#the malachite king

[writingsfromspace]

Weiße Rosen

478 Worte | The Malachite King

Prompt | Weiße Rosen - @blitzgeschichten

Diesmal mit einer Steampunk-Maschine und einem meiner Lieblings-Settings aus einem meiner WIPs.

Vielleicht ein bisschen melodramatisch, aber. Tja.

Der eiserne Friedhof glänzte im trüben Mondlicht - Metallteile, die zwischen dem wuchernden Unkraut und der allgegenwärtigen Korrosion hervorblitzten wie die verzweifelten Hände Ertrinkender in einem Sumpf.

Die wenigen verwitterten Steinbögen, die sich noch über das Gestrüpp erhoben, passten besser an einen so melancholischen Ort als die weißen Rosen, die um diese Jahreszeit am ganzen Gelände blühten, rein und schimmernd und in makellosem Kontrast zu den verwesenden Automatenteilen.

Die Rosen dufteten, so hieß es bei den wenigen lokalen Dichtern, nach Schwermut und Vergangenheit, aber das konnte Martine McGuir nicht beurteilen, als sie über den Friedhof wanderte und ihr Kleid immer wieder den Dornen entzog. Sie hatte keine Chemorezeptoren.

Es war selten, dass ein Kriegsautomat ihrer Bauart am eisernen Friedhof landete, schon aus Geheimhaltungsgründen. Doch manchmal fand auf welchen Umwegen auch immer ein Bauteil wie ihre seinen Weg auf die Schrotthalde, längst aus seinem ursprünglichen Körper und Kontext gerissen; sein letzter Besitzer womöglich unwissend, was er da vor oder in sich hatte.

Aber Martine McGuir war ohnehin nicht auf der Suche nach Ersatzteilen. Seit sie dem Militär entflohen war, hatte sie sich mit großer Sorgfalt gewartet, gerade weil sie wusste, wie schwer selbige zu bekommen waren.

Warum genau sie den eisernen Friedhof besuchte, hätte sie nicht sagen können; es hätte sie aber auch niemand zu fragen gewagt, selbst wenn einer ihrer Schergen davon gewusst hätte.

Jemand musste es wohl tun. Auch wenn die volkstümliche Bezeichnung der Schrotthalde in Anbetracht der achtlos Weggeworfenen wie blanker Hohn wirkte, schien es doch richtig, sie hin und wieder zu besuchen.

Nach ihren Geschwistern zu sehen, die weniger Glück gehabt hatten.

Martine McGuir war sich nicht sicher, ob sie sich mit diesem albernen Verhalten nicht ebenjenen Menschen anglich, die ihresgleichen so verachteten - Automaten hatten keine Geschwister, ebensowenig wie Gräber. Aber in manchen Nächten überkam sie das Bedürfnis, und wer sollte sie schon aufhalten?

Das Mondlicht verfing sich an etwas Goldglänzendem, und Martine McGuir war froh, in dieser Nacht gekommen zu sein. Ein so seltenes Fundstück wäre sicher nicht lang hier herumgelegen.

Es war ein Herz.

Ein Herz wie ihres.

Von den fünf winzigen Glasbläschen, die einmal die alchemistischen Substanzen beheimatet hatten, die den Automaten ihr Leben verliehen, waren zwei gesprungen - wahrscheinlich der Grund, warum die Einheit hier gelandet war.

Die Ventilklappen und zierlichen Messingröhrchen, die sie verbanden und umringten, schienen jedoch unbeschädigt. Selbst an den Kupferdrähten, die nach außen und nun ins Nichts führten, hatten sich kaum noch Spuren von Grünspan gebildet. Das Herz - und sein Besitzer - mochte gestern noch lebendig gewesen sein.

Nun, vielleicht war sein Besitzer es noch.

Das Herz jedoch war wohl verloren.

Martine McGuir hob es sacht auf. Kurz überlegte sie, es mitzunehmen. Möglich, dass sie einen verschwiegenen Glasbläser und einen verschwiegenen Alchemisten auftrieb. Andererseits aber…

Sie kniete sich nieder und vergrub es.

Vielleicht wurde sie zu menschlich, aber wer sollte sie schon aufhalten?

Sie ließ eine schimmernde weiße Rose zurück.

[levshany]

how do I put this. Even those who actually track our blogs and are interested in our Aus can get a little confused about what's going on here. but I'll try to explain anyway

we already mentioned the crossover between Anarchists and Tandem and even DRAWED them once, back when Tandem was in development (and by the way, this crossover is canonical for both AUs). Now this story has been continued >:D

Here's some context: It so happened that the Colibri wanted to see what alternative timelines looked like and ran into the king and the jester. Phil was delighted with Colibri and wanted to flirt with them. Jester Collie was categorically against it. so he immediately possessed Phill and tried to fight Tandem. he didn’t succeed because his fusion with Phil is extremely unstable. and here we are

Initially, @angstyhikka and I just drew these three pages, but then @lasymit supported the idea and made a drabble which she allowed me to add to the post :3

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

"Let go, bitch! I'm not done with you yet!"

The savage creature desperately squirmed in Philip’s hands. It grabbed onto him, trying to either break free or, on the contrary, rush closer, glaring furiously and baring its shark teeth.

He held the clumsy, collapsing fusion at arm's length and looked at it with slight disgust. His tandem with the Collector was a strange but harmonious union. And what was writhing in front of them right now was the direct antipode of the word harmony.

“Well, I am,” he said distantly.

And with his other hand he grabbed the one sitting inside the demon’s body. Under the flesh soaked in titan blood, he felt a soft essence, like rubber or hot wax. The Collector from this universe felt completely different to the touch.

He stretched them, pulling them away from each other, disentangling them from each other. Paradoxically, bodies that should repel each other by the nature of their forces, like unipolar magnets, clung to each other very stubbornly. But Philip was still stronger with the power of the Collector in his hands, power which he clearly used better than the local... king of demons...

“Ouuuuch ouuuuch,” a boy in the robes of a jester, painted in red and black, shrank on the ground, wrapping his arms around his own chest.

He was not at all like his Collector. Philip had never seen his friend's material body before. But he knew he looked different. For some reason he knew this for sure.

"Who pulls a guy out like that!? Fuck!!", the now-green demon yelled nearby. And he clutched his head painfully.

What Idiots. They vomited three times while chasing him. Philip did them a favor by stopping this outrage.

Now these two were lying helplessly at his feet, groaning and gasping, trying to catch their breath and come to their senses. Now they are separated.

"What were you trying to achieve?" His question was almost rhetorical.

"It wasn’t me, it was all him!" like a child, pointing a sharp, protruding finger towards the Collector, the demon yelled. "I didn’t want to fight at all!"—here he gazed up at Philip with some strange look and batted his eyelashes expressively—"I wanted something else– something more interesting."

"Ohh fuck off, Maggie! You traitor!" came the shout from the red Collector. Philip silently decided to call him the Jester and the demon, by analogy, the King. Philip had already guessed his name. But he couldn’t bring himself to call this savage by that name. Not even in his mind. 

He ignored the King's vague attempts to take a tempting pose while still lying on the ground and grinding his teeth from the headache. He turned to the Jester.

"So you're in charge?"

Judging by King's behavior, it would indeed be reckless to put him in charge. But, having always been the decision-maker when paired with the Collector, by right of being the adult, Philip is accustomed to his friend almost never taking the leading role unless circumstances require it. Like a couple of years ago...

“Nuh-uh,” the Jester raised himself up on his elbow and rubbed his chest, inhaling deeply, greedily. "We're bros! Equal rights and stuff."

And he twirled his funny yellow gloved hand in the air.

Something in the Jester’s words pricked Philip. He didn't fully understand what exactly.. Until the King said, in a dramatic whisper:

"I no longer have a brother. You’re dead to me!"

And Philip stood there, trying to remember that the air was not hard, dense lumps, that it did not clog in the throat and did not press in the chest with a dull phantom pain. Meanwhile these two idiots, after a couple moments of aggressive looks, laughed out loud.

“Yes, I would strangle such a brother,” the King squeezed out, wheezing and squinting through laughter, “with my own-"

And he bent over, swallowing the end of the sentence with a cough as the toe of a boot hit him in the stomach.

"Philip! Philip... They've had enough... He doesn't know what he's talking about."

Philip's cheek twitched.

"Ouch... bro, save me!" the King squeaked hoarsely.

And this completely infuriated Philip. He swung his foot again, this time at the face. But he was met by an elastic wall. And the ground under Colibri’s feet, along with all the space, suddenly curved.

If it weren't for years with the Collector in his head, he wouldn't have realized what happened. But now he clearly saw how a couple of dimensions were distorted, folding space into a loop. He suddenly found himself not between the King and the Jester, but at a considerable distance. And these two were already close together. The boy helped his “brother” get up from the ground; King was now leaning on Jester’s shoulders, clutching his stomach. Perhaps Philip miscalculated his strength a little. This happens sometimes... Especially when it comes to emotions.

“Hey! Hitting people who are down is against the rules,” the Jester frowned. "Give us a timeout!"

Philip felt his jaw tighten. How the nodules rolled across his face. But the flaring rage, as it often happened to him, went away as easily as it filled the air in his chest, leaving reddish streaks before his eyes and pulsating power in his fingertips.

“Get out of the way,” he let his hands glow slightly.

"Ohhhh, what about a last kiss, star boy?" the King whined, clinging to the Jester and trying to straighten up next to him, as if hoping to reach Philip from a distance of ten steps and still get the coveted—

A kiss? Seriously, what the hell? Philip directed a confused, irritated look that bore all these unspoken questions at the Jester. He awkwardly shrugged his sharp shoulders, caught in the King’s grip.

"Don’t be mad... Philip, right? Don't be mad at him, Philip. His Majesty has a reason to be an idiot. And he didn’t mean it out of malice about the ‘brother’ thing.”

Philip looked at the Jester more carefully. The collector in his head was silent. But Philip sensed something from him. Philip also noticed the King’s uncomprehending expression.

“What’s wrong with ‘brother’?” The King sounded surprised.

And then Philip understood. And his face froze.

Yes... yes, what need is there to remember such things? He himself tried to forget for a long time... If he succeeded, would he be the same now as the king in front of him?

Looking at this wretched shell of a “King” who’d forgotten everything important about himself and the loyal “Jester” still standing steadily at his side, the Collector in Philip’s head began to sob. They both, it seems, had the same thought. It’s scary to look at the reflection of a future that never happened.

The jester smiled at him guiltily- at both of them. And then he confidently and widely showed about fifty teeth to his King.

"People don’t like such familiarity, you fool! You can’t just kiss someone the first time you meet."

"But it's okay to fight them when you first meet?" Philip was indignant...

Yes, it's Philip. He cannot refuse to call this man by his own name. Philip himself could one day become such a “king.”

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

also @kenku97 helped us with translation and added this comment, I gotta show it to you ;v;

"I thought “The collector in his head sobbed” needed more context for people who aren’t as tightly wrapped up in these AUs as we all are. To understand why Collie’s crying, you need to point out how Tandem Collie sees himself in the Jester. They’re both caring for a Philip who is forgetting himself and the people closest to him. Jester is living out Tandem Collie’s worst fear: what will happen when Philip can’t remember anything anymore? What will become of their friendship? And it’s bittersweet because the King and the Jester are still friends, even though the Jester basically had to start over from the beginning. Jester Collie is quietly carrying all of those memories inside his heart of a friend who has basically disappeared while still learning about and loving the brand new person his friend has become. It’s so sweet and so sad.😭"

that's pretty much all for now It’s hard to return to drawing after the holidays. and this is not even a new art you see, but last year’s. therefore this comic cannot be considered the first work of this year sadly

[howlingday]

Cold-Blooded Killers

Many moons ago...

Jaune: (Playing with a puppy) Friend~! Friend, Papa~! Friend~!

Papa Arc: I don't like this, Bella.

Mama Arc: Oh, come on, Nicky. It's cute.

Papa Arc: Cute?! My son is supposed to grow up to represent all sea-faunus kind in the future Survival Wars! It is my duty as a member of the Tooth and Claws Allegiance that I cannot enter wars any longer! And yet, despite my giving this boy the needed attributes to survive such games, I look at him now and all I see is SOFT!

Jaune: Haha! Mama! Papa! Look~!

Mama Arc: Give him time, Nicholas. In the meantime, why not leave Jaune alone to get better acquainted with his new friend?

Papa Arc: No. There is no time for patience or pleasure. ...I've made my decision, Lil Miss.

Mama Arc: Lil Miss? Lil Miss Malachite? Wh-Why are you talking to that awful woman? (Sees bullhead approach) Nicholas, what did you do?!

Jaune: (Watches Lil Miss approach) M-Mama? Papa?

Lil Miss: Hello Jaune. We're going for a ride.

Jaune: (Carried off by Lil Miss) NO! MAMA! PAPA! NO!

Papa Arc: (Holding his wife) Don't fight this, Isabella. This is for everyone's benefit.

Lil Miss: Don't you worry, Mister Arc. When I'm done with this one, he'll be everything you want him to be.

Lil Miss: He'll be just like me.

Jaune: (Screaming from the bullhead) MAMA! PAPA! FRIEND!

Mama Arc: (Sobbing) Why, Nicholas... Why...

Papa Arc: Because he needs to understand that his life is above all else, a game of survival. (Glares at barking dog) Kill or be killed. (Grabs dog by the collar, Opens wide)

Jaune: Papa... No...

Papa Arc: ...There is no room for friends.

[cssandraa]

OC CHARACTER REFS

[komod0]

These r all super old BUTTT heres sum doodles :] sum of other ppls ocs but not many rahh

Little kitty thingy in Jasper’s arm ther is Lydia nightingale- @daughterthethird’s oc :] and the kitty with king on their head is Refrigerator, @3zethe3zr ‘s oc!! <33

Gunna put the non other people’s ocs down belowww <33

Httyd oc doodles from a while ago :] her name’s serene skydivine and she’s my pretty little half-mary sue ❤️

Jasper and theeee rubeess <33 im so normal abt jasper guyz. And the rubies. No dont look ag my toyhouse what do you mean there’s a folder called ‘ruby army’ with like 15 ruby ocs there no what do u mean idk what ir talking about what

My goofy goober oc dogtooth calcite thyr a love fusion between a peridot an a jaspurrr <33

Smth from an old animatic w/ jasper, proba wont continue it </3

Rahhhh malachite art, i love malachite sm <33

My diamond/ruby oc,,, live laugh making stupid ocs a five yr old would love

Jasper an d spinel,, thyr so real ngl tbh

RAHHHHH im so normal abt steven universe rn u guys wouldnt believe what no theres nothing behind me wdym what dinosaur au i dont see no dinosaur au nono shhhhh idk what ur talking about rahhhh

[arikitari-josei-osaka-naru]

Kunzite is now complete, united with Zoisite. As with the previous models of Sir Zoisite and Sir Nephrite during the Golden Kingdom era, the past life design for Sir Kunzite in this story mixes a bit of the usual 90s anime uniform, and the sword and shield from episode 44, with a color scheme more like the early manga and the two-belt sword sheath from the Materials Collection / manga golden kingdom design. High resolution on deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/mitsukara/art/Kunzite-and-Zoisite-The-framed-picture-944979206 https://www.deviantart.com/mitsukara/art/Kunzite-model-WIP-944978732 And on imgur: https://i.imgur.com/neoSpCD.jpg

[dial-p-for-placey]

And here are Zoisite and Kunzite to finish the series!

The suits are based on Moschino's Pre-Fall 2023 line. Definitely click to view the bigger images for the details

[weavingmemories]

playlist cover for my dnd oc, and also the playlist :3c

[en8y]

roimalachic + malachireine

[IMAGE ID: two horizontal flags with nine stripes; each flag has three gem shapes, all a very simple black outline, in the center. the middle stripe is twice as large as the rest of them, which are equally sized. the left flag has three shades of dark royal blue on the top, going from darker to lighter. the right flag has three shades of dark royal purple on the top, going from darker to lighter. each flag has these bottom six stripes: medium green, off-white, medium green, bright green, neon teal, and very dark teal. END ID]

roimalachic: a gender connected to being a malachite king; this gender is connected to malachites, malachite aesthetics, king aesthetics, and nonbinary manhood!

malachireine: a gender connected to being a malachite queen; this gender is connected to malachites, malachite aesthetics, queen aesthetics, and nonbinary womanhood!

[rwby-necro-au-archive]

Oh, hello! I’m Noir, a pleasure to meet you… -🐈‍⬛

???: hello there, my name is Malachite Chartreuse, and I am the headmaster of Beacon Academy. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.

So, Ozymandias. Who all have you brought today?

Y. Ozymandias: Here we have Noir, Ozpin, Qrow, and Glynda.

Chartreuse: I see, I assume it is you three who will be attending Beacon soon?

Ozzy: [grumbling] I hope not.

Y. Glynda: yep!

Y. Qrow: yeah probably

[ Chartreuse looks at Ozzy who is avoiding eye contact, taking much more interest in the floor. He wears an irritated expression. Chartreuse grimaces before turning back to the others with a smile. ]

Chartreuse: well I hope you all can find yourselves at home here. Feel free to venture around the campus, I’ll be around in case you need anything!

Y. Ozymandias: thank you, we will absolutely take a look around.

[inkblot-mirror]

Malleyuu kid names:

Malachai—Has ‘Mal’ in it, similar to malachite, which is a green stone. The nerdiest name possible for a dragon princeling.

Mallenia— Elden Ring reference

Malisandra—Combination of ‘Mal’ and ‘Alexandra’, meaning “to protect” or “defender of man”. Mal, of course coming from the Latin root for evil.

Also comes from ‘Melisende’ (popularized recently by Game of Thrones character Melisandre’), meaning ‘strong’ or ‘brave’.

Melusine—no ‘Mal’ family tradition here. But in French folklore, was a literary figure born to a human king and his fairy wife, and was eventually cursed to transform into a serpent from the waist down. Morbid, but I like the sound of the name .

Malicia—Sounds just like Great-Grandma Maleficia.

Mallevan—A combination of Malleus and Levan, but this one just sounds like ‘Melvin’ to me if you say it fast, which is also another uber nerdy name.

TLDR Draconia girls have cool names, Draconia boys are geeks and nerds.

[dyhayc]

He Can’t Do It Like I Can

Pairing: A Little Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (Smut)

Summary: Your best friend Eddie, your boyfriend Steve, and you have a sleepover at Eddie’s trailer. You wake up to Steve eating you out, but– is it really him?

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: MDNI 18+ only, Soft Dark, Dubcon, Cheating, Oral (F Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Degradation Kink (Name Calling), Dacryphilia, Somnophilia, Exhibitionism, Mild Subspace + A Little Hint Of Angst At The End, Free Of Charge!

A/N: There’s a lot of Steve slander in this one (like a lot). Sorry to any Steve lovers out there, but it was necessary for the plot. I actually had a lot of trouble writing this, for some reason, I always felt like I was using the wrong words. I don't think it's as bad as my brain is convinced it is, but still.

Anyways, for the anon who requested the birthday scenario with the malachite ring, I am working on your request! It’s just taking me a little longer to plan out, so I’m posting this fic first :]

Please read the warnings

Part Two | Masterlist

Hanging out in a diner and eating cheap, greasy food isn’t how you usually spend your Saturday nights, but Eddie had begged to come here. And, as much as you pretend to play coy, there isn’t much you’d deny him.

Throughout your meal, you’d played footsies under the table, only pausing when the waitress would come around to your table. She smiled as if she knew something you didn’t, but you were too distracted by Eddie’s mischievous grin to notice. Your milkshake had melted, and your fries were cold when Eddie wandered off to go to the bathroom.

When he came back, he plopped down next to you on your side of the booth. The act made you smile bashfully despite your best efforts, but your smile quickly drops when he holds out the receipt. “And they say chivalry is dead,” he says, laughing at your sour expression.

Scowling, you exclaim, “Eddie, it was my turn to pay!” Maturely, he sticks his tongue out at you. Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “What a true gentleman.”

Truthfully, the annoyance is all an act. Eddie has your heart; he’s always had your heart. Unfortunately, he doesn’t feel the same. So, instead of facing your feelings, you got yourself a boyfriend: Steve Harrington, the King of Hawkins.

Over time, you have grown feelings for Steve. A gentle warmth in spreads in your chest when you’re alone together, and ocassionally you finally think you could be getting over Eddie. Then, you see your best friend. Just a look morphs that gentle warmth into a raging fire, one that you know Steve will never compare to.

Breaking your train of thought, Eddie throws the crumpled-up wrapper from his straw at your cheek to get your attention. “The folks in tonight?” he inquires, raising a brow. Since middle school (coincidentally, when Eddie started to show an interest in metal music), your parents have been cautious with him. They don’t like you two hanging out, despite knowing him since he was a toddler, believing ‘he’s a bad influence,’ but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

You inhale deeply, shaking the thoughts out of your head. Nodding, you make an apologetic face as you ask, “Can I sleep over at your place?” Eddie’s about to respond when someone slams their palm aggressively against the table, making you both flinch. “Steve?” you question, blinking owlishly. You’d told him you were gonna spend the weekend with Eddie, but there was no way he could know where you two were. Eddie had asked to go to the diner only an hour ago, long after you’d last seen Steve. Had he driven all around town to find you two?

“Hi, baby,” he greets, smiling at you and sliding into the booth across from you. You turn the corners of your lips up in a weak smile. Steve then turns to Eddie and scowls, growling out, “Munson.”

Eddie remains unfazed, leaning back against the booth. His legs spread wide as his arms raise to rest on the wooden top of your seats. He smirks when he remarks, “Well, look what we have here. King Steve has blessed us with his presence. What a surprise.”

“I told you not to call me that.” A curt reply from Steve, but you know the comments will escalate if you don’t stop them soon.

Eddie, who seems to be egging Steve on, comments arrogantly, “You’ve told me a lot of things.”

“Yea? Well, how about this? Stay away from my girlfriend.”

Eddie laughs, “What the hell are you talking about? She’s the one who wanted to hang out with me.”

As sad as it is, this happens every time they see each other. You’re always caught in the crossfire of their petty back-and-forth. In a weak attempt to stop them before it gets heated, you blurt, “Guys,” but it doesn’t matter. Steve talks over you anyways.

“Watch your tone.”

“Watch my tone? Is that really all you have to say? Not even gonna acknowledge that I’m right?”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re right. You’re the one who entertains her. She has a boyfriend, and you should respect that.”

“I can be her friend and respect your relationship. I ‘entertain her’ because it’s what good friends do. Maybe you should give it a try sometime.”

It all comes to a head when Steve exclaims, “Yea, right! I’m sure you don’t entertain her in other ways when I’m not around!”

Silence. Dead fucking silence.

You three are the only patrons in the diner. The end of the argument leaves a hole in its wake. A leaf could flutter to the ground, and you’d hear it. Both boys are tense, sitting like statues awaiting your reaction. Stressed, you roll your shoulders and find a sudden interest in your shirt’s design, craning your head down to look at your lap.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that–” Steve starts, but it doesn’t matter. You know he did. Fiddling with the hem of your shirt, you squirm uncomfortably in your seat. Eddie’s eye twitches as he leans forward, pissed that Steve would say something so disgusting to his own girlfriend. His best friend. Just the recollection of his words makes his fist clench, taking comfort in the fact that his rings would hurt like a son of a bitch if he actually took a swing.

Meanwhile, Steve continues to try and backpedal, “You know I trust you, baby. It’s not you, it’s him. He’s no good for you.”

Fed up with his attitude towards your best friend, you snap, “People always say that, but Eddie’s the nicest person I’ve ever met. Why does everyone else get to tell me who or what’s good for me? Why can’t I decide that myself?” Steve frowns, obviously thinking of his following words. Before he can say anything, Eddie cuts in.

“Calm down, Harrington. You’re a sentence away from bursting a blood vessel.” Eddie’s words sound cool, but they’re spoken through his teeth. A warning to shut up before he says something he really regrets.

Steve finally speaks again, taking a moment to breathe, “Just let me come with you. I promise I won’t say more stupid shit, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble in affirmation, pushing Eddie out of the booth so you can stand. You don’t actually want Steve there. He’s going to alter the dynamic significantly, but what can you do?

The tension is unbelievably thick during the ride back because, for some reason, Steve decided to go in the van instead of driving his car to the trailer. Eddie turned on one of his tapes a few minutes in to fill the silence. Steve turned it back down to almost nothing with a disapproving wrinkle of his nose. You’d opted to sit in the back, but now see that it was the worst possible choice, as both boys glare at each other from the corners of their eyes. Silently, you pray that they’ll figure out their differences soon because you don’t think you can take any more of this weird alpha male fighting-for-dominance dynamic they have going on.

You fly out to escape their petty rivalry the second the van stops. It’s late, and you’re too drained from the two idiots outside to deal with their bullshit. Stomping inside, you grab some pajamas from Eddie’s dresser– you’ve kept spare clothes at his trailer for years– and you lock yourself in the bathroom to complete your nightly routine.

The boys are loud when they enter, and you can hear Steve complaining about Eddie slamming the door in his face. After a brief period of silence, there’s a lot of suspicious shuffling noises coming from the main room. You take a moment to prepare yourself to break up a fistfight, before entering the room.

Raising your eyebrows, you watch the boys fumble around in the dark as they set out padding so you all can sleep on the floor. If the tension weren’t so high right now, you’d ask them if they were planning on fucking on top of those sheets because the stares they’re giving each other are starting to make you think they might solve their feud unconventionally. Crossing your arms over your chest, you ask Eddie, “Why can’t we split up between the couch and your bed?”

“Because I’m not sleeping on the couch and I’m sure as hell not letting Steve sleep in my bed,” Eddie responds. He glares at Steve, who returns the favour. Turning around, Eddie heads off to change, leaving you and Steve alone. You help him smooth out the sheets until Eddie comes back. “Here ya go, big boy,” he taunts, tossing Steve some clothes to sleep in, “Don’t tear the seams.”

Steve huffs, “Don’t call me that,” as he goes to the bathroom to get ready to sleep. Tired of their back and forth, you lay down directly in the middle, hoping to separate them for the entire night. Eddie doesn’t seem to care, laying down to your right, but Steve throws a small fit.

He wants you to sleep on the far left side, away from Eddie. You cross your arms and frown, unwilling to move. Steve only relents when Eddie mentions the ‘entertainment’ comment that he’d made earlier. A few blankets are tossed around, settling randomly across the three of you. Nobody turned on the lights when you arrived, so there’s nothing left to do but sleep.

In your dream, you fall into fantasy– one of desire, and passion, and love. Nothing is solid; the setting a dark smudge of muted colour, your lover’s face a blur of human and otherworldly design. Images generated in your mind sift through your fingers like sand. Try as you might, you can’t catch them, but you can hold onto the emotion they bring. Whisps of feelings leave lust in their wake, tingling down your body and pooling between your thighs.

And, now that you’re focusing on the sensation, you feel pressure on the insides of your legs, holding them open. The realization is enough to knock you out of your slumber, bringing your consciousness back to your body. You don’t open your eyes yet, but rather focus on the things you can feel: a tongue, forearms, panting breaths, saliva.

You’re surprised, but not because you’ve been woken up by someone touching you in your sleep. You’ve talked with Steve about this, the only risque kink you’d dared to share. You’re not even surprised he’s doing this while Eddie is in the same room as you two. Steve’s preferences are vanilla. Except, of course, the exhibitionism, but he hadn’t actually told you about it himself. However, with the number of times you’ve had a quickie in a public bathroom, it was easily deductible.

No, your surprise comes from the fact that he’d even go down on you at all. Sure, he’s fingered you before, but fingering someone so you can get your dick wet versus eating someone out for their pleasure are two very different things. And, now that you’ve experienced both, you can definitely feel the difference.

You’d never imagined a tongue would feel so good. It provides a unique warmth and wetness, and you swear that you can feel the texture of his taste buds against your skin. He slides his tongue lower, just barely dipping into you to gather your slick. Gasping at the sensation, you bring your hands up to press the heels of your palms into your eyes. Steve is very particular about his precious locks. The first time you’d tugged on his hair was also the last.

Realizing you’re awake, he presses harder on your inner thighs to keep you in place, and you’re reminded he’s not using his hands but rather his forearms. It strikes you as odd, but again, this has never happened to you, so you can’t be sure what to expect. He trails the tip of his tongue back up, tracing through your folds slowly. Finally arriving at his destination, he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. Unfurling his tongue, he allows the mixture of his saliva and your slick to drip onto your skin.

He must have been edging you for a while before you woke up because his touch is like an electric shock, sending instant jolts of pleasure up your spine and through your fingertips. He slides his arms down until his hands can grip your legs, rough callouses tickling your skin. Unable to stop yourself, you reach under the blankets and clutch onto his curly hair.

Wait.

Rough callouses. Curly hair.

Not Steve– but your revelation comes too late. With a single press of his tongue against your clit your orgasm comes crashing heavily down on you. All you can do is grip onto the strands of hair threaded between your fingers and whimper.

With shaky hands, you remove your hands from his head to grab the edge of the blanket and hold it up. Eddie’s already looking at you, his huge, dark eyes reflecting the dim light from outside. Swallowing thickly, you watch as he runs his textured palms up the backs of your thighs. He hooks his hands underneath your knees and pushes you into a breeding press, crawling upwards to hover above you.

You feel like you’re in a trance, heart racing and unable to say anything. His erection is heavy, pressed between your hips as he settles. The moonlight catches his face now that he’s free from the blankets, drawing attention to the curls which are pulled back. He swiftly shakes his head, releasing them and causing the pick of his necklace to fall directly over your heart. In any other situation, it would be romantic. Right now, though, your focus is your confusion.

You mumble his name so softly you’re not sure if he hears it, but he does. He maintains strict eye contact as he leans directly over your head. Your lips are millimeters apart when he whispers, “Shh, wouldn’t want to wake your boyfriend up. Wouldn’t want him to know what a whore you are. His innocent little baby being ‘entertained’ by her best friend.”

He starts rocking his hips, all the saliva and wetness from earlier providing sufficient lubrication. You sharply inhale through your nose. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, you dig your fingernails into your palms and screw your eyes shut. Eddie hums above you, “Or maybe you wanna make some noise. C’mon, let it out. We can show him how much of a bad influence I am.”

No matter how hard it is, you resist, but Eddie continues to push you to speak.

“How many times have you two fucked?”

You wince at the harshness of his words, trying to come up with an answer to satisfy him. You rack your brain for recollections of sex so you can count them, but it’s so, so hard when he’s grinding on you, invading your space and your senses, breathing in the air you’re panting out.

“Ten times,” you breathe, hoping Steve will wake up but praying to God that he won’t.

“No,” he sneers, brows furrowing as his eyes grow darker, “no, that’s too perfect.” Eddie leans towards the side of your head, his hair tickling your cheek as his lips press snugly against your ear, growling directly into your brain, “Think harder, babe.” It feels like his words are rattling around inside you, bouncing off your empty skull as all thoughts leave your mind. You squeeze your eyes shut, lower lip quivering as you desperately pull memories back into your brain from your clouded consciousness.

Twice in your bed, four times in his, three times at parties, once in his car, five times in public restrooms, and once in a storage closet. Sixteen times you’ve had sex in the six months you’ve been dating.

You gasp “sixteen” just as he ruts his hips up, his cock pressing harshly on your clit. The feeling borderlines on painful. Gritting your teeth, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, digging your nails deep into his skin.

Suddenly he stops all movement: no more pants and breaths, no more rustling of sheets, nothing. An eerie silence surrounds you as you open your eyes again, confused, watching the moonlight bounce off the ceiling. Anxiety rises in your chest. What could he be doing? Why is he silent? Why did he stop?

Then, he whispers, but you swear it’s the loudest thing you’ve ever heard, “How many times has he made you cum?” Your stomach drops as everything in your body tenses, jerking to escape but getting nowhere. Instinctively, your legs attempt to close, but his firm grip on the back of your knees keeps you in place.

You don’t want to respond, to expose yourself and your boyfriend, but it’s hard to resist when he purrs “answer me” so sickly sweet. Finally moving away from your ear, he trails soft kisses down your neck as he waits for you to speak. It’s so confusing. How can he be so mean and turn around to be so nice?

Squirming around does no good. His body is like a cage that pins you down. There’s no escape. Resigned, you whimper, “twice,” as embarrassment floods your system.

He sighs, pressing his head into your shoulder. “You deserve so much better. Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you cum more times than he could,” he murmurs promisingly against your skin. With that, he removes one hand momentarily to line himself up with your entrance before pressing in.

He feels bigger than Steve, but you can’t be sure because of the position– you’re basically folded in half. He lightly thrusts, going deeper each time to ease himself in since he hadn’t really prepped you before. Finally, he loses his patience and pulls back out to slam all the way in. You choke on nothing, feeling like his dick has hit the back of your throat.

“Shh,” he whispers tauntingly before doing it again, and again, and again. The brutal pace doesn’t leave much time to think, but even with your brain clouded with pleasure, you know that Steve should be awake right now. If not the movements, then the noises should have woken him up, yet he remains sound asleep. You only attempt to turn your head towards him once. Eddie literally growls, a rumble that reverberates from his chest to yours. It’s a warning, don’t look at him, look at me.

It’s too soon, but you’re so wired that you can feel a second orgasm building up. Typically, it takes a while for you to cum, which is probably why it’d only happened twice with Steve– both by your own hand. Somehow, with Eddie, every single one of your senses is dialed up to one hundred.  Maybe it’s because you already have a boyfriend, or because said boyfriend is asleep a few feet away and could wake up at any moment.

Regardless, it doesn’t matter because the effect of the thrill is still there, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Eddie had leaned back to observe you some time ago, but you reach your hands out, desperate for contact or, at the very least, something to hold. He leans in, and you immediately cling to his neck, squishing your face into his skin. You get no warning as you cum suddenly, biting down on his neck to prevent being too loud.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie hisses, stopping his thrusts to feel how hard you’re clenching down on him. “Fuck, you get so tight when you cum,” he observes, breathless, before he demands, “You’re gonna give me another one.” Alarmed, you whimper as he moves again. You’ve barely come down from your high. How are you supposed to do it again?

Your eyes leak tears as you whimper, “Eddie,” trying to get his attention. It works. He gives you a little faux pout and kisses your tears away. He’s stopped moving entirely, dedicated to his little kisses. You’re grateful for the break, so overstimulated that you can’t hold in your noises anymore. But then, he starts to move again, and your heart drops.

He assures, “You’re okay, baby. Just one more.” Your lip quivers as you start to cry again. Internally, you can feel his cock twitch at the sight of your tears, which only makes you sniffle more and insist you can’t. “Yes, you can,” he coos, “be a good girl, just one more time.”

He unhooks his right hand from your leg, and you instantly drop it onto his shoulder, flexing your foot to relieve some of the pins and needles tingling throughout your leg. Wrapping his arm around your thigh, he presses his thumb to your clit and rubs it in tight circles. The change in angle combined with the extra stimulation causes that pleasurable haze to return, and you hate it.

You hate that after one night, he knows your body better than your boyfriend of six months. You hate that he’s taking what he wants but still being more considerate of your needs than Steve ever was. You hate that this is everything you’ve fantasized about and more.

“Say that I’m better than him,” he demands. You don’t reply, too lost in your wandering mind and the feeling of his dick to form a coherent thought. Wanting an answer, he presses harshly with his thumb and repeats, “Say it.”

Automatically, you clench around him at the pressure. You muster up the courage to whisper, “You’re better than him.” Guilt laces through your words because you know that it’s true. Even if he forced you to say it, you know in your heart it’s true.

He changes his pace at your words, slowing down slightly, but making up for it in intensity. His thrusts, which were already deep, feel like they’re going even further inside you. Yet again, tears obscure your vision. You’re not sure if they’re from guilt or pleasure, but does it really matter anymore? When you look up, you can barely see Eddie; he’s just a beige and brown blur above you.

Reaching up, you rest your hands on his cheeks before sliding them upwards to push the hair out of his face. Though you can barely see him, you can make out the genuine smile that spreads across his face. You can’t help but smile in kind. Eddie laughs softly, “God, you’re so pretty.”

He touches his forehead to yours, noses brushing every time he moves. You sigh “Eddie” as you tug his hair. The small moment of intimacy pushes you to the brink. You hope he understands your subtle warning.

“I know. I feel it, too,” he reassures gently, “Just let go, baby.” At his insistence, you release. Stars explode behind your eyelids as you scrunch them shut and ride out your orgasm. This time, the clenching of your walls is too much, and he releases deep in your pussy. He remains inside of you, incidentally keeping his cum trapped.

Afraid Eddie’s gonna turn over and go back to sleep like it never happened, you cling onto him like a koala. Meanwhile, he glances over at Steve and rolls his eyes. It’s honestly ridiculous that he slept through the whole thing. Eddie had planned for Steve to wake up and see his girlfriend having the best sex of her life, so he could throw him the bird and tell him to fuck off and never return. Guess that’s not happening.

You whine and tremble beneath him, so he returns his attention to you. “You did so well for me, baby. What a good girl,” he praises as he runs his hands up and down your sides comfortingly. Somehow, he picks you up without pulling out. While walking to the bathroom, he grabs your underwear and shorts he’d discarded a while ago.

Eddie makes sure the door is completely closed before turning on the light. He places a towel on the counter and sets you down on it. Finally, he removes his dick, holding up the hem of your shirt. Well, really, it’s his old Metallica shirt, but you stole it to sleep in.

You know what he’s doing, his eyes trained on your hole, waiting to see his cum leak out of you. You squirm under his scrutiny, but he doesn’t look away until you’ve stopped dripping. Eddie finds a second towel and soaks it in water, cleaning himself off and searching for a relatively clean pair of underwear. While he’s occupied, you flex your feet as you had earlier. The pins and needles are killing you. You’re probably gonna be sore for a month after this.

Right now, you don’t want to be alone. You reach out when he moves too far away, even a few feet too much for you to handle. He returns, using the same towel to clean you as well. Your legs are wobbly when he moves you off the counter. You have to lean on him for support as he helps you slip on your panties and shorts. He places you back on the counter, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. “I love you,” he murmurs, swallowing thickly when he realizes what he said, but it’s too late to take anything back.

What he doesn’t expect is your you to whisper “I love you, too” back. Pulling back, he looks you in the eyes, confused. You continue, “I’m dating Steve cause– cause I didn’t think you liked me back.”

His face scrunches up, “What are you talking about? I’ve always loved you.” In your emotional state, you just cry from the stress, and the fucked up reality of what you’ve done to Steve, and the fact that you could’ve had Eddie all along. He doesn’t say anything more, just kisses the top of your head, but you swear that you can feel teardrops gently splashing on your scalp.

[dr-aegon]

list of aegond fics i bookmarked on ao3

aegond fics i enjoyed and bookmarked. list in no particular order.

many one shots, some of them completed and some not.

fics in blue fonts are the ones that i love most.

and this should go without saying but heed the author’s warnings and tags if you decide to read from this list.

sting by Anonymous

The Absolute Shall by Sebastian_Jack

Sleep by 1919

Kinslayer by Maveryn08

these hallowed, cursed gifts we long for by Potoo

Death of Peace of Mind by beta_mirach

stay the hand that dealt you mercy by fourteenfangs (englishsummerrain)

the sweetness of salt by rhaelayne

hors d'oeuvre by rhaelayne

Lust for Violence by heliophyte

it was mine first by violetchachkii

you handle it beautifully by violetchachkii

there is no garden by behemoth

They Can Only Burn Us Once by aspiringlover

Dark Night of the Soul by Ezran

Sick, sad heart by ravensareheretostay

Hold Tight by JEONSFI1ter

Sibling Rivalry by Anonymous

he hit me and it felt like a kiss by ShipperTrash140109

Chrysalis by Anonymous

Warmth by Sukie_Kagamine

Brutal Services by Anonymous

Ulysses by allyriadayne

Like chewing Ibuprofen by SandySin

Moss, malachite by lopeor

white on red. by alexander (shwishu)

on his knees. by alexander (shwishu)

liberate me; by violetchachkii

Shine Razor Eyes in Delight by Anonymous

On our own by Sukie_Kagamine

The future King by Nights_of_Ren

It does not have to be right to be ours by SandySin

Kerosene! by Helpmefr

Turning Crimson by Sebastian_Jack

seeds by sinnergy

a fish hook in an open eye by scorpiod

fire you wade through by fleshfeel

spit it out by 10tacles

Boxcutter by ravensareheretostay

...just like high fantasy by alexander (shwishu)

half agony, half hope by meddea

when the sun sets, we're both the same by elthedane

the way of things by elthedane

flesh and bone... knuckles on sand by alexander (shwishu)

Downfall by Metalomagnetic

tell me we're dead and i'll love you even more by elthedane

let me in, wear me out by goldenkraken

You Tear Your Children Into Pieces by Sebastian_Jack

Holding the Rope by Sebastian_Jack

Lost in the Fire by Spiralblissx

[rocknroll7575]

Guardian Ghost AU: Beacon & Villains

Beacon's Staff:

Glynda Goodwitch - Headmistress

Summer Rose - Vice-Headmistress & Combat Instructor of 1st and 2nd year students (Fall Maiden)

Qrow Branwen - Grimm studies, Over-seer of Team PAYS, and Head of the Branwen Clan

Dr. Bart Oobleck - History & Over-seer of Team ARCZ

Jessie Peach - Head Nurse

Gretchen Rainart - Dust Studies

Cinder Briar - "Resercher"

Notable 1st year Teams:

Team PAYS

Team ARCZ

Notable 2nd year teams:

CVFY

Villains (Main):

C.C/Merlot "Lich King"

Arthur Watts

Vermillion Raddock

Tyrian Callows

Roman Torchwick

Neo

Raven Branwen (Spring Maiden)

Melanie Malachite

Militades Malachite

Semi-Villains:

Mercury Black - Hitman

Emerald Sustrai - Theif/"Magician"

Nora Valkyrie - Queen of the Valkyrie Bandits

Lie Ren - Head of Spider

Blake Belladonna-Khan - leader of The White-Fang

Adam Taurus - Head of the WF's Vale Branch

Vernal Branwen - Heir to the Branwen Clan

[cssandraa]

my male oc body ref sheets totally not because i wanted to draw them shirtless mhmmmm

[ladytabletop]

If I may be so bold as to request two: a 1d10 list of heroic deeds a barbarian must accomplish to prove his/her honor. and 1d10 Dwarven folk tales.

Heroic Deeds as Tests of Merit

Climb the highest peak and retrieve a single egg from the snow eagle's nest. Raise the eaglet until it is grown.

Set aside weapons of all kind and traverse the continent from one end to another.

Hold up a waterfall.

Construct a bridge to unite two villages. Accept no help. Use no tools.

Race a cheetah and win.

Retrieve the shield of an ancient warrior, long sunk beneath a deadly whirlpool.

Slay a dragon and carve its skull into a cottage.

Find the bog witch and live with her for a year and a day, doing whatever she bids.

Find a fallen star and bring it to the king.

Scale the Tower and discover what is hidden within.

Dwarven Folk Tales

The Lady of Under is a figure of myth every dwarven child knows about. They say she comes from the deeps, from the very center of the earth, covered in the glitter of mineral and the dust of stone, to grant sweet dreams to those who are sleeping.

Have you heard the tale of the Lovers of Malachite? The trio separated by distance and politics? Their story is a tragic one, for when their knocked messages were heard by the kings of their respective nations, they were locked away forever.

Shadowmoles aren't real. They aren't! They're a made up creature used to explain away miners losing things in the tunnels. Some even say depth sickness is blamed on them.

They say there was once a dwarf so talented on the guitar that even tallfolk were enchanted. If you are lost and hear music, know that it is his songs guiding you.

Efri the Rash was a dwarf so strong and so quick to anger, they say she carved the vast canyon we now live in in a fit of pique after her prize badger was slain.

If you're very quiet near a tunnel's entrance, and the wind whistles across it, you can hear the weeping of a king under the mountain, now long dead. His spirit wanders above ground, unable to return home because of a curse.

Dwarves once were able to swim in the lava flows found deep underground, but a trickster god in the form of a tunnelworm robbed them of their fire immunity. That's why tunnelworms can now swim in lava lakes.

If legend is true, twas a dwarf that hung the moon and the sky. She so loved the stars that she gifted them a great rock to be near them. Some say her bones lie at the moon's center.

If ever you fall into a sinkhole, you have been chosen by the earth to hear and interpret her words. They say you will come back stronger and wiser - but forever changed.

The glowlark flowers that bloom in the caves only grow where a giant's tears have fallen as it laid down for final rest to let its body turn to stone.

all d10 random lists