𝓐𝓲𝓼𝓱𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓼

‘Ruby can get hurt’. He stressed on the last word, prompting your motherly instinct to keep in heart her best interest by following orders. ‘Demons and mercenaries would want her head in a bag.’

It astonished you at times how quick Dante was to switch nearly all of his loyalty to Ruby, replacing you in the pedestal with her tiny yet fierce form. He promised her rose gardens, the little thing having a tight grasp of the leash around his throat. He still was as kind as ever— as tight in his engineering of your life as ever, as attentive as ever of you and then her. He's a present father doing his best. the imaginary women in your head would say to brush off your complaints. Deathly busy and still there for you and the babe, you should be grateful. True, he had more than enough on his plate, playing hero in the dirt cast upon him all sorts and colors of misfortune, and revealing to the world that the great legendary dark knight had a daughter and a wife tucked somewhere would be putting the neck under the guillotine's blade; even more dangerous with keeping in mind that Dante was an anomaly of a man and Ruby an anomaly of a child. You were ought to protect her as her mama foremost, and as his apple of eye secondarily.

If anything, you needed protection from both of her and her father.

Ruby shrieked at you, her little profile vibrating with a childish fuss that shook your bones— she was a hellspawn after all. You had a hard time believing this creature left your womb at some point. She had earlier bit your finger, threw a plastic stool across the room and kicked your shin. It's a lie to say it didn't hurt physically, emotionally you were concerned for yourself. But what can you do? leaving was not an option. Dante was more resourceful, stronger and willing to take a word out of Ruby's lips over anything you'd speak nineteen to the dozen.

You'd go out that door if given the chance. In all honesty? Neither of them mattered to you anymore. The transition from being spoiled by such a dangerous man to mothering his pup was laughable.

The rattling of keys in the door's lock snatched you from your thoughts— he's here.

Ruby's aggression flew out the window, running to the door as any child missing their papa would. Just as he appeared in sight with the door swinging open, he took the girl in his arms, showering her silver head and soft face with loud, wet kisses.

“Daddy!” chirped the small whirlwind.

He smiled at her, reaching to smooch the shell of her ear before whispering “Hey, princess,” his massive hand cradled the back of her head. “Daddy’s here. I’ve got you. You don't have to scream anymore.” Dante threw his eyes at you, unfathomably static. The blues which once burned wild and blazed with brass were now reduced to a soft shade.

Fatherhood made Dante a mush indeed.

The man who once made you dance with him atop a collapsing cathedral in Fortuna, the man who shot a basilisk dead in its head while proposing— gone. Such a waste of good times.

As he approached and planted a kiss on your lips, a shiver crawled up your spine. The kiss tasted of something sweet turning to sour, the scent of copper emerging from his neck and collar. He used to kiss all way tongue and teeth, he still does but on rare nights where he was home and the little devil was asleep.

“You eat?” he asked, the same stare on.

“Yes.” you simply replied.

“You fed Roo too?”

You held back an eyeroll. That damn nickname. Dante was over the moon when she was born. You can't forget how he screamed in jubilation when he told you he registered her as Ruby Rose Redgrave. The combination looked ridiculous.

“I wouldn't leave her to starve.”

“She napped?"

"I don't know."

Dante blinked, owlish. "You don't know?"

"I wasn't watching the clock.”

He just hummed. bringing back his eyes on the toddler. “You seem off. You ok?”

“I'm not. Your daughter bit me and threw a chair in the living room.”

“Is that so?”. Not a tad in his face moved. His thumb moved up and down across the kid’s head, soothing the little rascal as if her making a tantrum was everyone’s fault but hers. “Must’ve been a pretty loud chair.”

Ruby buried her head deeper in his chest, sucking on a thumb, meek as a lamb.

“She's a disaster when you're not at home, Dante.” You hoped he would scold her. You wanted —even a little fragment— the reckless hunter on his motorcycle back. You wanted the man who taught you how to shoot back. Anything of that fire to burn now. Instead, you saw him smile revelry, holding the girl tighter as he gently reminded “She's just a baby… bear with her.” he stroked the soft wisps above her skull “She loves you, she just wants your attention. She gets scared when she thinks nobody’s listening to her. When she thinks she's... invisible. You know how that is,” In a heartbeat, the fatherly understanding contorted into something curt, threatening. “right?”

The irony about Dante is that he played the fool’s role so well that others forgot how much of a sharp, calculating man he is. His eyes move like a hawk’s; not missing a single millimeter. Ruby was his flesh and blood, hidden from a world he was versed in for her own good; sharing a little house and a bed with you told him all he needed about you as a mother: he doesn't trust you.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, giving him a small “right.”

“That's good, now you understand” He nuzzled his nose against her scalp, the command sounded so domestic in tone but firm in shape “Be a dear and bring some spoons. Brought Roo a strawberry sundae with extra syrup” The girl cooed, making him laugh. “Anything for my precious princess”

Any other fandom or media as long as I'm provided info on source material.

For ghostwriting/editing:

Anything that doesn't go against my rules.

I have to be provided the general idea of the plot.

Style:

One-shot.

Drabble.

Short prose.

Multi-chapter.

Light novel.

Short story.

Novella.

Novel.

Poetry.

Articles.

Blog posts.

Analysis.

Headcanons.

Genres:

Yandere/Dark content/Horror/Thriller/Crime.

Fluff/comfort/romance.

Gothic.

Angst/Hurt.

Science fiction.

Magical Realism.

Realistic literature.

Fantasy.

Epistolary.

Drama.

Psychological.

etc... I'm up for discussion for any other genres I haven't mentioned!

— Prices:

$0.05 per word (Both fanfiction and ghostwriting).

So:

100 words = $5.

500 words = $25.

1k words = $50.

And so on.

The first draft will be sent to you to make sure it's in the line of what you requested, in case if there's an edit you want to be done, it'll cost according to the length of commission.

When the first draft is sent and you wish for editing a certain element, there's only three edits available per piece, each will cost $1.

For editing/proofreading, it'll be $0.04 per word.

As for role-playing, It'll be $40 per hour (on discord, Instagram...etc).

Extra services can be teaching English/or Arabic, creative writing, translation (Arabic to English or vice versa). Send a DM to inquire more.

Payment is via ko-fi/PayPal.

— Special offers:

For first time purchasing 10,000+ words you'll get a 10% discount!

— Rules:

The complete rule list (applies to both original fiction and fanfiction).

— Samples from my works as example:

— Form:

Username:

E-mail.

Commission concept.

Word count.

Message me to negotiate on the concept. I'm non-judgmental and willing to handle anything!

TOS:

You may not post/share/upload etc. any of my works without permission. Credit must always be given (in the exception of ghostwriting of course. that can be discussed in private).

All communication regarding commissions should be kept private unless permitted.

I am very open to all suggestions but please understand that I may not wish to write certain things. If that is the case we can discuss alternatives.

No refunds under any circumstances.

I require 50% of payment upfront. The final piece will be sent after receiving the other half.

You'll have to be earnest in commissioning. If I notice that you're a scammer/showing signs of one, you'll be blocked.

Once the commission is finished it will not be rewritten or tweaked further, unless additional editing has been paid for as per the pricing above. Further editing/tweaking is limited, and may not always be permitted.

I reserve the right to refuse working on/sending a piece at any time. This would likely only happen in an extreme circumstance, and communication is always encouraged.

I hold the rights to all my works and can revoke given permissions at any time.

It is your responsibility to read these rules and keep up to date with any applicable changes.

Canon properties and such belong to their respective owners. As much as I dislike profiting off something I believe it's free right, I found no choice under current situation.

If any of these terms are violated then appropriate action will be taken. Please make sure to talk to me first if you have any issues.

Be respectful and polite and I'll treat you with the same. After all, I have weight on my shoulders outside this blog.

I strictly forbid sharing my work to AI.

And that's all! contact me if you're interested or feel free to ask anything on DMS or my ask box!

Commission form inspiration (due to my lack of etiquette on the matter).

[Excerpt from Chapter 1 Part 1 & 2]

It is much quieter here in the dark. Let the broken pieces lie.

NO! The golden fire roared, expanding violently against the crushing weight of her emptiness. I will not let her die! Put the pieces back! Then, the phantom memory of their brutal, exposed death struck him, adding a flushed, frantic spike of human indignity to his grief. And put some clothes on! We are completely bare out there! Someone might see us! It's so improper!

The vessel is a tool, she retorted, deeply annoyed by the sudden, chaotic noise of his modesty mixing with his panic. It possesses no inherent shame, just as a drawn blade feels no embarrassment for being unsheathed.

The Echo's flustered desperation only flared hotter, vibrating against her boundaries and threatening to give her a migraine.

Your insistence is deafening, she sighed, conceding strictly to quell the relentless clamor of his devotion and phantom embarrassment. Very well. I shall reset the board. And if it silences you, I will weave a perimeter to conceal the cage.

[LOCATION: EARTH / THE KUMOTORI MOUNTAINS]

The demon tore another mouthful of flesh from the pale corpse in the snow, chewing frantically despite the deeply unsettling taste of ash and static. It was starving, and meat was meat.

But as it swallowed, the flesh in its throat simply ceased to exist.

The beast choked, gagging on a sudden lungful of empty air. It looked down at its bloodstained claws. The severed arm it had been pinning to the ice dissolved into a lightless, mist-like pitch. The crimson stains in the pristine snow evaporated. The broken, lifeless body beneath the demon unravelled into dark smoke, slipping through its grasping fingers until there was absolutely nothing left.

The demon was left kneeling alone in the snow, its mouth and hands completely empty.

Then, the reality of the mountain stuttered.

Standing exactly three paces away was the pale figure. She was perfectly whole. But she was no longer exposed to the biting wind. As the universe rewound to spit her back into existence, she had pulled the literal darkness of the Void with her.

📈 Project Status Update: With this Chapter 1 revamp and the recent launch of the new companion series, The Descent of Silence Universe has officially surpassed 128,000 published words! The main story alone is sitting at over 121k, and the drafted buffer is a massive 60k words deep. Thank you all for the incredible support as I keep expanding this alternate universe!

Bonus Shoutout! The amazing @sm0lbetch gifted me this flawless Chibi Kūhime, and she is now the official mascot/divider for these updates! Look at her adorable little face! 🥺🖤

Go reread the newly expanded, visually stunning origin of the Void Hashira!

🔗 Read the Revamped Chapter 1 on AO3 by clicking here!

[Excerpt from Chapter 1 Part 1 & 2]

It is much quieter here in the dark. Let the broken pieces lie.

NO! The golden fire roared, expanding violently against the crushing weight of her emptiness. I will not let her die! Put the pieces back! Then, the phantom memory of their brutal, exposed death struck him, adding a flushed, frantic spike of human indignity to his grief. And put some clothes on! We are completely bare out there! Someone might see us! It's so improper!

The vessel is a tool, she retorted, deeply annoyed by the sudden, chaotic noise of his modesty mixing with his panic. It possesses no inherent shame, just as a drawn blade feels no embarrassment for being unsheathed.

The Echo's flustered desperation only flared hotter, vibrating against her boundaries and threatening to give her a migraine.

Your insistence is deafening, she sighed, conceding strictly to quell the relentless clamor of his devotion and phantom embarrassment. Very well. I shall reset the board. And if it silences you, I will weave a perimeter to conceal the cage.

[LOCATION: EARTH / THE KUMOTORI MOUNTAINS]

The demon tore another mouthful of flesh from the pale corpse in the snow, chewing frantically despite the deeply unsettling taste of ash and static. It was starving, and meat was meat.

But as it swallowed, the flesh in its throat simply ceased to exist.

The beast choked, gagging on a sudden lungful of empty air. It looked down at its bloodstained claws. The severed arm it had been pinning to the ice dissolved into a lightless, mist-like pitch. The crimson stains in the pristine snow evaporated. The broken, lifeless body beneath the demon unravelled into dark smoke, slipping through its grasping fingers until there was absolutely nothing left.

The demon was left kneeling alone in the snow, its mouth and hands completely empty.

Then, the reality of the mountain stuttered.

Standing exactly three paces away was the pale figure. She was perfectly whole. But she was no longer exposed to the biting wind. As the universe rewound to spit her back into existence, she had pulled the literal darkness of the Void with her.

📈 Project Status Update: With this Chapter 1 revamp and the recent launch of the new companion series, The Descent of Silence Universe has officially surpassed 128,000 published words! The main story alone is sitting at over 121k, and the drafted buffer is a massive 60k words deep. Thank you all for the incredible support as I keep expanding this alternate universe!

Bonus Shoutout! The amazing @sm0lbetch gifted me this flawless Chibi Kūhime, and she is now the official mascot/divider for these updates! Look at her adorable little face! 🥺🖤

Go reread the newly expanded, visually stunning origin of the Void Hashira!

🔗 Read the Revamped Chapter 1 on AO3 by clicking here!

Nezuko felt it too. Her heightened spiritual perception, refined by months of practicing the Goddess's Inner Stillness, attuned her perfectly to the atmosphere in the room. She looked up, her pink eyes shifting from the cedar box to Kūhime’s pale face.

Kūhime understood.

"You do not need to ask, Tanjiro," Kūhime said softly.

"I don't want to overstep, Shishō," Tanjiro murmured, his grip tightening slightly on the fabric of his yukata. "You have already given us so much today."

"This vessel is my own, but the sanctuary within it is shared," she replied, her tone perfectly even.

Kūhime closed her sterling silver eyes. She did not reach inward to sift through the dormant passenger's memories—those were sacred, belonging entirely to the soul resting within her depths. Instead, she simply exhaled. The Goddess of the Void deliberately loosened the absolute, iron-clad control she held over her own physical form.

She stepped back from the surface, and she yielded.

The change was instantaneous.

Tanjiro’s breath hitched. His nose twitched sharply as the crisp, ozone-like scent of the Void—the smell of cold starlight and winter night—rapidly dissolved. In its place, the heavy, undeniable aroma of a mountain hearth flooded the small room. It smelled of burning charcoal, freshly chopped pine, and the faint, sweet trace of wild snowdrops.

For Nezuko, the shift was even more profound. Her spiritual sight flared. The vast, abyssal stillness of Kūhime’s aura contracted, and surging forward to fill the space was a blinding, encompassing warmth. It was a brilliant, fierce light that felt exactly like a mother’s embrace. Nezuko let out a soft, trembling gasp, leaning forward on the tatami mats.

When the figure before them opened her eyes, the cold, unyielding sterling silver was gone. The irises had shifted into a deep, warm, and impossibly gentle purple.

The pale hands resting on the table moved, not with the calculated, ethereal grace of a deity, but with the gentle, practiced hesitation of a mortal woman. The hands reached across the short distance, taking Tanjiro’s calloused fingers in one hand and Nezuko’s delicate palm in the other.

"My brave boy," a voice whispered.

The echoing, multi-layered resonance of the Void Hashira had vanished. The vocal cadence was softer now, lacking the cosmic weight but carrying an infinite amount of love. It was the exact lilt of a mountain woman.

Enjoy the fluff, hold your loved ones close, and yell at me in the comments! 🎇