#Dancer!Simon au

[aristocratic-otter]

Ok, I'm determined to post today, even though I'm way behind on responding to y'all's posts. I'll get to them, I promise! I'm about to return to work, and I'm far more productive on work days than I am on vacation (weird as that sounds). So I'll catch up soon.

This week may not have been the most productive, but it was amazing nonetheless. I got to meet Rainbow! and seven lovely fandom friends! It's been a wild weekend, just in time to have to go back to work :(

Here are six-ish sentences from some of my WIPs!

First, thank you to : @hushed-chorus, @wellbelesbian, @martsonmars, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @ic3-que3n, \

@thewholelemon, @artsyunderstudy, @bookish-bogwitch, @monbons, @rimeswithpurple,

@skeedelvee, @larkral, @noblecorgi, @roomwithanopenfire, @prettygoododds,

@whatevertheweather, @youarenevertooold, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @messofthejess, @blackberrysummerblog,

@nausikaaa, and @emeryhall for tagging me over the last few weeks!

Here’s one snippet from 5 of my WIPs. Cupid’s Shield and Stars, Flowers, and Children are both currently on extremely smutty parts, so there was nothing safe to share. (That probably sounds a little weird, given the most recent posted chapter in Stars has the boys at 12 years old, but don’t worry, the boys are 18+ in the chapter I’m working on, chapter 13) (chapter 10 of Stars should go up this week).

From Saving Simon Snow (also has a chapter that just needs editing and will probably go up this week) (why do I seem to finish chapters in all my WIPs at around the same time???): 

“This is not what I—I don’t—Fuck!” He stops, and closes his eyes tightly, lifting his chin towards the ceiling. 

“Simon, I—” I reach out to him. It’s a mistake. His eyes snap open, and their blue is electric. He puts up both hands as a block to mine and I snatch my hand back. 

“No,” he says, then repeats it. “Nononononono—I can’t—” He’s tearing at his hair worse than before and I want to untangle his fingers from his curls and kiss his each digit to soothe him. But he doesn’t want me. 

From Snow Fox: 

I’d say the man across from me is a snake, but that wouldn’t be fair to serpents. 

I dig my fingertips into the brocade of the armchair. Tarleton can’t see my hands beneath the folds of my dress, so I’ll allow myself that much of a reaction. My face, which he can see, is perfectly smooth and placid, like my mother’s. She’s sitting to the right of me in the other armchair from my parent’s sitting room. Tarleton has turned around one of the plain wood kitchen chairs and is sitting on it backwards with his arms folded over the wooden back of the chair. He’s smiling at us with all his teeth. And none of his eyes. 

From TikTok Dancer: 

This is not good.

I watch as Snow dips and spins, and I worry. 

He told us that he wanted to dance alone today. I didn’t question it at the time…Snow has days like that, where the dance is everything and he needs the solitude to focus on nothing but dance. I think those are the days that he mourns what he’s lost. At least, his dance always seems a little sad, on those days. We still film him, of course. The work he does on those solo days is some of his most brilliant and gets the most hits and likes on YouTube and TikTok. 

But this dance…it scares me. 

From The Rat and the River (Chapter 2 just posted! Here’s a teaser from chapter 4)

I hope that the need for haste doesn’t make them careless. I suppose it hasn’t yet. 

I try to stay as unobtrusive as I can while I watch the team prepare. I can feel the bite of worry in my gut. Snow’s done this dozens of times without the slightest problem, and I try to comfort myself with that, but my peripheral nervous system is not listening to me. My fingers feel cold and faint shivers pass over my skin in waves. 

It’s minor enough that I can hide it, fortunately. I don’t need to put the burden of my fear on him. 

And from my new project, untitled as yet, the following (forgive me…): 

Penny

Simon looks like he’s seen a ghost. Well, I guess he has, actually, seen a ghost.

I know I speculated that Basilton might be dead, but I don’t think I actually believed it. There’s no denying it now, though. Basilton is quite clearly a visitor. I wonder who he’s here to visit? His cousin maybe? Or his best friend?

But no. The whole room watches in shocked silence as he paces unerringly towards my best friend. 

Tags and zen hugs to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,

 @frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @melodysmash, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist,

 @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, 

@whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix, @shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, 

@nightimedreamersghost,  @thewholelemon, @angelsfalling16, @mooncello, @shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart,  

@cutestkilla, @theearlgreymage, @alexalexinii, @Iamamythologicalcreature, @ileadacharmedlife, 

@thehoneyedhufflepuff, @best--dress, @j-nipper-95, @letraspal, and @facewithoutheart

[paige1722]

Pairing: Phantom!Simon Riley x reader

Warnings: gross behavior from a man, almost sexual assault?violence, stalking

I was listening to the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack and thought of this.

900ish words

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

The Ghost has always been there, watching. Ever since you joined this Opera House as a dancer two years ago. Even though you have never actually spoken to him or seen him up close, the hair on the back of your neck raised with the feeling of someone watching you has been a constant presence in your life, his looming shadow that is always hanging over you no matter where you go, his figure that never seems to leave the corner of your eye. 

When you think about the masked man or Ghost, as he is fearfully referred to as, you can’t bring yourself to be scared of him or feel any hostility towards him as you once were when you first noticed him watching you. Now, you even begin to refer to him as your guardian angel, making you feel safe and protected, knowing that he is always there looking out for you. It all started when he would leave you small red roses with a black ribbon tied around the stem and a small wax skull in the center of your room after particularly rough days, sometimes even leaving food with it when you accidentally end up missing dinner because of dance practice taking longer. 

Some of the other dancers are scared of you, now thinking that you are in cohorts with the supposed Ghost and will incur his wrath if they are seen talking to you. It doesn’t bother you that they all leave you alone now because they were never really the best company to keep around anyways, always getting into trouble trying to sabotage one another for the leading roles in performances besides, you have found friendship with two of the stagehands.

Today, something was different; there had been a strange gut feeling that something bad was going to happen today ever since you woke up, causing you to be more on edge. As you stand in the practice room alone, trying to perfect the newest choreography, the door slams open, causing you to jump in surprise. You turn around to see the newest stagehand smiling creepily at you. You hear your friends talk about him, and they have nothing good to say about him. The door clicks into place behind him, breaking you out of your thoughts as he walks to where you stand in front of the mirror. 

Taking a step back as he approaches fearfully, you ask, “What are you doing?” 

He lets out a deep chuckle, eyeing you up and down, “ I just wanted to introduce myself to you; I have seen you around and thought that we should get to know each other better.” He reaches his hand up, resting his hand around your neck and rubbing his thumb against the side of your neck. 

You let out a panicked sound, ripping the man's hand away from around your neck and stepping away from him, “What are you doing!?”  you shout as you make your way towards the door, but not putting your back towards him in fear for what might happen if you do. 

He lunged forward harshly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into him, trapping you in his grasp. “Relax, you might end up liking it. You never know.” he sneered before. His heavy breathing fanning over your face, making you recoil in disgust, trying to free yourself from his arms. You begin screaming at the top of your lungs for help, hoping that someone will hear you and come to your rescue. 

 Loud bangs erupted from behind the mirror, and the sound of glass shattering echoed in the room. The man holding you throws you to the side, causing you to lose your balance, falling to the floor and smacking your head against the ground. At the harsh impact, black dots begin to swarm your vision; the last thing you hear as you succumb to the darkness is the thudding of heavy hits like someone was fighting. 

From the darkness, your Ghost had emerged when he heard your desperate screams for help. He had left you alone in the practice room for no longer than five minutes so that he would be able to leave a rose in your room like always, but this time, as he approached the practice room, instead of hearing you dancing around the room, he heard the sounds of your cries for help. Sending fear and anger throughout his body, without even thinking, Ghost threw himself into the two-way mirror, shattering it into a million pieces. At the sight of him emerging from behind the mirror, the man who held you captive threw your body to the ground as Ghost grabbed the man, unleashing punch after punch. The pathetic man tried fighting back, but it was no use; he didn’t stand a chance against the Ghost. 

After a couple of heavy hits, the man lays limp at Ghost's feet; whether he is dead or alive does not matter to him at all. The only thing on his mind was you. He walks over to you, carefully lifting your unconscious body into his arms, checking for injuries, and finding nothing too serious. He stands, cradling you to his chest, walking back to the gaping hole in the mirror. 

Reaching his liar hidden deep beneath the Opera House, Ghost gently places you down on his bed, whispering to your unconscious form, “Don’t worry, no one will ever hurt you again.” 

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Price, the owner of the Opera House, lets out a deep sigh at the letter from Ghost in his hands. He lits up a cigar, letting out a puff of smoke before standing and beginning to make his way to the practice dance room, muttering curses under his breath at another mess he has to clean up.

[in-amor-veritas]

Hii! I hope you're having a nice day!😊

For the 5 sentence thingy I was thinking: Wilmon💜 + "Wille! Are you okay?"

hi I am having a nice day! Sorry this has taken so long for some reason I couldn’t find this one 😭 I don’t understand why the tumblr app won’t let me filter by asks but it got buried somehow but I finally found it :)

I’m setting this in the dancer au I’ve been daydreaming about recently where Wille is a ballet boy and Simon is a contemporary dance major.

…..

“Wille! Are you okay?” He sees the shock on Simon’s face as he takes in Wille’s appearance, the cast and the crutches he’s hobbling forward with, “Oh god what happened?” Simon reaches to take the bag he’s trying to precariously balance on his arm and Wille doesn’t have the energy to stop him.

“Stress fracture.” He murmurs, frustrated, embarassed that Simon is here outside his dorm unannounced and that he’s seeing him this vulnerable and awkward, “What are you doing here?”

He thinks about the disappointment in his mother’s face when he’d told her that he can no longer be the male principal in the schools summer performance, the pity he’d seen in his classmates eyes and the frown on his instructors lips.

He feels like such a failure.

“I heard you had gotten back to school—I just wanted to see you—“

“Well now you’ve seen me.” He snips, gritting his teeth and moving forward, stupidly slow, cursing his injury.

“Is it painful?” Simon asks, eyes wide and worried as he looks him over, “Can I do anything to help? Carry your stuff to class?”

Wille looks over at him, they haven’t really spoken much since the whole Valborg fiasco, “Look I don’t need your pity—I know—yes it’s terrible for my career, no I don’t know when I will be able to dance again, yes im being forced into more physical therapy than i even knew existed, yes it’s such a shame because I had such a promising principal role in the Summer ballet.”

Simon stares at him, and slowly something seems to dawn on him, he takes a step forward, “I’m just worried about you. How you’re feeling…that’s the most important thing—all that other stuff itself doesn’t matter.”

[s0fter-sin]

new poll time lads

[armandssilkshirt]

I’ve been rewatching my fave choreographer’s dance videos and if I could find a way to write a compelling au where Armand is a dancer I’d be soooo tempted.

[ebbpettier]

i would bet money that agatha wellbelove stands in turnout all the time without realizing it

[pagegirlintraining]

First chapter of Dirty Dancing AU is out 🥰

This idea has been swirling around my head for over a year now and I‘ve finally figured out how I wanna tell this story. So excited to have this first chapter out 🥹😍

Summary:

Simon’s over the moon excited for his first family vacation in years: a four week trip to Kellerman’s Mountain Lodge. Relaxation, hiking trips, family game nights - he’s ready for it all. What he doesn’t expect, though, is to fall head over heels for one of the resort’s dance instructors.

Wille is everything Simon’s dad would hate - sensitive, creative and not afraid to express himself in how he dresses (or the jewelry and makeup he wears). It’s a good thing Simon won’t ever get the chance to actually get close to Wille, right?

Except an injury and a badly scheduled surgery lead to Wille suddenly needing a new dance partner for an upcoming performance. And Simon wouldn’t be Simon if he didn’t gladly step up to save the day. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

Head on over to ao3 to read the first chapter if you so please. Comments and kudos make my heart sing 😇💜

[darlingkikki]

omg, late to your ghoap post but au where you’re just crying asking if johnny doesn’t love you or take the relationship seriously because he kissed someone else while ghost is sitting there waiting for his kiss. thinks you’re so pretty hiccuping and crying but damn he wants that kiss already

Warnings: Manipulative Ghost, bitch boy Johnny (lmao but seriously), dubcon (mostly for the illusion of choice but the kiss is consensual)

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

I am in a writing funk but I forced myself to at least explore more of this because I so badly want to but my brain is mush :( (not edited so just focus on the vibes)

initial post linked here

Something dark and insatiable claws at the inside of Ghost’s skull. To repress it, his blunt nails bite into his palms. He watches Johnny’s hands cup your crestfallen face, his expression knotted with the heaviness of remorse. Above the sound of your hiccuping questions, he can just about pick up Johnny’s attempts to soothe your broken heart. 

“Course I love yeh. That hasn’t changed.” 

“Nah, dinnae say that. I did a dumb thing. I’m always doing dumb things. It’s nothin’ to do with yeh.”

“I pushed them away, just not quick enough. I didnae do anything more, I promise.” 

He’s unyielding in holding your gaze. His thumbs trace gentle, methodical circles on your cheeks, wiping away the moisture under your eyes. Selfishly, cruelly, Simon wishes you would stop sobbing already so he can take over. Johnny promised him a kiss from you, so a kiss is what he’ll be leaving with.

You seem to be a gentle, sweet thing so far, even with a pouty frown pulling the corners of your lips downwards. Sensitive too. (What other parts of you share that same description?). A few tears evade Johnny’s thumbs. They roll down the swell of your cheeks. Ghost licks his lips, imagining his tongue following the wet trails down to the collar of your shirt.

Fuck, he needs this kiss bad.

If Johnny is desperate enough for your forgiveness, maybe he can push this further with you. Convince him that a kiss isn’t enough. That you deserve—no, need something more. Johnny will be easy to sway. You, however, he’s still figuring out as Johnny calms you into soft sniffles. 

“There you go, now yer ready to meet my Lt.,” Johnny coos. He steps around you, putting his hands on either side of your face and angling you to look where Ghost has been standing this entire time. “Go on, give me hell Ghost.” 

Fucking finally. Ghost doesn’t respond. He can’t. Not when the sight of you has him sucking in a sharp breath. 

Christ, what a sight you are.

His body moves, driven by greed when you stare at him all confused and teary-eyed. His favorite combination.

“Good finally meetin’ you,” Ghost says. His footsteps are heavy against the wooden floor. He hasn’t even taken his boots off.

Johnny’s fingers tighten to keep you looking straight at Ghost. Like a puppeteer, though it’s clear who has the ultimate hold on the strings. 

“Why is he here?” You ask, trying and failing to turn your head towards Johnny. Nope, not yet. It’s Ghost’s turn now and Johnny bows out of the equation.

Their positions have switched seamlessly, like dancers performing around your body. Or soldiers following a meticulous plan only they are privy to. The smell of alcohol leaves your nostrils, replaced by mint and heady tobacco. It's sense whiplash and your confusion makes for an excellent distraction from your heartache. A distraction Ghost can use to worm his way in.

“I’m here to make it better,” Simon answers after a beat. His eyes are devilishly dark, indistinguishable from a starless night sky. Inky like pools of tar. He says your name with the familiarity of a lover. An undeniable hunger laces his voice and a shudder slithers down your spine. 

Oh yes, he thinks, smirking like a starving lion, you won’t need much convincing. Your reaction speaks volumes. Without waiting for your reply, he continues, “Your boyfriend's hurt you, yeah? You shouldn’t let him get away with it.”

He’s right, you know that. To forgive Johnny would only lead to a forever-repeating cycle of tears and heartache. But what choice did you have now? 

The luxury of choosing for yourself is a privilege these men have taken for themselves. 

Ghost leans in until his lips are just a hair’s breadth away. He’s dangling a carrot in front of your face—the answer to all your pain. 

Johnny's grip on your head loosens. Without it, you'd have forgotten entirely that he was still here, acting as the hard place Ghost urges you towards with a coaxing grasp on your hips, leaving you in his cage and Johnny a willful voyeur. 

He’s tied your neurons in knots, effectively cutting off any chance you have at making a less rash decision. He’s infiltrated your senses and made you his prey. No one could fault you for believing him when he tells you he’ll make it better. Let the warmth of his mouth be a band-aid for your pain and a knife in Johnny’s chest.

"Let me fix it," Ghost whispers, just before his lips are about to claim yours.

It's not a question.

[thetravelingtyper]

Beasts of the Deep...Pt 2 (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Researcher! Reader ? Au)

As the storm rages new dreams become reality...

WC: 1.8k

Part 1, Part 3, Masterlist

Warnings: None

From the Destruction of Leviathan by Gustave Dor�� (1865)

Thanks to @breakawayresin for editing ☺️

Chapter 2 - Behemoth 

You flicked on the light of your apartment and set your stuff on your couch with a sigh. You hoped the power wouldn't go out because you had a long weekend of binging shows planned along with some of the documentaries the library had loaned you to watch. You still also needed to work on the research paper you were writing with Saph. When your phone buzzes you reply to Saph that you got home. You look out the bay window of your apartment and watch trails of water splinter on the glass. As you think mindless trains of thought you fiddle with the pendant, finding its weight around your neck a comfort. 

There is a flash of lightning and more thunder as you head into the kitchen. You ruffle through our fridge and pull out some leftover pasta from the past group dinner on Wednesday. Remembering the event makes you huff.

“Stupid Matthew.”

While you had been presenting the discovery of the animal chamber he had cut you off to discuss the shell and opal crowns they had found, completely steering the discussion away from you. As you eat, the residual frustration sours your food, so you set the rest aside for later. After you clean up a wave of tiredness hits you and you retreat to your room to change, turning on the lamps in the hall as the storm worsens outside. 

After you change and get ready for bed you try again for the pendent but the same feeling jolts through you. As the storm moves overhead you just lie back in thought of the swirling rain outside your window. As you clutch the pendant to your heart you turn into your blankets, pulling one over yourself, and fall into a deep sleep.

-

You fell through the clouds in ancient time, new stars shine above and an old sea ravages below, but as you reach the tops of the waves threatening to drown you, you feel no fear because before a drop of water can hit you the sea calms in the midst of the storm. You float along the waves for an age, unknown universes shining above until at once you sink.

- 

You awake at the bottom of the primordial sea, before creation and at the end of eternity. As you walk the sandy bottom the reliefs swirl to life. Mollusks swim by, a giant squid with unblinking eyes. Whales sing in the distant squall, as the storm thunders above all. 

But as you step you find that you are not alone. As you walk a curious guest joins you. A grey seal swirls out of the dimness and bonks its head into your chest when the amulet sits. You laugh at its friendliness when it nudges your head, swirling around the water like a dancer. You bring a hand to its head, stroking the animal like a dog and it chirps at you. After a few moments there is a rumble in the earth beneath your feet and the seal, after curling around you darts forward, swimming like a dream.

You follow him then, through crushed shells and kicking up currents until you see it.

What could only be described as a palace, some underwater Atlantis lost to the waves, but you frown, there was something wrong with this place as the seal gives a sad sound, stopping at the cusp of the stone path that lies ahead.

“Won’t you come?”

The seal shakes its head, swirling upon itself in a dance in the water before nudging you forward to start along the path.

It is when your bare foot touches the stone you see a pair of ocean eyes in your mind.

“The path once treaded cannot be abandoned, for all that was lost is bound to be found.”

His voice continues as you set upon the path, then at once there is darkness except for the light of bioluminescence in the stone cracks.

“Fallen stars crash upon the sea,

Distant ships kept peace be,

But a new omen has begun to stand,

Why must all the heralds die in this land?”

The verse resonates in your bone, but as some sick fear starts to churn, a light at your sternum starts to burn. The pendant, once dormant begins to shine with a white light, floating into the water around you as a guide. Then, as if welcomed home the light clashes against the darkness, casting the shadow into the furthest reaches of the sea. It is then you see him. 

Dark skin and muscle ending in an emerald scaled tail, a warrior of sorts with a tarnished golden trident. He curls in the water, honey eyes on you with a sheepish smile on his face. When you meet his eyes he dips his head in greeting. He approaches you then, offering a hand that you take and then pulling you up off the path into a dance.

“You have come.”

His voice, like the other, is familiar but in the moment you cannot place it. 

You begin to reply but a finger meets your lip, you nod and allow him to pull you close as a brush of darkness encircles you. But as the darkness threatens to touch you there is a growl in the water, low and powerful that sends the shadow scampering away .

The merman grins and spinning in the water sets you down. He then gives you a gentle push towards the center of the ruins, a rising setting of columns beaconing. 

You nod and he swims off to continue his patrol. You continue on the path for what feels like minutes and what feels like years. You finally make it to the largest of the ruins, stepping up the broken steps and, with the pendant shining as a beacon, heading inside.

Inside the sanctum you find a presession of statutes, running from the back of the large room, a shroud of darkness, hazy and thick, concealing your vision. But you do not fear, and reaching for the pendant it slips off into your hand to be lifted up as a sword against the dark. Cutting the thick of it your steps forward are taken in new sound as the water seems to fizzle away into cold air. 

Here you find your voice returning, and the sound of the wind roars. 

But as you pass the last of the statues the darkness pushes suddenly, throwing itself against you in a final protest, as you are shoved back violently you gasp and a shape erupts from the dark. 

Quick as a whip, a large tail curls around you, preventing your fall into the cold marble floor. You press against it as the darkness pounces away, the light from the pendent eventually illuminates more than just a circle around you, with its warm heat it soon engulfs the room, revealing your savior. 

Your mouth drops at the creature before you, a coiled mass of muscle with darkened sapphire scales. Its tail shuffles you forwards and a large dragon head regards you. Obsidian horns curl like a crown and a large sapphire stone inset in the beast's forehead gleams with internal firelight. But it is its golden eyes that entrance you.

Its eyes, his eyes, your mind tells you, looks through the gleaming light and into your eyes. Liquid gold swirls, lighted from within with an ancient magic. The gold trails from his eyes to along the contours of his body, and you realize it then,

“Leviathan.”

The ancient name rolls of your tongue as your rational mind crashes into yourself and you stumble, but he is quick to react as a hand the size of your body, claws sharp as razors but careful to catch you. You find yourself awake then in the dream.

Your eyes widen at the harbinger of destruction before, a demon of the sea, and yet? He dips his head at your level and his head tilts, eyes focused. Your arms come to rest on his encircled fingers, then you notice  the cuffs. At his wrist there is a golden shackle, remnants of a massive chain that drags everytime he shifts. You realize then the scent of copper, 

“Blood?” 

He turns his head to the side and you see his laying form, sprawled and coiled in a space much too small for him. Pity hits your hearts and you pat his palm and he immediately releases you, and you step around to his exposed belly.

You slip the pendant back on and coming to the side you see the source of the smell. Your eyebrows knit in concern when he rumbles in pain, shifting his tail, the massive muscle curling around you, bringing warmth to the cold prison. 

Impaled in his chest, right over his heart is a dark shard of shadow, you grasp at it and grit your teeth when a burning chill tears through you, retching your heart and soul. Leviathan does not thrash, but his form rumbles, head dipping and eyes on you as you throw your entire weight back and with a final effort the shard comes out and shattered into dust.

The force that follows blows you back as you shield your eyes from the hiss of shadow, a figure rushes for you, some wretched, crooked simile of humanity but a mighty maw with fangs bared snaps between you and the shadow. The earth rumbles as the foundation crumbles, water rushing in. But more shadows rush in with the rising waves. You begin to panic as Leviathan stands, and then you see sapphire wings unfurl from his back and then in a might swoop he dips under a spear and a great paw curls around you and lifts you to his chest as he leaps over the water and into the confined air of the ruin. 

The shadows clash effortlessly against his scales as you are then submerged, as he crashes through the roof of the ruin, shadow meets your light and all is sightless. 

You awake in a shock, breathing heavily and sweating where you stood? You come to yourself at your balcony doors as the storm pours on outside. The lights have all gone out, but there is a shine at your chest as the pendant lifts into the air, the resounding sound of waves and the cries of the wind. A flash of lightning illuminates the room and there is a pound of thunder and you jump, but a shape outside your door startles you. Shadows crawl in the room and you feel a spark of danger and throwing caution to the wind you throw the balcony doors open and it all happens too fast.

As a shadow moves to snap at your back a flash of lightning strikes it into ribbons and you are pulled into a bare chest as a man steps forward, his other arm shielding you from the light. He sweeps into the room, the shadows chased out and the power returning with a flickering of lights. Hit with a deep exhaustion you slip into unconsciousness. 

[cherryberry-sugarandspice]

King Magnus

So I am obsessed with King Magnus. I'm not sure why. I just am.

So just a little lore building.

Obviously he rules over Genosha. He has a concubine (which is reader) and two consorts, Agatha and Anna Marie.

He has good relations with King Doom. Their kingdoms are not merged, but they make trades and will offer support in times of need. The only way to merge kingdoms is if Princess Wanda and King Doom marries, but Wanda is not seeking his hand in marriage, no matter how many times he proposes.

Prince Pietro is down in Alantis to help with negotiations. Princess Lorna helps assists the guards to maintain the safety of the castle.

King Magnus takes good care of his kingdom. He's a stern king but he is not cruel.

This is what king Magnus wears and what his bedroom looks like.

I'm taking more inspiration from House of M 2015, so expect him to look like this

Concubine!Reader used to be a dancer before given the opportunity to become his concubine. She was his favorite dancer, seeking out only her for private dances. He gave her one and final offer, as he didn't want to pester her nor make her uncomfortable, and these were the conditions of being his concubine

Reader lives a lavish life at the castle free of responsibilities.

Body decorated in jewelry.

Dressed in skimpy clothes for his eyes only.

Anywhere he wants, he'll have her right then and there.

No touching herself. Only he (and his consorts) are allowed to bring her pleasure. They prefer it that way.

Wearing his symbol as a tramp stamp, to show everyone who his concubine belongs to and who brings her great pleasure.

Reader happily accepts and she is well taken care of. Bathed in milk and honey, relaxing baths, massages, fed bountiful meals, and is kept soft with lotions. She has her own room and lounge in the castle.

King Magnus wanted an heir, so he fucked his Concubine over and over again until she was pregnant.

Agatha and Anna Marie are his consorts, who are as well taken care of. They have a lounge and their own separate rooms.

All three women spend time together by having tea in the gardens or going for strolls in the gardens. With the escort of the King or a member of S.H.I.E.L.D, the girls go out to roam Genosha, visiting their favorite shops.

I will write short stories here and head canons, and also stories on AO3. I'll link everything below:

King Magnus:

King's Concubine

Being His Concubine

King Magnus 1

King Magnus 2

King Magnus 3

King Magnus 4

King Magnus 5

King Magnus Breeding Kink

Head Canons

Castle:

Castle Gardens

Wanda's Cottage

The Consorts:

The Consorts Dresses

The Consorts

Consorts and Concubine

The Magnet Siblings:

Princess Wanda

Princess Lorna

Prince Pietro

The Princess and The Knight with a Heart of Gold:

A Fleeting Moment

The Princess's Turmoil

Head Canons

Smut HC

First Time

At Their Cottage

As Parents HC

First Meeting

Knight Simon:

Knight Simon

Sworn In

The Princess Who's More Than:

Not Just a Princess

Tea with Agatha

Future Queen (?)

Before Meeting

Au within Au:

Maid!Reader

[yuesgirlfriend]

of birds and honey

part 1

(simon "ghost" riley x reader) medieval AU

summary: the year is 1312, and your fathers knight follows you to the wood.

The great hills surrounding the castle are a patchwork of green and yellows, as they always are during the summer months. Gray skies up ahead do nothing to dampen the mood of the castle; everyone is bustling about, preparing for the feast marking the new battalions arrival, as if their presence signifies something happier than impending war. 

She can see them, now, where she is perched atop the highest wall-practiced, without fear- in a way her old governesses would have certainly called unbecoming of a lady. But did not the bible speak of the virtues of a young lady- justice, fortitude, among them?

(It takes great fortitude to learn the secrets she has learned, to climb over steep walls like they were bales of hay, to listen to words she would have heard anyway, had she been born a man. Listening from the eaves and skulking about is an act of justice, not a sin.) 

The men, traversing down the trail, look like ants, she thinks- where she sits high above them, balancing on the stone, they look like children's toys. Tiny wooden figures, a small boy's idea of heroes, lined up on the yellow-green patchwork quilt. 

When they finally ride over the moat and into the stronghold, they look like any other collection knights she has seen- some cloaked, some helmetless, all shining in the half clouded, setting sun. 

That night is boisterous and rowdy, like any other feast. The courtyard is crowded with people- servants, villagers, everyone coming together to eat and drink and be merry. The tables are laden with the finest of foods. The smell of roast goose and heron, wine, and vomit hangs in the night air with the shouts and bawdy songs. The new knights drink and eat and throw things, singing their songs with everyone else.  The castle hums with life, every voice and every soul another cell in one great organism. 

(The whole time, she sits quietly as a lady should, but listens as a lady shouldn’t. No one notices, and why would they notice the Lord’s waif of a girl, silently eating at his right hand? The servants, the townspeople, even her father speak of her when they think she isn’t listening- she is, to them, as unnaturally quiet as a changeling and as likely to smile as a mourner. Such a shame, my lord, that  her birth took your wife, god rest her soul. And for the child to not even be a boy…)

The stories that feast are rambling and, wine drunk, but the message is clear- they are hired soldiers with no Christian names, under orders from the king to protect the stronghold that is her home.

But one stands out. The only one still wearing his painted  helmet, and as such doesn’t eat or drink with his companions. Instead, he sits on her fathers left side, speaking in low and gruff tones only when spoken to. 

She picks at her food as her ears pick up words like more men and allies and a thousand dead, all spoken in an accent she thinks more suited to a farmer than a soldier.

As the feast begins to die down, dancers lying about drunk, he walks with her Lord father, presumably to show him a weak point in the castle walls.

She follows along, unseen, silent footsteps trailing behind them in the shadows. The knight with the painted helmet is tall and broad when he waves a hand at a wall that, upon closer inspection, does seem weaker than the rest. A chink in the castle’s armor, he says. 

The fire dies out, people lay around in drunken heaps, and rats are scurrying for food in corners of the room by the time she retires for the night. Her maid is nowhere to be found- based on the way the Scotsman and her were wrapped around eachother earlier, it is likely best not to go looking for her- so she wanders alone to her quarters, a candle in one hand and a half eaten honey cake in the other. 

The halls are dimly lit labrynths, and every footstep she takes makes a wet scuff along the perpetually damp straw covering the chilled stone floors. She does not believe in sneaking about when not needed, and enjoys a reprieve from constant surveillance as she licks honey carelessly from her fingers, focusing more on the sweetness of the honey cake than her surroundings.

And just as she turns the corner to the starcase, a hand shoots out from a shadow  and grabs her arm. 

Her gasp is muffled by a large hand, gloved. His other hand plucks the candle from her grasp, rests it on the narrow windowsill behind him. She scrapes and thrashes at the silver of his forearm, scrambling to reach for the knife at his side before he speaks. 

“Pray, be silent, Lady- I know you are able.”

In response, she bites down on the gloved hand, hard. The man hisses but doesn’t let go, only roughly spins her to face him; and this is when she realizes it is the helmeted knight, eyes and armor shiny in the candlelight. 

She shoves at his arms, and he concedes, letting her retreat three steps up the stairs before he takes her by the hand again. 

“Release me, sir, or you will not enjoy the consequences,” She hisses. Something furious inside her is growing like a wildfire. 

“I meant no offense, but only to warn you, fair lady,” he says, seemingly contrite, but with mirth in his voice. Is he smiling, behind that hideous helmet? 

“Warn me?” She rips her hand from his. “Of what? Churlish knights, skulking behind corners?” She turns to go. 

“You are one to scold on skulking behind corners, Lady. ” Her feet freeze where they are on the steps. 

 “Yes.” His voice is rough. “You are not as invisible as you may think- not to those trained to see, Lady.  You should exercise more caution, when listenin’ from rafters and castle walls like a little bird.” He tilts his head, eyes trained on her, like a cat looking at a tree it’d like to climb. Or a bird it’d like to claw.

“I have been told you have a lovely mind. It would be a waste to see it dashed on a tower’s stony base.” 

For the first time in ages, she forces her eyes to meet anothers. His are dark, redless, with what looks like coal smudged on his eyelids and undereyes. His eyes never falter from her stare, as would be proper. His pale lashes don’t so much as flutter. 

She turns and continues walking upstairs- but before she rounds the corner, she looks behind and down to where he stands, at the base of the stairs, licking remnants of honey off his glove. 

[aristocratic-otter]

Welp, I wasn't going to post today...but then I realized that the final chapter of Heart in the Well will go up before Sunday, and that'll render the excerpt I carefully picked out obsolete by then. So I scrambled to pick bits from my other stories just so I could post this one excerpt. Go me!

The good news about Heart being done? I've got a new WIP plotted out that I'm super excited about, but I wouldn't let myself write anything until one of my WIPs finished. So next week or the week after, you should see the first words from that fic, a very very angsty Watford era canon divergence.

In the mean time, thank you to : @monbons, @messofthejess, @rimeswithpurple, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @best--dress,

@nausikaaa, @youarenevertooold, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @artsyunderstudy, @j-nipper-95, and

@facewithoutheart for the tags over the last two weeks. I'm having so much fun reading and watching your stories and art. This is such an incredibly talented fandom, it's endlessly inspiring. Plus, I get to meet some of you soon when I see Rainbow in August!

Here's my teasers for this week:

Here’s one from each of my official WIPs

From Saving Simon Snow: 

I shake my head now, thinking about it. I’ll just have to keep close to Simon, or at least, as close as he’ll allow me. At least my vampire anatomy gives me an advantage there; I can listen to what’s happening with Simon from three rooms away (I won’t, unless it’s a matter of his safety. It’s a gross invasion of his privacy otherwise) (fortunately, I had to learn to tune out the chatter of my peers by my 2nd year at Watford, or I would have gone mad). 

From the Heart in the Well

He looks back at me and then frowns. “Well, come on then,” he says, impatiently. 

“Come on, what?” I say, exasperated. The water’s up to my breastbone now, and I’m starting to feel a little panicky, so my voice comes out higher pitched than I’d like. 

Now, he rolls his eyes. “I need your tie,” he says as if it were obvious. It was not obvious. “Take it off, please.” At that, I shiver a little. I never thought there’d be a day where Simon Snow would be telling me to take off my clothes.

From Snow Fox: Penny, learning you can’t go home again (especially if you’ve signed on with the Snow Fox)

I step onto the road and walk briskly towards the house I grew up in. I can tell when I’ve been noticed. Several heads swivel my direction, and the murmur of conversation in the camp ceases. I keep on as if I haven’t noticed however. As I draw closer, I nod distractedly at some of the boys nearer to my path. They don't nod back. They’re watching me with narrowed eyes and I shudder internally. What do they see when they look at me?

From TikTok Dancer: Quite a bit racier than what I usually post, but still Tumblr legal, I think

Years from now, if I, for some odd reason, try to explain how my first time having sex felt, I won’t be able to. There’s no describing it.  I’m planning to get a degree in words, for fuck’s sake, but right now, all language has left me, sailed back to England probably. I’m left with caveman grunts and desperate whines. Every particle of sensation in my body has gathered between my legs, and every atom of will I have left is devoted to an attempt to meld my body with his. I’ve almost succeeded–we’re nearly one creature now, moving in frantic, panting unison. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children,

I know he’s been looking for me. I know he’s probably forgiven my great sin. He shouldn’t. Forgiveness requires that the person who receives it is contrite, is sorry for what they’ve done. 

I’m not sorry. I’d do it again today, if the circumstances were the same. 

Even being estranged from the only person in this world that I care about is still better than the permanent separation that would result if we were rescued. 

I believe that we’ll be friends again someday. Some day when the pain in my chest and stomach have dulled. And that day is worth waiting for.

From Cupid’s Shield:

I’m left gaping at where he just stood. It’s suddenly clear to me how much of his vampire abilities Baz has been hiding, because I was looking right at him. 

I never saw him move. 

All I know is suddenly he’s above me, and my arms are above my head and prisoned to the bed by his hands clamped around my wrists. I’m so stunned that I don’t even struggle. 

His knees are on either side of my hips, and he’s staring down at me like I’m his next meal. 

From my COBB project:

I know I should be worrying over tomorrow, and what my team will face out there. And I will be worrying over that—tomorrow. Tonight, I’m far more worried about the hours ahead. Hours of, once again, sharing a room with the only man I’ve ever loved. A man who’s never looked at me as anything other than a posh prick. 

That’s my fault, of course. It could have been different, all those years ago, when we first met at Watford Uni. I was excited, back then, to meet my roommate. Excited, and nervous. I freely admit I’ve had a privileged upbringing, and this would be the first time I’d ever shared a room. 

My childhood was mostly lonely, so I didn’t mind the idea. I’d thought it’d be nice to always have someone nearby to talk to. 

Of course, everyone knows how that turned out.

As others have said recently, please let me know if you no longer want to be tagged and I'll take you off of my tag list. Unless I hear otherwise, I assume you're like me, and like to hear from people even if you're not feeling like sharing yourself.

Tags and cheers to: @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @bazzybelle, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed,

@frjsti, @fatalfangirl, @letraspal, @martsonmars, @melodysmash,

@moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @raenestee,

@tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @krisrix,

@shemakesmeforget, @confused-bi-queer, @nightimedreamersghost,  @thewholelemon, @angelsfalling16,

@noblecorgi, @hushed-chorus, @whatevertheweather, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @mooncello,

@wellbelesbian, @ic3-que3n, @shrekgogurt, @cosmicalart,  @cutestkilla,

@theearlgreymage, @alexalexinii, @prettygoododds, @blackberrysummerblog, @bookish-bogwitch,

@Iamamythologicalcreature, @emeryhall, @larkral, @ileadacharmedlife, @thewholelemon 

[larkral]

Happy WIPsday! I have been wanting to post for approximately 2 weeks, but it's been chaosville at my house, so I haven't done it. I'm not seeing any tags, so I'm going to start us off this week!

So.... in the past two weeks I've written almost 2,000 words on Simon's Two Mums AU and about 4k words on Firstprince Soulmate BS. This is a lot for me! I'm excited about both of them! Soulmate BS is marinating after having had a very important scene written, so finally (already, always) got some overdue attention, and I'm really enjoying where it's going.

Simon's two mums:

Then, mum says, "Is it standard practice to cast spells on students without their agreement or parental assent?"  "I'm sorry?" [omitted for spoilers] says.  "Mum," I hiss at her.  "I'm sorry, Simon, but I'd be very curious to know if this is a common experience for students here, or if it's something that's happening particularly often to my son." Her voice is hard and angry. Her lawyer voice, the one that knows she's going to win, and doesn't mind letting you know as well.  "It's…" [spoiler again] sits back down. "It is, actually, quite common, but it is also very likely that it's happening particularly often with Simon."  Mum seems surprised at how easily he goes along with her. "I'd appreciate if you would draft a policy document that provides students and their parents with more explicit knowledge of circumstances in which they may be subject to magical correction or intervention."  "Of course, yes," [this person's name would spoil you] says. "Absolutely." He moves to stand again, and then sits back down. "Is there anything else before Simon returns to class?"  "No," Mum says. "Unless you have anything you'd like to talk about, Simon?" Mummy asks, and I could cry. I almost do.

Soulmate BS and tags below the cut because I know what y'all here for.

BRILLIANT SHIT I say. Welcome to some soulmate lore knowledge.

"Mmm, yeah," Henry says, then with a little more clarity. "Sorry, what are we having a hard time believing? It's been quite the night in that regard."  [quip removed for spoilers] Alex says. Henry hardly gets in his demure Indeed before Alex says, "I don't think it's that hard to believe that I'm a better dancer than you.” "No," Henry says, and then he presses his thumb into his phone and turns the screen towards Alex.  You're Linked! the Heartlink banner reads, overlaying an illustration of red, pink and brown confetti. "Oh, shit." Alex says.  Congratulations! Your bandmatch was calculated at a 97.82% level of synchronization. That's well above the threshold at which we recommend a parallel re-sync. Your concierge, Alana, will be in touch within 24 hours to facilitate contact with your soulmate.  "Quite," Henry says. Alex can feel his heartbeat in his stomach, suddenly. It's a little bit nauseating, like he might throw up.

Thanks to @talentpiper11 for the name inspiration for the soulmate matching app. Which obviously every soulmate universe must have.

Tags and hugs to all my fandom friends. I hope you're making it through this week, lovelies.

@stitchyqueer @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart @whogaveyoupermission @cutestkilla

@hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @ileadacharmedlife @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy

@captain-aralias @petedavidsonscock @artsyunderstudy @martsonmars @nausikaaa

@chen-chen-chen-again-chen @that-disabled-princess @shrekgogurt  @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl

@blackberrysummerblog​ @valeffelees @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @run-for-chamo-miles

@talentpiper11 @orange-peony @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @mooncello

@aristocratic-otter @roomwithanopenfire @monbons @kiwiana-writes

[in-amor-veritas]

Hi! If you are still taking prompts for the five sentence game:

Wilmon + “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Helloooooo yes yes i am sorry it’s taken a while to get to yours. I actually set this in the dance au i came up with the other day bc those versions of Wilmon seem interesting hehehe, this au already shaped up to be kind of angsty in my head though 😭😭😭

….

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Wille asks, turning onto his side and pushing blonde hair out of his eyes to meet the other boys almost guilty eyes. “You’re seeing other people…”

Simon frowns, looking away for a moment and taking a breath before he can meet Wille’s gaze, sitting up in the bed, the sheets slipping down to barely cover the rest of his bare skin, “I thought you understood that when we—“

Wille understands what he means, can practically hear the rest of the sentence, but no he hadn’t assumed or understood, he’d jumped headfirst into this no second thoughts, open and earnest and it’s like a punch to his gut, ice water in his veins as he realizes that Simon doesn’t want the same thing, “Oh…” he murmurs, sitting up, pressing his hand to his sternum, feeling his whole chest constricting, “So you…this is just fun for you?”

God he feels so stupid.

“I mean…it’s not like I don’t like you Wille, I do. I just…I wasn’t—it wasn’t my intention to lead you or make you think I wanted a relationship. I…I just got out of a long relationship and I just—“ Simon sounds a little upset, sad even and Wille tries to understand because he gets it—it’s not a big deal. But it is, to him it is.

“I thought you knew, I told you that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

And Wille feels so stupid, inexperienced and humiliated because he’s right, he had said that but somehow it just hadn’t really clicked, somehow he hadn’t imagined that while they had been getting to know each other, hanging out, sleeping together, that Wille wasn’t the only person Simon was doing the same with, “No I get it…um..you did say that…”

He feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I’m sorry Wille…if that’s not something you want I totally understand.” Simon reaches out to touch his shoulder gently, and it hurts the concern he’s showing him.

He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know what he wants anymore, it all seemed so clear an hour ago, stumbling into bed with him. But Wille doesn’t know if he’s willing to share him, or if he likes this feeling knowing that all of this doesn’t mean the same for him as it does for Simon.

“I have to think about it.”

Simon nods, eyes dark and concerned, biting his lip as they sit in the silence.

[s0fter-sin]

so lately i’ve been obsessed with a 141 dancer au

gaz runs classes, has a youtube channel and quickly becomes one of the most sought after choreographers in the music video scene. soap is his dance partner for his classes, he helps run them and does demonstrations with him

ghost is also a choreographer and he’s gaz’s Arch Nemesis

he's famous for never performing his routines, never doing public appearances without his skull mask and being highly exclusive with who he allows to perform his choreo which earns him his name (since he’s a ghost creator). gaz however is a social media darling, his classes and videos regularly doing huge numbers

they both popped up around the same time and are neck and neck in terms of popularity and skill and they immediately rub each other the wrong way

gaz accuses ghost of not actually choreographing his routines himself bc no one has ever seen him dance and ghost thinks gaz is a clout chaser who's just in it for the fame instead of passion

he became a dancer as a way to channel his rage after years of being an underground fighter, the discipline and physicality helping him more than fights ever did. he hates the thought of someone just using it just to get famous when it literally saved his life

deep down they know their accusations are wrong and they have a grudging appreciation for the other's talent but they'd both rather die than admit it

price is a famous dancer turned director they both work with frequently and they always fight over him; trying to get their routines picked for his music videos. he's also the only one in the industry who's ever seen the ghost perform (before he got famous and before the Incident™)

he finally gets fed up with them constantly being at each other's throats and hires them both to work together and choreograph a joint routine. they're both famous in their own right but this video is for a huge artist so neither of them can refuse no matter how much they hate the other

gaz has a gymnastics background but also a ballet background which lends him to a more fluid style whereas ghost’s style is stronger, more masculine with sharper movements so they naturally end up butting heads

then there's soap who has a completely different style altogether, focusing on a more modern, breakdancer style which makes him see everything completely differently

but it also adds to his self-doubt bc he didn't have a formal dance education, he built his entire repertoire by himself. people see him as inferior to gaz who has that very formal, highly disciplined style. his insecurities about only ever being seen as gaz's demonstration partner and that he can only do gaz’s routines so all his skill is just an extension of him instead of being seen as a dancer in his own right forces him to adopt a rigid - destructive - perfectionism in himself and his body

soap meets ghost before the first rehearsal. he gets to the studio early to practice when sees this beautiful man dancing

he has no idea who he is but he moves so seamlessly, almost better than gaz, and he immediately falls a little in love. the man catches him watching in the mirror and he flusters, getting worse as the man just smirks at him and flawlessly completes the routine

soap tries to save face and asks him to teach him the routine he's doing

the man agrees, introducing himself as simon. the style of the routine is familiar to soap but he can't focus on it when simon's hands are on his waist, guiding him through the steps; his chest pressed up against his back. they work together beautifully, picking up each other's body language and dancing together easier and better than they've ever danced with anyone

then gaz arrives and the vibe in the studio immediately changes

simon's easy confidence becomes hostility, pulling up the skull gaiter he'd let hang around his neck as he practically pushes soap behind him to square up to gaz

soap’s shocked when gaz hits back with the same energy until he realises it's the same way he acts whenever he talks about ghost and his stomach drops

he steps out from behind ghost to side with gaz and the betrayal in simon's eyes hurts more than anything he's ever felt

from there it's romeo and juliet; camp gaz versus camp ghost as they fight over every step of the choreo and soap is the poor bastard stuck in the middle

soap tries to channel that “you’re my best friend’s rival, i have to hate you,” mindset but he can’t forget the way it felt to dance with simon

and how much he wants to do it again

[luvvictoria]

materialist.

introduction | materialist

╰┈➤ High&Low :

— cobra and murayama w/ a dancer gf ( fluff )

— high and low leaders + amamiya brothers reacting to reader fighting sarah from mighty warriors

╰┈➤ Chainsaw Man ;

➛ Denji

— confession

➛ Reze

— gf headcanons

╰┈➤ Obey Me! ;

➛ Diavolo

— BirthDay party

— Trouble

➛ Mammon

— Mad Love

— Diavolo and Simeon w/ a chubby reader

╰┈➤ Demon Slayer ;

➛ Kokushibo

— Weird Demon

— Pretty Little Human

╰┈➤ Call of Duty ;

➛ Captain Price

— Sleepless

➛ Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley

— My heart belongs to you ( Royal Au )

— Swan Lake

-- Wings and Shadows ( series materialist )

╰┈➤ Jujutsu Kaisen ;

➛ Gojo Satoru

— A not so safe ride

— Our special day

— A gate to Hell ( story materialist )

➛ Geto Suguru

— Small Problem

��� A gate to hell ( story matierialist )

— Sex Life / Goko, Geto, Shoko

➛ Sukuna Ryomen

— The last night of love

— Not the time to think about it /part 2

— Echoes of Desire

— "... Something more "

— the illness of us

— Let the world Burn

— Be fucking for real ; Part 2

➛ Hiromi Higuruma

— Allure of the forbidden

➛ Yuji Itadori

— I'm Yours

➛ Megumi Fushiguro

— Falling again

➛ Choso

— Made to be

╰┈➤ Tokyo Revengers ;

➛ Sanzu Haruciyo

— Him & I

➛ Yamagishi

— Strangers

╰┈➤ Kaijuu No.8 ;

➛ Hoshina Soshiro

— Pussy eater

➛ Gen Narumi

— Favourite game

— A lil headcanon