#Ancient death spell

[casiavium]

Everyone on the program: omg cool mummies!!!

Me, literally holding back tears: they are so far from home. Are their souls scared? Has anyone even offered them bread in the afterlife?

[fluentisonus]

the way both marriage torches and ships are always made of pine trees

[edgydadster]

Random question

You got a favorite Zelda enemy? It can be a boss or a regular monster

i jus think theyr neat...

bosswise?

that.

[claire-starsword]

Shining Force Data Collection - May 1992

These are from a special on japanese magazine Beep! Megadrive. I haven’t translated most of it because it’s your typical character stat analysis and item/magic list, but there were some fun character tidbits as well.

Protagonist

Leave the finishing blows to him

Character: A typical man, doesn't talk much. Many warriors admire him and join his force.

Special skills: He's the only one capable of ordering the wild members of the Shining Force to retreat.

Mae

Daughter of the Knight Captain, running through the wide fields

Character: Super harsh. Though that's what you can expect of a knight that was also raised like a princess.

Special skills: Her father was the Knight Captain Varios. Her bloodline is as good as it gets for a knight.

Ken

This model apprentice is a guy that grows stronger real fast

Character: Honest. To the point where he comes off as rude to other people. Though it's also a good thing.

Special skills: His youth is his strength. As a knight in training, his growth upon getting real battle experience is extraordinary.

Arthur

The hidden power of a laundry worker

Character: Extremely earnest. His weak point is that he's quick to worry.

Special skills: He's a unique knight who can learn magic. Is that a given when you work on the laundry in Manarina?

Pelle

Are mercenary knights immortal?

Character: A hothead. Perhaps that's why he's easy to deceive, he's completely helpless when it comes to surprise attacks.

Special skills: Has the sheer determination to climb up from a precipice. His strong will beyond that of regular mercenaries isn't just an act.

Vankar

Never stops drinking

Character: Loves alcohol and freedom and fighting. Has an adult charm to him.

Special skills: Fights head-on, one-on-one, a fair clash of power versus power. He's a knight for hire with a lot of pride.

Earnest

A knight of the shadows living for revenge

Character: A man of conviction who won't turn back at any danger in order to attain his goals.

Special skills: Skilled at guerilla tactics, seeing how he penetrated a fort leading only a small bunch of soldiers.

Luke

A brat charging onward with a dumpling of a nose!

Character: A natural-born fighter who loves battling, However, he's usually a kind man.

Special skills: Great physical strength. Shows a fighting style distinct from the knights.

Gort

A hot blooded grandpa unmatched in the battlefield

Character: A kind warrior who loves his family and homeland. Has the charm of an unassuming master.

Special skills: Relies on skill more than strength, contrasting with the young Luke.

Hans

Talented archer who hates fighting

Character: A pacifist. Does things on his own pace and whines a lot, but when he decides to act he does it well.

Special skills: Precise as a machine with the bow. Never misses a target.

Diane

Sniper woman raised in the mountain country

Character: Having been raised as a hunter since a young age, she is very self reliant. Also full of vitality.

Special skills: Runs through hills and fields like a wild beast, chasing after her prey through any distance.

Lyle

Heavy firearm guy with a terrible sense of direction

Character: He's careless, but the kind of guy that's hard to hate. Even he admits his sense of direction is poor.

Special skills: Certainly strong. Carries around that heavy cannon without a single complaint.

Guntz

An inventor’s soul running through the battlefield

Character: A sensitive guy despite his appearance. Seems to be very watchful of his surroundings.

Special skills: Has dexterous hands. Does maintenance of the steam suit by himself.

Tao

The burning woman was devoted

Character: Seemingly meek, but strong on the inside. As expected of a fire mage.

Special skills: Cooks the undead of monsters well-done. A monster chef.

Anri

The princess is a silver haired mage

Character: She is a princess yet has lived in Manarina for a while, perhaps she's good at adapting to other environments?

Special skills: A princess who attacks with ice magic, it's a bit of a scary image to conjure.

Domingo

An impertinent creature since the day he hatched

Character: Talks way too much. Perhaps his egg was hatched in a bad way.

Special skills: His gelatinous body is hard for enemies to damage. Very resistant.

Alef

The magician of lightning attacks hates Lowe?

Character: A woman (?) with a unique adult vibe among those in the force. Quite attractive...

Special skills: The Bolt magic that makes one's fur stand on end and summons lightning. Its power is outstanding.

Lowe

The one who saved a life is a priest in training

Character: Very nosy and curious. Yet has a vibe that's hard to dislike.

[idk book did you read the previous character]

Special skills: Being a priest, that is healing magic of course. Especially eager to treat the girls' wounds.

Khris

Has hidden strength very unexpected of her looks

Character: Because she has served a princess for a long time, she's mild mannered and very quiet.

Special skills: With experience she becomes quite strong, even in close combat. She also looks kind of lonely.

Torasu

The best when it comes to Aura

Character: The eldest in the force. Has a surprisingly funny face.

Special skills: Thanks to his long life, he has learned plenty of healing spells. Very knowledgeable.

Gong

The peak of body training

Character: He wanders about while training himself. A monk with strict discipline.

Special skills: Summons the healing fairies with a strong proper fist. You have to see it.

Balbaroy

Dances like a butterfly, stings like a hornet

Character: Has a deep sense of honor. Fought to protect the priest in Shade who took care of him.

Special skills: A valuable member who can fly. Can't anything be done about his kinda low strength...?

Amon

Do you understand how to use the birdmen couple?

Character: A gentle wife who cares dearly for her husband. You want to answer her pleas no matter what.

Special Skills: Another flying member along her husband. You can leave the battlefield scouting to them.

Kokichi

Flying is his life

Character: He has persisted for fifty years on experiments with flying machines. That says all you have to know about his personality.

Special skills: Kokichi is the only human in all of Rune to have flown. It's an amazing feat.

Bleu

Is this a legendary Sacred Dragon?

Character: He's a crybaby, but his care for his friends might be beyond that of humans. Likes Karin.

Special skills: Bleu is still only a child. He's just starting to develop his powers as a sacred dragon.

Zylo

The only option when it comes to forest battles

Character: While a beastman, he is the king of Bustoke. A noble and kind ruler.

Special skills: A forest spirit. In a forest, no one can match his power.

Adam

Robot given a duty

Character: Loyal servant to the protagonist. He was created for this role. A long. long time ago.

Special skills: His whole body is weaponized. By getting experience, he may be able to unlock its abilities.

Musashi

A strong warrior visiting from an eastern country

Character: The embodiment of the samurai code. He cannot ignore evil, no matter how small.

Special skills: With a single swing of his katana he can tear apart even air! Such skill might be above even the protagonist's.

Hanzou

This user of ninja arts holds his sword in a backwards grip

Character: A complete mystery. His nature, his personality, all unknown. A literal fighting machine?

Special Skills: The secret art of hiding in the shadows. Now, let's look out for him thoroughly.

Yogurt

Why does he fight?

Character: "I don't get it..."

Special skills: He runs. Has a helmet. Tumbles down. Apparently has a lot of unexpected skills. Really unexpected.

[sugar-konpeito]

when tuxedo mask is brainwashed by beryl his roses are black. it's not because he's evil, it's because they're withering and dying. some of his poems are him secretly asking for help too. :(

[theplotmage]

Fantasy Royal Hierarchy & Government Explained for Dummies

👑 The Royal Hierarchy:

High King/High Queen: The ultimate ruler of all the lands. Addressed as “Your Majesty.” They oversee multiple kingdoms and have the final say in all matters.

King/Queen: The rulers of individual kingdoms. Addressed as “Your Majesty.” They manage their own territories, make laws, and lead their armies into epic battles.

Prince/Princess: The children of the king and queen. Addressed as “Your Highness.” They’re next in line for the throne and often have their own mini-kingdoms to practice ruling.

Duke/Duchess: High-ranking nobles who control large regions within the kingdom. Addressed as “Your Grace.” They’re like the regional managers, handling local governance and military affairs.

Marquess/Marchioness: Nobles who oversee border territories. Addressed as “Lord” or “Lady.” They’re responsible for defending the kingdom’s edges and often have a mix of military and administrative duties.

Earl/Countess: Nobles who manage smaller regions within the kingdom. Addressed as “Lord” or “Lady.” They’re like the middle managers, ensuring everything runs smoothly in their areas.

Viscount/Viscountess: Nobles who assist earls and countesses. Addressed as “Lord” or “Lady.” They’re like the assistant managers, helping with local governance and administration.

Baron/Baroness: The lowest rank of nobility. Addressed as “Lord” or “Lady.” They control small areas of land and are responsible for local justice and order.

Lord/Lady: A general title for nobility. Addressed as “Lord” or “Lady.” Lords and ladies can hold various ranks and responsibilities within the kingdom.

Government Structure:

🏛️ The Council: A group of high-ranking nobles and advisors who help the king or queen make important decisions. Think of them as the board of directors.

🧙 The Wizard: The royal advisor with magical powers. They provide wisdom, cast spells, and sometimes meddle in politics.

⚔️ The Knight Commander: The head of the royal army. They lead the knights and soldiers into battle and ensure the kingdom’s defense.

📜 The Chancellor: The head of the kingdom’s finances and administration. They manage the treasury, collect taxes, and oversee the kingdom’s bureaucracy.

🎭 The Bard: The kingdom’s storyteller and historian. They spread news, sing songs of heroism, and keep the royal family’s image sparkling.

Other Classes:

🌳 Elves: Graceful and wise, elves often serve as advisors, scholars, or elite warriors. They have a deep connection to nature and magic, making them invaluable in both court and battlefield.

🌾 Peasants: The backbone of the kingdom. They work the land, pay taxes, and sometimes get caught up in the schemes of the nobility. Despite their humble status, they can be heroes in their own right.

💀 Necromancers: Masters of death magic. They can raise the dead, drain life energy, and command undead minions. Often feared and misunderstood, they can be powerful allies or dangerous enemies.

📚 Scholars: Also known as sages, librarians, or loremasters. Scholars are the kingdom’s intellectuals, possessing encyclopedic knowledge. They study ancient texts, advise on matters of history and magic, and often uncover secrets that can turn the tide of events.

⚔️ Heroes: Brave individuals who embark on epic quests. They can come from any class—knights, peasants, elves, or even necromancers. Heroes are defined by their courage, skill, and willingness to face danger for the greater good.

🙏 Priests/Priestesses: Spiritual leaders who serve the gods and goddesses of the realm. They perform rituals, offer guidance, and sometimes wield divine magic. Addressed as “Father,” “Mother,” or “Your Holiness”.

🐉 Dragons: Sometimes pets, sometimes pests. Always epic. They can be guardians of treasure, wise advisors, or terrifying foes.

Servants and Other Castle Inhabitants:

Steward: Manages the household and estate. Addressed as “Master Steward.”

Chamberlain: Oversees the private chambers and personal needs of the lord or lady. Addressed as “Master Chamberlain.”

Marshal: In charge of the stables and the training of knights. Addressed as “Master Marshal.”

Cook: Prepares meals for the household. Addressed as “Master/Mistress Cook.”

Maid: Responsible for cleaning and maintaining the castle. Addressed as “Mistress Maid.”

Squire: A young noble training to become a knight. Addressed as “Squire.”

Falconer: Takes care of the hunting birds. Addressed as “Master Falconer.”

Gardener: Maintains the castle gardens. Addressed as “Master/Mistress Gardener.”

Where They Dwell:

🏰 Castle: A fortified structure built for defense and residence. It includes towers, walls, a keep, and often a moat. The castle is the main residence of the king or queen and their court.

🏛️ Court: The royal household and the place where the king or queen holds court. It includes the throne room, great hall, and various chambers for the nobles and advisors.

🏡 Manor: The residence of a noble, usually a lord or lady. It’s less fortified than a castle and focuses more on comfort and domestic life.

Pro Tips:

Royal Drama: Expect lots of intrigue, secret plots, and power struggles. It’s like a medieval reality show.

Magic: Always a wildcard. It can solve problems or create new ones.

Quests: Royals love sending heroes on epic quests. It’s their way of handling problems without getting their hands dirty.

---

[theetherealbloom]

TAKE ME DOWN TO LIFT ME HIGH

Summary: In the grand city of Rome, you, a senator's daughter, are entangled in a world far removed from your aristocratic upbringing. Your chance encounter with General Marcus Acacius, a renowned gladiator and war hero, changes your life forever.

Paring: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, AU, PWP, Some Plot and more smut, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Fingering, PIV, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, Canon Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism (it’s ancient rome, babe), Sneaking Around, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, Boobs,

Word Count: 6k

A/N: The amount of research I had to do for this was insane. I was more obsessed with Greek Mythology than Roman so I needed a refresher. Hehe, there’s not a lotttt of drama, but it leans more into the smut side and just cheesy over all plot lol and a little fun ceremony in the end. Everyone say thank you to @wheresarizona for listening to me go feral over Marcus. Go send her some love cause she deserves it :>

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Song: Selene by NIKI

| Main Masterlist |

The return of General Marcus Acacius was an event of grand opulence. The streets of Rome were alive with screams and celebrations as he rode his golden chariot, smiling and waving at the throngs of admirers. It was as if the bloodshed and death that marked his victory were distant echoes, easily forgotten by the jubilant crowd.

"Long live General Marcus!" someone shouted.

"A true hero of Rome!" another voice rang out.

You weren't supposed to be in the crowd. Your place was at home, learning household chores such as cooking, cleaning, and weaving—the essential skills expected of a Roman matron. Yet, here you were, hidden beneath a hood, blending with the common folk as you watched the celebrated general parade down the street.

As the parade came to an end, you discreetly followed behind the procession, your eyes fixed on General Marcus Acacius. He was dressed in white and glittering gold, a stark contrast to his usual attire of blood-stained armor and weapons. Even though he was smiling and waving at the crowds, you could see the disdain in his eyes for such a grandiose display.

You had heard stories about him, rumors whispered amongst the noble families of Rome. They spoke of his ruthless acts on the battlefield, of his unwavering loyalty to Rome, and of his preferences. Yet here he was, parading through the streets in all his glory, hailed as a hero by everyone.

You couldn't help but feel drawn to him despite everything you had heard. There was something about him that intrigued you, something that made your heart race and your cheeks flush.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of General Marcus Acacius, wondering what kind of man he truly was beyond his reputation as a war hero.

As you stood there, trying to remain inconspicuous, your eyes met his. The connection was electric, almost as if the gods themselves had intervened. Marcus’s gaze was so intense that it seemed to pierce through the crowd and find you alone. He noted every feature of your face, his expression betraying a hint of fascination.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat and quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact. Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned and began to scurry home, the thrill of the encounter leaving you breathless.

Your pulse raced as you made your way through the bustling streets of Rome, trying to push aside the image of General Marcus Acacius's piercing gaze. You couldn't understand why you were so affected by a man you barely knew, but there was something about him that drew you in.

You managed to sneak back into your room, just barely slipping past the household guards. Being the daughter of a senator afforded you certain privileges, including an education that many girls your age could only dream of. Your studies typically included reading, writing, and arithmetic, equipping you with the skills necessary to manage a household and participate in society. You were also taught music, dancing, and literature, for understanding and appreciating poetry was considered a virtue for a Roman woman.

As you settled in your room, the memory of Marcus’s gaze lingered in your mind. The image of his rugged face, scarred from countless battles, and his piercing eyes was etched into your thoughts. There was something about him that was both terrifying and captivating.

A soft knock on your door interrupted your reverie. It was your handmaid, Lydia, her expression curious.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I went to see the procession."

Lydia’s eyes widened. "The general’s return? You could have been caught!"

"I know," you admitted, "but I had to see him."

"Why? What could be so important?"

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain the inexplicable pull you felt towards the gladiator general. "I don't know, Lydia. It's just... when our eyes met, it felt like something changed."

Lydia shook her head, her expression a mix of worry and understanding. "You must be careful. The world outside is not as forgiving as the walls of this villa."

The days following the procession were filled with a whirlwind of emotions. You couldn't shake the image of Marcus from your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his intense gaze, felt the inexplicable connection that had sparked between you.

The grand villa of your father was abuzz with preparations for the evening’s banquet. Slaves hurried to and fro, setting tables with fine silverware and arranging elaborate floral displays. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the delicate fragrance of flowers.

Tonight, your father, a respected senator, was hosting a dinner in honor of General Marcus Acacius. The entire house was a flurry of activity, with guests arriving in their finest attire, their laughter and chatter filling the atrium. You stood near the entrance, feeling the weight of your responsibilities as the senator’s daughter.

Your mother approached, adjusting the drape of your stola with a critical eye. “Remember, you must be on your best behavior tonight. This banquet is crucial for your father’s alliances.”

You nodded, though your mind was elsewhere. Ever since you had seen Marcus in the parade, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his piercing gaze had haunted you, and now he was here, in your home.

"Come," your father said, his hand on your back guiding you through the crowd. "I want you to meet someone."

You followed, your heart pounding in anticipation. As you approached, you saw him standing there, taller and more imposing than anyone else in the room. Marcus Acacius, the hero of Rome, the man who had invaded your thoughts and dreams.

"General Acacius," your father began, his voice carrying the weight of his status, "allow me to introduce my daughter."

Marcus turned, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect, but his gaze remained unwavering. "My lady," he said, his voice like velvet, "it is an honor."

General Marcus was the most strikingly handsome man you had ever seen. His chiseled features were framed by dark brown eyes beneath thick, black eyebrows. His long, aquiline nose and firm mouth, accentuated by a sensuously full lower lip, completed the picture of rugged masculinity. He stood tall, towering over most men, with a lean, muscular body and broad, powerful shoulders.

His hair, a captivating mix of salt and pepper, was cut short and fell in loose curls around his head, with distinguished grey patches in his beard that added to his allure.

"The honor is mine, General," you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay composed.

"Please, call me Marcus," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We are, after all, in more intimate surroundings."

Your father chuckled, clearly pleased with Marcus's easy charm. "I will leave you two to get acquainted," he said, patting Marcus on the shoulder before moving away to mingle with other guests.

The moment your father left, the air between you and Marcus seemed to crackle with electricity. He took a step closer, the heat of his body radiating towards you. "I must confess," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "I have been looking forward to this moment."

You swallowed hard, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. "As have I," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Marcus's eyes darkened with desire, and he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your knees weaken. "You are even more captivating up close," he said, his voice husky. "I find myself drawn to you, like a moth to a flame."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, his scent, his warmth, the sheer power of his focus on you.

As Marcus's hand continued to caress your arm, you felt your heart race with a mixture of excitement and nerves. You had never been this close to him before, and the realization that he was interested in you sent a wave of exhilaration through your body.

His lips brushed against your earlobe, making you shiver. "I want to know everything about you," he murmured, his voice sending sparks down your spine. "Your hopes, your dreams, what makes you laugh and what makes you cry out for mercy."

You turned towards him, meeting his intense gaze. "I want to know about you too," you said, feeling bold in his presence.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer. "There is not much to tell," he said modestly, though the way his eyes roamed over your face suggested otherwise. "Just a soldier who has dedicated his life to serving Rome."

But there was something more behind those words, something hidden beneath the mask of duty and honor. You could sense it in the way he held himself, in the intensity of his gaze.

"I don't believe that," you said firmly. "There is so much more to a person than their profession."

Marcus's smile widened into a grin as he took another step closer to you. "You are wise beyond your years," he said appreciatively.

The room around you seemed to fade away as you became lost in each other's gaze. It was as if there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke through the moment – someone had knocked over a vase nearby. The sound jolted both of you back to reality and Marcus stepped back slightly.

"I should go check on that," he said regretfully.

Marcus's lips lingered on your skin for a moment longer before pulling away to look into your eyes. "I promise, we will continue this conversation another time," he said softly.

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. You couldn't wait to spend more time with him and get to know him better.

As Marcus turned to leave, you couldn't help but watch him walk away, his confident stride and broad shoulders filling you with a sense of admiration. You sighed dreamily and turned back to the feast, only to be greeted by your handmaids with teasing grins.

"What was that all about?" one of them asked, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively.

You feel your cheeks heat up, trying to hide your excitement. "Nothing," you said coyly. "Just a conversation."

As the guests were seated in the triclinium, the air was filled with the sounds of conversation and the clinking of goblets. You found yourself seated across from Marcus, who looked imposing in his formal attire. His presence commanded the room, yet his eyes frequently strayed to you, a subtle intensity in his gaze.

The evening progressed with toasts to Marcus’s victories and speeches praising his valor. You tried to focus on the conversations around you, but your mind kept drifting to the man across the table. Finally, you could bear it no longer. Under the pretense of needing fresh air, you excused yourself and slipped out into the garden.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you wandered through the manicured paths, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating your way. The garden was a haven of tranquility compared to the lively banquet inside. You found a secluded bench and sat down, letting out a sigh of relief. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of voices from the villa created a serene backdrop as you tried to gather your thoughts.

As you sat there, the faint sound of a conversation caught your attention. You turned your head slightly, realizing that a group of senators had gathered nearby, their voices low but urgent. You recognized the voices of some of the most influential men in Rome, including your father.

"I hear that Emperor Caracalla is eager to stage a grand spectacle," one senator said, his tone conspiratorial. "He wants to solidify his power and win the favor of the masses."

"Indeed," another replied. "I heard he plans to pit some of the finest gladiators against each other. And there are whispers that General Marcus Acacius himself might be forced to take part in the games."

You felt a pang of concern at the mention of Marcus's name. The thought of him in the Colosseum, fighting for his life, was almost too much to bear.

"Emperor Geta is not pleased with this idea," a third senator interjected. "He sees it as a waste of a valuable military asset. But Caracalla is determined. He believes a victory in the arena will elevate Marcus to legendary status, securing loyalty from the soldiers and the people alike."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed their words. The political machinations of Rome were ruthless, and it seemed that Marcus was caught in the middle of it all.

As the senators continued their discussion elsewhere, their voices drifting away back into the villa, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Marcus emerging from the shadows, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He moved silently, his powerful form cutting through the darkness like a predator stalking its prey.

"My lady," he said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "It seems we both seek refuge in the quiet of the garden."

"Marcus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. "I overheard the senators. They plan to have you fight in the Colosseum."

His expression darkened, and he closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. "I know," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The emperors play their games, and I am but a pawn. But tonight, I do not wish to think of such things."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "Tonight, I only want to think of you."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a tantalizing softness. The kiss deepened, his hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His touch was both possessive and gentle, his need for you evident in every caress.

"Marcus," you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair. "This is madness. If we are caught..."

"Let them find us," he murmured against your lips. "I would rather face the lions in the arena than be without you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you responded with a fervor that matched his own. Your bodies pressed together, the heat of your passion driving away the cool night air. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

"Promise me," you whispered, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Promise me you will come back to me, no matter what happens."

"I swear it," he said, his voice filled with determination. "No matter what the emperors or the gods throw at me, I will return to you."

With those words, he captured your lips again, sealing his promise with a kiss that left you breathless. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

His voice, a velvety whisper, sent a wave of desire flooding through you as he murmured, "I want you. Here. Now."

The moon was high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the garden, as Marcus pressed you against the wall. His hands roamed over your body, igniting fires with each touch. You could feel his desire for you, and it only fueled your own.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you up and pressed you against the garden walls. His body hovering over yours as he trailed kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and you couldn't contain the moan that escaped from your lips.

With a growl of need, Marcus captured your lips once again while his hands began to explore under your dress. The feeling of his warm skin against yours sent shivers down your spine as he traced patterns along your thighs.

"Marcus," you gasped between kisses. "We shouldn't-"

"Shhh," he whispered, gently sliding your white cotton robe off your shoulders. "I can't resist you any longer.”

Marcus unexpectedly reached out his large, rough hands and cupped each one of your breasts, weighing them in his palms. Your body jolted at the sudden touch, your skin tingling under his warm heat. You could feel the calluses on his fingers, hardened from years of wielding swords and other battle weapons, leaving tiny marks on your delicate skin like a trail of fire.

As he squeezed and rotated your breasts gently, desire surged through you, igniting a deep longing within. You wanted to surrender yourself completely to him, to offer up not just your body but your very being to his every whim. The sensation was so overwhelming that you yearned to throw your head back in abandonment and give in to the all-consuming pleasure he evoked.

The protests that had escaped your lips now transformed into guttural moans of pleasure as his skilled fingers worked their magic on your most sensitive spot. Every touch sent electric shocks through your body, making you shiver and writhe against the wall. As Marcus trailed his fingertips over every inch of your slick flesh, you felt yourself becoming more and more lost in the overwhelming waves of pleasure coursing through you. With each stroke, your body arched further off the wall, desperate for more of his touch. It was like a symphony of sensations, building and crescendoing until you were completely consumed by the intensity of it all.

He slid a finger between your legs and pushed it deep inside you. Pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch and writhe as he expertly stroked your tight passage.

"My lady, you have an incredibly tight cunt," he grunted out, his voice strained and revealing his own growing arousal. His features twisted in pleasure and his eyes glinted with a primal lust.

He firmly grasped your aroused nub and slid another finger into your tight, welcoming entrance. "We have to be quiet or we'll risk getting caught," he whispered in your ear.

You nodded eagerly, pleading, "Yes, anything. Please."

As his skilled fingers gently rotated over your sensitive clit and his other digit pumped inside your wet, pulsing core, you couldn't help but surrender to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. From the moment his eyes locked on yours, you knew you were his to be used however he pleased, your body a vessel for his insatiable desires. With each expert movement of his fingers, you felt yourself spiraling into a dizzying state of pure ecstasy, completely at his mercy. Your flesh responded eagerly to his touch, begging for more as he claimed you as his own.

The General's gentle touch on your skin was electrifying, bringing a growing pleasure to your body that felt almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself getting too hot, too tense, and you were afraid of releasing the intense climax that was building inside you with just a single touch. 

"Oh Goddess," you gasped, tilting your head back against his shoulder and shutting your eyes as your desire became sharper and more urgent.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as his long finger penetrated you, rotating and rubbing inside your core while his other fingers worked relentlessly on your sensitive clitoris. Your body squirmed against the intense pleasure, your hands grasping at his muscular arms to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations. He chuckled softly as you began to move your hips in a circular motion, still continuing to bring you pleasure with his skilled touch for several minutes. Just as you were about to reach the edge of climax, he eased off slightly, keeping his movements quick and light.

But eventually, your body tensed up and convulsed, your movements erratic and desperate, your breaths coming in short gasps. As the tension in your loins grew tighter and tighter, you let out a high-pitched wail and reached the peak of ecstasy. Your walls pulsated around his probing finger, which was now coated in even more of your warm juices.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Marcus gently turned you to face him again. His white robe and short toga were cast aside, leaving him naked in front of you. He stood tall and proud, his lean and muscular frame on full display. But it was his erect penis that took your breath away. It was massive, thick and much longer than average, standing rigid and red above a nest of dark pubic hair.

His impressive and exposed physique took your breath away as you gazed upon it. "Oh, my Goddess!" you exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by his sheer size.

Without hesitation, Marcus reached out and grasped your thighs, pulling you closer to him. He leaned over your body, closed his fist around his member, and guided the tip towards your still-dripping entrance.

He managed to get the thick bulbous tip of his penis through your opening. You immediately felt stretched and full. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling in an effort to accommodate him. “You big brute, you’re tearing me apart.”

He clenched his teeth, sweat starting to matt his silver and grey hair at his forehead. The pleasure of being inside such a tight flesh was almost dizzying, and he had to pull in all of his control to prevent himself from plunging completely inside of you. 

That would come later, he promised, once you had been well oiled by him. He pushed again and managed another inch, and slowly continued to advance his penis inside your channel. 

“You’re so tight,” his voice was harsh and strained, as if in pain. It wasn't too far from the truth; she felt tight around him, almost like a vice grip. But despite the discomfort, she was so warm and smooth inside.

With a groan, he slid the thick bulbous tip of his penis into your opening. A sharp pang of fullness shot through you as your body stretched to accommodate him. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling and contorting in an effort to ease the pressure. "You big oaf," you playfully scolded, though there was a hint of pleasure in your voice.

He clenched his teeth, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he fought for control. The sensation of being inside such tight, warm flesh was almost overwhelming, and he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. He promised himself that he would give in completely once you were well-oiled by him.

He pushed with all his strength, feeling the resistance of your body as he slid deeper and deeper inside. The walls of your channel were smooth and slick, clenching around him like a vice. He couldn't hold back the grunt that escaped his clenched teeth, a mix of intense sensation coursing through his body. It was a pleasurable pain, like being held in a fierce embrace by someone who loved you too much - an exquisite torture that he never wanted to end. But with each slow and deliberate thrust, he knew that the pleasure would only intensify, building to a climax that would leave them both breathless.

Slowly but surely, Marcus eased his penis deeper into your body. With each inch of progress, you both felt the intensity of your connection grow stronger. Your entire body trembled with each thrust he made. When he was halfway inside you, Marcus used his fingers to stimulate your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your core throbbed with ecstasy as Marcus took advantage of your relaxed muscles and thrust deeply inside you until he was fully engulfed.

You and Marcus both groan at the same time. He quickly covers your mouth with his hand, gently hushing you. "Shh, my Carissima... I know it feels good, but we must be quiet. We can't risk your father catching us in this compromising position." The General continues to stimulate your sensitive spot, using his fingers to tease and moisten it further.

Your hips continued to rock and push against his manhood, your desire growing with each movement. You leaned back and moaned as General Marcus Acacius took full control of your body. He held onto your hips tightly as he thrust deep inside you, the pleasure intensifying for both of you. It was clear that neither of you was far from reaching the peak of ecstasy.

You let out moans and contorted your body as the large, broad, man moved back and forth between your legs. As your face twisted in pleasure and your head thrashed about, you experienced this unfamiliar sensation called sexual pleasure. Your climax came quickly and intensely, feeling like it lasted for several minutes. You threw your head back and let out a scream as the intense pleasure broke through between your thighs. A hot wave of pleasure spread throughout your body, causing your hips to writhe against Marcus'.

As your body trembled and released into an intense orgasm, you felt Marcus' muscles tighten beneath you. A deep, primal roar escaped his lips as he too reached the peak of his climax. The sound echoed through the gardens blending with the rhythmic pounding of your heart and breath. It was a moment of pure, raw passion that left you both gasping for air and tangled in each other's embrace.

As the intense pleasure slowly subsided, you became aware of the small droplets of blood trickling down your thighs and onto the grass. It was a sign that your virginity had been taken, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.

General Marcus Acacius carefully pulled out of you and helped you to sit up. You could see his concern in his eyes as he looked at the blood staining his robe on the ground and your thighs.

"Are you hurt, Carissima? I didn't mean to be so rough..." he asked, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. "No… I'm fine," you managed to say.

He let out a sigh of relief and gently wiped away the blood with a nearby cloth. You winced slightly at the slight soreness between your legs but it was nothing compared to the intense pleasure you had just experienced.

Marcus held you close, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. "You were amazing, my love," he whispered in your ear.

A flood of emotions washed over you as you realized what had just happened between the two of you. You had shared an intimate moment with General Marcus Acacius, someone who was forbidden to you because of your status as a daughter of such nobility. And yet, in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of love and desire that consumed both of you.

Your mind was spinning, knowing all too well what would happen if anyone found out about your relationship with the General. Your father would surely punish both of you severely and possibly even sell one or both of you off.

Even with the knowledge of what had just happened, and what could, it was difficult for you to feel remorse or embarrassment. Instead, you felt a sense of contentment and fulfillment that you had never experienced before.

Marcus chuckled warmly and gave you a soft kiss on your lips. "You are truly something special, Carissima," he said with adoration in his eyes.

You blushed at his words, feeling a surge of happiness wash over you. Despite the risks and consequences, being with Marcus felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But as the reality of your situation sank in, a sense of worry crept into your mind. How would you continue this relationship without anyone finding out? How could you possibly be with Marcus when your father would never allow it? Or worse, your father having you marry someone else?

Marcus brushed his fingers against your cheek, and it felt like he could read your mind. "We will find a solution, my love. I promise I will marry you and make you my wife," he whispered to soothe your fears.

The weight of Marcus' words settled heavily in your heart. The thought of being married to the man you loved filled you with joy and hope, yet the reality of it all seemed impossible.

"How could we possibly make that happen?" you asked, your voice laced with worry.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt. How could someone as powerful and respected as General Marcus Acacius be able to marry someone like you? You were just a daughter of a nobleman, while he was one of the most influential men in the kingdom.

Marcus spoke with unwavering assurance, his gaze locked onto yours. As you looked back into his eyes, all your doubts and fears dissipated. You were certain that he would do anything to keep you safe and by his side. "We will find a way, my love. I will do whatever it takes to make you my wife."

"I believe in you," you said softly, placing a hand on his chest.

Marcus smiled and leaned in to kiss you again, his lips gentle and loving against yours. In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away except for the two of you.

"But we must be careful," Marcus reminded you, his tone serious once again. "We cannot let anyone find out about us until the time is right."

You nodded in agreement, understanding the risks that came with your relationship.

"We must also gain your father's approval," Marcus continued. "It won't be easy, but I am determined to prove myself worthy of you and your family."

You couldn't help but admire Marcus' determination and love for you. Despite the challenges ahead, he was willing to do anything to be with you.

As the sun began to rise, you woke up in your room with a smile on your face. Today was the day that Marcus would finally meet with your father and ask for your hand in marriage. You could hardly believe the moment had arrived, the day you had dreamt of for so long.

Ever since he had first confessed his love for you, the two of you had been meeting in secret, stealing moments together whenever possible. The clandestine nature of your meetings had made your bond even stronger. The thought of being with Marcus made every challenge worth it.

You dressed carefully, choosing your finest gown, and adorned yourself with simple yet elegant jewelry. Your heart raced with anticipation as you made your way to the garden where the betrothal ceremony would take place. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a serene atmosphere.

In the garden, your father stood with Marcus, deep in conversation. The sight of them together filled you with a sense of pride and hope. Marcus, in his formal attire, looked every bit the honorable and powerful man that he was—a general respected by all of Rome.

Your father turned to you, his expression warm. "My dear daughter," he began, "today is a momentous day as the gods have blessed us. General Marcus Acacius has proven himself to be a man of honor and valor. It would be a great honor for our family to be united with his."

Marcus stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "It is my greatest wish to make you my wife," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise to honor and protect you for all the days of my life."

The betrothal ceremony commenced, a formal ritual between your two families. Your father and Marcus exchanged respectful bows, symbolizing the joining of your households. Gifts were presented, and the dowry was discussed and agreed upon. A scribe stood by, ready to document the agreement in a written contract.

Marcus then produced a small, ornate box and opened it to reveal a beautiful finger ring. "This ring," he said, "is a symbol of my commitment to you, a tradition that stretches back through the ages."

He took your hand gently and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a thrill through you. The ring was exquisite, a delicate band adorned with intricate engravings that spoke of ancient craftsmanship. 

"You honor me with this gift, Marcus," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion.

Marcus smiled, his eyes full of warmth. "The honor is mine, my love."

With the ring in place, you turned to the scribe, who handed you both the written agreement. You signed your name carefully, your hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within you. Marcus signed next, his signature bold and confident.

Finally, the moment came to seal the betrothal with a kiss. Marcus stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. He cupped your face in his hands and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, sweet kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment.

As you pulled away, you saw the approval in your father's eyes and felt a rush of joy and relief. You were now betrothed to Marcus, the man you loved, and your future together was set.

"Let this day be the beginning of a lifetime of happiness," your father declared, his voice filled with emotion.

Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Together, we will face whatever the future holds," he promised.

And with that, your hearts intertwined, you knew that your love would endure, growing stronger with each passing day. The journey ahead was full of promise, and with Marcus by your side, you felt ready to embrace it all.

[sanguinesmi1e]

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 (you're here)

Full fic on Ao3

Art of LBM

Pt. 4: An Unexp-ectoed Party (not on Ao3 yet)

Constantine was quietly freaking out. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that the ghost who had turned itself into a cute little tatzelwurm to avoid answering questions might be something far beyond his capabilities to deal with. Everything it said and did suggested it was way outside his scope of experience. While Tim used a shoelace to play with it like a rambunctious kitten, John mentally catalogued the things that threatened to give him a panic attack:

Before the ghost even arrived, the blinding power flowing through his spell array nearly knocked him flat. It had felt like being swatted in the eyeballs by an eldritch god.

The ghost appeared in human form, fully alive, before being transformed by the summoning magic. John had only ever heard whispers of legends about a being who could do such a thing. The legends were vague and grandiose, but some epithets included The One Who Walks Between, He Who Straddles Life and Death, Twilight Walker, Shroud Danger Child, and The Halver. 

The ghost could not only see his soul at a glance, it could perceive all the damage he had done making deals with demons.

The ghost implied it was on casual, friendly terms with the Ancient of Time aka Chronos, Kala, Father Time, etc. And that it had altered the timeline at least once already.

It could age. Despite what the ghost said, only Neverborn should be able to age. The dead were static, and given the death that he could feel sustaining the portal, this ghost had definitely died.

It was brilliant enough to pinpoint a weakness and successfully distract Tim by transforming into a shape that could manipulate his protective instincts. John did not want to admit that he also felt protective of the cute little blighter.

It had hopped out of the summoning circle as if it were just chalk scribbles, despite John working in some of his most powerful containment spells as a matter of what he had thought was excessive precaution.

Shite, the list had already reached seven items. The tatzelwurm (had Drake really just named the thing Little Baby Man?) glared at him and called him “Gross!” 

“Seriously!? This cloaking spell should be more than sufficient.” John grumbled. “Did it really have no effect?” If so, that was gonna be item number eight.

Little Baby Man tilted his head. “It worked.” Then he huffed with amusement. 

Thank fuck for small blessings. 

A quickly muttered spell turned his burning cigarette into a makeshift sort of laser pointer, and Constantine distracted Little Baby Man while he tried to think of what to do next.

“Hey kid, this is a problem.” He kept his voice low, and watched to see if the tatzelwurm appeared to pay any attention to him. It dedicated all its attention to the glowing dot, and ignored the two men.

“I assume this isn’t the normal direction your interrogations go.” Drake wound his shoelace around his hand and pocketed it. “It’s certainly a first for me.”

“Ditto, in so many ways.”

“Any idea what to do now?”

“We should probably return him where he came from, and wait for Zatanna to get back from wherever she’s disappeared to now.” John would really like a second opinion. He would also like to dump this mess in someone else’s lap and be on his way. 

Although to be fair, watching the tatzelwurm careen around after his lazer dot was actually pretty fun. Not that he’d ever admit it. Still, the creature was done answering questions and John wasn’t prepared to bind the thing because he didn’t think he’d need to pack the tools to bind an eldritch god when Batman called him to do a “quick consult.”

Danny couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun. The CEO person played with him! He did feel a bit bad for hurting his foot, but it was difficult to dwell on regrets or worries when he could attack the string instead. And now there was a red dot to chase! It was very fast and sneaky, but he was faster and sneakier.

Is this what Paulina felt like when she wished herself to be a giant chibi version of herself to be loved and worshipped by everyone? Because he felt adorable. And fierce. He was going to kill that red dot so hard when he finally sunk his claws in it!

Frustratingly, it seemed to also have intangibility powers. Well, Danny knew what to do about that! He concentrated ectoplasm into his paw and bapped it down hard on the dot. This scorched the floor a bit, but when he lifted his paw, the red dot was skewered on one of his claws. It tried to tug away, but he clung tight. Apparently its size belied its strength, because it started to drag him across the floor. 

Danny tried to release the dot, but his claw was firmly snagged, so he resigned himself to being dragged back into the chalk circle. He tingled a bit as he crossed the perimeter, but it wasn’t a bad sensation, just a little odd. Then a portal opened up and pulled him through the water filled tube snake toy sensation in reverse and ugh! Just as bad the second time, if not worse.

The spell spat him out in human form under the Specter Speeder. Or rather, it ejected him at speed so he smacked into the bottom of the Speeder before falling back to the ground with a heavy thud. Thankfully he didn’t crack his head against the concrete, but he still couldn’t stifle a pained groan.

A firm hand wrapped around Danny’s ankle and dragged him out, and he found himself staring up at Drake and Constantine for the third time that day.

“Uh, hi,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”

Being able to create ghost portals would come in real handy right about now. Maybe he should just commit some arson and let these two deal with escaping the basement on their own.

[profwemakapo]

death spells call +27719567980

[lotties-ashwagandha]

THE NECESSITY OF BROOMSTICKS

rio vidal x reader, 938 words

you compromise on halloween decorations with your witch girlfriend. silly stupid halloween fluff w no depth just witches because WHERE are the fluff fics for agatha all along.

Rio looks at the sign with distaste. “What the fuck is witches’ brew?”

You look at the sign you’re hanging in the kitchen, Fresh Witches’ Brew, and smile. It’s decorative, you bought it while you were out today, one of the many Halloween decorations you found to put around the house. “It’s… you know. Potions. Spells. Cauldrons.”

She tilts her head. “No one uses cauldrons anymore.”

You roll your eyes, stepping back from the sign. It matches well with your home, it adds a playful touch you suspect you need in sharing a home with Death. Rio is obviously displeased, though, standing with her arms crossed as she glares up at your decor. She’s always hated the way witches are portrayed in the media this time of year — pointy hats and bubbling cauldrons and, as you love to point out, riding on brooms.

‘I rode on a broom once,’ she reminded you furiously the other day when you had brought home a new throw pillow with a stereotypical green witch with her pointy hat riding on a broom. ‘It was necessity.’

“I bought something else,” you tell her and reach for your bag of decor. She puts on an uninterested expression, but cranes her neck to look over into your bag. This time, you pull out new coffee mugs. Hocus Pocus, they read, in giant orange lettering. You hand Rio one of the mugs.

“Oh,” she looks down at the mug and then up at you — it’s on the tip of her tongue, a remark about how witches aren’t like Hocus Pocus movie witches, but instead she places it on the kitchen counter and with an obligatory smile she thanks you. She gravitates close to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching intently as you sort through the rest of your decor.

“I think I’ll go out today and get some decorations, too,” Rio announces and presses a quick kiss to your cheek — you expect to see a black lipstick stain when you next glance in the mirror. She stands up a little straighter, watching you with unwavering resolve. It sounds unnatural and dry when she says, “You’ve put me in the Halloween spirit.”

You nod, though you’re a bit hesitant. She hardly celebrates Halloween like you do — she’s more ancient than your commercialized celebrations, she views them as silly and meaningless compared to those of past centuries. It’s a night that was once viewed with much more reverence, a night that was respected with the severity it demands. Nonetheless, you’re curious as to what she will come up with to use for decorations — it’s hard to envision her trekking through the store for a scarecrow fit for the front porch.

•••

As you are putting up the last of your decorations, Rio comes in through the front door. She hauls something behind her, dragging it in through the door and propping it up on the couch: a life-sized plastic skeleton. Her gaze flits between you and it as she interprets your reaction, and you see the sense of achievement she holds.

“He was on sale,” Rio says, “so I got him some friends. They’re out on the patio sitting around that big cauldron you bought. I covered them in fake blood and drove one of my knives through one of their rib cages.”

Though inanimate, the look the skeleton on your couch wears on its bony face reflects Rio’s excitement. It’s charming, and you can only imagine the way the others she bought look sitting around your witches’ cauldron out on the patio. The vision has a smile pulling at you, and Rio’s pride in her purchases only seems to grow.

“I love him,” you nod to the skeleton on the couch. “Are you going to put him with the others?”

“No,” she digs around in a bag she brought in and pulls out a horror clown mask. “He gets to be a dead clown. You get your witch hats, I get my dead things.”

It’s a compromise you are willing to settle on for her. You know your days of traveling through the house at night for a glass of water have been ripped away until the skeleton is stored for next Halloween, but it’s a fair exchange if it means Rio will be more content in the face of your stereotyped witch decorations.

Rio slips the clown mask onto the skeleton and steps back to examine her work. She pulls out a dagger she keeps on her — you’ve told her that it is unnecessary to carry around knives constantly, but she never listens — and hands it to you. She nods to the skeleton. “Do the honors?”

“What, incriminate myself with clown murder?”

Rio nods enthusiastically. You approach the skeleton, and in a swift motion you drive the dagger into his chest.

“Beautiful,” Rio takes your hand when you come back to stand at her side. She pulls you close, and she leans in to kiss you before she stops and pulls away.

“What are you doing?” You ask, but Rio doesn’t respond, just disappears into the kitchen. “Rio?”

When she comes back, she holds your Witches’ Brew sign. She places it beside the skeleton and together you view the new addition to your seasonal decor.

“There,” Rio says. “Now it’s how it should be.”

A dead murderous clown selling witches’ brew on your couch — an addition to your household that you never would have suspected necessary, but one that makes your fall celebrations feel complete. Now Rio kisses you, peppering your face in more black lipstick stains, love outstanding the transience of autumn.

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 6: 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

title: haunted bang synopsis: when you decided to explored a haunted mansion, all you wanted was to gain more knowledge for your grimoire. you never expected it to be habited, even less for all the residents to agree that sharing is caring. [1.8K] cw: wizard!reader, teratophilia, monster fucking, gangbang, voyeurism, size difference, manhandling, mind connection, scent kink, oral (f!receiving), pet play, pussy drunk, overstimulation, you know that post about "would you fuck your clone?", f in v, monsters included are a eldritch creature, a werewolf, a vampire and a shapeshifter.

PREV POST ✰ NEXT POST

There is so many rumors about the mansion. Some believe it to have been built on top of an ancient cemetery, ending the ghost’s slumber. Others, that a coven filled every room with protection runes to preserve the soul of the late owners. A journal published a profile for an architect that died a day after the construction was completed, but quick research showed he had nothing to do with it.

Lies and gossips spread easily, but those brave enough to walk into the dead-end street can see the truth by themselves. Whoever chained those doors did so sensibly, since nothing sane could ever come out of them. A darkness spreads from within the house.

After making your way in with an old pliers, you explored the first floor. There were many chances of turning away, all of them ignored willingly. At the end, all you had were two options: to stay at home safely, or possibly learning a new spell for your collection.

Wizards aren’t known for making the obvious, easy choice.

Since the moment you sensed the darkness this mansion casted, nothing would’ve convinced you of not coming back to explore the secrets within those walls of bricks and stones. You feel it even better now, this great deal of mana. It isn’t a cursed mansion, only a heavily enchanted one.

A relieved smile appeared on your face when you finally found a library. You invoked flames in the remaining candles on the chandeliers and sat down on a large armchair. With the books floating from their shelves and surrounding your body, you analyzed them quickly in search of something worth your time.

In a few minutes, you found it. Holding an old grimoire in your hands, you blew the dust away. Walking through the library, your excitement blinded you. You put the book down on a table, opening your own to copy any fun spell.

As you begin to read the grimoire, your eyes widened. It takes strength from great old forces, eldritch entities incomprehensible to the average mortal. Based on entropy, it alters the fabric of reality itself.

Ancient magic. Its use is highly forbidden, and usually punished with death. Cleaning your glasses on your skirt, you bended over the table and read every line with an unending curiosity.

The first touch went unnoticed. A soft, quick brush against your arm. As your thigh got pinched, you assumed it to be the work of a hungry insect. But when a cold aura surrounded you, embracing your body and soul, there was no doubt left.

Whatever old force empowers this place; it was right here. Right behind you.

Your quarterstaff materialized between your hands. Your grimoire floated, pages turning as you recite your strongest protection spell. Changing your posture, you were ready to fight.

The quiet nature of this threat shifted.

Something forced its way inside your mouth, putting an end to your attempt of using radiant magic. An invisible force, but not less palpable because of it. As you bit down, trying to stop it, you felt it pressing down on your tongue.

Intruder, a voice spoke inside of your head. Low and strident, all at once. Thief in the night.

A limb embraced your waist, leaving a gelid trace as it fit beneath your shirt. A hand grabbed your left thigh so roughly you had no reaction but to whine with your mouth full. Little by little, there wasn’t a muscle of your body free to fight back.

It lifted you from the ground, forcing your hands open. The quarterstaff disappeared in the air before hitting the floor. Higher and higher in the air, your body trembled. Fully involved by this coldness, you had no way of moving.

Usurper, she hissed inside your mind. Or was it a masculine voice? You couldn’t quite picture it. But thinking back about it, didn’t it groaned and roar? Was it even human? Nothing will harm my home.

Nothing will, you thought. If you could hear its voice, then it could hear you too. You hoped. I mean no harm. I swear.

LIAR.

I want to learn, you tried to bargain. I have no intentions of hurting anyone. I didn’t even know there was someone in here to harm. All I desire is to know more than others. Nothing more, nothing less.

The silence gave you an opportunity to look for your grimoire. Alone on the ground, it was so close and yet so far away. Even if it was near, with you unable to speak or move there were few spells you could cast. And none of them would be of any real practical help now.

A soft caress on your cheeks took you from your hushed thoughts. As your feet touched the floor, you stumbled trying to regaining your balance. It held you in place, the feeling soft and rough.

I can teach you everything I know, it whispered. For a cost. This time, the voice came with pictures in your mind. Do you want that?

In them, you saw yourself. Lips hanging open, forehead covered in sweat, eyes half-closed. You saw tears running down your face, legs spread and trembling, fingers closed tightly around the same table you used before.

And in them, you saw glowing eyes still hidden by darkness.

Yes, I want that.

The same careless limbs bended you over the table, but this time it was gentler. Less worried about safety, more worried about you. Holding your hands behind your back, it placed your legs apart.

Something cold touched your inner thighs. It moved against your skin, lingering. Once more, you invoked flames. Contorting your body, a gasp broke the silence. Kneeled down, eyes fixated on your thighs, you found a werewolf.

“Your scent”, he groaned. His face rubbed against you, inhaling shamelessly. His yellow eyes raised to yours, and in them you saw desperation. His muzzle went away from you and he smiled, displaying his sharp fangs. “Hold her still.”

Once he closed his mouth, you tried to move away. Not because you wanted for him to stop, but because how couldn’t you when he says that? You were forced down, back caressed and head scratched. Like a pet, you were kept still and quiet.

Your skirt was thrown away from your body and he… sniffed you? Half of you bare to whoever there to witness, with a monster between your legs. To know that you’re being watched only makes you desire this more. A huge tongue licked your pussy, you moaned. It was real, just a tad louder than it needed to be.

Putting on a show, it laughed inside your head. Keep on this good work and I might not let you walk away.

Your eyes closed as he continued to ravish you. Restless, he simply continued. Tongue deep into you, teeth sinking into your skin, lips sucking around your clit. Your legs were covered in drool, and you could feel it dripping from your aching core.

A hand grabbed your hair, forcing you to look up. A real touch this time. The candles showed you the tall woman in front of you, nails so long they could be mistaken by claws. Looking into her red eyes, you felt a primal urge inside you.

Everything inside you told you to run.

Nature is such a disappointing force. It is not your fault that you were born a prey, that ancient being spoke. Its voice oscillated, as if it was too far away and suddenly right against your ear. And it is not hers to be turned predator long ago.

“This delicate sparkle in your eyes”, a velvet voice made to your ears. Elegant, but sharp. She smiled, and the fangs weren’t a reason to act surprised. “You won’t allow it to dissuade you, will you? Don’t struggle. There is no use.”

Her free hand closed around your neck. A movement faster than you could see, but delicate enough for you to know she didn’t want you to break apart.

“You are mine now, puppy”, she smirked. “Put your mouth to use.”

As she put her knee on top of the table, moving the black dress enough for you to see her strong legs, the vampire pulled your hair again. “Yes, mistress”, you said.

Satisfied, she forced your head between her thighs. As the werewolf continued to torture your poor pussy, you treated hers like a wine you had to enjoy every little sip. It was easy to get eager, to get lost on your own never-ending pleasure, but you made sure to treat her nicely.

Every whimper of hers made you weaker. Every bite from him made you weaker. Every hold onto your skin, whispers inside your head, made you weaker.

It was no surprise your orgasm would break you in pieces. It was no surprise every single one of you would continue despise it.

As you breathed in, trying to get your legs to work, a hand came back to stroking your skin. It put you on top of the table as if you weighted nothing. Before you could flutter your eyes open, those skilled fingers were inside of you.

Touching in the right place, with the right pressure, at the exact right moment. It was perfect. Did this creature read your mind in a way or another? Or is this fate, and in this wretched place you find someone that really knows exactly how to fuck you properly?

“What a delight”, the vampire spoke. “May I drink from her now?

The werewolf hummed. “Look at her legs. Those pretty lips”, you heard him doing just that. “You can’t. Not yet. I need my plaything strong and capable for the night.”

“But do you really, old dog?” She argued. “No one will judge you for admitting you need to rest. No one but me, of course.”

Her mind is far more interesting, it spoke again. Apparently, everyone could hear it. Her memories taste even sweeter. What a fine thing found us this evening.

“How luck we are”, you said.

But you didn’t.

Opening your eyes, you saw yourself. Fingers deep into your cunt, mouth displaying the most annoying smirk. Eyes glistening with fake innocent.

“Fuck”, you babbled.

The smirk seemed to grow. “Your mind is a interesting place”, that thing said. Even her voice was the same as yours. “But I need to say, your body if far more comfortable.”

Looking into your eyes, all you could do was take it. Let this being have its fill of you. Watch for your tits move. The strechmarks on your waist. Your soft thighs. Those freckles on your skin.

Being used, watching yourself, its voice came back. You want this to stop?

You giggled. “Don’t tell me it’s over already?”

Not at all, the voice came back. Let’s move to the next floor.

taglist: @ffinosie @lovelyy-moonlight @alzaira @s2-angells @eyes-ofhell @inlovewithmariah @chiiyohiimee @shaquilles-0atmeal @bloodyziggy @salemey @kcch-ns @notanalienindisguiseblink @py-schi

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[obsessedwithceleste]

Theodore Nott and the Fortress of Trust Issues: how to cast a patronus in 3 easy steps

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore Nott had never been able to cast a patronus. In third year, when dementors were swarming the castle, of course he tried, but was never able to manage more than a whisp of soft silver. Come seventh year, he was painfully unsurprised when his efforts were once again lack luster. Turns out, with the right tutor, casting the formidable charm might not be as impossible as he thought.

word count: 3.8k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theodore glowered menacingly at the students below him chattering happily amongst themselves in the courtyard. A puff of smoke slipping through his lips as he leaned on the railing of the astronomy tower. Theo knew his life wasn’t exactly one that most would be envious of. Sure his family had money, power, but add on a mother who had died far before her time, and a death eater father whose attention it was far better to avoid? Theo laughed dryly to himself.

Theo knew he didn’t have many happy memories. Truly happy memories. He was painfully, excruciatingly, self aware. Still, nothing made it quite so glaringly obvious that his life was rather pathetic than broadcasting to his entire charms class his bitter inability to force even a wisp of silvery bloody smoke out of his bloody wand. Yes. Flitwick had finally found his weakness. That damned Patronus spell. Being one of the top students of his year, it was humiliating. It wasn’t even expected that most of the class would be able to cast a corporeal patronus, yet even Draco and Matteo of all people managed to produce soft billowy clouds of silvery magic.

Theo shook his head at the thought, trying to clear his mind. His eyes once again began gazing about the courtyard before landing on a lone figure sitting beneath a willow tree, hidden from view unless one was looking close enough. Theo brought his smoke to his lips once more, inhaling deeply as he watched a burst of silver leave the tip of the girl’s wand. His eyes darkened with envy, remembering the words of his professor from earlier that day.

“Wonderful, y/n. Just wonderful! A fox! Withdrawn when necessary, but natural adaptors. Embodying intelligence, independence, mischief, and beauty. A unique patronus indeed.”

His eyes narrowed as he watched the silver creature trot happily through the air before turning and dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it harshly. With one last glance at the girl sitting awestruck with her silvery companion, he descended down the stairs, determined to spend the rest of his night, moping in peace.

Step 1: Find a Pretty Tutor (read: have a tutor forced upon you under the threat of a failing grade.)

“What do you mean a tutor? You of all people?” Matteo laughs mercilessly as Theo scowls at him. “Can’t believe I’m doing better than you in a class, you must be bloody miffed.”

Theo tuned out his friend’s laughter as he continued to glower at the floor in front of him. The two boys currently sat in the Slytherin common room as Theo hastily tried to finish up his ancient runes homework before dragging his arse to the library to meet his supposed tutor. Matteo was making this quite difficult however as he continued to poke fun at the boy, rattling on about how, for once, Theo had had the nerve to not be good at something. The horror.

Snapping his textbook closed and sliding it into his book bag, Theo began gathering his things, choosing to forego the blasted assignment.

“Aww, have fun with you little tutor Teddy. Maybe it’ll be that foxy Ravenclaw you’re always staring at. Bit ironic that her patronus is a fox innit?” Matteo teases as he watches his friend’s jaw clench at the mention of the pretty girl.

While perhaps Matteo wasn’t the most entirely perceptive of the bunch, it would take a blind man to not notice Theodore’s eyes flicker over to the group of Ravenclaws throughout their shared charms class.

“Shut up Matt. Shouldn’t you be shagging Astoria in a broom closet somewhere?” He grunts out.

Matteo smirks, knowing he’d found a tick, but deciding to leave it for another time.

“Not a bad idea mate, see you later. You’ll have to tell Enzo and I all about your tutoring session tonight,” he says with a wink before sauntering off towards the girl’s dormitories.

With a heavy sigh, Theo began making his way slowly towards the library, silently cursing Professor Flitwick as he recalled their conversation from earlier that day.

Class was finally wrapping up for the day and Theo was about ready to bolt out of that blasted classroom, but Flitwick had other ideas.

“Mr. Nott? A word?” He’s called from his grand podium in the center of the room.

The summons had garnered a few raised eyebrows and surprised looks from his fellow classmates, and Theo had trudged solemnly up to the professor.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you appeared to have had some difficulty today,” the professor and stated rather bluntly after all the other students had shuffled out.

Theo blinked back up at his professor.

“You do understand of course, that I cannot grant marks for a spell you did not perform?” He asks finally.

Theo once again stares blankly back at the professor.

Appearing to grow uncomfortable under the boy’s steady, unwavering gaze, Flitwick lets out a deep sigh.

“Mr. Nott. I’m aware that you are quite the talented young wizard, and I simply do not want to have to give you low marks on an assignment I’m confident you could perform well on.”

Still nothing from the brown haired Slytherin.

“I’ve arranged for you to begin working with a tutor until you’re able to cast the spell.” He says finally.

Theo frowns. He’s never had a tutor before. Never needed one.

“Professor-“ he begins to protest.

“The two of you can begin later this evening. 8 o’clock in the library,” Flitwick interrupts before shooing him off to his next class.

Finally arriving outside the library doors, Theo made another look of distaste before pushing through the large double doors. His eyes gazed over the tables not entirely sure who he was looking for as the twat had never actually told him who would be tutoring him. He felt his body freeze momentarily when his eyes locked with another pair of bright eyes and he began silently cursing Matteo. The bloody fucking bastard had jinxed him.

You sat quietly at your table in the library, waiting for the clock to slowly hit 8 as you mindlessly worked away at your essay for ancient runes. During charms today, Flitwick had noticed one of your classmates have a particularly difficult time with the lesson and asked for you to guide them in the right direction. Not one to argue with your head of house, you’d easily agreed.

As the clock struck 8, you began casting quick glances every so often at the library doors, until suddenly you were locked in the gaze of none other than Theodore Nott. Surely he wasn’t the one you would be tutoring? You didn’t know the boy particularly well, but you did know that he was a fierce competitor for top of the class in most of your other lessons. You watched silently as he made his way over to your table, offering him a small smile.

“Charms?” He asks, tossing his bag onto the table with a gentle thud.

You give him a slight nod, eyeing his tall figure as he sat lazily across from you.

“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’ll be wasting your time. Never been able to cast the damn spell. Probably never will,” he says, leaning back on the chair, eyes not wavering.

You purse your lips. Looking at the handsome boy in front of you.

“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you?” You reply, a challenging tone apparent in your voice.

The boy smirks at this, cocking his head as if really getting a good look at you for the first time before finally replying, “I’ve never been particularly trusting.”

“Well then I guess you’ll be learning all sorts of things.”

You take your charms book out of your bag, opening it to the reading you had been assigned earlier in the week. You glance up to see Theodore mirroring your actions silently.

“A patronus, is a concentration of pure happiness and hope, derived from the recollection of a single talisman memory which is essential in its creation,” you read, the underlined section of the textbook was one you had pre-selected as it was the concept most people struggled to grasp.

Watching Theo stiffen and clench his jaw slightly, you knew you were right.

“When someone is unable to cast a patronus, I’ve found it’s usually because they haven’t figured out yet how to focus in on their talisman memory,” you continue.

“And if someone doesn’t have a talisman memory?” Theo’s voice interrupts.

You glance up at him in surprise.

“Everyone has a talisman memory. We just need to find it.”

“I don’t have one.” He insists.

“Then we’ll make one.”

The boy sighs in frustration. Fists clenching as he glares at the textbook in front of him.

“It might not be as complicated as you’re making it. I know when Flitwick was in class, he made it seem like your talisman memory had to be a big, grande gesture, or a clear moment of inexplicable joy. But I think the little moments count too. Everyone has been happy at least once,” you say, watching as Theo slowly relaxes.

“What do you think about?” He asks, before quickly back tracking “You don’t have to answer that.”

“All sorts of things really,” you reply, offering another small smile. “When I got my first wand at Ollivander’s. Honeydukes with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Playing quidditch. Specially that time we beat Gryffindor.”

Theo snorts at that, a small grin reaching his lips.

“Point is, it doesn’t matter how small the moment is, long as it made you happy.”

You’re met with silence, as Theo continues to stare down at his textbook, a look a deep contemplation on his face.

“Think that’s enough for today. Flitwick said to keep up the sessions until you’re at least able to cast an incorporeal patronus, so, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Theo nods his head, still not meeting your gaze.

“Does 6 o’clock on the lawn work?” You ask, only to be met with another nod.

Sensing the boy needed a bit of space, you quickly gathered your things before leaving the boy to his thoughts.

Step 2: Accidentally Fall In Love with Your Tutor (if you weren’t half way there already.)

You sit staring out at the vast lake in front of you, watching as the breeze pushed against the water, forming rolling waves across the surface and taking a deep breath in. You had been meeting Theodore here every day at 6 o’clock sharp for almost two whole weeks now, but you honestly weren’t sure if he’d show up today. Not that you’d blame him.

You felt as if you’d really failed him as a tutor after so many consecutive days of work, with nothing to show for it. On top of that, the two of you had gotten into a rather intense shouting match yesterday, the stress of the whole thing really getting to the both of you.

You lean back, laying down on the soft blanket below you, knees still propped up, and close your eyes, thinking back to the first time the two of you had met out in this very spot. You’d originally picked the spot, because it helped you clear your mind and you thought it might help clear Theo’s too.

That first day had been awkward. Almost painfully so. You had simply wanted to talk. Get to know the boy, pick his brain for any source of happiness or joy he might get out of life. You didn’t get much, so instead you talked about your own life. What it was like living in Ravenclaw tower, the time you and Cho had tried out together for the quidditch team. You told him how you had gone to the Yule ball with a big group of friends, and how you thought it was much better than going with some stuffy date, and how your favorite candies were the purple taffies from Honeydukes, and your favorite flowers were deadly poisonous despite their pretty and innocent appearance.

The second day, you borrowed Cho’s cat and brought her along to the meeting, thinking it might help further relax your brown haired companion. It did, so you brought her along the next day, and the day after that. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Theo broke. Sure he had told you a bit about his time at Hogwarts. Playing on Slytherin’s quidditch team. Sharing a dorm with Matteo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire. But on the fourth day, he told you about his mother. You weren’t expecting it, and it honestly had caught you wildly off guard. Theodore’s mother had been the light of his world, and after she was gone, you could understand why he thought he would never cast a patronus.

It went on like this, the two of you gradually becoming closer, as you carefully began building a sort of trust between the two of you. You thought you might even be becoming friends; which excited you as you’d never been quite able to stop your eyes from wandering over to the group of Slytherins in the back of the class, and stopping on the tall, brunette boy with pretty eyes. You tried every couple of days to cast the spell, guiding him through different memories, trying to focus in on different experiences. But still nothing. You had even tried inviting Matteo and Enzo to a session, hoping they’d help lighten his mood, but it only ended in the four of you skiving wildly off course and getting nothing done. You and Theo had laughed about it the next day, but still not even a whisp of silvery magic.

It had all come to a head yesterday. You could feel the two of you beginning to lose hope, but you were nothing if not determined. The two of you were sitting quietly, skimming the textbook for what seemed like the thousandth time, when Theo suddenly stopped and looked up at you.

“I read something the other day. Bout patronuses. And being able to cast em.”

You looked up from your reading, intrigued.

“Said that there’s a widespread, and justified, belief that witches and wizards who aren’t pure of heart can’t cast a patronus.”

Your mouth slowly formed an O shape, and the book you were holding dropped to the ground, completely forgotten.

“Theodore. You don’t honestly think. That’s ridiculous.”

“It makes sense doesn’t it? Why I can’t even cast an incorporeal charm. Why nothing we’ve tried works. There’s no point,” Theo had said, growing frustrated.

“Theodore stop. That theory is all nonsense. There isn’t even any evidence really to back it up,” you reply.

“Why else would nothing be working?” Theo asks, slamming his book on the ground.

“Theo!”

“No, y/n, honestly. What other explanation could there be. We’ve been doing this for weeks.” Theo’s voice began to rise.

“And we’ll continue until you’re able to get this.”

“What’s the bloody point? We’ve tried everything!”

“And we just need to try a bit harder!” You respond.

“You think I haven’t been trying?”

“Of course I know you’ve been trying! And I’ve been trying to do everything I can to help you succeed!”

“And everything I’ve been doing is for you! I don’t care about the bloody charm, I don’t want to disappoint you!”

Theo’s outburst had shocked you, and your breath hitched as the two of you stared at each other, Theo’s words sinking in.

Then he was kissing you. Hot lips working against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. Your fingers worked their way up to his hair, relishing in how soft his brown waves were as you tugged at them gently.

You let out a soft moan as you felt his tongue glide gently across your bottom lip before diving in at the opportunity you had provided him.

You seemed to get lost in the feeling of his soft lips and large hands around your waist holding you firmly in place. You had no idea how much time had passed by the time you were both panting for breath, foreheads resting against one another.

Seeming to really realize what he’d done, Theo looked down at you, eyes beginning to widen slightly.

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he’d said before promptly rising and hastily making his way back to the castle.

Now, your finger tips softly brushed the soft leather of Theo’s book bag that he’d abandoned yesterday in his hurry to leave. You thought that maybe, if for no other reason, he’d perhaps come to retrieve it. Not that he needed to you thought dryly, knowing that with his Gringotts account, he could’ve easily already replaced it and its contents.

Sitting up, you glance at your time piece showing a quarter after 6. With a deep sigh, you fish your transfiguration textbook out of your bag, flipping it open to begin your assigned reading. You’re only a few pages in when a twig snaps somewhere behind you. Whipping around, you see him standing there, handsome as ever, looking down at you.

“Sorry I’m late. And, sorry for yesterday,” he mumbles, dropping down to sit next to you.

You eye him warily as he refuses to make eye contact with you, eyes appearing to be glazed over as he gazes out at the lake like you had been earlier.

Slowly, and ever so carefully, you shift next to him so that your arms and legs brush softly, and you gently lean your head against his shoulder as you join him in looking out at the water. You feel him tense initially before slowly relaxing, leaning in as the two of you sat in silence.

“I won’t give up, if you don’t,” you say finally as Theo’s hand finds yours.

Step 3: Trust

It had been a week now since that day at the lake, and you weren’t quite sure where you stood anymore with Theo. You still met each other everyday by the lake, slipping easily into your usual banter. But now it was eyes meeting from across the classroom and slips of paper making their way back and forth. Your fingertips would brush softly in the hallways, and sometimes, you’d feel a hand reach out, pulling you into a hidden nook, and warm lips would meet your own. But you’d never actually, talked, about it.

You shake the thoughts out of your mind, a shiver running down your spine, as you focus in on the present. That all wasn’t the reason you once again found yourself lying out on the lawn, Theo’s head resting comfortably in your lap.

“Can you cast it?” Theo asks, looking up at you.

“Hmm?”

“Your patronus? Can you cast it? I know yours is a full, corporeal form.”

Looking down at the boy, your fingers weave slowly through his hair as you reach for your wand.

Closing your eyes and taking a breath, you focus in, memories flashing through your mind, a sense of warmth overtaking you.

“Expecto patronum.” The spell falls from your lips and you open your eyes to see a silver fox tumble out of the tip of your wand before trotting through the air around you.

You really did love the spell and it amazed and intrigued you every time. A reflection of someone’s soul, your textbook had said. It could change throughout one’s life, should they experience a shocking event, grow more mature, fall in love. The last one had always been the most curious, the idea of someone loving so much, that a piece of their soul reflected that of their loved one.

You watch as Theo’s eyes follow the the creature in awe.

“You know this is hopeless right?” Theo asks softly, your hand in his hair freezing.

“Theodore. We agreed that-“

“But really what’s the point? So I get one poor mark. When am I ever going to need to use the spell really? No point in wasting time on something that’s hopeless.”

You carefully mull over Theo’s words in your head. You supposed that realistically, he wasn’t necessarily wrong practicality wise. But if you both simply gave up, would he ever want to see you again? You knew in your core that it was selfish, but the last three weeks really had been some of the best during your time at Hogwarts. Which was saying a bit considering you’d been there for almost seven years. You supposed you’d just hoped- hoped. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. Hope. A concentration of pure happiness and hope.

“Theodore?”

“Amore?”

“When you’re thinking of your happy memory, why did you choose it?”

Theo gives you a strange look.

“Because it made me happy at the time, and the talisman memory is supposed to be a happy.”

“Good. But can you tell me why it’s so important to focus on a happy memory?”

Theo blinks.

“Because the spell says so.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Because the whole point of the charm is to create protection from the dark. Something that will keep you safe so that you can continue to feel that happiness. To give you hope.”

Theo furrows his eyebrows and frowns.

“This feels emotional.” He says, his face distorting in disgust.

“Sometimes magic is.”

Theo’s frown deepens. “It shouldn’t be. I’m perfectly content being apathetic and emotionally detached thanks.”

You let out a small snort. “Come on Theo. Try it again. But this time, think about your memory and why you want to feel that again.”

Theo’s face scrunches up in distaste before he sits up lazily, picking up his wand. You watch as he closes his eyes, pausing. His chest slowly rises then falls, once, twice.

“Expecto patronum.”

Nothing. Theo let’s put an annoyed sigh.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can try again. Think about something that you love, make sure you can picture it clearly. Something that made you so happy that you would relive it over and over.”

Theo’s eyes flick over to you, a brow raised before he closes his eyes once again. You watch him closely, perhaps too closely, as a minute passes. Then two. You’re almost worried he’s fallen asleep sitting up when the words fall from his lips.

“Expecto patronum.”

A burst of silver flashes out of his wand, and your jaw drops as your eyes follow the silver creature that had emerged, gracefully moving across the lawn.

Your eyes dart over to Theo, and you reach out to grab his arm seeing that he’d not yet opened his eyes again. When his eyes finally open once more, his gaze immediately falls on the whimsical creature, eyes widening slightly as he stares at his patronus in disbelief before looking at you with bewildered confusion.

“That’s not mine.” You tell him with a small smile, giving his arm a squeeze as you both look up at the silver fox dancing through the air.

[mask131]

Another reminder that Greek mythology is always somehow symbolic, metaphorical, allegorical, since we are dealing with anthropomorphic personifications and other embodiments of cosmic powers.

For example: Demeter has sex with both Zeus and Poseidon. Something-something about the relationship of the Earth with the Sky and the Sea (or the celestial and chthonian powers). ESPECIALLY since these relationships are said to happen at the beginning of the world, in the primordial times during which the world settled itself for what it is now.

Herakles' wedding with Hebe, the personification of youth, checks in with when he becomes an immortal god (aka, an eternally young entity). What better way to symbolize a hero escaping the clutches of death than by him becoming the husband of the spirit of eternal youth?

Why is Hestia never leaving Olympus? Something-something about her being the literal personification of the hearth, which is at the center of the house/community and does not move.

Why is Ares getting his ass kicked by Athena? Because Athena is civilization, and Ares savagery, and in the Ancient Greek mindset intelligence, wisdom and craft will always be above brutality, bloodlust and random cruelty.

Do I need to spell it out that the myth of Persephone-Hades-Demeter is about the cycle of the seasons, and how the earth renews itself and brings back life after a time of death?

And I wonder why Ares' companions during his mass-slaughters are called Phobos, Deimos and Eris - Fear, Panic and Discord... Why would the goddess that breaks harmony and sows feuds and chaos be depicted as the close sister of the god of the ravages of war and of the brutality of conflicts, what a strange mystery!

And I can go on, and on, and on. Remember, the Greek gods aren't just super-heroes or wizards (that's more in line with more "humanized" mythologies, like the Irish or Nordic ones). They are embodiments of concepts and ideas, personifications of natural forces and cosmic powers, they are living allegories and fleshed metaphors. Zeus wields the lightning because he IS the lightning and thunder. Dionysos is both the bringer of joy and madness because he IS alcohol. Hades is both the name of the god of the dead, and of the realm of the dead. Hestia's name is literaly "hearth" in Greek, Hebe "youth", Nyx "night", Gaia "earth", Eros "desire". You can write "Eris met Helios at Okeanos' palace" or you can write "Strife encountered the Sun at the palace of Ocean" and that is the EXACT SAME THING!

[Mind you to limit the gods to being JUST allegories is also a mistake not to make. Greek deities are much more than just X concept or X idea... But one part of the myths will always be, down the line, some weather metaphor or some natural cycle motif]

[brittle-doughie]

BRITTLE-DOUGH MAKE A BEAST ANCIENTS AU AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!!

The Ancient Beast Order (Ancient Beast AU)

Ok, Kratos. I’m going to be tossing out ideas here, so you’re all more then welcome to give your own two cents.

Pure Vanilla Cookie - The Prophet of Salvation (Virtue of Perfection)

Pure Vanilla Cookie thought that he could save everyone, that no cookie would have harm befall them if he was there to protect them. This thought plagued his mind as he resorted to..less then ethical Dark Moon magic to help heal all around him, refusing to believe that his use of this magic leads to fatal results, going as far as to raise the dead, just so he doesn’t have him or others experience the agony that death brings. Cookies around him voice their concerns, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. It was for their own good…no matter the result

White Lily Cookie - The Lady of the Lilies (Virtue of Order)

Shoutout to @t-t-tau-me for their ask being an inspiration for Beast Lily

Dark Enchantress Cookie and now the Beasts, everything seemed to crumble away around White Lily Cookie. She pondered, was this really what freedom does? Help cookies find who they are, but also allow monsters to roam about the land, destroying cookies in their path? No, she felt like the way for cookies to obtain peace was to establish order, so that tragedies like Dark Enchantress never happening again and she now had the Faerie Kingdom to back her up.

Dark Cacao Cookie - The Relusive Tower (Virtue of Nolition)

Dark Cacao Cookie never left his kingdom much, his warriors doing little to assists others and many cookies having to pay the price for this by having the villages to fend for themselves. It’s said that when the time comes where he would finally stand from his throne, that dark times for his targets would follow.

Hollyberry Cookie - The Lover of Passion (Virtue of Mania)

Hollyberry Cookie’s passion knew no bounds, whether it be for her subjects or her own personal interests. It can border on obsession when she finds something that drives her to do everything in her power to get. The fires of her passion can never extinguish, leaving The Lover as a relentless beast that never gives up what catches her eye.

Golden Cheese Cookie - The Gleaming Goddess (Virtue of Greed)

She had everything, her people, her riches, her kingdom. Yet, there was this nagging feeling in the back of her head that had her craving for more. The Gleaming Goddess wanted the surrounding villages, then the villages around those ones, her greed will never satiating until Earthbread becomes an empire in her image and she’ll crush anyone that stands in her path.

The Cookie Kingdom is the last safe haven in the land, taking in cookies who want to escape the grasp of the The Ancient Beast Order. This spelled bad news when the Beast Cookies themselves have awoken as well.

You wanted to be the beacon of light in a world plunging into darkness, but when 10 Beasts have their eyes set on your kingdom and on YOU in mind, you worry if your forces will be enough to fight back…

[omenarchive]

C3E091 True Heroism

The Archivists have been hard at work gathering Episode 91 data. You can visit our site for a fuller picture, but some highlights are below, starting with some statistics about our beloved Faithful Care-Giver:

FCG dealt 967 points of confirmed damage over the course of the campaign, with their top damage episode being C3E057 The Sorrow of Molaesmyr, when they did 150 points of damage.

But, as we know, his greatest strength was in protecting his friends. Across 91 episodes, FCG gave 1,452 points of confirmed healing. Their final episode, C3E091 True Heroism, was also their top healing episode with 286 HP.

Additionally, FCG used Transfer Suffering to mitigate 243 points of damage across the campaign. Of all the Hells, he most frequently took damage for Imogen, and took the highest number of points for Fearne.

Appropriately, their favorite spell was Guidance, which they cast 140 times. Their other top spells/features included Cure Wounds, Transfer Suffering, Enhance Ability, and Channel Divinity (Sympathetic Binding).

At the time of their death, FCG had taken more damage than any other PC: a whopping 2,062 points of damage over the course of the campaign.

He got three HDYWTDTs, wished people a smiley day 51 times, and made (or inspired) 66 unfortunate references to having a flesh tongue.

He was made of metal and wires, but he was alive, and because of him, his friends are too.  

Visit our site for the rest of our FCG highlights, as well as a special tribute that you should make sure to click. As for the Legend of the Peaks, some truly frightening highlights:

Otohan Thull dealt 847 points of damage. With four attacks per turn, they were likely a level 20 Psi Warrior fighter. She had two legendary resistances, and she took a total of 501 points of damage, 299 of these before exalting.

At 399 damage, Otohan took a health potion and healed 66 points. She then took 63 additional points of damage before FCG made their sacrifice.

Presuming that Otohan was not resistant to the damage from FCG’s explosion (79), which seems likely given the particular arcane nature of FCG’s core, that puts her total HP somewhere between 400 and 475 points.

For comparison, these stats put her in the same HP range as a Forge Guardian, the demon prince of undeath Orcus, or an Ancient Dragon Turtle, with more multi attacks and damage resistances than any of them. Terrifying! 

Visit our Episode 91 page here for more detail about Otohan, and check out our homepage for some additional highlights.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Demon's Thrall

Incubus Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements, demon!Simon, incubus!Simon, accidental summoning, deal with a demon, descriptions of future sexual acts, power imbalance, master/slave, witch!reader

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Requested by @coffeecaketornado for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Summon a Demon)

Attempting to return what has been lost, you seek the Void, with the hope that someone will reply. What responds is a creature from hell. They return what you’re asking for but the price for such an ask is your soul.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

There is fire in the air. Salt on your tongue.

Power surges through you, heating your blood, and lifting you into the air. Words, old and ancient, drip from your lips. The grimoire in your hands glows, the pages tinged in blood-red. Its cover is leathery, made of human flesh and lined with animal teeth.

You've been searching for years, delving through dimensions to seek a spell that might return what you've lost. The pentagram on the floor radiates yellow light as the candle flames around you go out.

This is your last hope. A final attempt.

Little witch.

The voice is deep, whispering in your ear. It is not one you recognize.

Ignoring the voice, you remain focused on the spell, chanting until the air kicks up and roars in your ears. The pentagram's glow increases, almost blinding in its intensity. There is a heavenly bright quality to the light, and hope swells in your chest, spurring your chanting to a louder crescendo.

Little witch.

A dark form takes shakes within the light. It’s slightly round in shape, like a hunched figure. You are so close. This is what you’ve been waiting for. Everything you’ve lost will be returned.

You will be whole. You will be happy.

The final words fall from your lips, and a sense of completion settles over you. The ritual is done. It is complete. You’ve finally succeeded after years of trial.

The wind dies, the air calming, and your feet return to solid ground. The pentagram’s glow dims, revealing the figure crouched within. Whatever dark shadow obscured them within the light melts away in tendrils of black sludge, revealing…wings.

Leathery, bat-like wings.

They ripple. Shake.

Expand.

As the bat wings unfurl, the first thing you see are stone grey horns. They curl slightly out and back, the sharpened tips pointed upward toward the ceiling. They are connected to a man, his skin flushed a subtle shade of red. His legs and torso are bent, his arms crossed over his knees protectively.

Behind the thick, muscled arms is movement. The man lifts his head, and you’re met with eyes so black they resemble bottomless pits. They are consuming and yet empty, begging you to fall inside and tumble forever without ever knowing the relief of death.

Staring directly at you, he blinks slowly like a contented cat. Some of the darkness bleeds away in his eyes, revealing fiery pupils. A wickedly cruel smile forms, stretching across his face in a way that unsettles you.

The quiet after the ritual is drowned out by his power, the intensity of it slamming into you like a wave. It is immense. Suffocating. You feel no pain. No hatred. It is violent arousal, so pure and unfiltered that your body shudders as if in ecstasy.

Incubus. Demon.

"I did not summon you," you growl, fighting through his demanding presence. It wants to wiggle in, you twist around your heart, to make you orgasm to feed his infernal desire.

"Oh, little witch. You did," he purrs.

With a languid, hypnotic sway, the naked demon before you revealing himself completely, standing tall and proud in the middle of the pentagram.

He is solid muscle—all strength. Broad shoulders give way to a firm chest and abdomen. Scars pepper his skin. They are not haphazard or random. There is a pattern. There is a purpose. The scars on his chest and abdomen spiral downward, circling the base of his erect cock in a mandala-like pattern.

Your gaze lands on the hardened appendage. It is ribbed and pierced on the underside. The base is slightly rounder, the skin a bit loose as if it could swell. His testicles are heavy and large. There are scars there, too.

He is terrifying, yet entirely alluring.

"I didn't call for a sex demon."

The demon smiles, showing his fangs. "You asked for something to be returned to you.” He extends his arms in a placating gesture. “And I have granted it."

Bitter hope blooms in your chest though you know that demons enjoy a good lie. "You grant me nothing."

The demon's smile doesn't fade. "If I could not grant your request, I'd be in your thrall. Trapped within this pentagram. Unable to touch you.”

"You are in my thrall, demon.”

He shakes his head. "No, love. You are in mine."

With a snap of his fingers, a heavy weight seizes your neck. Instinctually, you claw at your throat, dropping the grimoire. Your seeking fingers find solid metal.

A collar. A fucking collar.

“What have you done?” you ask, panic rising in your voice.

The demon does not reply. He lifts his hand, palm upward, and then brings his fist together as if he holds an invisible robe. He tugs that transparent tether and you jerk forward, falling onto your face.

The wooden floor slams into your stomach, pushing all the air from your lungs. The demon tugs again, and you’re dragged across it. Gathering your wits, you flip onto your back, your own hands clawing at the air in front of you to find the invisible chain.

“No!” you screech, finding the connection. “You are contained!”

A sob quickly rises with the panic, threatening to burst forth from your lips as you dig your heels in. Every tug draws you closer and closer to the pentagram.

Glancing over your shoulder, you seek the grimoire where you dropped it. As if sensing your intent, the demon pulls on your chain harder, yanking you back around to face him. With a snarl, you jerk back against the chain to put distance between the two of you.

The demon is stronger, and with a final tug, you’re yanked onto your feet and hauled over the pentagram. You slam into him, but the incubus is a solid wall, and his hard cock pokes at your stomach like a demanding prod. It’s a threat of what’s to come.

You've heard the stories. Incubi love witches. They last longer in hell, and their wombs can carry demon spawn easier than any human. For them, witches are a treasure. Human women are shared. Witches are hoarded. At least this one won't share you with others. He'll keep you for himself. He'll keep you alive and healthy but only for his own ends.

"You asked for revival,” he purrs, breath warm against your skin. “The one you sought dwells in my realm. I granted your request. Now you're mine. Forever."

The incubus snaps his fingers and the grimoire ignites, consumed in flame. With a roar, you lash out with all the power you have.

Nothing swells. Nothing ignites.

You are empty. Hollow.

Your magic does not answer your call.

"What have you done?" you gasp, staring down at your hands before turning your threatening gaze on him.

"It's only silenced," he murmurs. "Not gone."

You pound your fist against his chest but the demon does not falter. It's like hitting a brick wall. You use your other fist, striking out repeatedly but the demon is unfazed.

"Are you done with your tantrum, little witch?” he asks, bored.

"You've made me your slave," you hiss.

The demon's pleased purr only tightens the leash further. "Your words. Not mine."

"You've put a collar around my neck."

"We made a bargain."

"We did no such thing,” you insist.

The demon’s head tilts slightly, amused. “You called out to the Void. You asked for help. Any help. And I granted it. If you didn’t want something to answer, then why do it?”

Because I want everything to be as it was.

You remain silent, jaw tense as you grind your teeth. You will not justify yourself to this monster. Your actions are your own.

“I have nothing to say to you, demon,” you reply slowly.

"Ghost," he corrects with a cocky smile. "That is what you are to call me. Or," he shrugs.

"Master. Since you seem to prefer that."

"You're foul," you mutter.

Ghost's smile is almost mocking, as if you're a petulant ignorant child who knows nothing of the world. "Oh, little witch. You'll change your tune. I guarantee it.”

You lean as far back as you can which isn’t much. Ghost’s hold on your chain is unrelenting. "What is worse than being at the beck and call of a demon?"

Ghost’s head dips intimately as if to kiss you. You jerk back, but wince when the metal of the collar bites into the nape of your neck.

"Any hellspawn might have answered your call,” he whispers gently. “Would you like one of the Grand Dukes? They’re an…interesting bunch. Their harems are vast, but a witch to add to a collection? You’d have them all fighting over you.” Ghost chuckles softly. “Exchanging beds constantly. Satiating their every appetite.”

Your nostrils flare in anger. Jerking on the chain does nothing, and Ghost does not move away from you. He remains close like a lover.

“Or perhaps a Lord of pestilence? Can you imagine yourself in one their laps for all eternity? Constantly sick. Constantly ill. A new disease to test on your flesh whenever they please.” When you don’t reply to his remarks, Ghost continues. “What about a Torturer from one of Nine Circles?”

"You're teasing me,” you growl.

Ghost shakes his head. “I am merely telling you the truth.” He lowers his voice, a menacing promise. “They will take. They will hurt.” His gaze drops to your lips, observing your mouth. His hand upon the chain gives a little tug, and that one little pull almost closes the distance. His thumb traces your chin, the sharpened nail lightly pressing against your bottom lip.

“I am a demon of pleasure,” he purrs. “You’ll spend your waking hours keeping my cock wet and warm. All you’ll know are the orgasms I give you.” Ghost’s head lowers further, lips brushing against your cheek as he continues. “You’ll look beautiful in my lap. Naked. Skin glistening with sweat from hell’s fires. Cunt full of my cock.” The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement. “Promise you’ll enjoy the piercing, little witch.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter.

He sighs. “You think me cruel now. But I promise, little witch, you’ll be begging for me.”

“I don’t beg.”

“For my cock you will.” One muscled arm comes around to your back, blocking escape. “You will resist. You will hate me even. But in time, you will want me. I’m a patient demon. I can wait.”

“Then you’ll wait for all eternity. You are no different from your brothers and sisters”

He exhales, lips tracing against your cheekbone to move to your ear. “I cannot wait to fill your holes. To gift you with my seed. To know what you sound like when you orgasm with my cock inside you.” Deep in his throat comes a rolling groan. “You will want no others.”

“I will never want you,” you whisper, but even your strength is wavering.

Ghost’s grip on your leash tightens until the metal digs into your skin. He draws you in until there is no space between your bodies. His hard cock digs into your abdomen. Through your clothes, you can feel the ribbed shaft. Though you abhor the idea of spreading your legs for this hellspawn, you’re also curious about how he’d feel inside you.

The corner of his mouth quirks in amusement. "Already you lean in my favor."

"You're delusional."

Ghost traces the curve of your ear with his forked tongue. "I can smell your arousal, little witch."

Against your buttocks, Ghost’s tail traces a trail downward. It ventures between your legs. You stiffen as the tip slips between skin and fabric, toying with your entrance. For a moment, you think it might dip inside, but it retreats.

The tip of his tail appears before you. The two of you observe it. It is glossy with your arousal.

In stunned silence, you watch as Ghost licks the slickness off. A pleased groan escapes him. "Beautiful. Tasting you properly will be an honor." The middle of his brow creases slightly, and that wicked smile returns.

"Ready to descend, little witch?”

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