Ash Or Mist?

Multi-fandom Writing! She/her 19 <3 Requests are open!

[ashturnedtomist]

Hello!

Thanks for stopping by!

Feel free to ask to be added to any taglist!

I will link my stuff below!

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Masterlist!

Taglist!

All of my stuff is under hashtags!

My writings are under ‘ash turns to mist’

My reblogs are under ‘ash reblogs’

Keep it Covert stuff/AU content is under ‘forget covert au’ and ‘keep it covert’

Most recent

Keep it Covert: Ch. 8- WTF just happened?

LaDs - The Winner Takes it All

What am I working on?

Keep it Covert: Interlude 2

Stay Tuned!

[ashturnedtomist]

fooliverse Vincent never got turned into a vampire and is actually happily married to stranger in his 40s

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I’m a prophet

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guys I miss the redacted fandom and I am so hashtag behind on the videos

[cocoaxia]

★ — #runhimdry.

summary: in which the lads boys catch on to your spending addiction.

ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb

notes: xavier is jealous (mentions of lumiere...think of him as like...almost having a kpop idol type of fame for this LOL), zayne is silly, rafayel is stupid, sylus is lovely, and caleb is barely holding it together. mentions of (playful) jealousy, miiiinor suggestiveness, otome gameplay LMAO, and gender neutral (!!!) that's it (i think)

p.s. this is based on a req by @miceonvenus108 YAYYY i hope you like it venus you're #thegoat ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

a/n: this was actually very fun to make despite me putting it off for like no reason (forgive me...). i'm also the biggest supporter of stan-supporter bf sylus...he'd love it idk...ty for reading (- -)(_ _)

© cocoaxia

[ashturnedtomist]

this is killing me

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I have romantic feelings for Theo Merrick

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I love Corvus oh my god

[brainrotcharacters]

Asher and Milo agreed that watching David fall in love with Angel was one of the top 10 highlights of their lives.

Granted, the mating bond blurred the lines between true love and the need to fuck, frankly. When Milo first met Sweetheart, he genuinely felt as if he wasn't breathing unless he was with them. Asher was making fun of him for that until he got the elevator meet cute of a lifetime.

It was episodic entertainment for the Shaw Pack beta and the stealthiest werewolf in history. Yes, Asher and Milo knew David since they were pups; he can crack jokes and be the most immature one in the room, but it was the way his mouth twitched and his expression softened whenever Angel did something stupid that even got both werewolves giggling behind their hands.

There was one time Angel genuinely lost their balance and sheer panic flashed over David's face. When he caught his mate, and Angel realized they were safe, they giggled up at him and said flirtatiously, "How you doing, handsome?"

David dropped Angel on the floor. But he was chuckling as he walked away.

The day that sold the idea of them being mates was when Angel first joined him in a meeting, after officially becoming informed of the magical world as an unempowered person.

Milo perched on the table that Angel was leaning against, and grinned. "So you're tellin' me: you're pretty chill about dating a werewolf twice your size, but you don't believe mating bonds exist?"

It was weird, because Milo could feel David's eyes on one side of his face from across the meeting room. Asher wasn't fucking doing enough yapping.

"It's not that I don't believe it," Angel peeled the skin off their lips absent-mindedly. "I guess. I just don't need it to know I'm serious about David."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you for real?" When David nearly broke his neck trying to see what Angel was laughing about?

They cackled. And in his peripheral vision, he could have sworn the alpha just did it again. "He could be thrice my size and I'll still take him."

Milo winced jokingly, "I'll take your word for it."

[machoria]

october 10th — david and a bit of angel.

about , david’s way of grief.

The first thing David Shaw learned about grief was that it doesn’t fade—it settles.

He didn’t have much to learn about when his mother died, given his age. But when his father died, he was grown, and it suffocated him.

At first, everyone told him it would ease up. That time would make it softer. That one morning, he’s wake up and breathe without feeling like he was betraying his father by existing in a world his father no longer did.

But they were wrong.

Grief didn’t just go away. It only changed shape.

When his father died in that car crash, something quiet inside him snapped and never quite reset. The world didn’t explode or crumble—it just… stoped.

For days, everything sounded muffled, life he was underwater. The funeral, the condolences, the talk of legacy and duty. All of it blurred into meaningless noise.

Then came the silence.

He was Alpha now.

That word didn’t feel real. It hung heavy in the air every time someone said it, like it was meant for someone else. Someone taller. Older. Someone with his father’s easy confidence and steady gaze.

But it wasn’t someone else. It was him.

And every time a pack member referred to him as their Alpha, the title scraped against his ribs like glass.

They saw his father in him. In his posture, his walk, the way he held himself when he gave orders. The resemblance was impossible to escape. Some called it poetic. Others destiny. But for David, it was pure torture.

The first time someone pointed it out, he was at a small gathering in town. Just a quiet night, meant to reassure the place that their Alpha was fine. That the transition was smooth, the hierarchy stable.

He stood there, holding a drink he couldn’t bring himself to taste, while familiar voices filled the air around him. He could feel the weight of their stares, the gentle, pitying kind reserved for the newly orphaned and recently burdened.

Then Mrs…. God, what was her name? approached him with her usual smile, the one lined by age and kindness.

“Oh, David,” she sighed softly, eyes shining. “Gosh, you look just like your father.”

It hit harder than she could’ve imagined.

He felt it like a punch, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

The words lingered, echoing louder than the crowd, louder than his heartbeat.

You look just like your father.

He managed a nod, jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he said, because what else could he say?

He couldn’t tell her that every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the man he lost. That he hated the curve of his nose, the shape of his eyes—because they weren’t his. They were his father’s.

He couldn’t tell her how much it hurt to live as a reflection of someone who wasn’t coming back.

Later that night, when the last guest had left and the lights had dimmed, he sat alone on the porch, elbows on his knees, staring out at the treeline. The woods were quiet, save for the wind threading through the leaves. He listened, hoping to hear something—a voice, a sign, a ghost, or a fucking nuclear bomb.

But there was nothing.

Just the hollow ache of missing someone so deeply that even silence became sacred.

For months, he didn’t let anyone in. Not the pack, not his friends. He buried himself in duties—security gigs, mediating disputes, working out, anything to fill the hours. Because the moment he stopped moving, the grief returned, heavier than before.

Nights were the worst.

He’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, imagining his father’s voice guiding him through decisions he wasn’t ready to make. Sometimes, he spoke aloud, whispering questions into the dark like a fool hoping the stars would answer.

And sometimes, the silence felt like an answer in itself.

It was on one of those quiet, aching nights that he met Angel.

He hadn’t meant to. Hell, he hadn’t meant to meet anyone. He was heading back from a morning gig, hunger making his steps slow, when he noticed someone trailing behind him. Someone who he had seen before throughout the day.

He turned, sharp and cold, the Alpha edge slipping into his tone before he could stop it.

“Why are you following me?”

The stranger—what an angel, he thought—froze. The lights hit their face just enough for him to see the flicker of surprise, maybe even amusement.

“Woah, why would you assume I’m following you?” Their voice was like honey, but there was a tang of amusement that lit his heart up like a switchboard.

David didn’t buy it. He didn’t buy anyone anymore. But there was something about them that threw him off balance. Maybe the calm in their eyes, or the way they didn’t flinch when he stepped closer, testing the distance like he always did when he needed control.

They didn’t back down. They just looked at him, really looked—in a way that made him feel seen, which he hated.

He muttered something half-apologetic, half-defensive, before walking off. His pulse was still racing. Not out of anger, not fear — but something else he didn’t have the energy to name.

He saw them again the next week. Then again after that. Always in passing, always unplanned. Each time, the air between them felt charged — not in the way that made him think of danger, but in the way that made him remember what feeling was.

And that scared him more than anything.

Because ever since his father died, he hadn’t felt much of anything beyond grief. He didn’t let himself.

And yet here was this person—this stranger, stirring something in the ashes.

It wasn’t love. Not yet. It was too fragile, too small for that. But it was something.

He’d never been with anyone before. Never let himself be known beyond the surface. And as much as part of him wanted to push Angel away —to keep the world small and quiet and safe—another part of him wondered what it would be like to not be alone anymore.

He didn’t know if he could do it. If he could be someone’s first anything.

Because grief had made him rough around the edges, and the thought of someone touching the parts of him that still ached felt cruel.

So he didn’t want to try. He didn’t want to say anything.

But the minute this beautiful person in front of them opened his mouth, he was starstruck. Starstruck in a way he never thought he’d feel no matter what was happening in his life.

And after that eventful day, he just went home that night, leaned against the door, and let himself breathe.

For a moment, he thought of his father again.

Of how proud he would’ve been. Of how he might’ve laughed, seeing David so shaken over someone.

He almost smiled. Almost.

Then the ache came back.

And as he sat there in the half-light, the truth settled deep inside him, heavier than ever:

He might learn to lead.

He might learn to live.

He might even, someday, learn to love.

But he would never, never stop missing his father.

Because some grief doesn’t fade.

It just lives inside you quietly, changing shape with the years, but never letting go.

this was lwk booty bc i have to record my broadway song for class and i was rushing but yay

[chimckenns]

Aggro will sit on Milo’s shoulder like a parrot and meow his ear off. Sweetheart walks in the kitchen to find them having a full conversation.

“I just fed you.”

“Meow.”

“I did. I woke up at-“

“Meow.”

“Hey. No. I did.”

“Meow.”

“Your half eaten bowl is right there buddy.”

He’s developed that habit since he was just a kitten, and despite being a big chonk now he still jumps on Milo’s shoulder each morning.

[ashturnedtomist]

I love that this implies that Milo has BROAD shoulders

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this new banner…

Loverboy Sylus truthers WIN

[ashturnedtomist]

okay Blake fans…I’ll hand it to you, his HBS was GOOD

[p0pp3t]

“i never stopped loving you” geordi not now

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I’m vomiting at the Geordi sbs audio I love him sm

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save me Corvus save me

[ashturnedtomist]

so I’m talking to this dude right

and I really really like him but something about his personality is really familiar to me and I can’t put my finger on it

I figured it out today.

He fucking reminds me of GUY.

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we’ve been dating for 8 months now lol

[ashturnedtomist]

OVER A YEAR NOW GUYS

[ashturnedtomist]

bad news! 😃

[ashturnedtomist]

Charlie Swan knew two things.

One.

That he loved his daughter.

That was his baby girl, his flesh and blood, a being made up of the best parts of himself.

He loved her so much that he was able to ignore the pain in his chest when she demanded that she needed to get away from him like her mother had done, even though it lingered when she apologized.

Even though that’s exactly what she did when she got married fresh out of high school to that Cullen kid.

Now, he liked Dr. Cullen. He was a good man and he had worked with him for many years. He liked his daughter, Alice, even more. She was a good friend to Bella and stood by her in though times.

But Edward?

He should have shot him when he had the chance.

The second thing Charlie knew was what a dead body felt like.

He was a police chief, for crying out loud.

He’s interacted with his fair share of corpses, if only for a moment. But he recognizes that pale complexion and ice cold feeling of their skin.

It’s the same feeling when he embraces his daughter when she returns after being “sick” for weeks.

He knows she’s gone. He knows something happened to her, that she’s not the same, and that Edward has stolen her away from him again. This time, maybe for good.

But he holds her anyway.

He brings her into his arms just as tight and nervous as he did the day she was born.

And he knew, deep down inside, that this girl before him was not his daughter that came to live with him in Forks a little over a year before.

Because his daughter was alive. And this girl was dead.

[ashturnedtomist]

Vincent the only man ever