't expect me to write other oneshots after posting this, i haven't written stories since i wrote this, so they'd probably all be shit-

The Manor held several rooms that were unknown to many of the egos that lived there; each of them locked away for... reasons. They held old memories that did not want to be resurfaced. And no one questioned it. After all, the request of them never being opened came from both Wilford Warfstache & Darkiplier. Although it was more of an order than a request with Dark, who had pretty much threatened Yandere when he asked why.

There was one room in particular that was locked up. It was a gorgeous ballroom, one that looked like it had come out of a fairy tale. Many dances used to be held there back in the day with various friends. It was once filled with laughter & joy; now it only contained dust & cobwebs.

For whatever reason, Wilford had decided to open the room again. No one else was around to question why. He honestly didn't know himself. He had just been wandering around the manor when he came across the old oak doors. Both him & Dark held a skeleton key that could open any in the house, which The Host was gracious enough to make.

Wiford took his out from under his shirt; he had hung it on a piece of string so he would always have it with him. He took it off from around his neck, inserted it into the lock, & turned the key. A clicking sound echoed slightly down both ends of the hall. The interviewer glanced around to make sure no one else was around before entering the room.

It wasn't as grand as he remembered, but perhaps that was just because everything was covered in dust. There were windows across the opposite wall, which each had red silk curtains draped over them, blocking out any sunlight that could enter. Around the room were white marble columns connecting the ceiling to the floor. Off to the side was a piano, which clearly had not been used in forever.

Wilford walked across the floor, hearing his footsteps echo in the quiet room. Truly Mark, his old friend, had decided to splurge with this room, seeing as it was more castle like than the other rooms. And of course he always insisted his guests move to this room so they could dance at least once during the party.

The interviewer remembered many dances he shared with Celine. The lady could definitely dance, he knew that. Those were truly wonderful nights they shared together.

He hadn't noticed he was starting to cry until he felt a teardrop fall down his cheek. He quickly wiped the tears away & shook the memories from his head. No need for troubling himself with the past like that. Those were happy times. That's all they were. Happy times...

"So, you've finally decided to enter here." Wilford turned around to see the body behind the voice. Dark was standing a few feet away. How he got in so quietly wasn't that big of a concern; Dark always had a flair for mystery.

"Just wanted to relive some old memories, I guess." Wilford chuckled. The demon across from him hummed in response, conveying no emotion. While yes Dark had the memories of both Celine & Damien in him, he never bothered with being so sentimental about them, his focus always landing on taking control of the YouTube channel he was practically adored on.

"If I recall correctly, you & Celine shared many dances in this room." Dark walked closer to the other man.

Wilford nodded his head in response. "Yes, we did. I remember how much fun we had, being the most lively dancers in the whole room. Everyone would clear the floor just to watch us." He chuckled & gave a sad smile. These were memories he had not touched in a long time, & while it was nice to revisit them, it brought a pain in his heart to think of his lost love. And yet he knew, in some crazy & messed up way, she was right next to him, along with his best friend Damien, all wrapped together with some strange... entity in one of his old friend's body.

They were both silent for a bit, just basking in the feeling of being in a room they had both sworn they would never open. And neither man knew why they were even in there.

After some time Wilford saw Dark offer his hand from the corner of his eye. He gave the demon a confused look, questioning what he was suggesting. Dark merely scoffed but kept his hand where it was.

"Dance with me."

The interviewer was a bit taken back by what Dark had asked. He was always extremely reserved, keeping to himself with his emotions in every way possible. He never talked with anyone else, unless it was about something that person was doing. Even Wilford, whom he considered a close colleague, barely knew anything about what went on inside that mind of his. And yet here he was, asking Wilford to dance.

Of course he didn't refuse. Once he fully processed the situation, which took mere seconds to be processed, he took Dark's hand & let himself be led to the middle of the dance floor. This was going to be strange for him; he was always the one to lead the dance, but the demon automatically assumed the lead position & placed a hand on the other man's waist, Wilford placing his free hand on Dark's shoulder. A smirk flashed onto Dark's face, but the interviewer did not know why. That is, until he noticed his cheeks felt a bit hotter than usual, indicating he was blushing. He tried to push it away, but to no avail.

"I do believe that to dance you need music along with it." Wilford suggested a bit quietly. If he had to admit it he did feel a bit nervous about doing this. He didn't know if he would trip up, or if Dark would trip up, or if something happened that would cause this to become a wreck.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to guide you completely, since it seems you can't dance without the aid of something else." Dark chuckled, causing Wilford to merely roll his eyes at the joke.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to guide you completely, since it seems you can't dance without the aid of something else." Dark chuckled, causing Wilford to merely roll his eyes at the joke.

"Then let us dance, my friend." With that Dark started to slowly spin with Wilford, stepping in time to invisible music. It was definitely strange, being lead around the room instead of himself leading, & the demon was a bit slower than he was used to, but the interviewer eventually got the rhythm of the dance & stepped in perfect time. After a few moments Wilford started to notice the blue shadow behind Dark glow brighter, almost drowning out the red shadow. Wilford smiled at this, something Dark didn't see with his eyes closed.

'Hello, old friend.' Wilford thought to himself. Dark smiled, a genuine smile, & opened his eyes, which were now a dark brown instead of their usual black & red.

"Hello, William. It's been a while, hasn't it?" William let out a soft chuckle.

"Yes it has. Far too long in my opinion, old friend." Damien gave a small smile, one that held both joy at seeing his friend, & sadness at how they departed, & their current situation. One was trapped in an old friend's body with a demon & a vengeful spirit, the other had slowly but surely lost his mind. This was not how the two men thought they would end up.

The both of them continued to spin in a small circle, William's head resting against Damien's chest. Neither cared if this seemed strange. Or, perhaps, even scandalous. They just needed to feel the comforting warmth of a friend. And it seemed a dance had been needed as well.