#serpentine tumble

[stopdoopyphotos]

assorted rocks

[wishlisted]

Serpentine tumbles from As Above So Below 347

[uchihaharlot]

How does Shisui (or the other Uchiha) cope when he's finally, blissfully rawing you for the first time ever? 😩

Nonny,

This is so sweet 🥹 I was actually cackling because boy do I ever have a dirty mind (and for once Madara is on point and I had a nap).

NSFW; how the Uchiha boys cope with the feeling of your sugar walls for the first time; artificially induced orgasm lol 😈

Madara:

Lol. Well, firstly. He was always raw dogging you and making you full of him. 😂 Contraception was a thing, but like, who the fuck wants to wear a pigs intestine?? Even if its clean, that’s just not something Madara would ever consider. If you ended up pregnant, you were merely upholding your agreement in this marriage. However….that doesn’t mean that the first time he penetrated your slippery moist cunt it wasn’t divine. He actually can be tender, and you wouldn’t jump in a dry ass pool. So, of course, Madara was deliciously teasing you until there was little resistance the first time he had you. Phew. Your inner sanctum sucked and swallowed him whole, deliciously. He stifled his groan but the first signs of pleasure tumbling out her mouth has this man a mess.

Obito:

🥹 I’m sure you’ve all sensed a pattern here for our dear heart, Obito. Such a sweetie pie. So nervous and gets unbearably excited when his s/o asked this one time to just feel his thick cock dredging her precious moist hole. Firmly believe Obito whined like a squealing serpentine belt the whole time she was grinding up and down his girth. If she spoke; he didn’t hear it. Was doing every thing in his power to not be a two pump chump! And it worked, until she got louder, started to swell and then came all over him. Driving Obito even more delirious with pleasure. Would prefer she had at least one more orgasm before he did but that notion is thrown out the window when he’s already coming. Filling her for the first time ever. Fucking it back into her even.

Shisui:

😭😭😭 my bby! Was huffing and sucking in his bottom lip like a Dyson, eyes blissed out and breathing so damn heavy. Rhetorically asked if you were heavens above, his cock was pulsing from your ringed muscles gripping him on first drag in and out!! Head tilted back, gorgeous curls bouncing on impact when he really got into it. Don’t even get me started on when they stick to his forehead and you have to brush them out of the way!! He’s trying so hard to hold on too, for you. Though you’re definitely more than sated, mostly exhausted, “…just one more, baby. Please..’ Shisui desperately needs to feel your warmth before coating you from the inside out. How can you say no to a face like this? You can’t. There is just no way you would break this man’s heart and not choke his cock again, allowing him to swell and pulse within you. Filling you and slipping out to see it drip out. Only for him to gently stuff it back inside with two fingers and plug you up.

Itachi:

I’m positive the first time Itachi did the deed raw it was rather embarrassingly quick! Said something along the lines of, ‘my apologies,’ after finishing. He was so frustrated, but didn’t show it one bit. Wasn’t ready to be swallowed whole by your sopping heat, even worse when he stole a glance and could actually see how slick he felt. (I’ve been putting this off for some time, but this will not do for this man). If you already had one ‘free space’ round, what’s another? Something in the air today would have Itachi lulling your consciousness to bend at his will. You didn’t even see it; but could definitely feel it in the stagnant state of your psyche: Tsukuyomi. It’s a one liner you’re all too familiar with, it reverberates the echo chamber of his playground, a feigned replica of your bedroom. A place you’ve never been for salacious purposes. As a cascade of several contrasting climaxes physically immobilize you, those famous last words seem to pass through you like wave lengths… ‘you’re already under my genjutsu..’ As the curtain to reality slowly drops, altering the landscape in a hue of reds and blacks.

You’re in danger.

[princessoflalaland]

Passenger Bitchᝰ.ᐟ

synopsis: jin was kind enough to "help" you out yet again, so you reward him with more than just a free ride home.

.ᐟcontent: nerd jin itadori x bully fem reader, oral (m receiving), cum swapping, ball fondling, slit tormenting, reader has a tongue piercing, degradation, slight humiliation

.ᐟword count: 1.2k

.ᐟa/n: is it obvious im slowly becoming obsessed with a character that I haven't even met yet?

he sits in the passenger seat of your car, his face impossibly feverish. jin is having a rough go at breathing with your lips wrapped around his cock. he’s grateful to you as this being your new form of payment for getting you an A on your physics thesis, but he’s not sure how much he can take, especially when your low growls and moans travel right through his immense length and down his spine.

he peeks down at you, his glasses almost sliding down his nose, watching you swallow his length like a popsicle on sweltering summer day. his tip prods at your uvula before passing right past it with ease. he hiccups a moan as his head snaps back against the head rest, you throat constricting with small gags feels intoxicating. “Oh God, y/n…y-you’re getting so deep…”

a raspy chuckle vibrates from your throat onto him, making his sensitive dick jump. you release him from your skilled jaws with a pop and a (not so) exaggerated gasp, stroking him harshly and spreading your slimy spit around his length. your serpentine gaze lands on him and sends a chill down his spine.

that pathetic look on his face makes butterflies dance in your stomach, dampens your panties even more.

“feelin good, four eyes?” you sneer. he opens his mouth to respond, but your hand sliding down and squeezing his balls like a stress ball chokes him up.

you pout like his silence actually hurt your feelings. you jut out your bottom lip and furrow your perfect eyebrows.

“y’gotta learn to answer people when they talk to you. it's bad manners if you don't.” your voice is so saccharine with its faux concern. he whimpers from the arousal stemming from the embarrassment. he really can’t understand why he lets you treat him this way, humiliate him.

and he can’t understand why it makes him so horny. you don’t give his brain enough time to actually function long enough to ponder this when your pierced tongue begins teasing his slit.

“fuck!” jin rarely swears, wanting to uphold his reputation of a respectable student. you groan at his vulgar language, suckling harder on his embarrassed, red tip.

jin has messed with his slit before in those quiet, dark moments when his house is asleep. his thumb would tentatively prod at it, triggering a chain reaction of muffled whimpers and arching his back perfectly off the bed like a whore. he avoids doing it too often because he cums almost instantly every time, painting his body and bed in his milky seed.

but of course you, being the mastermind of his torment, manage to make this even more unbearable for him; fondling his balls and using that pink stud in your tongue assaults all of his nerve endings, has his mind melting in his skull, his eyes rolling back as if to witness that happening. his toes curl in his black loafers, his heart doing its damnedest to try and beat out of his burning body.

jin’s large hand, instead of residing on the head rest like you instructed, plops down carelessly onto your head as his shaky pleas tumble out of him haphazardly.

“p-please don’t do that, i-i’ll cum if you do—”

“you cum in my fuckin mouth I’m gonna spit it back in yours, ya hear?”

his jaw drops, but he can’t tell if it’s from your threat or the pleasure that builds in his abdomen the longer you suck him. he’s never tasted himself before, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t even a little bit curious…

you hover your lips over his cock head, trickling the silky liquid of your spit onto it salaciously. the way you look at him as you do it is lecherous, hypnotic. he can’t look away, even if he wanted to (he doesn’t want to). you look ready to devour him whole, the same look you get when you tease him in the halls or in gym.

it’s a look he’s grown to adore, even in the face of your treatment of him. something in him tells him there’s more to you than the power-hungry, sadistic bitch he’s had to deal with since his first year of high school. and with this new..relationship you guys have, maybe he can finally peel back those layers and find the real you.

jin holds your stare longer than you anticipated, and it disarms you for a moment. why isn’t he averting those pretty caramel eyes?

you huff some air out of your nose and resume your previous ministrations. your pink stud prods mercilessly at his slit and he bucks his hips with a bitchy whine.

“y/n, please! d-don’t, i’m g’nna fuckin cum!” he now grips a fistful of your hair, eliciting a sharp hiss from you.

jin can’t hold it anymore, he just can’t. your warning rings like a tornado siren in his skull before his brain fills with white noise as the pressure in his core reaches a tipping point. with one last harsh drag of your wet muscle across his poor urethra, jin arches his back clear off the seat and sprays his cum into your awaiting oral cavity.

"fuck, y/n- fuuuckk!" he cries, the sound dissolving into a sweet symphony of whimpers and incoherent babbling. his cum is sweeter than you expected, and you let every last drop sit on your tongue, you have a promise to fulfill after all.

after sucking him dry and leaving him a shaking, blushing mess, you right yourself. your predatory gaze finds him once again, and he feels himself getting aroused all over again. oh, the power you have over him...

"open." is your only command.

he remembers your words from earlier the second he blindly obeys and you deposit a mix of his seed and your saliva onto his tongue. you then grab his throat and force your wet muscle into his mouth. "mmph- mm, hmm..." he hums as his eyes become heavy-lidded.

he can't believe how...good he tastes. maybe its because he's on your tongue that he tastes irresistible. anything would taste good coming from you. the hand that had vacated your hair when you sat up finds your nape, his thumb caressing the smooth skin.

a filmy saliva trail forms between your mouths when you two part. you're both breathing hard, the receding ecstasy allowing your facial muscles to finally relax. in the midst of your collective cooldown, jin notices how your face soften. your eyes, for a short-lived moment, aren't hard and hungry for his pain. he sees a different side of you, a vulnerable, almost innocent side; it's something in that brief second you're unarmed that he desperately wants to explore.

it's in that same second you regain that abrasive demeanor of your. "get out of my car, four eyes." you spit with a simper.

and as he is collecting himself, you cup his chin and yank his face toward you. before you even say anything, he can sense what you're about to demand of him by that signature smile on that damned gorgeous face.

"i didnt say to zip it up, did i? walk into your place, just like that."

[sugoi-writes]

Joyride - Alastor x Lucifer

Kinktober - Day IV (Car Sex)

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A/N - What a fucking HONOR it is to kick of Day 4 of this prompt with my lovely wives! If you haven't read the first few days, please do so! I'd love to thank @hazelfoureyes @synamartia @fraugwinska @macabr3-barbi3 and @minkdelovely for indulging in this insanity with me 🔥 Oh this will be FUN

Day I Day II Day III

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⚠️Warnings⚠️: Old man yaoi, cursing, dirty talk, thirsty descriptions, Luci in a damn dress, riding/grinding/humping, handjob(kinda?), anal fingering/prep, banter, alcohol consumption, Bottom/Switch Alastor if you squint, edging mention, and... just straight up smut. This is car sex people. MDNI I SWEAR TO CHRIST... Have fun!

🔥VROOM VROOM🔥

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When Alastor arrived at the rendezvous, he hadn't expected the limousine that awaited him. Or, perhaps he should have... This is the King of Hell, after all. The vehicle was an elegant, pristine white with accents of red and gold. Imagery of Eden's vices were lovingly etched into the metallic flourishes with a near-angelic precision. Lucifer’s fixations on apples and serpentine designs were not missed by the Radio Demon… He had to admit: it was a perfect chariot for the prideful ruler of Hell. A chariot he would soon share with him alone.

Alastor dismissed his cane with a flick of his wrist, hands eager to hold onto something else. When a long, pitch and ivory leg emerged from the car, he felt his heart leap into his throat. Alastor was rarely a victim of his carnal urges, but he felt the table shifting as he saw more and more of that delectable skin. 

Lucifer Morningstar emerged from the limo in his colors-- a deep, cherry red with golden accents. The opulent, delicate chains that dangled down his bare back could be seen in the tinted windows' reflection. Alastor fought the urge to clear his throat, feeling his pulse hammering away urgently. Has Lucifer always owned this dress?

The fallen angel, temptation incarnate, combed his blackened fingers through his far-too-slick hair. Much like the snake in the Garden of Eden, Lucifer's eyes were lidded with sin and desire. He knew exactly how he looked, relishing his partner's near sheepish reaction.

"You look dapper as always, Mr. Radio Demon,” he practically purred, addressing Alastor as an equal. The flustered sinner was hoping to get more intimate names to tumble from those lips soon enough. 

Alastor bows at the waist, taking Lucifer's hand into his own formally. He smiles before pressing the silken flesh to his lips. During this, he maintains his focus on Lucifer’s eyes, and not the valley between his pectorals. Arguably, it was a difficult task for the taller demon. 

"Your Majesty, you may call me Alastor tonight. I implore you to." For the moment, Alastor returns the playful, formal tone, knowing that his partner will find it amusing. As if on cue, Lucifer tilts his head curiously, his free hand stifling his chuckle. 

"What a change of pace... Something must have come over you," Lucifer supplied, sighing as Alastor starts a tender ascent up his arm. Alastor's lips didn't rest the entire journey, talking between his strategic kisses. 

"Well, 'Alastor' sounds far sweeter when you're wailing in ecstacy, Your Grace." Alastor's rebuttal was so brief, yet so devastating to the demon before him. As if Lucifer wasn't already mentally shredding his new, black blazer to ribbons…

Lucifer's breath stutters as Alastor's kisses carve sensual patterns up his neck, tempting the temptress to give in to a moan. Alastor forgot that they were in public with prying eyes, it seemed... 

A fist full of hair forces Alastor to halt in his tracks, a breathy reply ghosting his cheek. 

"Then you must call me Lucifer tonight, Al... I'd rather hear that than the list of royal bastardizations you've cooking up..." 

A wolfish grin presses against Lucifer's pulse, making the fallen angel's heart stir once more," As you wish, Lucifer." Alastor, ever the gentleman, untangles himself from the breathless devil swiftly. Immediately after, he swings the door of the limo open, gesturing towards the interior with a dramatic flare. 

"But please, do crawl in... Wouldn't want you to catch a cold from your... Interesting choice of garments." 

Lucifer snickers, revealing that his dress has not one, but two side slits. As he makes a show of crawling in, Alastor's eyes can't help their wandering to the devil’s pert rump," Only if you come crawling after me, Bambi Boy~" 

See, at this very moment, Alastor is a simple man. And he follows the requests of his Lord without hesitation. He is nothing if not an eager man; ready to please.

🩸🩸🩸

Alastor can't help marveling over the little things. Limos were a luxury rarely extended to people of lower classes, like himself. He and his mother were as low as they could be on Earth, humble and grateful for what they have. While he tried to not oogle at the niceties of the cab, he couldn't hide the interest that sparkled in his eyes.

A phone, with a direct line to the driver-- for emergencies, or requests to stop, one could assume. Conveniently, there was a sliding window, should the phone be obsolete. In all of their banter, Lucifer insisted that 'it’s basically soundproof'. Had Lucifer wanted to test that theory, Alastor wondered. 

Towards the front of the cabin, dozens of glasses for champagne and other spirits sat on a bar cart– conveniently built into the side of the vehicle. The center console just below the window acted as a cooler, stocked with lovely vintages and chasers (he even spotted a brandy bottle or two--how very thoughtful of the King...) 

The windows were tinted, of course, the seats a red, luxurious leather. And for comfort, the lights in the back were dimmed, bathing the pair in a low, sultry light. For all intents and purposes, this was the perfect set up to a steamy tryst… One that even the Radio Demon could see coming. Alastor was surrounded by wealth, comfort and good company... A combination he wasn't used to, but one he welcomed enthusiastically. 

Lucifer had been meeting him finger-to-finger with whiskey the entire drive, the two of them laughing and honking like a pair of geese at the smallest reference. Alastor hadn't remembered the last time he had this much fun and let loose, already feeling the delicious effects of his drinks settle in. He had to admit: the dingy hotel bar was a far cry from the back of Lucifer's limousine. He felt justified in spending his time so earnestly with him, and felt just as eager to pursue the tryst that crossed his mind more than once. 

Alastor felt light as a feather, and yet as hearty as molten lava. He was one of the few to get this luxury; one of the first outside of the Morningstar Family to grace the seats of Lucifer’s limousine. Alastor wanted to leave an impression… and who could blame him? This was just as much his limo as it was Lucifer’s, in his mind. This particular ride would be one the Lord of the Hells would never forget... A 'joyride', as he's heard it called before. And so, with many fingers of whiskey making his heart flutter, Alastor enacted his plan. 

He hadn't anticipated the road bump when he tried to lean over, his longer, spindly body colliding into Lucifer's suddenly. The latter had clipped his head on the way down, but still managed to keep his glass of whiskey aloft. A pained groan was shared between the two, before they settled into their new position. 

When Lucifer looked up to wide, near hysterical eyes, a grin stretched across his pale face mischievously. He let his hand rest against Alastor's broad chest, his other still dangling midair. 

"First time in a car, I reckon?" Lucifer needles boldly, feeling a leg press between his own. Alastor levels him with a hard stare, softened by the blush rapidly coloring his cheeks. 

"And if it was? Would you feel so honored?" Alastor bit back, his hands confidently caging Lucifer's head. Alastor did his best to keep his balance as the limo hopped and bobbed along, not missing the way that Lucifer's body rippled beneath him. He wanted to see those same ripples uninterrupted by the luxurious fabric on his skin...

"I would be flattered, yes! For saving something so special for me, Bambi~" 

"Please don't call me that--" 

Lucifer manages to pull his leg up, pressing it to Alastor's chest before kicking him off. He sends the startled demon flying onto his back, leaving him sputtering from shock. Thankfully, he didn't shred the ceiling with his antlers on his descent. However… he wasn't so lucky with the door, the very tips of his points sinking into the doorframe. 

Lucifer straddled Alastor's hips with his shimmering thighs, chugging the rest of his drink before slinging the empty glass away. Alastor flinched as it shattered right against the window that divided the cabin from the front, ears flat against his skull. Was he TRYING to get the driver's attention?!

"Why don't I show you how it's done then, hmm~? I'll give you the ride of your life~" Lucifer offers, mirroring Alastor's classic, amused head tilt. 

The sinner bit his lip, suppressing the groan building in his throat. The prospect was one he wasn't disinterested in… He struggled as Lucifer settled over his groin, grinding his soft hind against his lap. It appeared he wasn't the only one struggling to 'keep it in his pants'... Err, dress? 

Alastor's hands grasp Luci's waist possessively, resisting the urge to bring him harder against his growing cock. 

"H-Have it your way," Alastor scoffs, head rolling back as Lucifer's rocking becomes a harsh bounce– accursed speed bumps! And curse the car door! 

Alastor’s antlers created deep gouges into the frame, rendering him completely still. In this position, he is quite vulnerable, his tail wagging subconsciously under his body. And yet, the element of being ‘trapped’ somehow made the heat in his cheeks travel straight to his cock. 

“ ‘You sure you want it my way~?” Lucifer teased, bringing his hips in a tight circle. This act alone had Alastor keening, biting his lip to silence himself. Of course I do, Alastor thought.

“Just get on with it, before I change my mind!” He jabs, knowing damn well that Lucifer saw straight through him. Lucifer grins as he braces a hand against the ceiling, the other fiddling with Alastor's trousers. "With pleasure, Alastor~" 

Alastor could hardly conceal his desire, the booze unraveling his resolve to be stoic or guarded. His cock throbbed at the use of his name in such a sensual context, aching to be freed.

Lucifer unclasps Alastor's belt with ease, tongue running across his pointed teeth greedily. Even as the vehicle rocked about, Lucifer hardly swayed. Instead, he used the unpredictability as a reason to press his body closer. The Radio Demon sighed with relief when his cock was released, his flushed, heated tip already damp with precum. 

Lucifer whistles lewdly at the sight, looking to Alastor with a cocky smirk,” Absolutely divine…” the former angel mused, leaving Alastor unable to form a coherent thought. 

When Lucifer resettles over his lap, Alastor is struck with a startling realization: no underwear. Not a single fucking thing to keep Lucifer concealed. Had Lucifer simply willed it away, or had he been garment-less this entire time? The prospect made Alastor buck up into Lucifer, a breathy sigh fumbling from his lips.

“Such an eager boy… I'll be sure to reward my little doe soon enough~” 

Alastor hardly had a moment to think before Lucifer's cock pressed to his. Thereafter, a warm hand wrapped firmly around both shafts. Alastor jolts, gasping as his partner moves against him. Lucifer keeps his hand ridgid with a delicious, all consuming pressure, watching his favorite sinner tremble below him. Experimentally, Lucifer begins to stroke the both of them, getting the Radio Demon to sigh and relax. The large hands holding Lucifer's waist act as an anchor, despite Alastor’s desire to move. His hips begin rocking languidly to watch Lucifer's pace, seeking even more friction than the bit provided by him. A shared, wanton moan hangs in the air, both sinners feeling their hearts quicken. 

Lucifer glides against the Radio Demon faster, the bumps in the road making his pace haphazard but heavenly," S-See? Told you I'd show-- you-- aaaaah good time~ Aaahn!" 

Alastor wasn't up for refuting the statement, especially when he was focusing on staying quiet," Are you quite certain we c-cahh-- hah-- c-can't be heard, cher?" 

Lucifer laughs breathlessly, grinning," Let him hear... The driver could use the change in pace-!! Hah!!!" 

Alastor grinds harsher against Lucifer’s cock, claws threatening to rip his dress for the horrendous suggestion.

"Sh-Shut your maw... This is too--nnn-- too lewd-- What if he reported this? What would the papers s-say?" 

Lucifer mewls as he tightens his grasp, eyes threatening to roll back as his hips move with Alastor's effortlessly," Nnnngh-- uhh, lucky demon~?" He quips, laughing breathlessly as Alastor smacks his thigh. The quake that travels through his skin has Alastor craning his head back, a hand flying to the car door to keep his antlers from sinking further in. 

"Sh-Shit!" was his only reply, ears pinned back as Lucifer began rocking with intent, the precum produced by their members making the glide unbearably wet and smooth. His hand, now stationary, focused on keeping the pressure tight and warm; a perfect hole for them to slide into.

Lucifer's lopsided grin portrays his ecstacy, the sweat clinging to his forehead making a heated descent down his temple. 

"At a loss for words, huh~?" He teased, his hips swiveling lecherously. The grunt he's rewarded with is just as telling, his partner's eyes slamming shut from the bliss. Lucifer doesn't seem to care, bringing his hips forward in a rapid succession of thrusts. 

"I should make you cum like this, y'know... Make us paint these dull seats with your cum--" Lucifer croaks, feeling a finger teasing the tight rim of his ass. 

"I'd rather have it here," Alastor groaned," Pl-Please-- this is is torture," Alastor gasps, feeling Lucifer's cock kick against his own at the idea. Begrudgingly, Lucifer couldn’t argue with that, knowing that he's essentially edging the two of them at the same time. 

"Nnnn, you're no fun~" Lucifer muses, letting go of their cocks for a moment," But you better make it worth my while, Bambi~" 

Alastor smirks, brows raised," I've never heard complaints..." He retorted, mentally finishing his sentence: not from you, at least.

🩸🩸🩸

When Lucifer allowed Alastor to stretch and probe his ass, he switched arms, the one formerly bracing the ceiling falling to Alastor's hip. He arched his back as harshly as he could, offering his ass to his partner easily. The stimulation from behind made his hips buck, cock absentmindedly grinding against Alastor's. The faster and wider the Radio Demon’s fingers fucked, the harsher Lucifer's hips moved to meet them. Alastor panted below Lucifer, eyes nearly crossed as the pleasure kept building higher and higher. His hot breath made the heat in Lucifer's cheeks feel mild, the Demon King cursing through clenched teeth. He marveled at the sight of Alastor's mouth hanging open, Lucifer leaning over to get a better view of the debauched look. 

"Mmm~ Is my doe going to cum~?" Lucifer moans, his tongue swiping across his mouth, as if coaxing him to kiss him. Alastor flinched, his brow hardening," This buck-- hah-- is about to shut you up--" Alastor yaps, yanking Lucifer down by the neck. He heard the familiar slapping and squelching of his hand hastily fucking into Lucifer's ass, kissing the squirming demon desperately to hide another mewl. He wasn't the only one struggling not to cum.

As Alastor continued to feverishly kiss him, he teased Lucifer between each disconnect. A tongue sliding across his lip, a gentle nip just to the right of his mouth… anything to make Lucifer sigh and pant again. The temptee just became the tempter!

"I should have you cum like this... You're a quivering mess from just my hands--" 

"A-And your cock-- G-Good God!" Lucifer sung, drooling from the dual stimulation. Alastor chuckles darkly, leaning up to capture Lucifer's neck with a gentle bite," It's just the two of us down here, cher~,” he admonishes, regaining some of his footing with the other demon. 

Lucifer practically squeaks as Alastor finds his prostate, the bullying internally amplifying his impending orgasm. Close. Lucifer was getting extremely close, and it was plain as day to the other sinner.

"Cum for me," Alastor pleaded,"C-Cum for me, please-- so this buck can fuck you properly." 

The triggering phrase was all it took for Lucifer to lose himself to the white-hot madness, his head thrown back in rapture. His hips didn't stop even as Alastor's fingers slowed down, his vision blurred with hot tears. When he felt the press of Alastor's cock to his wanting hole instead of his fingers, he bit back a wail of overstimulation. 

"F-Fuck... We may be late for the reservation-- nnnnghh– Alastor, listen to me!" 

The Radio Demon’s static fills the air, a conniving laugh haunting the heavy air of the cabin. 

"I intend to hold my end of things: I'm going to fuck you properly. Dinner be damned when something this delicious is in my lap--" 

When Lucifer wailed Alastor's name, fully impaled on his member, Alastor couldn't help calling out to his lover in tandem. Their bodies melded together once more, their original plans a distant memory in their lust-driven minds. 

Bottom Banner made by the lovely @synamartia 🔥

[aziraphales-library]

Hello and big thanks for your work! I was wondering if you know some fics where Aziraphale protects/saves Crowley from trouble. I'm not talking about bamf!Aziraphale tho. More like clever Aziraphale, sneaky Aziraphale, maybe even doing-something-shady-and-manipulative Aziraphale. But mostly clever :) I think something like oopsie!omens (where Aziraphale took the fall instead Crowley and successfully hiding it for thousands years) or You Never Had A Heart by HotCrossPigeon where Aziraphale put himself in trap to put a show for Hastur, or just like his trick in 1941? But if it's too narrow, any good protective Aziraphale will do. Thanks in advance!

Hi! Here are some fics in which Aziraphale helps/rescues Crowley by being clever...

You Can't Un-See a Dog by HolyCatsAndRabbits (T)

A couple of humans summon the demon Crowley to be a sacrifice. Aziraphale is not amused. Actually, wait, he's very amused.

The Enlightened Fraternity of the Serpentine Demon by The_Bentley (T)

A secret society moves in down the street from the bookshop and shows a particular interest in Crowley. They don’t appear to be very competent at first glance, but Crowley feels better poking around to see what they’re up to, just in case. When he fails to return from his investigations, it’s up to Aziraphale to rescue his demon from the group’s clutches before they end up doing something they’ll regret.

Binding by Icka M Chif (T)

“That’s the tether.” Aziraphale pointed to one circle, then back at the other. “That’s the anchor. If I’m bound to Earth, and you’re bound to me… Then Hell can’t take you back."

the many-venomed earth by curtaincall (T)

It’s the trial of the century: bestselling mystery author Anthony Crowley stands accused of poisoning his former lover. He’s got means (arsenic), motive (the breakup), and opportunity (a meeting the night of the murder); his guilt seems certain. Certain, that is, to everyone except Lord Aziraphale Eastgate, rare book collector and amateur detective. Aziraphale’s not sure why he’s so convinced of Crowley’s innocence, but he’s determined to save him from the gallows--by finding the real murderer before it’s too late.

A Business Arrangement by CopperBeech (E)

Aziraphale Fell works for the family business, Archangel Security, which is still struggling to find its niche. Doing what his strait-laced, class-conscious family expects has helped him ignore the problem of his sexuality right into middle age, but he’s decided it’s time. For Anthony Crowley, sexuality isn’t a problem. It’s a slush fund that he could always tap into when he couldn’t pick up enough shifts to pay the bills, or wanted something nice (a profitable strategy for someone who’s always been able to do weird things with his tongue). But for the past couple of years he hasn’t had options. At least business doesn’t affect his personal life, because so far, he’s never had much of one. It’s about to get complicated.

So Much Discounted by WanderingAlice (T)

After asking Aziraphale a strange question, Crowley disappears. Can Aziraphale work out what happened to him? And more importantly, can he save him before it's too late? --- “No.” Aziraphale sat up, throwing his senses wide, searching, seeking, all the way to the edges of the world. “Crowley!” His frantic cry, amplified by his angelic power, rippled through the minds of every being with even the slightest occult sensitivity. Miles away, Anathema sat up in bed, and reached in panic for her lover when she felt the new absence in the world. Down the street from Jasmine Cottage, Adam Young tumbled from his covers, reaching out himself with what remained of his power. What he found was so terrible he fled from it, running to climb into bed with his parents like he hadn’t since he’d been very small. “No,” the angel said again, his voice small and lost amid the stacks of lonely books. “No.” He pushed himself up with trembling hands, climbed to his feet, and didn’t stop running until he stood outside the door to Crowley’s Mayfair flat.

- Mod D

[awsumsas]

Did someone ask for the overused outdated trend? Aw fuckit, it's fun and it's always goofy to overlap hyperfixations :P

Explanations for each:

Luz (Normal/Fairy): She's a human with magical powers. Normal fits the human bill, and considering how affiliated she is with the light glyph in particular, the fairy type felt the most fitting.

Amity (Poison): Abominations are very clearly sludge-like. They're probably not raw poison but the type in the games usually has various sludgey tropes. Just look at Grimer and Muk.

Willow (Grass/Fighting): Grass was inevitable, she's practically the poster child for the plant coven. Fighting was a bold choice to add on, but given her fondness for sports, I figured it was a good pick.

Gus (Psychic): This was harder to pinpoint. I tried to not just slap "the magic type" onto each character but I struggled to find anything else that worked for Gus. I'd say illusions make most sense with it though.

Hunter (Normal/Ghost): Caleb was originally a human, so I decided to apply Normal here again. The Ghost part is probably controversial but considering the whole Grimwalker thing, I think it makes sense.

Edalyn (Flying/Fighting): The Clawthorne sisters each have a very strong bird motif, so Flying was inevitable. I decided to give Fighting to Eda specifically because of her rough and tumble attitude.

King (Dragon): He's a titan! What better of an explanation could you need? He'll eventually grow up into a gigantic monsterous creature with incredible strength. He's basically a fluffy dragon!

Lilith (Flying): See Eda's explanation. Lilith has the same bird motif that her sister has going on, but the lack of a Fighting type is due to the lesser emphasis on her beast form.

Hooty (???):

Vee (Dragon/Psychic): This one was the hardest to pinpoint. In the end I figured she's a serpentine creature who has the ability to absorb magic, so Dragon and Psychic made the most sense.

Camila (Normal): She's just a lady.

Belos (Dark/Poison): The Dark type should hopefully go without explanation but also his monster form with the green sludge is probably his best design so I had to reference it somehow.

No Raine unfortunately cause I RAINE out of room on the canvas but maybe if this blows up I might do the coven heads and maybe some more too.

[electronicwitchcollection]

~* Primal Grimmjow Smut*~

Because there can never be enough Grimmjow 😂

I’ve had this idea kicking around for a while of a primal/hunting fic, but kind of put it to the back of my mind. Recently been inspired to finish it. Hope you enjoy 💜

Run

The sound of your bare feet rapidly running through the dense Forrest, leaves crunching, twigs snapping under your weight drowned out only by the sound of your panicked breathing. Your chest was burning, throat raw from the desperate breaths you pulled through parted lips. Adrenaline pumping through your veins heightened your senses making the branches flicking against your skin feel like little whips, small painful stings you payed no mind.

Run. The word echoing in your mind, every survival instinct, every Fibre of your being demanding that you run. Hiding wasn't an option, he would find you. Fighting wasn't an option, he could easily overpower you. Your heart was thundering behind your breast, skin prickled and alive, tasting the air around you. You could sense him, he was out there, stalking you, chasing, hunting.

The hunter relished in the thrill of the hunt, chasing down its prey, ready to devour his winnings. Claim what he had earned. Your eyes darted wildly around the thick greenery, searching for a flash of colour, signifying your impending capture. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, howling wind sending a chill up your spine. Pushing you forward, deeper into the darkening forest, guiding you with an insistent push at your back, helping you to escape.

An animalistic cry of rage roared out behind you, echoing through the trees as they whizzed past your vision. Close, he was getting closer, had you locked in his vision. You pushed yourself faster, darting and weaving between the bark, serpentining in your escape, not giving up without a fight. Your arm circled a nearing tree, using the momentum to spin you round to a different direction. You heard a rush of air, a heavy body hitting the ground where you were moments before.

Run

Narrowly avoiding capture, you raced on, feeling his murderous eyes locked onto your back. You could hear is rapid chase, feet thundering on the overgrown brush littering the ground. Hear the clack of snapping teeth as he snarled, tasting your desperation. He could smell your fear, the perspiration dampening your skin as you ran for your life. You could feel his feel his insatiable hunger motivating his powerful pursuit, energy coiling in his large muscles, exploding in a release of raw power.

A warning growl, low and guttural, exclaiming his victory seconds before you were airborne. The momentum in which he used to leap into you, knocked you off your feet, air being forcefully pushed from your lungs. His arms snaked around your middle, cutting off your escape. At the last second he twisted violently, the darkening blue sky filling your vision before you both slammed into the ground. He took the initial force of the hit, softening the blow as you tumbled across the leaf covered floor, clawing at the arms keeping you prisoner.

Screeching to a halt, you writhe in his grasp, desperately bucking against him, searching for an escape. Throwing your head back, you hear a pain filled hiss, pushing through the relaxed hold encasing you. You scramble in the dirt, clawing through the dried mud in an attempt to get back on your feet, to escape his clutches. A vice like grip encased your ankle, tugging harshly to land you face down in the dirt.

Desperately you try to drag yourself away, fingers digging long claw marks into the ground in a futile attempt. His heavy weight loomed over you, crawling over your form. Eye wide, pupils blown, you were roughly pushed to your back. Grimmjow caged you between his arms, legs spread either side of your own, no place to escape. His eyes were wild, pupils narrowed into feline slits, hungrily, darkly staring at you. You whimper, feebly trying to find purchase with your feet, trying to inch yourself away from under him.

Grimmjow snarled aggressively, baring his pointed canines and snapping warningly at your face. Hands planted on his naked chest, you push back against the wall of solid muscle, wriggling in the dirt, every instinct screaming at you to get away. His hands planted themselves next to your head with a powerful blow, a display of power, of superiority. He was waiting for you to submit, to give yourself over to your capturer.

You whimper softly, searching for any salvation. Grimmjow lowered his head to your neck, growling demonically, snapping his teeth in a vicious warning. A deep, rumble in his heaving chest, growing impatient at your refusal to submit. The hot, wet breath dampening your neck, an indication of how close he was to your jugular vein. You try to inch away slowly, last futile attempt to not fall victim to the predator.

Grimmjow pushed himself closer, trapping you under his weigh, rabidly growling, Patience reaching their absolute limit. You still beneath him, quivering with adrenaline. Defeated, you raise your head with a whimper , exposing your neck in the ultimate display of surrender, submitting yourself to him. The hunter had won, captured his prey. He claimed his prize, sinking his teeth into your exposed neck, groaning as the first droplets of blood coated his tongue.

You cry softly, high pitch keen brought on by the animalistic ritual, staking his claim, leaving his mark. You held perfectly still, not daring to move even an inch with his teeth baring down into your flesh. Grimmjow sucked hard, drawing blood the the surface of your neck, pulling the next droplets to ignite his pallet with the tangy, sweet metallic flavour profile. The taste of victory, of complete domination.

Not allowing even a morsel of the delicacy to waste, Grimmjow lapped at your neck, thick tongue slowly dragging over the burning mark, savouring every last drop of your life's essence. Satisfied he hadn't missed a single smudge of your blood, Grimmjow nuzzled into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your scent, tainted with blood and the earthy woods, called to him on a primal level. It was intoxicating, addicting. His.

The chase had been exhilarating, blood pumping through his veins as he exuberantly displayed his power, his prowess as a hunter. Top of the food chain, undefeated, and here you were, proof of his skills. The adrenaline and thrill ignited his body, drew power and blood to his muscles, including his cock which had become engorged with blood at the sight of you submitting.

A deep rumbling purr echoed in his chest, instinctively pinning you in place. His nails grew in length, hardening into claws as he lapped at your salty skin.Another weapon in his arsenal to keep you compliant. His teeth scraped over your neck, nibbling on your collar bone. You moaned, back arching at the sensation of his teeth, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. Grimmjow pushed on his hands, hovering himself over you with a predatory look in his eyes.

With a rapid swipe of his claws, Grimmjow ripped through the flimsy material of the negligee covering your body, dirtied with grass and mud. With accurate slashes, Grimmjow ribboned the material, watching hungrily as it revealed more of your unmarked skin to his sharp eyes. Fisting the ruined material, Grimmjow ripped it from your form, chucking it uselessly to the ground besides him.

His eyes raked over your naked body, indulging in your heaving breasts, lingering on your erect nipples. Unable to deny himself any longer, Grimmjow licked his way down your body, lapping up the salty reminders of your chase. Reaching your breasts, Grimmjow licked up the valley between them, the soft plush mounds brushing against his cheeks. One hand supported his weight as the other cupped the jiggly weight of your tit, squeezing around the flesh. His claws raked over the taut skin, red marks appearing where they traced over.

The calloused pad of his thumb brushed over your dusky pink nipple, circling the sensitive bud. You cried out softly, bucking underneath him. A warning snarl had you stilling, anticipating a punishment. With a satisfied huff at your compliance, Grimmjow lowered his head to your neglected breast, swirling his tongue around your tight nipple, tracing around your areola before sucking it into his mouth. You whined at the hot wet tongue rolling against your nipple, the pinch of nails digging into your flesh.

Grimmjow breathed hard through his nose, rush of arousal going straight to his throbbing cock. He rolled his hips, seeking friction as he indulged in your breasts. With a wet pop he released you from his mouth, saliva coating your darkening nipple. Nudging it with his nose, Grimmjow bit into the underside of your breast, leaving an angry red mark.

His hand slowly traveled down over your breast, nails gently digging into your skin, red rivets following the lines he drew down your body, standing out brilliantly in contrast to your pale complexion. Inching his way down your body, Grimmjow sat back on his haunches, pulling your legs from under him, spreading your feet to lay either side of him. His hands smoothed up your legs, soft subtle skin gliding easily under his palms. Reaching your thick thighs, Grimmjow pushed them open, keeping you splayed for his eyes only.

Transfixed on your glistening cunt, Grimmjow licked his lips as the smell of your arousal was realised freely into the air. He inhaled deeply, tasting you in the back of his throat. Musky and sweet, the same saltiness that stained your skin. Feeling exposed you attempt to close your thighs, meeting the unmovable force of Grimmjows grip. His hands tightened on your thighs, digging in painfully.

You whimper, exposing more of your neck, a reminder of your submission at his darkening eyes. Lowering himself eye level with your open Cunt, Grimmjow breathed in your musk, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the heady, mouthwatering smell. Unable to resist he delved in, sucking up the wet arousal coating your pretty pink lips. Noisily he devoured you, slurping and grunting into your pussy, hands tightening on your thighs, dragging you across the forest floor closer to his ravenous mouth.

You mewled, assault of messy pleasure rippling through you, fingers gripped into the floor, mud getting buried beneath your nail beds. Grimmjow licked his way through your folds, eagerly nosing his way deeper into your delicious cavern, unable to satisfy his incurable hunger for you. Your release coated his tongue, dripped heartily from his chin, flooded his sensitive nose with your delicate aroma. Grimmjow was focused purely on your silky hidden walls, rolling his tongue, further searching for the centre pool of essence he was tasting. Wanting to drink from the fountain itself to quench his burning thirst.

You moaned loudly, eyes screwed shut in pure bliss. Grimmjow was attacking your pussy with ferocity, forcing you at a rapid race into an orgasm. You could feel the coil in your lower stomach contract, building up its energy ready to release in an unbelievable wave of raw pleasure. Your feminine, throaty moans were fanning the embers of desire, igniting a raging inferno of lust through Grimmjow.

Tongue darting in as far as it could reach, flicking tantalisingly against your pleasure spot had you seeing bright stars behind your closed eyelids. The relentless lapping against your core, encouraging a gush of slick arousal to flood through you, quickly being drank down by the insatiable beast. Grimmjow roughly shook his head between your legs, grunting into your swollen lips, pushing you over the edge.

Light exploded behind your eyes, a wall of sheer white blinding you as you succumb to a consuming orgasm. Mouth open in a silent scream, your hips bucked wildly, pushing your throbbing cunt further into the hungry mouth drinking down his reward. Fingers squeezed into your thighs, forming fingertip bruises into the skin. Grimmjow kept you in place with his superior strength, noisily eating through your come down, not letting you breath until he was finished with his meal

You were tender, over sensitive, pussy throbbing through the onslaught of attention he bestowed upon you, tongue dragging through your walls, savouring every sweet drop of your release. You keened, high pitched and needily, begging for mercy. Seeking a reprieve in the painful pleasure. Your plea went ignored, Grimmjow slowly exiting your centre, strong steady licks cleaning up your folds as he reluctantly left you.

With a final sure swipe up your middle, Grimmjow nipped at your mound in parting. Tongue circling his lips, chasing the remainder of your nectar coating his mouth, Grimmjow watched you, panting in the dirt below him, eyes glazed over in post orgasmic haze as your body weakly trembled and twitched. Grimmjow roughly pushed away his loose fitting bottoms, exposing his large, engorged cock, bobbing heavily between you.

Grimmjow crawled up your body, nuzzling into the side of your neck, coaxing you back down to earth. You stirred at his encouragement, rubbing your cheek against his own, sighing softly. Holding himself above you, Grimmjow positioned his cock at your opening, wetting the bulbous head with your arousal. He took hold of your neck, squeezing tightly at the sides. Forcing you to maintain eye contact as he slowly pushed his cock forward, inching its way through your folds. You choked on a rough inhale, gasping as he filled you completely, burning stretch blazing through your walls.

Grimmjow froze you to the spot with his intense eye contact, daring you to look away as he filled you, twitch of his thumb reminding you of how easily he could choke the life out of you. Only when he bottomed out did Grimmjow ease up on the pressure on your neck, allowing you the chance to gasp, fully inflating your lungs. The rumble echoing in his chest vibrated through his body, pressing down on you with the full weight of an alpha.

Grimmjow pulled back his hips, dragging his cock back through your tight cunt, leaving only the head buried. With a rough snap, he impaled you, starting a rough pace in his rutting. You clenched around him perfectly, squeezing around his rigid length with every thrust. A constant stream of whines from you accompanied the wet slap of his balls hitting your ass, spreading the wetness forcibly being pushed from your centre. Grimmjow pawed at the ground besides you, nails teasing through the soft soil as he mindlessly chased his most primal desire, rutting into his submissive mate, almost trance like in the back and forth motions engraved Into every fiber of his muscles.

Your soft mewls, stroked his alpha ego, driving him wild with lust. His relentless rutting had the head of his cock slamming against your gspot with impeccable accuracy, tightening the coil of pleasure ready to snap in a wave of Ecstasy. Head thrown back you moaned, hips rolling up to savour every inch of his rapid motions. Grimmjow took the invitation, burying his head into your exposed neck and clamping down with his teeth.

Grimmjow pushed harder, impossibly increasing the power behind his brutal thrusts, chasing his high. Your neck was burning, stinging with delicious pain. Panting with exuberance, saliva pooled in Grimmjow's mouth, sliding it's way past his teeth, dribbling down over your skin. In one fluid motion, he slinked one arm under your leg, hoisting it up over his bulging bicep, pushing it further to your chest.

The change the angle made was blinding, pushing him in deeper, reaching the deepest parts of your womanhood was suffocating. Grimmjow's thrusts turned friezied, erratically nearing to his own completion as you exploded around him. A strangled cry ripped from your throat as a hot wave of paralysing pleasure surged through your body. Muscles stiffened and strained, trembling under the weight of your release. Endorphins flooded through your system, threatening to render you unconscious with the overwhelming force in which it consumed you

Grimmjow growled into the bunched up flesh he was biting into, the feel of your pussy clenching around him impossibly tight, the hot, slick rush of your orgasm hugging over his cock as it rushed through you, spraying over his thighs in a basic animalistic display of marking. Pride swelled in his chest as he chased his own completion, needing to mark you internally with his own thick seed. The primal instinct to fill you to the brim, paint your cunt with his essence, make your stomach bulge with his potent seed.

With a grunt he came, plastering your walls with searing spurts of his ejaculate, mixing with your own release in a thick, creamy mess covering you both. He jerkily rutted through his orgasm, your spasming Cunt greedily milking every last drop of his cum from him. Releasing your neck, Grimmjow lazily lapped at the dark purpling bruise, lovingly soothing away the sting as his heavy weight fell into you.

Grimmjow nuzzled into your neck as he came down from his high, purring contently with his rumbling baritone. Panting softly you wrap your heavy, uncoordinated arms around him, soothingly stroking his sweat stained back with your fingers. The chill of the night being kept at bay with his warm muscled body covering you, blanketing you from the elements. You raked your fingernails through his hair, giving him the time to slowly come out of his primal mindset, always needing longer than you did to make the shift.

You felt his chest swell with his laboured breathing, slowly falling into a relaxed rhythm as his body unwound. Kitten licks turning into gentle kisses, peppering your abused skin with tender displays of love. Grimmjow forced his arms to take his weight, hovering above you he kissed your lips soundly, pouring his adoration and gratitude silently into your mouth. You smiled into the kiss, needing no thanks, you were more than happy to indulge in your partners more animalistic desires. Especially when the results were as mind blowing as the sensations you had just experienced.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always, likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! 💜

[stevethehairington]

He needs a break. A chance to breathe for a moment. This lifestyle sometimes feels like the corsets that Robin is always complaining about — too tight, too constricting, and superfluously unnecessary. Steve pities Robin, and the rest of the poor women, who have to deal with both. The circumstance and the corsets.

Steve knows better than to complain, though. He lives a lavish existence, one that many people would give anything to have. It isn’t fair of him to pity himself like this when there are so many people out there that are so much worse off than him. He should feel grateful. Lucky, even.

But it’s hard not to feel suffocated instead, sometimes.

The alcove is quiet, thank god, and void of any stray party guests. It’s hidden away, tucked between two rocks that overlook the seaside, and the crash of waves from down below has a mollifying effect on Steve’s agitated disposition.

He reaches for the cravat at his neck, loosening it with deft fingers. He’s in the act of tugging it away from his throat when the clear crunch of a footstep has him spinning around sharply.

And there, emerging from the shadows to block Steve’s only escape route, is a man.

The first thing Steve notices about the man is the curtain of dark curls that frame his face. They’re long enough to tumble freely over his shoulders, and they’re pulled back by a thick swath of fabric, deep red in color. The ends of his bangs peek out from beneath the bandana, as do a pair of thin braids, each tied off with two hollowed out pearls.

With his hair out of his face, Steve can see it all. Every single feature, open and on display — those soft cheekbones, that sloping nose, the gnarled scar that stretches across the left side of his jaw and pulls the corner of his mouth into a twisted, permanent smile.

Steve is sure that he’s never seen this man before, and yet there is something achingly familiar about him. A tugging within his gut; it feels like he should know him, but from what, he can’t quite place.

The man’s left ear is pierced through twice, two identical gold hoops looped through the skin. And just beneath his ear he has a small mark. A tattoo. Steve isn’t quite close enough to make out just what it’s of. He squints his eyes and nearly takes a step closer to take a proper look, but catches himself before he does.

It’s then that Steve realizes that he’s been staring, borderline ogling, for much longer than is appropriate, too. His cheeks warm as he averts his eyes to the ground. But rather than the cobblestone path below, his gaze falls to the man’s feet.

Flared brown boots cover those feet, rising up nearly to his knees. They’re old looking, worn and well-purposed, but still sturdy, even after countless strops though mud and water and sand and all sorts of other rough terrains. Beneath the boots, his stalwart calves and strong thighs are encased in rough-hewn black breeches, tight, yet functional.

Steve’s eyes stray further up, despite his best efforts. 

The man wears a thick brown leather belt, layered with a silken red cloth and an even thinner black belt, this one scaled like a dragon, with a shiny gold buckle. It sits around his waist, atop an open black vest that accentuates his slim figure. His blouse beneath is a deep wine red, made from a gauzy looking material that clings to his skin. Steve imagines that if it were to get wet it would be absolutely sinful. The neck of it is rather plunging, too, exposing the man’s collarbones, and the corner of another tattoo on his chest. 

And there, above his heart and to the right, in the very center, hangs a pendant — some sort of serpentine creature with wings, gaudy and golden and absolutely eye-catching.

Steve feels a little hot under the collar, taking it all in. He has to look away.

The man makes an amused humming sort of noise. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” He drawls, flicking both eyebrows up at once. A lazy grin unfurls across his full lips, and he practically drapes himself over the rock behind him.

The position puts his whole body even further on display, in an entirely new way this time, and looking away is futile now. Steve’s eyes are heedlessly drawn back to it, raking over every inch. It feels… dangerous, to be looking this much, this long, but he can’t help it.

The man lifts a hand to examine his black varnished nails, an air of boredom to the action. His fingers are adorned with chunky silver rings that glint in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Casually, he pulls a dagger from its hiding place amongst the belts and uses the sharp tip to pick at one of his nails.

Idly, he starts to whistle — a low, warbling tune that has an almost menacing edge to it.

It, too, strikes a chord of remembrance in Steve, and he wracks his brain trying to think of where he’s heard it. And then it hits him.

“You’re a pirate!” He gasps out. It sounds scandalized, when he says it, though, really, he isn’t scandalized at all. He doesn’t find himself very afraid, either, though he knows he should be. Instead, he’s just intrigued.

The man snickers. “Very good, sweetheart,” he commends, tucking the dagger away again. He brushes his knuckles against his shirt. “What gave it away?”

Steve frowns. “What are you doing here? Where’s your ship?”

“What am I doing here?” The man repeats. Laughs this breezy little thing. “I’m meant to be taking you prisoner, actually,” he tells Steve.

“Take me— prisoner?” Steve repeats, shock coloring his tone. He doesn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Oh, yes,” the man replies, pushing himself off of the rock. He starts to circle Steve. “I’m meant to be snatching you up— well, that’s the interpretation of it, anyways. All they said was that I needed to deal with you, and, really, that’s so vague.”

He starts to circle Steve, slinking around him slowly, purposefully. His voice carries as he does. “Pirates are supposed to be unscrupulous, though, aren’t they? What with all the threatening and the stealing and the killing and the like. I figured it only makes sense that I take you.”

Steve has a million questions — like who the hell is they? And what do they want with him? And why did they send a pirate to do their dirty work?

Instead, what comes out is, “I guess that would make sense.”

He folds his arms over his chest, just for something to do with them, and then a thought surfaces to the forefront of his brain.

A crease forms between his eyebrows, and his lower lip pushes out into a contemplative pout as he mulls it over. “But what if—” he starts. Pauses. Cuts himself off like he won’t dare finish the thought.

Only it’s too enticing, too tempting not to. 

“What if you didn’t take me?”

The man comes to a stop right in front of Steve. He’s close, much closer than anyone would normally be comfortable with, but Steve doesn’t care. If anything, he has to refrain from curling his fingers into that necklace and using it to leverage him even closer.

Steve looks into the man’s dark eyes. Big, endless, easy to lose himself to. But he doesn’t. He meets them head on, unwavering with his gaze, as if he’s challenging him.

“Sweetheart,” the man starts, dripping with condescension. He raises a hand and flattens it against the rock behind Steve, boxing him in. Another wry chuckle tumbles past his lips. “I don’t think you get it,” he says. “I have an order. I need to follow it.”

Steve just his chin up, defiant. “I don’t think you get it,” he returns, poking the man in the chest, much to his astonishment.

“What if you didn’t take me,” Steve repeats slowly, putting emphasis on his meaning. “But what if I… went with you anyways?”

It takes a moment for the words to properly sink in, but when they do, a slow spreading surprise settles over the man’s face. “Oh,” he says, sounding pleased. His lips curl back into a grin that bares his teeth. “How rebellious of you,” he tuts.

“You say rebellious, I say free-thinking,” Steve replies, brushing him off.

The man’s smirk grows, but he doesn’t accept the proposition. Not yet. Instead, he watches Steve carefully, like he expects his bravado to fall away any second now and for Steve to renege. 

But Steve holds his ground. He’s not taking it back. He’s not chickening out. In fact, he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

He’s going to go with this man.

Finally, the man relents. “If that’s what you want,” he says.

“It is,” Steve replies, without hesitation.

The man gives a firm nod, and without another word, he turns on his heel and starts to briskly walk away.

Steve scrambles to follow him, out through the opening of the rocks and across the open courtyard that leads towards the port. He glances behind him every so often to make sure that he hasn’t been spotted or followed by any of the partygoers. By any of his family. 

But each time he looks, there’s no one.

He doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or thrilled by that.

The further he gets from the party, though, the easier it gets to breathe. Like the noose around his neck loosens with each step. That almost makes him want to laugh, considering his choice here would earn him a real one, permanently.

Ships line the port, when they finally make it to the water’s edge. Great big ones, with hulking hulls and dozens of ballooning sails. There are at least four, anchored in the bay, but none of them stick out to Steve as a pirate ship. Not that Steve’s ever actually seen a pirate ship before. He’s only heard tales. Still, he expected that they’d be distinct.

The man approaches one of the ships, and he doesn’t hesitate before tromping up the shoddy wooden gangway and stepping foot onto the polished deck. His hands slide onto his hips and he casts a wide glance around. He takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, his whole body relaxing as he does. Like he’s finally home.

He turns then, back towards Steve and offers out his hand.

Steve looks down at it, then back up at the man.

“I’m Steve,” he says, taking it. The man’s palm is rough against Steve’s, but it’s warm too. It feels nice.

The man laughs. “I know,” he says. “And I’m—”

It’s then that Steve notices it. It’s subtle, in the sense that it’s just the one detail. But that detail itself is anything but. Just past the man’s head, right in the center of the biggest sail, a red devil. Pointed horns protruding from its skull, wicked yellow eyes, razor sharp teeth. 

It is unmistakable.

“You’re Eddie Munson,” Steve says, recognition finally hitting. And, jesus christ, he feels so stupid for not realizing sooner. The most notorious pirate in all of the seven seas — how could he have forgotten?

“That I am,” Eddie muses. Then he uses his grip on Steve’s hand to pull him the rest of the way onboard.

It tightens, and he doesn’t let go right away, like maybe he thinks Steve will try and make a run for it now that he knows who he is. 

But Steve doesn’t. He stands his ground, holds Eddie’s gaze steady.

Something zings up Steve’s spine as Eddie’s big eyes bore back into his own, and he thinks briefly to himself that whatever he’s gotten himself into here, it’s going to be well worth it. He’s in for the adventure of a lifetime here.

Eddie drops his hand then, and a slow grin, just as devilish as his flag unfurls across his pretty lips. He flourishes one of his own hands out around him.

“Steve Harrington,” he practically purrs. “Welcome to Hellfire.”

[undertale-fic-librarby]

I found the AO3's filtering confusing, so I hope you can help!

Could you find any Killer x Reader fics that focus on him exclusively? Thanks, librarian for all you do! <3

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Poor Little Meow Meow by Mystique, TallDumbass (Explicit, Incomplete)

Wow, this skeleton monster who came into the clinic you work at sure does keep adopting stray cats. He's kind of an idiot too, and his jokes are really inappropriate, and he may be a little excessively stabby... You maybe might possibly be falling for him though? But good luck getting him to express a single genuine emotion lol. AKA, two idiots who are bad at emotions bond over cats. A lot of cats.

SAVE | LOAD | RELOAD by Mystique, raven_bones (Explicit, Incomplete)

You fall down a hole in a mountain. We've all heard this one by now... But the vast underground civilization you find yourself in is empty and seems long abandoned, or at least you think it is at first. There is someone stalking you along the way, and he seems very, very interested in you. But you have more Determination than him, so maybe you can turn this game of cat and mouse around in your favor?

Élan Vital by Breadeagle (Mature, Incomplete)

“Something Slithers within the Fog, Something Scurries within the Mist. Something Found whilst on a Jog, Something Killed without Resist. One has come from beyond this Verse, Serpentine venom coursing through the Heart. One shall rise, in the name of Just Deserts. A Mouse Poisoned shall tear them both Apart. Obsession grows, one mind shall Break. Metamorphosis in fracture of angel’s Wings. Is it worth it for the Snake? For if the Mouse is poisoned, neither truly Wins. Thus is the Fate of Mutual Destruction.” A Story of Change, of the Descension from Heaven and the Path to Hell. You are an Agent tasked with finding answers for recent murders that have befallen your city. You wanted only the best, and you could never have foreseen the future that would befall you following this case. While categorized as Enemies to Lovers romance, please be mindful of the tags.

Bitty Bites by resurge (Explicit, Complete)

He’s the bane of your existence. Until that night.

withered rose. by paradiseblues (Mature, Incomplete)

in a small town on the further outskirts of Ebott lies a sweet and cosy flower shop. which you just happen to work at. a skeleton walks in, what's he looking for? a heart? no dumbass, he's looking for a 53 inch rose bouquet! get back to work! there's no punchline here. ... Where you, a hopeless romantic who sits in their lonely flower shop, encounters your favourite customer who apparently needs the largest roses in stock. Can you handle the idea of him possibly having a lover already? Or will you tumble down like a house of cards?

[dollywons]

I see in your intro post

That you like pretty crystals/collecting them

Caaannn you show your favorite type of crystal if you have one? Mine is tanzanite and howlite! Both very pretty ^-^

hii!! :D THE ONES YOU MENTIONED ARE SO PRETTY AND I MUST HAVE THEM IMMEDIATELY. I really like my clear quartz, rough serpentine, but mostly my tumbled rainbow moonstone :> I also have a lepidolite that I can’t find, :( IM A TERRIBLE CRYSTAL MOTHER. Once I get my next batch of crystals I’d be happy to show them hehe, tysm for asking this made me really happy ૮ฅ˵u ̫ u˵ฅა

[fletchingbrilliant]

It's Only a Crooked Moon, Chapter One

•••

Read it on AO3!

So I started a fic all by my onesies. Let's see how this goes.

Highly canon divergent, but many many same elements as canon. Some geography changed. Many lore liberties taken.

Many ships will occur, probably. But it's mainly Radiodust. Go figure.

•••

“Come out and face me, Radio Demon! For weeks you have evaded my assault, but no more! I have ensured that you'll have no choice but to accept my challenge!”

Gears whirred, pistons whined, and steam erupted in a sharp whistle, Sir Pentious’ newest machine of destruction taking one lurching mechanical step, then another, gaining in speed as it went. It was a proud moment for the serpentine Sinner, debuting such an impressive marvel, a creation that could one day rival his own precious War Machine. It was large, clearing the height of a two-story building, bearing the form of a sort of robotic giraffe, yet possessing many jointed brass tentacles in the place of its legs. They wound around each other, the base of each hitting the ground hard and cracking the already ruined pavement that made up the streets of Pentagram City. From the head of his newly finished weapon, arranged as a cockpit designed exclusively for his use, Sir Pentious gave a hard pull on the lever that raised the giraffe’s horns, making their internal chambers open wide to charge their vicious attack. He grabbed onto the horn that amplified his voice down the street.

“I know you are here, Alastor! It is no use to hide!! Vengeance will be mine!!!”

“Vengeance for what?”

Sir Pentious squacked and flew backwards as the sight of the Radio Demon materialized on the other side of the viewport, perched right on the tip of the giraffe’s nose. He was bent over at a sharp angle, leaning on his staff.

“Alastor!!” Pentious hissed, sweeping upright again and righting his distressed top hat. “Just as I intended, you have come to do battle! I will now prove once and for all that it is I who truly deserves to stand as the most feared Sinner to ever stalk the streets of Hell!”

To Pentious’ dismay, Alastor tilted his head far down to his shoulder. “I'm sorry… who are you, again?”

“Wha– I'm Sir Pentious!! The architect of destruction! The engineer of disaster!! The mechanic of doom!!!”

“My my my, with so many impressive titles, it's a wonder that I've never heard of you!”

“You insolent wretch!” Pentious shouted, forcing back the foul and bitter taste of once again going unacknowledged, unseen by those he aspired to stand beside. “I swear to you, Radio Demon, that by the time I am done with you, you will remember the name Sir Pentious!!”

The dual horn beam finished its slow and steady charge, and Pentious grinned manically at the befuddled Overlord.

“This will be my greatest revenge!”

“This will wha– oh. Oh my.”

He saw Alastor’s eyes widen for a moment, then nothing but blinding light as his laser blast shot down at his creation’s own nose, hitting his opponent squarely in his chest. When the light cleared, Pentious followed the trail of smoke down the narrow street. Alastor was bouncing, tumbling over the ruined pavement like an abandoned rag doll, landing in a smoking heap.

“Yes yes yes yes!!” Pentious cried in pure joy, throwing his fist into the air. “Feel the power of my wrath, Alastor, and know that you have finally met your match!”

The giraffe lurched forward, tentacled legs closing in on their helpless prey. The deerlike demon was not moving, not even a twitch. Was Pentious’ new weapon truly powerful enough to completely incapacitate the Radio Demon with only one blow?

This, of course, was not the case, and Sir Pentious preemptively cursed himself for allowing even a moment of such blind optimism. He brought his mechanical marvel directly in front of the unmoving demon, released one of its flexible tentacular ‘arms’ from its housing, brought it to bear down onto Alastor, ready to grab him. But in a moment that stirred utter dread within the serpent, Alastor’s hand shot up while the rest of his body lay unmoving. The Radio Demon seized the tendril, which coiled about his arm in response.

Then his body twitched and writhed, undulating and rising like liquid back to his feet. His clothing, his face, his hands, were all singed by Pentious’ weapon, smoke rising from his maniacally grinning visage.

“I suppose, little goose, that you think you got the bulge on me,” he said, his voice sounding detached from his own body. It was practically leaking into Pentious’ mind as though seeping through his pores as a wicked vapor, the crackle and static of radio waves prickling his skin. “I’ll certainly give you credit for your moxie, and no mistake. But…”

He closed his fist around the tendril, then gave it a mighty tug. Sir Pentious, stunned with disbelief, was pulled forward with the force of it. The entire machine was pulled from the center where the cavity that housed the arms was held. It must have been a nearly humorous sight, such a small man folding a massive tentacled giraffe in half with a single hand. But Pentious was not laughing. He was currently busy trying to keep from losing a fang by way of facial collision.

Suddenly, everything jerked to a halt. Sir Pentious pulled himself up to look out the viewport again, peering down at where his prey-turned-predator was still standing.

He was laughing. No, he was cackling. His head was thrown back in delight, and with dread Pentious saw that his antlers were beginning to twist and writhe like some wicked crooked tree that would bear no fruit. Like a living faerie tale the monster grew, Pentious’ great invention soon becoming dwarfed by Alastor's rapidly increasing height.

It was in moments like this that Sir Pentious, passionate and inspired inventor though he was, was left to marvel at the seemingly unknowable power that dwelt dormant within the tormented flesh of the Sinner. It was a power so natural yet so corrupt, limited only by each soul’s own unique nature. He could spend even more lifetimes than he already had trying to truly harness that untapped potential only to barely graze the surface, to dip his proverbial toe into those sweet and addictive waters. 

He wasn't sure whether the feeling raised him up with inspiration or crushed him into the dirt with hopelessness.

Alastor, the Radio Demon whose legend began such a relatively short time ago, lived up to the nightmares recounted by Sinner and hellborn alike. His eyes became endless black voids, pitiless, hungry, ready to suck up any fool who gazed too long into their infinite depths. His grin, a permanent fixture on his terrible visage, grew wider and wider still, beyond what any gentle nature would allow. Yellow and brown teeth curved as they grew, stained with the viscera of every victim he devoured, gums black and breath foul, hiding a gray and slimy tongue, as long and winding as Pentious’ own tail. The vibrant green stitches that appeared on Alastor's face and pulled at his cheeks, covering the edges of his lips, seemed to be both keeping something out and keeping something in. His joints popped, his limbs stretched and contorted, their positions growing more and more unnatural as the demon's size increased. His crimson claws glimmered in the low light, each now roughly the size of scythe’s blade. Pentious was staring into the face of truest horror, truest evil… and he could not look away. 

“So you desire to have the Radio Demon know your name, little wyrmling?” Alastor said, the pits of his eyes flickering red as he spoke, his mouth unmoving, audio distortion warping the sound. If Sir Pentious had suddenly gone deaf, he was certain he still would have heard it.

Alastor's giant hand grabbed onto Pentious’ machine by its neck, lifting it to bring the viewport to his eye level. Sir Pentious could only cling onto the main console in a bid to remain upright. He was suddenly extremely grateful that he had not made accommodations for his Egg Bois in this design, but in the same moment wondered how they would survive without him to look after them.

All Pentious could see through the glass was the Radio Demon’s horrific face. “You'll receive an even greater honor,” he said, “as a proud new member of my radio chorus!”

Pentious felt something strange, a sort of tugging that felt at first like there was a metal ball in his gut, and a magnet was trying to pull it out. But that dull pressure soon gave way to terrible pain, rending, tearing. Something vital was being torn from him, his very essence was being ripped apart!

There came with this pain a sort of weightlessness, perhaps an out of body experience, and Sir Pentious became aware that he was no longer screaming. In fact, he was quite lucid, his awareness now sharp yet utterly calm. He knew he had only moments before Alastor would devour him completely, he had only one chance to escape a fate far worse than any death could be. 

Still clinging to the control panel, Pentious freed one hand to grab onto the black lever on the left hand side. He looked up into the void once more and he did not flinch. This was not how his story was going to end. 

He pulled the lever. 

There was a jolt, a deep rumble within the earth, the scream of audio feedback, a flash of blinding green light, then nothing. 

•••

“Are you bitches ready to have the biggest damn party this side of Hell?! Lemme hear you scream for me, babies!!!”

The crowd did scream, and Velvette grinned, flipping her glittering microphone in her hand. It was a fairly small stage, but it was sleek and it made a statement, and it fit just so between the shabby buildings of the street she'd commandeered for this event. And the mob did not care. They packed the place, a swarm of sweaty and smelly plebeians desperate for just a whiff of everything she was. Their hands slapped the stage, reaching and grasping to touch her. Every time one got close, she stomped it with her heeled boot, and was sure they'd cherish the scar she'd gifted to them. 

It wasn't as large an event as Velvette wanted, nor as grand as she had been promised. She hadn't been with the Vees long, fine, whatever. But Vox had made her one of them. That was supposed to come with a better setup than what she'd been working with before. When she had to scrape and claw and work her ass off for a handful of Subscribers (her affectionate name for the souls she collected). He told her to be patient, that she had to settle into her place at VoxTech. But Vox needed to get in on social media, like, ten years ago, and she was his answer to that problem.

It wasn't wise to piss off the person who basically controlled the internet of Hell. 

“That's right, duckies. You'd kill for it. I know.” She didn't let those frustrations show as she worked the crowd into a greater frenzy, blowing kisses and flipping birds, making them go nuts the less effort she appeared to put into her performance.

Those fuckwits have no idea how much effort this actually takes.

With a nod to the crew, the music kicked on and she started her next dance, singing whenever she felt like gracing her fans with a bar or two. They were frothing at the mouth, so desperate and sad. Verosika Mayday wished she could work a crowd like this. They were going to be lined up around the block to sign themselves away. Velvette wondered how many gigs like this it would take to possess more souls than Vox himself.

“Now who wants to have it all?” she barked. “Who wants to be like me?”

They all did. This was so much easier than selling influencer courses.

“Then c'mon baby dolls, GIMME ALL YOU GOT!!”

They surged, Velvette could practically taste all these new contracts…

…and then everything went tits up in five seconds flat. 

One of the intersections her impromptu block party was cutting off suddenly lit up in a green blaze that totally clashed with her red and violet light show, accompanied by a booming sound that soon gave way to the crackle of static. The high pitched wail of audio feedback came right after it, then every one of Velvette’s speakers blew up, sending fire and electricity and potential Subscribers flying all over the place. The screens projecting her face to the back of the crowd went next, sparking and crashing onto the stage. 

Velvette whipped her head around to a panicking crew member. 

“You! Figure out what the fuck that is and fix it right the fuck now.”

The frantic demon was stammering something completely fucking useless when another loud crash came from the block that had at least stopped glowing green. Her audience was so densely packed there was no way they'd be able to scatter quickly enough, and could only flail around as the massive form of something collapsed onto a large swath of them. Desperately the rest of the crowd scrambled to flee, though Velvette noticed with no small amount of pleasure that several of them were filming the carnage on their phones even as they backed away.

She hopped off of the flaming stage and parted the crowd in waves with only a touch of her finger to the shoulders of flabbergasted fanboys. In a matter of moments she made it to the wreckage, which was somehow quite a bit smaller than it had looked only moments ago.

It was still large, larger than the handful of fans who were squashed under its heavy metallic girth. The thing was a machine of some sort, but its aesthetic was totally ancient. Either that, or someone was just way too devoted to Steampunk roughly a millennium since it was even remotely trendy. If she had to guess, Velvette would have described it as… an ugly fucking mess.

Velvette snapped a few pics herself, zooming in on key parts that looked like joints or busted control panels. She moved around to where the remains of a cockpit appeared to be, large shards of glass from a window littering the ground. Whoever was to blame for this mess shouldn't have been too far away. Clouds of smoke were still billowing up from inside the cockpit, illuminated in an eerie way by a small green fire that had no clear source. Was this where the blast initiated? And if so, did the machine do it, or was it that massive thing that somehow vanished the moment it hit the ground?

Tired of waiting for the smoke to clear, Velvette turned to her still-captive audience, projecting over their panicking little heads. “Who wants to be a big help to their favorite babydoll?!!”

They all did.

“You're all such precious little things, oh my god you're so cute! Alright, duckies, all I need is the shirt off of your backs!! Now give ‘em to me!!”

Because people, Sinners, and especially her fans were disgusting wastes of carbon, Velvette was practically showered with shirts, jackets, even trousers and… how did they get their knickers off so fast nevermind I don't actually want to know. Her staff deftly kept the clothes from landing on her, and gave her the least offensive offerings while the crowd screamed, desperate to have their clothing chosen for a sacrifice. A couple of large coats and a skirt in hand, Velvette herself marched into the wreckage and threw the wretched crimes against fashion over the fire, stomping down to quash the flames. The sounds of the crowd and security keeping them at bay began to fade away as she squinted through the haze. She snapped a few more pictures, stepped forward, and–

squelch

The hair on Velvette’s neck and arms shot up and she grimaced as she stepped on something thick and slimy. She hopped back, looked down, and saw the long winding tail of a serpentine Sinner. A very familiar Sinner. 

“Ohhh, that's why the tacky steampunk looked familiar,” she said to herself, photographing the collapsed idiot who thought that he was more qualified than her. Apparently this idiot – whatever his fucking name was – had been here longer than Vox and even longer than the Radio Demon, and yet never got strong enough on his own to become an Overlord. So instead he begged to be part of the Vees. When he tried to raise a fuss about Velvette’s appointment, it didn't do much outside of making for a really funny side story to go along with her debut. And now he was giving her a part two. 

The smoke cleared enough that she could see the rest of him now. His Victorian chic was tattered and burned, the eye on his top hat closed along with the ones on his face, and the ones that lined his tail. She laughed and raised her phone to take more pictures. But the moment she tapped the screen, her phone shook in her hand, the screen flickered and glitched out, green artifacting taking over everything. Then it grew hot, really hot, in an instant, causing Velvette to drop it in surprise. It wasn't a moment too soon either, because the damn thing exploded just before hitting the ground. 

There were cries of shock and surprise, and Velvette turned away from the wreckage to see her staff members distracted by their own tech shorting out, phones and headsets catching fire. And the fans too, their phones jumping out of their hands as they popped and burst in a wave apparently radiating from the point where Velvette stood. 

“Okay, I'd really love to know just what the fuck is–” Velvette turned back to the unconscious snake, but was struck by what she saw in his place. 

“I can not say that I bear much surprise, to see thy presence at the center here.” The long and tall figure that seemed to be made of shadow itself loomed over Velvette, bright green eyes narrowing at her. “Thou art well appointed, and no mistake, to stand alongside the Voice and the Moth.”

“Cut the poetry reading, Zestial,” Velvette said, successfully glaring up at the old fuck now that the initial shock wore off. The same couldn't be said for the Sinners around her, though. There was renewed screaming as the weak-willed started freaking out at Zestial’s mere presence. “This right here is a private issue, on my turf, so back off. Unless you had something to do with this?”

To Velvette's irritation, Zestial smiled. He looked like a fucked up jack-o-lantern. “I possess not the desire to destroy such a marvel as this. Thou wouldst be wise to demonstrate some small shred of humility in the face of a power so great.”

“You're telling me that you think this scrap heap was something special?”

“Indeed I do, but it is not to Sir Pentious' marvel that I speak in this case. Rather, I would advise thou to regard the force that brought both of these titans to heel.”

“Titans? You're calling that slug– wait, both?!”

But Zestial wasn't paying her any more attention. He turned away, and leaned down over Pentious’ unmoving body. Velvette couldn't see what he was doing, and some force – perhaps just her sense of self preservation – kept her from interfering. He lifted Sir Pentious from the ground with one arm, and with the other he was picking up… something else. Shadows swept up around him, swirling into a frenzy until she could only see the other Overlord in patches. He turned as the darkness enveloped him completely, meeting Velvette’s eyes. For only one fleeting moment, she saw the other figure Zestial was holding. The long and tattered red coat, small and twisted black antlers, nasty crooked teeth fixed in a permanent smile even while unconscious…

The whole world was suddenly plunged into total darkness, then seconds later the light returned, and Zestial was gone. But echoing around her, or maybe only in her own mind, she heard his voice. 

The nights of Hell are darker still

Than all thy scheming could fulfill–

Powers thou could Never know

Are frothing, teeming, Deep below.

In fleeting moments do they rise,

And beg for newfound sacrifice.

A glimpse is all I was allowed

'Fore even I was rendered cowed;

Yet thou, thy Triad, seek to hone

These forces thou could Never own.

What happened here is but a Taste

Of what I Fear shall only grow.

All that you treasure is but waste

To the Laughter in the 

          Deep…

                    …Green…

                              …Glow.

Velvette looked around, dizzy and disoriented, infuriated and confused. But Zestial was gone, and he took Sir Pentious… and the Radio Demon… with him. Those left after the chaos were gathering around, hoping that their idol could give them any guidance, protection… something. 

I couldn't even if I wanted to, duckies.

Whatever the fuck just happened, it's really going to shake things up around here.

In spite of herself, Velvette smiled. 

I can't wait to tell the boys about this.

•••

The waning moon was high in the sky, a crooked smile of pale red against the spilled red wine that made up the night sky. The sky of Hell. Or just the sky of Angel Dust’s Hell, the Hell of Sinners. But what other Hell mattered? It was the only one he would ever know. His ankles hurt, an impressive feat given how long he could last in heels of any shape or size, in any position. The problem was that he was usually dancing, or doing something that wasn't quite so repetitive the way that walking was. And he had long since lost track of how long he had been walking. It had been at least a day, that much he had figured. The one baggie he'd had on him when he left Val's place was empty, all the adrenaline spent, and now he was just running on fumes. His scalp itched, his eyes hurt, and he probably smelled awful.

Last time he gathered his bearings, having any idea where he might be, he had taken a turn out of the entertainment district into one of the five large slums that made up the ‘points’ of Pentagram City, lovingly referred to as the Sloth Districts. It was easy to get mugged or raped or whatever in these dark and somehow even more miserable corners of the city, but it was also easier to pass by unnoticed. Angel Dust was no stranger to the slums, both in life and in death. And anything that could possibly threaten him here was nothing – nothing – compared to what he was running away from. 

“Go ahead and leave, then! You really think you can last one day out there without me? Those snarling, drooling beasts will devour you. And no matter how loud you scream, no matter how much you beg, I won't come to save you. 

Is that what you want, amorcito?”

Angel Dust gritted his teeth and scoffed at the memory. He didn't care. He didn't need him. He said as much, screamed it, dodging insults and threats and grabbing hands. The smell of Valentino’s foul breath, that oozed through every fiber that made up his den of sweet promises and seductive lies, lingered in Angel’s nostrils, making him gag even now. That wasn’t what he needed anymore. It had never been what he needed. He was better than that. Or at least, he would be. He would be.

I’m gonna be better. That was the mantra he repeated in his mind over and over, with each step reinforcing it. He had successfully removed the tracking app from his phone in preparation for his escape, but heard it ring, felt it vibrate, as Valentino continued to press him, trying to convince him to return. Turning notifications off worked for a while. Then he got the nerve to block him. But finally, as his legs threatened to give out and he realized he was running out of street, he made the choice.

After one more turn, headed north, Angel Dust skittered up a wall and hopped over it to find that he was on the outskirts of Pentagram City. There was hardly anywhere to go here, the land stretching out barren and dry, leading to a sheer drop into nothingness. The space between spaces lay beyond, so they said, and no Sinner could hope to successfully breach those outer limits of Hell. Still he was overcome with a maddening rush of emotion that had only one possible outlet. He let out a guttural cry that soon turned to hysterical laughter, and he ran. He ran with a new burst of energy that made his legs burn, all the way to that drop into nowhere. He skidded to a halt right at the edge…

…and he hurled his cell phone into the chasm, laughing all the while.

“FUCK YOU, VAL!! I AIN’T NEVER, NEVER GONNA BE YOURS! NEVER AGAIN!!!”

Tears flooding his eyes and spraying into the air like jewels, Angel Dust fell onto his back and continued to cackle, the sound becoming high and deranged and not at all like his own voice. But he let it go. He was free.

He was free.

How long he lay there, staring up at the crooked smile of the moon, he didn’t know. It wasn’t as long as he’d spent walking, but was longer than he’d meant to. Maybe he fell asleep. The crooked smile moon looked like it was moving. Then a pair of wide and unblinking eyes appeared above it, and the crooked face began to sing. Angel Dust smiled back at the face in the sky that had become his new companion, and he sang along with it.

This was nice. But all nice things ended way too soon.

“It’s alright. No, Dad. Yes. No. No, it– that’s fine. Please, you don’t have to. Okay, I’ll call you back– right. Bye.”

Angel turned his head away from his crooked-smile-face-moon-friend towards the voice. Just who in the fuck would be walking around this nothing space was beyond him, and when he saw her, he was no less confused.

She was fairly tall, it looked, wearing a cute little number in red and black, with the thickest, platinum-est blonde hair he’d ever seen, tied in a black ribbon and flowing like water behind her. She was just hanging up her phone, looking completely done, stuffing it in her pocket while carrying a whole shitload of boxes balanced precariously on her other arm. Following her course with his eyes, Angel saw her destination. There was a hill, of a sort, that kind of jutted out over the chasm, and on that hill was a building. It looked old and sort of faded, like a photograph from when he was alive. A hotel, if he had to guess. He was weighing the pros and cons of bailing before she noticed him when she started to really struggle with her burden. Before he could question himself, he was on his aching feet, hurrying over to her and catching the boxes seconds before they fell.

“Woah there, Little Miss Overachiever!” he said, collecting four boxes in his lower arms. “It’s okay, you got the part.”

“Oh! I– wha– thank you so much!” she said, turning to look at him with a very white and very flushed face. Her eyes were huge and too cute, save for the sharpness of her red pupils and how wickedly sharp her fangs were. From this close he noticed that she was balancing all this on narrow pointed feet, probably hooves. Maybe she’d been dead long enough to really get a handle on them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Angel said, raising an eyebrow as he continued to assess this completely bonkers situation. “What are ya doin’ all the way out here, anyway? Not exactly what I’d call safe to be traipsing around outside the city all by your lonesome. There’s like, boogiemans out here or some shit.”

“Boogie… what?” She blinked at him in utter confusion. “I don’t know what that means. But I’m okay! I’m just getting the hotel set up!”

He gestured to her and they started walking toward the spooky old place together. “You own this weird old creep shack? The fuck you want with a place like this? Who even built a place like this??”

“Oh… my dad,” she said, her voice falling a little flat. “He’s helping… I mean he sort of… I’m taking it over, fixing it up, since he wasn’t using it for anything anymore.”

“That’s… weird and vague,” Angel allowed, really feeling it in his thighs as they worked their way up the hill. “Expecting to get a lot of guests all the way out here?”

“I’m hoping so! I have a special mission in mind for the hotel, and I think a lot of people will really respond to it!”

“Yeah? And what mission is that?”

“I’m going to help Sinners find redemption!”

Angel Dust stopped several feet from the front doors, turning to give her the most withering stare he could manage. “You’re gonna what.”

“I’m going to help Sinners– oh you heard me.” She looked no less enthusiastic, however, delivering what must have been an oft-practiced speech. “Things in Pentagram City just keep getting worse and worse for everyone, and with the exterminations, so many Sinners feel like they have no hope for a future of any kind! So I thought that if I could provide a place for Sinners to come together and learn to change their ways, however it is they wound up getting sent here, then maybe they could be redeemed, be brought up to Heaven! And then there wouldn’t be any more overcrowding in Hell, everybody would be able to be in Heaven, and be happy, and everyone will be better off!”

Angel took several moments to process the lunacy he’d just heard. “And this is a thing you thought of with your brain, and your brain told you it was a good idea that would definitely work?”

“Yup!”

“...You’re not a Sinner, then, huh?”

“Oh! No. No, I’m not,” she said.

“Then why would you give a single fuck about us?”

“Well… because you’re my people. Oh! I should introduce myself!” The weird, weird demon scurried to the doors, set her boxes down on the doorstep, then scurried back and extended her hand. “Hi! My name is Charlie Morningstar!”

“Charlie Morningstar. You’re Charlie Morningstar? The fucking Princess of Hell?!” Angel nearly dropped the boxes he was carrying.

She didn’t drop her hand. “It’s nice to meet you… Um…?”

“Oh. Uh. Angel. Angel Dust.” He took her hand tentatively, wondering just how this is where his life had led. “Nice to meet you too, uh, your Highness.”

“Nooo, no no no, please not that,” Charlie said awkwardly, giggling in a very un-princess-like way. “Just Charlie. I don’t want to be treated like I’m any better than anyone else.”

Angel Dust shook his head slowly, finally setting down his own burden. “You ain’t never been seen in public since you were like, a little kid or some shit, least that’s what they say, and now you’re just setting up shop in some shitty hotel in the middle of nowhere… wait, so this is Lucifer’s place? The fuck’s he got a shithole like this for?”

“I… honestly don’t know what he did with it before,” she said, sounding forlorn. “But it’s mine now, and I’m going to pursue my dream! It’s basically all done up, now I just need to find some guests!”

Angel looked at the hotel. Then at Charlie. Then at the hotel again. It was dingy. It was dark, probably damp, looked like it smelled funny… but it wasn’t Valentino’s place.

“You know… I happen to be a really famous po– uh. Movie star!” Angel Dust said. “Okay, porn star, but that’s as big as it gets down here. Maybe you’d be able to draw in some clientele if they knew you had a real A-lister settin’ up shop here.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, sparkling with an eager joy that instantly made Angel Dust feel a little guilty. “You want to try to get redeemed?”

“Well, let’s not go that far, but, I mean… I’ll try anything once, baby.” He gave her one of his most winning smiles with a dashing wink.

It seemed to work. She blushed and grinned, and clapped her hands together, and then – to Angel’s shock – threw her arms around him in a tight hug. “Oh I’m so glad! Thank you thank you thank you this is going to be so–”

Just what it was going to ‘be so’, he never found out, because in that moment, the red sky suddenly turned completely black, and they were both thrust into total darkness. He felt Charlie pull away, but he took hold of her shoulders and kept her grounded lest she float off into the nether. In another handful of moments the darkness was gone, and there was a tall and imposing figure standing in front of them, even taller than Angel was himself. Taller than Valentino, maybe.

“Good evening to thee, sweet young Charlie,” said the Sinner, one Angel Dust knew only by reputation. The spooky guy with the top hat, spidery in some ways Angel was, and in some ways Angel wasn’t. He was an Overlord, a super old one, and one the Vees really didn’t like. “I do hope I am not intruding upon some clandestine meeting ‘twixt thee two.”

“No, Uncle Zestial, not at all! It’s so good to see you, it’s been so long!” Charlie said. Angel Dust was flummoxed. He half expected her to hug him too, but she held off. “Is… is everything okay?”

“That I cannot say for sure. But perhaps…” he tilted his head toward Angel Dust for a second, and he felt all of his nerves suddenly tense up in a weird and unnamable horror. Then he looked back at Charlie, but the chill remained. “...Perhaps I might ask, if thou art willing, for a favor, small I hope, large I fear.”

Charlie smiled. “I’ll help in any way I can. What do you need?”

“An incident occurred this very night, under conditions still I cannot say. Two Sinners, wayward, found some plight, and need a place where they might stay. Perhaps for respite, perhaps for change.”

“Well, that’s perfect!” Charlie said, while Angel tried to parse what exactly this Shakesperean fucker was trying to say. “I have plenty of space for anyone who needs it.”

“Even if those Sinners are… quite deranged?” Zestial’s glowing green smile turned even creepier, and Angel shuddered.

But Charlie was undeterred. “No matter what, I won’t turn anyone away.”

Just where they had been stored, Angel had no idea, but Zestial spread out his arms and pulled from under his cloak two bodies. He laid them on the ground, gently, then took a couple of steps back. Charlie and Angel Dust approached, peering down at them. One looked like a snake man, wearing a top hat and a fancy coat. The other was a creepy, bony, angular man. His face was a dark and murky gray, his hair as cherry red as his tattered suit, and he had two tiny black antlers on his head. Two large tufts of hair looked almost like ears. Maybe they were his ears. And even though he was unconscious… he was smiling. They were both badly singed, and injured in several places.

Both of them started to rouse at the same moment, slow and groaning at first, but when they both blinked their bright red eyes and took stock of their surroundings, they both shot up like bolts of lightning, locking their gazes with each other.

“Alastor!!” The serpent hissed, surging upright with remarkable fluidity. “What happened? What have you done to my beautiful machine??!”

The deer man hopped up too, his angular joints cracking as he did. “It went precisely where I’m going to send you, no doubt! It was… Sir Pentious, wasn’t it? Well, Sir Pentious, say hello to Oblivion for me!!”

As Charlie let out a startled cry and made to intervene, the one called Alastor flung his hand out into the air, clearly with the intent to do some kind of magic shit or something. But nothing happened. His smile, which was wide and yellow and gross (and made Angel think of the crooked moon) sort of cracked, and his ear fluff flattened on his head.

Sir Pentious stared ahead. “You… you were going for something there, weren’t you?”

Alastor glared. “I bothered to remember your name, don’t ruin it by mocking me.”

He pulled his hand back, then jutted it out again. Still nothing happened.

“Maybe you’re just not doing it right,” Pentious suggested.

“Maybe you’re not doing it right!!”

“But I wasn’t–! Oh… maybe you should try it like this…”

Sir Pentious stuck his own hand out this time, doing a fancy little flourish that Angel Dust found hilarious. And then, to the shock of everyone – especially Alastor and Pentious, it seemed – a flash of black energy swirled around Sir Pentious’ hand, turning acid green for just an instant, and then a staff appeared in the serpent’s grasp. It looked kind of like an old school microphone, with a big red eye set into the base.

For several moments, no one said anything. No one even moved, or breathed. Then Alastor straightened his back, his hair bristling.

“What the fuck??!”

[swagmagussupreme]

@whiterose-fans-blog White Rose in Bloom, Day 4: Dragon AU

(I, uh... got a little carried away again. I honestly wanted to do Ruby as the dragon but I just didn't. by the time i remembered i wanted to do that i already had a flow, so... c'est la vie.)

Not any content warnings I can think of. Suggestive if you find the vague, unelaborated presence of nakedness suggestive. Not edited because I wrote way too much so fuck it we're doing it live.

Words: 6388

Of all times for Ruby Rose to twist her ankle, this was probably the least opportune. 

She tumbled over like a stack of bricks, spilling a decade's worth of knowledge as her satchel burst its contents over the floor. Her journals, her charcoals, her bottled paints— even her ink pot shattered loudly, splattering black against stone. Ruby's chest seized as if her ribcage were trying to throttle it, but she held herself completely still. A loud, waking breath rattled the darkness.

“Oh, an in-trud-er,” the thing within mused, its syllables breaking like each one was its own word, a tongue unused to speaking. “Or a… gue-ssssss-t. Gue-ss-ss-sstuh.” The tongue clicked impatiently. “Gue-sst. Closssse e-nough.”

Ruby hunkered low, as low as she physically could, and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in her ankle. She held her breath.

“Be sssssssss-till thy bea-ting heaaaaaar-tuh.” The voice was closer now. Ruby could see a glimmer in the dark, a pearlescent reflection of nonexistent light. “I can heeeeeear the ter-ror in your chesssss-tuh.”

Ruby willed her heart to stop. It did not.

“Ugh, you peo-ple real-ly sssssss-peak like thi-sssssss-suh?”

The glimmer was brighter. A white-blue glow swayed in the darkness— one, then two, then three pairs of eyes making themselves known. Ruby felt them.

“I can sssss-see you, you know.”

Ruby shot up and waved her hands out, thrusting a light spell from her palms to blind the dark-dwelling beast, just long enough that—

A wire-thin beam of ice-colored light struck her palm directly. Ruby's spell vanished into impotence. 

“Casssssss-ting in my lair?” it rumbled. “How… un-couuuuuut-tuh.”

Ruby jumped at the opportunity. “Uncouth! Th-uh! With your tongue against your top teeth, passing the air between them!”

The cavern was suddenly bathed in cold light, and Ruby could finally see it. A dragon. A real, honest-to-Oum dragon. Not a drake, not a wyrm, not some other dumb lizard she'd been pointlessly tracking for weeks— a real, genuine, intelligent dragon. Pearlescent, slender-bodied, four-legged, with two major wings like giant, smooth sails and two minor wings situated closer to the posterior. Its pale scales were shaped like heater shields and shone like mother-of-pearl. Its claws were white, blue-tipped. Its tail was long and ended with a flare of its cyan crest, which ran up its spine before ending just above the major wings. Its head was long and triangular, serpentine, and menaced down at Ruby with six incredible, glacial eyes. It licked its dual rows of teeth with a forked turquoise tongue.

And now it couldn't even kill her! Ha! “Hahaha!” Ruby laughed despite herself. “Now you can't kill me! I've imparted value through knowledge! I'm protected!”

The dragon bent its huge neck down, each eye focusing on a different object that Ruby had spilled. Its throat rumbled pensively, unbothered. One of its eyes glowed, lifting Ruby's journal to with a magic the researcher had never witnessed. It flipped through pages and hummed. “A… ssssss-scribe, you are. Quite pro-liss-ic.”

“Prolific?”

Five of its eyes locked onto her at once, its other eye still reading through her recordings. “You are bol-duh.” It waved a claw to a wall, indicating a crumpled old skeleton in timeworn clothes from a whole other period. “He was, too.”

“But I am protected!” Ruby claimed, confidently puffing her chest and raising her chin.

The dragon snorted. “As a part of my hoard, yes,” the head bent even closer, now focusing on Ruby with all six eyes. “Or did you not know?”

Ruby reached out and touched its smooth, cool snout. It smelled like a blizzard. It was real, it was here, her life's work— she could touch it! Ruby smiled. “That's perfect,” she said truthfully. “It's perfect! I came to study you anyways!”

The dragon reeled. “What?”

Ruby smirked at it. “Don't be coy, you saw my research. I've been looking for you my whole life! A dragon! God!”

Its eyes flickered curiously. Five picked up her other books and rapidly flicked through, leaving one icy eye to keep locked onto her. “You are sssss-some… sssss-ser-pent ssss-cho-lar?”

The serpent scholar nodded fervently. “Yes! And you are my dream come true!”

The dragon’s body pitched back onto its haunches, then it laid down flat on its stomach. It kept one eye on her, gradually getting more to lock onto the human as it finished reading her works. “I own you now, you real-li-zzzzzzz-zuh. 

Ruby extended a hand towards it. “Then introductions are in order! I'm—”

“Rrrrru-by Roooooo-suh,” the dragon interrupted. “I did just read your book-ssssssuh.”

Unperturbed, the scholar kept her hand out. “And yourself?”

The dragon's craw twitched, a hum arising— a display of amusement, Ruby decided, which she would take note of when she had a chance. “I am the ssssss-soul of the win-ter. I am the crack of the fro-zen lake ‘neath your feet. I am the drift of sssss-snow upon sssss-snow. I am the ruin of your crop, the frosssss-st upon your ssssss-skin, the fin-al bursssss-st of flame be-fore you die in. The. Cold.”

Ruby blinked. “Is… that a name?”

The dragon huffed. “Your feeble tongue cannot grassssss-sp my title.”

“Oh. Could I hear it anyways?”

The dragon stared at her for a long time, its freezing eyes impaling her, but Ruby did not buckle. She seemed perfectly content. “You are mine, now,” the dragon mused. “Ssssso, you will need the ca-pa-ci-ty to… un-der-sssssss-stand.”

Ruby cocked her head. “Uh, do I? You're not just going to stare at me all day? I'm pretty.”

A rough chuckle shook the walls of the dragon’s grand, cavernous lair. “You are my sssssss-scribe, now. You will pen my glo-ry, and I will ssssss-suf-fer thissssss aw-ful ton-gue no more.” One huge hand slowly moved towards Ruby. “Ssssss-stay sssssss-still.”

Ruby held herself rigid, calcifying her resolve with the knowledge that this creature was compelled not to kill her. The claws reached her face, went down, and traced the skin of her throat. They were sharper than something so large should be, opening more than one shallow nick that had Ruby hissing, but true panic set in when they pinched around her trachea. With barely a twitch, with a sneeze, this dragon could sever her windpipe. 

The claws pinched up and down, feeling the area until they stopped at her larynx. “There it isssssss-suh.”

A piercing chill lanced through Ruby’s throat, freezing her insides, the frost traveling down her spine, then back up her tailbone and up to her brain, wracking her with the worst brain-freeze she had ever experienced. She couldn't stop herself from rocking back, whining. “Ow! You—”

Ruby stiffened, her hands stilling on her temples, her pain fading into glorious epiphany.

“You! You, you, you!” she cheered, feeling her tongue and her mouth and her teeth, rejoicing as her throat dipped and bobbed in ways it never had. She wasn't speaking the language she'd been born with, but it felt like she'd been speaking this way her whole life— with clicks of her tongue and her teeth, with hisses and groans, with throaty enunciations that rumbled her bones— dragon-tongue! She was speaking dragon-tongue!

“How have you done this!” she asked stupidly. “Magic, obviously, but none I've ever seen! None I've ever even read, and I'm pretty well-read for a scribe of snakes and drakes!”

The dragon’s six eyes became smug crescents. “I’m three thousand years old, Ruby. What the stones have forgotten, I remember.”

Ruby snorted. “Well, stones can be older than that.”

“Sure, but they have terrible memories.”

“Was that a joke?”

The dragon hummed, which was a sound that Ruby now heard in tones she'd never heard before, extracting more meaning from the simple vocalization. Amusement, obviously, but also… pleasure. Satisfaction— no, relief. Almost a… a wholeness. A bitter memory of the solemn, silent dark. How could a single sound communicate such a myriad? 

She had so much to learn.

--

The dragon's name was Weiss. It had been stubborn in providing that much for a fair few hours before Ruby had whittled down its resolve— it said she wouldn't comprehend its name, that her brain was too molded to human-speak to form the syllables, but she proved it embarrassingly wrong when she laughed, repeating it with ease in either language. 

Weiss had been keeping her in the cavernous chamber with the rest of its hoard. The room was a giant sanctum of towering walls, each one carved with deep trenches and brimming with tomes, scrolls, and loose parchment. The walls were taller than Ruby could ever hope to reach— she'd exhaust herself trying to climb them— unless Weiss opted to give her a ride. The dragon hadn't reacted too keenly to that notion.

The dragon was polite enough to leave motes of light hanging along the walls and ceiling, leaving lit the modest pile of standard dragon-treasure at the room’s far end. Silver and platinum in coins, bars, goblets, and most other forms of such riches. It wasn't the towering pile of gold that Ruby had read and seen depicted in legends, but it was just large enough to be stacked taller than she was. Ruby looked around.

“Weiss!” she called, her voice echoing across the sanctum’s clawed stone walls. “Weiss, come here! I need something!”

“You do not need to yell,” Weiss responded, its voice somewhere deep in the lair. “What could you possibly need?”

“For you to come here!” Ruby demanded, stomping her foot.

“You are my thing, Roseling. Make no demands of me.”

“I am demanding you to get over here whether you like it or not!”

There was a palpable pause. Weiss’ slender head rounded into the sanctum shortly thereafter. The dragon stared, its six eyes gleaming under the magical lights. It said nothing.

Ruby marched to it sternly and turned up her nose. As much as she could, at least, which had very little effect because she had to crane her neck up at Weiss anyways. “I'm a human, Weiss,” she claimed. “I have needs.”

Weiss blinked two of its eyes and let out a suffersome sigh. “You have food.”

“No, I don't.”

Weiss pointed to the back of the room, towards the hoard of precious metal. “Yes, you do.”

Ruby followed its claw, then turned back to Weiss, stupefied. “I— wha— you eat silver?”

“Silver is food, yes,” the dragon replied obviously. “What, your first feeding? Mortals…”

“I can't eat silver!”

Weiss reeled genuinely. “You… yes you can,” it claimed. “Who doesn't?”

Ruby raised her arms in a broad gesture. “Everyone! Nobody eats metal! We eat things like meat and vegetables! Dragons actually  eat their hoard?”

Weiss blinked again, this time with the four eyes it hadn't blinked before. “What? I cannot eat knowledge.”

“The coins aren't part of your hoard?”

Weiss shook its head. “Why would they be? Your petty human riches mean nothing to me. True wealth is knowing.”

Ruby gave the dragon an impressed frown, and added that to the list of things she needed to take note of. “I can agree with that. Why’re the riches in here, then?”

Weiss shook her head like a wet-but-lazy dog, which Ruby understood as something shrug-adjacent. “I like to have a snack while I read.”

A smile shot over Ruby’s lips. “Oh, me too! Can't feed the brain without feeding the body!”

The dragon nodded at her sage wisdom, but seemed to catch itself halfway through agreeing with a mortal. “Hmph. Well, how can we get you food?”

“You can't just…” Ruby wiggled her hands in the air. “Magick some up?”

The dragon rolled all six of its eyes, which was apparently a universal gesture. “No, Roseling. I cannot just ‘magick up’ something nutritious from nothing, unless you would find meat-shaped rocks palatable.” It let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Oh well, I suppose you'll starve, then.”

 Weiss started to turn, but Ruby sprinted to grab at its swaying tail on the way out, hoping to stop the dragon. That didn't work, and only ended with Ruby flailing around on the end of that long, articulate limb, screaming herself senseless while Weiss dutifully ignored her.

“Weiss!” she cried. “Weiss, feed me! Please! You're compelled not to kill me, I'll die if I don't eat!”

“Not killing you and letting you die are two very different things, Roseling.”

“Stop calling me that! Also, feed me!”

“No.”

“Please!”

The dragon stopped, nearly throwing Ruby from its tail as its momentum was arrested. Its long neck craned around, showing a hungry grin as it brought its head to Ruby. “What was that?”

The scholar gulped. “Feed me.”

The dragon stared expectantly, its incandescent eyes wide.

“Please.”

Weiss’ lips rose smugly, its tongue lashing the backs of its teeth like it was about to verbally flay and/or devour Ruby Rose, but it set the scholar down without doing either. “Good,” it rumbled. “You're humbled, as you should be. For your humility, I will hear out whatever proposal you have for getting you fed, however stupid it will be. You appreciate my magnanimity, I'm sure.”

Ruby scowled. “I can't hunt.”

“Surely not.”

“Does anything grow here?”

The dragon shifted its jaw in thought. “Mushrooms and lichen, sometimes— if I haven't scoured it in a long while. The books would moulder if not for the stasis enchantment I placed on that room.”

“Stasis?”

“Anti-decay. Perpetuation,” Weiss explained casually, as if it weren't making Ruby's mind explode. “That sort of thing.”

“You can stop things from rotting?” Ruby asked excitedly. “That's incredible! Weiss, that kind of magic could change the world, that could save villages, cities, nations!”

Weiss shook its head dismissively again. “Of course it could. I made it, after all.”

“You crafted the spell?” Ruby squeaked. “That's— that's incredible! You're incredible! Weiss, that is insane!”

The dragon bared its teeth in smug amusement. “I am incredible. You can finally see that.”

“I— I've been seeing that this whole time! You're a dragon!”

Weiss chortled. “Are you not hungry anymore?”

Ruby froze. “I— of course I am! Take me to town! Please.”

The dragon leaned closer and took a deep breath, sucking enough air into its nostrils to pull at Ruby's robes. “To town? You want me to take you to town?” The dragon let out an avalanche of laughter. “Sure, Roseling. I will fly you there on my back. We’ll be greeted with open arms, certainly.”

“Obviously not,” Ruby complained with a snort, as if she were in on the dragon’s joke and about to add to it. “Just teleport us there and turn into a human.”

Weiss laughed again, uproariously, loud enough to shake the walls and make Ruby cover her ears. “Aha! Hahaha! You, my Roseling, are the third funniest thing in my entire hoard.”

Ruby blushed at being addressed like that, for some indiscernible reason. “Third?”

“Behind the last good human joke-book and the personal diary of Salem Luminarius.”

Ruby laughed. “What would be so funny about a lich’s diary?”

“Her glyphwork. Her runes are scrawled like a blind child did them, they're hilariously awful. They'd barely hold a charge of anything— that's why her phylactery died a couple centuries ago. It just leaked her entire soul into the aether!” Weiss giggled in a way unbecoming of itself. “Embarrassing!”

Weiss was actually taken fully by that wave of mirth, closing all of its eyes tight as it laughed and laughed. When they opened again, they found Ruby, sickly pale and looking very close to vomiting. 

Ruby’s pink lips flapped. “You… you actually… you have her phylactery?”

Weiss nodded. “And her journal.”

“You… how…”

Weiss opened its mouth.

“N-no!’ Ruby denied, deflating with a look of distant horror. “No. I don't want to know. Just teleport us to town.”

“That is not funny the second time.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” the dragon stated. “If you are insistent on telling jokes, refer to my joke-book first. It is the funniest thing your people will ever produce.”

Ruby, surprising herself, was not at all shocked to hear the joke-book was apparently real, too. “I'm not joking. Weiss, you can teleport, right?”

Weiss threw its head aside petulantly. “I certainly could, if it were possible. I am too large for a teleportation circle.”

Ruby blinked hard, reeling, her head shaking with confusion. “T— teleportation circle?” She barked a laugh. “What is this, the Age of Fae? Nobody uses a circle anymore. Do you really not—”

Weiss suddenly threw its head forwards, flinging Ruby back to the ground with a huff. “Have respect for your owner, Roseling. Of course I know what you're talking about, I just… am cursed not to travel that way.”

Ankle still smarting, Ruby winced and got back to her feet. “Curses can't bind you like that.”

The dragon huffed. “This one does.”

“I can show you, you know.”

Weiss’ whole, massive head snapped towards Ruby like a cracking whip, displacing enough air to blow her charcoal robes back. “You will.”

Ruby felt her chest heave towards the dragon, her thoughts lurching in tandem, her whole being desperate to follow Weiss’ compulsion. With tangible effort and a burning pain in her chest, Ruby bit down on that feeling. “Not unless you promise to come with,” she defied through gritted teeth. “In human form.”

“I don't have a human form,” Weiss hissed.

Ruby seethed, resisting herself. “Then figure it out!”

Weiss growled. It snarled, and it was an awful sound, one that awoke goose-pimples along Ruby’s skin and had her shivering instinctively, but she held her ground. Weiss kept snarling, closing the distance, opening her maw to break the unruly scholar with fear. 

Ruby remained resolute.

Weiss, physically unable to kill the human, huffed. “Fine. I don't care. Show me the magic.”

Ruby's silver eyes glimmered with resolve. “Change first, that way I can trust you.”

Surprising Ruby, the massive dragon flinched before her. “You… do not trust me?”

It sounded genuinely hurt, which made Ruby cock her head. “No? Why would I? I don't know you that well. You're an incredible thing, yes, but humans don't really trust like that.”

Weiss flinched again. “I am not a thing. I am a dragon. We do not have such… human predilections towards trickery.”

“And what about the thing about teleportation, huh?” Ruby probed. “You lied about your ability, you have no idea how to do it.”

The dragon squirmed. “I… did not lie, I… I was confident in… in…” A word bubbled in its throat, an ugly one, one which looked like it physically hurt on the way out. “My ignorance.”

Ruby watched the dragon slump with defeat. Her own heart fell, and she was pretty sure that was on her own accord, not some emotional compulsion for sympathy. She limped to the dragon and laid a hand on its heel. The scales were cool to the touch. “Uh… sorry, Weiss. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I am a dragon! A petty human like you could never hurt my feelings!” Weiss whined, its pitch and wavering tone displaying obvious hurt, self-pity, and shame. “Be silent!”

“I didn't—”

“Silence!”

Ruby went silent. She kept her hand on the dragon. It was either too big to feel her or it didn't care.

When Weiss spoke up again, its voice was hoarse with defeat. “I… give me a moment. And stay still, Roseling. I need an impression of your form if I'm to construct my own.”

Ruby remained silent, and did not move. She kept her hand where it was until the dragon moved, turning wholly around to lie back down in front of her. Weiss’ head bent low, all six eyes affixed to her scholar.

“I… own you, human,” it said unsurely, as if trying to convince itself rather than Ruby. The scholar bowed politely, pitying the dragon.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“Don't speak.”

“Of course.”

Weiss growled.

Ruby giggled. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

The dragon harrumphed, and waited for its scholar’s giggles to properly subside before it moved. It dragged its great front claws towards her, both hands cupping into a halo around Ruby’s body. All six eyes glowed blue, flashed white, then closed. A warbling blueness overcame the scholar. Her body rang like a tuning fork.

“An impressive lineage, Roseling,” the dragon mused lowly, its eyes still closed. “Yet your own aptitude is… middling, at best.”

Ruby shifted, laughing awkwardly. “Uh… y-yeah, uh…”

“Be silent.”

Ruby buttoned her lips. 

The dragon’s lids twitched, and Ruby’s chest became a void. “Oh. I see.”

The claws separated, freeing Ruby from their encirclement. Weiss’ eyes opened, glaring down at the human, spears of gleaming ice that hooked into her ribs.

“And when exactly did you plan on telling me that you had that… thing in your chest?”

Weiss’ words were slow and careful, but edged to the point of danger. Ruby winced. 

“Did you think you could sneak into my lair and snip a piece from my claw? Did you hope to make a wish on it? Did you think you could siphon my blood without me noticing, that you could concoct some cure?”

“No!” Ruby answered frantically, splaying her hands out wide. “I never believed any of that stuff, I just…”

Ruby's arms sagged to her sides. Weiss watched, waited, its six eyes unblinking.

“I've always loved dragons. I've heard so much— everyone said they were extinct— but I knew I could find one. You. All the signs were there, but nobody knew to look for them, nobody could remember your… intelligence. All the legends were just ‘big, scary lizard, breathes fire, eats people—’”

“Eugh, as if I’d eat one of you—”

“But I knew!” Ruby declared, suddenly loud, thumping her chest and wincing every time. Her mouth stayed open for something louder, something definitive, but it died in her throat, and it's weight dragged her down with it. “Nobody really believed me. Nobody cared about my study. I've got…” she laughed mirthlessly, cruelly. “I've got two books just on… geckos. It's useless. It's embarrassing.”

Weiss opened its mouth, but Ruby raised her hand to interrupt. Surprisingly, it obliged.

“But I knew. I just wanted to see if I was right, before I…” Ruby rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, then scratched at her chest. “I don't have much time left. I can feel it.”

Weiss rumbled low. Doleful. Angry. Possessive. “Show me the construct.”

Ruby flushed red and backed away in a panic, hands clutching her robes tightly over her chest. “I— I can't do that! That's—”

The dragon huffed. “Show me before I compel you to show me.”

Ruby stuck up her chin, defiant. “I resisted it once.”

“You will not manage again.”

The scholar stared those six eyes down, summoning all her human courage to stand tall against the beast. She willed herself to resist. She willed herself to be strong.

Weiss gave her a slow, unimpressed blink, and compelled her scholar.

Ruby undid the pins of her robes and folded open the front, scowling as she bent obediently to the dragon's will. Her blush traveled down her collar, splotching red over her neck, then visibly over her chest as she exposed the construct.

Ruby Rose's heart was in a tube of brass. Ruby Rose’s heart was a golem core, a multicolored gemstone buzzing and whirring with silvery wisps of arcane energy. Ruby Rose's heart was covered in cracks. 

Crimson energy seeped from every rift in the core, brightly illuminating each split in the gemstone. Ruby turned away, unable to cover herself again. Weiss craned closer.

“Blood of Oum,” the dragon cursed, it's eyes fixed solely on the construct. “You made this?”

Ruby grit her teeth. “We're not as predisposed to trickery as you think.”

“Evidently. And how much of your heart remained by the time you finished the work?”

The scholar grimaced so hard she feared her cheeks would rip. “Half.”

Weiss stared for a moment longer before dropping the compulsion. Ruby immediately pinned her robes back in place, her face the color of her namesake. “On your deathbed— no, halfway in your grave.”

“Stop talking about it.”

“Stop talking about it?” the dragon parroted, aghast. “How could I ever! Ruby, you are a font! You are a singular talent! This thing you've done— and with the noose of the heavens already around your neck— it is incomparable! I would trade you for half— more than half of my hoard! And now—”

“I'm already in your hoard, Weiss.”

The dragon jolted back and shook its head, blinking hard. Its eyes narrowed. Its nostrils twitched. 

Ruby watched as Weiss brought its claws up again, blue-white energy snapping between each one for only a moment before they clapped together, creating a blinding, deafening flash that sent the scholar to the floor. She belatedly threw a hand over her face and scrubbed at her eyes, blinking the colorful spots from her sight. Her ears rang.

Ruby’s vision cleared after a moment. Weiss was before her. A human, skinny and short, with skin the same shining, pearly whiteness as the waist-length hair. Weiss’ eyes were still blue on black sclera, now with two major eyes and two pairs of tiny ones clustered at the outside corners of their larger twins. She was also naked. She was also a ‘she’.

Ruby, coming from such an emotional lowpoint to this, floundered. “You're a girl!”

Weiss looked down at herself, her slender hands feeling up her own sides. “I thought I was a human.”

“A female human!” Ruby shrieked, hiding her eyes behind her hands, then spreading her finger so she could look anyways. “A girl!”

“Is that what this is?” Weiss started feeling at her own face, pulling her ears, tweaking her nose, tugging her lips. “Why are you humans so… flappy.”

“You have six eyes!”

Weiss blinked at her obviously.

“Still!”

“Of course I do,” she stated, her human voice high and pitchy— noble, some would probably say. “These aren't natural, you know. I added them, and they're not as malleable as the rest of me.”

“But— but you're a girl!”

The human that was now Weiss pointed accusingly at her scholar. “Don't act so perturbed, I got it from you!” In a very human gesture, she crossed her arms and turned away, chin held imperiously high. “And I happen to like it.”

“Well, you need clothes!” Ruby whined. “Cover yourself, it's rude!”

“Why would I cover this?” Weiss asked, gesturing over herself confidently. “I am a perfect specimen of humanity. Your people will be delighted to see me.”

Ruby, unfortunately, agreed with that notion. That people would like to see her, that is. Creepy people. Not Ruby. She did not like seeing Weiss, which was why she had her hand over her face. She was only peeping through her fingers to make sure nothing was wrong. “Some will, then they'll throw you out for indecency! Or arrest you! Then execute you!”

Weiss snorted. “I'd like to see them try.”

“Just put on some damn clothes! Please!”

The now-human dragon waved her off. “Fine, fine,” she muttered, her hands flashing together again, much less blindingly this time. “Better?”

Ruby observed the human Weiss before her, taking in the outfit. She wore almost an exact copy of Ruby's robes— pinned close to the torso, but loose around the arms and waist— only her collar was pinned scandalously open, exposing the milky skin of her neckline and the shading of her pronounced collarbone. In addition, the whole thing seemed to be made of silk rather than Ruby's linen, which baffled the scholar. “Where'd you get that?”

“I made it,” Weiss answered casually. “Vellum and parchment transmute easily to silk. From there I just made what you have, only better.”

Ruby sniffed at ‘better’, but said nothing to oppose it. “Well… it’s good. Cover your chest, though.”

Weiss puffed her chest out in petulant riposte, which made Ruby turn away. “I will not, what I have is plenty.” She approached the scholar aggressively, stomping hard with her shoulders set in a way that didn’t match the easy expression on her face— consequences of going from dragon to human, Ruby supposed. “Now show me your teleportation.”

--

Showing Weiss the trick to teleportation without a circle mostly consisted of Ruby explaining, then having the experience of watching Weiss’ face cascade into a series of ‘it was so obvious, how did you idiots find that out’ expressions. It was very fun to watch until Ruby realized she was openly staring at Weiss’ face.

Thankfully, the dragon in human skin hadn’t noticed (or hadn’t cared), and teleported them both before Ruby even finished her explanation, dropping the both of them in the central square of the closest city: Vale.

Bustling crowds stopped, looked at them for half a second, then went about their day.

“W-Weiss!” Ruby panicked, grabbing the other girl and hiding her face with her robe’s sleeve. “Hide your eyes, people will freak out!”

Weiss smirked up at her. “Oh please,” she said in Ruby’s mother-tongue. “My magical eyes wouldn’t be nearly as strange as you openly speaking Draconic.” She frowned at herself. “Ugh, Dra-co-nic? That’s really what you people call it? So unimaginative.”

Ruby had to consciously search for her own language, speaking like a dragon just felt so natural now, as if she’d been speaking it for years. “Shut up,” she managed, emboldened by the fact Weiss was no longer several storeys taller than her. “People will notice.”

Weiss pushed the scholar’s arm down and motioned to the people around them, none of whom even turned. “Nobody cares, Ruby. And if they do, what I have isn’t any stranger than what you have.”

That was delivered with a bitterness that made Ruby recoil— not directed at her, but somewhere close enough that it still hurt. Nonetheless, she protested, “Well I don’t go around flaunting my chest, unlike some people!”

“Nobody is looking! Nobody cares!” Weiss darted to the nearest stall— a fruit stand— and leaned over the display to jeer at the man inside. “Hello! Hello, human! Look at my chest! My flesh is bared in this specific region! ARE YOU TANTALIZED?” 

Ruby yanked her away by the collar of her robes, dragging her fully out of the square while Weiss held a smug, satisfied grin. Ruby, on the other hand, was burning crimson. “Weiss! Act normal! I’m human, I’ve been living as one my whole life, so please have some tact and listen!”

Weiss opened her mouth, but clapped it shut at the authority the scholar wielded through her raised brows. When it was clear she would defer to her, Ruby sighed in relief.

“Thank you. Now, all we have to do is grab some food and some other essentials you can’t transmute— I would assume you can turn the trees surrounding your lair into wooden furniture, right?”

Weiss cocked her head. Ruby pointed to a nearby bench.

“Furniture. Chairs, beds, things like that. For my accommodations.”

“Accommodations? Who said I was accommodating you? You’re my property.”

Ruby rolled her lambent grey eyes. “Because you’re nice and a magnanimous master of your hoard,” she said, deadpan and blatantly sarcastic. “And because I’m dying. Let my last slumber be on a bed.”

Weiss’ whole body went rigid, her eyes locking to Ruby’s. She visibly bit the insides of her cheeks. “Right,” she mumbled through her teeth. “We will get you some food.”

The scholar nodded. With a plan made, Weiss reluctantly followed Ruby along the disorganized streets of Vale, scowling with disgust but nonetheless paying rapt attention whenever they passed someone in the middle of a human bodily function. At one point, Weiss had the opportunity to witness a back-alley robbery, but Ruby stopped her by wrapping their hands together to keep pulling her along.

Weiss stared at the hand in hers, and was shocked by how warm it was. It made her realize how cold she was. She could feel her own temperature wherever Ruby touched. The red-hot fingers were like a light in the dark, shone directly into the eyes of someone who’d never seen light before, blinding, but impossible to turn away from. Without scales, she could feel them in a way she’d never felt anything before— softly. Skin-on-skin, hot against cold. Curious, Weiss clasped her own fingers around Ruby’s, squeezing them tightly. There was a little give before she could feel the bone structure. The flesh was warm. The palms were soft in some places, rough in others, which Weiss felt at by rubbing her thumb between their interlocked hands.

Ruby stopped after a while. Weiss noted the rush of red beneath her face. The scholar slipped her hand out of Weiss’ with a conflicted look that was unrecognizable. She had found a cart with an oven on it, and spoke to the fellow manning it. When she turned back to Weiss and spoke, the once-dragon jumped.

“S-sorry, what?” Weiss said, shaking her head hard at her own apology. “I mean, what do you want?”

That strange look passed over Ruby’s face again, this time with an edge of something that Weiss assumed to be guilt. “I, uh, don’t have money,” the scholar admitted.

Weiss raised her hands uncomprehendingly. “Okay?”

Ruby led her with a nod of her head. “You don’t have any?”

“Did you see me conjure any with this robe?” Weiss mocked, wiggling her large, drooping sleeve. “No? Well, there’s your answer. Dolt.”

Ruby’s voice became hot and hushed. “I already ordered, we have to pay somehow!”

“We? The food is yours! It’s your responsibility!”

“And I’m your property, so the real responsibility lies on you!”

Weiss growled. “I. Don’t. Have. Any!”

“Summon some!”

“That’s not how anything works!”

“Figure something—”

“Pies’re done!” the oven-cart man announced, pulling a pair of steaming round things out of the mobile furnace. “Ladies! And if ya don’t mind me askin’, what sort’a strange speak’re you two doin’?”

Weiss and Ruby looked at the man, then at each other, both equally unaware of how their languages had switched. Ruby looked into her eyes and, as seemed to be her wont of late, went red. Weiss felt her own face warm.

With a flick of one dainty wrist, Weiss beamed the food-man right between the eyes with a ice-colored ray of magic. “F-free,” she commanded, stuttering a little for some reason. “They’re free. For us. Thank you. Rubytakethem.”

Ruby, with only a brief look of horror towards the dragon who was now a human, dashed over to the food-man and took the pies. She yelped the moment she scooped them up, but managed to drop them onto a nearby public table before she developed burns. Ruby sighed.

“Sit down,” she told Weiss, nodding to the seat across from her.

Weiss took the seat beside her instead. Ruby gulped and focused on her own steaming food thing. “What is that?” Weiss asked, leaning close to her scholar.

Ruby stiffened again. “Meat pie. Pie crust, pie stuff,” she claimed, motioning to the bread-colored parts of the ‘meat pie’. “The meat’s inside.”

Weiss bent further down to smell Ruby’s pie, doing so in a way that got as much of her body to touch Ruby’s as possible. The girl was warm, and she was cold. “It smells nice.”

Ruby turned away and coughed, pushing her other pie to Weiss. “Eat it,” she said quickly, as if saying it slower would make her stutter.

“Huh? No. That sounds… ew.”

Ruby kept her face turned away, but glared at Weiss with one eye. “You’ll make me spend one of my last meals alone? Here I thought dragons had honor.”

Weiss instantly soured. “Stop saying that.”

“Why?”

Weiss stared down at her meat pie. After a moment of deliberation, she started shoveling chunks of it into her mouth with her hands. Ruby made a noise of horror, but she ignored the scholar. She ate. The food tasted like taste. She’d never tasted before.

She’d also never been a human before. She’d never had a reason to be one, cramming her glorious body into this form would only make her library more difficult to fully access, and she’d have to deal with being a human. She’d have human hands that burned when she shoved them into a meat pie, though it wasn’t the same kind of burn she got from Ruby’s hands. Ruby’s hands burned in a new way. Did the construct make her hotter? Or was it just Weiss?

She’d never had one human heart beating in her chest. Always four, easier to pump blood with, but this singular thing was… odd. More vulnerable. If one of her own hearts got destroyed, she still had three left; that’d give her enough time to reconstruct the fourth.

But having just one was awful. She felt small with it. She felt like someone would come up behind her and stab it, and the three thousand years of Weiss would splatter all over her meat pie. The idea made her chest tight. She ate burning food so she wouldn’t notice. It didn’t help much.

Ruby had zero hearts, and yet her body wasn’t coiled in the way Weiss’ was. Sure, she was throwing herself at the now-human in an attempt to stop her from shoving more meat pie in her face, but she didn’t have an inherent tightness. She seemed free. Loose. Like she’d done the one thing she wanted, which, Weiss realized, was probably accurate. Meeting her. She’d only wanted to catch a glimpse to die happy, and she was dying. Weiss had seen that much with her own eyes, with her own magic. Sure, she didn’t seem bad now, but such was the nature of golem cores. Ruby Rose would operate as-normal until the moment it ran out, then she would die all at once. The girl who had built a heart, outpacing her own dying one, would lose to that beating death-knell in the end. Weiss would have her books, but the world would forget Ruby’s knowledge. 

The one heart was doing something to Weiss. Something bad. It beat its tha-thump, tha-thump tempo one note at a time, which made it all the more strange when Ruby’s warmth sped it up. The one thing in her chest twisted. It wrenched. It was afraid. It was angry.

Like anything else in her hoard, Ruby was hers. Nothing would take that away. Not if Weiss could help it.

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Chrysoprase

The Stone of Venus

Requested by @acovenoftwo

Chemical Formula:  SiO2

Color: Apple green, lemon

Rarity: Easy to obtain as a tumble stone, finer quality is expensive

Hardiness: 7

Type: Chalcedony

Chakra Association: Heart and Solar Plexus

Deities: Venus

Birthstone: May

Astrological Signs: Gemini, Taurus

Element: Water

Planet: Mercury

Origin: Formerly Poland, Now Australia, Brazil, Madagascar, Russia, Tanzania, USA

Powers: Encouraging development, Compassion, Tolerance, Growth, Forgiveness, Connection to Nature

Crystals It Works Well With: Mountain “jade”, Tourmaline, Smokey Quartz

How It is Created: Chrysoprase is a type of chalcedony quartz with a microcrystalline structure. Its color comes from nickel deposits, and it can be found in pale shades through to brighter green. Raw pieces have a granular appearance, similar to pieces of coconut, and a waxy sheen when polished.

History: Chrysoprase, called Stone of Venus because in antiquity it represented the goddess of divine love, the famous Venus, is a magnificent apple-green nickeliferous chalcedony belonging to the family of microcrystalline quartz. The ancient Egyptians also used chrysoprase for practical purposes such as sealing letters, but they would also wear pendants, amulets and other jewelry made of chrysoprase. For hundreds of years, the only major source of chrysoprase was a region of southwestern Poland between the Czech Republic and Germany, formerly known as Lower Silesia. This area has a complex geology and is extremely rich in all kinds of mineral deposits, including gold, silver, serpentine, quartz, marble, granite, alabaster—and chrysoprase. Stone artifacts from as far back as the Iron Age show the long history of Silesian carving and masonry. In the eighteenth century, Frederick II, King of Prussia (now part of Germany), conquered Lower Silesia. In particular, he wanted its deposits of green chrysoprase, which he used to decorate the halls of his favorite palace at Potsdam near Berlin.

What It Can Do:

Known as the healer of the heart space and helps connect you with infinite supply of compassion and love

Supports cardiac health and provides a centered peace

Helps people suffering from melancholy and manifests optimism and joy

Can be placed by homegrown herbs and vegetables to boost production

Perfect to artist as it increases creativity and talent

Encourages fidelity, forgiveness, compassion, and nonjudgmental thinking in relationships, while banishing greed and selfishness

Helps with inducing deep meditative states and promotes the love of truth

Calming and nonegotistical, creating openness in new situations

Stimulates fluent speech and mental dexterity, preventing you from speaking out unthinkingly in anger

Lifts oppressive and recurrent images, preventing nightmares, especially in children

Is said to detoxify heavy metals in one’s body and stimulate liver function

Is said to enhance fertility, reverse effects of infertility that are caused by infection and guard against STIs

Increases the absorption of Vitamin C

How to Get the Best Out Of: Wear as a necklace, bracelet, earrings or even use it in an elixir. Carrying chrysoprase for long periods attunes to the devic realm, a band of frequency found present on Earth which can connect you to nature and the planet directly

How to Cleanse and Charge: Can be cleansed briefly under running water then recharged overnight among a host of rock crystals for a few weeks. Cleanse during a rain shower for optimized cleansing,

Crystal Grid:

Healing for Children (Nightmares)

Shape: Fruit of Life

• 6 “issue” or calming stones

• 4 grounding crystals

• 2 light-bringing crystals

1. Hold your crystals in your hands and state your intention for the grid.

2. Lay the central keystone to represent your child.

3. Lay six crystals around the keystone to assist with the challenge or issue. (These crystalscan either represent a single issue, or different ones—whichever feels best to you. However,it may be more effective to address separate issues by laying individual grids.)

4. Lay four grounding crystals to anchor the grid at each corner of the “square.”

5. Lay a light-bringing crystal at the top and bottom.

6. Leave in place until the issue or issues have been resolved, remembering to cleanse thegrid regularly.

Crystals to use: Chrysoprase, Amethyst, Prehnite, Bloodstone

Sources

[fivenightslaughter]

Wicked Serpentine (Part 8)

pairing: draco malfoy x femravenclaw!oc (some like george weasley x femravenclaw!oc too)

summary: slowburn enemies to lovers fic, a TON of parts. (continued after ... 3 years..) i'm back lol)

warnings: blood purism, bullying, swearing, descriptive physical danger, violence. Awful Draco

taglist: @gloryekaterina

taglist: let me know if you’re interested in being added!

Roughly a month had gone by, my last real interaction with Malfoy being my first school day in the Great Hall.

Snape had reassigned partners and tables after only the first day, likely due to Harry and Ron’s noise from the first class. I was paired with Hermione, thankfully. She was pleasantly quiet but helpful when she needed to be. My friendship with her had furthered quite a bit, but less so with the boys. I wasn’t actively attempting to befriend Harry after Snape’s hostility.

Flitwick and I hit it off and he quickly became my runner-up favorite teacher, just behind Snape. I frequently stayed behind in his classroom to discuss muggle music and the world as a whole. It was the only part of my day I could get truly lost in.

I’d eventually learned the schedules of Luna and Cho, sitting with them on days they’d be in the dining hall. Rarely was my attention drawn to the blond across the hall on the days he was there, either. He’d been looking rather sick, lately.

Not that I actively tried to look at him.

It just struck me whenever I’d happen to catch his silvery strands in my peripheral. His face looked sunken, his cheeks hollow. Instead of marble, he looked almost grey. It made my heart hurt a little. How could someone look so ghostly, as if he was always floating? It reminded me of a dried volcano, stiff and cold.

His head bobbed up, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since I’d walked off from him a month ago.

“Eris?” A voice snapped me back to the present. It was Hermione. She had said something that I didn’t catch at all.

I looked at her, my mouth slightly parted. Dumbly, I replied, “Huh?”

She gave me a small laugh and stabbed at her food, cocking her head to the side exasperatedly.

“I said, Snape is assigning new partners, something about people falling behind already. I’ll miss the quiet of sitting next to you. Seriously, I will.” She let her shoulders droop sadly, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes.

I heard her teeth slide on the fork as she ate, mildly sullen. I felt bad. I hadn’t even known we were switching partners, I must have been too caught up during potions to hear Snape mention the change.

“Hey, we’ll still eat together. Maybe I’ll kick Ron out of his seat every once in a while.” I joked. Her mood seemed to perk back up a bit at that, nodding.

“That’d be perfect, wouldn’t it, Ron?” She nudged him jokingly.

He whipped his neck to face her, food falling out of his mouth. He was too busy talking to Harry to notice our conversation, so he looked absolutely lost.

“Wha…?” Food tumbled from his mouth. I groaned and Hermione bit her lip in a laugh. The way she looked at him was cute, a twinkle in her eyes lighting as if everything he did was enchanting.

“Nothing, Ronald. Just… Chew your bloody food!” She choked out, noticing the knowing smile I was giving her halfway through her sentence.

He scrunched his nose up, confused and annoyed. He finished, crumbs still dusting his lips.

“Whatever, ‘Mione.” He dismissed, turning back to Harry. They were discussing something Quidditch related.

She exhaled through her nose, rolling her eyes. I watched as she packed her sprawled books and papers into her bag, deep in her thoughts.

Her eyes lit up for a moment and she immediately looked back at me.

“Oh! I almost forgot. We all have lessons but you’re free after this, right? Snape said he’d post a parchment outside his room with the partners. You should check it out.” She beamed.

I paused in thought for a second. Should I go check? I shrugged.

“Yeah, sure. I will.” I saw no harm in making my way to the classroom. I’d gotten a much better hang of the hallways to my classes and the library. The dungeons and the Room of Requirement remained untraveled for now, the map buried in the bottom of my bag. I’d taken it out to mark it up whenever I discovered a new direction or an alternate way to a class.

It was incredibly helpful and I was glad I befriended Hermione. Maybe I could go check out partners and find her later to let her know who she got. I’m sure she’d appreciate knowing beforehand what she was in for.

Satisfied, she dropped her last book in her bag and stood.

“Right, well I’ll see you!” She waved farewell, already taking off from the table. Ron and Harry were still engrossed in their conversation about Quidditch. I tuned in, a name immediately catching my ear.

“Of course we’ll win, Harry. Malfoy’s played like shit lately. Serves him right, bloody bastard.” Ron bragged. Harry nodded in response, noticing my sudden interest in the conversation.

“Eris, you haven’t been to a Quidditch game yet, have you?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Ah, no I haven’t.” I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t have an intense interest in sports in the muggle world and wasn’t sure how much more exciting they could be in the wizarding world, so it hadn’t piqued my interest.

Harry’s head leaned against his hand and he seemed to nod slowly for a second before smacking his hands on the table.

“Come to the game today. I’ll ask Hermione to save you a seat.” He mused decidedly. Ron shrugged, agreeing.

“Okay, sure. I’ll come then.” I confirmed.

Glad at my response, he turned his attention back to Ron.

“Ready to go?” He asked him.

They got up and left for their next lesson, which I’m pretty sure was a history class I’d often heard them complain about. I still sat, popping a final piece of food into my mouth. I planned out my route in my head. First to Snape’s, then to the library to study intensively.

It felt like a solid enough plan.

I stood and left the hall, making sure I didn’t leave anything at the table. I made my way to Snape’s classroom. It was a different way than when I’d originally followed Malfoy and I was grateful I didn’t have to relive my cowardice every time I went to Potions in the mornings.

The clock tower chimed while I was walking and people pushed by me as I made my way down the hallways. Some people stood idly and hung out with one another, sitting in window sills or quickly scurrying somewhere.

I watched a class fill into Snape’s classroom and I walked up to the doorway. A small plaque with a scroll of parchment hung on the wall.

“FIRST PERIOD PARTNERS

HERMIONE GRANGER - NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

HARRY POTTER - SEAMUS FINNIGAN

RONALD WEASLEY - PADMA PATIL

ERIS WOODWORK - DRACO MALFOY “

There was more, but my heart stuck in my throat. This couldn’t be real. I reread it several times, finally making my way to the bottom.

There was a tiny footnote stating partner changes were not permitted and must remain as written on the parchment. I felt myself shrink. Maybe Snape didn’t know how bad Malfoy would treat me?

I shook my head at the thought. It was quite obvious how poorly he treated everyone. Just because my interactions with him have been few and far between doesn’t mean he didn’t endlessly snip at other people.

In fact, the only times I ever heard his voice was when he was chastising Harry or Hermione, or making a comment about how Ron lives in squalor. It was unpleasant but at the very least I could be glad it wasn’t directed towards me.

I dreaded this partnership, but at least now I’d read the list like I said I would. Later, I’d be able to tell Hermione and the boys who they’d been partnered with.

I took off to the library, my mind spinning. I accidentally bumped into someone in the hallway and his hands shot out to steady my shoulders before I could fall to the ground. I recognized him as Malfoy’s original partner in Potions.

He eyed me up and down, removing his hands once I was steady. I vaguely recalled Ron calling him Zabini.

“Be careful. Never know who you’ll run into in these halls. You’re lucky it was me.” He spoke smugly, clearly a bit vain.

I raised an eyebrow at him, nodding.

“Yeah, I’ll be more careful.” I replied. I started to walk off when he spoke, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Fuckin’ better be.” Was all he said as he continued to walk as well.

It unsettled me in the weird way that Slytherins were good at. A switch seemed glued to their emotions, fully able to flip at any time. It was startling. A chill eased down my spine and I hurried toward the library, no longer taking my time as I had before.

Finally arriving a bit breathless, I entered the space that had become most familiar to me over the last month. Giving a nod in Madam Pince’s direction, she gave me a puckered and stiff smile.

She was an intolerable vulture that only cared for her books, but I’d come to be in her relatively good graces. With my quiet presence and care for the texts, I was often the only one in the library with her. In her own way, I think she kind of liked me there.

Tucking into my usual space behind a few large bookshelves, I pulled a lesson book out of my school bag, along with a parchment and quill. We had just gone over a new spell in Flitwick’s class and I was determined to study it down to every flick of the wand.

A seat pulled out beside me and a book dropped down onto the table just loud enough for me to wince. I glanced over. It was “Libatius Borage’s ADVANCED POTION MAKING” book. I recognized it from my class with Snape.

I watched black robes swish down into the seat beside me, defeated looking. My surprise was immeasurable when I met empty, silvery eyes and messy moonbeam-colored hair. I couldn’t stifle a tiny gasp that slipped from my lips.

“Malfoy…?”

He leaned his head back against the top of the chair, remaining in quiet for what felt like a couple minutes as I dumbfoundedly stared at him. Seeming to find his resolve, he sat up. He leaned forward towards the table and didn’t meet my eyes again.

“Snape reassigned everyone because of me.” He stated. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes travelling up the spines of books in front of the table we were at. It felt wrong hearing a real sentence from him, especially one that wasn’t littered with insults.

“He thinks I’m fucking falling behind.” He was the second Slytherin I’d heard swear today, but his anger didn't quite reach his eyes. I watched a stray strand of hair fall from his slicked back ones, lightly resting on his forehead. He looked hopelessly disheveled the longer I looked at him.

My eyebrows knit together with concern.

“Are you okay, Draco?” I tried to be genuine, my voice soft and low. I barely breathed it and regretted it the second I said it as he flipped to face me. His lips were pressed in a tight line, chapped and pale.

“Don’t you dare call me by my first name, mudblood.” He snapped.

I felt my body tense up and my blood run cold at the tone he used. I desperately fought the water that immediately welled up in my eyes, coaching myself to just breathe carefully. I hoped he couldn’t tell how pathetic he made me feel. I just wanted to move on, now.

I decided that if he didn’t want my help, that he didn’t need it. There was nothing I could do to help him, and talking clearly wouldn’t solve anything. I wasn’t going to give him power over me, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I went on as normal. I focused back on the book for Flitwick’s, pulling my wand from my bag and placing it on the desk. Flitwick had even written a couple notes for me himself, explaining things in a better way the book could.

I had spoken to him about Scourgify, mentioning how Cho had done it and it was something I wanted to learn. He included notes about how to perform it, but I kept failing without a physical example of how to cast it.

All I had in my head was the memory of Cho, which I’d been too in shock from Malfoy’s prank to fully grasp the technique of. I had been trying to practice on dirty spoons I’d snagged from the Great Hall. I kept one wrapped in a fabric napkin and tucked into my bag, switching the spoon out for a different one each time I went to eat.

Ignoring the blond sitting next to me, I pulled the spoon out and placed it on the table in front of me. I unraveled it and there it was, just a gross spoon.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my wand and reread Flitwick’s notes, as well as the pages in the textbook. Holding a book in one hand and my wand in the other steadily, I focused on the spoon.

“Scourgify.” I half whispered, trying to work with the tiny bit of light that sparked on my wand. I could never get farther than just a tiny emittance from my wand. It had been weeks and I still struggled to get it. It was clear from my frustration that this wasn’t the first time.

I heard a scoff from my side. I realized a set of steely eyes had focused on what I was doing as if I were some kind of entertainment. I ignored him, trying it again. And again.

I had attempted Scourgify on the spoon a good four times before he shot up out of his chair, blatantly annoyed.

“You’re literally doing everything wrong.” He muttered crossly.

I heaved a sigh, dropping my book to the table. I turned to put my wand away in my bag but he stopped me. He stood behind my chair, leaning over my shoulder. Mint and cologne overpowered my senses as he corrected me sourly.

“No, just… Merlin, you have to-” he grabbed my wrist and pointed towards the spoon, swishing my hand in a sort of ‘S’ shape. “Swish it, like this. Say it. Now.” He instructed rudely, guiding my hand to motion correctly. His cold, silver ring made me clench my wand as tightly as the night I’d got it.

“Scourgify.” I spoke boldly, jumping a slight bit as the grime left the spoon in an immediate little spark. I swallowed loudly, a disbelieving laugh bubbling softly through my lips. I turned my face to thank him before my mind could reject the idea.

However, when I turned, he had simply gone. I guess I was a bit glad he had disappeared, otherwise I would have proved his point by thanking him. Stroked his ego, probably.

I turned back to my book, writing down what I had just learned. I felt so excited and accomplished that I’d pushed away how weird that situation really was.

Did he really just grab my wrist like that? Why did he never seem to have a grasp on personal space? I tried to move on, finding the dustiest book I could find to try the spell again.

Much to my disappointment when, just as before, trying the spell only made my wand fizzle slightly.

Disappointed, I slumped down into my seat. I spent the next half hour trying to focus on Potions instead, opting to note things I noticed during class. Such as the physical traits of ingredients I was confused by.

Out of my peripheral, I noticed a light-blond head duck quietly from between some shelves, past me, and out of the library doors.

There was a book on the opposite end of the table that wasn’t there before.

I stood and walked over, picking it up. I flicked through it and much to my surprise, it was a Charms book. It was filled with neatly scribbled notes in the margins, shapes and arrows showing how to cast some simple charms I knew would get covered this year.

Some of the ink was slightly smeared a tiny bit, clearly brand new. Whereas other notes in it were old and the ink slightly faded.

Flipping to the very back cover, I read

‘If lost, return to Draco L. Malfoy’

in the same handwriting as the notes throughout, slightly faded.

What the hell?

A piece of parchment slipped from between some of the pages into my lap.

“You’re dense. Read my notes and maybe you won’t look so ridiculous.” It read.

That made much more sense. I guess I'll just... Study this all, then.

[novankenn]

Tenuous Partnership (5)

"Jaune, look out!" Glynda screamed as she caught the arm of the beowulf attacking her, and ripped it free of it's body. The beast howled in pain as it fell back, block ichor splashing over the trampled grass of the field.

Jaune ducked under a claw swipe, and then jumped into the air, pivoting his body about, while drawing back his bow. The broadhead arrow slammed down, passing straight through the beowulf's armor plated skull and burying itself in the ground below.

As soon as he landed, Jaune jumped again, while knocking another arrow. The whole reason for this little trip Glynda had taken her nephew on was to get him comfortable with the reasonable use of his innate abilities and powers. Yet this pitched fight between them and a massive pack of beowulf was anything but reasonable.

If it wasn't for them having substantially greater physical abilities than the average huntsman or huntress they would have been overrun, by the group of twenty fell creatures. Even so they were just holding their own, mainly because the pair of Alphas was staying back, watching and waiting.

Glynda backhanded one of the beasts with enough force to snap its neck to the side with a loud crack. Even through the chaos she was keeping a watchful eye on her nephew, and she was impressed. Jaune was using his superior agility to stay out of harm's way while utilizing his impressive strength to draw the string of his custom bow to unleash silent death.

Glynda wanted to grab for her own weapon, but there was little time between fights to do so. Which forced her to use her natural weapons to dismantle the attacking grimm. Leaning backwards, basically bending her body in half at the waist, she ducked under a wild swipe. Pressing her hands into the earth, Glynda brought her legs up, driving her feet into the chin of the attacking beast. The blow snapping it's neck like a twig.

"I'm running low!" Jaune shouted as he hopped backwards and onto the trunk of a tree, before launching himself forward and upward out of the reach of his attackers. An broadhead from his rapidly dwindling supply severing the grimm's spine and the base of its neck.

"Then get ready to run!" Glynda shouted as she intercepted another attack, trapped the limb and then used it to throw the unlucky creature with bone breaking force into its fellows.

"To where?"

"Beacon!" Glynda shouted her answer. "The automated defenses will..."

"Auntie look out!" Jaune's shout came almost too late, as did the warning from the living nest of snakes that was her hair.

Glynda grunted as one of the Alphas slammed into her. She was able to get her arm up in time to brace against it's throat, preventing its slavering jaws from closing upon her neck. Her feet dug into the soft soil as the massive beowulf pushed her backwards.

With no other options, Glynda focused her gaze upon the burning red eyes glaring down at her... and screeched. The effect was nearly instantaneous. The grimm was smart enough to understand something was wrong, but it was too late. It took less than five seconds for the once murderous beast to become nothing but an unmoving stone effigy.

Glynda had been lucky that at the first sign of trouble she had removed her specialized contact lenses revealing her own serpentine like eyes. Unluckily however the brand new piece of modern art exploded towards her as the final beowulf, the last Alpha launched its own rage filled assault.

Glynda was sent tumbling along the grass, as it howled and snarled. Using her retractable claws she halted her tumble and then vaulted back to her feet, ready for a follow-up attack... that never came.

"Jaune!" Glynda screamed as she saw her beloved nephew. Her sister's only son, and the only one of the eight children she did have that displayed the obvious signs of the family's monstrous linage. "JAUNE!"

Glynda's heart was slamming in her chest as she dashed forward, as Jaune hung down the last Alpha's back, his arms latched about it's throat. The beast howled in fury and pain as Jaune's golden viper hair, lashed out delivering venom infused bite after bite.

Glynda covered the distance in less than a second and locked her hands around the Alpha's wrists, making its outstretched arms immobile.

Shifting his position of his hands, and the placement of his feet Jaune pulled back on the Alpha's head. It's massive neck bulged in an attempted to resist, but it was futile. As soon as Jaune was clearly able to see directly into the grimm's eyes of blazing hatred he screeched.

"Off!" Glynda shouted, prompting Jaune to leap away as she twisted, pulling the petrifying grimm into the air, only to pull downward and dash it into the ground shattering it into chunks.

"Jaune!, Come here!" Glynda shouted as her nephew panting jogged up to her. As soon as he was with in arm reach her yanked him into a tight embrace. "Don't you EVER do something so foolish again. Do you hear me? Never again!"

"But... I couldn't let it hurt you!" Jaune whimpered in reply as the depth of the entire situation finally crashed down upon him.

==> One <==> Two <==> Three <==> Four <==