#'what do you mean. you pray and spells happen. i pray and spells happen. simple enough.'

[theartisticintrovert]

Commission Me! (Regular | Furry)

so overlord finished, which means new campaign time! it's finally, FINALLY time for my undead cowboy to shine!!! everyone, i'd like to introduce you to silas kelly, a character that started as a joke that i got unreasonably attached to. he's inspired by the song "hell's coming with me" by poor man's poison, and when i introduced the concept to my friends one of them (the dm for this campaign) liked the concept so much that he spawned an entire homebrew world, story, and campaign around him.

i've never been more flattered, honestly. it had to be reworked a teeny bit to be a multiplayer rather than solo campaign, but it worked out! now my amnesiac bastard has friend! just one right now, hopefully that changes.

not pictured: his trusty revolver, aka his main weapon of choice, holstered under his coat. because of course a western-themed campaign has guns who do you take us for. aiden was even nice enough to let me use divine smite (usually a melee-only feat) with it, so long as i agreed to give up one of my oath feats at level 3. not a hard choice at all, considering there's no reason to use abjure enemy when i have a gun.

[narrynukezankielover]

There’s 3 ways to look at the ep The French Mistake. 1. They have mentioned Days Of Our Lives, Gilmore Girls and House Of Wax which means in the Supernatural world the actors Jensen and Jared exist (they may have mentioned other things that they have been in and shows and movies Misha has been in but these are the ones I’m familiar with). So there is the possibility that in their universe there is a show called Supernatural (Sam said not many people watch the show so it could be that they just never heard of the show) based on the books Chuck writes which is why all the details are correct. Which means there is the possibility that the angel (still can’t spell his name right hopefully I’ll learn) put Dean in that Jensens body and Sam into that Jareds body but that would mean a shit load of doppelgängers. In the Supernatural world that wouldn’t be a big shock. 2. They were sent to the actual real world. Again they could have been put into the bodies of the actors if not then where are the real Jensen and Jared? How did they disappear right when Dean and Sam showed up and if they are in their bodies wouldn’t they have their memories? Yet they don’t. Cas didn’t get sent to that world so how is it that Cas is gone off doing whatever yet Misha is there doing the show? Cas was in on the plan so wouldn’t that also mean that Cas knows he is being played by an actor? Plus Dean takes the script out of Mishas hand. Would he think about how it’s not the angels or god telling Chuck what to write it’s done random person writing a script to their lives. 3. They were sent to another universe which is what Misha said in the ep but who knows if it’s the truth. That would explain Misha being an asshole (it was extremely funny) and since our Misha is so sweet that would make sense. Again they could’ve been put into the actors bodies but again they don’t have their memories so if they didn’t get put into their bodies where are the actual actors. This ep was great but it hurt my head to think about this stuff. I probably took a simple fun ep and thought way too much about it. Best part was “the attractive crying guy” even in the show Misha is attractive. At least they know it. He used both his Cas voice and his regular voice in one scene yet Dean or Sam didn’t say anything. I kinda want one of them to ask him what happened to his voice. Sam saying the best part is there’s no angels got a different reaction from Dean.

He looks sad and worried that no angels means no Cas.

“You have me confused with the other angel. The one in the dirty trench coat that is in love with you.” Definitely one of my favourite lines so far. When he called Cas Sams boyfriend he didn’t react just said “Cas can’t help me.” That’s someone who isn’t hiding anything and just didn’t feel the need to correct him yet with Dean he got an eye roll.

That’s a “ya right an angel is in love with me.” After Cas being a fallen angel for Dean, helping to stop the apocalypse, dropping everything in heaven to come help Dean when he prays to him and telling him at least twice that he’s done all this stuff for Dean Dean still either doesn’t realize Cas feelings or because he is still denying his own feelings he chooses to not believe Cas loves him.

There’s a little moment in Frontierland where Rachel tells Dean how he needs to know his place and that basically Deans problems mean nothing compared to what is going on in heaven.

She says she’s Cas friend and you can see when Dean smiles in Deans head he’s thinking I’m more then a friend to Cas. It’s like he knows it but won’t say it. Then Cas appears to defend Dean.

I’m sorry but I don’t remember the name of this ep but I have found my absolute favourite line in the show “Cas get outta my ass.” The fact that it’s not even a sexual scene makes it great but Bobby and Sam obviously know how close Cas and Dean are and probably have figured out that they have feelings for each other since they both know that Cas is more willing to come if Dean prays to him then if either of them do it. Dean saying why does it have to be him and that Cas is busy and don’t live in his ass kinda proves that Dean isn’t admitting stuff to himself. They spend the entire ep bickering like a couple. It was adorable. Then later in the ep when they find out Cas might’ve lied to them about killing Crowley Bobby and Sam seem a bit pissed and confused.

Dean looks worried. It’s like he knows now that Cas is dealing with a lot in heaven and on earth and Dean seems to be worried about how it’s affecting Cas.

[coinandcandle]

I’ve been struggling to do any spell work or anything lately because I’ve been feeling a lack of faith in my own ability, which has made me hesitant to do even the simple spells I’ve done in the past. I’ve wanted to start practicing more spells and even try deity work too but I keep feeling my conviction isn’t strong enough and that my results won’t be very good. Do you have any tips on what to do to help get out of these kinds of funks?

I feel you, life can get in the way of my magic too. Especially if I'm feeling a lack of faith in myself or magic in general. Here's what I tell myself; you don't have to believe it for it to work.

Also, when you're just getting back into something or just starting something you're not gonna be great at it first try. This shouldn't stop you from pushing forward anyways. Even if a spell doesn't work that doesn't mean spells will never work. Just that you gotta try something else next time. It's all about experimentation and the only way to get to the other side is to push through.

If you can't trust your conviction, trust your curiosity.

How to get out of a funk: Try out someone else's spell to a tee (or as close as you can) and see what happens, record these results.

For deity work, just research the deity (or deities) that interest you and focus on reaching out to them, not waiting for them to reach out to you (it's a two-way street and one's relationship with a deity is not dependent on who reached out first). Give them some offerings, pray to them, or just talk to them. <:

[ome-magical-ramblings]

Signs of Witchcraft, the dispelling. Part 2

Pixel art done by my partner( @desdemonasarchives ) <3 Yesterday I decided to embark on undoing the effigy/knot spell that I found in the desert. I hope that this blog post serve to offer a completion to the original post here: https://www.tumblr.com/ome-magical-ramblings/715380216894275584/signs-of-witchcraft-and-undoing-it-part-1?source=share I do hope that this serve to help people in undoing any curse or problem that they might have when they deal with it out in the field. All of this started because of me opening up to the land and the land spirits through the agency of Ganesha, who helped clean and sort out the flow in that spot. What happened first time is that I saw the same bone knot the first time, then dismissed it, a week ago I saw it again and decided to take it more seriously. The following is my process of cleaning the area/spot: Prayed to Ganesha at my home, offered a cookie, two candles and a rosewater cup. Took a rosewater bottle with me alongside 4 candles. I Went to the beach to get sea water since in Arab folklore sea water dispel any magic. Afterward I drove back to the bone-knot spell area and set up candles for the cardinal directions. Said ganesha upanishad and called Ganesha to assist me in this work. Used prayer from The Raccolta alongside prayer from Ars Paulina to call my guardian angel and ask for his guidance alongside Ganesha. I Poured rose water in east, south, west, north and called all angels, spirits, guardians, and elemental of all directions to guide my eye, hands ,and mind in this work. I washed the bones one by one and prayed for the dead animal that was used in the sacrifice. When I got to the knots I held it over the flame of each candle to burn it praying for the undoing and dispelling of the knot. Top part of bone that was tied broke off away(as seen in the image). I gathered the bones and washed all of them with the water, lastly did license to depart and went away. To note some entity was clearly standing on the side watching us, my car turned red in color my peripheral vision while I was doing the ritual. I noticed that I set the bones in the geomantic figure Tristitia...which opens up a can of worm about what it means. It can be seen as a wooden Stake that attacked the curse or holding the curse down! I went with my partner to cast both a geomancy(he did it) and a tarot reading, to get a general overview of how it went. Overall the reading of geomancy left me scratching my head and wondering for the whole idea, the tarot one seemed to be good leaning toward active neutralization and "gift of the land" in a sense. The general message was definitely a positive one but I asked around in multiple servers and in hermetic house server Gildedragon helped me with interpreting the chart:

Looking at the relevant houses we see a perfection (it is better with geomancy to ask binary questions I find)

The prevalence of via seems to say to me that whatever was is now gone; Poppy as judge generally says "bad question ask again" to me; but in this case: neutralization seems likely; though with a side of "you know how it went, you felt it, so why are you even asking"

FMinor in midheaven & 9, plus Poppy in 12 & 11 suggest to me that you need to rely on your spirits & you may need to take stock of the ppl around you Oh wait by partner. Ugh rotation time So it means that regarding you H11 and 12 are actually Carcer. Whatever sourced the curse is restrained. F major in 9 & 8. Casting was A SUCCESS

I personally feel happy as a conclusion of this operation! I hope to give it to people to find their own way of tackling these stuff instead of relying on simple cookie cutter procedure or a strict way in approaching things. Thanks to Ganesha, Thanks to my Holy Guardian Angel, and thanks to all spirit of the land and of the cardinal directions who assisted this work.

[windvexer]

Dear Chicken, I hope you are well! I am not new to witchcraft, but still I am asking for your specific advice, because I am working on something that is very dear to me, and I value your thoughts. I have to break a long-standing curse that has been cast by a high-level occultist, and up to now I have only had experience with creative witchcraft (not breaking/destroying), and I have never dealt with spells intentionally cast by other practitioners. Do you have any advice for me?

Hello! Sorry you're having these troubles.

I generally recommend both keeping it simple and performing many separate actions which target many "levels."

Talking strategy, I always recommend beginning with protection before trying to break unwanted magic. It's called the Craft, after all, and practitioners are sometimes known to be horribly Crafty. You never know what might happen when you start poking at someone else's spells.

You say you do have experience, but I'll go into some detail regardless. I did make a big post about how to curse, after all. Making its inverse feels cromulent.

Protection

It is vital to always maintain a clear and proper headspace when dealing with these issues. Panic must be avoided at all costs. The practitioner must first immediately provide protection to all accursed parties and perhaps also their house mates or other relevant people.

Personal Protection

The accursed person should at all times carry a powerful amulet made specifically against malefica. Such an amulet is easily made with two or three iron nails crossed over each other and bound with thread (red or black being ideal). This amulet should be dedicated to some powerful spirit, god, or angel who is famous for breaking bad magic.

As curses may easily affect room mates, this amulet may be provided to anyone who is willing to wear it.

Iron is very good for breaking magic - all magic. Any practitioner might find they need to remove this specific ward and rely on others while casting.

If this becomes problematic for a regular caster, an amulet made from a black stone (perhaps combined with knot magic) will also serve; but it will only deflect malefica, and not destroy it like iron will.

All such amulets must be carefully looked after and revitalized with offerings, prayer, and so on. Ensure they are fed once a month while you need them, but as often as once a day or more if things are going particularly tits-up in your world.

Property Protection

The accursed person should be provided with a home ward made specifically against malefica.

A strong one may be made in this fashion: in a small container, gather dirt, gravel, stones (etc.) from the four corners of the property. If the person lives in an apartment, this means the entire apartment park, and so on.

When taking these things, leave a small offering for the spirits of the land (a sprinkling of tobacco will do) and explain to them your purpose.

Later, in your casting space, put specific details on a piece of paper: the names of all beings that live in the home (including pets), the exact address, and what is to be protected against (malefica). Put this in the container.

Obtain three ingredients: a hot dried pepper (powdered or flaked is fine), something sharp (broken glass, etc), and something strongly protective (figurine of a guard dog, a black stone, dill weed, etc.)

Explain to each spirit its purpose: the pepper burns up and chases away all malefica, burning it horribly until it returns to its master. But if any malefica gets beyond the pepper, it will be shredded by the sharp thing so it bursts like a water balloon. But even if it should get past the sharp thing, the final spirit will perfectly guard all members of the household and prevent any thing from reaching them.

This container must be vitalized with fervent prayer to a spirit, god, or angel who has an interest in helping the people being protected. Give offerings to the jar as if it were itself a spirit, and also to the helpful being(s) being prayed to.

When the operation is nearly complete, finally dedicate the container to that helpful being with a prayer like this: that if the spell gets past the pepper, and the sharp thing, and the guardian, then the inhabitants will be protected by that powerful being, who cannot be overcome by any spell.

Store this container anywhere in the home.

Of course, many charms will add a great deal of protection to the home if they may be applied: horseshoes over doorways; protective oils or powders along thresholds, drains and vents; holy symbols by the front door, and so on.

Investigation

The issue of protection being put to rest, the practitioner does well to investigate the matter at hand.

This is somewhat of a sticky suggestion as there may be many variables to consider, and the utility of investigation may be limited. A practitioner must investigate where prudent, but never use it as an excuse to avoid action. As intuition or logic dictates, sometimes it's just best to get on with things.

A practitioner should also be wary of trying to find out everything about a curse. Broad strokes are much more helpful than no information at all, but a detailed portrait may actually muddy the waters.

Finally, this information may be truly irrelevant. Depending on the practitioner's relationship with the otherworld and their own abilities in spellbreaking, the very first counterspell they try might work regardless of the details of the original.

Generally, I recommend a brief investigation (one or two questions posed to a divinatory tool) and let the matter be put away. Only return to it if protections and counterspells seem to be failing.

A useful form of divination may be employed like this: create a simple casting board out of paper. Draw a circle and divide it into the seven celestial bodies, or whatever foundational powers you believe in. Ensure each slice of the pie is marked.

Focus on wanting to know the powers of the spell you must break. Take several dried beans and drop them on the paper. See where they fall. If they fall close to the center, this may indicate a weak or faded power; if they fall close to the edge, this may indicate an intense power.

Also ask what powers are best to reduce the spell, and any other questions you may have.

Spellbreaking

Generally, you'll want to play by Pokemon rules: find out what forces power that person's spell, and counterattack with whatever beats that.

If this is impossible or impractical, there are a few good allies who can help regardless. My general feelings on approaching spellbreaking are very similar to my feelings on protection. This older series I have may have valuable information for anyone trying to choose allies: Witchcraft 101: Protection Explained (Part 1: Aggressive. Part 2: Defensive. Part 3: Illusory. Part 4: Neighborly.)

I also wrote a spell format (incidentally, framed specifically for spellbreaking) which may be applied to engaging with any ally for help.

You will want to include a few details if possible: the name and general location of the curse-caster, exactly what you want to occur to the ongoing magic, and so on.

While "return to sender" spells absolutely reek of poetic justice, it is wise to consider whether or not a person ought to return a spell to a very advanced practitioner. Staying off a person's radar is a very powerful tool of protection, and sending someone's own spell back to them is a great way to get their attention. Advanced practitioners often have complex wards, powerful guardians, and an irritating intuition for exactly whom to blame.

Strategically speaking, it is probably best to slough off any magic and return it to the earth.

You may want to cast multiple spellbreakers, ideally calling on different allies (although it does not have to be a different ally for each one), and each operation ideally overseen by some powerful spirit, god, angel, etc., that has an interest in helping the accursed parties.

We circle back around to the beginning: keep it simple. Target many levels. Call on some allies to tear the spell up, others to carry it away, others to bury it within the earth, and so on. Call one some allies that are solar, others martian, others saturnine, etc. Ask some to destroy the physical effects of the curse, and others to destroy the magic itself.

Of course, it may end up that only one spell is ever needed. But if the situation proves resistant, it's best to take a step to the left and try again.

Helpful Actions

The accursed person(s) should undertake a period of heavy-handed spiritual hygiene. The practitioner should prepare highly cleansing waters, oils, or salts to be used by the accursed person in the shower at least once a day. It should be especially applied to the top of the head, the palms and soles of the feet, and the back of the neck.

A very protective prayer (psalms work well) should be provided to the accursed persons for them to repeat as often as possible, but at least once a day, perhaps when the cleansing materia is employed.

Having the accursed deeply clean their resting area will be helpful, if possible.

Additional spells for unbinding and way-clearing will be very helpful.

We may imagine a curse as being like a wagon stuck in the mud. The deep, sticky mud has trapped the wagon. We can get shovels and shovel out the mud - that's spellbreaking. But if we diversify our plans by putting down gravel so the wheels may get traction and hitching the wagon up to a stronger horse, getting free of the mud will be much, much easier.

So when assisting an accursed person, place, or object, never forget to simultaneously bless, assist, and improve the situation of the accursed as much as you seek to reduce the curse. This will have the effect of "loosening" the curse's hold.

These actions also have the effect of psychologically calming the accursed, which is important.

The accursed should maintain a period of strict spiritual hygiene for at least a week, or until there is some confirmation the curse is broken. Then, they may cease their efforts.

Realistically Speaking

Sometimes, curses will prove so resistant to undoing that a practitioner needs to cut their losses, as it were. A very good occultist can figure out how to make a spell last for a very long time. There's also the possibility that, if the grudge is strong enough, the occultist is actively working the magic and simply renewing it.

If a curse declines to be broken after several good efforts, the practitioner might consider switching their goals to the long-term. Essentially, this means permanently protecting against the curse and taking steps to mitigate its effects.

An old friend of mine was under such circumstances. She wore a ring and never took it off. It's as simple as that. (She did take it off, once, and her leg was immediately broken in several places by a skateboarder).

Spiritual hygiene may be reduced or replaced with less intensive methods and performed perhaps once a month, or as needed. Protections should be fed and cared for on a regular basis - again, perhaps once a month.

The accursed should learn to watch for signs that the curse is "kicking up" and learn prayers, spells, or actions that mitigate damage.

A curse which proves resistant to one practitioner may not be resistant to another. After time passed, initiations obtained, and skills learned, the same practitioner may suddenly be able to resolve the problem.

In the Case of Nonhuman Accurseds

All the above advice is phrased for a person to be the target of the curse, but the advice may easily be applied to any other situation.

Pets, objects, and areas may all be cleaned, protected, blessed, and uncrossed. The practitioner only needs to be mindful of health concerns (as salt scrubs do poorly for both pets and nature) and modify actions as necessary.

[lilacwisps]

i prayed one word (i want)

Ship: Ominis Gaunt x Ravenclaw Female Player Character Rating: M (eventually)

Summary: When Sebastian tells Ominis about the new fifth-year student, Ominis can sense troubles from a mile away - and tells Sebastian as much. Unfortunately for Ominis, he doesn't seem to be able to take his own advice.

ao3 link

Chapter 1

By some grace of Merlin, they make it out of Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium alive, though not unscathed. Ava keeps her composure well enough to fool Sebastian, who is too taken with the notebook they've retrieved from the study, but Ominis knows the truth - she's still in agony. He can hear it in her steps, slow and uneven, in the quiet yet sharp breath she takes when they approach the stairs, in the way air hitches in her throat as they walk up.

Ominis's heart clenches with worry and compassion - he knows the aftereffects of the Curciatus Curse all too well. Piercing, all-consuming agony dissipates once the caster stops the spell, giving way to another kind of pain - every nerve in the body feels flayed bare, and just being alive hurts. Ominis could still hear the cries of the Muggles that his parents and siblings tortured. While under the curse, the Muggles all pleaded for it to stop, but once the spell was released, almost all begged for death.

Sebastian didn't truly mean to hurt Ava - but in unpracticed hands the Cruciatus Curse was almost more dangerous than in experienced ones. When Ominis realized just what Sebastian and Ava were planning to do, he was overcome with dread. He felt as helpless as he once did as a child - there was absolutely nothing he could do but stand there and listen to one of them writhe on the floor in agony.

Sebastian was the one to cast the curse - and what followed terrified Ominis more than he thought possible. He heard the thump of Ava falling to her knees, a quiet whimper followed by another, and then - nothing. A cold wave of terror rose in his chest, forcing his throat to clench, making it almost impossible to breathe. In that instance, a blood-curdling scream would have been more reassuring than complete silence. Did Sebastian accidentally…

"Are you alright?" he heard Sebastian ask.

"I'll live," Ava's voice was hoarse, but she sounded very much alive.

Ominis knew his relief was almost palpable. Sebastian was already taking a heavy burden on his soul by casting an Unforgivable Curse - and the last thing Ominis wanted was for Sebastian to become an accidental murderer as well.

A loud, clanking sound, followed by Sebastian cursing, distracts Ominis from his thoughts.

"Blasted," Sebastian says, "Who decided to move this vase here? Are they trying to kill us?"

"It's always been there," Ominis chuckles - in his five years at Hogwarts, he's learned every inch of the dungeons by heart, "I've told you before, one of these days, you are going to break your neck if you keep walking around and reading."

"I wasn't reading," Sebastian argues, but Ominis doesn't need to see to know that it's a lie.

"He absolutely was," Ava says.

"Traitor," Sebastian hisses.

"Imagine just how embarrassing it would be," Ava continues, unabated, "To be capable of overcoming the obstacles set by Salazar Slytherin himself, all to be felled by a simple vase."

Ominis cannot stop himself from chuckling - something like that would absolutely happen to Sebastian.

"Very funny," Sebastian sighs, frustrated, "I really wasn't reading, only skimming - but there's so much I've seen already. Something here ought to be able to help Anne."

Ominis nods - he hopes Sebastian is right. He's always known that Sebastian would stop at nothing on his quest to cure Anne, and he'd already started down a dark, dangerous path. If this notebook helps Sebastian find the answers and stops him from dabbling with dark, forbidden magic, then everything they had to do to get to Slytherin's scriptorium may have just been worth it.

Ominis can hardly blame Sebastian for his desperation - after Anne and Sebastian's parents passed, the twins were left all alone in the world. Of course, they had their uncle, Solomon, but for some reason or another, the man always seemed to keep his distance. Not that Ominis fully understood how a close-knit, loving family would function - his own family was broken and mangled and twisted in more ways than one. After Anne was cursed and it became clear that none of the healers could help her, Sebastian had changed - and Ominis would have been a fool to expect otherwise.

What Ominis hadn't realized until this year, however, was that, perhaps, Sebastian had changed more than he expected - and that worried him.

Next thing Ominis knows, they stop in front of the wall leading to the Slytherin common room.

"I'd say this outing was a success," Ominis can tell by Sebastian's voice that he's smiling, "Thank you both for your help - I could not have done it without you. We make a great team."

"That we do," Ava readily agrees, "Next time, however, you'll be the one solving the puzzles."

"I was about to do them this time, but you got to them first. It wouldn't have been very gentlemanly of me to get between a lady and her puzzles," Sebastian argues, "But fine - next time, I'll show you how it's done."

"Can't wait," Ava retorts.

"Well, this has been fun, but I have this whole notebook to get through - I'm hoping to get an early start in case I need to make a foray into the Restricted Section, so I better get going," Sebastian pauses for a second, "Thank you again for…what you did there. I will not forget it."

Ominis hears the rumble of the stone snakes as the wall parts, revealing the door to the Slytherin common room.

"You should be careful when you read it," Ominis warns wearily, "Given Slytherin's penchant for dark magic, curses could be hidden among his notes."

"It's possible," Sebastian agrees, "But there can also be the cure I'm looking for, so I'll take my chances."

Ominis can barely suppress a sigh - he never expected his warning to stop Sebastian, but he'd feel guilty if he said nothing. But Sebastian always keeps his eyes on the prize and ignores all the obstacles.

He hears Sebastian walk forward and open the common room door, but Ominis doesn't follow him. "Are you coming?" Sebastian calls out from the doorway.

"In a moment," Ominis replies - there's still one thing he needs to do.

When he hears the door to the common room close behind Sebastian, Ominis turns to Ava.

"I wanted to apologize," he says softly, "For that encounter we had outside the Undercroft. When I realized that you weren't Sebastian, I…made the wrong assumption."

"That he was showing off the Undercroft to impress the ladies?" Ava chuckles, "Does he do that sort of thing often?"

Ominis wants to slap himself - it is little wonder she'd misinterpreted his words. Why couldn't he just apologize without bringing up anything else? He stalls, weighing his following words carefully. There's little doubt in his mind that Ava must like Sebastian - many girls at Hogwarts did. Sebastian was charming and handsome - and was often not above relying on his dashing looks to get something he wanted, like answers to a Potions homework or a Transfigurations quiz or for someone to cover for him while he snuck into the areas of the castle that were off limits to students.

But none of the girls in question liked Sebastian enough to take the Cruciatus Curse for him, and Ominis feels it wouldn't be right to break Ava's heart on Sebastian's behalf.

"It's not like that," he says finally, "I just…I was rude to you then, and I wanted to apologize."

"I accept your apology," Ava replies, then adds, "And I'd like to apologize too - I did lie to you when you questioned me about the Undercroft."

"No apology needed," Ominis shakes his head, "I've all but ambushed you, so I understand your reaction."

"I'm so glad we've spoken about it," Ava says, then adds, amused, "And by the way, just so you know - if I had an inkling that Sebastian had any interest in me outside of dueling and breaking school rules, I would have never gone with him to the Undercroft. Do you know what his letter said? He'd like me to accompany him to a "discreet place" to "practice illicit spells"! Can one be any more obvious?"

Ominis can hardly stop himself from laughing at her words. When Ava puts it like that, he realizes that it's true - unless the intention truly was to practice illicit spells, the wording left precious little space for plausible deniability.

"What did he teach you?" he asks.

"Confringo," Ava responds, "It's come in very handy in quite a few situations, but I'm still torn between it and Incendio."

"Confringo is Sebastian's favorite," Ominis nods, "Has he shown you Glacius yet?"

"Not yet," Ava says, "What is that spell?"

"It's an ice spell that I think might be helpful for you to know," Ominis explains, "If you'd like, I could show it to you."

"I'd love that," he can hear a smile in Ava's voice.

The rumbling of the stone snakes interrupts their conversation as the door to the Slytherin common room opens once again.

"Hi, Ava! Hi, Ominis!" Nerida Roberts greets them, "Ava do you feel alright - you look pale?"

Ominis isn't sure how the two know each other, but this is hardly the best time to ask.

"Hi, Nerida," Ava replies, "I am alright, just tired - I was up until the wee hours of the morning finishing that nightmare of homework for the Arithmancy class."

"Tell me about it," Nerida says, "I must have cried at least three times - if I get anything above "Dreadful," I will consider it a win. Anyway, I'd love to stay and chat, but unfortunately, I have to go."

"Of course," Ava says softly, "Have a good evening, Nerida."

Ominis waits until he cannot hear Nerida's steps anymore until he speaks again.

"I also wanted to thank you," he says quietly, "For what you did for Sebastian and me at the scriptorium."

"Things we do for friends," Ava chuckles, "Although now that I know what Crucio feels like, Sebastian will have a much harder time convincing me to take it if we ever find ourselves in a similar situation."

"I hope we never will," Ominis replies earnestly, feeling a shudder run up his spine. What they had just experienced on their way to the scriptorium was enough horror to last a lifetime. "I want you to have this," he adds, reaching into his book bag and pulling out a small vial.

"What is that?" Ava asks, curious. Ominis can feel her shift closer to take a better look at the vial.

"It should help with the pain," Ominis explains, "Crucio itself feels agonizing enough - but, at least from my memory, the aftereffects are almost worse."

He must be right, as Ava doesn't need convincing. "Thank you," she says as he hands her the vial. Her fingers briefly brush against his skin, and suddenly, the air feels much warmer than it did just a moment ago.

"Of course," Ominis replies, startled by the unexpected sensation, "You should probably sit. This thing tends to make you quite dizzy, although it should wear off in about twenty minutes."

"Thank you for the warning," Ava sighs, "After the kind of day I had, the last thing I need is to faint in the dungeons. Although, perhaps, that would keep me out of trouble, at least for a little bit."

"I'm afraid a visit to the Hospital Wing will get you into more trouble, instead," Ominis says, "Madame Blainey is no fool and will be able to tell what caused the damage. And once she does, you'll spend the rest of the night answering her, Professor Weasley, and Professor Black's questions."

"Perish the thought," Ava laughs, then adds, "No benches here at all? The lobby leading up to the Ravenclaw Tower is so much more hospitable. Very well, these stairs will have to do."

She walks past him to the stairs leading to the corridor they came from earlier and settles on the steps. Though Ominis cannot see her, it feels odd to be standing while she is sitting, so he decides to settle on the stairs as well. He hears Ava open the vial.

"Such a strong herbal smell," she says, taking a deep breath, "I wasn't quite expecting that based on the color."

"And what were you expecting?" Ominis asks, curious.

"Perhaps something sweet," Ava replies.

"Well then, I'm afraid you won't like what you are about to hear," Ominis chuckles, "But it tastes significantly worse than it smells."

"The day just keeps getting better and better," Ava sighs. She's quiet then for a long moment before finally saying, "You weren't lying."

"I'm sorry," Ominis offers, "But potions like this can't really be brewed in more palatable flavors."

"Well, the clear upside is that it's working - and fast too," Ava sounds surprised, "I'm already feeling better. And - here comes the dizziness."

"That should pass soon," Ominins reassures her.

Silence falls upon them for a moment, making Ominis wonder if he should stay. After everything they'd been through earlier that day, leaving Ava alone would likely be unwise - especially now that she's taken the potion. But Ominis also knows that others - besides Sebastian and Anne - rarely seek out his company. Unlike Sebastian, he's never been the one to instantly win others over with an easy smile or quick wit. His upbringing left deep scars on his very soul, making it hard to connect with others.

She wants him to leave, he's certain of it - she's just too polite to say it.

"Thank you," Ava murmurs, "For staying with me - I'm a little weary of unfamiliar potions, so it's nice to have a friend to watch over me."

Her words catch Ominis off guard - did he hear it right, was she thanking him for being around her?

"Of course," he replies, smiling softly, "It's the least I can do."

Ava hums, content, before adding, "This potion really is magic - I'm feeling so much better. Still, Sebastian better find the cure to Anne's curse in that notebook, and quick - I did not just go through the worst pain of my life for nothing."

"It might not seem like it, but Sebastian's very good at parsing through the tomes of ancient spells," Ominis says, "His mother used to teach Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, and it seems he's inherited her talent for unraveling mysteries."

"I sure hope so," Ava replies, "And that cure better not involve a similar trap - I've no intention of going through this again unless I absolutely have no choice."

"You are strong," Ominis notes, "When I…when I experienced the Curse, I thought I was going to die."

"So did I," Ava laughs mirthlessly, "Even though I know for certain Sebastian had no intention of actually hurting me. I cannot even begin to imagine what it would have been like if he did."

Ominis does not argue, though he knows full well that the Cruciatus Curse can be even more dangerous in inexperienced hands - and he cannot imagine that Sebastian had much chance to practice.

"But deep in my heart, I knew I wouldn't die," Ava chuckles suddenly, "You see, I'm still not done with my Herbology assignment for tomorrow - and there is no way I'm dying with unfinished homework. If I ever did, I'd haunt this place so much, even Peeves would cry."

"Wouldn't expect anything else from a Ravenclaw," Ominis laughs, leaning against the wall behind him, suddenly realizing that he's utterly exhausted. Between the anxiety caused by their little excursion to the scriptorium and all the traumatic memories it stirred, he cannot wait to fall into his bed. Still, he doesn't want to leave Ava alone - not until she's no longer dizzy and can safely make her way to the Ravenclaw Tower.

"What can I say," Ava hums, content, "I suppose the Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes."

"I suppose it doesn't," Ominis agrees with a small laugh.

His mind goes, unbidden, to something he'd thought about when Sebastian first mentioned Ava to him. She was a Rosier, which meant she was related to several dark wizards and witches, almost all of whom were Slytherin students when at Hogwarts. But the Sorting Hat put her in Ravenclaw…

"I'm sorry if it feels like I am prying - and please don't feel obliged to answer if you don't want to," Ominis starts cautiously, "But I cannot help but be curious - given your…lineage, how did your parents react to you being sorted into Ravenclaw?"

"I don't mind answering," Ava says calmly, "I'd say they reacted well enough, all things considered. I suppose mother dearest thought about it and decided that having a Ravenclaw daughter was better than having a squib one."

Ominis nods, frowning - from what he understood of Sebastian's explanation, Ava did not display any magical abilities until earlier that year, which must have made her parents believe she was a squib. Ominis shudders at the thought - he knows all too well how poorly squib children get treated in pure-blooded families with a penchant for dark magic.

"Overall, I'd say that things between my parents and I have markedly improved since I started at Hogwarts," Ava continues, "Now, if only mother dearest stopped with the betrothal talk, things would get even better."

"Betrothal talk?" Ominis repeats, confused.

"With so few pure-blood families remaining, it is a duty of every pure-blooded witch to make a suitable match and bear children, Ava," the inflections in Ava's voice change, making it clear that she's mocking her mother, "At your age, I've already been betrothed - twice."

"Twice?" Ominis asks, horrified, "At only fifteen?"

"Yes," Ava confirms, "So now she thinks she has to hurry - else all will be lost."

"Your mother sounds…complicated," Ominis muses.

"Which is why I'm so glad we don't have to go home during the breaks and can remain in the castle instead," Ava laughs.

"Can't say I disagree," Ominis chuckles lightly.

Silence falls upon them again, but it feels more comfortable this time, almost palpably warmer.

"Forgive me," Ava says suddenly, "I've been sitting here complaining about my family when you'd just found out about your aunt. I am so sorry about her passing - she sounded like a wonderful woman and a brilliant witch. Without her help, I don't think we would have made it out alive."

Ominis takes a breath, steadying his heartbeat - deep inside, he's always known that aunt Noctua was gone. She would never just abandon the family - she wasn't that kind of person. Since she'd gone missing, all Ominis ever wanted was closure - and now he had it, even if it still hurt to learn about her brutal end.

"Aunt Noctua was my most favorite person in the world," Ominis says softly, "She was brave and brilliant and did not believe in our family's twisted ways. I…I still cannot believe that she's gone, but I hope her soul has found peace - and I hope that someday I can put her bones to rest."

He feels it then - Ava's gentle fingers ghost the back of his palm as she lightly rests her hand on his. Her hand is small and cold - yet, somehow, her touch makes warmth rise in his chest, catching Ominis off guard.

"If you need someone to go back there with you to recover her remains, just let me know," she says softly, "Your aunt deserves a better resting place than a dusty dungeon."

Ominis is overcome with gratitude - they've solved Slytherin's puzzle, meaning they were free to go in and out of scriptorium as they pleased, but he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to go back there alone.

"There's this place aunt Noctua was very fond of, up in the northern hills," Ominis muses, "It overlooks the castle and the lake - perhaps we can lay her to rest there."

"Was your aunt still at Hogwarts when you started school?" Ava asks.

"No - she'd graduated several years before I started," Ominis explains, "But I'd never go home during breaks, so she'd often come up to Hogwarts to see me. During one of those visits, she brought me to that place."

"I'm sure her spirit would feel at peace, knowing her bones rest in her favorite spot of the Hogwarts valley," Ava says softly, and Ominis nods - he hopes she is right.

"There's…there's something else I feel like I need to do to honor her memory," Ominis adds after a momentary pause, "I need to go through Slytherin's books and journals to see if I can find something, anything that could show my family that my aunt was right and there's more to his heritage than just obsession with blood purity. I would really appreciate it if you could help me with this task."

"Just let me know when," Ava says, "I'm too curious to be able to turn down an opportunity to read the diary of Salazar Slytherin himself."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Ominis chuckles.

After everything they had to overcome to get to the scriptorium, Ominis doesn't have high hopes about Slytherin, but he owes it to his aunt to try. She'd be disappointed if she learned that he was giving up already. Besides, if he is wrong, if there was, in fact, more to Slytherin than just his obsession with blood status, he could show his parents the error in their ways - and, perhaps, then the divide between them will be healed.

Ominis shakes his head, chasing away the thoughts - it's best not to get too ahead of himself. Besides, it will be a while before he can muster the nerve to return to Slytherin's scriptorium, even with Ava at his side. Dark magic - darker than anyone Ominis had ever experienced - was woven into the very fabric of that place, and he would be lying if he said it didn't terrify him to his very core.

Perhaps, they shouldn't bring Sebastian next time they go, Ominis muses, His friend has already dabbled in dark magic significantly more than he should have. The last thing he wants is to tempt Sebastian with that power unnecessarily. No, keeping him as far from the scriptorium as possible is best.

"How are you feeling?" he asks Ava, pushing the thoughts away, "Are you still dizzy?" "

No, not dizzy anymore," Ava answers, then adds, "And feeling quite well actually - might just sneak out to Hogsmeade and drink the night away at the Hog's Head."

"Despite the seedy atmosphere and the skeevy clientele, they don't actually serve fire whiskey to students," Ominis says, hanging his head in faux chagrin.

"Speaking from experience?" Ava chuckles.

"During our third year, Sebastian, Anne, and I went to Hogsmeade and decided to try our luck at the Hog's Head. Let's just say - it wasn't our lucky day. And, to make matters worse, groundskeeper Moon was there and reported us to Professor Weasley. It was only by some grace of Merlin that we just got just two weeks of detention."

"I would have loved to see that," Ava laughs, "Well then, there goes my plan. I suppose Herbology Homework it is, then."

The sound of bells fills the dungeons - the clock strikes ten, notifying the students of the curfew.

"Will you be alright walking up to the Ravenclaw Tower?" Ominis asks as he and Ava stand up from their seats on the stairs, "Do you need me to accompany you?"

"I'll be just fine," Ava replies, "No need to worry about me - the potion you gave me helped immensely. And the last thing I would want is to get you in trouble for being out after curfew."

They walk ahead, stopping in front of the wall leading to the Slytherin common room.

"Until tomorrow," Ominis says as the stone snakes rumble, opening the passage.

"Until tomorrow," Ava replies, then adds, "Wait, before I forget - I'd like to take you up on your offer to teach me Glacius."

"Very well," Ominis agrees easily, "How about right after Potions tomorrow?"

"Perfect," he can almost hear the smile in Ava's voice, "I'm looking forward to it. Good night, Ominis."

[occult-roommates]

Broomstick ride

In the late evening, soaring through the night in the cold mid-April air, was a young spellcaster on his broomstick, his human friend grabbing his waist praying to Heaven they won’t fall. Like yes, he wanted to spend more time alone with him, but is this really the cost? 

Dawud: You sure this is safe? Daniele: Um, yeah. We spellcasters have been flying on broomstick for centuries. And like, I told you yesterday, I have my broomstick license.

And as they kept on flying, they went by the local art museum, which is when it all started crashing down. Literally. All of a sudden, it seems like Daniele no longer had control over his broom, just barely able to keep it airborne. When he finally managed to go back into the air, the rapid change in speed caused Dawud to fall, which in turn caused a sudden shift in the weight distribution on the broom, making Daniele soar even higher into the air. As if this couldn’t get any worse, he fell off the broom too.

Thankfully, he just barely managed to hold onto his broom, and with his other hand created a levitating spell to bring Dawud back to him. As soon as Daniele had him back, he very, very slowly turned off the gravity spell which allows broomstick to fly. Too quickly and he would just cause him and his friend to slam against the concrete floor beneath them.

Dawud: You told me you know how to fly this thing! We could have fucking died! Daniele: I do! It’s just...I am losing my power. Dawud: You’re losing your power? Really? Didn’t know that was possible. Daniele: It is. It’s a rare genetic condition. I was told I’ll have my powers up until my forties at least, but the process is very gradual and I’ve been losing abilities since I was around 12. And sometime they’ll just completely stop working for a few seconds.

In this world, it’s pretty simple. Vampires and werewolves are both born and made, and assuming their strain allows it, they can revert to a human. Being a spellcaster or a mermaid is from birth though, and you’ll never be anything else, unless of course you contract vampirism or lycanthropy, and still then you’ll be a hybrid. There is no way for a human to become either one of those things. In Daniele’s case, he’s gonna still be a spellcaster to some degree, assuming he had a more unnatural hair color such as purple, which is impossible in humans, that color would remain, but what even is the point of being a spellcaster if he can’t, you know, cast spells.

Daniele: My family used to be so proud of me, I was a magic prodigy. And in the spellcasters world, the Rossini are one of the greatest bloodline, we have a famous legact that goes back centuries. However, we are also very avoidant of humans. Which like, considering we used to be burnt at the stake, fair enough. But that means that when my condition was diagnosed, I became the shame of the family. Eventually, my aunt took pity of the way I was being treated and she unofficially adopted me. Which is how I ended up moving from Tartosa to San Myshuno. Dawud: Dan, I’m very sorry. I did not know that...Though, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think you should be flying if at any moment you could just like, stop flying and crash. We got lucky this time but who knows what might happen next. Daniele: You are sadly right...

In theory, Dawud wanted to be pissed at Daniele for that, but he couldn’t. Mostly because it was not his fault, he knows about his condition but if he’s at a point where his powers rarely fail him, he can understand why he thought he was good to fly. More importantly though, he did not want to be mad. He likes him too much, he...he is...he’s you know...A friend...Yeah, a friend. A friend he wants to kiss...and go on date with...And cuddle...And ride his other broomstick.

Also, Dawud wanted to come fly with Daniele, it’s not like he was forced.

Anyway, the two ended up going home by foot. Daniele looked at his broomstick, worried. He was told he’ll lose his powers by his forties, but there’s always the possibility it might happen earlier. And what if it does? What then? Who will he even be without magic? He has no idea...

Prev (nsfw) - Next

[wonderfulpileofdust]

What is man? By Beniamin Kis

Who am I?

No, this is not the Linux terminal command which tells the user, his/her username. (That’s spelled “whoami”). But it’s a question which we have to answer to ourselves sooner or later. Rather sooner than later.

All my life I liked to think of myself as an emotionally stable, always positive, always optimistic individual, who doesn’t really care about other people’s opinions or thoughts about him. I have never experienced depression, or excessive sadness, or dark thoughts, or loneliness… That is, until a few months ago, when the love of my life (or so I thought) has decided that after 11 years of being together and married for 5 years, it was time to move on. To what? I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t know either.

So how did this happen? How did the love transform into hatred and bitterness? How did we get so lost from each other, that we could not find the way back?

Well, it’s simple: when you take out God from a relationship, it almost always falls apart. Our story, although it started beautiful, has ended crashing and burning, because we were not watching. Jesus says to his disciples: “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Oh, how right was He!

We started our relationship well, with prayer and Bible study, meaningful discussions (we’ve met on a christian forum, for cryin’ out loud). It was one of the things which attracted me about her, that she seemed to be so close to God, and had such an amazing knowledge of the Bible and other books, that I felt almost stupid around her.

Somewhere, along the way, we have shifted the focus of our relationship to a more… earthlyperspective, thus opening the door to temptation and sin.

I got addicted to video games, she got addicted to social media and movies, we stopped praying together, we stopped having a healthy spiritual life, she cut off all her relationships with people from the church, got involved in toxic relationships, I started being angry all the time and pouring out all my frustrations to her, often shouting and using an inadequate tone. The presence of God was slowly replaced with anger, lies, absence of communication, resentment and, in the end, with hatred. The love, which was supposed to unite us and keep us together, you know, the one from 1 Corinthians 13, was transformed to resentment and repulsion and set lightyears of distance between us.

So, one day, she told me: “I’m leaving…”

I said: “Where?”

“I don’t know” she said.. “away…”

That was the moment I knew she was not coming back. A few months later we sat in the notary’s office, signing the divorce papers.

Inevitably, questions started to flood my mind, I started to doubt myself, my identity, which led me to these questions: Who am I, really? What did I accomplish in almost 30 years of my life? Am I still the same person she married? What’s my purpose? What is the purpose of life, in general? Where did I do wrong? Why did this happen to me? Why can’t I be happy like others of my age? Why did I miss the signs? Why couldn’t we repair things? Why did it end this way? Here I am, 30 and divorced, who’s gonna even look at me?

…and soooo many other questions. Most of them unanswered.

But returning to one question: who am I? I have found my answer. And it’s written in God’s holy Word:

- “I will give thanks and praise to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.” [Ps. 139:14]

- “for dust you are and to dust you will return.” [Gen. 3:19]

I am a wonderful pile of dust, which means I am precious in the eyes of God, so precious that He won’t allow me to live on this earth filled with selfishness, materialism, pride, abuse, disobedience, ungratefulness, unholiness, hatred, unforgivingness, slander, lack of self-control, violence, betrayal, rashness, hedonism, duplicity, in this daily-degrading body, forever. He has promised me that He’ll go and prepare a place for me:

- “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” [John 14:1-3]

So, every time I forget who I am in Christ, I’d always return to these Scripture references:

- I am God’s workmanship, created in Christ unto good works. (Ephesians 2:10)

- I am an ambassador for Christ. (2 Corinthians 5:20)

- I am part of a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people. (1 Peter 2:9)

- I am greatly loved by God. (Romans 1:7; Ephesians 2:4; Colossians 3:12; 1 Thessalonians 1:4)

- I am born of God, and the evil one does not touch me. (1 John 5:18)

- I am complete in Him Who is the Head of all principality and power. (Colossians 2:10)

Ending this blogpost with a song, dear to my heart:

“Who the Son sets free Oh is free indeed I’m a child of God Yes I am In my Father’s house There’s a place for me I’m a child of God Yes I am

I am chosen Not forsaken I am who You say I am You are for me Not against me I am who You say I am”

(Youtube Link to the song)

That’s who I am, a child of the almighty God, King of heaven and earth, who gives life and made all things out of nothing!

I have no more doubts, as a christian who has accepted His sacrifice and declared with my lips that I believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God, who has died for my sins and saved me from eternal death, and neither should you, if you did all these things.

[morning-walk]

I just came in from a walk with my Friend. Our talk led me to this.

It is alchemy.

Plain and simple.

I was out in the Pumpkin Patch Monday morning. So were a bunch of weeds. I got my hoe out of the truck and gave it an hour.

My arms and my spirit were flagging well before the hour ended.

It was about then that the alchemy kicked in.

My favorite hoe was becoming a burden until I did some spell check.

The hoe that was getting heavy became a hope that won’t disappoint.

With every swing of the handle I began seeing a child in Haiti getting an education - and a lunch.

As I rooted out the most difficult of the tares they became a medical clinic under construction so that the healing arts and the Healing Artist could work with greater power.

When I didn’t have a word to say I heard a song erupt from those who are otherwise voiceless as they gathered in worship to live a faith that inspires and garner a strength to go on.

A glance at the pumpkin vines made me aware that very soon their broad beautiful leaves will shade out the weeds and the fruit they were planted to bear will soon be harvested.

Mostly I considered all the ways that alchemy happens in my life.

The downs become ups. The disappointments become celebrations. The exhaustion becomes renewal.

And the defeats become a victory worthy of the name.

Here’s the thing. That card you have been meaning to send, and/or call you’ve been meaning to dial, and/or that prayer you’ve been needing to pray…

Same thing. Do it. I promise the peace that will flood your heart is gold.

Alchemy I say.

Plain and simple.

I saw it with my own heart.

You know what i mean?

Your move.

Brother Pat

[glud98jacobs]

Top Mid-Segment Android Phones Of 2011

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[colonwagner78]

How Can I Delete Apps From My Android Or Iphone?

I wants to share my thoughts regarding the bad rumours that are piling regarding advanced popular Window Cellphone operating computer. At present, the talk-of-the town is the fact most of the mobile phone companies might be dropping Window Mobile OS on their next coming series machines. According to some people, 50% of HTC phones to powered by Android buy. Tuaw's take: "I guess they've been asleep for that past month, because multitasking is undoubtedly the main features of iPhone OS 4.0, most likely due for public release sometime around the next few weeks." It hasn't happened yet. The fact that Android landed first means Apple is simply playing get up to date now. Purchased. Pretty much what the url of this app says, this application means that you can fire your Android phone like an AK-47. windows 10 enterprise crack activation with the apps can wouldn't think is worth downloading; but, to let you the truth, it's surprisingly fun. As might find know, Android is Google's operating system for mobile handsets. It was launched as an open-source alternative to Apple's iPhone OS, Windows Mobile, and Nokia's Symbian. Because of that open-source nature, there are tens of thousands of applications it. A cell phone running Android can simply be set up to do virtually anything, provided you are reinforced by the right app for the product. windows 10 enterprise crack free download ! Now, how do I stop in which? Thats the one question that already been nagging me since blend of the WWDC and AT&T's plan changes. Apple never discussed how situations quite multitask. With apps running and consuming data in the historical past on AT&T's new plans? That spells danger and difficult earned moola. Android has app murders. Also, Android runs on networks with unlimited data plans. So even one does wanted to multi task your phone to death (crash) do not want have to fret about over charges. windows 10 enterprise free activation pray for that consumers of tomorrow how the iPhone does. This is again more of a sports portal. All of the big sports are handled by this app and it's obvious why hundreds of thousands individuals who really while you might! It's tastefully done and you will never complain a few lack of stats or information. Android the second.2 for the HTC Evo 4G also brings Active Sync Exchange support for contacts, email, and calendar. You may also use a Gmail account to sync those same items as well, giving anyone free cloud based back ups and syncs. Getting sick of the pesky iPhone not supporting Flash, Android 2.2 fully supports Flash 10.1 for about a truly full mobile web experience. To increase that mobile web the newest Evo 4G runs on Sprint's WiMax 4G network, reaching speeds that rival home high-speed Internet junctions. Another good aspect of its 4G capability is that the phone can act like a 4G/3G WiFi hotspot, allowing multiple devices to get connected to it, and share its Internet. But is it possible to get both on a mobile phone without paying for it? The answer is, yes, if won by you a free android phone from some of the websites that offer them. do offer free Motorola droid, the newest Android phone to hit the market. It is simple find are usually of websites, and is definitely fairly simple to get chance to to woo. So off you go, and grab that opportunity to get an Android speak to.

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch. 5

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 1,600

Masterlist

————————

“Triton! Triton!”

As you run through the festival, Your echoing cries make people stop and turn but you could hardly care. You had already made it around most of the campus by then and had grown used to their stares.

“Triton! Where are you?” You call out again, leaning over the barrier of another art major's tent to look at the children in there. Hoping, Praying, that Triton was one of them.

“(Y/n)!” At the sudden call, you are suddenly pulled backwards. Spinning around you see it was none other than Bryce, with Yuri and Paul following close by.

“Bryce. T-Triton was—“ You stutter out, pawing at the male’s shirt as you try to get a simple sentence out in your jumble of thoughts.

You wanted to scream out. To cry. You wanted to tell him how you didn’t mean to leave Triton alone. How you thought he would be safe with Paul and Jeremy. How you didn’t think that someone would sneak into the tent while the kitchen staff were busy. How a stranger was able to lead Triton away and you didn’t even notice until someone came running to tell you later that he was missing.

You felt yourself internally sob in as you continued to recount what happened a mere half an hour ago. The feeling left you queasy and you felt as if your knees were about to collapse.

“Shh. I know. I heard what happened to your son.” Bryce says as he attempts to console you. All of a sudden the wind picks up and Bryce instantly pulls you closer to him. “Woah!”

Bryce watches in surprise as some of the tents and decorations are knocked down by the wind. As if they were as light as leaves. Easily snapped and drifted up as the wind pleased.

“We have to get out of here.” Yuri tells your group as she stares up to the sky. A dangerous mixture of dark stormy clouds were beginning to roll in. A telltale sign it wasn’t a bright idea to stay outside for much longer.

“I-I Can’t!” You stutter out as Bryce begins to pull and lead you back into the direction of the school buildings. “I need to find Triton!”

“(Y/n). You have to—“

“No!” You yell out, cutting Bryce off as you struggle against his grip. You didn’t want to listen to what they had to say. For—to you—it meant another second, or minute, waisted when you could be finding Triton.

Finally, after a bit more of struggling, you free yourself from Bryce’s grip. You planned to only give a bit of space between you and the others but then Bryce lunges at you to grab you again and you end up taking off in a sprint.

As you run through the crowd, your vision is a mix of colors. A blurry and unfocused Sea that you attempt to escape from. The only thing you ever think to focus on are the hints of colors of blondes that you pass by. Pausing for a second to check to see if it was Triton only to run off again.

It, in a way, reminded you of the first time you met Triton. How you saved the strange blonde boy that was sucked out in the stormy seas. Except this time it was from a sea of strangers, Humans. You just hoped this time you would find him.

Save him.

Wherever he was and from whoever he was with.

(Y/n)…

You feel yourself freeze as you hear your name being called. At first you thought perhaps Bryce and the others had caught up to you but you then realized that wasn’t the case. The voice you heard did sound familiar but it wasn’t normal. It echoed as if it was from a far off place. Nowhere near where you were.

…(Y/n)…

“Yes, Hello?” You call out, steering your head to look around the sea of people. Hoping to catch whoever was calling you.

…Go to the….Triton…

“I can’t hear—“ You are cut off as someone in the crowd bumps into you, nearly knocking you off your feet. You needed to get out of this crowd if you wanted to fully hear the voice. Especially with the sharp winds that were blowing in.

Helplessly, you maneuver and squeeze your way through the crowd. Thankfully finding a way out only a few minutes later near the edge of campus. Though eventually you realize that it wasn’t that great as it was an edge of campus you rarely traveled to. The only thing you knew about it was that it held a path through the woods to a rocky beach that only spelled trouble. If you didn’t get injured from the crashing harsh waves then you would likely get caught and in trouble by Campus Police for trespassing. Perhaps even both.

…Through the…Go…

“Through the path?” You question out loud, confused at how the voice was cutting in and out. Leaving you unable to get an accurate answer.

You wait for the voice to answer but it never comes, leaving you with you to make the final choice. In hindsight it wasn’t that hard as there were only two options. Either turn around to safety or go into danger.

You knew what you would do. You would do what you always did. You would turn—

It was then when you step forward into the path, with no fear or thoughts whatsoever, that you surprise yourself. You can’t help but wonder if you changed. How you changed.

Was it when you first saved Triton at the beach that caused it?

That caused the girl that hated crowds to run through them. The girl that hated confrontation to argue against her friends. The girl that ran away from danger to run into it.

You couldn’t help but wonder. But at the same time you didn’t. You couldn’t.

…Faster…

You couldn’t as you stumble and sprint down the path to the beach. As you hear the voice chanting, ordering you to go faster. To get to the beach quicker.

…Faster… Faster, (y/n)….

Even as your lungs are sucked out of oxygen. Even as your legs burn in agony. Even as your knees and palm sting from tripping and falling only to get up again.

You don’t stop. You can’t. You know you can’t.

Especially as you see the small beach through the brush and catch the sight of…

…Blonde.

And Red. Scarlet red that scattered and dripped from his pale skin.

“Triton!” You scream out without thinking, running through the sand to the boy. Lifting his limp body from the sand as you carefully shake him. “Triton…Triton.”

The young boy opens his eyes and looks over at you. Though it is only for a second as he shuts them again as he groans.

“Triton. Where. Where does it—“

A loud defining bang cuts you off. Surprised you spin around to look behind you. Looking at the crater in the sand that laid a few feet away from you, you connect eyes with someone.

“Marissa…”

As you call the name of your classmate in front of you, they begin to walk out of the crater towards you. Shuffling in sand, you cradle Triton in your arms and begin backing up.

No, you know that isn’t your classmate, that ‘thing’ in front of you isn’t even human. Wild pink hair, slit like green eyes, pointy teeth and claws. Nothing, nothing, about her was human.

“B-Back up.” You order out to the thing in front of you. Could you even run away from her? No, it created a crater in the ground, you couldn’t run away. You couldn’t even fight it. “You… better back up.”

Fight or flight. Both were useless in this situation.

Your body knew it as well as it seemed to freeze up as the thing gets ready to lunge at you. As if your bones had turned to ice and your organs had shut down. You felt like you couldn’t even breathe. Like if you dare to do, you would perish.

Fight or Flight. Your main instincts. Your survival instincts.

As the thing finally lunges at you, you finally breathe again. The fresh intake of air seemed to restart your body and then you realized Fight or Flight wasn’t your main instinct. It wasn’t why you came down here.

You had to protect Triton. He was your son. He was more important than yourself.

Even as you shake in fear, your motherly instincts take over your body and you are able to cover Triton. Spinning yourself away so that thing can only pierce you.

So that only your warm blood will flood out, leaving a harsh smell of iron in the air. So that Triton will be able to escape in time. So that Triton will be safe.

And when you finally feel the warm crimson liquid drip down your body and into your clothes, you find yourself gasping.

You went to grab the clawed hand that pierced through your torso. Hoping to grab onto it to stop Marissa from grabbing Triton, giving the boy enough time to run. But found yourself unable to. For it was never there in the first place.

A loud thud brings you back to reality and you find yourself looking up from the sand. Staring at the top half of Marissa’s—that thing’s—Body. It’s guts and blood pooling and mixing into the grainy sand.

“H-How…”

You find your voice die down in your throat as you turn your head to look behind you.

Blonde Curly hair, Icy piercing blue eyes,…

…Pale marble skin, Covered head to toe in blue, white and gold,…

…A Trident by his side…

There was no doubt in your mind who was behind you.

“P-Poseidon…”

Author Note: Ahhh Poseidon finally appears! The romance portion of this story finally starts hahaha. Thank you for being patient and waiting until Poseidon appears. I wanted to give a nice character development before he appears. Can’t wait for the next update on Thursday!

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127

[secretsandwriting]

Ok so I was on that site which gives u prompts cause I saw it on Pinterest and I thought maybe send these prompts to you so ya ^^

I can see this happening

The friend whispering is def Jason

Don't mind me, just casually tucking the last one away to write a longer version of later...

They're very short. But it's 2:30 and I'm not very tired since I screwed myself with a nap from 5:30-9 this evening.

"Damian, you need to let go! I'm going to miss my flight!" You were going on a trip for work but Damian didn't want to let you go. So he was acting like a child and refusing to let you go.

"Damian! This is important!" He mumbled something into your back that you couldn't understand. "Damian al Ghul Wayne let go of me now!" He just held on tighter. "Damian please! I need to go. It's for work! I'll only be gone a week and no I won't cancel. Believe it or not I like my job and want to keep it! Just let me go!!" He mumbled into your back again. "I can't understand you when you're taking into my back."

Finally he pulled his head away, whether or not you would like what he had to say was unknown. It could be anything with Damian.

"What am I supposed to do while you're gone?" That was unexpected. Out of everything you thought he might have said, that wasn't one of them.

"... What do you usually do when I'm gone?" Maybe he was just trying a new tactic to get you to stay? But probably not. Damian wasn't one who really liked to manipulate people for reasons as simple as this.

"Wait for you to come back…" You almost missed it and from his silence. It was true but he didn't mean for it to slip and he was hoping you didn't hear it.

"Well, I'm sure you could see if Jon and Billy are free. Maybe do a bit more patrolling, you haven't had much time to paint recently so you could do that." Damian pulled you closer again and his head was back in your back.

"Damian if I miss my flight. You're staying back at the manor for the next month and I'm going to spend the entire month with your entire family except you." You were dating a grown ass child.

----------------------

"What the fuck?!" Tim stared down at his coffee cup. Written on it was "Tem".

Tem. How the fuck did anyone get Tem from Tim. There's an obvious difference.

The next time he got coffee, his name was spelled wrong again. And again and again. But sometimes it was right. So he started paying more attention. It only happened when the barista Y/n was there. Then his name was spelled wrong, or just a completely different name that was close enough to it.

"What are you doing?" Dick came up behind him and looked at the list he had on his computer.

"This is a list of all the wrong ways Y/n has spelled my name." Dick whistled as he looked through the list.

Tem,

Tiim

Tiiiiiiiiiiiim

Teeeeem

Timê

Jim

Him

Thim

Sim

Hem

Toim

And the list went on. He kept adding whenever there was a new one. But it was getting annoying. Finally one day, after a bad day he'd had it. Thankfully he was the only customer.

"Why the fuck are you always spelling my name wrong. It's not even an accident with at least 90% of them!" Y/n just stared at him and pointed at the other girl who was working.

"I blame Myah, she's the one who told me." What? Even Myah looked offended.

"Excuse you, I just said I spelled the names of those I found attractive wrong. I never said to do it!"

Tim felt the heat of a blush coming up and watched Y/n's face go red. Oh. That's not what he expected. Y/n found him attractive? Shit. The only reason he hadn't snapped before was because she was pretty.

"Um…" he was about to start embarrassing himself if he spoke but that was the only nice way out of this. A slam against the counter shocked them both. Myah was standing there staring at the two.

"You two are hopeless! Just exchange numbers!"

--------------------

Dick couldn't help himself, you had been invited to the gala and frankly, the best looking person there. The dress you wore was stunning, it fit you perfectly. The color was stunning, it matched your skin and made you look like you were glowing. The dim lighting of the room only made it more obvious.

He heard more than saw someone come up next to him. Judging but the size, it was Jason. Which could only mean one thing.

"Why are you so thirsty?" He looked to see Jason staring at him. A grin with nothing but trouble in it. "Maybe we should go talk to her."

"No! I mean I should probably go talk with th-" Jason grabbed him by the wrist and started pulling him in your direction. If he fought too much it would make a scene. So he started praying and went along.

"Oh! Hi Jason and Dick!" He was screwed. Your voice was so pretty.

------------------

"How the fuck is she sleeping? And so close to him too?" Dick stared at you, trying to figure out how you could sleep right next to Jason when his snoring sounded like a train! It wasn't fair.

"I mean, they've lived together for a few years now. She's probably used to it by now." Tim looked like he was about to crash. But considering the fact he hadn't slept in 3 days, it wasn't surprising.

"Either that or she sleeps like the dead." Damian chimed in. He looked ready to murder Jason. But then again, Dick was considering it too.

"Unfortunately, the girls won't let us out until they finish their project…" it was going to be a long night.

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

If you find me on the edge, we’ll jump together.

Pirate au pt 4

azriel was so insanely close to sucker punching berdara. but unfortunately the bargain forbid him from hurting her until after they found the huge hall

he was heading towards his own ship when gwyneth stopped him. “pick your best men I can fit 5 maximum of you on my ship” 

“and why exactly are we taking your ship” 

“and why are you determined to be difficult” he nearly laughed at that, him difficult when she had spent the last 10 minutes toying with him at every chance. 

“I am determined to be fair, we’ll play for it” 

that peaked her interest as her eyes went wide “sword fighting, combat, cards, good old fashioned fists?!?” what was with this girl and fighting.

“uh no I was going to suggest rock paper scissors.” 

“who hurt you to make you so damn boring” 

“who made you a masochist” 

gwyneth didn’t falter for a second “wouldn’t you like to know” she said with a lazy grin

“so majesty are we going to play or not?” 

“best of three”

she put her fist up in answer. 

once again I’ll cut to the chase, after many rounds and accused cheatings azriel won 

“Oh fuck off” she grumbled while he smirked triumphantly 

“that’s not very nice gwyneth” obviously her response was to give him the finger

“bite me” 

“don’t give me any ideas” 

“do what you need to do we leave at dawn” 

“you’re going to be a delight on my ship aren’t you” 

“always am” with that they went back to their respective crews and ships to prepare. 

now that she had left to her own ship azriel thought over what had just happened. he wasn’t so much of a fool that he couldn’t admit she was  beautiful, with hair of flaming locks and a slightly insane look in her eye. there was something about her that despite being incredibly violent she radiated a certain amount of joy. every insult, every quip was said with a bright smile on her face. and she had pinned him with an alarming amount of ease but he wouldn’t let that happen a second time

and fucking hell he had made a bargain. well he knew for sure this journey was going to be something else alright 

on the shadowsinger azriel made an announcement to his crew “everyone sit your asses down and listen up. 5 ladies from the silver majesty are coming aboard our ship to assist us in our search for the huge hall. I am under bargain that no harm will come to any of them, so by affiliation every person aboard the shadowsinger is under the same bargain. you have any questions, take it up with rhys and cassian. I have shit to do in preparation for this voyage and to make sure our other ‘business partners’ stay up and running in our absence. do not bother me” 

about an hour later he was once again alone in his chambers with his first mate and quartermaster. 

“so you really believe they can lead us to it” cassian asked

“I believe that she made a bargain and knows the severity of a bargain.” 

“you bound yourself to the captain of our biggest rival, who you currently want to murder, captain I trust you with my life but I hope you know what you’ve gotten us into” rhys ever the strategist 

I hope so to he thought instead he said “I have thought over every possible outcome and we will come out of this with the huge hall and their heads strung up like trophies nailed to the wall.” 

————— gwyn’s pov at the same moment—————

alright crew fortunately the shadowsinger is on board, pun not intended, unfortunately I lost rock paper scissors and now I will be choosing 5 of us to join them in our hunt for the huge hall. so Em, archeron, VIv, and cressieda you guys are coming with me, bring only as many weapons as you can fit on your person. nuala cerridwen you guys are in charge. if everything is not in order by the time I get back I will start slitting throats. there are instructions in my chambers. so fuck, drink, steal, kill you guys know the drill.” 

gwyn sat with nesta and emerie strategizing 

“how do you see this playing out” nesta asked 

“oh we are going to walk away from this bleeding money with the shadowsinger kneeling at our feet” 

------------------------back to azriel’s pov------------------------

azriel watched as for the first time since he had become a pirate, there were women on his ship indefinitely. to gwyneth’s right stood a tall slender women, with her hair in a simple braid, she was assessing his ship with eyes that looked far too old for her age

to berdara’s left was a thin women with eyes that cut through him, they were sharp and very resentful. she was devastatingly beautiful with two katanas at her hips. behind them were two women with white hair but their differences lay in their skin tone. one had the fair skin of the winter court while the other had dark skin that contrasted her hair marking her as from the summer court. 

azriel looked over to his own crew. cassian was starring at the female with the swords practically drooling over himself while rhys looked indifferent. 

lucien was also starring at the women to gwyneth’s left but he looked at her like he recognized her rather then whatever the fuck cassian was doing 

the women noticed cassian and immediately threw a dagger at his head. it didn’t miss by much. 

“hey!” cassian shouted. “if you had chopped off my hair I swear to fucking god I will rip out your throat like its nothing” 

the girl looked him up and down and ignored him. “really you could have killed me”

so obviously she threw another one. it fell right between his arm and ribs

“berdara can I have a word please?”

“of course”

“rhys please make sure they don’t kill each other” 

“no promises” he replied not looking up

gwyn followed him into his room. 

“so shadowsinger, what do you want to talk about?” she gave him a light punch on the shoulder. he glared at her

“what do I want to talk about? hmm how about that girl just threw a dagger at my quartermaster. twice!”

“ok 1 that girls name is nesta and 2 if she wanted him dead he would be. so I consider that a great success” gwyn smiled earnestly. 

“are you forgetting the bargain we just made?”

“clearly threats were not taking off the table or have you forgotten ‘i will dump you in the river’ or ‘i’m going to shoot you in the head’ or ‘i will leave your guts across the 7 courts’ etc. hers was just a little more physical thats all.” 

“well can you try to control your crew” cheap shot but worth it, until gwyn broke out into a fit of laughter.

“me? control nesta? I thought you said you’ve heard the stories, you must have heard about the time she climbed 6 mountains in 5 different courts to find a man who ripped her off by 2 coppers. coppers! and I was all ‘that’s my girl’  because if there was one thing I’ve learned in this business it would be that men will take every single opportunity to tear you down but they can’t do that if they don’t have limbs.” 

“great so your entire crew is just as insane as you are”

“we maybe insane but at least we aren’t crying over every dagger that comes within an inch of our hearts.” 

“yes I’m sorry we would rather not fucking die”

“oh poor you, you must be a truly terrible pirate if death doesn’t stop at your door every once in a while.” 

“you know I am very much regretting working with you at this moment”

“wait you aren’t in love with me? shocker.” gwyn’s whole demeanor changed and she brightened as if some realization struck. “but that reminds me I was told I need your help to find the treasure and I certainly don’t need more man power so how will you be contributing?”

“I had thought about that and I was think about something you-”

“aww you think about me?” azriel rolled his eyes

“I was thinking about something you said and I would like you to elaborate on the blank map.”

“no please?”

“please” he forced out 

“well my informant who found me the map has never been wrong before and my witch says it reeks of magic.” 

“you think its spelled.” 

“I do”

“and you think I am going to help you uncover the magic?”

“indubitably” azriel was kind of impressed by her certainty

“aren’t you?”

“yes” he grumbled

“thought so, I’m smart like that.” 

“of course you are perfect in every way possible” 

“look any other day I would love for you to shower me in accurate compliments but we are kind of on a time crunch” 

“yes majesty”

“you know what its kind of growing on me, I too consider myself a queen” 

az ignored that and went to his closet. he opened the doors and unlocked the safe taking out the only thing in there. it was a small vile that contained a vibrant blue liquid. he gently carried it over to gwyn

“this is the last liquid fashioned by the last pheonix to ever exist”

“oh my fucking god you have pheonix piss” gwyn was practically jumping with glee. 

“I mean I wouldn’t exactly put it that way but yes, the liquid of the pheonix was said to act as a serum to reveal ones truth. it should be powerful enough to break through any ward or spell. and while mostly used on people it should work on objects too.”

“wait wait wait, that could get you millions and you’re going to use it on this??”

“who’s drooling now? yes it could but this hall could get me more and I’d prefer it not in the hands of certain people.”  

“alright I mean not really how I operate but it’s yours so you can do whatever you want with it.” “glad you approve, map?” gwyn cautiously pulled out the blank map and set it down on the table. 

he opened the vile and began to pour it over the map, praying that this would not be in vain. the vile had cost him greatly. he looked down and gwyn stole the words from his mouth “holy fucking shit.”

[plush-rabbit]

Blushing and Bleeding

Warnings: Noncon, Loss of Virginity

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: as a fellow taurus, it was my duty to do this for him (i love perverse scenarios dear lord) (adding more of a demon look to Asmo because ya know;^))

The candles are arranged in a circle, the white wax melting onto the golden platter, the flame flickering ever so slightly. Your hand bleeds, aching and throbbing, a sharp pain that shoots up to your elbow and starts to fade past. Blood trickles into the intricate summoning circle, the dark red splattering against the white chalk, tainting the circle. Sweat builds on your upper lip, your eyes filled with fresh tears as you lower the dagger. 

You open your mouth, the first word cracking making you clear your throat and begin anew. Your eyes flicker to a flame that swishes to the side, making your words come to a slow stop. You start again, conviction higher as you continue to speak, the soft, orange flames turning into a pale pink, slowly darkening until they match your blood. Your voice hitches, your mouth drying and stomach twisting, the scent of jasmine and rose are heavy in the air, your chest heavy and heart lowering into an uncomfortable pace. You can feel something against your body. Limbless hands that ghost over you, touching and prodding, your words coming to a slow stop. You lower yourself to your knees, the concrete painful against your bare knees.

The room is silent, the sound of your beating heart pounding in your ears. You raise the dagger once more, edging it closer to your palm, swallowing tightly. The tip of the blade presses against the wound and with shaky hands, you bring the dagger deeper into your palm, blood pooling out into your cupped hand, spilling past and dripping to the floor. The flame flickers out, and you gasp. You are still, your muscles tight and eyes wide. A part of you wants to pray for forgiveness, to bring the holy water closer to you. The blood is warm in your hand, thin and heavy, hand aching impossibly so. Without removing your gaze from the circle that remains ruined with blood, your other hands reaches blindly to the bandages beside you, and only when you touch it, do the flames spark again, flickering as if nothing has happened, the jasmine and rose, now hinted with peony and sandalwood. You look at the candles and only then when your gaze is broken, do you hear laughter- it’s sweet, flirtatious and cute and there’s a soft light that blinds your eyes, filling them with stars. When you look back to the middle, a man stands there. 

His hair is a soft blonde, hints of pink that swirl around at the tips, a scorpion tail that lowers to the floor, the tip of it curled and flushed red, almost looking as if it were throbbing, pulsing with life inside of the appendage. Four wings adorn the demon’s back, a set that is lower is heavier, larger and still, the set that rests higher above flutters ever so slightly, the hair that adorns flows, curling and twisted with soft pinks. Teeth are pointed, canines are branching out, a tongue peeks out, licking at the lips, the tongue a dark red, ridges looking almost like petals. When you meet his eyes, they are soft, pastel in color, a blue that gradually melts into a soft pink, reminding you of cotton candy. You are memorized by them, your mouth agape, all thoughts leaving your head. The eyes push upwards, the demon no doubt smiling at your amazed look.  

“Well, well.” His voice is seductive, echoing in your ears and you are broken from your spell, gasping for breath that you did not know you were holding. “I have to say you certainly are cute. I mean not the cutest that I’ve seen of course-” your frown, your face aflame- “oh, don’t give me that look. I’ve been around for ages, dear. I’m bound to see something more but really. Being called cute by me is a compliment.” He- from what you presume- smiles widely, the teeth stretched far. “Well, you have my attention, now what can the most beautiful being in all of three realms do for you?”

“I-” your voice squeaks and you clear your throat, ignoring the scoffing- “I have summoned you for protection, demon-”

The demon barks in laughter, condescending and doubling over in laughter. “Oh! No one really ever asks for protection from me but I’m not one to deny someone of their preferences.”

Your eyes narrow, your hand coming to fix your hair, trying to secretly wipe the sweat from your brow. “I- Aren’t you a protection type of demon? I- I’ve summoned you to make a pact. A- I was told by others that you accept most if not all offers.” You watch as the demon waves a hand- not ignoring the way that the claws glimmer in the flames, pinks and blues, silver and flowers threaded into the hands. 

“Oh my.” The demon places a hand over their chest in an almost mocking way. “A cute face but no brains, eh?” The scents grow stronger in the room and the demon takes a small step towards you. “I’m afraid to tell you, my dear that you’ve been tricked. I’m no demon of protection, but rather the Avatar of Lust.” Your eyes widen, your heart sinking. “Asmodeus, at your service.”

“I-” your eyes glance to the bottle of holy water and you reach for it quickly, holding it tight in your palm. “I don’t need your services. Please, go away.”

He clicks his tongue, taking a step further to you. “Oh honey-” Asmodeus smiles and shakes his head- “it doesn’t work that way. You’ve taken me away from a very important meeting. You wanted my attention- summoned me and gave me your blood- which might I add, is very sweet. Virgin, I presume? Well, you have my attention and for denying me so quickly, I must remind you, I don’t take kindly to being ignored.”

You don’t waste a second, removing the lid to the bottle, quickly splashing the demon, chanting an incantation under your tongue. The demon yowls in pain, doubling over and falling to their knees, gagging and slamming a hand to the floor, claw marks left in its wake as the hand closes into a fist. You smile triumphantly, repeating the incantation, stopping when the yowling turns into maniacal laughter. 

“Ha! Oh my, I can’t believe you actually fell for that.” The demon rises to their full height, walking towards you, every step taken met with one that you take backwards. “Sweetheart, I am the Avatar of Lust. A teensy bottle of holy water- diluted might I add- and a dumb little prayer isn’t going to work. Well, I’m here and so are you and I’ll certainly be hearing it when I go back, so why not help me ease a bit of my worries?” His voice is seductive, lust dripping off with every word, slick spilling between your lips. Your gaze is pulled to their eyes, the cloudy, iris-less gaze making you lose your words. “Come now, give in to me, huh?”

Your back meets the wall, your hands scratching softly at the stone. You stutter your words, declining his invasion, his gaze capturing yours and you are unable to look away, your stomach tightening painfully, arousal making your knees weak. Your breaths come out in puffs, sweat sticking to your back, your mouth salivating, drool spilling past your lips.

“How cute, already drooling for me.” A thick claw curls under your chin, forcing you to look further at him. “See, I don’t take kindly to no. You’re lucky enough I can feel your arousal slip.” His hands are against your body, pulling off your clothes despite your words. His hand slips to your sex, cupping it, fire burns against your skin, clamping your legs together, trapping his hand there. “Already so desperate, hm?” His index dances closely to your clit, making you tense, the sharp point of it pushing against the bundle of nerves and your hands cover your mouth, eyes watering as you can feel a climax approaching. He lowers his face, his breath against yours, his breath like honey and tobacco. “So close, already?” His lips ghost over yours, eyes wide and seeing into your heavy lidded ones. “Cute.” 

His lips are on yours, the kiss better than any type of sex. His tongue petal like, stuffed into your mouth, slender and slimy, your face flush and body heat rising- in your mind, the faint words of aphrodisiac are murmured. You cling to him, whining and crying, humping your sex against his hand, squealing as you climax from the simple kiss. Your hands dig into the exposed skin, your lungs burning for air, so desperate to keep your lips interlocked. 

Asmodeus pulls away, a smile on their lips. His hand slips away from your sex, a thick strand of arousal clinging from his finger rests heavy on his finger, dripping to floor, heavy and sweet like honey. He sucks on the finger, pulling it out with a hum. 

“You really are a virgin.” He puts the finger on your mouth and you suck on it greedily, tasting a mix of yourself and him. “This is certainly going to be fun.” He lifts you until you meet his height, your head pressed against the stone. “Tell me, were you saving yourself for someone special?” You nod your head, eyes filling with tears. “Not a demon, I presume?” You remain still. His finger slips from your mouth and he cups your heat, rubbing tantalizing slow against your clit. “How would it feel like losing it to a demon?” 

You shake your head, pleading for the demon to let you go. “No, no, please.” You cry, tears falling and curving down your face. “No, no, no. Just- Just go, please,” you stutter, your hands against his breasts, pushing against the muscle, trying to create some distance between the two of you despite the wall pressed against your back. “I’ll offer you anything else- just-”

His words cut you off, his words musing and thoughtful, hands coming to hold you, the tail swishing side to side, rising slowly, until the telson teases against your nipple, pushing the bud upwards. “It’s not often that I get to have a virgin.” His head tilts in fascination. “Well- it’s a good thing you’ve already orgasmed.” You can feel something thick and pulsating against your inner thigh. “I hope it isn’t too painful for you.” His smile shows his lie, wide and merciless, pushing his cockhead against your entrance despite your pleas. 

His cock is hugged by your velvety walls, thick petals ridge from the cock, expanding and pushing against your virgin walls, your sobs muffled by his lips the deeper he goes in, each inch pushed inward and deeper into you a struggle that he meets with staggered breath. Each fold edges further out, softening into a curve, bulging out towards the end meeting his knot. Fully inside of you, bare and pulsing, he wastes no time, thrusting into you roughly, a sharp pinch of both pain and pleasure shooting throughout your body like electricity. He telson presses into your skin, your body tensing as blood peeks out and slips onto him.

Asmodeus pulls his cock out, watching your flushed face, once defiant now perverse, mouth agape, your eyes heavy with lust, tongue out as he pinches it roughly, your only response is a dazed moan. He laughs, the muscle weak and squishy under his claws. You look so lewd, so perverted and already out of your mind even though he hasn’t reached an orgasm. It’s so easy to mess with humans- such simple creatures.

Caring for himself, he presses his hilt close to you, his petals fluttering inside of you, his tongue filling your mouth, your moans so sweet to him. The scent of blood is heavy in the air, an aphrodisiac to Lust themselves, as he pushes further into your, pressing against your cervix, the tip leaking with sex, making you unable to mumble anything other than his name and even then, it’s a mockery of his name, sullied by a human who came after protection and received him. You ruin his beautiful name and as compensation, he pushes into you, thrusting and thrusting, hoping you to whine in pain, to bleed. The telson carefully wraps around your neck and your face is quick to darken it’s shade. Survival takes over, your body spasming over his cock as your hands claw at his tail. Once you grow faint in your movements, he releases, having you gasp for breath, seeking for his kiss. 

You squirm and wither above him, your innocence and virginity lost. You cry and moan, pulling him close to you, riding him yourself. Your movements are sloppy, so fucked out of your mind, that the only thing left is lust. He is the only left that you can think about. You cling to him, shaking and overworked, leaking upon him, each thrust becoming easier to push into you. His cock is perfect for you, curving and bulging where needed, secreting lubricant with every thrust. 

He releases quickly. Hot and heavy seed that spills past, your mouth latching to his breast, desperate to have something occupying your mouth. For a brief moment, he wonders how long a human can go without air before dying. His movements don’t slow, never deviating from the movement. He is everything you are not- perfect, steady and the most coveted thing in all of the realms. He spills inside of you, continuing until you leak and splatter onto the floor. If there is one thing he loves about humans, it’s their softness, their squishy insides that seem to mold to whatever shape is in them. He kisses you, holding you close, arousal so heavy in the air he’s amazed that his little fans haven’t seeped into the realm to watch him, to have a chance to glance at his gorgeous, rose colored cock.

You are sweet like honey, heavy and sticky, clinging to him like a virgin. You hold him close, mumbling nonsense under your tongue, wanting him to stay. “I- I feel so full.”  Your voice is nothing but a mumble. “Mu- Mu- More, Asmodeus, please.” Your cunt clings to him tightly, desperate to milk him. “I want your seed, I want you to fuck me until I can’t think.” He laughs, taking a step back with your cunt still latched onto him, your back sliding against the stone until your stomach makes a curve, your stomach folding together. You moan, your head raised to the heavens, singing his name as if it’s the most important thing and quite frankly, it really is.

He doesn’t speak. Only grunt, and moan, a hiss between his teeth as he pants heavily above you. His telson holds your face tightly, he words heavy above you. “Nothing but a slut who spread themselves for a fucking demon.” His eyes narrow, his gaze returning to something more controlled. “You humans are so cute and pathetic. You should consider yourself luck that I’ve decided to even touch something as lowly as you- to have your tight, little pussy on me.” Spit collects in his mouth and he grabs your tongue, spitting onto you, the glob heavy and sweet as you swallow it without a second thought. “Honestly, so giving and cute.” His lips ghost above yours. “Nothing but a slut.”

So desperate to push further into you, to have you lubricate him, but he stops when you howl in pain, so loud that he glances to the door, surprised when no one barges in. Not that it would have stopped him- another hole or another meal. He uses your body, moving you above him, feeling every soft hug on your leaking cunt, your gummy walls that squish against him, that mold against his petaled cock. His movements never slow, they remain steady, even after he fills you countless times. 

Asmodeus leaves you on the floor, your cunt leaking with semen and your own arousal, sticky and hot, heavy cream that is mixed with your virgin blood. You lay on the concrete ground, too weak to rise, too fucked out of your mind to do anything but look as he walks back to the circle calmly. When he turns around he smiles at you and he is gorgeous and hideous all at once. A god that stands near you, standing so close and yet so far. A demon that has ruined you, used you as nothing more than a simple stress fuck. “You know, for a virgin, you weren’t half bad. I’ve had worse fucks. Anyways, I’ll see you later for more.” 

The flames flicker out and once they are lit, they have returned to their orange flame, the scent of jasmine and rose, now gone, replaced by nothing. You lie on the floor, your cunt weeping with semen and blood, eyes closing as your mind finally returns to you.

[yoditorian]

close to what

frankie morales/reader

as part of @din-damn-djarin‘s birthday song challenge, i picked dancing under red skies by dermot kennedy. it’s a favourite song of mine, i think it’s beautiful, and i felt like it fit this idea i’ve had swirling around for a little bit. this fic is extremely personal to me but it’s also not pretty. i don’t want to romanticise addiction or use it as a plot device, so PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

the support group and hospital drop-off box is drawn directly from my own experience. my inbox and ask box are always open if you need to talk, but i am by no means a professional. if you are struggling with themes of this fic a quick internet search should help you find resources local to you 💛

main masterlist

word count: 3.2k // warnings: addiction, PTSD, nightmares (inc. death mentions), recovery and relapse, therapy mentions, hospital mention, references to past substance abuse, implied reader is in addiction recovery, swears probably, ‘they’ as a pronoun in reference to the reader

Your ringtone is obnoxiously loud in the darkness of your bedroom but at least that means you don’t have to worry about where it is, reaching out blindly towards your nightstand where it blares by your head.

“You’re from the group thing, right? He’s mentioned you a few times.”

You don’t recognise the voice on the other end, maybe you should have checked who it was before answering. You pull the phone away from your ear for a second and glance at the time first, 4:03am. No call at four in the morning can involve good news. But it’s the name on the screen that has you wide awake in a split second: Frankie. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, putting whoever it is on speaker while you fumble for the lamp on your bedside table. An old sweater hangs over your bedpost, the logo of a sports team you’ve never heard of cracked and faded beyond recognition, and you tug it over your head in a panic.

“I don’t know, he’s locked himself in the bathroom. I just- he won’t come out. He won’t listen to me, he always listens to me.”

There’s a stifled something and a quiet knock. But no sound from Frankie, just the shaking sigh of the man you’re speaking to. He tells you his name quietly, Santiago, and you remember Frankie mentioning his oldest friend. An image pops up in your mind as you wrestle your jeans on, a fuzzy picture on Frankie’s phone screen, passed to you over the sticky table in a diner, of two men standing knee-deep in a river. Soaked to the bone but grinning ear to ear. Pope’s got him, if no one else has. That’s what he told you.

You stay on the phone with Santiago on the drive over, convincing yourself it's out of concern for him instead of the anxiety churning in your stomach. Frankie still makes no sound in the bathroom, the door stays locked, and you try not to think too hard before you have all the facts.

The Santiago that meets you at Frankie’s front door is a far cry from the man in the photograph. He looks exhausted, on the verge of tears. You’re pretty sure you’re not faring much better. 

“Last door,” He breathes, “Down the hall.”

You follow his instructions, finding the only closed door in the hallway and tapping lightly on the painted wood. Listening for a moment, you can just barely hear a shuddering breath. That’s better than nothing, at least it means he’s alive.

“Frankie?” You try, praying that he’ll relent when he realises it’s you. Santiago stands at the other end of the hall, wringing his hands together, phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder as he whispers frantically into it. He barely catches himself from crashing to his knees when the bathroom door clicks softly. 

“Can I come in?” You have to ask him. All this has to be on his terms, he has to set the boundaries. Anything less than that is dangerous, you won’t risk him hurting himself. 

He says nothing, but the door pulls back just a fraction of an inch and that’s all the confirmation you need. You push the door open enough to slip inside and shut it softly behind you again. 

Frankie’s sitting on the floor, his back against the bathtub and legs stretched out in front of him. A quick look over proves he’s not hurt, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief if it weren’t for the little ziplock bag between his knees. 

He’s very pointedly not looking at it, or you, instead choosing to glare at a spot on the ceiling. You maneuver yourself to sit opposite him, against the wall with your knees tucked up against your chest. 

“Did you take any?” It almost feels wrong to break the silence that’s settled over the two of you.

You wait with bated breath until he gives the slightest shake of his head. He hasn’t touched it. Okay, that’s the worst case scenario eliminated. It’s enough to have your heart rate calm a little, it doesn’t make things better by a long shot, but at least it’s something.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You ask, picking at a loose thread of your sweatshirt. 

His chin falls to his chest and he pulls his knees up towards him and you’re sure this is it. This is where you lose him. But Frankie takes a deep breath. And then another. And then, he musters the courage to look you in the eyes. He doesn’t see pity, not like he thought he would. You don’t look disappointed or upset or angry, the way he was so sure you would be. You’re just waiting, letting him take the reins, he stores the knowledge away. In case he ever needs to dig you out.

“I don’t know what happened,” God, his throat is scratchy, “I just- I had a bad night. And I called Pope, and then-”

He breaks off with a heart-wrenching crack in his voice and you can’t help but reach out to him. Just a hand, stretched across the space between you. He holds onto you like his life depends on it.

“And I remembered I kept a bag on top of the medicine cabinet. And now you’re here.”

It’s to the point, simple, methodical. Like he’s back in the army and giving a flight report to his CO. You wonder if that’s what he needs right now, maybe spelling things out is better for him than asking what it is you can do. It’s easier, sometimes, when someone just tells you what’s going to happen. 

“Do you want to take it?” You have to know, for his safety if nothing else. You need him to tell you if there’s going to be a problem, if there’s a risk and he needs more than you. He knows you’re not going to walk out the door and give up on him if he says yes. 

It has to be his choice. 

Frankie shakes his head again, a grimace on his face like he feels sick at the thought, and you squeeze his fingers between yours. You need him to understand that he hasn’t failed, that he won’t fail. Tripping up and falling behind are part of the process, and you know he knows that. He’s been going to the support group longer than you have. Recovery is messy and far from simple. He’ll get back to where he was, one bad night isn’t going to ruin him.

Your lower back aches from the hardwood floor but you show no sign of discomfort, waiting until Frankie is completely back in his own head before you make any move to suggest where to go from here.

“There’s a drop-off box at the hospital, you fancy a drive?” You keep his hand in yours, terrified that he’ll slip back if you let go. 

God, he hates this. He hates that he can’t even look at you for more than a few seconds without his resolve threatening to crack. He hates that you’re not angry at him for any of it, not even a little bit. He deserves anger, he deserves your disappointment.

You were never supposed to see him like this, that much he’s sure of. Or, he convinced himself of at least. He’s been going to group and therapy and he’s kept up his tests and he’s stayed far away from anything that might even tempt him a little. And that was before you even showed up. Standing awkwardly in the doorway with a nervous smile and eyes the size of dinner plates. But he’d been by your side in a flash, asking you to give him a hand setting up chairs, and that was it. 

Frankie knows the ins and outs of recovery, you don’t need to tell him that he hasn’t failed. But he can’t help feeling like maybe he never really started in the first place, leaving that one bag out of sight. Life had been busy enough to preoccupy him, between everything else he kind of just forgot about it. He let it gather dust and it should have stayed that way. 

And then, it felt like he was falling out of the sky. And he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Nightmares aren’t an unusual thing for him, or for any former soldier, but the memories they stem from seem to warp into something else entirely when he’s too tired to pay attention. Sometimes he’s alone in the helicopter, sometimes he’s with family, sometimes strangers. It was his team tonight. A vivid memory of a time he almost couldn’t save them. 

The crash never happened, he knows that. He’d righted the bird and got his team to safety the way he knew he could. But that knowledge doesn’t stop his mind from wandering, from drowning him in fear when he imagines what might have happened had he not done his job. If they’d crashed in the middle of nowhere. Would any of them have died on impact? Would they have been left stranded, wounded and starving? He’s woken up in a cold sweat too many times, each ending more horrific than the last.

Tonight had been the last straw. And Frankie had found himself in his bathroom, patting along the top of the medicine cabinet, before he could even realise what he was doing.

He’d called Santiago, still blinking back images of his best friend’s bloody and lifeless face, just to hear his voice initially. But he hadn’t managed to explain anything past the sob lodged in his throat, and he’d heard the jingle of car keys before he could tell Pope he didn’t need to drive all the way across town at two o’clock in the morning. 

At least nobody had called Will, because that would have meant that Benny would have shown up too. Maybe even Tom would have dragged his ass out of bed. Frankie didn’t need to disappoint all his friends in one night. 

Santiago is bound by friendship, best and oldest, he’d never say anything if Frankie didn’t want him to. And you, you’re bound by- well, you’re not really bound by anything. You could get up off of his bathroom floor right now and never look back. Get to your feet, and walk right out of his life. But you won’t. 

He knows you won’t because you’re still holding tight to his hand, even though the angle and distance has you leaned forward awkwardly. You’re still looking at him like you believe in him, even though he almost threw everything he’s worked so hard for down the drain. You’re here, despite everything. Despite only knowing him for a couple of months, despite getting a call from a stranger at four in the morning, despite everything he’s done to be undeserving of anything good or kind in his life.

You’re here, still, looking at him like he can do anything. That’s something. That’s enough for him.

“I don’t even want to look at it.” Frankie croaks, and keeps his eyes steady on yours even as his voice wavers. To anybody else, he might sound unsure. But you hear that steely determination underneath it all, the same one that’s convinced you to keep moving any time you’ve faltered. 

“That’s okay, I can take it.” You waste no time in snapping the little bag up in your free hand, and stuffing it in your back pocket. A phone rings in the hall, hurriedly answered, and you suddenly remember the other man waiting outside.

Frankie’s still looking at you, dark eyes unsteady and unsure, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him. He comes back to you, slowly, and takes a few shaky breaths. 

“Do you want him to come with, or?” You leave the question open. His choice, entirely, the way everything tonight has been. He lost control for a moment and fought, tooth and nail, to get it back. You can’t take any decision about this away from him.

He shakes his head, loosens his grip on your hand, and asks you to give him a minute. It hurts, leaving him alone on his bathroom floor. But he’ll come out, you’re certain of that much.

“Is-” Santiago cuts himself off when you emerge and pull the door just shy of closed behind you, like he’s afraid to even ask the question. Let alone know the answer.

“He’ll be okay. We’re taking his last stash to the drop-off box.”

Santiago’s whole body sags in relief, and you can’t help but lean against the wall for support yourself. The little ziplock bag in your back pocket is a weight you don’t think you’ll ever stop carrying, even after it’s disposed of, but you’re more than happy to bear it when Frankie steps out of the bathroom and Santiago tugs him into a hug that almost breaks his ribs.

It’s easy to forget, when you get that low, that you have people. But they’ll always show up when you call. 

You leave them to their moment and shuffle back through to the main room, your car keys and phone left on the kitchen counter where you’d abandoned them. You’re not sure why you bother checking your messages, maybe it’s to keep your hands busy, maybe it’s so you don’t feel like you’re intruding on Frankie and his oldest friend. They speak in hushed tones as your thumbnail scratches back and forth across a crack in your screen protector. 

“I’m sorry.” Frankie’s voice is rough, muffled into the other man’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be,” Pope squeezes him just a little tighter before pulling back far enough to look him in the eye, “Be sorry you didn’t tell me they were so pretty.” 

It should feel odd, the way that he speaks as though the last few hours haven’t even happened. How a simple, harmless joke is all it takes for Frankie’s heart to settle. Pope doesn’t hate him, couldn’t hate him, 

“Didn’t I?” A shy, shaky smile settles on his features as Santiago stifles a yawn, “Crash here tonight, you’re not driving anywhere on no sleep.” 

Ever the caretaker, even in the wake of his worst moments. It’s a hard habit to break after all they’ve been through. Something tells Frankie, even as Pope relents and walks through to the living room to find a blanket and settle on the couch, he’ll still be awake once they get back. 

You’re quiet when he follows you out of his apartment, quiet as your footsteps echo in the stairwell, quiet when you cross the street to your car and unlock the doors. Part of him still worries that you’re disappointed, that you’re angry or upset or that he’s fucked up so bad that you’ve already decided to drop him home without a word and he’ll never hear from you again.

But another look at you out of the corner of his eye as you plug your seatbelt in disproves any other theory he might have. You’re quiet because you know that he doesn’t need you to talk, that he just needs you right here beside him so he can be brave enough to take the next step.

The radio is playing some acoustic, folky sounding song that neither of you have heard before, and it’s comforting to just sit and absorb the peace of the night as you drive. You’re conscious of Frankie’s eyes on you, although you’re sure he’s trying to be subtle about his staring. His seemingly unwavering attention does little to quiet the voice you’ve been hearing in the back of your mind for the last few weeks.

He still can’t quite believe it. That you’d wake up, in the middle of the night, and haul ass across town for him. For him. Something about it somehow makes ribcage feel like it's about to burst and cave in at the same time. But now is definitely not the time to be thinking about the tiny baby crush he may or may not be developing on you. 

You don’t miss the way he tenses when you pull into the hospital parking lot, muscles locked so tight that a stiff breeze could shatter him into pieces. He turns to you when you say his name softly, and his eyes are wide with a terror so familiar that your heart breaks in your chest.

“I can’t do it.” He chokes the admission out like it’s poison, and in just four words you can hear every ounce of hatred he has for himself in this moment. He thinks he’s weak, because he can’t even throw a little plastic bag into a hatch, because he can’t even bring himself to move. 

“That’s okay. Did you want me to?” You offer, it’s plain as day on his face that he doesn’t know how to ask you.

You’re grateful for the unusual warmth of the night when you step out of the car, comfortable enough not to need a jacket at this time of day. The sky is just starting to turn that odd shade of blue-grey, the barest hints of dawn on the horizon. Another day, just like tomorrow will be. Sometimes, the next day is all you can hope for. 

The metal handle is cold when you wrap your hand around it and haul the creaky hatch open, you fish the bag out of your pocket and don’t even pay it a second glance as you set it on the little shelf and let the door snap shut. Gone. But you can still feel it eating away at you, you can still see how it weighs on Frankie’s shoulders when you shuffle across the concrete and climb back into the car.

He says he’s not hungry when you ask, and you don’t push it. He’ll eat when he’s ready. He’ll live when he’s ready. You don’t mind, you’ve got a better idea anyway.

“Where are we going?” He asks when he realises you’re heading completely the opposite way from his apartment building. You shoot him a smile, turning your eyes back to the road before you can read too far into the look in his eyes. 

The beach is dead, just like you thought it would be, and you’re grateful as you shut off the engine. 

“We are gonna throw rocks in the sea.” You say and part of him wonders if you’ve always known exactly what he needs. 

If someone had told Frankie, twenty four hours ago, that he’d be skipping pebbles on the sea with you at sunrise, he would have laughed. But here he is, flecks of the rising sun on the sea reflecting on your face, and you’re smiling at him like that as a breeze ruffles his hair. Maybe this is all he needs to find the courage to stare right down the barrel of his faults. He doesn’t know how you do it, maybe you can do it together.

You reach over and take his hand when you spot the lone tear tracking its way down his cheek. 

“You’ll be alright. I promise.” You smile just as the sun finally breaks fully over the horizon, sky streaked with orange and pink. 

“Yeah, I know.” Frankie can’t help but smile back.

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