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nariism · 9 months

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come out and haunt me

pair. itoshi sae x ghost!reader

content: fluff, angst/comfort with a happy ending, reader is a ghost, platonic + romantic interactions, strangers to friends (to more?), slight pining

synopsis. sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over.

wc. 5.7k

You are dead.

As it comes to all mortal humans, you have died. You can't remember when, or how, or why— only that it is your duty to haunt this home, that you are abysmally cold, and that you are dead.

You don't know if you had any last words, what it was like to draw a breath, or how to stop feeling so cold. Cradling yourself somehow makes it worse. But you are dead, so what does it matter if you can't remember?

If you had aspirations and meaning in life, then you suppose you should try to find them in death, too. So you float around empty halls, deliberately bump into things just for the fun of it, and pretend that you aren't dead. It is purposeful enough.

There's a boy who lives with you.

You are dead, and he is alive, yet he seems completely unbothered by your loud, obnoxious presence.

Sae feels more dead than alive.

He is 13 years old when he moves into his temporary home in Madrid. It's old and worn. It is all his parents could afford with Yen in a foreign country.

His new home is despairingly lonely. It makes the heart in his chest sink into the pit of his stomach. He misses Rin. His parents. Japan.

He should be thankful. He doesn't mean to be a brat. But the small apartment is cramped and cold and smells like mildew. He's allergic to something in the walls. His light buzzes horribly when it turns on.

And, well. The place is haunted.

You are a ghost haunting an old, rickety apartment in Madrid.

You've never seen your reflection in the mirror, but you're pretty sure you look scary. There has been others before him— a young couple with a dog; a retired carpenter; a businessman complaining about how shitty work is over the phone. Each and every one of them have left you the same way: screaming, crying, colour drained from their faces and packing their suitcase before you could even say hello.

It's a little lonely, being a ghost. Sometimes you wish you came off a little friendlier. You have no ill intent, you're just bored. Bored and lonely and wishing to know why everyone thinks you're so terrifying.

The boy who lives with you is the first. He's the first to look you dead in the eyes and shrug you off. He's the first to fall asleep knowing your presence is watching. He's the first to leave out a bowl of warm, steaming rice for you even though he seems to know you can't physically eat it.

His company is silent, as is yours. It's better than nothing.

Sae is 13 years and 5 months old when he tells Rin his apartment is haunted.

"A ghost? Seriously?" Rin sounds unimpressed even through the static of the phone call. Take it from the kid who watches horror movies in his spare time. Freak, Sae thinks.

"Seriously. I have a picture."

He can hear his brother pulling his phone away from his ear to look at the image he just sent. The call goes quiet for a moment, and then Rin is scoffing in the microphone again.

"Quit messing with me." The younger Itoshi sighs. "This isn't funny."

Rin is only 11. He lives at home with Mom and Dad. He's not alone right now, in a place where everyone speaks a jumbled language he can't decipher yet.

He doesn't understand that even if Sae isn't being haunted, he shouldn't crush his brother's hopes that someone, or something, is watching over him.

"I'm not," Sae deadpans.

"Yeah, okay, and what does this ghost do, then?" He still sounds skeptical.

"Mostly just knocks over my books and stuff."

From his couch, he watches you bristle in embarrassment and scurry away into the darkness of the hall.

You are some sort of untethered soul, unsure of where your actual body rests. It could be 10 meters from this apartment. It could be in Antarctica, for all you know.

Okay, well, Antarctica is a bit of a reach, but you're certain that your body is somewhere. You wonder what kind of clothes you used to wear; what kind of music you used to listen to; what kind of hairstyle you used to prefer.

You wonder if these things are anything like Sae's.

He's all you have right now. It would be nice if you had some things in common. Maybe you could be friends, if he was ever going to acknowledge you to your face instead of gossiping to his brother.

You watch him quietly from the kitchen table, waiting for your bowl of rice. You must make some kind of face when he instead places a plate of eggs in front of you.

He almost laughs, you think. He hasn't shown any sort of emotion in response to you thus far, so it's hard to tell.

"Coaches told me I have to be stricter about my diet," he says out loud. It's the first words he has ever spoken to you. It's the first words anyone has ever spoken to you.

He eats his bland eggs silently after that remark, eyeing them disdainfully.

You have that in common, at least. You miss your warm bowl of rice.

Sae thinks you are funny.

He's only ever known ghosts to be malicious, benevolent beings. Things stuck in purgatory with no way out, forced to wander the mortal plane and thus turning into baneful monsters. Watching spooky movies with Rin has ingrained this into him— hardwired his brain into giving him goosebumps whenever you're around even though he knows you're harmless.

He has to wonder how anyone could ever find a ghost like you genuinely scary, with your avoidant eyes and that patience while you wait for breakfast.

He doesn't mind doing twice the amount of dishes. Not if it means he doesn't feel alone.

You do silly things, like shoving his belongings over when you want his attention, or sitting on the floor and blowing bone-chillingly cold air into his face when he's taking his midday nap.

He's discovered that your inconsistent corporeal interactions with the world are quite amusing.

"What's your name?" He asks one day over eggs that he's shoving around on his plate.

Silence. Of course.

"Don't have one?"

You shake your head, but really, you don't know. You can't remember.

Sae has never been the talkative type, but for some reason he just can't keep his mouth closed. Being a complete shut-in and not having anyone to talk to outside of his team would do that to him, he guesses. He's thankful that you at least don't seem to have a language barrier when he speaks Japanese.

"Should I name you?"

Your offended expression screams: What am I, a pet?

He just smiles, placing his fork down and observing you carefully. And the name he decides on dances at the tip of his tongue, sounds so sweet coming from his lips.

You can't help but think the name was meant for you, in life or in death.

You like listening to Sae talk.

He has a voice smooth as silk, so charming and boyish. He's young, you think. He told you once that you also looked rather young, and asked you how old you were when you died.

Even if you had an answer for him, it's not like you could have told him.

Sae is famous for his age, you discover one night while watching television with him. You're sitting on the floor and he's on the couch. You cause the TV to frizzle and crack with static but he doesn't shoo you away. Maybe he finds your presence more valuable than the background noise of the screen.

He's in a recording, playing what he calls "football"— light blue uniform, eyes wide with adrenaline, sweat sticking to his forehead and a proud shine in his expression. He isn't smiling by any means (you've also discovered that he rarely does), but you can tell he's happy.

"I'm going to be the greatest striker," he says from the couch. He talks about his dreams a lot, which is apparently what he used to do with Rin, but you don't mind filling in that role temporarily. "I'm going to be the best in the entire world."

You don't know anything about football, but you believe him anyways.

Sae is 14 years old when he gets his first contract payment.

This is his chance, he realizes, to move out of his shitty little apartment and into an actual livable home.

He has to consider if you'll feel lonely, if you even can feel lonely, and if you'll like hanging out with your next housemate, whoever it is that's unlucky enough to have a ghost befall them.

He's getting soft. If it were any other point in his life, Sae would have taken the chance to move out without hesitation. But you've been there for him since day one, kept him enough company — no matter how quiet — for him not to go literally insane.

You're the only thing he has in Madrid that he can come home to right now. You’re the only reason he even comes home at night instead of just sleeping in the locker rooms.

If not him, who else would feed you crappy bland eggs in the morning?

You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. You, football, sleep. At some point, it became his routine.

"I was thinking of moving out."

Your head tilts to the side. You seem perplexed by his statement.

"Like, leaving. Leaving here."

You blink at him, head tilting the other way. There's a look in your eyes that tells him you understand. There's also a look that tells him it's not your first time being abandoned, left in this terribly lonely, smelly apartment.

"I can never tell what you're thinking," he huffs.

You're still for a moment, just staring at him as if you suddenly can't understand Japanese. But then you get up from the table, walk over to the container of dry rice that's been untouched for so long that it's gathering dust, and knock it over.

"Hey," he scolds sharply, chair screeching as he stands. "I have to clean that, you know?"

You start moving the spilled rice into place. He watches curiously as you sort dry rice into a pile. You don't know any Kanji, he isn't surprised. But you know enough to draw him a universally understood symbol.

When he peers over at the messy counter, he finds himself staring at a giant X. Stay, it means. Don't leave.

That night, when he knows you've retreated into the closet where you seemingly go to sleep, he crumples up the lease for his new place without signing and burns the paper.

It's because he needs to make you eggs tomorrow morning. Only he would know to do that.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?"

You raise your head from the edge of the bed. You've made it a new habit to protect him in his sleep, from what he can tell. Perching yourself on the floor beside the mattress and resting there, head in your arms, making his sheets cold.

You shake your head. Of course not, he internally smacks himself. What a ridiculous notion.

He rolls himself over onto his side, looking at you from under his duvet. "So when you sleep, you don't see anything?"

Another shake of the head. He isn't sure you're understanding him. There's another pause as he peers at you, and then he sighs, eyes sliding shut.

"Do ghosts ever have dreams?" He asks again, this time emphasizing his words in a different way and hoping you'll answer him the way he wants.

Your eyes shift away for a second, as if pondering. When you look back he's surprised to see that you look... bashful?

You point at him, then at yourself, then shy away again.

You. Me. Friends.

Sae feels silly that it makes his heart ache a little— the sadness carried in your face and a loneliness so powerful he feels it rattling in his own bones.

Well, the two of you have a lot more in common than he thought. How long had you been alone? Was that really all you ever dreamed of? Having a friend?

Suddenly, his doubts about his own dreams feel immeasurably small.

He reaches out to pat your head. His hand goes through you.

Sae is 15 years old when he packs up his belongings for a flight to Japan.

"I'll be back," he promises with a small smile. You believe him. He doesn't lie to you.

You wait patiently at the door for him for two weeks, three days, and sixteen hours. When he comes home, he finds you sitting on the floor like you always do with your head in your knees and a sleepy expression on your face.

He seems colder. More withdrawn, for some reason.

"Miss me?" Sae asks, but he's not even looking at you. He makes his way over to the kitchen and dumps a cup of rice into the cooker, suitcase abandoned at the door unpacked.

You trail behind him curiously, watching him in confusion as he washes it in the sink. He pauses, finally glancing at you before reaching over and dumping a second cup of rice in.

"I stress eat. Don't tell my coach."

The words don't make much sense to you, but you nod anyways.

For the first time in months, he places a bowl of warm rice in front of you. You do as he does, say thanks for the food in your head even though you can't eat, and observe him. You both sit quietly in the dim light of the apartment, moonlight beaming through your single rickety window.

He only gets four bites in before he puts his head in his hands and sobs.

You've never seen someone cry so hard before. Usually, they only do it when they first catch a glimpse of you and flee in terror. You've never known it to be such a painful sound— like a bird singing for the sky but never finding it.

Sae sits there for a long time just crying to himself, not caring that your presence is still watching. It's not like you'd ever judge him or have the voice to speak this secret, anyways.

"Fuck—" he hiccups, wiping up his face. "—Sorry."

You look at him funny. He has no reason to apologize. He's just a kid. A 15 year old kid who needs to stress eat in the solitude of his lonely apartment right now. It makes your chest squeeze; an unfamiliar, horrible feeling that's completely new to you. You wonder if this is what all the anime he watches calls a heart.

By the time he finishes crying, his rice is cold. And when he looks up, his eyes widen. Your lips are trembling and you look like you want to shout at him, but you can't. You are dead. You're a ghost. You can't yell some sense into him, even if you tried.

In the pale moonlight shining into the room, he can see tears illuminated on your cheeks.

Sae is 16 years old when he meets his first partner.

"They're nice," he reassures you as he slicks his bangs up with gel. You shake your head in disapproval and he rolls his eyes. You always liked his bangs down, thinks he looks better that way. "Well, I can't stay single forever."

You scowl at him and swivel on your heel to stubbornly deny his claims. He just laughs.

"You're seriously jealous?"

You shoot him a glare.

"If you really don't like them, you could always scare them away. You are a ghost, aren't you?" He reaches up to pat your head as he always does. And as always, his hand phases through you.

He turns around to fix his hair again, leaning into the mirror to see himself closer.

You're not sure if you even have human features. You can't see them in a reflection, anyways. Even if you did, you're sure they're pretty scary.

You glance at Sae in the reflection. He looks as good as ever, no longer a scrawny little 13 year old kid who eats rice for breakfast every morning. You wonder if his partner is pretty like he is.

He must notice the chill in the air grow ten times colder— a telling sign that your mood is dropping. He turns around to see what has happened, only to find you sulking.

"What?"

You pout, gesturing to the mirror. He looks to the vanity, then to you, and he shakes his head with an exasperated smile.

"I was wondering when you'd ask," he says as if this was a conversation he's been waiting for. And then he talks. Talks more than you've heard in a long time— since he came home from Japan, probably.

He's gotten meaner over the years. He was always a rude little kid, but being pushed around in football must have given him thicker skin and a sharper tongue. You've never known him to be a saint of a human, someone who speaks so eloquently in their descriptions. But here he is now, defying your every expectation like he always does.

He tells you what colour your hair is. Compares the shape of your head to a fruit you can't recall an image of. Gives you a detailed explanation of all your flaws and marks and why he thinks they're so perfect because it proves that you were indeed alive and human at some point.

"You're beautiful," he concludes casually, as if he's not turning the entire world on its head right now.

Silence fills the room as he waits for your response. You don't do anything but gawk at him, and he chuckles.

He doesn't show up to his date that night.

"Your hair got longer," Sae points out one day while he's scrolling through his phone.

Your eyes flutter open from where your head rests on the coffee table. You hadn't even noticed. Can ghosts grow?

"You know, I used to think you'd stay the same forever, but you've been growing up with me. It's cute."

Have you? Is it cute? Are you seriously so tethered to him that you've been unconsciously changing to match him?

Sae puts his phone down at your confusion. "Should I give you a birthday if you're going to grow up?"

You don't know what a birthday is. When he tries to explain it, you're even more perplexed. Ghosts don't have birthdays. They have... deathdays.

He puts a cake in front of you anyways and lets you blow out the candles.

Sae is 17 years old when he gets the eviction notice.

Four years. Four long, hard, unbelievably painful years later, and he's finally being kicked out of his house.

13 year old Sae would have celebrated. All he feels now is despair.

He doesn't tell you. He can't. How can he explain that he won't wake up every morning at 6am sharp to make you eggs? That you won't have someone around who will tell you every little thing that's changed about you from the last day? That you won't be able to doodle him little incomprehensible blobs with dry rice anymore?

He shouldn't care so much. You're not chained to this Earth. You might just disappear once he leaves, inperceptable to anyone else. The thought makes him so sick that he throws up that night. He tells you he ate some bad food.

Sae doesn't want you to feel sad or lonely, but it's not like he can just become a squatter in this place. His dream is to play football, not be thrown into jail.

You wake up one morning, and he's gone.

There isn't a note. There isn't an explanation anywhere to be found. There isn't even a trace of evidence that Itoshi Sae ever lived here.

Well, except for the plate of eggs and bowl of rice sitting on the stove.

You thought you would have been used to being alone by now. For some time, you were used to it. But that was many years ago.

You're not sure how long you've been haunting this apartment in Madrid, nor do you know how much time passes after Sae leaves. The world seems to come to a halt, actually. Without him, what fun is being a ghost?

Now you're just a lost soul like all the others. There isn't anything special about you. You're just the ghost that used to haunt Itoshi Sae and wake him up from his naps.

For the first time in years, you only know one thing. A singular fact that keeps you bound to this world: it's your duty to haunt this home. There is nothing else.

No one moves in after Sae leaves. No one new comes to be haunted. No one dares to set foot into this apartment. You remember that there were moments when life flickered inside of you, if even for just a fraction of your infinite time. The reason for that has abandoned you without explanation.

There's a knock on the door one day. You can't open it, and the person outside doesn't bother sticking around to see you phasing through the door to look around.

There's a birthday cake on the floor with candles that say '19' sticking out of it.

Only one human in the entire world would have deemed today to be your 19th birthday. He's nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to Japan on his 21st birthday. Sae is having trouble remembering what you look like, despite seeing you in his dreams every night.

It's a terrible realization. So terrible that it makes him sob into his pillow at night when no one in the world is awake to hear his anguish.

Japan is lonelier than Madrid. He never thought it would happen, and he blames you entirely.

He doesn't have anyone waiting for him when he opens the door to his luxury penthouse apartment. He only washes one plate in the morning. He wakes up from his midday naps undisturbed and rested.

Sae misses you deeply. And he can't help but wonder if you feel the same.

(You don't know what the yearning ache inside of you is. You don't know what to call it.

You miss him, too. You just can't put a name to the feeling.)

He doesn't stop seeing you in wisps; little blurs in his peripheral that make his head turn fast as lightning. Wherever he looks, you're gone.

It's not fair that you're a ghost who both literally and figuratively haunts him. He'd like to move on in life and forget about those 4 miserable years he spent living in that damned apartment.

He can't. Sae is incapable of moving on from that place. The irony of it is that you actually can't move on from that place, for some reason.

He would give anything to have you haunting him again. It doesn't matter where in the world the two of you are, if you were together everything would be okay. He's impossibly lonely without you.

You start to think that you're the selfish one.

The idea of leaving this terrible apartment in Madrid scares you to your very core— whatever soul is resting in your incorporeal body. It's not fair to place the blame entirely on Sae. Not when you're too wimpy to leave this place and find him.

Death is lonely without him.

One step forward, one day at a time. It's the advice Sae used to mutter to himself while getting ready in the morning.

One step forward, one day at a time. One step forward, one day at a time. And day by day, you're slowly inching closer to the door.

Sae talks to Rin and all he can think about is your confused smiles and head tilts. He talks to his parents and all he can imagine is how cold the room would be if it were you. He talks to his fucking therapist and thinks that all of her shitty advice can't compare to your quiet understanding— that your tears of solidarity are the only thing that could make him feel better.

It's fucked up, really, that he can't move on. His body is in Japan going through the motions: playing football, being famous, being interviewed and going home to nothing. His heart is in Madrid. You took it with you and refuse to let go.

You're the closest thing to love he's ever felt, perhaps— his only friend in Spain. His only reason not to leave. A ghost from his childhood that protected him in his sleep and ate bland eggs for breakfast across the table from him every morning. A ghost that would sit on the floor and wait for him to come home every day. A ghost that kept him company when he had no one else.

He loves you. He doesn't. He needs you. He doesn't. He misses you. He doesn't. Whatever. What does it matter now?

"So playing football has always been your dream?"

Sae stares blankly at the interviewer. He's reminded of a distant conversation: he is laying in bed looking at a ghost with a lump in his throat, and then he makes his first and only friend in Spain.

"Yes."

"And now that you're back in Japan, will you be playing for the national team?"

"I have no interest in playing on such a weak team." In other words, he has no reason to stay in Japan.

"So where will you go?"

Anywhere but here, he wants to say. In reality, he doesn't know where to go anymore if not to his old apartment in Spain. He just knows that he wants to come home to your sleepy face.

(That night, he makes two bowls of rice. He cries like he's 15 years old again and just ruined his relationship with his brother.)

You've never been outside before.

You've heard about it, almost entirely from Sae but also from little snippets of anime he liked to watch. It's brighter than you imagined it to be, and warmer. You're not sure you've ever felt so warm before— it's hard to when you are a walking freezer.

There isn't anyone to tell you where to go. No one pays you any mind. You wonder if you even exist anymore outside of the small confines of that old apartment.

Something tells you that you do.

You don't know where to start looking. He could be all the way across the globe for all you know, though he did used to talk about his home country.

You have no map. You have no sense of direction. You have no one to ask for help.

All you have is the soul caged within your ghostly body tugging in one direction, and wispy feet dragging your body along in response.

Sae is 23 years old when he finally signs the contract to play for Japan, after months of being pestered by Rin about it.

His relationship with his brother is complicated. On one hand, he feels as though Rin will never truly forgive him for what he did when he was 15. On the other, he looks so ecstatic to be playing football together again that Sae wonders if their discourse was imaginary.

Japan is just a smidge less lonely with Rin in his life.

He wants to tell you all about it. That everything worked out and it's fine now. That you can stop weeping for him and to wipe up the tears that fall into nothing.

He counts the distance between you. Fourteen thousand kilometres separate him from telling you how he's living his new dream: playing football with his little brother again.

Fourteen thousand kilometers, ten years of needing you, and a reminder set on his phone to buy you a birthday cake again this year.

His heart aches.

Japan is loud and busy and everyone is always in a hurry to get places.

You have to wonder if Sae really grew up in a city like this, and how he turned out so calm and unmovable. The street names are all in Kanji you can't read, but your soul tells you that you're going the right way, anyways.

There's a crowd gathering when your feet finally come to a halt. Lights flash and there are fancy looking people with microphones clamouring toward the center.

It's only a fraction of a second that your eyes meet, and then someone shoves him into the back of the car and they drive off.

He must be famous here, too.

Sae is 24 years old tossing and turning in his bed, wondering if you were just a figment of his imagination or if you were truly standing there under a streetlamp watching him.

It wouldn't be the first time he dreamed you into existence; on some occasions you feel so real that he nearly reaches out to attempt to pat your head, like he always used to do when he was younger.

He goes back to that spot a couple hours later. The crowd is long gone and it's the dead of night— no one would be around to witness Itoshi Sae looking psychotic.

He doesn't find you in that spot. Instead, you're two blocks down and crouched in front of the window of a 24 hour shop. There's an ad for sparklers, and though you can't read the poster itself, the picture makes you stare with wide eyes.

He crouches down beside you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

"Do you want one?" He asks. You look at him in a strange way and his knees grow weak beneath him. You nod.

He comes out five minutes later with a few packs in his hand, walking away from you down the street to the park. You follow him quietly as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

Sae holds one out, flicks the lighter in his pocket open and ignites the first sparkler. You watch it in fascination, ghostly form illuminated in warm orange and yellow light.

He smiles at you as if 7 years of distance never existed between you.

When the sparkler dies out, he lights another. And another. And another, until he's gone through all the packets he could afford with the Yen in his wallet right now.

As if 7 years of distance never existed between you, he reaches out to pat your head. His hand falls through you.

You think Sae's new apartment is pretentious, but it's clean and open and doesn't smell like mildew.

It's hard to imagine what kind of purpose you had before him— all your memories are flooded with his hands and eyes and bangs and small smiles reserved for you. You think that the only reason you were ever materialized into the mortal plane was to haunt him, and only him. Itoshi Sae's permanent looming presence.

He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, you've noticed he's been smiling more lately since you started waiting for him to come home by the door.

Sae is 25 years old when you fall asleep beside him in his bed.

You don't care that he's a kicker or a blanket hog in his sleep. It's not like either of those would affect you. He watches your sleeping face carefully, waiting to see if he would ever wake up from this blissful dream and be alone again.

But every time he wakes up, there you are.

You've grown since he left you in Madrid— you don't look like some lost little kid anymore, at least. He wonders if your souls are truly so intertwined that you would change alongside him, regardless of the distance.

Your eyes flutter open and his breath catches in his throat. You blink at him slowly in the pale moonlight, brows furrowed.

You point at him. Then yourself.

You. Me.

He nods in understanding.

When he drops a plate of protein pancakes in front of you for breakfast, you look confused.

"Oh, sorry. Do you want rice?"

You shake your head. You don't care what's for breakfast, as long as you're sitting across from him while he eats it.

"I'm going to be the world's best midfielder," he tells you one day. You're on the floor and he's on the couch, and it's like time had never even passed.

You don't know what that means, but it's his dream so it must be important. The most important thing in the world.

What you don't know is that it's not his entire dream. World's best midfielder doesn't mean a thing if he can't come home to tell you all about it.

You are dead.

You're a ghost haunting Itoshi Sae— one that followed him from Madrid all the way to Japan. You don't remember how, or when, or why you died. You can't remember what your face looks like either, no matter how much Sae tries to describe it to you.

You are dead. You're a ghost knocking over Sae's belongings to get his attention when you want it. You're the ghost curled up in bed with him even though he has to wear two layers to stay warm because of it. You're the ghost watching him rotate through different breakfasts that he says could never compare to a good old warm bowl of rice.

You are a ghost, and Itoshi Sae gave you a name. A birthday. A purpose greater than being a loud nuisance.

You are a ghost who likes to watch him light sparklers on his balcony. Who feels the things described only in the books he reads to you. Who learned to love somewhere along the way.

You are dead, and somehow alive at the same time.

(One day, Sae will be brave. One day, he will tell you he loves you. One day, he will thank you for waiting for him at the door when he comes home.)

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zhipzhap · 4 months

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soo i've been playing cult of the lamb a LOT lately, so i decided to draw these two goobers so i could calm my hiperfiaxiation a little (spoiler: it didn't work)

so first we have my boy Leónidas, he's supposed to be a warrior and he's based on the Spartan king of the same name: Leónidas. He always likes to battle and go on crusades whenever he gets the chance, not being the best when it comes to ''diplomatic cultist things''. But he cares a lot about the cult, taking his roll as cult leader very seriously, trying to be a better leader as much as he can, even if sometimes he's to stoburn to understand.

Narinder it's still pretty much the same, i think he's just a bit more of an asshole than usuall now lol. i still trying to figure out how i want him to be, but i think he would like to tease Leónidas taking advantage of the struggles he has whit leading the cult.

i'm pretty much still figuring things out since i made these two designs just for funsies. they're not as elaborate as i would want them to be but i'll try to polish them a bit more if i have the time.

[here are some bonus doodles]

i'm so ill about them

#cult of the lamb #colt #cotl narinder #the one who waits #cult of the lamb fanart #narilamb (?)

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squerlly · 2 months

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flames of desire chapter 5: bonding exercise

Alastor x (f! bunny reader) -Fluff- chapter 1

your POV:

through out my time here in hell I have grown accustomed to the musty hot atmosphere of the underworld and the loud mornings of screaming, gun shots, and road rage, its hell after all and there technically isn't any rules. me and angel hang out a lot more, behind his sex jokes and playful demeaner hes a great friend. husk and I are cool I suppose, according to him I'm more tolerable. Nifftys a bit crazy and energetic but I enjoy helping her clean sometimes, but one person that's been on my mind a lot is Alastor. hes always watching me, I catch him staring at me with that weird smile, I wonder if his face hurts from smiling all the time...none of my business what he does I just wish he wasn't so eerie. I was in the lobby this morning when Charlie called us over for a "bonding exercise", seeing everybody gathered in there seats I sit on the couch next to angel, "good morning everybody thank you for comingggg, I would like to have you all here for a little bonding time yayy!!!..." the silence was defiantly loud... "uhm- well I though we could all do something fun like drawing!" standing behind her vaggie comes out with paper, markers, and crayons "oooo colors" niffty giggles "what's does this look like kinder garden?" "angel please try and at least participate" letting out an annoyed grumble he agrees "fineee..." "great! were all going in partners and you will draw each other, that sound fun right!!?" oh no... "charlies with me, husks with angel, and Alastors with y/n, nifftys can uhm..." "oh oh can I be the judge!!!" "sure..." "you gotta be fucken kidding me..." "aww cmon whiskers I'm not that baddd~" walking to there partners I turn to see Alastor sitting on the arm chair looking at me with a wide grin on his face, "fuck me..." I grumble walking over to sit on the floor beside him "well my dear looks like its just me and you" "yeah... me and you" grabbing two pieces of papers and some crayons "I cant even draw..." "oh don't worry I'm sure you will do just fine!" "why am I doing this again..." "cheer up dear this is supposed to be fun after all, I cant be that hard to draw" "yeah your right just need two colors" scribbling on the paper I start at the base of his face, doodling his creepy smile and red hair, looking up I see him studying me curiously "what's the matter, am I hard to draw?" I say smugly "not at all dear your quite easy to draw" ouch, thanks...

Alastors POV:

I never really focused any time on things such as art, yes I can cook and maybe play the piano but drawings not one of my few good skills although ill give it a shot. I would have never guessed I would be sitting here doing one of charlies silly little projects, attempting to draw y/n I look at here for a while, this is the closest I have ever really been next to her, my she really is small it makes me want to squeez her tiny little body, her head could fit in my hand easily. I have noticed a few things while observing her, her ears twitch when she's focused on things like now, her pink bunny nose twitches when she's scared, and her fluffy tail wags when she's exited or annoyed what a strange individual...

your POV:

"ok guys once your done with your drawings you will show them off to your partners!!", as a few minutes pass by I have finished my drawing and well I'm quite disappointed in myself, man I should have taken art class in high school "I finished if your ready to show them" hell no... "I- I'm done but I don't think I wanna... "oh I'm sure its not that bad" giving the drawing one last glance I turn the page I show him the drawing facing away to hide what little dignity I had left. hearing a quiet static buzz noise I look back up seeing him looking at the drawing with a questionable face "I know its badd!!!" "w-well I wouldn't say that dear its just..." "just say its bad!" "its interesting" "well what does yours look like?" turning his page my jaw drops to the floor, what is this creepy deer man not good at "its not my best work but-" "are you kidding me Al this is good!" standing up I grab the drawing, it was in crayon but it looked just like me. pausing I try to tone down my excitement seeing alastor wide eyed from my reaction "I'm glad you like it dear" "what cant you do" "well I did say I was a man of many talents but drawing isn't one of them" "do you uhh mind if I keep this..." "not at all dear~" "you don't have to keep mine you can just throw it-" "nonsense its mine isn't it?" "yes.." "then I will keep it". for once he seemed to have a genuine smile on his face, not some creepy ass smile, its kind of nice...

Alastors POV:

I don't know why but I wanted to keep her silly little drawing, its...cute?. it looks nothing like me but its quite amusing seeing her all embarrassed. I was surprised to see she liked my drawing, her eyes lit up with a small smile on her face, it feels good to know my work is appreciated even in the... strangest things it gives me a sense of pride, I might hang it in my radio tower...

your POV:

looking at everybody else I saw Charlie bouncing on her heels looking at a little doodle vaggie made how cute~, husk made a sloppy doodle of angel and angel just drew himself. niffty was running around looking at others drawings, eventually she got around to ours, climbing on my shoulder she looks at Alastors drawing "ooooOooo you look so cute in the picture!!" I smile a bit "thanks niff" grabbing her off my shoulder I set her down "well that's the end of the exercise, how was it!" "ehh it wasn't to bad" "it was alright" "whatever...im going back to the bar" Charlie puts on a little smile "well do one again next week, maybe we could make cookies together or do all about ME's oh oh!! what about-" "ok hon slow down" "sorry". this was nice, hell isn't that bad, at least not here. better than home...

hey guys!!! I was supposed to release this earlier but I'm a little sick right now from the cold weather but I refuse to let you guys down! I made this chapter a little longer than usual so I hope you guys loved this cute chapter as much as I did, love you guys have a good day/night

-squerlly

for more content or chapter please click this masterlist

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

#hazbin #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n

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sebastianswallows · 11 months

Text

Beautiful memories — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (aged up)

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is sentenced to Azkaban for six months. When he is released, he finds MC is expecting a child, and is filled with anger and jealousy and confusion. He just doesn't know the child is his yet.

— WARNINGS: angst, just a lot of angst (eventually there will be fluff and smut, but in later chapters)

— WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

— A/N: This fic is for a prompt by @pugsnotdrugs92, and I was also asked to write a similar fic by at least one anon.

Sadly, since she gave me that prompt, Pugs has deleted her blog. I have just learned this tonight and I am... pretty damn upset, I'll say that (not at her of course 💗, but at what caused it).

I will just say that if you get hate from anyone, block them, block indiscriminately until you have peace. I hope that Pugs (and anyone who deleted their blog as part of this mess) will make an account on this hellsite again one day <3

Anyway! On with the fic. Hope you enjoy it, my dears 🌺

Nobody had any idea who turned Sebastian in. It came so unexpectedly that they almost didn’t believe it when he happened. After all, it had been two years since Solomon’s death, and everyone in Feldcroft believed he died in his sleep.

“I know it isn’t me,” she said tearfully to Ominis one day, “and I know it isn’t you.”

“And it wasn’t Anne either,” said Ominis with a shake of his head.

“Are you sure? She still isn’t speaking to Sebastian.”

“She protected him this whole time, why would she report him to the ministry now? She might not forgive Sebastian, but she wouldn’t do this to him…”

Their suspicions fell on Leander, or the goblins, or any number of rivals Sebastian had made, but none of their suspects were likely to even know the truth about what happened that day in the catacomb. It therefore stood to reason that someone had overheard them speaking about it at some point, but that did little to narrow it down — for all they knew, one of the portraits had heard them and reported it to the Headmaster.

Ultimately, it didn’t matter who told the Aurors about it. The trio rushed through their N.E.W.T.S. half-heartedly, with Sebastian unsurprisingly scoring lower than he ever had, and in their spare time they spoke of nothing but the upcoming trial.

They’d even arranged for a solicitor for Sebastian, and visited him via floo in London, but he only spoke to his client in private. And every time Sebastian walked out of the wizard’s office, he looked more discouraged than the last.

The trial took place during summer, right after their 7th year ended. Both she and Ominis attended it every day. Imelda came sometimes as well, and Poppy, and Lucan — even Garreth attended on two occasions. He’d never liked Sebastian much, but he seemed to put aside his feelings throughout all of this.

“They don’t mean to send him there, do they?” he whispered as they sat outside the courtroom one sweltering afternoon.

“Where else?” said Imelda. “They closed all the other wizarding prisons centuries ago.”

“But he’s supposed to have done it while he was still a student…”

“What d’you expect? That they’ll give him detention for murder?”

“No, but…”

“You don’t think he really did it, do you, Imelda?” asked Poppy, leaning over Garreth.

“He didn’t,” said Ominis without even glancing their way.

“That’s right,” she said from beside Ominis. “Sebastian’s done nothing wrong.”

The trial went badly almost from the start. The judge was a grey old wizard in a funny wig, and there was no jury to speak of. He seemed to treat the death of a former Auror, even one of such ill repute as Solomon, quite seriously. The Prosecution leaned into that every chance they got.

Anne was called to give testimony in the first week, and she confessed under oath what she had found when she reached the catacombs, which was enough to shock the court. Sebastian’s friends took courage from the fact that she had not actually seen what killed Solomon, but it was only a matter of the judge drawing a line between a quick succession of events.

Ominis was called to the stand as well, but lied shamelessly. Even the threat of Veritaserum from the Prosecution didn’t sway him. He knew none of them would dare submit a Gaunt to that — a rare occasion of his family name amounting to something. However, him being Sebastian’s oldest friend cast doubt upon his entire deposition…

And then, she was called to give testimony as well. Unlike Ominis, she was not sure she could afford to lie, but nothing could get her to betray Sebastian.

All that she could remember was that Solomon attacked the both of them, and both she and Sebastian felt quite threatened by him, and then somehow, between the flying curses and roving Inferi, Uncle Solomon fell dead. But that happened, after all, more than two years ago, Your Honour, and it was in a dark and gloomy cave — and oh, what were they doing there? Objection. Relevance?

Ominis and the others congratulated her on well she held her own, but deep down, she felt like she had let her best friend down — her statement didn’t put the blame on Sebastian, but neither did it exonerate him.

By the time the trial was approaching the end, their former classmates had stopped coming, and only she and Ominis were left.

“He looks so —”

“I know,” said Ominis, not wanting to hear her describe him. This was on the last day, and the judge would give the verdict.

Guilty. Six months in Azkaban.

The courtroom reverberated with murmurs from the crowd — some in approval, others in outrage.

It was a horrible sentence to hear, but it was not as bad as their worst fears — people were often given life imprisonment for the Unforgivables. Fortunately, in Sebastian’s case, there was not enough conclusive evidence either way. Still, if they were to appeal, it would take longer than six months to even have a new judge assigned to the case, so they were left with no choice but to accept it.

As the Aurors led Sebastian away, she and Ominis stood together and called out useless encouragements to their friend, telling him to have courage, to be strong, have faith that he would soon be free, but he went with the guards without looking back at them…

Most of their former classmates were shocked but seemed to think the six-month sentence would pass quickly. They knew Azkaban was pretty horrible and could remember a few things from their DADA class, but none of them was truly educated on the nature of Dementors. Ominis was. He’d been in their presence when he and his father went to visit an uncle of his who’d been sentenced for murdering a muggle. He claimed it was the worst experience he’d ever had in his life — worse than Crucio, in its own way. He still remembered how the despair lingered inside him for days.

And as time passed, she became aware of something lingering within herself as well…

By the fourth month, she had to use concealment charms around her waist when she went out in public. Ominis figured it out on his own — it was probably that echolocation spell he used to get around. He’d merely been suspicious at first, but by the fifth month…

“Can anyone else see?!”

“No, and they won’t if you just stop —”

“But this could ruin your reputation!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!”

“I can’t believe you! How c—”

“Ominis, shut up,” she hissed.

“But you —”

“It’s Sebastian’s!”

“… Oh. I suppose that makes it better, then.”

From then on, Ominis supported her and helped her in any way he could — which admittedly wasn’t much, as he was still getting used to living on his own after being freed from his family’s clutches. And either way, the first few months were gentle enough on her that she could cope well enough on her own. The only help she needed was preparing her small flat to host two people — and eventually three — which meant some creative furniture transfiguration to fit everything in too small a space.

Christmas arrived in the meanwhile, then the New Year. They had tried writing to him every month by then, but the authorities kept sending their letters back — none were allowed for fear of concealed enchantments, they said, and no visitations were allowed either for lower-class prisoners. It broke her heart to know him all alone throughout those rotten months and all through the holidays. Neither she nor Ominis found it in them to celebrate anything that year…

Sebastian was released in February. They wouldn’t be allowed on the island of Azkaban, but they could see him at the Ministry, where he would be transported before he was officially freed.

She and Ominis got there at sunrise, and waited for hours.

Sebastian’s assigned solicitor couldn’t be there, as he had another case, but he sent a house elf to sign the release form in his name. Anne hadn’t come either, but that was hardly a surprise…

The two of them sat alone in a busy hallway, watching witches and wizards pass through — some going in, some going out — until finally, late in the afternoon, the Auror at the front desk told them that inmate Sallow would be arriving within minutes.

“Here, here, they said this will be the exit,” she said, pulling on Ominis’ sleeve.

Two large wooden doors lay open out of which a long dark hallway extended like a neck, and on either side were doors being shut and open of ministry workers travelling through. There was constantly a small crowd of people darkening that space even further.

“I think that’s him,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes when she spotted a dark ruffled head of hair.

“Alright, stay calm,” said Ominis, taking her hand to settle her. Since he’d realised that she was pregnant, he was instinctively more protective.

“Oh, it is! It is him!” she said with tears in her happy voice.

Sebastian was led out of one of those side doors — dressed in a grey and black prisoner’s uniform, his hands and feet chained, terribly thin and tired and bent at the back, and looking as if he hadn’t slept for days…

“Sebastian!” she called out, waving to him with the hand that wasn’t in Ominis’ grasp. “Over here!”

He looked up slowly, as if doubting that he’d heard his name called. His eyes searched blearily through the crowd ahead, not really focusing anywhere, but then they fell on her. She grinned brightly when she caught his gaze.

“Y-you came?” he said, looking at the two of them like they were a dream come true.

“Of course,” she said.

“Surely you didn’t expect anything else,” grinned Ominis.

“I… I need to go somewhere, they’re taking me to… to…” He didn’t have time to explain before Aurors led him around the corner and to another room, for processing.

“We’ll be here,” she called out after him, “we’ll wait for you!”

“How does he look?” whispered Ominis. “He sounded quite weak.”

“He looks… the way he sounded,” she said, “but he’ll be alright… He has to be. We’ll make sure of it.”

Less than thirty minutes later, Sebastian stepped back outside. He was now dressed the way he was when they arrested him: a faded green sweater and black trousers with worn old leather shoes. The clothes hung on his lanky frame, his face was all angles and shadows, and he looked as if he hadn’t had a wash in the whole six months. He was, of course, without his wand as well — they’d broken that after his sentencing.

But there was a still little light still left in his eyes, and it shone when he saw his friends again. He called out her name and Ominis’, and walked toward them with feeble brisk steps.

“I can’t believe it,” he grinned weakly, his steps growing bolder the closer he got to his friends. “I never thought —”

But then he noticed their joined hands, and her swollen stomach, and it nearly stopped him in his tracks. He only caught the sight for a second before she let go of Ominis and rushed to embrace him.

“Seb,” she cried out as she jumped into his arms. She clung to his neck like a lifeline. “I’ve missed you so much…”

“I’ve… missed you too,” he said, his voice low and uncertain.

She buried her face in his neck while Sebastian’s eyes fell to Ominis — who embraced him too from the other side in an uncharacteristic display of affection, before he stood back timidly.

“How… erm, how are you?” he asked with a nervous smile, feeling more happy than he cared to admit, and relieved to have his friend back in one piece.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Sebastian. Gently, he dropped the girl from his arms and slowly pulled away.

“Of course,” she said, wiping her tears and stepping back, but keeping his hand clasped in hers. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to say anything. We just came to take you home. It’s alright now… You’re free, you’re finally back. We’ve missed you so much…”

“Home?” said Sebastian, looking between her and Ominis coolly. “Whose home is that?”

“Well… whichever one you want,” she said. “Yours or mine or…”

“I don’t think I’m ready to see Feldcroft again,” said Sebastian. “But I wouldn’t want to… impose on either of you.”

“What?” frowned Ominis. “Don’t be stup— I mean, don’t worry about that, Sebastian.”

“Oh, is there something to worry about?” he asked.

“Well —”

“We don’t need to discuss that —”

“— here.”

“— now.”

“… I see.”

“Don’t concern yourself with anything,” she smiled, stepping up to him again and embracing him loosely. “Let’s leave this horrible place first…”

They made their way out of the ministry building and through the cold London streets toward Diagon Alley, and his friends talked to him excitedly about the things that had happened: what their former classmates were doing, what they knew about Anne, even the latest Quidditch matches.

They probably felt less cheerful than they seemed, but their enthusiasm was overflowing as they prattled on about all the normal things people their age should care about, almost as if nothing bad had happened at all. They laughed, and smiled, and rubbed his back, and all the while there was in Sebastian’s gait much of the same imprisoned and defeated look as there had been when he was led out of the courtroom at his sentencing.

“We wrote to you while you were there,” she said as they approached the Leaky Cauldron.

“But the damned guards never delivered them,” said Ominis.

Sebastian listened in silence, and they tacitly agreed it was because of what he had been through. He would open up to both of them in time, they were certain…

They decided to have lunch at the Cauldron since neither of them had eaten anything since morning — and they didn’t even wish to think of the food in Azkaban. They ordered sausages and eggs and mashed potatoes and a great big serving of pickled pumpkin.

Sebastian ate the least out of the three of them — and what he didn’t finish, she devoured. Ominis hid his chuckle behind a cough, while Sebastian could barely look at her. If she noticed it, she didn’t say. She just kept smiling and laughing along with Ominis…

More than ever in Azkaban, he wished he could dig a hole for himself through which to disappear. The Leaky Cauldron was noisy and crowded, the smell of food made his stomach turn, and every scrape of a chair was like a scratch across his brain. Even sitting down was uncomfortable, his muscles too thin and his back too weak to hold him. He moved uncomfortably from one position to another, and let his friends prattle on to fill the emptiness between them.

After almost an hour, they decided to leave, and Sebastian nodded in agreement.

“I’m seeing someone at the ministry next Wednesday about a position,” said Ominis as they walked toward the fireplace. “But I can stop by afterwards if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she said. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Do you have enough chocolate at home? I can bring some more.”

“Shelves full of it,” she laughed. “But more is always a good idea. I suspect we’ll need it.”

“Well, I’ll bid you two goodbye for now, then,” said Ominis as he waved them off, blissfully oblivious to what was going through Sebastian’s mind.

“Goodbye,” she said with a tearful smile, letting go of Sebastian for a brief while to hug their friend once more.

“I’ll let you know before I arrive on Wednesday.”

“Not to worry, Ominis. We’ll be alright… Everything will be alright now.”

“I hope so…”

“And good luck with your interview!”

“Thank you… Although I’m not sure I want it.”

“Thank you, Ominis,” said Sebastian tiredly. “For… everything.”

“Don’t be silly,” he smiled. “I’m glad to have you back. We both are. Just focus on getting well again…”

Sebastian nodded, not feeling that any of their kind words were true. He disappeared in the green flames with her, wishing for once to not appear on the other end.

#Sebastian Sallow #Ominis Gaunt #hl #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow x MC #Sebastian Sallow x reader #pugsnotdrugs92 #I miss you 😭#sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;memories

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hhhhleb · 2 months

Note

So…do you have any in detail things about the asylum AU? Like has Lyla met all the Mk boys? And the knows they are all different?

Hi! Thanks for the question!:3

I didn’t really thought it through as I drew, but your question made me think quite hard about it for a few days haha!

I’m no psychologist and not nearly close to the level of knowledge in this sphere that requires that kind of au, so I’m really unsure of anything I can potentially write about it)) thus I’ll try to be as shallow as possible in everything that concerns mental health issues.

In this au there is no such thing as superpowers or anything supernatural. Marc&Layla are simple people in a simple mental hospital. They met and with time and lots of long conversations befriended. I know that the last point seems controversial to pt2 of my comics but,,, they builded their deep connection with each other with time. That’s how I see it at least.

Answering your questions, I think for her it’s like: sometimes this guy mumbles in Spanish and sits somewhere in the corner, sometimes he quotes some French poetry and bubbles tons of facts about Egyptology, sometimes he talks with her about everything in the world in her mother tongue, because he knows it makes her feel less anxious, feel like home. Maybe on some unconscious level she understands that there are three of them, but on a conscious level she doesn’t strictly distinguish them. It’s something like: ‘seems like today all he wants is to silently draw stories with me’ or ‘he called me ‘chérie’ so we can discuss some interesting moments in Egyptian philology’ or ‘oh there is this little worried frown on his face, he would love to braid my hair rn, it’s always soothes him’

For MKsystem(particularly for Marc) she’s just a ray of sunshine in the dark kingdom(named his ‘life’). He likes to see her happy and just be with her in a same room, likes to listen to her, to see sparkles in her eyes when he stumbles through Arabic to ask how she’s doing.

For Steven she’s a pure inspiration, he admires her sharp intelligence so much, he feels so cheered up by their crossed interests, and he really values how she genuinely likes to listen to him.

For Jake she’s someone who sees him, who respects him, someone who really cares about him. If he asks her not to touch him, she never does, but she’ll be still somewhere near so he would not feel lonely. She gives him all new pencils she finds, she asks about all lil drawings he does. And he respects her in return, when everything is too much he silently leads her to some quiet safe space, when she’s upset he gives her some vivid photos of the sandy country he got after some agressive bargaining in exchange for his things.

I’ve pondered how and why Layla got there, because for MK system it’s already clear(Harrow-with-moustaches said that Steven brought them there, ‘cause of their mom) Maybe she’s there because of her dad? Maybe she was a witness of his death(like in comics) and it changed her on some level or brought to the surface what’ve always been there. Idk I’m not really into headcanoning mental illnesses to characters,, so I guess it can remain a mystery to us)

So, all I know they’re married and make each other's days much more bearable and brighter:) There is really nothing else to do in this place except spending time with each other(it’s fun at least) so I feel like they talk a lot. Therefore Marc SIGNIFICATLY more open to her and she displays her real emotions more often, not trying to hide by some mask of a tough lady anymore. So I suppose their relationship in this au much healthier then in pre/during s1,, quite ironic innit (^^ゞ)

Well, there is still a huge field of questions in this au but I hope this little weird essay of mine made some things clearer for you:3

#moon knight #layla el faouly #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moonscarab #comics #asylum!au #i guess it’s a tag now))

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shokolandish · 2 months

Text

edit: i made a new charlie design and a post-finale vanessa design!

---

viv is not a good person and i don't support her, but ive got a hyperfixation right now and im gonna make that everybody else's problem

besides, separate art from the artist or whatever

hazbin has a shit ton of mistakes, problems, same body and hell, even same clothes syndrome. does hell only have one shop or something???

but i just kiiiinda enjoy (?) it for what it is

and ive seen a lot of people do redesigns and that seems really fun and honestly, the characters have a lot of potential that's just blatantly ignored by the show

aaaanyways, after all that out of the way, i present to you...

finished refs for two of my redesigns for the cast!!! did the main couple first, naturally

soo, here's charlie

age: about 22 in human years

and vanessa!

age: about 25 years old. not sure if angels age differently but that's her age in human years

some notes under the cut

Charlie

- yep, i made her non-binary. just get a lot of non-binary energy from xer. besides, i like the hc of them preferring the name charlie over charlotte because it sounds more gender-neutral

- i like to imagine xer a bit on the bigger side complexion-wise. like, i don't know if you could call her chubby but she is a bit plump and really soft to the touch not only because of the fur. i feel like being soft and having more soft edges in buns design would fit buns character more

- she's not freakishly tall anymore!!!! like.. i don't mind her being tall because she's the princess of hell after all.. also have you seen how tall lilith is???? but i feel like sometimes it's TOO much... also honestly it also just fits them more imo??

- they're a redhead now. I MEAN LIKE. both lucifer and lilith were described with red hair in old paintings.. i just had to.

Vanessa

- yeah yeah i made her a demigirl... her original color palette just screamed demigirl. like. it was literally the demigirl flag color palette.

- i thought of naming her violet but that'd be a little too on the nose i think- gave her actual hips!! and not whatever was going on in her original design (the waist just going straight into the legs)

- also made her a little more.. (uh i guess the appropriate word is "thicc") overall- yeah i also redesigned the angelic spear a bit. not too proud of it but i think it gets the idea across

- i don't usually.. draw noses, but i figured it was a pretty big/most recognizable part of her design so i gave her one.

- oh yeah btw she's not gray anymore!!!! yippee!!!!! like what's even up with viv and making poc characters gray. anyways since she's a fallen angel i figured giving her a more human appearance would make sense. we've seen winners in heaven and a lot of them look pretty human. even if we only look at exorcists, lute looks pretty human too.

writing notes

okay, so, i wanna give you some notes about the writing, but before i do - i am NOT a professional writer, im just a kid who has some criticism for the hellfire of a show hazbin is

with that out of the way...

chaggie's writing

okay so. chaggie am i right.

so, ill just get this out of the way - it's boring

like, really boring

chaggie defenders will say they're just "casual" and im an asshole for wanting more from them but you can be casual and not be FUCKING BORING

like.. all of their interactions just go the same waythey comfort each other or hold hands or vaggie is trying to convince charlie to do something and she NEVER. FUCKING. LISTENS. like seriously.

the only time she actually listened was when vaggie convinced her to be more assertive but she was trying to do it anyway... and she changed vaggie's words and did her own thing anyways

they don't even have that much chemistry. and they're like, the main couple. they're supposed to have chemistry.

hell, emily and charlie had more chemistry in one episode they interacted in than vaggie and charlie in the whole damn show

vaggie's writing

vaggie's writing.. it's... sigh.

she doesn't really feel like a separate character when she's with charlie

they're just. doing the same thing. over and over again. all of their interactions are the fucking same. like.. i wanna care but i just have no reason to. i just DON'T FUCKING CARE.

even vaggie's whole deal in "whatever it takes" is her just?? dedicating her life to being charlie's partner?? and not even being her own person and living for herself??? like. what's up with that. maybe i just didn't pay enough attention??? i can't be bothered to rewatch any chaggie scenes in episode 2 because they did not deserve that drama and i just don't care enough

im supposed to care but i don't

the show just. doesn't give me any reason to care.

vaggie interacting with ANY other character is so much more interesting - i don't know what to expect, i can't predict it!

vaggie interacting with alastor? hell yeah! we never know alastor's intentions and seeing vaggie not taking any of his shit is really entertaining!

vaggie interacting with angel dust? sure! id love to hear the bickering or maybe them having to put up being alone with each other for an episode? maybe both of them having to put up with charlie's shenanigans and bonding over that?

vaggie interacting with niffty? okay sure! a lil gremlin and an involuntary caretaker maybe with vaggie seeing niffty can take care of herself? or vaggie trying to put up with her insanity?

vaggie interacting with husk? oh hell yeah, they both seem to be the straight man in any situation (despite neither of them being straight but whatever), maybe they can have a drink or two together.

vaggie interacting with pentious? yes please! she'd not take any of his shit, but honestly? pentious' obliviousness with vaggie's seriousness could be a very fun dynamic!

but charlie? yeah i can just. predict any interaction they'll have.

and that's not really a good thing with the main couple

because it just gets old really quickly

and we see them all the time, so after some time they can just start to irritate people

how would i fix it?

MAKE THEM INTERESTING, DAMN IT

maybe make charlie listen to vaggie more often??

or maybe vaggie getting a bit irritated because charlie doesn't take her advice seriously

or maybe actually show us how they fell in love?? not just love at first sight or whatever they had in the flashback

like, id love to see actual chemistry develop!or maybe make their interactions not as predictable??

or maybe actually show us how they work together

have an episode dedicated to them

that's the problem with trying to fit everything into one season - the character and relationship developments can end up rushed and just. not very good.

like.. the season we got could be easily stretched out into two or three, WHERE ARE YOU GOING SO FAST, SHOW?? why so fast

this show doesn't know about the existence of filler episodes and we NEED filler episodes

to actually get to know the characters, to explore dynamics, to get to know the world around them

the season is just way too short to tell the story it's trying to say

and if i didn't care about a character from the start and the show doesn't let me meet them... im not gonna just start caring.

---

anyways, that's about it! im definitely gonna do more, i even have angel and pentious ready:) niffty, husk, alastor, emily or adam are next after them, i already have them sketched out

idk what order im gonna post them in but we'll see i guess

---

bonus:

some concepts

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wordsinhaled · 1 year

Note

N, your last drabble!!! Dream falling in love with Hob’s domesticity, with the humanity he brings out in him!! Craving these brief moments between them where everything’s soft and mushy and quiet and crispy warm. Dream slowly noticing how lovingly Hob looks up at him. Dream drowning in his presence, drowning in Hob. Falling in love in the tranquility of one another.

I WILL cry…

I KNOW... i am already crying, cocoa, FOR REAL

have some domestic flirting <3333

It must be, Morpheus thinks, a particular quality of the light that streams in through Hob’s kitchen window, that it catches in his hair and brings out the little amber flecks in each strand just so. This is something Morpheus has never before had the opportunity to notice. The sources of illumination in the White Horse Tavern were too low to ever lend Hob such radiance, and those in the New Inn too electric. It must be a peculiar quality of Hob Gadling’s, that he is best suited to being lit up by the sun. The way it softens his edges and sets his skin to glowing nearly makes Morpheus envious of how unreservedly it bestows Hob with its favor. Hob is washing up the breakfast dishes in the sink—an activity so mundane and tedious and small that the Morpheus of six centuries ago would have scoffed at the very idea of finding it engrossing. How much time in their fleeting eyeblink of a life, thinks that vestige of Morpheus idly, do people spend simply soaping and rinsing and drying dishes? Yet today he sits at Hob’s little kitchen table and feels abjectly fascinated by every detail of the act. Hob Gadling, he supposes, has more time than most to spare for such follies. Hob does not own a dishwasher. The sleeves of his buttondown are pushed up to his elbows, and his arms are shiny-wet up to mid-forearm, and his hands disappear into a mountain of white suds as he scrubs at the inside of a frying pan with a green wiry sponge. The room smells bright and clean, the lemon zest scent of the dish liquid catching and holding Morpheus’ attention as much as the roll of Hob’s shoulders does when he turns to place the rinsed pan aside to drip dry. Morpheus remembers too late that humankind tends to dislike the sensation of being observed. But Hob only slants a crooked smile at him when he notes that he is watched; only says, “See something you like?” Instantly Hob’s eyes widen the barest fraction, and squeeze shut, and Morpheus spies the shadow that passes in the next moment over his face. It is the same sort of shadow, the same drawing inwards, that he has noted sometimes comes over Lucienne when she thinks she may have said something that will surely be ill-received. Morpheus cannot fathom what has troubled Hob now. He considers Hob’s question with care. What is before him? There is the ease with which Hob grins at him. The glinting sunshine that follows the soft fall of his hair out of the haphazard bun. The dark patches of denim where Hob has just wiped his dripping palms on his thighs. “Yes.” Morpheus answers simply, and knows it to be the truth. “I see... much that pleases me.” “Oh,” Hob says, his smile widening to show a flash of teeth. “Alright, then.” There is surprise in his voice, and pleasure, and... something else Morpheus does not decipher. He has not read the daydreams of Hob Gadling in many hundreds of years. He will not begin now. But a flush blooms across Hob’s cheeks then to accompany his words, the staining red of poppies, and Morpheus finds he enjoys this as well.

#the sandman #dreamling #hotcocoabuns #dreamling domestic vacation

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idyllic-affections · 1 year

Text

employee benefits.

summary. baizhu remains constantly attuned to his chronically ill employee and their needs. it is no surprise that he knows when they are unwell.

trigger & content warnings. chronic illness flare-up.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. baizhu & reader, qiqi & reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of invisible disability? it's rather visible to me.

author's thoughts. in celebration of me getting baizhu within 30 pulls and me getting to soak up all of his lore like a dry sponge would to water, heres some more baizhu content!! we love him in this household <33 he and kaveh are literally the REALEST genshin characters ever with the most relatable trauma and ideals like what the fuck man..... /lh

baizhu knows that some days, his junior herbalist just can't work; it's far too much for their body. he's had many such days himself. it's unavoidable and unpredictable—some days, his body doesn't function well even if he was completely fine the day before. the same applies to his young hire. as such, he is often the one able to see the signs as soon as the day begins.

"good morning, dr. baizhu, qiqi, changsheng," they greet, a tired smile on their face. their smile widens a little bit when qiqi tugs their sleeve to draw their attention before handing them a pastry.

"[name] needs to eat."

"hehe... yes, you're absolutely right, qiqi. thank you."

she hums, content, as they pat her head. she remains glued to their leg.

the way their chest rises and falls is blatantly irregular, as if they're trying to catch their breath. there's a slight tremble in their limbs as well. baizhu briefly wonders if qiqi is supporting their weight, if she's somehow, subconsciously aware that something is off about them this morning in particular.

"oh my," baizhu muses, observing their tired disposition. "did you not rest well?"

"what he's trying to say is that you look awful."

"jeez, it's this early and you're already bullying me, changsheng? gui isn't even here yet. it's too early... what did i do to deserve this?" they huff. "to be honest, i woke up feeling unwell. i don't know why. i just feel very weak today."

"hmm..." he's thinking. if they are unwell, he absolutely will not permit them to work, given that they may faint or collapse at any point. he simply doesn't want to see them hurt themselves. "well, there's still quite some time until we officially open. come. i'll examine you."

"do i get an employee discount?" they joked, to which he smiled.

"i won't be charging you."

"wha— no. i was joking. i was kidding. you can't not charge me. that's hardly fair, given that i can afford it. i know we're supposed to make things as easy and affordable for patients as possible, but i don't need those accomodations. i work here. i already have easy access to everything i need."

"don't be stubborn, [name]."

"i am stubborn, dr. baizhu. you can't be hypocritical and expect me to allow that."

silence. then, the liyuean doctor chuckles fondly. the way he gazes at them is soft.

what a handful they are.

"fine, fine. i'll take the cost from next month's pay, alright? just let me look at you. we can't have you collapsing on us today, now can we?"

a month later, they find something... oddly normal about their pay. not a single mora has been deducted.

"dr. baizhu, i love and respect you and would never doubt the things you say, but... you said you would take my examination cost from my next paycheck. this is the same amount of mora i get every month."

"oh, did i say that? hm, i can't seem to recall that conversation."

"...with all due respect, you're insufferable sometimes."

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion brainrots 🌸#: [ the junior herbalist! 🌸 ]#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin impact x reader #platonic baizhu x reader #baizhu x reader #genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines

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mirrortouchedsea · 1 month

Text

(CW for Suicidal Ideation)

Hinata’s breath was heavy as he landed the final move of their act. The tinny music playing from their speakers went quiet and the audience clapped politely. It was always the same song and dance as the crowd moved on with their day. A few of them tossed some yen their way but otherwise it was time for them to regroup for their next performance. Yuta knelt down by the hat with some coins and bills sticking out of it, counting their earnings thus far.

“Hey aniki! We might be able to eat well tonight! There’s like 3,000 yen in here!” Yuta exclaimed. The idea of a filling dinner made Hinata’s mouth water. Oh what he wouldn’t do for even warm noodles not from a cup.

Hinata turned to grab the iPod from its place on the speaker, choosing the next song to play. He put the phone back and turned the volume up a little more to play over the evening rush. The music started and he and Yuta moved in unison around their little stage, taking in the crowd. There were some regulars that Hinata recognized, the businesswoman who was perpetually tired but always stopped for their performances and a few kids who looked up at them in awe as their parents were trying to usher them away. There were always new faces too, of course people traveled across the country all the time or took new trains or moved cities, but there was something different about the boy with the bright red hair at the back of the crowd. His sky blue eyes pierced straight through to Hinata’s heart and made him stumble when their gaze connected with his own.

“Hey, aniki focus! We’re almost done, don't fail on me now!” Yuta whispered, carefully shielding Hinata from the crowd as he regained his footing. Yuta was always so quick thinking. Hinata got back to his position and finished up the routine, eyes looking for that boy he had spotted earlier. He half hoped the boy would come talk to them afterwards while they were packing up for the evening, but when he finally saw that shock of red hair, it was moving away with the rest of the crowd.

Hinata sighed, disappointed. Maybe that boy would come back someday. There was something about him that drew Hinata in.

Someone bumped his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts. “Hey, aniki, are you alright? You seem out of it today.” Yuta’s hand rested on his shoulder and Hinata couldn’t help but smile. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around, the older brother checking in on the younger one?

“Hey hey everything’s fine Yuta-kun, don’t worry about me. I was just thinking about that delicious dinner you’re treating us too~” He playfully pushed back on Yuta, the red haired blue eyed boy all but forgotten now.

“Hey! It’s technically our money so I’m not treating you to anything!” Yuta scowled but the smile in his voice was obvious to Hinata.

“Hehe, then dinner’s on me! Say ‘thank you aniki!’”

---

It was a week before Hinata saw the red headed boy in their audience again. He had all but slipped his mind, but those striking blue eyes were impossible to forget. Yuta was introducing their next performance which allowed Hinata to take a better look at the older boy who had made his way to the middle of the audience. He was tall and what Hinata could see of his outfit seemed ill-fitting at best, along with a headband holding his hair away from his eyes.

Hinata scrambled to his position as the music queued up and let his instincts take over. Every so often he found himself glancing at the red haired boy, trying to see what he thought of their performance, but his face revealed nothing.

Why was he so focused on this one boy? It’s not like they didn’t have strangers who watched them sometimes, and none of them had caught Hinata’s attention quite like this boy. He really couldn’t be much older than Hinata, maybe 17 at the oldest. Was he an older brother too? The boy’s eyes made contact with Hinata’s and it took everything in him to not look away.

Once again however, Yuta snapped him out of whatever trance he had been in and everything was forgotten.

“Are you really okay aniki? You’ve been out of it a lot recently…” Oh how it pained Hinata to see the concern on Yuta’s face. Nothing was even really wrong per se, but Hinata was distracted nonetheless.

“I’m fine, Yuta-kun. Geez, can’t your older brother have some peace?” His mouth ran faster than his brain and he immediately regretted it. Yuta’s face flipped through several emotions; hurt, confusion, exhaustion. It wasn’t like him to hide things from his brother, so why was he doing it now? “Whatever, let’s get some dinner. My treat~”

“It’s our money!”

---

The boy continued to make appearances at the twins’ performances on the street, becoming something of a regular but disappearing before Hinata could flag him down. Hinata wasn’t even sure what compelled him to want to talk to the older boy, but he wanted to say something. He had even noticed that the boy seemed happier and his clothes fit a little better, not like they were just the first thing he grabbed out of a donation pile.

Finally, after almost a month of trying to say something to the boy, Hinata saw him walk up to their hat on the ground and drop a few coins into it.

“Thank you!” He said, walking up to the boy. “Hope you enjoyed the performance!”

The boy froze as if he wasn’t expecting to be greeted like that. There was a slight flush to his face. “I-it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. You uh…you were great?” The boy seemed unsure of how to reply, though Hinata was happy with the compliment nonetheless. Maybe…

“What brings you here? I mean--agh, sorry! I just mean…I noticed you don’t have a regular schedule?” The words were practically falling out of his mouth and Hinata wasn’t really sure what they were doing. “Like you show up a few days in a row but then go three weeks without stopping by at all!” He was just digging a bigger grave for himself! Great!

“Ah uhm…I’m not from around here.” The boy scratched at the back of his neck. Maybe Hinata should back off.

“O-oh, yeah of course. Duh. Are you visiting family or something?”

“Not quite. I really should get going though. See you…later?”

“Yeah, see you later.”

“Hey Aniki, are you coming or not? The food’s gonna get cold!”

“Coming!”

---

It was almost a month before the boy appeared again. In the time between, Hinata had come up with a million different ideas for what his life was like. Was he a delinquent who skipped school to hang out on the street with gangs (how scary! But he looked strong enough to fit in)? Or was he a runaway from a city far away, somewhere Hinata only dreamed of visiting like Okinawa? Maybe he had a bad relationship with his dad and ran away, a thought that Hinata hated to admit had crossed his mind more than once. Or maybe he just passed through the city on the way to somewhere else. That seemed to be the most likely option, especially if he couldn’t come very often.

When the boy did finally show up again, Hinata had to hold himself back from practically jumping him after the performance. Something looked…different about him though. His eyes seemed more tired? Like he hadn’t been sleeping well. Hinata thought of a fight he had with his dad a few weeks ago that made it hard for him to sleep and thought maybe this boy was the same as him in that regard.

Hinata decided to wave him down after the performance, hat in hand (they had done pretty well! It felt heavier than normal and even without counting everything, they’d probably have enough for breakfast too).

“Hey! You look tired, are you--did you want to get something to eat?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes--

The boy’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Did Hinata mess up? Oh he overstepped and now there really wasn’t any chance of getting to know him. Why was he so interested in talking to the boy anyway? Hinata had been asking himself that for a while now and he still had no answer.

“I…I can’t. I need to go.” The boy turned and ran off before Hinata could ask more. He just kept messing up, didn’t he? Maybe he really was just a burden to Yuta and their dad and the restaurant owner. He shouldn’t have been born and Yuta would’ve been better off--

“Aniki! Sheesh, get your head out of the clouds. How much did we make?” Yuta grabbed the hat out of Hinata’s hand and quickly counted out the coins and bills. “Woah! We could eat a whole five course meal with this…”

“Think with your head a little Yuta-kun. We’ve got breakfast paid for if we don’t blow it all tonight!”

Yuta nodded before handing the hat back to Hinata. “So, my pick tonight?”

---

Hinata signed the note, trying his best to keep the tears from dripping on it and smudging the ink. After his blunder with the red haired boy, he hadn’t shown up to their performances for over two months. Hinata was certain that he had messed up and was too forward. He didn’t even know the kid’s name! Why did he think the two of them could ever be friends?

And on top of all of that, Yuta had become more and more distant from Hinata, as if Hinata just existing was dragging him back from his full potential. Yuta would have been better off as an only child and maybe Hinata deserved this life. Thirteen years living with their father, who had treated them as nothing but monsters, blaming them for their mother’s death and everything bad that had happened since, Hinata had resolved to run away. He’d make his way to the mountains and maybe he’d find someone willing to help him or maybe he’d slip into an endless sleep.

Dear Yuta-kun, the letter had started. I’m sorry that I’m leaving like this, but I know that I’m just a burden to you. I’m sorry for that. I wish I had more to say but I just want you to be happy and maybe father will treat you better without me. I love you.

The other letter, already folded and placed on the table, was much shorter, addressed to his father.

Dear Father, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better son. Please don’t take this out on Yuta-kun, it was my decision.

The less words he spent on that man, the better. Hinata folded Yuta’s note and placed it on top before quietly exiting through the front door.

---

Everything was cold. Hinata slumped against a tree, head between his knees in a last ditch effort to keep warm. Sleep should come soon and he could painlessly move on, at least that’s what he hoped. He barely registered someone approaching him, but didn’t look up.

“Hey.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but where did he remember it from? A warm hand shook at Hinata’s shoulder.

“‘M fine.” The words were barely a whisper. The other voice grunted before walking away. It was another minute before Hinata felt something drape around his shoulders and a cup shoved in his hand. Whatever was in it was steaming, warming his fingers.

“Drink.” The voice said. And he did, the tea was very, very bitter. That voice…

Hinata looked up, meeting a pair of bright, sky blue eyes. That’s where he recognized the voice from. Did he…live? In the mountains? The boy seemed to recognize him too. He was wearing a headband and what looked like very warm clothes that Hinata wished he had. Hinata finished the tea, trying not to focus on the flavor. It helped at least, in warming him up a bit.

“Why are you here?” The boy finally spoke again. It sounded like he was unsure if he should be mad or concerned, or both, but he offered Hinata another cup of tea, which he accepted if only to warm his fingers up. He pulled the blanket closer around his body.

“I…ran away.” Hinata looked downward, as if admitting this out loud was a cardinal sin. The boy gestured for him to continue. “I guess I just…I was dragging my brother down. I’m not really talented at anything like he is and I’m the reason our dad sees us as monsters. He shouldn’t have to deal with a brother like me.” Hinata wasn’t really sure why he was spilling this so easily. The boy was a good listener though, hanging on every word Hinata spoke. Was he shaking? He’d never admitted this out loud before and it felt oddly freeing to say it to someone.

He waited for a response, anything to chase away the uncomfortable silence Hinata had created with his confession. He really fucked up, didn’t he. He should have just kept that to himself like he always did instead of burdening a stranger like this!

“I…” The boy started, barely audible above Hinata’s racing heartbeat. “I’m glad you’re alive.” He sounded unsure of his words. Was he just trying to be nice? Of course he was, how else do you respond to a kid telling you something like this?

“You don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not. When I saw you singing and dancing…I think I realized something--” The boy cut himself off, the suddenness of it making Hinata look up. A moment later he heard his brother calling out from the woods behind him.

“Aniki! There you are!” Yuta tackled him to the ground, squeezing Hinata like he might just blow away in the wind if they weren’t careful. “You scared me! I can’t believe you’d do something like that!”

Tears pricked at Hinata’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, Yuta-kun. I’m really sorry.” He buried his face in Yuta’s jacket. His nose started to run, from the cold or the tears he couldn’t tell.

“You aren’t a burden to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you around Aniki!” Yuta pulled back, hands gripping Hinata’s shoulders. “Promise you won’t do something that stupid again.”

Hinata wiped the tears from his eyes, sparing a glance where the boy had been. It was as if he had never been there at all and Hinata had just hallucinated the whole interaction. He looked back at his twin brother. “I promise.”

“Now let's get you home and warmed up. Where’d you get this blanket anyway? It doesn’t look like one of ours.”

“I…” The boy had been real, and he told Hinata he was glad he was alive (even if his explanation was cut short by Hinata’s brother rushing in). “I guess I just found it. There must be people living nearby or something.”

---

The chatter of the night club died down for the night as everyone was getting ready to go home. Hinata’s feet were sore from running around, but it was satisfying to be back in a restaurant like this. It reminded him of his childhood working for the Chinese restaurant with Yuta.

Rinne, the leader of Crazy:B who had wanted to get closer to Hinata, and by extension 2wink, slid a drink down the bar. It looked like a horrible mix of syrups and club soda, but one sip was all it took for Hinata to drink it all down.

“Great job tonight Hina! You’re a real natural at this stuff.” Rinne was washing the other glasses behind the bar now as Hinata finished the rest of his soda.

“Yuta-kun and I used to work in a restaurant so it comes pretty naturally to us!”

“That so?”

“Mhm!” Hinata slid the empty glass back to Rinne, who quickly dumped the ice and washed it before tossing the towel over his shoulder. The entire week they’d been working the club together, there had been something bugging Hinata at the back of his mind. “Hey, Rinne-senpai…did you ever watch our shows?”

“Huh? ‘Course I have, vice prez wants us to work together so I’ve seen a few of ‘em.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean like…back when Yuta-kun and I did street performances.”

Rinne paused for a moment. “Why’re you askin’?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. You just reminded me of someone who used to watch them.”

“Well I’m sure whoever it was is proud to see you singin’ and dancin’ on stage.” Rinne had come around the bar and stood next to Hinata, ruffling his hair. “Let’s get goin’ or I’m never gonna hear the end of it from Niki-kun.”

#shay writes #enstars #ensemble stars #hinata aoi #yuta aoi #rinne amagi #OKAY ITS DONE I'M NOT THINKING ABOUT THIS PIECE ANYMORE. FUCK MAN #its at least finally no longer a wip. that's all i can say #got one person who said they liked it so to the blog it goes!!!#one less wip to worry about yippie!!!#2.8k words of me being a bit silly. that's what this is.#i probably could have extended the end a bit but augh if i thought about it any longer i would literally pass away #fuck that shit #so here we go. enjoy. i have a whole essay about aoi and amagi parallels i need to write one of these days when i reread mainstory #i'm working on reading boarding live rn i have like 9 chapters left. i'd keep working rn but augh eepy #probably just gonna watch an ep of a3 and go to bed or smth #anyway enjoy!!!! feels good to finish something a bit longer #probably no wip wednesday tomorrow just bc this is all i worked on this week...#also this is a second draft i never do that. well not never i've done it before #and this is i think a significant improvement on the first #okay i'm done tag talking for realsies byeeeeeee enjoy

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bellyprincess · 9 months

Note

Been having this fantasy for a bit now:

You’re so full. Having your 6 foot 5’s baby you knew would be a challenge for your barely 5 foot frame, but when the scan showed you were having twins, you were already deep in thought with the idea of how big you’d be.

Now here you are; 39 weeks in, and still no signs that the time is drawing near. Your massive belly hangs low on your frame, a marble-sized navel poking out just above the waistband of the only pair of sweatpants your widening hips haven’t outgrown. Your swollen breasts are almost the size of cantaloupes, having to resort to a tank top to contain them as you can’t even fit into the maternity bras you bought last week. Everything about you just feels stretched, heavy, and done. You’re on the verge of tears just trying to waddle your overburdened self to the bathroom.

Your only bliss is in the nest you’ve concocted for yourself. Curled up in a spare bed in the guest room you and your babies’ daddy are taking way too long to convert into the nursery, you’ve stolen every pillow, blanket and comforter in the house, snuggled and swaddled yourself until you’ve reached maximum comfiness, and just relax the whole day away. A thick blanket and leg pillow in between your thighs allows you to lay on your side, your swollen middle resting on a memory foam pillow that is quickly making a mold of your frame, while the rest of you is cocooned in anything and everything else in the house that feels cozy.

Sometimes, your baby daddy cuddles in from behind with you after getting home from work. Rubbing, whispering soft conversations with you, maybe helping alleviate some pressure by slipping two fingers between your legs, he’s ever at the ready to dote on you while you nest up and rest up; waiting for the day that your Braxton Hicks turn into genuine contractions and you can finally get these heavy babies out of you, but with how comfy you are despite the pregnancy drawbacks, and how content they seem to be staying in there, maybe you should call work and tell them your maternity leave got extended another month!

I suppose it's about time I let the rest of the world read what I've been re-reading 🤣

There's not much to add, it's perfect. I love a good size difference, give me your big babies on my small frame, that way I'd be even more belly than human at that point. knock me up with as many ten pounders as you can! and maybe they'll go even a month overdue, just growing perfectly inside mommy's huge belly, so why bother disturbing them? sure, it's painful to even move to go to the bathroom, but I can't help but get turned on everytime I look down at myself. My sweet baby daddy deserves the world for taking such good care of me, but maybe ill just have to give him a football team instead of the world!<3

#💌{love letters}💌#🤰🏼{my writing}🤰🏼

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running2reanimation · 11 months

Note

i liked your fic about king taking care of a sick gold and purple, but what about the other way around?

Purple and Gold taking care of a sick King.

Can you write something about that please?

Sickness

Sometimes the caretaker needs care.

Gold knew that something was wrong the moment he stepped out of his room. The lights were out in the house. The was no smell of brewing coffee, baking bread or frying eggs, “Dad?”

He hated how scared he sounded. He hated how that fear rose when his Dad didn’t actually reply.

Taking a deep breath, Gold walked the up the hallway to his father’s room, and opened the door. At first, in the dim light of morning, it looked like the man wrapped in blankets wasn’t breathing.

But then a ragged breath worked its way out and Gold let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and went over to his father’s bedside.

King’s face was more red than it should and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow. Gold wasn’t super experienced with illness because his dad didn’t get sick often but that was definitely a fever.

“Dad?” Gold spoke softly and King jerked awake to look at his son. Even as sick as he obviously was he managed a tired smile at the sight of Gold.

“Gold…” King squinted up at Gold, clearly processing things a little slower than usual, “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry, it’s Saturday,” Gold reassured with a pat on his father’s head, his hand coming back sticky with sweat.

“Could you close the curtains? I have a really bad headache,” King whispered and Gold obediently went and closed them. His dad must be in bad shape if he was willingly making requests.

“Are you hungry?” Gold asked, “Thirsty?”

“Not sure if I’m hungry or nauseous. Definitely thirsty though,” King nodded weakly, “but you can’t cook.”

“I can make toast,” Gold asserted, hands on his hips, “and canned soup.”

“Mmmh,” King’s expression was hard to read, “Fine, get me some water and toast then.”

“Anything on the toast?” Gold asked, ready to spring away and get to work being helpful.

“Honey, if we have some.”

“You got it dad!” Gold had his orders and off he went.

—

The toast had just popped when Gold heard a groan that came from way too close. King stood at the end of the hallway that lead to the bedrooms, leaning on the wall for support.

“Dad! You were supposed to stay in bed!” Gold scolded loud enough that King winced and held his head.

“Bathroom. And I can’t have honey toast in bed. Too sticky,” King mumbled, stumbling his way unsteadily to the dining room, where he slumped across the table while Gold finished getting breakfast ready.

“Voila, two slices of toast with honey and one large glass of water,” Gold presented with a very quiet flourish. King grabbed the glass of water and Hal emptied it before picking up a piece of toast and nibbling it. Fortunately, it did seem to be hunger and not nausea, and soon he’d finished the toast and the water.

But now he was shivering while Gold filled the water glass full again.

“Chilled,” King explained and Gold nodded.

“Yep, gonna get you back in bed, c’mon,” Gold offered his arm and King, after a long moment, took it.

It was so strange to have his father genuinely leaning on him for support. It made Gold realize just how unprepared he was if something serious were to happen to his dad. He really was going to have to start learning how to take care of himself. His dad wouldn’t be here forever.

——

Purple’s morning routine was shattered; King was still in bed. Maybe he’d had a nightmare and actually tried to get back to sleep for once. Maybe he was Sick.

No, no, he wasn’t going to lose another parent.

They half-ran up the hallway to King’s room and peered in. The curtains were drawn and the room was dark, but King made a noise as soon as Purple took a step inside, just a whispered name, “Purple…?”

“Yep, just me, Baba,” Purple whispered back, drawing a little closer, both to hear and be heard in turn.

“I have a migraine, could you keep it down today?” King asked and Purple nodded.

“You got it, Baba,” And Purple quietly crept back out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Time to make some breakfast. Quietly.

—

King wasn’t expecting Purple to come back. Least of all with a tray of breakfast.

“Oatmeal with fruit and honey, and a big bottle of water,” Purple laid the tray across King’s lap with a quiet flourish.

“Thank you, Purple.”

“Anything else you need?” Purple asked, eager to help in any way he could, but King shook his head.

“Some sleep, but there’s not much you can do about that.”

“I have some melatonin gummies that help me sleep, wanna try them?” King looked thoughtful but shook his head.

“Not today, but I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

Purple sighed softly, gathering up the empty tray and moving the half empty bottle of water to the bedside table, “Well, try and get some rest. If you need me, you can text.”

King nodded, settling back down into bed, “Thank you, Purple.”

“No problem, Baba.”

King was going to be fine. This was just a normal migraine. He would be fine and Purple was going to make sure of it.

#alan becker #ava #avm #avm king #avm king orange #avm mango #avm purple #avm gold #avm king mango #avm mt #I always meant to write this sequel #but then I kinda forgot to #got distracted with other ideas

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couldntbedamned · 8 months

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Couldntbedamned's Master List

This is my Master List of fics I’ve written. I’m linking them to my AO3 account.

Please be sure to carefully read all the tags and warnings posted for a fic – YOU are responsible for the content you choose you consume.

Updated as of 25 April 2024

Reader Fics

Right Now, Take Me Down (I Let You In) Tony Stark/Female Reader – Mature, Complete

Tony snoops through your phone and discovers some uh, fantasies and desires you’ve been keeping hidden. He takes it upon himself to make those fantasies and desires a reality, thanks to his amazing nanotechnology and trusted AI. (A/B/O Roleplay)

Til the Veins Start to Shiver Bruce Banner/Female Reader – Mature, Complete

You decide to tease Bruce with some provocative photos while he's working. Bruce decides to tease you right back, and then some. (Light Dom/Sub)

A Little Evening Break Stephen Strange/Female Reader – Mature, Complete

The Reader isn’t quick to comply with Stephen’s instructions and he gives her a hard time.

There’s Only Butterflies (Take Me Away) Stephen Strange/Reader, Strange Supreme/Reader, Defender Strange/Reader, Supreme Strange/Reader, Sinister Strange/Reader – Mature, Complete

It’s a pocket-dimension full of sunshine, with love that’s all theirs.

A Sweet Escape (To Better Days) Stephen Strange/Reader, Strange Supreme/Reader, Defender Strange/Reader, Supreme Strange/Reader, Sinister Strange/Reader – Mature, Complete

While it at first it weighed heavily on her, the knowledge that five of the most powerful beings in the multiverse were with her instead of protecting all of reality, she couldn’t deny the thrill that also came with that. The universe truly revolved around her. Her loves revolved around her and everything she was, she had, she did was for them in return.

Sometimes It Hurts Instead

Stephen/Reader (unrequited), Stephen/Clea, Reader/Reader's Husband - Teen, Complete

You see that the man you'd once had feelings for has moved on. You're not sure how to feel.

Waiting for the sun to be rising

Stephen/Chronically Ill!Reader - Mature, Complete

After a wild romp, you relax with Stephen and contemplate your relationship, reassuring him that regardless of what he does (or doesn’t) say you know exactly how he feels about you.

With a little peace and some harmony

Stephen/Chronically Ill!Reader - Teen, Complete

You’re sick and thanks to a weakened immune system, having a hard time resting and fighting it off. It’s absolutely miserable but lucky for you, Stephen is more than willing to step into the role of caretaker and help you feel better.

Starker Fics (Tony Stark/Peter Parker)

Please note that Peter is an adult in all of these.

This is What You Came For Mature, Complete

Mr. Stark has had enough of what he considers to be Peter's not-so-subtle hints that he wants to get f*cked. He decides to teach Peter a lesson.

An Absolutely Peerless Cure Dark!Tony – Mature, Complete

When Peter gets the hiccups while on patrol, Tony takes it upon himself to help rid him of the pesky problem. Sure, that Wikipedia article could be absolute horseshit, and sure, Dr. Strange had been tipsy when he agreed with it, but it's a risk Tony's willing to take in his quest to draw Peter closer to him.

…And Many More Mature, Complete

Tony has a surprise for Peter's birthday, putting a true Tony Stark spin on a long-standing wish that Peter's had. Because whether he's giving or receiving, Tony is always in charge. Not that Peter's complaining.

(Just to See How It Feels) Mature, Complete

It's late. Peter's tired and wants to sleep because he has a big exam in the morning. Tony's horny. So maybe he can convince Peter to let him put in just the tip. (It's never just the tip.)

Getting the Best Mature, Complete

Peter Benjamin Parker is a genius. A once-in-a-lifetime type of genius.

And the little prick has the nerve to be undecided, even with the promise of a full-ride to MIT.

Even Saints Into Savages Mature, Complete

The mission was supposed to be a cake walk. Get in, get the stupid mystic alien amulet, get home. So, they figured it was safe enough to bring Peter along. Only Rocket assumes something, and that assumption leads to an awkward situation for everyone involved. Tony'll do whatever it takes to save Peter. If only he didn't know that he'd enjoy it so damn much. (Aliens Made Them Do It)

Back to Where You’ve Never Been Mature, Work in Progress

In an alternate reality, Peter Parker is living out his dream of being Spider-Man and working as an intern for Stark Industries (and the Avengers!) under his hero, Tony Stark, before heading off to college. For the most part, it's incredible. Okay, the Avengers treat him like he's still a child, and Mr. Stark's not exactly the friendliest mentor. But still, it's good.

Except that recently, Mr. Stark's been in the worst mood and Peter finds himself the unwitting focus of the man's ire. He tries to keep his spirits up and tell himself that it's not personal, that anyone in the lab would be a target, but when Mr. Stark kicks him out, Peter knows he's done.

Then he finds himself falling for what feels like an eternity before returning to New York. Only it's not his New York City and the Iron Man he ends up fighting alongside is definitely not his Iron Man. Anthony Stark is kind of perfect. The Other Avengers are kind of perfect. Everyone here seems to love him. And when he and Anthony are tapped by Dr. Strange to help seal the rift between realities, Peter finds himself wondering if he was supposed to be in the reality with Anthony all along. (AU of an AU)

Updated with Chapter 14 on 02 January 2024

SpiderStrange Fics (Peter Parker/Stephen Strange)

Please note that Peter is an adult in all of these.

One in Fourteen Million, Six Hundred and Five Dark-ish!Stephen – Mature, Complete

Stephen doesn't have time to admire Peter as much as he'd like, given that they're trying to stop total Armageddon. This is the fate of the universe at stake; his attraction doesn't really have a place here. But even still...

("Oh, we're using our made-up names? Ok, I'm Spider-Man.")

Something about this stupidly brave and chatty guy intrigues him.

Now That I’ve Found You (I Won’t Let You Go) Dark!Stephen – Mature, Complete

All Stephen wants is for Peter Parker to be happy and safe... with him. When Peter rejects Stephen? Stephen doesn't take it very well. He'll just have to ensure that Peter realizes that Stephen is his future.

Only Of What’s Mine Mature, Complete

Peter wasn't expecting to find an Alpha so soon after turning 18. After all, many Omegas don't bond with an Alpha at all until they're in their mid-20s at least. But after everything on Titan and the Snap and then the Blip and Mr. Stark nearly killing himself to destroy Thanos once and for all, Stephen had taken an interest in Peter. And Peter, god help him, was just as taken with the Alpha. (A/B/O AU)

The (It’s Not Sex Pollen!) Powder of Prana Mature, Complete

Stephen warns Peter to be careful while exploring the Sanctum. Peter, naturally, doesn't listen. The Powder of Prana goes flying. And now Stephen finds himself the only person Peter trusts to keep him from dying. With sex. (Sex Pollen AU)

Private Practice Mature, Complete

Peter Parker's appointment with Dr. Strange doesn't go as he'd planned when the good doctor prescribes a certain medical procedure. (Medical Kink/Medical Play)

Yours to Break (But Always Mend) Mature, Complete

Peter’s tears had long since stopped, replaced by weak, hitched sobs sometime after what might have been the sixth or seventh blow. He couldn’t remember why snapping back at Stephen like a brat had seemed like a good idea. He couldn’t remember why breaking the rules in the first place - starting all of this - had seemed like a good idea. (Dom/Sub)

I Know the Storms Will Always Come (But I Still Love to Have You Around) Mature, WIP

After Endgame, Stephen returns from another dimension to find Peter's life threatened by Quentin Beck's schemes. He undoes the damage and takes a struggling Peter into his care.

Peter needs time and a safe place to rebuild himself; Stephen's happy to provide that, even as he works to push aside the feelings he has. It's a tricky line to walk, setting boundaries and structure for Peter while imagining those same things in a very different context.

As Peter begins to come back to his usual self, personalities and wills clash, occasionally helped along by a certain Witch and a perpetually amused and exasperated Librarian. And Stephen finds that he can't plan for everything.

These Inconvenient Fireworks Mature, WIP

After a battle, Mr. Stark crosses a line with Peter. Peter, tired of being on the receiving end of Mr. Stark's anger, asks Stephen - who's witnessed everything - to take him away. In doing so, Stephen starts down a path with Peter he didn't see coming.

Alternatively: Peter's heart gets broken and Stephen helps put it back together.

Updated 23 Sep 2023

It’s All Routine Mature, Complete

Peter Parker is back at Dr. Strange's office for a physical required by his upcoming internship. He's hoping it will be quick and easy, but when Dr. Strange finds out that he hasn't had a physical since he was a young child, his hopes are dashed. Dr. Strange intends to be very thorough. (Medical Kink/Medical Play)

You Kiss Your Sorcerer With That Mouth? Mature, Complete

During a mission, Spider-Man lets some choice words for Dr. Doom slip. Stephen's less than pleased at Peter's disregard for how he's supposed to conduct himself as Spider-Man when he's in the public eye. He gives Peter some time to think about what he's done, and has a creative way to ensure Peter thinks twice before doing it again. (Domestic Discipline)

Help Me Up, Let’s Keep On Running Mature, Complete

Peter and Stephen have several rules set up in their dynamic. The two biggest? That Peter will look after his health and well-being, and that they will always be honest with each other.

Peter manages to break both of them in one fell swoop, and Stephen is none too pleased.

Discussions are had, actions lead to consequences, and Peter emerges from the experience secure in the knowledge that Stephen will do whatever it takes to make sure he's cared for and loved. (Domestic Discipline)

I Can See The Man That I Fell For Fighting Mature, Complete

It was supposed to be a quick in and out job. Just into the study to grab his book he’d left in there by accident the night before, and then out before Stephen even knew he was up and about. Harmless.

It wasn’t his fault that Cloak decided it needed to follow him around like some overly nosy puppy. Or that Cloak decided it needed to join him in the study as he looked for his book. Or that Cloak had decided to apparently “guard” something in the study in way that just screamed suspicious and naturally piqued Peter’s curiosity.

In and out, no harm done.

But when it became clear that Peter was overstaying his welcome in the space, Cloak had also felt the need to snitch.

He’d really, really fucked up. (Domestic Discipline)

This Back's Not Going to Break So Easily - Part 1 of 2, This Back’s Not Going to Break So Easily - Part 2 of 2

Mature, Complete

When Peter comes to Stephen upset and insisting he needs to be punished, Stephen knows something's wrong. Given a chance to calm down and feel safe, Peter explains what happened while he was at the Tower working in the labs and interrupted by Harley. Stephen reassures Peter that he did nothing wrong and does his best to comfort him.

Also featured: Stephen confronting Tony and Harley like a boss, Peter and Stephen's love, trust, and mutual respect for each other, lots of fluffy/dirty teasing, and pizza. (Domestic Discipline)

And I Let the Knots of Time Come Undone Mature, Complete

After breaking one of their established rules, Stephen finds himself at Peter's service for the day. Tasked with his least favorite chores, Stephen tries to maintain his sanity and make it through, all while reluctantly admitting to himself that all things considered, he's getting off easy.

If only he could get rid of that damn bell... (Domestic Discipline)

Our Road Gets Better With Every Bend Mature, Complete

Peter's getting ready for his junior year at Columbia. But before he goes back to school, there's the matter of his 21st birthday to deal with. Which is inevitably going to affect The Rules he and Stephen have. And what should be a nice night out for Peter's birthday takes a bit of a detour when a former acquaintance from Peter's freshman year unexpectedly runs into the happy couple.

Stephen's not jealous. No, not one bit. (Domestic Discipline)

Maybe If I Hold You Close, Baby We Could Just Let Go Teen, Complete

While the idea of accompanying Stephen to the high-brow fundraisers and charity galas seemed glamorous at first, Peter found the reality turned out to be much more disappointing. Everyone looks down their nose at him; people are forever swarming Stephen and flirting with him; and Peter usually finds himself alone, bored, counting the time until they can leave. However, he keeps attending in the hopes that he'll finally get a chance to dance with Stephen like he'd imagined.

One night he gets to dance with a surprising friend, which may finally lead to a bit of happiness at the damned events going forward.

Or Stephen might take issue, if another friend doesn’t take it upon herself to give him a clue. (Domestic Discipline)

I'm Counting On A New Beginning, A Reason For Living Mature, Complete

Peter's been in a bad mood and his recent stretch of bad luck isn't helping matters. Stephen hasn't been able to get through to him, and even when Peter takes his punishments for acting out, something's off. Worried about his partner, Stephen tries to think of what it is he might have done wrong. Upset, Peter pulls away.

It takes a bad set of prototype arrows, saving someone's life, a friend snitching, a stern Dr. Palmer taking control of a situation, a very un-teamlike spying session, and an uncomfortable discussion or two before Stephen and Peter are back on the same page. (Domestic Discipline)

Man, What Are You Doing Here? Mature, Complete

He only had one final left to take... and then he was done with everything until the fall semester of his final year as an undergraduate. Since his final wasn’t until Thursday afternoon, he didn’t see the harm in going out with some friends to celebrate and cute loose on Tuesday evening.

Would he have chosen a bar? No. He wasn’t supposed to drink on school nights and honestly, he preferred going to the movies or a show. But he was in college and honestly, it wasn’t like it needed to be a big deal.

And it wasn’t like Stephen needed to know. (Domestic Discipline)

Cold Comes From the East Side (Ch. 1)(Ch. 2)(Ch. 3) Mature, WIP

Peter breaks one of the rules in a spectacular way and suffers the consequences. It's rare for Stephen to actually be angry with him, but given the circumstances, Peter supposes the anger is more than earned. It's a hell of a situation for the pair of them and Peter wonders if they'll actually make it through. (Domestic Discipline)

Published Chapter 3 on 14 August 2023

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue Mature, WIP

In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, Peter Parker has few options left after he's swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he's running out of time before he's out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a "lack of personal fulfillment and settling down," he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man's profile suggests intelligence and compatibility. It's not ideal, but if after a year it's not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It's a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It's either going to be forever or it's going to go down in flames. (Domestic Discipline, 1950s-Modern Fusion AU)

Updated with Chapter 34 on 25 April 2024

Nevertheless, Recover Mature, Complete

Peter finds himself once again in Dr. Strange's office, hoping to find a reason and a cure for his latest ailment. He's come to the right place, since Dr. Strange will do everything it takes to diagnose and treat Peter. Hopefully, Peter will survive the embarrassment. (Medical Kink/Medical Play)

Doctor 13 Fics (Christine Palmer/Sharon Carter)

Baby, You Don't Gotta Fight Mature, WIP

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7

Dr. Christine Palmer is just living her life, content in her job as a trauma surgeon and happily moonlighting as Peter Parker's general physician at her old friend Stephen's request.

One evening as she finishes up examining Peter, she encounters the force of nature that's Sharon Carter, who seems to have a reckless streak a mile wide.

She's not sure what to make of the spy-turned-Avenger, but she can tell Sharon's hurting, and Christine's healing nature won't be ignored.

Iron 13 Fics (Tony Stark/Sharon Carter)

Feels So Right, Can’t be Wrong Teen, WIP

Prologue | Yellow Tulip | Blue Salvia | Yellow Narcissus | Red Morning Glory

The setting: Sanctum General Hospital in Sanctum Heights, New Amsterdam

Starring: Sharon Carter - former Central Security Bureau operative, Selecting Spouse in a horrifically failed Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections marriage, patient AND Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark - owner and CEO of Stark Industries, Futurist determined to rebuild a world his father built weapons to destroy, love interest

With Appearances by: Nurse Wong, Orderly Rintrah, and Billy the Admin

And Featuring Doctor Stephen Strange as "the Surgeon"

Or, "Five Dates Tony and Sharon Had in Her Hospital Room and One They Had After She Was Discharged"

Updated 23 November 2023

The Phoenix Protocol Mature, WIP

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

No one else but Tony thought anything was off about Sharon. Investigating on his own, he discovered and brought down her Skrull impersonator and when he found the real Sharon near death, he made a choice that would change both of their lives.

MISC

This is What I Brought You, This You Can Keep

Stephen Strange/Clea Strange/Peter Parker - Mature, Complete

...who is he to deny the woman he loves - the woman who has seen into his soul with all its trials, agony, and dreams and loves him because of it! - who is he to deny her anything she desires?

If you feel so moved, feel free to buy me a cup of coffee! Couldntbedamned's Ko-Fi

#couldntbedamned fic #master list #reader fic #sfw post #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #starker #tony stark x peter parker #spiderstrange #stephen strange x peter parker #doctor 13 #christine palmer x sharon carter #iron 13 #tony stark x sharon carter

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interstyx · 5 months

Text

A Commentary on Kenosis

Like all good ideas, Kenosis came to me in a nightmare. The very night the subtitles for Episode 5 dropped, I went to sleep with the words “let’s reset these memories, one more time” haunting me as I gave spin after spin to the implications. I dreamed up the events of Ch1 a few hours later, a very close match to what ended up written. It was an unforgivingly clear nightmare, yet somehow it was hazy in that way that you can only experience while under a high fever. Must’ve been some real-time hours of swapping between N and V’s perspectives while living through a torturous loop of physical sensations.

Next day (a Sunday), the first thing I do after my morning coffee is hunt for fanart, and I find this piece – one of my absolute favorites (whose source I neglected to save).

The message couldn’t be any clearer. The world was hammering into my head that I had, needed to write this nightmare.

Writing it was torturous. I’ve never done gore before, and I discovered right here that I have an ill tendency to get too much into the role while picturing a character’s perspective; for the first time in my life, my writing physically affected me, and after each session of writing V’s surgery I’d end up hurting in a vaguely similar way. The nocebo effect was insane, really. I’d heard plenty of stories about the insane ways authors connect with their stories (a favorite one of mine is hearing the voices of their characters narrating the events to them, forcing them to stop when the narrator would break down crying), but I didn’t really buy them before. I guess this is my Special Cursed Power Technique unique to me or something.

What’s worse, each passing day the idea would spiral further and further and develop into an actual plot I couldn’t help but feel enthusiastic about. SIGKILL and The Waves appeared in my head either the same day or one day and the very next, and one too many sessions of listening to ətˈæk 0N tάɪtn (that’s an actual song title, and the phonetic spelling of Attack on Titan) gave me the finisher that The Waves demanded, though the events that’d become I Mak Siccar were always much more fuzzy in my head (which I think is easy to tell on reread), then later a Tumblr post by multiversal-pudding (who’s awesome) made me realize I couldn’t end it in such a shit note and handed me the right way to do it on a silver platter. If it weren’t for them, this story wouldn’t be half as good as it is.

I wasn’t sure if the concept had any life in it, so I posted Ch1 with the idea of it being a one-shot. Much to my dismay, it was pretty widely enjoyed, much more than any of my previous work anywhere. Another of the many special signs from the universe I got while writing this was that a friend DM’d me Ch1 on Discord saying “I think you’ll enjoy this one” and only realizing who wrote it when the AO3 embed with my nickname popped up. Really, I was just bound to writing the full thing now.

The way I wrote V from SIGKILL on is heavily modeled off my mom. This is intentional — V’s mood swings and impulses largely come from how she’d treat me earlier in life. Partly by planning, partly by discovery, Kenosis was supposed to be closure for my relationship with her, an attempt to work through the ways she felt when I lived with her, and when I moved with my dad. Their ways of talking are quite similar, too, so that saved me a good bit of dialogue torture — I wrote a good chunk of V’s dialogue just picturing what my mom would say and MDifying it a bit.

But sometime during writing The Waves, I had to draft out an abstracted hallucination of the real events in Ch1. I don’t recall where that bit ended up, it’s something about a hole opening up in V’s torso, and things pulling stuff out of the hole then shoving new, weirder stuff in. It clicked then, a quarter of the way through writing the chapter, that I was drawing imagery from a real event I’d repressed. I recall that the moment it clicked, my stomach wrenched.

This isn’t to imply that the actual events in the fanfic are an allegory or metaphor — fuck no. That’d have some abhorrent implications that I absolutely repudiate. It does mean, however, that I ended up connecting to V a lot more than I'd ever done with my characters (more than I wanted).

Slowly, Kenosis started growing and growing, occupying more and more of my head. There were stretches where I’d procrastinate through days of uni work because I couldn’t put my mind off it until I’d written enough to tire my fingers (not that much, I have little stamina most days). It even started haunting me in the twilight zone between laying in bed and falling asleep, wrenching my gut at times. It was not long before I finished The Waves that it registered that pouring this much of myself into a fanfic series and suffering that much for it was a wonderfully silly predicament to be caught in. The robot goobers really didn’t need to live through my abstracted deliriums of trauma.

I’m still not happy about it. There were much easier, healthier ways to process this trauma, but hey; what’s done is done. I’ll have to live with “projected deep personal trauma onto fanfiction” in my sin record. A year from now I’ll come back to this and laugh at how self-serious and melodramatic I got about these characters, how desperately I wanted to write V a happy ending, but right now I’m also very proud of how much I managed to achieve here.

It was tough, it was personal, it took a lot out of me, and I’ll never forget that month or so where I categorically refused to work on this stupid project until I’d gotten back on track with uni, right after I Mak Siccar, with V at her absolute worst and the end still an entire chapter’s worth of suffering away.

In our journey past trauma, we find ourselves back there over and over, and the things we find strength in can sometimes hurt us too. There’s definitely wrong ways to overcome it, and it leaves us pained and hobbling for a long time — but with time and friends on our side, healing is always at hand. God, that’s such a cheesy way to put it, but this whole thing’s cheesy as shit. I think that’s just the way I am.

I’d like to think I made it through just like V, and this is a recounting of my journey rather than a fantasy of victory. I don’t know yet. I might never. I just really, really want to hug her.

At first I meant for Kenosis to be just a quick test before moving on to larger projects where I could express myself better. Now I doubt I ever will. I’ll miss writing this dearly. I adore Uzi, N and V deeply and I hope I can keep this connection I’ve built to them for a long time.

Enough sulking. Thanks for reading.

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hellsbeenbettersincehesplit · 2 months

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A oneshot character study of Husk based on one line from the pilot, focusing on if he were arospec. Cross-posted on here under the cut!

i lost the ability to love years ago

In life, Husk had only felt anything that could lead to a romance twice.

The first was when he was young and foolish. He’d had a few close friends. It began with lust, attraction, fascination. He caught himself staring, wondering over card games. He began fantasizing about a future the two would spend together. He’d done so many things he hadn’t cared for just to spend more time together. Looking back, he’d sometimes chuckle at how much money he’d lost- he could never keep his poker face.

He’d considered asking his friend out. He’d been ready to make a move, but life got in the way. The two drifted apart. Eventually, Husk’s feelings faded.

For a long time, he thought he’d blown his only chance. Sure, soulmates were a corny thing to believe in- but he hadn’t felt anything like that again for so long after that. What other conclusion was he supposed to draw?

The second time was for the woman he would one day marry. He worked in his family’s casino; she was a showgirl. He’d do magic tricks of one kind and she’d do another, and they’d both get the money off of someone or other. The two would meet up for drinks after their shifts every now and then. It started with physical attraction- she was gorgeous, who wouldn’t admire her? As time went on, and as he got to know her, he admired her sarcastic sense of humor, her jaded attitude, her creativity, her wit, even her ability to match him drink for drink.

He pursued her the conventional way. They’d gotten married in the deserts, because they didn’t want a Vegas wedding- what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas, and as objectively false as the saying was, the location choice was about the sentiment- he wanted them to be a pair everywhere, forever. He’d briefly tried to become a stage magician, and while the career didn’t pan out, she had a genuine admiration for his skill. He’d eventually settled in Vegas and the two ran the casino together. They had a child, and it dawned on Husk one day that somehow, he’d ended up with a perfectly conventional life despite being a casino owner in Vegas.

Romance always struck Husk as odd. The idea of love at first sight was so popular, but Husk had always understood a difference between lust and romantic potential, and the latter never had anything to do with what he found at first sight. His friends would all laugh and call him a cynical bastard, and eventually, that’s how he saw himself. The same as everyone else, just a bit cynical about the whole romance thing.

She’d died of illness. It was a slow death, and she deserved better. He never remarried. He’d just maintained the casino his family had left him with his child and grew his wealth. He died of liver failure as an old man. It had been a miracle that it hadn’t happened sooner.

When he never found her, he knew in his gut that his wife had gone to Heaven. He was glad. As the years passed, Husk realized that his kid had also gone to heaven, whenever they’d died. Husk himself had gone to Hell. This wasn’t a surprise- he’d spent his life scamming people out of their money to accumulate his own wealth. He missed those two like they were a beating heart that’d been ripped from his chest, but more than that, he was relieved that the two most important people to him hadn’t gone where he did.

He opened up a new casino in Hell. It was scarily successful- so many souls were willing to gamble it all. On some level, he could understand why- they were in Hell. They didn’t exactly have much left to lose. He hadn’t even intended to become an overlord, but people kept betting them when they’d ran low on cash, and it was shockingly easy to just write a few clauses that the souls they gained at the casino would go back to Husk. The more souls he had, the bigger the casino got. The bigger the casino got, the more desperate sinners flooded in, ready and willing to bet even their soul for a chance of winning it big. The more power he amassed, the more he wanted more. The more he wanted, the more risks he’d take to get it. At some point, because he’d been on such a lucky streak, he began to view himself as untouchable.

Every demon knows that there are seven rings in Hell for the seven deadly sins. Pride, wrath, greed, lust, envy, sloth, and gluttony. In the end, it could’ve been greed, gluttony, or pride that was Husk’s downfall.

In the end, it didn’t actually matter which of the three it was.

He’d gambled. He’d lost. He’d bet his souls. He’d lost those too. He ran out of things to bet, and bet his soul. He’d never imagine he’d lose this badly. He should’ve cut his losses early on. He lost his soul and everything he’d built the entire time that he’d been in this pit.

The irony wasn’t lost on him that his downfall was the same way he’d screwed over so many sinners. It wouldn’t surprise him if that’s why the radio demon chose this specific method of taking down another overlord.

He quickly found himself as the radio demon’s favorite pet, as much as Husk despised it when he would use that term. The overlord thought flaunting the fact that he owned husk was fun in some sick kind of way. Husk found himself constantly needing a drink to cope with where his afterlife had gone- a habit that the radio demon picked up on. Suddenly, Husk was always around alcohol, always growing more dependent, always looking for the solutions to his problems at the bottom of a bottle.

He sometimes wondered if losing his soul meant he’d lost his ability to love. Sure, it was always rare. Probably rarer than any of his friends in life had felt such things, but everyone was different. Still, one day it had finally occurred to Husk that he hadn’t felt any kind of romantic attraction in decades. Just one more thing Alastor had taken from him. He chose to ignore that he hadn’t felt anything like that before he lost his soul. Plenty of souls down here were in relationships. Clearly, Husk wouldn’t have lost his capacity for romance when he died, so he must have lost it in that game of poker. Overlords affected the souls they owned in ways that were hard to understand at times, it wasn’t beyond reason to assume this could be a side effect.

Husk’s gambling only got worse after he gambled away his soul. He was the misguided soul with nothing to lose. Being at rock bottom meant he had everything to gain. His skill with poker hadn’t dissipated, and he’d make enough money to buy himself something nice every now and then.

The radio demon hated it when Husk was on a winning streak. Every time he’d start to get back a little bit of what he used to have, it’d all be lost again. The radio demon was always there, ready to remind Husk of his place.

If he ever wrote a memoir, he’d call it Husk: The Modern Sisyphus.

One day, the radio demon just. Disappeared. He stopped calling Husk, stopped having Husk do odd jobs, stopped being in Husk’s life. He could still feel the heavy, cold weight of the green chain around his neck, weighing down his every step. Husk still couldn’t go back to his old power. But the sinner who’d given those orders had vanished. It hadn’t taken him very long to figure out that Alastor had made a deal of some sort, and probably had to stay away for some reason or another.

Husk had started doing his stage magic again- it felt a little ridiculous in a place with actual magic, but his old heart still had a passion for these silly tricks.

Of course, the radio demon didn’t stay gone. Nothing good that happened to Husk could be permanent, not in Hell. In the blink of an eye, after seven years of peace, he was whipped from his latest game of poker and stuck bartending for some failing hotel. That was where he’d met Angel Dust.

Husk was attracted to the man. Of course he was. But Husk had never been one to think with his dick over his brain, and his brain told him that the spider was just a glitter and show with no proof of substance underneath. Husk didn’t let himself get flustered by the flirting. He had a perfect poker face, it was easy for him to identify someone else’s mask.

Husk thought Angel Dust was attractive. More than that, Husk thought Angel Dust was annoying. Until Husk finally got him to open up. Suddenly, it was like Angel was a prism that had just been exposed to sunlight, and Husk was seeing the hidden beauty that’d before been just out of reach.

Husk had thought selling his soul had cost him his ability to love, until a third person finally awoke those dormant romantic feelings in his heart. If he’d known about modern day labels, he likely would’ve identified as somewhere on the aromantic spectrum. Instead, he'd just accepted romantic attraction as something rare, and Husk moved on with his miserable afterlife.

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