#°° demon verse: ruby °°

[phrysic]

i think this has been said before albeit i havent seen it yet but: both meg and ruby vessels switching from blondies to dark-hair has to mean something.

[hellsgreatestperformance]

@arcanepactguile from { x }

「🕸️Celebrating the New Year with the Radio Demon of all sinners was an evening he'd anticipated since the invite. A bit of bubbly and conversation with a warm, cozy fire beat frying his brain cells with an excessive amount of alcohol, and waking up who the fuck knows where the next morning.

His fingers trailed along the buck's back, and he found it adorable how the demon practically used him as a body pillow. He was hardly complaining, relishing in the warmth that emitted from his body. When the other moved, he frowned, assuming Alastor was getting up. After a few drinks, the potential distance would make the spider whine. However, his thoughts were incorrect.

The abrupt kiss caused his eyes to briefly widen before he slightly parted his lips to press further in. The taste of alcohol was a reminder that, oddly enough, most of their latest encounters involved indulging in that vice. His cheeks dusted a faint pink, and a soft moan was elicited in response to the sensitive spots being teased.

❝ Happy New Year's, Smiles. Ya 'no, yer tail's fuckin' adorable. What's stopin' me from touchin' it? ❞ He teased. He raises his index finger to gently slide it along the other's bottom lip. ❝ If ya wanna that bad, I ain't gonna say no. But I got a condition, Smiles~ I get ta leave in yer shirt afta'. ❞ 」

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods Part Nine: Written Scene #5: Ruby vs. One Pissed Off Mom

More Sally, Paul, Sam, and Dean content! With bonus bamf Sally because I love her. Also, this has some hand-wavey bits but it's mostly a fully written scene, so enjoy!

Sally, back at home, was sick with worry. She hadn’t gotten an Iris Message from Percy or Annabeth in months and she was terrified that something had happened to them and no one would tell her.  

She called Dean and Sam, to ask if they’d run into the seven in their time on the road, and when they told her they hadn’t seen them since their chance meeting in Kansas a couple months ago, she broke down sobbing. Paul wrapped an arm around her shoulders and took the phone from her, putting it on speaker. Dean promised that they would be on the lookout for any signs and keep an ear open for any mention. Paul thanked them and asked if they’d be willing to swing by sometime soon, Sally would surely appreciate seeing them. 

The boys arrive in NYC and there’s still nothing from Percy or Annabeth or any of the other Seven or demigods that Sally knows. She reached out to Chiron, Thalia, and Grover to see if they’d heard anything at all, but they were all just as in the dark as her. Desperate, Sally prayed to Poseidon, begging him to send her some sign that their son was still alive out there, to tell her if something had happened to him. But there was no answer. She had known that there would be none, had believed Annabeth when she said that the gods had closed themselves off from the world all those months ago, but she had foolishly let herself hope that maybe her prayers and the love she knew Poseidon had for their son would be enough to break through whatever was going on with the gods to him. 

Anyway, Paul is still on paid leave and him and Sally and Sam and Dean are all at the Jackson-Blofis apartment trying to figure out what happened that made Annabeth and Percy stop IMing with no warning, and then one of Paul’s teacher friends and her wife come knocking on the door with a tray of cookies to check in on them. Paul invites them in and if they are startled by the two rugged male models sitting in the living room talking with Sally, neither of them says anything. Sally greets them and introduces Sam and Dean as her nephews who are P.I.s helping them look for Percy and the teacher and her wife are pleasant as can be, ask if there’s been any news and say that they hope they hear something soon, they know it’s hard not knowing if your child is safe.  

They stay and chat for a while, asking for stories about Percy and listening intently to every story that Sally and Paul tell. Sam and Dean do, too, excited to hear stories of what their little cousin is like when not on deadly quests where the fate of the world hangs in the balance. They also listen for instances where the story seemed to be sanitized for mortal ears and make mental notes to ask for the real story later.  

Once the teacher and her wife left, however, another random woman appeared in the living room. No one jumps, per say, but Sam and Dean both reach for the guns tucked into their waistbands and Sally grabs for the celestial bronze knife she’s taken to hiding in her boot as Paul tries to sneak toward the wooden baseball bat in the corner.  

“I thought they’d never leave,” the woman said dryly, and Sam and Dean lower their weapons with simultaneous groans. “You know, the company you boys are keeping these days makes it really hard to talk to you.”

“Sally, Paul, this is Ruby,” Dean said, distaste clear in his voice. “She’s a demon.”  

Paul’s eyes widened and he inched backward, shooting a glance at Sally. Sally narrowed her eyes and kept her knife in her hand, though she didn’t say anything.  

“She’s, well, maybe not a friend, but she’s not an enemy,” Sam tried to placate her. Dean rolled her eyes.  

“Yeah, but only because she’s weirdly obsessed with you.”  

“Look, if you don’t want to hear what I came to say, fine, I’ll leave,” Ruby snarled. “I just thought that since you’ve been sticking your noses in Greek business, you’d want to know that I heard something. But I guess you’re not interested, so maybe I’ll take my knowledge somewhere else.”  

“Wait!” Sally cried as Ruby turned to leave. “What do you mean?”  

Ruby laughed and turned back around to scrutinize Sally with a raised eyebrow. “You know, I’ve heard about you, Sally Campbell, or, sorry, what did you change it to, Jackson? The higher ups had big plans for you, you know. Just like they did for Mary. Of course, you had to go and ruin them by shacking up with a Greek god, making you and your son untouchable.” Ruby shook her head. “A shame, really. If the Greeks weren’t so anal about inter-pantheon mingling, your son could have been extraordinary.”  

“Enough, Ruby. Tell us what you heard or fuck off.” Dean growled.  

Ruby clicked her tongue and wagged her finger at him disapprovingly. “Now, Dean, is that anyway to ask a friend for help?”  

“Ruby, please,” Sam butted in, gesturing for Dean to leave it. “What did you hear?”  

“Thank you, Sammy,” Ruby said, and Sam had to bite back his retort that only family was allowed to call him that. “See, Dean? That’s the way to get a girl to open up.” She sauntered over and plopped herself down in Sam’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with his hair. “There’s a rumor going around,” she said casually. “I thought it might be of interest to you.”  

“Spit it out already, you black-eyed bitch. Or did you just want to waste our time?” Dean grit out through clenched teeth.  

“Sammy, I don’t like the way your brother keeps talking to me. I don’t think I want to tell you, anymore,” Ruby pouted, looking up at Sam with an exaggeratedly hurt expression. “I want an apology.”  

Sam fought to keep his face neutral. “Dean’s sorry, Ruby,” he ground out.  

She shook her head. “I want to hear him say it,” she smirked over at Dean, who was practically fuming. “Make him tell me he’s sorry, and then I’ll tell you what I heard.” She tucked her head into the crook of Sam’s neck and smiled sweetly.  

Sam gave Dean a pleading look. Dean took a couple deep breaths, trying to quell his steadily rising rage, before opening his mouth, but Sally, it appeared, had had more than enough and decided to take matters into her own hands.  

Sally was a blur, appearing at Sam’s side in an instant and grabbing a fistful of Ruby’s hair to yank her off Sam’s lap and throw her to the floor. Before anyone could react, Sally had Ruby pinned underneath her and her celestial bronze dagger hovering just above Ruby’s throat.  

“Tell me what you know about my son right now or so help me God we will see just what celestial bronze does to demons. I can’t imagine it’s pretty,” Sally snarled.  

Dean, Sam, and Paul all stared at her in shock and a healthy bit of awe. (Paul thought he probably should not have found that as attractive as he did.)  

Ruby stayed silent, and Sally lowered her knife until it just barely sank harmlessly through the skin of the mortal Ruby was possessing and Ruby let out a scream that Sally quickly muffled with a hand over her mouth. Sally lifted the knife and waited for Ruby stop screaming before removing her hand.  

Ruby panted harshly.  

“Talk. Now.”  

“S-some big shot demons have been real chipper lately, which is unusual for demons. I heard a few of them talking about it. One of them said ‘the son of the sea and wisdom’s daughter fell.’” Ruby gasped.  

“The hell do you mean, ‘fell’?” Dean demanded. “Are you saying they died?”  

Sally tightened her grip on Ruby and twitched the knife downward again.  

“No!” Ruby cried. “At least, I don’t think so! Demigods die all the time, Greek or otherwise. I doubt demons would be so giddy about two more demigods they’re not allowed to touch biting it.” She rolled her eyes, then flinched when Sally made a low noise in the back of her throat. “Look, I’m not sure, exactly, okay? But I think-I think they meant that two demigods fell into the Pit.”  

“The Pit,” Dean said slowly, not entirely sure what Ruby meant.  

Sally gasped and sat back on her heels, dropping her knife to the floor and clapping her shaking hand over her mouth. “You don’t mean—” she said weakly.  

Ruby nodded.  

“Oh gods,” Sally gasped, and her eyes filled with tears. Paul rushed forward to kneel beside her.  

“Sally, what-what is it? What’s the Pit?” he asked, voice shaking.  

She sobbed and shook her head, unable to speak.  

Sam’s eyes widened in realization. “Tartarus. You mean Tartarus,” he breathed.  

“Based on all this, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that’s really bad,” Dean said. “What the hell is Tartarus?”  

“It is Hell,” Ruby said, sitting up now that Paul had moved Sally back to the couch. “The Greeks’ creation myth is a bit of a convoluted one, but essentially, there was nothing but Chaos, at first. And then Chaos made the Primordials. Gaea is the earth, she is nature and living things. Over the earth was created a dome, which became the sky and Gaea’s husband, Ouranos. Another dome was created beneath the earth, called Tartarus, the Pit of Damnation. Gaea and Ouranos had children together, and those children were the Titans. But Ouranos grew cruel, so Gaea convinced her children to help her trick him. They brought him down to earth, away from his element so he’d be weak. Their youngest son wielded his father’s scythe and, as his four brothers held their father down, chopped Ouranos into tiny pieces and scattered them into the Pit so that he would never again be able to take on a physical body. The Titans later had their own children, the Gods. When the Gods brought the same fate upon their father Kronos as she and her children had upon Ouranos, Gaea grew furious, and bore a new race of children with Tartarus called the Giants. One Giant was born to oppose each of the twelve Olympian Gods. The Giants were bigger, stronger, and meaner than anything that came before them. Eventually, however, they, too, were cast into Tartarus as their eternal prison, and Gaea fell into a deep sleep, exhausted and depressed as all her family was locked away. But now, Gaea is waking, and the Giants are rising to help her. They are ruthless and will stop at nothing to reawaken their mother. But I’m getting off track. Tartarus himself is the Pit. He is the place Greek monsters go to reform when they are killed. His is the very essence of evil. The air is like acid and the ground shard of glass. The very environment down there is meant for suffering. If two demigods have indeed fallen into the Pit, then the air will poison them as they breathe, stop their wounds from healing. Every step will leave them weaker than the last. There is no escape for demigods from the Pit. They will wander, slowly dying, hunted by every monster they have ever killed, every horror ever spoken of in Greek myth, until they cannot carry on, and they give up. Until a monster finally gets the better of them or they simply lay down and wait to die. Their bodies will rot down there, will become carrion for hungry monsters on their way back to the surface. Their souls will be trapped in eternal agony, unable to rest or find peace as they continue to wander endlessly through hell. After long enough, they might change into monsters themselves. If they’re smart, they’ll throw themselves into one of the rivers of the Underworld and pray that the waters dissolve their sense of self.” Ruby smirked, then. “I hear that the Styx would be good for that.”  

Sally screamed in outrage and lunged for Ruby, wrapping her hands around the demon’s throat, but Ruby just opened her mouth and black smoke poured out, leaving an empty vessel on the floor. 

Sally sobbed.  

Paul held her close and cried silently into her crown.  

Sam and Dean looked at each other in horror before moving simultaneously to kneel beside Sally and Paul on the floor.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, laying a hand on his aunt’s shoulder. “Percy and Annabeth are strong. They’re also insanely smart and from what I hear, have a habit of surviving the impossible to survive. They’ll find a way out.”  

“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding. “They said something about the Doors of Death being chained and having to free them. As terrifying as it is, I bet those Doors are chained in the Pit and I bet that Percy and Annabeth know it. They’re probably on their way there to free the Doors and use them to escape as we speak. You just have to trust that they will find their way back to us, to you.”  

Sally breathed shakily as she tried to calm down and nodded slowly. “You’re right,” she said and sniffed. “I have faith that they will make it home. And I will be ready to support them and help them heal when they do,” she said firmly.  

“We all will,” Paul promised. “Whatever they need.” 

Okay, so I'm not the happiest with Ruby's rendition of the Greek creation myth and so-on, and I am well aware that I got carried away there and it's not all that accurate, but whatever. Please just roll with it. Bask in the glory of bamf Sally instead of thinking about that spiel too hard, okay?

[fidelissimi-moved]

Main verse: (for those it pertains to and those who even care)

Ruby is not romantically linked to Sam. What they had in season 4 was not romance, and she recognizes that while her choice of manipulation may have been colored in that regard, that isn't what most people would consider anything resembling a healthy relationship. She regrets her actions in that aspect of Sam's life and if she could go back and take a different path knowing what she knows now, about Lucifer and about Sam, she would absolutely change what she did.

(Ruby's feelings for Sam are entirely and singularly based on what myself and any Sam muns agree on and all of her interactions with Sam Winchester muses will be kept separate in their own verses.)

[burncdheart]

starter - eiji & taru

“WHY can’t you just accept my OWN decisions?”

Her loud voice boomed through the hallways of the upper floor of the hotel.  Miran, her mother who stood in the same room as her children, flinched visibly. The hand who just had rested on her daughter’s shoulder in a reassuring way taken away, as if she feared to burn her fingers on the ginger’s skin. However, it was more the anger in the younger female’s loud voice that caused such reaction. It was clear, that the mother of the twins did - for once - not know how to react or what to do. Standing there in a rather helpless manner, her hand close to her own chest as if not knowing what to do with it.

“We just…”

“You WHAT?”, Taru asked, “Don’t you see, that not everyone wants to live like this?! I’m TIRED of it, of everything!”. Taru spread her arms, as if showing something truly big, “It’s all do this, but don’t do this. Think about the family’s reputation.”. Suddenly, she turned to her twin brother, “Say something! You can be impossibly be happy with all of this!”. Their mother on the other hand rung with her words. Visibly not wanting to say the wrong thing, in order to not  put the mood even more down.

@diverse-hearts-ocs liked for a starter

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[eyes-like-ruby]

Tags

Verses:

°° main verse: lapis lazuli °° °° alternative verse: spinel °° °° demon slayer verse: tourmaline °° °° modern verse: topaz °° °° demon verse: ruby °°

Misc:

° ruka answers ° ruka headcanon ° ruka aesthetic ° ask meme ° dash games ° dash commentary

Personal:

° ooc ° curly speaks

[shanastoryteller]

The boy with the demon blood is always watching him.

His gaze had been alternatingly reverent and despondent before Lucifer’s rise. After, it’s cold, appraising, and only when Dean isn’t looking. It reminds Castiel of the few times that Michael has set his eyes on him and it makes the place on the back of his back itch where his wings would be. Lucifer’s vessel should not remind him of Michael. It’s not right.

They’re sitting in a diner, a cup of coffee in front of him that he has no intention of drinking, Dean is in the bathroom, and Sam is staring at him again, lip pulled back just enough that Castiel can’t tell if it’s a grimace or a snarl. He is not well versed in humanity, but he wishes for this to stop. It’s distracting. “What is your problem?”

“You,” Sam says bluntly, which Castiel had not expected. “I don’t trust you.”

“Because your judgement in this area is without reproach,” he says, surprising himself. It’s just that Dean is predictable. Understandable. Sam is not. It’s frustrating.

That look on his face is almost a smile. “Exactly. I trusted you in the beginning. You’re an angel, a being of good, who brought my brother back to life. Why wouldn’t I?” He shakes his head, a faint look of disgust on his face that Castiel is used to seeing there.

He thought Sam’s self recrimination was wholly centered on his role in releasing Lucifer. He does not know what to do with the realization that some of it is directed towards him. “I am still all those things.”

“No,” Sam says. “You’re the good soldier who left my brother to rot. I tried to save him and couldn’t. I nearly destroyed myself doing it. You could have saved him and didn’t. You could have prevented all of this if you’d pulled him out before he broke the first seal. But you didn’t, and then you left him there for another ten years, letting Alistair sink his claws into him.” He leans forward. “My brother was only useful to you broken. I’m not going to forget that again.”

Anger rushes through him. Dean is often frustrating. Sam is infuriating. “I was following orders.”

He realizes too late that he’s only confirming Sam’s assertions. To his credit, he doesn’t appear at all satisfied with the admission. “That’s why you and Dean get along, you know. Two good little soldiers in a pod that rebelled too late and are suffering the consequences.”

Sam has not spoken of Dean like this, has not been anything but accommodating and sorrowful to his elder brother since killing Lilith. His description of their actions sounds too much like Lucifer for Castiel’s comfort. They’re nothing like him. It is Sam who is the devil’s foil. “What are you, then?”

“An idiot,” he says. “You and Ruby are the same, manipulating us both to start this stupid apocalypse. I know you let me out of the panic room, Castiel.”

He goes very still. There are several defenses available to him, but all only confirm Sam’s assertion that he’s a good little soldier that rebelled too late, that he was as Ruby. Perhaps this is where so much of Dean’s frustrations around his brother come from. He is not right, but it is difficult to find the words to prove him wrong.

“If you were going to try and deny it, that would have been the time to do it,” he says dryly. “If you hadn’t, the apocalypse would have been averted. I can’t kill Lilith if I’m dead and even if one of you had done it, it still wouldn’t matter. Lucifer can’t puppet a corpse. Over before it begins.”

Castiel means to choose his next words carefully. Instead, he says, “You have not told Dean.”

Sam shrugs, looking at the window, his eyes tightening in pain. “He needs something – someone – to hold onto right now. It can’t be me, so it’s you. But I’m watching you, Cas. Manipulate my brother again, and I’m not going to care how useful you are in averting the apocalypse or what it’ll do to Dean to lose faith again.”

“Why can it not be you?”

He looks over at him, startled. It’s nice to be able to be the one to put him off balance for once. “What?”

“Why can Dean not hold on to you?” he repeats. Despite every attempt from heaven and hell to prevent just that, it seems to him that Dean is holding onto his brother more tightly than ever.

Sam’s expression shuts down, but not before Castiel sees the tidal wave of grief there. “You didn’t know him before hell. You don’t know what you took from him by leaving him there.”

He’s back on uncertain territory. It’s the only kind he ever seems to be in with Sam. “Is he very different?”

Dean does not appear overly different from an outside perspective. His personality and priorities seem roughly the same as they were reported to be before hell. Traumatized, perhaps, but it’s not as if Dean is any stranger to that.

Sam laughs and Castiel flinches before he can think not to. “Our father’s words haunted him, you know. That he had to either save me or kill me. In some ways, selling his soul for me was a relief. Not only was it a complete rejection of that order, but it meant that if I did have to be killed one day, he wouldn’t be the one to do it. Not that he ever would, because people have tried to manipulate him into it before. Me included. So I guess you can take some sort of pride in it, being the one who succeeded.”

Castiel regrets starting this conversation. He thinks that Dean cannot possibly still be in the bathroom and wishes he would return. “You are not dead.”

“If you’d left me in the panic room,” Sam says. “I would be.”

That is likely true.

“It was perfect,” Sam says bitterly. “Me, strung out on withdrawal, alone and isolated and hallucinating and dying. Dean with all of his worst nightmares confirmed. Except he’s faced that before and it still didn’t end with me dead. He needed a push. He needed a way to save me or kill me that wouldn’t be his fault, his hands, that he could drink and hide from. And leaving me to detox alone in that room did that, gave him an out that he told himself he could live with.” He tilts his head, mocking and sharp, and Castiel would very much like to stop seeing Michael in Sam Winchester’s face. “But you never wanted me to actually detox. Not with Lilith still alive when I’d need years of training to be strong enough to kill her without it. You didn’t want me clean. You wanted me twisted so far around that I’d be easy to control.”

Zachariah had wanted that. Castiel hadn’t known. He was just following orders.

Dean might accept that explanation. Sam never will. He believes blindly following orders to be a weakness. It’s difficult to argue against it when he’s right. If Castiel had not followed orders he did not understand, they would not be here. But following orders is all he’s ever done.

“I should have known better,” Sam says. “That’s on me. Dean played his part too, but he’s got enough to deal with right now.”

“You intend to let him continue blaming you,” Castiel says. Dean’s mistrust and anger hurts him. It’s easy to see. Here he has the information to rid himself of it, at least partly, but he’s keeping it to himself.

His mouth twitches into something that’s almost a smile. “It’s me or him. He went to hell for forty years for me. I can spare him this.”

Castiel tries to imagine Dean’s reaction if he uncovers how close he came to Sam’s permanent death, how it was something he chose and could have prevented and did not because of actions and assurances that Castiel gave him.

Sam is an abomination. He is, also, human, and no amount of demon blood down his throat is going to change that.  

“Before hell, Dean might have forced me to detox, but not alone,” Sam says softly. “He never would have left me to die alone.”

He searches for something safe to say, something to extricate himself from this conversation. What he settles on is, “You and Dean’s relationship confuses me.”

Sam laughs again. Castiel doesn’t flinch this time. “He pushes me to leave and then blames me when I do,” he says, exhaustion leaking into his words. Sam often looks tired. Castiel has never wasted time wondering precisely why. Perhaps he should have. “It never occurs to him that if he just stopped pushing, I’d stop leaving.”

A self fulfilling prophecy. The apocalypse was supposed to be like that, except that in the end heaven and hell had needed quite a lot of work to get it started. Destiny isn’t as easy as Castiel had been told it would be. “Why are you telling me this?”

It’s that cold, assessing glance again. Comparatively, it’s almost comforting now. It’s better than the grief. It must be exhausting, mourning a man who’s right in front of him. “So you know to watch yourself, Cas. I’m looking properly now. And I see you for exactly who you are.”

It’s not an idle threat, not from Lucifer’s vessel, not from the man who killed Lilith, but there’s a shiver down his spine that’s not quite fear. He’s a low ranking angel, all things considered. Like a god on earth, but celestially insignificant. He is to take orders, to follow his father’s will and his brothers’ guidance and never stray from this well trodden path.

No one has ever seen him before.

[konigsblog]

demon!könig and religious!reader

cw: religious themes, demons, dark content, non-con/dub-con, choking. dead dove: do not eat. MDNI 18+

you're awoken to the agonizing feeling of your cunt stretched out around something wide, heavy and lengthy, prodding against your cervix, all their weight leaned down onto you. immediately, you gasp and choke out sobs of discomfort, mortification and fear — realising the state you're in.

your eyes are wide with terror and horror as you turn your head over your shoulder, gazing at the sight behind you through blurry eyes, caused by the tears forming in your waterline and spilling down your burning cheeks.

the sharpness of his nails against your bare, soft skin leaves crimson, ruby blood running down your skin, with one claw over your mouth, in an attempt to silence you. you know where your rosary lays, but so does he, and he makes sure that you have no way of freeing yourself from the torture.

the painful stretch between your thighs leaves you weeping pathetically, with your cunny swelling around the force and impact of his large, leaking dick. it's beyond agonizing, with tears pooling in your eyes from the pure agony of it all. the feeling of something being wrapped around your neck, restricting your breathing with a scarred and clawed hand. the tightness of his grasp and the feeling of burning and aching between your soft thighs from the ruthless and merciless thrusts leave you light-headed, unable to make out a coherent sentence as you're fucked into stupidity.

it's könig's goal to corrupt your mind, so that you're sinful and evil, a devilish version of yourself.

you feel as he flips himself around so that he's laying on your bed, and you're laying atop of him. your hips are pushed and angled skywards, to give the demon easy access as he controls and torments you. the scratching of his sharp, long claws against your entire body leaves you squirming, and the way he chants evil and ungodly verses into your ear, until you're nearly unconscious with the throbbing and pulsating sensation, feeling as könig thrusts deep into you, his attempts at mating with a human successful, as his potent load fills your aroused hole.

[thenextbestidol]

As a demon slayer, Ruby had to admit she wasn't the strongest one. But she was one of the most agile, that's why when the vines appeared out of nowhere, she was quick to move aside and avoid them.

"Awww, you think I am pretty?" she winked flirtatiously "Thank you! I have a good sleep schedule! Not that you would know anything about that, with all the lurking around searching for innocent humans to eat"

Ruby inhaled deeply, seeing the vines that were ready to kill her. If she wanted to win this, she had to be quick. And smart.

"Thou that's only one of the reasons you can't be pretty," she said, using the mocking tone the demon had used with her previously "Another one is that you smell like blood, that's disgusting, is no surprise that any man wants to be around you. And those sharp teeth! Jeez! You are impossible to kiss!"

This time the vines attacked harder, more violently. Good. That's what she needed. Irrational attacks led by anger. An angry opponent was an easier opponent to win.

She dodged the vines, and started to do her second strongest breathing technique.

"Song breathing: the lullaby of a mother!"

Her sword moved fastly, cutting the new vines that the demon was throwing at her. She had to use a little more force, but she was able to approach Kumi enough to be able to cut her cheek.

As it's not often she'd encounter females in that profession, the love demon momentarily pondered if those pesky demon slayer corps now consist of more women. They just don't want to give her a "partner" to enjoy with, do they?

More so, this blonde girl sure has a sharp tongue to underestimate her, one of the Twelve Kizuki. Might as well lecture this brat about who she's dealing with.

"Worried? Aren't you a little too sweet~?"

Using her Blood Demon Art, vines emerged from the ground with one of them used as a whip to counter the slayer's attempt of cutting her head off. Those vines were more durable than normal vines, not easy to be sliced even by Nichirin blades unless the user exerted more force.

"For a little girl with a cute face, acting tough doesn't fit you. It would be better if I just rip it off. You don't deserve to look pretty anyway~"

It may be her jealousy speaking. Sure, Kumi may still have some endearing qualities. But if there are other beautiful girls around, it won't be good for her as she believes they'll steal away her "partners".

That being said, the other vines were also used for another attack. A few would attempt to bind their target.

[hellsgreatestperformance]

@arcanepactguile

「🕸️The Radio Demon...An infamous name known among the demon's residing in the Pride Ring. For all he knew, the name carried itself among the other rings of hell. Being a guest on one of his broadcasts was far from an honor unless you craved the sadistic freak making an example of you. When it was revealed this guy was the sole reason fore the disappearance of various Overlords, his grandfather made him a priority. Who exactly was the Radio Demon? Did he have any weaknesses beneath that seemingly thick skin? Could they be rid of him? Or possibly persuade him to form some sort of alliance with their family? And the one responsible for finding answers to these questions was none other than Angel himself. Fuck, he swore if he heard the old bastard call him Anthony one more time...

Since his grandfather's death, apparently the old man sought out any of their family that descended the soil to rebuild his empire in this new land. A deal was struck with Carmilla in order to supply their family with sufficient weaponry. And by the time Angel arrived, his grandfather had already accumulated contracts with various demons. Half their goons were those sorry down on their luck dumbasses that were willing to sell their soul. All they became were pawns for an Overlord's benefit. And now the old man was terrified this so called ' Overlord Slayer ' was gonna make him his next victim. Angel kept it secret how delightful that outcome could be to avoid any repercussions of the verbal or physical kind. So maybe spying on this guy would actually be beneficial to himself. It meant venturing outside the estate into the flames of the city that had screams resonating left and right, but it still meant being away from the family that had made him feel depressed.

Mafia attire hardly made sufficient camouflage. In order to blend in better with the public he found an old pair of jeans ( which he loathed ) and a sweater. None of this was his style, but his comforts hardly mattered when it came to accomplishing his mission. A few necessities were tucked away in his pockets, as well as a tiny notebook and pen for surveilling. Anything and everything this demon did would be recorded with dates and timestamps. Maybe this actually wouldn't be all that difficult. Maybe for once he would return to the estate and be complimented on successfully proving his worth. Fingers firmly, absentmindedly, grip the fabric of his sweater as he softly smiles at the potential, but it quickly subsides as he makes his way into the heat of the outdoors.

Sometimes he missed the night sky and the cool breeze that gently kissed your cheeks. A beautiful sight he had taken for granted years ago. One he would give anything to see once more if given the chance. But his focus had to remain on his mission: find the guy, record what he did, and report back until his grandfather was satisfied with his findings. But where would he actually find him? If he went directly to his broadcasting place, if he even knew where it was, then it would easily give him away. He'd likely be questioned and, yeah, he was a good bullshitter, but it meant the demon would see his face and possibly remember it.

The spider wandered along the streets, only halting his search to grab a bite to eat. The search commenced shortly afterwards. Hours passed and his feet were starting to ache. Shit, why was this so hard? Did he need to go somewhere else? But where? At this rate he'd be venturing all over Pride just to find ONE GUY! But, wait...was that? The Radio Demon had ears like that, yes? And he carried a staff about, right? His eyes lit up as he believed he had found his target. But now wasn't the time to celebrate. He acquired his pad and pen and kept a bit of distance from the man.

This was the first time in years his grandfather trusted him with something of such importance. He could have sent Arakniss to play detective, yet he specifically said he wanted him. Was this, perhaps, a test? He could ponder the options all day and still never understand why he was chosen. Even though a tiny voice in the back of his mind wandered if it was because compared top his brother he was disposable if the demon decided to broadcast his screams. All he knew was that he couldn't fuck this up. He flipped the cover of the pad and jotted down the time and date of discovery. 」

[according2thelore]

I’ve been devouring your ES/LS verse tags, and you know what i can’t stop thinking about? How purely ESdean loved ESsam. Like. My baby bother can do nothing wrong. You killed that guy? Guy must’ve done soemthing it’s ok. And how that was absolutley ripped away from Sam by season 4, and he never actually got it back. Not from his POV. In Sam’s mind I’m pretty sure he knows Dean loves him- but it’s part obligation, part history and pattern, and part *in spite of* all the shit. Not the same kind of absolute devotion he grew up with until Dean died (of course it is, but not to Sam). It can’t be. Not after he didn’t save Dean from hell, the demon blood, the voicemail, Lucifer, the amulet, soulless Sam, purgatory, etc etc.

And now. Now. He’s gone esDean right THERE. A Dean that still loves his Sammy the way lsSam thinks he’s lost forever. And lsSam didn’t even know how much it hurt to lose that until he’s looking at it. Like he’s been bleeeding out for decade about it and n it even really noticing. A brother who loves him- absolutley- is back. Is right there. Is looking at him the way he used to. Before Sam ruined everything.

Holy shit how bad does that fuck up lsSam. I don’t see how he wouldn’t become obsessed with esDean. And I mean obsessed. Wanted to be around him all the time. Just soaking up what he thinks he doesn’t have anymore and can only have fire little while as a reprieve. I cannot emphasize the obsession.

To the point where lsDean notices. Like. Really notices. Because he never actually stopped being devoted to his brother, and Dean? He’s never experienced Sam being obsessed with someone else. Not ever. He thought he had- Stanford or ruby- but that wasn’t the same. That wasn’t this. That wasn’t Sammy staring at someone with all the love he has for Dean and soemhow even more stars in his eyes. It has to drive lsDean insane. Insane insane. He grew up to be a mean sob, and this is pushing every Sam button.

I caaaaaaant. An insanely depressed and fucked up laSam being based with the younger Dean, while lsdean froths at the Mouth.

Chefs kiss.

GAHH!!!!!! this is beautiful!!!! everyone stop what you're doing and read this!!!!!! i love the way you phrased this @bickbickbarnes, and i am frothing at the mouth reading it over and over again!!!!

i wrote just a little thing about this--i hope that's alright!! your (totally on point) description of their dynamic really captured why i love LS!Sam/ES!Dean sm!!

AN: i fucking lied this thing is 1.3k words...i hope you like, lol!

-lizzy

"woah!" dean shouts, and sam jumps a little. he whirls around, and younger dean is running up to him, eyes wide. his arms are thrown open, machete dangling casually from his grip. he punches sam in the arm when he finally catches up to him. the smile on his face is blinding. "sammy what was that, man?"

sam drops his own machete to the side. he's still heaving for breath, having just decapitated a vampire that ran at him. older dean and sam are standing off to the side, and sammy notices his younger self gawking at older dean with something...heavy, something hot, in his eyes as dean hauls one decapitated body over his shoulder to start the pyre.

"what?" sam asks, looking back down at young dean. he looks down at the body and nudges it a little. did dean think he didn't cut all the way through the neck? the body jiggles.

"that was so fucking cool." dean crows, and sam turns back around to look at him, taken aback. dean is grinning so wide that it closes his eyes. he shakes sam's shoulder. "grandpa!" dean calls, and older dean looks over with a scowl. "that's how you do it."

"oh." sam's chest feels tight, and he feels hot creep across his cheeks, up his neck. "thanks."

dean is still patting him on the back, and sam hasn't been praised like this for taking out a vampire since they first found out they still existed. sam jostles under dean's arm.

"'thanks'--" dean repeats, scoffing, and raises an eyebrow at younger sam, who's scowling. "humble, too."

"whatever." sam spits, and stalks off. sammy doesn't take dean's arm off of him, expecting him to move it, but he doesn't. not for a minute.

~~~

"i knew you could do it!" dean snatches the book out of sammy's hands, and sam's chest feels weird--tight--as dean beams down at the page. they'd been researching werewolves all afternoon, and sam finally found a passage in urdu that mentions the strange scales they've been finding at the murder sites. dean squints at the words like he can read it at all, and nods. "my geeky little brother never loses."

dean states, dismissive, a sarcastic grin on his face like he's mocking him.

"uh--" sam starts, trying to find the footing in this conversation. the praise is casual--purposefully degrading--but it's praise. older dean hasn't blinked at sam finding a clue--in any language--for...god, years probably. they've just gotten that good.

dean peeks a look up at him, and sam is stopped by the strange look in his eyes.

"tried to strangle the inner nerd with those things--" dean gestures at sammy's arms with a casual hand and a raised eyebrow. "--but you couldn't." dean looks up, and his smile is quiet and softer. his tone is admiring. "man."

dean shakes his head and looks back down at his own book--written in english--with a bottom lip cushioned around a pencil.

sam folds his arms, conscious of them again. that's been one of the biggest sticking points for younger dean: sam's size. strangely, sam suddenly wishes he was smaller. small enough that dean--this dean--could do...something. sam can't put his finger on it.

it had been a long time since being with dean felt like this, since the tension was full and heavy and warm. it feels like long drives and quiet silences and shitty whisky passed back and forth under the table.

sam's breath catches when he realizes...it feels like home.

being with dean always feels like home, but this feels like sitting back down in the childhood bedroom that sam never had and letting the mom he never knew pet through his hair and tell him it was always going to be okay.

the world is so strange and terrifying and smaller than sam had any right to know, but dean--this dean--nudges his foot under the table without thinking about it.

he loves him in the way that children love things--without equivocation, without years of betrayal and revenge and torture and nightmares.

it's dean.

sam nudges his foot back, and greedily drinks in the pinkness on the top of dean's ears.

~~~

older dean wipes blood off of his jaw, and sammy helps younger sam off of the floor. the kid is fine, but younger dean immediately takes the burden of him, sliding under his arm like he's always been there.

sammy notes that older dean's eyes track the kid, too, and sammy rolls his eyes. he's fine.

the cave they're in is dark, and sam can feel the damp like a cool sweat on his skin.

dean clears his throat, "okay we need to split up, i say--"

"i'll take dean," everyone--including sammy--is surprised, when he speaks up first.

sam shifts his arm over dean's shoulder, and pushes sweaty bangs off of his forehead.

"don't you think we should split experience levels--" he starts, but sammy cuts him off with a finger.

a finger pointing at the man under his arm.

"i meant dean," sammy says, and sam straightens, shocked out of the performance of needing dean to stand.

"yeah," younger dean says, straightening too. his eyes are bright, and his smile is so satisfied that sammy finds himself smirking, too. "he meant dean," dean says, glaring at older dean. sammy pats him on the shoulder, hard, and dean obediently follows after him as they split up.

"don't worry, i'll protect you." dean says, after a while, young voice echoing over the cavern walls and reverberating in sam's skull. sam wishes his internal voice sounded like this, instead of...sam shakes his head to clear the thoughts.

he looks down at dean, whose chest is puffed up. it's all play-acting, and they both know it. dean looks up at him, and gives him a slow once over that makes sammy have to swallow, hard. "don't think i could human shield you, but...i'll do my best." dean smirks.

sam punches him in the shoulder, and then has to kneel on the ground as the hit takes dean to the floor, apologizing profusely.

~~~

"shit, man," dean hisses, and squats down so he can press a rag to sam's head. sam freezes, shocked by how close he is.

sam is forty. this kid is twenty-seven, but he pats at sam's cut and coos sympathetically like he's tending to a child. sam knows his head wound must gush again, because all the blood in his body rushes to his face.

sam had been cut by a piece of glass but it was shallow, and the slice had been clean.

"that was nasty. are you okay?" dean asks. sam stares at him.

dean's eyes are green, and his freckles stick out on his skin. fuck, he's gorgeous. he's so fucking gorgeous.

his lips are plump and pink, and his eyes are soft and round. it's disney princess shit. sam blinks up at him, and feels like he's fourteen again, and this boy could fix every single thing that's wrong.

his mouth is dry.

"who was the centerfold model in the '89 playboy i kept in my bag?" dean asks.

"reneé tenison" sam mutters automatically, dazed, and dean's face splits in a shit eating grin.

"i always knew you read it after me." dean crows. but he still pats sam's cut like he's porcelain. "dirty bastard."

sam nods. fuck. he'll be anything.

"let me help you up." dean sits back on his heels, and sam obediently raises his arms, palms up. he's being babied. he's being babied.

~~~

"dean--" sam leans back, book open in his lap, and older dean looks up. his gaze softens when he catches sam's eye, having been glaring and muttering down at his record player for the last hour and a half. he's gutted it on the table, and is fiddling with wires because he's not going to pay some some man-bun yuppie $700 to tell me what i already know.

"yeah?" he asks, clearly relieved for the reprieve.

sam winces.

"no, sorry, dean--" he points at younger dean, slumped over the couch in the library, flipping through the hunger games with a rapt expression.

he snaps to attention, dropping the book on the floor and denting the cover. "oh! yeah?"

sam holds up the book in his lap--a catalogue of the weapons storage room.

"i found it." he grins.

dean scrambles off of the couch, almost sliding up to sam like someone slides into home plate.

"DUDE!" he snatches the book out of sam's hands and reads it rapidly. he looks down at sam, beaming. "your brain scares me." he gives sam the book back, and tries not to look interested as he asks, slowly. "do you think we could--"

sam looks down at the open page. the kitsune death sword. it was said it could peel the skin off of people that looked at the gem on the hilt.

dean's excitement is contagious, though, and sam can feel his own grin spreading. he looks back up at him.

"it's on the fourth floor."

dean is already running out of the room, and sam scrambles up to follow him, the distant "fuck yeah!" of dean making sam sputter with laughter.

he doesn't notice the expression on older dean's face when he leaves.

~~~

"GAH!" dean almost drops the ladle into the pot of mystery soup on the stove. sam leans in the doorway of the kitchen, having been observing his quiet puttering for a few minutes. "jesus. sorry. you're big. i mean--" dean holds out his hands, dropping soup on the floor due to the ladle still clenched in his fist. "you're here. WHICH IS GREAT. sorry, you're big."

his cheeks are bright red, and sammy tries to arrange his facial features into sobriety.

"yeah, i am." sam says, somber. "big and great."

dean sucks on his teeth, pink up to his ears, and leans back over his soup, muttering.

"brat." he admonishes, and sam snorts. he walks the few steps into the kitchen to lean against the counter next to him.

"what're you doing?" he asks. the soup smells okay, but sam can see cut hot dogs swirling in it. his stomach churns.

'i found a recipe book from the 40s and they have something called a 'triple meat sundae.'" dean says, holding up the card for sam's perusal. sam takes it from him, and reads the truly terrifying recipe list.

"that is...horrific." sam replies. marshmallow creme and barbeque sauce??

"figures you're still a snob." dean rolls his eyes.

"a snob with functional arteries." sam reminds him, putting the recipe card back by his elbow.

dean is silent for a long second, looking at him with warm eyes.

"bitch." dean says, tentative. hopeful. it almost sounds like a question. fuck. sam hasn't heard that in a while. in a long time. not since dean wore that necklace everyday like it was the best thing to ever happen to him.

sammy's eyes fall to it now, the mark of ownership clear to him in a way it had never been before.

"yeah." sam says, chest full of loveyesmine. dean's face falls, slightly, and he's quick to correct. "oh--sorry--jerk."

dean nods, hiding his grin behind the ladle of his radioactive soup.

~~~

"you didn't come to bed last night."

sam sits up, and sees dean--older dean, sammy's dean--looking down at him. there's a cup of coffee in his hand, and he puts it down next to sam's elbow. sam takes it gratefully.

he's been sitting at the war table all morning, and realizes his shoulders ache.

"hm?" he takes a sip of his coffee, and tries to un-kink his spine. dean is wearing just a henley today, and sammy admires the way it pulls across his chest as he crosses his arms.

"you didn't come to bed." dean says again. it takes sam's brain a second to process it.

he had been sneaking into dean's room--their room, really--for the past week, as sleeping alone had become irritating and exhausting. his own room had become dusty and felt barren in dean's absence.

they'd been trying to sleep separately for the sake of their younger selves, but agreed that what they didn't know didn't hurt them, as long as they didn't do it every night.

"oh. yeah. sorry--dean wanted to watch the sopranos finale. we couldn't find you or sam so we watched it in the dean cave." sam snorts, remembering the look on his face. "you should've seen him, he--"

"i know." dean cuts him off abruptly. "we watched that finale together in 2008. remember?"

sam looks at him again, brought up short. dean looks...

"oh. yeah. sorry." sam mutters, leaning into dean's leg because the sudden emotional distance has him on uneven ground.

"sam and i were in the archives. like you asked us to." dean says, lowly, and it has a bit of rasp from clenched teeth. sam sits up straight. oh fuck. he had asked them to find the file on that norse battle axe, hadn't he?

"oh, shit." he puts the mug down, and wraps a hand around the back of dean's knee. he rubs a hand over his own face. "sorry, it's been...a lot."

there's a hand in sam's hair, and sam leans into it shamelessly, relieved that he's been forgiven for this, at least.

"yeah." dean says, but his voice is still tense. "i know."

~~~

the door is closed. and both sams are in the library. so no one is there to see it. or hear it.

but if someone was walking past the door to storage room 14C, this is what they'd hear:

"--back off." the voice is tense. low.

"back off? you sound like the old man." a scoff.

"i'm only telling you once. we can't fix this shit yet, but you gotta stop hanging around him all the damn time. he's not your sam."

"why? you feelin' threatened?" a taunt. "your dick not workin in your old age? sammy want--"

a slam. a crash. something gets pushed to the floor, and things scatter across tile.

"i'm telling you. to back. the fuck. off."

"you can't hurt me." the words are choked.

"i can't kill you. there's a difference." rubber soles on a concrete wall, like someone is kicking at it. fabric rustling as a body is pushed up a wall. "it's a biiigggg line. huge." the voice is a growl, but the threat of violence is gleeful. excited.

something drops to the ground. heavier this time, and someone gasps for breath. footsteps walk to the door and almost exit, when--

"i can tell you i'll stay away all i want. can't stop him from coming to me."

~~~

older sam takes great care to ice younger dean's knee that night, and coos over his black eye. younger dean won't tell him what happened, but leans out of sammy's gentle touch when older dean walks by and asks what happened.

older dean fucks sammy through the mattress that night, so deep sam feels like he's going to choke on it. and sam wears the bruises for days.

he loves it.

[spnficrecfest]

detailed schedule and themes

here you’ll find more info about the prompts. these are open to interpretation — if you’re not sure if something fits the theme, add it anyway!

most days have two options to choose from. you are not restricted to only one prompt on those days. feel free to rec something for both, or combine them!

i added suggestions for some prompts in case you're having trouble thinking of anything in particular, but of course you can always put everything in one post/list (for example, all your beloved AU fics instead of focusing on one specific kind)

august 1 — specific era or season

suggestions: pre-series, soulless!sam, heaven fic, dean's time in hell, late seasons, dean’s time in purgatory, demon blood era, god!castiel

august 4 — kinks or whump

kink suggestions: car or public sex, bondage, lactation, scent kink, the gentle holding of hands, a/b/o, biting, phone sex, pregnancy, size kink, first time, wing fic, cross-dressing, marking, dub-con, voyeurism, wounds

august 7 — short fics or long fics

short fics: anything with less than 3k words long fics: anything with more than 50k words (don’t get too hung up on the suggested word count; if a fic you really love and want to include has 3.5k words or only 49k, just throw it in there as well.)

august 10 — AUs and crossovers

suggestions: space/future, demon!dean, merpeople, non-hunting au, always-a-different-gender, cowboys, unrelated au, end!verse, serial killers, canon divergence, age swaps

august 13 — poly ships or rarepairs

for the purposes of this fest, i define “rarepairs” as anything besides sam/dean and dean/cas. suggestions: sam/dean/cas, jess/sam, anna/ruby, dean/john, claire/jack, sam/lucifer, dean/benny/cas, crowley/bobby, jody/donna, azazel/john, dean/omc, meg/castiel

august 16 — case fics

august 19 — tropes or outsider pov

tropes suggestions: fluff, bed-sharing, curtain fic, fake dating, mistaken for dating, (love) curse, fuck or die, enemies to lovers, amnesia, first time in a long time, death fic, holidays, time loops, dark fic, accidental baby acquisition, huddling for warmth, sick fic, hurt/comfort

august 22 — G/T-rated and gen fics

gen suggestions: character studies, religion, trauma, found family, humor/crack, platonic relationships

august 25 — vintage fics or recent fics

vintage fics: anything published before season 6 (mid-2010) recent fics: anything published since 2022 (feel free to define both of these terms differently, this is only a suggestion.)

august 28 — episode codas or formats

specific episode suggestions: mystery spot, about a boy, free to be you and me, it's a terrible life, lebanon, the end, red meat, what is and what should never be, despair, sex and violence, hello cruel world

format suggestions: chat fic, 5+1 things, epistolaries, poetry, screenplays, anything unique and special you’ve come across

august 31 — all time favorites or free space

the grand finale: the crème de la crème. the stuff you want everyone and their mother to read. or: all the fics that didn’t fit into any of the other sections!

[petalscrushed]

ruby is not the one to be asking about advancements in technology. she hadn't had that much attention to it even when she was alive beyond just enjoying the novelty when she happened to encounter it, and...well she died in 1965, and has spent that time unfortunately tied to her ex. but that time tied to him has, at the very least, kept some level of attention on the trends. it's hard not to bitterly notice every new trend he takes on without ever showing how long he's actually been alive, and everyone who's suffered so he can have that.

even then, though, she's mostly just guessing, and she certainly doesn't know the right way to describe it to someone else. "i think they can take calls from it, through their telephones." is her best explanation, and during which, she's miming it a little—first her fingers go up to her ears to indicate the location, and then a more vague gesture roughly indicating the size of a smartphone.

still, there's a small smile as she finishes her answer with a joke, "then again, i suppose she could be talking to ghosts."

@petalscrushed + starter call

" what is an airpod? " new technology constantly passes edwin by. he'd already missed seventy years of advancements and now he has to contend with a forever changing landscape of life that had more words for things than he could ever keep track of. his notebook always having words he needs to check with charles for their meaning. " are you sure that woman is not merely insane and talking to herself? "

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. ﹙ the demon alchemist. ﹚:  jìngyí verseless .𖹭 ݁

. . . dance with the devil !! 🍒 : “ keep your eyes on me sweetheart. just focus on me. there we go, pretty eyes on me and simply follow my lead, yes? ”

꒰ verse ꒱ of the abhorration

꒰ species ꒱ high ranked demon

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ chinese

꒰ age ꒱ 26

꒰ gender ꒱ male

꒰ mbti ꒱ istj

꒰ alias ꒱ the whisper, the head alchemist of the abhorration royal court, prince of sorrows, little puppet ( xra’fei ), dissonant mirror, the demonic half necromancer.

꒰ story ꒱ 

peering through the mirrors across his large citadel expanse. his fingers glide over each and every frame. a calm, almost gloom, expression upon his face. searching for the mirror calling for him.

a high ranking demon of the abhorration and one of its renowned alchemists,  jìngyí has created a reputation for himself. a being who crawled to the top through his own cunning tendencies and witt. a controlled violence who all but glances, and demons in his way quiver.

but a sweet tone of honey and a silver tongue is what he has. a serene demeanour that fools many, apart from beings of the abhorration, who fear the mere wind of his presence. 

an underling to the ruler the abhorration and an owner of a well-known alchemist store, he carries through his days in elegance and grace. despite the terror that lies beneath

 

꒰ appearance ꒱

very long, silky black hair that is often puts up, he switches a lot between many hairstyles, as he likes testing out new looks. has a white streak in his hair

looks incredibly ethereal in his ( previous ) humanoid form, with his tanned skin glowing softly and his mix of sharp and slightly soft featrues

he has long, sharp, talon-like nails, that are sharp enough to rip smoothly through most soft surfaces. such as flesh.

stands at about 6’7", with a lean, slim build.

deep maroon eyes that peer into souls

has a very dark aesthetic when it comes to dressing up. very formal and regal in his appearance. wearing robes that flow nicely around him, while still sitting tight around bits of his body. such as his waist and chest.

black makeup, with red and orange undertones that reminds one of a sunset.

always wearing a large assortment of silver jewelry, snakes and cloud shaped bracelets and necklaces that chime against each other softly as he moves.

rows of black sharp demonic teeth, that fade to a slight maroon color at the ends of them.

nipple piercings ( tassel piercings )

standard lobe piercings, where long silver earrings hang from, an emerald, an amethyst and a ruby hanging from each row of the chain.

half demonic:

in his half demon form, his eyes are concealed. no longer there, as a matter of fact. covered by a dark, cloudy mist, that forms a low halo around his head.

long, curvy and bent devilish horns which split into another pair of different, more curled horns at the base of his ears. which now look more like that of a goat’s.

his skin has become grey-ish and facial features much sharper. and a little obscured too by the looks of it. looking as though some of the skin is emitting smoke from it.

prime demonic:

he has lost any humanoid form, primarily consisting of a cloudy substance like air, with even longer horns protruding from his head.

his body is disfigured, but you can see the slightest shape of what his usual body looks like still. while his head has become more triangular and sharp.

a pair of bright, glowing, blue misty eyes interrupts the dark vapor that surrounds him and seems to be what lights him up the most and even shows this form fully.

 

꒰ personality ꒱

he is rather quiet in general. taking on the roll of observer, however this by no means points to shyness

quite reserved, however he puts up an extroverted exterior when running his alchemy shop

calm and serene. takes quite a bit to anger him. he finds attempts at angering him amusing

very formal, in the way that that he speaks and the way that he carries himself

a sweet talker. his tongue drips with honey — however, it is also a silver tongue. known as an alluring whisper

however can also be quite blunt when need be.

can be very sadistic. in his own type of sick way. while he is calm, he also does not have mercy for those that cross him

especially cunning and uses his intelligence to his advantage. analysising situations and creating loopholes

sometimes gets moments of blood lust and can be quite vengeful. not one to let people one up him. he cannot stand it

delicate and graceful, you wouldn’t think he’d ever have ulterior motives by the way he acts and especially with the way that he talks

deep down, is caring with those he loves. yet is cold on the outside despite it all

very stealthy, many do not see him coming. he believes in never letting others know his next move

secretive, quite good at holding onto secrets in general

intelligent and can be quite wise

is quite the daredevil

very adaptative, he is able to quickly assess a situation and change in accordance to that

a controlled kind of violence and mania, however at times can lose himself

 

꒰ with a lover ꒱

a very gentle and passionate lover, he has to make sure to sweep you off your feet but also bring you down

can get quite clingy, he’s a bit touch starved. this also bleeds into possessiveness, but he will never take it to means of harming you. never.

very physically affectionate, it’s one of his main love languages. also quite poetically affectionate

one of his favourite things is reciting his poems out for you, serenading you whenever he has thetime

he cooks for you! he cleans for you! acts of services and spoiling you rotten are another one of his primary love languages. along with being very verbal in his dedication to you.

sometimes likes to walk you around the abhorration, keeping you squished to his side. glares down any demon or miasma that dares glance in your general direction

lots of cuddling and kisses, he can’t get his hands off of you really. also lots of dancing around his ballroom, either in silence or to a gentle melody he conjures up with magic

enjoys helping you fall asleep. by petting your head or letting you rest it on his chest. anything to help you out

will take you flying whenever he possibly can so that he can hold you close to him

on darker aspects, if his demonic tendencies are acting up — stuff like potential kidnapping can take place.

always keeps you close to his heart. be it by carrying pictures of you around with him or little letters you’ve written him. anything

 

꒰ strengths ꒱

dark magic: quite skilled in the art of dark magic. is able to perform numerous rituals, cast hexes, and create projections and spells from it.

abhorrent interventions: as one of the extremely high rankers of the abhorration, although not a god, jìngyí is one of the few beings who will show up during abhorrent interventions on the material plane when such chaos unfolds — and to annoy the divine.

alchemy: one of his made trades is alchemy. he is exceptionally skilled in it and even owns his own alchemy shop within the abhorration. his potion making skills are exceptional

swordsmanship: he is a very skilled swordsman both in discipline and combat

sharp memory: jìngyí has quite the sharp mind, in both memory, intelligence and adaptability, and can easily predict things once he has seen them be executed.

being exalted: jìngyí is known as one of the most powerful demons throughout the abhorration, and has slain many of his masters and teachers prior to his reign. there has always been something deep within that gave him these capabilities.

 

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

light magic: like any demonic being, light magic affects him. however, due to his rank, it has to be extremely concentrated and large amounts of him to weaken him

banishing: like most demons, he can be banished. although the ritual to do so is extremely complex for his rank

extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.

 

꒰ relationships ꒱

alessio 209: complicated

rishen 9948v: customer, compliacted

xra’fei: on and off boss

rishen aryielus: complicated 

copper resentment: hates him

 

꒰ extra ꒱

he is an alchemist in the abbhorration

really enjoys rainy days and coffee. with some pastries on the side.

does not waste time with casual small talk, unless he thinks it is the time for it.

has a large demonic familiar, which follows him around like a lost puppy.

he can speak fluent chinese ( mandarin ), spanish ( latin american ) and italian 

[blogquantumreality]

FMA, Slayers, and Alphabets, Oh My!

So I've been watching Slayers along with @ayalaatreides (Using Syncplay!) and I've started noticing some interesting elements that ring a bell from when I watched FMA: Brotherhood.

Now, since FMA came out as a manga in 2001 and the anime for Brotherhood in 2009, while Slayers came out in 1989, it's clear that FMA was inspired by elements of Slayers.

For example, this stylized symbol (upon which Saillune/Seyruun is based in its design) shows clear similarities to FMA's famous transmutation circles, and while I'll discuss this more fully later, you can see both Hebrew and other alphabets used here; I can spot the Latin and what looks like either a runic-inspired or Greek-inspired alphabet (or a mixture of the two) outside the Star of David and in between the concentric circles.

Furthermore, the large door that Edward Elric possesses was clearly inspired by these elements in Slayers, as it also has Hebrew letters carved into it. See below:

In these disparate elements of the Demon's Blood, Ruby Eye, Dark Star, Chaotic Blue, and Death Fog contain lettering with a clearly Hebrew-inspired alphabet as well as what are unquestionably runic-derived letters.

I won't transliterate the runes in this post, but what's really intriguing is that in terms of worldbuilding and canon, there is evidence that writing systems were different in the past compared to the present-day of the 'verse we see in the anime. In particular, a couple of things stood out to me when I found out that Shabranigdo/Shabranigdu had a canonically spelled runic name: ᛋᚼᚾᛒᛦᛅᛁᚷᛞᚢ

If you parse this version of his name very carefully, first of all it appears that the actual alphabet may be drawn from either the Anglo-Saxon futhorc or a mixture of the futhorc with the Elder futhark. Further, the letter that expresses the /r/ sound in Shabranigdo's name is written using ᛦ which originally meant the /z/ sound in proto-Norse (arguably the very earliest runes could be a form of proto-Germanic, but the sparsness of such early rune finds makes it hard to decide firmly one way or the other, so I'll go with proto-Norse) and which turned into an /r/ sound later on, which is why words like *gastiz became gestr.

It is very tempting to hypothesize that a very early stage of the language spoken by the people who now inhabit Saillune/Seyruun and other neighboring countries had a /z/ sound which underwent rhotacism to /r/ (which happened in English as well, incidentally - this explains the origin of "was" vs "were") but for which the early runic writing system didn't adjust (analogously to the proto-Norse runes and later younger futhark and the futhorc) to reflect the sound change.

(Alternatively, in-verse, it could simply be that ᛦ always meant /r/ and was never a /z/, and by Occam's razor this does fit the known facts a bit better, but meta wouldn't be fun without all the extra meanderings, yes? :P )

Also, a fascinating final note is that the last picture shows two circles in which are clearly perpendicular wave-patterns, which to any student of physics is evocative of electromagnetism in the electric (traditionally drawn as a sine wave in the same plane as the page, shown on the left) and magnetic (traditionally drawn as a sine wave perpendicular to the page, shown on the right) fields propagating each other to transmit electromagnetic radiation.