#and that their names were both rocks/gems

[thsc-scattered-stars]

(ooc)

Are they related to Opal?

Nope! None of my thsc oc's so far are related to each other.

[chrollogy]

18+ MDNI; light smut, fluffy zhongli but also implications of him being a very passionate lover. divider: cafekitsune

── zhongli, who places a chaste kiss on your lips with the utmost gentleness—his lips as smooth as a qingxin petal in full bloom; a searing yet soft touch on your chin, angling your face toward his own. zhongli, who tenderly wraps his strong arms around your figure, encasing you in a tranquil hug like the still waters of dihua marsh—his steady heartbeats matching your own.

it is no surprise to encounter such softness every day from your lover. to zhongli, you’re a glaze lily in a vast field of endless greenery—handling you like the most precious gem of all. that’s what everyone else sees, the ever gentle lover who kisses your hand during leisurely walks along the harbour; your lover who looks at you with his tourmaline gaze, full of adoration and love.

oh but behind closed doors, he’s a changed man. the way zhongli handles your body while he makes love to you is a daring contrast, wicked even. chaste kisses turned into sloppy, open-mouthed ones, his swollen lips eagerly chasing your own as your body sinfully bounces to the rhythm of his fervid thrusts; tender, warm hugs turned into titillating touches—one hand earnestly circling your sensitive clit while the other moulds around your neck, a searing possessive touch.

unrelenting thrusts ploughing into your cunt over and over and over again until you’re nothing but a beautiful whining mess. zhongli greedily drinks it all up, he indulges himself in your pleasure-drunk body; citrine eyes glowing with carnal desire as he rakes his gaze over your naked beauty. the way your brows knit whenever his cock finds that sweet, sweet spot of yours; the way your lips part to call out his name with such passion; the way your fingers dig into the moonlit sheets beneath you.

it drives zhongli absolutely crazy but it was the same for you—clenching around him a little tighter whenever he lets out a drawled moan of your name, the dulcet tone of his voice affecting you in ways you didn’t know were possible; or whenever zhongli traps you between his body and the mattress beneath, breathlessly whispering naughty praises into your ear.

oh, how he wishes he could take you again and again until all rock has eroded into sand—the yearning deep within him almost hurts from intensity but zhongli knows he needs to worry not as you’re the only who can tame that eager desire. it’s almost scary how different he can be with a simple flip of a switch, your gentle lover no more, only a man driven to lustful insanity but he never forgets to hold your bare body against his as you both reach your impending climax.

the protective hug he gives you during your most vulnerable state, a silent message of how much he loves you—arms tightening around you little more when he feels your body shiver from the icy pleasure, you couldn’t have asked for more.

[reds-writings]

souls further entwined

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: finally an update for these two! sorry to keep you waiting! I've got a lot of life changes in the works so updates might come a little slower over the next few months depending but i hope this tides y'all over for a bit! this takes place sometime after if only tonight we could sleep

word count: roughly 2.5k

warnings: (PLEASE LOOK BEFORE CONTINUING) discussions of abortion, child loss, forced/unsafe medical procedures, bad family situations, angst angst, cursing, semi-not-so-smut at the end, minors avert your gaze or else!!

The hidden gem of a restaurant that Rust had brought you to somewhere in the French Quarter was rather nice with its live jazz band playing in the corner and lavish decor. The tinkering of silverware layered on top of the low rumblings of fellow diners did what it could to fill the void of silence that had long settled between you and the man sitting adjacent. He had spontaneously asked you– well more like told you to go out with him tonight. Something about wanting to do things right once and for all after all this tiptoeing around.  The whole notion had taken you off guard, admittedly.

You’d been buzzing so bright leading up to tonight that you could've probably put a lightning bug to shame. He’d asked you on a real date. A step forward from the semi-clandestine meetings you’d both been settling on for far too long now. It was unlike him to outwardly admit to much but you doubted it was a wide occurrence that he’d take a girl on a date just because he was bored. This had meaning.

With that thought swirling in mind, you’d found your best dress and took what constituted as way too long of a pampering shower to best prepare for a promising night out with the man you'd become so deeply enamored with. It wasn’t often you got to get all prettied up for some fun given that work always managed to swallow you whole. 

God you’d been so excited. 

From the time you’d gotten into Rust’s Ford up until you’d sat down to eat he had yet to utter a single word to you. Hell, he’d hardly even managed to look at you either and it was starting to cause a distasteful rock that went by the name of dread to sink lower and lower in your gut. 

Dexterous fingers stayed picking at the table cloth as a form of lengthy distraction and you fought the bubbling urge to snatch his hand and demand what gives. It wasn’t hard to miss the anxiety bleeding from his form with those tense shoulders and that telltale faraway look in his eyes. You didn’t want to continue the cycle of jumping to conclusions when it came to the routine lack of forthcoming involving his more vulnerable thoughts out of insecurity so you bit the bullet,

“Y’know…usually on a date there’s a bit more talkin;. Maybe startin’ with questions like ‘what’s your favorite color’-- it’s blue by the way, or ‘where’d you get that lovely dress’. Could also do with lookin’ a little less green in the gills.”

That got him to stop fidgeting but a response was not yet prompted. You sighed and looked down at the vibrant cloth napkin in your lap,

“If you’re startin’ to regret this we can just forget about it and head back-”

“I don’t know if I can be what you need.” He all but blurted and it had your head shooting back up in suprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t…I don’t find myself being suited for marriage like before. I can’t give you kids because I don’t think it’s right-”

“Wait a minute just-...slow your roll for a second.” Your mind was going a mile a minute at his frank outburst and you were having trouble pinpointing just where it all came from. 

“First of all, I don’t necessarily need the promise of marriage to feel fulfilled. I’m about to hit 30 soon enough and I’ve supplied plenty for myself that I'm not sure some flimsy marriage papers can add on to. I’m not just sayin’ all this to make you feel better either so don’t go down that route.” You were tenderly stern in your delivery to make sure what you were saying was actually sticking without sounding offended.

All he could give was a slight nod as the tip of his thumb came to his mouth: a nervous tic.

“Secondly…” You cleared your throat slightly and gave yourself a moment of pause. The latter concern wasn’t that of an easy subject. For either of you. Besides your family and probably Marty, not many knew of your reality when it came to the idea of starting a family. 

“I can’t have children. So that wouldn’t even be on the table to begin with I suppose.” 

That seemed to stun Rust. His expression working out how, what, and when this came to be. You cleared your throat again. Talking about it was never easy no matter how much time passed.

“The gist of it is…well I got knocked up when I was sixteen. Total accident, shocker. And um…my pa didn't approve. Not one bit, bein’ the respectable county figure he was as a seasoned lawyer n' all.” 

Your sinuses began to sting but you willed away any threat of tears as you tried to explain. Rust didn't say a word, his expression hardening minutely with a knowing sense of where this was headed.

“I didn’t wanna listen. I was scared of course but the boy I was foolin’ around with at the time was nice and had a family who wanted to be involved so that was enough for me. My uppity family could shove it for all I cared,” You scoffed wryly but continued, “But pa was adamant. He couldn’t have some little whore of daughter muckin’ things up but we were a church family so abortion was obviously out of the question. At least one would think that was the case,” 

“Long story short he dragged me to some back alley clinic where things would be kept under wraps. They fuckin’ botched it of course and made me sterile. Didn’t really know how bad it was until another loss and a visit with the doctor after trying with a serious boyfriend some time ago…” You shrugged as you fiddled with your unused silverware. You hadn’t spoken with your family since then. Letting you be mutilated for the sake of preserving a frivolous public image was a hard thing to let go of.

You remember how sick you were afterward. Infection from the procedure and a decent amount of blood loss, go figure. You only recall the house's maids nursing you back.

Your pa had never been able to look you in the eye again. Your mama just pretended nothing had ever happened the way it did.

Sometimes your mind had the habit of taking a dark turn every now and then, wondering if they would’ve felt any remorse if their forced course of action ended up actually killing you. With a selfishness like they had you couldn't help but doubt it. 

They had always taken more pride in your sister anyway. 

“So yeah…you don’t have to worry about the possibility of kids when it comes to me. It’s not like with our line of work it’d be much of a good idea anyway. Marty’s a prime example I'd reckon.” Your laugh was brittle in a weak attempt to lift the heavy weight you felt like you’d set over the mood. 

Rust’s large hand reached over to encase your shaking one to garner your attention. Looking up you weren’t met with pity or disgust, but with recognition. One shared in the experience of grief. Of having something meant to be so precious ripped from you in the cruelest of ways. He didn’t feel sorry for you. He understood you. More than anyone else had or could. 

“You’re enough for me, Rust. I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now but there’s not much you can do to send me runnin’ for the hills. I like you as you are and I don’t need more. I wouldn’t expect you to change your mind over somethin’ like that anyway. It just wouldn’t be fair to ask.” His eyes glazed over at your words and he had to let go of the troubled breath he’d been holding. He brought your hand to his lips and kept them there as an unspoken thank you. 

After a moment or two he set your hand back on the tabletop, still grasped in his. 

“How about we find some shitty dive and let loose over there. This place is startin’ to feel a lil’ too stuffy for me.” Your light-hearted jab made the corner of his lips quirk up before he nodded,

“Yes, ma'am.” 

—

After a relaxing drive accompanied by the tunes of Willie Nelson in search of a dive bar that was sufficient enough, the ice from all the worries of earlier had melted as fast as they had formed. The establishment you ended up coming across was a more than welcome change of pace compared to that of the restaurant (as lovely as it was). It wasn’t big by any means but there was room to dance and plenty of open spots to sit around and drink. 

You looped your arm through his and leaned into his side as you made your way to settle down. There wasn’t enough time or clarity earlier to truly appreciate just how good he looked for the occasion but now you had all the time in the world to shamelessly ogle.

He’d donned a black dress shirt, forgoing a tie and leaving a few buttons undone in a way that had you feeling dizzy, as well as a nice fitting pair of jeans that had plenty of passersby’s eyes glued to his shapely form.

“The ladies of Louisiana might just beat me up for a chance with you. If your face ain’t motivation enough your ass surely will be.” You nudged him and he shook his head mirthfully. 

“One would say jealousy is unbecoming.”

“Who said anythin’ about jealousy? I’ve earned my stake in claimin’ you as eye candy fair and square. They can try all they want but they were just too slow to the draw.”

“With your pension for being scrappy, I’d say they wouldn’t have much of a chance to begin with.” 

“Gee, is that the only reason they don’t stand a chance?” You quirked a brow. You knew the answer but pestering him to fess up hardly ever got you far. 

“What d’ya wanna drink, Miss Envy.” He drawled, not one to fall into your traps so easily and you flicked him with narrowed eyes.

“Last time I checked my name don’t even come close to rhymin’ with envy so you can quit with that.” 

The shithead just smirked.

“I’ll take a jack and coke. Now run along.” You waved him away and he just shook his head. In his short absence you’d found a high top and decided to claim as your territory for the night. The music was clearer over this way and your heart jumped at the beginning notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Beautiful Child.

Upon his return, Rust had hardly been able to set the drinks down before you were grabbing at him to park yourselves out on the dancefloor. A few other couples were swaying in place so you figured it wouldn’t be all that awkward to steal a moment for yourselves.

It was strange, being able to be so open in your affections without the curious eyes of Marty or anyone else from the precinct to make judgments. You could just be yourselves. It was a breath of fresh air after all this time.

As the song gained momentum, you wrapped your arms around his neck, toying with the hairs at his nape while his strong ones made home around your waist to pull you in closer. A small spark of pride lit up your chest at him being able to be this comfortable with you.

As you rested your head along the expanse of his chest you felt the feather-light stamp of his kiss at your crown. The tenderness of the simple act almost had you turning into one hell of a mush puddle. You settled on burrowing deeper if that were any more possible as Stevie sang on. Fighting the effect he had on you was always going to be a losing battle. 

You wouldn’t trade this moment for a damned thing. 

—

It was nearing almost three in the morning by the time you arrived back home. Your mind had been pleasantly warmed by the drinks and all the dancing. Rust even seemed to have a newfound glow to him and it was triggering something innately carnal in you. 

Taking an opportunity from the pocket of silence, you scooted along the Ford’s bench seat to make a place for yourself along his lap. 

The relaxed daze displayed across his features was something you’d never had the pleasure of seeing before. It was nothing like the faraway trance he’d trap himself in with all the pills and whatnot in fruitless efforts of chasing undisturbed sleep. No, this was true content. 

“I had a good time.” You didn’t mean to sound so coy but it couldn’t be helped as your hands crept up to frame his fine face.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” He hummed as he took in every feature your beautiful face had to offer. It was like striking gold. Especially in this expansive wasteland of a state.

“When we get a chance we should do it again. S’nice to go out…feel normal…” Hair lying in his line of light distracted you as you moved it out of the way with a gentle sweep. The truck’s cab could probably burst with the steadily increasing tension so you did what any normal woman would do with such a man in front of them and kissed him with all you had. 

It started out syrupy and languid as if you had all the time in the world to be out macking in the car like a pair of careless teenagers. Your skin hummed like a live wire at his sudden grasp on the plush fat of your hips which served as the green light to go further. 

Your delicate fingers carded through his soft waves as the muscle of his tongue took dominance over the kiss. A meek whimper cracked within your throat as you tried to keep up with what little oxygen you had remaining. When Rust kissed, it was all-consuming. It was no act he took passively when it came to you which had been made crystal clear to you by now. With each pass of his wet-hot caress, you could feel everything he wanted to say to you without complication of expression through words. 

His mouth traveled across the apple of your cheek down the expanse of your neck, nipping and sucking with such lax reverence it had you arching as if you could fuse your ribs with his. Souls to be permanently intertwined.

With a starting grind of your hips that your body had no willpower to control you could feel him hardening with each intensifying roll. His choked moan had you remembering where you were and you’d be damned if your first actual night with him was in this old, damned truck right outside your house. 

“D’ya wanna take this inside?” You offered in a breathless huff, trying to catch your breath in vain. You’re sure that even in the dark of the truck’s cabin the heat of your face could set the whole space aglow. He nipped at your bottom lip and soothed it with another peck,

“I would.”

The sudden tangle of limbs clambering to make haste towards the beacon of your front door would’ve been downright hysterical had you any hubris. 

a/n: sorry to blue ball you lmao. I HOPE THIS WASN'T CRINGE AHHHHH. i'll probably come back and edit this later. feedback is always appreciated!

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter eight

Summary: Flashback to Wakanda.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Major The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Spoilers. Smut. Fluffy Smut. A hint of Angst at the end. Sergeant kink.

Word Count: 927

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A/N: Onto episode 4 now, most likely gonna be 3 parts for this one. I've had the idea of this chapter in my head forever and was so excited to finally write it. But, I am also excited to go back to annoyed Bucky next chapter when John's back in the picture.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff | @buckys-metal-arm | @matchat3a | @shadowzena43 | @torntaltos | @honeydew3064 | @scott-loki-barnes

Wakanda. Six Years Ago.

The Wakandan sun had set hours ago, around the same time Bucky left to meet with Ayo for another session. You stood by the window of his hut, staring out into the evening waiting for his return. Ayo had contacted you when they had finished for the night, explaining to you that he was free. Finally free from the brainwashing that had haunted him for so long. You immediately left the room that the Wakandans had prepared for you and made your way to Bucky’s hut. 

As Bucky approached the hut, he saw you waiting for him. He entered without a word, closing the space between you in a few quick strides. He cupped your face, kissing you deeply, passionately. It was filled with a mix of relief, gratitude, a raw desire. 

You responded immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck, trying to pull him closer. Your bodies pressed together as Bucky's hand dropped from your face, roaming your back. 

Bucky broke the kiss for less than a second, his lips finding your body again as he trailed down your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, as your fingers tangled in his hair. A soft moan escaped your lips as he placed a soft kiss against a sensitive spot below your ear. His hand found its way to the gem of your shift, lifting it effortlessly over your head and tossing it aside before finding your lips with his again. 

Undressing each other in haste, your clothes were discarded carelessly onto the hut floor. His eyes filled with hunger as his gaze met yours for a moment, taking in the image of you standing bare before him. 

His voice was husky as he murmured, “You’re amazing, Baby Girl,” 

You smiled, sliding your hand up and down his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles and the scars on his shoulder. “And, you’re finally free, Sergeant,” you replied, your voice breathless with anticipation. 

Without another word, he lifted you and carried you to the makeshift bed. Laying you down, his eyes danced over your body, taking in every inch of you. His lips captured yours in a hungry kiss and he positioned himself above you. You arched into his touch as his hand explored your body, your nails digging into him. 

Your kisses grew more desperate as his fingers found their way to your inner thigh, teasing his way up to your entrance with gentle strokes. The stokes continued as he reached it. You moaned into his mouth, hips moving in rhythm with his touch. 

Unable to wait any longer, he positioned himself where his fingers previously were, his gaze stayed locked with yours. And, with a single thrust, he buried himself deep inside you. You gasped at the sensation. 

Once he began to move, his hips rocked against yours in a slow steady rhythm. Your back arched off the bed as the pleasure consumed you. His name fell from your lips, driving him to push harder. 

Each movement was deliberate, every touch ignited the desire and longing for one another that neither of your minds let you admit. His thrusts were measured, driving deeper into your core. A chorus of moans and sighs from both your lips filled the hut. 

The sensation of him filling you caused you to wrap your legs around his waist as a wave of pleasure coursed through you. 

The tension within you grew, the pleasure building, it was almost unbearable. You were teetering on the edge, Bucky’s movement grew more urgent as your mumbled begs strained from your voice. “Please, Sergeant, please.” 

“Please what, baby?” his voice whispered against your ear, his lips finding your neck again. 

“Please can I finish, Sergeant?” you pleaded, your voice thick with need and desperation. 

You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your skin, and he continued with his steady, hard thrusts. Each one pushed you closer and closer. He knew exactly what you needed, he could feel the tension within you reaching its breaking point. 

“Let go for me,” he murmured as his grip on your hips tightened. “Let me feel you come apart, baby.” 

His permission pushed you over the edge, and with a ragged cry, you shattered beneath him. Wave after wave of pleasure rushed through you as he continued his rhythm. 

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth bored into your skin as his high followed closely behind yours. His body began to tremble with the aftershock of his climax. 

~

Bucky collapsed beside you, and then for a long while, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex and the only sound was your ragged breaths. 

A realization washed over you like a wave crashing. For the first time, he had been gentle and tender. It was filled with emotion and connection. Something that was a stark contrast to the aggressive, rough encounters that would normally leave your body looking like you just came back from an intense mission. 

The weight became too much to bear, you began to gather your clothes from the floor. The simple act of dressing provided you with a sense of normalcy. 

You felt his intense gaze watching you silently.

“I… I think I should go,” you murmured, unable to turn to face him. 

Without a word from him, you slipped out of the hut, leaving behind the warmth and intimacy. Instead, enveloping yourself with cool night air as tears stung at the corners of your eyes. 

---

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[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 14 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13 — Part 14 (here) — Part 15 — Part 16 — Epilogue

QUICK NOTE: From this point on, the parts will be in story format rather than headcanon format, due to the heavy dialogue (plus major information has been told beforehand). With that said, enjoy!

Magically, the room turned into that of a makeshift courtroom layout. You were at the center and highest point. Your Overlords were on either side of you and in a station of their own. From your right were your Overlords of long standing; starting from the closest was Zestial, Carmilla, Rosie, and Zeezi. From your left were the more recent Overlords and those that would stand trial, starting with your favoured one, Alastor, then Husk, Velvette, Vox, and last was Valentino.

A platform was at the center where it would be used later on. However, the most unique part has to be the seven mirrors hovering at the perfect distance between your Overlord sides and facing in your direction, each with a distinctive colour. Well, you wouldn’t explain, but that was the seven Sins of Hell watching behind their respective mirror. While it was to let them be aware of your invested souls and not to meddle, it was more importantly a reminder of who’s the True Ruler of Hell to them.

The likes of Zestial and Carmilla long figured out the presence of the Sins by the mirrors, and Rosie who once belonged to the Greed Ring also knew from the aura and colours. You can’t tell if the others knew. Not that it mattered, whether they know or not, they can’t sway a Sin to side with them or let them allow entry to their Ring, because you oversee all Sinners and their souls.

“Let us begin.” You announced. “Starting with the familiar face that everyone has been wondering about.”

Alastor raised from his seat and Husk did the same. With the wave of your hand, both of them where instantly teleported to the platform where they immediately bowed and kneeled with one knee. Alastor raised his head while Husk’s was still bowing down, “My Liege, as all soul belongs to your accursed being, it was only right that you take back Husk’s contract when he is of value to you. I have done my part by refining this rock into a gem worthy of your collection.”

Husk raised his head, his eyes staring at you with sincerity and obedience. “My Master, I have learned my lesson and reflected. I’m ashamed of my past actions and I know I can’t take it back, not in a million years. I’ve changed, but if… If you’ll take me back, I swear to whatever unholy and cruel, I won’t make you regret it.”

“Bold claim.” A smirk formed on your face, “What proof do you have? You see, my Overlords here own a number of souls under them and control those souls.” You opened your palm and your fingers curled in and out, orbs of light appeared and swirled around your hand. “Even though you’re one of those chained-down souls, there are still a number of options you can work with.” Your hand clenched and the orbs all disappeared, “Don’t tell me you did nothing.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Husk grinned back, his rose up and his wings spread open. Hundreds of hundred written glowing contract appeared all around Husk. At the right corner were all different signatures of victims that agreed to the terms of the soul contract, on all of the sheet of paper was the signature of the dominant party; Husk. “If you need anymore, Alastor used me to take back the territories he marked.”

Zestial’s hand raised, “If ‘t be true t wast true yond Alastor hast hath used husk to reclaim’d the t’rrit’ries in our liege’s nameth, p’rhaps husk hast potential to returneth ‘mongst our ranks. (If it was true that Alastor has used Husk to reclaimed the territories in Our Liege’s name, perhaps Husk has potential to return among our ranks.)”

Rosie caught the gist of things and praised, “Well, collecting all those souls at the given time is challenging, but all these contracts proved something.”

Carmilla gave Husk a glance over before turning to your direction, “At least, he has class now and knows his place, unlike before.”

“If I may also add.” Alastor stood up and played his cane a bit, “Husk, here, has been very good at reading others. Quit gambling and has been a dutiful bartender at the Hazbin Hotel! Quite recently, he has also lend a hand in defending Hell from the exterminators.”

Whispers came and went between the booths, your Overlords talking among themselves. It’s true that you’ll have Husk join your collection either way, but it was better if your favoured souls has positive views of Husk as well. Since his stay in your collection also depended on your other Overlords. That was why you paired Carmilla and Rosie with Velvette’s development and Zestial with Vox’s soul-searching.

“This makes things simple and easy to conclude.” You hummed, you waved your hands over the contracts for them to vanish from sight and acknowledged Husk’s works by having them returned to Husk’s possession. “Alastor?”

“At your command, My Liege.” Alastor bowed and a contract appeared between he and Husk. Around Husk was a thick collar connected with a chain that extended to Alastor’s hand. Alastor gave Husk one more glance before turning his attention to the contract, he took it in his hands and narrowed his eyes at the sheet of glowing paper. “I hereby relinquish claim over Husk’s soul, at the witness of all present here and My Liege.”

In a swift movement, the paper was torn in two and disintegrated into nothing. Cracks appeared in the chain and collar around Husk before it too crumbled and disappeared like there was nothing. Husk’s breath laboured as his clawed hand reached up to his neck, feeling nothing but his fur and his own warmth. It was a foreign feeling, one he welcomed and only dreamed off. 

“Ha…” Husk knew it wasn’t over, because all this freedom, he owe it to you. At your patience for his enjoyment of his freedom, he knows he’s about to give it up again. Yet, it wasn’t the same as being caged by Alastor. There was freedom and support from you, evident from Alastor’s actions and behaviours even while he was chained down and his soul wasn’t his to own. 

The same was said of the other Overlords that served you for this long and continued to do so. This was a group of Sinner that raised their worth to your level and would fight tooth and nail to remain where they are or higher. He too will do so. Never again will he disappoint you.

“Great Ruler of Hell,” Husk took a step forward and kneeled before you with his head bowed, “I offer you my everything. My body, mind, spirit, and soul is yours to use as you see fit. Everything will be as you see.”

“And I accept.” You raised your hand to him. An orb appeared from Husk’s chest and floated into your hand, you clapped your hands to cover the orb. When it was revealed again, there was nothing. Instead, there was a necklace with an eye design charm in its place. “From now on, you are back among the Overlord ranks.” The necklace flew to Husk. “Alastor holds no authority over you and you answer to no one but me.”

Husk accepted the necklace and bowed once more, “Yes, My Sovereign.”

With another wave of your hand, both Alastor and Husk was returned to their booth. So far, things were going as you have expected. You’ve been keeping an eye on Valentino, but he has been silent. You wondered if it was because he couldn’t care less or if he was even paying attention to what was happening. No matter, because what’s next will call for his attention. 

“Next. The disbandment of the singular Overlord the Vees.” 

Valentino immediately got up and glared to his side where Velvette and Vox stood up accordingly with neutral expressions and indifference. You sent the three down to the platform with the flick of your hand and they appeared on the platform under the spotlight.

“You two, what the f*** are you thinking!?” Valentino wasted no time in shouting in both Velvette and Vox’s faces. “Aren’t we supposed to do this sh*t together?!”

“Be more posed about your words, Valentino.” Velvette warned with a glare, “You’re in the presence of our Sovereign.”

“Our Sovereign?” Valentino raised a brow, “What happened to ‘Master’ huh? What the sh*t’s gotten into you?”

Velvette growled but took a deep breath in and out when she saw Carmilla and Rosie mentioning for her to calm down and take it easy. She composed herself, reminding herself she was no longer in that tower where she has to share what was meant to be all hers. Here and now, she has the ticket to cut ties. She was generously given a chance by you and aided by two of your favourite Overlords, she has a chance and all it takes was for her to prove herself like Husk and she would be set.

Averting her attention away from Valentino, Velvette turned to you with her hand over where her heart would be, “My Sovereign, I don’t want to share my title with Vox and Valentino or anyone for that matter. I want to have my own title. I know I can do as much alone, I don’t want others holding me back.” 

You remained neutral to it all, “Action speak louder than words, so does results. Dear Velvette. Take a page out of Husk’s book for example. He’s been collecting forces under him, can hold his own and regain territories, and work in defending the hotel from exterminators. What of you?”

“I may not be as impressive since I realized my worth late, but…” Velvette opened her arms and showcased a number of contracts that ranged to the hundreds. “I have been working on my forces. I don’t need as many for manpower since I’ll be working in the fashion and some entertainment fields, but I prioritize quality and talents of my souls for my purposes.”

“I see, a wise choice.” You leaned your chin in your palm, “You’ve mimicked my collection wonderfully. I’m impressed.” Just when Velvette was about to thank your praise, you interrupted, “However, that only applies to my Collection of Elites. Apart from you all, I have more than you could ever imagine.” You pointed at them, “If I had to, I could strip you of your free will and more. Just so you would be obedient.”

While Valentino backed up and fell on his butt, Velvette and Vox bowed their heads and kneeled down, “And I wish to give you my services willingly.”

You smirked, “Smart answer.” Since you have taken Velvette’s soul before already, you gave her the same necklace you’ve given to Husk and the others. “You are officially free from your connection with the Vees. Now, you are your own Overlord. Serve me well.”

Carmilla and Rosie both clapped with proud motherly smiles over their faces. 

“Yes, My Sovereign.” And Velvette was sent back to her booth.

You eyed Vox who remained kneeling, “But I have yet to approve of your status, Vox. Didn’t you suggest this whole three demons sharing the one Overlord title? I seem to recall you claim that you’ll perform far better than my other Overlords.”

Vox gulped, “I was wrong… Master… I see the error of my ways and I see why Velvette left first.” He looked up to you, “It was my fault, I shouldn’t have challenged your vision in the first place. I… disagreed and disappointed your expectations to me.”

“You didn’t as I had none for you.” You flat out dejected his honest statement, “If you’re disappointing anyone, it’s Alastor.” 

Vox’s head snapped to Alastor’s direction who seemed unaffected. “What…”

Alastor set down his cup, “My Liege, I should offer my sincerest apologies for wasting your valuable time and energy on such a disappointment.”

You waved it off with a smile, “No no, it was amusing.” Your smile dropped as did your tone, “But all good things will come to an end eventually.”

“I have my contracts too, enough workers for two factories and a tower.” Vox summoned his contracts to show you his proof. “I have control over the media and the Sinners of Hell watch my shows all the time, this media control will be yours.”

“Can’t Alastor do the same?”

Your question made Vox freeze in his state. It was true. Both he and Alastor were demons of media, Valentino and Velvette were demons of media, however, they were more focused on a certain domain. Whereas he and Alastor both varied. The only difference was their medium, one’s of TV and the other’s of radio. 

From the start, Vox had his (childish) rivalry with Alastor because of their domain and history. Now that he knew the reason you approached him was because of Alastor’s recommendation, he basically dragged it across the mud and repeated the shot until there was nothing left. Things were different when he knew that Alastor didn’t see him as inferior and abandoned him. It was different.

He has his answer.

“Yes, Alastor can.” Vox spoke without hesitation. “But why not cover both? It will guarntee more listener and more demons will be covered. There doesn’t have to be a limit when both are in your hands.” He continued when your interest seemed piqued. “By cutting my ties with the Vees and holding my own title, I will have no limit but your words, I can focus on myself and guard my own benefit all in your name. My Master.”

“Excellent.” A twisted grin broke out of your face, “It took you long enough to realize your potential!” You gave him his necklace and took the one he was holding onto back into your hand. “Vox, you will be given a task at a later date to prove yourself. For now, be proud of your realization.”

Zestial clapped his hands slowly with an approval nod.

“Yes, My Sovereign.”

Note: Husk is back to being an Overlord and the Vees have broken up! Finally something interesting! I know there's not much Alastor moments, but I tried to add some behind. Stick around, because every Thursday will be a new part until the Epilogue. Then the series officially ends.

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay @umbreon-worshipper @crimsonflameproxy @the-gay-trash-gremlin @ratchetprime211 @soggyb0nes @newkatzkafe2023

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Big Plans - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

cw: sex, angst

Let's proceed to the next stage.

The Day of Ash. Its conclusion's already foregone, and he has little patience for repetition. But this part is key.

For context's sake, it bears revisiting.

The scene's already been painted. If a courtroom were a stage, the gallery would be breathless for the denouement. Which will arrive, and in due course. As the High Priestess says: Patience is the companion of wisdom.

For now, picture this:

The banquet at the Last Drop, and Fissurefolk with crumbs clinging to their smiles. The songs, the stories, the slow-reeling hours.  The bundt cake had been served up in generous helpings, each portion with a dollop of sugar. Sweetness: too rich to taste of scarcity.

Too real to taste the bitter arsenic of disaster.

In the backroom, Sevika treated Silco to a different song. They'd swapped a stogie of potent brightleaf, each drag burning a sultry line from throat to belly. Silco had draped a stolen sheepskin pelt on the floorboards, and spread Sevika down upon it.  Her nails were in his back, and her tongue filled his mouth, and her sighs filled the air.

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me now."

He went into her, exquisitely slick depths parting for him, inch by inch. His vision blotted out to static, his ears ringing bells. Outside, the thunderstorm of boots and bodies gathered its charge.

That is how he recalls that final night.

Everything hung in perfect equilibrium. One side tilting toward delirium; the other, disaster.

They kissed and gasped and kissed again. His teeth closed around her bottom lip, piercing its fullness. He swallowed her sounds as they rocked together, slow and steady. Every second of pleasure counted. Every gasped cry and shivered moan were an offering. 

To gods unnamed; or to Zaun.

When you fuck and live, you fuck for them both.

His climax was a gut-shot—bang, bang, bang, nailed to completion. He collapsed against her, sobbing behind gritted teeth. Sevika's own climax was unending. Every small movement set off an aftershock that fluttered from her womb all the way to her eyelashes. By the end, they were gummed wetly together with tears.

From rawness of hurt and hope and whatever lay beneath.

After, they lay in a languid, sweat-sticky tangle. Their heavy breaths sawed through the dusty air. The stillness felt holy. As if they'd found some secret within themselves, and were listening to it resonate. Sevika nuzzled into the damp hairs curling over at his temple. Silco dropped a wet kiss to the hollow of her throat, followed by a hard, deliberate rasp of stubbled cheekbone between her breasts. The burn glowed in his wake.

Even then, he'd liked to leave marks. Reminders of where she belonged. With him, and the future they'd seize. No takebacks; no middle ground. 

Glory or dust.

Sevika jittered out a sigh. "Sil?"

"Mmm?"

"When all this is over..." Her fingertips traced his hairline. "What d'you want to do?" 

"What?" he murmured, barely cogent. "Why think of that now?" 

"Just... something I'm tellin' myself. For motivation's sake."

"We're motivated."

"We are." She kissed him again: soft, sweet, uncertain. "Still. I wanna hear. You fought for this shit your entire life. Thought you might have plans for after."

"Visualizing, are we?"

"Well, yeah. Like, I see myself walking on the Bridge, without getting frisked. Without those degrading searchlights and the names they call us. You know what I mean, right?" 

"I do." Silco's jaw hardened. "Personally, I'd tear the Bridge down. Reroute everything so we aren't dependent on one mode of transit across the Pilt.  Our harbor still opens out to sea. Our trade could be redirected. We could do business with foreign merchants. I've no doubt there's a market for our wares across Runeterra. Places less sanctimonious and more eager to profit."

"What wares?"

"The gold and gems. But there's more to our domestic industry than the treasures below. You've seen the construction boom in Topside's residential sectors. All from our marble, our slate, our granite. Once Zaun's ours, we'd tap into that sector. No need for a bridge. Or the thieves squatting on the other end."

"See? You do have big plans!"

"Schematics. That's all."

"Helluva lot more than most of us got." Cupping his head in both hands, she sought his eyes. "What else?"

He rested his interlaced palms on her sternum, and his chin atop them.  "Reforms. Top to bottom. Law, infrastructure, security. Chaos without an axis devolves a society to madmen. But we won't survive as a monoculture, either. A diversified economy's the best path forward. We could open our borders to trade with merchants from across Valoran. Build the docks into proper berths, so we're dealing with international vessels on our terms, without them trying to get a foothold in our territory." His eyes slitted, drowsy yet speculative. "What we need is a haven for entrepreneurs and free thinkers alike."

"People who'll treat us as equals instead of animals?"

He grinned: a tiny bite of incisors into her skin. "Exactly. A whole world of profit's out there. We'll tap into it. Show the world that we're more than just gutter-trash."

"And here, I'd be satisfied with a plumbing system that doesn't freeze my tits off come winter."

"Copper piping—" he was warming to the subject— "is where the solution lies. We'll invest in citywide upgrades. A sewage network that leads to treatment plants outside of town. Lessens the runoff so the river fish are fit to eat year-round. We'd also start a sanitation corps. Their sole objective would be to rid the streets of refuse."

"Big plans. Real big." Her touch didn't falter, but he felt a shift in her voice. A sidestep more than a withdrawal. "What about... y'know. The kids?"

 A chill crept through Silco. Gently, he disentangled, easing himself upright. His bare arms roped around his knees. He let out a slow breath, measuring how much to reveal.

Then—

"More reforms. Loads of 'em. No more debts inherited from parent to child. Anyone in arrears would be offered financial advice, and legal recourse. Then there's the quality of education. Most sumpsnipes can barely scrawl their names. How's a nation meant to advance if its children can't count coin? Universal schooling is the least Zaun can provide. Medical centers that offer basic services. Soup kitchens with free meals. All of it must happen, if our folk are to succeed."

"Mighty generous. What's the catch?"

"No catch. Only stipulations." He met her eyes, aglow in the gloom. "These children have spent a lifetime dodging Topside boots. They should be given safe spaces, where they can explore their talents. Without the constant threat of those spaces being torn down, the way our orphanages were."

"Some of those little boot-dodgers could do with a kick, though."

"Maybe. But there's a difference between coddling and support."  His palm rolled open. An invisible blade balanced on either side: compromise and conviction. "The right to learn in safety is as necessary as the freedom to grow from mistakes. The kids would get their licks. But they'd also get a choice." His voice softened. "The rest would follow."

Sevika softened in turn. "Knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You're a big sap when it comes to kids."

"Quit taking the piss."

She shook her head. "Always knew you cared. Deep down. Otherwise, why go through with this at all?" Her palm squeezed his forearm; a caress bordering on worship. "It's gonna change, Sil. You'll change it. The kids'll have better than we ever did."

Her eyes met his. The compassion seared. Because of course she could see straight through him, to the gnashing fears hidden below. Same way he could see through her, to the long-dead hopes buried in her bones.

Like fossils: fragile but irrefutable.

They'd been told since birth they were inferior, and inferior beings must perish. Yet they'd survived. Doggedly, brutally, defiantly. And having done so, deserved a shot at more.

Tonight, they'd seize it. They'd turn the tables forever.

No fairness; only equity.

"After..." Sevika swallowed. "Y'think we'll have something more stable?"

"Stable?"

"Y'know. More than night-rallies, and smuggling and stabbing bootlickers in back alleys."

"Why? Got the itch to settle down?"

A flush stole across her cheeks. Her eyes cut away. "Nah. Just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Don't make me spell it out."

A few beats. Then realization sank home. The ice thawed; a smile crept across Silco's lips.

"Are you implying...?"

"What?" Sevika challenged, knowing exactly what was implied. The blush deepened, a charming mottle of deep rose. In a fistfight, she was seldom caught off-kilter. But intimacy always did it for her; abraded the roughness down to the girl she'd been: bruises on her knees and big dreams tucked close to her heart.

Like his stolen bergamots stuffed in her pockets.

"Say it, love," he goaded gently.

"Naw."

"Say it."

"Fuck off!"

"Say it, or I'll guess." He slid back down into the lovely warm circle of her arms. His head settled into the lovelier, warmer declivity between her breasts. He nuzzled, playfully. "Are you, by chance, expressing an interest in—don't be shy—sharing your bolthole?"

"Never... never said that." But she was shivering; a different thrill entirely. "Just wondering if I should start clearing out some drawers."

"Making room, hmm?"

"Place could do with a fixer-upper."

"My skillset does extend to home repairs."

She scoffed. "Being handy with a hammer's not a skillset." But her arms found their home around him, as he found his in the shelter of her. "We could split chores."

"Equitable distribution of labor?"

"Someone cooks, someone scrubs the dishes. Someone sets the table, someone brews the tea..."

"Better be me. Not sure I'd survive another mug of leaves-and-grit."

Her ribcage jerked; a peal of laughter that threatened to break into tears. Silco's own chest felt vaguely smothered. By emotion; by hope.

They'd seen enough of sorrow for a lifetime. Why not dream a little?

 "Let's see," he went on, kissing his way from one breast to the next. "The labor's divvied. But what about the living space? It'd need renovations. New plaster for the ceiling, so the cockroaches don't rain down from the cracks. New floorboards, too. Solid wood so the place stays dry. Nothing like this—" He rapped his knuckle against the nearest plank, eliciting a resounding echo of termite damage, "—so during our more, ah, exuberant endeavors, we don't drop down two stories and land right in old Josiah's stewpot."

This time, her laughter bubbled up without reserve. "Soundproof the walls, too. So the neighbors don't cuss us out every night."

"And morning."

"And evening."

"And afternoon."

"And—" Her laughter sank, husky; the kissing had become an openmouthed sampling, "—whenever we feel like it."

"There's the spirit."  He lapped the roseate bloom of one aureole, savoring her whimper. "What else? Oh. A balcony facing south, with geranium pots. Or a row of night-blooming jasmine. You could dry the petals, press them, crush them for sachets. Or better yet, grow your hair long and wind the flowers through it."

"Fucking sap. My hair's not fit for braids. Gets greasy five seconds after washing." The laughter ebbed. Her mood receded into something both sweeter and more pained. "Nothing like Nandi's."

"Nothing like Nandi," he agreed.

He felt it immediately: the full-bodied flinch, struggling and failing to disguise itself. But he understood. It wasn't envy; only memory. Loss was loss. There was no cure but time.

The question was how much to steal.

Taking her chin, he kissed her again. Kissed the burn to bed; the flame to smoke. He made love to her lips until they parted. Until that sweet pain ebbed, into the background, where it belonged. Her thighs shifted, enfolding his hips; her breath stirred on hungry hums. Each kiss tasting like a gift she couldn't give herself.

A gift he couldn't deny her.

She'd never be Nandi. Nor would she ever stop feeling her sister's absence. But he wasn't here, on the last night before the final charge, for a specter.  

He wanted what they had now, real and alive between them.

A second chance.

"Listen, love," he breathed, thumbing the wetness beneath her eyes. "No one will ever replace your sister. No one. But you are your own. And you're mine. And I swear to you—if tonight doesn't fuck us into the ground—we'll do everything we've planned. We'll fix up that bolthole. Fix up this whole damned city. And then we'll live our fucking lives."

"Sap," she said again.

"Not if it's true."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He held her gaze. "Do you want it?"

"Want what?"

"All of it. The balcony with geraniums. The jasmine in your hair. The new roof, and new walls. The new life." His stare deepened. "With me."

She bit her lip; the flush faded into resolve. "Yeah."

"So let's have it."

"With what coin, Sil?"

"I've got a cache of loose rubies in my mattress. You're welcome to pocket a few, as a down-payment. Hell, if it means selling all my loot in the lockbox, we'll do it. If we've got to wait fifteen years before we can afford even one seed of jasmine, we'll still do it." A sudden honesty creased the conversation, cutting through their banter. "Anything. Everything. As long as you're game."

For a moment, she looked at him, as if seeing beyond his words. Her pragmatism never failed, even when her temper veered off course. But it was as if his confession had opened a different door, and longing beckoned.

There were many avenues they'd never gone down. Places they'd both learned were dangerous: Tomorrow and Always; Safe and Sound; Nothing's lost and Anything's Possible.

Paths that weren't lies but far-off lights in the distance. Too far to cross on foot.

But now...

"Would everything," she whispered, "include the usual?"

"The usual?"

"I mean… d’you see yourself wanting a family?"

Silco fell still.

"An anklebiter, or two? The chance to do better for someone than anyone's ever done for us?"

The stillness deepened. Their stares locked. The silence looped into an eternal second. In that space, Bloody Sunday’s screams echoed and re-echoed.

"I...I don't know," Silco said at last. "Maybe not now. But... someday."

"Someday?"

"When Zaun is real. When this city stands on its own. When the future's set in stone, not a whisper in the wind." He smoothed the furrow between her brows, trying for levity. "Why? Don't tell me you've slipped your dose?"

"'Course not!" she snapped. "I take that crap everytime we go to bed!"

"But you've thought about the alternatives."

She chewed the corner of her lip, rolling the answer around. The dream was no longer dead in her eyes. It had transformed. "I think..."

"What?"

"Someday."

"Someday?"

"Zaun's gotta be real, first." She cupped his left cheekbone. The future pulled them down, into each other's grip. The scent of jasmine blooming from somewhere unseen. "And Zaun needs you, Sil. So after everything goes down... after things settle..."

"...there's more to look forward to." His face split on a smile. Contentment finding a home in their shadows. "Forward being the operative word."

"Damn straight."

He shut his eyes, drinking in the heat at the crook of her neck. The rest of him sank against her body. Down between her thighs, to that familiar dip that was wet and waiting for him. To a place that kept him warm, but one he couldn't lay claim to as a home. Not yet.

But someday. 

Yes.

And just like that, the revolution burned bright. On a peltstrewn-strewn pallet on the backroom floor, they began making their plans all over again.

"Marble stairs," he breathed, as he slid inside her. "Lapis-laid floors."

"Fucking bougie," she gasped, palms starfishing his hips. "I'd never set foot on 'em."

"I'd haul your arse inside by the ankles. Every day. With fresh jasmine twined in your hair..."

"Greasy fucking hair..."

"Beautiful hair." His head hung down, forehead touching hers. Her lashes fanned velvet over his cheek; her breaths grew short against his throat. "Shining and strong, and I swear—"

"Swear...?"

He rolled his hips, dragging himself over her sweet-spot, just the way she liked. Her belly quaked; her head tossed back on a cry.

"I swear it'll only be the start."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm." He thrust deeper, dizzy on her rising sobs. "Zaun's owed so much more. And we'll take it all. Everything."

"Everything," she groaned, arching up to take him fully. "Everything, fuck..."

"Like that?"

"Gods, Sil, don't fucking stop—"

Silco's spine tautened. His body had gone rigid, poised at breakage. Still he held himself steady, prolonging the moment as he did the promise.

Each syllable sinking deeper than a knife to the gut. The cuts would last a lifetime, but the scars would be worth it.

They'd last the distance when all else bled away.

Sevika shuddered; a tear slid over her temples, vanishing into the darkly clinging hair along her scalp. It was greasy, from hard hours of work, and the slew of harder nights leading to this. But it was beautiful, too, for how alive it was: how resilient she was.

How real she felt, falling apart beneath him. Keeping him tethered in all the places he was unraveling, too.

When she came down, she was laughing again. Laughing, and crying, both.

"Not the worst thing," she gasped, "a girl could hear before dying."

"Fuck that," he gritted, locking in for the home stretch. His nerves sang high; a keening pitch he chased the limit. "You'll die old. On—on feather pillows and cotton sheets. After a full life of scrapping, and the best bloody sleep you've. Ever. Had."

"And y-you...?"

"Me?"

"You'll be there?"

He caught her hand, kissing her rough knuckles. "No."

She gasped as he pinned her arms above her head. Sank his full weight down, till the burn between their bodies, blissful bright electricity, stole every doubt beyond the room.

Wiped everything beyond the moment.

"I'm not dying," he grunted, seconds from bursting, "until Zaun's come to life."

She shuddered. He surged. The finish struck like lightning.  Bright static spooling through his skull to ignite a fire in the blackness.

Revolution was like that: just another word for apocalypse, stripped of the terrors.  Not that they'd be spared the latter. Freedom always had a price. Always broke bones and bruised souls.

But the vows, in their shared gutter-tongue, were binding. Full of crude designs and raw hopes, but as real as that night.

Real as the scars.

[ice-block]

Something I hadn’t really thought about before I started being insane about rocks is that there are several semi common rocks you can find in shops around the world (pyrite suns, ocean jasper to name a few off the top of my head) where they just aren’t any more or a very limited amount left in the earth, pyrite suns require very specific conditions to form, and for some reason those conditions only happened in a few places in Illinois. When ocean jasper was first discovered it was estimated there was a lot more of it than there was, 8 veins were dug up and when mining companies went to move on to the 9th, there just wasn’t one. You can find both these things for less than $20 online or in a rock shop (and both are very beautiful) but it makes me wonder how these things will be thought of a couple hundred years from now, as the remaining items in circulation get lost to time or destroyed, will they be rumors or priceless artifacts? Or will they be forgotten entirely until one day archaeological digs searching for 21st century artifacts uncover the hidden gems of the time, the spotted pinks blues and grey greens of ocean jasper carved in the shape of a mass produced bulbasaur statue.

[le-monchou]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 || 𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

literally a continuation of my day two: sea of lights this fic crossed my word limit twice (first 500 and then 700 so now i'm making it 1000 words) also tagging @midnightmah07 and @owlisbuffering

as you expected, you don’t see ruggie bucchi for quite a long time after rescuing him from those fishermen- no matter how long you stroll by the sea coast, the only response to his name is the gentle sea foam, something he called the tears of the moon. despite his self-attested illiteracy, the merman whose hair was as golden as the strands of silk woven by the moon from the sun had many stories to tell, and in the short time you knew him, you dared to think of him as more than a friend. 

you groan as you push your hands onto your face, blood rising in the places where they smacked you a little too hard. am i really so starved for romance that i decided to go after ruggie of all people? he’s not even a person!!!! he’s like spongebob- he lives at the bottom of the sea! you sigh as you remove your hands from your face, watching the sky turn a beautiful orange with the sun’s setting, the moon already risen a little bit in the distance. the area around you reminds you of the day you set him free, and you can’t help the second sigh that escapes your lips. 

taking the boat you’d been lent by one of the fishing crews, you set out into the ocean once again, looking for a nice place to sit and admire the moonlight on the water, waiting for a young man who’d probably never come. sitting on a comfortable-looking rock, you toss the petals of a flower ruggie had mentioned liking the look of when he was restricted to your small bathroom onto the surface of water and scream as bubbles pop up, accompanied by a shishishi you found all too familiar. 

“you!” you seethed as ruggie laughed, doing cartwheels with his entire body on the surface. “miss me?” ruggie teased, sharp canines glistening. “i mean, who else are you waiting for on this rock?” you roll your eyes as ruggie laughs once again before quieting down. “anyway, this is really good timing from both our ends- i’m gonna show you my place so you don’t have to worry!” 

“ruggie. how am i going to breathe underwater?” 

—

“oh woah,” you breathed in the air bubble ruggie had managed to create via a spell he asked the prince about (or so you assumed, because you were reading his lips and he was very distorted underwater), bouncing up and down in the tiny menagerie as ruggie dragged you towards the cave system. “this is where i live,” ruggie mouths as he pushes another vial of potion through the bubble, letting you leave the thing for a bit to swim with him. “this is my home.” 

“it’s wonderful, ruggie.” you smile as he flushes. “i’m serious. you could do so much with a cave system as big as this. show me more!” ruggie harrumphs with flushed cheeks before he grabs your hand and leads you inwards towards his room. at least, if he were human, that’s technically what it’d be, with all the human junk arranged around you and this gigantic skeleton hanging from the ‘ceiling’. “what do you think? arranged it all myself. i mean, leona and jack helped too, of sorts, but it was mostly me.” 

“this is lovely, ruggie!” you beam. “honestly, if i were a mermaid, i’d love to come here and chill with you. too bad i can only swim like this,” you chuckle as ruggie rolls his eyes fondly before kissing you on the cheek. “well, if not now, then maybe in the future,” ruggie starts as he leads you deeper into the cave system, showing you all the marvellous trash from the surface along with the little gems and pearls and gold they find. and as the two of you keep exploring, ruggie realises again that your time together with him is up, so he brings you back to the surface all too reluctantly as you kiss him close to his lips. 

“i loved tonight, ruggie.” you smile as you climb back onto the rock, the boat you loaned still bobbing on the waves of the ocean. “i know it’s a little too early to say this… but i love you, and i hope to see you soon.” something twists on ruggie’s face, something nice and hopeful, and he says nothing as he kisses you goodbye and dives back into the water all flushed, but you think you’ve found your happy ending. i love you, ruggie bucchi.

[fanaticsnail]

Honey Glazed

Chef Zeff. I love him, and I won't apologize for my adoration.

Warnings: hypothetical discussions regarding cannibalism, drinking.

Word Count: 2,500

(Coming from real life conversations and experiences in both my and chef-husband's hospitality careers; you'd be surprised at how much the thought comes up regularly in conversation. Yes, can confirm: chef's flirt like this)

It had been a particularly difficult shift; balancing your managerial roles like an expert plate spinner in a circus.

On one plate, you had a wait staff member needing consolation in the ‘cool room’ to manage their mental breakdown over a particularly rude patron dining in the circular wooden floor. On another, you had to talk down Patty from storming out onto the floor not only in defence of the aforementioned wait staff member, but due to the fact they sent their food back to the kitchen with the proclamation that their meat was undercooked and “bloody”.

Round and round you balanced the dynamic of pure professionalism with engaging with the variety of patrons, serving the dishes presented by the team of chefs, and managing the rapport with the staff with a cheery disposition under the ever watchful eyes of the braid-bearded, head chef Zeff. He would often gaze longingly at you, admiring how truly blessed he was to have you as his queen of the front of house, his warrior of waitressing and his confidant in comradery. And to think, he nearly didn’t hire you.

-------

From the amount of profiles and resume’s he had received from his request for a front of house manager, your resume stuck out like a gem incrusted tiara amongst a pile of dulled rocks. Ex-convicts, reformed pirates, seasoned managers and members of his own staff putting their names forward for the position; all eclipsed by your resume.

You were young, younger than he would ever consider thrusting into the role but older than his blonde apprentice. Kind, gracious and innocent were the three words that flew into the mind of the braided ex-pirate captain.

“Found someone yet?” the young Sanji asked him with his own frown rising to his face.

“Not yet, little eggplant,” he grouchily informed him, placing your resume back to the side of the table and away from any of the other candidate profiles.

“Well, hello,” Sanji said as he took the sheet within his hands, “this is the one, chef.”

Zeff again shook his head, flittering through the tattooed and scarred front of house manager resumes within his hands, muttering a simple: “no.”

“Why not?” the teen Sanji asked him, his eyes wide as he thrust the paper back into Zeff’s pile, “she’s beautiful.”

“That’s exactly why not, kid,” Zeff said again, pushing the resume away from him and back onto the table; “she’s not meant for here. Too pretty, too young,” Sanji shook his head as Zeff continued; “she’d be chewed up and spat out before she’d be able to manage the guests, let alone the staff.”

Sanji let out a small angry growl and fished your resume back and thrust it once more into Zeff’s arms; “humour me. Wait staff are meant to be pretty, it’s the chefs that are hardened criminals. If she’s applying to work on Baratie, it shows she has the balls to run the front of house looking the way she does.”

Zeff locked his eyes with his young apprentice, finally clasping the paper once more in his fingertips and looking it over in consideration. Sanji did have a keen eye for quality, travelling over from his appreciation of food to his appreciation of other areas of his interests.

You were perfect. From your vast experience to the way your uniform clung to you. He just needed to ensure your personality would match up to your role; and with one den-den-mushi call, he was completely smitten with you and offered you a full-time job immediately.

Flirty, fiery, charismatic and professional; exactly everything he didn’t know he wanted flittered in with the qualities he needed in his front of house counterpart. You were the one he wanted.

-------

You sighed, throwing your head backwards to relieve the tension gathered after waving off your closing floor staff for the evening. You leant your hips against the lit benchtop of the pass; the kitchen island closest to the door where chefs and wait staff would meet their hands in service.

“You gonna hang around for knock offs, sweets?” Zeff asked you from his place leaning against the frame of his office door with his arms crossed over his chest. You lulled your head to rest itself on your shoulder and smiled with your eyes barely parted.

“Yes, Chef,” you offered him an exhausted, two-fingered salute as you drew enough energy and willpower to push yourself forward from the pass. Zeff began his stride over to meet with you, his hand brushing with the small of your back to escort you through the entrance of the kitchen and up towards the fish-mouth lounge. You shot him another half-smile in thanks for his attention, a twinkle forming back within his own gaze in appreciation for your gratuity.

He remained close as he approached the bar with Patty falling his grasp of several bottles and sloppily attempting to pour beer from the taps into the wrong kind of vessels. A groan fell from your lips and your back dropped, defeated at the sight that lay before you.

“Get out of there, Patty,” you ordered him with a smile, making your way behind the bar and away from Zeff’s hold on your body, “stick to the food. I’ll get you lot your knock offs.”

“Don’t forget about yourself, honey,” Zeff ordered you, his uneven step making his way over to the till to begin his inventory duties to complete the close of the night. You nodded at him before beginning to assemble a variety of drinks while overhearing the chefs discussing something amongst one another in hushed tones; brows furrowed, lips passionately fleeing words in whispers.

The three major instigators in conversation were Sanji, his eyes widening and hands gesturing to different points of his torso before trailing them down towards his stomach; Patty who was shaking his head with a frown and gesturing to his shoulder blades while hissing out between his lips; and Carne who was just watching the conversation falling between them standing concerned and confused.

You approached the chefs with their knock offs: a red wine for Sanji, a flagon of ale for Carne and a dry whiskey for Patty while keeping another red wine to the side for your head chef to retrieve once he had done inventory.

“There you are, lads,” you uttered with a sigh as you held the drinks forward, your left hand reaching behind your neck as you relieved it of the tension with circular motions beneath the ministrations of your fingertips, “knock offs: done.”

“What are we drinking tonight, love?” Sanji arched his brow upward and pursed his lips suggestively. You leant forward against the bar in response, your elbows and palms lying flat as you brought your face closer to his.

“You’re drinking a cabernet sauvignon-,” you whispered an inch away from his lips, tilting your chin upwards; a pink blush immediately rising to rest on Sanji’s cheeks, “-and I’m,” you pulled away from his face with a small giggle, “having a black Russian.”

You fished your fingertips within the short glass, pulling out the stem of the bright red maraschino cherry and plopping the syrupy fruit on your tongue; wrapping your lips around it and breaking the stem away with a ‘pop’. The three chefs in front of you held their gaze, completely transfixed by your suggestive movements.

This was your favourite part about working at Baratie. The rapport and flirtatious engagements between the front of house and the back of house was the driving force to keep you motivated as you navigated through the shift. After chewing and swallowing the amoretto-forward fruit, your warm laugh fell contagious amongst the four men; Zeff shaking his head off while continuing jotting down his varied notes.

“And all of you-,” you placed the stem of the cherry into the compost bin located below the wooden surface, “-were talking about cooking with human again, weren’t you?”

An apprehensive blush rose to the three chefs in front of you, ashamed of their unbridled conversation.

“Look,” you began, shaking your head, “there’s too much variety in your body shapes and muscle density. You’ve got to focus on just the one of you or you’re never going to make cohesive progress in this completely hypothetical situation.”

“Oh?” Sanji began, raising his glass away from his lips while taking his bottom lip between his teeth; giddy about your willingness to join in the conversation, “so who should we choose to hyper-fixate our cooking practices on? I’m all ears, love.”

You laughed at him, a shrug adorning your shoulders and mouth down-turning in thought, “what about me?”

The chefs all down-turned their mouths in thought, eyes falling to your body as you adorned a slightly more dressed-down version of your uniform. You laughed, held out your arms and gave a small turn in response to their ponderance.

“Will I suffice?” you arched your brow up as you made your rotation back towards the three chefs once more.

“You’ll do nicely,” Carne nodded, turning his body atop the stool to bring his body to face Sanji next to him and Patty behind him, “thoughts, gentleman?”

“Smoked on an open fire,” Patty nodded, gesturing to your body. You chuckled, raising the cool liquid to your lips and taking a small drink as you rested your back against the wall of the bar.

“Smoked?” Sanji questioned him with an elevated tone, “what, and ruin the natural sweetness of her body and unable to crisp up her beautiful skin? Look at her! Whole-smoked?”

“Oh, and what would you suggest; Sanji?” Carne spoke up, prompting the blonde to first turn to him and frown before bringing his attention back towards your body.

He raked his eyes from your ankles, dragging his gaze slowly up your thighs and settling on your stomach. His tongue flicked out to dampen his lower lip in thought as he drew his sights to your breasts before falling to your arms. You giggled at his attention, almost regretting your decision to open your body up to extreme examination.

“I’d take my time,” Sanji began, gesturing to a variety of points on your body, “cut the different portions and begin reductions at the same time as preparing your body to not only be smoked,” he grimaced at Patty before turning his eyes back towards you, “but also honey glazed.”

The four of you all chuckled at the conversation falling between you. Zeff, finally having completed his inventory, made his way back towards his key staff members and collected the red wine glass from the counter besides you.

“Care to weigh in, chef?” you asked him, eyes half-lidded and your signature smile falling to your lips, “if you had my body to enjoy,” you gestured down to your torso and legs, “how would you prepare me for consumption?”

Having no prior context to the conversation falling between the four of you, Zeff found himself get slightly flustered under your brazen disregard for discussing cannibalising your body. You widened your eyes and shook your hand outwards defensively with a laugh.

“Hypothetically speaking, chef,” you breathily laughed in defence of your prior suggestion, “we were talking about how you chefs would go about preparing human. Thought I’d volunteer my flank, ribs, legs, shank and rump,” you playfully slapped your left ass cheek with a giggle, “for continuity’s purposes.”

Zeff hummed thoughtfully, raising his glass to his lips with another glimmer of adoration behind his eyes at how truly accustomed you were to engaging flirtatiously with himself and his staff. He sampled the vintage over his palate, rolling the bitter liquid over his tongue and whistling it through his lips to oxidise the wine to savour the flavour. In response, you rose your black Russian back up to your lips and take the final gulp of the liquid and lay the glass upturned against the bar sink.

“Go on, chef,” you encouraged him, doing another small twirl in front of him, “lay it on me. I truly don’t mind.”

Sanji smirked as he witnessed the flirtations engaging between you and Zeff. He was well aware of his favouritism of you, potentially harbouring more than simple affection for you as his manager. You were a part of the crew, a major part of running smooth operations; Sanji would think Zeff daft to not harbour a semblance of infatuation with you.

“There’s a lot I could do with your body,” Zeff smirked with his left brow arched upwards, causing a small tingle to rise up in anticipation of your next words. The head chef stepped forward, placing his glass down to the side and reaching with his right hand forward to claim your left.

He moved his bearded jaw towards your arms, slowly raking it upwards while inspecting your flesh; uttering: “braised in red wine, spice and liquid smoke,” his lips travelled up to your shoulder, halting at your arched neck, “roasted with a mirepoix and pesto butter.”

Your jaw hung slack with a small smile falling to your lips as your eyes watched your chef remove himself from your body and twirl you away from him; tracing his fingers down your spine, “I’d either crack these separately,” he trailed his hands over your ribcage and leant in towards your ear, “or I’d keep them as a solid rack and tenderise them with a firm massage with coarse sea-salt to bring out your natural sweetness.”

A blush crept up towards your cheeks as you felt his arm come around your body to bring itself against your thigh and clutch it firmly in his wide hands; “but this,” he steadily shivered your flesh under his strong grasp, “this would be my absolute favourite. I’d stud it with cloves, cross-hatch and cure it,” his breath tingled against your neck as his lips traced the shell of your ear, “and I’d glaze it with a sauce as sweet as you are, honey.”

An unintentional gasp fled from your lips at his words. You admit to yourself, you enjoy the odd flirt from time to time with the staff; but this particular interaction with your boss felt unlike any flirtation you had engaged with him prior. Your whole body tingled in surprise and shock at how Zeff so intimately spoke to you, even though it was words so completely unhinged as how to cook you appropriately.

Zeff chuckled and withdrew his hand from your thigh and made his way back towards the wooden bar; reopening the cabernet sauvignon bottle and filling his crystal glass once more before offering the neck to Sanji’s empty one.

“Anything to add, boys?” Zeff asked his team from his spot behind the bar, you remaining stunned before shaking off your stupefied state and bringing yourself beside Zeff and beginning to make your second black Russian to continue to rid your body from the rise of heat.

“Yeah,” Sanji added, raising his glass to his lips, “you’d probably fuck it all up with oregano.”

[red-dia]

Twitter user @/inspirashamul dug up an old Ichikawa interview from 2015. I don't think there's anything earthshattering, but it's still pretty cool (and I think it's the only time she's directly acknowledged the 7 treasures ? unless i'm mistaken)

Transcription under the cut :

"Throughout history gems have decorated every aspect of our lives - and afterlives as well. Buddhist sutras describe the Land of Bliss as a realm of dazzling splendour covered in precious gems and metals.

Furthermore, in Shariputra, the world know as the Land of Bliss, there are lotus ponds, all made of seven precious substances, namely, gold. silver, emerald, rockcrystal, red pearl, sapphire, and mother of pearl as the seventh. [...] The bottom of each pond is covered with golden sand. [...] These stairways are colourful, elegant, and made of four precious substances, namely, gold, silver, emerald, and rock crystal. "

Japanese manga author Haruko Ichikawa was inspired by this description to transform the gems into characters in her series, Houseki no Kuni (The Kingdom of Gems). In the distant future, Gem Warriors battle with the Moon People who mount raids from above to kidnap the living gems to use as for decorations.

Gem warriors look human but shatter upon impact. Their broken surfaces reflect light with a brilliant lustre. The moment of destruction is shockingly beautiful, yet they never truly die and can regain human form if their shards are put back together.

In the course of the story, we learn that the rival Gem Warriors and Moon People share the same origin-they were both once human. Bone became gemstone and the soul became the Moon People. The setup makes The Kingdom of Gems a story of humanity told through gems. Current Obsession conducted an e-mail interview with Haruko Ichikawa to find out what's behind the story and what she wants to say with her gem-laden allegory,

Background and Aesthetic

Many Japanese manga artists did not start as manga artists. Haruko Ichikawa is no exception. She was an editorial designer before she broke into manga.

'I enjoyed drawing when I was a little girl and that's why choose a high school that had an art course. Then, my interest moved from art to design, and in university, I majored in visual image design. After graduation, I worked as an editorial designer at a design company. I think the experience taught me how to design panels, how to make panels flow and how to balance black and white-basically, effective layouts that smoothly lead the eye of the reader. I'm also able to design my own books thanks to the techniques that I developed as an editorial designer.'

Usually design studios handle book design, but Ichikawa does it herself. Her brightly coloured covers glitter with lamé to suggest the world of gems waiting inside, while her minimalist two-dimensional style makes each panel stand as a pleasing piece of graphic design. The brilliance of the Gems stands out among the strong contrast of black and white pages. They look most beautiful when they shatter. The human-like appearance of the Gems makes this moment shocking, but also bewitching.

'I'm most attracted to the beauty within the horrific. Imagine the thrill of peeking at the secret hidden under a veil - an unexpected shock, or a macabre scene you can't turn away from. That's what I hope to recreate on the page.'

Her aesthetic is evident in the unique design of the characters. If the Gems are beautiful, then the bizarre Moon People are simply otherworldly. How did Ichikawa create these characters?

Character Design

There are two main groups of characters. While the colour and brilliance of gems are expressed as a Gem fighter's hair, Moon People are covered with ornate Buddhist decorations, such as multiple layers of delicate, heavenly garments and jewellery.

'When I design Gem Warriors, I try to get a specimen of the stone and base the design on its physical properties such as colour, hardness, strength, crystal shape and scarcity. On the other hand, I try to show Moon People as soft eerie beings with a hint of grace in order to make them look bizarre.'

Nearly every real world property is reflected in a Gem warrior's personality. Phosphophyllite (Phos), the main character with the "beautiful colour of shallow water on a western beach', lacks hardness and breaks as easily as actual phosphophyllite. Twin crystal amethyst is literally transformed into captivating twins, while the red-haired Cinnabar is knowledgeable, though cast as a lone wolf because her body is filled with a toxin. Real life cinnabar is known as the philosopher's stone and contains mercury. Alexandrite is usually a green-haired Moon People researcher, but she turns into a violent redhead in front actual Moon People, Her personality is in line with real alexandrite that changes colour depending on the type of light it reflects.

These properties come out as comical conversations between gems. For example, Morganite references the Mohs hardness scale when Phos grabs her. 'Hey! That was close! If you touch us directly, you're the one who's gonna shatter, three-and-a-half! Phos responds 'I am well aware, my dear seven.'

When speaking with Ichikawa it becomes apparent that her rich knowledge of stones and scientific viewpoint comes from her passion as a collector.

'My biggest pleasure is the surprise of discovery. Recently I'm most interested in how good intentions can lead to misfortune. This phenomenon happens quite often in science, which is why I like the field. I have around 300 stones in my collection. I've beest interested in stones since I was a little girl, so I've forgotten how I started to collect them: I' attracted to their simple chemical formula, near infiniteness, uniqueness, as well as the wonderful colour, texture and shape. I think every stone has its own appeal, be it a pebble on the beach or the most beautiful gem.'

Her choice of gems in the manga backs up the statement.

The Gem Warriors include valuable precious stones, such as diamond, as well as semi precious stones that are usually acknowledged as inforiors to gems. In her story, Gems vary in terms of fighting ability but are essentially treated as equals.

Inspiration

In The Kingdom of Gems, gems walk, talk and feel emotions just like us. How did Ichikawa come up with a unique idea of turning a gem into a human-shaped character?

'I had the idea that maybe minerals lived on a different time axis as ours - we just didn't realize it.'

And how did a passage from a Buddhist sutra, "the land of the Perfect Bliss is made of gems', contribute to the story?

'In the sutra gems are an accessible way to describe the beauty and majesty of the Land of Bliss. They are native to the Land of Bliss, not stolen from elsewhere. When I first read the sutra it occurred to me that Buddhism didn't consider these ornamental gems as eligible for salvation. It's not that the sutra made me feel disappointed in Buddhism or want to liberate gems myself. The sutra provides a simple message for the masses by comparing objects of unparalleled beauty to gems. It made me realize that there's a limit to our shared imagination. There's a line somewhere. So where does that put inorganic compounds? They can't speak for themselves. It's pretty convenient to ignore this and assume them to be subservient. It's hard to put my feelings into words, but I felt a very human danger - and attraction - in the vivid examples that assigned gems value and the matter-of-fact manner that passes over these same objects for salvation.

People emphasize with objects that appear human. So I followed this lite of thought - how would we react to a being that was totally unlike a human except in its appearance? Would we want to help them, or feel guilt for persecuting them? What would cause us to feel compassion? This is my experiment find out. It boils down to having empathy for others, be they organic or otherwise.

I'm also interested in what part of our nature is human, and what is animal - both the good and bad. Just as we struggle with the unknowable animal nature within us, life forms in the future will struggle with the untamed nature leftover from humans. At least, that's my hypothesis for what I write.'

This kind of humanity is strongly depicted in the conversation between Phos and Ventricosus, the ruler of the sea.

Ventricosus understands that the Moon People mean to reclaim their flesh and bones to return to their human form, but since they divided from humans so long ago there is no way back. Knowing that the character is not human makes the following dialogue all the more impressive.

'The Moon People, despite lacking natural enemies, love war and are never satisfied. I get the feeling that this undirected anxiety is leftover from when they were human.'

Unique Use of Ornamentation

All sorts of decorations will catch your eye as you read through the pages. For instance, the Moon People are defined by their lavish outfits. From their opulent fabrics to elegans curved ornamentation it's hard to imagine they are capable of such aggression.

The highly decorative quality of the Moon People and the way they steal gems to decorate their homeland makes ornamentation an allegory for earthly desires. However, Ichikawa's statement from the previous wection reveals her unique attitude to wards ornamentation. She uses gems, a typical decoration, to show how the reader feels toward the materials we use for decotation. Yet she has a positive view of the subject. For example, the Gem Warriors fashion reveals clothing lined with flower patterns and special costumes worn during hibernation. Ichikawa obviously enjoys drawing these scenes. Her pages overflow with fun.

'I appreciate sophisticated adornment, Bizarre, extravagant adornment is also atractive. I'm rather interested in the reason behind such decoration. People must have reasons to (or not to) decorate For example, some people decorate them selves to feel confident or be popular, while others don't because they have different priorities.

It's interesting to see what people place importance on.

As for the Gem Warrior outfits, materials are scarce in their world so I try to make the most of simplicity. I also wanted to show how the Gems take pleasure from fashion.

People will decorate. Some for personal reasons, and some out of a desire to get close to something greater than themselves. It is a very human behaviour we should love and be proud of.

I like decorations, I like jewellery. Even more so I like people who decorate themselves and our nature that drives us to. I'm sure many readers understand this sentiment.

However, like all human practices, the act and desire to decorate hides our vulnerabilities.'

Haruko Ichikawa points this out through characters that are living decorations themselves. She does not view this negatively. For in her world, everything is beautiful, even our weaknesses.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

For my OC Gem AU, long, long ago, at least six thousand years ago, there was a planet called Earth. On that planet were all manner of organic life, from the flowering rose to the colorful birds, the budding fungi and buzzing bugs, to the most intelligent and creative: human beings.

There were different kingdoms and tribes and villages, all with different leaders or councils, protecting their own or fighting amongst their enemies. Then, from the stars above, came a new creature, god-like beings called gems... they were almost impossible to stop, relentless and ruthless and so numerous. No matter what the humans did, the gems kept coming back. Many lives were lost, both gem and human alike. It wasn't until the great Orange Diamond came that things changed...

Orange Diamond was the youngest of the Diamond Authority, and Earth was their first planet. They had watched from their moon base the efforts of their gems to conquer this planet, and seeing how the humans fought back, came down to end this uprising. Yet as they traveled through the crevasses and canyons to stomp out the rebellion, they were attacked. Humans, dozens upon dozens of them, armed with sharpened spears and blades, aimed at their gem... Their guard was quickly poofed, their pearl shattered, until all that was left was Orange Diamond... until from the highest rock flew an arrow, then two, then tens of arrows rained down, sending the humans fleeing. Orange Diamond was shocked. Whoever had helped them had saved their life! They'd avenged their fallen gems! They called for their rescuer to come out, to show themself, so they could grant them a reward...

And emerging from the shadowed entrance of the highest cave in the quarry... was a human...

This human was unlike the others. Their eyes were kind; their gait wasn't hurried; their hands held no weapon. They were not an enemy, but a friend. They said they were Reader, the leader of a small but growing group of humans, those who fled cruel empires and ruthless cities, who tried to make peace with nature rather than destroy it. They wished no harm on the gems; they only wished they would not harm the humans who inhabited the Earth. They took Orange Diamond back to their secret village, where Orange Diamond learned of the cycles of Earth, its weather and its plants, the animals and the waters, and the wonders of this new and wild world...

Orange Diamond did not know how to feel. There were people here who were kind, who were like gems, yet who didn't want endless war and shattering. They promised peace with these humans for as long as they owned the Earth. As a gift, the empty, lifeless canyon where they and Reader had met was gifted to them to grow their gems. This arrangement spared the humans the wrath of the gems...

And led to Reader's death...

The cruel kings and wicked empresses and tyrannical monarchs of the lands plotted the downfall of the human who stole away their people, who offered refuge and food instead of weapons and war, who had made peace with the beings of the stars rather than conquer them and use them... So they devised a horrible, ugly plan to get rid of them...

They asked Reader to meet with them, saying they too wanted to make peace and share the Earth, rather than destroy it in war. They said to meet at the Obsidian Moutain's Tears, where the water wept loudly and the rocks shielded pools with secrecy... When Reader arrived, they were attacked. Their hands were tied; their feet held down; and their blood was spilt, staining the waters and sands a bright, Ruby red... It was too late when Orange Diamond and Reader's kingdom village discovered this betrayal, and the Earth shook with their wails and wrath...

Orange Diamond called for her Diamond allies to scorch those treacherous kingdoms to the grounds, to destroy any who dared not join with Reader's kingdom and swear peace on their name... Those kingdoms were destroyed, towers struck down, streets scorched black, castles tumbled down to the barest stones... Nothing that had belonged to those wicked rulers remained except for the skeletal ruins, left to wither and waste to dust in the vast rock-strewn desert...

Yet none could comfort Orange Diamond nor her gems whom had met Reader. Reader's people were now leaderless, and worried over what would happen to them. Yet they were not to fear. For their kindness and Reader's, Orange Diamond would spare them and make a special city for them to live in, one filled with fruitful trees and sweet flowers and no threat of war or discomfort. This place became known as The Garden, for it housed all the life of the Earth within it...

As for Reader, they were remembered and honored among the gems, and the Alpha Kindergarten was covered in murals, depicting the story of the unlikely friendship between a Diamond and a human... and th Obsidian Mountain's Tears became a place of mouring, the quiet monument to the first of the Readers...

A tradition was made amongst the gems to select a Reader, thought to be the reincarnation of the first Reader, to live amongst the gems and be taken care of with no worry or cares...

Yet the newest Reader has kept hidden, hiding outside of The Garden and traversing the Great Beyond...

[polutrope]

Very happy birthdays to you and Melesta! Wishing you both health and joy and freedom.

Would love a little scene between Finduilas and Turgon, in Valinor, "after." If you feel so moved.

🧡

Turgon and Finduilas, reembodied. Rated G, 1100 words. By @polutrope and @melestasflight. On AO3.

“Sorontië, Numentië, Asartië,” Turgon mutters to himself, looking from street corner to street corner, placing names upon the grid of Tirion. Strange that he, who built a city in its image, now finds the grandeur and pulse of Tirion too much to bear. Perhaps it is only the freshness of his renewed body, but everything is so dazzling here, too clean, and the reflected light off all the marble and painted glass hurts his eyes. 

As his gaze travels between stalls, carriages, and ornate facades, they land upon one nearby who had until now escaped his notice for how still they stood amidst the city’s perpetual movement. 

“Findaráto?” he says, half to himself, because he knows that hair, that peculiar shade of gold as if a bloom of Laurelin has just burst open. But no, he has seen Finrod since he returned — this figure is slight, delicate, as Finrod was in his youth. Not as he is now, in his second life, a warrior reborn as their people’s crown prince.   

The body turns and the face that greets him is both alike to Finrod’s and distinctly not. A deep frown adorns her fair features. “How many more in this city will take me for my uncle?”

“I am sorry, lady,” Turgon says, nodding in greeting — and it is only when he lifts his chin and looks at her that her words fully settle in his mind. “Your… uncle?”

Her frown deepens and she looks as if she is ready to throw yet another accusation at him, but she is interrupted by a jewelry seller thrusting an elaborate hair ornament practically into her face.

“Would the lady Finduilas like to try this piece instead?” The seller is almost shouting in her excitement. “It is our latest, created by Lúletinwë.” When Finduilas does not react, the seller adds, sympathetically: “Tirion’s most famous designer of this century.” 

Finduilas — Turgon knows the name. Could it be? Finduilas of Nargothrond, Orodreth’s daughter, Finrod’s most beloved niece? Finduilas now glares at the jewelry seller, the exasperation written upon her face.

Turgon cannot blame her. He looks from her face to the ornament: it is like a malformed octopus made of gems, lined with the most ostentatiously enormous, poorly cut, and ill-matched ruby and emerald crystals Turgon has ever seen. 

“Return that hideous clump of rock to the bowels of the earth where it belongs!” Turgon blurts, physically recoiling. He shudders. “Better yet, cast it into the Void.”  

The jewelry seller’s eyes widen in shock, her jaw dropping. Turgon winces; his mouth has run away with him, again. He considers apologizing, taking back the offense, when a thunder of laughter sounds at his side. Finduilas is roaring, doubled over, and then she grabs Turgon’s forearm to steady herself.

“Oh, that’s the best insult I have yet heard in this new life,” Finduilas says when she regains control of herself. “You, lord, curse as well as the very uncle you just mistook me for, when he loses his famed calm.” Then she turns to the seller, whose face has now hardened like baked clay: “We shall not be requiring your assistance further, lady. I thank you.”

Finduilas leads him away, sliding her hand into the bend of his elbow. Turgon glances over his shoulder for one last look at the jewel-seller: she still glares after them, and this prompts a laugh to leap from his throat. 

“It is good to meet you, Finduilas,” he says. “I did not know you were…” It has not become easy, yet, knowing how to speak of having been dead.

“Yes, I am. Returned to life.” Finduilas smiles gently as she turns to him, her earlier frown replaced by mirth. “The pleasure is all mine and please excuse my impatience; I am yet new to this business of living again. May I know your name, also, oh saviour from the terrors of Tirion’s fashion?”

“Oh, yes, I am sorry, I–” Turgon feels the heat in his cheeks, knows that he is making a fool of himself. He feels a child, sometimes, who has to learn the simplest things all over, such as how to place words together… what to call himself. What does he call himself, to this child of Beleriand, reborn in Aman, who never knew him as anything but — what did she know him as? How did Finrod speak to her of him? What did she think of him, the distant King of the Noldor who stayed ensconced in his mountain valley while Nargothrond fell to ruin? 

He settles for the name he carried for nigh five centuries. “I am Turgon." Finduilas’ brows arch: in surprise, joy, or fear, Turgon cannot tell, and he hastens to add: “But you may call me uncle, if you wish.”

Finduilas does not seem to share his doubts, the ruin of her fair city so far away that she barely remembers it. “The famed Turgon!” she cries heartily. “My uncle has barely spoken of anything else since your return. At last I meet you!” Then, Finduilas tosses herself into his embrace, arms tightening around his ribs. The top of her hair tickles Turgon’s cheek; she is of Idril’s height, almost to the inch. Turgon holds her against himself. It is the most at home he has felt since returning – strange as that may seem, embracing a kinswoman he never knew in his previous life. But there is something about Finduilas being both new and familiar that sets him at ease.

They pull apart, still smiling, and Turgon says: “If you are still looking for some adornment, I have just remembered a florist where my daughter – long ago – often went to pick out an assortment of exotic flowers brought up from the south. She would arrange them in a wreath herself.” Finduilas’ face brightens at what she hears and Turgon summons the courage to offer his help. “If you would like, I will take you there, for it is not easy to find.” 

Passingly, he wonders if the shop is still there at all, but does not speak this thought aloud. 

“Lead the way!” Finduilas agrees with a grin more golden than her fair tresses.

Turgon takes her hand, recalling the weight of his young daughter’s hand as he once led her through this crowded marketplace. He guides Finduilas from the bright bustle, towards the secluded, peaceful neighbourhood on the southern slope of Túna where he remembers a quaint little flower shop, down a narrow lane. As they walk in comfortable silence, warmth, as sweet as honeyed tea, fills his chest. 

He has made his first friend in this new Tirion.

Birthday Prompts

[riverofjazzsims]

Gem Barrett for @rainymoodlet Rock of Love BC

Private Download if chosen

Back story:

Gem, born in Willow Creek County to the local Pastor and his wife, she was a precocious child and nothing like her older brother. No worries both her parents reminded her constantly of that shortcoming.  For a while the "wild child" curiosity was accepted as toddler antics but as Gem became older her outgoing way was frowned on especially by her mother. It was around the age of 8 when that shift occurred. Gems mom was pregnant with her baby sister, and she remembers everyone being so excited and her parents heading to the hospital so they could bring her little sister home, except only her parents came back. Her mother was never the same towards her again. She would hear her parents arguing and around the age of 12 is the first time she heard her mom utter the phrase "bayou bitch baby" It was not too long after that when she found out the woman that was raising her wasn't her mother at all. It did not make sense to Gem though because neither was her brother. Her older brother was from their fathers first marriage, his mom did not fancy being the pastor's wife or a mom so she left and divorced their dad.

The bomb was dropped when she was 14, her father the good pastor, had an affair early in her mom's marriage to him that resulted in her birth. Due to his standing in the community he didn't want his or his family name to be tarnished. His solution was to have his now wife fake a pregnancy (all while knowing she had fertility issues) until Gem was born. He went so far as to arrange for her birth mother to stay with them towards the end and had a home birth there in the room Gem called her own. That's how they were able to pass her off as her "mother's" child. They kept her birth mom around for the first month and then sent her on her way, no one the wiser.  When her mother lost her baby sister, she lost EVERYTHING that would allow for her to ever carry a child of her own, the only thing that she nurtured now was her bitterness and resentment of Gem. 

Thank god for Gems BFF Liza, or as she was affectionately known, Lying Liza. She was her rock through that toxic childhood, she was her escape.  It was Liza home that she felt loved and wanted, not her own, and she spent more time with them. But Lying Liza was called that for a reason as she was known for the extraordinary tales /Lies she would make up about the things she did and people she met, especially as they became teens. Gem wasn't allowed to listen to much music, especially none of that sinful stuff! With Liza, she was introduced to an eclectic array of music but both their favorite was rock. Iron revival, a rather new band at the time,  was Gems go to when she was needing to get lost in her emotions.

  Liza swore she was a groupie that got to meet some of the leads in their favorite rock groups over spring break and even shared a hot kiss with one though she refused to name( insert eye roll,) ok whatever you say Liza. But it was the summer of their 15th year that she and Liza got the chance to go to an indie rock group festival. The sights, the sounds, so much for Gem to absorb. Needless to say, at the end of that festival Gem came home with more than a T-shirt. 

Nine months later Gem gave birth to a daughter, with her mother staring her down and mumbling, "Bayou Bitch Baby just like HER". Forced to give her up, Gem got 24 hrs with a child she would never see again. They wouldn't even let her name her for the birth certificate. When she could no longer hear the small cries as her parents left with her daughter and when she could no longer finish screaming out her loss and pain because she was empty, she looked and there Liza was, her rock, the only person she confided in with her plan. Six Months later Gem left home and hasn't been back since. 

Fast forward, Gem made her way to the Pacific northwest and met up with some local bands in the Granite Falls area.  She realized she had a knack with people, planning, and an ear for music and how to best showcase it. Though she might have been the wild child her parents barely tolerated, one thing for sure that not even they could deny was how smart Gem was.  She spent the next several years building her business and brand. When it came to giving the smaller bands, the break needed to help boost them, you went to see her. She started to be known as the go to, Promotional Gems was a name those on the come up could trust. She was always about giving people a chance. Fairly sure it was to make up for all the chances her own family never extended to her. 

Liza would come up and visit her over the years, bring news from home, it was a few years back, right before Lying Liza went and found love, picket fences and 2.5 kids that she brought word of Gems father. He was on Hospice and wanted his daughter to come home, Gem refused him the visit, but not the letter he sent her. There he told Gem about her biological mother, how she showed up one day a couple years back, told him of the letters she had been writing and that he knew nothing about. Seems Gems "mother" had been intercepting all those letters and had hid them. He promised he would have her brother mail them to her along with where she could find her if she desired. That day wasn't until after her father passed away when her brother showed up at her office with the all the letters her biological mom had written to her over the years.  It was too late though, when Gem went back to Willow Creek County (seems her mother hadn't gone too far as she wanted to be close to her daughter) she found her in a nursing home with late-stage Alzheimer.  

Gem spent her mother's last few months going back and forth between Granite falls and Willow Creek County.  During this time, she began to think more and more of family, specifically the daughter she was made to give up, the mother she never got to know and what she may want to do with her life.   

When one of her favorite bands from her youth has a member show back up in the spotlight and willing to do a BC.. the teen heart that played their CD's until even the walls of her room knew the lyrics, she melted at the chance to connect with someone whose music unknowingly was part of her healing during her darkest time, was a beacon and safe harbor whenever the headphones went on. So Yeah, Gem is signing up in hopes of...... 

Hope, love and even the nerve to try and find her the daughter lost to her 

Does she have what it takes to Rock it out long enough to be Jacksons Rock of Love 

*Gem is a townie remake from @cowplant-snacks Townie group C

[bippiti]

bishops k. brekker

an first kaz fic! lmk what y’all think

pairing kaz brekker x healer/ tailor reader

req yup

wc 1.8k

synopsis after a heist goes terribly wrong, you’re the one who comes to kazs aid

heads up typical soc violence, fighting, broken bones, stab wounds, not proofread

dangling off of a high building wasnt kazs ideal way of spending his friday night. but here he was, covered nails digging into the crumbling roof of some rich merchers mansion.

before going on any further i suppose some back tracking is in order.

a while before one of the dregs monitoring the ports overheard a group of stadwatch talking about some rather valuable cargo. precious gems, fine arts, and antique instruments were all set to come in the following month, and we’re to be delivered to a marcher named Stefan Terpstra.

further investigation from inej led to the discovery of an auction being held at terpstras manor. this of course, meant a heist.

kaz already had the blueprints in his office, saints knew where he got it from. but now all you had to do was figure out what roles to play. since they were all too recognizable you were key to this going well.

while you were first and foremost a healer, you were still a relatively skilled tailor, with the proper materials you could alter someone’s face and have it not revert for almost half a day.

the night before kaz called all of you down ti go over the plan again. after you changed inej and jespers face, they would go to the auction posing as a wealthy couple. while the party before the auction is taking place kaz would sneak into the safe, pick the lock, and then him and matthias would collect everything they could carry. nina would be with them to ensure no hold ups took place, and all the while you and wylan would be on the roof scouting out for potential threats.

it was simple enough, you’d had a million harder jobs than this one. so it was kindve funny how almost everything went wrong

before anything even started there were issues with the clothes. the fabric of the dress inej was supposed to wear was really itchy, and when you peeled it away from her skin you saw the rashes and raised red bumps forming. you fixed it easily, but it still had you pushing for time. once their faces were altered and ready, they were off to the manor.

this is when the second problem came up. after everyone went to sleep following kazs rundown, wylan spent the rest of the night working on a few potassium nitrate bombs. (more commonly known as smoke bombs) he kept a fire on low heat as he mixed sugar and the potassium nitrate together. the combining process took hours, but the yield was impressive. 8 bombs total, 4 for inej, 4 for jesper. and there were 8 left on the table as he came up the stairs after hearing the horses set off.

great. since they both were more than capable of holding their own it wasn’t a total disaster, but it was a night wasted sitting at a desk.

once you all arrived things seemed to be going smoothly, jesper floated from person to person, making conversation and laughing along with other party goers. you could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of jealousy on wylans face before he turned away. while jesper was frolicking inej was say at the bar, nursing a drink that looked to be at least 15 kruge overpriced. while going up the stairs you met with kaz and the others, wylan gave them 4 of the bombs, and w kaz gave them the timeframe. 15 minutes, in and out then they should be done. if they weren’t on the roof in time then they were to rendezvous at the neighboring farm a few roads down.

problem 3: it had been almost 15 minutes and there was still no sign or the others. you checked your watch nervously and you heard wylan kicking at the rocks to your left. on your end things had been fine, no other gangs or stadwatch had shown up.

as of on cue, the door burst open and matthias and kaz ran out

if i’m you hand my been concerned the moment mightve even been funny, kaz had what seemed to be his weight in gold adorned around his neck, and a painting almost as wide as you strapped to his back. matthias wasn’t any better, he had to crown crookedly placed on his head and had bracelets up to his elbows, and what looked to be a violin case strapped to his back.

they were telling at you both to jump into the tree, something about a few bodyguards catching them and nina staying behind to fight a few off.

kaz shrugged off what he had on and gave it over to wylan who put in the bag. matthias followed suit and the propped up the bag and took off. scaling down a building wasn’t kazs forte which is why he was supposed to go back through and out the building, but that obviously wasn’t an option. while you were trying to figure out what to do, some men came through the door and went at you.

growing up you learned how to fight, so you were that bad. as you dodged a punch and countered you saw kaz fighting in your peripheral. instead of having his cane be a part of his weakness, he had managed to turn it into one of his strengths. as he swung it at what seemed to be the last man you straightened your back, letting out a breathy laugh. both of you were bruised and by the inhale you just took you had a rib or two broken. the heavy steps of someone coming up the stares broke you out of your trance. as the woman came up the stairs you wanted to crawl up and die. she was huge her biceps were always as thick as your waist and the look on her face showed she wasn’t here to play.

you were never one to back down though so with a deep breath you began to form your hands. because tailors could alter physical appearance and bone structure you had been trying to take it to the next level. while so far it had only worked on the dead you thought it might work. as you brought your hand up her arms began to pulse, changing shape in an almost grotesque way. she began to stride over to you before a heavy crack made her turn around.

kaz wasn’t really sure what you were doing, but he could tell you were going to have to focus in order to do so. as he began to fight the woman her arms began to.. change. they became smaller, larger, then began to shrink onto themselves. she vegan to maker her way to you again. before he could do anything else he felt his feet tip back and he fell. he opened his eyes to see his hands barely holding onto the brick wall. he prayed to saints he didn’t believe in to help him hold on.

you saw kaz plunge and your mind went on autopilot, you felt your power wash over you and you watched her legs began to shrink, growing smaller and smaller until there were none left at all. in the back of your head you heard someone laugh, it was scary, shrill. it took a moment before you realized it was you.

snapping back into reality you left her there, rushing over to kaz who was by the grace of saints still hanging on. you grabbed him by the arm and yanked him forward, sending you both rather harshly to your backs.

you breathed in once more as you shakily stood, kaz did the same, pain evident on his face. during this whole mess his cane had landed up in the dirt below you both. together you began to long journey back to the barrel.

-

the door to the slat burst open as you carried a passed out kaz. it was well into the night, so the was nobody there save for the crows and some dregs. as you hauled him over to a table inej and matthias swiped it off, maps and cards fell onto the floor around you all.

you peeled off his clothes later by later, stopping once you got the his shirt. as you unbuttoned it you signaled for the others to leave, you assumed kaz wouldn’t like them to see their ‘all powerful’ boss in such a position.

as your hands ghosted over his chest you let your manic deep putt of you. you mended the broken ribs, the fractured wrist, and the cuts he had gotten on his back. they were deep, but not enough to make them life threatening. as his skin stitched itself together you began to focus on your own. by the time you were done rearranging your own bruises and scrapes you were far too tired to rid his face and body of the bruises. instead, you patched him up, wrapping bandages around his stomach and back before shrugging his coat on over him.

as you bridal carried him up the stairs you took a moment to appreciate his face. you didn’t let yourself stare very often, kaz was observant and he could pick up the slightest of glances. you looked at the curve of his nose, the shape of his lips. they looked soft, kissable even

before you let yourself get too carried away you opened the door to his room, taking his coat, hanging it, and then taking his gloves and placing them at his bedside.

before you left you filled a bowl with warm water, dipping a towel in you began to rub small circles into his face, ridding it of the dried blood that was starting to form. once the water turned crimson you dumped it out.

kaz awoke the next day, he wasn’t in any more pain than he was used to, but he was still bruised beyond belief. he didn’t remember much other than clinging onto you as you both made your way back to the slat.

he brought his hand up to his head, he needed to figure out what had happened. after finding jesper and figuring out what had occurred, he didn’t know what to do. how was he supposed to thank you? how could he in words, explain how thankful he was it was you that saved him, you that helped him. you. you. stupid you.

y/n l/n.

the only person that had managed to win over dirty hands heart

[vanitythevantropist]

Mkay so it took me way too long but I have finally created new art :3 (I finished these a while ago and forgot to post them but SHHHHH)

Anyways, these characters are from my absolute favourite and most well developed story in the roster; Stones of Gold. The love I have for thus story and its characters cannot be put into words. They are my everything

Anyways, here they are :3

Characters featured (left-right): Zepsun and Casaraua

Cas is the main POV character of SoG and I love him to death, he’s one of my favourite characters in all of my stories😭 He was raised on a farm by his mom after his dad left her (he left because Cas is what is known as a Rune Shifter which I’ll explain later). He’s not the best with social interaction due to never having interacted much. He’s very shy and afraid of everything, even though he literally had super strength. He becomes the newest member of the main group behind the next guy

Zep, fun fact, is actually a minor antagonist in the beginning👀 He joins the main group last because of issues. Anyways, he was taken under some emperor’s wing after the guy saves him from slavery as a child which totally fucked with his psyche (as it should). Zep’s pretty closed off and tends to get defensive. He fears anyone who can beat him in a fight. He is also a rune shifter

They become very gay later on

Characters featured (left-right): Chryo and Cyruss

I fucking love Chryo to death, she’s just so fun. She is a TANK of a woman (and a Rune Shifter as well). I’d say she’s pretty motherly and sweet when interacting with people she likes but, when you threaten someone she loves, she’ll become your worst nightmare. She’s determined as fuck and very snarky, especially to her boyfriend. She was the first to join the group (AKA she created it LMAO)

Cyruss canonically has gigantism, making him very tall👀 He’s Chryo’s girlfriend and is definitely the more mellow of the two. He’s a musician (haven’t named or drawn the instrument yet but it’s kinda like a guitar/banjo hybrid Ig???) and enjoys his more gothic music n stuff like that (I imagine his music to sound like The Awakening or Miracle of Sound, or both) He’s a bit scary to many due to his quieter nature and darker colours, but he’s a very nice and chill guy with a lot of good advice to share. Like his girlfriend, he definitely knows how to fight :3 He joined the group second, though the last two basically joined with him so (The group as in the friend/rogue group, btw). Heis not a shifter

Characters featured (left-right): Drélan and Mitzen

Drélan is an ex knight who left due to disagreeing with his king. He had since become close friends with a viking, a gothic musician and an assassin (as well as a traumatised gay man and a farmer boy later on, obviously). He’s a very kind and selfless person who takes no bullshit from anyone every. This dude will literally stand between you and god. He sorta becomes a father figure to Cas in the story and they do strong man stuff together (like fix carts and talk about animals, obviously)

Mitzen is an ex assassin, leaving her guild for similar reasons to Drélan. They were once on opposing sides but became good and loyal friends once they both left their groups. She’s a ‘tough love’ kinda gal, shoving her friends into situations whether they like it or not. Like Zep, she’s pretty closed off but she’s definitely calmer and more composed than he is (due to being older and more mature)

They are the only characters in the group that aren’t in a romantic relationship with each other🤣 You can still ship them, tho :3

ANYWAYS, the ✨lore✨

Y’all are probably wondering what a Rune Shifter is, right? Yeah, I thought so👀 I’ll do my best to explain!

A Rune Shifter is a magical being with gem/rock/whatever material casings covering certain parts of their bodies (for reference, Zep, Cas and Chryo are Shifters). One-Runed Shifters are the most common, Two-Runed Shifters are rare, Three-Runes Shifters are VERY rare (90% of critters never see a single one in their lives) and Four-Runed Shifters are saved for myths n shit (no one knows if they’re even real) (Examples; Zep is a double shifter - meaning he had two magic types at once, making him a Two-Runed Shifter - Cas is a Three-Runed Shifter and Chryo is a One-Runed Shifter)

Shifters’ powers are element based (for example; Zep in an ice/water Shifter, Cas is a Sun Shifter and Chryo is a Moon Shifter (or Moon Rune and Cy likes to call her). There are quite a few of them and I haven’t written them all down yet, so🤣 Anyways, they all have different abilities (having more runes= more powers). More examples!! Ice Shifters can control ice, Water Shifters can control water, Sun Shifters are typically protective forces (with force field n super strength and all that), Moon Shifters can multiply and become invisible, etc. (It’s all still a wip so💀)

An ability all Shifters have is the ability to shift (duh) into Rune Beast forms. Rune Beast forms are like monster forms, they can take on any appearance but mostly take the appearance of different already existing animals (also a WIP). Many believe that the form you discover always means something

Now, for the ✨worldbuilding✨

Basically; Rune Shifters are powerful and scary so non-Rune Shifters hate them. Shifters are discriminated against and feared. Any mother to have a Shifter child and keep is also despised (basically Cas’ and his mother’s backstory lmao)

Omg this is a long ass post lmao-

But bro, I can’t help myself😭 I fucking live this story and the characters to DEATH and I hope y’all like em too💕

If you have any questions regarding the story, feel free to reblog or reply with said questions!

[simplydannie]

Velvet & Veneer Fanfic

I Couldn’t Save You

Prelude Here

An infection story I did a while ago! This is an AU I plan on doing, so this story is a separate timeline.

An outbreak of some sort has happened as we saw in the prelude. Those at the detention were separated. Floyd is on a mission to not only find Branch who mysteriously disappeared… but to also make sure if a set of siblings are unharmed.

After a perilous journey, the Trolls had finally made it to Mount Rageous again…. Except this time…. It was in ruin.

Buildings in smoke, roofs caved in….. the infection had made its way to the dazzling city of lights. Knowing that Mount Rageous was populated by teens, the Trolls only hoped they were able to make it home with their families before….well…. They couldn’t even finish the thought.

“Why are we here again…” John Dory asked as he looked at the ruined city with a distraught look.

“… Trying to find Branch.” Floyd said. JD looked at his brother.

“And…” He waited for Floyd’s continued answer.

“…. To see if the twins are alright….”Floyd finished.

Crimp told them that Mount Rageous itself had no detention center. That was located further into Rageous… and that’s where they traveled.

The air was eerie. What was once a lively bustling city filled with youngsters… was now silent, and dead. As they traveled they didn’t pass a single soul, not one Rageoun in sight. How things could change in one year.

“You think they all made it out in time?” JD asked.

“Hopefully. Or maybe isolating themselves…” Floyd responded. As they continued they saw the rest of Rageous for the first time. If it wasn’t for the ruin and smoke… it would have been dazzling: buildings made of precious gems and stones. Floyd would have liked to learn more about the Rageouns if it was under better circumstances.

After what felt like hours, the made it: RAGEOUS DETENTION CENTER FOR TROUBLED YOUTH. Or in Veneers words, prison.

It seemed abandoned and empty…. At least the brothers hoped it was.

“Ready?” Floyd asked. John Dory took a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

Broken glass and shattered material layed inside the detention center…. But no soul in sight. They checked behind every door, inside every room…empty.

“Okay. This is good. They evacuated, they made it out.” John Dory said.

“Yes.” Hope began filling in Floyds heart for a moment, “But Branch…”

“Maybe it’s better if we didn’t find him…means he’s safe….” JD replied. They were cut off by a sudden sound down within the hall.

They cautiously walked over to a cell….

“Oh man…it’s a kid.” JD said. Both being older, when they meant kid, it was a teen… an infected teen.

Floyd couldn’t make out the face of the young Rageoun…All he could hear were eerie hymns coming from the Rageon’s mouth, rocking back and forth, small burst of cynical giggles. Floyd felt bad.

“…..They’re not immune….” Floyd began to say before he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Floyd?” He heard a female voice call out to him from behind. He turned to see Velvet’s familiar face.

“Velvet? You’re still here? Why? How?” Floyd walked up to the tempered glass cell.

“Me? Why the heck are you here?” She asked. She didn’t seem at all bothered by what was going on around her, by the infected Rageoun right across from her.

“Obvisouly now, here to get you out now! JD let’s get this open….” Floyd began to say.

“NO! No. Don’t. I am not going out there.” Velvet made her way and leaned herself against a wall. Crouched, hugging her legs….She looked a little different… thinner paler. “I’ve scavenged enough supplies…for now.”

“Vels, we got to get you and your brother out. The city is abandoned…we need to get you somewhere safe…” JD began to say.

“I know what’s out there. I was here when all the panic started…but I am not going anywhere.” She said without looking at them. “….I have what I need here…”

“Where’s Veneer? Maybe we can convince him? I know he wants you safe.” Floyd said. Upon the mention of her brothers name, she looked at Floyd with a sad look in her eyes. He could see her eyes begin to fill with tears. Without a word, she glanced at the cell across from her…..at the cell where the infected Rageoun was…..oh no….

Floyd made his way to the cell.

“Floyd no.” Velvet warned. Floyd ignored her warning…He crept closer and closer until he could make out the features of the Rageoun….The porcelain pale skin, the green swooped up hair…

“….Veneer…” He said. At that moment Veneer turned his head and made his way in attempts to grab Floyd. But he forgot about the glass cell. Veneer ran straight into it…it didn’t phase him one bit…Floyd saw the yellow in his eyes, the dark circles under them…He was thinner, and paler, bruise-like spots all around his skin. He didn’t speak, only mumbled and gurgled. He attempted to grab Floyd through the glass..but no success…The thing that stood in front of them… it wasn’t Veneer anymore. John Dory looked at Velvet.

“How long?” He asked. Velvet hesitated to answer.

“…He just got like this about 1 month ago…” Velvet stared at the ground. She spent the entire time here in the cell waiting for the infection to slowly take it’s toll on Veneer.

“Velvet…I’m sorry about your brother…but…we can still save you. Come with us. Maybe we can find a cure, save him before he gets worse…” Floyd was saying.

“STOP IT! No..im not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave him alone…We’ve been inseparable since…forever….” She looked at the creature that was once her brother. He crouched down rocking back and forth, humming some sort of tune. “Me and him are gonna go through his together too.” She pulled up her sleeve….a bite mark.

“No, Velvet!” John Dory exclaimed.

“I don’t know how it works. Veneer just got sick out of nowhere and now look….I was desperate…I just didn’t know what to do…So…I went to his cell and….” Velvet pulled down her sleeve. “I just don’t want to continue life alone…without my brother…”

Moments of silence passed between them….Veneer was long gone, and Velvet would be well on her way….Floyd couldn’t save them…They were just kids….He tried to find something he could say to her…something that would convince her to leave even if she was infected…They could still find a cure.

“Your brother was here…two months ago…before Veneer lost it.” Velvet said. The Trolls ears perked up. “He…he tried to get us out…But Veneer knew he was already infected…He didn’t go anywhere…neither did I…”

“Where was he going? What is he doing?” Floyd asked. Velvet stared off into the distance…a lost look in her eyes…she blinked and looked at the Trolls…

“Floyd? What are you doing here?” She asked. Tears began streaming down Floyds face….her memory was already leaving her….she’d soon be gone too.

“I’m so sorry….We couldn’t save both of you.” He cried.