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fearandhatred · 3 months

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thank u so much to my beloveds @crowleys-bentley-and-plants and @seven-stars-in-his-palm for tagging me, kissing u both for this omg <3 i'm doing two of each because i can

For as many as you want of your published works, pick your favourite line/paragraph and post it up here. Let yourself feel proud of your creations.

transitional heart taxidermy [5986 words, wip]

They fit so perfectly together, the both of them, always. Not side by side like pieces of a puzzle, no, but like molten lava over sand; one over the other, one mellowing the other, changing its chemistry into something different, stronger, useful. The kiss tastes of Aziraphale, of copper and saliva and something holy. It's a taste he'll come to get used to, bloodied and bruised, a taste he chases after as the angel pulls back.

and one from an unpublished chapter:

It's been a day, two, maybe three. His hands are stained with blood and phantom glass, reeking of alcohol and rot palpable enough to taste. Aziraphale doesn't come for him, and he feels relief but also a pain so deep it's paralysing. It's a revelation in itself.

blood in my eyes [1953 words]

This is the first time in years he has stepped foot back into this place. It's a spontaneous decision, driven by a mellow melancholy and a soft wistful night. Muriel isn't in, so the bookshop is dark, and the streetlights cast an eerie, lonely glow on the ancient hardbacks. The rearing statue that once held his glasses every other day is coated in a thin layer of dust; he leaves them on.

Crowley wipes away a tear from Aziraphale's cheek with his thumb. It leaves a bright red streak. After, hours pass by before Aziraphale washes the blood from his face, imprinted in the vague shape of Crowley's hand. In those hours, when he sits in the quiet of a bookshop once again burned to ash, the blood stays there as a reminder, maybe, or as punishment.

sub-consequence [11567 words, wip] — six of crows

He wants to say everything he could possibly say to persuade Kaz to change his mind, because if he says everything in the world, strings together every word in every possible combination, there has to be at least one thing that would convince him to stay.

Sometimes Inej thinks Kaz cares about himself less than he cares about getting what he wants. It feels sometimes as if he's completely detached from himself, his own person becoming just another means to an end. People would scream at her that this isn't selflessness. It's ruthlessness, or psychopathy, or numbness. That's how the name Dirtyhands came about, after all. The willingness to do anything no matter the cost. To get his hands dirty with blood, be it others' or his own. But what is selflessness, really? A lack of selfishness, or a loss of self?

to sleep, perchance to dream [662 words] — the sandman

God, Calliope. His heart, face of cloud fields and white lily springs, a hope so blinding in contrast to his shadowed being that he had known from the start the hands of The Fates would pull them apart to opposite poles.

His lifetime of constraint allowed him to face the knowledge that any selfish will to see her in the wake of remembering all he had forsaken, all that had been ripped from him, would seal the vestibules to acceptance and he would beg with no dignity to stay by her side. And his heart burned, scorched unpleasantly at her parting words, just as the skin she touched and had once touched long after she was twice gone.

tagging those whose words i'd love to see (no pressure!!): @actual-changeling @sentientsky @irispurpurea @springofviolets @demonsandpieohmy

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feytouched · 2 years

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gravedigging; first published in Crow & Cross Keys (september, 2022)

#the orangery literary society #ieva dapkevicius #my writing #poems #quotes #free verse #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #inkskinned #poem #words #poetry #poetry community #my poetry #crow & cross keys

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axe8472 · 11 months

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I have thoughts in my brain about six of crows and they may or may not make sense. So. The thing is when people talk about how the crows couldn't possibly be 16-18 because they're overly mature and competent and have life experience etc etc. i get that BUT is that not the whole point? I mean the books really hammer it home that notions of childhood in their world are entirely different from ours, like to the point where i would even say it's a main theme and kinda the driving force behind all the events in the duology.

Kids are taken away from their parent at like 11 to train as soldiers. Kaz was all alone in Ketterdam at 9 years old and there doesn't seem to have been any functioning system of care for kids like him, nor mandatory schooling. In Fjerda, it seems like the closest thing to foster care is being taken on by the Druskelle. Inej started training as an acrobat pretty much as soon as she could walk and was playing starring roles in performances by the time she was 14 (and probably a fair bit younger). I don't remember Jesper's backstory perfectly but I think he was put to work in the jurda fields (a hazardous agricultural job) as a small child, then worked with guns in some way, then got sent to school in a different country when he was like 15. This isn't exclusive to the crows - it's mentioned a lot that there are many kids in situations similar to Kaz and Inej in the Barrel. Even Joost, despite seemingly being quite sheltered, is working full time night shifts as a guard when he's not even old enough to grow facial hair.

It seems that there's just much more of a vocational focus for kids/teenagers in the grishaverse. This makes a lot of sense because many elements of culture across the grishaverse countries come from the ~1800s when the attitude towards kids was that they weren't all that different from small, inexperienced adults, especially in working-class and rural settings where you just had to get on with things. Kerch especially took inspiration from victorian England, where kids as young as 9 could legally work up to 60 hours a week in dangerous conditions. So yeah that's kind of the whole point imo. It's especially interesting because I read the soc duology as a (potentially semi-unintentional?) criticism of capitalism. This is highlighted by the fact that Wylan, the only one of the crows from a rich background, is also the only one who had a childhood and got an education even vaguely comparable to what we would consider normal. So clearly the whole childhood innocence vs being put to work at like 4 thing is closely tied to class. (obviously Wylan did not have A Good Childhood but it seems from the books that the standard for merchers' kids is to give them a really good and varied education with 1-to-1 tutoring etc, which is very different from what all the other characters seem to have had as kids.)

And okay yeah they're unrealistically skillful and competent and just generally smart, but that would be the case even if they were adults. Like you kinda have to just take liberties with your characters of they'll never manage to do anything, especially in a world that's so hostile toward them. And it's actually kinda hard to even say how unrealistic their capabilities are because their experiences are so different from the experiences of real-life modern teenagers. Like kids are crazy adaptable and good at learning things, especially when they've had no other choice, and the crows actually mostly have quite a lot of experience and had time to develop their respective skills because they haven't spent 8+ hours a day in school for most of their lives. The same goes for the degree of adult-ness in their general behaviour - they're really quick thinkers and less likely to panic in a crisis than any teenager I've ever met. Again I'd say that's the whole point. The charaters are acting older than they have any right to because the experiences they've had have forced them to develop the capacity to do so.

Idk maybe i just read it differently to some people but yeah i think that cross-cultrually throughout the grishaverse children just have very very different experiences to kids in real life. It makes sense that they would then grow up to be very different from real-life teenagers, and obviously the crows are an extreme example of that but there is like. clear historical inspiration behind a lot of the crows' backstories and the general cultural backdrop of the duology. And the whole thing with the books is yeah they're doing all of this stuff and they're capable of these amazing things but actually they are literally children and they are doing all of it mostly for the sake of survival and taking back the things that they deserve from the world. And everything they've done for years and the people that they've become has all been for the sake of survival. And they're kids.

#my posts #soc #six of crows #i hope this makes sense i did not proofread it and i took like a total of one english class in school rip #there's also something to be said here for survivor bias like the book is written about this group of kids who've survived in a very #hostile world #partially because of certain capacities or gifts they already had and partially because they are unusually smart and adaptable #if they weren't then they wouldn't have lived to that age anyway yk?#okay ill stop now #also i know this piece of writing is not up to academic quality its because im using it to procrastinate on my academic work #dont go to school kids its not worth it #the fact that i wrote these 800+ words in less than an hour and im still gonna have to write twice as fast in my 4.5 hour exam next week #okay ill stop now im done

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bleue-flora · 13 days

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Mmm… snippet of future Musical Chairs?

“Thinking about him hurts like a kick to the gut. He hasn’t seen Sapnap since he… died. Since he drowned in poisoned blood. Since he limped through the snow, a bloodied trail behind him, knowing the way and yet feeling utterly lost, wondering if he’ll ever forget the cold look in Sapnap’s eyes and the apathetic greed of his voice when he too asked about the book right before swinging a sharp sword (his sword!) into his flesh just like his fiancé had so many times before. If he’ll ever lose the frost freezing his heart as Sapnap, his friend, his brother stood there in the last possession to his name, denying Dream that small mercy of having what is his. If he’ll ever forget the sound of Sapnap’s disbelieving words as he questioned if the torture really happened as if it wasn’t clear as day from his appearance. As if he wasn’t leaning to one side, standing on a knee bent in the wrong direction. As if a vast spread of scars didn’t sprinkle across the patches of his exposed skin. As if his once dirty blonde hair wasn’t crusted in layers of blood. As if his words meant nothing, weren’t worth enough to even consider. As if he didn’t lie the last time they spoke saw eachother about coming back to visit him.”

#ah and this is what I write as Sam works on removing my will to live… freaking Sapnap…#in other words if life was nice to me I’d finally be able to write the fluff I have planned for good cop bad cop but until then…. aaaannngst #c!dream #dsmp #dreblr #mmm more musical chairs… referring to of course when Sapnap killed him… brutal…#I’d post the next chapter but I’m not happy with the dialogue…. Sam is the utter worst and I hate writing him so much…#so I guess enjoy this for the moment until I stop falling asleep which editing chapter 3 🤦‍♀️…#musical chairs #crows nest #dsmp fanfic #happy angst month #don’t judge too hard it’s my first draft literally written a handful of minutes ago #dream smp #c!dream and c!sapnap #dsmpblr #c!sapnap #dream fanfic #fanfic snack #sigh why is it so much to ask for some nice peace and quiet to sleep…. :’(#and for something to work properly like it should…

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trivialcrow · 3 months

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Hi 👋 for the WIP Wednesday I'd love to see a snippet of Under Pressure (tho I'm pretty sure any writing you post will drive me insane) <3

Thank you for the ask! And for it being JayKyle! I'm still getting the hang of the dynamic between these two, but hope you enjoy!

Fuck. If Jason and Bruce had had another falling out, that would explain why Jason was hiding out in New York rather than Gotham. Unfortunately, a disagreement between those two could be anything from a screaming match to a beat down. Kyle surveyed Jason with a critical eye, searching for any obvious injury. “What happened?” “Don’t worry about it, Nightlight,” Jason said. “You just got back, and you’re barely staying upright. Go shower and come to bed. We can catch up tomorrow. That was your original plan anyway, right?” “It was,” Kyle said, and didn’t move. “But that was before I came home to this.” “And what’s this, exactly?” “You tell me.” Kyle reached for Jason’s hand, but froze when Jason’s fingers twitched away from him before curling into a fist against his thigh. “Fuck, sorry. I just -“ he cut himself off and shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. Kyle’s jaw worked for a second, fighting for calm, but Jason must have sensed his frustration because he shuffled away another couple inches. “Jason,” he said, making an effort to keep his voice soft. “What happened? What did Bruce do?” Jason’s laugh was harsh and tinged with a tremor of hysteria. “What always happens,” he said. “I fucked up and B made me pay for it.”

#jason todd #kyle rayner #jaykyle #crow writes words #wip game

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xxrrisxx · 2 months

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When everyone knows you're a monster you needn't waste time doing every monstrous thing.

Leigh Bardugo

#six of crows #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #writers on tumblr #book to screen #book quotes #spilled words #spilled ink #literature #spilled thoughts #writing #spilled writing #words #lit #spilled poetry #booklr

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warriorofthesky · 10 months

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more unhinged destiny theories. i'm sorry in advance.

if we assume that:

*puts tinfoil hat on*

(this is long. oops?)

the winnower as a being exists

the veil is the winnower or at least a way to commune with the winnower

the winnower "convinced" the witness that light is bad bc it is too chaotic by giving it a probably biased version of the creation of the universe (the unveiling)

the traveler didn't garden before the witness. the witness' people was the first civilization it uplifted

we can maybe theorize that:

the veil and the traveler were damaged/diminished because they had just left the "garden" and were thrown into the universe they created without much thought/intention

this damage manifested in what defines light and dark now: the winnower was reduced to memory, emotion, consciousness - the veil has no mass, apparently isn't capable of movement, it's just a big disco with a lot of thoughts, etc - and the traveler lost much of its own consciousness, becoming a force of physical change and growth

the universe was created but the winnower & gardener were crippled, incapable of actively interfering in it

until the witness' people found the traveler. i find it interesting that the traveler was buried and rose as the witness' people rose. maybe there was some sort of exchange going on there? i don't know, but anyway it isn't necessary. the traveler finally started interfering into the universe/affecting the flower game

... but then the witness got an existential crisis and found the veil aka the winnower who, through the witness, finally got the opportunity to interfere with the universe as well. see list of assumptions: the winnower started said interference by convincing the witness that the traveler was too dangerous bc the light was too chaotic. the winnower's goal is to go back to the final shape they had in the garden, and that can only happen if the traveler isn't allowed to interfere any longer

the witness, under the winnower's influence, wants to link the veil with the traveler bc it thinks this will allow them (they were still a people at this point) to rewrite reality into the final shape the veil/winnower showed them.

that's where i think the winnower & witness' goals might differ. every time the winnower talks to us (or to oryx or anyone else) it doesn't seem to want the universe to not exist. the witness has very "no death no life i want nothing to exist ever" vibe. the winnower is the sword logic. the witness is nihilism.

either way, i think the winnower is using the witness and once it has more power it will have no use for the witness anymore.

but also:

maya sundaresh heard the veil tell her its name in her own voice. that could be the winnower, once again trying to corrupt someone else into believing its story. this is what chioma says about maya & the veil:

she's convinced this thing - in her own words, she says - it'll be our "salvation."

which of course its what the witness says it is when it talks to us in shadowkeep. also the children of sol cry out for salvation yadda yadda

this could be them both (the witness & maya) drinking from the same source aka the winnower. the winnower could be tempting maya the same way it tempted the witness.

i also need to point out that maya was more or less on her way to creating a network of human minds... the witness ended up as collective consciousness merged into one being... the darkness is emotion, consciousness, memory... *wiggles eyebrows*

the unveiling could just be the witness passing on the winnower's message or the winnower itself trying to tempt us too. the unveiling has a certain "believe me, im right and you could be right too!!" vibe to it.

i think this theory is interesting because it evokes the garden of eden a lot. which the unveiling already did just by coming up with the concept of a garden before time. this would be just leaning into it a bit more, with the winnower as the snake tempting humanity/the witness.

but

many things in this ^ dont seem to work with the established lore

the sword logic is heavily implied to be nonsense. it's just something the witness used to control the hive & mold them into what it needed to work towards the final shape. the witness itself never mentions anything resembling the sword logic ideology bc it has no interest in it. see how each of its disciple had a different idea of what idea the final shape is, bc the witness told them what they needed to believe to further its goals. the sword logic was what the hive needed to believe. the end.

the latest purpose entry gives more credibility to this ^. xivu arath might mention the sword logic and the final shape as the same thing but the witness never does. it lets her believe it, but we never see it defend the sword logic itself.

the darkness itself is not bad!!! or so the game has been telling us for years now!!! it makes no sense that the darkness entity would just be bad again, after all the trouble they went through to establish the witness as a voice in the darkness and not the darkness itself. why would they make sure we understood that the witness is not bad because it uses the darkness only to make the darkness bad again anyway?

the whole idea of the winnower being a believer/creator of the sword logic makes no sense in a universe where the sword logic is implied to be nonsense.

... which gives a bit more weight to the idea of the witness having created the concept of the winnower.

not exactly the winnower of the unveiling (though this one too) but a winnower. it would see itself as said winnower and also create the winnower the hive/oryx and maybe us needed to believe existed. if the unveiling is a recruitment attempt, its version of the winnower might just be the one the witness thought would tempt us more.

the winnower beyond the veil doesn't exist in this case. or if it does, it's in a very low consciousness/individuality state. it just shows the witness stuff, it does not have an active will.

the witness did see the history of the universe when it communed with the veil and maybe it interpreted it in the wrong way as well, but there was no outside influence to this interpretation. it desperately needed purpose so it made itself one.

that would mean that the unveiling - the garden, the gardener, the winnower - is just propaganda

but not propaganda the witness believes in. the unveiling would not be its people's creation myth, it would be something it came up with to tempt others

but:

what about the voice maya heard? ok, i can understand the veil itself saying it since it is ~the mind and memory of the universe~, so maybe it just has maya in its hard drive by default

but the talk about salvation? this stinks of the witness. if we agree that the winnower - the author of the unveiling, the thing that became the darkness, the big bad behind the witness - does not exist in this way, it makes no sense for it to speak of or influence someone to think about salvation of humankind the way maya says it. the witness is the one who could have talked with maya.

but how would the witness talk to maya through the veil when it had just lost the veil and didn't even know where it was? when it approached the traveler it saw where the veil was and was actually surprised - or expressing emotion, what it usually doesn't do - so it makes no sense that it could have talked with maya through the veil. i mean, i guess it could maybe have just talked with her without knowing where the veil is, but i find that highly unlikely.

trying to mesh these two theories together is... an interesting thought exercise. but let's try:

the winnower as in the unveiling exists. it is either the veil or something beyond the veil.

the unveiling was written by it and it is recruitment propaganda. it did the same with the witness, the hive and even maya. not using the unveiling directly (it seems to just have showed stuff to the witness and talked with maya) but the idea is the same: find people, tempt them, use them to further its own goals.

this means that the witness doesn't necessarily has to believe in the sword logic. in the similar way that the witness gives people what they need to believe so it can use them, the winnower could do the same. the witness needs to believe the final shape is nothing? ok, let it believe it then. lol.

another interesting alternative to the unveiling is that it is written by the witness and that the witness believes it to be nonsense/made up stuff but it isn't. who knows!

the traveler noped out when the witness tried to strengthen its link to the veil because it does not want the universe to be rid of paracausality. the witness might think it would rewrite reality to be nothing, but i'm pretty sure in this case the winnower would just uno reverse card it and rewrite reality to not have paracausality.

now, let's try again in another way:

the winnower as an extremely conscious being does not exist. there is something beyond the veil and it could be the winnower from the unveiling but it is just like the traveler: mostly dormant, like a pond where people can drink from but not something that will reach out in return.

the unveiling was written by the witness as propaganda because it thought it was the best way to tempt us. the witness was the one speaking to oryx as the persona of the winnower aka a believer in the sword logic.

the traveler noped out because it didn't want the witness to rewrite reality into nothingness. the winnower/veil isn't an agent here - it's a tool.

the same way the witness came up with the final shape when it communed with the veil, maya came up with an idea of salvation when it listened to what the veil had to say. again, the veil is not an agent here, it has no intent of corrupting anyone - it has a LOT of information and memory, and both the witness and maya can interpret this information & these memories as they wish. the witness found the final shape aka a purpose. maya (probably) found salvation she wanted for her people.

there is a theme here of people communing with the veil and getting what they want to see from it, not necessarily the truth. it might be a facet of the truth or a warped interpretation of it, but it is not the truth in its purest form.

maybe because mortal beings - or once mortal beings - can't handle it?

i like this one better because it doesn't seem to directly contradict established lore as much. darkness isn't necessarily bad, light isn't necessarily good. both can be used in bad ways (the witness, warlords) and good ways (the ecumene, guardians).

there is an explanation for maya's interaction with veil as a parallel to the witness' interaction with the veil instead of maya speaking to the witness or to the winnower. both - witness and maya - came to the veil for answers and it gave them what they wanted to hear.

it stills leaves a lot open for the future of the franchise - the traveler and the veil are still unexplained, for example. they could be a version of the gardener and winnower from the garden, but they could not. the mystery of why the traveler is diminished even before interacting with the witness' people is still alive and well. we still don't know why it was buried in that planet. or why the veil was chilling in outer space. once we are done with the witness we can turn to these questions - or to something else entirely, who knows.

i guess i can believe this one. the one problem is that the conflict depicted in the unveiling was, in my opinion, much cooler. i guess it can still be true - who knows what the veil might reveal some day, if it really is the equivalent to the winnower of the garden. i mean, something still hurt the traveler. but idk.

it's interesting to note that light and dark as we now it didn't seem to exist in the garden. maybe we will still find out more about these forces if the garden was in any shape real.

but you know what? none of these theories explain this:

Xivu's will soars through the Ascendant Plane and crosses the barrier between this world and the next to find communion with the Witness. Within a distant hollow, they converse.

(from the last entry of the seasonal lore book, purporse)

the next? as in the next world?

what

how would "a next world" fit in *gestures to this mess of a post* this?

what is the witness even doing in whatever-it-is? i mean, apparently it takes a long time to reshape reality. the witness will hang out there for a whole ass year. so what or where or when is there? and why/how is the witness still able to talk with people in this world?

i'm just

i mean i've got ideas

the witness is back in the garden(tm)

or trying to get into it

our universe is just one of many created by the crash between gardener and winnower (WHATEVER THEY ARE) and the witness needs to ascend to the higher universes/worlds to reach the beginning of everything

the tree of silver wings is somehow involved in this, i just don't know how

there has to be a reason why it takes the witness a whole ass year to do what it needs to do but we apparently can chase after it quite fast once the expansion arrives. are we getting a shortcut once the final shape (the expansion, not the end of the universe) is released?

... unless we don't.

take a shortcut i mean.

we don't know what the next seasons will be about. there is nothing set in stone about us entering whatever the hell is on the other side of the portal only when the final shape arrives. we are waking up savathun next season, as far as i know we could be into that portal right then or on the season after that.

season 22: we wake savathun up, she comes up with a plan to get into the portal, we spend 3 months doing just that.

season 23: we enter the portal and now we need to make our way up bc the witness has got a hell of a head start.

the final shape: we reach the garden and now it is time to stop the witness.

profit?

does that mean the traveler is just... part of what the gardener was? since there are a billion worlds/universes, maybe each one has a piece of the gardener (and/or the winnower). this would explain the fragmented state of the the traveler's mind and the... inactivity, i guess, of the veil (if it is the winnower. big if there).

maybe thats why the witness can still communicate with xivu arath. the ascendant plane is just... a layer between us and the next universe and the witness is kind of astral projecting. could also be why it is still worried about us trying to figure out a way into the portal. it doesn't want us trying to race it to the finish once we are in.

or i could be completely insane. that's an option too i guess.

#the witness #the veil #the traveler #destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #spoilers #season of the deep #season of the deep spoilers #ren.txt #i should be sleeping #or writing my crow x guardian fanfic smh #2.7k words of nonsense yall are welcome!!!!!!!!!!!#ren.wtf

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g0thiclygh0ulish-diaries · 1 month

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‘mother is the name for god

on the lips and hearts of all children’

he says.

but mother I am no child

my mouth picked, bitten into rips

no kind words for you reside on these lips…

~ K. O’Meara

#gothic #poetry #writing #alternative #writeblr #spilled words #spilled thoughts #the crow #the crow 1994 #sad poetry #my words #original poem

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funsizedcrow · 1 year

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It's mermay! Ft the return of my mer-grif au which. mostly just exists in my head but I also did draw it here

anyways I took inspiration of the humuhumunukunukuāpuaʻa fish, partially because it's the state fish of hawai'i but mostly because the colors are similar to grif's armor

#my art #rvb #red vs blue #rvb fanart #dexter grif #dick simmons #grimmons #had fun figuring out the lighting. never really drawn a full underwater piece #anyways i love the concept of mermaids if you look at my drawing and writing from when i was a young child there are so many mermaids #this is mostly just self indulgent fun :) probably won't write a fic or anything but you never know #i do have a bit that i wrote like. a year ago idk maybe itll continue #or maybe itll sit in my doc like the rest of the. almost 150k words of rvb fanfic that have never seen the light of day #crow's rvb aus #forgot i had that tag

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feralghxuls · 1 year

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dorito. dorito.

BLEASE

ask and ye shall receive <3

contains: sub mountain, dom dew, spanking, pet play, implied temperature play

words: 1,152

He'd lost track of where he ends and where Dew begins a long time ago. He's been in this room for years. His knees are sore. His ass stings. He's bent over a dresser, struggling to keep his eyes focused on his reflection because Dew told him to. He can't quite manage to lift his eyes to his own face, instead staring at the blurred dark streak of the collar around his throat, the bruises and bite marks framing it, trailing down his chest, across his shoulders. His brows draw together as his eyes track over the marks, fighting to remember what he'd done to earn them.

The collar tightens around his throat without warning, pressure against the front as Dew pulls hard. His face appears floating over his shoulder, and in the space of the seconds it takes him to drag his gaze up to look at the razor-sharp grin splitting his face, Dew's palm cracks across his ass, makes him jump and groan. The sound is disconnected, far away, but he knows he's the one who made it because it reverberates in his chest.

"Mountain," Dew growls, his voice rough and low right in his ear. "I asked you a question."

Did he? He's struggling to parse meaning from words. The name Mountain feels so distant. It does on the best of days, but especially now, when he doesn't feel even remotely tethered to reality. Only the pressure on his throat and the insistent burning sting of his skin feels real.

I– he starts, pressing the word into Dew's head. He's interrupted by a sharp strike across the back of his thighs, a yank on his collar.

"Out loud. Words, Mountain." Dew's tone is sharp, and all he can do for a moment is groan unintelligently. He works his heavy tongue in his mouth, trying to remember how to form voluntary sounds. He's drooling. He manages a slurred, barely coherent version of the heavy growls and clicks of ghoulish.

"I don't–"

Again, Dew yanks and strikes. Simultaneously this time, making his body jolt and slump forward with a soft groan. It only puts more weight on the collar; Dew offers no give, no mercy.

"English. You remember English, right?" He sees the sneer on Dew's face out of the corner of his eye and just groans again, something deep in the pit of his belly tightening. "It's a simple fucking question."

He's not sure if Dew means his thinly veiled insult, or the question he doesn't remember being asked. He drags his eyes up in the mirror to meet the reflection of Dew's gaze, watches his lip curl in distaste.

"You don't even know your own name right now, do you," Dew mutters, wrapping the leash around his hand, once, twice, a slow and deliberate movement. He’s mesmerized by the movement, and it’s the only warning he gets before Dew yanks hard, down and back, makes his back arch and his head drop back, a wrecked sound punching out of him. He can't breathe like this, the ceiling swimming above him. Dew's upside-down face fills his vision, rolling his eyes at him as he pulls him back even more, forcing him off the dresser until he's standing unsteady on his own two feet.

His vision starts to go dark and distantly, he hears Dew huff a split second before he releases the pressure on the leash. Not all the way, of course not, but enough. He sucks in a lungful of air, eyes wide and wild, hands reaching in front of him to brace against the dresser. He catches sight of his own cock in the mirror, hanging hard and heavy between his legs, watches it twitch as Dew's hand splays against the front of his throat. His palm is hot on his skin. His cock kicks again, drooling, and all he can do is moan, a wanton sound high in his throat.

"Dumb slut," Dew murmurs, his tone neutral, almost sweet. Like how poisonous plants paint themselves bright, enticing colors. He licks a long, hot stripe up the side of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine, settling as heat coiled at the base of it. "Come here."

Dew doesn't give him time to comply on his own, or try to figure out where 'here' is supposed to be, simply tugging on the collar, jerking him to his feet again. His hand stays at his throat as he pulls him across the room, stops him just in front of the bed. There's a metalic snick from behind his skull, and the pressure is gone. Dew appears in front of him, his expression focused as he clips the leash onto the ring at the front of the collar. It morphs into a dangerous smile as he looks up, gaze boring directly into his soul as he slowly lowers himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

His thoughts are thick syrup, unable to predict where this is going as he watches Dew lay back, spreading his legs, tail relaxed and flicking lazily between them. "Well? You gonna just stand there, or are you going to do the one thing you're good at?"

It's a lot of words. They sink in slowly, a little jumbled, and he's struggling to untangle the meaning. Dew props himself on his elbows and wraps the leash one more time around his hand, pulling it taut and forcing him a shaky step forward.

"Mount me. Like a fucking dog," Dew says, the last word punctuated by a lash of his tail, the spaded tip whipping up to snap against the underside of his balls. He bites back a moan, knees threatening to buckle. He understands these words, his body moving without him telling it to, nearly falling forward onto the bed. He kneels over Dew, feeling taller than he should. Instinct takes over and he's watching his hands reach down and grip his waist and a thigh, neatly rolling him over. He takes a handful of Dew's tail, right at the base, dragging his hips up. He's jerked down by the neck, that leash still in Dew's hand, still controlling him, but he pays it no mind.

He's focused, hands on Dew's ass, spreading him open and sinking into wet heat, listening to Dew's harsh exhale as he buries himself balls deep. His own voice startles him, a low, gutteral growl as his claws sink into Dew's hips. He plants his knees wide, bracketing Dew's legs between them and braces against the pressure of the leash, leaning into the weight at the back of his neck, even as Dew pulls harder and harder. He has orders, and he's going to follow them.

His hips snap forward. Dew yanks on the leash. He buckles forward, has to shift his hands to Dew's back before he faceplants. Just in time to hear Dew hiss out, "Brat."

#dorito.txt #dorito writes #dorito answers #wow dorito wrote ghouls speaking out loud with their mouths. incredible #anyway i hope yall enjoy subby stupit mountain uwu #and mean dew #thank u for pointing loudly at these tags and giving me motivation to write about this crow #i'm gonna throw this on ao3 maybe with some bonus words in a few days #the band ghost fanfiction #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #mountain monday #hehe.#dorito ficlet

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courfee · 8 months

Text

if this be done (part 1)

@jegulus-microfic | august 26 - crow | wc 1.1k | part 1, 2, 3

a magical realism au with witchboy james :)

James Potter lives in a beautiful cottage in the middle of a green forest with red shutters on all his windows and yellow flowers of every variety one can think of in his garden. His hair is as messy as his working desk, his smile as bright as the early morning sun streaming through his kitchen window, his hands as warm as the fire keeping a big cauldron bubbling at all odd hours of the day, and his heart is as open as the door to his house.

James Potter is a witch, and a skilled one at that, and he offers his abilities up to anyone who asks for help. A plea for a remedy against an especially peculiar sickness is met with a vial full of purple, steaming potion, a cry for help about a spell gone wrong is silenced with a scroll of a messily scrawled on counter spell, and a knock on his door from a lost soul with a heartache is answered with empathy and patience, a gentle smile, an open ear and cup of hot chocolate.

His work helps people and the people help James in return, sending well wishes and favours and ingredients for his potions. Moreover, they give James something to do and someone to be, a person who likes to help and is always there when needed.

He likes his life, likes his work and likes what it has done for him. It’s his magic that brought his best friends into his life, all of them in a similar fashion.

First had been Peter Pettigrew, a small boy with bright eyes and a brighter laugh. Or, he was a boy once James had found the right spell and the correct combination of daisyroot draught and honesty honey, buttercup brew and sunflower syrup. It took a while until James managed to turn him from the little brown rat that had turned up on his doorstep back into the boy he had been before he had stumbled into the wrong pixie ring and eaten the wrong mandrake leaves.

After that, word spread out quickly and Sirius Black was the next one to turn up. A loud and cheerful boy by day who, at night, turned quiet and terrified, the remnants of his family life that had ended when his mother had cursed him to be a big black dog, like his namesake in the stars. The re-transformation was more difficult this time round. Curses were not one of James’ specialities, and it took a while for him to undo the damage – at least the physical one – that his family had left on him. In the months it took Sirius stayed with him, and by the end James had not only gained more knowledge but a best friend as well.

Last had been Remus Lupin. He, too, had come to seek help about an animal problem. Turning into a wolf when the moon stood high and full plagued him even during the moonless days and, having heard of James’ previous success regarding animal transformations, he had sought him out, with scars on his face and hope in his eyes.

James didn’t exactly fail that time. He never managed to complete what he had sat out to do, but when, after having to bring Remus’ the news that he would not manage to turn him back into a full-time human, Remus smiled at him and said “I do not mind anymore,” James knew he still had managed to help where help was needed. Remus completed their little band of marauders, and with them found the acceptance he had always needed, and on top of that found love he had never expected to find with Sirius.

All in all it doesn’t surprise James when one afternoon in the late days of summer there is a knock on his front door and he opens it to find yet another animal looking up at him with dark, beady eyes and asking, a voice more human than crow-like, “Are you James Potter?”

James smiles, pushes the door further open and says, “That I am. Come on in and tell me what I can do for you.”

The crow walks in, head held high, black feathers shimmering in the green glow of the forest, and follows James to his living room. James takes a seat on his worn-out sofa and motions the crow to do the same.

“My name is Regulus,” the crow says, once perched on the arm rest opposite James, “and I have found myself in the unfortunate situation of being cursed.”

James smiles at Regulus, encouragingly and brightly, and says, “Lucky for you I’ve gained some experience with curses last year. It’s still not my speciality, but I will do what I can do unravel the curse so you can walk on two legs again.”

Regulus gives him a look that makes it obvious that had he still had eyebrows, they would now lift up into his hairline. “I am walking on two legs,” he says flatly. “It’s not the walking I’m concerned about.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, all my previous clients had four legs when they came to me. This is a bit of a change, you see? But no matter, I’m sure there is not much difference between a crow and a dog.”

“Maybe I should find a different witch,” Regulus huffs. “One who is competent enough to not think a crow and a dog are anything alike.”

“Regulus,” James says, and the name feels pleasantly cold and smooth on his tongue, “You will find that I am the most competent witch.”

“And the most arrogant one, too, it seems.”

It is the first time that James’ smile falters, fog obscuring the morning sun. “I’ll help you,” James says. “It will take time and it won’t be easy, but I’ll help you. But for the duration of the process you will have to stay in my house.”

The crow grumbles, but he nods his little head.

“And while you are here I will not brook you being unkind to anyone who comes by. If you can’t be a decent human being – or crow, for that matter – to any of the people who seek help from me, then I cannot help you either.”

Regulus steps from one foot onto the other, ruffling his feathers as he gives this a thought. “I’m not an unkind person,” he says finally, “I simply cannot stand stupidity and people so often are stupid. But I’ll step aside when you have clients and will not bother them. Does that work?” Regulus seems rather rude to James and he must admit he doesn’t quite like him from the few words they have exchanged. But he is James Potter, and who he is is a person who likes to help and is always there when needed. No matter how awful of a person, Regulus needs his help, and so James blows away the fog, gives Regulus a sunny smile and nods. “That works. Welcome to my home, Regulus, make yourself comfortable and I will start looking for the right spells.”

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