slick pad

Young!James Potter x Reader: Here

AN: I don’t know how satisfied I am with this, but I still think it’s good writing, so I hope you enjoy! Critique is always welcomed in my inbox.

Warning(s): Suggestive themes, profanity

Requested by: Anonymous

“Moony will never see it coming.” Sirius hissed, his smile daunting like a newly carved jack-o-lantern.

“The tosser deserves it.” James agreed. “Caterpillars in our sock drawer was a low blow. I just want to know what goes through his head the moment he tries to take a step on the moving staircase slicked with grease.”

“I just want to know where he got all those caterpillars.” Sirius mumbled, thoughtlessly.

Keep reading

of bloodstained lips & chokeholds

Rachel x Delphine.
Set somewhere in season 3.

Vaguely AU, because Rachel is neither blind nor wheelchair bound.

3k-ish words, rated M.

Can be found on AO3 here.

She tells herself it is an accident, that she didn’t mean for it to happen.

They both know it is a lie.

Keep reading

Come Ten Years...

Crowley imagine requested by anon! “So Im in major need of some Crowley fluff so if you get an idea for that anytime soon you should totally do it. I would give you one but my brain has shut down seeing as I haven’t slept yet. Basically I wanted to say please please please if you have some Crowley fluff you could do do it please. Just you know if you have an idea for it. I will try to think of something and give you an idea after my brain starts working again. Sorry I’m begging I just really love your Crowley imagines and Crowley” First of all, thank you! And BOY do I have an idea! I’m not sure this fits the qualitifcations for fluff, as there’s no kissing or anything, but there are high emptions. This imagine has been edited for reposting to add details where I had forgotten them when I first wrote this. This imagine is the first installment of a two-part series (thus far along), so expect a cliffhanger and a continuation within the week. Hope you like it!

This imagine is continued in “Just A Pinch.”

Your hair was on end even in the extreme heat, the hearth’s fire lapping just below your outstretched fingers, hands trembling in anticipation… and in unadulterated fear. The wind seeped between the elderly window panes, the draft licking along your spine, phantom briers stabbing into the soles of your feet with the extent of your discomfort, the muted pain a constant reminder that your end was near, sprinting closer with your every shuddered breath. You wrung your hands, anxiety gripping our motor controls with unshakable determination, sweat collecting on your brow as you focused your breathing, paying attention to the sensation of breath, knowing each exhale may be your last. You wished the flames would engulf your body, stealing the victory from the unknown assassins creeping through the night on their… it's… his, her, you had no idea, journey to collect your pathetic soul. You didn’t regret your decision, despite the terrifying consequences, not in the least; you needed your parents… you couldn’t survive without them. Even though the years dragged on and your mind sorted through the sugar-coating (which had left you immobilized by fear for weeks), you wouldn’t dare revoke your deal.

You had been under ten years old, under five feet tall, and under the crippling influence of grief. A pretty lady had shown up almost as soon as disaster struck, dressed in a flowing ivory gown (something, you recalled, that had seemed fresh out of a fairy tale, the pixie sent to rescue you, to solve your problems with a spattering of sparkling dust), her eyes shattering the scarce light like faceted marble, a now startling white. She had been so kind to you… she promised to mend every shattered fragment of your life… under one condition; all you had to do was let her inside your home in ten years time and she would take you away to stay with her. Forever. To a child as young as ten, forever was an intoxicating ideal, especially with a woman as kindhearted and beautiful as your supposed savior. It had seemed so simple, your sobbing form curled into her chest, suspended on her lap like a shattered Christmas ornament resting on a branch when it could have fallen farther down the tree.Her legs had been crossed Indian style, like your favourite teacher had taught you, the gossamer fabric of her gown clutched between chubby, stunted fingers, the silken texture held tightly, her hands smoothing over your hair, a surprisingly motherly gesture from so foreign a woman. She had dried your tears, pressed a tender kiss to your temple, and bid you farewell, the lifeless bodies laying by the faulty stove inhaling once more, lungs clear of toxic gasses, hearts beating again. Imagine your glee when the poison was expelled from your family’s lungs, the windows thrown open by some unseen force of nature, the gasses escaping into the evening. How you had held them, how they had kissed you… but you had no idea at that point in your life how much you would cherish your life in the year before losing it. You had met a man. He was charming, gentlemanly, chivalrous to a fault… he was, in effect, a whole other fairy tale. Despite your looming expiration date, you had allowed yourself to fall in love with him. He was coming over tomorrow night for dinner… but he would find your mangled corpse, life long absent from your body. No, not even that. You had taken precautionary measures, protecting him from the horror as best you could. You were staying in a ramshackle motel (hence the subpar window arrangement) off the side of the highway far, far from your home… no one would find your body but the owner, if he even bothered to check the room. From what you had seen, he was too busy reading a seedy adult magazine to care about his patrons. You didn’t even say your goodbyes. Dragging him between the crosshairs of your personal Hell was the last bullet-point on your to-do list. Even now, the woman’s words rang within your skull like deafening church bells, your pulse battling her whisper, her silken voice a sickening lullaby.

“Tell you what; I like you, Y/n. I’ll lend you a little bit of magic,“ she had whispered, nuzzling her face into your hair, her breath sickeningly sweet against your face. Years later you wondered how she had come to know your name. "I can bring them back, my dear. All it takes is a kiss,” she giggled softly, sadly, conscious of your current emotional state, snuggling her straight nose into your neck, ebbing your tears to make way for a sorrowful sigh of half-hearted laughter. “and I’ll be back in ten years to bring you to my home. You and I… we’ll be the best of friends. Mummy and Daddy will get right back up, good as new. Can you do that for me, sweet? Don’t you want your mommy back? Don’t you miss them at all?” She had asked you, warping your sympathies to her will, ebony ringlets shifting as she lowered her head to yours, her eyes chocolate-coloured and dangerously beautiful, her nose a perfect, envious line, cheekbones chiseled from flawless alabaster. Her full lips stretched in a pitying half-grin, arched eyebrows knotting as her hand ran over your slick cheek. The pad of her thumb caught a teardrop as it cascaded over your cheekbone, wiping the saltwater away, a faint, almost unheard sizzling in the ear closest to her hand. You remember sniffling, your eyelashes heavy with the weight of your tears, though her eyes remained dry, professional is that sense, at least, her gaze shifting to the corpses laying atop the tiles.

“W-will it hurt?” you whimpered, terror gripping your young muscles. She nodded slowly, sympathetically, pinching your arm. You winced away from the acute pain, her fingers now held between your faces, the pinching gesture still frozen in place, her manicured fingernails memorizing.

“Just a little, sweetheart. No more than a pinch.” You glanced back at your parents, splayed across the tile floor in an unnatural way, their eyes open, unseeing. "Can you handle that? That wasn’t so bad, was it, Y/n? Mommy and Daddy for a quick pinch?” Her words shifted the air around you as you made your decision, world spinning in twenty different directions, her face the only solid point. You bobbed your head in agreement. She had smiled, her entire face illuminating in glee, pleased with your choice, before her lips pressed into your forehead… and she was gone.

A tear escaped the confines of your fading composure, brimming over your waterline before you had the sense to rein it back in. You wiped at the water with trembling, desperate hands, determined to remain strong. The once welcome sight of a friendly stranger now cast your heart in ice, the very thought of seeing her inhumanly beautiful face striking you stiff with terror. What was coming for you? You feared she was lying about the pain to spare your younger heart, to trap you in this deal. Of course she was. No one can raise the dead without an equally deadly consequence. No human can breathe life back into a corpse, let alone two, without some sort of sadistic end goal. And her eyes… oh, her eyes… Nothing human could produce such a pigment. You gulped, bile polluting your mouth, acid dancing across your tastebuds, the sting a welcome experience, what with your body slowly numbing to the world. Your eyes shot to the clock. Eleven fifty-five at night. You had five minutes left. Someone’s hound howelled in the distance. They must have left it outside in the night, as it’s cry had been sounding all night. Come to think of it, you’d heard that same animal before… you couldn’t explain why, but each peal from the canine set poison to seep through your stomach.

“Oh God…” you whispered, your entire body shivering. You couldn’t get warm! The fire lapped at your fingertips, but you barel felt the heat. Your body was encased in frost. You heard a wolf howl just outside your door. The dog must have broken free, an aggressive claw scraping along the outside. Had you been in any less danger, you would have been concerned for your safety.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” came a familiar, gravelly voice from behind. Startled (you had, after all, come alone to the motel room. You were’t expecting company for another three minutes), you turned, alarmed, to see… well, it wasn’t the feminine face you were expecting. Your gaze was bet by your boyfriend Crowley, of all people, a crimson rose pinned to the lapel of his suit, his face stoic, though the glimmer of watery sorrow caught the firelight in his eyes. You hadn’t even heard the door open to announce his arrival. Come to think of it, the door was locked. As stupid as it sounded, you had taken every precaution you could think of to delay the inevitable pinch, even one as meager as locking a wooden door. How on Earth did he manage to get in? You stared at him in shock, your eyes bugging out of your head, hands tucking into the crooks bewteen your arms, your fading bdy warmth applying little heat to your hands.

“Crowley? You’re not supposed to be here either,” you argued, voice crackling from lack of use, throat dry from fear and anticipation. He lowered his gaze to the fireplace, avoiding your eye, his thumb scratching at the corner of his eye, a charade used to mask the truth behind his actions as he wiped at a falling tear.

“Actually, love, I am. I am…“ he paused, clearing his throat, his eyes locking on yours before he dared to continue, the howling outside increasing in volume, "Stepping in for an old friend.”“ His hands retreated into his pants pockets, his head tilting to the side in frustrated concern. "Darling, I didn’t know-” his voice faded, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed his emotions, chocolate eyes glossy, flames lapping in their reflection. “Y/n, forgive me, this wasn’t supposed to be… My God, I’m so sorry. I’m here for…” his voice trailed off, your breath catching in your throat, panic tainting the air like the poison that had felled your parents and began your demise so long ago.

“You’re here for me,” you breathed, more statement than question, your heart faltering in your chest. Crowley… Crowley had appeared out of nowhere, as she had, his arrival as silent as hers had been. As the dots connected, your consciousness faded further, shapes swimming before your eyes, the dog’s bark ever louder beyond your wooden door. His brow furrowed in pain, his jaw clenching. “You’re going to ki- to-“ You leaned backwards, hand catching on the mantle above the fireplace to steady your falling body. "Oh God.” You choked, your lover stepping closer before rocking back on his heels, torn on whether or not his comfort would appear as an attack. As a result, he remained planted in his spot, his voice reaching across the frigid room to brush against your ears.

“No, love, I’m no- I won’t hurt you… I, I’m sorry. I can’t…“ he inhaled slowly, his head ducked as he collected his thoughts, "I wont hurt you… directly. I’m just here to preside.” Suddenly, the air shifted at his side, his hands quivering at his hips, emerging from his pockets to clasp behind his back, the air steaming with molten breath. An animalistic growl erupted from the nothingness, burning along the sound waves, the very oxygen trembling at the sound, your body locking in terror. Your nightmares, the hound… you knew that sound. You couldn’t breathe. The room was tilting. Crowley came towards you, finally crossing the gap that separated you, his hands grasping your upper arms as you fell, keeping you upright. “You didn’t tell me you had made a deal!” he accused, tears glistening along his waterlines. You swallowed back the urge to vomit, the firelight bending around the shape of a lioness… a bear? Crowley’s hands pulled you upright, leaning you against the wall, further from the fire, his jaw clenched, lips pulled back over a snarl. “No, I won’t do this, not to you!” He hissed, eyes flickering to the being prowling behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me, Y/n? Don’t you think I deserved to know where you were? I could have… I could have done something to help you out of this! You… you must think highly of me if you expected me to shrug and move on when you dropped off the face of this God-forsaken Earth! Did you expect me not to care that Lilith’s hounds were going to rip you to ribbons? Bloody Hell, Y/n, I DESERVED TO KNOW YOU WERE GOING TO DIE!” He screamed, tendons popping in his neck, face ruddy from lack of air, his eyes brimming, tears running over his stubbly cheeks, his brow pinched in anguish

The clock struck midnight, the nearly invisible animal taking form over Crowley’s shoulder. A dog, it was a dog… an enormous, heavily muscled beast, fangs the length of your hand. Had you the strength, you would have screamed, you would have wailed. You would have run as far from the monster as was humanely possible.

All it took was a kiss to consume your life, a simple kiss.

The beast’s black eyes glistened ferociously, freezing you to the bone. Crowley’s grip on you loosened, his face void of emotion, though his eyes held onto a last shred of loss, his hands rubbing over his cheeks, pulling at the skin on his jaw, banishing his tears, hands balled into fists. Your head spun, a sharp pain burning behind your eyes as you watched his visibly numb form step away like one’s family does as you approach the gallows, the guillotine, unwilling to stay for the torture, for the gore, giving up all remaining hope of release. Shock. Disbelief. But it was more than that. He appeared physically bound to abandon you, to leave you as you crumbled to the floor. The wood met your knees. Your hands reached out to catch your body, splinters of wood jabbing into your palms. He flinched at your cry of pain, but did no more to comfort you.

“Crowley?” you breathed, your eyes on the dog pacing behind him. “What is that? What are you? What’s going on? Please, help me!” You were begging, your pleas falling on deaf ears.

“I’m so sorry, love. I’m- I’m sorry.” His eyes flashed red, rubies among a fringe of watery lashes, his hands held in surrender. Your stomach dropped. He was one of them. "It’s out of my hands." You gasped as the dog wound around Crowley’s legs, his voice strangled when it finally emerged. "Juliet,” he breathed, tears forming in his eyes once more, his chest heaving before he spoke his final word. “Kill.”

My friend and I had a little sesh, this isn’t even half of our collections :3

Rigs (left to right): Aaron Sokol, Toro Froth, Ben Wilson, Johnny Landini, Joe Copeland, Toro Mac-8

Sherlocks: Jeffrey Kirkland (top) and Slob (bottom)

Pendants: Joshua Tree Glass and Coyle

E-nails by me :) single unit on the left with Ti on the Sokol, double unit on the right with quartz on the Toro froth