FreyaBlackthorn

I write SPN, SW, GO, AC and RE fanfics on ao3

[freyablackthorn]

RE9 fanfiction! (excerpt)

"Well, you won’t be grateful to me and my legal disasters, though, that’s for sure.”

She wanted to say something foolish, something along the lines of “if you use that tone, I’ll be grateful for anything that comes out of your mouth”, but she knew where the borders of professionality lied. They were just about to overstep that, if they hadn’t already.

“I, ahh, I need to, uh…” she gestured to Mr. Mosey’s form somewhere in the chaos of people. “It was a pleasure seeing you.” Alaire died inside a little when Leon winked at her. “I, uh, I mean a pleasure to hear you… just leave pleasure, it was an… honour…”

She had to momentarily close her eyes to collect herself; and when she opened them up, she was met with a teasing pair of raised eyebrows.

“The pleasure was mine, Alaire,” Leon announced all-too-politely, in stark contrast to the mischief in his eyes. “See you when I’m inevitably thrown into prison in a foreign country!”

(if you'd like to read the finished story, check out my ao3 profile: FreyaBlackthorn! Thanks if you do!)

[freyablackthorn]

RE9 Requiem fanfic (excerpt)!

„Hey, Leon!”

Leon tried his very best to ignore the faint wheezing of Grace Ashcroft in the background and also to keep an eye on whatever in Hades is happening right in front of him in the dark. He also contemplated using his hatchet when the bastard will do decide to show its ugly face, but it has yet to make a move.

Good. Leon likes to take things slow.

“Hi, Alaire.” He stared into the ever-moving void ahead of him. Grace was having a mild panic attack by his right. “Nice to hear your voice.”

Something was definitely growling. Grace whined out a “Who are you talking to?” that he easily pretended not to hear. He can’t be charming to every woman all at once while feeling for his hatchet in his belt, preparing for a boss fight.

“Am I calling you at a bad time?” Alaire’s voice was appropriately hesitant. Cute, Leon noted. “I probably am.”

Leon slowly shifted his weight onto his left, gathering strength for a kick if the need arises for that. He hoped against all odds he could shoot a round into that thing before that, but choosers are losers, or whatever.

"No, not at all. As good a time as any."

Flash of a movement; a pair of eyes at twelve o’clock. Maybe eight pairs, who counts. Grates started to slip into place before completely closing on doors and windows. Grace fighting valiantly against the mental breakdown. A growl once again, guttural, wet.

“Was that… a growl?” Alaire’s puzzlement truly could have been the cutest if he wasn’t pursued by darkness incarnate.

Leon still couldn’t stop himself. “Well, let’s just say I miss you,” he breathed into the comm, narrowing his eyes.

Oh, yeah, that’s definitely more than one pair of eyes ahead.

(if you'd like to read the finished story, check out my ao3 profile: FreyaBlackthorn! Thanks if you do!)

(also removed the f-bomb from here just in case)

[freyablackthorn]

ME 3 post destroy ending (spoilers!)

excerpt from my Mass Effect ff on ao3 titled: Does this unit have a soul?

„Does this unit have a soul?”

Gasp. A shuddering clinging to air. Broken shards of a life over.

“I’d rather risk non-functionality with the crew of the Normandy than risk it alone.”

Destroy or be destroyed. No other way.

She was ready to throw her life away, along with those she condemned to perish, and now…

“I’m proud of you.”

Gasp. Gasp. Gasp. Breathing fills the quiet rubbles around her. Faint sirens somewhere beyond her comprehension.

“Shepard… I’m going to modify my self-preservation code now.”

Shooting echoes around her. Prisms of red, all-consuming… Shepard braced herself. If she was to go, if she was to drag others down with her, let it be a spectacle to behold. Let the aftermath etch their white-hot memories into the fabric of the universe forever.

“Because the Reapers are repulsing. They are devoted to nothing but self-preservation.”

Then why is she breathing? Why is her body draped almost elegantly over the skeletons of the dead?

“I am different.”

“I know,” she whispered to the debris. “I know.”

“Does this unit have a soul?”

“It did,” she sobs; the helmet no longer distorting her voice. It sounded like defeat. “You had.”

[freyablackthorn]

My Elden Ring/KCD brainrot crossover continues

Henry’s smile was soft now, forgiving. “It’s not just about duty. I care about you, you know.”

Hans kissed him. For a kiss he could only offer that still held value; for no machines, no metals, no gold broke the spell of rot upon Henry, no time in the world could wait to see his scars healed once and for all.

“I abandon here my heart,” Hans whispered onto his lips, “I abandon here the flesh of my body. I abandon here my doubt and vacillation. I abandon here all my fears. I leave all these at your feet, my Blade, the Bearer of my Love, for I know you’ll keep it safe until I return.”

Henry embraced the fragile figure in his arms, for an embrace he could only offer that still held value; and the butterflies of decay fluttered around them in a flurry of colours.

“And I abandon here my love,” Hans choked on the words. “The Trinity of my will; flesh, heart and soul. Saint as the bond we share, unyielding as my claim to rule.”

The glow of moths painted the growing darkness purple; the shade of the allure of might, of the anchoring promises.

“I’ll keep all of those in my strength, in the sword I’ll wield in your name,” Henry echoed words from a long-ago time, when his vow was forged before the lords he swore to serve, for a purpose greater than the call of his own kin.

I'm so sad I can't draw, I'd paint Hansry with Malenia and Miquella aesthetics :( Like, Henry with the winged helmet and red hair? Hans with braids??

[hexhomos]

PSA: AO3 HAS BEEN INFECTED WITH AI BOT COMMENTS.

Have you seen one of these dipshits? If you post regularly on ao3, chances are YES, but more likely you didn't notice nor suspect it was a bot. Sometimes they start off nice, or even praise you before getting nasty out of nowhere, like so:

But much like Grok, their newest obsession is nazism.

I don't know where they come from, or what purpose this could possibly serve other than suicidebaiting random people in the internet, I guess; but apparently they've started parroting names from real users to send these comments and shifting their general length to go by undetected. Maybe those are scrappers trying to train 'reviewbots' to be sold as part of some scam service promising to give feedback for newbie writers, who the fuck knows.

Here are more examples of the tone and backhanded compliments you can find in these:

If you regularly post on AO3 or interact with writers in it, please pass this along so they don't feel insane receiving bombs in their inbox. This is ridiculous.

[amazingmagda]

FANFICTION WRITERS, WARNING!!!

[freyablackthorn]

Another excerpt from my Elden Ring/KCD crossover fanfic

“Heed my word,” he boomed, and the stranger did not flinch, did not falter, but gripped his sword tighter to him. “I am Henry, Blade of Capon.”

The blade sprung naturally to life. Hans’ clever machines and inventions never failed him. The sword ringed with the quiet displeasure of restlessness. Henry knew this fight will give the blade – and the waiting – back its meaning.

“And I have never known defeat.”

Henry extended his arm, the blade clicking into place. Under his visor, butterflies swarmed around and whispered to him: your foe surrenders not. Your foe wishes to vanquish thy dawn.

The Blade of Capon, burning with the swiftness of Rot, gleamed sickly in the pale moonlight. But the Tarnished stood his ground, shaking.

It was not the shake of fear that Henry was accustomed to. It was pure rage.

“He meant the world to me,” the Tarnished said, his voice low as sin. “The one you cursed with your curse. The one you rotted away with your rot. His wits decaying, while you slumbered under a tree, oblivious.” The Tarnished swinged his sword, and the winds sang a song of terror, etched into this land along the path he forged to get here. How many had he destroyed in the name of justice for a man he claimed to love? “You preach of an Age of Compassion, but what have you done? How you moan about ridding yourself of blemish, while you spare none from the same taint!”

alternatively, Erik, as Tarnished, seeks revenge for István's death, and Henry's having none of it lol

[freyablackthorn]

Elden Ring/KCD crossover?

Henry had been asleep for so long.

He had dreamed of meadows filled with the gold of love; he had dreamed of youth, of butterflies. He had once walked in the shadow of order, hand in hand with a boy, golden haired and golden-hearted, who smiled with the possibility of a new dawn, kept a secret.

“Promise me you’ll be my consort,” Hans whispered, as if he was right there with him even now, sharing his dream, leaves twirling around them, his hands shaking in Henry’s. Those fingers bore the light of renewal, where Henry’s were red with rot. In their footsteps, as a twin-flame of life and death, flowers bloomed and tainted. “Promise me, Prince of Decay.” In his eyes, ages passed, even though his face wasn’t marred by time. “And I’ll make you the King of Life. The Consort of Compassion.”

if you are interested, head over to my ao3 account! (FreyaBlackthorn)

p.s. I promise you I did not G.R.R. Martin'd Malenia and Miquella

[freyablackthorn]

Another excerpt from my KCD/K-pop demon hunters crossover fanfic

"You have a soul, Hans.” Henry put a hesitant hand over Hans’s quickly rising and falling chest, and his other hand, no longer holding Hans’s, was placed atop his own. “And I have one, too. Being a demon did not change that.” When Hans shook his head in regretful silence, Henry’s fingers pressed into Hans’s expensive tunic. “No, no, don’t you dare shake your head like that. I have to believe, Hans. And I do. I do, really. We were… I am not a mistake, okay? I am not. So you… you are also meant to be saved. And I’ll save you, save us, I think I know how to…”

Hans’s revelation hit him in a wave of nauseating light.

Henry believes in him because he has to believe in himself. A half-demon, longing for redemption, wishes so hard to right others’ wrongs that he would forgive anyone for a mistake he’s a part of.

But that was the catch, wasn’t it? Because…

“Henry,” Hans smiled, and he did not understand how he could sound so soft when he is all terror and broken promises. “Henry, you are not a mistake.”

If you were ever curious about what a K-pop star demon Hans would be like, head over to my ao3 acccount! (and if you are also a Jinu-apologiser)

[freyablackthorn]

K-pop Come: Deliverance?

"Hans understood that running meant running.

He also understood that those noodle-legs he was so proud of will be cooked in seconds if he didn’t speed it up, for the guy hunting him was extremely nimble, and extremely angry.

One could say he was fast and furious.

Hans got one glance from the hunter, but it was an exceedingly good one to decide his pursuer was really hot.

What an astute observation, he murmured to himself while taking a turn with neck breaking speed. The hunter – maybe Henry? Or could he be Matthias or Sam? – followed him and did not seem to slow down, not even the least bit.

Hans giggled, but purely out of desperation.

“Stop, demon!” bellowed the guy from behind him. His voice had a rough edge that sent Hans’s senses aflare.

“Ask nicely, and I might reconsi…”

He could not finish the answer, for the hunter kangaroo-jumped before him, using the wall as some sort of springboard. With the grace of a swan, he flew past him, landing exactly in front of him, and before Hans could compose himself, the hunter extended his sword-arm. Hans had a blade stuck under his chin, and he was positively repulsed by the gleam in the hunter’s eyes.

“You’re ruining my bad boy vibe with this glowstick,” Hans gestured to the sword, frozen in place."

aka I've got a fic for you if you also have Hansry brainrot while watching K-pop demon hunters (prepare for silly)

[freyablackthorn]

Leon must have sat down, for I heard the chair again. “I needed to figure shit out on my own.”

“I understand.”

“My shit is figured out. Mostly, I mean. Shit tends to get un-figured out pretty quickly.”

I closed my eyes. “Yeah, that’s what shit does best. Being a shit.”

His chuckle was weak, but promising. “You were always so wise in the arts of science. So eloquent.”

I was fighting for my life giving Vendetta!Leon something to crack jokes about in my fic

I mean this man has been through it all

[freyablackthorn]

“Claire, uh, told me you got into a choir,” Leon added hastily. “Sounds fun.”

I agreed. “Yeah, at least I can sing a dramatic Latin chant theme when you are running from a B.O.W. I guess you should take me with you on your next mission. I’d make a fine ambient music.”

He made a face of unserious contemplation. “I’ll think about it; I definitely lack class in that department. My IPod broke in half when I was running away from a zombie priest in a hat.”

or the fanfic where I imagine Leon just casually whipping this one out while running from the Big Cheese:

[freyablackthorn]

“If you are being escorted into the White House in an hour, we damn well have to talk right now,” I insisted, powers helping me beyond my primal instincts. “I’d rather not call the President to give you the phone.”

He laughed into my bird nest of a hair. “I guess Mr. President isn’t really keen on hearing you asking me if I’d taken my vitamins while I was gone.”

I was almost insulted by the nonchalant mocking in his tone. Almost. But to be fair, I missed his dumb remarks more than anything.

“I asked you once and now it’s a recurring joke.”

“It was pretty funny. I had a rocket launcher on my shoulder, and you asked about vitamins.”

a.k.a. I tried my best to exude awkward funny like Leon Kennedy

[freyablackthorn]

“I’m Leon Kennedy. I was sent to your town to evacuate as many people as possible from the outbreak." “Outbreak?” I heard myself repeating him. “What outbreak?” Shit-guy, or, apparently, Leon Kennedy made a dramatic wave with his hand. “The dead people outbreak. That’s enough for you to know.” He disarmed me by putting my mug down where it belonged on the night table. “Look, I understand this is a bit too much, but we need to get going. I’ll get you to one of our temporary shelters, and then you will be moved out with other survivors, somewhere safe. Is that okay?” It was light-years away from okay, but at least he looked good asking it.

I posted the whole fic on my ao3 (FreyaBlackthorn), but I wondered about putting it up here as well, in some form. Would anyone be interested in that?

That's my first ever tumblr post, so pls help the old lady out here <3