#A rival move vial

[author-a-holmes]

The winter hat image now in my head makes this a thousand times funnier, thanks for that, I'm never going to stop laughing Rofl <3

Trick or Treat? 🦇

(Event Post)

Let's go with a treat!! 🍬

Did you know that in the brainstorming phase of A Rival Most Vial, Ambrose was going to have hair that changed color depending on his emotion? It was too much of a tell for a man so buttoned-up, however, so I nixed it before I started writing.

[bigwishes]

Hi, I'm 20 years old and I work as a pizza delivery guy. The other day I delivered pizza to a big homeless guy and he didn't have any money to give me, but when he heard that I was offering it to him, he did something weird to me, and I started to transform...

You were very kind to hand over the pizza and you were given a gift in return. The man poured a small green vial over your hand as your handed the pizza over and smiled at you.

You tried to shake it off but as soon as it was poured on your hand but it quickly seeped into your skin and vanished without a trace. You started walking back to your car getting ready to call your boss or maybe an ambulance to get checked over after that strange fluid got absorbed into your skin.

You hand feels tingly and strained. You ball up your fist then stretch out your fingers repeatedly trying to get rid of the sensation of pins and needles. When you get back to your car your notice your hands is slightly larger, veins moving down from your forearms.

Slowly your veins began to pulsate, and your forearms expanded, shoulders widened. Your biceps and triceps expanded sitting snug against your delivery man shirt. Your chest expanded breaking the top button on your shirt and a your chest started to sprout course black hair that made its way to your neck. You pushed your pelvis forward trying to make yourself comfortable as your thighs expanded in your jeans. splitting the fabric at the seams.

A beard began to sprout of your face, it was itchy as it thickened.

shock and excitement flooded your system and you rang your boss letting him know you'd have to leave work early.

Driving home you couldn't help but itch all over as thick black hair sprouted all over your body.

By the time you had gotten home you had practically tripled in size from your originally scrawny state.

Excited by the new size of your body you couldn't stop yourself from flexing and enjoying your new found muscle. You could smell a whiff of BO exuding from your hairy pits.

You got out of your car and started heading to your house, your thighs clashed against each other.

Getting inside you strike a pose once again, enjoy the powerful feeling your muscles and top heavy weight bring you, when suddenly

UUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPP *FWOOOMP

You let out a potent blech as you abs sprung forward into a small gut. Nothing with any real overhang and your could still feel the brick wall that had become your abs under the weight.

The soft pudge meat of your belly clipped on your belt and pant buttons, pinching uncomfortably, you quickly undid your belt and pants letting out a deep sigh looking in disappointment as your hairy gut stuck out.

your pants were already ripped, and you had just loosened them at the waist but they suddenly felt tighter, and tighter, the sound of ripping fabric filled your ears as you felt your ass get bigger, and your thighs more powerful. You could feel the fabric of your jeans splitting inch by inch down the perfect bubbled curve of your ass.

Your shoulders widened as your lats flared outwards and meat accumulated around your traps. Blood forced its way into your biceps and triceps making them expanding outwards rubbing up against your pecs which were now like colossal stones tapped to your chest. Your forearms became more defined as they too thickened, the shallow muscle fibres making them now feel like concrete pillars.

Your abs grew too, pushing forward out of that muscle gut once again, but they were still hard to notice as the hair on your chest darkened and grew thicker as did the hair on the rest of your body. Your beard grew scruffy and unkept and your arm pit hair became untamed looking nasty as it stuck out of your pits even with your arms by your side.

Looking in the mirror you had become a big hairy goliath of a man, but it still seemed your transformation hadn't finished. Once again you let out a manly belch as your rock hard abs expanded into a solid muscle gut that was so dense it would rival a steel drum.

UUUUUUUUURRRRP

You posed gleefully in the middle of your house unaware of the veins appearing near your pelvis.

Slowly them twitches, as they became more and more visible. You could practically see the blood being pumped towards your man hood with each heart beat.

You found yourself getting hard, incredibly hard. 5inch, 6...8....11....13 inches later your dick was so hard it was almost painful, you could feel the strain of your manhood as a powerful urge over took you, you felt hormonal, more so than you had ever been in your life. By instinct you stuck your hand in the shredded remains of your underwear and began pleasuring yourself.

You fell to your knees unable to keep your second hand away as your tore off the remaining shreds of clothing from your waist.

You spent hours handling yourself, to the point you were so sensitive you were begging for release, when it finally happened, you let out a monstrous beast like rawr.

You blasted the biggest load of your life, coating your hands and the floor in front of you, but something was strange, it was bright neon green. You looked at your hands in horror thinking something was wrong, but you watches as it quickly got absorbed into your skin. It suddenly clicked in your head it was the same fluid that guy had smeared on your when you handed him his pizza.

But your investigation was cut short as your dick instantly got hard again, you couldn't stop yourself, so full of hormones and desperate to stop the painful but pleasurable sensation in your dick you got back to work, hunched over on your knees.

You've become a beast, with no other purpose in life that to pleasure yourself, and to spread this blessing of size to whatever delivery man comes knocking at your door with your dinner.

[bunnwich]

Gifts (Leona Kingscholar)🧡

Leona muses on the gift you leave him for Valentine's Day. (Based on the official merch twst 2024 Valentine gift messages)

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Yuu/MC!Reader (Can be framed as platonic or romantic)

Words: 936 words, Leona's POV

Notes: Wanted to challenge myself to do something short and sweet in a few hours and was inspired to improve upon yet another dry official Leona gift message response.

--

Gifts.

They came easy over the years, like plucking an oversweet tart from a dessert tray. He was disliked, feared even, but lucky for him easy on the eyes — and still a prince to occasionally bow and scrape to. So many folks over the years were eager to oblige him and follow the traditions of the Sunset Savanna. Idolize the royals; the divine oligarchy. He was simply “lucky” enough to be born under that umbrella. That’s all.

Those gifts and attention fed him for a while, but if he was being honest, some part of him always remained hungry. 

After all, shiny trinkets were nothing like a dusty old book or the heady cedar smell of a well-used chess set. What was the value of pretty baubles to sit on shelves of his empty room or clothes that cost more than some folks' houses?

Pillars of sand.

Was it so damn pathetic and vapid to want something not given by his family's twisted obligations or plucked from the hands of a quivering servant?  No games. No more ulterior motives. 

Wishful thinking, maybe or a childish habit that he had dumped in the trash, like all those boxes of sweets that long went bitter on his tongue.

He reminded himself that others had suffered much worse than not being doted on in their preferred way. However, this reality failed to take away his distaste for each and every gift. Tch. How many times would he have to snuff out that damn sentimentality that he had been so “lucky” to inherit?

Leona’s eyes fell upon the small bottle vial in his palm and the wooden lion tag attached, tied carefully around the bottle. It had been nestled on the corner of his bed when he returned from Spelldrive practice this morning, all nice and wrapped in shiny paper.

His mouth crinkled and a small sound rumbled from his chest without his permission. Relief of some kind maybe. It had been one of the first gifts he received that was not for his birthday or from his family.

A friendly gesture or…somethin’ more insidious?

To think, someone who came to this world with nothin’ goin’ outta their way to get him somethin’...special.

But, “friends” weren’t something he kept. Instead, he had a collection of starry-eyed froshes, classmates, rivals, those few worthy of his respect. And then there was Ruggie of course but, would he be around if not for the understanding they had come to? Best not to dwell on it now.

Leona chuckled watching the amber liquid swish around the curved glass like liquid gold. How bold of them to choose a scent for him of all things. Beastfolk were sensitive to ‘em and he especially. But, they had been the brash and precocious type ever since they came to this school. Always skipping steps to pull off an advanced move.

Regardless of how big of a crowd he’d ever have cheerin’ at one of his games or how many brilliant trinkets he’d be gifted, nothing beat his chosen audience of one. Who, even after seeing firsthand all the grimy parts of him...still havin’ the audacity to stick around so long.

His eyes fell over to the chessboard at the corner of his desk. Brave little creature indeed, and brimming with Savanaclaw tenacity. A little pawn that made it to the other side of the board, ready to be crowned.

No way they knew the implication of such a small gesture, how important scents were to beastfolk, not that he was one for tradition, of course. Still, He brought the bottle to his nose for the umpteenth time as he leaned forward on his elbows. In an odd way, it reminded him of the gardens back at home when it rained, all those lonely hours pouring over books and chess games. 

Alone but…if he concreted enough, he was able to catch a whiff of the oil where their fingers touched the glass. Yes, in their note they had mentioned that this scent reminded them of him, but to his nose it was missing something. A key complementing note. A missing piece. 

The scent of a little herbivore turned into a formidable beast that he couldn’t get out of his head.

His brow furrowed as he glanced over at the small pile of notes, discarded by his boots. Then he tried again this time with more wit.

"Hey– Allow me to thank you for your generous gift. Heh. I can’t believe you actually picked out a halfway-decent fragrance. I might actually keep this. I thought about sending you something in return if the mood struck me, but this thank you note should do the job just fine, right?"

Leona kept it short and sweet. He knew they two were past formalities, but it was amusing to still play the game a little. He had been waiting for them to approach him in such a bold way, and finally, he had been rewarded for his saintly patience. Still, he wasn’t ready to show his hand yet, well-

He allowed sentimentality to win this time and flipped over the note, scrawling a little something extra for their eyes only. 

“P.S. If you were gonna treat your lion so nice…the least ya could do is make good on such bold intentions and show him some proper attention.”

He chuckled again as he let the paper slip from his fingers, finally satisfied with what he had come up with. Honestly, it didn't matter much what he wrote. Maybe he was becoming sentimental in his “old” age but he knew...that they would always find each other in the middle.

It was their move again.

Besides, it was only fair that he repay them properly. Etiquette and all that.

[amongemeraldclouds]

make me

Minimal plot, just smut. You’re welcome.

When your rival grabs the potion ingredient that was meant for you, you’re willing to do what it takes to get it back.

Theodore Nott x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex, oral (m!receiving), v!fingering, degradation, praise, hate sex, characters are aged up.

✿ Masterlist | 2k words

You scan the near empty classroom as footsteps shuffle outside the hall. Your eyes narrow when you see Theodore Nott, your rival. He has been the bane of your existence ever since you got the top marks in your third year and effectively kicked his ranking down to number two.

It’s his rightful place you thought, but he sorely disagreed. Despite the devil may care attitude he’s known for, you know very well he can’t stand the idea that someone could be better and smarter than him. Well tough luck. You weren’t going to back down either.

He’s holding two vials of the potion ingredient you need. “The professor said one vial of Agrippa for each student!” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Ah you never know,” he sighs, holding the vial out in front of you. Taunting you. “I may get careless and accidentally drop one. Then I’ll have backup.”

“And what about me? You took mine, you tosser,” you huff.

“Did I now?” He says, looking confused as he continues to play with your vial. “Don’t see your name here though.” You fantasize reaching over and punching that smug expression off his face.  

You cross your arms instead, willing yourself to stay in control of your emotions. “Tsk tsk Theo. Never thought you’d have to stoop so low. Then again, it is you,” you roam your eyes over him from head to toe in disdain, shaking your head in disappointment. He’s absolutely gorgeous but you’ll never admit it.

“What, ridiculously handsome?” He quips, trying to mask his discomfort.

“You’re certainly ridiculous. And you’re insecure you’ll never beat me if you played fair. Poor Theo,” you reach up, trying to pat his head patronizingly. Instead he grabs your outstretched arm and looks down at you, leaning closer.

“I’m not,” he protests.

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to ignore his electric proximity, how beautiful he looks up close, your breaths sync together and noticeably more shallow. It will only take one small move for your lips to meet. “Could have fooled me. Give me the Agrippa and I’ll let you go.”

“I’m the one holding your arm,” he lifts an eyebrow, trying to assert his control over you.

“Then let me go,” you shoot back.

“Make me,” he challenges.

You watch the fire in his eyes and all the unspoken hatred it tries to convey. There’s a smugness in the set of his jaw as if he knows he has you cornered and there’s nowhere left to run. He underestimates you however, if he thinks you’d even consider running. No. If he insists on pushing you, you’ll just have to push harder.

So you take that one small move, closing the distance between you and kissing him. His grip on your arm softens as he freezes in shock. You take this opportunity to yank your arm free, your mouth still on his. Just as you reach for the vial, he pulls you closer instead and wraps his arms around you, caging you in. Deepening the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding on for support.

Unwilling to lose against you, he kisses you back. It’s a clash of teeth and tongue, lips swelling with all the insults and comebacks you could throw at each other. Instead you say it in the way you suck his bottom lip hard enough to bruise. He counters with his tongue aggressively exploring your mouth.

You argue with the moans that escape your throat and his overwhelming need to devour you leads his mouth down your neck, trailing kisses and gently biting your soft flesh. Your head instinctively rolls back, giving him more access because as much as you hate him, you can’t deny just how good this feels.

Bodies pressed against each other, you feel his hard length twitch against you and can’t suppress the chuckle that escapes your lips. Before you can say something, your eye catches the vial he left on the table behind him. You reach out your hand and try to grab it again, but Theo catches on fast enough to turn both of you around in the opposite direction and places you on the desk.

“Not so fast,” he says panting as he stares at you, reflecting the lust in your eyes. “Make me cum and I’ll give you the Agrippa vial, fair and square just like you wanted.”

You scoff, “how is it fair?” He brings his lips close to your ear and says in a low voice, “because I also want you to cum for me, principessa.”

Fuck. Your breath catches in your throat.

Theo continues, “what? Afraid you can’t take me there?”

“Oh, I’m not the one you should worry about. I always finish what I start,” you move your hands to your blouse and unbuttoning it. 

Theo just smirks and helps with the last few buttons, he opens your blouse and takes a moment to stare at your breasts. “I’d say you’re beautiful, but you probably know that already,” he comments as he unclasps your bra and kisses your breasts gently. It’s so sweet and tender that for a moment you forget he’s your rival.

“Never hurts to hear it anyway,” you reply, trying not to shiver with just how sensitive and vulnerable you feel.

He smiles up at you while his hand continues exploring your breasts, squeezing and teasing, rolling your nipple in between his thumb and index finger. “You’re wonderful, bella.”

You have to remind yourself you hate him despite your legs wrapped around him and your panties soaked for him. Then it didn’t matter as all thoughts left your mind when he runs his tongue across your nipple while he snakes his arm underneath your skirt, softly caressing your thighs.

He hums appreciatively when he feels just how wet you are. “Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but who would have known you’re such a slut.” You whimper at his words, too turned on and embarrassed to speak.

He makes quick work of slipping off your underwear as he explores your folds, spreading your slick all over, making sure to circle his thumb across your clit a few times. Desperate moans leave your lips, and he listens attentively, going back over the sensitive spots that made you louder.

He puts his hand on your mouth, silencing you. “Sshh wouldn’t want everyone to know just how much of a whore you are,” he says as he plunges two fingers into you, and you squirm against him in surprise.

He chuckles as he pumps his fingers in and out, building pressure in the base of your stomach. “So needy, I bet you like touching your cunt too, huh? Such a dirty little slut when no one’s looking.” His voice rumbles deep in his throat and you feel your arousal drip all over his hand.

You clench against his fingers as they curl against you, hitting your g spot, coaxing strings of curses out of you. As he continues to relentlessly thrust his fingers into your dripping cunt, he sucks on your ear lobe and you shudder against him. Everything feels so good, it’s almost too much until he rubs his finger against your clit and light bursts behind your eyes.

You find yourself writhing against him as wave after wave of ecstasy overtakes you. He brushes lazy kisses on your neck, guiding you through your climax and bringing you back down. Panting, you gaze at him through hazy eyes, “not bad, Theo.”

“Come on, don’t forget your end of the bargain,” he commands.

“Oh, I would never,” you smirk and lift yourself up from the table, getting down on your knees. He grunts, removing his belt and zipping down his trousers. You help him free his hard length and you take his cock with your hand, stroking it.

You stare up at Theo through your eyelashes, “is this what you always wanted? I bet you’ve thought about stuffing your cock down my throat, shutting me up. Can’t handle that I’m better than you? Smarter than you?”

Infuriated by your words, he fists his hand through your hair and removes your hand, shoving his cock in your mouth. You take him in, amazed by just how thick he is. “Yeah, that shut you up. Got nothing to say now, huh?” he taunts, thrusting in and out of your mouth, drool spilling down your chin.

“Look at you kneeling for me, taking my cock so well. Finally making yourself useful for once.” He holds your head in place, his grip tight on your hair as he continues thrusting into your mouth hard enough to make your eyes water. You can’t help the liquid heat pooling in your cunt and you squeeze your thighs together to get some relief from the aching need to have him inside you.

Theo notices you squirming and pulls out of your mouth, giving you a second to recover your breath. “Seems the hungry slut wants more, huh?” He says, running his thumb across your puffy lips.

He grips your arm and supports you as you stand up. He brushes your hair away from your face and gives you a gentle kiss on your lips, “you’re doing so well, principessa.” Before the words can sink in, he’s already turning you away from him and bending you over the table as you support yourself with your arms.

He places one of his hand beside yours as the other reaches up to squeeze your breast. He feels so warm and electric against you, you can feel the shortness in his breath in anticipation.

He rubs his cock against your slit, teasing and coating his tip with your arousal. You remind yourself to breathe as you imagine just how good he will feel inside you. With one quick thrust, he enters you and you cry out. “Don’t worry, we’ll start slow,” he says as he moves gently, giving you time to adjust against his big, hard length. 

You whimper but don’t want his already inflated ego to grow further so you say, “is that all you got?”

You should have braced yourself when you said those words as he snickers, “oh you’re going to regret that.” He shoves himself back into you and you feel him bottom out. Salazar, he is stretching you so well.

Desperate, filthy moans escape your lips as he continues ramming himself into you, your mind lost in a haze of pleasure as the delicious friction sets your body on fire. “Not so much better than me now, huh?” He taunts, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back so he can look into your eyes while he fucks you mercilessly. “That’s right, look at me while I shove my cock inside your slippery wet cunt. Fuck, so needy.” You whimper against him, too cock drunk to speak.

“Take it all,” he says, punctuating each word with a deep, hard thrust. Your pussy growing more and more sensitive with each movement. You feel the euphoric pressure building in the base of your stomach once again as you grip onto the table, wood splintering into your skin as try to hold it together.

“Fuck, so desperate for my cock. Tell me you like it or I’ll stop,” he taunts as he feels you grow tighter against him, nearing your release. Your mind can barely keep up, but you sober quite quickly when he stops. “No, please,” you whisper.

“Please what?” Theo asks, looking into your eyes.

“Please fuck me, I love having your cock inside me,” you say, too eager to care about your rivalry.

“Good girl,” he praises as he continues his fast, persistent pace. “I bet you always fantasized having my cock buried inside you, huh? You pretend you’re so much better than me when all you are is a dirty little slut.”

You cry out and his words send you writhing against him again. Your walls clench around him over and over as euphoric waves overtake your senses. He continues his relentless pace, riding out your climax until you feel his warm release inside you. 

He wraps his arms around you as you both recover your breath. “You were so good principessa,” he whispers.

“Listen because I’ll only say this once,” you start and turn yourself. Theo releases you from the embrace so you can face him, “you were amazing.” You smile at him and for a moment, you can almost see yourselves as something other than rivals. Almost.

You grab your clothes and start putting them back on, the spell of the moment over. “You better not tell anyone about this,” Theo warns, trying to brush off the warmth in his chest. 

“And ruin my reputation? No thanks,” You rush over everything, buttoning your blouse as fast as you can. You smirk when you finish before Theo and grab both Agrippa vials, making a run for it.

“Hey!” Theo calls out as he quickly closes his belt around his trousers.

“Guess you’ll just have to come find me,” you shrug, leaving him alone in the classroom. You’ll be seeing him again soon enough anyway.

✿ Masterlist

A/N: I was randomly inspired to write this so I went to my laptop, the words just flowed and I finished this in one sitting. So grateful for moments like this!

[georgie-weasley]

Truth or Dare J.P. x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of lame dares, mention of James getting a bloody nose, anxiety, Sirius Black

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: young!James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You kept your secret crush on James, well, a secret. From everyone but Sirius that is. That was a big mistake as now he’s forcing everyone to play truth or dare. Not to mention everyone has taken some truth potion too

A/N: the song James sings is “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor

Masterlist Taglist

The smirk on Sirius’s face was the only evidence you needed to know this was a horrible idea. There was a certain way his mouth would move when he came up with an idea that would end in some sort of disaster. Despite learning what this smirk looked like, you were never able to predict it before it happened. Usually, you noticed it much too late. Currently Sirius was smirking at you and you could practically see the gears working in his brain.

The afterparty the Gryffindor team had thrown to celebrate winning the Quidditch cup was finally winding down and you were sprawled out on the couch; the sound of conversations and the rain hitting the windows could have lulled you to sleep if it wasn’t for James. Your feet were resting on Sirius’s lap while your head was in James’s. His thumb was absentmindedly stroking your cheek as he carried on a conversation with Remus; the action sent butterflies to wreak havoc on your insides.

Sirius, who had only been watching the scene play out for a while, pinched your leg to get your attention. It was that action that caused you to look at him and see the terrifying smirk on his face. Months ago you made the mistake of confessing to Sirius about your crush on James. You hadn’t really meant to tell him since you thought you were just confessing to Remus but Sirius was the one who came in the empty classroom. You started spewing your feelings without looking to see exactly who came in. At least it wasn’t James.

But ever since then, Sirius made it a point to try and find a way to get you to admit your feelings for James to the man himself. You had him swear not to tell anyone, especially James and so far he’s followed his promise. Of course, you can never expect Sirius to keep his mouth shut for long.

“Everyone!” Sirius yelled and stood, shoving your feet off of him. “It’s time to play a little game of truth or dare, with a twist. Remus, it’s time.”

Remus abruptly ended the conversation with James and sprinted up the stairs to his dorm. As he came back down, he had a small vial in his hands and smirk that could almost rival Sirius on his face. He knew. After telling Sirius about your crush on James, you didn’t dare tell anyone else. It was bad enough that the biggest gossip in Hogwarts knew, no one else could know either. Except of course, Sirius told Remus; you were sure he told him because how else would he have known?

You weren’t sure if Peter or Lily knew but they soon proved they did when they also smirked at you. Did everyone but James know? You turned your head to risk looking at the boy that captured your heart but luckily he looked confused. You were safe, for now.

“What do you have Moons?” James asked, patting your arm a little before he helped you sit up.

“Yeah Moony, what’s in the vial?” Peter asked, nudging Lily with his elbow.

Remus looked you in the eye with a shit-eating grin. “Just a little potion Lily and I whipped up today.” He paused, no doubt for dramatic affect. “Veritaserum, the most powerful truth serum in the magical world.”

Sirius wandered over to Remus and plucked the potion from his hand. “Now any of you babies who pick truth over dare, won’t get away with a lie.”

At this, you scrambled off the couch and moved over to Sirius. “What are you doing? Don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to Remus.” You hissed, grabbing his arm. “You can’t be serious.”

“Newsflash love, I am Sirius and I’ve given you plenty of chances to admit your feelings but you never did. Now, we’re forcing your hand. Get over it and play the game babes.” He patted your head much like you would do to a dog and gathered everyone to sit in a circle on the floor. You were sure that somewhere in his brain, Sirius was doing all of this to help. You never asked him to help but he wasn’t the type to just sit back and wait for things to happen. In some way, he thought this was the best way to help you, or you hoped that was the case.

You took a seat on the floor between Lily and Peter. Despite them also knowing about your feelings for James, you hoped they would be kinder. Remus moved around the circle and placed a single drop of the potion in everyone’s mouth. Once everyone, including himself had one, he sat down next to James who was across from you. “This is a safe group for Moony. Everyone here already knows about his hairy little problem.” Sirius smiled and turned to Peter. “Time to test the potion. Pete, what’s something you would never tell anyone?”

“I wet the bed until I was 10.” Peter answered quickly. Everyone was silent.

You patted his back and smiled. “Don’t worry Wormtail. It’s alright.”

Sirius nodded slowly before he cleared his throat. “Anyway, let’s start with James. Truth or dare?”

“Dare of course.” James rolled his eyes and leaned back on his elbows. He looked so cocky with the smirk on his face but he sure looked good.

“Lovely. I dare you to serenade Moony. Pick whatever song you’d like.”

James jumped to his feet immediately. “At first I was afraid, I was petrified. Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side.” He dropped to his knees and began crawling toward Remus who was looking anywhere but at James. “But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong and I grew strong. And I learned how to get along!” He crawled into his lap and grabbed his face in his hands, forcing his friend to watch him. He mumbled for a while, making up the words he didn’t know until he got to the chorus. “Did you think I’d crumble? Did you think I’d lay down and die? Oh, no not I! I will survive!”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Remus groaned and shoved James off his lap. He adjusted his glasses and crawled back to his seat.

“Personally,” he said as he sat down, “I think that was my best performance yet.” James sent you a wink and the butterflies were back with a vengeance. “And I think you should go next Moony.”

“No matter what I pick I’m sure I’ll be embarrassed so, truth I suppose.” Remus sighed and rubbed his face. He was certainly having regrets about playing this game.

“When was the most inappropriate time you farted?” James asked through the giggles that overtook him. The rest of the group laughed along with him but you were too busy smiling to laugh. James had the cutest and sweetest laugh you ever heard. It reminded you of pure joy and you were sure if you could find a way to bottle it up and sell it, you'd be a billionaire.

“In History of Magic two weeks ago. Binns gave us a test and it slipped out. I blamed it on James and everyone believed me.”

James pouted and stopped laughing while everyone else only laughed harder.

---

The night continued with silly questions and dares and surprisingly, many of them were not directed at you. Either everyone had forgotten their plan to make you confess your feelings or it hadn’t happened yet. Just when you thought you were going to get out of this with your dignity still intact, Sirius turned to you. “Alright Y/N. I’m giving you the option here. Truth or dare?”

You didn’t know which one to pick. If you chose truth you were sure Sirius would force you to just admit your feelings. Dare had its own risks too. Sirius had made Lily and Peter switch tops (he actually looked quite cute in the crop top), Moony had to drop his pants and moon the group, and poor James had to try and do a backflip; his nose had just stopped bleeding. There was no winning. “Truth.” Sirius had that wild smirk back on his face. “No! I choose dare. I meant to say dare!”

“Too late. If you had to marry someone in the group, who would you pick and why?”

That actually wasn’t too bad. “James. He’s sweet and funny and he can always make me smile. He’s also pretty handsome too.” Perhaps you would have lied if you could have but with the way James was smiling at you, you were glad you had to tell the truth.

“James, since you won Y/N’s hand in marriage, she can do the honors of giving you your truth or dare.” Sirius patted James on the back and winked at him. That had to have been some sort of secret message between them.

“Well then, I choose truth as well.”

It would be easy to ask him if he liked you or if he liked anyone. He would have no choice but to tell the truth and then you would know. If he did like you, maybe things could change and you would tell him the truth too. Of course if he didn’t, your heart may never recover. You had been friends with Lily before you were friends with the marauders. Every time James would flirt with Lily or even talk to her, your heart would flutter. He eventually stopped bothering her and they became friends which meant you also became his friend. It had been a couple of years now and the friendship with James was easy. He was so caring and he always took the time to check on you and make you laugh. He was easy to fall in love with.

“What was the last lie that you told?”

James hummed as he tried to remember, a blush coating his cheeks. “I think it must have been when I told Sirius I didn’t have a crush on anyone.”

So he did like someone! That someone could even be you. You couldn’t help getting your hopes up as you watched him rub the back of his neck and look at the ground. Sirius looked at you and smiled, actually smiled; he must have been thinking the same thing as you. “Prongs, is your crush here?”

James nodded.

“Then I vote you have to kiss them!” Sirius proposed and everyone cheered.

James paled and shook his head. “I can’t do that. Everyone will know and if they don’t like me then everyone else will see it happen.” He looked as terrified as you felt.

“How about,” Remus said and quieted the group, “we all close our eyes so we don’t see who he kisses. Sound alright to you Jamie?”

He shrugged and everyone closed their eyes, including you. Once darkness fell, so did the silence. No one moved or made a sound until across the way you could hear James shuffling. The sound of his movements got louder and you assumed, and hoped, he was moving toward you. Then, all of a sudden, the shuffling stopped. Could he have stopped in front of Lily? Could he have stopped in front of Peter? Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were sure the rest of the group, possibly even all of Hogwarts, could hear it thumping. What if he didn’t kiss you? Would you be able to continue on with the friendship knowing there was no possible chance it could blossom into something more? You wanted to believe you could but it was hard enough to look at that messy hair and his sweet hazel eyes and his perfectly pink lips without knowing his feelings. How could you ever look at him again if you knew he felt nothing more for you than friendship? 

What if he did kiss you? Would you kiss him back or would you be too shocked? What if he kissed you and you forgot how to kiss? What if you sucked at kissing and it made him change his mind? What if it was magical and everything you dreamed it would be and you started dating and then eventually you broke up? Would it ruin the friendship? Was it worth the risk of losing him to even try and get him in the first place? You were never going to confess to him.

Your heart was beating faster and faster and all the air in your lungs escaped you. Your head was spinning and your thoughts were racing. Was the room always this hot or was it just you? Why was it still so quiet? Did something happen and you missed it? Had James kissed someone else and told everyone to open their eyes and you were sitting there with your eyes closed like an idiot? It was too much.

Your eyes flew open and you jumped back; James was right in front of your face with worry written all over his. His eyebrows furrowed and he grabbed your hand, steadying it. You didn’t even know you were shaking. “Hey, are you alright?”

You stared at him with wide eyes and glanced around him. Everyone else had opened their eyes and they were now watching you both. The air shot back in your lungs and your chest heaved as you tried to get your breathing under control. James continued to watch you, waiting for some kind of answer. When you didn’t have one for him, he grabbed your hand and helped pull you to your feet. “Let’s go to my dorm and get some air.” He started to lead you to the stairs but turned to look at the group one last time. “We’ll be back down in a bit. Just, stay here and give us some time?”

He put a hand on the small of your back to help guide you up the stairs. Once you were in the dorm, he grabbed your hand and pulled you over to his bed, helping you sit. “Stay right there.” He whispered before rushing around the room and throwing open all of the windows. The fresh air coming in did help calm your breathing. Your mind was still racing but as James sat next to you and you listened to the sound of the rain outside, your thoughts began to slow.

James slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. “What happened?” He whispered. “I was crawling around and I could hear you breathing all heavy. Then you started shaking and I was going to check on you and then you kinda scared the shit out of me and opened your eyes.”

A small smile appeared on your face as you laid your head on his shoulder. James really could always make you smile. The smile didn’t stay long as you began speaking. “I was scared you were going to kiss someone else but I was scared you were going to kiss me. I started overthinking everything and I just got nervous.” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even think about what you were saying.

“Why were you scared?” James whispered and you could feel his body tense next to you.

“Because I’m in love with you.” Holy shit. Why did you say that? “I didn’t want you to kiss anyone else because I would never be able to look at you the same if I knew you thought of me as just a friend. But I was scared you were going to kiss me because then things would change and if something ever went wrong, I couldn’t live without you.” You just poured out your deepest secret about James to James. What were you doing? You decided to never tell James about your crush so why did you say it? You scanned the room, hoping that maybe there would be some answer and there was. Laid out on one of the beds was Remus’s favorite sweater. Remus.

The veritaserum! It was still working and it just made you spill your guts to James. You shoved yourself away from him and covered your mouth with your hands. James watched you with wide eyes but neither one of you moved.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you watched him as well. What could you possibly say to make this better? “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because I was so worried that it would ruin our friendship but that stupid potion really does work well and I couldn’t help myself. I want to say I’ll be fine if you don’t like me but I probably won’t be alright. I love you so much James but if you don’t love me in any sort of romantic way then I’ll have to live with it. Just please, don’t hate me; don’t leave me.”

James swallowed thickly and pushed his glasses further up his face. His cheeks were bright red and his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth. “Do you really love me?”

“Of course I do.” You dropped your hands from your mouth. You didn’t have to continue as you already answered his question truthfully but the damage was done. There wasn’t any more harm you could do if you told him why. “You’re the most amazing guy I know. You’re funny even when I lie and tell you I hate your jokes. You can make me smile no matter what kind of day I’m having. You make me feel special and loved and when I talk you give me your full attention. You remember my favorite book and my favorite food and you always remember my birthday. You’re perfect James. How could I not love you?”

His eyes traced over your body a few times before they stopped on your face. The way he was looking at you, the intensity of it all, made you want nothing more than to shy away. But you couldn’t. You had to see this through to whatever end. “Do you… do you love me too?” You whispered, unsure if he could even hear you.

“I do. I love you Y/N.” Time stopped as he spoke. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing anymore. Could this be a dream? It was only fitting that the man of your dreams confessing his love for you would happen in a dream. Gingerly, James reached out and took your hand. He was warm and a little sweaty; James always got sweaty hands when he was nervous. His palm was heavy on top of yours and as he scooted closer to you, you decided that if this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up anytime soon.

He stopped moving when his face was just centimeters away from yours. “Can I kiss you?” This close you could see the deep browns and brilliant greens in his eyes. You could smell the cologne he put on after each quidditch match.

“Please.” That was all it took. He leaned forward and planted his lips on yours, softly at first but soon he leaned in further. His arms wrapped around your torso as your hands threaded through his hair. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony and you could no longer tell where you began and he ended. Desperate for more, you climbed onto his lap and your noses bumped.

“Ow shit.” James quickly pulled back and covered his nose with his hand. In the moment you had forgotten all about his poor nose.

“I’m so sorry James.” You whispered but soon started to laugh. Nothing was exactly funny but something about the whole situation was hilarious. James joined in your laughter and shook his head. As the giggles died down, he rested his forehead on yours.

“I should probably see Madam Pomfrey about my nose in the morning. I did hit the ground pretty hard.” James smiled and pecked your lips.

“What happens now?” You whispered, tucking some hair behind his ear.

“Besides finding some ice for my nose?”

“Yes,” you laughed. “Besides that.”

James hummed and rested his hands on your hips. “How about after my nose gets fixed I’ll take you on a date? We can go to the Three Broomsticks and take a walk. Maybe get some candy?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“Splendid.” He mumbled and leaned in again, attaching his lips to yours. The dormitory door swung open and you quickly pulled away from him. Sirius stood in the doorway and as he took in the sight of you on his best friend’s lap and James still leaned in for a kiss, he smirked that same wicked smirk.

“Well, pardon me.” He winked at James and turned around, shutting the door behind him. You could still hear him yell, “Moony! Wormtail! We’re sleeping on the couch tonight boys! Prongs finally got the girl!”

Taglist (if your name is crossed out I can't tag you)

@100gaysnails @weasleybuns @steelthistle @jsjcue @andy200700

[dadsbongos]

kanin under maanen

word count - 4.6 k

warnings - p in v sex, reader is described with words like "soft" and "round" and is also fem, rag's status as a widower is an afterthought, i kept losing track of where i put his furs

also - i think oldegaard is funger's norway?? or something... :P oops

“Please- I’ll be quick, I swear! I’ll carry things! I know how to mix herbs, I can heal you! And I’ll be quiet, too. Just, oh, just please... please let me stay with you…!”

Your hands rattle against your chest, which heaves like you’re fresh from a churning dash through the entirety of the dungeons -- just to ask this man, a stranger, a simple question.

“Can I stay with you, please?”

Ragnvaldr stares down at you over the bridge of his nose, seafoam eyes lapping over the weaker stain of your frame in his vision. Such bold, shameless desperation plagues him. He starts to wonder how you’d made it to the courtyard. How many cramped corners you’d jammed yourself into, barely scraping out of the dungeon beasts’ sights. How you’ve held your mind together to form words and continue your slow crawl to freedom.

The reddened, raw stretch of skin over his right ribs stings suddenly to emphasize your point. Ragnvaldr was raised well enough to know which shrubbery to scrub into which wounds and which ones to avoid at all costs, but his knowledge was poultry compared to what these cells demanded.

At the downwards twitch of your knees, Ragnvaldr can feel an uncomfortableness to rival the ache of his seared flesh twinge through his beating chest. He takes you by the shoulder, grip loosening when you flinch under his hold. Ragnvaldr shakes his head, silky cardinal tresses dancing over his skin. His lips, cracked and fading in color, pin themselves back faintly to ease your shivering uncertainty.

“No need to beg on your knees,” Ragnvaldr unlatches from you completely in favor of cradling the slowly leaking slashes in his side, “You said you can heal?”

“Yes!” you eagerly respond, nodding, “Yes, let’s sit you down!”

Ragnvaldr flows under the bristle of your fingertips, fur armor quickly coming off. His uncovered back was against the chilled stone highwall; lower body stretched out against the grass bed. Your hands move in smoother, more assured strides as you single out the most useful of your colored leaves.

“Can I…?”

“Ja, anything you need.”

Ragnvaldr’s eyes, you notice, have softened in how they watch over your work. The flutter of his lashes now matches the tenderness of their color. A near-missed swipe from a serrated weapon -- none like you’ve seen -- decorates the majority of his right side under his arm. Angry red lines string over the pink flesh. You press a careful hand into the surrounding area, testing the firmness of his body for soft spots. For broken bones. He allows it, despite the stark difference in strength and the fact he could probably crush your skull with one palm -- he allows your hands to roam.

The bag you pull from is ratty and he thinks the deep brown hue may be more from staining than original dyes, but he says nothing. You first pull out a thick book with yellowed pages between faded, peeling covers. Then, four blue herb sprigs and two glass vials -- the stretch and twist of your bones and ligaments beneath soft, unbruised skin is hypnotizing to Ragnvaldr. You crush the sprigs with a single vial before hurriedly separating the remains between the two vials and combining two blue vials into one.

“I don’t think it’s infected,” you murmur, clogging the vial with a cork. A lighter shade of blue now shimmers beneath the glass, darker shreds of herb cling inside the abandoned second vial.

Ragnvaldr shakes his head, “Nej. I’d have mentioned it.”

“Ah, right,” you cup a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as if you’re offstruck by your own words, “I didn’t mean- of course, you- I mean… I’m sorry,” you bashfully reopen the cerulean bottle and hold it up towards the man’s face, “I didn’t mean to suggest anything…”

A vicious anxiety continues to course through your chest, no matter how pliant Ragnvaldr has made himself to show his trust for your care. You’re visibly hyper-aware of how simply he could end your life. Something about the nature of this makes him nauseous.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Ragnvaldr speaks softer than before, his voice a deep, gentle purr through the broad expanse of his chest. Tenderly, he swipes the open vial from your palm, the warmth from his skin washing over the cold nips of your own, “Thank you.”

Silently, you nod, wasting seconds to watch his adam’s apple bob thickly with each swallow before you pull loose the cloth you’ve collected through ransacked rooms. The strips coil around themselves by your kneeling legs.

“Can I start wrapping it?”

“Ja.”

“This might be…” you flounder under his eyes, instead stringing up the cloth in your hands and leaning over Ragnvaldr’s bigger frame. Invasive.

Ragnvaldr contemplates, for the second time, how you’d skipped past guards and tentacled flesh beasts and dogs. Even the impish, frail, winged creatures seem capable of knocking your terrorized self off your steady. Then, he asks himself why he’s taken you in. Oldegaard groomed strong warriors, and he had always taken pride in that. He was raised with scorching blood and willing hands, you were not.

But you remind him of the blacksmith’s girl. A sweet thing -- also unfamiliar with the fighter’s path. He prays she was killed quickly rather than being made to suffer.

Perhaps he can apologize to her and the rest of his gutted homeland by escorting you back out once he’s taken revenge.

“How did you get this?” your voice lulls Ragnvaldr from his own head, he looks up from your binding hands to your soft face, “Can I ask that? How were you injured?”

“A man with the head of a crow,” Ragnvaldr admits this to you with the ease he would his name, “A mace for an arm,” he gestures down the length of his side, “He’s much faster than I am.”

“I’m glad you got out,” you finish tucking the tattered end of your cloth spiral into the rest of the sprawl. You are suddenly afraid of being misconstrued, “I’m glad this dungeon couldn’t claim another soul.”

Ragnvaldr thinks you are as kind as the blacksmith’s girl, but you must have resilience to survive this far. More guts and nerve, and even teeth. They may be loose and accustomed to chewy, lavish fat, but you most certainly have teeth.

He wants to see them.

“I feel the same.”

You smile, bigger than he had earlier. The thin shadows and dimples highlighted in your face remind him of when he was younger, with the liberty to stare up at full moons. Absorbing and beautiful with radiance to shine over shadowed forests and into black night seas. He wants to return to there. Even in the cruel winters when he was faced with the opened chests and severed limbs of his deceased comrades. Even then, when he had to eat or be eaten, things were simpler compared to now.

“I think you should rest,” you frown immediately after speaking, “To avoid agitating the wound with the cloth… it isn’t very clean and I don’t have enough green herbs to keep infections at bay for long.”

Ragnvaldr tenses, but it’s not as nerve-wracking as it would’ve been mere moments ago. He clenches his fists and gently skims his knuckles down the pseudo-bandages, when it stuns him momentarily, he nods.

“We can’t stay out here, then.”

“There are rooms in the dungeon’s first level.”

“For torture?”

Dread fills you, that he may consider your suggestion foolish and ultimately dump you off to a guard, but then you see the lopsidedness of his grin. He’s messing with you.

“Well, yes,” you huff, coming to a stand and holding out both hands to assist him up, “but our options are limited.”

Ragnvaldr stubbornly stands on his own, pushing off the tower wall behind him and stumbling ahead of you towards the entry hall.

And with just as much defiance, you jam yourself under one of his arms before you can properly think out the action. Your desire to be helpful and needed by the strongman outweighs your politeness; not wanting to be abandoned with your back turned. Ragnvaldr jolts over you, but relents and leans the more unstable part of his weight against you. The trek is difficult, but you both manage. You feel less afraid traversing back through the dank, dark halls than you did leaving them, and you are not ignorant to the fact it's because of Ragnvaldr hanging over you. Injured as he is, he’s still far more competitively capable than you.

Once you’ve properly settled into a room and jammed the door shut, Ragnvaldr slips onto the sole creaky bed. His eyes close, exhaling noisily through his nose.

The bed’s frame is caked in dried, blackening blood and sits opposite a bucket full of murky sludge; a crinkly film drying over the surface. Pressed far into the side of the room is a table with glinting blades scattered across the stained wood. You can’t define what most of the tools are, but you can identify the skinning knife teetering by the closest edge of the table.

Aside from that are the typical smears of carmine blood over cobblestone: people before you and someday people after you. You can only pray now to the old Gods that it won’t be your own blood to join the pool.

For that, for your safe passage through the dungeons, you need to ensure your new party doesn’t fall to infection or blood loss.

“I’ll check you over tomorrow morning,” you tangle your fingers together, switching the weight between your feet, “Maybe tonight if it’s noticeably hurting.”

Ragnvaldr stares over at you again before patting the bed.

You heed the silent command, dragging along the worn bag you pulled from a barrel in the basement.

“What brought you here?” you wonder quietly, looking over at the man. He monopolizes the bedspace, spread wide over the mattress without even intending to.

His eyes drift up to the ceiling before finding your dutiful hands again, he follows the movements as they dig through your items. Taking stock of what you have, mourning the losses, and fretting over what you need. The blacksmith’s girl didn’t have hands as mystifying as you.

“I am here to find a relic that a certain person took from my people. This man is imprisoned somewhere deep down below,” Ragnvaldr is not so foolish as to believe his home’s pillaging is either undeserved or unbefitting for his soul to bear. He’s done the same, and the parasite from Vinland still burns a hole in his pocket. Even so, his human heart persists, “When I found them- I was one of only a few survivors.”

“Oh,” you pause your inventory search to very delicately press a hand to his shoulder and pat sympathetically, “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

He wonders what someone with as soft hands and face as you would think of such a declaration. If the teeth you have can chew through the toughness of his words. You pull back, but much slower than he was expecting, and return to sorting through your bag.

Much to Ragnvaldr’s surprise, you smile, “Then I’ll make sure you get there in one piece.”

You swallow his ominous message without pause.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ah, a friend of mine…” you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, fingers caught at the bottom of your bag with a thin slip of paper, “She’s pregnant and the man promising to wed her came for a job to set them up for life. He’s been gone for a while.”

“A friend would send you here? Into this evil?”

“She never said she wanted me to come here,” you shrivel into yourself, settling your bag against the bedpost leg, “I don’t know what compelled me… I really- “ your hands fist the torn, blood-stained sheets, “I was an idiot to think I could’ve done any good here.”

Ragnvaldr sits up, laying his calloused palm over yours, “The man you’re looking for. What’s his name?”

“Cahara. Cahara of the South.”

The man nods, auburn strands hanging with the motion, “And I’ll make sure you find him for your friend.”

“Thank you,” you notice the way he moves further to the side, a new gap on the mattress for your body to slot beside him, “Thank you, Ragnvaldr.”

He doesn’t think he’s heard someone outside the North say his name with such care.

You lay beside Ragnvaldr and revel in how close the two of you are. Safety and comfort buzzing in the lack of space.

He’s big. And warm. Like the sun.

You missed the sun.

…

Upon rising from slumber, you see that Ragnvaldr is still in unguarded rest. His bare chest rises and falls in soothed repetitive swoops, and his soft hair rains over the flat pillow beneath him. Prepared to slide off the mattress, you don’t register the arm fastening you to Ragnvaldr before you’re brushing against it. The arm tightens and you’re rendered useless.

You contemplate waking Ragnvaldr. Of squeezing yourself through the narrow hold. Even forcefully unwinding his muscle from your midsection.

You fall back asleep.

…

By the next time you’re awake, Ragnvaldr is too. You’ve sat him up against the scratched, chipped headboard and are undressing his wound. Green herb sprigs sit at the ready by your right knee in case pus is clinging to the cloth and oozing from open shreds. Thankfully, nothing of the sort awaits.

“Good!” you chirp, and Ragnvaldr remembers a full moon hanging over the spindly, leafless trees in the harsh falls of his youth, “There’s still some scratching, probably scarring later… but no infection! And it’s not inflamed or red.”

“We should continue our way, then.”

“Oh.”

Ragnvaldr laughs suddenly, from the hull of his chest, and only stops when the skin over his ribs pulls uncomfortably, “You want to stay here?”

“It’s been nicer than out there… We could stay in here. Away from the darkness.”

It has been nicer. The dungeons of Fear and Hunger are no place for domesticity, but anything is fair in a locked room. In a strange way, you wish you could stay with the beautiful man from Oldegaard.

His hair brushes past his shoulders and even though he is so much larger than you (you fear that he may even be able to kill a guard on his own), he is nicer than most men you’ve met in your life. Especially where you live in the seedier underbelly of Rondon -- men with spines are not uncommon, but men with spines and hearts are. Cahara was a welcomed gem in the coal mines of home.

And Ragnvaldr, you fear, might be your prettiest diamond.

He gazes upon you fondly. Seafoam you want to drink up. Or drown in. You haven’t decided yet. He cups your round cheeks and smooths back the stray hairs slicked to your face.

“Maanejente,” he coos beneath his breath, the harsh pads of his thumbs glide over the plain of your face and down your neck, working into the knotted meat of your shoulders, “Maanejente… nothing will hurt you. Not with me here,” he wants to see your teeth in that pretty smile from last night, “You have sugar in your heart, has anyone told you that?” you bare your teeth in a grin and he feels more successful than after any battle, “We’ll press on later.”

You nod under his calm massaging, eyes drifting to the fiery lines over his right side, “I don’t have anything to make the wounds close.”

“I don’t expect anything more,” he soothes, studying you kindly. Oldegaard had such a wide, unhindered view of the skies, when he was a boy he would stare into the moon’s craters. He’d compare them from night to night and dream about a day when he would defeat a beast so great, he’d be rewarded. The thick trees of Vinushka Himself would lift Ragnvaldr high into the sky and he’d be able to study the deep caverns up close, “You’ve healed me plenty to keep fighting.”

He became a man and forgot those dreams in favor of providing for himself and his wife and their child.

But he remembers himself in his purest form and finds that he doesn’t want to part with you after taking revenge against the foolhardy Le’Garde. If you asked, he would stop fighting after that, or he could become the God of Ultra-Violence. Whichever way you please, he’ll bend.

“Maanejente, we should go.”

You move swiftly, exhaling sharply with a curt nod, “Right!” you stow away the unused green herbs, “Right, we’ll go.”

“The job your friend had taken, what was his work here?” Ragnvaldr watches you move. Your sureness and determination sway him further.

“He had to find a man,” you bury yourself into the shadow of Ragnvaldr as he unsticks the room lock, “I’m not sure of the name.”

“An important man, though,” Ragnvaldr is embarrassed how his first thought is what you’ll do if he kills the man your friend is meant to rescue, “Must be.”

You realize what he means, eyes widening, “No! It… Well… It could be…”

Ragnvaldr’s warm gaze melts into the floor tiles as he guides you through the dim hallways. Prison guards moan and gurgle in the distance and the sound used to freeze you in your spot -- it now feels like the squeaks of mice with the Northern man in front of you.

“I’m sure if he knew,” you brace, “he wouldn’t get in your way.”

Ragnvaldr pushes through to the courtyard, unveiling rows of hanged men naked and baking in the open air. Despite the fact this is, in fact, open air, the scent of death continues to cling along each blade of grass. A mist clogs your vision.

Bared skin wafting more warmth than the exposed sun, Ragnvaldr looks down at you as you clutch your measly bag. Your expression is pinched like you’ve somehow stabbed him in the back. His red hair burns like gold embers in the bathing light.

“You would let me kill the man, then?”

“He hurt you,” you answer simply. A way so unbridled by dark and evil, Ragnvaldr once again cannot comprehend your survival past the entrance guard dogs.

You discuss a stranger’s death with the comfort you would which color you prefer for robes. You have teeth unsharpened by true terror. Ragnvaldr should get you free of these walls soon.

“Sugar for a heart,” he muses.

The two of you duck under an archway and find a womanly figure in the mist. Two oblong points jut out from her skull, and the closer you get the more defined her shapes become. Firstly, is that she’s naked (Ragnvaldr chuckles when you gasp and clench your eyes shut); second is that her horned points are ears on a mask. Her voice drips like honey from behind the bunny mask,

"Welcome to the meadows, o' travelers,” she shifts closer to the wood post behind her, your eyes slicing sharply away from the sway of her breasts, “Let us ease your suffering…” your stare dawdles up over the contemplative face of Ragnvaldr, then to his injured side, “The first one is free."

“Mending of flesh,” you mutter, creeping further into Ragnvaldr’s coziness, “Sylvian will heal you, if you…”

Ragnvaldr is struck by the opportunity, wringing his hand through yours and stringing you into the scene. The expressions you can make out from under the eggshell masks are highly varied -- from twisted agony to buttery bliss to far-off stares and brainless drooling. Some bodies are limp, unmistakable from corpses aside from occasional jolts and twitches of their hips. Other bodies are more lively, rocking and humping in veracity. A man with dark hair stands in the middle, he waves the both of you over.

"Are you looking for partners?” you clutch Ragnvaldr’s hand tightly and pointedly ignore his exposed groin, and he squeezes back. The man giggles quietly beneath his mask before holding out two more, “Just take off your clothes and put on these masks."

“Come, mannejente,” Ragnvaldr pulls you away from the man, a previously unfamiliar thrumming working hot blood through his entire body. He works off his furs quickly and lifts your bag from your shoulders to lay it down, “Would you be my partner?” he smiles softly, “I’m not sure of these other people.”

His utterance curls inside you like a full meal. The thought alone makes your mouth water. He’s got meat on his bones and you want to sink your teeth into him. If he were to sleep with anyone else in this garden, you can already tell the sight would make you physically sick. You hope that he’d feel the same.

“Right,” but the dungeons are not a place for his affection for you, and even though you know you’re not made for this world -- you don’t want to make him lose sight of his mission, “Everyone else is just strange.”

“Not you,” Ragnvaldr’s hands find your shoulders again -- working slightly under the hem of your lackluster cloth shirt, “Not you.”

Ragnvaldr is big and warm like the sun. More like the sun than what hangs in the sky above. The sun you used to run under as a small girl before the crushing weight of responsibility ran you tired and nerve-sprung. You miss those days. Somehow, even though he’s directly sifting off your clothes, you even miss Ragnvaldr.

Somehow, you need him closer.

And closer you pull Ragnvaldr, right by the furs draped over his shoulder; unsurely brushing your hands under the thick material. Ragnvaldr flows under your call, shrugging off the weight of his furs as he frees you of your own clothing. Little mind is paid to either you or Ragnvaldr by the other erratic bodies, but still, their presence is off-putting. In a terrible nightmare, you could see these people being broken from their overstimulation as soon as Ragnvaldr is tucked inside you. Then their eyes would wander -- would they judge you? A newcomer unwelcomed, perhaps?

Ragnvaldr gently kisses your cheek, sweeping you up between his arms and smoothly lying you on the plush grass. He kneels between your spread legs, angling the surrounding bodies out of your vision the most he could.

“Focus on me,” he simpers, all to your ears, “Sweet girl… snill maanejente...”

You never studied the tongue of the North, figuring that it would never come into play in the West, but you could listen to Ragnvaldr ramble to himself in his mother tongue all day. His hands slide over your sides, molding into the bend of your waist before snatching you up by the hips and perching you over his bent knees.

“I- “ wind catches in your throat, hands balling on the ground, “I’ve never laid with a man before…”

Ragnvaldr nods, leaning over you with his broader form to kiss you again. On the lips this time. He leaves with a soft, chaste peck before pursing his lips and letting spit pool in his mouth and laving your cunt with the saliva. He promises to be patient while slicking a single finger inside you.

The stretch is not entirely unpleasant, a faint pinch.

“Relax for me, sweet girl,” Ragnvaldr stares down at his hand slowly pressing into the apex of your thighs, “Take a deep breath and relax. Let me take care of you, yes?”

Ragnvaldr hikes one of your thighs to his waist, continuing to fingerfuck you until you’re gasping his name. His spit is joined by your natural wetness mixing along his thick middle finger, slippery and messy: he coils a second finger into you, carefully stretching your hole. Your other thigh joins at his waist of your own volition, jerking your leg into him in the throes of bubbling pleasure.

The warmth of Ragnvaldr’s body swaddles you, the meat of his palm grinding against your clit and sending a spiral of heat down your spine. Heating your chilled blood and raging all the way into your face.

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, both hands squeezing around Ragnvaldr’s wrist as you cant your hips into his hand.

Noticing your earnest efforts to meet his fingering halfway, Ragnvaldr’s spare hand cups the flesh of your ass and pulls you higher over his lap, “Eager, maanejente?”

“Oh, please, Ragnvaldr!” you whimper, jerking onto his fingers. This begging he could get used to, “Please, please, I need you to- !” unfortunately for him, you stop that plea short, “I need you!”

“Beautiful voice for such greed,” he shadows over you, kissing and sucking the column of your throat as he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock. The enveloping heat of your cunt sucks him in as though you’re starved, tightly he grasps your hips and restrains the urge to give in and press your pelvis flush to his. He may leave violet imprints, but he knows he will soothe them later so the concern is quickly pushed aside, “My sweet girl is greedy,” he whines at the squeeze around his dick, “And so lovely when I’m inside her. So pretty, aren’t you?”

Your arms loop around his neck, nails puncturing into the skin of his bare back. Heat waves through your palms and through your arms -- all down your chest and into your churning gut. Most of all, however, the heat is buzzing where the both of you are connected. His hips slotted against yours.

“Pretty when you’re working,” he lifts you from his cock before thrusting in again, building in speed until his hips are pistoning into you in smooth, fluid strokes, “Pretty when you’re fucked,” his thumb finds your soaked clit and circles it, just to pinch out as many of your whines as he can, “Pretty - hah! - pretty maanejente.”

Ragnvaldr is big and broiling hot and you don’t know if you can stand to be apart from him after this. Dungeons be damned, damned as your souls.

His cock spears each sweet spot nestled inside you: thick and full. And messy. So wet you can feel your juices webbing between where his hips meet your thighs on every pull-back.

The arm not stimulating your button of nerves rolls under you and up to the back of your neck. He secures you in his hold, pressure on the sides of your throat though not suffocating, so he can push even further inside you. Ragnvaldr kisses up from your collarbones to your jaw and finally the corner of your mouth before he huffs into your mewling lips. Your thighs tighten around him as the steady warmth of ecstasy comes to a boil.

Ragnvaldr’s tongue dips into your mouth, desperate to taste your own tongue. Try as he may to keep quiet in favor of your moans, the throaty, raw groans and grunts from his chest never cease. The sounds make you wail louder into his gaping maw as your cunt cinches around Ragnvaldr.

When he was a boy, he used to dream of being lifted by swirly branches until he could scrape the moon with his fingertips. He imagines the feeling of you cumming with him is the same, inseparable euphorias digging up from his gut and swallowing the rest of his body whole. Your teeth latched into his neck, and he is unwilling to be released.

In darkness, he finds the moon. And for now, he doesn’t need to consider how foolish it is to trap a celestial body beneath him when he’s here for Le’Garde’s bastard head. In darkness, he’s illuminated by the powdery shine he senselessly clings to.

In the same way, you bathe in a sun that feels otherwise unattainable. Large and unburdened, Ragnvaldr warms your chills with ease under a sun less desirable than his company. A muggy, clouded sun -- wholly unappealing compared to the man above you.

This affection will eat you alive down here.

You might let it.

[skygemspeaks]

Hello happy pride month, here are some sweet and relatively low-stakes queer reads for you:

Cursed Cocktails by SL Rowland - a blood mage retires after decades of fighting to protect his people, and moves to a small coastal town where the heat will be good for his chronic pain. He opens a cocktail bar and maybe falls in love with his business partner.

The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune - case worker has to investigate a group home of very powerful magical orphans. One of them is the antichrist. He tries not to lose his mind. Finds love (platonic and romantic) along the way

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree - badass orc barbarian decides to retire from her life of fighting and opens a cafe in a town where no one has heard of coffee before. Finds a family along the way.

A Rival Most Vial by RK Ashwick - two rival potion shop owners who hate everything about each other find out they have to work together on a potion for the mayor. Find out that maybe they don't hate each other that much after all. Oh and there's a found family in there somewhere.

[jadeshifting]

— HOGWARTS CLASS FAVORITES & NON-FAVORITES

( AKA 25 DAYS OF SHIFTMAS … DAY 10 )

Icicles — What is your occupation in your DR? Your coworkers? (Or if student, your classmates?) What is your favorite and least favorite aspect of your occupation?

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

a STUDENT at HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY

every part of my Hogwarts life is either a polished gem or a glaring nuisance—there’s no in-between, and i wouldn’t have it any other way. my academic experience is a mix of glamorous highlights and deeply petty frustrations, all colored by my passion for my studies (and unmistakable flair for dramatics)

CLASS FAVORITES

— POTION BREWING . i adore the simmer of bubbling elixirs and the snap of sharp, exotic scents—it’s chemistry meets witchy mischief

— LATE-NIGHT LIBRARY CRAWLS . there’s nothing quite like the whisper of pages in the Restricted Section at midnight and the thrill of finding spells that aren’t technically allowed

— WRITING ESSAYS WITH A MAGICAL FOUNTAIN PEN . ink that sparkles with a faint shimmer? my parchments are practically pieces of art

— CHARMS CLASS PRACTICAL EXAMS . a chance to show off my wand work with elegant, graceful flourishes that make my magic look like a ballet dance

— PERSONALIZING TEXTBOOKS . annotating margins with sharp quips and cheeky insights, plus enchanting my covers to look more luxurious—every book screams i was here

— WINNING MAGICAL THEORY DEBATES . watching someone crumble under my razor-sharp logic is intoxicating—intellectual combat at its finest

— LEARNING RARE SPELLS . anything obscure and tricky makes me feel like a prodigy (bonus points if it’s not exactly legal)

— QUILL SHOPPING . picking out sleek raven-feather quills that glide like liquid moonlight over parchment

— WINNING HOUSE POINTS . watching those emerald gems spill into Slytherin’s hourglass because of my brilliance? mwah

— TRANSFIGURATION CHALLENGES . the art of turning a teacup into a kitten feels like alchemy for the soul (and i love showing up classmates with my technique)

— PERFECTLY ORGANIZED NOTES . i charm my parchment into a flawless layout, complete with color-coded highlights that rival the most meticulous Ravenclaws

— IMPRESSING PROFESSORS . watching their eyebrows lift as i deliver a particularly brilliant answer feels like snagging a trophy

— SILENT HEXING PRACTICE . perfecting subtle wand flicks to cast spells with zero sound—it’s deadly elegance

— POTION BOTTLING . i spends extra time arranging my concoctions in sleek, jewel-toned vials—presentation matters

— TUTORING FRIENDS . while i try to be chill, so i’d never admit it, helping a mate ace a spell gives me a quiet, smug glow

— WRITING IN FANCY COLORS . deep emerald green and shimmering gold inks make my notes feel like royal decrees

— SNEAKING SNACKS INTO STUDY HALL . charm-conjured warming spells keep my contraband pastries just right (it’s fuel for genius)

— HOLIDAY-THEMED CLASSES . a transfiguration lesson where we turn goblets into snow globes? Hogwarts at its festive finest

— QUILLS THAT RUN OUT MID-ESSAY . very few things ruin a writing flow like needing to whisper-shout Replenish at an inkpot mid-thought

— CUSTOMIZED CALDRON GEAR . my engraved silver stirring rod and emerald-green scales are the high fashion of potion-making

— MAGICAL THEORY DEBATES . turning academic discussions into verbal duels—extra points if the professor lets it go on long enough for me to leave my opponent speechless

— FLAWLESS SPELL PRONUNCIATION . watching others trip over incantations while mine roll off her tongue like silk? that’s just witchy excellence

— ACE MARKS IN TRANSFIGURATION . when McGonagall gives a rare nod of approval, it’s like being handed the academic version of a crown

CLASS NON-FAVORITES (anti-favorites? hm)

— GROUP PROJECTS . the bane of my academic existence—carrying lazy tagalongs while maintaining my high standards is not the move

— HISTORY OF MAGIC LECTURES . Binns’ droning voice could put a banshee to sleep—i spends the hour doodling and muttering hexes under my breath

— UNNECESSARY OWL STRESS . i’m already going to ace everything; the professors need to stop pretending this is a life-or-death situation

— POORLY WRITTEN TEXTBOOKS . when a spell description is so convoluted it literally makes me twitch—who approved this drivel for the curriculum?

— MANDATORY STUDY HALLS . i don’t need structured time; i’ve already done the work—let me live

— CLEANING UP AFTER POTIONS . the bubbling, sticky mess after an advanced potion experiment makes my arms sore to think about

— THE ASTRONOMY TOWER STAIRS . dragging myself up those endless spiral stairs for star charts feels like cruel and unusual punishment

— GRYFFINDOR BOYS’ BRAGGING . listening to overzealous lions gloat about Quidditch victories in class when they clearly didn’t study for the upcoming test

— RAVENCLAW PERFECTIONISM . nowhere near as bad as the Gryffindors, but watching eagles over-analyze a single question until they spiral into a panic is both grating and exhausting to witness

— UNRULY POTION INGREDIENTS . slippery, wiggly, or overly smelly components? A hard no

— UNFORGIVABLY UGLY WIZARDING FASHION . the student who wore a clashing house scarf and mismatched robes still haunts my nightmares

— CARELESS WAND FLICKS . students waving their wands around like toys? a disaster waiting to happen

— CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES’ SMELLS . as much as i adore all of the creatures, the scent of burnt Blast-Ended Skrewt tail is a hard pass, personally

— LATE OWL DELIVERIES . nothing like a screech owl dropping an overdue textbook in my lap mid-breakfast

— END-OF-TERM ESSAYS . five feet of parchment on Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration? i’m convinced this absolutely qualifies as academic hazing

— HISTORY OF MAGIC NAP PATROL . Binns droning on and on about stuff i already know is a snooze-fest, but the fact that i know he’ll notice if i fall asleep—tragic

— SLOPPY SPELLWORK . watching someone fumble a first-year level basic spell makes me want to hex them into next week—standards, people

— PROFESSOR SPROUT’S DIRT OBSESSION . planting is fun, but endlessly digging in soil for Herbology feels more like a detention than a lesson

— UNFINISHED ASSIGNMENTS ON SHARED TABLES . if someone’s half-baked essay ends up under my notes when i’m trying to work, it’s going straight to the fire

— OVERACHIEVING GRYFFINDORS . watching them grandstand in Defense Against the Dark Arts just makes me roll my eyes—calm down, hero

— QUILL THIEVES . borrowing my enchanted, gold-tipped quill without asking will literally get someone on my watch list

— MUD EVERYWHERE AFTER QUIDDITCH PRACTICE . tramping through puddles to get to flying class while the quidditch team cheers? absolutely not

— ACCIDENTAL SPELL MISHAPS . being in the blast radius when someone botches a fire-starting spell isn’t the kind of hands-on learning i signed up for

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[gaywarcriminals]

Once finally left alone, Shen Qingqiu resisted the urge to snoop for all of 20 minutes. Look, if he was going to be stuck living as this man, he was within his rights to go through the original goods stuff! It was research, really— he was just doing his best to obey the systems draconian demands of staying in character! It was a perfectly sound course of action— Shen Qingqiu just wished he hadn’t started with the bedroom. 

There, in the second drawer Shen Qingqiu gleefully yanked open, was a neatly lined up row of items sealing Shen Qingqiu’s death sentence. Shen Qingqiu wanted to cry as he started at the vials of oils and jar of unguent, the coil of bright red ropes, and most damningly of all, a hyperrealistic dildo carved of black jade, big enough to rival the heavenly pillar. Shen Qingqiu knew the original goods was lascivious, but immortal biding cables? What poor shimei was he forcing??? And that thing: surely it couldn’t fit comfortably inside any woman, at least not without the protagonist’s skills to ease the way! Shen Qingqiu picked up the weapon— there was no better name for it— and wondered if destroying it would spare him any torture. Surely at least a fingernail or two!

“Qingqiu, I forgot to ask, did—“

Shen Qingqiu made a very dignified sound of surprise as Yue Qingyuan entered the room behind him. Yue Qingyuan stopped in his tracks, looking between Shen Qingqiu and the jade monstrosity. Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth to make an excuse, but what could he say? This scene was inexcusable. Dying of mortification was certainly one way of avoiding being human sticked! 

“Qingqiu, you’ve barely gotten out of bed, you can’t possibly be ready for dual cultivation yet. Look how red you are, you must still be feverish.” Shen Qingqiu stared agape as Yue Qingyuan moved too close for propriety and pressed his hand to Shen Qingqiu’s forehead. He hummed consideringly. “I’ll go fetch Mu-shidi.”

“No.” Shen Qingqiu squeaked— the last thing he needed was another witness!

Yue Qingyuan sighed indulgently. “Alright, If Qingqiu is truly in need, this Qi-ge will use his mouth.” 

For the second time that day, Shen Qingqiu fainted.

[sepublic]

The Owl House Timeline

-Millennia Ago; The Archivists encounter the Demon Realm and send the Collector to play with the young Titans; The Collector meets the Titan known as the Boiling Isles, and comes across King’s egg; The Archivists commence a war against the Titans, who resist their attempts to turn every living thing into scrolls; Due to Titan magic countering their own, the Archivists enlist the help of the local demons, Bill among them, and create the Titan Trappers; An Archivist transforms the Owl Beast into a scroll, only to lose it in the ocean; The Boiling Isles Titan hides King on a remote island, shielded from the view of Archivists, and appoints Jean-Luc as the guardian. 

-The Collector is imprisoned in the in-between by the Boiling Isles, who is the last Titan alive; Hooty comes into existence after this during a hunt; The Archivists disappear from the isles; The Titan blows out Bill’s eardrums in a final battle against the Titan Trappers; The Titan escapes to the other side of the planet and ‘dies’, but due to her heart still beating, lingers as a ghost watching from the in-between; Bill communicates with the Collector using one of the moon discs, worshipping them as the Grand Huntsman, only to lose contact when the disc is broken; The Titan Trappers find the Boiling Isles, but are unable to locate King’s egg to free the Collector; Bill’s generation eventually dies out until he is the only one left, leading new generations of wannabe Titan Trappers; Hooty leaves the Boiling Isles’ eye.

-Hecktaceous Period; A Stonesleeper is transported to the Titan’s skull and placed as guardian; Luz Noceda briefly visits through a time pool.

-Witches and demons evolve from the Titan’s corpse; They initially learn glyphs by communicating with the Titan’s spirit on her knee, but eventually rely on their bile sacs instead.

-Thousands of Years Ago; The Bat Queen is carved and abandoned by her owner, a giant, after being wounded; She begins looking after other mistreated palismen in solidarity.

-Circa 1600s; The Deadwardian Era begins.

-1613; Young orphans Philip and Caleb Wittebane arrive in Old Gravesfield.

-Evelyn Clawthorne and Flapjack enter the human realm using an archway powered by Titan’s blood, and befriend a teenage Caleb; Evelyn and Caleb communicate using hidden rebuses, and a vial of Titan’s blood is buried outside the archway in Gravesfield.

-As an adult, Caleb moves to the Boiling Isles’ right arm with Evelyn permanently, marrying her. Philip enters the Boiling Isles through Eclipse Lake, emerging at the Knee, and discovers the Ice glyph.

-Circa May 21st, 16XX; Philip begins writing a journal documenting his journey in the Demon Realm.

-Five years after his arrival, Philip returns to Eclipse Lake and retrieves Titan’s Blood to build a Portal back home, emerging the only survivor; Philip absorbs Palismen essence to gain an advantage over witches, beginning his curse and slowing his aging; Philip reunites with Caleb, killing him and being chased off by a pregnant Evelyn; Philip discovers the Plant and Fire glyphs.

-1635; New Gravesfield is founded, replacing the town’s older layout.

-1660-70; Years after entering the Demon Realm, Philip Wittebane encounters Luz Noceda and Lilith Clawthorne, who travel from the future to meet him; Luz teaches Philip the last glyph, Light; Philip meets the Collector, and encounters the Stonesleeper he will use to create his first Grimwalker of Caleb; A Portal is made using the Titan’s eye that leads to Philip and Caleb’s childhood home, but ends up buried next to Evelyn’s archway.

-1693; “Witches eating babies” -Eda

-Philip creates his first Grimwalker of Caleb; Philip assumes the identity of Belos and claims to speak on behalf of the Titan, espousing the coven system; Belos and his Grimwalkers stage false flag attacks in order to scare the populace into believing them; A city on the Knee is abandoned as a result of one of these incidents. 

-A teenage Hieronymous Bump destroys a rival school resembling Glandus with his fellow students; Hexside is built atop the ruins.

-Circa 1972; Belos becomes Emperor of the Boiling Isles.

-1970-75; Caleb and Evelyn’s descendant Lilith Clawthorne is born; Two years later, her younger sister Edalyn Clawthorne is born.

-Eda, Lilith, Alador, Odalia, Darius Deamonne, and Perry Porter attend Hexside, with Principal Faust in charge; Despite or because of his role in Hexside’s founding, Bump is Vice Principal; Faust breaks up with Terra Snapdragon, who takes their home, forcing Faust to live at Hexside.

-1990s; Cosmic Frontier is published.

-Circa 1992; Eda meets Raine Whispers and Terra at IFWOT; Raine transfers to Hexside; Bump replaces Faust as Principal of Hexside; Eda is cursed by Lilith using the Archivist’s Owl Beast scroll; Lilith joins the Emperor’s Coven, and Eda discovers the Portal, emerging in the Wittebane house at Gravesfield; Eda watches Dragonclaw Z in the human world; Petrifications ‘officially’ end as a means of capital punishment.

-Darius is mentored by the Golden Guard; Darius has a falling out with Alador and Odalia; Alador wins the Bonesborough Brawl; Coven sigils are introduced and mandated; Raine and Eda break up; Raine joins the Bard Coven, only to realize the system’s corruption, and begins a campaign against it from within; The Golden Guard dies, and Lilith is appointed as the Head Witch of the Emperor’s Coven when Belos realizes she will travel to the past to meet him; Alador and Odalia marry and found Blight Industries together.

-Circa 2006; Emira and Edric Blight are born.

-Circa 2007; Skara is born, followed by Willow Park; Vee is the fifth basilisk to be cloned by Belos.

-Circa 2008; Luz Noceda and Amity Blight are born.

-Circa 2010; Augustus Porter is born.

-King Clawthorne finally hatches from his egg.

-Circa 2014; King is found and adopted by Eda.

-The Nocedas move to Gravesfield.

-August 22nd, 20XX; Manny Noceda succumbs to his illness and dies, leaving Luz the first book in The Good Witch Azura series.

-Luz becomes obsessed with The Good Witch Azura.

-Amity is forced to sever ties with Willow during her birthday.

-Circa 2017; Alador has his last weekend off before Odalia forces him to work overtime.

-Willow meets and befriends Augustus Porter.

-Circa 2021; Tibbles finds The Good Witch Azura books washed ashore the Boiling Isles, and sells them to the Book Nook; Amity is the only one who buys them and becomes obsessed.

-Eda begins selling human garbage at Bonesborough as a side gig.

-Amity leaves the Hexside Banshees, quitting Grudgby entirely; Vee and Numbers Three and Four escape the Conformatorium.

-Summer 2022; Luz Noceda enters the Boiling Isles, while Vee enters the human world.

-Mason is promoted to Head Witch of the Construction Coven after the yearly Covention, in time for Luz to attend her first day at Hexside.

-Hunter is appointed the new Golden Guard by Belos.

-Scooter Crane retires; Raine Whispers is appointed as the new Head Witch of the Bard Coven; Tarak sees King’s video while visiting the Boiling Isles and mistakes him for another Titan Trapper’s estranged son, dropping off an invitation letter.

-Luz and Lilith travel through a time pool and encounter Philip Wittebane in the year 1660-70.

-August 22nd, 2022; Reaching Out takes place.

-The Day of Unity occurs; The Collector is freed by King and stops the draining spell; Luz and her friends (and Belos) are stranded in Gravesfield after the Portal is destroyed; The Collector turns the population into puppets, and builds a palace out of the Titan’s skull.

-October 29th, 2022; The Hexsquad discovers the rebus left behind by Caleb.

-October 30th, 2022; The Hexsquad locates Evelyn’s vial of Titan’s Blood; Belos infects Hunter’s body.

-October 31st, 2022; Belos kills Flapjack, and Luz and her friends return to the Boiling Isles.

-November 1st, 2022; For the Future takes place.

-November 2nd, 2022; Luz befriends the Collector and destroys Belos once and for all; The Titan passes on.

-2026; Luz graduates from high school and has her 18th birthday.

[apocalypseornaw]

Wanna be Yours (Pt 2/5)

Sam Winchester x Reader

Sam's starting to develop feelings for you, the problem? He's certain you and Dean are something

@lacilou 's idea

Sam watched you out the corner of his eye. You were sitting cross legged in the middle of Dean's bed in the most recent motel the three of you had stopped at. You'd gotten this case first and had called him and Dean in for the assist. You'd ran across a rather large nest and they were dropping bodies fast.

You had vials of dead man's blood laid out around you and were sharpening machetes. Dean had went to do a quick drive by of the place the nest was held up in which left just you and Sam. The plan was simple, the three of you go in and clear them out then hit the road.

You glanced up after a moment and smiled when you caught his eye. After Hayley's death you and him had become fairly decent friends, you'd call him when you needed to talk about the heavy stuff and he'd confided some things about his own losses.

You were one of the smartest hunters he'd ever met, beautiful and sarcastic enough to rival Dean. You were sweet to those you cared about and any victims you ran across but also fierce as hell when it came down to it. He was beginning to feel things he thought had been buried with Jess, the problem? You were Dean's.

The two of you weren't overly obvious and maybe not even exclusive but the way you two were around each other? You and Dean moved as a unit on hunts, not having to speak to seemingly know what the other wa thinking, he'd say it was a thing of beauty if he wasn't jealous on some level.

He hadn't meant to develop feelings for you, he truly hadn't but it was nearly impossible being in close quarters with you and not.

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

You defended him at moments Dean had doubted him, when he got hurt on a hunt you'd patch him up and at bars you'd drag him out on the dance floor laughing like a mad woman when Dean would tease "C'mon Y/N! Don't break Sammy"

He would say he wished he'd met you first but considering you met Dean when you both were nineteen, that wouldn't have changed anything since that would've put him and fifteen.

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

He hadn't realized he'd sighed aloud until you spoke his name. He looked up again and you smiled "You good honey? Kind of need your head in the game. Me nor Dean would want anything happening to you"

He nodded "Yeah Y/N, I'm good. I promise" you didn't seem to fully believe him but nodded nonetheless "Ok, ya know you can talk to me. I might not be Dean but I do care about you too" that made him smile more genuinely "I know" before either of you could say anything the door opened and Dean can walking in "Y/N, sweetheart you know how to pick cases don't ya?"

Sam fell back while you and Dean went back and forth teasing each other about past hunts gone weird. The banter between you and his older brother was so damn easy. After a minute you let out a whistle and when he looked up you were standing a little in front of him holding his machete out handle first "Freshly sharpened Mister Winchester" "Thanks Y/N"

"Dammit" you grunted under your breath. There were a few more vamps than you or Dean had thought. "CIRCLE UP" Dean shouted. You and him knew how to move together on hunts as did him and Sam so it was becoming a natural thing for the three of you to move together. The best plan for a nest this large? Keep a tight circle and don't let any between the three of you and make heads roll.

You reached out with your left hand and felt Sam's shoulder. "Well cmon then!" A flurry of movement came next. You would place bets on the three of you over anything, any day.

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

Within a few heartbeats the last vamps head was separated from its body and rolling across the floor. You leaned over with your hands on your thighs looking over the carnage surrounding you, blood was smeared across your face but it wasn't yours. You did a quick visual once over of both Winchesters, clocking the bruising starting on Sam's face and Dean favoring his side because him and you both had caught a decent kick to the gut.

All in all the three of you had faired decently enough "Well boys I say we skedaddle a couple counties over and grab some motel rooms then grab some food or some alcohol" "Or both?" Dean added and you winked at him "Reading my mind again Winchester. Tell ya what? I'll race ya for the county line. Winner picks the restaurant and the bar" "On you're on!" He laughed.

Sam shook his head "We gotta clean up after this first you two" you pointed towards him "and that's why he's the Stanford boy. He remembers shit we forget about too quickly" he grinned at your words as the three of you started arranging the bodies to torch the place.

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

You stumbled when you grabbed a large body and nearly fell, had Sam not lurched forward to grab you before you could face plant in a puddle of blood. You braced one hand against his chest and he had an arm around your waist to steady you.

You raised an eyebrow at him before saying "Well damn Sam knew you were cute but didn't know you had the whole Disney prince sweep em off their feet thing going on" and was rewarded with a light blush gracing his cheeks before he said "It helps when the princess is slipping on vampire blood" you laughed at the quick come back "Good point"

Dean walked in the room and chuckled "Well what do we have here" Sam looked from you to Dean, his eyes widening "She slipped. I just caught her before she fell.." he made sure you were steady on your feet then quickly let go of you. He grabbed the body you slipped on and disappeared from the room before you or Dean could ask why he was acting weird.

@lacilou

@foxyjwls007

@nelachu2423

[sexhaver]

Radical Red is becoming my favorite pokemon romhack solely because of how extensive the QoL features (on a gen 3 game engine!!!!) are and how early you get access to them.

almost immediately after starting the game, you get access to a "poke vial" that you can use anywhere to fully heal your team. it has 6 charges that are all refilled upon using an actual poke center. it feels like every encounter in this hack is balanced around you starting at full health (the gym leaders even heal you to full to prevent Endeavor/Guts cheese strats lol), so not having to backtrack between every trainer is a godsend

you unlock free, toggleable, infinite Repel right after the first gym

you get a DexNav that shows you all of the encounterable pokemon in your current area, their hidden abilities/held items, and allows you to chain them super easily. the UI for chaining shows you their ability, most notable move, and how many perfect IVs they have before encountering them

the pokemon "summary" UI doesn't treat you like a literal child and actually shows you the pokemon's base stats, EVs, IVs, and happiness as plain numbers, as well as the level/method of next evolution

there are in-game ways to very easily reset EVs, max out EVs/experience in a single battle, change a pokemon's ability/nature, and even set an existing poke's IVs to 31. also you can nickname them directly from your party menu so that's cool too

the battle UI shows the type(s) of the opposing pokemon (a godsend in a game with hundreds of mons including various forms of the same mon with different typing), and the move selection UI shows you if a move is super/not very effective, if it gets STAB, and lets you view the effective base power and accuracy of all your moves by pressing L instead of going all the way back to the summary screen. i know some/all of these features are standard in later games, but again, gen 3 engine

you can access the PC from anywhere using the start menu (yes this lets you heal mons out of battle by depositing and removing them, poke vials are faster though)

the fast travel functionality is now tied to a key item you get after your second rival fight instead of a mediocre two-turn move

HMs and other moves with field usage (Teleport, Dig, etc) don't actually need to be taught to be used. as long as you have the TM/HM in your inventory, any pokemon that could learn it can instead just use the move in the field without actually learning it. also the HMs have been overhauled to suck less; Cut had its BP bumped up and type changed to Steel, and Flash is now a specially damaging Electric move instead of literally Sand Attack

this is really minor but the Professor Oak's Aide who gives you the HM for Flash doesn't even bother checking if you've caught the required number of pokemon yet, instead just handing it over and saying "I don't get paid enough for this"

and yet despite all this, the game itself is hard enough with brutal team comps, level caps, and no items in battle that you don't feel like you're steamrolling by using all these overpowered tools. romhackers have been making better pokemon games than game freak for years and this proves it

[ashen-crest]

[ID: a digital drawing of a half-woman with tawny brown skin leaning against a wall. She has purple wavy hair on one side and an undercut with buzzed wave lines on the other. She's wearing a dark purple jacket with black trim and silver buttons, and has a bag stragged to her thigh. The text to her left reads: "Rory Basha: investigative journalist for the Dragon Post." then, in bullet points: "writing the story on Ambrose's kidnapping. hails from Deepriver. excels at dancing badly. has magical moving tattoos. Dawn's love interest." with purple hearts below the last bullet point. end ID]

Rosemond Street's Expansion: Rory Basha!

I have art for you!!! It's been so long!!

A Captured Cauldron, the sequel to A Rival Most Vial, is coming out this fall, and Rosemond Street's gotta make room for some new friends (and lovers, and enemies...)

We'll be in Ambrose, Eli, and Dawn's POV this go-round, which means we get to meet love interest Rory Basha through Dawn's (very infatuated) eyes.

“Sorry about that.” [Rory] staggered to her feet and dusted herself off. “Let me just clear this guy out real quick.” “What?” Dawn stood on tiptoe to look over her shoulder. The convention bar was a shambles. Chairs and barstools lay scattered while peaceful patrons crowded into the side booths, giving the woman and the aforementioned guy—a beefy human with a terrible sneer—space to brawl. “Come on, Franz,” the woman stalked back in, fists raised, grin wide. “If you really call that a punch, I’m gonna tell your editor about it and get you kicked off the adventuring beat.” The man lunged; she ducked, fluid as water. 

Next up: Viola, the new baker on Rosemond Street, and Nat, Ambrose's unlikely ally during his adventure below the city!

[taileaten]

Katashi Shibata, 34, has called Coronado home for all their life. As an assassin, their world is steeped in vials of venom, snakescale leather, and the soft glow of lights on the highway. Often found tending to their snakes, they move through life with Fighter by The Score in their ear.

GENERAL

character name: katashi shibata

alias (es): kt

face claim: andrew koji

birthday: april 7th

sexuality: gay (but only fumiko knows) (dmitri dni)

moral alignment: lawful evil

occupation: assassin of the kagehito

affiliation: the shibata family

3 positive traits: obedient, good under pressure, reliable

3 negative traits: stubborn, vengeful, impatient

character summary:

a loyal servant and heir of the shibata empire ( and most importantly, older brother to fumiko shibata) katashi shibata reconciles his own personal missions (secret) and the duty he has to the kagehito and his family's fortune.

QUICK FACTS

his first love is snakes and everything else comes secondary. yes, seriously. he spends most hours of the day tending to them even outside of harvesting and making use of their venom. (they are all venomous species that have NOT been defanged or deglanded.)

on paper he is an employee of one of the family banks and doesn't care about any implications of that. call him a nepotism baby to his face, i dare you. he has WORKED for his position! ...in the kagehito.

his vehicle of choice is a motorbike that he takes care of almost as much as his snakes. because of this, he has a layman's understanding of bike mechanics.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

others in the kagehito: katashi is not very much for friendships, but his fellow assassins are about as close as he can get. they would naturally know more about him than most people since they were all raised and trained together... for better or for worse. usually for worse. there's a lot of potential here i think! secret lovers, rivals, etc. all of it is ofc secondary to his duty but let's talk about it!

clients: especially involved in the other crime families, especially del bosques! or at least aligned with them! he is one of the best in his field (not that all the kagehito aren't... they are... except fumi sorry girl) and has a lot of confirmed (/unconfirmed... except to who matters) kills.

idk: idk. lets just plot stuff out let's vibe.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

This is a kinda weird request

Can you do any sdra2 character react male reader who is the ultimate baker and poison maker

In chapter 3, Kanade decided to frame male reader by putting a poison that he know

When Sora reveal that male reader is the ultimate poison maker, he snaps just like Mikan

Male reader only make poison to use on bad people

I don't think it's weird! Dw

Also this is sorta like a general character reaction and not just a single person

........

As the Ultimate Baker, you made sure everyone in the group had some delicious snacks/desserts to keep their energy up while exploring Utsuroshima! Because of your skills, you were permitted to wake up early and make pastries for breakfast in the ship's kitchen.

You were delighted to hear your classmates say the love your food more than Mikado's (although you don't try to discredit his cooking, as he makes pretty gourmet stuff).

Yuri was the only one adamant about accepting anything from you, bluntly asking if you "poisoned" the Russian dessert you tried replicating for him.

That lowkey freaked you out.....until you remembered that he hated men, so you calmed down and brushed off the remark.

However, your initial reaction didn't go unnoticed by Kanade, who wondered why you looked so scared in that moment..

But after some snooping around, she finds out that you carry vials of poison in your bag. And during Yuri's trial, you did have some extensive knowledge of sedatives---nearly enough to rival her own.

How curious.

After being given the third motive, Kanade sets her plan into motion and decides to frame you for the crime instead of Iroha.

She stole a vial out of your bag (replacing it with another glass that contained similarly-colored liquid), recognizing it as an extremely potent mixture that could paralyze someone instantly.

It's better than a stun gun, so she fills up a syringe with the poison and planted the empty glass in the kitchen trash.

The next morning, she executes her murder plot with her sister.

Her goal was to convince everyone that you're the monster who poisoned Setsuka and dismembered her body while she was still alive--not only giving her and Hibiki freedom, but also driving you insane and revealing your darker side.

Plus, with some of the students having witnessed her grab a muffin from you the morning of her death, the blame will no doubt be kept on you for a while.

During the trial, Kanade will "reveal" the empty glass "evidence" and smirk as you become nervous, denying the accusations that you laced Setsuka's food with poison.

But Sora wonders why the hell you'd even carry around poison--a possible murder weapon--this whole time, and could have very well killed everyone if you wanted to.

Cue Monocrow being like "hmm I never thought about a Blackened committing mass murder"

In anger, you blurt out that you'd never use poison to kill random people--only those who you believed were evil and deserved it.

But that just confirms it, Sora states.. you're a poison maker.

Monocrow also confesses that you have two talents officially recognized at Hope's Peak instead of one, which makes you hysterical as you didn't want anybody to find out this.

You can't explain how you could've messed with the gate records or moved Setsuka's remains to the ghost house, which opens up the "double-blackened" theory.

You keep insisting you're innocent, and eventually it holds up when the twins become the prime suspects and the truth is revealed by Sora in the end.

But from there on, everyone's become more and more wary of your food.

Although Iroha trusts you, wanting to keep the peace, so she still asks you for snacks.

[theficshop]

the way you were able to somewhat describe my perfume scent is so funny to me😭

a part 2 to the amortentia fic would be so amazing pls !!!

part 2 of the amortentia fic, I’m so sorry this took so long I’ve been super busy

Toms Pov: was it Y/N? There's no one else I can think of with that unmistakable scent. It made no sense whatsoever. The Amortentia was supposed to smell of what I was attracted to the most. Am I ... attracted to her? Sure she had nice hair, she was quite smart not to rival me of course, and a radiant smile. Even if I was attracted to her there's no way of telling if she feels the same for me and it would be idiotic to make any advances without knowing first. God, I really am acting like a teenage boy, pathetic. Talking to her in our next class seems like the best option.

Readers Pov:

All signs pointed to Tom you were sure of it. His unmistakable cologne, his love for the ancient books in the library and that liquid poison he calls whiskey. I know I find him attractive I can't take my eyes off him when he's in the same room as me. But this is Tom Riddle we're talking about I doubt he feels attraction towards anything or any emotion for that matter.

Narrators Pov:

The next day she made her way to the same potions classroom and sat in her assigned seat. Professor Slughorn explained the premise of the lesson, they were to brew a successful draught of living death. Tom who was particularly proficient in potion brewing barely broke a sweat.

Readers Pov:

Of course, Professor Slughorn picked the most difficult potion in our old textbooks. Potions wasn't my strongest class but I could use that vial of Felix felicis. Opening my book to the page I read the ingredients.

Draught of Living Death: Potion Ingredients:

Powdered Root of Asphodel.

Fragments of Valerian root.

Infusion of Wormwood.

Standard Potion water.

The brain of a sloth.

A Sopophorous bean's juice.

Moondew.

Flowerhead.

This can't be too hard right? walking to the shelves at the back of the classroom I retrieved the items. Working my way through the steps, I completed the potion. Small bubbles rose to the surface of the cauldron. Growing larger they exploded leaving the substance on my uniform and my hair.

Toms Pov:

Of course, she managed to screw up the potion. Sure I could help her but that would hinder my chances of winning the liquid luck. But... this could also be my chance to figure out if she really was the person I smelt in my Amorentia. I figured I could just convince her to give it to me if she does win . After completing my potion I walked over to her.

"Do you uh, need help?"

"You... want to help me? I don't mean to offend you but I didn't think you were the type"

"Neither did I” I say to myself

"You don't know me then" I quip back muttering a cleaning spell

"Let's go through each step shall we?" god I sound like the professor

she nods opening her book up again. Her small fingers move across the page.

"I see the problem you didn't cut the sloth's brain" It came off ruder than I intended.

"Oh" she went slightly pink I assume out of embarrassment.

" We can restart the potion" My lips curl slightly into a small smile

As she turned around I got a hint of that familiar vanilla scent I had smelt. So It definitely was her no qualms about it. She brings the ingredients back and I snap back to reality.

"Not to intrude but, I was wondering what you smelt in your Amortentia?" I question casually

“Uh I um” she doesn’t make eye contact with me

“Some cologne and whiskey?” She says rather quietly

I nod not wanting her to feel more uncomfortable or embarrassed. She begins to cut the sloth brain, on pure instinct my hands go over hers to guide her.

“I uh sorry” I say softy

After we go through each step we eventually complete her potion.

Professor Slughorn parades around the class room looking at the concoctions. Dismissing all of them he reaches mine.

Placing a small brown leaf his face lights up”

“My Merlin it’s perfect, come around everybody look at Tom’s potion”

Everyone circles around my cauldron. Turning to me he takes a clear vial from his robe

“You are very deserving of this Tom” he hands it to me

Class is dismissed after everyone has cleaned their stations.

Readers POV:

As I start to leave I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Professor?”

“Ah Y/N I’ve been wanting to talk to you”

“I have taken a notice to your recently declining grade in my class”

“Yes Professor well I -“

“I’ve asked Tom to help you out since he’s my best student, please don’t take offence to it I would just like to see an improvement”