#sigil inspired drop game

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Lavender and Starflower (Mobster AU) – Chapter 10

The Dekarios Clan reigns over Waterdeep as the city’s protector for centuries. Suddenly, the Clan gets challenged by Cazador, the head of the Szarr Clan that rules over Baldur’s Gate. Of course, such an attack won’t be tolerated and the intruder must be forced back and out of the City of Splendors. While fixing destroyed protection sigils, Gale, wizard prodigy and heir of the Dekarios Clan, meets a charming stranger called Astarion. And Gale makes the biggest mistake of his life; he invites the pale elf into his home.

Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, graphic description of violence, smut, dissociation, angst, emotional rollercoaster, mobster AU

I was inspired to start writing this fic when I saw this artwork by @arczism

The first poem's an original written by me.

The name of the fictional poet is based on Pan, the Greek god of the wild, shepherds, music, sex, and fertility. The name Pitus stems from Pitys (pine), a nymph who was pursued by Pan.

The second poem's written by me, but inspired by the lyrics to "Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang" by Silver.

In the game, the inscription on Astarion's gravestone reads "Astarion Ancunín: 229 – 268 DR", thus, he died and was turned at the age of 39 (which is very young for an elf since they claim adulthood and an adult name at 100 and can live up to 750 years)

According to D&D lore, Ches aka The Claw of the Sunsets is the third month of the year and the month in which the Spring Equinox takes place.

In Greek mythology, Ariadne was the daughter of King Minos of Crete and helped Theseus escape the Minotaur and then was abandoned by him on the island of Naxos. There, Dionysus (god of wine-making, orchards, fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, and theatre) fell in love with her and married her. Many versions of the myth recount Dionysus throwing Ariadne's jewelled crown into the sky to create a constellation, the Corona Borealis (Northern Crown). Ariadne's associated with mazes and labyrinths.

Lamarelle comes from the French phrase 'jouer à la marelle' meaning 'to play hopscotch'.

This is obviously an AU that isn't related to my other work.

Despite worrying about Astarion's whereabouts and well-being, life went on and Gale had to go to work. Setting up more protection and defence spells, gathering information in the brothels, calming the panicked priestesses in the Selûne temple and explaining that the suspended garlic garlands weren't enough to protect them.

With Murk by his side, Gale made his rounds through Waterdeep until long past midnight. He was exhausted when he finally arrived at home, thus, he didn't have the energy to cook for himself and ate some leftovers in the estate's kitchen. Afterwards, he walked upstairs to his suite and closed the door with a deep sigh.

"Gale..." Astarion scrambled off the sofa and flung himself around the wizard's neck. Relief flooded through the latter and he held the vampire spawn close.

"Are you alright? Where were you? I was worried."

"I had to deal with some business," replied Astarion, but didn't elaborate further. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," admitted the wizard, smiling softly.

Astarion kissed him deeply, desperately, and Gale wondered why. The vampire spawn's hands undid the wizard's trousers while they kept exchanging kisses.

"I want you," whispered Astarion. "Please, let me have you."

"Yes," panted Gale and groaned when the elf dragged his lips down his throat and collarbone. Astarion dropped to his knees, pulling down the wizard's trousers and underwear in one go, and swallowed his cock down. Gale moaned as he was deepthroated for the first time in his life, and ran his fingers through the vampire spawn's hair.

"Careful, don't choke," he got out, but realised at the same time that the undead didn't need to breathe. However, he could feel how Astarion, with his nose pressed into Gale's pubic hair, inhaled deeply as if to memorise the smell. The elf swallowed around him and moaned gutturally. Then, he started bobbing up and down on Gale's cock, once in a while pushing the entire length down his throat. It was too much and Gale couldn't hold on any longer.

"I'm close."

He whined the warning a second before he came. Astarion moaned and swallowed eagerly, his nails digging into the wizard's buttcheeks as the vampire spawn deepthroated him again. Gale whimpered due to overstimulation and gently pulled the elf off his softening, sensitive cock. The latter reluctantly let go and released the wizard with an obscene slurp. Moaning, Astarion swallowed again, his eyes on half-mast as he licked his lips. He seemed miles away. Gale stroke the vampire spawn's hair and asked worried: "Are you alright? You seem dazed."

"I'm fine, Mast– darling. I'm fine."

"Let me return the favour."

"No, not necessary. I'm fine," muttered Astarion, lolling his tongue back out to lick Gale's cock again, but the latter moved out of reach.

"Apologies, but I'm still too sensitive," explained Gale and helped the elf onto his feet. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes," answered Astarion, but he seemed to look right through him.

Gale frowned, kissed the vampire spawn's cheek, and murmured: "I'll get ready for bed."

"I'll be waiting for you," purred the elf and pulled him into a sloppy kiss. When they finally parted, Astarion sauntered into the bedroom while Gale entered the bathroom. The latter gave himself a catlick, brushed his teeth, and dressed in a shirt and underwear. Then, he entered the bedroom. Astarion was lounging on the mattress, with his legs spread to put himself on full display and a charming smile on his face.

"Come here, darling," he purred and rolled his hips up.

"My sincerest apology, Astarion, but I'm too tired to continue," Gale told him as he lifted the covers to slip into bed. "I'll make it up to you in the morning, I promise."

For a moment, the addressed stayed silent and Gale worried that he'd angered the vampire spawn. But then, the latter moved over and stroke the wizard's chest.

"I see," he murmured with a sickly-sweet smile that put Gale on edge. "That's alright, darling, but let me stay close to you."

"Of course, Astarion," nodded the wizard and extinguished the candlelight with a flick of the wrist.

As they lay in the dark, the vampire spawn pulled down the blanket, settled between Gale's legs, and took his cock back into his mouth. The wizard hissed in surprise.

"Astarion, please, I'm too tired. Let me sleep," he groaned.

The addressed popped off the wizard's flaccid member and replied: "Then sleep. Just let me stay here for a while. Please..."

Gale sighed. He couldn't refuse Astarion anything.

"Alright, but I doubt I can get it up again."

"That's fine by me," replied the elf and swallowed him back down. The wizard sighed again and started caressing Astarion's silver-white curls.

The latter seemed content to simply lay between his legs, eyes closed, hands on the wizard's thighs, and a flaccid cock on his tongue. He didn't move at all, only swallowed once in a while. It couldn't be called 'cockwarming', not really. Astarion's mouth was too cold for that, and it was more the other way around; the warmth of Gale's member warming up Astarion's mouth. But the wizarddidn't mind and it seemed as if the vampire spawn didn't either.

"I'm cold," muttered Gale after a while.

Astarion only hummed and, without looking, pulled the blanket up and over himself to cover Gale's torso. The latter lifted it up to look at the elf who was still between his legs and asked: "Are you alright down there? Are you sure you want to continue?"

"Yes," slurred Astarion, gazing up at him.

Again, it seemed like he was far away mentally and looking right through him.

"If you say so," muttered Gale and made himself more comfortable with a sigh. He stretched out his legs, sunk deeper into the pillow, and moved his hand to his own thigh to cover Astarion's fingers. He fell asleep this way, utterly exhausted.

The vampire spawn lingered under the covers, with his mouth around the wizard, while he was floating. His mind blissfully empty. All his worries and fears gone for a short while.

When Gale awoke, Astarion's head was resting on his chest. Smiling, he stroke the elf's silky-soft hair.

"Good morning," he mumbled sleepily.

The vampire spawn lifted his head up, smiling at him.

"Morning."

Astarion slotted their lips together sloppily and sucked on Gale's tongue who moaned at the treatment. They moved their bodies together, rolling their hips into each other. The wizard wrapped a hand around them both and started to stroke. Astarion whined into Gale's mouth and thrust into the grip.

"Gale," he moaned, eyes rolling back in his head. "A poem..."

The addressed huffed a laugh and pulled the vampire spawn into another passionate kiss before complying to the request.

"'Whether bathed in daylight or moonlight,

your beauty always shines blindingly bright.

I'm simply gazing at you in utter awe

as if you were a chiselled marble statue,

covered in stardust and morning dew.

You're the most beautiful being I ever saw.

I realise that the gods have not only blessed you,

as I am allowed to dwell in your presence, I'm blessed too.'"

Astarion's orgasm hit him like a minotaur during mating season. As his seeds burst out of him, covering Gale's hand and belly, his body shook violently and he moaned so loudly and gutturally, he feared his vocal cords would rip. It was only with Gale that his orgasms were so intense. Unsually, he felt nothing. He locked lips with the wizard again, kissing him desperately and hungrily. With a groan, Gale rolled his hips up one last time before he was granted his on relief.

Panting, they lay there, waiting until they'd recovered.

"Pan Pitus, author of numerous epic erotic poems," mumbled Astarion. "Allegedly, he died during intercourse at the ripe age of six hundred and sixty-nine."

"What a way to go," snickered Gale. The elf graced him with a chuckle, but it sounded a bit forced.

After a few minutes had passed, the wizard sighed and spoke: "I must go to work. Will you still be here when I come home?"

Astarion gave him a small smile, it seemed sad.

"Of course, I'll be here, darling."

"Are you sure you'll alright?" asked Gale, frowning slightly. "Something seems off since you've returned. Did something happen? You know you can trust me."

"Of course, I trust you darling, but it's nothing." After a short pause, Astarion sighed and added: "Well, there is something troubling me, but unfortunately, you cannot help me with it. I have to work through it on my own, I'm afraid."

"I see..." Still frowning, Gale gently brushed a loose curl behind the elf's pointy ear. "Whatever's troubling you, I'm sure you'll figure it out. I have faith in you."

At that, the addressed barked a laugh, sharp, humourless, and sad.

"I will," he said then.

They finally got out of bed. Gale got ready for the day in a rush and had a quick breakfast. Astarion moved much slower, as if still in trance. The wizard couldn't figure out why the elf looked so sad. With one last kiss, they parted and Gale made his way over to Morena's office to accept today's duties.

The day was rainy and unproductive. Gale made no progress on the subject of Cazador. No news, no more broken sigils, nothing at all. It was eerie – and highly suspicious. In a bad mood, Gale trotted home next to Murk who happily whistling a tune, seemingly utterly unbothered by anything.

At least, I'll see Astarion again soon, Gale thought with a smile.

"I'm home!" Gale announced and closed the suite's door behind him. He caught sight of Astarion lying on the sofa, curled up with a poetry album in his hand, but staring into space. Tara was sitting next to him on the sofa's armrest.

"Good evening, Mr. Dekarios. Welcome home," she said.

"Hello, my dear Tara," smiled the addressed and walked over to her. He scratched the purring tressym under the chin and then kissed the vampire spawn's forehead.

"Hello, Astarion, how are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," mumbled the addressed and lifted his gaze up at the wizard.

He looked terrible, with dark circles under his eyes and a haunted expression on his face. Gale frowned, but said nothing.

"I'll prepare something for dinner," he spoke. "Are you hungry too? Should I get you some blood?"

"No, everything's fine," Astarion replied, but it was obvious that nothing was fine.

Gale sighed and marched into the kitchen with Tara hot on his heels.

"Astarion was like this all day," the tressym informed him while she patiently waited for her food being served. "He's obviously deeply troubled."

"I know," whispered Gale and sat Tara's bowl of food down. "I've tried to talk to him about it, but he doesn't want to. I don't know what to do..."

"Let's eat first," the tressym said and smacked her lips. "One doesn't think well on an empty stomach."

"Truer words have never been spoken," chuckled the wizard and started cooking his own dinner.

Shortly after, Gale returned to the living room with a bowl of noodles, garnished with steamed cherry tomatoes and basil, and a glass of red wine. Silently, he sat down at Astarion's feet and place the wine glass on the low table in front of the sofa. As soon as he'd started to eat, the vampire spawn got into motion, turned around, and laid his head onto Gale's lap.

"I doubt that's a good idea," remarked the wizard. "I might drop some food and burn you."

The addressed hummed, but stubbornly stayed where he was. Gale kept eating and paid extra attention to not spill anything while Astarion started to stroke the wizard's knee absentmindedly.

When he was done with his dinner, he put the bowl down on the table, lifted his wine glass up, and gulped it all down in one go. Then, he leaned back with a content sigh and stroke Astarion's hair.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know?" he muttered, but Astarion kept quiet.

After a while, Gale rose to wash the dishes and get ready for bed.

When he returned to the living room, Astarion stood in front of the open balcony door. Naked and with his arms slightly spread to the side as if he enjoyed soaking up the moonlight. He looked beautiful and it took Gale's breath away.

"You're beautiful," he voiced his thought.

Astarion turned towards him, smiling that sad little smile. Then, he rushed over and pulled the wizard into a kiss. He helped Gale shed his night clothes hastily, before stepping backwards until the table dug into his backside.

"Gale..." whispered the vampire spawn, stroking the addressed's cheek. "Please make love to me."

Before the wizard could answer, he was kissed again. It felt desperate. Quickly, Astarion turned around, placed his hands on the table, arched his back, and widened his stance.

"Take me right here," he demanded, but it sounded more like begging.

Gale kissed Astarion's neck and let his lips wander down his back, worshiping all those scars. When he'd reached the elf's tailbone, the wizard dropped to his knees, spread Astarion's buttcheeks, and licked across his hole. The vampire spawn gasped and whined when Gale wiggled his tongue into him. Astarion cried out, arching his back, and screwed his eyes shut.

"No one – no one has ever done this before," he panted. "Gods... it feels so good. Please don't stop."

The wizard chuckled – as much as he could in his position – and opened Astarion up with his tongue. In the meantime, he wrapped a hand around the elf's erection and started to stroke. Astarion moaned, whined, and begged for more, with shaking arms and weak legs, until he came. It took all his strength to keep himself upright and his attempt was almost all for nothing when Gale removed his hand from his spent member and pushed his semen-covered fingers into the elf. Astarion groaned as his eyes rolled back. The wizard had such a dirty mind – and he loved it.

"Gale, please, I'm ready," he panted.

With one last lick over the vampire spawn's hole, the addressed drew back and stood up. He bent over Astarion to kiss the tip of his pointy ear and whispered huskily: "I'll make love to you, as promised."

The vampire spawn sobbed quietly, and finally, finally, Gale entered him. Astarion cried out in bliss when his prostate was hit with every slow, sensual thrust. Gale's hands were on his hips and his forehead pressed into his back. He felt the wizard's breath puff against his skin with every exhale and moan. It was too good to be true. Astarion's arms finally gave out and his torso collapsed onto the tabletop. The gentleness of their coupling gave him the urge to scratch his skin off. He moaned while his eyes glazed over and he knew what he had to do. Astarion had made his decision.

"'Starry nights, sunny days,

I always thought that love should be this way,

but now, lifted and evaporated is lust's haze,

gone is the belief that we had a love that would stay.

You've been so good to me, but please don't lie,

I know it's over now, and our love has to die.

It hurts to say farewell, of course it does,

but there's no need to fight until our heads buzz.

My heart says no, but my mind says to let it go.

Let's get it over with and quickly vanquish sorrow.

And who's to say where we'll be tomorrow?'"

For a moment, it was dead-silent in the room. Then, Gale asked tentatively: "Astarion... what – what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, it's just a poem," said the addressed, still bent over the table.

"No, it's not," retorted the wizard. "Don't lie to me."

Astarion chuckled, but it sounded hollow and humourless.

"I always had a weakness for the smart ones," he said, "and, of course, it'll be my downfall."

Hastily, he grabbed his clothes and put them on. Gale stared at him in disbelief, still naked, covered in sweat and other bodily fluids.

"What the hells is going on, Astarion? Talk to me," he implored, but the addressed only shot him a sad smile.

"Farewell, Gale. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. For the first time in one hundred years, my cold, dead heart felt something, and for that I am forever grateful."

And before Gale could react, Astarion jumped off the balcony and vanished into the night. The wizard's heart broke and the tears started to fall.

When Gale had finally fallen asleep after crying himself to exhaustion, Tara hopped off the bed and started pacing through the dark bedroom. What's to be done? What's to be done? Tricky, tricky, indeed. The tressym's sharp eyes landed on Astarion's bag in the corner.

A quick rummage never hurt anyone, she thought and scuttled over. Thanks to a magic word in Tressymspeak, the bag opened for her and she stuck her head in to take a look. Everything smelled strongly of Astarion's perfume, including his fresh clothing. Tara figured it might be a way to try and cover up the vampire spawn's smell of undead that could give him away to more nose-sensitive individuals like herself. She dug deeper. There were two books. By the look of them, they were over two hundred years old. They were well-thumbed and thus, well-loved. One was an epic poem about a dragon slayer and a cursed princess, the other was a collection of Elven poetry. Next to them, Tara discovered a dark red velvet bag and she magicked it open with another spell. Inside were a handful of pretty but regular stones, a gold necklace with a ruby-adorned pendant, and a gold family sigil ring. With it, lay an old, slightly crumbly letter. The tressym let it hover in the air and unfold with a spell.

Ches (The Claw of the Sunsets), 268

To Astarion Ancunín, Heir of the Ancunín Family, Magistrate of Baldur's Gate

We hereby send you a letter of honour regarding an invitation to the decennial Elven Festival of the Arts. You are invited as an honorary member to represent your family. It would be an extraordinary pleasure for us to welcome you.

Yours sincerely,

Ariadne Lamarelle

Board Member of Baldur's Gate's Elven Community

Astarion Ancunín. Heir. Magistrate. Baldur's Gate. Vampire spawn. Not good. Not good at all.

Tara growled a bit as she put everything back where it belonged. Now, she wanted to be even more thorough in her investigation than before. She stuck her head back into the bag to search further. On the bottom sat a leather collar which faintly smelled of honey. That's when she suddenly felt her magic wane. Hissing, the tressym reeled back.

Sussur! Oh, that's most worrisome!

Tara immediately knew that the collar wasn't meant for an animal, but for a very specific human wizard.

I must speak to Morena. We must find out more about the vampire spawn's origin and motives. When I'm done talking to Gale's mother, I'll pick up Astarion's trail. I can follow the smell of his pungent perfume halfway across the city.

Tara nodded to herself and set to work. After all, she had to keep her best friend and his mother safe.

[rhozahscraftedcatalog]

Onto the weekend which means it is time for more loot and another set of Curious Collectibles tables!

Some additional inspiration for the above:

How long have these eyes been floating in this liquid? ...and is one of them... blinking?!?

A memory left lost on a once scarred battlefield perhaps? Or the sigil to a now secret order?

Does touching the statue impart a curse? Or contain a trapped demon within it?

Could this candle call a fated beast to your side? It smells of fresh roses...

And most importantly, what option would you choose?

This table is available, free for you to use in your home DnD / Pathfinder / Tales of the Valiant / Daggerheart / TTRPG games, to help generate some more descriptive loot and treasure options perfect for a new quest-hook or a truly epic reward.

If you love ttrpg stuff like these and want access to more options for your Dungeons and Dragons or Pathfinder game as well as a hoard of printable paper minis, terrain and monsters to help fill your table, check out my Patreon page! I create affordable paper minis, VTT Tokens and more, with a release every week! You can follow for free so you never miss a drop or join as a member to get access to all the extra Patreon exclusive goodies.

[flowersdaggersviolasandblood]

Assassin with a Heart of Gold

Name: Admaer Daeneiros (He/Him)

Race: High Elf

Class: Rogue (Assassin)

Background: Criminal

Inspiration & Story: This lil guy I made long before I even touched BG3. He was originally made for a Out of the Abyss game that was unfortunately dropped. So his story was prematurely ended. The main inspo for this character is that he's an asshole with a soft heart. A tsundere hoe who thinks the don't care, but they actually do.

The main concept of his backstory is that he was born and raised a slave, more or less. At a young age, his Elven mother gave him up to a poor Human family. Only for that family to sell him away for money. He spent the majority of his life being bounced around by different slave owners, doing various different jobs that were asked of him. Eventually, his skills were so polished that he did better as a hired killer and assassin. He eventually escapes his enslavement and is on the hunt to kill every slave owner who ever owned him.

Below will related to his story so far within BG3.

WARNING, SPOILERS AHEAD!

Admaer isn't a native in Baldur's Gate, but he was quite obviously in the city when the Mindflayers snatched him up. He was (and still is) on a hunt to go after the man who made his life a living hell. For the purposes of this game, that end goal for Admaer is killing Lord Enver Gortash.

While on the Nautiloid, he opt to not save Shadowheart since the ship was quickly sinking. After the fact, he would meet her again and recruit her in the group. He would do the same with Astarion, Lae'zel, and Wyll. As for Gale, because the portal seemed dangerous, he saw no need to interfere with it.

Admaer's mind right now, aside from his own personal goals, is to get rid of the Mindflayer tadpole within his head. So upon entering the Emerald Grove, he's been largely dismissive of the Tieflings' blight and the Druids wanting to kick them out. However, the small inklings of the Druid Halsin has slightly peaked his interest. He's yet to meet kagha and Nettie.

Companion Relationships:

Astarion: Since EA (Early Access) Astarion was always my number one pick for this character, so he's obviously the "End Game Girl." Right now, in the context of the story, Admaer still doesn't know that Astarion is a vampire. However, both being fellow roguish men, Admaer currently is friendly with Astarion. Though he has noticed that Astarion has been feeling a little slow as of late.

Shadowheart: Admaer is also friendly with Shadowheart, though he is more distrusting of her than he should be of Lae'zel. Shadowhearts' constant bashing against the Githyanki has Admaer questioning why that is the case and if she's hiding any shit of her own. Especially since she's yet to come forth about the mysterious bauble she keeps on her person. If there's one thing he does agree with, it's that they need to find someone who can get rid of the tadpole.

Lae'zel: Not vibing with her condescending attitude, but respecting that she's not afraid to break a few bones to get the job done. Funnily enough, I accidentally appealed to her so much that she offered to fuck him XD. Admaer politely declined, though he did get some insight on what her history was like as a Githyanki warrior serving the Lich Queen, Vlaakith. Admaer is a little bit more on board with going to the Gith Creche since Lae'zel has been forth coming about what the next steps should be. Compared to Shadowhearts suggestion of just finding a healer. You know, in the middle of nowhere.

Gale: Mentioned this earlier, but when he found the unstable sigil, Admaer decided to leave it alone. So no opinion on Gale yet.

Wyll: Admear see's Wyll as a typical "do-gooder" type individual. He's even more confused as to why he's more focused on his search for Karlach than the tadpole they both possess in their head. He allows him to camp with his crew, seeing no point in not including the famed Blade of Frontiers. Especially, if his status holds true, he could utilize his fame to get themselves into the good graces of some important people.

Karlach: He hasn't met her yet. Right now, all he has is Wylls word: She's some sort of Devil who's out murdering innocents.

[aisla229]

Finished the first arc of the tabletop rpg game I’m GMing, I can finally post all the art! More about the worldbuilding under the cut:

Sauris is a white moon who’s visible surface is mostly composed of clouds. It orbeting around a gas giant, Caelophy. Millenias ago one of the pieces of the crust rolled over in the sea, exposing its side to the sunlight above, past the violent chemically active (and colorful) clouds inbetween. Life boomed on the continent, giving birth to complexe lifeforms such as plants and animals. Currently, civilisation is on the verge of an industrialisation, with a wide and diverse range of trades, for the first time spanning the massive and entire continent.

The active Inner Cloud layer, in an event called the Cloud’s Shift, can burst outwards. When it touches the continent it is believed to be the cause of creation of magic, causing all kinds of odds events as well, like making felines walk on two legs, plants change color, or give mysterious abilities to hidden creatures.

Any magic needs to be cast with a magic circle, each categorised by naturally occuring sigils at the centers. There is 13 known sigils, each named and tide to the planets and moons of Sauro. However tides are about to move, with a few wary travellers coming across a 14th unknown sigil, with the only proof of it being a reserved kid and a suspicious necklace.

Dinosaurs are the prominent life form on Sauris, with only a few mammals (mostly rodents and our beloved humanoids), fish in the rivers, and giant insects in the bogs. Here is a world where dinosaurs are found as locomotion, pets, food, and terrifying predators. It being very cold on Sauris, all year round, they also all rock some fluffy feather/proto-feathers coats.

The seasons no Sauris, are divided into two summers and two winters, spending a large portion of the year partially obscured of Sauro by Caelophy. The highest temperature is around 10°C , and the lowest -30°C

Here on the continent:

- The Tower of Almonious: A distant land discovered by a great sorcerer who has constructed a massive tower on top. Not much is known to the common people of Sauris, and stays inaccessible even today.

- Pol Malleo: An Active volcano, that unlike the ones on Earth does not eject lava, but a hot water-like liquid. Said liquid, named Azura, has a bright blue-turquoise color that glows a powerful green when it comes in contact with certain gases. The jets can go as high as 50 km high in the sky, forming a long colorful trail as it floats away.When an eruption occurs during Altieme, the droplets of liquid tend to freeze instantly in contact with the cold air, forming icicles that drop on the land below, often causing great problems as they bullet the surface.

- Tiacus Mire: It is currently the land in which resides the biggest city of Sauris; Aegyp. It also has the biggest lake: Great Ophora. During Primaestas, the majority of its land gets flooded, creating humid bogs, prospice to massive creatures, such as insects, Spinosaurus, and water dwellers like the massive mosasaurus.

- The Isles of Breviq: It probably has the most unique land shapes of the entire Continent. Long, relatively thin pillars of land have slowly come apart from the main land mass over many centuries, resulting in its numerous islands appearing to float between the clouds. The people of Breviq are known for having tamed the difficult beasts of the sky; riding pterosaurs.

- Pol Incus: The tallest mountain of Sauris, and so the tallest point of the entire moon. Its difficult climb has challenged many minds to reach its freezing top where the air grows thin. Temples and even old artefacts lie across the peaks or hidden under it’s rocks, proving the curiosity this mountain has always inspired.

- Thyreophor: The biggest land of Sauris. Thyreophor is most defined by its lush forests with massive trees and year-long colorful plants capable of holding under massive amounts of snow. It still holds the title of largest population in total.

- The Sdomorphia Wild Plains: Long stretches of grass and brush-like plants extend for as far as the eye can see. Sdomorphia is the land of nomads and the biggest of the animal kingdom: the Sauropods. It might not contain many streams or lakes, but it’s vast stretches borrow perfectly for herd hunting.

- The Austro Tundra: Unlike the other more South lands of Sauris, the Austro Tundra’s soil never melts away. Its rock-solid earth and ice makes it difficult to build houses on, but it has not stopped villages from sprouting even on the coldest land.The Austro Tundra is the land of Theropods, having the biggest number of raptors alike, many of which have prized feather coats.

- The Coelorus Coast: It has some of the biggest rate of precipitation of Sauris, standing on the right side of Pol Malleo against the strong air currents brushing the clouds below. Perhaps from the warmth created by Pol Malleo, the snow in Coelorus tends to melt a lot quicker than the other lands, and with the high amount of rivers and streams lining the soils, it also is one of the most fertile places. The steep sides of the volcano create perfect ranges for step agriculture, and primarily corn and rice.

- Cephalia: It currently has the title of the land with the biggest number of farm-land. Cephalia is often defined as the most friendly populace. With its loudest voices being farmers and workers, it has a particular streak of freedom and carelessness attached to its name.

- The Shantung Sway: A land carrying its own ecosphere, the people of Shantung have remained centuries without connection to the rest of Sauris. The current path to its land is extremely recent and trades have yet to be initiated. Apart from a very few explorers that have left Shantung to see the lands, and all described as fairly eccentric, interactions have been minimal so far.Shantung has been described as odd and fairy tale-like. With plants that glow in the dark, upside-down trees that prevent snow from reaching the ground, and weird spiky structured rocks. With bizarre animals, dinosaurs naked without feathers, small floating octopus creatures, and long leg-less organisms that slithered like tree branches.

- The Tenonto Canyon: The great divider between Malleo and Incus, the canyon expands down as far as can see, battered with wild winds and dangerous looking tornadoes beneath the clouds. A single bridge has been built on the closest edges, where the trade route quickly bustled with life, and ultimately created Mer, an unique city split in two across each side, one in the Tiacus Mire and the other in Thyreophor.

I’d like to say a big thank you to the players for being so patient and being so invested in this world i created, I love you guys. And thanks to anyone who actually read this!

[sailorshadzter]

a random one shot in which i twist the entire plot of game of thrones just because i can.

inspired by the prompt: a kiss to your lover's knuckle before a dance.

dont ask me how THIS came from that, it just did LOL

He finds her among the others, dressed in a silk gown of sapphire, made from a bolt of fabric he'd left in her rooms several weeks before. She's laughing, rosy lips curving as she pivots ever so slight, just enough that their eyes find each other's. Her laugh does not fade, but her eyes darken, pink tongue escaping to moisten those lips that only the night before had agonized him in the best of ways. "Your grace," Robb Stark says as he approaches, bowing low before Jon as he falls into place before them. She on the other hand does not move, not at first, smiling as if she holds onto a secret before she sinks into a curtsy, though she never once pulls her eyes from his face.

The Stark siblings have been South for nearly six months now, having arrived at the start of the new year. It was mostly out of peace between their kingdoms- once, their fathers had been at war- now, the sons have taken over and such a war had not been theirs to fight. Cousins by blood, neither Jon nor Robb had wished to shed another drop of family blood. And truth be told, neither had their fragile, broken nations. And so it was peace that was brokered, easily at that, and both Robb, the King in the North, and his sister and heir, Sansa, had come to King's Landing as Jon's honored guests.

"I thought I might dance with the lady," Jon says, beckoning towards Sansa who at least has the grace to blush. Robb casts a glance towards her and then grins as he turns back to Jon. Nodding with approval, he bows again before he makes his way through the crowd, only stopping when he catches sight of the lovely Margaery Tyrell who shines in pale gold damask, a single red rose tucked into the high coils of her hair. Reaching for her hand, he brings it close to his lips, brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Such a gesture sends shivers down her spine. "You look beautiful," he says as the music begins again, a slower tune that brings them closer together. They're both aware of the eyes that watch them, the King and the heir to the North, though they pay little mind of any of them watching. Her hand is small and warm in his, while her other hand dares to brush across the nape of his neck. That is what matters, that feeling her touch gives him. "That dress is most becoming."

She laughs, soft and twinkling, and once again those lips curve with a smile. "It is only because of this fine silk," she insists, though even she has been unable to do little else but admire the gown she's crafted for this night. Though quite unlike the styles of the North, she has retained some of her roots, for her red hair remains woven into braids, although it shimmers with a gem covered netting gifted to her by Margaery. That and the pendant she wears around her neck was stamped with her House sigil, worn once by her own father.

He twirls her out and then back in, closer than ever before, though she's uncertain as to how they could ever be closer. But then she snickers, recalling in fact, they could be much closer. As if Jon senses what she's thinking, it's his turn to chuckle, dipping his head down low, so close that his breath tickles her ear as he whispers what he's thought many times that evening. "I do wonder what it looks like upon the floor of my chamber, though." She blushes deep to the core of her hair, but she's breathless all the same. She likes it and he knows it. He loves that she likes it, truthfully.

Sansa Stark had come to King's Landing after a dark, somber period in her life. Once the spoiled, pampered princess of the North, she had been left alone in Winterfell with her youngest siblings, protected by the bitter cold and a small armed force. While her father had been in King's Landing, plotting against Jon's father, Rhaegar Targaryen, her mother had been with Robb on their way to join Ned in the South. What could not protect Sansa nor her siblings was the traitor Bolton House, that swept in upon hearing of Ned's death in battle and took Winterfell for themselves. Sansa was locked away in chambers and never again saw her siblings- Arya lost to the Northern wilderness, the boys certainly smothered in their chambers while they slept.

When Jon's father and Robert Baratheon was found dead after the last fight in what would now be called Robert's Rebellion- he and Robb met on the battlefield. It was Jon who spoke of peace and Robb who asked for nothing but to have help saving his sister from the unspeakable suffering she endured while held prisoner by Ramsay, the bastard born son of Roose Bolton. And save Sansa they had. Riding in at the head of an army, Robb and Jon swooped in and took Winterfell back in the name of House Stark.

Back then, she had worn her black gowns as armor, keeping to herself for the first few weeks of their arrival. Jon had assigned to her a few handmaidens and one in particular, Shae, certainly had found her place as Sansa's confidante. And then there was Margaery Tyrell, the beautiful and wealthy heiress to the Tyrell family. She had been the first to bring Sansa from her shell, the first person Jon had seen make her smile in the first six weeks of her stay. And then... One day... One day she had found him, all alone, in the quietest corner of the massive gardens. She had blushed, stammering an apology, turning to go before Jon could stop her. Two weeks later, they met again in similar fashion, though this time it had been Jon who happened upon her. They met here among the flowers nearly every day after that, hidden from prying eyes by rose bushes and fauna of the brightest green, side by side on the small stone bench.

That simple stone bench had been the place of their first kiss, a soft kiss that left him tingling long after she'd gone. Jon can't really remember when he'd begun to realize the depth of his feelings, but it was sometime between her falling in love with Ghost and Ghost with her, he really never could figure out which came first. But in truth, seeing her sink to the floor in his chambers to hug his neck, or to find the wolf asleep in her bed was all he'd needed to know the truth of how he felt. He loved her. He loved her beyond anything else in his entire life.

"The song is over..." It's her whispering and he jolts back to reality, realizing that indeed the song has ended and they still yet stand together. Springing apart, Jon offers her a most regal bow, his hand reaching for hers as he had done at the beginning. "Jon..." She calls him by name as the music strikes up another tune, this one quicker, though neither of them are thinking of dancing now.

"Meet me, in our usual spot," he murmurs over her knuckles before he drops her hand and disappears into the crowd. Sansa remains where she stands for several long moments more, her hand still yet warm where his lips had touched.

[ x x x ]

He hears her footsteps as she approaches.

There on the stone bench, he waits in silence for her, knowing without a doubt that she would come. She does not hesitate as she once might have, rather she sinks into her place at his side, silk skirts rustling with her movements. From above, the clouds shift, exposing her to the moon's pale light- though he cannot believe it, she's even far more beautiful with moonlight woven into her hair. He swallows, reaching out, hesitantly, to trace the length of her jaw with trembling fingers. "Jon..." Once again she calls him by his name and her hand reaches up, taking hold of his. This alone is enough to comfort him, to give him a sense of courage he's not even felt in battle before.

"Marry me," he says these words simply, without the hesitation from moment's before. She blinks, staring at him as if she's not heard him correctly. Before she can say a word, he's falling down to a knee before her, there on the stone bench, still yet clutching her hand. "Marry me, Sansa," he goes on, smiling up at her, those blue eyes wide in her ivory features. "It is the one thing in this life I have ever wanted-" to be a prince and then a king? It was not his first choice in life, but if he was going to do it... He wanted it to be with a woman he truly loved at his side. And despite the short time he's known her, he knows there can be no other. That there would never be another. This was not a king asking a princess, a noble, it was a man asking a woman. Nothing more, nothing less.

She cannot believe him when he speaks and yet... His dark eyed stare is so poignant, his words so very heartfelt. And truth be told, her her skips a beat at the realization of what he's asked of her. To marry him... To be his wife... Was it not what she dreamed of, if only in the privacy of her own mind? There is a warmth spreading through her and she finds herself to be nodding, over and over again nodding as she smiles brighter than she's ever smiled in all of her life. And then finally... She says what he's been waiting for.

"Yes."

When he rises up, she rises along with him, her heart singing as his hands slide into place against her cheeks. He could have spent forever right there in those gardens with her, if only time would allow. But he knows soon they must return to the ball and then to a new life they would build for themselves.

A happy world, a perfect world.

[carnalpleasure]

Michael x Angel!Reader 👼

hi!! i’ve had this idea in my head for months and finally felt inspired to start it tonight. i’m still working on my other two fics.. but Michael’s been calling to me lately💕

Summary: The reader assigns herself to be Michael’s guardian angel. This takes place at the beginning of Sojourn, with Michael in the wilderness. But takes a slightly different turn <3

Every human being in the history of humanity had been born with a guardian angel. The precious moment a newborn baby breathes its first breath of life, an angel is assigned to be their lifelong guardian. The angel’s main mission being to protect their human ward from the dark forces that had plagued the earth for all eternity. Ever since the serpent seduced Eve into her first bite of the knowledge of Good and Evil.

But that streak was broken one day in late March of 2012, when Vivian Harmon gave birth to Satan’s only begotten son.

She was the Anti-Mary. Instead of a blessed virgin being touched by an angel, she was a victim of a demonic sexual assault. She died giving birth to the Antichrist.

Michael Langdon was Satan’s very first creation. Because he was not a child of God, he was not born with a guardian angel. His father didn’t bother to assign him a guardian demon either. The spawn of Satan was left in the hands of none other than his grandmother Constance, whom his father felt was perfect for raising the little monster.

When Michael outgrew her, his father introduced him to Anton Lavey, one of his most trusted followers, who would then introduce Michael as the heir to the Church of Satan.

Michael, however, didn’t really take to Anton. He felt much closer to another key member of the church, Miriam Mead. She took a liking to the boy too and lovingly welcomed him into her home, where she taught him all about rituals, prayers, Black Mass, satanic prophecy.. She was preparing him for the apocalypse. His destiny, as they’d all say.

Once Michael began becoming aware of his powers, his father then led him into the hands of the Warlocks. They thought they were training him to be their next Supreme, but he only needed them to show him how to use his powers. They were disposable beyond that.

Michael was a loyal son, never questioning his father’s decisions, until his beloved Ms. Mead was permanently taken from him by the witches. Cordelia was right, why did he let this happen?

In search of answers, Michael fled to the wilderness on a quest. Jesus had spent 40 days out in the desert being tempted by Satan himself before his own Father finally spoke to him. Michael decided he had to do the same.

That’s when he wandered out into the forest on the outskirts of LA and started to trace a pentagram in the dirt, tired and out of options.

“I’m not going any further,” he sulked, dragging the jagged stone across the ground. “Father, tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he pleaded, out of breath as he finished carving his sigil into the soil.

“I’m not leaving this circle until you talk to me,” he pouted stubbornly. “They’re gone.. the warlocks.. my Ms. Mead. Burned alive at the stake by the witches. Until nothing was left but ash and smoke,” his voice was breaking but he was too exhausted to cry.

“You tell me what to do,” he sighed, “or you let me die here.” Then he fell to his knees in the center of the circle and waited for a sign.

He watched the sun set and rise four times before he finally had a vision. But even then, he couldn’t be sure if he was seeing a sign or just suffering from severe dehydration.

He saw a little boy offering a cold grape Fanta, and a little girl holding a basket of red apples, and he thought maybe God was trying to tempt him into the light now. To distract him from his mission and derail him from his destiny.

He refused, “No, I’m on a mission. I have to talk to my father,” he said weakly. “Leave me alone.” Then the visions turned dark. He was taunted by Ms. Mead and then praised by Anton Lavey.

“You’re not real. None of this is.. re-real.” He shook his head and raised his hand to shield his face from the blinding light that was radiating from the High Priest before him.

“You’ve done a great job.” The Satanist proudly smiled. “No..” Michael protested, “I failed. I-I’m lost. I don’t understand my purpose,” he was out of breath and at a loss for words. He was tired of games, all he wanted was his father’s help. Everything was spinning.

The vision of Anton continued reciting to him from the prophecy in Revelation, calling him the Alpha and the Omega. Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He made a lunge for Anton, wrapping a hand around his throat to choke him out. Only seconds later, the vision vanished altogether.

And that’s when he saw you. The last thing he remembered was an impossibly beautiful girl with big white wings and a little white dress. He fell to his knees again, in shock and exhaustion, and collapsed into her arms. He felt the warm, soft embrace of feathers, and then he fell into a much needed sleep.

When he awoke a day later, he was still pretty disoriented from the lack of food, water, and sleep. His mind was a haze. He didn’t realize where he was, he only knew that this bed was softer than anything he’d ever felt.

The blankets felt like fluffed up clouds and the pillows smelled like lavender. A cool breeze caressed his skin, and he noticed the temperature of the room was significantly cooler than anything he’d felt in a long time. That radiating heat that seemed to consume him constantly just wasn’t there.

He reached his hand out to feel along the bed. Empty. He opened his eyes, hoping to see the angel from his dreams sitting there watching over him. But the room was empty too.

He sat up in bed, clutching the sheets and looking around anxiously. The room was nice, but it wasn’t anything extreme. It was kinda charming actually, soft and cozy. It didn’t look like anyone had been living here for very long.

Michael climbed out of bed, stepping foot on the soft, plush carpet and smiling at the touch. He walked towards the bedroom door which was just barely cracked open, and stuck his head out slowly to peak outside.

You were in the kitchen, digging around in the refrigerator when you heard him come out. You twisted around, bumping the fridge door shut with your hip and then dropping everything on the counter.

“You’re up already? Are you feeling okay?” The pained look on his face made you worry. He looked exhausted still, leaning against the doorway just to hold himself up.

You rushed to his side, a little faster than humanly possible, and wrapped an arm around his waist to help him steady himself. He leaned into your embrace but winced a little at your touch. His body was sore everywhere.

He couldn’t stop staring at you. Almost glaring, looking at you like you’d just lied straight to his face. You walked him to the counter, sitting him down across from you and then running back to quickly check the stove. He didn’t take his eyes off you the whole time.

“I’m making you a breakfast feast,” you smiled at him over your shoulder. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days..”

“I’m sorry,” he interjected. “But wh-who are you? How did I get here?”

You smiled gently, passing him a plate of bacon and eggs to get him started while you finished the french toast. “I’m Y/N, I brought you here,” you said happily.

He kept looking you up and down. You looked exactly like he remembered, but you were now missing one unique, defining feature..

“Are you-“ he couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud. It didn’t seem possible to him. “You had.. wings before,” his brow furrowed in confusion and his glare returned.

You simply nodded, glancing over at him and frying a piece of toast in the pan. “You remembered,” you said with a smile.

His confusion only grew. You poured him a glass of milk and then slid the fork closer to him. “Eat, please. We have plenty of time to talk later. I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” you brushed his blonde curls out of his face and the divine touch of your fingers briefly lingered on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

He hesitated, picking up his fork and taking a bite. It wasn’t just the starvation talking, he genuinely enjoyed your food. He immediately started feeling his strength and energy coming back. He felt revitalized.

It wasn’t just the food. Something about your presence was so satisfying to him. You brought him a kind of merciful peace that was only reserved for the saints. He didn’t need confirmation, he knew in his heart you were something holy. And he only hoped that you didn’t know what he truly was. If you ever fell in love with him, it would be your fall from grace.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered softly. His heart was pounding. He felt like he was committing a crime just by being in your presence. He felt like God would smite him any minute just for laying eyes on you.

You cupped his face in your hands gently, wiping away a stray tear that fell from his eyes. “As of today, I’m officially a guardian angel,” you smiled proudly. Your eyes actually twinkled, it completely captivated him.

“Guardian? Who’s guardian?” his pouty lip quivered and you could see all the new emotions swirling around him like a hurricane. He couldn’t believe any of this was really happening. He thought he must’ve been dreaming. He wasn’t dead, he knew that. He was destined for hell and there’s no one like her down there.

He was so cute. “Yours, duh” you giggled, letting go of his face and playfully tousling his blonde locks. He looked up at you with a small smirk that spread into a big smile. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. “How?-“ he silently mouthed as the words he was looking for escaped him.

“You didn’t have one,” you shrugged. “So I.. guess you could say I volunteered.” You didn’t want to overwhelm him with too many details, but the adorable confused puppy look on his face was begging for answers. “Volunteered?” he repeated, cocking his head to the side curiously. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“I just thought you should have someone looking out for you too.. you know. You didn’t deserve to be abandoned. Not by God or anyone.” You said it with such sincerity, he could see it on your face how strongly you felt about those words.

His eyes started to overflow with tears but he couldn’t help but smile. It was the single kindest thing anyone had ever said to him. That’s when it hit him. You already knew what he was. You knew who he was. And you were willing to go against both God’s will and Satan’s to take over as his protector. You left heaven just for him.

He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and quietly sobbing into your chest. Tears of pure joy and gratitude. Little “thank yous” whispered on repeat against your skin, so close you can feel his lips brushing across your collarbones with each word.

He snaked his arms around your waist tighter and tighter, pulling you as close to him as physics would allow. It melted your heart how close he wanted to be to you.

“Aw.. you just want to be held,” you giggled, putting your arms around his shoulders and hugging his body closer to yours. “I’m here, Michael. I’ve got you now. You’re safe, you’re mine,” you cooed, your lips brushing against his temple.

His eyes were closed and his face was pressed against your chest, all he heard was a swift whoosh as your wings suddenly appeared, folding around both of your bodies like a soft shield tucking him into you. He’d never felt so safe before, all nestled in your feathers.

He peaked his eyes open to look around at them. “That’s fucking awesome,” he muttered softly, his jaw dropping as his eyes shot up to meet yours. You smiled down at him, kissing his forehead. You couldn’t help but giggle. He made you feel giddy, the way he looked at you. Like you were made of magic.

“My own guardian angel,” he said quietly to himself, still in awe of it all. He refused to let go of you for the rest of the day after that. All he wanted to do was lie in your arms. Feel your embrace. And you were happy to oblige because he needed to rest anyway. The two of you returned to your bed where he spent the rest of the night on your chest, fast asleep in your arms. The safest place he could ever be.

💕taglist: @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @angelicmichael @thewarriorprincessxo

[holylulusworld]

Beta is not a 4-letter word

Request: Inspired by unbeta’d, how about reader is one of the fellow Hunter, she’s beta so no one in hunting community wants to work with her. She’s forced to work with Sam & Dean, who also treat her different, like really insulting, taunting her, making fun of her, teasing. One day a witch curses Dean making him a beta permanently. He blames reader for that but eventually realizes his mistake. They make up then. Super angsty tho 

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Beta!Reader, Alpha!Sam, Beta!Dean x Beta!Reader

Warnings: angst, Sam and Dean being douches, sad reader, mentions of sex, ABO

Always the same game. You find a case that needs more than one hunter, but no one offers his or her help.

Your last resort was Garth, the kind Alpha was the only one who ever helped you with cases, well till he got bitten by a werewolf. Now he has got a family and he suggested two of his friends shall help you.

You hate it. Hate the way the smaller Alpha looks at you as if you are a fly on his steak or a weak little kid telling him you want take out a nest of vamps. You can see it in his eyes, he doesn’t like you and your presentation a bit.

Good thing you insisted on meeting up with them on neutral ground or they would have started to taunt you shamelessly. In public, they need to get their shit together.

At least you hope so…

“A beta, Sammy. Why did we agree to help a weak little girl?” Dean, the elder brother groans, not caring you sit right next to him. He acts as if you are not around, shakes his head at the information you handed them as if your research bores him.

Used to rough treatment, harsh words, and insults you swallow your pride. It is not as if you could take both Winchesters, the legends among the hunter, down but so far – you did not get yourself killed.

“Garth asked us, Dean. According to our werewolf ‘slash’ hunter friend she is good at hunting witches. Now let us talk about the case.” Chortling Dean glances at you, not giving you a chance to say anything he gets up to circle you like prey.

You feel like an insect under a microscope as the Alpha seems to drink your appearance in. 

“Coming from our werewolf hunter?” Dean huffs as you try to push the tears away. You are used to hunters being rough around you, but Dean wants to push your boundaries. 

“Weak and meek, Sammy. A Beta should not hunt.”

“So far I did it without an Alpha’s help, but this witch is dangerous, and I assume she does not work alone. Many people died or disappeared.”

Your body goes stiff when Dean nudges your side and you can’t do anything else than shove his hand away.

“Weak and soft. I don’t think she could even punch my nose, Sammy.” Dean snickers as Sam give him a dirty grin. “We shouldn’t let kids hunt.”

“I asked Garth for help as I am not suicidal and want to the killings as fast as possible.” Wiping your nose with the sleeve of your blouse you try to prepare yourself for the next blow.

“Dean is right, Y/N. You seem to be a nice girl but let’s face the truth. You will not withstand a blow coming from a witch or werewolf.” 

Sam’s words hurt you even more. Garth said the younger brother is more sensitive but here he is, giving you the feeling, you are worthless.

“I never said I am as strong as an Alpha, but I can stand my ground. I took out a whole nest of vamps. I know you believe I am not a good hunter, but I found the witch and want to take her down. I asked for help, not for another beta-bashing.” Getting up you try to look taller but all you get is a chuckle from Sam and a stupid comment from Dean.

“Even if you climb on a ladder you will always be a tiny and pitiful girl. Let’s face it, you’ll get me, and Sammy killed.” While you try not to cry you look around the crowded restaurant.

You don’t want to lose your composure in the middle of a restaurant, where families try to have a good time. 

The hope that the Winchesters would treat you equal, or at least would not make fun of you got ripped into pieces within not even half an hour.

“I think it’s for the best if you let us take over the case. Go to your motel room, take a few days off and maybe you should turn toward research.” There is a smirk on Sam’s lips as he shoves your notes toward you.

“Whoa…the infamous Winchesters are nothing but self-centered and instinct-driven Alphas. Shame I believed you are better than all the other knot-heads. That was the last time I asked for help.” Tossing money onto the table you look straight into Dean’s face.

“What little girl? Do you want me to soothe you? Do you need a tissue?” Dean mocks you, tries to push you even further but you will not give him any kind of satisfaction.

“You know, Beta is not a 4-letter word. I am not as strong as you but unlike you and your brother, I can control my needs. I am not an instinct-driven animal during ruts, heats, or crap. I always let my brain decide, not my reproductive organ.” Sneering you grab your notes before you look at Dean one last time.

“Only as you do not have heats does not mean your brain works better than mine or Sammy’s. Beta stands for weakness.” Nodding you take a deep breath.

“Right. I love your and the other Alphas prejudices. But you know what? I can fall in love without my instinct telling me I have to bite someone’s neck.” Before you look at Dean, hoping he would let your words sink in.

“What?” Dean jumps up to tower over you, but you act as if his size would not intimidate you. “Anything to add to your stupid speech?”

“Be careful. That witch likes to fuck with your mind and even more important…” Stepping closer you give him a cold smile. “She seems to like to kill assholes. In your case, you run around with a target pinned to your back.”

When you walk out of the restaurant you swallow hard. You may have lost your case, but at least you kept your dignity and did not beg them to let you participate on the hunt.

While you wipe a few tears away you get your phone out to dial Garth’s number. 

“I wanted to say thank you for sending me the biggest assholes on earth for help. That was the reason I asked you for help. All other Alphas…”

Garth can hear the tiny sobs leave your lips and his stomach drops. He believed Sam and Dean would treat you with respect, not act like the other Alphas hurting you.

“I am sorry, Garth. It’s just…” Sniffling you wipe the tears away. 

“I thought the Winchesters would be different. I will never annoy you again. From now on, I’ll handle my cases alone. It doesn’t matter in the end if I die…”

While you sulk in self-pity, hating you ever called Garth, the Winchesters play the great heroes once again – at least you assume they do so, as you are not invited to your party.

Same game – every time. How could you believe they would be any different? They are Alphas and men, none of them would ever consider you can handle a hunt, let alone work with them.

With shaking fingers, you check on the collected information once again. You should send Sam a message, tell him you believe that something is fishy about the absence of the witch, but you decide against it.

You offered all your information, your knowledge, and strength. “They got this, Y/N. Don’t give them the chance to make fun of you even more…”

“You are an interesting little insect, hunter. I knew the moment she called you, I found my new favorite victim.” Snickering the witch claps her hand before she throws something at Dean. 

“Bitch! You knew she called us?” Dean groans, glancing at his unconscious brother. “Does she work with you? Did the Beta kid ask you to take us down?”

“Are you that blind, hunter? That girl was so close to taking me down and unlike you, she could have made it. Her heart is pure, she never made fun of anyone. I could never weaken her as I weakened you, hunter.” The witch snickers and Dean wonders what she means.

“Pure heart?”

“Yeah. She told you – right? Yesterday, at the restaurant she told you I go after what did she say…” Smirking the witch moves her fingers through Sam’s hair. “Ah…she said I go after assholes. The kid was right.”

“It was a trap…great. That stupid Beta hunter gets us killed…” Grunting Dean tries to get his gun out.

“You still don’t get it, hunter. If you would not have treated her like all the other Alphas did, I wouldn’t have any influence on you. Good people like her, the ones never hurting someone on purpose do not fall victim to my powers…now…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch and then I’ll kill her…” 

“Hush now, hunter. I think you deserve a special gift, not just death. You caused pain; I’ll show you what she felt…” Blinding light fills the room and Dean falls to his knees, feeling lightheaded before he loses consciousness.

Checking your gun again, you sigh deeply. Over the last three days, two more people disappeared. You’ve got no clue why – but the Winchesters didn’t take the witch down.

Now you are on your way out of town to drive to her house, or rather Mansion to end the job you started. 

This time there will be no Alpha providing back-up, but also you will not hear any insults. 

The house is dark, almost like a Gothic dream and you’d like to have a look around, but you’ve got a job to do so you silently walk further into the house.

Oddly, the door with a strange sigil on it opens and you can see the witch sits onto a chair, legs crossed she grins at you.

“Here we go.” She says, something sinister in her voice. “Did you miss your friends or rather enemies? You can have him back or both. Just say the words.”

“What do you mean? I have no friends.” Your voice is controlled as you aim a gun toward her head. “Witch killing bullets. Don’t try to trick me, I did my homework.”

“I know, sweet little Beta. Unlike those Winchesters, you did not storm into my house without a charm or a pure soul.” Now she claps her hands and the room changes and you are suddenly in a dungeon.

“What did you do to them?” While Dean kneels in a corner, shaking, Sam tries to calm his brother. “I asked you a question.” Firing a bullet into the witch’s leg you clench your jaw. “Release them, now!”

“Fine…” Clapping her hands again the witch let the chains holding the Winchester disappear. “I made him a gift, but he does not like it.” Snickering the witch presses one hand onto her bleeding wound.

“Take it back! NOW!” Gun aimed at her head you narrow your eyes as Sam calls your name. “NOW!”

“Impossible.” Sam sighs. “She used something unique, it got destroyed and now Dean is…” Choking the word out Sam tries to find the right word.

“He is what?” Panicked you hear Sam whisper the word ‘beta’ and you want to laugh loudly but Dean’s low whines let you remain silent.

“You sure she can’t take it back, Sam?”

“One-hundred percent…” Dean grunts. “That’s your fault! She did it because of you!” Flinching you try to ignore Dean’s outburst.

“No, hunter. It’s your fault.” The witch coos. “I did it as you acted like an asshole. Now let negotiate…” She cannot lull you into kind words as you pull the trigger and a bullet ends her life.

“We’ve got to bring him out of here and check if we find anything to help your brother.” Ignoring your words Sam helps his brother up, not even giving you a second glance.

“Stay away from us, Beta. You did enough.” Dean snarls as you must watch them leave you alone with the dead witch.

“Leave me be! I am useless now. How can I be a hunter when I am Beta now! I can’t even scent you, Sam.” Dean barks.

The Winchesters do not know your room is next to theirs, you didn’t know either before you heard Dean smash things against the walls. “I hate being weak!”

“Dean calm down. You are still strong enough to push me to the floor! You lifted the goddamn table as if it weighs nothing. Apparently, your strength had nothing to do with your presentation.”

Dean drops the lamp he was about to throw against the wall, realizing he does not feel weaker. The only difference is his brothers’ scent does not make him want to dominate Sam.

“I…I am not weak?” Falling onto the bed Dean looks at his hands.

“Your instinct is gone, your ruts and the need to claim and knot an Omega, everything else is still normal.” Sam tries to calm his brother.

“I was an asshole and she punished me. Made me Beta.” Sam runs one hand through his hair, nodding silently.

“That witch had a sense of humor like Gabriel. She liked to fuck with people treating others badly. Y/N, she saved us, and I was an ass all over again.”

“She’s in the room right next to ours. Watched her sneak in and she did not leave so far. Maybe you should talk to her.”

“Hmm…”

“What do you want, Dean? Telling me it’s my fault you are a pitiful Beta now?”

Sighs leave your lips as Dean stands in front of your motel room. “I called a few people, Betas who are familiar with magic and witchcraft. I hope they can turn you back into an Alpha.”

“Listen…” Dean nervously chews on his lower lip before he decides to enter your room. “I could use advice in being Beta. I…I was an Alpha asshole so far and don’t know how to act like a Beta.”

“Not being an asshole is all it needs. Now if you would leave my room, I’d gladly go back to being a weak and meek Beta.” A chuckle leaves Dean’s lips as he plops down onto your bed. “I mean it…”

“You know…” Eying you warily Dean gives you a cocky grin. “Now that I am Beta we could let out all this pent-up tension. I thought about having sex as a Beta with you.”

“Did I have a stroke or did this shit just leave your lips?” Pushing against Dean’s shoulders you snicker as he feels your strength.

“You’re strong for such a tiny girl. How about I’ll give you advice on how to kick an Alpha’s ass and you help me with all this new crap I have to get used to.”

Dean’s eyes search your face and for the first time, you see he doesn’t want to make fun of you.

“What do you want to know, Dean?”

“Uh—food! Do you eat differently? Will I gain weight? How about sex? How does it work? I mean you do not scent an Alpha…how does…” Pressing your index finger to his lips you chuckle lightly.

“Everything is like it used to be when you were Alpha, okay. Except for the scenting and knotting part. Your uh…you know… will not expand but it should work like it used to do.” Nodding Dean scratches his chin.

“What if he’s smaller now? I mean Beta’s have smaller dicks…right?” Now you cackle as you glance at the bulge in his pants.

“I think this shouldn’t be a problem. Just go out and try it…him…I mean. Gosh, go find a girl and have sex. I can’t believe I said that…” 

“Can I try something? I want to know how it feels to touch a girl now. Please?” Groaning you fall onto your bed, covering your eyes with your hands. “Just your thigh…can I?”

“If you stop asking questions, you can touch my skin.” Humming Dean slides his fingers over your skin. There is a small smile on his lips as he can feel goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

“I think I owe you an apology for being a dick. I am sorry that I said all those stupid things. You are smart, strong and cute.”

The last word catches your attention and you remove your hands from your eyes to look at Dean. “I’d like to test it with you…not now…I mean…fuck…one day…”

“Can you not talk for a moment. I am getting a terrible headache.” While Dean lies next to you, just looking at you none of you says a word.

“We have a safe home, you know. I could ask Sammy, as he’s the Alpha now but I’d like you to come with us. I need my Yoda after all…” Laughing you punch Dean’s arm and he joins your laughter.

“I am no Yoda…”

“Fine. You can be my Lea. Now tell me everything about being Beta…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[quokkacore]

do you believe in magic? [kim yugyeom]

summary: Inspired by the HP quote, “Me dad’s a muggle. Mam’s a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.”

pairing: kim yugyeom x fem witch!reader

genre: fluff, witch!au

warnings: mild language, yugyeom faints? idk

song rec: lizzo - deep

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this was originally posted to my old writing blog on september 15th, 2018. happy reading! <3

masterlist

Kim Yugyeom was lucky he was cute.

It wasn’t that he was stupid. Not at all — Yugyeom could be very smart when he wanted to. No, your Gyeommie was just… oblivious.

Oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend, which was to say, you, was a witch.

You’d been dating Yugyeom for almost a year now, and needless to say, things were getting pretty serious.

For most people, the way romance worked, had maybe four steps. One, you meet, two, you fall in love, three, you start dating, and if things are that serious, then… four, you get married.

For witches, specifically the witches that decided to date non-witches (muggles, no-majs, mortals, humans, or whatever you call them), there were always five steps: to tell the person they were dating that, hey, they were a witch. Some opted to wedge the extra step in between three and four, but you had heard of a few that had left it as a fifth step.

Which never really ended well, or so you’d heard. So that was why, as your first anniversary approached, you’d decided to start dropping more hints about your abilities to your boyfriend, who really, really sucked at picking them up.

Your black cat, for one. You’d gotten Jules before you started dating, but you’d realized something the first time Yugyeom had met your cat.

“Why a black cat?” He’d asked, before jokingly adding, “They’re bad luck, you know. And they’re friends with witches.”

There were several things you wanted to answer with. That black cats weren’t bad luck, and, yes, they were friends with witches. Why did he think you had one? But instead, you’d answered with the most stupid words you’d ever heard yourself say.

“In this house, we don’t approve of cat racism.”

And he’d lost it.

Since then, things had gotten more serious. You’d met his parents. He’d met yours (in what was the most nerve wracking night of your life, but that was a story for another time). He’d even asked if you wanted to move in, which was what made you realize just how serious that things were starting to get. A few nights later, before falling asleep, you asked him a question.

“Gyeom?” You murmured, and you felt a soft rumble from his chest as he let out a quiet, “Hmm?”

“Do you believe in magic?”

He craned his head to look at you in the dim light. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips were pouting slightly as he contemplated the question. “Why do you ask?” He asked back a few moments later.

You could feel your heart in your throat as you contemplated telling him in that very moment. You opened your mouth to speak, ready to tell him.

“No reason,” You answered instead, “I just… I just think sometimes that whatever force brought us together had to have been, uhh, magical, for you and I to be so perfect for each other.”

As his eyebrows remained furrowed, his lips grew into a small smile.

“You are so cheesy sometimes,” He replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Gyeommie.” You couldn’t help but feel disappointed in yourself, mentally slapping yourself for being such a wimp.

Still, he smiled slightly wider and his grip tightened a little on your waist, calming your nerves. And you fell asleep like that, wishing you could tell the truth about who you really were.

There was also the slight fear of him thinking you were a freak or being angry once you told him. You’d even asked yourself if he’d attack you, as you’d heard it happen before, but immediately discarded the thought.

This was Kim freaking Yugyeom, the boy who’d taken you for a walk in the park during summertime and refused to kill a mosquito that had landed on his arm because, “The little dude’s just living his life. You wouldn’t like it if you were eating a grilled cheese and someone just decided to merk you.”

…Yeah, you were safe.

So you continued dropping hints. Each and every one went completely ignored, as if he were leaving you on read in person. First, you decided to reorganize your tarot cards in front of him when he was visiting your apartment.

“Cool!” He answered, “I didn’t know you played poker. Maybe you can teach me.”

He took another bite of the sandwich he’d made himself, before wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ve always wanted to play strip poker, you know.”

His tone was playful, and you laughed. But at the same time… Does he really not know the difference between tarot cards and playing cards?

“They’re not poker cards, babe,” You explained as he finished his sandwich, “They’re tarot cards.”

He tilted his head, his silver earrings dangling.

“I’ve never heard of that game, how do you play?”

“Gyeom, it’s not a game—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Yugyeom’s phone. He fished it out of his pocket, before mumbling, “Just a sec, jagi.”

He answered the phone. “Bam, what’s up? Dude, calm down. What? Now? I can’t, I have to… Fuck, Bam, fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes. You owe me, big time.”

He hung up, sighing as he carded a hand through his hair. You furrowed your eyebrows. “What’s up with Bambam?” You asked, watching him pick up his jacket from the couch.

“His cat’s going into labor,” He groaned, “He’s freaking out. He wants me to help him.”

Pulling on his denim jacket, he walked towards you to press a kiss to your cheek. “Teach me your game another time, babe. I gotta go, I’m sorry.”

He started toward your apartment door, opening it hastily. “Wait, Yugyeom—”

But he was already gone, leaving you dumbfounded.

And that was only the first attempt.

You tried making some tea because, hey, infusions are witchy. He told you that you didn’t need to diet because you were beautiful just the way you are. Which was sweet, but, also mildly frustrating.

You’d left your book of shadows out where he could see it, on a page full of runes and sigils. He’d told you that you were a great abstract artist. You’d even started watching movies with witches in them while he was around, like Hocus Pocus or Practical Magic, even though you had a strong distaste for how misrepresented you felt.

Finally, for your anniversary, after going out for a nice dinner, you gave him a DVD set of the first season of Game of Thrones, because you knew he’d been wanting to start watching it.

“It has magic in it,” You said in a sing-song tone when he unwrapped it, back at his apartment. He turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes glittering. “I get it now, Y/N,” He answered, and your eyes went wide.

“Y-you do?”

He nodded, smiling at you, and you felt your heart swell. “I looked up what tarot was,” He began, “It’s a form of… divination, right?”

You nodded proudly, grinning. Finally!

“That, and then the tea leaves, the drawings in your journal, then the movies, and this? Babe…”

You were so happy, you could scream.

“…You really didn’t have to go that far with the whole ‘what we have is magical’ bit, jagi, but, damn, this is so sweet. I love you.”

Your smile faded. “What?” You asked, blinking.

“What?” He asked back, his tone different from yours. You sounded confused, he sounded even more confused. “Y-you think this is a play on my words, Yugyeom?”

He blinked, scratching at the back of his neck and looking awkward as hell. “Is that… not what this is?”

You stood up, shaking your head. “I… need some water.”

You walked over to the kitchen, but he followed you as you did. “What?” He asked innocently from behind you, “What did I do?”

Not looking back, even though the whiny tone he took was adorable, you opened his refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. Opening it, you shook your head, “Nothing, Gyeom. Forget about it.”

You took a swig of your water, turning back to face him. He looked frustrated. “No,” he answered, stepping closer to you, “I won’t.”

“Really, Gyeommie, it’s not a big deal…”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” He replied, eyebrows furrowing as he gently took the water bottle from your hands, and set it on the counter in a haste, “I want you to be happy, and that can’t happen if you’re not letting me know what’s bothering you.”

“Yugyeom, I… You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“I’d still love you,” He murmured, pressing his forehead against yours, and you felt your eyes flutter shut, “No matter what you do, Y/N, I’m gonna love you.”

One of his big hands grasped yours, and you smiled as he pecked you on the lips. The other hand went to the counter, sandwiching you between it and him.

“Tell me, baby,” He murmured, as you opened your eyes, looking up at him.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself to tell him, and you felt his free hand, the one against the counter, move. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

He smiled warmly, still moving his free hand to be more comfortable. “Come on, Y/N, I’m sure it’s not that bad— waitnoholycrap!”

As he’d been moving his hand along the counter, he’d accidentally managed to tip over your water bottle, which was still uncapped. Both his head and yours moved to watch it fall over, things seeming to move in slow motion.

Your eyes widened as Yugyeom broke away from you and moved to grab it, and you held out a hand instinctively, closing your eyes as you braced yourself to get splashed by cold water.

You opened one eye when it never came.

You were met with Yugyeom looking at you, eyes wide as the moon. He looked pale as hell, mouth agape. You opened both eyes, and stared at him for a moment, before realizing what had freaked him out so much, as you turned to look down at the bottle of water, which was, surprise, surprise, levitating. No water had spilled from it, thankfully.

“What the— H-how—”

You flicked your wrist upwards, watching as the bottle of water floated upwards, before settling itself back on the counter. You glanced back at your boyfriend, whose eyes had somehow managed to get even bigger. “D-did you… How did you even…?”

“Gyeom,” You mumbled, staring up at him, “Do you believe in magic?”

He blinked, pointing at the bottle, and then you, and then back at the bottle. “You— But— Wait, that’s what this was all about?”

You nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you sooner, but I…”

Your words were lost on Yugyeom, who was already in his own world. “You just… and you… water bottle…”

His words faded off to somewhere, and a few seconds later, he did too. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he started falling forward, and you caught him before he could hit his head on anything. You never imagined this would happen.

“Yugyeom?” You asked, tone worried but also slightly amused. “B-Babe?”

A half hour and one more levitation spell later, Yugyeom came to in his bed, with you sitting next to him as you applied a cold cloth to his forehead. His eyes cracked open, and he rasped out, “Y/N?”

“Hey,” You murmured, “How are you doing?”

“D-did you really—"

“Make the water bottle float? Yeah. Yeah, I did. This entire time, Gyeommie, I’ve been wanting to tell you the truth. A-and now you know, I’m a witch.”

Yugyeom took a deep breath, eyes looking up at his ceiling. “Goddamn,” He mumbled, “I high key thought I was going crazy for a moment.”

You chuckled, shaking your head lightly. “You’re not, Gyeom. I swear.”

He didn’t respond, and your heart went into overdrive. And when your heart went into overdrive, you tended to word vomit. “I mean, I understand if you wouldn’t want to date me because of it, I know it’s weird and if you want to break up I’m not gonna stop you even though I love you andyou’rereallyspecialtomeactuallywaitnopleasedon’tbreakupwithmeGyeom—!”

“Woah, woah. Calm down, Y/N…” He grabbed your hand, and squeezed. You instinctively squeezed back. “Why would I break up with you over the fact that you’re, like, Hermione Granger?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t know… I’ve heard about it happening before…”

He shook his head, removing the cloth from his forehead and slowly sitting up. “Nothing could keep me away from you, jagiya. Not even magic, which, now, at least, I do believe in. Does that answer your question?”

He leaned in to kiss you again, and you felt how the both of you were smiling.

When you broke away, his nose and forehead were resting against yours, and you opened your eyes to be met with his.

“Does this mean that we can go on a date on your flying broomstick? You know, Kiki’s Delivery Service style?”

“Gyeom, those don’t exist.”

“Wait, what? You mean my entire life has been a lie?”

Yeah. This was gonna be good.

[divineluce]

Under the Needle’s Point || Morgan & Luce

Location: Ink Inc.

Timing: August 13th

Tagging: @mor-beck-more-problems & @divineluce

Notes: As a result of a scheduling mix up, Morgan winds up getting a tattoo done by Luce instead of Ulfric. The two have a nice little chat.

Warnings: Needles tw

Morgan couldn’t stop thinking about the dead supernaturals she’d brought out of that witch’s lab. Not even bodies, just pieces jarred and labeled according to parts, their usefulness. She’d sourced some weird shit from shops back when she was alive, but something about these just waiting, knowing what it was for, seeing the way Jo had looked her over as if she was prime stuffing material for her magic turducken. There were no names, no conveniently left behind ledger to tell Morgan the story of who these remains had been. They were just pieces, next to nothing. And what was left of her? Of the person she’d been? No one at work even knew she’d died, except for Anita. There was no family to notify. If she hadn’t dropped off the radar for two weeks, no one would have realized. And sometimes it seemed like people thought the person she’d been before was still in her, whole and bright and unchanged. How could she tell them any different. She didn’t know how to explain what “I” and “Me” signified now. She didn’t have any alternate words to pick from without drawing too much attention to her deadness, which was usually not the best idea. But even if some of her pieces had come back, Morgan felt different and rearranged all over, and she could only talk Bea’s ear off about it so long.

Walking into Ink Inc, Morgan tried to let the stupid, angsty knots inside her unwravel themselves. Ulfric usually had something good to say, and her idea of a solution would at least provide a few hours’ distraction. “Hey, Ulf?” She called. The shop was quiet, though she wasn’t sure how busy it usually was. “I’m early, but maybe we can get started--Oh.” When she saw Luce Vural approach the front desk, Morgan found her stomach knots switched out for a whole new platter of them. “You’re...not...Ulf.”

Flipping through the ancient book that lay on her workstation, Luce frowned as she looked at a few strange sigils drawn in the margins. What did these have to do with ghosts? She wasn’t familiar with anything surrounding ghosts and it was times like this when she wished she knew a decent exorcist. But, even in a town as magical as White Crest, there weren’t many of those running around. Luce mimicked the circular wards drawn in the book with the tip of her finger, tracing the shapes into the wood of the table. They didn’t feel like anything she’d ever drawn before, but she’d never been good at wards to begin with. What exactly did these things mean?

The sound of the bell ringing over the front door caught her attention and Luce shut the book and tucked it away into her backpack. She didn’t need people asking her what she was reading. As she emerged from her room, Luce launched into the typical speil, “Hey there, what can I do--” Her words trailed off for a moment when she saw Morgan standing in the middle of the shop. Leaning against the receptionist desk, Luce’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Shit. The last time she’d seen Morgan was… fuck, when they’d rescued Remmy? Christ. “What gave it away? The height? The distinct lack of a red hair and a beard?” She asked, the sarcasm coming out on reflex.

“Wow, you really are this friendly all the time, even to people you haven’t lashed out at.” Morgan deadpanned. The irony of lashing out was not lost on her, but it was too late to take the words back now. And as far as Morgan knew, Luce hadn’t exactly tried to smooth things over with Remmy since stomping on their heart. “A-ny-way...I have an appointment. A rib piece. Ulf and I talked it over already. I think there’s already a stencil and stuff, but I don’t know if you need anything fancy for working with um, zombie skin. Are you gonna be able to help a dead girl out?”

“What can I say, I’m a ray of goddamn sunshine.” Luce said, tone matching Morgan’s. If this was how this was gonna go down, she could play the game. She wasn’t sure why the woman was coming out swinging like this, but she could hazard a guess. Morgan was someone who cared about Remmy and… it wouldn’t surprise her if Remmy had told her about what went down at the carnival. “An appointment. Huh.” Blinking, Luce looked over at the computer and scrolled through the schedule. Well shit. Ulf had definitely booked her, but it looked like their evening receptionist has fucked up and double booked him. “Looks like there was some kind of scheduling fuck up, but… Yeah. I can do that.” She said. If the stencil was already drawn up and Morgan had already put down her deposit, she wasn’t going to argue. Work was work. “C’mon back. And, no, no fancy tools needed.” Luce thought back to the day Remmy had entered the shop, when they’d met the first time. Oh, for fucks sake. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Of course there is…” Morgan sighed. Not for the first time, Morgan wondered if Constance had made some backdoor bargain with the universe to keep the suffering going as long as there was some miserable creature named Morgan Beck on the planet. She had come here for herself, for the promise of having a sustained goddamn feeling that didn’t strain Deirdre’s muscles, for the talk about the universe and their personal stresses they always shared, and...not Luce and her crabby emotional bullshit. But this was what Morgan had. She’d sectioned off this day carefully and timmed the distance from the start of fall semester so she could have it done, follow ups and all, before classes. No one at work would see, but she liked the idea of having something complete and beautiful that was a part of her. Maybe she just wished marking herself with sigils still did any good. 

Morgan followed Luce to the back, explaining, “A rib piece, with color. It’s sort of sizable. I was talking about breaking the whole thing up into sessions, maybe.” She cleared her throat. “Does that, uh, sound good…?”

“Does Ulf know that you’re… a zombie?” Luce asked as she scrolled through the shared files on her laptop. Thank christ they had a good internal filing system for shit like this. She was able to locate the design that Ulf had already drawn up without too much difficulty. It wasn’t her personal cup of tea, but their styles weren’t that far off and she could do color nearly as well as she did black and white. “I ask because I’ve-- I did Remmy’s tattoo a while back.” She said, unable to hide the stutter-step in her voice, the slight hitch in her words. “They healed almost instantly. It’s how I knew they weren’t exactly human. So, you might not actually need a couple of sessions. Could save you money.” She said with an offhand gesture before pushing away from her desk. “This look like the one?” She asked, gesturing for Morgan to look over at the stencil that was on her computer screen. 

“Yes,” Morgan said. “He said he’d never done one on, you know, someone like me before. But that’s good to know. Maybe this isn’t gonna be the worst idea after all.” She kept her eyes on Luce, watching as she choked on Remmy’s name and stiffened with awkwardness. “If you’d rather we get this done in one go and it won’t mess with your schedule that sounds fine.” She stepped closer to Luce awkwardly and took a look at the design she’d worked out with Ulf.

There was a deer skull, positioned at an angle so you could see the two wide holes where its eyes once were without feeling them looking straight at you. Bluebonnets and Evening Primrose and rich red Winecups, flowers she hadn’t seen since she left Texas, sprouted from one of the sockets. The blues, pinks, and reds on their petals were dappled with color as if from the tip of a watercolor brush. More flowers, goldenrod, blackberry, and meadow-rue, hung from the antlers, garlanded loosely in a way their real stems would never allow. A fine chain studded with small pentagram stars and crystals settled between the horns like bunting and dangled down beneath the skull by several inches. It was elaborate, but Morgan felt better about herself looking at it already. “Yeah, that’s the one. If you can do it, I guess we better get started.” She pulled off her shirt, bunched it around her chest, and waited for Luce to take on the challenge and show her the way.

“It’s your call. We can do whatever works for you.” Luce said, her voice measured and careful to avoid the halting tone it had taken on with the mention of Remmy. “Why don’t I get the outline of it done first and then we can see how it goes? It’ll be a long one session, but I don’t have anything up on the schedule. I was just hanging around in case we got a walk in. And… low and behold. A walk in.” Besides, she needed the money. Hospital bills were still rolling in from her stay after Bea’s resurrection and at the rate that Nell was going, she’d probably need to help her younger sister out too. 

Staring at the design, Luce found herself marveling at Ulf’s work. He was, after all, the one who had inspired her to take up their chosen profession. His linework was impressive, the color pallet beautiful, the composition well balanced and perfectly in line with the mystical elements of the tattoo itself. She’d studied his work long enough to be able to emulate it-- the shading might not be quite how he wanted it, some of the lines might go thin in places where he preferred something a bit more bold. But, they could duke it out over beers at Dell’s if it came to it. “Alright, let’s get rolling.” She laid out her tools, fixing a new needle in her machine, laying out her pallet of inks on the rolling tray she kept by her chair as the stencil printed. The placement came easily enough and Luce snapped on a pair of gloves before settling back on her stool. “Just let me know if it feels like it’s too much and we can take a break.” She said before turning the machine on and putting the needle to Morgan’s cool skin.

“Well that’s nice and completely non-committal,” Morgan said. Probably because Luce was giving her an out. And, if she really wanted, she could take it. She could throw her money and her tip at Ulfric instead. She could forego, what, at least eight hours alone in a tattoo parlor with Luce Vural? It made a certain kind of sense and Luce would know how Morgan felt about the way she handled her bullshit with Remmy to boot. But Morgan had come here with the intention of getting her tattoo and she was not going to let her anger and bewilderment at Luce get in the way of that. They could handle a transactional meeting. “But if you’re really free all day, let’s get started.” She settled down on the seat, glancing over her shoulder at Luce to see how she was muscling up to the prospect.

“Oh, please,” she snorted, dryly. “I had a pole go in one end and out the other. I don’t think anything is going to be too--oh!” Her sentence died in a squeak as the needle made contact. There was...something alright. Like a deep scratch on her insides, one that reverberated throughout her whole body. She couldn’t remember any sensation this immediately potent except for the punches Mina threw in their practice sessions.  Morgan dug her hands into her shirt and squeezed tight. “Jeez. That’s one hell of a rush.”

A part of Luce had almost hoped that Morgan would decline the offer for a full length session. It was a huge tattoo and the lengthy sessions always left her drained, her back sore from leaning over someone, her hands cramped and tired. But, the other woman seemed set on getting this done, and who was she to argue with it. “Yeah. Like I said, we can play it by ear.” She said, her tone calm and neutral.

As Morgan reacted to the sting of the needle, Luce raised an eyebrow as she continued to work. “You good?” She asked. When she’d done this on Remmy, they’d hardly reacted at all. It’d been a big part in how she’d known they weren’t human. It wasn’t that they were being macho about it, like most of Luce’s clients, they just hadn’t seemed to feel any of it. There hadn’t been any involuntary twitches to the muscle when she’d been working, nothing. “I’m guessing it must be weird, going from not feeling hardly anything to being able to feel this?” She asked, the echoes of a memory that belonged to Morgan returning in a swift wave. “Like I said, if it’s too much, we can break this up into different sessions.”

Morgan had to keep her laugh somewhere tight in her chest. “Oh, it’s definitely weird, like the world’s tiniest jackhammer is dancing on my bones. But the other thing is I have to do a whole round of mental gymnastics to trick myself into feeling things or almost feeling things, or I just get in a really great tension workout trying to make myself press into things hard enough to feel like I’m really here. But I guess you kinda know how that is, huh?” She turned over her shoulder, eyeing Luce’s reaction. For someone who pretended to have the emotional capacity of a toothpick, she’d taken Morgan’s memories mostly in stride with the brain biter and her own valuable memories had been full of feeling too. “You’re good, Luce. Although, we should probably pass the time with more than just complete awkward silence, right?”

“The tiniest jackhammer? Never heard that one before, but sure.” Luce commented blithely as she kept her hand nice and steady, following the smooth curves of the stencil, tracing over the skull design. She was already planning out how she’d do the shading of the eye sockets, the way the flowers lay against bone, but Morgan’s words took her out of it for a moment. Blinking, her hand faltered before she focused back on her work, the needle continuing to move. “Yeah. I guess I do.” She muttered, reminded of the fact that their memory swap had been just that. A swap. Morgan had seen her memories, had experienced them. The moment from her childhood when her sisters had sat on the living room floor, braiding each other’s hair. One of the many midnight margs celebrations, usually done after coven meetings or some other ritual. Morgan had seen good memories, happy memories. Memories Luce didn’t share with anyone. “Depends on how you want to fill it.” She said as she dipped the tip of the needle back into the small container of ink and resumed her work, “Are you going to try and talk to me about Remmy? I know you two are close.”

“You brought them up, not me,” Morgan said. “But yeah. We’re pretty darn close. I don’t know how much you’ve been keeping up with them or how much you actually care, but they really have been through the wringer lately. And that’s on top of all the other stuff they had to deal with before, including me.” She sighed as Luce’s needle brushed against her bone again. Who knew that something so sharp could feel so much like relief. Was this why people got hooked on getting them? “What I’m trying to say is, handle with care. Remmy can take a lot of hits, but that doesn’t mean they should have to. And maybe figure your shit out before they get their hopes up again.” She drew in a shallow breath and tried to extend her attention around her body, feel the novel tingles of air and the buzzing prick of the needle as it traveled away from her bone again and grew faint. It was all she could do not to pout. Everything about existing was work, was an act of management in concentration and willpower. At least when her bones were catching onto a feeling for her she could let go. But that would’ve been easy, and universe forbid Morgan have anything like that for long.

Luce let out a sigh as she continued to draw, machine buzzing in her grasp. Well, shit. She had been the one to bring them up. Fuck. But, it was better to rip the bandaid off now, right? Better now than to sit in awkward silence or let it hang over their heads while she worked. “Yeah. I know they have.” She said off handedly. She knew that Remmy had been through it. How could she not know? She’d held them that night when they’d re-lived their experiences at the Ring, she’d seen the collar around their neck drop them to the ground, she’d seen just how fucked up they’d been after the rescue mission. And now, the latest pile of bullshit-- she’d seen Nadia drag them out of Pat’s Place, seen them brought to their knees by poison. She knew. “Including you.” Luce echoed, remembering what those words meant. Remmy had been the one to turn Morgan, to save her. “You think I don’t know that they shouldn’t have to deal with all the bullshit life’s thrown at them? I’m real aware of that fact.” She said, though her words lacked bite. “They don’t deserve any of the fucking stuff that happens to them.”

It was hard for Morgan to get a read on Luce while she was halfway down her torso, inking out the curves of deer horns. She sounded tense, bitter, but those might’ve been part of Luce’s factory settings for all Morgan knew. “Well, I couldn’t tell from here,” Morgan said, more accusatory than she’d meant to sound. She frowned, waited a moment, and tried again. “I’m glad we can agree on Remmy needing a break. I’d guess we could also agree on Remmy deserving some basic kindness. We can’t control their circumstances much, but we can be good to them, right?” She didn’t think this was a controversial point and so didn’t wait to press on to her real question. “So I guess I’m just..really curious about why you handled your side the way you did. I know you tend to come out swinging, which I don’t follow either a lot of the time, but this...wasn’t that.”

Lips pressing together into a thin line at Morgan’s tone, Luce said nothing and instead focused on her work. She wasn’t going to fuck up Morgan’s tattoo just because the other woman was being a bitch about things to her. Even if she really wanted to. All it would take is a few little lines-- nope. She valued her work too much to fuck up someone’s tattoo on purpose. Drawing the machine back, she wiped the stray flecks of ink off with a paper towel, not bothering to ease up on the pressure. Morgan wouldn’t be able to feel it the same way people did. She dipped the needle into more ink and set back to work. “What do you mean, how I handled things?” She asked flatly, her tone emotionless. “They wanted more, which wasn’t part of the deal. From day one, I made my intentions very clear.” Luce said as she started on the curves of the deer’s eye sockets, staring blankly back at her. Almost accusingly. Oh, fuck off. 

Morgan waited for Luce’s words to settle before speaking again, just in case she started snapping all over again. This was, technically, not her business. But she was upset with Luce for how her words had affected Remmy and how it had surprised her as well. She didn’t even know what, specifically, had happened. But even the vague strokes were so unlike the person she’d thought Luce was. “You were cruel,” she said at last. “What you want or don’t want to intentionally invite into your life is your business, and if you want to put boundaries around how much you really care about Remmy, go for it, whatever, I guess. But you can still be kind when you’re telling someone ‘no’ or ‘not right now.’ You can try to make the hurt as small and possible. I didn’t think you were the kind of person to do that, especially to someone kind of close to you. Which, okay, we don’t even know each other that well, really, so maybe it was my mistake. But it was still...really weird to hear about, after all you did for them.”

“What can I say, I’m a bitch.” Luce said callously. A nosy bitch, getting into other people’s business, doing things that pissed people off just because she could. And she was more than happy to live with that reputation. It was fine, it was normal. As Morgan continued to talk, Luce began to start on the outlines of the flowers, their delicate petals requiring a lighter hand. She rolled her eyes at that-- a lighter hand. People would like it if she handled things that way, wouldn’t they? If she was kinder, if she wasn’t as rude, as rough, as angry. “They weren’t close to me.” She insisted. “We just fucked.” Luce said, though the words didn’t hold quite as much weight as they once had. They hadn’t just fucked. They’d held her that night when she’d broken and told them about Bea, she’d done the same for them after they’d been torn to pieces. She’d broken them free from the Ring, destroyed the building, taken lives… for Nell, yes. But, for Remmy too. Looking at her gloved hands, Luce’s jaw clenched. “I did shit because I wanted to. Not because of them.”

“Okay, I know you didn’t just fuck,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “I know you made yourself emotionally present for them in some really rough, vulnerable moments. They told me how safe you made them feel, and how it seemed like you were opening up. And you were ready to kill everyone at the ring before you knew they had Nell too.” She gasped as the needle circled over her rib bones again, making her insides almost come alive. “And maybe we’re not close, but I know enough about you to know you’re not just a bitch. What I don’t get is why it’s so important to you that other people see it that way. No one is vulnerable about everything all the time, and for some people...yeah, kindness and softness has to be earned. But...you still haven’t answered my question. Did their question make you feel...betrayed or upset somehow? Were you scared?”

Luce sucked in a breath at Morgan’s words. Of course, Remmy told her about shit. Of course they did. “Maybe I got a taste for it. Who knows.” She said in an offhand tone, brushing past her quick leap to destruction. She continued to do her work, keeping her hand nice and steady as Morgan continued to talk at her. So they’d swapped memories once, that didn’t make Morgan an expert on her, or her feelings. She didn’t fucking do feelings, not like that. But, at the last question, her eyes widened in surprise. If she didn’t have literally years of experience, of people saying stupid shit that caught her off guard, she might have fucked up her lines. Instead, her hand remained steady. Even so, there was no way to hide how her breath hitched slightly. “You don’t need to know why I did what I did. You’re not Remmy’s keeper and you’re sure as hell not mine.” Still the word echoed in her mind. Scared. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t. Wasn’t she?

Morgan caught the way Luce doubled down on her tension. So, getting warmer, maybe creeping up on a nerve. It probably shouldn’t have felt so surprising; fear made fools of everyone. Hadn’t she learned that one a dozen or so times over? “You’re too interesting to be selling yourself short like that. But…” She gasped again. Why couldn’t she just shut up and enjoy this again? Luce was right, she wasn’t Remmy’s keeper, and even if she was still mostly playing by their request to ‘not yell at’ Luce, she was...definitely skirting around things. But it itched at her worse than this needle, knowing Remmy had been hurt out of, what, recklessness? And Luce was cutting herself off from a relationship she had seemed to care about right until it was brought to the surface and made real. “You’re right,” she said at last. “We don’t have to get into this. We can go though the next eight hours talking about something else. Like...this is the first feeling-almost-feeling I’ve had that didn’t give someone at least an arm workout...well, actually, I guess you will have one by the time we’re done, but, it’s the concept for the thing. Or uh…” Stars, they really didn't have that much in common, did they? “You know, if this thing that doesn’t matter to you at all is also for some reason too much to talk about, maybe you should pick.”

“Damn right we don’t.” Luce said firmly. She’d dealt with longer sessions with worse people before. Then again, they weren’t usually people she had to deal with outside of the shop. But, someone who knew her the way Morgan did? Someone who knew her family? It made things trickier. She knew she could keep her cool about this, that she should just keep her mouth shut and deal with it. So Morgan wanted to bitch at her about how she’d hurt Remmy. So fucking what. She could handle it. Then why did she feel anger creeping in the pit of her stomach? Pulling the machine back from Morgan’s skin, Luce tossed the machine down onto the tray next to her with a loud clatter. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me, Morgan, which is exactly how I like to keep things. You don’t get to tell me what I should do, that I need to pick and choose. I already made my decision, I already chose. And you don’t need to know why I did.” She said, staring at the woman with fire in her eyes. 

Morgan groaned deep in her throat. Now she wasn’t even feeling anything. But now without having the precision of the device to worry about, she could turn and look at Luce fully. She was angry alright, but nothing she was saying was making sense. “I am very certain I already conceded that first point, she said. And as for the rest, I didn’t say literally any of those things. Which makes me wonder who exactly is? Who is telling you what you need to do or that you have to pick and choose between...whatever it is you think your binary options are? Or that you can’t change your mind about your decision later? Because I just wanted to know why you went out of your way to be mean to someone we both care about, and then I offered you an out. So what are you really upset about here, Luce?”

Startled, Luce stared at Morgan for a moment. She had said those things, hadn’t she? Or had Luce been reading too deeply into things, looking into things that didn’t exist? Either way, her outburst had dug herself an even deeper hole than she’d started in. Fuck’s sake. Luce rolled her eyes, though the action was more for show than anything. It was a way to get people to leave her alone. But, she couldn’t unhear the other woman’s words. What was she upset about? Really? “What am I upset about? The fact that Remmy went off and fucked everything up. Things were fine, just the way they were. It was all just for fun. And then they wanted more. I fucking told them that I’m not interested in more, because I’m not go-- I don’t do more.” She said before rolling back from the chair, her hands up in the air. “Look. Ulf’s appointment ends in ten. Get him to finish your tattoo. I’m done.” Luce said with a shake of her head.

“Luce…” Morgan said softly. “Hey, you...are a good person, Luce. You’re good. I mean, I kind of hate that word, it’s so arbitrary, but as far as I’m concerned, you are. And I’m not the only one, okay? Whatever it is you need out of your relationships, whatever you choose, as long as it’s really what you want and need, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re good. And if your needs change, you’re still good. You’re good and you deserve to be happy, whether that includes ‘more’ or not, or Remmy or not. You deserve to be more than just okay. You know that, right?” She cleared her throat, looking down at her wrinkled shirt and the only mostly done outline of her tattoo. “But uh, if you need a break or you’d just rather not anymore, that’s...fine.”

You deserve to be more than just okay. Luce had said similar things to Remmy before and now they were being turned onto her. She wondered if they felt just as false to them as they did to her. She didn’t deserve someone like Remmy, didn’t need someone like them in her life. Because what would happen if she did let them in? If she said sure, let’s try, let’s be something? She’d open up to them and that scared her. But, Luce was startled to realize, what scared her more than the vulnerability of it all was the wanting. She wanted to open up to them. To be honest with them. But, what would happen then? Nothing good. Staring at the outline on Morgan’s side, she sighed. “I’ll finish it. But,” She grabbed the remote to the stereo system from her desk, loud music filling the room. “No more talking.”

[jadegrey711]

The Hideaway

Nick Scratch x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thanks to @thehappylittlehufflepuff for requesting some quality Nick Scratch fic and for being so patient with me, since I’m such a procrastinator and it seems like my life want slow down for one fucking minute to let me reach my keyboard! Also sorry guys I’m a bit Vanilla, I tried lol.

*NOT MY GIF*

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

Prompt: The Reader and Nick have some fun at a hidden club that has an exclusive membership.  

Songs of Inspiration 

Criminal- Fiona Apple 

bad guy - Billie Eilish 

Nick had been promising something special all day and now was finally the time I got to see exactly what that “something special” was. As we made our way up the steps of a familiar building, I felt my excitement drop just a notch as I noticed the subtle sigils by the door of the seemingly abandoned building which I knew was the front door to Dorian’s.

“Nick.” I said as he pulled open the door and held it open for me. “What exactly is special about Dorian’s? We’ve been here a hundred times you at least a thousand.” I said as I walked through the open door.

“Just wait and see Y/N. Maybe you’ll find that you don’t know Dorian’s as well as you thought you did.” He smiled wickedly, his smile giving nothing away.

I walked down to the balcony at the end of the hall that overlooked the underground club of Dorian’s, seeing the usual witches and warlocks; drinking, dancing and making out. I was still extremely skeptical about Nick’s words about not knowing Dorian’s as well as I think I do. Nick took my hand as he led me down the one of the staircases and down to the bar.

As usual Dorian Grey was standing behind the bar counter wiping down a glass, till it gleamed.  “Hello Nicky. Y/N.” He regarded us both with a small smile. “What can I get you both tonight?”

“We won’t be drinking tonight Dorian.” Nick smiled, before he placed his elbows on the bar counter and leaned in a fraction closer to Dorian. “Sorididum”

I rose my eyebrow at him, but Dorian seemed to understand the hidden meaning in Nick’s phrase perfectly. Dorian looked from Nick to me and smiled, before gesturing a hand towards a hallway in the back of the club.

“Have fun.” Dorian chuckled, before turning his attention back to his glass.

Nick took my hand once again and pulled me past a few people on the edge of the dancefloor towards the hallway that Dorian indicated; no one was down here but at the end of the hallway was a life size portrait of Dorian. It’s how I imagined his other portrait looked before he made his pack with our dark lord. He had that same tousled blonde hair he does now and his immortal good looks, but what caught me was his smile; it held an edge of sensual mischief to it and seemed to only grow more intense as we walked further toward it.

“Nick. What are we doing?” I asked, completely perplexed when we finally reached the end of the hall and were standing face to face with the large portrait of Dorian.

Nick turned to me and gave me a kiss, only to deepen it; his tongue intermingling with mine before he pulled away.

“I promised special. Let’s see if I can deliver.” He said as he placed his fingers as the edge of the painting and slightly pulled. The painting creaked on its hinges as it swung away from the wall, revealing a hidden entrance way. Nick grabbed my hand once more and pulled me towards the newly revealed entrance and to what lay beyond it.

I felt my breath catch in my throat as we walked through this hidden club. It was filled with people from a vast assortment. Some were completely naked with the exception of masks on their faces, others were led by leather clad women by a leather leash keeping them close by. Some were simply sitting down on one of the many red velvet couches getting a lap dance by busty women, there was even women receiving even more intimate actions on the opposite couches by virile young men. I felt a blush creep up my face as I took everything in, but even stranger I felt my center clench as we walked deeper into the club where there were rooms to conceal the more private affairs of its customers. However, those rooms did nothing to contain the screams of pleasure or the moans of ecstasy that was coming from the other side of them.

I tried to take everything in as we walked down the red halls, from every sound of pleasure, to the seemingly endless red hallways. Its walls lined with paintings of people enacting various sexual acts in varying positions that I’ve never seen before. Suddenly, Nick stopped and opened a door at the end of the hall, revealing a grand room with a giant bed covered in red silk sheets in the middle of the room; along with a varying amount of “toys” neatly placed throughout the room.

Nick stood aside while I took in everything, I could feel him watching me, assessing my reactions to a part of himself that he just revealed to me. I could feel my heart beat pick up speed as my excitement at seeing this side of Nick grew. I felt his presence behind me, then felt the soft sweep of his fingers; pushing my hair away from the side of my neck.

“What do you think?” he said placing a soft kiss behind my ear, making my body erupt in shivers. His hands wound around my waist bringing me closer to his hot body; as he buried his nose in my hair.

“It’s interesting. Very interesting.” I said, feeling his smile against my neck, and felt one his hands start to brush up and down my arms, making the goosebumps on my arms a permanent fixture. Suddenly I turned in his arms and he put his hands back on my hips, not breaking contact.

“So, what exactly did you have in mind Mr. Scratch when you brought me to this Den of Iniquity?” I smart mouthed, giving Nick a little smile to let him know that whatever game he was playing that I wanted to be added to the gameboard.

Nick gave me that award winning smile filled with mischief and I felt one his hands slide across the back of my neck and bury itself in my hair, gathering all of it in one hand; his fingers felt soothing as they rubbed small circles in my scalp. “Well if you really must know.” He said before his fingers fisted my hair tighter and brought my head sharply to the side, exposing my neck to him. “I brought you here to do whatever the fuck I wanted to do to you.”

I felt my body erupt in those same shivers only more intense, that reached all the way to my center making me clench deliciously at his promises.

“I brought you here Y/N so I could fuck you.” He paused smiling to himself, then leaned closer to my ear. “And maybe you can even fuck me too.” He whispered before taking my earlobe and sucked; making me gasp hard enough to reach out for him and clutch his chest. “But, that’s all in good time. For now, tonight is a bit of an introduction course to see if you want this as much as I do.” He smiled against my skin.

“Alright.” I smiled and looked over to the massive bed, then to the other “toys”. “What are we doing first?” I asked trying to keep from sounding too eager. 

“Get on the bed.” He growled out, his chocolate eyes growing dark with lust until they looked positively black. 

I did as he commanded backing slowly away from him until I hit the back of the bed and then jumped up, sitting on the plush duvet. Nick slowly sauntered over to me, eye fucking me the entire time, maybe planning out what he’s going to do next, maybe he knows exactly what he’s going to do and is just taking his time to rile me further. 

“Now what? Mr. Scratch.” I said as innocently as I could muster without breaking out into laughter. But Nick wasn’t laughing. 

He caught my chin with his hand, bringing my eyes up to his dark ones. “There’ll be none of that here, sweetness.” He finished with a smile, slowly bringing his lips down to mine, opening my mouth and letting his tongue slowly dance with mine, building me up to the main event. I could feel his hands sliding up my legs, until they reached my center, he fingered at the buttons of my pants before he slowly pulled down the zipper.

He broke our kiss so he could swiftly pull away my jeans. Kissing my stomach lightly before pulling them off all the way and chucking them across the room. “Sit up higher on the bed, sweetness.” He cooed in my ear and I did as I was told; scooting up until I hit the headboard and heard something jingle slightly above me. I looked up and saw a pair of handcuffs.

I let out a small chuckle and looked back to Nick. “Aren’t those a bit basic in the presence of everything else in the room?” I smiled, watching as Nick climbed up the bed and then straddled me, unbuttoning my blouse and helping me out of it, along with my bra.

“I told you love, it’s an introduction course. Don’t worry there’ll be plenty of time to play with the others toys.” He said as he tossed everything else where my jeans were, leaving me only in my underwear.

I smiled again and looked back up at the handcuffs and noticed these weren’t your run of the mill handcuffs on a bedpost. They were on a chain link pulley system almost, like the kind where you can pull up and down. Nick grabbed the bar that linked them together and pulled it down, I heard the tell-tale sign of chain links and felt my excitement grow. 

“Another reason why I started you with these sweetness is because I know how much you love to touch me when we fuck.” He continued as I felt him cuff my first wrist. “How you love to pull my hair.” He said leaning down to kiss me. “Drag your nails down my back as you feel your climax coming as I pound into you…faster…and faster.” He whispered in my ear as he cuffed my other wrist. “But that’s not going to happen tonight Y/N.” He tsked. “No, tonight I’m going to start this introduction course by denying you touch. I’ll be able to touch you wherever…” he paused trailing his fingers up my slit soaking my underwear, and making me groan, arching my back up to meet his touch. “However, I want.”

 "Nick.“ I breathed, pulling on the cuffs, the reflex to bury my hands in his soft dark hair, like a muscle memory. 

Nick smiled, placing his lips against my neck as his fingers continued to softly plunder my center. He trailed his kisses up under my jaw and up to my ear sucking the shell of it lightly. I let out a low moan and suddenly Nick pulled away from me, fingers and all. He got up from the bed and stared at me for a moment, taking in the picture he was seeing. 

“Fuck, baby. You look so fucking good like this, all tied up and willing for me. Do you want me to fuck you now?” He smiled, knowing full well the answer. 

“Yes. Nick please.” I said feeling myself already becoming whiny from the lack of touching him. 

“Okay sweetness. Since you asked so nicely and you’ve been such a good girl, letting me tie you up and play with you for a bit. I’ll fuck you real good.” He said as he slowly undid his shirt and then threw it over with my clothes. I watched intently as he slowly undid his pants; making it a show of it. Before he crawled back onto the bed and straddled me, sitting on his haunches as he slowly pulled off my underwear; and removing the final piece that stood between us. 

“So beautiful.” Nick said as he trailed his fingers down the valley of my breasts, down my stomach and nestled themselves back in my cleft. I let out a heady moan. 

“Nick.” I whined. 

“That’s right baby, I promised I’d fuck you and honestly as much as I want to play with you right now. I also don’t think I can hold myself off from burying myself deep inside you any longer.” He growled as he spread my legs wider and then I felt him thrust inside of me quick and hard. 

We both let out a greedy moan, both craving more of each other. I pulled against my bindings the need to touch unbearable; especially when he was so close to me, but just out of my reach. His arms were planted against my head and his lips crashed to mine as he pummeled himself into me, each thrust becoming harder. 

I pulled on my bindings hard, as I felt one his hands reach between us, and rub my clit; setting me further on fire, making me practically scream. But Nick wasn’t relenting not an inch, his brutal thrusts only seemed to be egged on by my screams of pleasure. 

“Nicky.” I moaned, “I can’t…last for much longer. If you keep that up.” I said breathlessly, feeling my climax build to a peak that I didn’t think I could survive. 

“Hold it sweetness.” He said as he rubbed on my clit harder earning another scream of pleasure from me. 

“Nick!” I screamed. “I can’t…” I moaned out, trying to be good and keep my orgasm at bay. 

Nick pulled his kisses away from my lips and looked into my eyes keeping me captive. “Cum for me, Y/N.” 

Without another moment I felt myself shatter into a million pieces that seemed to be scattered across the room and hidden so well in every corner there would be no way Nick could ever put me back together again. Nick followed immediately after me, shouting my name to what seems like the rooftops, so much so that I envisioned Dorian at the bar smiling. 

Nick slumped against my shoulder, breathing hard into my neck and trailing kisses down it. “You were so good baby. So good.” He breathed. 

“That was amazing Nick.” I breathed, pulling on the cuffs again. “Now uncuff me so I can touch you baby.” 

Nick stopped his kisses and looked back into his eyes, that mischievous lust clouding those chocolate eyes again. He sighed, stroking down my body till he got to where we were still joined. “I’m sorry baby, but you agreed to tonight’s rules and the night is far from over.” He purred and clutched my hips. 

I let out a gasp as he pulled himself out only to turn me completely around until I was face down on the bed. The bar the cuffs could actually turn so he could have me either on my back or on my stomach and never have to detach the cuffs.

“Just relax baby and let’s have some fun.” He purred in my ear and lined himself to my entrance once again. 

[creativerogues]

Taking Narrative Control & Adding Flavour...

“I take out my spellbook and flip through it to my sketchings, and I take out a small inkwell, empty a few drops of it out into my palm, and dip my pinky in and begin to draw the arcane sigils I have sketched down…”

You just read (or I hope you just read) a short description of how Hard Hat, the Tortle Wizard in the Campaign I’m currently running, describes casting the Spell Illusory Script.

Now, as a Spellcaster, or really any D&D Class, you can describe anything you’re doing, but I thought I should take the time to describe how you as both a Player and DM, can help better immerse the People around the Table in the wonderful world of D&D...

Stage 1: The “Comfortable” State

This is the most common, with Players just saying “I use my Movement to move over there, and then use my Action to Attack!”

Now, while it might not be very descriptive, this is what most people are comfortable with, just saying what they want their Character to do and letting the DM describe the rest...

Now, in this kind of play, I would recommend the DM saying about 1 to 3 lines of text to describe what the Character is doing.

For example, if the Player says “I cast Shield” to block an Enemy’s Attack, describe how: “You throw up your arcane shield and all of a sudden there’s a spark of arcane energy as the attack is deflected from you, just inches away…”

That’s about a Line and a Half of text, but it’s still descriptive and can evoke an image and reaction from the Players...

And you can do this with all kinds of Spells, not just low-level ones, for example, if the Player says “I cast Dimension Door and teleport right next to the Bad Guy”, you can describe how: “You blink through the small purplish arcane doorway, and it brings you directly to the Bad Guy’s side...”

This way of adding flavor isn’t just for Spellcasters either, there’s a bunch of ways to throw a punch, swing a sword, or block an attack.

For example, when a Barbarian Rages, you can describe how their hair stands on end, how their muscles bulge and they can feel their heart beating faster and faster in their chest...

I also posted a (hopefully) not-too long description of a Barbarian Raging, so go take a look at that post too if you want some ideas...

Just adding 1 or 2 Lines that describe what their doing is a great way to add flavor while still keeping things at a nice pace.

Stage 2: The Killing Blow...

As you’ve all probably heard by now, the phrase “How Do You Want To Do This?” is a great way to set up the Player, giving them a little bit of Narrative Control to describe how they deal the Killing Blow to a Bad Guy.

Simply asking “How Do You Want To Do This?” can work in a lot of scenarios, from how they cast a Spell to how they swing a sword to how they land that final devastating punch...

And the Player may still be a little uncomfortable describing it out loud, or maybe they get excited at the thought of being a Pseudo-DM for a few seconds to describe how their Character chops the Bad Guy perfectly down the middle, or how they shoot the Bad Guy with an arrow, or punch the Bad Guy so hard in the Dingus he dies from shock...

All this narrative flair created by the Player lets you take a back seat for a hot minute, and takes the pressure off you, because the Player is doing your job for you, albeit for only a few seconds...

Stage 3: The Little Storyteller & Badass Imagery

“The skeleton of a horse begins to form as shadows begin to cling to it to form muscle and sinew and organs beneath the bones of its body. And as the shadows come to complete its form, you can see its obsidian, midnight black skin, a grey mane and tail, eyeless sockets staring it you and smoke-colored, insubstantial hooves that make no sound as they stamp impatiently on the ground. It has what seems to be a saddle, bit, and bridle, and is awaiting it’s rider…”

This is the description, quite literally copied from my old DM Notes, of how our Necromancer cast his first Phantom Steed Spell.

This is what I recommend to all DMs out their: When a Player gets a New Spell or a New Feature, take some time to describe just how badass it is using this thing for the first time...

A Barbarian scoring their first Brutal Critical, a Wizard casting their brand new Spell, a Monk channeling their Ki to land their first Stunning Strike...

All of these are great moments, and you can combine this with a “How Do You Want To Do This?” to let the Player quickly describe casting this brand new Spell, or using this Brand New Thing they’ve never used before...

And while some DMs might think of writing up Notes and descriptions for each and every Spell that one Wizard Player has in their little Book, just expanding on what the Player describes lets you immerse that Player even more, making their Character’s casting of Spell or use of a New Feature feel unique to them, and even more personal...

When the Wizard Player said they wanted to Ritual Cast Phantom Steed, I asked how they did it, and since they’re a Necromancer, they gave me a short description of how they wanted it to look skeletal and how the Steed was created from wisps of smoke and shadow, and I just went off from there and pretty much improv’d my way through...

And when people hear the word “Improv”, they think “Well what if I can’t think on the spot?”

That’s fine, I usually write up a description of a creature or a spell.

Go and google what that Monster looks like, or what a Spell does, and write a short two or three line description of it, maybe even go into more detail it the Monster is something serious or the Spell is something pretty high level.

Just “Do You.” and do whatever feels comfortable. If you think writing a two or three line description of how a Monster looks will help you be a better Dungeon Master to your Players, then go ahead!

ANYWAYS, ONTO THE NEXT PART!

Stage 4: The Mini-DM (A.K.A The DM’s Best Friend...)

Now just because I wrote “The DM’s Best Friend” does not mean that you should force your Players to roleplay each and every moment of the Game, some Players are just uncomfortable with that, and you as a DM should be able to recognize that...

But anyways, before I go off rambling again (because this Post is already long enough!)

This is when you as a DM sit back and let the Player describe every little detail, maybe butting in to add your own words, but mostly letting the Player do the talking...

And to show you what I mean, here’s an example of how our Wizard describes casting Teleportation Circle:

“I take out my spellbook, flip through the pages to my sketch of the teleportation circle I had memorized, and out of my pocket I take out a piece of chalk infused with the small pieces of ruby that I paid for, and begin drawing the 10-foot-diameter circle that the teleportation circle needs before I take out a small inkwell, empty some of it out into my hands, slap my hands together to lather them in the ink and begin drawing all the sigils on the ground to take us to our destination…”

Now, this is SUPER descriptive, to the point where I might even give the Player inspiration for giving such a cool description, but let me just say what I think is the one thing you need to take away from reading ALL this...

Spells don’t define their Verbal or Somatic Components: YOU SHOULD DEFINE THEM!

You can dance, use finger guns, give the middle finger, or whatever the fricken’ heck you want!

And use the Spell’s Material Components too, add them into your description...

So... I don’t exactly know how to end this Post, but I hope you’ve took something away from it...

[memcaked]

send him home in a limejuice tub!

Source: Subarashiki kono Sekai | The World Ends With You

Relationships: Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya & Sakuraba Neku, Kiryu “Joshua” Yoshiya & Hanekoma Sanae, Sakuraba Neku & Honjo Sota

Characters: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya, Sakuraba Neku, Hanekoma Sanae, Honjo Sota

Additional tags: Alternate viewpoint, Mostly canon dialogue, Week 2 Day 6, Introspective, Character study, Gift fic, TWEWY Secret Valentine, Not beta read

Summary: Joshua looks down at his hands for the first time. Almighty, almost a month and he forgot what it was like to be physical. Instincts, skin, nails - unchipped, rounded, inch-long keratin buried into the heels of his palms, threatening to break his skin.

Beginning notes: This was made for ShibuyaPharmacy as part of the TWEWY Secret Valentine event. She asked for art or writing with Joshua, Minamimoto, or Fret, so obviously it meant I had to enact one of my TWEWY ideas rolling around in my brain for this. Inspired by a tumblr post which I can sadly not find written by @/shadnoise analysing Joshua's body language in this scene, and pushed out today for my headcanon birthday for Joshua. Happy birthday to this anime game guy who hasn't left my brain for years I think its because we share a star sign

Body:

No matter how Joshua’s beams of light should be vaporising the Taboo noise the sound of them being Erased is always the same: screeching, scraping, like the coalescing of Shibuya soul and the something Minamimoto put into the refinery sigil roiling in its soul code. It's the same discordant chords striking their way across Shibuya this week. They’re awful, through and through - Joshua hacks on their smoke-and-oil stench, whether it's a horn or a kick or quills they leave his skin stinging and red. Taboo noise were nothing, a mystery untold until this week and it doesn’t do anything to convince him that this place can be saved when it's able to foster the frenzied supernoise brainchild of some young Officer with a usurper fantasy. Sanae would tell him J, you always think everyone’s out to get you, and he didn’t believe Joshua when he cited his evidence. As he feels himself falling out of the Noise plane he argues with Strawnae that his attempted murderer has learnt how to breed the dark arts and if he’ll even let him go he’s meant to be doing it thinking he shouldn’t be so negative and everyone he meets is an angel.

They drop back into the UG, or only Neku as he floats in the air. Down on the ground he’s planted to his feet, looking expectantly on wounded, Erased-to-be Sota. He should’ve put the unpartnered timers on their hands before he gave up his powers and his clairvoyance, has to count it by himself with one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four, without any ticking clock that he can see or divine when it’ll happen. “You OK?”

“Yeah... you saved my ass,” Sota cracks a half-smile, the muscles on the left side of his face going limp. His chuckle is half-hearted, a little pained. He knows his erasure is inevitable to be genuine about it, Joshua thinks along with eleven mississippi. “Heh, for now, anyway. I lost Nao... I don't have much longer.” He groans, body shaking as his voice cracks and a second of static courses through him.

Neku droops, his hair falling under his eyes, head buried in collar, spine slumped. “If... if we'd gotten here sooner--” Twenty two mississippi, twenty three mississippi.

“Ain't your fault, dawg. I wasn't strong enough. End of story,” He wheezes, gags a little trying to get the air back. The static flashes repeat, repeat, the pauses closing in. “Neku and Joshua, right?” Joshua lifts his head up, makes eye contact with Sota.

“Yeah.”

“You two survive,” The right side of his face falls. thirty nine mississippi, forty mississippi, “Get your old partner back,” He painfully clings to the last happy face he has, static almost falling out of his screwed-up eyes. “I hope all three of ya get back safe.”

He’s Erased with a buzzed heave, gone in a flash and a crackle. Sota Honjo, small-time criminal, Nao’s partner(-in-crime), joins her in Shibuya’s soul. Sixty mississippi. Neku runs into his spot, the crest of a building’s tall shadow, squinting towards the silver-lined rooftops. He shakes his fist, voice crashing up an octave, “Fucking reapers!”

“Angry, I see,” Joshua lowers himself down, huffing when he scuffs his sneakers on the pavement. When Neku whips his mink-lithe body around Joshua almost hears cracking bones.

“Hell yes, I’m angry!” The vessels in his eyes look swollen red, like if he has to feel for any moment longer they’ll burst into blood and tears.

“So what?” Joshua isn’t particularly interested in making eye contact with Neku - he runs the stopwatch in his head again. “At least you’re still in the game.”

Neku lunges two steps forward, the same shaking fist maybe two inches from Joshua’s nose. “Yeah, and what about those who didn’t? Screw the game!” He stomps his feet on the pavement and makes Joshua forget what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. “They’re people, not toys!”

Neku Sakuraba himself, grandstanding about people? People? The ones he was bemoaning a few days ago, the ones he hated so much Joshua chose him. He was such a rugged survivalist - knew how little time Beat and Rhyme had and only caved when they thought it was a good idea - and suddenly when he echoes Neku, Joshua walking away from this with a bruised bloody nose seems to rest in the balance of his outburst. The adrenaline of his thoughts distill into a slow cool-tongued mumble. “Why the sudden interest? I didn’t think you cared about other people.”

“No…” The taut muscles in Neku’s knuckle strain, his voice run ragged by his screaming? His crying? His energy?

The trail-off’s a chance for Joshua to load bullets into his barrel. “No what?”

Neku clears his throat and backs away, opens the sore fist into a palm. “Sure, other Players are strangers. Not just Players. Everyone,” Joshua looks down at his hands for the first time. “I don't know who they are, where they're from, what they care about,” Almighty, almost a month and he forgot what it was like to be physical. “But... since I came to the UG, I... I've talked with them a little.” instincts, skin, nails - “Got to know them a little. Felt them a little…” - unchipped, rounded, inch-long keratin, “Felt my world grow. Just a tiny, tiny bit,” buried into the heels of his palms, “It's different now. They're not just some strangers. I can't shut them out like that.” threatening to break his skin.

“My my,” He’ll understand, Joshua keeps assuring himself. Neku wouldn’t exactly be joyful but he’ll agree Shibuya needs to be shut down, die off with him. He’s - and a lump forms in Joshua’s throat - sounding like now, he won’t back down. “This isn’t like you at all.” He doesn’t even want to make eye contact. How does he get through to Neku? “Well, don’t get your hopes up. You’ll never really understand the people around you.”

“Enjoy the moment.” It’s what imprinting does to people but he only realises how wrapped Neku was around Sanae’s middle finger to Joshua’s crisis of function. Neku’s eyes shine, he mourns the Erased, he thought they’d walk together hand in hand but Joshua feels more and more like he’s reaching an arm out for someone crossing a threshold he can’t.

“Hmm?” Joshua imagines Sanae sitting on Neku’s shoulder, adjusting his halo and sitting in the white flowy robes he hates. Frustration shoots up his fingers and digs harder into his hands.

“Enjoying your world means making it bigger,” Joshua remembers how Neku told him of a girl who’s grip floated up and away from him. “I finally get that.” Joshua remembers that erased couple, arms linked in life, death, erasure, the erased couple who would hold Neku, Joshua, Shiki, everyone in their hands if they didn’t only have two. “The world as one person sees it is tiny.” Joshua remembers Neku, every day in his solitude admiring the mural, rubbing and caressing the wall of paint. “You've gotta... gotta reach out to other people.” Joshua glances back at Neku’s shoulder. He can’t see anything. His hands unfurl, hang free and limp at his side.

“...... Hee hee.” He doesn’t feel anything in his throat. “Maybe so. Only by allowing strangers in can we find new ways to be ourselves.” He wrings his body, one he needs to get used to. “It's possible. This mission looks like it’s up to us.”

Neku silently starts moving towards Q-Heads before stopping, staring over his shoulder while his partner stares at splayed hands. “Joshua?”

"Hold on,” he picks at his fingers, “I’ve broken a nail.”

Ending notes: Not exactly sastified with this but its been a busy lead-up to Valentine's offline and online, I'm glad this is done, and I'm happy if at least one person enjoys what I've wrote. Happy valentine's day, Jordan!

[nightqueendany]

“Evidence” for Night King/Queen Theory

Mostly flimsy stuff but take it as you will. This is the new hill I wish to die on. Bury me with the words “Night Queen Dany” on my tombstone.

1) “We could stay a thousand years. No one would find us. “We’d be pretty old.”

2) There must always be a Night King (according to leaks, Bran has a vision about this). This would be quite the line to drop in with no follow up. We’ve got to see a new Night King/Queen.

3) These differing leaks possibly all being somewhat true to form together this theory:

Drogon allegedly takes Dany’s body away after Jon kills her and leaves Jon inexplicably alive.

Other leaks had Jon and Dany riding off on the dragons.

Some leaks say Jon will head back North to “form a new Night’s Watch”.

4) “What if the Seven Kingdoms were ruled by a just woman and an honorable man?” Oh Davos baby, they will be, just not in the way you thought.

5) Night King’s symbols pointing to the last two Targaryens taking his place (Aegon the Conqueror could have seen this symbol in a vision (vision from the Night King) and this is why he made it his House sigil).

6) Dany’s HOTU vision from the show, the only throne she will sit on is one covered in snow, because she’ll be up north in the Lands of Always Winter:

7) This artwork for 8x01:

This is official artwork for the series (HBO commissioned Robert Ball to make this art, there’s one for every episode of the series). The art series is called “Beautiful Death” which in and of itself is a pretty interesting title.

But since Ball has made these obviously prior to the episodes airing, he knows how the series ends. And at the bottom of this one for 8x01, you can see Jon and Dany together and they appear to be in front of the waterfall...but the waterfall looks suspiciously like:

The fortress of the Night King and White Walkers.

8) Chekhov’s gun of the season - Pregnant Dany. This was so heavily foreshadowed last season and hasn’t happened yet. And I mean, GOT has killed pregnant women before (RIP Talisa), but if there needs to be more white walkers, what better way than bringing dead-pregnant-Dany back so she can birth an undead baby?

9) Matt Bellamy’s “Pray” on the new GOT inspired album:

“We can bring her back.” Well, Jon may certainly try.

10) The Power is Power lyrics:

11) Kinda fits Azor Ahai...? Jon kills the love of his life by stabbing her. Gains the power to deliver the world from a darkness - the darkness being the greed of men.

12) There’s already been a Night’s Queen (corpse queen) in the books - the 13th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch fell in love with a woman with “skin as white as the moon and eyes like blue stars” and “skin was cold as ice”. Jon was a Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

13) As @cleemail pointed out in another post, Dany dreams of something similar: “Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice.”

14) This video:

Some of this is strange but I LOVE the point about Brave Danny Flint being at the Nightfort (where the Night’s King and Night’s Queen ruled) and her possibly turning into the Night’s Queen after she was raped and killed by the Black Brothers.

15) Kimmel asked D&D “Are we for sure done with the White Walkers” and Benioff said “We’re not gonna answer that.”

16) This is why D&D made the executive decision to have neither Jon nor Dany kill the Night King - because they’d both take up his post eventually.

17) Book!Dany calls herself “Mother of Monsters” and we’re meant to believe the monsters are the dragons, but what if they’re the new white walkers?

18) Jon and Dany have both been called the “Prince that was Promised” so what if the Red Priests got it right, but didn’t know what the PTWP actually was and ended up being the very thing they thought they had to fight against?

19) Dany wanted to “break the wheel” but she will sadly have to become a part of the wheel to keep the realms of men in check (the wheel being that there must always be a Night King).

20) Isaac Hempstead Wright said, “It won't go the way some people want. It will be too happy for some people, or too sad, or too whatever.” A Jon/Dany Night King/Queen/White Walker babies might just be too happy for some people who were hoping they would both just die tragically and stay dead. He also said they end it in a very “Game of Thrones way” and the opening scene of the show was about the White Walkers - the last scene could be White Walker Jon/Dany.

21) Emilia’s “What Daenerys is” quote - the “what” being the Night Queen.

22) The prequel series will focus on the first Long Night so it may explain why there needs to always be a Night King.

...

Anyway, add more. My brain is fried now. But I’m sure people have many!

[sugar-petals]

⌈➝ witcher!yoongi ⌋

♡ smut imagine ○ urban fantasy au ○ words: 1k ○ poly!yoongi 

⟡ Black hair, black clothes, black eyes, black potions. And: A black scorpion familiar. That’s how he comes along, and everybody knows he’s different. 

Unlike the majority of his kind who live both integrated and undercover among us, witcher Yoongi always felt caught between chairs when it comes to vibrant metropolitan society. Neither has he been fully immersed in nature like a traditional sorcerer because he does incorporate hands-on magic, nor was he truly able to yet embrace an inevitable attraction to humans and technology that he still cannot deny. The tricky situation has been haunting him for longer now, but he does want change.

After his childhood and early adolescence, meaning 130 witcher years of inhabiting wetland huts and lonesome villages, Yoongi eventually does make up his mind to settle somewhere more urban, closer to his kin. The decision is hard, as is packing his tools and convincing his headstrong familiar Jack to join him. Once again, Yoongi ends up isolating himself in a long-abandoned cellar. Somewhere below the old harborfront of Singapore, doing all sorts of cauldron and crystal experiments for hours and hours. 

Exhausting and profound witchercraft, but then again, compared to what more influential colleagues of him are doing worldwide: What Yoongi creates are mostly whimsical and harmless things. Small quality work, step by step. His ultimate goal would be to compile helpful spells in a giant potion book over the years, one to actually publish online for other witchers and witches to freely access. In the back of his mind, it seems like the only way to do something for the greater good with his time, albeit from afar and desolate. 

The isolation greatly fosters his studies. But every other week, he’d begrudgingly have to venture out to collect human hair or some particular fermented ingredients at the next best grocery store. Usually, a small shop called Zhang’s with dim blue neon lights and narrow isles, or a nearby gas station. Using just about every sigil spell he knows to walk swift and unseen through the avenues of early dawn, his familiar neatly tucked into a mason jar in his backpack. Jack enjoys being carried like that, but he does notice how on edge Yoongi is, on the other hand. Singapore isn’t an easy city for a magician who’s used to silence ever since he was a kid. 

Despite all that, guard sigils are one of Yoongi’s strong points, so the two of them get by even after sunset. There are a dozen corners and quay streets to pass, but the spells keep Yoongi just veiled enough. Any district of the city where a fellow witcher left his magical imprint he avoids out of respect, however, and he doesn’t like popular spots, so there aren’t a lot of options where to buy stuff in the first place. 

Since Yoongi is by himself 98% of the time, he’d be impressionable and sensitive to social contact. After longer periods of withdrawal and frustration, he’d even muster the guts to hook up with the next best person somewhat known to him at Zhang’s. Yes, you heard that right: Yoongi has his eyes on the staff and even some regulars that ogle him at the cash point on Mondays. 

In the local bars at the dock he doesn’t want to crash even if the chance of dtf people is higher there, and they’re not busy at night. But he can’t fathom sitting down with some intoxicated middle-class folk where there’s booming music and nuclear family or business topics all over. His 130 years worth of knowledge would come to a standstill. Zhang’s is a mysterious store as loud as the bottom of the sea, the right kind of clientele is there. 

A sizeable portion of desperate singles and outcasts, that is. Sailor- and fishermen, prostitutes, addicts, stressed drop-outs, system rejects who doubt their humanity but struggle daily to retain it. Yoongi likes them better; they’re surprisingly similar to him. He can read minds enough to know who is on the same wavelength as him, it’s no coincidence he visits this store. It’s creeping Yoongi out to know everything at one glance, but then again, it fascinates him. So he acts on it. 

Sure, he’d definitely feel weird flirting and asking someone to meet at their place if he observed interest in him — which would ironically come with ease given his enigmatic vibe and appearance. It’s like moths to the flame. Love and attraction potions Yoongi wouldn’t dare use, however. He’d already feel guilty enough to keep his lonely dick wet. Yoongi doesn’t want to be needy but can’t ignore the occasional urge interrupting his concentration during spellwork, reminding him that not all things are technology and controllable by magic. 

He sort of but not fully came to terms with how he’ll always feel ambivalent about sex. Not that his hook-ups would ever care or even notice. He has a lot to offer and doesn’t even know. Besides that he carries around a scorpion, most of his casual lovers see right past his antics. In fact, he’d probably have to limit his erotic encounters not to be too noncommittal and have more than just a handful of people request he visit them one after the other for a quick romp. Zhang’s can only sell so many condoms. 

But then again, Yoongi might end up liking that. To get passed around between so many kinds of people who he’d get closer to over time, even striking up longer afterglow conversations which would have been unthinkable to him months earlier. His familiar he knows inside out, his potions, too; humans and their subtle sexual and social influences on his magic are a different game. 

The talks would inspire him to create more useful spells and bring the book to fruition a lot earlier than he thought only half a year later, making it an insider tip among magic experts online. Which would even draw some curious witches and witchers from neighboring bay districts to his home for practical advice and maybe— well, some other favors. Which would come at a surprise, but since he’s gathered some experience already... Yoongi is going to have a good time.

Witchers of his folk live up to 540 years, so it is safe to say that Yoongi still has quite an interesting journey ahead in the borough. ⟡

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2019.

[9noryn]

New answers!!

From questions asked in the ask-the-incuwives channel in the Seduce Me Discord Server!

From abil:  if your husbands had to stay in the abyssal plains after the events of the war, how would you feel? would you be okay with it?

Noryn would pack up and move with him lmao she's not attached to places, more so people so; of course there has to be a lot of talking and planning together, but she's pretty down to continue making things work from the plains side. She wouldn't have to worry about being found by Angels and get obliterated, big plus. She'd miss her sigil witch brother and her friends in the human world though; but she'll easily think about video calls and gaming and visits. The big make or break would be whether she can get hooked up with high speed internet in the abyssal plains

wait i just realized... the abyssal plains doesn't have internet yet

noryn's not gonna like this one bit; neither would matthew 

two gamers, in a dimension without games

((first order of business is to invent internet and get connected to human world, the first demon world hacker))

Bonus:

Midnight: Noryn starting up a tiktok channel for tiktoks in the Abyssal Plains that only the incubi and the wives see LOL

Midnight: no, she vlogs

Zio: hey demons its ya boi

More under the break!

From tkdigiboy: how would you react if one of the boy's ex-bf/gf or 'playmates'(sex for energy) came to visit or hang. would you let your husband do a one time fling for energy?

noryn's been friends with her exes, and their exes; so as long as things are chill, it's just like meeting anyone else from someone's social circle. it only gets weird if it's like... this person distracts matthew away from noryn a lot or otherwise gets in between her interactions with him

e_e they don't even have to be past lovers, anyone that does that will get on noryn's nerves and make her go on a jealous gifting spree, where in a fit of jealous frustration she buys a bunch of very thoughtful gifts for matthew to give to him later

regarding the one-time fling: emergency sure; but like, consent and all is one time and case specific

like if matthew is blowing up noryn's phone like "iM dY INNg OF SEX STarVaTION AND yOu'RE IN THE HUMAN WORLD" she'd be like ? ?? ? bE SAfe FIRST AND WE CAN TALK LATER

From Kantah: ooh what are the wives' hobbies? :0

Noryn hobbies: being an internet gremlin; tea brewing, drink mixing, bartending/barista; dabbling in potion making

From tkdigiboy: To noryn/zio: how well do you get along with simon and his wife?

pretty well!! though she thinks of simon and simone as mika's pets so whenever she visits mika she likes to try to befriend them and get matthew to play with him :>  simon's a lot less of a rascal when noryn can give him the attention he seeks

From Diva:  how long does it take Noryn to find out Divana’s favorite bubble tea since she cant magically know like usual [cause she’s a collective ton of different personalities]

Diva: Zio wait how long does it take for Noryn to figure out Divana's fav bubble tea after she god damn blue screens

Noryn: -sits there with window xp error noises going off in her brain-

Divana: I think this one died

Zio: poor baby; noryn would probably just blindfold herself and randomly mix ingredients and hope for the best. serving a chaos demon aint easy

Diva: Especially when Noryn Knows Alot of Things™️

From dari_baguls:  Idk if this is more for Zio or Noryn buuuut do you really have the cat stalkings Noryn wears in the game? I cried when I saw Noryn cause I also have the same stalkings and also (at the time) had short hair TvT just wanna know for research purposes

i do have them irl! Her outfit is based off of what i wore when the game was being made

She’d look like this in present day

Gotta refresh noryn’s design cause it’s very undergrad student vs her now working bartending professional :9

From Diva:  Oh no Noryn and Divana in the same room fucking around with potions

Zio: POTIONS POTIONS POTIONS in carrie's kitchen no less

Diva: Many things went wrong that day

Diva: M a n y

Zio:

Noryn: "can i come over to make sum poshuns" 

Carrie: "Of course,you dork"

Noryn: "Also Divana will help" 

Carrie:

Diva: 

Read at 3:45 pm

Zio: 

Noryn: "henlo? carrie u ther"

From tkdigiboy: Question to zio and kary: how do you 2 handle your husbands when their doing their usual routine towards eachother

Karygurl: Start making bets, make popcorn :D

Zio: when sam and matthew bicker; noryn stands aside and lets them get through their system if it's between them specifically; otherwise she's a participant in the bickering LOL they're a lot like rascally friends, and noryn is also a shit starter 

Zio: i headcanon that iri or twila like to occasionally stir the pot, like drop a small [controversial hot take] and watch the boys mcfreakin lose it

sam, matthew and noryn are all competitive casual gamers shit's going down there's no allegiances

From ☁bunny☁: jumpin in here: for all of the incuwives creators, especially zio n kary, how do you guys feel about people writing about ur ocs in their own stories? or drawing them? im writing my own interpretation of the story with my self insert and i love carrie and noryn dearly and would love to include them (and the other incuwives) but id only wanna do it if its cool with their creators first !

Karygurl: I mean please do!! I bookmark and save EVERYTHING that has even a tiny whiff of Carrie in it, I'm honored anyone would want to include her in anything ever

Zio: im flattered if your inspired to write in or draw my characters!! let me know if you want to collab too

Zio: do it do it; shout outs and cameos give me life

Karygurl: SAME Zio

Zio: plus if there's no story conflict, im down to adopt new dynamics/lore/etc from what people create

From Mari: What kind of things would you do to make your husband laugh?

To laugh? noryn would be an utter fool lmao and tell him an embarrassing story about herself (she's had a whopping 9 lives worth, there's no end to headass decisions and shenanigans when it comes to her); something like 

Noryn: "Babe have you seen our dog" 

Matthew, pouty but still hanging in there: "Huh? She's in the other room, right?" 

Noryn: "Now watch this. Bijo, cuddle attack!!" 

Distant pitpattering on the tile gets closer until Bijo, the apron wearing shibe, gets ready to jump with a soft woof

Bijo full-body slams into noryn

oh my god, noryn would do unintentional slapstick when trying to show matthew some new trick or skill

tkdigiboy to zio: pet peeve with matthew

probably him being a touch too open-minded and overly generous with his time to the point that he wears himself super super thin and tired. he's kind of that extreme of being too self-sacrificing? 

Noryn reminds him that he doesn't owe everyone he comes in contact with that kind of life-changing attention and focus, especially if those people take advantage of his kindness.

Noryn is very much "i have limited time and energy in this one body, I focus on saving the one person I can" whereas Matthew is the "I want to brighten everyone's day, and give them what I didn't have or give them something only I can provide"

While they have similar tastes and interests, their perspectives help the other grow into a healthier, better person.

[iameverything]

A Conversation: Zeal & Ardor

“Zeal & Ardor is a Swiss-American avant-garde metal band started and led by Manuel Gagneux, a Swiss-American musician. Formed in 2013, the band mixes sounds of African-American spirituals with black metal.”

First off, the first time I heard of Zeal & Ardor was when I went looking for new music and managed to stumble upon 'Grave Diggers Chant' on your recent album 'Stranger Fruit', without reading anything into whom you are..... And it blew me away, as I have never heard a band such as it before. How has things been going since 'Stranger Fruit'? It's been quite a wild ride. We've since played two US Tours, one in Australia and three more in Europe. The audiences have been nothing short of amazing.

What can the people expect from the next album? How is the writing process going? (Are doing anything different this time around?) There's nothing to speak of yet. There's a couple of concepts I'm toying with at the moment, but nothing I've decided on yet.

I absolutely love the idea and feel behind the music video for Grave Diggers chant. What was the direction you wanted to go in with that? Any cool stories about it? The video was done by friends of mine, Fabio Tozzo and Morris Samuel. We wanted to distance ourselves from metal tropes and retain a somewhat dark undertone. Having it happen in daylight was key, but also a pain in the butt. The actors had to endure freezing temperatures in clothes I at some point deemed fitting. I still feel bad about that.

Lets go way back to 'Devil Is Fine', the artwork for that album (& even Stranger Fruit) is spectacular. Before using Robert Smalls on the cover, was there other ideas played with? And did you guys ever get any negative feedback due to Robert Smalls being featured? We received no negative feedback on that yet. A couple of people felt intrigued and looked more into the man, so I see that as more of a positive point. I had different versions of the cover with similar historical characters and photos of slaves, but Robert has such a striking appearance that it made it impossible not to choose him.

While we are talking about 'Devil is Fine', lets talk about the single, probably one of my most favourite from you, very powerful song. If you could jog back to that time in your life, what inspired that song? (the use of the chains sound... etc) What did that song mean for you? That song was written in a morning during about 2 hours. I remember wanting to have a chain clankin, but did not have one laying around (Who does, right?). So i just dropped my keys on the wooden table I had in my studio (i.e. basement) and pitched it down. It's hilarious to think about that the keys in my pocket are blasting through festival speakers at 30k people sometimes.

So you guys probably have one of the sickest logos iv ever seen. Where did the inspiration come from to have such a memorable symbol? It's actually the sigil of lucifer with an "A" and a "Z" added. In modern satanism there is a heavy emphasis on self liberation and fulfilment that I can subscribe to.

Where does the purple and green colors come from for all your albums and promo pictures? Great combinations. Favorite colors? Those are complementary colours that I haven't seen used that much back then. I like contrasts lot and in the colour world that's the highest contrast on can get. Also it's kind of unusual for metal bands to have bright color concepts.

In terms of your genre, it's described as 'Avant-garde Metal' but Apple music describes you as 'Black Metal', but as we know, with labels one can really be anything, its all perspective. When you guys first started to put out your first album or even second, was there any thought put into what kind of genre you want to be placed in? Not at all. It's important to us not to paint ourselves into a corner. Avant-garde metal sounds douchy as all hell, but it's so vague that if I would bust out a saxophone one day people would probably just stroke their chins nodding and say 'Ah, of course. I get it'. haha.

You recently released Zeal and Ardor live in Europe this year, which was fantastic. I remember when bands releasing 'live in' albums was a constant thing, and greatly missed. What made you guys want to record such an album and what was that process like? Since the studio albums are just me playing everything except for the drums (that's Marco), the live versions are far more intense due to there being 6 people giving it their all. We really wanted to document and share it in a way so that's how that came about. As for the process, it's literally just someone hooking a laptop to the mixing desk at a concert and mixing it later. Super simple.

You currently are on a huge tour in Poland and eventually in Scandinavia and Switzerland. How the tour going and how are the people treating Zeal & Ardor? So far very well! We've been perfecting this set for quite some time now and it feels like we're on the top of our game. People seem to dig it.

Rapid fire If you were not called Zeal And Ardor what else would you want to be called? Coldplay Favorite venue to play in? Neumos, Seattle Favorite current song that isn't your own? Portishead - Roads Guilty Pleasure? None, I stand by my poor decisions Secret to a great song? Not questioning oneself and going for the most fun decisions