#ivory blood and ebony
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Ivory Blood and Ebony playlist part 1
Fortress by Queens of the Stone Age
Definitely THE theme song for the series rewrite. I can just imagine them both singing this to each other as the intro plays. The best part is that it applies to both of them equally.
I don't want to fail you so
I tell you the awful truth
Everyone faces darkness on their own
As I have done, so will you
Love it. Perfect.
Black Velvet by Melissa Etheridge
Definitely my theme song for this pairing. Slow, sweet and seductive. One of the original picks for this playlist, going back to 2003 or something stupid.
Appels and Oranjes by The Smashing Pumpkins
Another I could run as an intro song for this fic if it was a TV series. A series of questions the characters will definitely be asking themselves again and again as the series progresses.
If I had a Heart by Fever Ray (yes, the Viking intro song)
One for the beginning of Enigma here, that hunger, the need to dig deeper, find out more. The slow build up of feelings and love. The fear of pressing further into the unknown.
Star by Star by the Kovenant
Those who read the original of the series will recognise this one :P I used to have snippets from songs at the beginning of each chapter, and this was the song I used for the original Enigma. While it doesn't fit so well now, these words still work very well:
So much alike are we
When I see you I see me
Which Witch by Florence and the Machine
THE Dalamar song for me. Definitely coming at the end chapter of Enigma, where we see his POV for the first time. The anger, the determination to fight even when it seems hopeless, the refusal to be beaten down despite everything he's faced. The scars of exile. This is Dalamar.
Now's the Only Time I Know by Fever Ray
Probably the theme song for Ice and Steel, but particularly poignant for Dalamar. The sense of holding on to this one moment, and trying not to think of the future or past. The quiet domesticity and peace after so much pain.
Settling down
Door and room
Keep it tidy
Keep it like home
Now's the only time I know.
Touch me, Feel Me by Darude
One of the sex songs. Something slow and tender, but still new to both of them. Early in Ice and Steel, when they're still learning each other.
Northern Soul- The Verve
One of the old ones from the original version of this fic. No longer fitting quite so well, but it still works from the middle of Ice and Steel, when they're starting to yearn for something more than just this quiet life.
Love by Lana Del Ray
Very much an early relationship song, probably more for Raistlin. He's still stunned by the fact that he's in love and it really is this good. Very much fits the chapter when Raistlin brings Dalamar home for the first time, the balance between the presence and the past.
Electrical Storm by U2
Another one from the originals, but still fits well for the rewrite. One for when they are dreaming of the future in ice and Steel, looking to the horizon and imagining what's out there.
White Flag by Dido
I will certainly go down with this ship :P. Another original, fitting well for those harder moments in Ice and Steel, particularly after Haven and the showdown with Caramon . Quiet moments of being together despite the problems.
Like It's Your Last by Devil Sold His Soul
Theme song for the first part of Raistlin's Test, and also for the first chapter of Salvage. This is grief encapsulated into a song. This everything they've lost or thought they've lost, and the determination to keep going despite it.
He's Evil by The Kinks
Fistandantilus intro song. That is all.
I always imagine Raistlin and Dalamar singing it to warn Palin while Fistandantilus strolls across the stage in the background going 'yep, that's me bitches'. But it plays whenever he turns up, the evil fuck.
But he wants your body and not your mind
He is just the devil in disguise
He'll drag you down and he will make you cry
And once you're in there will be no getting out
So look out, look out, look out
Look out, look out, look out
He's evil, he's evil, he's evil, he's evil, he's evil
He's evil, he's evil, he's evil, he's evil, he's evil
Fistandantilus: That's me bitches.
Figurehead by The Kovenant
Another Fistandantilus theme song. This time from his POV. This is something I listen to to get inside his head. That utter focus on his one goal, even to the point of it being almost pointless. Because under all the plots and snark and cruelty- he really is dead, and this is the only thing he's got left.
In Vain by Fifth Amendment
An original, but a perfect fit for the end of Ice and Steel. After everything, what was it all for? So much pain and suffering, and no sign of it getting better, but needing to carry on anyway. Acts as a bridge to the first chapter of Salvage as well.
Things we Lost to the Fire by Bastille
100% Salvage theme song. Pretty much says it all, really. Everything they've lost, and what they can make of what's left. And at the same time comforting, because there are still things worth living for even after you've lost everything.
Cities in Dust by Siouxsie and the Banshees
The theme song from the original Engraven. Still fits very well for the scenes of exploring the shrine, and dreaming about what was lost. Almost word for word perfect.
This Wheel's on Fire by Siouxsie and the Banshees
Another original, very fitting for the end of Salvage, closing off the cave and as they're making plans for the future. More hopeful than how it started.
Man That You Fear by Marilyn Manson
An original from when I was writing Raistlin's Daughter. I had it on repeat while I was hammering it out in 2005. Still very fitting for Winter's Daughter, very much from Dalamar's POV.
Land's End by Siouxsie and the Banshees
Another original, but very fitting for the beginning of War Wounds. Trying to rebuild in after one disaster and another, holding together what you have, having lost so much.
Bird with a Broken Wing by Owl City
Very much Raistlin's theme song for War Wounds. Beaten and bloody, but starting to find that indomitable strength inside him. Finding hope again after everything, and starting to believe he can fight the many many enemies around him.
Howl by Florence and the Machine
This is Dalamar's theme tune for War Wounds and Crepuscule. The point where he just stops caring about anything but everything that's trying to kill him and his boyfriend and just goes fucking feral. Also doubles as a sex song :P
Hurricane Drunk by Florence and the Machine
Pretty much the theme song for Crepuscule. The constantly fighting, everything falling apart around them, every time hoping this is as bad as it can get, and then it gets worse.
We Only Come Out at Night by The Smashing Pumpkins
Very much one for the opening of Crepuscule. The dread of coming back to somewhere you know, and the need to help each other against the pain. Some comfort in the middle of this mess.
Thy Beauty in Candlelight by Ancient Ceremony
This is a special case, both original and rewrite. It's just part of the song, the instrumental part from 03.00 to the end. This is the soundtrack to the black dragon attack in Xak Tsaroth. There's the tremors as the tension builds, the sense of something rising up at 04.15, and it breaking free form the well at 04.25.
#dragonlance#ivory blood and ebony#raistlin/dalamar#playlist#as a result of this fic being almost 20 years old#some of these artists are less than great
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I will never not be thinking about Ms. Ivorycello
#ivorycello#ivoryfrill#blood#blood tw#scars#scars tw#sheeeeeee#just. ough. in the latest video how when she was talking to ebony she was like. i don't want to hurt them. i don't#and ebony was like don't then. prove that you can be better#(what lay unspoken is that ivory on some level needs to)#MMMMMMM
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ALL I THINK ABOUT IS KARMA — DAZAI OSAMU
=͟͟͞♡ CW(s): gn! reader, spoilers for bungo stray dogs, reader is an ability user that is capable of inducing karma. short fic.
=͟͟͞♡ SYNOPSIS: in which crime and punishment is not a match for karma.
=͟͟͞♡ NOW PLAYING: look what you made me do by taylor swift and gods by new jeans
BYR ! this was written as a second part of this fic right here with the season 5 finale plot but it can be read alone.
in the helicopter, the vampirism virus coursing through your veins reached its peak. dazai's intricate plan had unfolded, but little did he know about the latent power within you.
as fyodor smirks, reveling in his perceived victory, a surge of karma emanated from your core.
crimson energy clashed with the vampiric curse, creating a chaotic dance of dark and light within you. fyodor's control wavered as your newfound ability fought against the insidious virus, and you seized the opportunity to break free.
with newfound strength, you wrestled control from fyodor's grasp, and his eyes widened in disbelief as the tides turned upon him. in a swift motion, you drew a silver dagger hidden beneath your coat, its blade reflecting the eerie glow of the vampire-infested surroundings.
as the helicopter's propeller rattled in the night sky, you lunged at fyodor, your swift yet harsh movements fueled by a mix of vengeance and the unyielding force of karma. the blade found its mark, sinking into fyodor's side, impaling him into his seat.
his sly grin turned to a grimace of pain.
a clash between the demon and the enduring will of a human refusing to succumb. fyodor's deep purple eyes saw how your ability to manipulate karma tipped the scales in your favor. the crimson energy emanating from you intensified, enveloping both of us in a swirling maelstrom.
blood seeped from his lips as he coughed in pain after being stabbed by his own and supposedly mind-controlled driver, and his blood turned cold as he looks up to see the red in your eyes flicker back into a [color] with your fangs shrinking back to its normal size.
fyodor wasn't one for surprises since he usually has everything deduced and planned accordingly, but this once, you have made that possible for him.
how could he let you slip out of his control just like the gravity manipulator too? fyodor was certain you had been infected with the virus and was not faking, especially with the way your eyes flickered back then.
"right on time, [name]!" a smile tugs on dazai's lips as he claps his hands, though the gravity manipulator was quite tense, even if everything was just exact and accordingly to the plan.
each piece across the hoard moved with calculated precision, whispering secrets of a plot that only you and dazai could decipher, leaving fyodor oblivious to the unfolding intrigue.
"how?" fyodor coughs, holding a bitter smile that was heavy with betrayal and suspicion.
the ivory and ebony chess pieces mirrored the clash between light and darkness in the intricate game. dazai, with his characteristic smirk, slid his bishop forward, symbolizing a clandestine maneuver on your part with responding with a cunning knight's leap.
"easy, i purposely got myself bitten and infected to get close to you," you met his gaze with a determined glint across your eyes, "you think chuuya was the only one?"
pieces danced across the board, and the climax of our plan unfolded in a daring sacrifice—a queen's gambit that left fyodor's defenses vulnerable.
dazai, standing nearby, couldn't resist a smirk, "to put it simply," he interjected, stepping forward with a sly confidence, "[name]'s ability is capable of inducing karma. even if they got infected, the ability within them will continue to act on."
fyodor's gaze shifted to dazai, suspicion etched across his face, "what do you mean?" he demands.
dazai's smile widened as he relished the unfolding revelation, "you might have gotten control of [name], but you can't control karma," he explains with a hint of amusement.
"it's an ability that is still dependent on the course of action of [name]'s target."
as the truth sank in, fyodor's composure faltered. the realization that his meticulous plans had a flaw, a flaw rooted in the unpredictable nature of karma, left him momentarily speechless.
"once you play god, they're gonna crumble one by one," you remark, your voice echoing with a conviction that resonated through the chaos surrounding all of you, and the words hung in the air like an irreversible verdict, sealing fyodor's fate.
"but consider this, fyodor," you continue, the whirring of the helicopter blades adding a rhythmic cadence to my words as you begin to take the helicopter to the heavens.
"in your pursuit of power, you played the role of a god, all according to your whims," you say, your voice carrying a solemn weight with karma speaking for itself through you, "but just as hubris led to the fall in tales of old, karma now unravels the threads of your false godhood."
the helicopter's descent mirrored the descent into the inevitable consequences of fyodor's actions, "attempting to control others as if they were mere pawns in your game? tch, some god you are."
you shake your head however with a chuckle, carrying the smile of the true devil, "even if crime and punishment are close friends as you say, karma, divine retribution, or the scales of justice, all point to the same truth in the end: actions have consequences, and those who attempt to manipulate the threads of destiny will find themselves entangled in a web of their own making. this is your kingdom come."
with a final, knowing gaze, you leap from the plummeting helicopter, embracing the uncertainty below. the crash, a symphony of destruction, unfolded.
"chuuya!" dazai yells as soon as he sees your figure across the smoke in the skies.
"working me like a damn dog, bastard. i got them!" chuuya hisses at the other first before he emerges from the ground, catching you with a grace that defied the chaos and gravity.
you were then brought to dazai's embrace, and you stood with him, amidst the flames of the crashed helicopter illuminating the night, a symbolic end to fyodor's ill-fated attempts to play god—an end brought about by the intertwining forces of the karma within you.
dazai, with sincerity in his eyes, pulls you into a tender embrace, his lips meeting your forehead in a gentle kiss, and as he rests his forehead against mine, he whispers, "you did it, love."
with a soft exhale, you whisper back, relieved and grateful, "we did it. all of us. it's finally over."
in that intimate moment, the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders. the chaos, the vampirism virus, fyodor's manipulation—all of it seemed to fade into the background. dazai's acknowledgment held a profound significance, a recognition of the strength within you, warming your cheeks as a smile tugs on your lips.
"tch, get a goddamn room you idiots!" chuuya interjects, making his presence known to you and dazai again after you two seemingly forget.
karma is a cat allows its user to induce karma, which can be a blessing or a curse that may or may not include the bending of reality, but it is highly dependent on the target's course of action and the sincerity of the heart around the user.
#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#dazai x reader#dazai osamu x reader#bungo stray dogs x you#bsd imagines#bsd x y/n#bsd x you#bsd dazai#bsd oneshot#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#dazai osamu x y/n#dazai osamu x you#dazai scenarios#dazai imagines
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IDIOSYNCRASIES CHAPTER ONE
Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo's Sister! Reader
Sypnosis: Where suguru geto founds himself deeply enamored with satoru's non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession.
Warnings: Yandere stuff, Gore, Violence, Foul language, Abuse
Note: this isn't a oneshot, I'm gonna post every part of this soon, this is a fanfic and i originally posted this on quotev. I'm still learning on how to use tumblr so the aesthetic might be a lil shitty😭😭 also, feel free to make a request! May it be an hc or a oneshot! Just no incest please.
Chapter two
Chapter Three
Chapter four and five
Chapter six and seven
•───夏油傑───•
THE GENTLE RAYS of the sun filtered through the wide-open windows of the room of the strongest sorcerer; Gojo Satoru.
[Name], Gojo’s sister, felt the gentle kiss of the sun beams against her soft and [S/c] complexion as she gazed on the window. The sunlight illuminated the sky, casting its vibrant glow all around, while the cheerful melodies of chirping birds echoed in the distance.
Mornings in Japan held a serene and tranquil atmosphere, a fact that [Name] would have readily acknowledged and embraced without any hesitation, if it weren’t for her asshole of a family.
[Name] felt her jaw tighten and her [E/c] eyes narrowed at the mere memory of her stupid family before she blinked suddenly when she saw a butterfly land on satoru’s windowpane.
As she observed the butterfly alight on Satoru’s window, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. This particular butterfly appeared unusually large compared to the typical ones she had seen before that would mostly be on their garden. its wings displayed a gradient of ebony and ivory hues.
The upper part of its wings exhibited a deep, velvety black, while the lower section faded into a lighter, softer shade. her lips slightly parted as a hint of yellow pigment started to spread across the previously pristine white patches on the butterfly's wings and the butterfly abruptly fluttered away, although she could have sworn that she perceived a peculiar trickle of yellow, as if the fragile creature had bled before her very eyes.
From what she had read, insects blood were mostly clear colored, yellowish, or greenish. So perhaps, the butterfly had bled and she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps that was a sign.
‘That’s weird’, she thought.
“What was that?” [Name] inquired with astonishment, turning to face Satoru, seeking an explanation for the enigmatic occurrence.
“Hemolymph,” Satoru responded nonchalantly, causing her to tilt her head inquisitively.
“What the hell is a hemelonymp?” she inquired, her words a bit slurred , unable to pronounce the word properly, and her curiosity piqued by this unfamiliar term.
“It’s Hemolymph.”
Satoru corrected.
“Hemonymph?”
“No. Hemolymph.”
“Hemolymph is a fluid that serves as an equivalent to blood,” Satoru elucidated, succinctly summarizing the essence of hemolymph, but leaving her with a desire to comprehend its intricacies.
“That butterfly actually reminds me of you, to be honest.”
Satoru attentively tended to the small droplets of blood that had emerged from the slit on her lip, which was now swollen and adorned with painful bruises. He dabbed a soft tissue against the injured area, gently blotting away the traces of crimson liquid, leaving no remnant behind.
[Name] winced slightly in pain, the sound escaping her lips while Satoru diligently attended to her injuries, ensuring that her lip was free from any remaining blood.
“Is it because the butterfly was bleeding, just like me?” She asked once satoru is finished and her eyes followed Satoru as he disposed of the tissue stained with her blood.
Satoru nodded, acknowledging her observation. “Partially, yes, but like, you’re pretty just like that insect.” he replied,
Her gaze averted as she responded solemnly while shaking her head.
“I ain’t like that butterfly though, i mean, i don’t have freedom.”
Expressing her deep frustration, she acknowledged the various constraints that were hindering her progress. Letting out a sigh filled with exasperation, she placed her hand gently on her forehead, as if trying to alleviate the weight of her burdens. In the midst of her contemplation, she found herself questioning whether her circumstances would be different if she possessed the six eyes and limitless, just like her brother.
“Right,” satoru mumbles bitterly.
“Hey, ‘toru.. maybe if i’m not a non-sorcerer and i possess the six eyes and limitless like you, would they grant me freedom?.. and maybe... even love me?” [Name] inquired, observing how Satoru seemed to receive favoritism from their family.
Satoru glanced back at [Name], his expression revealing a hint of annoyance.
“Nah, they don’t love me,” he replied casually, as if it were a matter of fact.
“Why on earth would you desire their love when they’re all assholes anyways?” Satoru questioned, his head slightly tilted as he gently held [Name]’s cheek, squeezing her cheek as if it were his own little stress-relief toy, causing her to shoot an annoyed look in his direction.
He persisted in compressing her cheeks with his fingers until she slapped his hand, causing him to burst into laughter. As she gingerly massaged her cheeks, a disapproving expression formed on her face.
“Stop laughin’. ‘ts not funny.” [Name] huffed, annoyed, though, she concurred with Satoru’s observation that they were unquestionably horrible people, as they consistently subjected both her and Satoru to their abusive behavior.
“Huh, whatever.” satoru rolled his eyes, pouting a bit.
“Okay, but back to the topic, you don’t need those suck up bitches; you only need me,” Satoru responded, accompanied with a smile and [Name] couldn’t help but emit a dismissive snort.
“Suppose that you’re right, they’re all assholes.” [Name] conceded, her voice laced with annoyance.
“A shame, because If you asked me to, I would’ve killed them all for you.” The intensity of his loyalty was evident in his voice. he harbored a deep dislike towards them; His own family, excluding [Name] ofcourse.
To him, they were simply a group of despicable assholes who failed to treat him as a child should be treated. Instead of showering him with affection and care, they regarded him as a precious gem—not in the loving way, but rather, they treated him like a possession to be controlled and manipulated.
Their motives behind their actions were solely driven because he possessed the coveted six eyes technique and the limitless technique, which enabled them to flaunt him as a trophy rather than genuinely loving him.
However, Satoru’s adored sister; [Name], stood out from the rest. Their relationship was exceptional, as she treated him with genuine affection and treated him as an ordinary human being—and not see him as if he was a deity.
The love she demonstrated towards him was reciprocated wholeheartedly, further strengthening their bond. Consequently, he developed an instinctual need to protect her; [Name] was the only person who had truly shown him what love meant, the person who healed his inner child.
Satoru also possessed a deep understanding of the underlying cause behind the mistreatment experienced by [Name]. The core reason was rooted in her identity as a non-sorcerer amidst a lineage of esteemed and influential sorcerers. Incapable of perceiving curses and not having the ability to interact with them. Thus she became a target of their cruelty.
She became a living embodiment of shame for the Gojo clan, which motivated their abusive behavior towards her. Despite being aware of this, Satoru remained indifferent to such prejudices. He saw the situation as profoundly unjust, harboring a sincere desire for [Name] to receive affection and tenderness instead.
The mistreatment she endured did nothing but deepen his conviction. And their control over her was so extreme that she wasn’t even allowed to step foot outside her own home, satoru has to sneak hed out whenever he could. And it was all because the Gojo clan, couldn’t bear the thought of being embarrassed or shamed by the revelation that their esteemed bloodline of ‘all sorcerers’ also consisted of a non-sorcerer. This overprotectiveness towards their reputation had always existed.
They were fucking lunatics that is willing to kill and abuse a child just for the sake of their damn reputation.
The initial motive for Satoru's intention to eliminate the gojo clan was primarily due to this particular reason. Satoru proceeded to fix his gaze upon [Name], and he gently ruffled [Name]’s words.
“But seriously, i’ll kill them.”
“Just say the word, [Name]. and nii-chan will kill them all.
With a hint of amusement, she snorted.
“If you did that, you would become the new disgrace of our clan.”
Despite being labeled as the black sheep and outcast among their clan members, [Name] found it rather amusing that Satoru would jeopardize his reputation for her sake. However, deep down, she was aware that Satoru possessed an effortless ability to resolve any situation. He was the strongest after all.
“Wouldn't want you to take the title i worked so hard to earn.”
[Name] added sarcastically, displaying a hint of amusement.
Satoru rolled his eyes and let out a snort.
“Why would I be considered a disgrace to the family when there won't be any family left once I kill them all?” He countered, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. The idea of wiping out their entire clan appeared to be a lighthearted topic for him, even though the gravity of such a deed was not lost on either of them.
[Name] sighed irritably and rolled her eyes.
“Whatever..” She muttered a half-hearted response, her lips forming a small amused smile as she glanced at Satoru. Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help but feel a bit amused by his persistent optimism.
“Anywayyy”
Satoru began.
“Let’s go out and grab something to eat outside.” He intertwined his fingers, attempting to divert the conversation. However, [Name] furrowed her brows and shifted her gaze away, visibly troubled.
“You do realize that I'm forbidden from leaving, right?” she said with a weary sigh, her frustration mounting. But Satoru simply shrugged off her concerns.
“Who the fuck cares about those ridiculous rules?” Satoru grumbled indignantly, clasping her forearm gently.
“Definitely me.”
[Name] retorted as she shot him a scolding look, trying to free her arm from his grasp. Although she yearned to venture outside with her brother, the fear of punishment held her back. After all, she dreaded a repeat of the painful whipping she had endured just two weeks prior, as punishment for accidentally spilling scalding hot tea on her mother. the faint red marks of it still lingered on her back. Yet, she had never confided in Satoru about it, fearing his anger.
“No, thank you. I'd rather not,” she mumbled softly, her voice filled with reluctance. Satoru’s eyes narrowed, a hint of annoyance evident on his face.
“Nah uh, you listen to your nii-chan, girl.” Satoru pressed his lips on a line as he looked at hed.
“We’re goin’ outside. You look pale as hell, as if you haven't basked in sunlight for ages,”
•───夏油傑───•
Satoru had actually fucking dragged his sister out.
And left her alone on the fucking park to buy food, and now, [Name] was sitting alone on a park bench while patiently (maybe not) waiting for satoru to come back.
[Name]’s hair danced in the gentle breeze as she settled onto a park bench, cherishing this rare moment of solitude. Being confined indoors for such a prolonged period had taken its toll on her. Satoru, aware of this, would often aid her in secretly venturing outside, allowing her to at least bask in some fresh air.
As she sat alone, she let out a soft sigh while immersing herself in the melodious symphony of birds chirping.
Satoru excused himself momentarily, venturing off to fetch food, leaving [Name] alone in the park. Despite his assurance of a speedy return, anxiety gnawed at her insides. After all, she was in the midst of the public eye, vulnerable to discovery by her own clan members. With bated breath, she patiently awaited Satoru’s arrival, she closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them.
She let out a quiet gasp and visibly flinched as a man suddenly sat on the bench beside her. Her heart thumped within her chest, reverberating almost deafeningly in her ears. Her hands trembled slightly and became clammy, but she dare not move until Satoru returned. The thought of venturing away from her spot only increased the risk of losing her way or being spotted by a member of the Gojo clan.
To create distance between herself and the stranger, [Name] discreetly scooted away, distancing herself as much as possible. She studied him intently, her gaze sweeping from head to toe, absorbing every intricate detail of his appearance. His jet-black hair was tied up neatly. It was impossible to miss the bangs that gently brushed and covered his left eye partially, swaying along with the wind. Notably, he donned a similar uniform to Satoru, although with subtle differences such as the baggy pants in contrast to Satoru's fitted attire.
As she observed him, a certain assumption formed in her mind: he too must be a sorcerer, just like Satoru.
The moment the man let out a cough, an unanticipated reaction ignited within her, causing her to flinch and almost leap out of her seat. The visible disgust etched on his face indicated that he had consumed something repulsive, leading [Name] to assume that he had indeed eaten something disgusting.
[Name] felt a lump in her throat. Hed hand twitched, wanting to extend aid to the man in need. However, memories of Satoru's teachings echoed in her mind, warning her to not talk with strangers.
Yet, this man appeared to be a sorcerer and there was a possibility that Satoru might be acquainted with him, considering they attended the same school.
‘Does satoru knows this dude?’ she pondered.
Engulfed in internal conflict, she weighed the pros and cons of assisting him, before deciding to finally help him.
‘Ew..’
She cringed a little as she watched the man next to her suddenly regurgitate his stomach contents onto the floor, the man reached out to clutch his throat in discomfort, his voice barely audible as he uttered words akin to expressing his disgust.
[Name] wrestled with the internal conflict of whether she should engage in a conversation with him, torn between her desire to offer some solace and her uncertainty.
Taking to heart the advice she had received, which emphasized the importance of aiding others in their time of need, she pondered on how she could ease his discomfort.
Suddenly, a notion sprang to mind—she could offer him candy, as it might help alleviate the lingering taste of his stomach acid that clung to the recesses of his mouth.
Taking a handful of candies that she habitually kept in her pockets, she hesitantly tapped the man’s shoulder, hoping to offer him some solace. In a hesitant tone, she uttered,
“Excuse me, sir.”
[Name] offered him an awkward smile.
The man turned his gaze towards her, encompassing her in his piercing stare, momentarily taking her breath away. The twinkle of unease shimmered within her throat as he forced a smile whilst rubbing his throat, further validating her suspicion that he had indeed consumed something vile.
“Hello there, can I be of any assistance?” he kindly inquired, his smile was forced, though, [Name] noted.
“I noticed that you just vomited... and your esophagus were probably burning from the corrosive stomach acid that accompanied your vomiting.” she observed.
He observed her with a slightly confused look, realizing that her choice of words was rather unusual. An idiosyncrasy perhaps? After all, she was expressing it in a manner more suited to scientific discourse, something not commonly done by regular individuals.
With an effort to disregard the repulsive scene of his vomit on the floor, he raised his head to meet her eyes.
“Well... It definitely causes a burning sensation,” he said, letting out a small chuckle.
“Ah.. but still, I'm sorry that you have to see that. I didn’t noticed that someone is here...” he admitted, his hand gently massaging the back of his neck.
Expressing his distaste, he remarked with a slight hint of disgust on his face,
“I just recently consumed something... disgusting.”
He added, the thing he consumed happened to be a special grade curse, and it definitely tasted like shit, it was so disgusting to the point that he vomited in the end.
“that explains why you vomited then,” she mumbled. “Yeah,” he replied awkwardly.
[Name] extended her palms towards him, revealing a collection of candies neatly stored in a shiny golden plastic container.
“These are mint candies, sir. You can have them,” she offered, flashing a warm smile at him.
“This’ll help you get rid of the shitty taste of whatever you had eaten.”
In response, he blinked and mustered an awkward smile.
“I’ll have to refuse, but thank you for the offer”
The thought of accepting the candies crossed his mind as a potential remedy for the repulsive aftertaste of the curse he had inadvertently consumed earlier. However, he hesitated, not wanting to impose too much on this unfamiliar girl. What if the candies were poisoned or had some ulterior motive behind them? Nevertheless, he couldn't deny the striking resemblance she bore to Satoru, albeit in a somewhat vague manner.
“I insist, sir please take it.” she asserted.
“No, really, I'm alright,” he politely declined again, accompanied by a smile, shaking his head to emphasize his refusal.
“Please.. I insist sir, please accept this,” she pleaded with a concerned expression, momentarily forgetting Satoru's advice to never talk to strangers.
He observed [Name]’s face and contemplated quietly, recognizing that perhaps it wouldn't be too terrible to accept her offering. A small smile formed on his lips as he spoke to himself.
“Alright, I suppose I can give it a try,” he replied, his voice barely audible. He accepted the candies from her outstretched hands, feeling a bit awkward in his actions. As he took the treats, a bright smile radiated from her face.
“I’m Gojo [Name],”
he looked at her with curiosity. Judging by her surname, she must be a member of the Gojo clan, he speculated.
In response, he introduced himself, “Geto Suguru.”
Now Suguru understood why Satoru resembled the girl—they must be related somehow. The thought crossed his mind to inquire if she was acquainted with Satoru, a highly probable assumption, but he dismissed the idea. However, suguru couldn't help but feel perplexed by one thing—why was she a non-sorcerer despite her clan's background?
“It’s nice to meet you, Geto-san.” she smiled at him.
“Likewise, Gojo-san” he replied, a small smile curling at his lips.
An awkward silence then filled the air.
Feeling awkward, Suguru gingerly unwrapped the candy and placed it onto his tongue. The taste was delicately sweet and cool at the same time, and his mouth gradually began to cool as he continued to savor the candy. With each swirl around his mouth, the repugnant taste of the curse and his stomach acid started to dissipate.
Yet, his gaze suddenly became focused as he noticed a concealed curse lurking on a nearby tree. Intriguingly, she followed his line of sight and directed her confused gaze towards him. Tilting her head slightly, she inquired,
“What are you looking at, Geto-san?”
“Nothing..” Suguru replied. After all, he knows that she, being a non-sorcerer with no curse energy, was unable to perceive curses like he could. He casted a quick glance at her before he directed his attention back to the tree. However, before suguru had the chance to utter a word, [Name] preemptively spoke, causing him to pause.
“Oh, I see you found a curse up there then.”
•───夏油傑───•
Extra:
•Gojo got lost and was panicking
•Gojo doesn't know that [Name] can see curses
•Geto thinks that [Name] is pretty
•The candy [Name] gave Geto is her homemade candy.
•Gojo was actually planning on taking [Name] to jujutsu high with him and just give her a cursed tool to see curses.
•They're still students in here.
•Gojo is a platonic yandere
Support me on wattpad?🥺
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x you#jjk x reader#yandere#yandere jjk#yandere suguru geto#yandere geto#yandere gojo#yandere x reader#yandere x you
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No Conviction - Ser Criston Cole x Aegon II
For the mother of our brainchild, SMOOCHIELINI @aemondsbabe
Rating: Explicit
Tags: TW//Degradation, Criston is taking out his frustrations and prior guilt, fat shaming, dub-con, Criston is mean, unreliable narrator, manipulation. Angst, M/M, rare pair, Bondage (light), anal fingering, dildo use, there is prep!, bratting, feminization, Aegon’s a slut at the end of the day, Criss priss takes the idea of an order and skews it, chubby!Aegon, prostate orgasm, nipple play
A/N: THIS IS NASTY DIRTY we will be back to our usual content soon, I put the usual taglist but heed the pairing!
Taglist: @arcielee @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @valeskafics @lovelykhaleesiii @fairysluna @starogeorgina @targaryen-madness @sugarpoppss2 @aemonds-holy-milk @dr-aegon
Ao3: Updated later
Alicent’s big doe eyes were watery, her hair wild. She seemed to become increasingly fraught by the day— it pained Ser Criston to know why she was so wracked with nerves. They both were aware of the plans for the future. Very big plans as Viserys continued to decay. He noted the Queen’s nails were bleeding again.
Criston grabbed her shaking palms, soothing her with a murmur, “My Queen, breathe, what is the issue?”
The Knight was grateful he had gloves on or Alicent’s ripped nails might have drawn blood. The redhead took a deep inhale and exhaled. She begged him, a frantic edge to her tone, “Aegon. He’s uncontrollable. I don’t know what to do. He brought whores into the Keep Sept! Ser Darklyn caught..my son..defiling the place.”
She spat ‘my son’ as if it was bile in her mouth. Criston clenched his teeth, anger beginning to rise up from the pit of his stomach. He was utterly revolted. They were going to thrust this wanton, deviant, gluttonous Prince onto the throne.
They had no other choice.
The green queen’s tone grew hard as she ordered, “Pay him a visit. Make him understand the castle is not his playground. Use any means possible. Your queen demands it.”
Criston squeezed her palms and nodded. He rumbled, “Prince Aegon’s heresy will not go unpunished, you have my promise.” Alicent turned away with a thanks, nails back to her lips. The white knight had an order to execute, striding off to the Prince’s quarters.
He stopped to raise a brow at Ser Arryk standing guard. The twin grumbled, “Princeling’s sleeping off his revels, by all means, go ahead.” He gave a wry smile, Criston not returning the look. Criston dismissed Cargyll, “The Queen requires you to take my place at her side. I’ve been sent to deal with Aegon.”
The other Kingsguard nodded, rolling his eyes at Criston’s serious demeanor. Cole watched him descend down the hallway, turning a corner before opening Aegon’s door. The knight wrinkled his nose at the smell of wine and musk— Aegon sprawled out in his bed, naked.
A bottle of wine sat on the side table. Criston’s eyes jerked to the foot of the grand bed. His lips twisted downwards at the ropes, leather, the collection of ivory to ebony carved cocks. The marcher was stunned. The open display of debauchery. An outwardly sinful collection. He swallowed reflexively, deciding on what to do.
Dark eyes roved up to the Prince. He’d grown rather fleshy with drink and overindulgence at the table. For a young man of twenty, a dragon rider, Aegon had the soft curves of a plump maid. Criston could almost laugh— Aegon probably spent too much time on his back to get a sweat working even with all the fucking he did.
He stalked over toward the side of the bed, leering down at Aegon. Criston had an idea pop in his head— a nasty one. Beating Aegon served no gain. The princeling would just snivel and cry, delving deeper into his cups. The knight’s cock stirred at the image of wide eyes and tears falling down fat cheeks.
Aegon was pretty enough, soft enough, tits grown much bigger than Rhaenyra had at the time he coveted her, sullied his cloak for her. His white hair was rumpled, lips, and cheeks feminine and plump. Criston was well acquainted with wide violet eyes and long lashes. He reminded Cole too much of Ali with that look.
Criston barked, “Aegon!”
The prince stirred and whined, rolling onto his soft tummy, exposing more plush thigh and a round ass. Criston rolled his eyes, ignoring his stirring cock. Aegon’s pallid fleshy hips had jagged pink marks, a sign of the glutton gaining too much for his skin to keep up. The marcher couldn't understand how the buffoon had no shame in his naked body, especially in a state such as this.
Criston’s eyes jerked back to the foot of the bed. Aegon was ruled by his extreme hedonism. His nasty thought blossomed into a plan. The knight sighed in annoyance. He’d remain chaste, but Aegon would get some sense fucked into him.
Criston undid his gauntlets in quick snaps, eyes blown and focused on the prince. Next came his pauldrons, dropping to the floor in a loud clank. Aegon snuffled and stirred, groaning, “Fuck off Cargyll, m’alive.”
Finally, the heavy cuirass was off. The marcher remained in his white garb. He took off his boots before snatching the phials of oil and the biggest carved cock available. The cloak was neatly placed out of sight— Criston would deal with his guilt later. This was for the crown, for his queen, for the future of Westeros.
He placed the heavy cock down on the bedside table, placing a knee on the plush bed. Aegon finally jerked and squawked, reddened eyes wide. His puffy lips opened and closed like a fish. The prince questioned “Cole? What in the seven hells are you doing here? I’m trying to rest! Did you not hear me tell Cargyll to fuck off?”
Criston wanted to snarl and jerk the brat around. He remained quiet, face placid, staring Aegon down. After taking a breath, he spoke, “I came to check on you. I don’t appreciate the attitude, my prince. You’ve been more withdrawn than usual.”
Aegon’s face softened, eyes gleaming from the attention Criston was lathering upon his minuscule ego. He murmured, “This isn’t some scheme from Mother, is it? You merely care for Aemond.” The blonde’s mouth pouted, face eager for a smidgeon of praise.
“No. I care for all of you. What’s going on Aegon? You surround yourself in Flea Bottom, but you seem lonely around the Keep. I notice more than you think.” Criston was not lying when he said his piece. Aegon irked him but he held affection for all of Alicent’s children. He also knew Aegon sought touch and affirmation in the lowest of places.
Aegon’s face softened, his body still bared to Criston’s sight. He mumbled, cheeks flushing, “I am already an idiot fool, I can’t fight, nor will I be as smart as Aemond. What is the saying? The black sheep.”
Criston placed a knee on the plush bed, leaning to cup a full cheek. He replied, “The black sheep of the family, yes. Although I believe that title is for the bitch on Dragonstone. You don’t trust yourself enough, hm? You never gave yourself a chance.”
Aegon nuzzled into his palm, eyes growing teary and cheeks flushing. He inhaled a bit, body shifting. The prince complained, “Why are you here? To make me feel worse? It’s too late. This is what I am. I’d rather be drunk than try and be laughed at more.”
Criston put his other knee on the bed, climbing towards Aegon. He purred, “So you’d rather spread your legs like a two stag whore and guzzle wine, feast and fuck your life away?” Aegon whimpered softly as Criston jerked the prince underneath him, pulling him up by thick hips.
“Ah- what are you doing?”
“Maybe you’ll learn some worth if I fuck it into you, pretty princeling,” He quipped back, fingertips digging into pliant flesh. He felt good. Too good. Aegon squirmed but Criston had him pinned under his toned frame. The prince whined, “Why, don’t, this is...no!”
“Your wanton pussy says no to me then? How strange,” Criston hummed, “Aemond would never defile a sept like you have. Disgusting.” The pale body under him struggled, tears pouring from the blonde’s eyes. Criston reached around to grab at a rock-hard cock, laughing meanly as he gave tentative pumps.
“Truly are a deviant. You probably dreamed of this,” he groped Aegon’s fat belly, “A glutton too. You were so slim. What happened? Aemond had a pudgy face. You’ve got tits now.”
Aegon mewled pathetically, bucking back into Criston’s hips. He whined, “Stop it, stop it, s’not that bad!” Criston snorted, grabbing a handful of chubby tits, Aegon sobbing and shivering. The knight pinched at the stretched nipple and swore, “Plump little princess. Content to laze around and get her pussy fucked all day. You have no conviction. No ambition to rule your kingdom.”
Criston reached over to grab the oil, Aegon’s sniveling music to the marcher’s ears. The prince tried to sneer, “Y-you swore to be chaste, you already fucked that up! Picking another Valyrian again?”
“No, no, simpleton. As much as I disgustingly lusted for a Targaryen princess on my cock, I have doubled over my faith. This is merely a lesson for you. Smart girl, wish you used your bigger head more, it is a scheme from your mother,” his gloved hand cracked across Aegon’s peachy ass, “As I pondered, figured you’d be apt to listen with a cock up your cunt.”
Teary doll eyes and trembling lips stared over a pale shoulder. Aegon’s white hair hung limp in his face. He tried to squirm again, pissed off, by his swears and leg kicking out. Criston shoved the softling by his neck, Aegon crying out in frustration.
The knight reached back for that discarded rope, yanking Aegon’s skinny wrists up and trying them. Criston hissed, “Goddamn brat. That’s what you are. You’re going to listen and maybe I’ll make your needy pussy feel good.” He was disgusted with himself— Aegon’s strangled moans were delicious.
The headboard clattered as Criston tested the ties. He took a moment to murmur, “Too tight?” Aegon rasped, heaving a sob, “N-no! Fuck me already! Make your point!” Criston’s lips quirked up, sliding a calloused thumb over Aegon’s twitching entrance, drawing a pitiful whine.
He poured oil over the twitching pucker, slicking his gloved fingers up. Criston had no experience with this but he knew an ass had no lubrication. Therefore, it was his job to open Aegon up. The prince squirmed impatiently, blotchy red cheeks ripe with embarrassment.
Criston could be gentle. But the leather whip told him otherwise. He pressed two fingers against the tight ring, trying to work himself in with circular movements. Aegon mewled, chubby thighs trembling, arching his back into a thick crease. Dark eyes hungrily watched Aegon's softened body fold and shake, idly worried why he thought it to be so fetching to the gaze.
“You’ve let yourself go to seed. No better than some lord's fat spoilt daughter. You’ve seen Aemond,” his other hand pinched Aegon’s back roll meanly, grinning at the prince’s whimpery pleads, “He’s lean and talented, even with one eye. You could’ve built yourself up in the yard.”
Aegon cried out as Criston’s oily fingers dipped inside the ring of muscle, the knight roughtly shoving them in deep. Aegon thrashed at the burn, cock bobbing against his drooping gut. The elder continued, “You might’ve been decent with a sword. Maybe you could read up and try to be smart? Aemond studies for hours.”
Criston cruelly jabbed his fingers in short thrusts as Aegon whined and babbled, “I- I can speak Valyrian! Stop talking about him now!” Aemond made Aegon’s hackles raise easily— the dutiful brother, the better son, the beloved. Alicent had eyes for the special son and his monstrous dragon.
Criston’s fingers curled against a nub that make the softling jolt in his ropes, throwing his wild hair back. The knight raised a brow— he’d heard Aegon talking about a spot that made the male whores squeal once. This must be it.
“I’m merely giving you some advice, Aemond excels. I could get you into fighting shape, hm?” He drug padded tips against the little spot, Aegon breathily moaning, “Ser Criston, Ser, please! No more about him!”
“Should’ve been born with a cunt. Let him breed you up with pretty Valyrian babies. You’re close enough anyways, always crying and needing your achy cunt pleased. Tits and hips made for babes. Greedy, greedy, greedy,” he tutted. Criston eagerly thrust his fingers, a grin plastered on his handsome face, eyes feral. The squelching added to Aegon's embarrassment, desire, and needs.
Aegon made a desperate noise, shivering all over. Criston flipped Aegon onto his back, seeing the fuss. The prince whined as his wrists twisted, eyes turned away, pouty lips swollen from biting. Criston eyed the milky cum decorating Aegon’s striped lower belly.
“Whore. Is that what we have to do to keep you in line? Keep you fucked out, drunk, and fed?” He snarled, face dangerously close. Aegon spread his thick thighs, tears leaking down his fat cheeks. The prince moaned “Fuck meeee, fuck meee, please just fuck me! I’ll be good!”
Criston groped at a tender breast, demanding, “You’ll be a good what?”
Aegon sulked as he huffed, eyes finally on Criston’s dark gaze. The knight slapped his fatty thigh, the prince wailing, “Your good little princess! The princess! Yes! I’ll listen!”
The brunette cooed, “Good girl, you’ll get your pussy fucked again. Such a lustful sort. Gorgeous whore. Look’it you.” His soiled gloves took their time squeezing Aegon’s curves. He hooked his fingers into a deep belly button, and the blonde began to whine again. His once-softened cock was already straining against his stomach.
“What? Gods. Surely all this blubber doesn’t turn you on? You need a corset, my Princess,” he laughed again.
Aegon stammered, “N-no, all this touching. S'sensitive.”
“Mhm, sure Aegon, you think I don’t see you at supper? Never miss supper do you? Ruled by your own greed. How will you be king? We’ll be penniless! Easy for your uncle and sister to take over.”
"I'll listen, you can be my hand, keep me in line," Aegon wetly cried, "Please, please, Serrr, need it."
Criston hummed in contentment, stretching black gloves against ivory thighs, spreading Aegon wide open. He smirked at the way Aegon's belly bunched into two thick rolls, forcing his little tits up. The knight swallowed down drool, he mustn't lap or suckle. He had to break his prince down some more.
The dark haired knight reluctantly leg go of a thigh, eyes drifting from Aegon's used hole. He grabbed that carved cock from earlier, slathering the earlier discarded oil onto it, something floral scenting the pungent air. The prince mewled and spread his legs, puffy lips swollen and spit-slick. Criston muttered, "Where the fuck do you even get these things...this one is lumped.."
Aegon panted, "S'for that spot."
"The spot that makes the spoilt princess squeal?"
Violet eyes watered some more, Aegon swallowing down a whine, softly pleading Criston- promising his utmost attention, duty, and service. Only if the Kingsguard would just use the toy! Criston smiled darkly, shoving the bulbous tip of the ebony cock into Aegon's stretched hole. The younger cried out, back arching again, almost sobbing with pleasure.
The marcher focused on settling it deep inside, pleased with the knowledge it would rub Aegon's tiny sweet spot raw. His hands were still gloved, he might fuck around with Aegon's small pink cock. Criston began to pump it in and out, watching tied wrists struggle as Aegon whimpered and moaned.
He shifted further forward, white garments rubbing against sensitive skin. It was as if Criston was practically fucking Aegon now, hand holding the toy being pistoned by his hips. His other hand groped its way up Aegon's flushed body, thumbing and pulling at a puffy nipple. Criston shook his head, commenting, "Your tits are growing princess, look how eager you are, shoving them into my palm."
He pinched harder, Aegon crying out in pleasure-pain. Criston leaned forward to hiss "We need to do something about your teat before they're bigger than your wife's. I expect some riding and training, yes?" Aegon babbled and sniffled, nodding along, slurred promising. The elder smiled down, easing his grip, patting Aegon's cheek.
"S-Ser, harder, I beg of you, m'close, I'll be sosososo good!"
"If you continue to be good after this, then you'll be rewarded every time. I think that's a good plan," Cole remarked, hand drawing dangerously close to Aegon's flushed prick, "I always have to handle you brats anyways. You're just a brattier princess who needs special treatment. Like your fucking bitch sister."
Aegon's thighs and ass clenched down on the thick cock, hitching on a warbling sob. The Kingsguard licked his lips, suddenly aware he was biting at them. He leered as he gripped the handful of cock, thumbing at the leaking tip. Cole reminisced with a frown, "Rhaenyra was more pliant after I played with her clit too, I guess you two are more similar than I thought. Deceptively pretty."
The prince's breathing had grown so thin it was as if he was breathing through a straw, eyes wide and lolling around, mewling and carrying on. Criston kept ranting, raising himself into a tizzy, "Luckily your hungry cunt will be attended to. Only in the keep. Until you can prove yourself to be competent! Can you respond to that?"
Aegon babbled, squirming from the pressure on his oversensitive cockhead, the Kingsguard fucking the carved toy into his ass, dragging across that little gland. Criston hummed, "There we go, the princess can behave when her clit's being rubbed hm? S'too much? You're leaking all over me, messy girl." He was having absolute joy with this, Aegon wailing and painting his soft tummy repeatedly, pearly seed shining on his pallid skin.
He'd roughened his touches, drove that ebony cock harder, lost in Aegon's cries. The poor thing busted again, begging for mercy, red-faced and spent. Criston felt that was enough, easing the toy out. He scooped up the copious seed and fed it into Aegon's slobbery lips, the whore lapping it up dutifully, hazy eyes the picture of a sweet royal. A good, well-behaved Targaryen.
Criston patted his cheek again, humming, "Good. I expect to see you at dinner. Then we shall discuss further plans. Whore."
He crawled off the bed, taking off his messy gloves and tucking them away with a shiver. Disgust crawled up the knight's spine. He turned toward the window as he put his armor back on. Aegon whined, "W-where are you going? Can we not talk about the plans here?"
He glared at the sot, scoffing, "Not like that we will. Get yourself cleaned up, I'll be taking my leave. Listen to as I have told you, Aegon. Criston donned his cloak, inwardly counting how many flogs he would receive for his sin. For the wetness in his breeches. For his hardened cock and desire for Aegon's wanton nature.
Aegon arrived at dinner well-behaved, quiet, and sipping his wine. He cast uneasy looks between Ser Criston and Alicent. The queen smiled, "I know you would help, Ser Cole, he looks better already." Criston watched those pouty lips tremble. Perhaps it soothed the scarred tissue of his heart caused by another. His lips quirked up as he bowed his head, "No issue, my queen, Aegon needs a firmer hand."
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Encounter
Malleus x bard reader
Emerald blades of grass sway with the breeze, rustling as you take a seat. The scent of fresh dew was strong, clinging to the fabric of your clothes. A lively sort of scent, that brought to mind endless fields of greenery stretching off into the horizon.
Not a tiny patch of grass in the middle of these dreary woods. Trunks of deep, dark brown towered above your form, shrouding you in shadow. Garbled branches snaked across the sky, crooked twigs swaying ever so slightly. Mocking you, the little creature that was confined to the ground. Trudging through mud and dirt, stumbling through the darkness.
Burly roots peeled through the debris occasionally, catching your feet within. You’ve tripped over them more then once. Your elbows still stung from the impact, skin throbbing a bright red.
You swear, these trees have it out for you.
Rarely would a human venture into their depths, much less a bard.
Your instrument was slung over your shoulder, it’s wooden body nestled against the curve of your spine. Every step you take, it smacked the small of your back. In sync with your heartbeat, a steady thump, thump, thump.
A rhythm. Quite a pleasant one, honestly. Perhaps you’ll use it in a hymn. A hymn of adventure, a tale of trepidation and curiosity.
You hum softly, building a little melody. A simple song, echoing through these dark, damp woods. A song bird’s chirp, penertrating sharp and clear through the air.
Hands reaching for your back, you slide your instrument into your hands. Fingers dancing on the fretboard, pressing into those slender, ivory white strings. They vibrate with every strum, singing every chord with ease.
Plopping under a rather shady tree, you began to sing. Manipulating every note, weaving them into your voice. Chords waxing and waning like a candle’s flame, dancing to the tune that flowed through your lips.
For awhile, the forest fell silent as you weaved a tune through the breeze. Singing your lungs out for every leaf, every twig…. For anyone, honestly.
Anyone who would listen.
A sharp snap. Your blood froze, ice prickling through your veins. Instrument clutched tightly in your hands, you whipped around with it held aloft. A sorry excuse of an actual weapon, but it’ll do.
Eyes of emerald gazed into yours. They were flaked with gold, glittering in the light. Much like buried gold, peeking through the dirt. Dilated pupils of ebony blinked slowly, much like a feline’s.
Looking you over slowly, in an attempt to decide where you stand:
Friend or Foe.
Ebony horns dipped into the blackness of the night, sprouted from his head. His hair was long, slipping down his shoulders with all the glossiness of a raven’s feather.
Robes drape his form, cutting a rather majestic figure among all these trees.
Branches dipped into a sober bow, as if paying their respects. Leaves fell before his feet, a carpet rolled out in his honour.
He takes a step towards you, a tail swaying behind. Filled with scales, they twinkled seductively, pinpricks of stars dotted onto his skin. A galaxy, confided into a person.
Tilting his head ever so slightly, he regards you with a certain curiosity. With the prying eyes of a child… well, almost. There was a cool undertone of amusement layered underneath that piercing gaze.
A moment of silence passed in between both of you. The tension a wall, standing strong.
Before the grass rustled. This majestic, striking figure of a being sat down. Crossing his lap underneath him, he settles down on the ground, eyes level with yours.
“It’s been… many years since I’ve heard music, much less a tune as lively as yours.”
He speaks, a deep baritone. A smooth sound, as rich as the finest wine. The corners of his lips twitched, slipping up into a small smile. A smile of appreciation.
“Thank you, child of man.”
Pursing your lips, you lower your instrument, its weight on your lap once more. Gulping back a mouthful of saliva, you had to force your tongue to move, words trembling in your throat.
“It’s not a problem. I fear I have disturbed your solace with my voice.”
A deep chuckle, echoing through the woods.
“You have an enchanting voice, for a child of man. Fear not, I have never been more pleased.”
Fidgeting with your strings, you ask:
“Forgive my disrespect, but what… what are you?”
Resting his cheek on his palm, he laughs again.
“Perhaps a better question would be, ‘who are you?’
However, I’ll humour you. I am Malleus Draconia. Your kind would call me a… dragon.
Our true name has been lost in your tongue, unfortunately.”
“That’s a pity.”
A spark of surprise flashes in his eyes, before Malleus leans closer, intrigued by your answer.
“A pity? Alas, but most things are forgotten with time. Only I remain in the end.”
A beat, before you speak. A timid voice, tinged with concern.
“Are you lonely?”
A sigh, soft as a feather. Yet the weight it carried rested heavy on your heart.
“Always, child of man. Always and forever.”
Fingers closing around the fretboard, you lift your instrument up. Pulling it closer to your chest, arm slung over it. Your fingers rest over the strings, nails brushing against every string.
“Would you like me to play another song?”
A quizzical expression spread across Malleus’ face.
“Is that an attempt to console me?”
You shrug, a fluid motion.
“I can’t console you for the eternity you’ll live. But I can keep you company. Play a song or two.
That way, even if it’s just for a moment, you won’t be lonely, right?”
Malleus stares at you, eyes widened in surprise. He’s met countless beings throughout his life. Most of them have comforted him with empty promises, swearing that they’ll follow him forever.
They said he’ll never ever be lonely ever again.
They never stay. Malleus’ rather used to watching the light flicker out from their eyes, a life extinguished. He never understood where these empty words came from.
A love for him? A denial of a person’s own limits? A fear of death?
He doesn’t know. Perhaps he’ll never understand.
However, you were very… aware of your own mortality. The honesty was rather refreshing, after decades of promises going up in smoke.
A smile slips onto his lips. A small one, but a happy one, nonetheless.
“Very well, child of man.
Sing for me.”
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twisted wonderland#twst x reader#Malleus Draconia#Malleus Draconia x reader#Malleus x reader#Malleus#lucky potion🔷#GODS I’M FINALLY FINISHED WHAT THE HECK#this took so damn long to write but#SUPRISEEEEE#it’s the outcome of the little poll!!!!!!!#here’s a bonus little fic for the people who read the tags#his hands caress yours#fingers trailing over your palm#gently gliding over the callouses on your fingertips#‘it’s rough.’ he mutters#brows creased with worry#you attempt to yank your hand back#suddenly sheepish#‘it’s tha hand of a musician’ you retort#cradling your palm closer to your chest#‘nothing great ever came without sacrifice’#malleus sighs#‘I see the truth in that… yet I don’t fancy seeing you in pain.’#plucking a scale from his tail malleus hands it to you#‘perhaps a pick would assist. consider it a gift…. my dear bard.’
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A Lesson in Stealth
Pairing: Ghost Face (DBD) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1,854
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, general Dead By Daylight violence, light choking (reader receiving), rough sex, Ghost Face calls you "darling" several times, knife play, blood, dirty talk, hair pulling
You felt as though you were being watched. Stalked, actually. Which meant that the Killer was either Michael Myers or the Ghost Face. If it was Ghost Face, well… You knew either way you wouldn’t be leaving this trial alive.
You had gotten Ghost Face as your Killer quite a lot these last dozen trials. It felt as though The Entity wanted you to suffer, even making you the Obsession for the majority of your matches with him. Every single time, he made sure to bring in a Memento Mori, usually either Ivory or Ebony. He made sure that you were the last one to die. You were sure he relished in making you suffer longer than everyone else.
This time, though, you had a plan. You had gotten very good at timing his stalking. You counted to yourself as you worked on the generator, moving at the last few seconds to break his line of sight. You could imagine him swearing to himself, and it made you smile. You saw him move through the tall grasses of Backwater Swamp, and you crouched next to the generator. He kicked it, and was immediately blinded. You slowly moved away from him as he recovered, hearing him muttering under his mask. You thought you could make out him cursing that you had gotten smarter. When he turned and moved away from the generator, you silently followed him. So this was what it was like to be the Killer, to be doing the stalking instead of being stalked. You had to be careful, though. You knew your meter was almost completely full. One wrong move and he could down you instantly.
Ghost Face was getting more and more frustrated with this trial. He had lost track of every single Survivor, something that never happened. He cursed to himself as his mind wandered to how you had learned how to finally counter him. He paused when he thought he heard breathing. He whipped around to find three out of four Survivors trailing behind him. They scattered immediately, and Ghost Face lunged at the nearest one, beginning to panic. He always killed everyone. Every single time. They had two more generators left, and not a single person had died yet.
He pushed you out of his mind, focusing on the other three Survivors. Within three minutes, all of them were on the ground. He hooked each one, smiling to himself and knowing you couldn’t save them all. Meg was dead, Kate was in the struggle phase, and David was about to go into the struggle phase. Ghost Face smiled to himself, knowing he had you beat. Until Kate was unhooked. And then David a few moments later. Shit. He’d worry about you last. You had never escaped him, so he wasn’t even worried. He easily found Kate again and sacrificed her. David was a little trickier to find, having resorted to moving from locker to locker. He still hadn’t seen you since he tried to mark you.
You were still trailing behind Ghost Face, somehow still avoiding detection. Your efforts to rescue Kate and David had been in vain, as Ghost Face had easily found them both and sacrificed them. You resisted the urge to laugh out loud at how he had failed to realize you were even there. He was a great (albeit an unknowing) teacher on stealth.
He seemed to be looking for Hatch now. You could catch a word from him every now and then, along with his frustrated tone. He cut across the corner of the map, not really paying attention. Then you heard it. You smiled as you broke away from following him, immediately finding hatch in the corner. And there was even a vault window on the log near it. You broke into a sprint and vaulted, knowing full well you were alerting Ghost Face. Your feet touched down on the ground right next to Hatch. Moments later, you could feel Ghost Face watching you. You looked around, trying to find him. He was suddenly there, grabbing you from behind by the neck.
"Thought you could escape from me?" he growled in your ear. "Maybe I’ll have to teach you a lesson."
"You already did," you shot back, not particularly uncomfortable with his hand pressed against your wind pipe. "Thanks for the lesson in stealth." His grip tightened, slightly cutting off your oxygen.
"Really now? How about we put this new-found skill to the test?" You could practically hear his smile under his mask. He hoisted you up onto his shoulder, and you began to attempt to wiggle free. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, darling. Things could end up less than favorable for you." You ceased your attempts as he carried you further away from the Hatch. He eventually dropped you on the top floor of the shed, next to the pile of crates. You shakily attempted to stand, using the crates as support. You heard Ghost Face chuckle behind you before he grabbed you by the back of your shirt.
"No Mori yet?" you asked, cockiness bleeding through your voice. Ghost Face made a type of hissing sound before you felt the tip of his knife press into your back through your shirt.
"Your shirt would look much prettier on the ground," he whispered in your ear. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized just what he intended to do with you. He dragged his knife up your back, cutting the fabric but not your skin. Your shirt fell away, leaving your upper body exposed. "I think your pants need to join it."
He reached around and undid your pants, removing them and your underwear before pushing you to your knees. He came around to stand in front of you, admiring you on your knees in front of him. You tried to cover yourself out of instinct. He grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you to your feet, pushing your back against the crates and causing you to be sat precariously on the top of one. He took hold of your other wrist and pinned them above your head with one hand. He still held his knife in the other. You gasped as you felt the cold steel touch your skin, making you shiver. He chuckled and pressed harder. You felt a small trickle of your own warm blood as he carefully dragged the knife over your skin. The pain slowly turned to pleasure each time he began cutting in a new spot. A soft whimper eventually escaped your lips when he withdrew his knife, and it was too much to hope for that he hadn't heard it. He brought his mask-covered face close to yours.
"Needy, aren't we? We all have needs. Maybe if you help me with mine, maybe I'll let you live for once." His knife clattered to the floor as he raised his gloved hand to his mask. He raised it just enough for you to see his mouth as he pulled his glove off with his teeth. He returned his mask to its rightful position as his hand wandered between your thighs, teasing you. Your hips bucked slightly, earning a chuckle from the masked Killer. He didn't let you process fully what he was about to do before he plunged a finger inside you. You clenched around his finger, your body unprepared for the invasion. He slid another one in, then a third, pulling a small moan from you. He let go of your wrists, reaching down to grab his knife.
"Let's have a little fun, shall we?" You couldn't see his eyes, but you could feel them staring into yours from where he was positioned between your legs. He removed his fingers and placed the pommel of the knife handle against your hole. With no warning, he thrust it into you, causing you to throw your head back and moan. He began to fuck you with his knife, no doubt enjoying the sounds you were making, oral or otherwise. He didn't let you get too used to it, however, before he completely took away the pleasure he was giving you. He placed his knife to the side, standing. He shifted how you were sitting on the crate, and began to loosen his robes around his waist. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't expecting someone of his height to have a very large dick. Fuck, were you wrong. You had mere seconds to process everything before he stabbed himself into you. Your gasp turned into a loud moan as you shuddered in both pleasure and pain. You were already covered in sweat and dried blood, and Ghost Face was determined to cover you in something more.
He began to move, rocking his hips into yours. He bent toward you as he did, nearly resting his chin on your shoulder. His grunts mixed with your moans and lewd sounds, turning you on even more.
“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you, darling?” he growled into your ear. “How long have you lusted after me? Days? Weeks? You’re so needy for me it’s pathetic.” His thrusts became harder, deeper. “You really think I wouldn’t notice? You took time to learn exactly how to counter me. I know you haven’t done that with anyone else.” He used your shoulder to push his mask up slightly before biting down on your neck, drawing a moan from you.
“Such pretty sounds from you, darling.” He pulled out of you, roughly flipping you over so your upper body was resting against the crate. He grabbed a fist full of your hair and yanked your head back, thrusting back into you. “Let’s make some more.” You felt cold steel against your back again, followed by more of your own blood. He was mercilessly pounding your hole, drawing all kinds of sounds from you. Ghost Face, the cold-blooded, unfeeling Killer, was now making you feel things you never thought anyone could. You cried out in ecstasy, getting pushed over the edge. He chuckled as he felt you throb around him, knowing that it was all his doing. He thrust into you several more times, slowing down. He made a sound like a mixture of a moan and growl as he released inside you. He stayed there for a moment, enjoying the feel of you around him, your hair still gripped tightly in his hand. He let go of your hair and pulled out of you. You could hear his readjusting his robes before he turned you back over, wanting to admire his work. He slipped two fingers back inside you for a brief moment, covering them with both your and his fluids. He brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking them off. A cocky smile graced his lips.
“Delicious,” he said, standing and fixing his mask. He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder again, walking you back to the Hatch. He dropped you on top of it, stepping back. “Until next time, darling.” His words rang in your ears as you disappeared through Hatch.
#the ghost face#ghost face x reader#dbd ghostface#ghostface x reader#x reader#gender nuetral reader#ghost face smut#slasher x reader#dbd killer#not safe for minors#minors go away#minors no looky#minors dni#slasher fucker
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deals and desire (we’re playing with fire)
Spreading my Christmas Cheer! I think this might be my favorite one yet. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. You have no idea how much it means to me to be part of a close-knit fandom. I have extra comments in the author's note and you can read it on a03 HERE
Rated: T (Harry Potter AU)
Words: 9,741
The halls at Hogwarts are rambunctious during class changes, and Raven does her best to avoid most students while walking to her next lecture. For the most part, she succeeds, with the occasional Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff calling out to greet her.
There’s chatter all around her with the excitement of the upcoming Yule Ball. Hufflepuffs bound around her with laughter, ignoring the groans of Griffyndors who are no doubt imagining the horrors of dressing up. One group of students in the hall is taking bets while another teases a younger Slytherin about asking a fellow girl to go with him.
Raven keeps walking, her robes flowing behind her as ebony locks blow in the wind when she reaches the covered bridge. It’s snowing.
It’s the first snowfall of the year.
There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips before they part, and she watches her breath materialize before her. Ivory fingers slip from beneath her robes, and she cups her hand, catching a few flakes. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the snow.
It had always been such a sharp contrast to home—fire and brimstone and blood-stained cloaks.
The air around her is silent and she watches them continue to fall, already beginning to cover the ground below.
It captures the attention of others who walk outside with her. Tensing as the crowd grows, she withdraws her hand back inside her cloak, intent on walking across to the other side. Her next class starts soon, Advanced Potions with Snape. It wouldn’t be good to be late.
Another sharp gust of wind catches in her hair and she suppresses a shiver, feeling goosebumps rise on her flesh beneath her robes.
“Bloody hell, Raven, did you not hear the announcements yesterday about the weather?”
The yell from across the bridge becomes rapidly closer, and Raven releases a sigh, able to recognize his voice from anywhere. Insufferable prat. Never mind the fact that no—she did not hear about the announcements yesterday about the weather. She’d been nose-deep in a book instead, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Honestly, Damian, I don’t have time for this. I’m going to be late—”
Raven turns on her heel, only to run straight into his chest. Barely managing to keep hold of the books in her arms, she finds herself unable to move when Damian traps her there. He takes his scarf in his hands and begins to wrap it snugly around her neck. The rough fabric brushes her nose and she gets a whiff of his expensive cologne. Some kind of earthy scent with a hint of spice. Ugh, why does he have to smell so good?
“Don’t argue with me Raven, you could catch a cold walking out here without proper wear. You need to take care of yourself.”
Feeling her cheeks growing red from more than just the cold, her eyes also widen when he takes off his beanie to place it on her head. Words of refusal catch in her throat as Wayne shakes his hair to rid the indentions, and unruly curls pile over his brows into his lashes.
“Really, as a prefect you should be more responsible. Who would take your place if you get sick? Luna? You and I both know that would be a disaster.”
The warmth of his beanie seeps into her scalp and the tips of her ears when he places it on her head. She blushes even further as he takes time to brush a stray hair out of her face.
When emerald eyes peer into hers with expectation, she clears her throat, feigning irritation, “I’m not going to get sick, Damian, and besides I don’t see how this is any of your business.”
Damian raises a brow, undeterred as snowflakes begin to fall into his hair.
“As your colleague, I have an interest in your health. I’m not going to keep up with your prefect duties, and don’t you need all the time you can get to finish your application for the internship at the Ministry?”
“Well yes but—wait how do you know about—”
“No excuses Ravenclaw, and you have…” Damian glances down at his watch, “less than five minutes to get across campus to make it to class.”
“You’re an insufferable arse—”
“Four minutes, better hurry,” he flashes her a grin.
Raven curses, not bothering to look back at him as she rushes in the opposite direction.
Snape doesn’t tolerate tardiness.
.
Raven still has the beanie after class and she hates how warm it is.
She sheds the scarf shortly after class starts, with it being a hazard to potion making and all, but can’t bring herself to take off his beanie.
That smell, his smell, has forever enraptured her senses.
It distracts her the entire class, to the point that she accidentally picks up dried mallowsweet instead of dittany leaves for her Wiggenweld potion. Thank the gods Jinx catches her before she drops the ingredient into their cauldron. The mouthy Slytherin has more than a few choice words for her almost costly mistake.
Raven, of course, is grateful despite the word-lashing.
She can’t afford to fail any classes now that she’s getting ready to submit her application to the Ministry. Which reminds her that she needs to fill out the reference page next. Surely Professor McGonagall will agree to write one.
She makes a mental note to ask during her office hours later in the week.
Raven climbs the remaining stairs leading to the common room. As prefect she gets her own room, and it’s the greatest. She had made a small reading nook in the corner, right next to the window that overlooks the entire courtyard. And it’ll be the perfect spot to watch the snow.
When she reaches the top, the bronze eagle knocker is already waiting.
“Glittering points that downward thrust. Sparkling spears that never rust. What am I?”
She shoulders her books onto her hip while she thinks. Then she gives the eagle a victorious smirk, “An icicle.”
The eagle answers with a grinding noise while the lock turns. Then the door swivels open, and Raven steps inside.
The waft of an amber and cinnamon candle hits her first, lightly covering the scent of incense and old books. She takes a deep breath, relishing in the way that it immediately soothes her.
“Green and blue, they make a beautiful hue. Like the sea.”
Raven sighs and snags the beanie from her head. No reason to keep it on now that she’s inside.
“Hey Luna,” Raven says, ignoring her previous statement.
“I see more green in your future. Birds of a feather, stick together, through the weather.”
Raven blinks, then snorts, “Cute. Speaking of the weather, have you seen the snow? It started falling right after lunch.”
“Oh yes, very magical,” Luna lets out a dainty sigh, “there’s nothing like a snowfall at Hogwarts. Look—” she points out towards one of the glass windows in the common room, “the spirits have come to play. Such mischievous beings,” she says as her shoulders shake with mirth.
Raven turns in the direction Luna points, finding nothing but a blast of wind. It doesn’t phase her though. Luna’s unique ability allows her to see things that the average witch can’t, herself included.
“And I’m sure they’re having the best time,” Raven throws a small smile at Luna, then nods politely as she walks towards her room. The rest of the way is silent, which she’s grateful for.
She opens the door to her dormitory, places her books on her desk, and plops into the oversized papasan chair with a final sigh of relief. Beside her, the snow continues to fall in earnest outside the window. Its display across the courtyard is nothing short of grandeur.
She kicks off her boots and waves a silent spell to light the nearest candle. Soon after the smell of peppermint fills the room and she breathes in deep, relishing in her safe space. In here there’s no one to pry, no one to question her attendance here because of her heritage. It’s just her, and whoever she wants to be at this moment.
And right now she just wants to fall asleep reading and watching the snow, and it’s exactly what she plans to do. Until she spots Damian’s beanie on top of her books, bringing with it a conglomeration of emotions that Raven tries, and fails, to shut out.
She can admit that there’s something between them. Just out of arm’s reach, and if she’d just be brave enough to stretch for it…
But she can’t, even if she wants to. There are a number of reasons why it’s a bad idea. The first is her reputation. Even if she’d never been a Death Eater, she's still the daughter of one. Associating with Damian Wayne, his name of which is very well-known in the wizarding world for helping defeat you know who would be disastrous. A scandal even. Raven had previously thought she’d come to terms with it all—the knowledge that because of her father, there are so many doors that will never open. That being allowed to attend Hogwarts is a dream she’d never thought possible, and that it might be the only good thing to come from everything that had happened.
Before her first day here she was ready, had sharpened her proverbial sword, and was prepared for the backlash.
She’d never been prepared for the young Slytherin with dark, unruly curls and emerald eyes to introduce himself to her first. Or the smile greeting her that had taken her completely by surprise—confident and steady.
She hadn’t been ready for Damian Wayne at all.
Even now, years later, she’s not ready for the door that he doesn’t realize he’s trying to open. His hand is on the handle, already turning, and Raven really, really, wants him to.
For once in her life, she wants to see that door open.
But Trigon had already branded and sealed her fate years ago.
Raven sighs, tearing her eyes away from the beanie while simultaneously banishing the boy who owns it from her thoughts. She’d have to see him again on prefect patrol tonight, but for now, she’s going to watch the snowfall and focus on the doors that she can open. Like the application to the Ministry that Professor McGonagall personally orchestrated for her as headmistress.
Demons like her don’t deserve to dream of something more.
Her eyelids begin to droop as she looks out her window, curled up in her chair under a blanket, and she slowly falls into a dreamless sleep.
.
Damian’s already waiting for her in the great hall when they meet for patrol. When Raven reaches him she practically shoves his beanie at his chest, “Here, you can have this back now that we’re not outside anymore,” she tells him.
He looks down at her, brows furrowed, before he pushes it back into her hands, “Keep it. I have a million more back in my dorm. Besides, who else is going to make sure you stay warm on the way to class?”
“No one, and especially not you. I’m no one’s responsibility,” she huffs.
Damian flashes her a look of irritation, “You’re not a responsibility, Raven, you’re a friend. Suck it up and take the beanie, or I’ll just keep bringing you more if I see you walking around without one.”
Raven stares at him, then acquiesces, “Fine, I’ll keep this one—but don’t expect me to say thank you for harassing me into this.”
“You’re welcome,” Damian gives her a light smirk, then gestures towards the staircase, “Now shall we get started? I’m pretty sure I heard some giggling earlier, probably those fifth years again.”
“Again?” Raven sighs, pulling out her wand, “Better start with Lumos.”
“Good idea.”
They walk up the stairs in silence for a few minutes, both listening for the sound of footsteps. Sneaking out after hours has always been an appeal for students since the dawn of time. With the ball coming up, however, the mischievous antics have seemed to increase tenfold. The fifth years they caught making out in a dark corner last night is unfortunately just the tip of the iceberg.
When they both enchant their spell, Raven can’t help but notice the way that the light of Damian’s wand bounces off the wall next to them and reflects onto his face. It highlights the angular shape of his cheekbones and gives his starking green eyes an ethereal glow. When he turns to look back at her she feigns nonchalance and waves her wand forward as it casts the hallway in a warm glow.
“Looks like if they were here they’re long gone now,” Raven says as they turn a corner.
Damian hums in agreement. “You know tomorrow is the last Quidditch game before the semester is over. We’re playing Griffyndor, are you going to watch?” he asks.
Raven shrugs non-committedly, “Maybe, although reading in my room under a blanket sounds like more fun.”
“Oh come on,” Damian turns to her fully, stopping her in the middle of the hallway, “You have to come. Whoever wins tomorrow takes the Quidditch Cup. Don’t you want to support your fellow prefect?”
She rolls her eyes, “Since when do you care that I come to your game? I haven’t been to one all year.”
“Well I haven’t asked before because I know you don’t like the cold, but this is the last game, the championship game, and I’ll feel better if you come,” he admits.
Raven turns her head to cover the light dusting of pink heating up her cheeks because OhMyGodsHeKnowsIDon’tLikeTheColdAndHeGaveMeHisBeanieWithoutASecondThought.
“I don’t see how me being there will make you feel better, or even help you win,” she says, shoving down her initial embarrassment.
“Does there have to be a reason why? I want you to be there, you can be my good luck charm. I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he says smoothly with a smirk growing on his face.
“Oh yeah? How so?” she asks sarcastically and starts to patrol once more.
“How about a wager if you come watch me play?”
That stops in her tracks. Then she turns to him fully, until they’re face to face. The warm glow from their wands cast a more intimate light around them as they look at each other. Raven has to tilt her chin up to look him in his eyes, just to see that they’re filled with something dangerous. It sends a shiver down her spine.
“Okay, I’m listening,” she pretends to pick at a piece of lint on her uniform.
Damian’s smile turns wicked, “If Slytherin loses then I’ll owe you a favor. Any favor you choose. Anytime. And I have to do it, no matter what.”
It sounds like a trap, and if she knows Damian, then she knows that he definitely has something up his sleeve. She might be a demon, but he’s the devil. Cunning and devious and sinfully attractive .
And she’s about to make a deal with him.
“And if you win, then what do you want?”
His eyes darken in satisfaction, and it lights a fire in her lower abdomen. She tightens her hold on her wand as his tongue darts out to lick his lips before speaking.
“If I win, I want a date to the Yule Ball.”
The words no way are immediately on her lips, ready to be spoken, but at the last second, she stops herself. A date to the ball is a small price to pay for the chance for a favor from Damian Wayne, who’s family most definitely has the influence to help her get the internship at the Ministry. So what if there’s a part of her that wants to go with him? Even more importantly, he wants to go to the ball with her, and there’s another part of her that’s thrilled by that.
“Deal,” she says, “I’ll come to the game tomorrow, and if you win then I’ll go to the ball with you. But if I win , then you’re going to help me write my essay for my application.”
“Deal. See you tomorrow then, Raven. Don’t forget to wear my scarf too,” he says playfully.
Raven rolls her eyes. “Oh bugger off you prat. Let’s hurry up and finish, I’m knackered. I had to do room inspections early this morning before class.”
“Right, one more hallway,” Damian replies, leading the way back to where they started.
The new swagger in his step as he walks away doesn't escape her notice one bit.
.
It’s the first time she’s attended a Quidditch game since…well since her first day at Hogwarts. Back when she was still under the magnifying glass of the public eye and had not so subtly been run out of the stands.
This time it’s different. Most are polite, with the occasional glare or two from families who had been affected the most by Voldemort’s short reign. After a decade though, the retaliations have seemed to settle down. Now she can enjoy the Quidditch game in the stands without any fear for her life.
Last night the snow turned into sleet, so each step under her boots is accompanied by the loud crunch of ice. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her thickest cloak, thankful that she listened to Damian and had decided to wear both the scarf and beanie again. At the very least she’ll fit in with the rest of Slytherin, who’ve already started their gimmicks in the stands against the Gryffindors.
She can see each puff of breath as she continues the arduous walk through the ice, grumbling to herself about how magic exists for a reason and at the very least someone could have shoveled the sidewalk. Then she casts a silent heating charm around her hands, relieved at the immediate warmth filling her pockets.
Finding a spot in the stands is more difficult than she thought, and after a couple of minutes of searching, she has half a mind to turn back around completely. She’ll just tell Damian later that their bet is off when she hears a familiar voice call out over the rest.
“Hey, Ravenclaw, where ya goin’?”
Raven turns to find Jinx a couple of rows high, smiling big and cat-like. She shoves her way through the crowd to reach her, then tugs on her arm, “You can’t just stand there and wait for people to move, you have to make room yourself,” she says, pushing back through to her row. Jinx barks at the few people who don’t move to get out of the way, making quick work of the path back up.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Raven tells her when they get settled.
“Yeah, yeah, you can make it up to me by not fucking up our next potion’s class. Why’re you here anyway? I’ve never seen you at a Quidditch game before.”
Raven bites her lip before deciding to tell her the truth, “Damian asked me to come watch him play.”
“Are you serious?” Jinx raises her brows and snorts, “That’s hilarious. Pansy is going to be pissed. She’s been bragging for months about how her family is trying to negotiate a marriage contract with Wayne.”
“They still do those?” Raven asks, befuddled while declining whatever mysterious liquid Jinx offers from her flask.
“Yeah, the purebloods do. Last I heard the Wayne’s weren’t very receptive though. I’m sure Damian’s determined to make his own choices,” Jinx flashes her a look from the side.
“You can’t tell anyone, I don’t want to cause Damian or anyone else any trouble. Just being here is enough to get people talking,” Raven says.
“So what? Fuck ‘em,” Jinx takes a small swig from her bottle, “Most people here don’t have anything better to do than talk anyway. They don’t know shite about the real world and probably never will.”
Raven admires Jinx’s blas é outlook on life. Her indifference gives her a confidence that shows in her stance, not caring about what anyone thinks about her or anything else for that matter. While it’s an attitude that Raven has yearned for herself, she knows that there’s also repercussions to not caring about the world or anyone in it. For her the consequences are astronomical.
“Maybe not, but their families have real influence over my life, and I’d rather not get caught in the middle of another political war.”
“Fair enough,” Jinx shrugs, “I won’t say anything if that makes you feel better.”
“Thank you.”
There’s a short pause, then Jinx asks, “Soo, you haven’t seen Wayne in a uniform yet have you?”
“No?” Raven asks, uncertain by the motive behind her question.
Jinx’s mischievous grin is back on her face as she takes yet another sip from her flask. “Oh, you’re in for a real treat. Just wait, they’re supposed to start in a few minutes.”
Raven gives her a look, one that she hopes shows her irritation, as they wait. Everyone else seems to quiet down too, anticipating their entrance.
When they come out, Raven has to physically stop herself from dropping her jaw. Dear gods. Damian’s tight uniform long-sleeve shirt clings to the muscles of his arms and his chest. His trousers hug his body like it’s a second skin. The roar of all the cheering around her can’t distract her from the way he glides through the air on his broom—like flying is second nature. The way his gloved fingers grip the handle ignites something inside of her, and she flushes.
Damian flies around in a circle around the stadium, and their eyes meet when he passes their stand. He flashes her a smile and then winks, and Raven’s surprised that she doesn’t just melt into a puddle right there on the spot. She offers a small wave and smile of her own in return, just before he moves on.
“Hot right?” Jinx elbows her in the middle and Raven scowls, saying nothing. She crosses her arms and watches the rest of the players fly in.
Beside her Jinx screams when the commentator introduces the Slytherins. Damian’s name is called last as the seeker. Raven knows the basics of Quidditch, and that it means that he’ll be spending the entirety of the game trying to find the snitch.
The game is surprisingly engaging, and towards the end Raven finds herself standing on her feet, leaning towards the field. The two teams are neck and neck, and Gryffindor scores with under a minute left.
Just when it looks like Gryffindor is going to win, Damian comes hurling down in the middle of the field. He crashes in the ice-covered dirt, and everyone is dead silent as he rolls to a stop. Then he throws his arm in the air, revealing the snitch captured in his hand.
The commentator blares through the speaker a moment later, announcing Slytherin as the champion.
Raven laughs in disbelief as the crowd around her storms the field. She can’t believe he managed to pull off a win like that. Then her heart drops into her stomach as reality sets in. She has to go to the Yule Ball with Damian Wayne, and she doesn’t even own a dress.
Looks like she has some shopping to do.
She thinks about waiting around to congratulate Damian, but the swarm around him and the rest of the team is growing rapidly. It’s fun to watch for a minute as everyone jumps up and down around him, patting him on the back as he raises the Quidditch Cup in the air. The toothy grin on his face warms her in a way that her charms never will.
Eventually, she turns away to make the trek back to her dorm.
It’s much colder now as the sun is beginning to set, and more slippery too. Unfortunately, her combat boots only help so much. She’s about a half mile out when one step slides against a particularly slick piece of ice. She loses her balance, and prepares to fall when a hand grips her elbow to help steady her.
“I’m going to have to follow you around everywhere to make sure you’re taken care of aren’t I?”
Raven turns in shock to see Damian behind her, easing her back onto both feet, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating your big win?” she asks instead of answering his question.
“I wanted to thank my good luck charm for coming to my game, and to make sure she doesn’t back out of our bet,” he says with a tease, appraising her clothes. She can see the approval in his gaze to see her wearing his attire. It makes her feel a bit weak in the knees, but she decides to blame that on the ice.
“Don’t worry, I don’t have any intentions of backing out. I’m a witch of my word,” she says. It’s one of the only things she has. “I’ll have to take a trip to Hogsmeade for a dress though.”
“Get a green one,” he says quickly, “You look good in green.”
“Noted,” she replies, sending him a smirk, “You know if we show up at the ball together people will talk? I don’t exactly have the best reputation around here.”
Damian shrugs, “You’re not your father, and people will eventually see that.” He starts walking with her, and Raven is highly aware that he has not let go of her elbow.
“Well, you may be the only one,” she quips back.
“All the better, then I can keep you all to myself,” his grin is bordering on cocky, like he has a special secret that no one else knows. Raven chokes back on a retort, unable to hold back the flush at the back of her neck. It’s a good thing she covered up with his scarf.
Then she sighs, “Damian, you know it’s going to be more than just talking. People are going to come for me when they see us together. Some will probably try to ruin whatever chances I have of a future.”
He’s silent for a few minutes, the only sound around on their walk is the crunch of their boots on the ice. A light wind breezes between them, and Raven suppresses a shudder from the cold. Damian must notice, because he presses his side in closer to hers, sharing his warmth.
“Raven, don’t you think it’s time to show everyone that they’re wrong about you? You shouldn’t have to hide anymore. I won’t let anyone bother you at the ball, I promise.”
Raven chews the inside of her cheek, mulling over his words. For so long she’s been hypervigilant about everything she says or does, fearful of how some people will interpret her intentions. Maybe Damian’s right, and it’s time to stop running. How long will she let her father and his actions hang over her head?
“I’ll hold you to that promise—but you’re buying my dress. If everyone’s going to be staring at us I might as well be the best looking one there.”
Damian’s laugh echoes in the cold air, and Raven can feel his shoulders shake against her, “Deal,” he says.
Raven promptly nods, and the rest of the walk back they talk about plans to go shopping next week. By the time they reach the entrance to Hogwarts Raven realizes that she’s no longer cold.
She feels like Damian has just lit every part of her on fire.
.
Raven is nervous when she reaches the top of the stairs. Below, the ball is in full swing, and Damian’s waiting for her. She wrings her gloved hands together, before swiping a ringlet from her pinned hair out of her line of vision. Then she places her hand at her chest, just above the sweetheart neckline of her sparkling emerald gown. The sheer, matching cape clasped around her neck feels a little tight. She takes a moment to rearrange it around her before letting it fall delicately around her shoulders and down her open back.
She has half a mind to walk away, and she probably would if it hadn’t taken her all of two hours to get ready. That and the thought of disappointing Damian sends a pang through her chest.
I can do this. Just a short walk down the stairs where the entirety of the student body can see her, and then she can pull Damian into a corner and hide the rest of the evening. She takes a deep breath and takes the bottom of her dress into her hands, lifting just an inch so that she doesn’t trip over her heeled feet.
When she steps into the limelight she nearly grimaces as the chatter seems to die down all at once, all to stare at her. She can feel her heartbeat hard and fast in her chest, and her breaths are coming in short pants when she spots Damian at the bottom of the stairs.
He looks…awestruck. It takes her by surprise, and it distracts her from the rest of the stares. She focuses on him, and his reassuring smile, and by the time she reaches him she’s not so nervous anymore.
“You are stunning,” he says, reaching out for her to take his hand. She does, and he starts to lead them to a less-crowded area.
“You’re looking handsome yourself,” she tells him. His black suit and robe must be tailored to his exact measurements, because it fits him perfectly. There’s not a hair out of place, and the Wayne insignia ring on his forefinger shines bright. He looks every part the eligible bachelor that Jinx says he is.
“Thank you,” he says, pulling them into a corner that’s out of the foot traffic to give her a moment to collect herself. Raven takes the time to admire him fully, all the way down to his leather Santoni shoes. He’s so gorgeous he’s hard to look at.
“And thank you for coming,” he murmurs somewhere close to her ear, his breath sending goosebumps rising on her arms.
“Don’t thank me yet, I’m sure I’ll get you back for this somehow,” she teases, grinning at his snort.
“And I look forward to that, but for now I’d love to show you off on the dance floor. Is that okay?” he asks, aware of her earlier unease.
“As long as you’re leading because I have two left feet,” she says.
“Deal,” he replies, taking her hand in his again, “I won’t let you fall Raven, you have my word.”
“Good,” she says, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. There’s still a lot of staring as they walk by, but for some reason it doesn’t bother her as much with her hand in Damian’s.
The song starting is slower, and the dance is a simple waltz so she’s confident enough to not trip. Still, she relies heavily on Damian’s queue as he twirls them around. After a few minutes, she gets lost in the sparkle of his eyes and the way they hold her own. They dance for what feels like close to an hour, as one song blurs into another, but time doesn’t exist at this moment. They’re just wrapped up in each other, and everything else just fades away.
Then he dips her, and the outline of his frame is encased in the glow from the chandelier above them. The sight of him is beautiful and breathtaking, and it’s everything she never knew she wanted.
When he brings them back upright and the song ends, they’re nearly nose to nose. Something between them shifts, and Damian’s eyes dip lower from her eyes to her lips. His nose brushes against hers, almost lovingly. She’s certain that he’s about to kiss her, and she’s about to kiss him back, and that tonight is something she’ll never forget.
Their lips are just about to meet when someone from behind her bumps into her side, and Raven tumbles over. Then Astoria Greengrass is in her face, babbling an apology just as the flute in her hand pours an unknown liquid over the front of Raven’s gown.
Damian, true to his word, keeps her from falling, but Raven can’t find the words to thank him—too focused on what could have been. Now the moment is lost forever, and they both know it.
“Oh my gods, I cannot believe how clumsy I’ve been,” Astoria fusses over Raven’s gown, “I am so sorry, truly, I’m completely mortified. Please, let me help you to the ladies room.”
“No thank you,” she says, wrenching out of her grasp, “I’m perfectly fine going by myself, although I appreciate your offer.”
“If you insist, but really it’s no trouble to tag along—”
“Again, thank you, but I’m really okay.” Raven takes a step backward, picking up on the malice blaring in Astoria’s aura. She’s about to escape from the scene entirely when Astoria seizes her wrist in a tight grip.
Then Damian breaks her hold and pulls Astoria away from her. He growls something in her face that Raven can’t quite understand, but she doesn’t need to. The rage clear in his eyes tells her everything she needs to know. That what happened isn’t an accident, it’s sabotage.
Damian sends Astoria scurrying off with a squeak of terror, but Raven is already turning away. The front of her dress is covered in something sticky and although it’ll only take a second to fix it with a spell she desperately needs a moment alone.
Damian tries to talk to her, “Raven, I’m so sorry—”
She cuts him off, not able to take another apology, especially from him, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back okay?”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No,” she waves him off, “I promise it’ll just be a minute. Please, excuse me,” she rushes off, not waiting to hear his reply. Not able to stand there a second longer, because she had been so close to a dream she thought was too far out of reach. And then it had been taken from her.
Raven pushes the door open to the bathroom, heels clacking on the linoleum. When she reaches the sink she takes hold of it with both hands and looks into the mirror. Her chest is heaving with panicked breaths and bites her lip to keep from sobbing. Her hair is askew from her dash from the dance floor, and her cape is hanging haphazardly over one shoulder. At least her makeup is still nice, and as long as she doesn’t cry her mascara should stay put. She focuses on the spill next, murmuring a few charms to clean it up after getting her breathing under control.
She’s a few minutes away from deeming herself capable of going back out when one of the bathroom stalls opens. Pansy Parkinson walks out in a slinky black gown with a villainous smirk growing on her face as their eyes meet in the mirror.
“It looks like you missed a spot, need some help?” she asks haughtily.
“No thank you,” Raven ignores her in favor of soaping up her hands to wash, “I’m managing just fine.”
“Actually I don’t think you are. Do you know how many people are vying for Damian’s attention? Compared to them you’re just a drop in the bucket.”
Raven stills, anger heating up her face, before continuing to wash her hands, “I think I’ll let Damian decide who he wants to give his attention to.”
Pansy draws closer, “You might think this is just a game, but it’s not. You think what Astoria just did to you is bad? That’s just the beginning if you continue down this road. I’m only going to warn you once, demon. Stay away from Damian Wayne.”
Her hands shake with thinly controlled rage as she washes the water off, which she knows Pansy assumes is fear from her smug smile. Raven takes the time to dry her hands before she turns back around and faces the Slytherin directly, “Trust me when I say I know all too well that this isn’t a game, but you don’t really know who I am. I’ve walked a very thin line to get where I am here at Hogwarts. I still walk that line. Every. Day.” She pauses to ensure she has Pansy’s full attention, “If you do anything to mess that up for me, I will have nothing left. And when I have nothing left, I’ll show you just how much of a demon I can be.”
The color slowly drains from Pansy’s face, and Raven cocks her head innocently, “You’re looking a little pale, Pansy. Why don’t you take a minute to freshen up? I think I’m going to go out and enjoy the rest of my evening . ”
That seems to bring the girl’s color back redder than before as she grits her teeth, gripping her clutch so hard Raven can see the white of her knuckles. “You’re going to regret the way you just spoke to me.”
Raven rolls her eyes, “The only thing I’m regretting right now is entertaining this conversation with you.”
“You have no idea who you’re messing with. My family can make your life a living hell, and if you stand in my way then I’ll make sure of that myself.”
Raven's laugh is hard and cruel, “You’ll never be able to make my life worse than the hell I’ve already lived through. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back out to my date . Unless you want to take this up with the headmistress instead?”
A myriad of emotions cross Pansy’s face, before landing on something lethal. Her eyes narrow as she steps close enough that Raven can smell her rosy perfume, “Watch your back, demon filth,” Pansy hisses, pushing past her and storming out of the bathroom.
Although Raven should feel victorious for standing up to Pansy, she mostly just feels on edge. This is her reality if she wants to be with Damian. Always looking over her shoulder for someone that’s desperate to take her place. Forced to play the role of a viper and strike back twice as fast to protect herself.
She takes another minute to collect herself in the mirror before following Pansy out of the bathroom shortly after. Then Damian is immediately at her side, handing her a cup of water, “Are you okay?” he asks.
Raven musters a smile, and accepts the glass gratefully, “Yeah I’m okay, just some girl talk.”
“Pansy?”
“Yep.”
Damian runs a hand through his hair, disheveling a few of the strands, “I should tell you that her family’s been trying to make a marriage contract happen between us for years, but my father’s turned them down three times already. I don’t think they know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“So it seems,” she says, slightly amused.
“Do you want to go for a walk outside? I think we could both use the fresh air.”
“Yeah,” she breathes, “That would be great.”
As Damian guides her towards the exit leading to the school gardens, a commotion catches her attention. Just out of her peripheral vision, before the party fades from view, she spots Jinx across the room, tossing her own drink at Astoria.
Raven suppresses a chuckle as a funny feeling in her chest grows. So maybe she isn’t completely alone in this. Maybe she has a few friends who won’t hesitate to defend her. That’s a comforting thought, and she takes it with her on the walk, allowing it to shroud around her like a shield.
Maybe demons can dream after all.
The first thing she notices when stepping outside is the sky. It’s clear, nearly a full moon, and the stars are just as bright. It bathes the gardens in a celestial glow, and the snow covered grounds makes it all look surreal.
She takes a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air. It helps to clear her mind, especially as Damian’s hand settles on the small of her back to steer her towards a gazebo outlooking the central yard. It’s covered in fairy lights, and she’s delighted to find that there’s a warming charm when she steps inside.
“Feeling better?” Damian asks, his hand traveling up to brush her arm. Raven nods while enjoying the view.
“Much, this was a good idea,” she bumps him lightly, “Thanks.”
“No need to thank me, what happened earlier was my fault. I should have known that Pansy and Astoria were planning something.”
Raven props her elbows up against the wooden rail, and looks up at the sky, “No, it wasn’t your fault,” she glances back at him, “I’ve been dealing with discrimination since my first day here. This really isn’t anything new.”
“Still, I wish that I could have protected you from it, somehow.”
Raven smiles at his blatant concern, “I used to think that if I stayed quiet and kept my head down that everyone would just leave me alone. Try and graduate without a fuss,” she chuckles drily, “I was stupid to think maybe that could be enough.”
Damian covers one of his hands with hers, capturing her attention.“You’re definitely not stupid Raven, but you are a fighter. You’re one of the bravest people I know. To have hope like that, even knowing that people might treat you differently because of what happened? That’s admirable.”
Something stirs in Raven’s chest at his words. A spark that lights a fire within her, “You’re right, I am a fighter. I deserve to have the same opportunities as everyone else, regardless of my family name. I can dream about anything I want—and I’m starting with that internship.”
Damian’s smile is wide, “That’s my girl.”
Her stomach makes a little flip at his words, but she doesn’t let that stop her from throwing her arms around his neck, “Thank you Damian.”
His arms tighten around her after getting over his initial shock from her touch, and his chin rests gently on the top of her head, “You’re welcome Raven,” he leans back to look down at her, “Now how about you tell me what really happened in the bathroom, and maybe I’ll consider giving the next book in that series you’ve been reading all semester.”
Raven ignores the fact that Damian obviously keeps up with her reading habits, and looks at him with a raised brow, “The next book doesn’t come out until next summer.”
“I may or may not have the author’s copy.”
“You do not,” her eyes light up at his smirk, “How did you manage to get one?”
“I pulled a few strings,” he trails, choosing not to indulge any further.
“I cannot believe you!”
“I’ll show it to you later. It was going to be your Christmas present, but now it’s my bargaining chip.”
Raven sends him a mock glare, “That’s not fair, it’s my present.”
“Nope, it’s not fair at all,” Damian grins, “So spill first—then you’ll get your present.”
She bites her lip, “You have to swear that you won’t do or say anything about it to anyone else.” Even though she had threatened Pansy earlier, she never intended to say anything to Damian about their conversation.
“So something did happen?” his eyes bunch together with concern, “Did she or Astoria hurt you?”
“No, no one hurt me,” Raven sighs, “I’ll tell you what happened but I’m serious. I don’t want anyone getting in trouble, that’ll just make everything worse.”
“I promise,” Damian holds out his hand, “Pinky promise.”
With a smile she interloops her pinky with his, “And you better be serious about that book. I expect it to be in my hands before the night’s over.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll go right up to my dorm to get it after you tell me everything. ”
Raven rolls her eyes and feigns annoyance, but the grin obvious on her face betrays her true feelings. So they sit down on the closest bench under the gazebo, and Damian leans in close as Raven starts to recall her confrontation with Pansy. She lays a hand softly on his arm when his hands clench, nearly shaking with unbridled and righteous rage. They continue to talk until they’re both calmer, and ready to put the events from the evening behind them. Then their conversation evolves to other things—her internship, his family—everything and anything they can think about.
The longer they spend together the harder it gets for Raven to keep her hands to herself. She reaches out to rub a comforting hand down his arm as he talks about the strained relationship with his parents. Then she smacks his shoulder when he jokes about that one Niffler incident last year. (They had chased it down for nearly an hour before trapping it in a corner…right before it jumped right on top of her head).
He listens intently as she talks about her wishes of becoming a part of something bigger than herself. Together they dream about the world they want to create.
As it starts to get later and the warming charms begin to fade, Raven follows Damian back inside and through the halls to his dorm. She waits outside while he grabs her book, and then together he takes her hand and they walk to Ravenclaw common room.
Students are filtering in and out of the halls, all still filled with an excited energy from the night. Raven’s thankful they’re not on patrol duty tonight, and she holds her book close to her chest with the hand that’s not holding Damian's.
Witches and wizards whisper to each other as they walk by, but Raven doesn’t care. She’s too focused on the warm, fuzzy feeling growing in her chest as Damian’s thumb strokes lightly over the back of her hand.
The door to the common room is wide open when they get there. Damian insists on walking her to her room, and from the amount of inter-house couples visiting she figures it won’t hurt to add another Slytherin to the mix. There’s a part of her that’s a little anxious about Damian seeing her room, but the larger part that just wants him closer keeps her walking.
She lets go of Damian’s hand to open the door, missing his warmth, and she holds it open wider for him to follow her inside.
“Yeah, this is almost exactly what I imagined your room would look like,” Damian says, voice full of amusement. His eyes quickly scan her room, taking note of the high black shelves—each stacked to the top with books. Another in the corner is full of potion ingredients. Her walls are painted a dark navy blue (her house colors of course), and her gray blackout curtains are pulled back, putting the courtyard below on full display.
“Oh bugger off,” Raven places her newest novel on the desk, fingers lingering on the cover, “You know how much I love books and dark colors.”
“That’s true, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a book in your hands,” he teases back.
“Well they’re book free for now,” Raven wiggles her fingers at him, “but I don’t know if I’ll be able to say the same in the next few minutes.”
He smiles, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Well I’m glad you like your present. Happy Christmas Raven.”
“Happy Christmas Damian. I feel bad though, I didn’t get you anything.”
“Of course you did. Tonight with you was my Christmas present, the best one yet.”
There’s something in his eyes that looks like before when they were out on the dance floor and enraptured in each other. Now they’re in the safety of her room with no one to interrupt them, and it sends Raven’s heart racing. She wraps a hand around the back of her neck, suddenly feeling a bit shy.
Damian steps closer, and Raven sucks in a soft breath. She so desperately wants to grab him by his lapels and pull him forward to meet her lips. How many times had she daydreamed about snogging him? Too many to count. Now that he’s right here, inches away and leaning in, she feels herself pulling away. Despite how perfect she imagines it will be because Pansy’s words are stuck in the back of her mind, telling her that all she’ll do is hold him back.
And her heart breaks just a little when he pulls back too, concern clearly written on his face, but all she can do is turn away.
“I think we both should get some rest,” she whispers, her voice shaky but clear enough for Damian to realize that this is goodbye.
He looks at her and Raven thinks for a moment that he might argue. Nothing has ever stopped him from doing just that before, but he doesn’t. Instead he sighs, “You’re probably right,” he says, taking her hand in his once more. Then he brings it up to his lips and gives it just the barest of kisses before letting it go, “sweet dreams Raven.”
“Goodnight Damian.”
She has to bite her lip as she watches him turn away to keep herself from calling him back. When he shuts the door she slumps on the bed, the fabric of her dress crinkles as she sits, and she drops her face into her hands.
She spends the rest of the night wondering what would have happened if she didn’t care about what anyone thought and just kissed him anyway.
.
The fall out of last night with Pansy isn’t as bad as Raven thought it would be.
Rumors fly of course (both literally and figuratively), but she’s surprised to find that just as many people seem to take her side as they do Pansy’s.
Regardless, being at the center of attention is always something that Raven tries her best to avoid. So when witches and wizards flock to her from all houses in between class changes she’s nearly at her wits end by the time she gets to her last one with Snape. She sits down with a huff as some students turn back to look at her. After a well-placed glare they turn back just as quickly.
Jinx applauds her, “Nice glare Ravenclaw, you have a lot of Slytherin potential.”
“Thanks,” Raven grumbles, “But I’m trying to distance myself from Slytherin right now.”
“This doesn’t have to do with a certain Slytherin prefect and Quidditch cup champion does it?”
“How did you know? It’s not like the entire school is talking about us right now,” she mocks, then sends Jinx a smirk, “Although I will say there’s a lot of people also talking about how you humiliated Astoria last night.”
The smile Jinx gives her is downright evil, “You don’t know how happy that makes me. If we’re being real though she had it coming since first year.”
In a rare moment of vulnerability Raven gives her a warm smile, “Thanks for sticking up for me Jinx, that honestly means a lot.”
“And I’ll do it again,” Jinx flips her vibrant pink hair over her shoulder, “Hey listen. This thing you kind of have with Damian—it’s good you know that right? I saw him at lunch, he doesn't care about the rumors. He just asked about you, and if you were okay. ”
Raven sighs, “I like him, Jinx. A lot. I just…I’m not good for him. I have so much baggage, I’m afraid I’m going to drag him down.”
“You’re an idiot, and I mean that in the best way,” Jinx rolls her eyes, “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
“Awh, how sweet of you to say,” Raven says drily.
“I know, I’m really channeling my inner Hufflepuff. Don’t expect that to last though.”
Raven shakes her head, but smiles nonetheless as Professor Snape starts class with hiss to quiet down.
They’re well into creating their next potion when Jinx bumps her shoulder after handing over the fluxweed.
“Just think about giving it a chance.”
Raven doesn’t have to ask her what she means. Damian’s been the only thing she’s been able to think about all day. She nods, and they finish their potion together in silence. The rest of class goes by fast and she makes the trip back to the common room after telling Jinx goodbye. Then she shuts her door to her room and the rest of the world, deigning to read her book in isolation as everyone else starts to pack.
She doesn’t know when she’ll see Damian next, but she can’t quite make herself go out to search for him yet.
Mostly because she’s afraid of what he’ll say if she tells him the truth.
.
There’s only one part of the year the corridors at Hogwarts are empty, and Raven looks forward to it every time it comes around. Everyone else leaves to go home for Christmas break, all except her of course, but that’s okay. Hogwarts is more of a home than her father’s manor ever was. Now especially. It’s quiet and calm, and safe .
Soon everyone will be back for the spring semester—but at least for now she can breathe again.
For the first time in a while she finds herself relaxing in front of the fireplace in the living area. Tucking her fuzzy-socked feet underneath her, she leans back into the couch with her wool blanket. While pulling out the book Damian gave her she hums to herself with gratification at the snow falling steadily outside the nearby window. The only thing that can make this perfect is—
“Tea?” A voice calls out behind her. Raven turns, cooling her features to hide her surprise when she finds Damian there, with a mug in each hand.
“Damian? I didn’t know you were still here?” She takes the cup with thanks, bringing it to her nose and breathing in. There’s a hint of something herbal and sweet—almost fruity like apples, and it’s wonderful. Chamomile.
“I’ll be leaving this evening,” he says, taking a seat on the couch next to her, “I wanted to stay back for a bit before I go.”
She thinks about asking why, but she knows that Damian is about to tell her himself. She feels the undercurrent of his emotions in his aura, each one just as complex as the other. There’s something brewing underneath, bubbling as he draws closer.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, taking an experimental sip. It fills her with warmth and sends tingles down to the tips of her toes. She knows they should talk about why she’s been avoiding him. She opens her mouth to give him an apology when he cuts her off,
“I have another present for you,” Damian says, and Raven notices the letter in his hand for the first time. She raises her brows, tentatively reaching out for it when Damian hands it to her.
“What is it?” she asks, turning it over. The Wayne’s wax seal is stamped onto the back and her fingers brush over it. It’s gold with a large W in the middle, surrounded by a crest and a sword at the top, intertwined with vines.
“It’s my father’s recommendation letter. I told him about how you’ve been wanting to apply for the internship at the Ministry a while ago and he wanted to help.”
Raven feels her heart skip a beat. After Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Snape both agreed to write her a recommendation, she only needs one more. A letter from Bruce Wayne is pretty much a guaranteed acceptance. This is her opportunity to show the Ministry that she’s not her father. This is life changing. It’s everything. It’s…too much.
“Damian I can’t accept this, it’s too generous,” she holds the letter back out to him, “I don’t deserve this.”
“Raven,” Damian says, capturing her wrist in his hand to stop her, “You’re going to be fighting to prove people they’re wrong about you for the rest of your life, all because of your father. I get a chance to help because of mine. Take it, because this will be an uphill battle. You’re going to need all the help you can get, and it’s okay to let us—let me help.”
Tears well in the corners of her eyes. Never has she been presented with such generosity without someone trying to serve their own self-interests. The sincerity in Damian’s voice is overwhelming. He wants to help her because he can, and that’s it.
“I don’t know how I could ever thank either of you for this,” she says, taking a shaky breath.
Damian smiles and tenderly reaches out to brush her hair out of her face and behind her ears. “You can come visit home with me and thank him yourself if you want. Everyone would love to have you, especially Alfred. He’s been wanting to meet you ever since I came home talking all about you during first year.”
Raven laughs through her tears, shaking her head, because this can’t possibly be real. Except it is, and Damian’s smile is hopeful, mirroring the hope now blooming in her chest, and his thumb is brushing away the tear that rolls down her face.
She doesn’t know how this will go—doesn’t even know how to navigate a courtship, but she does know she wants to try. Damian’s worth it.
“Deal.”
His grin lights up the entire room, “Can I kiss you now?”
Raven nods enthusiastically, “Yes, please, I want that very much.”
“Good,” he murmurs against her mouth, “Because you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to snog you.”
“I think I have an idea,” she says, closing the rest of the distance.
Their lips meet for the first time, and her eyes slide shut as she breathes in his scent. The same one from his beanie that had driven her crazy. Just like the way he holds her tight as if she’ll disappear forever in an instant, and the maddening path of his hands sliding up and under her sweater to feel the bare skin of her lower back.
When he deepens their kiss, and she moans softly into his mouth, she thinks about how she never wants to be sane again.
#damirae#damian x raven#teen titans#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#fan fiction#a03 writer#read on a03#fluff#christmas fluff#harry potter au
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Things and colours to write about
I. moss and gold
II. chrome and water
III. blood and porcelain
IV. leather and ebony
V. ivory and lipstick
VI. moonlight and glass
VII. lace and bruises
VIII. marble and milk
IX. ink and petals
X. neon light and pearls
#writing prompts#writing prompt#fic prompt#prompts#writing ideas#Museenkuss#writing#writblr#creative writing#etc#I had a lot of fun with this one#my notes for it are a MESS#so many changes in combinations#and I kept spinning thoughts and concepts as I was putting this down which is always a good sign#as in — the list works for me. prompts spark inspiration. and such.
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𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝙎 𝙏𝙊 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙍𝙄𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙎
— PURPLE
Mauve.
Violet.
Lilac.
Magenta.
Plum.
Royal.
Lavender.
Grape.
Periwinkle.
Sangria.
Jam.
Heather.
Noble.
Berry.
Mulberry.
Orchid.
Amethyst.
Wine.
— BLUE
Navy.
Sky.
Turquoise.
Indigo.
Slate.
Deep.
Prussian.
Teal.
Ocean.
Peacock.
Cyan.
Azure.
Artic.
Sapphire.
Diamond.
Royal.
Ultramarine.
Aqua.
— GREEN
Pistachio.
Juniper.
Grass.
Parakeet.
Leaf.
Pine.
Basil.
Herb.
Lime.
Sage.
Chartreuse.
Fern.
Olive.
Emerald.
Shamrock.
Seafoam.
Moss.
Pear.
Mint.
— YELLOW
Canary.
Gold.
Daffodil.
Seed.
Lemon.
Butter.
Yolk.
Mustard.
Corn.
Bumblebee.
Sunny.
Honey.
Amber.
Blonde.
Banana.
Medallion.
Dandelion.
Platinum.
Buttscotch.
Dandelion.
Sunflower.
Saffron.
Dijon.
Fire.
— ORANGE
Yam.
Marigold.
Rust.
Clay.
Spiced.
Tiger.
Ginger.
Sandstone.
Apricot.
Carrot.
Amber.
Bronze.
Honey.
— PINK
Blush.
Coral.
Rosewood.
Lemonade.
Marshmallow.
Hot.
Magenta.
Bubblegum.
Fuchsia.
Rose.
Salmon.
Roseate.
Glowing.
Reddened.
Sanguine.
Peach.
Strawberry.
Punch.
Watermelon.
Flamingo.
Berry.
Rouge.
— WHITE
Milky.
Alabaster.
Pearly.
Cotton
Chiffon.
Egg-shell.
Bridal.
Snowy.
Bright.
Porcelain.
Chalky.
Creamy.
Ivory.
Empty.
Frosted.
Pale.
Lace.
Salt.
Coconut.
Silvery.
Tooth.
Daisy.
Porcelain.
Achromatic.
Delicate.
Fresh.
Bone.
Innocent.
— BLACK
Ebony.
Sable.
Crow.
Charcoal.
Grease.
Raven.
Midnight.
Pitch.
Dusky.
Inky.
Solemn.
Onyx.
Soot.
Jet.
Leather.
Obsidian.
Murky.
Cloudy.
— RED
Cherry.
Jam.
Sanguine.
Apple.
Rose.
Ruby.
Burgundy.
Maroon.
Crimson.
Merlot.
Scarlet.
Wine.
Brick.
Berry.
Blood.
Sangria.
Candy.
Blush.
Evil.
Imperial.
Ferrari.
Raspberry.
Carmine.
Chilli.
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Live-read: "Les Dessous de Dofus" - part 2
And this is how it starts.
:(
Yes Lilotte. Yes he does.
Pupuces drink blood, as we know from Waven and the Dofus movie. Just because Joris and Kerubim's Pupuce likes to eat kibbles doesn't mean she isn't an obligate uhh hemovore (i made this word up). She wants to drink Lilotte's blood so fucking bad.
We can't really see if this thing Lilotte found is just a piece of fabric, or a dress. It doesn't look very dress-like, but it might be because it lacks any shoulder straps or belts. Keke does like to wear green a lot!
Considering the fact that she, uh, found high heels somewhere, I do think this is a dress. Kerubim has bad taste in clothes.
Joris is just pogging, while Kerubim is so worried about her being bitten everywhere by pupuce... gjsfgsf. (that and the fact that she found one of his drag things. But mostly her being bitten by pupuce)
I think Kerubim's game plan, if Julith hadn't showed up, was to hide knowing who Joris's parents were literally forever. Otherwise, this would be a pretty cruel thing to say, knowing that one day, he would have to reveal to Joris that that's his mom.
The Bakara bits of this comic make me so fucking sad, you have no idea. Just no idea. And her boyfriend is helping her get drunk, constantly.
I had spoken to some select people (in my dms) a lot on the parallels between Ivory Dofus's dragon, Jahash, and Kerubim, as well as Ebony Dofus, Julith, and Atcham. Joris has always been a person associated with neither light nor dark.
As well as parallels between Bakara (who I assume is around 10, in this design) and Joris (who is 10 at this time canonically). Makes me want to to believe that, in the Julith et Jahash comic, Bakara was 7. It'd be cute if they're similar like that.
Now, onto something more topical: Jahash and Kerubim are both idealists, who can make fun of themselves a little bit, but the idealistic view of their career as a hero differs for the two of them.
For Jahash, it is defending Bonta and its innocents.
While for Kerubim, it's about new experiences and sightseeing. It's about defending those who have nobody else, like widows and orphans.
And god, by now you probably know what Kerubim saying that he likes to defend orphans out loud does to my brain chemistry.
He doesn't want any orphan to suffer in life like he did.
Keke, a boomer, thinks that selling weed and catnip is illegal, but considering the fact that this guy went to the guards, — I think it isn't. Also, on the topic of funky plants that exist in the Krosmoz universe:
This is how my headcanon that Joris, Kerubim and Atcham smoke together can still win.
Like, there's a lot of weed near Bonta. Like a Lot of it.
They both haunt one another at night.
Julith having a stuffed doll of Jahash is just... so sad. Kerubim took everything from her, minutes after her husband has died.
And even if Kerubim thinks that she was an evil person, — he wants to protect the widow and the orphan. What happened here is the opposite of everything he stands for.
No wonder he's so protective over Joris, considering the guilt he must feel about killing his mother. He lost his parents too. He knows that, if he doesn't raise Joris himself, Joris has nobody.
My hot take, is that Bakara hates Joris, — and by proxy, Kerubim. Because the man took Joris in and loves him.
Sure, she couldn't have raised him, being a child herself, — but not having him in her life is a decision she makes on purpose, until the circumstances force her to interact with Joris.
Even as an 18-20 year old woman, she never contacts her nephew, despite knowing Kerubim and where they live. Even while crossing them on the street.
Think about it this way: She hates Julith. She thinks that she took advantage of her brother. That Julith had a child with him, for some perverted, monstrous reason, while lying about loving him, before destroying Bonta and causing the man to die.
While she probably knows that Joris isn't to blame for anything, her desire to never speak to him is... quite understandable. And probably for the best, for the sake of both of them, and their mental health.
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Chapters: 4/4
Fandom: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Dalamar the Dark/Raistlin Majere, Dalamar the Dark/Raistlin Majere/Original Character(s)
Characters: Raistlin Majere, Dalamar the Dark, Original Characters, Fistandantilus (Dragonlance), Nuitari (Dragonlance)
Additional Tags: Post-Test Fallout, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Disabled Character, Coming to Terms With A Disability, Action/Adventure, Cuddles, Anal Sex, Life-Affirming Sex, Hope, Actually Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Healthy Relationships, shocking, I know, Par-Salian ought to be shot as an example to others, Canon-Typical Violence, discussion of suicide, Travelogue, minor violence against birds who deserve it, Explorers, Threesome - M/M/M, ish?
Series: Part 3 of Ivory, Blood and Ebony
Summary:
Raistlin and Dalamar come to terms with the aftermath of Raistlin's Test, and go on an adventure together.
Third in the Ivory, Blood and Ebony series.
Salvage Chapter 4:
Secrets and Gods and unpleasant surprises. Also, there may or may not be sex with a god.
#dragonlance#raistlin majere#dalamar#raistlin/dalamar#raistlin/dalamar/nuitari#sorta#salvage#ivory blood and ebony#sex with a god
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DMC MASTER LIST
ON GOING QUESTION/POLL (I can't actually make a real poll but I want to know some opinions lmao)
All fics are posted here on my AO3, along with other things (like my personal headcanons).
VERGIL ONE-SHOTS:
Stubborn as Always--G/N, Fluff
Si vis amari ama--G/N, Fluff, Minor Angst
Uncontrolled Instincts--Male, Smut, Rut fic.
Sweet Serenade--G/N, Smut (? Vergil "self pleasuring")
Good Morning, my Love--G/N, Smut (Consensual somnophilia)
Tapestry of Leather--G/N, Fluff, Lime (god I'm old)
Student and Teacher--G/N, Flirty Fluff
The Bed of the Blue Devil--G/N, Smut, Rut fic.
As You Wish (Part 2)--G/N, Smut
As You Wish (Part 1)--G/N, Fluff
Despite Your Flaws--G/N, Sad Fluff
What Would They Think--G/N, Angst/Sad, Fluffy Comfort
Without You--G/N, Angst/Sad, Fluffy Comfort
A Devil's Secret Wingman--G/N, Fluff
Phantoms of the Past--Male, Angst, Fluff?
DANTE ONE-SHOTS:
Rough Day?--Male, Fluff
I've Got You--G/N, Fluff, Overprotective Dante
Where There's a Will, Right?-- Male, Angst (kinda), Fluff, Smut; Dante between 2-4
Stuck in a Rut--G/N, Smut, Rut fic.
Deep Regret--Male, Sad, Fluff
A Valentine's to Remember--Male, Fluff, Smut
Song of the Heart--G/N (w/anxiety), Fluff
NERO ONE-SHOTS:
No One Else Can Have You--Male, Smut, Power Bottom Nero, Top Reader, Pre-4 Nero
Wanting--G/N, Smut
Fear of the Devil--G/N, Comfort, Fluff
The Scent of You--Male, Smut
V ONE-SHOTS:
Lineaments of Gratified Desire--G/N, Smut, Handjob (V receiving)
Stuck in a small hiding spot + Injured V (short one-shot answers)
MULTIPLE/OTHER ONE-SHOTS:
Bound by Blood: Reader & Sparda Bloodline (Platonic; comfort, angst, fluff)
STUPID THOUGHTS THAT RELATE TO DMC:
Sin Devil Trigger Vergil's tail
Vergil only has 2 things to his name
Me at Vergil when I found out about Devil May Cry
Screenshot ruining my Bloody Palace run
Vergil right after V and Urizen merge appreciation post
"Bound by Blood" re-write excerpts (semi-gory warning)
"I think I'm pretty good at playing Vergil"
Ebony & Ivory replicas. Plus, Nero and Dante body pillowcases.
How much can the Sparda bloodline lift??
Thoughts while writing a "Nero x Terminally Ill reader" fic
Vergil and Lawn Darts
Vergil tiddies
This is why I love the DMC fandom--Comment thread
DMC 2 "Dante" is actually Vergil
Teeth!
Why do Dante and Vergil in DMC5 look so different?
Can the Sparda-bloodline dance?
Kneeling Vergil
Vergil being sick but also stubborn
Do it for him
A really good Nero x G/N Reader fic (that's not mine) and why my dumbass commented lmao
Eric and Vergil
Vergil's autistic
Sparda twins and leg gaiters
Aro/Ace Dante?
SHOP LAYOUT MAP
ART:
MLP Dante
Semi-spicy Dante (Mature label)
Drifting in the ocean all alone
GOOGLE DRIVE MASTERLIST OF PROMPTS/IDEAS THAT I'LL BE DOING.
Requests are currently closed; I have WAYYY TOO MANY. It might be a while before I reopen them; thank you so much for the support!!
A quick shameless self-plug--I also have a fan-character-based story as well if y'all would consider giving it a look, I'd really appreciate it. It is both here, @adevilsfolly , and on AO3
#devil may cry#oneshot#masterlist#dmc dante#dmc vergil#dmc nero#dmc v#devil may cry dante#devil may cry vergil#devil may cry nero#devil may cry v#dante x reader#vergil x reader#nero x reader#v x reader#dante x g/n reader#vergil x g/n reader#nero x g/n reader#v x g/n reader#vergil x male reader#dante x male reader#nero x male reader#v x male reader#devil may cry 5#reposted from my ao3#fluff#smut#angst#comfort fluff#fan fic
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Worship Like a Dog | Love and Deepspace - Rafayel/MC
Burnt umber.
Sienna.
Auburn.
Coral.
Saffron.
Give him all the time in the world and it still would not be enough to discover every wonderful color he felt and saw when she was near. A work of art, not crafted by his own talented hands, but just as treasured.
She was his soul, the embodiment of everything he held dear. She’d slipped from his grasp once, but he would make sure she wouldn’t do so again.
Rafael couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been so desperate for another’s gaze. For their touch and their attention. For the privilege of existing in their presence.
It made his face burn to think about, so he covered such embarrassing thoughts with orders and complaints that made her roll her eyes and sigh with annoyance when he spoke.
He would take it.
Cerulean.
Sapphire.
Robin’s egg.
Olive.
Sage.
He didn’t think she would give in to his demands to go on a stroll. By the seaside of course. He told her it was to find inspiration. She nodded in resigned understanding as she walked alongside him and held the bags containing his newly purchased supplies.
But while her eyes were locked on the crashing waves and bursts of foam, his eyes were locked on her. What would you call the color of the shine in her hair? What shade is the corner of her eye? What color would she turn if he held her hand?
“You must really love this view if it’s able to inspire so many of your paintings…” She commented, absentmindedly.
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t waste my time on something that wasn’t worth every second of it.”
He wasn’t talking about the view.
Byzantium.
Vermillion.
Amber.
Ivory.
Ebony.
What a wonderful thing it was, to have the privilege to feel such a love. A love that far surpassed adoration and felt more akin to utter devotion.
Indeed if she had an altar, he would kneel before it until his legs ached and his back grew stiff. Hands clasped and eyes fixed on her divine idol.
He would bring gifts of anything and everything precious. Left in the offering bowl; a glittering scale, pints of his own blood, the ocean, the moon, the sound of the sea.
And it would be bliss.
Fulvous.
Lilac.
Chartreuse.
Orchid.
Amaranth.
He’d never felt desperation, the way he did when she re-entered his life.
He didn’t care how low it made him seem when he demanded she never make him wait again. Phrased as a demand, he wondered if she noticed that it’s true nature, was a desperate plea.
What he meant was, “Don’t leave me.”
He’d never forgive her if she passed from this life and slipped from his grasp. But his devastation and fury would not stop him from seeking her out in the next life. Traveling to the ends of the earth, to meet her again.
Perhaps he’d reincarnate as one of her beloved cats. He would never admit the way it would suit him, lounging around in her lap for hours, demanding her attention and following her around, drifting through her legs as she sighed with fond annoyance.
He would do whatever it took.
Scarlet.
Juniper.
Tuscan sun.
Slate.
Jade.
Each stroke of his brush was a confession. Each sigh from his lips was a declaration of love. Each brush of his hands against his own lips was a kiss against her fingertips. Each thread of his fingers through his hair was a stroke against her cheek.
Even a single touch, would be enough to set his body alight, a thrill unlike any other.
When he was gifted with her touch, when she placed his palm over his racing heart, he wondered if she could hear what it said.
I love you, don’t leave.
I love you, never stray from my side.
I love you, I can make you happy.
I love you, please look my way.
Words he couldn’t say aloud. He didn’t know if he wanted her to hear it or not.
Green.
Blue.
Pink.
Brown.
Yellow.
After every second of pining and want, he knew it was possible she would never return what he felt.
He only hoped that if such a thing happened, she would be merciful enough to let him continue to remain at her side.
But he also dared.
Dared to hope she would look at him with love.
Dared to want the feeling of her kiss on his skin.
Dared to wish she would promise to never leave.
Dared to desire her to mean every word.
For now, he would be content, demanding her time and basking in her glare. He would complain about her gentle punches, and savor them like hugs. He would look into her eyes and let words fall from his lips that hinted at what he felt, hidden in metaphors and stories, much like the canvases he displayed in galleries.
For now he would simply dream.
And that would be plenty.
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[ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ] ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀꜱ
[under the break bc this is really long]
red
lipstick
cherry
blood
crimson
scarlet
brick
vermilion
cardinal
wine
beetroot
lobster
mercury / mars
apple
maroon
ruby
claret
rosy
poppy
blushing
watermelon
strawberry
grapefruit
anne
orange
peach
tangerine
auburn
ginger
fire
fox
amber
gold / golden
tawny
burnt
venus
cantaloupe
carrot
pumpkin
Titian
yam
tiger
marmalade
pepper
rust
butterfly
fall
apricot
squash
clay
yellow
sunny
sand
butter
syrup
medallion
golden
bee
honey
daffodil
sunflower
buttercup
sandstone
corn
lemon
yolk
dandelion
taxi
saturn
sunset
pencil
banana
pineapple
duck
schoolbus
potato
green
grass
spring
herb
juniper
chartreuse
clover
lucky
leprechaun
seaweed
pickle
leafro
earth
pistachio
basil
emerald
alligator
army
aloe
jade
olive
matcha
lime
blue
sky
ocean
crest
navy
cadet
aqua
blueberry
butterfly
robin's egg
lapis
flame
peppermint
jay
lavender
corn
wheat
cobalt
slate
denim
peacock
arctic
sapphire
purple
mountain
dawn
heather
violet
grape
eggplant
amethyst
cheshire
crocus
bruise
blackberry
ube
lavender
grape
plum
lilac
periwinkle
black currant
iris
orchid
beet
pink
blush
flamingo
guava
rose
peony
cherry blossom
salmon
lemonade
bubblegum
lotus
pig
cotton candy
punch
coral
hot pink
pink panther
rose quartz
blobfish
dragon fruit rind
rhubarb
lipgloss
[bonus: shades]
black
panther
night
pitch
onyx
jet black
coal
penguin
suit
cat
obsidian
zebra
diamond
raven
bat
magnet
oil
ebony
ants
black pearls
plum
squid ink
truffle
shadow
grey
cloud
dust
rocks
silver
smoke
ash
graphite
dolphin
iron
basalt
titanium
tin
dove
pigeon
slate
scales
smoke
flint
steel
white
marble
pearls
dove
linen
snow
porcelain
alabaster
ivory
cloud
bone
rice
foam
whipped cream
lace
eggs
lily
coconut
milk
zebra
polar
cream
brown
chocolate
cocoa
rabbit
bear
squirrel
bark
chestnuts
cinnamon
coconut
teddy bear
violin
caramel
coffee
cydney's backyard fence
mocha
penny
walnut
gingerbread
paper bags
acorns
mud
courtesy of @cydthesciencekid
#in the end it's mostly listing things that are those colours haha#also half of these are names#colours#writerblr#lyralit#creative writing#writers#writing#writblr#writers block#writing ideas#rainbow colours#colour spectrum#drawing reference#writing reference#colour dictionary#colour
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I'm a big fan of demon hybrids having animal traits in the sense they're technically demon traits but plenty demon designs are based off animals to some degree, and I'm a biology enthusiast. So here's some of mine:
-Neros demon arm in dmc 4 is a result of his body trying to protect him. Similar to scaring, because he got attacked by a demon and it's noted he thought it was infected his body's immune response to being expose to demon (germs? Fluid? Breaking of the skin in general?) Was to basically activate his DT form in that one area likely to stave off infection and or prevent future damage. Again like scarring in humans. My supporting evidence is in DMC 5 Neros demon arm has changed to look like his according DT trigger. This is not to say DT forms are basically trauma, but that as a bodies defensive measure is less stable and functional the younger you are. Bc most of your bodies resources are going towards growing and hormones.
- Dante eating pizza with like almost all toppings could reasonably be backed as being because be it just using his guns or taking a DT form it's gonna be quite physically taxing. Carbs provide energy, it woukd realistically burn a ton of energy to do things like shapeshift. (You could make a case of this applying a similar way to V where functionally being split in two (6 counting Gryphon nightmare shadow phantom) means vergil was already running on fumes and Urizen just got most of it hence he still needed the qliphoth fruit for power. But also why even when eating it afterwards Vergil is still basically on equal footing as Dante. It basically just got Vergil at a healthy...everything. and it may be why Griffon Shadow and Nightmare weren't merged back in as well (yes symbolism obv but lemme support it with this) because the fruit was like a extreme multivitamin griffon shadow and Nightmare would be akin to like overdosing on vitamins. (This is also why Neros arm is basically in a DT state in dmc 4 but otherwise his DT is like a shadow. It's a lot of energy so this is his bodies closest thing it can manage due to energy but i wouldnt rule out age too as Dante had no issue going full DT at 18) this may also be why Nero can have his DT arms out without transforming fully into a DT form but also may just be bc he's 1/3rd demon
- Urizens form having so many eyes is a result of him still getting some of vergils trauma bc ptsd shows up as hyper vigilance/more activity in the brain.
- Neros DT form in dmc 4 and 5 both has downward horns akin to vergils dmc 3 DT form but also they are wing like in a way that reminds me of Credos Angelo form (esp in the chest) and his chin spikes are like Dantes DT form in 5. I think this is like half formed by genetics half formed by experiences in a way bc of those details. this also explains despite being idential twins dantes and vergils DT forms are so different. (Dante will never say it but he wishes his wings were also an extra pair of hands this is because he could eat more slices of pizza at a time)
- yknow how in some ways horns make cooling off easier because it pulls an animals blood out of their body through said horns to be cooled and then go back in the body? Dante and Nero can use this to cool off but Vergils broken horns don't allow this.
- bc Nero has more of a reptile/raptor motif and Vergils is more on the fish side with fin mentions I interpret this as Neros scales are made of kertaine like hair and Vegils are made of Dentine like teeth.
-until Nero regret a human arm his DT formed arm shed. This normally doesn't happen for Dante and vergil but that's bc theyre not in their DT forms 24/7.
I ALSO THOUGHT THE SAME ABOUT NEROS ARM!!
I always thought that the reason why dante never got carpal tunnel from pulling the trigger of ebony n ivory sm is because his body would heal it before it got a chance. Vergil's horns could also be broken because his internal body temp is MUCH higher than his kin, and therefore that xtra heat in his hosts is still being vented despite how broken they are?? idk.
#sorry this is so short but You Are Correct in Everything#dmc#devil may cry#ask#dmc nero#vergil dmc#dmc dante
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