#the crystal snake did nothing wrong

[ghostlywhiskey]

john price x reader - two of us

word count: 1,594

╰▸ slight angst - price x reader the night before he leaves for another mission

find my masterlist here

The night before he was set to leave for another mission was always the hardest. After two years of being together, the routine was like clockwork. The two of you waking up in the morning, pretending as if it was any other day he was home.

And when you did wake up in the morning, both of you genuinely would forget that it was the day before he was supposed to leave. There was nothing around the house to remind you. No bag half-packed in the corner of the bedroom for your view, no date circled on the calendar in the kitchen, and no phone alert twenty-four hours before he was set to leave popping up.

The only time a reminder popped up would be right after you two get home from dinner, making your way up the stairs to the bedroom. Price’s phone screen lights up with a text message, one of the guys texting him to tell them what time they would be there tomorrow morning. But, it’s a reminder for him, he normally spares another hour or two before he gives yours. 

His arms wrapped around you in the bed, face nuzzling your neck as he holds you close. “I’m ‘gon miss you.” he mumbles against your skin, his hold on you tightening. The reminder you’ve been dreading to hear, even though you remembered hours early what today was. But, hearing it made it real and that he wouldn’t be here this time tomorrow. 

And normally you respond back with the same words, except adding the word ‘too’. However, this time you broke routine. 

“John, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” 

The words leading to an hour fight, the two of you going back and forth about what you saw wrong with all of this. Price argued you knew what you were getting into when it came to him when you both started dating, not understanding why you were struggling now. A string of curses towards him leaving your lips, you telling him he doesn’t understand what it’s like to be on your end. Telling him how you never expected it to be this hard, even if you knew what you were getting into.

And when your tears start to roll down your cheeks, that’s when you tell him to leave you alone. Your body leading you out of the room, feet guiding you down the stairs of the dark house. Price’s living room becomes your shelter for the remainder of the night, the throw blanket wrapped around you as you sit on the couch and zone out to your thoughts.

And another hour passes, your thoughts interrupted when you hear the soft sound of music coming from the speaker.

I see the crystal raindrops fall And the beauty of it all Is when the sun comes shining through To make those rainbows in my mind When I think of you sometime And I want to spend some time with you

Price’s figure walking down the stairs was unknown to you, only when he walked into the living room did your vision catch him. Heading directly for you on the couch, he squatted down in front of you, a hand resting on your knee to give it a gentle squeeze. 

You wanted to bring your knee closer to your body, but you stayed still. Eyes focused on him and his movements. 

“C’mon,” he whispers, standing up again as he grabs your hand and urges you to move off the couch. Too tired to fight him, your fingers tighten around his hand and rise from the couch. The throw blanket slides off your shoulders and pools onto the couch.

Price lets his arms snake around your body, head hanging low as he kisses the top of your head. Briefly, you make no movements of your own, arms stilled at your sides as your brain tries to process what it wants to do.

There was no point to argue right now, the more you sat and thought about it you felt like shit for causing a scene on his last night home for awhile. Two hours wasted between the fighting and sitting in silence with your thoughts. So, your arms do the same as his, wrapping around his body as you pull yourself in closer to him, cheek pressed against his chest. 

Even in the middle of the night, the smell of his woody scented cologne mixed with the lingering hint of tobacco from his cigars filled your nose. He didn’t smoke one today, it was like it was a part of him. The smell of the cigar used to drive you insane, making him shower or change every time he smoked one. Until you bought him a cologne to try and drown out the scent, it helped a bit, but what really helped was the fact the scent grew on you. The way your body would roll over in your sleep to his side of the bed when he was gone, sprawled on your stomach as your face rested on his pillow - the scent of him present even if he wasn’t.

Just the two of us We can make it if we try Just the two of us (x3) Building castles in the sky Just the two of us You and I

The music continued to play as you two stood in the living room, one of Price’s hands grabbing the back of your neck while the other palm pressed against your back to keep you as close as you were keeping him. As he directed your head to tilt up and look at him, your eyes met his blue ones. Even in the dark they were noticeable with the faint moonlight breaking through the living room windows.

“Feelin’ better?” he asks, his thumb rubbing the skin on the back of your neck as he holds you in place. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice is a contrast to the constant gruffness of his, not even answering his question. “It’s the night before you leave and I’ve made it a shit one. I could’ve just kept it in and not ruin the night.” The disappointment in yourself is obvious as your voice seemingly gets quieter as you continue to talk, not even wanting to rehash any problems brought up.

“And if you didn’t, how was I gonna know how you were feelin’?” Price bringing his voice to a softness that you knew probably put a strain on his vocal cords, as if his regular tone didn’t already do that as well. “You need to tell me these things before they become something we can’t fix.” The hand on your neck sliding to the front, thumb now placed on your cheek while the others are in a comfortable position to cup your face. 

Nodding in agreement, you can’t help the burning sensations your eyes start to feel. The tears built up as he spoke, the way he was rational in every situation building guilt inside you more. Even after you had cursed at him, told him he didn’t understand your feelings, all of it - he wasn’t reciprocating the same energy. Again, rational and relaxed. 

“I’m sorry.” you say again, the tears spilling down your cheeks. 

We look for love, no time for tears Wasted water's all that is And it don't make no flowers grow

Both hands now cupped your face, thumbs brushing the tears as they made their way down your cheeks. But, not getting far as he would stop them halfway. The way he shushed you to stop crying wasn’t harsh or mean, it was the softest sound you have ever heard him make. You weren’t even sure it was possible for him to produce a sound like that from his body. 

“No point cryin’, yeah?” He mumbles, leaning down to kiss you, the taste of it salty from your tears. But, the tears still falling down your cheeks. Though, they weren’t a product of your frustration at yourself for acting how you did. The switch for the reasoning belonged to the fact he was going to be gone in a few short hours when the sun came up and no routine would be followed. Just uncertainty of if and when you would see him again.

“Stop cryin’, please.” it was a beg the way it sounded as his lips moved against yours to let the words out. 

Good things might come to those who wait Not for those who wait too late We gotta go for all we know

And when the weeks passed, you didn’t have a definite time frame of when he would be back. Phone calls here and there where he would tell you they still needed him, but he’d be back as soon as he could.

So, when you heard what sounded like a car door slam outside, you thought it was nothing - probably just the neighbors. The door of the home clicking unlocked confirmed it wasn’t the neighbors, eyes looking towards the entryway from your spot on the couch. Price’s body walking into the living room and a smile forming on his face at the sight of you. 

“John.” The name accompanied with a small gasp, your body scrambling off the couch to run towards him.  

“Nice to see you can still do this.” he pokes fun at the words you told him the night before he left, arms wrapping around you as you came within reach. “Thank fuckin’ god.” He murmurs, face burying in the crook of your neck as he hugs you.

#john price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #jonh price angst #john price fluff

[draco-after-dark]

Dory Verse - Aftermath

small spoiler for the Feral JD au just so ya know

Rough draft of my favorite Dorse Verse boys seeing Feral again

(I did not re-read this shit so if spelling error you didn't see it)

It had been months, maybe a whole year since they had all last seen him.

Since Grey had last seen his chip buddy.

Since Eldest had last hung out with his therapy dog.

Since Hitman had last seen his comrade. His amego. His best friend.

‘Where are you Feral?’

At first, none of them had really batted an eye at Feral’s absence. The troll could be pretty unpredictable at times and it was always hard to tell when he was at the house or not. He would disappear for days at a time and then reappear somewhere out of thin air.

After a week had passed Eldest had asked Hitman about where the resident mayhem makers could be. Hitman had no clue. Feral wasn’t exactly the talkative type so there was no way for him to tell them when he would be back.

After two weeks they started to worry. Feral had never been gone for this long before. Maybe they had all just been busy. Missed each other because of how wonky time seemed to move in this place. Maybe Feral just had some things going on and he couldn’t visit?

No, that didn’t seem right. Eldest had known Feral a lot longer than Hitman, This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong and he had no way to contact his little buddy.

Before Feral disappeared if you found Hitman, Feral usually wasn’t very far away. The scruffy troll had taken a liking to the awkward troll almost instantly. That fact alone back made a man full of the other JDs of the house jealous. For different reasons depending on who you asked.

Ever since the early days when Crystal and Grey had figured out just how food-motivated the feral troll was it became a sort of right of passage. Piss off Grey and by default, you’d have to deal with Feral. If a chip bag was ever tossed in your direction then good luck because you’d need it.

So when three weeks rolled around Eldest and Hitman had gone to find Grey and figure out what was going on. Since neither of them knew where their friend had disappeared or why, maybe Grey did. Eldest knew how much the troll cared for Grey after the whole Snake incident. God, he really hoped nothing bad hadn’t happened to Feral.

Weeks turned into one month and then two. After that, they had stopped keeping track. Every day they counted just made things worse. Left more questions. More worry for their friend. 

Until months later.

They had all been in the kitchen eating lunch when they heard the distinct rattle of the door in the living room. It always did that before someone entered. Eldest had gone to peek around the corner to see who it was. He figured it was probably a World Tour considering there was no name present at the top of the door. It was something they released that happened to the most frequent visitors of the house. That and World Tour had said he was going to drop by today.

What Eldest hadn’t been expecting when the door opened was to see a completely unfamiliar troll step through. It was unexpected, to say the least. A new John Dory hadn’t shown up in months so they had all just figured that was everyone.

He was so shocked he just stared at the newcomer.

Eldest’s frozen look had quickly gained the attention of the other two and they had moved to also glance around into the living room.

“What the fuck?” Grey said, also being surprised by the newcomer.

This quickly gained the troll's attention. Their ears quickly perked up, eyes shooting towards the small group. At that, their eyes widened as a large grin broke out across their face. 

In a matter of seconds, the troll had already bolted across the living room and grabbed Eldest, spinning him aggressively around. Arm tightly crushing and head pressed into the side of Eldest. This troll was definitely something. They’d picked Eldest up so fast and effortlessly that It had Grey reeling back further into the kitchen.

As soon as the stranger had noticed Grey he had already dropped Eldest. The troll wobbled from dizziness from the constant spinning as the stranger set his sights on his next target. 

Grey.

Grey had curled his hand into a fist ready to punch the troll but before he could swing his arms were already locked by his sides. Grey was about ready to bite this guy if it came down to it but he suddenly froze at the sound and feel of a deep rumble.

It felt familiar..?

Grey was quickly released, unlike Eldest who had been held for a good minute. Eldest now leaning against the edge of the counter waiting for the world to stop spinning so he could ask who they were.

As soon as Grey realised he quickly backed away from the taller troll who looked curiously down at him. The was when 

The trolls then launched themselves directly at Hitman. The two tumbled to the floor in a heap of fluff and fur. Hitman let out a loud grunt a bit dazed at the abrupt impact. When his eyes cracked back open he was face to face with the pale blue troll. 

He’d never seen someone smile so wide

“Bbrrrrrr-ooouu-theeerrrrrrrr.” The troll growled out as he hugged Hitman tightly, cheek pressed firmly into Hitman’s.

‘Wait… brother?’

At that, Hitman had jolted back his hands flying forward grabbing both sides of the mystery troll's face and really looked at him.

Eyebrow slit. Chip out of his ear. Black earrings. Two scars over the right cheek. One big snaggletooth.

‘Holy shit’

“FERAL!”

The troll grinned widely at that as Hitman latched onto him like if he let go Feral would disappear again.

“Feral?” “Feral!”

Grey and Eldest both called one of confusion and the other of relief.

At that exclamation, Eldest stumbled towards the two and crashed onto the floor next to Feral. Hitman was still clinging tightly to Feral as he wiggled an arm free and reached out towards Eldest. 

Eldest’s eyes watered and with a loud sob, he latched on the other side of Feral.

“Feral where! What! AUGH-” Eldest could barely get a word out through his choked sobs. Hitman was not faring much better as he began to shake and also started to cry.

Grey simply watched the three

A devious smirk streaked across Feral’s face.

“NO. DON'T even think about it!”

It was too late Feral had already unwrapped his long tail from his waist and latched it onto Grey's arm. Dragged the unwilling troll straight into the cuddle pile.

Grey grumbled a few protests but eventually settled down. Eldest, reaching out an arm and crushing Grey into them all.

Feral had missed this. Missed them all so much but some many things had happened in such a short period of time he just didn't have the chance to visit.

But he was here now and that's all that mattered.

His low rumble soon fizzed out into a pur, the vibrations from Feral rippling out and through the other three.

This was perfect.

That was when they all heard a voice.

“Did I miss something?”

World tour stood in the entryway of the living room with a puzzled look on his face.

“Fuck.” Grey was never going to hear the end of this.

Grey! JD belongs to @ijjstlostthegame

Eldest! JD belongs to @matmiraculous

Hitman! JD belongs to @lemony-and-zesty

World Tour! JD belongs to @year2000electronics

#feral john dory au #feral jd au #trolls dory verse #who needs angst when i can make people cry tears of joy #Surprise mother fuckers #L

[citrous241]

1.21 is looking fire, but 1.22 has got to be an End update.

Minecraft has always had really good lore and story-telling, but does anyone else feel like the End is just missing something?

It's to be expected, it hasn't been updated for the last 7 years and the last update added more questions than answers. I feel like it's just on the cusp of being as clear as the rest of the game.

It's a dimension that's supposed to feel off, and uncanny. Literally the only track that plays is 15 minutes of warped mash-ups of Overworld tracks. End stone is just inverted Cobblestone.. etc. But even then it's still wrong.

I just have to know, Minecraft lore is built off of head canons but I'm just unable to form one that makes sense regarding the End. Endermen make sense, I believe they're warped and "evolved" humans. Eating only chorus makes them teleport, their long arms and bodies to reach the high snaking chorus plants, their larger eyes to see in perpetual darkness, etc. Their aversion to water is a wrench in that but I'm not perfect and my head canon isn't right. Endermen could have nothing to do with humans.

Shulkers and End Cities are what confounds me. Are Shulkers natural living organisms? The Dragon and Ender-men both have black skin and dark purple eyes but this thing has yellow skin and an almost magenta shell. I think they're some sort of automatons, but built by who? The ancient builders, the ones who evolved into Endermen? But the spiral staircases in the End Cities don't seem designed for humans (or maybe I just suck at climbing them) and the ceilings aren't really high enough for Endermen. Maybe Shulkers are another protector mob of their area. But protecting what? Protecting the means of personal flight maybe, but that looks nothing like the rest of the end - its literally made from the wings of the Phantoms of the Overworld.

End Cities themselves do kind of make sense to me, their architecture mimics the branches of a chorus plant. But whilst chorus seems to be the only natural thing in the End, the cities very much aren't. There's no way that structure would work under normal gravity. But surely the End just has weak gravity? Nope, it's the same as the Overworld.

Everything in the End just feels so artificial. The central island; with Obsidian pillars punching through the whole thing, a material that can only be made using 2 fluids that don't exist in the End, topped with a crystal made partially from the tears of a creature in another dimension and some sort of Eye which we can only make by killing an Enderman and fusing it's remains with the ground up remains of another creature from said other dimension. Also, it is so far away from the rest of the End, as if someone destroyed or moved these other islands away. The Dragon itself to, she works like no other mob. People say that she's a machine which I don't agree with, her erratic behaviour is because she is the only mob of her type and hasn't been updated like ever. I don't think she's native to the End though; Endermen, the only other creature in existence that looks like her, can be hostile to her.

Trying to piece this together as I'm writing this is making me think of a new head canon: The End is just a melting pot of travellers who got lost and stuck. Think of something like the Void from the Loki show. I think the End was initially just a mass of floating islands with the chorus fruit, in the Void between dimensions. Then the ancient builders arrived, constructing the obsidian pillars and the bedrock portal frame. I think they found something, maybe it could be whatever made the End Cities. But regardless, something dangerous. Something that made them separate the only way out of the dimension by several kilometres of Void, that made them create a Dragon to guard said way out. Something that made them sacrifice themselves by sealing themselves into the End.

There are a few holes in this. Maybe the ancient builders did build the End Cities before/after becoming Endermen. Maybe the danger was the Dragon, but why would it guard the exit portal? And I've kind of ignored the fact that Endstone is inverted Cobblestone, maybe the whole dimension if artificial? Built by the ancient builders entirely? Or maybe the End was spawned from ancient humanities collective mind, like a sort of yin to their yang.

I would love an End update to add a few things. I don't like most popular ideas or mods for an End update, as they often stray too far from what the End is. I would like to be able to find whatever gravity-defying sentient race built the End Cities, maybe they could also be warped into Endermen like the ancient builders were - but could still have a sense of self and humanity, or maybe they're some sort of Phantom People. I would like to find this danger that caused the ancient builders to sacrifice themselves, a new huge boss at the edge of the End would be awesome. I would also like, if they made them less annoying that is, for Phantoms to spawn in the End just normally. They feed on Insomnia right? What's more insomniac then an entire dimension where it's always night and nothing can sleep?

I would also like purple chorus wood lol.

#minecraft #enderman #minecraft phantom #shulker #the end #end city #ancient builders #minecraft lore #mineblr #minecraft headcanons

[bazzpop]

Tied Up In Knots

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Aziraphale’s first indication that something was wrong was the loud thump of something—or someone—very heavy slamming onto the ancient floorboards. His second was the wince-inducing crash of porcelain shattering as it, too, hit the floor. And, lastly, his third was the hissed out obscenities that soon followed, no doubt coming from a very grumpy, and likely pained, snake.

“Crowley, dear?” Azirpahale asked towards the backroom, though he didn’t get up to check just yet. If Crowley was well enough to move on to cursing his way through every dead language they knew in history, he probably wasn’t in any real danger. “Everything all right?”

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed irritably, “jussst peachy.”

“I highly doubt that whatever you’re doing back there has anything to do with peaches.” Aziraphale set his book aside and primly took off his nifty reading glasses that were more for form than function. “You know I’d be awfully cross if it does and you didn’t share any.”

“No peachesss,” Crowley promised. The rasp of scales sliding furiously against the floors loud in the otherwise quiet shop. “If anything, I’d sssay ‘s more like a pretzel.”

Intrigued by that tiny admission, Aziraphale rose from his cushy armchair and mentally prepared himself for whatever Crowley could have possibly gotten himself into while he began the short walk into the backroom.

The sight that met him upon entry was not at all what he’d expected.

Crowley was in serpent form, sprawled out on the floor, littered remnants of an unfortunate mug of cold cocoa scattered around him, and absolutely tangled in the blanket Aziraphale had carefully laid over him while he had been dozing off in the sunbeams earlier. But, from the look of things, he had also managed to get a bit tangled up in himself too—if the giant mess of a knot in his middle, spine up in a rather nasty twist because of it, was anything to go by.

“Uh,” Crowley’s thin tongue poked out to lick his non-existent lips, strongly resisting the urge to hide his snout somewhere deep amongst his coils in embarrassment, “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can,” Azirpahale desperately tried not to laugh for Crowley’s sake, “and I’d very much love to hear it, but how about I get you unraveled first? That can’t be very comfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, that’d be great.”

Gently, Aziraphale picked up the bundle of snake and went about inspecting the knot. Oh dear, Crowley had done quite a number on himself with this one, he tsked. It took him a couple minutes of poking and prodding for the knot to finally give way.

Inspecting his handiwork, Aziraphale stroked a hand down the smooth scales in a soothing manner. “There we are, good as new.”

“Thanksss,” Crowley slipped through the angel’s hands, collapsing onto the floor and back into his favorite human shape. But as soon as he materialized, he grabbed at his back with a grimace, leaning into the arms Aziraphale had brought up when his knees almost buckled under him. “Ow, that smarts.”

“Something wrong?”

“Think I pulled something in my back,” the demon explained with a wince before it turned into a disbelieving laugh, “didn’t know I could do that as a snake.”

“Neither did I,” Aziraphale chucked along with an undercurrent of concern, raising a hand to snap, “is it something I could help with?”

“Nah, don’t trouble yourself—I’m fine, really. Nothing a bit of sitting down for a while, stretching it out, and maybe having something to drink can’t fix.”

“Oh,” Azirpahale wiggled, though a more controlled wiggle as to not jostle the poor demon’s aching back too much, “I do believe I can help with that!” Together they hobbled their way over to the sofa so the demon could sit himself down, and then moved on to pour them some drinks from an ornate crystal decanter of Crowley’s favorite scotch. “Now then, I believe I was promised an explanation on how that happened?” He asked, offering a tumbler of amber colored liquor to a crooked sitting demon.

“Right.” Crowley accepted it, tongue flicking out to better catch the scent. Oooh this was the good stuff, leave it to Aziraphale to know him so well. “Let’s just say I couldn’t get comfortable, tied myself up in knots without something warm to wrap myself around in such a drafty old bookshop.”

“Well then,” Azirpahale smiled down into his glass, feeling brave, “perhaps I’ll just have to offer myself the next time you feel the need to cuddle something warm, shouldn’t I?”

Crowley sputtered into his drink, alcohol burning his nose, and tried to hold onto his cool attitude, even after the indignity of today’s events. “Sure, if you like.”

“I would.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #good omens ficlet #azirpahale #crowley #ineffable husbands #snake crowley #aziraphale good omens #crowley good omens #flash fic friday #flash fiction friday #fff221 #bazz writes

[xzero01]

Unattended Prey - Part I/II

Story heavily inspired by Give and Jaws by Sleep Token and Particles by Nothing but Thieves.

+18 | NSFW | gore | blood | dark themed | relationship

Part II

I live in a small town.

I moved here with mom and dad when I was little, but they both passed in a drowning accident in the lake when I was 18. I've been on my own ever since.

I used to be very popular in school, but not for the right reasons. See, we lived in the woods, in a very distant area from the city, surround by the wild life; I'd normally eat a packed lunch with fruits and vegetables with some weird, yet delicious dip that mom invented and drink green tea regularly and I skipped classes every full moon to perform our family rituals to praise the gods and goddess and the skies and the rain and the earth.

So obviously I was the town freak.

Since my folks died I continued our rituals and made offerings on every full moon on their behalf in a way to keep me connected to them, but I created my own rituals as well as a way to keep me sane - if I'm allowed to say something like this.

My main income was from people that vocally hate me, that despise me in front of others, but called me in secret to book tarot reading sessions, chakra alignment and body crystal cleansing. But none should know about this, and for that, I charged extra.

I have the city in the palm of my hands.

Everywhere I went, people were always nervous around me, afraid I might reveal their secrets or cast a spell out of nowhere, I can't tell; but everyone was always side-eyeing me. It didn't bother me much, honestly, but sometimes being the outcast becomes too lonely.

One day I had to go to the town to buy supplies for my upcoming rituals and to the house, too. When I was leaving the house, I noticed strange marks on the porch, like something had been dragged over the dusty wood floor, leaving an uneven pattern that I couldn't figure out what that could be. It vanished when it hit the tiny stairs into the grass. My best guess was that some animal was trying to make its way to the woods and got lost.

But…

As I reached my car I saw blood. Just a few drops, but that was definitely blood. I looked around and saw no carcass, no fur, no bones, no nothing. That animal was hungry and I was a bit scared. I jumped in the car and made my way through town, mentally adding pepper spray to the shopping list and trying to convince myself that that dragging pattern belonged to a dragging animal, for sure.

But what or who did it?

As I passed the town welcoming arches I noticed that something was off. There was police cars up and down the roads, people talking very close to each other in front of the stores and Ms. Turner was there, collecting curious peasants in front of the flower shop - it was never a good sign when she was around.

I parked in a spot near to the group, that immediately turned their faces on me, and made my way to the grocery store, ignoring the rude faces, as I usually did.

"Hi Jim, good morning! How's everything?"

Jim, the store owner, used to be the few that treated me as a real person in that snake coven town, but that day he barely looked at me when I greeted him. That hurt a little.

"Jim, is everything ok?, I asked again, looking straight in his eyes.

"You're a very audacious woman, you know that?". Ms. Turner made her way into the store and got in the way of the answer Jim was about to give me. "Showing up in town after what you did! Wait until Chief Reid gets here. I already called him, he's on his way!"

"Hi Ms. Turner, good morning. Thank you for always being a ray of sunshine in my life. But what in the fuck are you talking about?". I delighted myself with the horror in her face after the curse I made.

Ms. Turner was the official town gossiper. She was a middle aged woman that looked so much older than she actually was; always putting her nose in everyone's business and not getting what she wanted because she was always wrong with her conclusions. And she hated my guts because she knew that I held a lot of secrets and wouldn't share with her. She even tried to befriend me once, but I saw right through her intentions, so of course, I was her nemesis. And now she was accusing me of something - again.

"Keef Johnson disappeared two days ago, dear. Some say they saw him last time around your property". Jim said, while Ms. Turner stared at me, nodding with her hands on her waist, as if that was making total sense to me.

"We all know about your unholy way of life, Miss Lives-In-The-Woods-And-Lights-Candles", Ms. Turner said.

I took a deep breath and made my way out of that conversation, focussing on my shopping list and trying to shake the memory of the trail of blood next to my house. That was something I didn't need to endure in this stage of life.

Did someone actually drag a body on my porch? Were people using my beloved parents' property as a place to dispose bodies?

I was starting to feel sick with that though when someone called my name, a strong and deep voice that belonged to Chief Reid.

"Dear, I need to ask you some questions, do you mind coming to the station with me?", he asked. Although he clearly didn't like me, he was polite.

"Not at all, Chief Reid, but may I ask what is this all about?".

"I guess you've heard that Keef went missing and we had an anonymous tip that said he was last seen next to your place". He said that and tried his best to give a discreet look to Ms. Turner, but I caught their exchanging glance.

"So you're accusing me", I stated.

"I just want to make sure you're not involved". Chief Reid sighted back at me.

"On what? Sounds like you've already made up your mind". I said, almost with no hope.

"You should not talk this way with the law enforcement", Ms. Turner picked my nerve, a devilish smirk on her face.

"Shut the fuck up, you bitch", was the best I could say to control myself. Ms. Turner started to quack like a duck but I ignored her and continued to talk with the police chief. "Can I at least pay for my groceries so I don't have to be back here after you release me of your unnecessary interrogatory?".

Chief Reid gave a positive nod while staring at his own feet, maybe realizing for the first time that I may have an alibi and not be a serial killer, as most of those crazy ass town lads liked to think I was. Ms. Turner was close to turning me into a pile of ashes with her eyes, she didn't blink once since I called her bitch. I sent her a flowing kiss as I made my way out of Jim's store. Worth it!

Chief Reid allowed me to follow him in my own car down to the station; he knew he held nothing against me. The "interrogation" was a joke. I told him everything I did for the past three days, showed him a receipt for a movie I rented online and the time I activated my electronic lockers. Despite being a woman of nature, I was a woman on my own, so I learned how to take care of myself - and that was very handy right now.

Not pleased with himself, but knowing he had no reasons to keep me there, Chief Reid let me go with a promise of a "wellness check up" in a week. I said I'll make sure to have a fresh baked pie for when the time arrives. I took my things and off I went, just thinking in cleaning and mopping and wherever on my porch the minute I got home.

---

I ran inside and took an old rag and cleaning products and started viciously cleaning the front of the house. If anything, the strong lime smell of the cleaning product would keep the animal away for a while. What I didn't know what to do about was the blood trail. If that was Keef's and an animal killed him, it was just unfortunate. But could I prove that to a person that never in his life made a single effort to hide his disgust for me, not even when investigating my parents death, taking their bodies out of the lake and looking at me like I was the one to blame?

Yeah… that's not gonna happen.

As I stood there next to the blood drops, I felt a shiver on my spine - but a different kind of when an animal is close - I can't explain exactly the sensation. It was… uncomfortable.

I quickly collected the drops of blood that mixed with the dirt, threw them away in the lake and prayed that they never bring dogs to my property. 'Luckily, a ritual was coming and that would be enough to send the scent away', I thought to myself as I locked myself inside the house, feeling the beats of my own heart.

---

A week went by and everything was normal. No marks on my porch nor next to the house. Chief Reid indeed showed up for his wellness check up two days after his pathetic interrogatory, thinking he was going to catch me out of guard, but again, I got nothing to hide. He looked at everything and couldn't find anything, so then and there, he dropped me as a suspect and hasn't bothered me since - which was a blessing!

I woke up on this particular morning and the sun was warm, the lake was shining and I decided it was a good day for a swim.

Before my parents died, people used to visit that lake. They spent the day, had picnics and swim until the sun settles, but not since the accident. Everything changed on that day…

I striped my clothes off and slowly entered the cold water, feeling the mud between my toes as I walked towards the center of the lake. The water was crushing my lungs with its coldness, but it was a wonderful sensation; it was a perfect way to start a birthday and a ritual day.

I stepped out of the water and laid naked under the sun, resting in a towel big enough for two people to lay comfortably, but it was only me. And it has been only me for too long…

The sun was touching my body in a gentle way, warming the right places. I felt that knowing knot forming in the lower part of my stomach and wished I had another pair of hands to touch my body just for once.

Everyone I ever been with was just a big disappointment. I was never satisfied, it was never enough. Most guys were just curious about how the crazy Lady of the Woods would behave while having sex; if she was just as wild as the wild she lived in, it turns out they couldn't handle what I wanted. I was a fire to a forest and I was craving a heavy rain.

Once searching for this became a frustration, I simply gave up. Instead, I learned how to please my body myself; knowing the right tempo, the right angles, no shame. And that was exactly what I was doing under that beautiful blue sky and glowing sun.

My pleasure reverberated through the lake's calm waters and a breeze filled the air with a musk scent of dirt. That was turning into a perfect day.

I went inside the house to bathe and eat and start the preparation for my annual ritual - that involves a sacrifice, so I needed to hunt.

I took my knife and calmly walked to the woods, carrying with me my supplies for the ritual itself, such as candles, matches, fruits, flowers and water from the lake. I'd leave everything in the offering site as I make my hunt viable.

I placed everything in order and took an apple with me; head west, knowing exactly where I had to go to find what I needed. I was excited, not only with the frenzy of the hunting, but the exploration of my own body left me wanting more. I was a dangerous.

I reached a valley that nested rabbits, lots of them. A poor curious one approached me as I handed it a slice of apple, it bit a piece and stared at me with wild big inquisitory eyes. It was its last day. I reached for it and it didn't move, if so, it moved close to my hand to enjoy another piece of the fruit and I gently put it on my arms, petting its grayish fur as I walked back to the altar. The little rabbit looked at me before laying its head in my palm and accommodating itself in sleep. I almost felt sorry for it.

I put the animal in a cage attached to a tree and everything became chaotic as it should be. The smell of blood and other animals started the alarm on that little one while I was busy lighting the candles and chanting the words I had created for that moment. Words that had been guiding me through years, making me believe that everything's gonna work out just fine if I keep doing this.

I undressed and reached for the rabbit as it tried to bite me; I was so used to this ritual that I knew exactly what was going to happen, so I managed to avoid the biting animal. I didn't laugh at it, I didn't hurt it; it was my offering to the Goddess and I had so much respect for it to treat it otherwise.

I placed the animal in front of me, on top of a cut tree that served me as a sacrificial table and raised my knife hight to gain force and ended it with just one blow, the chanting coming out of my mouth not louder than a whisper in my lips.

Then I heard something in the woods.

Crashing branches, dry leaves under moving feet.

I felt the same uncomfortable feeling that I felt the other day.

I was being watched.

My heartbeat synchronized with the rabbit.

Both of us were prey.

I held tighter on the knife and let loose on the rabbit, that took the opportunity to run away from my grip. Suddenly, the forest was quiet again. Deadly quiet.

"Who's there?", I asked, betrayed by my own voice. I couldn't move.

I heard something breathing in the darkness.

"Who the fuck is there?"

Nothing. Just silence.

But, whatever was watching me, it wasn't an animal.

"Will you hurt me?", I ask under a deep breath.

I wait too long for a response.

"No". It finally responded.

"Do you want to hurt me?". It was just a stupid question to ask. Just run!

It didn't answer back, so yes! The answer was yes! Shit!

"Were you the one hunting by my house?" by this time, I was trying to make small talk.

"Yes", the voice said.

A man of few words, I see.

"You cause me problems", I laughed, trying to reach for my clothes, but I froze in place when something moved in the shadows and I heard the cracks of leaves again. The knife was so tight in my hands that it was starting to hurt my palm.

"Are you afraid of me?", the voice asked. There wasn't a slight hint of emotion in its voice. I'll dare to say a bit of disappointment.

"I'm naked and I'm vulnerable talking to the void. You're leaving a lot to my imagination. Let me see you and I can properly answer your question". I backed at him, firmly. At least I'll see the face of my killer before I die.

After what seemed to be an eternity, something started to move on the right side of my back - it was behind me all the time and it didn't attack me. I turned to face a tall, skinny figure, messy blond hair shoulder length, using what looked to be a mask that covered only his mouth and nose; it was black and gold. He was barefoot, using black skinny jeans that gave him an even skinnier appearance and an open cardigan, leaving his chest exposed. As he approached me, the candle lights allowed me to see that he had blue eyes.

I couldn't stop looking at him as he kept getting closer and closer to me.

I was intimidated. I was aroused.

He stopped inches from my face and I could smell the dirt on his skin. I wanted to touch him.

"Who are you?", I asked.

"This is a question I ask myself everyday", he said back. I was hooked. "Who are you?" he asked me back.

"I'm a person trying to survive". I couldn't see his lips, but I could tell he smiled by the way his eyes crinkled.

He took a step closer and looked at me from above. I am a tall woman, but this man, he was towering me, forcing me to look up at him, pressing me against the cut tree stained with animal blood.

I was shivering and it wasn't because of the cold air. What was wrong with me?

I raise my free hand to touch his mask and he launched himself back, like an animal escaping from the mouth of its predator. I stood exactly where I was.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you". I spoke in a soft voice.

He was studying me from afar. His eyes were very dark now.

"Why the mask?", I asked with the same soft tone, inviting him to come close to me again, but he didn't move.

"I don't want to be seen. It's ugly underneath". His eyes were fixated on mine. That felt so good.

"I'm sorry you feel this way. You look pretty to me", I said with sincerity.

He took a step in my direction, examining my face. I smiled at him and those black eyes that he was wearing vanished from his gaze. He took another step in my direction.

"You are beautiful", he said. "I saw you earlier today". His eyes couldn't stay on my face, he was facing another direction, the cage on the tree, I guess.

"By the lake?" I asked, knowing what he meant and realizing why he couldn't face me. He was shy.

He nodded positively, now eyeing my left knee. I let out all the air that was inside my lungs.

"Will you hurt me?", I asked him again.

"No". His tone was very firm now.

"Do you wanna touch me?". The way the visible part of his face changed to a crying pleading was delicious. But before he approached me, he glanced at the knife in my hand.

"I won't drop it. You'll have to trust me, too", I said.

He covered the distance between us looking deep in my eyes, trusting me, I guess, in the same blind way I was trusting him.

He touched my hair first and smelled it, I thought it was a bold move to start, so I giggled. He then put his whole face in my neck, forcing my head back when he reached my collarbone, smelling my skin with his eyes closed, holding both of my arms in a tight grip - so tight that it was almost too close to hurt me. His mask was rough against my skin.

He proceeded to my chest and breasts; he first felt the skin with his face too, but then used his hands; he massaged me, giving me a pleasure that he abruptly stopped. He followed the curve of my waist, downing one hand to my thighs and another to my butt. And then he stopped.

I was breathing heavily and he stopped.

He took a step back from me, rigidity in sight, kind of embarrassed with himself.

He was about to be my sacrifice for the night.

"Why did you stop?", I asked, very confused.

He rubbed his own leg, concentrating for the moment to pass. He shook his head no and I felt rejected.

"Oh! Ok", I felt my face burning with shame.

"No. No! I- I can't". That mysterious and dangerous figure was behaving like a boy now. Embarrassed, ashamed of himself.

"That's ok", I tried to reassure him with a smile. "You must have your reasons". I was burning inside.

I started to move to collect my clothes and put them on, he observed every move that I made. I blew all the candles, except for one that would help me find my way back home. Before I go, I turned to him to say my goodbyes.

"Hey, just please find another place to hunt. People in town already think I'm a freak and now there's this guy missing… I was a suspect not a week ago and I don't want those fuckers snooping around. But I really do hope to see you again. Goodnight, stranger". I laughed at the sentence, considering he was touching me not five minutes ago.

I turned and initiated my way back to the house, thinking about how different that night turned out to be.

English is not my first language, so if you find any grammatical errors, please notify me :)

#sleep token #sleep token fic #sleep token fanfiction #iii sleep token #sleep token give #sleep token jaws #iii

[ghostclangen]

“It’s gorgeous in here.”

Waterfur’s awed voice reverberates off the glistening crystals that line the cave walls. Delighted at the echo, she calls, “Hello!”

Hello, hello, hello! the night whispers.

“How’d you find this place, anyway?” she asks, turning to her companion. “I thought it was just a myth. I heard about the Cavern of Souls from my mom when I was a kit.”

Sweetfern shrugs and says, “I have my ways. I like to think I’m pretty clever.”

Waterfur bunts her head against Sweetfern’s shoulder and says, “You’re very clever, dear.” 

Sweetfern purrs and gives the top of Waterfur’s head a lick. “Why, thank you. It’ll come in handy when I’m deputy.”

“Hm?” Waterfur peers at Sweetfern, suddenly uncertain.

“Well, because you’ll choose me as deputy when you become leader, right?” Sweetfern says, and flashes her an award-winning smile.

“Ohhh, right. Sorry. Silly of me.” Waterfur shakes her head, then turns away from Sweetform to focus on the path in front of her. Small crystals jut out from the ground, and she doesn’t need a pierced paw to ruin her night. “Yes, you can be my deputy, dear. You know, if Moorstar doesn’t die before I do.”

Sweetfern snorts. “Wow, Waterfur, that’s brutal.”

“Kidding, kidding. You know I love that old bitty.”

“Uh-huh.” Sweetfern cranes her neck to see past Waterfur and grins. “Wait, Waterfur, over here! There’s a path that leads to a waterfall. It’s beautiful, you’ll love it.”

Waterfur’s tail twitches with excitement. “Lead the way!”

Sweetfern pushes gently past her and guides her to a small gap between two giant crystals, ducking so as not to hit her head. Waterfur follows obediently, and in a few minutes, they’ve arrived.

It’s just as awe-inspiring as Sweetfern said. The stream snaking through the cavern shimmers in the light of the crystals, making it look like a river of silvery-blue light. To her left, a small waterfall descends gracefully from a ledge in the rocky floor. The roar is soft somehow, a delicate, melodious sound that fills Waterfur’s heart with wonder. 

Even with the softness of it, it covers up what Sweetfern says next.

Waterfur tears her gaze away from the scene ahead of her and turns to Sweetfern, equally as gorgeous. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“I said,” Sweetfern says, the smile falling from her face, “I really did love you.”

Before Waterfur can question her, Sweetfern’s claws flash in front of her, glinting in the crystals’ glow. It takes a few moments to register what she’s done, but there’s warm blood on her throat, and it’s become hard to breathe. “What?” she asks, her voice clotted with the taste of copper. “Why?” She wobbles for a second, then falls to the cave floor with a grunt. Through half-lidded eyes, she catches Sweetfern in her blurred vision, though she can’t make out her expression.

“Why do you think?” Sweetfern answers. “You were in the way. Don’t get me wrong, Waterfur dearest, you were a good mate … but I have other priorities.”

Waterfur summons the last dregs of her strength to call through a mouth full of blood: “Help? Help…!”

Sweetfern laughs and shakes her head. “You can’t seriously believe someone will hear you. Give it up.”

Waterfur tries to spit out a retort, but finds that her mouth won’t open. Her consciousness is fading into a dissociated mess of feelings—rage, for one, and pain, and sadness, and finally, an overwhelming tiredness that finally lulls her to a sleep she never wakes up from.

She wakes up in one piece. On wobbly legs, she stands up and looks around. There’s the crystalline stream, and over there is the waterfall. Which means …

Hesitantly, Waterfur looks down, then flinches at the gruesome sight that greets her. She—well, the cat she was—lies on the ground, dried blood stuck on and around her throat. A streak of red trickles out of her mouth, and her eyes are dull, unseeing, useless. She gasps, then begins to pant, her chest rising and falling sharply in panic. She turns away and retches, but nothing comes out. Naturally. 

Before she can get her bearings again, her surroundings fade, and soon, a field of lush, silvery grass surrounds her. Silverpelt. She didn’t expect to see it so soon. Oh, StarClan, why is this happening? she thinks, closing her eyes tight. This has to be a dream…

“Waterfur.”

Her eyes open again, then widens as she realizes what’s happening. “Dad? Dad!”

Ahead of her stands a tom with silky ginger fur and a gentle—though sad—smile on his face. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

“Neither was I,” Waterfur breathes. She stands there in shock for a moment more, then bursts out of her shock and runs up to nestle her head into the crook of Shiningfur’s neck. “I missed you so much. It’s been so long, I don’t—everything is … Sweetfern, she …”

Before she can get the rest of her words out, an odd sensation stirs in her chest. It’s not like anything she’s experienced before; it’s as if she’s being dragged backwards, like something has a grip on her heart and is pulling her towards it. “What …?”

Shiningfur stares at her, wide-eyed in confusion and concern, and Waterfur realizes that she’s not just feeling pulled by an unseen force, she’s actually literally being pulled toward something. She staggers backward, and in a choked voice, she cries out, “Dad! Dad, help, please help …”

Shiningfur rushes toward her, but it’s too late; before she knows it, a void fills her vision, and she falls into oblivion.

#warrior cats #wc #clangen #clan generator #wc oc #warriors oc #gc update #water #sweet (rc) #shining (rc)

[shytastemakerthing]

Hello! I saw that your matchups were open and I’d like some please?

For twisted wonderland, some romantic and platonic maybe? Idk. I kind of don’t know what I’m doing lol

Things about me bc that’s probably important:

- I am very……..very scatterbrained. I can remember what happened 10 years ago but not last week. Yesterday is nothing to me. My memory is either crystal clear or blurred completely, there’s no inbetween.

- Sometimes whether it’s late at night or just after a good movie I have what I call “crack energy” where I’ll start laughing hysterically at the most mundane things or at random things that I say.

- I have a lot of nervous tics, like picking dead skin on my fingers and rocking on my feet but I also have a few verbal ones as well (idk what else to call them, I make these random noises that change slightly depending on my mood).

- Depending on the circumstances I can either be extremely adaptable and rise to the occasion (like emergencies or when someone needs first aid) and in others I end up having a lot of anxiety than is healthy to the point where I’ll start to shake/count money wrong (the line at DQ starts to get pretty long). But either way, I’m very good at trying things out at least once.

- I?? I love frogs and snakes and all sorts of critters. I also love macabre decorations like animal bones used to decorate picture frames? I live for that. Mushrooms have been among my favorite types of fungus for years, I love seeing how people have studied them.

- while I’m not the most athletic person, I do take a Brazilian jiu jitsu class twice a week and I’m close to testing for my final belt in a self defense class. It’s really fun, but violent (In my first class I learned the guillotine choke which has become my favorite since then).

- No matter what happens I try to look on the bright side of things, although with a slightly morbid twist. Like, for example, “if this campsite floods and we’re swept away, at least we’ll be a cool news story to read about” or something. Also, I love to travel and visit people.

- I am very affectionate, but when a certain time of the month rolls around I am very VERY emotional, and it’s awful the two days leading up to it. When I’m really angry at something I have what my family calls a “death glare” that my brothers are apparently terrified of. It’s only something I can properly pull off when I’m properly mad, and I I can’t think about it either or else it doesn’t work. If I’m not angry, I might be crying over something small (usually the result of a whole bunch of other things spilling over into a breakdown.

- I have a weighted stuffed octopus and it’s become one of my most prized possessions. I have a lot of stuffed animals but it’s become my favorite bc I love feeling weight on me for some reason.

Hope that was enough, have a good night amazing human!!!

Hello and thank you for your request!! I hope you are well and in regards to this request, I did both a romantic and platonic match up!

Enjoy!!

Romantic:

I match you with........

Jade Leech

🍁 As soon as he heard about your love for mushrooms, you gained an invitation to join thr mountain lovers club as well as an invitation to come and help him take care of his terrariums pretty fast. He is committed.

🍁 You both often find each other swapping cacts about various mushrooms that you have learned about all while watching each other as if you both just hung the stars in the sky (Floyd sees this and gags..... he's lonely)

🍁 Speaking of Floyd, Jade has had tk take care of him for a good long while and his own personality so needless to say, he can handle you being scatterbrained better than anyone else. Honestly, he says that Floyd is so much worse so this is actually pretty nice.

🍁 To help with how your brain can be in recalling much of anything, he has left quite a few little sticky notes all around for you to find with needed information. Every single day, there is one on your door reminding you to take necessary breaks and to eat something.

🍁 Now, these anxious habits of yours? He has plenty of much better alternatives for you to help with this, mostly goes for picking your dead skin. He would happily whisk you away for an easier and far more relaxing mean of getting rid of it, free of charge. He is very well intune with your emotions and anxiety to know when it all begins even before you do. Anxiety has gone down because of this eel.

🍁 He does not mind your affectionate nature (again, Floyd), and to be honest, he quite loves it. Just make sure there is no one else around to see such softness and we will be just fine.

🍁 And when that lovely time of suffering arrives (IYKYK😭), he has everything that you need before you even say it.... EVERYTHING. Water? Check. Snacks? Grabbed all of your favorites on the way here. Pain mess? He keeps them even in HIS dorm. If a mess has been made? He has already has a warm shower running for you and while you're standing there, he has already changed the sheets and got dirty ones in tbe washer, fresh sheets on the bed, followed by your favorite drink, snack, book, and/or movie ready. Then helps you wash up, gets you in fresh clothing and now you're relaxing comfortably in bed wktn your loving eel.

🍁 Overall, if there is anything you need, Jade will a absolutely have it ready for you. He loves when you hike with him for new mushrooms or surprise him by showing up at the lounge, or even just your presence alone, he is very much happy.

Platonic:

I match you with......

Azul Ashengrotto

🐙 I saw that you have a weighted octopus plushie and that settled this debatebfir me as for a platonic matchup. (I want one now but y'know....*cries in broke*)

🐙 Azul would be the absolute KING at heloig through your nerves and anxieties. Look, he may not look it, but he has plenty if these issues himself, and he has found many helpful ways to work through them that he will be sharing with you, free of charge because you're able tk keep Jade in check, which also helps to keep Floyd in check.

🐙 He saw your weighted octopus plushie and nearly lost it because it was probably the best thing that this poor boy has seen (somebody please give the octopus a hug, he needs it). He has gotten you more.

🐙 As his dearest friend, as he likes to refer to you as, you do get discounts at the lounge. And ONLY you. It's not much as he still wants to bring in the madol, but hey, something is a lot better than nothing.

🐙 Speaking of Madol, if he hears your struggling a hit lately, of are just running a bit low and are in need of some things, he is on his way to your aide, no contract needed (honestly, he stopped trying after a week after seeing you would never sign one, and you're also dating his vice housewarden, who happens tk be his right hand mand, who also happens to be his childhood best friend).

🐙 I can see Azul as someone who would like some macabre things. He lived under the ocean, the ocean is a very dangerous place, and you use what you have. Skeletal remains are among those things, so this live of yours would not bother him. He'd even help you collect.

🐙 Overall, a friendship with the hoursewarden of Octavinelle and the leader of the infamous trio has quite a lot of benefits for you. Not that you are complaining. Great perks, discounted food, and so much more. It's certainly worth it.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #matchups #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #romantic #jade leech #twisted wonderland jade #jade x reader #twst jade #jade leech x reader #twst azul #twisted wonderland azul #platonic #azul ashengrotto

[darkpoisonouslove]

Fallen Love Chapter 1

Summary: He was a monster. He had the blood of her friends on his hands and her heart in his palms. What did that make her? Company of Light era bad ending (or should I say worse ending?).

Chapter summary: The last battle on Domino goes wrong. Very, very wrong. Griffin never finds her friends. But Valtor finds her...

Do I know how many chapters I intend this to be? Yes. Am I stupid enough to declare that number? No.

Beware! Italics abound.

Read on AO3 or FFN

The blood on her hands, only warm a moment ago, now burned. It congealed, the frost clinging to her fingers so tight it would peel her skin off upon removal. It stung to tears, or at least would have if her vision wasn’t already reduced to a blur of whites and grays by a thick water curtain.

The tears came faster than they shed, and froze on her cheeks as soon as they fell. Little drops crystallized on her lashes, weighing her down. The lump in her chest was heavier still – stuck there and clogging up her throat. It gave the daggers of cold air a bigger target to slash at to keep her staggering lungs from failing.

She sucked in a hiccuping breath. Her shoulders were shaking, her hair – streaked with melting snow. The freezing wetness of it snaked around her neck, her ears, her cheeks and forehead. Like a compress pressed in the skin of someone already cold as a corpse.

The whirling wind swept up the sopping purple locks. They whipped her across the face, their sharpened edges piercing her vulnerable skin. The chill of it all dug deep, stabbed her to the marrow, same as the howling of the blizzard boring into her unprotected ears. Infinitely worse than the crack of a broken spine or gunshots, or the deafening explosions of cursed, volatile magic.

It hardly registered at the peripheries of the cacophony in her head. It burned in her skull, her chest, trying to hollow her out, singe every bit of flesh clean off the bone, just to make enough space. Just so that she wouldn’t burst at the seams from the roaring pressure, the ache she’d been nursing for years.

The tears didn’t spring to her eyes anymore, they flooded. Her sobs tore out from her throat in senseless sputters of sound. A wail. A screech. Nothing concrete. Just everything spilling all at once – curses, apologies, pleas for her mother to come back. Come back.

She was gone.

Her murderers – too. The storm had swallowed their gurgling rasps and the crackle of magic piercing their flesh more vindictively than the chilled blades the atmosphere had sharpened into. Now the snowdrifts had obscured them from her sight too.

They could still be breathing, whining and wheezing their way through the brokenness of their bodies. They could be dragging themselves over the freezing ground, leaving blood trails in their wake. They could be pooling together the leftovers of their power to take her down and she wouldn’t sense it until it was too late.

The prickle of magic in the blizzard nagged in the back of her head, hung low in the air like a curtain of flames looming overhead, stealing her breath and suffocating the spells on her tongue before they could take the vaguest of shapes.

It didn’t matter. No dam could hold the raging torrent breaking through her skin. Raw and unbridled, it had no need for guidance, only a target. She could crush all three of them to a pulp, to a splatter of blood, to a harmless nothing.

It didn’t matter.

Metallic taste flooded her mouth where her teeth ran through the inside of her cheek. She couldn't spit. She would bite her tongue off.

She was alive.

She was alive. She was alive. She was alive. Freezing. Weeping. Shaking.

The tremble in her legs seized her attention. She wouldn’t fall if they gave out. She’d plunge to the depths of her own ocean of magic and emerge elsewhere. Somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be.

She had to find her friends, her family, the baby she’d sworn to protect. She had to find them, any of them. She had to put one foot in front of the other but her knees were buckling already. It was a challenge to turn around, away. She was failing. Not just herself, but her friends. Everyone foolish enough to count on her.

A surge of wind cleaved the air and ran her through like a derailed train. It didn’t move her an inch. The ice beneath her only wailed pitifully under the force of her heels digging in.

Neon blue light burst into her vision, leaving the thick blanket of snowfall and the hazy gray to which the horizon had been reduced in the background like outdated stage decor. Too sharp amidst the blur of soft colors, the magic swirled into a violent vortex and space split asunder for the opening portal.

Her heart drummed. Her teeth drove through her lower lip. The curtain of tears only parted further instead of closing up. Her eyes drank him in, certainly glistening with pure greed.

His hair billowed behind him like sunlight piercing through the pitch-black clouds. The whisper of magic surrounding him like a halo imbued heat in the atmosphere, brought life into it, gave it a pulse. He was like a beacon, a pyre among a sea of long-snuffed-out candles. He’d always been, his unparalleled power impossible to miss as it carried into the atmosphere, far away from his location in all directions.

He’d found her amidst the uproar and downbursts of the blizzard claiming ground and air and everything in between. Just like she’d sensed the drowned out currents of his power, even swallowed in the whirlwind of curses, the torrents of negative energy raining upon them. They’d trailed each other on various planets, had chased each other to the farthest corners of the universe, hunting more so with their gut rather than their familiarity with the other and honing in on their target through the build up of anticipation, that pure elation of entering the other’s range where they were equally a prey and a lure.

The steady ice in his gaze, the sharpness of his features cut through the insistent hiss of her insides. Her stomach settled, no longer churning like a cauldron with poppling acid. Her lips parted – not for a sound, but for the warmth of her steaming magic, shivering pleasantly along her spine and the length of every numb limb. Her skin prickled painfully as it heated, coming back to life.

A deafening crunch shoved her back. She stumbled, caught herself with grueling effort despite his presence pulling her in like a magnet. She could have sworn she’d shattered her skull but it was just the snow she’d crushed underfoot. The print she’d left of her instinctive step towards him.

If he was here, the Ancestral Witches had to be on planet as well. He wouldn’t have come alone otherwise, would have brought the battle along with him. Marion had set out to defeat him, wouldn’t have lost him if she weren’t engaged elsewhere. And the others wouldn't have let her face him alone.

They’d all promised the same thing – to save each other, each other and themselves. She’d promised. She’d promised Faragonda.

“She’s dead, Griffin,” Valtor’s voice boomed over the blizzard. It closed her in, singling her out, separating her from even the thought of anyone that wasn’t him. “They all are.”

A new gust of wind swept aside the snowdrift in her feet to reveal a blueish, motionless hand. Strewn across a blood red patch of ice was a lifeless, frozen body. Not the only one.

Her stomach turned, her throat awash with bile like rising lava. Still, she was anchored to her spot, couldn’t take a step back or disappear into her magic.

The corpses of his Coven mates were the only obstacle separating them. It wasn’t enough. That was nothing.

The vicious blizzard was mere background noise now. The cold in her core was forgotten, shoved aside by the icicles that his gaze was pushing through her rib cage. He’d slaughtered a family, a bloodline, an entire planet. There was nothing left, nothing to stand between them.

Valtor peered at the bodies she’d prostrated in his feet like an offering, his features revealing only pure detachment. “All of this could have been avoided if you’d never left my side.”

His voice was fire running along her spine, licking at her chilled skin, searing itself deeper into her mind and body, into every fiber of her being. Deeper still than her very own magic that lived there.

How dare he?

Her teeth ground together, the vibration quaking her very soul. A high-pitched shriek hit her ears, a rupture somewhere inside her, a wail of anguish she’d bottled up since she’d learned of her mother’s death. She hadn’t wanted all of Domino’s population to drop dead in the wake of her harrowing outburst but now there was no one to hear. Thanks to him.

The tears were gone, sweat breaking out on her forehead instead. Her hands shook with the effort to contain her magic. It was already eating through the frost and ground under her feet, through the only three corpses on the planet that weren’t his doing when she walked over them.

He only tilted his head in acknowledgment of her approach.

Her boots trudged through the mud and puddles forming underneath them, steam hissing and twisting around her legs with every step. Her hands, her entire body, were blazing with power so volatile it prickled and stung like a blade dancing under her skin. Her magic tore through the air like an electrical spark, making it bleed the sweet, pungent smell of ozone.

It was her choking on it, on the potent memory it was reconstructing around her. As if she was still there, still that same woman from three years ago looking for a future but seeing only him.

----

Valtor spun her around in a dance she wasn’t closely familiar with. Her body fell easily into the air of self-assuredness and finesse around him and followed his graceful movements. She wished she could say the same about her heart.

She took a moment. To calm her breathing, nothing more.

It was the curve of his lips that told her she was staring. She had been – for an unknown amount of time.

She looked up at him, held his gaze until it was as dark as a storm cloud. The unspoken words were acidic, cankerous – like smarting sores on her tongue; the pressure of his proximity crushed her mind in a vise. She already had his unquenchable wrath, from the moment she’d left him. Provoking him now, before she’d gotten the answers she needed, was foolish. She was risking a fight with him, with Marion and Oritel, just to feel his grip on her waist and fingers tighten. It wasn’t worth it.

It wasn’t.

“Was it you?” she uttered finally, her voice drowned out by the celebration, not by virtue of the mellow music.

Valtor heard her still. He had her at his mercy now. If her suspicions were correct, she’d have to kill, kill... herself-

“It was.”

She tripped, stumbled face-first into his chest, into the steady rise and fall of it.

He drew her closer, flush against him. His body seemed to curl around her, magic fanning out from his form until it engulfed them in a glamor. No one would see her downfall.

His lips brushed against her hairdo, then lower – the shell of her ear. “I am the architect of your nightmares, Griffin. Each and every one of them.”

His breath was scalding, his scent – excruciating. It lulled her mind, soothed the sting in her eyes, already welling up with tears. Instead of being paralyzed, she had to stop herself from breathing him in. His magic lingering in the air was so heady, dizzying, making her own feel like a living being, like a part of her soul that had awakened. Her tongue refused to form words. She had to bite it to keep from licking her lips to taste the power bleeding onto them straight from her core.

She could kiss him, could shut him up. Wouldn’t have to listen to another word from him or any of her heart’s appalled dissent. Her breath would run out soon. Then she’d survive on his, wouldn’t need another thing in the world. She could, would...

“Your suffering belongs to me.”

His voice was a glass shard splitting open her throat. She couldn’t breathe, had to reach for her magic to fill out her lungs, to stitch back in their places the bloodied lumps of memory she’d hacked off to fit herself into his embrace once more. The pain burrowed in every nerve-ending, snapped her out of her lunacy.

“Tell me how you did it then,” she had to crane her neck to look at him; she couldn't bring a single inch between them the way he’d caged her to his body.

Valtor’s fingers closed around her chin, “You want to hear the details?”

She couldn't nod. He had to force the words out of her, drag them out one by one. He never made things easier.

“Tell me everything,” the words shredded on her tongue like sandpaper, in her parched throat. Or maybe earlier still – in her war-torn heart. “I need to know.”

A tear slid down her cheek from the corner of her eye. It was enough to draw his attention – like a drop of blood calling out to him. The rest she stuffed back in her bursting mind. She had to keep her vision clear, had to see his reactions.

His lips slowly stretched into a sardonic smile. He was giving her time to shudder thoroughly at the ugliness of it. He was letting her anticipate, savor the dread of whatever cruelty he would aim at her next.

“You’ll reduce yourself to a distraction, rip open your wounds just to help the Company win an insignificant victory against me?” his fingers wove through her hairdo, but it was his voice distorting into something unbidden.

Griffin couldn’t decide whether it was disgust with the way he was still clutching her to him like she was precious–indispensable–or perhaps indignation at being cornered.

She blinked back the wetness in her eyes. “Go ahead. I’m giving you a golden opportunity to gloat. Take it. Use it!”

His jaw tensed, the tendons in his neck bulging under his collar. His nails scraped at the nape of her neck, his hand closing harshly in her hair – a vicious attack on her sensibilities to make her unravel before his own facade did.

“You can’t, can you?”

Valtor’s fingers dug into her waist covetously and he lifted her up until she was balancing on her toes. She’d topple over if he weren’t the one supporting her full weight.

“Don’t think you can play your silly, little games with me, Griffin.” The words, the half-growl of them vibrated through his chest, through her own.

Her gaze dropped back to his mouth. “You’re the one who’s gambling. Don’t blame your losses on me.”

“And what about you, Griffin? Hm?” He revealed his sharp teeth; an obvious attempt to intimidate her, make her retreat. “You’ve left yourself in my hands, in my magic. My glamor is the thread by which your deal with the Company hangs.”

Griffin scowled, forcing her lips into it instead of the smirk curling them. “At least I’m not the one calling my own bluffs.”

His face twisted violently at her lack of self-preservation or maybe at the negligence with which she met his threats. If either of those had registered through his own failure to fool her.

Her heart seized at the sight. That grimace had to be painful – for his muscles and his ego. It brought her no satisfaction despite his lies. All she wished was to kiss it off–his anger, and her own–drown it in the breathless ecstasy of his lips on hers.

“You just proved my point for me,” she murmured instead.

The gentle tone made him flinch but not away, closer instead. He crushed her to him, to let him crawl under her skin the same as she’d done to him.

“If you were the one behind it, you would have paraded around with that, lorded it over me and relished my misery for months now. Yet, this is the first I’ve heard from you since...”

Her voice dried up, her vocal cords coming up empty – like a mine that she’d dug too desperately into.

Valtor stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, his voice dripping with falsity, “How terribly did you miss me, Griffin? Did you call my name into the night and soak your goose down pillow with tears? Did you slip your hand between your thighs to pretend I was in your lavish bed with you?”

She covered his hand with hers and intertwined their fingers. “You’re doing it again.”

The grin crawled on his face like a mangled, soulless creature refusing to die, clinging to life with claws and fangs and derangement. The sight was abhorrent, bloodcurdling. Her hair would be standing on end if not for the fingers digging bruises in her back through the stiff fabric of her dress. It was her he refused to let go of.

“You’re adorable, Griffin.” His condescension was searing, would have melded their skin together if not for the barrier of his gloves. “Thinking you could read me with ease and maneuvering yourself in the exact position I’d intended for you. It was all meticulously designed as you should have come to expect from me.”

Her lips parted, the ire bursting from deep within her chest to get crushed into nothingness by her choked sob.

“I could have contacted you, of course. If nothing else, you haven’t denigrated my abilities so far as to delude yourself otherwise,” his fingers slipped from between hers. Resistance only spiked through her when he made to take her hand in his. “Why waste my efforts when I could draw you out somewhere we would be face to face instead? Why not use the time meanwhile to let the hope build in your thoughts, in your attitude, in your very existence day by day to crumble that much harder under its own weight? Right here in front of my eyes where I can taste the salt and bitterness of your anguish.”

Griffin forced a shaky breath from her ribcage. He could feel every little movement of it where he was holding her – coalesced into his body.

“If you’d found...”

She swallowed, gulped the sentence back down. She hadn’t spoken of her mother since that miserable, hateful, devastating day when she’d screamed hysterically and fired the vilest of curses she could summon at everything in her path. Not even later, once she’d been able to look at Faragonda without red flooding her vision and broiling agony pinching her throat in a vise-grip. She hadn’t been the only one grieving but they’d each done it in silence, words too loud, too heavy. Their friendship–of all things–hadn’t been spared either, had been strained under the weight regardless of how much more solid it was than the paper-thin ice under her feet keeping her from drowning in her sins.

So close in his arms, lips nigh upon each other, her blood was boiling inside her veins, seething. A single step–less than–would be fatal. Valtor putting her down would be her doom, would send her crashing down. She was trapped.

“If you’d found my mother,” she locked eyes with him, finding shelter in the glacial wasteland of his gaze, “you wouldn't have killed her in the first place. You would’ve baited me with the threat to her life to punish me, make me chase you.”

There was a shift in his eyes, the pupils seizing the ice, as if to store there what he craved, what was finally in his reach again. His lips parted just barely, his scorching breath skirting over her own lips. He crushed her closer still, fingers clawing into her flesh like he’d never let her go, like he wouldn’t have to because they were one. Like he owned her, body and soul; her betrayal, her alliance with their enemies be damned. She was only his now that she was severed from her roots, left at his mercy with nothing to wrest her from his jaws.

Her heart hammered in her ears, in her temples, in her throat. Her magic churned deep in her chest, in her belly. It seeped in her hair, pulled the purple locks free from the updo and left them throeing around like the corpses of beheaded snakes. The slightest tremble of her fingers and it erupted from every pore, aimed at him and the surrounding glamor like shrapnel.

She shoved at him. The hand clutching hers opened, the one around her waist disappeared. Her feet found no floor. She was falling through space, through the void created by her magic. Was her body spinning or was it just her head?

It was hard to tell. Everything around her was a blur of green like a cage with only a speck of dark blue overhead. She only recognized the tears streaming down her face by the salt marring her skin and the ephemeral sting they left behind upon evaporation.

Unbearable heat hit her back. Her world was reduced further to the vicious shuddering rocking her body and the screams in her head. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. No!

He’d let her go. He had no right to come after her.

She had to move but her legs were carved out of rock. Her mind was a sinking stone drowning in her magic rather than stirring it. It leaked from her fingers and the ends of her hair making her skin crawl.

Her throat closed. Her sight blacked out but it wasn’t another teleportation spell. She was still stuck. She had to go. She had to. Had to do something, had to move, had to go.

“They’ll execute her,” a voice pierced her.

Execute her. Execute her. Execute her.

It wouldn't make a difference. He’d still kill everyone that’d had the misfortune to know her. In revenge, not possessiveness, but he’d kill them. She couldn't protect them – by her life or death.

She’d already made all the difference with her existence. Now she was going to pay. They all were.

“Griffin!”

Faragonda’s worried eyes were taking her in, a crease running through her forehead, her hand reaching out.

Griffin accepted the touch, cold and phantom-like. It was a hologram. An interactive one but still, she could see right through Faragonda’s body to the other end of the ship.

She didn’t remember getting on. She couldn’t forget the ballroom, the ardor of Valtor’s touch. His hands may as well have been covered with Faragonda’s blood. Sooner or later they would be if it depended on him, if it depended on her to stop him.

Marion startled when Griffin's–bloodshot–eyes found her across the ship from where she was keeping an eye on her. Her back straightened, taut like a bowstring, and a wave of oppressive heat radiated off her again. Her magic gathered in her palms – just in case.

Griffin wet her lips and forced her voice through the maddening tickle in her throat, as if full of cotton. “You have to kill him.”

Marion acknowledged her returning sanity with an all-but-imperceptible nod. “We will.”

Her power lingered in a halo around her and her tense shoulders didn’t relax, giving no illusion that Griffin had any place in her plans or her inner circle.

She was no fool.

----

She’d broken her promise. He’d... She’d betrayed her friends, betrayed their trust in her, in her heart’s strength. Her love...

Valtor’s stance changed; his weight shifted, leaving him ready to pounce on her like a starving wolf. Alertness coursed through his every cell, laced through his magic. It crested in an all-consuming wave, silenced the wind biting–gnawing–at her lips and cheeks, her ears with its needle-like teeth. The wet chill of thawing snow clinging to her skin and hair dissipated like the blizzard itself.

Instead of stillness, there was a growing buzz in the atmosphere, the air thrumming with his pure, unadulterated essence – magic and heat. Sweltering disquiet gripped her muscles, wove into the streams of power flowing through her veins. Every fiber, every cell was shaken with atrocious, unspeakable need to dismantle the very fabric of existence, tear it apart atom by atom and splinter those to carve out every last trace of him–like a beating heart–from their core. She couldn't stash his magic away in her pocket dimension to get high on it as she pleased but letting it ripple through her own like a caress to her sides, thread through it like fingers in her hair was more titillating than performing a dangerous, forbidden ritual.

All of their spellcasting, all of their partnership only ever felt one way – exquisite, addictive, too good to be true.

His fists were charged with an explosive dark spell she easily recognized. They’d stolen it together, on their last mission before she’d betrayed him. He’d let it fester with disuse in his head, risked the possibility of their last true moment of partnership becoming retroactively unavailing, wasted on an ultimately meaningless heist, just to save it for this encounter. He’d been so sure they’d end up here, that he’d create an occasion to unleash it upon her – a punishment, a symbol of his power to bring her to heel, bind her to his side where she’d always been meant to be. But it was more than that.

It was a declaration, too. He was preparing for a fight, a real fight, not just a sparring he’d win without a hair out of place if not holding back on her or a demonstration of his power and superiority. He was readying himself to take down the last standing member of the Company of Light.

She wasn’t dangerous to him, just to his ego. It was a matter of declawing her and ripping out her spine, a matter of turning her head, eyes set on him–the sun in her universe–always. It was a matter of obliterating her silly, little attachment to her friends–to anyone other than him–that had allowed for any distance coming between them, for fresh air breaking through the intoxicating haze of his favor.

He’d crushed her friends like insects. It had to make her see the cobweb for what it was, had to make her heart slash itself free, had to mean something.

Her magic slowed down to a trickle, still slipping through her fingers, obeying the pull of his proximity more than her own will. Still, the mud boiling under her boots hardened back into ice in a blink, forced her to summon a bit more power again to free herself from it.

“Fight me,” Valtor’s voice grated worse than stone grinding into stone.

His gaze was frenzied, mangled by the snarl twisting his features as well. The air around him shivered, snow turning into rain turning into steam. The spell hummed threateningly in his palms, like an avalanche gaining momentum.

Griffin bridged the distance between them, the slippery frost underfoot doing nothing to slow her down. She was an arm’s length away from him when the magic crackled loudly–abhorrently–in his hands, like a broken bone, something in the sound making her sick.

“Fight me!”

His roar did nothing to deter her. His glove dissolved under the trembling caress of her bloodied fingers. His spell evaporated, little wisps of white smoke wafting from his hand all that was left of it. He stiffened at the growing contact between their skin, at her eagerness to lace their fingers together.

She’d robbed him once again – of his fight, of his glorious victory, of the violence he’d craved to do to her oversized heart. She was soaked and shivering even amidst the clouds of mist rising from her hair and armor in the heat of his closeness. A wet cat of a traitor that had made him call off his attack just to avoid harming her. Add that to the long list of things he would never forgive her.

His forgiveness–an oxymoron of a delusion–was absolutely meaningless. Anything coming between them was – in the face of her desire and his dedication, their shared obsession.

“You’re a fucking liar,” her voice swelled like a bruise.

From the moment she’d laid eyes on him and he – on her, Domino had been doomed. Her friends, her family, the universe. Thanks to him. Thanks to her.

He brought her hand up to his mouth. “Who else would survive your love?”

He didn’t kiss her fingers; he licked the blood off them.

It may as well have been Faragonda’s blood staining her skin or her mother’s. She may as well have come to Domino by his side or turned on the Company and slaughtered them with her own hands, her own magic.

...made no difference.

What was one more crime?

Griffin captured his lips.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #fallen love

[iphigeniainaulis]

φιλία means soul connection

This is definitely not me trying to make up for missing your birthday, @lorei-writes 😄 I’ve said it already, but it’s never enough, you know, when it comes to words of admiration. You’re our local glue, the ultimate, the only, the unforgettable one who spreads so much love and positivity. I’m happy to be friends with you. So, take this present and don’t forget that I never ask somebody about their OC without the intention of spoiling them later even if it may take a year or two. 

Characters: Asra x Little Witch of the Greenwoods

Promt: Pollen, pollen, pollen everywhere~

“Look, this one is red! I’ve got it!”

“Yes, yes, I wonder how difficult it is with cards in your pocket.”

“Cards have nothing to do with it. It’s my intuition. Look, another one! Bet it’s gonna be yellow.”

“You’re pulling a card.”

“Yellow!”

It was August, and the city of Vesuvia was getting ready for the Night of Blossoming Iris to celebrate the end of the harvest season. On the night of celebration people poured out into the streets, and the whole Vesuvia was like one huge shining anthill. City roofs were covered with crystal garlands, bakers were delivering bread and mint butter, and musicians were playing lutes till dawn. When the celebration was in full swing, the Countess stepped on the balcony, lighting fireworks. They crawled in the sky like giant white snakes, turning into violets, dandelions, periwinkles, and their shining pollen was everywhere.

“Somebody got out of bed the wrong way, I guess.” His hand disappeared in the camp bag only to present Anna with a bundle. Smelling too good, to be fair. 

“Just a little bit tired. Today the city was so busy.” She really hoped he wouldn't mention the blush touching her ears.  

“I know how to help.” 

“With…a poppy seed cake?”

“Of course. Is it possible for anybody to feel sad when they have a poppy seed cake?”

Anna closed her eyes. A familiar scent of woods in the stove, butter and sugar filled her lungs. 

And then she thought about her. 

Proud, with porcelain skin. Red hair wrapped around her thin neck like sables. She didn't know how to walk - only floated. In the evening she was with Asra at the shop. He held her hand. She laughed, all while being nothing but roses, chocolate and passion. Suddenly he got closer to tell her something, and that was when Anna lost it. Ancient vase dropped on the floor, sunflower seed blending with glass. 

“Take it. You have a more suitable person to keep you company.” The witch jumped on her feet, looking hurt, being hurt. 

“So, it wasn't my imagination.” The magician’s thumb found the spot on her wrist where veins were throbbing madly. 

“That’s why you’ve brought me here?” She spent so much time in order to cover her scars, and  yet they still existed in the most oblivious place possible. 

“I wanted to help."

Why can’t he see?

“Tell me everything, moja dusza.”

And that was the final drop. 

“You were meant to forget me just like everyone else did. I named you first.” She was doing good. It didn't matter that Asra’s fingers were covered with tears when he gently brushed Anushka's face.

“...and then I changed it. Asked you to join me in hell. Because I wanted to. Because I…”

She gasped for air but felt nothing but ice fire in her chest.

“...love you.”

White snakes burst into the rainbow. Asra’s broad shoulders blocked the view. Anna was trembling when she felt hot lips on her neck curving into a smile. He kissed her tenderly, reaching the place where her heart was beating so fast. 

“I thought the witch would be scary, but you’re more scared than I am. Anushka. I lov…wait. Deep breath, no panic!”

Ginger freckles on her cheeks turned hot red, and the witch raised her arms in defense. With that gesture green bunches of magic dropped, sweeping the couple to the coolness of the night lake.

#the arcana #the arcana game #arcana #asra alnazar #asra the arcana #asra the magician

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

🌟I love your blog fam! 🌟

So how wound yandere 2p America, England and Russia go about wooing or kidnapping a sweet professor darling that’s smart enough to know something is wrong with them. And doesn’t get close to them?

Thank you!

(Y/N)’s black wedges sounded like a tired draft horse’s hooves as crossed the cold, white, tile floor to her office. Her black shoulder bag dug uncomfortably into her shoulder as she opened the heavy, wooden door to her office.

The room was cool and dark. It felt wonderful on (Y/N)’s hot skin as the light switch was left ignored. The psychology professor instead allowed herself to flop into her leather wheelie chair. Her heavy bag thudding against the floor as it fell. There was nothing more that (Y/N) wanted at that moment than to melt into darkness.

Except a small voice told her something was off. There was something there that shouldn’t be.

Wearily she cracked her (E/C) eyes and slowly glanced around. No dark shapes in the corners and no little red dots of poorly hidden cameras. What did catch her eye was the clear, crystal vase of flowers.

They were strange, each stem appeared to hold two different pistils. The one at the top of each stem looked like a red rose that had been dipped in a vibrant green paint, while the lower pistils reminded one of a red carination. Though instead of the green dip appearance, it had a purple hue at its tips.

Her (S/C) hand reached up to brush against the petals. They were soft and velvety, and their supernatural beauty tempted her to partake in their scent. Hand around the stem, she was ready to lean forward and do.

When a card slipped onto her desk from between the sea of green. Its white, heavy cardstock was bright against the darkroom.

The flowers, now momentarily forgotten, (Y/N) slide the card into her hand. Its elegant cursive read Pulchra Durmiens.

Brow raised; she googled the ethereal plants on her smartphone. The bright light of the screen made (Y/N)’s eyes squint.

As the screen loaded, (Y/N)’s curiosity turned to anger.

These flowers were known as the Sleeping Beauty. Their ability to make one succumb to a dreamless sleep was well documented but not known. The slumber was known to be deep and unawakenable for three days.

With tense muscles (Y/N) realized there was only one soul who would do this. That snake was willing to tempt her like Eve.

In her rage, (Y/N) stood, strangling the flowers in her dominant hand. Their stems crunched; thorns painted small rivers of blood on her hand. Her free hand reached for the trash can and helped stuff the ethereal beauties inside. Tying them off to never allow them the chance to tempt again.

Now out of sight, her shoulders dropped. She reached for her office phone and dialed the number for security.

(Y/N) refused to fall. This snake would lose his head.

America: Allen’s pride would be in ruins at a Doll that could outsmart him. He would try everything he could to ensnare you. Flirting, invitations to outings, full-on attempted kidnapping. As each one of these fails it leads to Allen becoming more aggressive in his actions and plans.

Your security measures don’t help him either. The alarm systems, bodyguards, and even personal weapons just leave him angry and cold at the end of the day. This cycle of cat and mouse lasts for weeks until one day, he can take no more.

On that day, be prepared. For he plans on using a hostage situation. It will be during one of your lectures, the university will be on lockdown, and as people wait in terrified silence his voice comes across the intercom.

His demands are simple. You, or the university.

England: The intelligence to avoid Oliver was one of the things that attracted him at first. It was cute seeing you realize the danger and attempt to escape your fate. Until it wasn’t.

You began to take steps to distance yourself from him. Both in the physical sense and the mental sense. Oliver doesn’t allow it and with each step toward control being undone by your own intelligence Oliver begins to lose his temper.

He no longer chooses to directly interact but instead looks for subtle ways to lull you into a sense of safety. Little ‘gifts’ often being left around your office and home. Some are actually safe while most are designed to aid in the capture of you.

Eventually, his patience wanes to its end and a deal is made with the beasts of the night.

Unluckily for you, Oliver allows his beast to play before capturing his prey.

Russia: Similar to Oliver, Viktor enjoys your intelligence. It makes the game of love more alluring for the large Russian. Viktor allows this chase to go longer than most. This comes from his belief that not only will this teach you of your place, but he also enjoys a good battle of wits.

He often watches you, enjoying seeing your mind at work until you decide to change the game. Now he can no longer watch you, speak with you, or even engage. With the control taken from his hands and his own loss on the horizon, he becomes annoyed. Viktor begins to slowly up add pressure by leaving notes, and gifts, and cutting off your resources. As these fail, Viktor learns something new. This new knowledge becomes a weapon against you. 

After six months of this game, Viktor finishes it. He appears like a grim reaper, cold and silent. Ready to make you disappear, with the weapons you unknowingly gave to him.

#2p england #2p hetalia #2p headcanons #2p america #2p russia #yandere #yandere hetalia #2p yandere

[witchywomanrunningupthathill]

Of Quidditch Cups and Crystal Caves

Pairing: Regulus x Female!OC

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: swearing, angst

Description: Slytherin has won the Quidditch Cup. Regulus is thrilled. Iris is worried. Everyone else is celebrating.

No other house did parties quite like Slytherin. Winning the Quidditch Cup over Ravenclaw was both a new opportunity for the snakes to claim their superiority and for everybody to get absolutely smashed.

Regulus Black’s eyes were beautiful. Fucking mesmerizing, as Iris Avery would put it. Jade green with just the right infusion of blue and speckling of brown. Iris gazed at her boyfriend from across the Slytherin common room as he bantered and laughed just a little too loud with Evan Rosier, Barty Crouch, Jr., and a number of his other teammates. Even in his inebriated state, Regulus still managed to look like a prince. He had to have been royalty in a past life, Iris mused. Or perhaps it was just the Black family’s genes. The lot of them may be entitled blood supremacists with a proclivity for practicing dark magic, but no one could lie that they were all gorgeous.

            “You alright?” Pandora Lovegood asks, waving her hands in front of Iris’ face and pulling the girl from her daze. Next to Pandora is Ariadne Greengrass, who giggles at Iris.

            “What? Oh…yep. Cracking!” Iris replies.

            “That’s very convincing,” Pandora retorts.

            “Leave it to you to zone out at a party,” Ariadne taunts. Iris rolls her eyes

            “Guys, I’m great. Besides, we just won the bloody Quidditch Cup!” Iris exclaims. She raises her cup, as do the other two witches. A clumsy attempt at a toast. They all throw back their drinks. Just as Iris gulps down the rest of her firewhiskey, briefly relishing the burn, a warm hand grabs her hand, pulling her away from her friends.

            “Dance with me, love!” Regulus pleads, drawing out his words.

            “Stop stealing her away from us, Black!” Laura yells. Regulus ignores the girl as he sweeps his witch into his arms, attempting to get her to dance with him.  As he spins her around playfully, Iris spots a small, white, furry mass dart across the back wall. Merlin, that cat will be the death of me, she thought. Iris’ cat Jed seemed to find interest everywhere except for the Slytherin girls’ dormitories, having frequent run-ins with the Bloody Baron on her way out of the dungeons. Iris runs after the energetic feline, leaving Regulus confused. She scoops her up and walks to her dormitory. 

            “Hah, of course,” Iris scoffs. The door to the girls’ side of the dormitories was left ajar. Iris walks down the corridor to her shared room, opens the door and heads straight for the bed set against the far wall. She plops down on the mattress with Jed. “You choose now to make your great escape?” she asks the cat, who just looks up at her with its blue eyes. “What’s so interesting out there, huh?” Jed lets out a lengthy mrooow as she headbutts Iris. Iris rubs her hand across the cat’s back. “The giant squid not company enough for you? Or no…maybe it’s the merpeople—” Iris is interrupted by a deep mrow. “Ah I knew it! It’s always the merpeople. Maybe you should have a chat with them, baby,” Iris suggests before kissing the top of the cat’s head before the animal jumps out of her lap.

            “Where’s my kiss?” Regulus asks from the doorway.

            “You sound exactly like Sirius…” Iris says.

            “I’ll have you know that me and my brother…are noth-nothing alike,” Regulus declares before he hiccups.

            “Right…” Iris retorts.

Regulus wraps his arms around the witch, dropping his head to her shoulder. “I love you, Iris,” he slurs. She can smell the firewhiskey on his breath. If you loved me you wouldn’t go to that cave, she thought. He didn’t know that she knew, of course. And she hadn’t read his mind either. She had seen it during Divination the other day. For once, her crystal ball had actually worked. Or maybe there was nothing wrong with the crystal ball; maybe she was just too distracted. “You must focus, Miss Avery,” Professor Trelawney would tell her. Iris believed she may have focused a bit too hard that day for her to witness the horrifying sight that played out in that crystal sphere set before her.

The imposing cliffs on England’s coast, raging waves, a dark and ominous cave. Hands, no—she supposed they had been hands at some point, but they were inhuman and they grabbed at clothing and flesh. She gasped when she saw Regulus’ pale, pained face manifest in the crystal ball, bringing her hand to her mouth. Her face started to warm, eyes prickling with tears. She was so confused. Iris clawed at her shirt collar, fingers desperately working to loosen her emerald and silver tie. It was always warm in Trelawney’s classroom, but Iris was burning up. She tried to convince herself that what she saw was in fact not real. Her thoughts raced. This is one of many possible outcomes. Nothing’s set in stone. This hasn’t even happened yet. Who says it will in the first place? Bloody divination, as if a fucking rock would be able to tell me the future, ha! I never liked this class anyway. Reg would tell me about something like this. But it was all she could think about. So much for not letting a fucking rock rule her life.

She’s brought back to reality as Regulus plays with the pendant on her necklace. “You ready to go back out? Your teammates probably miss their captain” she offers.

            “Nope,” Regulus says resolutely as he cuddles into her further. He was so clingy when he was drunk. Iris pulls Regulus’ arms from around her and gets up. She holds out her hands to the boy.

            “Up,” Iris commands. Regulus groans, closing his eyes for a moment before letting out an exasperated huff. He’s cute when he’s like this. All moody and effusive, compared to his usual smug and mysterious way. Then again, it’s not like he grew up in a very emotionally demonstrative household. He weakly reaches out and grabs Iris’ hand. She flinches back as an image of the boy’s thin hand losing hold of the cave’s clear crystal island flashes in her mind.

            “You alright?” Regulus asks.

            “Hm? Oh! Yep…Let’s get back to the party, Reg” Iris resolves. She helps him off of her bed and they exit the girls’ dormitories, re-entering the sea of drunk, hyperactive teenagers. Iris watches as Regulus’ teammates crowd him, Evan’s arm wraps around the boy’s shoulders as everyone begins to chant. She sees the shift in his eyes. The way his face drops, only for a second. Iris rejoins Pandora and Ariadne who are giggling over who they saw the older Avery, Iris’ brother, take back to his dormitory. Their chatter falls on deaf ears as Iris still looks on at the life of the party. She frowns, recalling Regulus’ growing collage of photos and news clippings from the Daily Prophet of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. He would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t he?

#regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #regulus black x oc #regulus black x ofc #regulus x oc #regulus x ofc #harry potter fanfiction #hp #harry potter #regulus black #regulus #regulus black angst #regulus black fanfiction #reader insert #angst #iz writes

[ambrosiiac]

☆ lemon sunsets

lucifer x male oc 

warnings:  luci is a bit ooc, oc being a bit distant? other than that, nothing of great importance.

genre: angst, fluff

summary: Paris and Lucifer are on a beach date. Yup.

FUJOSHIS DNI I BEG (minors also dni because yes)

A man was standing at the water's edge.

Paris, a small man of remarkable achievement, stood alone on the beach, gazing over the teal water with his pained heterochromatic globes. His black hair danced lightly in the ocean breeze, tickling against one cheek as he tried to deny the stirrings in his heart as he adjusted his obsidian glasses.

The sun glinted off of his khaki shoulders and a pair of loose sable jeans. His locks flowed in a dark torrent past his shoulders, complementing his empty hazel visage. An elaborate tattoo snaked its way around his visible skin, yet unable to cover the very prominent scar that stood out. He stood, awaiting his love.

It must have been fate in a mortal form that brought them together. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on him that they were meant to be. From then on, Paris was sometimes needy and close, but then suddenly cold and fearful. Lucifer tried his best to hide his pain, but it was plain in his pools. That was how it was to this very day.

Paris's many-coloured crystals spotted Lucifer further down on the beach, closer to the roaring sea. His lovely hair rippled behind him in a sable wave. His globes were turned toward the ocean, hidden from Paris's sight, but he knew and loved their angelic cherry hue. He was dressed in refined garb befitting his station. He had a toned but slender body covered with cotton candy-flushed alabaster skin. "love," he called, walking towards him.

He stood at attention. "Paris! I'm glad."

Paris shrugged and said only, "Let's go." They began their leisurely walk along the ocean's edge.

Paris never said much on their dates, and never showed much emotion. It was just how he was. He thought that by now Lucifer might be used to it, so it surprised him when he turned around on him and insisted, "Darling... do you truly enjoy these dates?"

Caught off guard, he took a moment to simply stare at Lucifer and his gentle windows to his soul filled with crimson worry. In measured tones, Paris replied, "I go with you on them. Don't I?"

That answer seemed to chill Lucifer. He furrowed his eyebrows and murmured, "But..." and could say nothing else, letting that word hang there until Paris started to walk again, and Lucifer followed his lead and walked beside him. After a few moments, Lucifer said quietly, "I enjoy them. Yet, if you don't, I don't want to force you."

"I'm fine," Paris said firmly. Yet in truth, he was far from fine. He was always reliving that day. It haunted him deep down, filled his lungs with baleful touches of humour, and tormented him in the night until he woke to the silent dark. His only solace was that Lucifer did not yet know -- and that being so, he would continue to pretend that he was not broken.

"If you say so," Lucifer relented. Lucifer laid a firm hand on Paris's arm and Paris let it stay there, warm and comforting to the pain in his soul.

After a few moments, they found themselves walking down the beach again. Endlessly, Paris was haunted by his worst memory -- but he resolved to battle it alone, as he had all his life. Lucifer could not know. No one could. It was his burden alone to bear.

All the same, Lucifer seemed to notice. He looked at Paris cautiously for a moment before murmuring, "Paris? Is... something wrong?"

"Lucifer... it's..."

And at that moment everything came together, all of the magic and the hurt that had been building that day, and he locked his orbs with his and whispered, "You can tell me."

It was like a floodgate burst, or some barrier of fear had been struck down. Paris shook his head and everything came out at once. "I... I keep remembering it... That day. Lucifer, I can't help myself! I don't want to think about it... it burns. But even when I sleep, it comes back to me in my dreams. I can't forget, not for a moment... Not a moment's peace."

Lucifer listened silently and solemnly. At last, when all the words had left Paris and he was at a loss for words, Lucifer reached out to him and took a deep breath to whisper back, "Paris... I... I know what it's like, to live with your worst memory... but... I'm sorry, Paris. I wish... I wish I could help." Paris's eyes began to burn, and he abruptly pulled Lucifer into a fierce embrace. Lucifer's windows to his soul widened at first, but then he too felt overwhelmed by emotion and succumbed to the warmth of Paris's touch.

"You," Paris whispered, his breath hot on Lucifer's ear. "As long as you're here, I... I can make it." They held each other as tears trickled down cheeks and dripped onto the shifting sands to be carried away into the sea. With time and soothing embraces, their pain dissipated into a mist swept out by the ocean breeze and into the setting sun.

They basked in each other's quiet companionship for a few moments.

The sunset is so beautiful, isn't it?"

Paris lifted his head at Lucifer's words to behold the dying sun's French vermillion radiance. "Mm."

After a moment of silence, Lucifer took Paris's hands in his and said quietly and thoughtfully, "Paris... I need to tell you how much you mean to me. How special you are to me. Without you, I would be the sea without the moon -- the moon without the sun -- You are irreplaceable to me."

"Lucifer," he intoned in response. "I'm... I'm not that special."

"You are," Lucifer insisted, sounding almost hurt. "I'm not lying."

"I don't mean to say you're lying. Just that... never mind. Lucifer... you're... precious to me as well."

"Darling... Let's be together forever, then." Lucifer squeezed Paris's hand and sidled closer.

Paris sighed with contentment and brought Lucifer closer. He gazed at the beautiful lemon-coloured rays of the falling sun, thinking about everything that had transpired on this day and all that would pass between them.

"You'll hurt your eyes doing that," Lucifer whispered.

Paris looked at him instead. "I love you, Lucifer."

"I love you too, Paris."

Their lips met, and opaline strands met sable ones, aflame in the dying light. The sand was their witness, the rumbling ocean their approving audience, and Lucifer, his eternally faithful lover. Paris thought to himself that nothing had ever been so perfect for him like this.

why did this take so long to do- also i forgot if lucifer’s eyes were red or black so pls forgive :’)

might start writing reader insert stuff soon. yay!

© ambrosiiac on tumblr. please do not plagiarize, modify or steal any of my works.

#obey me x male mc #obey me male mc #obey me x mc #obey me! #obey me x male oc #obey me x oc #obey me angst #obey me fluff

[danco110]

The bonder fell to her knees and abruptly began to cough, startling and concerning those around her.

“Whoa, there,” called a bonder riding atop a snake with an antelope head. “You all right there, Livia?”

The bonder waved a hand at her friend. “N-Never better…ack.”

“Oh, what’s wrong?” A young woman atop a frilled, winged creature produced a medical kit from her bonded’s saddlebag. “I brought back some medicine from Drannith the last time I visited my father there. So if you’re sick, I can-”

“Not sick, Katya!” Livia croaked. “It’s just…a foul taste in my mouth, is all.”

The medic raised an eyebrow. “From what, then, if not illness?”

“Well, I…” Livia trailed off, glaring up at the other bonders before speaking again. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“No,” snorted the bonder atop the serpent. Meanwhile, Katya leveled a glare at the man, and crossed her heart.

“I swear to the crystals that I won’t laugh.”

Livia made a rude hand gesture at one of her friends, and nodded in thanks at the other. Then, she finally spoke in a low whisper: “Look, I used the eludha to link up and sense what my animal companion tastes. However, I neglected to train her to not eat bugs before I did so. I believe you two are smart enough to logic out where this is going.”

“Ohhhh!” The snake bonder shook his head down at Livia. “That’s nothing to laugh at. Happens all the time with me and my buddy. It’s whatever.”

Katya nodded along with her other friend. “I think he’s right, Livia. It’s nothing embarrassing. Maybe a little gross, at worst.”

Livia sighed in relief. “Thanks for being cool about it, guys. I knew I hung out with you for a reason.”

The snake bonder chuckled under his breath. “Now that you mention it, though, what kind of bug did your pal eat to make you react like that?”

Livia gagged theatrically. “Coilbug. Tastes like wet tree bark. ‘Delicious.’ Or at least, my companion seems to think so, since she keeps eating them.”

[I feel like the sight thing would be really sick, but the taste thing would make you really sick.]

#mtg #magic the gathering #ikoria #story bites

[fairymint]

No matter how many times he’s tried..... Falling to his knees in the astral plane, after watching his pokémon fail again and again. Falling to all manner of pokémon, and especially the gods. Waking up in Felix’s bed, mind strained while the body rested.

About how long had it been...? 10 days. One wrong move and he’d been yelled at, berated by Felix. It was a side he’d never seen before, save for what was going on in Jubilife...directed at him for the first time. You can’t. make it. better. You’ll never be happy, nothing is going to be good enough for you. If you want to fight Arceus so bad, Do it! You haven’t worked hard enough. You are going to train, until your pokémon are ready. Fun, but grueling. Suppose he’s finally tired of feeling like a god’s plaything. (Was this what it felt like, from the other end? To be suddenly put under, by someone you knew as nice, as....kind?) Suppose, he’s tired of what he can’t control. That’s Enough. The point was made. Stirring, he needed to wake up first. Breakfast, a gentle rousing....

“You know, my little lovebug. Jubilife isn’t my home. Didn’t you want to see it for yourself? Daresay....this place isn’t really your home, either....Is it, now...?” It never was. Ooh, how it burned in him, how long, and how much they had to stay, especially given the inhabitants. At best, a bad fit. At worst? Ha! A Disaster. Surely he didn’t need to speak such aloud. Plus, there was something...more ‘troubling’ on his mind. “I think it’s about time you and I pack up. Er, so to speak. You’ve seen how safe it was...Out There.” A nod, and mild glance into the eyes. His, that knew the path through the fog like no other. Looking to reassure, and for approval.

“....No, you’re right....” Shaking his head, Why did he feel so safe with him? Something about the Ancient Retreat, drew him in and made him want to stay. Something....about Volo...made him want to stay with him, too. Maybe it was better that they took their play elsewhere- Would the village even understand, if they knew the whole truth? They could run off, get married, pretend the whole thing with Giratina never happened. At least, as far as others were concerned. They barely knew how to love a monster like them, best not to complicate things. Felix didn’t hate them. But, he didn’t trust them, either. That much they both had in common. “I do want to see it.” Right, he’d said that so long ago. Volo’s home...

 “I have a feeling that you’ll be much more comfortable there~” Using his fingers to pop a piece of berry into Felix’s mouth, feeding him precious sugar for the day. No more settling in for the night here, he was sick of this place to start with. Furthermore, Felix needed rest, true rest, and this setting was just not the place for it. He was taking him. All for himself, as well. At least, for now. “We can always visit, as I’m sure the guild will continue to have work for me. As well as your Galaxy Team...?”

 “No, work is slowing down. I’ve been helping out the townspeople, here and there. I just do what I want these days.” Finishing his food and brushing off his mustache to groom off the little bits, like a satisfied little animal. Standing, and picking his satchel up to fasten it in place. Guess it’s time to go, huh?

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

 When they had arrived back at the Retreat, the two were greeted, with very mild surprise, by Cogita. A quick stop to chat can’t hurt....she does in fact live fairly nearby, like a dear, sweet neighbor.

“Oh no no, I’m afraid that Felix isn’t a child, after all. Sorry to disappoint, but he’s coming here with me.” Perhaps another sentence of exchange, as his hand snaked below, intertwining with a smaller one. “No, to live with me. I mean together. We are in love.” Might as well make that one crystal clear, best not to make this awkward as well! Enough of that, though.

Once they’d gotten....a little out of sight, the terrain got a little, tricky in traversal. No problem for Volo, but he took it as a perfect excuse to scoop Felix in his arms. “Going up!~” It’s not unmanageable, but perhaps he’s setting the mood a little. The building really was a bit like Cogita’s home, huh? Some essentials strewn about, mostly furniture to keep the place a comfortable fixture. But, nothing temporary laid itself down, the shelves bare, no food laid out. That problem could always be fixed as need be! Heaven knows the both of them were probably carrying plenty to spare. “Well? We’re Home~”

 Felix had spared a look around as he set his satchel down, before predictably, settling back into bed. It was still early, he was sore...... and this bed was rather comfy. Not just because it smelled like Volo, that was a bonus. It was elevated off the ground, and outfitted with fluffy bedding and pillows. He’s too tired, much to the amusement of the man who crawled over on his belly, fascinated and giddy with a giggle. “It’s nice. This bed is comfy~” An understatement, truly, as the next step was sleep.

#drabble. #repost. #volo. #felix fae. #volo x felix. #selfshipping. #long post. #good end. #pla spoilers.

[gd4abditive]

Experimental Final - Masquerade Masks

For the experimental I created a set of 2 masks: One that represents the outer persona we put on for others, and the other representing the inner self we hide. The outer mask sits on top of the other while also hiding it. The 2 masks are opposites in appearance, idea and process.

The concept of the masks were inspired by Jungian archetypes, mainly the Persona and also partially Shadow. Persona is about how we put on a social 'mask' to present ourselves a certain way. Our conscious ego is a mask we put on to fit in to social norms, hiding the parts of ourselves which may be deemed 'unacceptable' by society. The Shadow represents our unconscious self, the parts of ourselves that we repress based on social norms or even our own morals. It is a wild and unknown 'darker' side to our psyche which sometimes takes on the appearance of monsters, dragons or snakes in our dreams. Carl Jung believed there needs to be harmony between the conscious and unconscious.

The inner mask was also inspired by Kintsugi, which is the Japanese art of repairing pottery with lacquer mixed or dusted with gold or silver, making the cracks stand out. The principle of Kintsugi embraces imperfection or flaws rather than hiding it. The metallic repaired cracks highlights its history and how it was accepted and overcome. This can also relate to trauma with how we must learn to accept and understand in the healing process.

Both the masks are also inspired by masquerade masks, where the purpose of them is the disguise the wearer, hiding their identity. The idea is to have 2 masks, with one sitting on top of the other, hiding the inner mask's appearance. The outer mask

The outer mask's appearance is mostly white and monochrome with a bird-like appearance. The bird imagery was inspired by how birds have gorgeous plumages as part of their courtship displays to attract mates. The materials used are foam, acrylic paint and cheap fake crystals. The mask looks pretty at a glance, but when taking a closer look, one may notice the cheap materials. It represents how we present a façade to others to be accepted and liked, disguising or true self.

The process of this mask was very easy with little to no trouble, and did not take long to make. Texture in the fake feathers and crystals are added to distract from any flaws on the mask. Nothing is added to the backside since the purpose is to present a persona on the outside.

The inner mask is the opposite. It is black with a dragon-like appearance. The imagery takes inspiration from both Western and Eastern dragons. Western dragons are considered monstrous and symbolize destruction while Eastern ones represent wisdom, strength and great fortune. The mask is made up of pieces of resin and Sculpey clay. A piece of the broken clay is included to visualize the genuine self. This is the real deal, their true self. The resin is not fully opaque as evidenced when holding it to a light, revealing the true self. The resin is also mixed with black, blue, purple mica and silver flakes, their 'true colours' compared to the desaturated outer mask. The cracks and wrinkles are highlighted by silver paint and mica powder to embrace the imperfections. There is also some weight to this mask, making it feel more genuine compared to the foam one. The message of this mask is to accept and embrace your 'flaws' rather than try to hide them.

The process of this mask was the opposite of the outer one. This one took a lot longer to do due to being a learning process and experimenting with resin, molds and other materials. This was my first time working with resin so I experimented with mixing different things to see what would work before making the final pieces. It feels like every step something would go wrong. Through the pain and trouble I myself needed to learn to accept the imperfections during the process.

#abditive experimental #abditive final

[iviarellereads]

The Neverending Story, Chapter 26 - The Water of Life

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Neverending Story, read this one!)

In which our story comes to an end.

Zigzagging(1) unsteadily, scarcely able to control his feet, the boy who had no name took a few steps toward Atreyu. Then he stopped. Atreyu did nothing, but watched him closely. The wound in his chest was no longer bleeding.

For a time they just watch each other, until the boy takes Auryn off his neck, laying it before Atreyu.(2) The gem becomes blindingly bright, and when the boy can open his eyes again, he and Atreyu and Falkor have been transported. They're in a huge golden building with two great snakes in the middle, a living Auryn, guarding the fountain of the Water of Life.

Falkor can hear the song the Water sings, and translates for Atreyu and the silent boy. Essentially, the Water wants to be drunk, and at first isn't sure about the silent boy, but Atreyu offers to vouch for him, because he remembers everything the boy who was Bastian ever told him, and they were both right and they were both wrong but they were always friends,(3) and the boy gave up Auryn of his own free will.

The Water accepts this proposal, and Falkor says this place is Auryn, and the three are welcome. Auryn is the door Bastian was looking for, he carried it throughout his journey,(4) but nothing of Fantastica can pass through it: he'll have to give up all Moon Child gave him to continue. Atreyu asks, is this not Moon Child's symbol? The Water, through Falkor, replies that this is the one place she can never go, and she's the one person who can never be here, because she can't give up herself and live.

The Water asks if Bastian is ready, and the black snake moves to form an arching gate for them to pass under. Atreyu takes the silent boy's hand, and walks him forward to the fountain. As they walk, all Bastian's Fantastican wish-gifts fall away, and he becomes "the small, fat, timid boy" once more, naked for his human clothes were left behind.

In this last moment, when he no longer possessed any of the Fantastican gifts but had not yet recovered his memory of his own world and himself, he was in a state of utter uncertainty, not knowing which world he belonged to or whether he really existed. But then he jumped into the crystal-clear water. [...] He drank till his thirst was quenched. And joy filled him from head to foot, the joy of living and the joy of being himself. [...] If he had been free to choose, he would have chosen to be no one else. Because now he knew that there were thousands and thousands of forms of joy in the world, but that all were essentially one and the same, namely, the joy of being able to love.

For the rest of his life, his joy never left Bastian entirely, not even in his most difficult moments.

Bastian looks to Atreyu and Falkor and calls for them to join him, but they cannot. Atreyu explains that he remembers being here, once before, when he and Falkor were sleeping.

Bastian comes out of the Water and remarks that he knows who he is again. Atreyu says he's once more the boy Atreyu saw in the Magic Mirror Gate.

Bastian says he'd like to take some of the Water for his father. Atreyu is skeptical, since the Water said nothing of Fantastica can cross the border, but Falkor says Bastian can do it, but the Water says it's time to move on now, for all three of them.

Bastian must go through the white snake's gate, but the snake isn't moving. It demands, through Falkor, that someone finish the stories Bastian started. If not Bastian, then someone in his stead. Atreyu volunteers, and Bastian swears he'll never forget Atreyu or, by extension, Fantastica. Bastian asks how they'll do it, though, and Falkor promises, with luck.

Atreyu and Falkor leave, and Bastian turns to see the white snake has risen to form another gate. Bastian takes some of the Water in his palms, and runs through the gate, crying for his father, crying his own name.

The italics return, and Bastian finds himself in the schoolhouse attic.

How long could it have been since he started on his long journey through the Neverending Story? Weeks? Months? Years? He had once read about a man who had spent just an hour in a magic cave. When he returned home, a hundred years had passed, and of all the people he had known as a child he remembered only one, and he was an old old man.

Bastian is sure of this much: there's some cloudy daylight, but it could be any time of day, and it's as cold as it was when he left.

He untangles himself from the blankets, and looks fruitlessly for the book. Resigning himself to the consequences, he goes downstairs. The clock strikes nine as he's looking, so he knows it's morning, at least… but all the classrooms are empty. The front door is locked, and no one answers at the janitor's office.

The bottom-floor windows are all barred, but he remembers there was some work being done on the facade, and there was scaffolding by a second-floor window. He goes and sneaks out that window. The height makes him dizzy, at first, but he remembers his time as the lord of Perilin, the Night Forest, and masters his fear. His body is weaker, but his heart is not.

Bastian makes it to the ground, and runs home so hard that he gets a stitch in his side, but it never stops him. Near the last, he wonders if his father will still be there, but he is, and he sees Bastian coming, opens the door, comes out to meet him. Bastian throws himself into his father's arms, and his father carries him inside, asking what happened to him.

Inside, Bastian's father spreads butter and honey on bread rolls, and Bastian notices that other than looking tired and disheveled, he looks the same as when Bastian left so long ago, and he says so. His father, amazed,(5) says Bastian only left yesterday morning for school. When he didn't come home, his father phoned the school, but the teachers hadn't seen him, so his father spent all night looking for him, even called in a missing persons with the police.

Bastian, not considering any option but the truth, tells his father the whole story, in detail, over many hours. His father listens, as he never had before, except for one break to call the police and say Bastian was found, and to make lunch.

Night was falling by the time Bastian came to the Water of Life and told his father how he had wanted to bring him some but had spilled it. It was almost dark in the kitchen. His father sat motionless. Bastian stood up and switched on the light. And then he saw something he had never seen before. He saw tears in his father's eyes. And he knew that he had brought him the Water of Life after all.(6)

Bastian's father pulls Bastian into his lap, and they sit there, together, for a while. Then he says everything will be different from now on between them. Bastian can only nod, his heart too full to let him speak.

The next day, his father suggests they both take the day off, he'll write an excuse for Bastian's school, and they do something sensational to celebrate a once in a lifetime, if you're that lucky, kind of day. Bastian realizes he's going to need some time to get used to his normal life again, and agrees. His father suggests all sorts of things they could do, but Bastian says he has something he has to attend to first.

He has to talk to Mr. Coreander about the book.

His father offers to do that, but Bastian takes full responsibility for his actions. His father is surprised, and has a look of respect at Bastian, who he says is not the only one who needs time to adjust to the new order of things. Bastian promises he'll be right back, this shouldn't take too long.

When he comes to the shop, there's a customer inside, so he waits outside until they leave, so he can speak privately with Mr. Coreander, who doesn't yell that Bastian is a thief or anything, just asks what he wants this time. Bastian admits to stealing the book, and that he couldn't find it when he was done. Mr. Coreander says none of his books are missing. Bastian describes the book, and when Mr. Coreander is still skeptical, Bastian admits it was a magic book.

Bastian has to take a good two hours to explain to Mr. Coreander, trying to keep it brief, but the old man keeps asking for details. During that time, somehow, they're not disturbed by a single customer.

When Bastian had finished, Mr Coreander puffed for a long while as though deep in thought. At length he cleared his throat, straightened his little spectacles, looked Bastian over, and said: 'One thing is sure. You didn't steal this book from me, because it belongs neither to me nor to you nor to anyone else.(7) If I'm not mistaken, the book itself comes from Fantastica. Maybe at this very moment - who knows? - someone else is reading it.'

Bastian is surprised that Mr. Coreander believes him, but Coreander says any sensible person would. Coreander's answers make Bastian realize he's read the book, as well. Coreander admits it, he knew the Childlike Empress, but not by the Moon Child name that Bastian gave her, and every real story is a Neverending Story. There are many magic books and portals to Fantastica, and many people read them without realizing they hold magic in their hands.

'And besides, it's not just books. There are other ways of getting to Fantastica and back. You'll find out.' 'Do you think so?' Bastian asked hopefully. 'But then I'd have to meet Moon Child again, and no one can meet her more than once.' Mr Coreander leaned forward and lowered his voice. 'Let an old Fantastica hand tell you something, my boy. This is a secret that no one in Fantastica can know. When you think it over, you'll see why. You can't visit Moon Child a second time, that's true. But if you can give her a new name, you'll see her again. And however often you manage to do that, it will be the first and only time.'(8)

Bastian thanks Coreander, and Coreander asks Bastian to stop in and talk sometimes, for you don't meet many people with whom you can share such an experience. Bastian agrees eagerly, but says he has to get back to his father just now. As he turns to the door, Bastian sees his father outside, waiting, beaming with joy.

Mr Coreander closed the door gently and looked after father and son. 'Bastian Balthazar Bux,' he grumbled. 'If I'm not mistaken, you will show many others the way to Fantastica, and they will bring us the Water of Life.'

Mr Coreander was not mistaken. But that's another story and shall be told another time.

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(1) This one's really hard to describe. The snakes of Auryn curl upward into an arch over the fountain, behind the Z, while below a figure (Atreyu? Bastian? I think more likely the latter from the clothing, but since Bastian ends up nude, perhaps not) stands next to Falkor, looking at the fountain. (2) Why do you think the boy who doesn't remember being Bastian gave up the gem? Did some ghost of a memory linger? Or was it all he had to offer, to ask for help? (3) Sometimes true friendship is telling your friend they're being a jerk, and standing up to them when you know they're wrong. (4) Chekhov's magic pendant with its many machine gods to disburse. (5) Another case, I think, of something being slightly lost to either translation or time. Amazement is not how I'd expect a parent to react. There's not a wrong way to react, it's not wrong to be amazed at that line, but these sorts of stories are as much about playing to expectation as they are about defying it, it's all about choosing the right way to do each. (6) What do you think the Water of Life is, or symbolizes, or means? I bet there's a thesis out there about this as well. (7) After all, how can an artifact that can disappear and reappear at will ever manage to be owned? (8) What's in a name? A Childlike Empress by any other name would smell as sweet, to let a poorly quoted Shakespeare line run away from me. The name is everything, the creativity, the willingness to give yourself into the journey.

And that's it for The Neverending Story. I'm glad I came back to it, even if I have a very, VERY different perspective on it than I did so long ago. The deep read really polished a lot of thoughts that otherwise would have fled before I had time to even give them a proper thinking-on. Thank you all for coming on this journey with me, and hopefully I'll see you Monday for The Murderbot Diaries!

#the neverending story #bastian balthazar bux #atreyu #falkor #auryn #carl conrad coreander