I'll make a fancy post for the tags later but I just finished this thing and so help me i'm gonna post it before I black out
DAY 2 (Inconvenient Location) IS HERE bc I'm finishing up some minor edits on Day 1
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Please enjoy some lowkey thirsty C/hiaki and more H/ajime Suffering (tm). Based solely off of the S/DR2 game, and also it takes place in the Island Mode AU but there are some spoilery references to late main game plot, so proceed with caution! c':
I know C/hiaki's in the anime but I haven't seen it so just... don't correct me with info from it plz lol I'm trying to remain unspoiled until I can get around to seeing it
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
(Omovember 2020. Day 5 - Drunk)
After another long night of loitering at The Stray Sheep, V/incent decides to begin the dreaded journey into the real world once more. Unfortunately, navigating while intoxicated isn't a power-up here, nor is a boss battle so easily overcome...
(Does not take place during a specific route or day, but is loosely based upon my first playthrough of the Vanilla PS3 version, where I ended up with the True Order Ending.)
~~~
🐏🍶🍾 ~Happy Omovember, here I am rubbing my grubby little piss fic hands to taint an older fandom lol. C/atherine this time (the original ps3 version, not F/ull B/ody)! Given how much that game involves alcohol it seemed like a natural choice for this prompt!~ 🍸🍷🐏
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Omovember 2020 Day 3- Sick/Exhausted Omo
I'll answer asks later bc I am exhausted but I'm back on my Gamblin Gurlz bullshit 👏👀❤ So have some W H U M P. We've got fever and delirium, we've got shaky legs and cold chills, we've got nausea, and most importantly, we have The Piss. It's time for the mighty Y/umeko to Suffer and not enjoy it for once, the freaking masochist istg
We also have lowkey M/idari X Y/umeko fluff but ~In DeNiAl~ bc Y/umeko's still got that big s2 grudge lol
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works 'Team P/lasma's King finds himself making some difficult,
'Team P/lasma's King finds himself making some difficult, split-second decisions for the sake of his missions, even if they come at a personal cost he wasn't quite anticipating...Can he call himself such a title if he's still dealing with childish struggles?'
((I can't remember which blog in the omo tag mentioned they were looking for p/okemon content, but I know I saw a post about it so I might as well bring this fic back in my new format! One of the first few I wrote, this was a request for N, and of course I went with the Ferris Wheel Scene (tm) ~ 😉 ))
PREVIEW: This city was like one of the mazes in his childhood puzzle books, twisting and turning, full of endless paths and dead ends. According to his pamphlet, N/imbasa was one of the biggest cities in U/nova though, so it was to be expected. Of course, just because he'd expected it, didn't mean he was comfortable with it.
These modern buildings seemed to tower over everything else, even more so than the stone walls of the castle, and without the comforting cracks and tendrils of ivy to hint at life. No, instead he was surrounded by cold metal and glaring glass windows, passing alleys full of trashcans and struggling to dodge the seemingly endless sea of people bustling around. Feeling his pulse spike as he turned onto a wider street in the hopes of escaping, only to be met with an even bigger crowd, he reached a hand up to toy with the large object tied around his neck, twisting it this way and that as he tried to find a place to get out of everyone's way.
Finally, he found a sheltered spot against a wall, his chest quivering with quickened breaths as he tried to calm down and regain his bearings. Avoiding eye contact with the people rushing past him, he flipped through the pamphlet again until he found the city map, green gaze scanning over the rainbow of differently-coloured lines. He'd been rushing around so much in the last couple of hours, it was hard to tell where he'd even started! Drawing his lower lip between his teeth, he ran his fingers along different sections of the page, finally drawing a conclusion to where he'd ended up, on the same street as the P/okemon Musical Hall. Right. So to get to the amusement park, he'd have to head... all the way back to the other end of the city...
As he tried to plan his route on the map, it came to his attention that his legs had crossed where he was standing, the one on top jiggling. He quickly stilled himself and straightened up, toying with his necklace again as a slight flush dusted his cheeks. A quick glance around showed that no one seemed to have paid him any mind, but that knowledge didn't settle his nerves. He'd been trying to ignore his growing desire for a restroom for a while now, but it was beginning to become difficult to cast something so insistent from his mind.
Maybe he could duck into the P/okemon Center for a mome-no, that would take him too far out of the way, especially having to fight through crowds like these. His team's plans were finally starting to come together, and they were relying on him to be there in case they required backup. He had to hurry to the meeting place before they started, unless he wanted to risk them getting caught. He was not only their leader, but their king. He had responsibilities.
He hadn't had the chance to actually visit many amusement areas due to his rather isolated childhood, but from what he'd read, they usually had restrooms. If he was truly desperate by the time he arrived there, he could locate one before meeting his team members if it was close enough, he reasoned. With that in mind, he folded the pamphlet up, stuck it in his pocket, and set out into the crowds again...
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
(Omovember 2020. Day 24- Bed-Wetting)
Jane is pissed at he
(Omovember 2020. Day 24- Bed-Wetting)
Jane is pissed at herself, at the world, at the fucking monster who she refuses to name... She's also pissed the bed. At fucking 69 years old, give or take. Goddamnit.
This sucks. She sucks, her life sucks, and she bumps into the one fucker she doesn't want to see. But... maybe he sucks just a little less. Even if he's fucking awful at trying to do anything useful.
If a bundle of fuckups deserve the comfort of anyone, it should be someone almost equally fucked up...
~~~
(( I finally wrote something for this show! I love Jane and her well-meaning disaster of a future boyfriend c': This fic didn't turn out as sappy as I originally intended but I had fun writing some of the banter!
Please read the AO3 tags!!! But FYI pretty much all the triggering stuff is character backstory and only vaguely mentioned in a line or two. None of that actually happens in the fic or is described in detail!))
PREVIEW: Jane wasn't sure what woke her up first- at least, first this time, after the last three times her consciousness had been pulled back to the world of the living. Was it the fact that she was drenched in a layer of sweat? The way her bloodshot eyes ached and burned? Or had it been a noise? She dragged a hand down her face and squinted, peering around the room.
Fitful sleep wasn't unusual for her, and the nightmares even less so. They didn't really bother her anymore though. At this point, she's had most of them so many times she was practically numb, could recite them scene by scene without so much as a shiver. It didn't matter anyway. They're just dreams, for fucks' sake.
But every so often, there were the rare ones that managed to surprise her. The nightmares she'd never seen before, or worse, the ones she'd tried her best to block out. Those were the worst, and she always knew in her gut when she'd had one, because there was a heavy pit in her stomach.
And that pit was only noticed a moment before she realized her lower half was way too damp to just be sweat. Feeling around under the blankets confirmed the wet patch underneath her, still soaking into the bed. Warm fabric clung to her like a second skin.
"Fuck…" The tired curse escaped from her exhaled breath, her eyes momentarily rolling back to search the ceiling for whichever bullshit deity had decided to torment her tonight. Finding no such culprit, her resentment was swiftly channeled elsewhere, and she stormed out of bed in a flurry of swearing, yanking any scrap of fabric she could reach. "Fuck! Fucking fuck!!!" They managed to keep Hammerhead from shredding the bedding entirely, but she couldn't bring herself to care about the goddamn fitted sheet, gritting her teeth and tugging with white knuckles until the two furthest corners tore open, sending the rest of the elastic bullshit snapping back in a misshapen ball. Those stupid things weren't worth the fucking effort to put on anyway, they were always such a pain in the ass. She'd rather take a cactus up there than put that shit back on. Fuck it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
(Omovember 2020. Day 5 - Drunk)
After another long night
(Omovember 2020. Day 5 - Drunk)
After another long night of loitering at The Stray Sheep, V/incent decides to begin the dreaded journey into the real world once more. Unfortunately, navigating while intoxicated isn't a power-up here, nor is a boss battle so easily overcome...
(Does not take place during a specific route or day, but is loosely based upon my first playthrough of the Vanilla PS3 version, where I ended up with the True Order Ending.)
~~~
🐏🍷🍾 ~Happy Omovember, here I am rubbing my grubby little piss fic hands to taint an older fandom lol. C/atherine this time (the original ps3 version, not F/ull B/ody)! Given how much that game involves alcohol it seemed like a natural choice for this prompt!~ 🍶🍸🐏
PREVIEW: With that, he pushed his way out into the city streets, blinking in the sudden darkness and colourful neon glow until his bleary eyes adjusted. His forehead creased as he stared ahead, pushing through the fog until he remembered which way led back to his place.
Fuck, it's a long walk… he thought, swaying slightly. But no transport ran this late, and even if it did, he didn't have the cash to drop for a renewed pass. He'd just have to push through, no matter how he just wanted to curl up and sleep.
Something else was still nagging at him though, a gut feeling that was starting to drive him crazy. He'd forgotten to do something back in the bar. Something important, he just knew it. But what?
There are so many responsibilities I've had dumped on me... So many texts and lies and plans to keep track of… Why can't my life go back to being simple?
Groaning, he pressed a hand to his face, dragging it across the skin as if that'd gift him some clarity. A car horn screamed at him, and he realized he'd stepped off of the sidewalk and into the street. Cursing, he staggered back onto the concrete and decided to follow the row of lampposts for a target, gripping each one he passed like a liferaft. The ground rocked beneath him, the pavement seeming to raise and lower by several inches with each step.
God, I feel like I'm going insane... Nothing makes sense anymore! There's always something hanging over my head…
He didn't have the best sense of time now, and the face of his watch and his phone's clock blurred the more he tried to focus on them, but judging by the landmarks he was passing in the corners of his vision, he was about halfway home. So he'd been walking for about half an hour.
Shit. Shit shit shit!
Half an hour seemed like an eternity now that the memory of what he'd meant to do earlier had cut through his addled thoughts.
Piss. He'd meant to piss like a racehorse. Just the thought had forced him to freeze where he'd been leaning against a building's corner, squeezing his legs together with a moan.
That bathroom… it was so fucked...
The blood drenching the walls and mirrors, the eerie voice taunting and jeering at him, making references to some sort of trial… his stomach churned at the memory, chills crawling up his spine. He hadn't known if it was some weird hallucination from the lack of sleep this week, or stress, or if The Stray Sheep was actually goddamn haunted, but it'd scared him shitless. He'd flung himself back out of there before he even entered the stall, rushing straight back to his booth and ordering whiskey.
That was the cure for all problems. Some good alcohol.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works 'G/undham T/anaka is the Dark Lord of Destruction. Born of
'G/undham T/anaka is the Dark Lord of Destruction. Born of an angel and a devil, he and his mighty beast companions typically have no need to involve themselves in human affairs. In a moment of weakness and pity, he is urged to make an exception for at least one day with the mighty future ruler of N/ovoselic, S/onia N/evermind.
Fate is determined to punish him for his hubris...'
((Combines three Omovember prompts! Day 10: Urgent, but the available restroom is not up to par, Day 16: Desperate during a date, and Day 29: Surprised or Scared into Wetting partially ))
~~~
After many months, I have at last completed the final chapter!!! 🎉 It turned out to be double-length, so it has been posted in two halves! I absolutely loved working on this fic!!! It was a fun exercise in indulgence with my two favourite characters! 💜💛 I hope you all enjoy it! :D
NOTE: This fic takes place within the Island AU mode of the game, so there are no real spoilers for actual plot! All you need to know for character explanation is that Princess Sonia is a legit princess from a foreign land, and Gundham is a giant emo who prefers the company of animals to people. ))
PREVIEW: “Gundham…” She cocked her head, her curious gaze still scrutinizing him. “Do you require the restroom?”
He would have flinched back in shock at her inquiry, if moving wouldn’t have been disastrous! How had she seen through his facade so easily? Was she a psychic?!? And how could she say such a mortifying thing without any shame at all, as if they were merely speaking of the weather?
His face was being consumed by the fires of hell, and still, he found himself ducking deeper into his veil, letting the thick cloth slip over his mouth to rest just under his nose. He briefly considered protesting, insisting that she was incorrect in her assumptions, but after the lecture she’d just given him about obscuring the truth, he was positive it wouldn’t work. No, all of his expertly-crafted excuses had crumbled to dust in front of her, and attempting to scrape it back together would only be an insult…
“Even a near-immortal such as myself has… demands that must be met…” He was half-hoping his scarf would muffle the admission enough that she wouldn’t hear him, but of course, hoping for anything was foolish. His bladder stung sharply, as if in punctuation to that thought, and he couldn’t help but wince. Despite himself, he found his knees buckling inwards to press together, much like a quivering newborn foal struggling to stand upright. He certainly felt like a newborn, on the verge of losing control of his shuddering, weak muscles.
“I’m afraid this is where I must abandon you and return to my lair!” He spat the sentence out quickly, turning away to search for the park gate. The only thing more sinful than being caught would be to disgrace himself in front of such an esteemed lady. She may be aware of the problem, but he would not disrespect her dignity by dragging her into it as a witness. “Farewell, Princess!”
“Gundham, hold on! Please!”
Oh, the irony of that shout wasn’t lost on him, but he still gasped when fingers snatched at his coat, holding his arm hostage with a grip of iron. It froze him in stasis, entrapped by confusion and her pleading eyes, such a fragile shade of stormy blue. What… was this? No one dared to lay a hand upon him. Such insolence! Such utter disregard for his status and power, for his boundaries…
This fair maiden was not a psychic, he decided, his brows furrowing. No, she was clearly a witch, and with a few words and a touch of her dangerous hand she had cast a paralyzing spell unto him.
He decided his throbbing bladder was to blame for his slight trembling.
“I suggest you remove your hand before my very being poisons you… You have roughly five seconds before it will take effect...” It should have been a warning growl, a command, but he found his voice was only capable of a quivering whisper. Had she bewitched his vocal chords as well?
Thankfully, she did relinquish her grip immediately, glancing away to bow. “My deepest apologies, I had forgotten about your curse!” After that minute display of respect though, she arose and continued, her eyes locked onto his own. “But certainly you don’t have to leave the entire park! We were having fun on this outing, weren’t we? Weren't you?”
Fun? There was nothing truly ‘fun’ about life on this mortal plane. It was merely purgatory, an extended rest-stop before he dove into the bowels of Hell- and he really did not need to be thinking about rest-stops or bowels, his swollen abdomen reminded him. He grit his teeth beneath his fabric mask, crossing one leg over the other as casually as he could and resisting the urge to bounce. He couldn’t allow this interrogation to go on for much longer.
“It was an adequate waste of time.” he muttered, dipping his head. “However, the window of opportunity has closed, so I must-”
“Surely there’s a restroom here though, isn’t there?” she interjected. He supposed she wasn’t exactly begging, no matter how it sounded to himself. To be fair, she was only questioning his decisions and sudden departure the way any normal mortal would. “I’m positive I saw some when we were heading towards the rides earlier.” A delicately-manicured finger pressed against the tip of her chin as she searched her memories. “Yes, there certainly were!” A spark of determination seemed to fill the fair lady, and she formed a fist for her newly trademarked pose of strength. Normally, he found it amusing, but it was merely unnecessary now. “Come along, and I’ll lead you there!”
“Absolutely not.” Even with the urgency nagging at him and the pain coursing through his body, his lips had no qualms about curling back in repulsion. If there were any hair left on the back of his neck, it would be standing upright, but as it was his hairstyle alone seemed to bristle.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
'Team P/lasma's King finds himself making some difficult, split-second decisions for the sake of his missions, even if they come at a personal cost he wasn't quite anticipating...Can he call himself such a title if he's still dealing with childish struggles?'
((I can't remember which blog in the omo tag mentioned they were looking for p/okemon content, but I know I saw a post about it so I might as well bring this fic back in my new format! One of the first few I wrote, this was a request for N, and of course I went with the Ferris Wheel Scene (tm) ~ 😉 ))
