#i'm indecisive about the rating for this fic

[astersatdawn]

Nightmares Forged From Fractured Peridots

Relationship: Midoriya Izuku & Sensei | All for One

Rating: Not Rated

Sensei | All for One is Midoriya Hisashi, Bad ending, Izuku has been vaulted, non-consensual (platonic) touch, non-consensual haircut, non-consensual Quirk use, referenced non-consensual drug use

Oneshot (Series) | 8.8k words

What a failure he was. Not able to stop All for One, not able to prevent his own arrest, not able to find his mother or the exit that would let them escape this labyrinth All for One used to trap them. Continuously running in useless circles of conversations with this demon in some desperate attempt to regain control. 

All for One sought a fantasy and deemed all of Izuku’s dreams as illusions in parallel. Izuku hated the tiny part of himself that was scared that those hopes were as futile as All for One insisted they were. 

-

[Or, another day, another failed escape attempt from All for One’s prison, and the consequences that come with Izuku’s failure.]

ao3 link: here

This is a sequel to Brimstone and Emerald Dreams (tumblr/ao3) but it is (probably) not necessary to read that fic before reading this one.

And just like that, it was over again.

He tripped, and then there was a hand wrapped around Izuku’s bicep—it was not a friendly gesture to keep him from falling, but a chain to drag him back to his cell.

“Izuku, what did I say about running in the halls?” All for One chided, maneuvering Izuku to face him as easily as manipulating putty in one’s hands. His other hand clamped onto his other bicep, keeping Izuku firmly in place, even though it was a paralyzing Quirk and not his grip that kept Izuku from running now. “You could get hurt.”

There were plenty of responses he could’ve said to that. He could’ve simply said that it’s too late for that. Izuku could point out the bruises from where his fists pounded against the walls, could point to the dried blood beneath his fingernails and the missing skin from his overly bitten lips. He could point to his own heart, rotting beneath his decaying ribs, or how his flesh sank inward despite how he fought for something more than a bone-brittle existence.

He could even scream about the thunderstorm in his chest, the one that rumbled whenever he was dragged to and fro on a whim, the one that raged when his father spoke of his mother’s treatment, the one that bristled with every patronizing word out of All for One’s mouth, spewing sugar-coated nonsense about the nuclear family he had shattered with his own two hands—how Izuku was always to be his parent’s child, an object to be smothered like he’s nine rather than sixteen.

Assuming he was still sixteen. 

He might be older, he didn’t know. Time is knowledge, and All for One, knowing Izuku is one to protectively cradle every detail close to his chest, would withhold far more than he ever gave, but still led him on with something like the possibility of answers, knowing Izuku would hang off his every word if it meant Izuku could gather one of those sparse fragments.

And All for One had given some answers at first. Not many. Some already known, others new, everything chosen with a meticulousness perfected by time. He’d kept Izuku in stasis as he carried his freshly woken body outside and walked around the barren streets of a city Izuku could not name—the only signs it had been a city once were the abandoned vehicles, the dilapidated storefronts with their half-burnt signs, and the charred scraps of bones and picked at skeletons. 

“I want you to understand where home is now, Izuku. There’s nothing out there for you—nor is there anyone who would accept you as you are, not like me. So stay here. You need to do nothing more than that.”

Maybe everything out there was truly all ashes. Maybe there was nothing, or no one, left for them to find. It was hard to be worried about a what-if when anywhere was better than here—it’s why he had to believe there was something else left out there. A friend, a stranger. Anyone. News to uncover. A sanctuary for two tucked away out of All for One’s sight. A desperation for a better life that kept Izuku running no matter how many times All for One insisted there was nothing better left. The world could not be lost, and their world could not be contained to just this place.  

He wouldn’t let the carefully selected scenery erase his dreams of hope, wouldn’t fall into the trap that was the logic of a megalomaniac man. Giving up on his wishes meant more than giving up on himself. He had to keep trying for the sake of his mother and whoever else still lived and fought another day in All for One’s Japan. 

So the statement “you could get hurt” was the most redundant thing Izuku had heard since he was brought here. It was far too late. Izuku was bruised and bleeding and holding on by the skin of his teeth. 

Telling All for One that truth was out of the question. 

But with the way Izuku was held, unable to move anything but his facial muscles, he knew a response was necessary.

“I know.”

“If you know, then you shouldn’t do it.” All for One sighed. “You’d get hurt less if you just listened to me, Izuku.”

Izuku held back a scoff. It’s obvious All for One wasn’t just referring to running in the halls, or any other prior admonishment for something treated like a childish antic. Ever since Izuku woke up here All for One played up the loving, concerned father as if that’s all it ever was. While he was not wrapped in layers of chains like he had been before, the thinness of his wrists, irregular doses of drugs that kept him even weaker, and the thick walls of the vault did nothing but remind Izuku that, as welcome as he was to be here, this was a prison and not a home, and this place had hurt his family more than enough. 

All for One had implied that obedience—that giving up—would change Izuku’s situation. Claimed that Izuku giving in to every one of All for One’s demands to act as the adoring son would make his quality of life improve, that he would get everything he wanted and that he’d never be in pain again. But Izuku knew better. If he agreed to that he may as well consider himself more corpse than man, for the heart that beat within his chest would no longer be his own. 

If getting more hurt would get him out of here, he would continue to accept that over succumbing to a bleak existence. 

Listening to All for One was not an option—it didn’t matter how frayed the rope Izuku clung to was, all that mattered was getting his mother out, and making sure enough of himself was left to go with her. Letting go—giving up—meant the end.  

He couldn’t give a half-hearted shrug in response, shoulders frozen as they were. Instead, all he did was mumble a quiet “I know.”

“No, you don’t. If you did know that we wouldn’t be here.” All for One’s hands squeezed his arms. “You’re making things far more difficult than they need to be.”

“I know.”

“Do you know how to say anything else?”

“Nothing that I want to tell you, and nothing that you’d listen to.” 

All for One sighed. “You’re proving my point. I’m not your enemy, Izuku. I’m your father—you can trust me.”

“Sure I can,” Izuku muttered, bitterness laced more heavily into his tone than it had been before. 

“What am I going to do with you?” He shook his head. All for One was silent for a long moment. Then he lifted a hand and his fingers were running through Izuku’s hair, curls falling past his chin. “I suppose that can come later. You’re overdue for a haircut.”

“It’s fine—” 

“It’s getting tangled.” All for One tugged on a small tangle to prove his point. “If you’re not going to take care of your hair, you shouldn’t let it get this long.”

Izuku bristled. It’s not like Izuku purposely let it get this unkempt—outside of Izuku’s rebellions, all decisions that should be his were instead ripped away from him. His schedule, from when he ate to when he bathed, were not his to decide. His clothes and appearance were not his to decide. Any tool, be it a comb or a toothbrush, were quickly classified as something Izuku would try and use to help his escape, and thus kept from him. With that structure, Izuku’s only means of managing his hair was with his fingers. 

“I can take care of it.” 

“Clearly not, you’re doing a poor job of it.” All for One ruffled his hair, making it messier than it already was, further empathizing just how much control he exhibited over Izuku’s every choice, or lack thereof. “Come on, let’s get that taken care of.”

Without warning, All for One adjusted his arms and lifted Izuku up. 

“I can walk,” Izuku spat out, unable to kick his way out of the hold. 

“You can, but you don’t need to. I can take care of you.” All for One squeezed Izuku like it was supposed to be a comforting touch. “And considering your display just now, I know you’re not interested in taking a walk.”

“I’ll walk,” Izuku insisted between gritted teeth. 

“And I’ll carry you. I want to take care of you, my little prince.” All for One ran his fingers through Izuku’s hair, passing by the knots that had formed since Izuku’s last struggle to pull them apart, and tilted Izuku’s head towards his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I have too much lost time to make up for.”

Time Izuku would rather spend away from him, but he knew saying that would make All for One more unbearable than he already was. Every touch kept his hairs standing on end, the stone in his stomach sinking deeper than it already was. Already, Izuku was sick of it, and it had only been a few minutes. Every disagreement seemed to increase All for One’s clinginess, and considering Izuku had an unwanted haircut coming up, Izuku knew he was nearing his limit of coddling before he said something that would get him a worse punishment than usual. He couldn’t risk losing too many windows of opportunity, not when they were already so limited.  

Tartarus had been a kinder place to him if only because it kept him out of All for One’s clutches for a while, even if that proved to not be enough—how long had it been since Izuku first found himself in captivity, struggling and failing to get free and do what needed to be done? 

What a failure he was. Not able to stop All for One, not able to prevent his own arrest, not able to find his mother or the exit that would let them escape this labyrinth All for One used to trap them. Continuously running in useless circles of conversations with this demon in some desperate attempt to regain control. 

All for One sought a fantasy and deemed all of Izuku’s dreams as illusions in parallel. Izuku hated the tiny part of himself that was scared that those hopes were as futile as All for One insisted they were. 

It continued like that for the next few minutes: Izuku, stuck stiff in All for One’s arms, fingers in his hair, silent and stewing in his resentments while All for One acted all merry. They didn’t go to Izuku’s cell, but a hallway not far from it, that Izuku had already inspected through a mixture of his escape attempts and All for One dragging him around. 

Their destination was a small multi-purpose room, shelves stocked with miscellaneous items ranging from hair care products to silverware. On the opposite wall of the door there was a sink, and above it, a mirror that captured the both of them: Izuku, glaring off into the distance, eyebags and pale skin illuminated by sickly lights, matted hair curling just beneath his chin, held tight like a trophy to All for One’s chest, who smiled not with that of deranged madman’s, but with something almost peaceful. 

Izuku would not be surprised if, before, this room had been a torture chamber, considering the centerpiece was a chair with multiple leather straps hanging off of it, which was right next to a miniature surgical table that already had a pair of scissors and a brush on top; even if it hadn’t been, he certainly felt tortured every time he was brought in here like this.

All for One gently set him down in the chair, and began to restrain Izuku. It was done with a practiced hand, one hand deftly tightening straps and buckles around Izuku’s arms, legs, and chest, while the other was still somewhere on Izuku—his hand, his knee, his shoulder, his head—to keep the paralysis Quirk in use. 

When he was done he ruffled Izuku’s hair and let him go. The second Izuku felt his limbs were his own again he tugged at his restraints, pulling up and forward and squirming no more than an inch. 

“It’s cute that you still think you can escape,” All for One cooed. Izuku felt the brush run through his hair, tugging and pulling with rapid strokes.“You’re not leaving unless I let you, Izuku.” 

“I literally just got out without you letting me.”

“No, you didn’t. You left your room, but you didn’t leave.” A yank. A few strokes more, each growing more gentle than the last, before it stopped altogether. He heard All for One set the brush back down on the table before he  walked over to the shelves, and picked up two bottles to compare. “And even if you found your way to the exit, I know you wouldn’t go, not without Inko.”

Izuku’s nails dug into his palm. He wished it wasn’t so obvious, if only if it meant Izuku knew something All for One didn’t. She had to be in this building, All for One had implied as much, and even if it was a lie, Izuku couldn’t take the risk of leaving her behind in this sort of place. Her presence was another cord for All for One to pull, but also a reward to give if Izuku submitted enough for All for One to attempt recreating the sham of a family he so desperately wanted. 

And he had seen her, more than once, since that condition became clear. 

Part of him hated that fact. He had fallen so far that he’d been seen as compliant, and yet, seeing his mother reignited him more than memory ever would. It was hard for those dinners not to, seeing the wariness in her darting eyes, her gentle voice gone mouse-quiet and fragile, resignation a heavy mantle on her shoulders, as playing her part meant she could see Izuku again. The truth of the matter was, as much as she was tether and treat for him, so too was he treat and tether for her. 

Every minute, every word, and every touch, was just another opportunity for both of them to break, and compliance meant falling apart faster—Izuku could only hope that his choice to keep fighting would give her the strength to not give up all the hope she had left. 

“...Where is she?”  

All for One settled on one of the bottles and grabbed a towel before heading back towards Izuku’s side.  

“Do you really think I’m going to tell you that?” The towel flapped out of sight before All for One tucked it around Izuku’s shoulders. “We just established her location is your goal with your escapades, Izuku.” 

From somewhere behind him, he could hear the squeak of a faucet, and then the rush of water splashing against the bottom of the sink. It wasn’t a consistent stream, as he could hear the water shifting as All for One’s hands moved under the water. 

“When will I see her?”

An amused huff. “You should know by now disobedient children don’t get what they want.”

“She’s my mother. If you’re going to discipline me then she should be involved.” 

“And you don’t need to see her for her to be involved, Izuku. You should know parents discuss things without their children.” Abruptly the back of the chair was pulled down, and Izuku’s eyes shut as warm water fell onto his forehead. All for One’s hands were back in Izuku’s hair. Instinctively Izuku tried to pull his head away, only for All for One to drag his head down more firmly into the basin, before using the Quirk to keep Izuku still. “You seem quite desperate to make some sort of progress today. Any particular reason for that?”  

The answer was a contradictory matter: there was a reason, in the same way there wasn’t one at all. A realization had struck him as he lay awake, waiting for the illusive mercy of sleep, that Izuku had no milestones to measure the length of his imprisonment. Izuku did not know when the last time he saw the sun or the stars was. He had no way to count the days, no concept of time—All for One made certain of that; the limited light in his cell never changed, and when his pacing and plotting became tiring Izuku tried to sleep with little way to distinguish between a minute and an hour. He had no clue how much time had passed between his imprisonment in Tartarus and the first day he woke up here—all he had was the memory of passing out in heavy chains in his tiny cell and waking up to the echoing chill of metal walls and the warm hand of a familiar-stranger Izuku never wanted to speak to again.  

All he had were those questions that he gathered and guesswork swirling inside him and melding into a desperate voice that slithered through him. Pick up the pace, his heart had hammered. Every minute here is a minute too long, every minute spent is another you fail to save somebody else, his toes restlessly curled tighter. You’re not supposed to be this useless again, get out, get out, get out, and his guts would spill out between his fidgeting hands, as he uselessly stared at walls for hours and hours as if waiting for sleep or death or salvation despite knowing he was the only one able to fight for it.   

Inaction built up every word, until the rambunctiousness of that inner voice had driven him to do something, anything, to get them one step closer to freedom, to find quiet in the adrenaline that guided him down labyrinthe halls, eager to find something more than fragmented hope. 

And instead he failed again. 

Now that voice was knocking, and despite the many ways All for One had to make Izuku’s body another prison, he could never capture his mind and silence a voice not even Izuku could quell. 

“No,” Izuku replied, and it couldn’t even be considered a lie.

“Nothing at all?” All for One hummed.  “There’s no shame in saying you simply miss your parents.”

“I only have a mother worth missing,” Izuku snapped before he could think. 

The hands in Izuku’s hair froze. Nails dug into his scalp, and a thick glob of horror swelled in his throat. 

He knew this would happen, had known coming into this room was a minefield ready to burst, and yet he walked right onto it anyway. There would be no simple, straight-forward punishment for this, Izuku knew that, too. 

“Oh? Then what about your father, Izuku? What am I worth to you?” 

Panicked eyes stared up at All for One, who stared down at him with a predatory smile and chilling gaze. It made Izuku aware of just how close they were—that if Izuku were anyone else, the hands on his head may have already pierced through his skull, uncaring for the mess that’d be left behind. 

Just as Izuku was desperate for escape from him, so too was All for One desperate for the affection of those he called his. The cost to them did not matter, not if it meant getting what he wanted, and denying him even the illusion of it invited the threat to return and rip away something more to get what he desired.

There had been one time before when Izuku had said something that caused All for One to snap like this. What exactly he had said was an answer left behind somewhere between heavy doses of drugs and darkness, but he knew it was something about All for One not being his father—something that opposed the illusion, and Izuku learned the best tactic was simply avoiding such topics altogether. 

And yet, here he was, implying this man had more value by not being around at all. A perfect contradiction to All for One’s disturbed fantasy.

What did he do here? Did he try to backtrack and appeal to All for One? 

No. He couldn’t—not even if he wanted to. Lies had never been his strong suit, but his honesty was still a fine line to balance. He was already due for an extension of the usual punishment, but now that he was in this more dangerous territory, he knew he could inadvertently drag his mother down with him if he didn’t take even a second to think. 

He didn’t mind digging the hole for himself just a little deeper if it meant making sure his mother stayed out of it.  

“I—mom might disagree, but I wish you never came back.”

Other words boiled in his stomach, words better left in the past Izuku could not completely bury, damning ones he vowed to never say, ones he hated himself for even thinking as he had searched his mind for excuses: I regret having missed you—loving you, thinking you were someone I wanted around. 

“How harsh, Izuku. To think you’d say such a thing after all I’ve done for you.”

“What you’ve done for me?” Izuku snarled. Snapshots of memories flashed across his vision: eager Quirk dissections on the couch after a long day and a mocking voice gleefully recounting a massacre, a warm meal for three with bites taken between chatter and laughter and desecrated cities beyond what they eye could see, birthday wishes that reminded him he wasn’t alone and isolated time lost in cold metal prisons, bedtime stories detailing dragons and sorcerers and suffocating visions of the death featuring people he loved. None of that had ever been for Izuku, no matter how often All for One said it was, no matter what Izuku once believed it to have been. All those resurfaced hurts and sickening thoughts festered within him. “You’ve done nothing, I wish you were a deadbeat—it’d be better if you were dead—”

Izuku’s jaw clamped shut without his permission. The dangerous expression on All for One’s face didn’t twitch, even though Izuku’s forced silence was a response enough that Izuku had not only crossed a line, but barreled far past the cliff’s edge. Without a word he shut the water off and lifted the back of Izuku’s chair back into a sitting position, and Izuku didn’t even have a second to orient himself before he was spun around so that he was face to face with All for One. He took Izuku’s face in his hands, cradled his cheeks and drew his gaze up to meet his. 

“What an unheroic sentiment from you, Izuku.” A chill ran through Izuku, hair standing on end, in response to such a cold voice. A drop of water trickled down his nose and crawled to his chin. “I’d almost be proud, but we don’t wish for death for our family, even in anger. Do you understand me?”

He felt a weight lift off his tongue, though it didn’t feel like less of one, considering it simply sank past his pounding heart and into his stomach instead. “Yes.”

“What was that? I can’t hear you, Izuku.” 

“Yes,” he said louder. Yet All for One’s expression did not shift, and Izuku knew at that moment he was expecting something more: appeasement. Izuku had seen All for One like this once before, only days after Izuku woke up here; once was enough to know it wasn’t worth ignoring again—he’d almost lost his chance for any opening to escape at all. He knew he wouldn’t be so lucky a second time. He was too close to teetering back into the very same darkness he was trying to avoid. One more wrong word, and he knew he’d never see light again.

A shaky inhale, a trembling heart—how useless of it to waver only now. How pathetic it was that he had to grovel at all, to cave into demands he had been clawing against not even a minute before. A hurried exhale—again, again—not fast enough as thumbs rubbed into bone. A desperate gulp—it was all simply another heavy stone to swallow. 

“Yes, dad. I’m sorry.”

How quiet those words were, syllables ashes on his tongue. The inflection probably didn’t matter—in the end, it was just another victory for All for One. Words had power, and for all the defiance Izuku could spout, if he was forced to kneel long enough to keep himself afloat, All for One would consider it another step closer to the obedient puppet All for One wanted him to be.

The strings dictating Izuku’s life were not all his to control anymore—one by one All for One plucked at the cords that created Izuku’s core, and as much as they vibrated with resistance, one day, Izuku suspected, All for One would be fed up because, as much as he tried, Izuku would never be what All for One so wished him to be. 

Izuku could not be here when that patience snapped. He’d already poked at the edges of it, and he was scared to find out what would happen to Izuku and his mother when he couldn’t bounce back. Yet, there was no telling how long All for One’s patience would last—while All for One was ancient, even he could not be forever patient, not when Izuku’s lifespan was far more limited than his. 

“Very good, Izuku.” The worst of the menacing aura faded, but Izuku knew it still lingered. He’d be walking on a thin tightrope until he was alone in his cell. “Thank you for your apology. You’re forgiven.”

For now went unspoken.

As if a final act of reconciliation, rather than the prize All for One saw it as, All for One held him like he was a pet owner comforting a sodden dog, petting his hair and holding him close. Izuku felt tears rise to his eyes, but these were not tears of relief. 

They were tears for all the things Izuku could never say, for all the pieces of himself he had to neglect to make sure they had a chance at getting out of here, for all of his failures and the mistakes he couldn’t name.

All for One would claim them as his, though. Tears for the regret of harsh words, for an imagined, repeating, grief if he were to leave Izuku again—even if both of them knew that was not the truth. 

They would both dream. All for One dreaming for it to one day be true, Izuku dreaming for the day he and his mother got the freedom they longed for. And in those dreams they lived, clashing and coexisting, determined to achieve their reality, utilizing every tool to reach their goals, and snuffing the other’s out until there was nothing of it left. 

Fingers threaded through his hair, and after minutes too long, All for One let him go. A wistful sigh. “Well, we do need to resume your haircut. I’d rather it doesn’t dry first—unless you have any objections?”

Another test. Izuku’s eyes flickered down to his lap. “...no.”

A doubtful hum.

“I need a haircut,” Izuku murmured. 

“That’s right, my little prince, you do.” In the corner of his eyes Izuku watched All for One pick up the scissors. Something twisted in his stomach—the scissors were less dangerous than All for One’s hands on him, and yet, the sight of something that could so easily be turned into a weapon left him even more unsettled. He wondered if it was because, once, he had been comforted by All for One’s physical affections, or if it was because he’d grown so used to them again; he hated the part of himself that wondered those things—it was the same part of him that didn’t offer another possibility that was kinder to his heart. “I’ll take care of you.”

A sharper twist. Izuku swallowed his tongue, and even though he was restrained but not paralyzed, he didn’t move an inch.

All for One’s movements were slow and thoughtful, but that didn’t keep him from chatting between each snip. 

A question about Izuku’s thoughts on a Quirk theory. Snip. Asking how Izuku enjoyed the book All for One had been reading to him. Snip, snip.  A harsh, off-handed reference to a hero Izuku admired—nails digging into palm and a clenched jaw. Snip. A quiz on the applications of a gravity Quirk that didn’t feel as theoretical as All for One tried to make it sound; tears bubbling within lowered eyes—a shaky breath as Izuku gave a careful answer. Snip.

Izuku felt a bundle of strands fall onto the back of his palm. Snip. They shook in time with every snip. Snip, snip, snip. His hair was pulled back and his skull jostled with it—the lost hair fell off of his hand and drifted onto the floor, featherlight and free. Snip. A hand on his cheek, the turn of his head. Snip. Up, down, pulled around gently like a little doll. Snip. Snip. 

Hot whirling air in his ear, something running through his hair. A chill as it dissipated. The room seemed to grow colder and colder as All for One kept swiping at his hair. Snip. The circling of a vulture around Izuku as if he were a corpse ripe for the picking. A passing thought spoken aloud Izuku had no response for. Something metallic set down.  

Hands on his cheeks and the edge of breath—they were so warm, but Izuku longed for the cold again. 

“Oh, you look so cute Izuku.” A kiss to his forehead and the ruffling of his hair. All for One moved to stand behind Izuku, one hand curled over his shoulder and the other under his chin nudged his gaze back up. “And so much like your father.” 

Izuku barely recognized himself in that mirror.

His hair was short, just a bit shorter than Izuku had ever let it get. It had always been a deliberate choice to never let it get cut to this length. Even as a child, this short curly hair had reminded him of his father. It may not have been as nightmarish when he was small, but now that Izuku knew more, having the similarities between them so starkly presented made him sick.

He could see the hint of his sharpening jaw, the shape of his eyebrows, the curve of his ear—similarities Izuku could hide when his hair was just a little longer. Before his imprisonment, he’d been considering letting it grow out even more, as if his thick hair could bury his secrets. Now even that choice was ripped away from him, and Izuku was forced to confront the things he never wanted to face.

Ignorance was not an option, not when All for One wanted to engrave this truth into Izuku’s very soul.

“Your father did a great job, didn’t he, Izuku?” 

A prompt, and Izuku knew he couldn’t risk ignoring it. Not after earlier. Bile soured his throat. “Yeah. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Izuku.” All for One pat his cheek. Through the reflection Izuku could feel All for One’s unrelenting stare. What All for One saw at that moment, Izuku didn’t know—he didn’t want to know. Whatever delusion All for One saw fulfilled in this moment was one Izuku never wanted to understand. “You’ve had quite the eventful excursion today—it’s time we get you back to your room.”

All for One spun the chair around to face him and then reached for the first of the latches. Izuku remained still as they came undone, one by one. Twitched as the last one came undone, and froze again as he saw All for One’s expression: taunting, expectant—ready to make Izuku’s existence more miserable, even if that’s the last thing All for One would call it. 

Izuku remained seated. 

A hand ruffled his hair, and Izuku flinched at the touch. A light twitch of the lip, but All for One made no comment about it. 

Careful inhale—shaky, quiet, exhale. Izuku’s hands curled into tight fists. How pathetic it felt to be compliant, how much his heart raged and his mind screeched louder the echoes of every error that got him here, but even more clear was the one voice reminding him that if he didn’t leave himself the possibility of opportunity, there would be no chance he would save his mother, let alone himself. He had to get her out of here, no matter what. 

Izuku moved, slowly, eyes on All for One, whose face betrayed nothing, to get out of the chair. Every movement felt like a test, even as Izuku simply stood up before All for One. Not running. Now wasn’t the time to go, even if he wished it was. Even if Izuku wasn’t monitoring his every twitch with such intensity, he would know now would be a poor time to run, even if earlier he would have tried to catch All for One off guard anyway.

Once it was clear Izuku wasn’t running, All for One’s smile grew and he ruffled his hair. Some demented reward—a pat on the back for All for One, a signifier of victory that Izuku had been forced to hand over. Then did nothing else; expectant, again, and this time, Izuku had no guesses as to what.

Izuku shifted on his feet, warily eyeing the space between All for One and the door. There’s no way All for One would let him walk back unsupervised, especially not after the conversation earlier. A step out of line, and Izuku could imagine the dark encroaching on him, the heavy restraints—cold stillness and warm adjustments—the sharp pain in his elbow keeping him half-lucid, and his mother’s crying voice—whatever this was now was the true tipping point.

Don’t mess up. Run. You’ve taken too many risks today—no, not enough. Ignore your instincts. They’re the only thing keeping you both alive and safe. They’ve ruined this attempt. Move, freeze, figure it out, figure it out. 

“Um…” Izuku hated speaking first. Not only was initiating the conversation the last thing Izuku ever wanted to do, but it was inherently a risk. All for One waited for the day Izuku spoke to him of his own free will of mundane things, but when that day was nowhere in Izuku’s foreseen future, it meant more conversational minefields to maneuver than normal. “Was there, uh… something else…?”

The only response was All for One’s poker face—still smiling, not telling if Izuku tipped towards total damnation or his ability to fight another day. 

Izuku hated it, but he hoped he had the right card to play to get the clue he was missing.

“Um… Dad..?” His voice cracked.

“Sorry Izuku, I was simply lost in thought,” he said with absolutely no sincerity, but his tone didn’t sound as menacing as before—Izuku didn’t breathe easy, but he didn’t feel like he was about to be thrown off a cliff. “You’re quite eager to get going, aren’t you?”

“Um…” Sounding eager translated to wanting to get away from All for One, which while undeniably true, was always the wrong thing to say. His brain scrambled for some reasonable excuse. “I… I’m just… tired. Sorry.”

Something flashed behind All for One’s eyes, but before Izuku could decipher its meaning, it was gone.

“Oh why didn’t you say so?” Like it was an invitation, All for One swept Izuku off his feet again. His arm was already out to strike out when he froze, the answer hitting him far later than it should’ve. 

Because of course this was what All for One was after—no matter what Izuku tried, he never let Izuku walk between rooms without restraints that kept him from running, and especially not after any escape attempt. Today, the restraint was All for One himself. He probably only let Izuku get away without directly asking All for One because Izuku called him dad without prompting.

Izuku did not want to decide if asking All for One to carry him or calling him dad was the worse choice of the two. 

With robotic stiffness Izuku lowered his arm, and All for One chuckled. “You seem surprised.”

“It—it was just sudden…” Izuku stared at his twined hands. 

“Hmm. You certainly seem more tired—you’re quieter than usual.” Was that an admonishment or not? Izuku couldn’t tell. He raised his shoulders in a short-lived shrug. All for One adjusted his grip to make Izuku lean closer to him. “We should get you to bed.”

An underlying implication—no meal first. 

It was a minor punishment; it had been an internal debate in the earliest days, to eat the food provided to him or not. It was better than the prison gruel he’d been living off before—sometimes it was even recognizable as his mother’s own cooking, which was something that he couldn’t bring himself to reject regardless of the circumstances—but accepting any of it still felt like some sort of concession, especially when each meal was a roulette wheel of if he’d be taking another dose of drugs Izuku could not name. 

In the end, Izuku knew if he wanted to get the two of them out of here, he needed to build up the strength he lost while in Tartarus, even if the efforts felt futile, and he was, at best, kept at a too-weak baseline. 

It also meant this would likely get back to his mother, and he knew she hated seeing him hurt himself in that way. It hurt her emotionally, and made Izuku feel guilty when he hadn’t before—a small, but effective punishment. He could feel that guilt settling in his stomach now, his mother’s face on the forefront of his mind.

“Okay,” he murmured, even quieter, trying to sound more tired than he felt. 

Maybe this was the best outcome of the day’s events. While he made far too many mistakes today, it seemed  All for One might be leaving him alone sooner than he would’ve had Izuku not made such a massive blunder. 

All for One still filled the silence as they made their way back. Izuku was careful with his responses, slower—easily explained with the cover he’d given himself earlier. It didn't take long before the door to his cell opened again, and he was once again back at where he started.  

All for One set him on the bed in the corner of the room, and took his time to tuck Izuku in like he was a toddler again. He fidgeted with each movement, but didn’t outright stop it, even as All for One ruffled his hair and Izuku felt the back of his head sink further into his pillow. 

“Um… night..?” 

“Sleep well,” All for One said, giving no hint to what the actual time was.

Izuku closed his eyes, and listened for the sound of All for One leaving.

And waited.

And waited.

He wasn’t leaving, was he?

Izuku tried to keep his breathing even. He knew All for One had seen him asleep, but he’s not going to open his eyes to check if All for One is watching him fall asleep—or just watching him in general. That unsettling feeling creeping over Izuku’s skin was enough of an answer, even if in another scenario someone may have brushed it off as paranoia. 

This wasn’t exactly unusual. He would never get used to the staring; it was uncomfortable as it was normal. 

Worse, he knew All for One knew his status because of Search. Even when he tried to fake it, he’d know if Izuku was really asleep or awake—not like being in either state would change the situation. It truly didn’t matter to All for One, and that may have been the worst part of it all; it never mattered what Izuku did, his existence alone was enough for All for One’s attention to be on Izuku. 

This may have been another punishment in of itself. Izuku would have gotten back up a few minutes after All for One left and started pacing—there were too many pent up feelings inside him to sleep. When he was moving it was easier to focus on what he needed to do next; trying to sleep made it too easy to spiral into the past. 

It was no surprise he didn’t sleep often.

Only when Izuku’s thoughts became so incoherent that they stumbled over themselves did Izuku find himself passing out for unknowable lengths of time. If none of the words inside of him could be understood, there would be no regrets to linger on while he rested. 

All for One staring at him, combined with the restlessness simmering inside of him, meant there was no way Izuku would stop thinking, let alone sleep.

Could he think himself into unconsciousness? Plan and review ideas for future escape attempts with All for One sitting so close to him? Could those ideas get so loud they’d drown out all else—would they consume him if he let them ring loud enough? 

Something ran through his hair and Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin. “Trouble sleeping? Would it help if I sang a lullaby?”

Izuku kept his eyes closed if only so he didn’t glare at All for One. “...if you want.”

The fingers in his hair toyed with his curls as All for One began to sing something low and familiar—something from a collection of vague memories, so distant it was easy to forget. Nightmares hadn’t been strangers, even as a child. From his youth they had clung onto him, never letting go, growing from tigers to monsters with every year that had passed. 

And in those moments, when his weakness was made transparent in the dark, it was not always his mother he ran to.

He remembered a hand in his hair like this, shaking as his fingers sunk into fabric desperate for an anchor. As tightly as he held on, so too was he held, shielded from all other eyes, as Izuku would find comfort in a heartbeat and that low voice that always sang this same rhythm. He’d been so small back then, so small and unknowing, so easy to carry back to his room—”you need to let go of me now, sweetie,” his mother squeezed him as she set him back on the floor. 

He looked up at her, clutching the bottom of her skirt. “But I don’t wanna.”

She laughed, and with such a gentle smile, she spoke, “I think you’ll like what’s out there.”

Izuku glanced toward the door in the distance, soft sunlight peeking beneath the gap in the bottom. The light looked nice, but he couldn’t help but glance back up at his mother. “But what about you?”

“What about me?” 

“I don’t wanna leave mama alone.”

“You won’t be.” She crouched down to meet his eyes. “Because I know you’ll come back after you have some fun, and then the two of us will be together again.” 

Something tugged at his soul, and he looked back towards the door. His tiny fingers began to unfurl, but didn’t let her go. “You won’t be lonely?”

“No.” She smiled. Slowly, he let her go. “Have a good day, Izuku.”

He grabbed the handle, cold beneath his scarred hand. Yet he couldn’t help but look back, find a reason to stay a moment longer, extend this conversation before he was forced to leave her again. “Do I look okay mom?”

His mother shuffled closer, muttering something under her breath as she fixed his tie. “You look great, my little hero. Now get going, or you’ll be late.” 

“Okay, I’m going, I’m going. I’ll come back.” It felt like such a heavy promise, even though he wasn’t going far. 

“I know.” 

He opened the door and stepped into his classroom. Immediately, a group of heads gathered in the far back corner lifted up and met his eyes.

“Deku!” Uraraka waves.

“Midoriya-kun! Please be mindful of the time! You were almost late!” 

“There’s seven minutes before class starts.” 

“That’s two minutes before the five minute bell! Students should arrive at least 30 minutes early—”

“Isn’t that a little overkill prez?” 

Iida launched into a lecture about the merits of arriving early, and while Izuku let the lecture fade into the background, thinking about how much Iida cared about all of them soothed him. He went around the classroom greeting his classmates: smiles and laughter and previous days discussed—Kacchan’s words gruff and dismissive even as he leaned towards the closest conversation to listen, Todoroki’s quiet recollection of his most recent visit to his mother, Uraraka cheerfully recounting a few great sales she and Tsuyu stumbled upon as they wandered the mall the day before, Jirou recommending music to Kaminari and Yaoyorozu leading into a discussion on synesthesia, the updated score for Kirishima and Ojiro’s recent set of arm wrestling matches, another match demanded with Ashido and Hagakure cheering them both on, Satou passing out treats, each uniquely decorated and getting thoughtful compliments and gushing excitement and gratitude from the rest of his classmates.

“I missed this,” the words slipped out of Izuku’s mouth.

“Missed what?” 

“I… I don’t know.” Izuku shook his head. He set a hand above his chest—for such a lovely moment, his heart seemed so still. His fingertips felt so cold, yet his chest, unbeating as it was, felt so warm. Tears slipped out from his eyes, and he brushed it aside, watching it dry on his flesh as if it could give him an answer for why peacefulness felt so foreign. “But… but, I’m here now, so—” 

A startled gasp, a tight tug on his scalp—Izuku scrambled to sit up but his limbs locked in place, his body manipulated by hands that weren’t his. 

His pillow was gone. Instead, his head rested on All for One’s lap, and now he stared up at him, utterly frozen beneath that cold anger that had no origin Izuku could name. 

Yet, as quickly as that anger had appeared, it was gone, and All for One stroked the top of his head as if to heal the lingering aches. “It’s good to see you awake, Izuku.”

He slept? No, of course he had—pieces of the dreams still lingered, even if the gentleness that had tried to hold him was quickly fading into a longing ache paired with a quiet apprehension. But if he had been asleep, what had bothered All for One so much to wake Izuku up so violently?

“While you were asleep, I spent some time contemplating your punishment.” Of course everything before now hadn’t been enough—his teeth clenched, trying to figure out what could be coming, even if the alarm in the back of his mind already told him, if it was coming so suddenly like this, it wasn’t meant to be guessed. “Your sudden bout of tiredness gave me an epiphany, and so I decided that this time, I’d choose your punishment based on a gamble.” 

“A gamble?” Izuku echoed. What sort of gamble would All for One make while he was asleep?

All for One’s hand cradled his cheek, his thumb tracing the dark eyebags beneath Izuku’s lids. “Truthfully, I never liked watching you sleep, Izuku. My time with you was already limited, and even more was taken from me whenever you needed to rest. I had a choice to make when you were younger: did I let you keep a regular sleep cycle, and risk you running away from me as you grew older, or did I trap you within your delusions but knowing you’d physically always be close by? I made my choice, and we’re here now as a consequence of that.” 

Izuku shuddered—had he really been that close to being imprisoned in his own mind as a child? 

Then, a worse thought: there was a reason this was coming up now, and an unsettled dread crept through his veins. 

“But now I realize—neither of those had been the right answer at all. And so, that brings us to my gamble. I wondered how much your dreams changed, my little prince, and so, I decided to find out. Lullaby, Deepened Sleep, Dream Toggler, Gentle Dream, Dream Reader—all of those Quirks to test your subconscious. If they showed something I liked, then I’d keep things as they were before, and pick a different punishment.”

A gamble Izuku was always destined to lose, then. All for One would be the delusional one between the two of them if he had truly expected any other outcome—but maybe, the more likely truth was that All for One knew the outcome of his self-made bet from the start. If he hated his previous decision in hindsight, and found a better solution during the perfect time to implement it, there was no way All for One would pick any other alternative.

Even more violating was the fact that the kindest dream he’s had since he’d arrived was no longer only his to remember. 

Maybe Izuku should be more surprised that his dreams were intruded upon. Yet, with All for One’s obsessive need for control, it was surprising it had taken this long—already, his body was not always his own to move, and sometimes words he never wanted to say were ripped from his throat. So how long would Izuku’s mind be his sole solace from that control? How long did he have before even his every thought was overheard? 

“You’re familiar with the gift I gave your uncle, and I’ve decided I’m going to give you a similar one.”

“A Quirk?” Izuku couldn’t hide the horror in his voice—it was both an inexplicable worst case scenario and one that didn’t make any sense. “You—you can’t get that back, not without—”

Not without taking One for All. 

“I won’t need it until you’re ready, Izuku. Until then, I’d rather you hold onto it—it’s called Sleepless. Its purpose is rather simple: you don’t have to sleep anymore, Izuku—you won’t be able to even when you want to.’

That… that didn’t sound like the worst thing. He may not be able to escape his own thoughts, but more time awake meant more time planning to escape and getting out of here. He had to be missing something—there’s no way it could be that simple. 

“The best part of that Quirk is that, despite the purpose of that Quirk, it doesn’t grant any immunity to sleeping Quirks. You’ll still be able to sleep when I need you to, Izuku.” All for One tapped the skin next to Izuku’s eyeballs. “Maybe with this those eyebags of yours will finally clear up.”

Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed. “When…  when you need me to?”

“That’s right. Unlike before, I can spend all your waking hours with you, and when I have to go away, you can finally sleep. You won’t be able to use that convenient excuse to get out of spending time with your father. We can be together for as long as we want—isn’t that great, Izuku?”

Izuku stared up at him, wide-eyed with horror and rage. Every muscle in his body yelled with desperate need to fight, to resist; his skeleton desperate to rip away from his flesh and bring Izuku’s mutilated body somewhere out of All for One’s reach. But he couldn’t even shake his head, couldn’t even snarl every word trapped within his clogged throat. That demented, gleeful smile peered down at him, fully aware of the turmoil in Izuku’s gut, but eager to achieve an unexpected checkmate. 

Every waking moment spent with All for One, trapped in stasis when he wasn’t. Every expectation of Izuku’s imprisonment had just been turned on its head. Up until now every plot, every attempt, had been made when All for One’s eyes were drawn away from him. Maneuvering around All for One’s moods on a semi-regular basis was difficult, but if he had to spend all his time doing that?

When would he have the time to figure something out? How could he sneak away when All for One would watch his every move more closely than before? 

Izuku hadn’t thought there was a worse punishment than being half-aware in the dark—didn't think this situation could get any worse at all.

All for One’s hand fell over his face, could see the streaks of red light as something shoved its way through Izuku’s flesh, only had one thought as the sickly taste of Sleepless crammed itself into his skull, and its influence spread its roots beneath his eyes.  

He was wrong. 

#mha #bnha #dad for one #dreams that are(n't) mine au #i'm indecisive about the rating for this fic #considering the tags #so i'm going with not rated how spooky #anyway surprise i actually wrote a sequel for once #this happened because i wanted to try to write something worse than b&ed and had the epiphany that i could in fact write a sequel #and there might be more to this au but i will not make promises #but just know i have plans. evil plans #considering how this au (and fic) spawned i've decided the nature of this series is literally “how can i make it worse” #the fact that this is hurt/no comfort hurts my hurt/comfort loving soul i hope you all know this #(but boy do i also love angst) #astersatdawnfics #my fic #long post

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

okay so the lovely @kybercrystals94 has let me proof-read their WIP Cadet Batch AU fic and I have Unexpected Feelings

Something clicked as I was reading...

The Batch are Gifted Children.

Do you know what one of the problems with Gifted Children is?

They don't know how to fail.

The Batch are fantastic the whole time they're on top. 100% mission success rate, able to handle anything

Then Order 66 and the Empire happens, and suddenly the world they are so used to excelling in has changed. And when they are used to succeeding so easily, every little failure, every mission gone not-quite-right, seems absolutely world-ending.

Echo is different. Echo came from Domino Squad. He knew what failure was like. He knew what it was like to work and try and still fail and then work harder and try again to eventually succeed. Echo has a different mind-set to the rest of the Batch (and we could go on a whole tangent about closed vs growth mindsets here if we wanted to)

I know people have talked plenty about how the Batch falls apart after Echo leaves. How Tech and Wrecker squabble and Hunter can barely wrangle them. I know people have talked about how Hunter becomes paralysed by indecision, so afraid of making the wrong call he stops making command calls at all.

But it just throws a whole new light on it when you look at the Batch as Burned Out Gifted Children.

They never learned to deal with adversity. Oh they knew how to fight. But not real adversity, not how to cope with things that were outside their very clearly defined Strong Suits without going to pieces the first time things don't go right.

(I feel like I ought to go back and have another look at Omega as I feel like she probably has a healthier mindset than the rest of the Batch)

Anyway I've run out of thoughts for now but I have Feelings about this and I'm not sure what to do with them

#this evening's rambling bought to you by a Former Gifted Child #Echo my beloved you need to teach the others how to overcome adversity because you have done just so much of that in your life #the bad batch #the bad batch analysis #long post #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb tech

[phoebe-delia]

A Nice, Relaxing Night

I missed @l0vegl0wsinthedark's birthday recently, and while I hardly need an excuse to write them something, I'm certainly glad to do so; meanwhile, it is a gift for me to reflect on the fact that I'm not just writing a fic for an author I admire endlessly, I'm also giving a friend a birthday gift. L0ve, you've made my world brighter before you knew who I was. Thanks for spending another trip around the sun in this fandom. Here's just a little token of my appreciation, gratitude, and love.

Rated M.

"I don't see why we have to go," Harry said from their bedroom where—at least, Draco hoped—he was getting dressed. "Wouldn't you rather stay here and have a nice, relaxing night in?"

Draco huffed, rolling his eyes in the bathroom mirror. "We sent in the RSVP a month ago, Potter. We have to go. This is the last gala of the fundraising season. You'll be free soon enough." Draco held up two ties to his shirt, pursing his lips in indecision.

"Maybe the Ministry could give the money they spend on these galas to the organizations themselves," Harry argued. "Then, we can stay home, and money goes to the right places. Win-win."

Draco laughed. "I'm afraid these non-profits need more help than the Ministry's annual gala budget can provide. Besides, it's the best way to get donations from the stuffy old Pureblood crowd. They like to be wooed. Now, are you almost ready?"

"Almost."

"Potter," Draco huffed, knotting his tie. "The whole point in me laying out your outfit earlier was so you wouldn't have to spend all this time picking it out." He finished the knot, checked it in the mirror, and strode into the bedroom. "What's taking so lo-ong," he stammered, jaw dropping slightly.

Harry sat on the bed, leaning back with his arms propping himself up. His white button-down shirt was half undone, revealing his toned chest but obscuring the abs and stomach Draco knew was underneath. His trousers were just barely acceptable for polite company but showed a defined bulge that had Draco's mouth watering.

Harry looked downright edible. And from the look on his face, he knew it, too.

"Fuck me," Draco whispered.

Harry laughed. "Sorry? Didn't catch that. You'll have to come closer," he grinned, crooking a finger in a come-hither motion.

Draco felt himself moving—nearly floating—toward the bed and climbed into Harry's lap, resting his hands on sturdy shoulders. One look into glittering, knowing green eyes sealed his fate. "Perhaps we've attended our final gala for the year," Draco breathed.

Harry smirked up at him, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist. "But what about the party? We did RSVP after all."

Draco pouted. "But wouldn't you rather have a nice," he punctuated his words by grinding his hips in Harry's lap, causing the other man to toss his head back and shut his eyes, "relaxing night in?"

Draco watched in satisfaction and felt Harry twitch beneath him as he bit back a groan. "You make a good point," Harry said, his voice strained. He opened his eyes and smiled wickedly, making Draco shiver. "But whatever will those stuffy old Purebloods do without us there to woo them?"

"I'll show you wooing," Draco growled. He pushed Harry back onto the bed, pinned his fists to the mattress, and kissed him.

#happy belated birthday l0ve! #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #rated m #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #harry and draco #draco and harry #hpdm #draco x harry #drarry fanfiction

[jade-len]

hello yes i'm that one guy who was asking if people would be interested in svsss x / & gn or male reader fics (also tysm for the comments?? like i was not expecting so much support. i really appreciate it!)

i've decided on writing idea 3 first, the bingge one! ...albeit with a lot of tinkering lol. if you don't know what i'm talking about, feel free check out my last (and first) post.

however, because i am very indecisive and absolutely cannot make many decisions on my own without some guidance or opinion, i would like to ask for a little feedback!! please choose which idea you like more, and i might write that one first.

i feel like the themes in both ideas are pretty similar, though just approached a little differently. i don't really wanna spoil how it'll entirely go ofc.. but there def is more to them, i hope it'll be sorta clear once i present both routes!

i can't promise i will go with the more favored idea, but it will definitely heavily influence my final decision! please don't be afraid to ask any questions, i'll answer :)

if i end up choosing the one you were less interested in, don't worry! remember, this is what i'm going to be writing first. it doesn't mean i won't write the other one too.

route 1:

an enemies to friends to lovers type deal! a slow burn fanfic where you are pretty much the opposite of shen yuan's passive nature, absolutely fuck with luo binghe's plans (at least, the ones you know of..), and slowly find the small, bruised boy hiding under that proud front. will be rated M.

that manipulative bastard, luo binghe, hurt everyone you loved and cared about. he tarnished the sweet gongyi xiao's reputation, seduced your fiance, and shredded the small, remaining pieces of self worth you had left in your heart.

you played right into his clawed hands, believing his charismatic front and pretty lies. you were naive, downright stupid. you and huan hua palace welcomed luo binghe with opened arms after he crawled out of the endless abyss, and because of it, those you cared for suffered.

really, you were so easy to manipulate. if only you noticed earlier. you couldn't do anything. no- you wouldn't do anything. if you weren't such a coward, perhaps this would've all been prevented. this isn't fair for everyone else. why did you get to live, while those who fought back and stood up against luo binghe had to suffer?

the survivor's guilt eats you away every waking moment of your life. and, when that's not happening, your sleep is plagued with nightmares of what could've been.

it's too late. luo binghe is now the almighty emperor of the two realms. he can easily overpower anyone who gets in his way, and especially you.

while you certainly wish to beat luo binghe, you don't hate him.

maybe this is just the softer side of your brain, but for some reason, you can't shake off the empty, miserable look in his eyes. even as he's surrounded by countless of maidens and riches, luo binghe looks as though he he'll never be truly fulfilled.

what is it, luo binghe? do you need more power, more gold? a hundred more women, perhaps? do you regret killing them? do you regret not killing more? why is it that even with your intricate mask, behind it is a hollow shell?

it's strange. you should absolutely detest him, but instead, you pity the king. luo binghe is a man who has everything, yet it seems as though he cannot find any sort of happiness through it.

when you travel back in time - exactly right after the demonic invasion where luo binghe was pronounced dead - you are determined to make things right.

you won't let anyone suffer from his wrath. you'll play your cards smart with that very same poker face luo binghe uses. use your knowledge of the future to your advantage. be smart, all the way from the start.

when luo binghe enters huan hua palace, you are the stronger, better person you were too scared to form into before. "gifted with the knowledge most people can never obtain," the old palace master says. you're an essential part of the sect, whereas you were nothing before. maybe not the head disciple like gongyi xiao, or the child of the master like the little palace mistress, but definitely akin to a secretary in the disguise of an ordinary disciple. someone with very valuable information.

you'll save your dear friend, gongyi xiao. you'll save your fiance, and, hopefully have her be with someone who isn't a manipulative, two-faced asshole. you'll save everyone.

(perhaps you'll save a poor, hurt boy, too. one whose been hiding from his cruel shizun for years, using the face of a proud demon to muffle the sounds of his crying and the breaking of his already cracked heart)

you know luo binghe's advantages. you know of his plans. let's just hope he doesn't find out about yours and change up his too much.

aka, you severely confuse and frustrate luo binghe (why the hell aren't his plans working? who are you? why do you look at him as if you can see right through him?), and luo binghe severely confuses and frustrates you too (why the fuck is luo binghe doing that? that totally goes against what he was supposed to do! hold on, hold on- new plan guys!).

both of you are smartasses who are also, secretly, simultaneously dumbasses going against each other.

route 2:

this'll most likely be rated T, but it may change.

luo binghe stripped you of your very being. you were once someone who was proud and undeniable, and now, you are a person that people only pity and grimace when your name is mentioned.

you hate it. you hate him. you can't even remember what the outside world looks like anymore, you can't even remember that wretched man's face. the only thing that is burned into your mind is his demon mark and those cruel scarlet eyes. the only thing that runs through your head is revenge. the only reason why you're even still alive is because of the glimmer of hope that you'll do the exact same things he did to you.

you fought back against him early, while he was still rising the ranks. continuously, you tried warning people about his capability and evil nature. yet, no one listened to you. and then, it was too late once people realized. fuck! everyone was so stupid, believing his pretty face and lies! you'll get back at him, you'll carve his heart out and present it to his wives, the world, and everything that he has. you worked too hard to reach to where you were before luo binghe destroyed your reputation for daring to step in his way. you went from a mere nobody to a powerful cultivator, and it just all went downhill from there!! for... months? or years? you don't remember anymore - you wished to the heavens for a second chance. you'll correct his wrongdoing. only evil lies in his heart, behind his deceitful, flowery words.

after suffering from a qi deviation, your wish to prevent any of that destruction is granted, and suddenly you've been transported back into the past. way, way before you've even heard of the name... wait, what was his name? fuck, fuck! you don't even remember the outline of that- that monster!

you'll still get back at him, though. you recognize your clothing and the time.. it seems as though you're still just a wandering, rouge cultivator. if your calculations are correct, then you'll have more than enough time to prepare. when you fought back, you were still weaker than him. you'll get stronger and take him down before he can even dare to lay a finger on your hard work.

on your journey to gain even more power, you come across a poor, abused boy. he reminds you all too much of yourself. luo binghe, the orphan says that his name is. your heart can't help but still at it, but it's probably for no reason, right? you're in a little shock after literally going back in time.

how could this small boy with such pure, starry black eyes, hurt you after all? how could anyone hurt such a sweet thing, too? it's a shame how monsters like that man take advantage of people like luo binghe. a white lotus, you mentally nickname him.

he frequently visits you with a wide smile and some lovely tea (where did he get that from? this is some really expensive, fancy stuff. he couldn't have gotten it without stealing it from somewhere really nice, like shen qingqiu's stash, or something... haha, he would never! that pure boy!). you keep on telling luo binghe that he shouldn't miss out on sleep just to say hi, that maybe he should be with his friends instead, too. luo binghe doesn't talk much about his life at the peak, but it's nice to chat with him.

when you realize what's exactly going on, you take him under your wing. if shen qingqiu can't appreciate the little lotus, then you will (you'll put him right under that man on your "revenge" list.. which only consists of them two). perhaps it'll be good to have a successor, a disciple you can pass your teachings down onto. it would be handy to have someone else's help once that monster's actions come into light, after all.

its then you decide, you'll protect the little luo binghe, too. the world is much too cruel, and it'll especially be under that demons' ruling. you won't ever understand how people could become so evil, downright monstrous. you swear on your life, you'll keep that man in your grasps and end his tyranny.

unknowingly, you've already stopped it the moment you held your hand out to that very same monster.

oh, what will you do once nothing happens to you or anyone? once you begin to remember more and more of that man's face and find out just who exactly you've helped?

aka, you're an utter buffoon worrying over that man, while that same man is now just a little guy wanting to please his kinder (and kind of more improper) shizun.

. . .

i've planned a little more for route 1, but i have a pretty good idea for route 2 as well. route 1 will most likely be a little longer than 2 too since it's a slow burn with scheme-y little shits. ever since i posted, i've just been trying to plan out the plots lmao. please leave your thoughts! or not, but thanks for using your time to read all of this lol.

@happycandydinosaur @tuxibirdie @wilczymotyl sorry if you guys expected a full chapter with me tagging you three but i promise after this, i'll (hopefully) have a chapter ready! tysm for supporting my last post :)

#should i do male reader or gn uuggghhh i have no idea help #btw in the first one you may or may not be able to pin binghe down in an angry hot enemies to lovers fashion #i love both of them #sweet baby white lotus binghe and feral manipulative ho bingge #im having a hard time choosing which one to do first ok #svsss #luo binghe #mxtx svsss #the scum villain's self saving system #white lotus binghe #luo bingge #luo bingmei #x reader #x male reader #x gn reader

[cadybear420]

9. For the domestic prompts!

Milestones

Fandom: High School Story (Original Trilogy)

Pairings: Aiden Zhou x Evie Ayana (female HSS MC)

Characters: Aiden Zhou, Evie Ayana (female HSS MC)

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Talking, Conversations, Just Married, Fluff, Future Fic, Timeskip Fic, Aged-Up Character(s), Married Couple, Newlywed Couple

Word Count: 1,279

Summary: After coming home from their honeymoon, Evie has a special thing she made for her and Aiden.

A/N: This took a while for me to come up with an idea for, but it's nice to have written something for it now. I definitely wanna write more fluffy/cute stuff for Evie and Aiden. Also keep in mind I'm still indecisive about Evie's last name, I'm currently using the original one I had for her for the sake of the fic but I may end up changing it (or not).

Prompt: "Did you ever think we'd make it this far?"

Source for prompts here. Feel free to send me another prompt number for me to write for Evie x Aiden with!

Glen and Bridget Zhou’s car pulls up just in front of Evie’s house. Evie and her husband-of-three-weeks Aiden step out of the car, and Evie grins as she sees her house again. 

“Home sweet home.” 

“You want us to help carry your luggage inside?” Glen asks.

“Yes please, thank you!” Evie replies. 

The four of them carry the luggage from Evie and Aiden’s honeymoon trip, into a space in the living room, then go back outside to send off Aiden’s parents.

“Thanks for driving us from the airport, Mom and Dad,” Aiden says. 

“Of course,” Bridget hugs them both and kisses her son on the cheek. 

“You sure you don’t wanna stay for a bit?”

“You two are probably tired after that flight, so we’ll let you have some time to yourselves…” 

“That’s true.”

The two couples say their goodbyes, then Bridget heads back to the car with Glen and they drive off. Evie takes Aiden’s hand in hers.

“Let’s go in?”

“Yep!”

They walk up to the front porch of her house. Evie opens the door, but before Aiden has a chance to go inside, she bends down and puts an arm under his knees. 

“Evie, that’s for when we move into our own house…” Aiden says teasingly.

“Yeah, but we don’t exactly have our own house yet, so I might as well do it now.” 

“Classic Evie Ayana,” Aiden chuckles. “The Evie Ayana that I love~”

Placing her other arm under his upper back, she carefully yet swiftly swoops him into her arms, carrying him. Aiden places a hand on her shoulder so he can turn and kiss her firmly on the lips, before speaking in a soft yet husky tone. 

“I love when you do that~”

Evie returns the kiss with equal fervor. “And I love doing it~”

Evie carries Aiden through the doorway and into her house and sets him down on the couch, then goes briefly to close the door. 

“So, what should we do now?” Aiden asks. “Order some McDermont’s, watch a movie… and we seem to have the house to ourselves, so maybe we can do something… fun later?”

“All of that sounds great… but there’s something I need to show you first.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“It’s in my room… you want me to carry you there, or no?”

“I’ll walk this time. Lead the way…”

They go to Evie’s bedroom, and Evie gestures to the wall above her dresser. There, is a string of fairy lights going across the wall. Clipped to the string is a series of photos… photos of them. 

“Evie…”

He gazes across the string of photos, recognizing each event it came from. Their photo from Brian’s pool party on the first day of Berry, their photo from the homecoming parade, the photos from their first homecoming and prom together, the photos from each subsequent homecoming and prom, a photo they took on the Spotlite trip, a photo they took from each of their high school and university graduations, a photo from the day she proposed to him… each of them arranged in chronological order, noted at the bottom with the date they were taken. 

“Evie, this is beautiful,” he says, beaming at her. “When did you make this?”

“I’d been compiling these for a while now, but I officially set this up the night before our wedding…” 

“It’s… I love it.”

Aiden moves up closer to examine the photos at the start of the string– the pool party photo, the parade photo, the homecoming photo, and the prom photo. A gentle silence seems to take over the room as Aiden looks between these photos. 

“Aiden?”

“I… I just can’t believe we have photos together going back as far as our high school days…” he takes a deep breath in. “Not saying that’s a bad thing at all, I just mean…”

Another silence overtakes the room. Then Aiden turns to Evie, meeting her gaze.

“Did you ever think we’d make it this far, Evie?” he asks. “Because… high school relationships aren’t exactly known for being long-lasting. Yet here we are… newly married, with a photo together from the day we met, on your first day at Berry High…”

Evie ponders his question, almost becoming lost in thought. 

“In all honesty? I think I did. To some extent…” she moves closer to him. “I think by the time we confessed our love to each other, I sort of had a gut feeling that we’d last a pretty damn long time. But just like with our love confession… I didn’t want to push us into anything too quickly. I knew of the possibility that we might not last. But obviously what we had at the time was so great, and…”

She pauses, pondering again.

“I guess you could say, whatever our endgame was meant to be didn’t matter all that much to me at the time. I mean, I have always hoped for us to be married one day… but at the time, I was more focused on just keeping up what we had. Because we had a great thing going, and I wanted it to last as long as possible.” 

Aiden’s face turns bright red as he smiles. 

“What about you?”

“Same as you, in a way… it’s weird, cause when we first met, I was the kind of person who couldn’t be bothered to entertain the idea of romance. Eventually, I got over all that, but it was still kind of a mixed bag for me. On one hand, it was hard not to imagine what it’d be like if we ended up having a future together. But on the other hand, I was always afraid something might screw it up for us… like our argument over that basketball game, or when I was about to graduate and go to Terman U…”

He took her hand in his and squeezed it tenderly, his thumb running over her wedding ring.

“But like you, I supposed I was more focused on keeping it going. If it didn’t work, it didn’t work, but so far it was working. A couple of incorrect notes played shouldn’t be allowed to stop an otherwise fantastic recital performance, right?”

“Absolutely.”

He turns back to the photo string, taking one last look at the earlier photos before turning to one of their more recent photos– the photo from Evie’s proposal, three years prior to their wedding. In that photo, the two of them are side-by-side with arms wrapped around each other, Aiden holding out his hand to proudly show off the slender, silver, diamond-encrusted ring that Evie had given him. 

“It’s been nearly eight years since we met, and… here we are.”

“And there are still gonna be more photos for us to add,” Evie says. “Our wedding photos, once they arrive in the mail, of course, and our honeymoon photos… but also many more beyond that. When we first get our own place, if and when we have any kids… and who knows what else?”

“Well, whatever comes next for us… I want it to continue to be amazing.” 

Aiden wraps his arms around her waist and plants a kiss onto her lips. 

“Likewise,” Evie replies. 

Holding him close to her, her hands firmly on his back, she returns the kiss. He kisses her again, and again… and the two become quickly lost into each other for a short moment. 

“I love you, Aiden Zhou.”

“I love you too, Evie Ayana.” 

Evie gives him one last kiss before pulling away and taking his hand. “So… shall we have some McDermont’s, movies, and chill now?”

Aiden squeezes her hand and grins. 

“I’d love nothing more.”

#choices stories you play #choices #choices game #choices stories we play #choices stories we play fandom #hss #high school story #choices hss #choices high school story #aiden zhou #aiden x mc #hss aiden #mc x aiden #high school story aiden #evie ayana (og hss mc) #hss mc #og hss mc #og hss f!mc #cadybear's fanfics #cadybear writes

[hasmashdoneanythingwrong]

Hello hello!

I'm thinking about potentially writing a fic about Mash realizing she's sex-repulsed asexual, however I'm constantly running into the issue of "wait would she react like this" and just generally being indecisive about how I think Mash would feel wrt sex and all that.

Given your icon, I wanted to hear your thoughts about Asexual Mash and if you have any specific headcanons about how she'd approach romance and intimacy?

Unfortunately I don’t think I really can help there. While I do ship Mash and Guda while also having some degree of Ace Mash vibes, mostly it’s just me rotating them in my head like they’re in the same tube in a centrifuge.

If any of my ace followers have any advice though it’d be very appreciated I’m sure!

At any rate, I do wish you luck, and do have one piece of advice: no experience is universal, don’t feel you have to take my or anyone else’s word as gospel.

[ghost-proofbaby]

Oh my days. Ghost. I'm done in. My breathing wasn't right the entire way through that. She's so like him, just as much of a menace and he LOVES it.

The disappointment was real though. I've wondered for the last few chapters how Eddie in particular will behave in front of the others with her, outside of their love bubble.

I'm still so stuck on him telling her she wasn't wanted, that would eat away at me forever, you write her indecision on it all so well. It seems like she's stuck on it too sometimes but then she gets out of her head and enjoys him like she couldn't before. But then she's got this mantra in her head 'you have him for now' it's so sad that she's likely thinking they'll walk away from this and not be with each other like that again, although he's sat there literally saying that she always will affect him that much. Sorry this is super long, I could just talk about this fic ALL DAY.

Also, what's his plan with the cash?! Don't know what the going rate for leathers and a helmet for your new girlfriend is but... 🏍️

firstly NEVER apologize for long reactions!! i live for them (especially when i catch them before they got loss in the dark abyss of my askbox 😭)

that is something important to me that i’m glad you guys are noticing!! all the hesitation and the uncertainty because, like… he was really cruel. which, no spoilers, but he still needs to make up for. all the things he’s said certainly would leave me to believe that it’s temporary, or maybe some weird form of stockholm syndrome that’ll wear off.

as for how he behaves outside of their love bubble? oh yeah. oh, that’ll be talked about. rest easy knowing that’ll be a conversation.

thank you so much for always reading and always being so kind, and for caring as much about this story as i do at the end of the day 🖤🖤🖤

#thank u ily <3 #bat 🦇

[sylphidine]

[Fic] Call Signs, Chapter 27

Yup, for real this time.

Fandom: Deltarune

‘Verse: Human AU

Pairing: Swatch/Spamton [Swatchton]

Characters: Spamton Addison, Swatch Paletta

Rating: Mature

Chapter title: The Wrong Way On The Escalator

Chapter summary:  Spamton borrows trouble.

Author notes:

I've rewritten this chapter six times. Hopefully this version will be worth the wait, dear readers. Kudos and comments definitely welcome, since I've second-guessed myself on the flow of this tale for months.

Content warning for alcohol mention.

-----------------------

The host and the guest sat in matching leather wingback chairs flanking a fireplace, brandy glasses in hand, listening as sleet hit the windows. The guest sat ramrod stiff, while the host’s foot tapped the floor in agitation.

The words burst out of the host’s mouth, without a trace of his usual stutter.

“Why did I do it?  Why did I just walk out? How are they going to react when I say, ‘So sorry, Swatch, I couldn’t handle your good news and decided to go out on the town with an old drinking buddy, and we ended up in bed together along with my drinking buddy’s ex. Such a pity you couldn’t join us.’  That’s going to go over really, really well. Swatch is going to think I'm the worst kind of idiot."

T.M. glared at Spamton, her face hard, her eyes cold behind diamond-shaped eyeglasses, one lens plum, one turquoise. "You're right about being thought an idiot, but not for the reasons you think. Wake up, little worm."

Her response stopped his babble in its tracks and shocked him into silence. That phrase - "little worm” - had always been Mike’s most overused insult for him.

It wasn't Mike saying such horrible things, though. It was T.M., his friend, someone who was as dear to him as… well, anyone.  Why was she being so cruel?

She raised her now-empty hand, and sickly green tendrils shot out from her fingers across the room towards him.

His mouth opened and closed, but he couldn't make a sound no matter how hard he tried.

He could still move, though. He wouldn't become a puppet again. Not for T.M., not for Mike.

Not for…

Not for anyone.

He launched himself at her, striking at her wildly, trying to shake off the strings even as she repeated, "Wake up. Wake up. Wake—"

“--- Wake up, Spamton. Wake up, please. Please, my dear.”

It was the “my dear” that pulled Spamton out of the dream and stopped him flailing his arms. He heard a ragged edge in Swatch’s voice that made it sound as though they had been trying to rouse him for longer than a few minutes.  His heart continued to pound, but gradually he recognized that he was awake, he was in his and Swatch’s bed, and that he was safe.

For the moment, anyway.

Swatch was propped up on one elbow and leaning over him, their hand extended as though to shake him. Spamton shifted away from them so he could roll over onto his back. He muttered in his own sleep-roughened voice, “It was j-j-j-just a dream. Just a bad dream. J-just like all - all the others I have.”

Spamton meant his words to be reassuring, but Swatch's worried look didn't lessen in the least. "This one seemed worse than most," they replied. "You don't usually sock me in the jaw when you're dreaming."

That woke Spamton up completely. "Oh my god, I did? I'm s-s-so sorry!" He sat up and gently rubbed his face against his partner's. "I didn't - didn't mean to."

"Hmmmmph. Are you sure about that? Considering how you snuck out of the house and were gone for hours, I'm pretty sure you're still upset about what we talked about over dinner."

So much for Spamton thinking his absence had gone unnoticed. Sometimes Swatch's keen skills of observation were endearing. Other times they were downright annoying. Like now.

Spamton's indecision as to how to answer them must have shown on his face, because Swatch's expression changed from worried to knowing. They confirmed it by adding, "I'm right, aren't I?"

There was a smile in their voice, with a silent undercurrent of understanding and forgiveness. Spamton couldn't stay annoyed.

"Yes, you're right," he admitted. "But I wasn't slugging - slugging YOU in m-m-m-my dream. I was slugging T.M.”

At that, Swatch let out a half laugh, half snort, lying back down and pulling Spamton onto their chest. "And why would you have reason to slug her?" they asked. "In your dream, anyway. I must admit sometimes Moggy can be a bit overbearing and demanding, but I'm far too much of a gentleman to slug her." "I tried t-t-to slug her b-because she was ch-channeling Mike."

"Ah. that explains it."

Spamton growled in frustration, his breath stirring a curl hanging loose from Swatch's nighttime ponytail. "Why does EVERYTHING always have to - have to c-come back to Mike? The bastard w-w-won't leave me alone, even in his g-grave."

"I know, I know." Swatch kissed the top of Spamton's head. "So… since we're both awake, how about we get up and finish off the macarons? And," as they suited action to words, sliding their long body out of bed, "you can tell me what's really on your mind. Don't think I don't know 'Angel of the Morning' when I hear it."

“C-c-can’t get away with nuthin' around you, can I? I’m going to - going to st-start calling you ‘Columbo’, especially if you do the ‘just one more thing’ b-bit.” Spamton tossed back the covers, wincing as his sore feet hit the floor, which also did not go unnoticed.  He interrupted Swatch as they opened their mouth to comment, “To answer your next ques-question, I w-w-walked a little longer than I planned.”

"Hmmmm. Macarons and milk first, then I'll give you a foot rub. Alright?"

"Okay."

Earlier that night...Spamton had just stepped onto the front path when Swatch pulled into the townhouse’s driveway.  He rushed up the stoop stairs to put the porch light on.  

“S-sorry, I didn’t know you were going to be home l-later than me,” he apologized as he dug through his messenger bag for his house keys. Swatch laughed warmly, answered, “Not to worry, I’m not holding it against you”, and followed him indoors. They both hung their outerwear on the coat tree in the foyer before turning to each other and embracing. Spamton dropped his bag and stretched upwards on the tips of his toes; Swatch leaned down and rubbed their nose against Spamton’s cheek. “Still very glad to have you to come back to after a long day,” they added.

“A v-very long day here t-too. Two digital lab sessions in a row. B-b-but at least I’m f-finally getting into coursework that has some m-m-meat to it.”

“Mmmmmm, meat.” Swatch led the way to the kitchen. “That reminds me, any problem if we use up the leftovers from the party?  The meatballs and stuff.”

“M-meatballs are never a problem for me. Ever.”

“Ye gods, you are so easy to please. Food-wise, anyway.”

Spamton moved over to the cabinets to get dishes out while Swatch rummaged in the fridge. “You g-get a lot less p-p-picky about food when you’re picking food out of - out of a dumpster.”

“I can imagine. Ah ha! We’ve got extra shredded mozzarella, too.”

Swatch pulled out the disposable chafing pan covered with foil, walked it over to the counter, and went back for the cheese. 

"Nice d-d-deflection," commented Spamton as he collected serving utensils and silverware. "You used to g-gasp in horror any time I brought up my - my street p-person days."

"Hmmm. I don't think I actually GASPED. That would be beneath my dignity." Swatch slid the foil pan onto a baking sheet and slid them both into the oven. "But funny you should bring up your 'bad old days' again."

"Oh?" 

"Yes, because those bad old days were a matter of discussion a few hours ago." 

Spamton thought of any number of replies he could give, but decided against the first two sharp retorts that came to mind.  Instead, he finished setting the kitchen island with the plates that Swatch handed him, poured them each a large glass of Dr Pepper [a shared weakness], and then clambered onto a stool.  He could be patient; this was Swatch, after all.  Swatch didn’t tend to leave conversations hanging, or to be swept under rugs, the way conversations in the Addison household often were.

And Swatch didn’t disappoint. The food came out of the oven and they each helped themselves to the appropriate portion sizes.  About halfway through the meal, Swatch casually said, “I had a meeting with your brother Ballew today about a possible internship at Addison Cybernetics.”

"Oh? That's… good, I g-guess?"

"Hmmm. It could be good. It could also be a huge mistake. I had just planned to ask for career advice, but then he brought up internships. And the talk just went on from there."

The expression on Swatch’s face was thoughtful, but their eyes were bright with excitement and hope, and he could almost feel that hope and excitement in waves on the air. Swatch's next words, however, sounded like they'd rehearsed them many times, "May and June are right around the corner.  For you, that means the end of the semester. For me, it means graduation and the end of any financial safety net I have as a college student.  I’ve got to get a job and a new place to live, since our lease here ends when Mrs. Anselmo gets back from Italy. I have all the respect in the world for you as a person, Spamton, but you're not familiar with what I'm studying, either the programming stuff or the engineering. Ballew is, or at least he works with people who are. I can't help it if he's your brother, can I?"

Spamton took his time answering, cutting one of the big meatballs into tiny pieces with his knife and fork, then scooping mozzarella up with each piece.  This was a lot to unpack, in his mind at least.  He ruthlessly shoved down the noise his heart was making as it shattered.

Finally he managed to say, "It sounds like - like a p-perfect match for your skill set."

"it does, doesn't it?"

And that would have to do until Spamton could be alone in his head to chew this over. 

His normal coping mechanism when he needed to do deep thinking was to take a long walk. His body’s exhaustion sang another tune.  And at this point Swatch was trying to hide a yawn, despite it not even being 8pm yet.

“D-do you want to c-c-call it an early night?” he asked hopefully, and was relieved when Swatch nodded. They got up to put their plates and utensils in the wash basin in the sink, running hot water and adding dish soap before saying “I’ll do these in the morning. I’m beat.”

“Okay.”

Spamton went and sat at the piano, resting his hands in his lap until Swatch could join him on the bench.  Tired as he was, he didn’t want to skip the nightly music ritual. After all, who knew how much longer it would last.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when his fingers were ahead of his conscious thoughts and picked out a melancholy tune. He felt Swatch’s bodily warmth at his side, but it couldn’t completely banish his inner cold.

He didn't sing tonight, but the words of the first verse and the concluding chorus played in his mind anyway as the notes flowed out of his hands onto the keyboard.

There'll be no strings to bind your hands/Not if my love can't bind your heart/ And there's no need to take a stand/For it was I who chose to start

Just call me angel of the morning, then slowly turn away/ I won't beg you to stay with me through the tears of the day, of the years

Spamton leaned against Swatch’s shoulder when he came to the end of the song, and Swatch wrapped an arm around him in silence.

Neither spoke as they got into bed, Swatch drifting off almost immediately.

But of course Spamton couldn't sleep, busy brain overruling tired body. After more than an hour of forcing himself to stay in one position, he gave up, got dressed quickly and quietly, and slipped out the front door feeling like a mournful ghost.

He didn't feel much better when he let himself back into the house around 3am, but he dropped off to sleep almost immediately once he returned to Swatch's side in bed.

And he dreamed.

Now Spamton was back on the familiar breakfast stool with an empty milk glass and the crumbs from two tiramisu macarons in front of him. He didn't dissemble when he talked about going to T.M.'s dorm to vent about Swatch, nor about her metaphorically handing his head to him when she pointed out, quite rightly, that sometimes it wasn't all about him and it might be nice for someone to listen to her problems for a change instead of bringing their problems to her.  He didn't try to hide that, after leaving T.M.'s dorm, he'd run into his lab partner Seam Docherty and they'd gone to the Green Leaf for a few beers. 

"Huh, small world.  I didn't know you knew Seam. Do they still have the eyepatch and the orange-and-purple mohawk?"

"Almost. it's - It's st-still orange and p-purple, but it's m-m-more of a mix between a bihawk and a fauxhawk now." Spamton couldn't hold back a giggle as he leaned forward and half-whispered, "They have it shaped into k-k-k-kitty ears this year. Goes great with - with all the leather and ch-ch-ch-ch-chains." 

That sweet smile that Spamton loved so much bloomed across Swatch's face at that comment, and he wanted to dare to hope that the two of them could surmount this crisis.  

But first he had to address the elephant in the room.

"D-do you WANT to work for Addison Cybernetics? Or do - do you just think it's something you SHOULD do?"

Swatch finished what was on their plate, then answered Spamton's question with a question of their own, "Is this going to be weird for you? If I do end up working there, I mean."

“Of c-c-course it's going to be weird.  But I c-can't be the one to say WHY it's going to be weird. That's gotta be on you, Swatch.”

"Okay, then. Cards on the table." Swatch took a deep breath, looked Spamton in the eye, and said, "I don't want you thinking I'm just another Mike."

And hearing that made the elephant far more manageable, in Spamton's mind.

“I d-d-don’t think you could BE another Mike if you tried,” he said finally. “But I’ll be honest. I didn’t know wh-what to feel about it. You asking - asking my brother for advice.  Before asking me, I mean.”

Swatch's voice took on a pleading tone. "I’m doing my best to avoid a conflict of interest. Please tell me this isn't going to mess things up with us."

Spamton felt a physical pang in his chest as he looked back at Swatch. His hand shot out to grab theirs across the island counter, coming perilously close to knocking dishes onto the floor. "Never," he hissed. "I won't - won’t let it."

He looked down at his and Swatch's clasped hands and said more quietly, "You’ve said b-b-before that you don’t want things handed to you. And you’re right… I’m n-not an engineer or any k-kind of math or design whiz. I’m still playing c-c-catchup from everything I missed in m-my life from chasing Mike’s pipe dream. B-but I think I’m a pretty good - pretty good sounding b-board, and I will always listen to you, as long as you want me to.”

He could feel their big hand tremble in his as Swatch replied, "And the same goes for you. Did you really think telling you about my laying groundwork for the future was my way of breaking up with you?"

"Well... y-yes."

"Well, wrong."

The cuckoo clock in the living room sang out that it was now five a.m.

"C-c-can you skip classes today?" Spamton asked, letting go of Swatch's hand, sliding off the stool and stretching.

After a minute's reflection, Swatch answered, "Probably. But why?"

"B-b-because after we both get some sleep, I need to t-tell you everything about Mike. EVERYTHING. From the- the very b-beginning."

#swatchton #deltarune chapter 2 #spamton addison #swatch paletta #swatchton au #sylph writes #fic: call signs

[h1myname1sv]

FIC UPDATE: Side by Side 5/14

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: presumed character death Fandoms: Star Wars, Clone Wars Relationships: Commander Cody & Obi-Wan, Commander Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: Commander Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, Whump, Angst, Tragedy, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt Commander Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Commander Cody Needs a Hug, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Commander Cody, Developing Relationship, Bittersweet Ending, POV Alternating, Idiots in Love, War, Not a Fix-It, I love these two so much ahhh, which of course means I'm gonna hurt them Wordcount: 7k Summary:

Glimpses of pain within and pain shared between a general and a commander during a war that never seems to end. (Based on the Whumptober 2023 prompts on tumblr.)

Excerpt:

Cody has been going through the motions lately.

His new general is coming soon, so he probably has to stop doing that, but for right now, he sits with a mug of warm tea cupped in his hands. He takes a sip and wonders why it doesn't fill him with the overwhelming, all encompassing warmth that it usually does.

Right.

That's because Cody's old general, who will always be his general, is gone, had died from a single kriffing sniper shot on Coruscant, and Cody hadn't been in the sector let alone the planet. He hadn't had his back.

Tears do not prickle at his eyes because he is so used to grief, now. He doesn't remember what it was like not to feel grief and loss at every waking moment.

He is maybe being dramatic about this.

Maybe.

It doesn't feel like it right now, though, and it probably never will.

Wooley had pulled him aside the other day, biting his lower lip and wringing his hands in indecision before blurting out, "Tell me it happened fast."

"What?" is what Cody had responded with, something like bile crawling up his throat.

"For the general," Wooley had said, eyes shining. "Tell me he didn't suffer." He had clasped onto Cody's shoulder desperately.

"It happened fast," Cody had choked out through the lump in his throat, because what else could he say? He certainly hopes that it had happened fast. Obi-Wan deserves that much.

Obi-Wan deserved that much.

#whumptober2023 #no.9 #lyric #star wars #fic #death #clone wars #fanfic #side by side #codywan #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #whump #obi wan kenobi #commander cody

[quotidian-oblivion]

Which of your Fics

Aaaaaaand another tag game which I found while binging through the writer tag game tag!

Which fic did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got?

The most recent one - Greet Me With Open Arms cuz it was a requests fic where I asked people to give me dialogue prompts to use in a single fic. But then again, I posted it just yesterday. I'm just really excited about it and wanna know what people (especially those who put their dialogue prompts requests) think of it.

Which fic got a better reaction than you expected?

The Boy In The Cell, quite honestly. Cuz I thought people would ignore it due to how self-indulgent it was, but so many liked it! Thanks, you guys ^^

Which fic is your funniest?

Based on the comments, Phone Alarms. Quite proud of that one ^.^

Is your darkest/angstiest?

Ahh. Either The Boy In The Cell or There’s So Much Hurt (you can already tell by the title XD) These two cuz they cover darker topics like abuse and stuff. But if you count all the fics including the wips, then definitely this one wip i'm working on which is... pretty b a d. I mean, not the plot, the plot and characters and stuff is awesome! But in terms of rating the angst, its like- up there.

Is your absolute favourite?

Ahh. It depends on my mood, really. Sometimes I say My School’s Local Mafia Boss, sometimes Sometimes You Have To Find Your Own Genes, sometimes a couple of my wips (cuz fbhic i love the plots i've created for them like- bhfvifubhu). But right now? I'm saying I Feel More Than A Simple "Miss You" just cuz I put so much care into it, more than any other oneshot I've ever written.

Is your least favourite?

A Day In The Life Of Tim Drake. No hesitation. It's my first fic. Ok- sometimes, i am proud of it. But most times, nah. Cuz I wrote this on a whim bc i didnt like the thought of having an empty ao3 account and i did not think i would be actually writing fanfiction regularly. But here i am!

Which was the easiest to write?

I... don't know? I wouldn't be writing fanfic, or writing at all period. So I'm gonna say all of them.

The hardest?

As i said, I wouldn't be writing at all if it was hard so i'm gonna say non- NO. WAIT. THERE IS TWO.

Murder On The Stalker’s Turf and I Can See You. Cuz these were casefics and i was writing these while trying to get back into the flow of writing after a particularly hard and taxing writer's block.

Which fic has your favourite line/paragraph?

AHHHHHHHHHHHH WHY THIS QUESTION? DFHIUBF I'M SO INDECISIVE

OK. OK. SO I NARROWED IT DOWN TO THREE:

There’s So Much Hurt (both of them)

“You’re my son, Jason,” Bruce carried on. “Do you think that when you brought Tim over and started calling him your little brother, I wouldn’t start mentioning him as my son too?”

&

Alfred tightened the bandages that had loosened and continued wrapping. At some point, Tim whimpered loudly in pain and squeezed Dick's hand so hard that both their knuckles went white. Jason swept a strand sticking into his baby brother's eye. "I know. I know it hurts, Timbit. I'm sorry." "Jason," the little bird said weakly. "Ouch." Jason smiled smally. "Yeah, bud. Major ouch."

Let Them Be Siblings

Steph blinked twice again. Then she rubbed her eyes tiredly and muttered, "Lord, please bless me some fucks to deal with this bullshit."

which fic have you re-read the most?

My School’s Local Mafia Boss No hesitation. One, to refer back to it while writing the series. Two, cuz I write fics for me first and foremost and so i very much love this fic and reread it quite a lot. Three, i cant believe how much attention its getting! why- ohh that's why, yep. And four, I'm feeling nostalgic and I want to visit the place where I made most of my current friends.

Which one would i recommend to someone reading your work for the first time?

Phone Alarms ig? Cuz it's really chill and cracky and I'm really proud of it. But if we're including wips, then I would rec the Bruce Wayne Writes Fanfic AU first XD

the one you’re most proud of?

Isn't this sort of similar to the favorite one? At least it is to me. Still keeping this question if other people wanna do this question.

No pressure tags: @uncertainwallflower @sardonic-sprite @tristicorde @wakkoroni @blightwritesfic @pevensiechase @ah0yh0y @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego + anyone else who wants to join

#quotidian convos #writer tag game #which of your fics tag game #fic recs #dc fic recs

[skeletonsweatshirt]

Connected || Viktor x gn!Reader

Connected - Prologue

Soulmate!AU (Red String of Fate)

Viktor x gn!Reader

WC: 1.3k

Tags: In character Viktor? I hope? Idk man he's rebellious against the whole damn universe in the first paragraph, The opening paragraphs are rated R for ROUGH (to read) and I am so sorry I just suck ass at openers, Viktor being indecisive,

Warnings: A very minor mention of trauma (nothing specific, just the idea of it in general), Mentions of poverty, The reader almost witnessed someone's death and that gets mentioned, just like the general anxiety of opening a college acceptance letter

A/N: Hello people that follow my Tumblr and enjoy my stuff for some reason! I have decided to gift you all with the start of my first fic. It's just the prologue, I know, but it's a nice start while I finish up the rest. This is basically just context for the story, which is literally the point of a prologue. Anyway, I'm gonna be honest most of the prologue is focused on the reader but it's a prologue and my story so I can do what I want. Also, I proofread this by myself! I used Grammarly to write it, but that is just about as far as getting my writing checked goes for this. So enjoy my absolute favorite person on all of Runeterra as I attempt to keep him in character.

Viktor had decided years ago that this whole "soulmate" thing wasn't for him. It was around when he had decided that going to The Academy in Piltover was for him. He figured that the universe couldn't determine what was right for him. Not by creating him as a disabled little boy in the depths of the city of Zaun. And not by permanently tying this stupid red string around his right pinky finger.

And even through all those decisions, he had decided not to cut the string. He knew it was a possibility. He heard stories of people severing their universal tie with their soulmates since he was a little boy. Freedom from the universe's sick puppet show for the small price of your ability to love, at least in a romantic way. 

Viktor had considered it. He seriously had. If he didn't want to have a soulmate in the first place, why would he keep his bond with whoever was on the other side? But then again, why should he cut it? He had no idea what his future held. He had no idea who was on the other side of that red string. He hadn't the slightest idea of who he would meet throughout his life, and he didn't want to miss the chance if one of those people shared the other end of his universal rope.

So that's what he left it up to. Chance. He wasn't the type to search for his other half, he had other ambitions, but if you crossed paths or exchanged glances across a crowded lecture hall, he wouldn't be opposed to investigating further. Ever the scientist he was.  

On the other hand, you couldn't believe it when you finally learned what the thread connected to your pinky meant. Soulmates. That was such a fascinating concept to you. It always has been. The universe knew who your perfect match was and was kind enough to allow you a visual path on how to get to them. 

Of course, you weren't about to drop everything you'd worked for just to go chase someone who, in all honesty, could be on the other side of Runeterra. That wouldn't be the first time you heard a story like that. Someone who either had nothing to lose or was privileged enough to be born with all the resources they wanted at the tips of their fingers, voyaging out like it was some unbelievable quest to go find their soulmate. They fell in love, maybe they had kids, blah blah blah. It never made much sense to you. You knew love was a powerful force- and so was flattery- but to give up your entire life just so you could go swap saliva with someone that could be halfway across the world? That didn't seem very appealing to you. 

You had seen the statistics, heard the stories, and read the facts. In almost every case, the parties encounter each other at least once before the end of their lives. So what was the rush? If you're going to interact with each other at one point or another, why waste time you could be using to better yourself or your education? Why waste time on something so superficial when it's going to happen anyway? 

Another phenomenon you couldn't quite understand was the people that chose to remove their strings. They were few and far between in most cases, notably where you had grown up in Piltover. What could've possibly happened to those individuals that caused them to be so...afraid? So fearful or upset about even the idea of meeting their soulmate that they would be willing to give up their ability to fall in love altogether? 

Your best guess was trauma. No matter what kind. The idea that you would grow into something that went so wrong in some cases. But that couldn't be everyone's story, you had hypothesized. You knew it couldn't. You had evidence. That evidence happened to assist your mother in, y'know...making you. He almost cut his string when he was younger, as he was finally starting to understand the implications of having a family. 

When you asked your father why he gave you a simple answer. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to provide for his family, whoever it consisted of. He was anxious he wouldn't be able to feed his wife or children if he had any. That was just part of the insecurity included with living in the Undercity, but once he slept on the thought, he learned he couldn't do that to himself...to his soulmate. Although he couldn't aid them, maybe they could support each other. 

You elected to skip the story your father eventually learned to love telling, about how he met your mother on a "business" trip into Piltover. You got the point. You understood that in his case, the idea of being able to give his companion a better life was worth sacrificing some of himself. You admired your father for that. He would take 1,000 bullets if it meant the people he cared for getting a better life. 

That was something your mother had said made you and your father so alike. Personally, you couldn't see it, but your mom reminded you at least weekly that you two were similar when it came to sacrificing yourself for the people you care about. 

You and your father were similar in other ways, sure. Your eyebrows knitted together in the same way when you got confused or focused. And when you were overly excited, you both got the same sparkle behind your eyes that your mom described as if "a fairy died back there or something." But sacrifice? You didn't really notice it in yourself...not for people, at least. You'd be willing to sacrifice yourself for your studies, though. You'd spent too many years filling up journals, drawing diagrams, and buying equipment to build a miniature lab in your attic for it to go to waste.

And it certainly wasn't going to waste. When you were just about done with high school, your parents received a letter from the Academy. The smooth black ink spread out over the off-white envelope with the red wax seal on the back spelled out your name, your address, and your area code. This letter was sent to you. 

You immediately ran to your bedroom when you received it. Anyone would, really. Because no matter what the result of you tearing open this thin outer layer of parchment was, you were going to cry. You dropped your bag at your door and procured a letter-opener from your desk. You sat cross-legged on your mattress without even removing your school clothes first. 

With a brief inhale and a soft sigh to let it out, you tore open the top of the letter. Your hands gently shook as you reached in and pulled out the tri-folded piece of paper. You'd witnessed a man nearly get his brains blown out by an enforcer right in front of you once, and yet this piece of tree cells and water mixed together was somehow the most daunting thing to ever occur in your presence. 

The letter began:

"Dear Y/N L/N,

We are pleased to inform you that your application to join us for the next school year has been accepted! We are ecstatic to have you join us in our collective goal of chasing the knowledge of the ages. Please..."

You decided to read the rest later. Tears were already cascading down your cheeks faster than anticipated and falling onto your semi-bare lap. Your eyes slowly drifted to the right, where you could admire the piece of scarlet cord that started at your pinky finger and draped dramatically off your bed, onto the floor, and out your bedroom door in front of you. You had a good feeling about this.

Taglist? - @hopefulfuturenovelauthor

#viktor arcane #arcane #arcane fanfic #viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #writer #beginner #beginner writer #queer writer #queer #idk what tags to use #soulmate #sfw #soulmate au #soulmate alternate universe #red string of fate #red string of destiny #red thread of fate #red thread of destiny #uhhhhh #i am trying #🦴writes

[write-nerdy-to-me]

For someone first getting into the ship, what would you say your favorite captain swan fanfics are? I guess I'm asking you because I've read the tags on some of the captain swan posts you've reblogged, and what seems to draw you to them as a couple hits me too. I lay myself at the mercy of your taste 🙏

oh gosh, i'm honored. captain swan have held a special place in my heart for years, and i'm delighted to hear that you've boarded the ship. but to be honest with you, i only started reading ouat fics semi-recently, so my rec list will be small. even at the mercy of my taste, if you don't vibe with any of these that is totally okay. (i know i am a picky bitch, which may or may not play into why the list is short.)

thank you for the ask, anon! 💜

(fics listed in no particular order below the cut)

something suspiciously like hope | rated G The moment Captain Hook opens himself up to the possibility of love (Season 2, Episode 9)

all love is time travel | rated T Killian has long been a captain, and so he does not show weakness or indecision unless he wishes to. Still, the desire to vouch for their chances of success is difficult to balance with the pressing need to school those uninformed of Neverland’s horrors as to the dangers that lie ahead. All this, under the sneer of Cora’s daughter and the reptile stare of his greatest enemy. All this, before Emma Swan.

wait for the morning (i'll be waiting for you) | rated T When Emma still feels like danger is just around the corner, even after Pan’s curse is averted, she takes to wandering Storybrooke’s streets at night. She’s not the only one. Differences in timing and circumstance can change everything - but some things are inevitable.

keep your heart beating | rated G A short missing/extended scene of Emma returning Killian's heart. A little angst, a little fluff. For anyone who watched that scene and needed it to be a million times longer.

learning how to breathe | rated G Set soon after Dark Hollow at some nebulous point. Emma confronts her parents about Neal, and it leads to a heart-to-heart with a certain pirate.

it would kill me (if you didn't know) | rated M (Blatant disregard of canon to follow--don't make me rewatch the show, please) They saved Henry but all got separated in the process, and when they finally made it back to the ship, Emma realized that they were down a man. She's just gonna have to save him. This features some pretty awesome Emma/David bonding, too. This is a classic 'Killian's been taken while saving them and now he's being tortured and Emma isn't gonna stand for it' fic. I've read them all, and I just needed more. POV switches 3rd person between Killian and the others.

killian, persuaded | rated T AU — Storybrooke — When a stunning betrayal forces Killian Jones to reevaluate his life, he finds himself unexpectedly rescued by his estranged brother. Traveling to Maine to meet the family he didn’t know existed, he immediately comes face-to-face with the woman he pushed away a decade before. This time around he’s determined to be a better man and, if he’s lucky, win back the only woman he ever loved. Basically a Hallmark movie with OUAT characters. (The Romance One)

in the offing | rated M AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth. (The Mystery One)

a drowning soul will clutch at any straw | rated T Though this is far from Killian Jones' first encounter with a mermaid, he's never met any quite like this blonde siren. Together, can they break a cruel curse?

sea-foam eyes and a salt-water smile | rated T Killian Jones has seen a lot of things in his job as a private investigator for supernatural beings - but the selkie who walks into his office asking for help is something new and mesmerizing.

#anonymous #captain swan #fic recs #captain swan fic #thank you anon <3 you're so sweet #as always please be mindful of the tags and warnings #(ngl going through my bookmarks made me realize maybe i should make notes about what the fics are bc i lichrally forgot them lmao) #(it's been a hot minute) #nerdy replies

[moonydirection]

Help me choose what stories to write/focus on!

Since I'm in WAYYY over my head, I would love to know your opinions about what you'd like to read! So, here I am, asking for it :)

This are all the projects I'm working on at the moment:

On the left are my long format stories, and on the right are my one shots/short stories.

So I need your advice! Here's a small description on the long format ones:

(the current names are not what the fics will be called when i post it, most likely.)

Marauders - Skins is a fic inspired on the UK show Skins. It goes over three generations - the marauders and their friends; regulus black and the slytherin gang; and the harry potter new gen with albus severus potter, james sirius potter and so on. It's an E rating, with heavier topics, lots of parties and drinking, and LOTS of angst.

Wolfstar - Criminals is a CAOTHIC fic where remus and sirius are strangers who accidentally end up committing a crime together, which is followed by them committing multiple other crimes to try and solve the first one. It's a strangers to lovers, insane, all over the place fic which will absolutely make you laugh. Most likely rated M, if not for maybe a couple skippable sex scenes.

Wolfstar (and Jegulus) - Dance Rivals is a fic I will be working on regardless with the amazing @moonys-bf, but to just to hype you all up, this a dance academy au absolutely full of angst, sexual tension, ballet, hurt/comfort and everything you could ever dream of. Most likely rated M, and the first ever dancing wolfstar fic soon to be on AO3!

Wolftsar - Maze Runner is exactly what it sounds like. The boys are thrown is this confusing maze, and they have to work out what is this place (and how to leave it), who they are all are, and their relationships with each other on top of it all. Remus is the leader, Sirius is a Thomas variant, James is a Minho variant, and Regulus is there to cause chaos. Most likely rated M or E.

Wolfstar - Texting is my first ever texting fic, in which i spent hours just working on how which character would write so it literally feels like you're reading other peoples texts. It's mostly lighthearted, easy to read and get attached to, and full of unexpected twists and turns! Most likely rated E (for sexting;). It will most definitely make you laugh and you will definitely find it hard to choose your favorite character, because you will identify with all of them at some point.

Wolfstar- The Slytherins is a rock band au which I'm currently posting, but have come to a slightly writers block on, where Remus is the bass player of The Slytherins, which include Evan, Barty and Dorcas – who are Sirius and James mortal enemies! That doesn't stop Sirius from falling in love with him, though. Lots of plot twists, drug use, rock and roll, sex, angst, tension, jealousy, and everything you can possibly dream of (even fluff!). Features Aromantic Barty, side Regulus Black/Evan Rosier, black brothers having a good relationship AND remus being an absolute badass. Rated E.

Out of all of these, which ones pick your interest most and you'd DEFINITELY read?

Now, onto the short ones:

Wolfstar + Narnia au in which Remus is the king, and Sirius may or may not never want to leave Narnia again to stay with him.

Wolfstar + Zombie Apocalypse in which Remus and Sirius almost kill each other, except a horde of zombies gets in the way and maybe (just maybe) they're glad it did.

Wolfstar + Twin Remus in which Remus has a twin, Rodric, that gets sorted into Slytherin, and it completely changed the dynamic of the Marauders. Supposed to be 7 chapters long (one for each year at Hogwarts!).

Wolfstar + Too Hot Too Handle in which Remus, Sirius and basically the entire gang goes to a queer version of the reality show Too Hot To Handle and it's all very chaotic and funny and sexy.

Which of these would you most like I finish and post next? (And do you have any requests?)

Please help a fellow indecisive author :) <33

#wolfstar #remus x sirius #sirius black #remus lupin #remus #remus john lupin #wolfstar fic rec #wolfstar oneshot #fanfic #marauders #microfic #remus j lupin #wolfstar microfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #jegulus #regulus x james #regulus black #james potter #marauders era #hp marauders #harry potter #help #writing help

[missameliep]

Wanting to spread some positivity among fic writers. 

When you get this ask, link your:

Favourite fic/series you’ve ever written

That one fic/series you poured your heart & soul into

One underrated fic/series of yours you’d recommend

You don’t have to link just *a* fic. Go ham! Even link your masterlist! This is all about all your hardwork.

Thank you for creating!

Hi, Mads! Thank you so much for your ask! I hope you're having a lovely time!

Favourite fic/series you’ve ever written

It’s hard to pick just one favorite anything, because I’m indecisive like that lol But tbh most things I’ve posted are stories I’m really pleased with (the ones I'm not never see the light of day), so I’ll pick a favorite series and three favorite fics in no particular order:

My favorite series is Second Chances (Desire & Decorum AU!)

I came up with the idea of a Desire & Decorum - contemporary AU! in 2019 and it was inspired by @lorirwritesfanfic series Meant to Be (which is one of my favorite fics ever in the Choices fandom!). I love writing everything in this universe, and all the interactions between Hamid (who is no longer a prince, but a Turkish diplomat), and Elizabeth (the daughter of an Earl and a Brazilian opera singer, who was raised in Rio de Janeiro and moved to London to start a new chapter of her life) are just so fun and amazing to develop. The story has some of my favorite tropes: slow burn, friends-to-lovers, mutual pining (idiots in love) etc.

Favorite fics:

1. Run to you (Desire & Decorum)

It’s a one-shot featuring my OTP Prince Hamid x Lady Elizabeth, and it was inspired by one of Prince Hamid’s lines after meeting MC in chapter 5 (Desire and Decorum Book 1) and it's in Hamid's POV.

2. If I fell (Desire & Decorum AU!)

It’s a one-shot set in my Second Chances universe with my ultimate OTP in a contemporary setting, just being cute and having fun together while jogging at Hyde Park.

3. Heart in a cage (Blades of Light and Shadow)

I absolutely adore writing Tyril Starfury and Arwen (f!Elf!MC). Their interactions are so fun, and in this one has slow burn, flirting, tending to wounds and blushing Tyril.

That one fic/series you poured your heart & soul into

Definitely The Pursuit of Happiness (Desire & Decorum) is the series I poured my heart & soul into.

It’s a Desire & Decorum fanfic, pairing Prince Hamid x Lady Elizabeth and it was my first time ever writing fanfic and the first time writing a fictional story in a very long time, and it was so much fun (and overwhelming and stressful at times), but it allowed me to interact with so many wonderful people in the fandom and their support motivated me to complete the series and encouraged me to keep on writing.

Another one that could be mentioned is a one-shot called Like Poetry (Blades of Light and Shadow)

I really like this one because it portrays a relationship between an elf, who can live centuries, and a human, and it allowed me to explore many subjects regarding mortality and if there's a place for heroes after their quests, and writing in Tyril’s POV was also very special.

One underrated fic/series of yours you’d recommend

I don't know if I could say any fic is really underrated, I don't have that many followers and don't write for the most popular books and characters, but if I did have to pick one, I’d would say it's Is this Love? (Desire & Decorum).

It's mostly a pre-canon/pre-Desire & Decorum Book 1 story, and it follows Elizabeth Thompson in her journey to become Lady Elizabeth of Edgewater. I adored writing the scenes with her mother and specially the friendship with Briar, and it's definitely one I'd recommend.

And I don’t know if I can call it underrated, because it’s a new series and the fandom is very quiet these past months, but the miniseries Safe (Wake the Dead) is one I'd recommend the reading. Troy Hassan is the main character and most chapters and scenes are pre-canon and pre-WTD. It's been so interesting to write a post-apocalyptic world and specially to develop a story though the eyes of a child who will grow up in this New World.

Again, thank you for the ask and giving me the opportunity to talk about my fics :)

#ask box! #thank you 😊 #choices fanfic #desire & decorum #wtd fanfic #choices blades of light and shadow #desire and decorum fanfic #prince hamid #prince hamid x mc #tyril starfury x f!elf!mc #tyril starfury #troy hassan

[entitycreation]

Waddup with the 😈👶📘

Oh god I know the one you are talking about bvcbcv Okay so, this fic went from a simple cute mpreg fic to like.... Lovecraftian horror with far more twists and turns then I could keep track of, and I changed up how I wanted it to go each time! I often think about this along with my dragon AU so much so that they ended up merging together because if I'm to make baby OC's they might as well be dragon demon baby ocs because Marry Sueing characters is fun fuck anyone who says otherwise lmao ...Anyways yea the fic got too complicated and I constantly go back to revise it again and again and cant seem to find the story going the way I like. I figured I start with the dragon AU to at least establish Mephistos and Shiros relationship in that universe before I make them have a kid... or two... or three.. Okay on to actually explaining the plot of... Both? We'll start with the first part, DRAGONS. This AU is set in a world where dragons are separate magical beings that are born from condensed Assian magic. This magic is not at all associated with demons, so dragons, elementals and things made from Assian magic are not bound to any demon king or demons in general, they are their own thing. I hope this made sense (I don't have a way of explaining it just yet) Dragon magic is incredibly powerful too, it can reach world ending levels of power even... However, dragon magic specifically needs a host. Similar to demons, the magic is more so parasitic in that it needs a body that can contain it. The thing is, while demons are picky with their hosts. Dragon magic is not so much. The magic will spend a long time hopping from host to host until something lands and lasts long enough for the host to begin turning into a dragon. Dragon magic, like most magic coming from Assiah, will fade away overtime if its just floating around without a body. No body, no magic container. For that reason this magic will body hop around. It can go into anything. Animals, humans, and in very interesting cases... It will often even buddy up with already possessed bodies too. Which brings us to our good friends Mephisto, Shiro and Yuri! Upon investigating an "anomaly" located in a remote ruins somewhere (don't know exactly where yet) The trio gets into a fight with an enraged and injured dragon. While fighting the dragon, Shiro nearly gets killed trying to take it on by himself mostly, which prompts Mephisto to stop time just as he almost got squashed by the palm of the dragons hand. However, the dragon begins to move slowly on its own, resisting Mephistos magic. Shiro gets out of the way on Mephistos call, knowing he cant freeze it for long... But then just as Mephisto resumes time again, the dragon very quickly switched from what it was doing to lunge at Mephisto, catching him between its teeth. Mephisto ends the fight by summoning a bunch of clock hands to spear the dragon to a nearby hill. The dragons jaw slackened after a minute of being speared and slowly dies... Mephisto gets out of the beasts maw with severe injuries to his abdomen and pelvis. After that battle Mephisto suffers from recovering the injury, apparently demon healing doesn't extend to this type of wound. So he heals at a very slow rate compared to even human standards, which is odd and prompts the order to send in specialists to take a look at him. From there its all a bit blurry as the scenes all changed up a lot and I never have a coherent idea for anything beyond this point. I just know that Mephisto then gains a dragon form that he cannot control and often turns into a dragon either out of stress, anger, or not venting out the magic enough so it builds up until his body cant take it and he goes berserk. Now, the mpreg fic actually was written before but I abandoned it because I lost interest with that one in favor of the new version of it. The new version has been redone over and over because unfortunately I'm indecisive and cant decide how I want it to go lol. I just wanna explore Mephiro with their own little fuck ups- I mean, cute children... That definitely wont eat them alive or anything.. No no >.> its all fluff I swear ^^ I cant get too far talking about this because I cant think of any specifics or how far along it is since its very different from the old one. Best I can do is mention it but uh... If you have specific questions I will do my best to answer those!

#mephiro #mephisto pheles #Shiro Fujimoto #blue exorcist #Ao no Exorcist

[thetrashbagswasteland]

WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @korblez who'll certainly enjoy this and open-ended as always identify yourselves for anyone who fancies doing this! Fic: The Idealist (Chapter 5: Indecision) Rating: M Pairing: Background Fem!Shep x Garrus Current Word Count: 22,521 total (4012 in chapter) Warnings: Sad Castis Vakarian hours because Garrus' decision making skills were inherited from somewhere, mild interspecies dislike because we also need someone to come with some prejudices born out of ignorance. Also I'm a blatant Geth apologist and y'all should heed that warning well. Also also Avitus Rix features in this fic at large, which warrants a warning on its own. Sneak peek:

“Negotiations are going well, then?” He asked, finding that he was genuinely curious. “Seem to be.” Wrex grunted in answer. “Not as if we can do anything to help if they go wrong though.” That was… not encouraging. “If we had landed, we could have sent down a secondary team to watch their backs.” He suggested, thinking tactically. “From a suitable distance, of course.” “None of us suit distance work.” The krogan shot down, instantly. “Liara’s a civvy, I like to be able to punch my enemies and Mordin’s confined to quarters.” The salarian was still being detained? Well, Garrus had suggested as much, had he not? But that did not answer everything. “I could have helped.” It sounded weak, almost a plea to be part of this. Both laughed, though the krogan’s was definitely more mocking. “Problem there, brood-bleeder, is that nobody wants you at their back.”

Brood-bleeder. Castis was no expert in krogan culture but that insult was an easy one to parse the meaning of; one who harms their own young. In a society that was rapidly falling apart at the seams over a fertility crisis that left natural-born children rare and highly prized, there could be no greater crime than attacking one’s own offspring. Well, technically it was correct. And he would never be able to take back what he had done, would he? He knew some of the regret and pain that he felt about that slipped out either in his expression or in his subvocals from the way the others scarred face contorted into a self-satisfied smirk before he continued. “Besides, Shepard said no backup, no landing. Got to trust’em if they’re to trust us.” “Trust is not something that is easy to associate with geth, however.” He pointed out, determined not to let the krogan know just how deeply the insult had cut. “Hostile isolationists do not engender or offer trust easily.” “Neither do krogans.” He replied mildly. “Lotta similarities between krogan and geth. But y’get out what you pay in.” The problem was deciding how much he really wished to invest.

#wip wednesday #mass effect fanfiction