#Free spell casting services

[the-punforgiven]

Another, not-necessarily-related-but-it-could-be style of magic in stories I really like is when the magic is always explicitly part of some like, incredibly powerful god-thing. Not even necessarily an actual god that requires prayer or devotion, not even necessarily a fully sentient thing.

But just like, the knowledge that all your magic and spells are explicitly part of a living entity far, far greater in scale than any normal character I feel adds so much to stories if you write it right

I think one of my favourite types of fantasy stories are the ones where nobody has any fucking idea how magic works. Like, most people think they know how magic works, with all manner of intricate ritual and scientific study of it, but then some cunt shows up doing something entirely different and somehow it's also working for them, and chances are that cunt thought their way was the only one that worked too, which means both of you are wrong and are now realizing how little you know when you thought you knew it all

[korpuskristae]

Verdict

Warnings: 18+, Smut, public sex, blowjobs, slight femdom, language, mentions of past injuries

Pairing: Fem Reader x Judge Turpin

Word Count: 2600+

Summary: Once Turpin's whore, you find yourself in the position of his wife, although with your new status as Lady Turpin, you find yourself still lacking the manners usually expected of a high-ranking Lady such as yourself. AKA: I had too much fun writing this and got carried away...

AN: I started tweaking at a concert I went to last month because the guy in front of me had long hair and a big nose... I have a type, to say the least... Anyway, I make do with my promises, even if it takes me three whole months. Requests are open, so feel free to drop something in my requests, keep in mind I write at my own discretion. Be wary of spelling and grammar errors! Point them out so I can fix them :) !!

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

In the eyes of Victorian London, Lord Turpin and you, Lady Turpin, were amongst London’s most unusual couples. Your relationship came not long after Richard lost his ward, Beadle, and nearly his life after a brush with Benjamin Barker, a lowly barber he sent away on false charges who miraculously, found his way back even after being sent to Australia to serve out a life sentence of harsh manual labor. Richard emerged from the events, not as the man London had once trusted implicitly, but as a man teetering on the edge of mania, grasping at what little fragments of sanity he had left. Returning to the bench a mere three weeks after his attempted assassination, the subjects of London couldn’t help but notice a change in their infallible judge. Almost every circle in London was whispering about the shift in the judge’s demeanor and it didn’t take long for the doubt of his competency to reach his ears causing his already harsh sentences to become even crueler and unpredictable, casting a further darkening shadow over his once-certain judgment.

 Most people expected everything to return to normal once the judge’s attacker had been brought to justice, after all, as a judge of the high court in service to her Majesty the Queen, he reserved the right to convict and sentence whoever dared to cross him, or the law. He was by definition, untouchable… Yet in the case of Sweeney Todd’s attempt on his life, it seemed that Lady Justice had already dealt her hand, taking Todd for herself, depriving the judge of the cruel justice he so desperately desired to feel in control. Spiraling further into a dark path of retribution that bordered on obsessive, Richard was a mere shell of the proud man he once was, seemingly falling further into the clutches of insanity with every passing day.

After being compelled to step back from the bench due to mounting public concern for his mental health and well-being, he was granted a month to rest and recover. One whole month—a dangerous opportunity to ruminate on his unexamined consciousness that Richard was not eager to take. By no means had Richard attempted to fix his wrongdoings, he was a bad man, an unjust, and cruel man who wielded the law as a weapon of his desires. He was a sinner, a liar, and a reprobate. He attended church only to enjoy the company of a whore the very next hour, he knew his life was one big contradiction. And still, he clung to the illusion that as a judge, he stood above the law and public opinion, he was a judge who answered to no one but himself, believing his actions bore no consequence beyond his own scrutiny.

 In the wake of Richard’s recovery from the attempt that nearly claimed his life, your relationship, and subsequent marriage, seemed to unfold at lightning speed. The fact that Richard had forsaken many a beautiful, and no doubt rich, highborn lady for you, irked the British aristocracy who were all throwing their daughters at the judge to have even a chance of marrying into the esteemed house of Turpin. It would’ve been one thing if you two were young lovers but your scandalized affair only grew more scandalous as people started to frequently draw attention to the fact that you had, practically, in the eyes of the public, not existed at all, prior to your engagement. 

The last woman Richard had shown any interest in was Lucy Barker, but even then, it was public knowledge he merely lusted after her, his longing for her was based not on feelings of love but ones of conquest and control, seeing her as a prize to be won. But his feelings for you seemed to stem from an unknown source… one that was less centered around himself and his personal motives.

In a society that prized status and reputation above all, Richard’s marriage to you, someone deemed “lowly” in the public’s eye, sent shockwaves through the cobbled streets of London. Unshaken by the public’s doubt of his choice of wife, Richard managed to pull out all the stops for your wedding, wasting no expense on the extravagant affair, with nearly every citizen near and far from London clamoring to attend the wedding. As guests observed the warmth in his gaze, they began to piece together a narrative that suggested genuine love that transcended societal boundaries. It wasn’t long before the public, hungry for scandal, sought to uncover the mysterious story behind your unusual romance.

The story given to the public was that you were one of the nursemaids who had so gracefully nursed him to back him to health, lovingly tending to him and eventually falling in love with him. While that story couldn’t be further from the truth, every tall tale had some grain of truth to it, certainly no nursemaid, granted, you did tend to him, in a much more… intimate way than originally specified, you two were indeed a rare occurrence of genuine love. Initially, you were just a contract—an arrangement for the night, a whore, to put it crudely. Once you, rather, he finished, you had noticed him wincing in pain along with the stiff movements of his neck, originally wary of the notoriously foul-tempered judge, you, strangely enough, found yourself hesitating to leave. Despite being expected to leave as soon as you two were finished, you couldn’t just leave him to suffer like that. This man, one who commanded London’s High Court with an iron fist now laid bedridden, his physical wounds matched only by a wounded pride. His growls and biting remarks about you staying to offer him help sounded more like thinly veiled pleas for help, revealing a side of the judge that he himself even resented, one that was weak. 

Not even half a year later you were the highly feared and equally esteemed, Lady Turpin. While the fear came from your husband’s reputation, you yourself were quite the opposite of him. Instead of intimidating people to get your way, you often made use of your snarky wit and cleverness, a trait that Richard himself found endearing and discovered proved far more useful from time to time when intimidation wasn’t a viable option. 

Seated at his bench, high above the court giving him the illusion of an almost godly appearance, Richard sat, tall and rigid. Dressed in his black robes, the long wig he wore—an obligation of his station—itchingly reminded him of the traditions he had little patience for. Leering at the people entering his courtroom he huffed uninterestedly. While his wife had managed to salvage his sanity and coax a flicker of gentleness from him, she could not penetrate the fortress he built around himself in public. Fixing his posture, he moved only to accidentally bump something underneath his bench with his knee, seeing you, his wife there, he glared at you kneeling between his legs. Smirking up at him with a lustful haze in your eyes, you placed your hands on his knees slowly parting them as you winked at him. 

Grumbling, he snarled at you without any real venom behind his words, “What the devil are you doing?”

Currently sat in front of a fully occupied court he had to preside over, you clearly had no sense of decorum when it came to respecting the authority that Richard had, slowly parting his robe at his waist, you placed your hands over his pants, palming his already growing erection. The ruthless judge, so quick to condemn others, quite literally, was nothing more than putty in your mere presence.

“Taking care of my husband, of course, you must be so stressed, huh? All those responsibilities… my dear judge, my poor, poor judge,” you purred softly, your fingers tracing languid circles on his thighs. The heat emanating from his arousal was unmistakable and he was clearly getting impatient but you ignored him for the time being keeping the tension high.

Growling lowly, he narrowed his eyes at you grabbing your hand and placing it on his clothed cock, “Do not play games you little minx, if you want to act like this then carry through with your teasing,” he demanded gruffly.

“Oh, my…” you gasped, feigning shock, “right now? Dare you disrespect the sanctity of this here court?” God you were such a tease, how was he ever expected to behave around you when you acted like this? So clearly reveling in your role as an unrelenting tease… if he was in hell, you were most certainly the demon sent to torture him till the end of his days.

Snarling at you, Richard tangled one of his hands in your hair, a firm grip that asserted control without causing discomfort. “Careful now, love. Keep with that insolent tongue of yours and I'll put it to far better use," he growled with an arch of his perfectly manicured eyebrow, his threat laced with a hint of desire.

Laughing lowly, you slowly dragged your fingers up his inner thighs before reaching his zipper and freeing him from the confines of his awfully tight trousers. Already rock hard, his cock was thicker than your wrist and his tip was an angry red color with a small bead of precum leaking from it, a testament to his undying lust for you. “So impatient and rude… you’re supposed to be a Lord, my love, one with manners who treats ladies with respect,” you chided dramatically not caring to whisper considering the courtroom was still settling in.

“Last time I checked ladies don’t terrorize their husbands multiple times a day for sex,” he grumbled letting out a low sigh of relief, feeling the pressure lessen on his aching cock. Eyeing you, he huffed in amusement as a smirk played at his lips, watching you blink up at him innocently. A little actress you were, one who was anything but what she pretended to be.

Grabbing his cock, you slowly stroked it, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, not explicitly as he was still seated in front of a room full of people, but enough for you to get the satisfaction of seeing him unravel slightly. Exhaling a long drawn out strained sigh, he spoke gruffly, evidently, trying to have some restraint. “What a naughty little thing you are, playing with your husband's cock so brazenly in a courtroom full of people…” 

 Running your thumb over the tip of his cock, you heard his breathing hitch and felt him cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it lovingly. Letting out a small whimper, he felt you take him into your mouth and swirl your hot tongue around the edge of his tip, tasting his salty precum on your tongue, savoring its slight musky taste. “Yes, mhm… just like that my love…” he hissed, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he pushed you down further onto his cock, forcing you to take him deeper.

Letting out a strangled squeak, you glared up at him with a mouthful of his cock as tears pricked your eyes. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased slowly bobbing you up and down his girthy shaft.

 Hearing the thunderous boom of the courthouse doors opening, Richard glanced up to see the defendant being ushered into the courthouse by a guard from the jail. He barely glanced at the list of accusations before re-establishing his cold, detached expression. As if he wasn’t being serviced by his wife at that very moment.

Richard raised his eyes and immediately the court fell silent, making the usage of his gavel redundant. He struck it lightly for the sake of formality before he cleared his throat, resting his hand atop your head to signal you to stop your ministrations. “You are being charged with petty larceny and the garrotting of several women, what say you in defense of these charges?” he said, his booming voice reverberating through the courtroom, fixing a cold glare at the defendant. How dare he ignore you! Use you for his pleasure and tell you to stop at his own convenience? God, he was way too privileged!

Glaring at him, as you kneeled on the floor, your eyes flashed with anger and defiance, Richard, ever so oblivious didn’t seem to notice the anger radiating from beneath him. Ignoring his wishes for you to halt your movements, you started to bob up and down again, swirling your tongue around his shaft just the way you knew he liked it, feeling him throb against your tongue, you glanced up at him cheekily as he glowered at you. Consequences be damned, you were no convenience, and you certainly weren’t controlled by him!

Barely stifling a moan, Richard’s thighs tensed as he fought to keep his composure. Watching the defendant bow his head in defeat, he heard him profess his guilt, “I plead guilty and ask you for your mercy, your honor.” If he didn’t have a little minx between his legs he’d sneer at the fool in front of him for even thinking he’d be merciful. 

Feeling you take him deeper, he watched as your hand reached up to wrap around the base of his shaft to pump what you couldn't fit in your mouth, with his breathing growing ragged, he only hoped that nobody could see his very obviously flustered state. His grip on your hair only grew tighter as he tensed further, his muscles pulled taut as he felt his orgasm approach rapidly.

Realizing the entire courtroom was awaiting his verdict, he coughed, trying to cover up any of the obvious hints of his arousal, “The jury will deliberate and your fate will be announced at a later court date, this court is adjourned.” He said banging his gavel before watching everyone file out of the courthouse in confusion. 

The Esteemed Juge Turpin, widely revered and equally feared, had rarely relied on a jury—his rulings were law, laws he often wrote without deliberation. Murmurs filled the courtroom as the gallery began to question whether or not even Richard was second-guessing himself. The reason behind his stalling was, in truth, much simpler than what they suspected. Richard was merely just a pawn in his wife’s new uptaking of mischief and suffering the consequences.

After everyone filed out and left, Richard’s head fell back against his chair as you continued to suck him off. “You are so dead-” he groaned, not even able to finish his snarky comment as he felt his cock throb with his impending orgasm. With a strangled gasp and a deep guttural groan, Richard’s hips bucked into you as he came hard, his seed spilling down your throat in thick, hot, spurts that even you struggled to keep up with. After his orgasm subsided, you released his cock with a wet pop, the sound reverberating through the empty courtroom.

Slumping back against his chair, you watched with a satisfied smile as he struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving. Tucking him back into his pants, you heard him hiss, his cock was incredibly oversensitive after that mindblowing orgasm no doubt. Standing up, you dusted off your dress, looking at him with a wicked smirk, “Hmph, what was that love?” 

Sneering at you with half-lidded eyes, Richard huffed, unable to punish you for the time being, “Your arse is going to be so red when I get my hands on you,” he rasped out, watching you saunter away. He was so going to get you back tenfold, despite his mostly playful annoyance, deep down, he couldn’t deny the obvious satisfaction he got from surrendering his control to you…

AN: First time writing smut, how'd I do? ;)

[syn0vial]

Wyll Voicelines: Healing/Helping/Buffing

A compilation of Wyll’s voicelines when he’s healing a character with a spell, using the “help” action to free them from an immobilized position, or casting a buffing spell.

Healing (Negative Approval)

Getting it done.

A clear necessity.

To the rescue. Of course.

To the rescue.

No need to thank me.

Let's not make a habit of this.

The greater good.

Healing (Neutral Approval)

The Blade provides.

I've got just the fix.

I'll get you fit as a fox.

The cure for what ails you.

Need some healing?

Let's patch you up.

Healing (Positive Approval)

This should do the trick!

Happy to help!

Healing you up.

I'll patch you right up.

The touch of life.

Healing (Romantic Interest)

I've got you!

I won't let you down!

Keep calm - I'm coming!

You can count on me!

Let me help!

It's not your time.

Breathe easy.

Making you better.

Helping (Negative Approval)

Saving the day.

Coming.

As a favour.

So it goes.

If it can't wait.

Nothing but trouble.

You can't get yourself out?

Trapped? I suppose I could help.

Helping (Neutral Approval)

How 'bout a hand?

I've got it covered.

That's what I'm here for.

Better hurry!

On my way!

Hold it together!

Keep calm - I'm coming!

Coming to help.

Hero's work.

Helping (Positive Approval)

Here for you.

I've got you.

A bit of a bind.

A helping hand.

I'll get you free!

Don't worry - I've got this!

Help's on the way!

Helping (Romantic Interest)

Can't do it without you.

You can count on me.

I won't let you down.

That won't do.

Buffing (Negative Approval)

I'll do what I can.

The greater good.

As you need.

Doing my duty.

You need all the help you can get.

Buck up already.

Buffing (Neutral Approval)

The Blade's got you!

How about a pick-me-up?

Every little bit helps.

Proper inspiration.

Some pep for your step.

Willing and able.

Buffing (Positive Approval)

A friend in deed.

Easing your burden.

I won't let you down.

Be at ease.

Keep strong!

Need a boost?

At your service!

Buffing (Romantic Interest)

Stronger together.

I'll always come through.

I've got you.

We will prevail!

Here for you!

I won't turn my back!

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Cloak of the Midwinter Solsticekeeper
Wondrous item, legendary (requires attunement) ___ This warm red coat carries a feeling of good tidings and midwinter cheer, even in the most bitter of cold. While wearing it, you have resistance to cold damage, and any Wisdom (Insight) check you make is made with advantage. The cloak also has the following properties. 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨. While wearing the cloak, you can use an action to cast one of the following spells from it on yourself (save DC 17): “detect thoughts”, “enlarge/reduce”, “freedom of movement”, or “invisibility”. Once a spell has been cast from the cloak, that spell can’t be cast from it again until the next dawn. 𝙉𝙞𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚. While wearing the cloak, you gain a climbing speed of 30 feet, you can move through spaces as narrow as 1 foot wide without squeezing, and you have advantage on saving throws against traps and other environmental hazards. 𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩. As an action while wearing the cloak, you can flourish the cloak and draw an object from it using a free hand. The object can be any mundane item from the Adventuring Gear section of the Basic Rules worth no more than 5 gp. If the item is in any way sold or traded for a good or service, it immediately turns to a lump of sulfurous coal. The object remains for 24 hours or until you use this property again. When you remove an object from the cloak in this way, you can choose for it to be plain or wrapped in decorative tissue paper, which magically disappears in a plume of glittering snow after unwrapping. Alternatively, you can use an action to magically wrap an object you’re holding with the decorative tissue paper. 𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙂𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜. When you give a wrapped item to another creature that suggests an understanding of the other creature’s needs, the GM can grant you a special die, called a Giving Die, which is a d12.... ... Continued in the comment below! ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 14: fantasy AU

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

This is a bit (too) long, but I honestly loved writing it. I hope you like it as much as I do, it's my favorite so far!

Living as a magical creature was undoubtedly difficult. But being born a witch was practically a death sentence.

You couldn’t boast that your kind had ever been fully accepted by society, but at least you could live in peace with others, and perhaps, out of fear, they wouldn’t dare harm you. But now, everything was different with the institution of a new system that aimed to completely exterminate you.

There were no longer safe places, and you were forced to retreat into the forest, stay united in covens, or the boldest among you faced the enemy. Treating you as a threat only turned you into one, sparking an unprecedented war where the king’s men used all sorts of devices to hunt, torture, and kill witches. On your side, you practiced every spell you knew, cursing them sometimes and even causing entire towns to suffer the consequences.

It was so sad to witness the feud and know that someday you could be the one standing on that stake that had taken so many lives or hanging with your feet floating above the ground as a demonstration of what they were capable of doing: a warning.

You doubted that you could ever kill someone out of spite. Your work had always been about healing, and up until that moment, you hadn’t allowed dark magic to corrupt you in any way, adhering to your principle that magic should only be used for altruistic purposes or, at worst, in self-defense.

However, that didn’t exempt you from fearing the men tasked with hunting you. You used to travel between towns to sell your healing potions, always careful not to be spotted by anyone who might turn you in. Sometimes, you worked for free for families too poor to afford other services. After all, magic was more effective. It was always more effective, both for good and for evil.

The fireplace burned softly inside your cabin, just enough to warm you but not enough to attract the attention of those who passed through the forest. Honestly, being there sometimes felt like living in a cave. You had covered the few windows to avoid being seen, and to counteract the lack of light, you had placed candles throughout the space.

You were preparing a stew for dinner with vegetables you had bought that afternoon in a neighboring town when a knock at the door startled you. The knocks weren’t aggressive but not timid either, and you quickly ran to extinguish most of the candles, hoping whoever was behind the door would go away. No one found your place by accident, so it had to be an intruder. If it were another witch, you would have felt it.

"I know you're in there," said a voice behind the wood. It was deep, and fortunately, not unfamiliar to you. "Let me in, I don’t want anyone else noticing I’m here."

Fearful but determined, you walked to the door to do as he asked. Suddenly, you remembered how the man always complained that your footsteps made no sound, something you found useful all the time.

Before opening, you discreetly peeked through a crack in the wood to make sure no one else was with him. Having a witch hunter at your door was bad enough; more of them would be catastrophic.

You pulled the handle of the old wood to reveal your guest, and he silently walked inside.

You had never met a man as strange as Reid, the witch hunter. You first saw each other during a skirmish you hadn’t planned to be part of but unfortunately ended up involved in. Your role wasn’t to attack anyone; instead, you helped your injured companions. At some point during the altercation, the man managed to catch you, and, scared but determined not to let him discover who you were, you tried to escape. He attempted to put a pair of shackles on you, but you fought back with all your strength. Although you tried to cast a spell, the man was intelligent. His hands strategically held you to prevent any of your movements, and he was strong enough that you couldn’t overpower him.

“Witch, it’ll be worse if you resist…”

You didn’t know if he said that to convince you or out of frustration from the struggle you were giving him, but you didn’t want to find out either. You bit the hand within your reach, and though he groaned, he didn’t release you entirely. When one of your feet touched the ground, giving you more stability, you kicked him in the stomach, forcing him to let you go.

You tried to run, but the man was an expert. He quickly reached for his sword, still sheathed at his waist. You looked him in the eye and regretted being in this situation. You didn’t want to hurt him, but it was kill or be killed.

Suddenly, you noticed hesitation in him, as if he didn’t want to do anything but capture you. His long hair was tangled, and his face was smeared with blood: you didn’t want to know if it was his or one of the women’s.

A crash echoed, and in a split second, a flash of blue light shot through the air, hitting the hunter’s shoulder in front of you. A few inches to the side, and it probably would have killed him instantly.

He collapsed to the ground, dropping his sword to use his hand to try to stop the blood pouring out in torrents. You stood in shock, watching him for a few seconds, stunned by the deep pain on his face. However, there was something else: it looked like hate, but if you looked closely, it was fear. No one wants to die, and in that gaze, there was fear of passing to the other life.

What could you do in that case? The wisest thing would have been to run away and leave him to his fate, but you hesitated for a second. Was that really the right thing to do? He had tried to capture you, but after all, he was a man, a soul.

Cautiously but without wasting time, you stumbled to his side, kneeling, and extended your hands over his body, covered by a leather jacket, pressing on the wound.

“Leave me alone!”

“Shut up, I’m trying to save your life,” you scolded him.

You began to recite a spell, and although he tried to move, the pain wouldn’t let him. Little by little, he felt the burning sensation diminishing, along with the feeling of his blood gushing out.

Reid was an expert at remembering faces. Thanks to that, his team of hunters often managed to catch witches, even if they moved from place to place. While you worked, he focused on observing you. Your face was smudged with soot, and you had a small cut at the hairline, but other than that, you were fairly easy to recognize. Your brows were furrowed with concern, and he wondered what kind of crazy person you were to be helping him, even though he had been about to condemn you minutes earlier.

When the pain was completely gone, leaving only a red stain, you knew you were vulnerable again, so you quickly got up to move away from the man. You didn’t know how long you ran, but the memory of the tears streaming down your face, thinking about abandoning your own kind, was etched in your memory.

The second time you saw each other was a complete accident. You had gone to town to stock up on some materials you needed, carefully buying from different vendors so that no one could accuse you of practicing witchcraft, when you bumped into someone. Before you could apologize, you saw that golden insignia worn by the most prestigious hunters, and as soon as you looked up, you both recognized each other instantly.

You didn’t hesitate to turn and run in the opposite direction, knocking into some people along the way. A few meters ahead, he caught up to you, grabbing your arm and dragging you into a secluded alley.

“Don’t kill me,” was the first thing you said, looking at him with an involuntary pleading expression.

Thanks to the daylight, you could observe him better and noticed the hardness in his features. He was intimidating, no doubt, and you understood why there were enough reasons to consider him dangerous.

“Why did you help me?”

There was a gruffness in his question that made it sound as if he were angry. Was he offended that he had been saved by the enemy? Or did he want to know your reasons before sending you to die?

He still held one of your hands tightly, fully aware that most spells required both your hands. There was silence for a moment as you stared at each other until you dared to speak.

“I don’t know.”

“I tried to capture you.”

“I know,” you replied just as seriously. He still hadn’t let you go. “But it’s my job. I help others. And I didn’t want the guilt of having left you lying there, although now that I think about it, it probably would’ve been the smarter thing to do.”

“You could’ve let me die, but you didn’t,” he murmured, almost as if talking to himself rather than to you “You didn’t.”

He sounded incredulous, as if the idea of an act of kindness from you was unimaginable. You remained very still, waiting for him to do something, and after a few seconds, he released your wrist.

“Go,” he said again. “It’s a life for a life.”

Without thinking too much about what he was offering you, you fled once more, and you didn’t stop until you reached the forest, completely forgetting the reason you had gone there in the first place. You would buy the ingredients elsewhere, what mattered most now was getting as far away from that hunter as possible.

As if by fate, you continued to run into each other, and each time your panicked glances were ignored by him, as if by not looking directly at you, he was giving you a chance to escape. Months passed this way, and at some point, you found him at your cabin door when you returned from the town.

You thought this would be your end and cursed yourself for not letting him die, sealing your tragic fate. However, he wasn’t there to capture you but to make a deal. You couldn’t believe it. After all, since when did hunters negotiate with witches?

“You’re something like a healer, aren’t you?” he asked once he had forced you inside the cabin so you wouldn’t be discovered.

“I am.”

“And do you know how to treat head troubles?” he asked curiously “You know, things doctors can’t?”

You didn’t understand what he wanted, and once again, you felt afraid. The enemy knew where you lived; he was standing in your home, not pinning you against a wall to immobilize you. He was seeking your help, which you had every right to refuse if you wished.

“You’re a witch hunter,” you muttered aloud, your tone bordering on disgust “What does it matter if I can do that?”

If you were going to die, you wanted to do it with integrity.

“Listen, I can offer you something in exchange for your help. I can protect you. If I hadn’t kept quiet, my companions would have already found and killed you because no detail escapes me. If I figure it out, my whole team knows, but on their own, they won’t be able to decipher it. I’m the one standing between them and you. If I say nothing, you’ll be safe.”

Could you trust his word? What if it was all a trap? A million questions crossed your mind at that moment, and you tried to consider whether the risk was worth the reward. Probably no hunter in history had ever sought help from a witch, and you were sure your kind couldn’t trust ordinary humans.

But despite knowing this, you accepted. After all, your secret was already exposed, and if you refused, you would only hasten the inevitable result. At least by accepting his deal, you bought time. You could live until he decided you were no longer useful, or when his team of hunters wanted to eliminate more witches.

Months had passed since then. That’s how he told you what he was suffering from, and you helped him treat it, giving him various infusions, ointments, and occasionally using some magic directly on him.

“Have you gotten better or worse?”

“I’ve improved. On a scale from one to ten, maybe a seven.”

“Have you followed the instructions I gave you? The therapeutic baths, drinking the drops I gave you, all of that…”

“Yes. Sometimes I don’t have time, but I try.”

Whenever he visited you, neither of you made eye contact. You pretended to be busy preparing things, while he kept analyzing the wood of your table as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Alright. Give me a moment, and I’ll prepare what you need.”

Reid hummed in response, and he stayed calm, drumming his fingers on the surface in front of him. While you mixed ingredients, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, noticing that he was wearing his characteristic black clothes, but this time he looked more relaxed. No sword or visible weapons. He was only wearing a linen shirt and pants, which made you wonder if the night’s chill would affect him.

Your cabin was exceedingly warm, and although he wouldn’t admit it, there was a comforting feeling upon entering.

“I heard you caught the Green Witch.”

“We did, yes. Just yesterday. By the afternoon, her sentence had already been passed.”

“May the gods receive her with joy, and may she become magical strength for her coven,” you recited, making a gesture similar to crossing yourself.

Reid assumed that this was what you witches said every time one of your kind died.

“Did you know her?”

“Yes. We met a couple of times. She was a bit mad, but not so much that I’d wish her dead.”

“She did a lot of bad things.”

“I know. But years ago, she lived in peace with us.” You fell silent for a moment, waiting for a response. None came. “What you people do to my sisters is completely inhumane. Did you know that?”

“We’re just trying to protect people.”

“Yes, from something that wasn’t dangerous until you decided it was. If you keep telling someone they’re evil long enough, I think you’ll eventually push them into becoming that.”

Admitting it out loud would be a betrayal of the principles on which he worked, but Reid had thought many times about what you had just told him. The first encounter he had with you caused a complete ideological conflict in his mind. The lingering question had started to take shape: What if not all witches were evil?

He had joined the hunters to help achieve a greater good for his people. During those months, he had enjoyed the effects of your remedies, you had taken care of him, and despite who he was, you treated him with respect. He wondered if your behavior was out of fear that he might expose you to the other hunters or if your actions were genuine.

“If I refused to keep helping you…” you began, breaking the silence. He was deep in thought, and your voice brought him back to reality “Would you send me to the stake?”

As you said this, you still didn’t look at him. Focused on your work table, you gave him your back, somehow hoping his response would come directly to that place. You were sure of what he would say, that it would reach you like a stab.

“Are you planning to stop helping me?”

“Would you do it?” you insisted.

Reid thought about it for a moment and decided to answer your question with another.

“Would you be capable of killing me?” When you heard that, you turned with a confused expression. “You have all the means, to be honest. I drink those things you give me without question. Who’s to say you couldn’t be poisoning me?”

“I would never do that.”

“I can’t know that, just as you have doubts, so do I. It’s a matter of trust. Helping me is your choice, I’m just offering the benefit of protection in return. But if one day that agreement breaks, it won’t be me accusing you. If you decide to act wrongly, that’s your responsibility.”

You fell silent, observing him seriously. He was such a strange man.

“So, it’s our fault that we’re sent to die? Without being given the chance to prove we can help you?”

“Don’t think I’m a fool. I know you travel through the villages selling your potions and healing the poor. You’re proving your worth by keeping yourself alive, and that’s why you’re still here. You might live a long life as long as you don’t draw attention.”

“But I’m still a witch in the end. And you’re a hunter. The outcome for that combination is logical and inevitable.”

“And do you think all hunters are monsters?”

“I don’t know. Do you think all of us are evil?”

The two of you fell silent. Neither of you would dare say what you really thought. But there was something in the look you shared that felt hopeful.

Sensing the lack of response, you turned back to your work, and the conversation was over. A few minutes later, you placed three jars, a wooden container with ointment, and a plate of hot stew on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Food. No poison. If you don’t want to join me, then take your remedies, and the door is open.”

You had never invited him to stay longer than necessary, and the proposal felt strange to both of you.

Reid’s silence and his remaining in your home seemed to indicate a positive response, and still without saying anything, you served yourself a plate to join him for dinner. The sound of the fireplace was all that could be heard around you, along with the occasional noises of nature.

Whenever you weren’t paying attention, Reid would look up to observe you, as if you were a puzzle he needed to solve. Similarly, you analyzed his behavior, wondering if this man was worth the risks you were taking. Once, your gazes crossed, but as soon as your eyes met, both of you looked away.

“I should go,” he announced after finishing his meal. He wanted to compliment your cooking skills but couldn’t find the words. “Should I take the medicine the usual way?”

“Yes. The ointment is only if you have a fever.”

“Alright,” he muttered, nodding his head. He needed to leave, but it was as if his feet weren’t responding. “Thanks. For everything.”

For perhaps the first time, Reid saw a smile on your lips, and he took it as a sign of trust.

“Be careful on your way back.”

You didn’t speak of the matter any further, and you tried with all your might not to think about it. But the weeks passed, and you heard no news of Reid. It wasn’t as if you wanted to run into him everywhere, of course, but not knowing anything about him left you feeling strangely uneasy this time.

During one of your visits to town, you overheard rumors and couldn’t help but get curious. Several people were saying the same thing, both villagers and hunters.

"The hunter Reid is sick."

The women recited prayers, and the men expressed their sympathy for him. Apparently, he was a well-liked figure among the villagers, which made you wonder why and, secondly, why he hadn’t come to you for help.

Through whispers, a few questions, and your own deductions, you managed to find out where the man lived, and, trembling, you decided to search for him. Night had already fallen, and you hoped that under the cover of darkness, your identity would remain hidden.

Once you arrived, it wasn’t difficult to open the door, but your main fear was that he might have company, which would ruin everything. You noticed that the place was modest, with just a small hallway, a little room with shelves full of books, and a tiny space for preparing and eating meals. In the back, visible from the entrance, was a room dimly lit by a nearly extinguished candle.

How angry would he be if he found you in his home? In his territory, violating the place he likely considered sacred and safe? A witch in the house of a witch hunter.

He was alone in the room, lying on a small bed pushed against the wall, barely fitting his frame. He looked peaceful, but also visibly worn out, and his cheeks were flushed. You had heard of an illness affecting humans, killing them in large numbers: the plague.

Gently, almost maternally, you brushed his hair away from his forehead to check his temperature. He was burning up with fever.

“Who is it?” he asked hoarsely, barely having the strength to speak. When he cracked his eyes open and saw you, you noticed his transition from drowsiness to alarm.

“It’s me. I’m here. Calm down, you’re not hallucinating,” you murmured. Without wasting time, you searched among his belongings for the ointment you had made for him weeks ago, and without questioning it, you began to apply a layer to his forehead.

“What are you doing here?”

“The whole town is talking about you. I couldn’t help but hear, so I thought I’d come to check if my protection from the gallows was still in place,” you teased lightly.

You were lying. You wanted to see him, and you were worried about him. But you weren’t going to admit that.

“I’m just a little sore. Everyone’s exaggerating.”

“Has anyone given you anything? Food, medicine?”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything.”

“Oh, so you want to go out like a real martyr? Suffering helps you reach heaven, or that’s what you people say, right?”

“Why did you come to see me? How… how did you know where I live?”

He spoke with difficulty, struggling to string his thoughts together, likely because of the illness. He was completely vulnerable before you.

“Do you want me to leave?” you asked first. “Because I can.”

“No offense,” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “It was just a question”

“Then, do you want me to stay?”

“If you want to, then yes.”

Neither of you would back down. Resigned, you found a chair to sit beside the bed and rummaged through your bag for something that could help him. You had a loaf of bread meant for your cabin and some tea, still warm, that you had bought from a farmer. Despite the hardship you'd face, your will allowed you to offer both to the hunter.

“You need to eat and drink something. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll prepare a potion that will help lessen the symptoms. With that and a little magic, you’ll be well by tomorrow or the day after you won’t even remember being sick.”

“Aren’t you afraid someone will see you?”

“Of course I am. But I trust you’re not so treacherous as to betray me after I’ve risked coming here to help you.”

In that, you were right. And Reid knew it.

Without saying anything, you placed the food and the steaming tea on a little table beside the bed, then went to another area to start your work. Even though you didn’t have all your ingredients with you, you could prepare something decent with the supplies in your bag.

When you returned to the room, he had already devoured half of the bread and nearly finished the tea. You noticed that he was struggling to stay seated, so you encouraged him to lie down again, ready to begin your work.

Reid watched closely as you moved your hands and the faint sparks that appeared each time you twitched your fingers. It seemed as if you were pulling something from within him, and the man’s curious nature emerged.

“What exactly are you doing with that?”

“I’m pulling the illness from your system. Your soul is infected, so I have to cleanse it.”

“And the illness? Where does it go?”

“I absorb it,” you explained. Seeing his disbelief, you continued, “Magic always requires you to give something. That’s why so many witches who use dark magic end up corrupting themselves. Committing evildoings requires absorbing that pain.”

“Have you ever used dark magic?”

Suddenly, the conversation felt kind, intimate, almost like that of a pair of friends... or even lovers. You were terrified but didn’t let him notice.

“No. I practice Wicca: nature grants me power, and I am at peace with it. Without harming others.”

“It’s fascinating to hear someone talk about it. We know how to capture, contain, and kill your kind... I mean, witches. But I never really thought about what you all practice or believe.”

His voice was soft, tired, while you continued your work.

“Do all of you have the same mark?”

His hand reached up to touch your forearm, and you felt a shiver run through your body. His finger rested lightly on your birthmark, a reddish spot.

“Witches who are born with magic do. Well, most of them. For those who turn evil, the mark darkens, and often their fingers start to turn black, as if they have soot on their hands. It’s part of the transformation.”

“And is it true that you’re daughters of the devil?”

You let out a scoff, incredulous, wondering how many more lies had been told to tarnish your people’s image and turn you into monsters.

“We are daughters of Mother Nature, descendants of the oldest magical lineages. We have nothing to do with Lucifer.”

“And how is a witch born? Do you need... to be intimate with someone of your kind?”

“I think that’s a bit too personal of a question,” you murmured disapprovingly. With one final movement, you eliminated the sickness from his soul, and you felt that even his appearance had changed. “Better?”

“A little.”

“You need to drink this all day tomorrow and if possible, the day after. Dissolve it in enough water, and as the hours pass, you’ll notice improvement. But the most important thing now is for you to rest.”

“And where are you going?”

“To my cabin. You don’t expect me to stay in town, do you?”

“The night is dangerous,” he tried to warn, but you responded with a laugh.

“So what? Afraid I’ll run into a witch?”

Reid didn’t miss the teasing tone in your voice, and for a moment, he felt the same connection, that sense of familiarity you had felt before.

“You’ll be fine. Just follow the instructions and find me when you’re better,” you murmured, hoping that would suffice as a farewell.

However, the man stretched out his hand to stop you from leaving, gently taking your fingers. You correctly assumed that no witch had ever received such a soft touch from a hunter, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Why do you insist on proving you’re good?” he asked, reflecting aloud. You looked puzzled by his statement. “You saved my life even though I sought to take yours. You help me stay sane with your herbs, and now you come here and assist me even though no one asked you to.”

“Are you dissatisfied?”

“I’m confused. How am I supposed to capture more witches, knowing they could be like you? That they could be kind, sweet… that they could be so human?”

His monologue seemed more like he was trying to understand things himself, rather than asking you. But if he was recognizing you as human, was he suggesting he saw you as an equal?

You were walking on very thin ice. Ice that could easily crack under the heat of emotions... of passion, and something strange that was brewing inside both of you.

“Just don’t do it,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. Without waiting any longer, afraid that his touch would overwhelm you, you pulled your hand away and walked toward the door. “Keep me updated. If you die, my protection dies too.”

You tried to make your words sound indifferent, but the truth was, they came out with a mixture of concern and plea. Reid felt a sense of pride, thinking that you were implying you needed him. That for one reason or another, you wanted him to stay alive.

“Thank you,” he murmured, delirious. In your heart, you hoped for his recovery, or you would never forgive yourself.

You waved goodbye and then made your way to the door of the house. Luck was on your side, there wasn’t a soul in sight. Cautiously, using those silent steps the hunter often complained about, you walked into the forest and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Throughout the night, perhaps due to fever or perhaps due to desire, Reid dreamed of you.

The months passed. Everyone was amazed at the sudden recovery of the hunter, and most attributed it to a miracle, not knowing that the magic they so despised had actually saved him.

Apparently, that second act of compassion on your part had softened his heart, and his visits became more frequent, almost always lacking any real purpose. He excused himself by saying that he wanted to learn more about witches, to see if there was a less violent way to deal with those who were evil. You had basically become the subject of his research.

Part of you was terrified at the thought that someone might discover your meetings or that he might dare to use against you all the information you were giving him. However, over time, the trust between you both grew considerably.

Titles had been lost somewhere along the way. Suddenly, you were no longer a witch, and he was no longer a hunter. You were simply two people, curious about discovering the secrets of the other's nature, beginning to learn that perhaps the beliefs you both had grown up with could be wrong.

Reid took it upon himself to warn you every time a hunt was going to start, making sure you didn’t leave your place until it was safe, trying desperately to keep the hunters away from the section of the forest where you lived.

Time was the only culprit for you growing fond of him. You didn’t want to; you never planned for it, but gradually, the feeling crept under your skin, and you couldn’t avoid it. It was terrifying just to think about it.

“It's beautiful, isn’t it?”

Reid was mesmerized by the view in front of him. Your curious friend had asked if it was true that fairies existed since he had never seen one, and you promised to take him to meet them. So, one afternoon, you ended up at a stunning crystal-clear lagoon surrounded by trees, with colorful lights flitting from one side to the other.

“We’ve explored this forest so many times. How come I’ve never seen this?”

“Sometimes, you humans only see what you need to see. The fairies are very protective of their territory, so not just anyone finds them,” you said, smiling slightly.

The idea of him being so excited to meet the fairies surprised you a lot. You had spent so much time with him that your perception of humans had inevitably changed too. Maybe not all of them were destined to hate magical beings… perhaps some could even grow to admire you.

But sometimes, you had mixed feelings about it. He visited you, protected you, trusted you… but he was still a hunter, wasn’t he? He still helped send witches like you to their deaths.

Only the evil ones, he always justified.

“Those little lights… Are they them?”

You hummed in agreement and carefully extended your palms, hoping one of them would approach. When one finally did, Reid was able to see it.

Fairies, contrary to what many humans believed, weren’t tiny, beautiful versions of a person with transparent wings. In reality, fairies were brown-colored creatures with moth-like wings and hair that looked like a bird’s nest.

“Aren’t they curious?”

“Very fascinating,” he admitted, a smile forming on his face. Lately, watching him smile had become one of your favorite activities.

He observed the scenery for a while, trying to register as many details as possible, while you gathered some plants that you would use to prepare potions or infusions.

Seeing you amid nature awakened a strange feeling in Reid. Kneeling, dressed in a white gown that gave you a certain aura of purity, your hair fell like a curtain over your face.

What was that feeling? Why did he feel this way, watching you so peacefully?

You said something, but honestly, Reid didn’t hear you. He was too distracted by the glow of your face and wondering where the little flowers in your hair had come from. It was probably the fairies, he thought, during the time he hadn’t been watching you.

“I asked if you know how to swim,” you repeated with a small smile “There are some who say this lagoon has healing properties. There are nymphs, too, but I haven’t seen any lately. They’re a bit possessive, to be honest.”

“Nymphs?” he asked, astonished, which only made you laugh.

Without saying another word, you set your basket aside, and Reid was shocked to see you start taking off your dress, leaving yourself in nothing but a very thin undergarment that was too indecent to be considered proper. But he couldn’t expect modesty from someone like you; after all, you had already shown that you didn’t follow conventional rules.

You gracefully dove into the lagoon, and Reid watched you disappear into the water, only to resurface a few seconds later.

“Come on!”

Reid hesitated for a minute, but eventually, he gave in and joined you in the water under the same conditions as you: in his underwear.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” you spoke again, floating on your back in the clear water.

You had your eyes closed, as the sun was shining directly on your face, and Reid tried to avert his gaze from the curves of your body, which were now visible through your soaked clothes. He felt slightly embarrassed by the improper thoughts that crossed his mind, thoughts he couldn’t control.

“Swimming?”

“The nature. The village is so gray and sad… everything here is better.”

The man hummed, as if to say that he agreed with you. Suddenly, he felt a couple of fairies fluttering around him, and the movement of their wings tickled him, making him laugh.

“Do mermaids exist?”

“They do, but only in the open sea. You should be careful with the sirens.���

“What’s the difference?”

“Mermaids can be benevolent if they wish. But sirens’ sole task is to seduce sailors and lure them to the bottom of the sea; they attract them with their song and beauty.”

“I didn’t know there were so many creatures I had to worry about, not just witches. No offense.”

“Oh, Reid. You humans are missing out on a whole world,” you teased, swimming right up to him “The difference is that witches don’t try to seduce you. We’re a bit more practical.”

“That would be a good strategy.”

“Do you want a witch to seduce you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to one side to look at him.

“No! I mean… using beauty to attract people with reason might be effective. I suppose.”

“Unfortunately, there aren’t too many candidates who interest us. Most of them are grouchy, horrible old men. Although, well… there are always exceptions to the rule.”

Were you flirting with him? From the way you were looking at him, he thought it was entirely possible.

“Anyway, all it would take to make a man fall for us is putting a bit of love potion in his tea. It wouldn’t be hard.”

“Now I understand why my tea tastes weird lately.”

There was something unspoken in your teasing, something suggestive, even sinful. Yes, because the idea that a witch and a witch hunter could have that kind of tension was ridiculous. Unthinkable.

You both stared at each other for a second, waiting for the other to say something, but that didn’t happen.

“Are our things still where we left them? There are goblins in this forest too, and they tend to be quite mischievous.”

“They are,” he quickly answered.

You smiled and, with a nod of your head, invited him to follow you, then began swimming in an unknown direction.

You chatted for a while as you swam, and little by little, the sky turned orange, signaling that sunset was approaching. You were in an area surrounded by grass, where more fairies sparkled around than Reid had ever seen before, making the atmosphere visually stunning.

“We should head back. They might wonder where you are,” you suggested, glancing at the sky “Tonight is a full moon. A perfect occasion for a human sacrifice, and I don’t want any speculation.”

Your tone was playful, and just as he was about to respond, everything suddenly seemed to slow down. Behind you, there was a whirlpool in the water, and by the time he tried to warn you, it was too late. The natural phenomenon swallowed you up immediately, almost as if your body were in free fall.

Reid was seized by panic. His area of expertise didn’t involve bodies of water, but he knew how dangerous a whirlpool could be, as it could cause you to drown.

Without wasting time, he dove underwater and spent almost a painful minute trying to grab one of your limbs to pull you toward him. When he finally succeeded, your body was heavy and limp, making him fear the worst.

When he managed to resurface, he swam with you to the shore, carefully laying you down. While lying next to you, he called your name several times, moving your head to get you to respond, but nothing happened.

“Come on! Wake up!” he urged, his voice filled with evident desperation.

Suddenly, he remembered some of his knowledge of the human body and, albeit fearfully, began pressing on your chest to try to expel the water from your lungs. Every few compressions, he leaned in to give you mouth-to-mouth, hoping it would be enough to revive you.

When he finally heard you gasp and saw you roll onto your side to vomit all the water, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened?” you asked, disoriented.

Reid was nearly hovering over you, holding your cheeks with both hands as if to assess your condition, his honey-colored eyes locked onto yours.

“A whirlpool. I tried to warn you, but it already had you.”

“Oh…” you exhaled, still coughing a bit. It took you a second to process it “And you saved me?”

“Of course. Who else would it be?” he muttered, almost in a reproachful tone.

A small smile crossed your lips.

“So, is this going to become a habit? Saving each other’s lives?”

It wasn’t until that moment that you both became aware of how close you were. His wet body was pressed against yours, and Reid could feel your chest firmly against his. He was still holding your cheeks.

You stared at each other. His eyes, his beautiful and gentle eyes, were fixed on yours. Just breathing a little heavier would have allowed you to feel each other’s breath, your noses practically brushing.

Once again, you faced a dilemma. You could have gotten rid of him a long time ago. Not once, but many times. And he could have done the same without consequences. But that was never your intention; it was useless to keep pretending.

And then, it just happened. It felt natural for both of you to lean in and close the distance, sealing your lips together without any need for explanation.

Your kisses said it all. They said: I care about you. They said: I was afraid I was going to lose you. They said: I know you’re not evil like the others. And they said: I know you’re not ruthless like them.

Suddenly, the contact didn’t seem to be enough, and Reid positioned himself over you to continue kissing you, with no protest from your side. You could feel the heat beneath you, and he undoubtedly felt the same. His free hand firmly gripped your side, almost massaging the soft parts of your torso. You held him tightly, your fingers tangled in the wet curls of his hair.

And so, within a matter of minutes, you both gave in to the unrestrained passion that had been growing inside you for the past few months.

He was good to you, careful. You reciprocated, caressing him gracefully and whispering sweet words in his ear.

The thin ice you had both been walking on didn’t even exist anymore. It had shattered at that moment, and all that remained was an intense fire engulfing the both of you.

You just had to be careful that a heat like that didn’t turn into a pyre.

[merakiui]

[01] 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁.

villain!azul ashengrotto x magical girl!reader note - welcome to this very impulsive magical girl parody! i'm not sure how many chapters it will be exactly, but i'm looking forward to writing more. i hope you'll enjoy reading! chapter navigation: [01] (you are here) // [02]

Magic is a messy, complex thing.

It can enchant and amaze with beautiful, endless possibilities. It can terrify with traumatic results. Like any sort of power in this world, it is a heavy responsibility for those who wield it. Everything has its dark side; you’re sure the same holds true for magic. No matter how marvelous it may be, surely there exists some shadow.

It’s also something you can’t use, and so the good and the bad don’t really apply to you!

Not that this is cause for envy. Rather, you’re relieved you don’t have to worry about experiencing the problems that accompany magic. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is; magic would only further complicate it. With no other plausible way to return to your world, you’ve had to make your home here on Sage’s Island. It’s an isolated place, boasting two elite magical universities and a bustling town.

It also happens to resemble a chicken wing on maps, so that’s a plus. Truly an ideal getaway! If only you weren’t trapped here indefinitely… Maybe then you’d have better appreciation for it.

As it happens, you’re a janitor living in the abandoned, decrepit dorm on the outskirts of campus. It took a month since you moved in, but you’ve managed to clean it up into a habitable space with the help of its resident haunts. The Headmage hasn’t been very helpful or present since your arrival, and so you’ve had to make do with what little you’ve been given. But for all of his troubling qualities, he isn’t inherently cruel. He’s kind enough to pay you for your services (but then that was only after you threatened him into an agreement), and he doesn’t overwork you (again, this is because you made it abundantly clear you won’t do anything if it violates your own sanity in some way, shape, or form). At least he’s willing to negotiate every time you argue for humane working conditions.

He’s an irksome guy. You can’t believe he has the gall to call himself the ‘embodiment of magnanimity’ when he’s done the bare minimum. Even the ghosts have offered more assistance and they don’t have any sort of authority here! You’re pleased to share a space with them. Sometimes they seem more reliable than the Headmage.

Despite your attempts to acclimate, the illustrious Night Raven College is still a place wholly unsuitable for a magicless human such as yourself. You’re the same age as some of the students here, but they feel like they’re on another level. Flying overhead on brooms, casting spells, mixing up potions… You listen in on some of their conversations while washing windows or sweeping the floors and wonder if all magic schools are this rigorous.

Maybe that’s any school regardless of its curriculum. Any sort of academic pursuit comes with difficulties; that’s normal. But magic is a facet unique to this world. There aren’t any arcane academies where you’re from, but now you wish there were. They seem so fascinating.

“Not much of my problem, though, is it?” you mumble, shaking free of that thought. Being a janitor is great. You can avoid the stress of school and keep up with the gossip exchanged in the halls. It’s like reading the newspaper, only it’s spoken instead of written.

Morning spills through the part in the curtains when you open them. You shut your eyes and bask in the warming glow of a sunshine smooch. It’s going to be another great day—you’re sure of this—and a day as pleasant as this deserves to be lived in its entirety. Perhaps you’ll have a picnic outside or you could even—

BAM.

Your eyes snap open just in time to view the raven who’s slammed itself against the window. Disoriented, it jerks itself up and away from the glass, flapping its wings wildly. You watch its attempts with a pitying frown. And then, inching closer to pull the window open to allow the raven respite, you see it: the blue flames racing towards you at a rapid speed.

With a yelp, you dive out of the way just in time. Due to the forceful blast, the window shatters in a spray of glass. Heat licks at your face, so hot it almost singes your brows, and you stumble to the other side of the room in a panicked daze.

“You lousy bird!” someone exclaims, the words pronounced in a growl. “Get back here so I can nab ya and prove that I’m worthy of bein’ at this school!”

The raven squawks, fluttering wildly about your room. A sleek, obsidian-colored feather floats into your hand. You don’t have time to admire it, for the curtains have just caught fire.

“Come on—I just put those up last week!” you bemoan, looking on in abject horror.

From the opening, a furry creature bursts through. He resembles a grey cat with his short, fluffy stature, but his tail is shaped strangely and there’s blue fire flickering from his ears. The same blue fire he’s currently conjuring in an attempt to catch the raven…

You grab hold of the coat rack—the nearest viable weapon you can think of—and jump in front of him. He startles and leaps back when you swing.

“What’re you doing?! You can’t do that in here! Fuck—my curtains! Don’t light anything else on fire!”

Baffled, the cat-creature scoffs at you. “How was I supposed to know someone’s livin’ in here? Not my fault!”

“It’s a residence! Of course someone lives here! I live here!”

“When they make me the Great Mage Grim, I’ll fix this place up for ya. That’s a promise! I just gotta catch that bird and prove myself a worthy candidate. Just you wait—they’ll be puttin’ my name up in lights!”

“Like hell they will!”

With a devastated groan, you whack the curtains down with the coat rack. They land in a heap, smoke curling from beneath the pile and sliding out the shattered window in dark, wispy tendrils. It takes a frazzled few stomps and smacks before the fire fizzles away, leaving you with charred curtains and the distinct stench of something scorched.

Still panting from the adrenaline rush, you loosen your grip on the coat rack. This is a mess. What am I going to do? I don’t have enough money to fix this!

You turn your hateful scowl on the cat-creature. “You!”

“W-Wait! Wait!” He raises a paw to his lips and gestures towards your bedside table. The raven sits perched, a golden chain wrapped around its neck and an envelope clasped in its beak. In all of the chaos, you must have missed that. “Don’t say a word. It’s right there.”

He approaches stealthily, slow as a sloth, and pounces. He misses narrowly, ending up with a mouthful of feathers instead. The raven caws and takes flight, circling overhead.

He spits feathers. “Myahaha! I got it! I actually—oh. Dumb bird… No one can escape the Great Grim.”

The raven lands on your shoulder next. It cocks its head at you.

“What? Is this for me?” you ask, even though you’re certain of the answer. You pluck the envelope from the raven, who sets to preening itself now that it’s no longer occupied.

“Give it here!” The cat-creature hops up onto your bed, reaching with an expectant paw. “That bird’s got my admission letter!”

“Your letter?” You hold it out of reach and stick your tongue out at him. “No ‘great mage’ sets someone’s home on fire. You’re a subpar mage, if anything.”

“I am not! You just wait—I’ll show you!”

“I don’t want to see anymore.” Turning away, you break the wax seal and procure the parchment waiting within.

He swipes at you impatiently. “Lemme see! What’s it say?”

Written in elegant script, complete with a stamp you’ve never seen before, it looks very official. Whoever wrote it is exceptionally good at cursive, their letters swooping together seamlessly. It’s almost like a decorative artwork with its double-looped O’s and dancing cursive. You marvel at the craftsmanship, wishing your handwriting could look as refined as this person’s.

To whom it may concern,  Greetings and congratulations on your admittance into the program! We recognize your outstanding achievements as a model student and believe you have what it takes to do wonderful things. It is with great pride that we bestow upon you a piece of magical history, referred to as The Tried-and-True Trident. You will find it enclosed in this letter.

You look up from the letter just as an aureate necklace lands in your palm. The raven blinks at you once before lifting itself off of your shoulder with a flap of its inky wings. It departs through the window, up into the cloudless, cerulean sky, in a flurry of feathers. There’s a tiny trident pendant hanging from the chain. It winks at you in the light, so shiny you think you might catch your reflection if you stare long enough. You’re not sure what part of it is tried or true, for it looks more like costume jewelry than anything. At least it’s cute. Kind of fashionable, even.

With this historic piece, you are now free to wield the wonders of the sea as you please. You are expected to use these powers to defend those you hold dear from the threat of tragedy. You should have met with your mentor already. If not, we shall send someone to escort you. We look forward to beholding your excellent heroics. Sincerely,

“Gimme that!”

Grim snatches the letter before you can glimpse the name signed at the bottom. The enchanted letter tears in two and then, before both of your eyes, it promptly disintegrates.

You eye the fuzzball with a fresh bout of vitriol. “What did you say your name was again?”

“It’s Grim—the Great Grim—and I promise ya as soon as I—”

“Good. Now I know what name to carve on your tombstone when I put you in the ground for ruining my letter!” You reach for the coat rack, expression ablaze with newfound ferocity.

Grim yelps and scurries away. “H-Hold on! I can fix it!”

“How? It’s ash!”

“Well, what did it say? I’m sure I can explain it to ya!”

“It said something about this necklace. The something-something trident. Protecting loved ones from tragedy. Admittance into some program. A mentor…”

“Mentor… Mentor! Yeah, that sounds about right!” Grim laughs proudly. “Aren’t you in luck, human! I’m gonna be your mentor.”

“Sure you are.” You rest your hand on your hip, brows raised. “The same cat who destroyed my window and curtains is gonna mentor me in whatever this is. Funny story.”

His jaw drops. “A-At least pretend like it’s cool! And I’m not a cat!” He hops off of your bed with a huff. “Ungrateful human. You’re undeserving of the Great Grim’s teaching anyways! I don’t need you!”

“Other way around.”

“You don’t need me!”

“There we go.” You applaud him sardonically. “Look, I don’t know what any of this is. I’m sure it was a mistake. I’m not even a student here.”

Grim, who had been on his way towards the door, halts. He turns to face you slowly. “Yer…not a student?”

“I work here. There’s no way for me to be enrolled here because I can’t use magic.”

“W-Wha—can’t use magic?! Then why did you get in, but I didn’t?!”

You can only shrug. The necklace twists idly when you hold it up for closer inspection. “So this thing is supposed to help me? Hey, Grim, do you know what this is?”

You lower to his height and hold your hand out. He watches you dubiously before approaching and leaning in to sniff at the chain.

“Smells fine to me. Kinda like wet metal.”

“I didn’t ask for a flavor profile.” You heave a tired sigh. The day’s only just begun and you’re already swamped with nonsense. “Maybe that Headmage knows something.”

Grim gasps. “You’re chummy with the Headmage? You think you could talk him into lettin’ me join?”

“Why do you even want in so badly?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a renowned mage! They should be begging me to join!”

Anyone could’ve sent that letter. It might not even be from the Headmage… If I knew the sender’s name, I could just track them down and ask them. 

“You said you wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you?” You offer your hand again, this time to shake on it. “Become my mentor. That’ll show that Crowley you’re plenty capable. Then you can get into this school and I can find a way to return this necklace to its rightful owner.”

Grim folds his arms over his chest, avoiding your hand like it’s the plague. “And what’s in it for me? My services aren’t cheap, y’know!”

“You can live here with me. I’ll find ways to sneak you into the lecture halls if you wanna sit in and observe the class.”

“How about food?”

“Food is…” Nonexistent, really. That cheapskate Crowley! I’ve got to talk him into raising my pay. “I get paid at the end of this week. We’ll have to survive off of what’s in the fridge and the lunch I’m allowed to get from the cafeteria for now.”

Grim’s features soften. “Hm… I guess it’s not terrible. Could be better. But all great mages start from humble beginnings—including myself, but you’d never be able to guess!”

“Right…”

With how carelessly you tossed that fire around, you’re the last mage I should be partnering with.

“Do we have a deal, Grim? You’ll be my mentor and I’ll help you wherever I can.”

Grim places his paw in your palm, his chest puffed out. “You’d better start callin’ me Teacher!”

A smile strains on your lips. “Not happening.”

With a firm shake, your pact is made.

“So what spells do you know? Any that might be able to fix up a window and some curtains?”

“You don’t need those lame spells! The Great Grim can do plenty of other amazing feats.”

“Like?”

“Very amazing feats. Didn’t you hear me?”

“You don’t know anything, do you?”

Grim flinches, guilt flashing across his countenance.

“Is blue fire all you can summon?”

“I… I can do much more! This is just a fraction of my true power! If I had a magestone, this whole spell business would be a lot easier.”

“A magestone? Ah, those things the students have on their pens? I guess that would be helpful. Where can we get one, though?”

“I’d tell ya if I knew.”

“The library might know. If we head there now, we can spend the rest of the morning researching and then we can get lunch.” You reach to fasten the chain around your neck. It’s tucked under your shirt next, safe and sound. “Wait outside for a minute. I’ll change out of my pajamas, clean up the window, and then we’ll be on our way.”

Grim trots out the door without resistance. “I’ll grab a snack from the fridge while yer doin’ all that stuff.”

“One snack! Don’t eat everything!”

But he’s already bounding away, singing as he goes: “Free eats can’t be beat!” Sighing, you shut the door and turn to assess the state of your bedroom. It could be worse. Your bed could have been damaged, or you could have sustained quite the nasty burn.

One mess at a time.

You change into your uniform, which is really just a PE jumpsuit. The same one the students wear. This one has seen better days and it’s a size too big on you, but it’s all Crowley claimed to have on hand when you asked about work clothes. Once again, you soothe yourself with your favorite adage: It could be worse.

You could be homeless. You could be starving. You could be dead.

So it’s not so bad to wear the spare. It’s still got the dorm patch and class numbers sewn onto it, albeit both have worn considerably. Your eyes are drawn to them as you admire yourself in the mirror. Octavinelle Dorm… You’ve heard there are seven dormitories at this school, each based on a historical figure and representing the various spirits of these people. The sorting at the entrance ceremony was something special for the incoming first-years. You’d felt a little awkward to disturb such a grand occasion, even more so when the Dark Mirror announced to a hall full of talented mages that there isn’t an iota of magic in you.

Quite the humbling experience.

But sometimes you wonder which dorm the Dark Mirror would have chosen if your soul was bursting with magical capability.

As of now you’re a faux member of Octavinelle—whatever that implies.

By the time you’ve managed to sweep the glass, dispose of the ruined curtains, and patch the window with a temporary placeholder—what a relief for pasteboard and masking tape—Grim’s nearly through the few items left in your fridge. You yank him away just as he reaches for a container of leftovers.

“If you eat too much, you’ll spoil your lunch.”

“Can’t imagine that problem.”

“You sound so proud of your bottomless stomach.”

“And you’re not?”

You roll your eyes and tug your sneakers on. “Let’s be off.”

“How’re we gonna sneak me in?”

“How do you feel about becoming my temporary purse pet?”

Grim looks unimpressed when you hold your tote bag open for him. “No way!”

“It has lots of space and it’s stylish. Besides, shouldn’t your dedicated student pay proper respect to her great, glorious mentor?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his approving smirk. “Well, when ya put it like that…”

After Grim clambers into your bag, you lock the front door behind you and set off for campus.

“Please don’t blow our cover, Grim.”

From within the depths of your tote, he scoffs. “The Great Grim is the stealthiest mage you’ll ever meet!”

“I highly doubt that.”

It’s the second time you’ve found yourself in the library, but it’s still just as impressive as ever. You could spend hours here, wandering between shelves and skimming all sorts of tomes. Some of them are written in languages you can’t decipher, so you observe the pictures provided in hopes of gleaning any clues. Grim lounges on a chair beside you, absentmindedly turning through a thick textbook. You managed to find a relatively isolated corner in the very back and it’s not especially busy today. The promise of a hearty lunch keeps him well-behaved.

“Find anything?”

“Nothin’ important. Ugh. This stuff is the worst! Why can’t a magestone fall from the sky? That’d be a whole lot easier than this.”

“It sucks, yeah, but what else can we do?” You rest your face against your palm and scan through yet another page of information. “Let’s keep looking. I’m sure we’ll find something useful.”

“Nngh… I’m hungry.”

“You just ate.”

“That was hours ago!”

“Has it really been that long?”

“Feels like it.”

You lean back in your chair and stretch, listening to the satisfying snap of your joints as they crack into place. “Can you understand any of these words?”

“Most of ’em.”

You point to a specific place in the paragraph. “Can you tell me what this one means? I think I’ve got the general idea based on the graphics, but I could be wrong.”

Grim glances at it, his blue hues waltzing across the page. “It’s about merfolk.”

“Merfolk? They exist in this world?” And then you pause to gather your delayed thoughts. “Never mind. That would make sense.”

“What about ’em?”

“Where I’m from, merfolk aren’t real. They’re fiction.”

“Huh. A place without any merfolk… Bet they don’t have anyone like me either. I’m one of a kind!” Grim chuckles. “So where’re you from?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. You usher Grim under the table, who goes but not without protest. He ducks under just in time, hiding within the shadows. A student rounds the corner and stops short when he sees you. He’s holding a few books in his arms, each looking more heavy than the last.

“Ah,” the both of you say in unison.

He clears his throat and offers you a cordial nod. “I wasn’t aware someone had already claimed this corner.”

You eye him carefully. He looks familiar. Glasses. Silvery-grey hair. Blue eyes. Where have you seen him before?

“It’s all yours. I was just leaving.” You move to stand, but he steps closer.

He peers at the open textbook lying in front of you. A smile you can’t quite classify as friendly spreads on his lips. “Is that so? You seem especially engrossed in this book.”

“I like to stay educated.”

I genuinely can’t understand a word in this text.

“On the anatomy of merfolk?”

You shut your mouth at once. That’s what this is? No wonder the diagrams looked…unique. But you’re too committed to your story to falter now.

“Especially the anatomy of merfolk.”

The student chuckles, but it sounds hollow to your ears. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. You’re in Octavinelle?”

You gape at him like a fish out of water before realizing the jumpsuit and its patch. “Oh! Ohhh, no, not at all. This is an old uniform.”

He looks at you with more scrutiny until it clicks. “I remember now. You’re the magicless girl who so carelessly interrupted—ah, forgive me—fortuitously appeared during the entrance ceremony last month.”

What a little fake. You narrow your eyes at him, suddenly defensive. Now you’re made aware of who he is. He was one of the few in the audience during your awkward arrival. Back then, he was clad in a robe with his hood up and so you only caught sight of his glasses and the swoop of his silvery-grey hair peeking out. You’re certain this is the same guy. You could’ve said that without the backhanded barb.

“So my reputation precedes me.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I disagree. You’re still quite the mystery.”

“Well, there’s nothing to solve.” You rise from your seat, reaching for your bag. “I’m just a janitor trying to get by.”

He hums. You can’t decipher the meaning in that, but you don’t particularly care enough to drive yourself mad over it. You feel around on the chair for Grim. He was just here a moment ago…

You drop to your knees to check under the table. Your heart plummets into your stomach.

Grim, you had one job!

“Is something the matter?”

You pop up from beneath the table so fast that your head knocks into it. “Shit! Ow! Yeah, no, I’m fine. I thought I dropped my pencil.”

You scan the rest of the space as discreetly as you can. The student watches you. You don’t like the way he seems to stare through you as if intending to gain access to your very soul. As if he sees something you don’t.

“Have a wonderful day. Study hard. Pass your tests. Get—uh—the scholarship or whatever.” 

Flashing him your most nonchalant grin, you make your way down the aisle at a pace that is the exact opposite of relaxed. There’s no time to dwell on that off-kilter exchange. You’ve got a runaway cat-creature in dire need of capture!

The one day I take off and it’s the day my window’s ruined, I get a weird letter, and my new roommate is missing. That’s horrible luck!

You walk briskly through the library, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Grim couldn’t have gotten far. You were only distracted for a few minutes, and the library is huge. Perhaps he’s just lost and waiting in place for you to find him. For some reason you can’t fool yourself into believing this train of thought.

Your search takes you out of the library and down the hall. Where could he have possibly gone? Surely he didn’t make his way back to Ramshackle. You check the time on your watch. It’s almost lunch.

Lunch! Of course!

You hurry towards the cafeteria with rekindled purpose.

I’m going to start calling him Gluttonous Mage Grim if he makes this a habit!

Fortunately, Grim is predictable. You’ve only known him for a day—not even—but it’s not so difficult to pinpoint his location after you’ve worked out his motivations. Unfortunately, you make it to the cafeteria just as the grand chandelier falls from its support in the ceiling, crash-landing in a broken heap. And standing just feet away from the damage, looking very guilty, is Grim alongside two students you’ve never seen before. Crowley’s there as well, just as frazzled as the feathers on his coat. He’s in the middle of lecturing them about the importance of this relic—how it’s been with the school since it was founded and it’s an irreplaceable piece that would cost over a billion Madol to fix—when he takes notice of you.

“(Name), it’s devastating! A most heart-wrenching tragedy! Why, it’s enough to bring one to tears.”

“Seems so…” You shoot Grim a vicious look. So much for being covert. Not so stealthy now, huh? “I’ll get the broom.”

“No, not yet. These three—” he turns towards them, yellow eyes fierce— “are expelled!”

“Expelled?!” the navy-haired student exclaims. He looks like he’s just stared Death in the face. “This can’t be… What will my mother think? I promised her I was gonna get good grades, attend all of my classes, pass my tests…”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. That hairball’s the one who started it!” the other argues, his arms folded over his chest.

“No way! It wasn’t me!”

Crowley clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable. This school has zero tolerance for blatant tomfoolery. Surely you’re all aware…” He pauses to look at Grim. “And you! You’re not even a student here! Just what are you doing, trespassing on school property?”

Grim flounders dizzily. “Spinning…”

“He’s my roommate.” All eyes flick towards you. “I’m letting him stay for now. Sorry if that breaks any rules. I just don’t believe in turning others away, even if they’re prone to causing trouble.”

“What a noble soul,” Crowley murmurs, impressed. “Well, if that’s the case, seeing as he’s nothing more than a talking pet cat—”

“I ain’t a pet or a cat!”

“I’m afraid my previous statement still remains in place. He’s not to be on school grounds.”

“You heard the Headmage. No school for you.”

But Grim’s already lying flat on the floor like a defeated pancake.

“Then what about us? That hairball can’t get the easy way out and leave us with the worst of it!”

“There’s a way to fix this, isn’t there?”

“Y-Yeah! Can’t you just use magic to fix it right up? It’ll be good as new. Someone with your skill should be able to do it.”

Crowley shakes his head, mournful. “Magic is not limitless. Not only that, but the magestone powering this great chandelier is cracked. And those are not so easily replaced. I fear this is the final day this miraculous chandelier will ever grace this grand hall with its light.”

The ginger-haired student grimaces. “Not good…”

The other withers. “Expelled… What am I going to do? I can’t go back home with this news!”

A magestone… That’s what Grim needs. You glance at the one set into the chandelier. A ghastly crack runs up the surface. Are they really that special?

Before both can succumb to their melancholy, Crowley says, “There is one way! Possibly…”

“Really? What is it?” they say at once, eyes bulging with hope.

“This very magestone was mined from the Dwarfs’ Mine. Perhaps, should you procure one of similar qualities, the chandelier can be repaired.”

“Then… Okay! I’ll get a magestone! As long as it’s all right with you, sir.”

“Ah, but the mines have been closed for some time. I reckon the magestones are all but gone.”

“I’m sure I can find one. Please, sir, I’ll do anything to stay here!”

Crowley seems to consider this. Eventually, he nods his approval. “I’m willing to postpone your expulsion for now.” The navy-haired student’s relief is short-lived when he adds, “However, if you fail to bring a magestone to me by the first rays of the morning sun, it will be expulsion for the both of you. No further exceptions.”

With a hasty nod, he says, “Of course! I understand! Thank you so much for the second chance. I won’t let you down!”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s get this over with.”

You gather an unconscious Grim in your arms while Crowley instructs the students on how to access the mine. They stride off with different degrees of enthusiasm. You open your mouth to ask permission, but Crowley beats you to it.

“Please do accompany them. I trust you’re responsible enough to handle any trouble?”

“If you raise my pay, I’ll do anything.”

He clutches his chest. “Your proclivity to bargain strikes through to my very soul! Ah, but since I am the kindest Headmage I shall grant your request.”

With a satisfied grin, you hold Grim tighter and run off after the pair. “Thanks again, Headmage!”

You follow them all the way to the Mirror Chamber. It’s just as imposing as you recall, but there’s a serene quality to the space that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s because you’re here willingly and there isn’t an audience to witness your poorly timed debut.

You approach both of them. “Hey! Sorry to bother, but could I join you?”

They turn to look at you. Grim shifts in your arms, groaning.

“I don’t see why not. Welcome to the team,” the navy-haired student says with an awkward smile.

“Might as well. More people means a faster chance at finding that magestone.” He points at Grim next. “And he better be coming, too.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll make sure he won’t cause any problems for you.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Today’s just not my day. What bad luck…”

“No time to sulk. We’ve gotta get that magestone,” the other says, turning towards the mirror. “Dark Mirror, the Dwarfs’ Mine!”

Grim jerks awake then. “Myaah?! Where am I? What’s goin’ on?”

You hold onto him tightly, preventing him from squirming out of your arms. “Relax. You’ll be fine. I think.”

“What d’ya mean by that?!”

The Dark Mirror brightens with life. There’s a blinding flash of light and then, just like that, you’re taken to the mine’s entrance.

Magestone, here we come!

[elinoracia]

⁑ You cut your hair short // Hogwarts legacy characters reactions x reader ⁑

~ Hogwarts Legacy headcanons ~

Warnings: comfort, fluff, swearing (censored), f!reader, use of "Y/N". Pairings: Sebastian x reader, Ominis x reader, Garreth x reader, Amit x reader, Poppy x reader, Natty x reader, Imelda x reader.

Feel free to request anything!

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

Context: You wanted to have a little friendly duel against someone. You asked Lucan Brattleby to assign you someone challenging and...let's just say he did. After duelling for a few minutes against your opponent, he casted a spell that cut a good chunk of your long hair. Even if you won your duel, you had to do something about your hair now. Growing it out would take too much time, even with a potion. You decided you were ready for some change and you cut your hair short to even it out. (short bob or pixie cut) You decided to go to Madam Snelling's Tress Emporium, in Hogsmeade. And when you came back, you came across someone...

THEIR REACTION:

Sebastian:

He usually doesn't really notice when you change your hairstyle. But this time, you were hoping he would say something about your new haircut. It was a big change after all!

You see him down a hallway and you decide to call his name.

When he turns around, his jaw drops. He takes a moment to formulate his words.

"Oh wow Y/N! Your hair is so short!" He seems shocked at first which makes you a bit insecure... maybe he doesn't like it?

"Sorry I just...oh wow you're stunning. You're radiant even! I like that I can see your face more clearly now! No hair in the way!"

He keeps looking at you for the rest of the day. You catch him glancing at you during class.

He will explain to Ominis how gorgeous you look with your new haircut and Ominis will be so done with him at the end of the day: "Oh Merlin! We get it Sebastian! She cut her hair! Please stop talking about it!"

When you explain to him why you cut your hair that short, he wants to punch the guy who cut a bunch of your hair accidentally during your duel but at the same time he also wants thank him personally for his service.

Ominis:

You knew he wouldn't be able to see your hair so you just decided to explain to him your friendly duel that happened earlier that day.

"That is indeed unfortunate. Do you want me to get him expelled?"

You explained that it was an accident and it made you at least change your haircut.

He pauses for a moment before talking again: "You sound more confident. I can hear you seem very pleased with this new look of yours. You're glowing."

You take his hand to make him feel how short your hair was. If he couldn't see it, he could at least feel it!

"It's really short. It will be more practical for your future duels and fights." He is blushing as he caresses your hair. "It's even softer than before. I really like it."

He will probably ask Sebastian to describe your new haircut in DETAILS to him. He needs to know.

He likes how spontaneous this decision was from you and he doesn't usually like surprises, but this one was a delightful one!

He wants to feel your hair again. He really likes how soft and delicate your hair is now.

Garreth:

He is the first to see you from afar and almost runs to you.

"Y/N, what happened to your hair? Was it a potion accident or something?" He stumbles over his words, almost stuttering.

You explain to him your duel and the little accident. You see him smile proudly.

"Well it's a good thing you came to me, I know just the right potion to make your hair grow back! Or maybe you just want me to burn his hair off? I also know the right potion for that!"

You ask him if he likes it short because you really wanted to keep your hair that way.

"If I like it? Of course I do! You always look beautiful Y/N. You have an angelic face that could pull off any hairstyle! And I asked about the potion to make you hair grow back because most girls would be very sad at the idea the have all of their hair cut off. I think it's a remarkable decision!"

Now he's the one making you blush with those compliments. He sounds genuine and you're thinking that maybe he doesn't really realize how sweet he sounded.

He WILL show you off to his friends: "Guys look! Y/N has a new haircut! It looks cool right?"

Amit:

You come up to him in the Great Hall and you see his eyes widden when he spots you.

Now this boy is a blushing mess. He can't seem to think about anything but how pretty you look.

"Y/N...I-I... I hope you know that you always look stunning no matter what but...you look especially pretty with this new haircut. Is there a reason why you decided to cut it?" You make him stuggle to speak.

You explain the friendly duel you had and how your opponent accidentally cut a chunck of your hair.

"You always manage to get something positive out of every situation. It's really admirable."

He can't keep his eyes away from you. He likes that he can now see the outline of your face, your cheeks, your neck... Whoops! He's blushing again!

He is the litteral definition of heart-eyes.

He can't seem to get a proper sentence out when you're near him now. He also can't focus during his next classes, even if it's Astronomy class. You'll be the only thing in his mind for the rest of the day...or maybe the rest of the week.

Poppy:

When she spots you coming back from Hogsmeade, you hear her gasp.

"Y/N WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR BEAUTIFUL LONG HAIR?"

She has to mourn your long hair for a moment. During this moment, you explain to her what happened during your duel and why you decided to cut it.

"It's not that I don't like it...quite the opposite. You always look really pretty. But I won't be able to braid or brush your hair anymore! You know I loved doing that!"

She pouts as you try to reassure her that it will soon grow back long enough for her to braid your hair again. You offer to braid her hair instead while you wait for yours to grow back a little.

"I guess I could allow it..." She touches your hair to feel how short it became. "It's still as soft as it was before."

She will still try to style your short hair by putting hair clips or hairbands. She has to show off your new haircut in the best way.

She quickly forgets about the loss of your long hair when she realizes how good you look with short hair when she styles it.

Natty:

You come up to her and she is in total awe.

"Y/N! I love your new hair! You look very elegant."

She asks what made you cut your hair that much and as you're explaining the duel and the little accident that happened, she frowns.

"I hope he didn't do it on purpose. But what really matters is how beautiful you look! You're stunning, really. I feel like everybody has their eyes on you now."

She really tries to make you feel confident with you new haircut.

She will happily give you tips on how to style your short hair.

She will find excuses to talk to you again during the day. She will definitely compliment you again about your new hair.

"Hi Y/N! About our Herbology assignment we have to do, I was wondering if we could do it together? Also, you look really pretty. Oh? I already told you that? Then I think you are magnificent. I'm sure I didn't tell you that yet!"

Her whole friend circle will know about your haircut. She will tell them how wonderful you look! No one can escape it!

Imelda:

You come to see her at her Quidditch practice. She rushes towards you on her broom when she sees you.

"Y/N?! What the f*ck have you done? I really can't leave you alone for a few hours on your own, uh?"

You explained to her the accident that happened during your duel earlier that day.

"What is this guy's name? I'll punch him in the face."

You reassure her by saying it was for the best and that you love your new haircut!

"You...like your new hair? I guess it can feel more aerodynamic when you fly on your broom. You could have asked me first still!"

You asked her if she likes your new look. She struggles to give you an answer.

"Do I like it? Well...you don't look horrible. You rarely look horrible..."

She looks away. You might have made her blush a bit.

"If someone tells you they don't like it, I'll strangle them."

She can't seem to focus for the rest of her practice.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 2: Idiots in Love

like today | @dcforts Rating: General Word Count: 1,798 Main Tags/Warnings: Domesticity, Light Angst Summary: Dean is not too bothered. Outside the weather is bad, but the place it’s nearby, the job seems easy and they can be home in time for dinner. And if they hit the traffic, well, Cas will be there. They will be fine.

Call on your future self for advice and assistance | @deliciousblizzardshark Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,136 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon, Crack Treated Seriously, Magic, Mentions of Bottom Dean Winchester, Mentions of panty kink, mentions of spanking, Mentions of healthy diets, Mention of canon-typical racist porno mag, Mention of Exercise, Drinking, Humor, Getting Together, Time Travel (kind of) Summary: After everything and everyone is magically okay, Dean’s not sure how to deal with Castiel’s surprise love confession. At his wit’s end, he decides to cast a spell to bring his future self (or selves, it turns out) to the Bunker for help. The only problem? Future Dean Winchester(s) are still Dean Winchester... and Dean Winchester is an asshole.

The Dadification of Castiel Novak | @Runraerun Rating: General Word Count: 4,780 Main Tags/Warnings: Idiots in love, Canon compliant, rewriting the Cas love confession scene, first kiss, growing old together, Cas has a hard time reading faces, prosopagnosia, Castiel is Jack Kline’s parent, Castiel and Dean Winchester need to use their words, Castiel and Dean Winchester use their words, We can have nice things, fluff, Sam teasing Dean as is his god given right as his little brother, team free will 2.0. No warnings apply. Summary: When one of Cas’ old I.D.’s gets rejected, Sam and Dean tell him afterwards it’s because his picture is outdated—but this doesn’t make any sense, Castiel explains; Angel vessels don’t age. Dean has to break it to Cas that he doesn’t look like he’s in his 20’s anymore.

You Will Get Wet | @notastupidbird Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,858 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, 5+1 Things, Comedy, Food Service Worker Dean Winchester, Lifeguard Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Idiots in Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Porn With Plot, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Theme Parks, Waterpark, Early Aughts, POV Dean Winchester Summary: The summer of 2003 could more accurately be described as the summer from Hell. It was Dean's second year working in concessions at the local water park which meant it was his second year of sunburn, screaming children, wet dollar bills, and having to stare at Cas, the unbearably hot lifeguard stationed directly across from his stand. Or, five times Dean completely failed at trying to talk to his summer crush plus the one time he didn't have to.

as for prophecies, they will pass away (WIP) | @danishdeity Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,208 Main Tags/Warnings: Slow burn, fix-it, angst and hurt/comfort, mutual pining, explicit sexual content, masturbation, Summary: Dean has worked tirelessly to bring Castiel back from the Empty, but once he finally manages, he just avoids Cas. Dean is determined to give Cas a shot at a happy life, but in order to do that, maybe he has to step back? But having Cas around all the time stirs some thoughts and a lot of panic.

Icarus to Your Certainty (WIP) | @Miaintheimpala Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9,842 Main Tags/Warnings: POV Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair (Supernatural), Tooth-rotting Fluff, Fluff and Angst, No Smut, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Are Jack Kline's Parents, Castiel and Dean Winchester Are Claire Novak's Parents, Jack Is Not God, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Idiots in Love, Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Angst With A Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Fix-it Summary: Icarus and Castiel both flew to their suns and fell. They both lost their wings and drowned, but there's one difference between these two stories: after being drowned in the depths of The Shadow, Castiel wakes up on a concrete floor.

Phantom Manor On the Hill of Big Thunder Mountain | @melancholictearz Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 18,274 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Amusement Park, Dean Wears a Cowboy Hat, Cowboy!Dean, Ghost Butler!Castiel, Summer Romance, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Meet-Cute Summary: A PLACE WHERE ERAS AND CENTURIES MERGE INTO A SUMMER STORY. Dean struts around Frontierland in cowboy boots and a hat all day for a living— that’s what his summer job is about, at Big Thunder Mountain attraction in the Far West-themed area of Disneyland Parks. He’s pleased with his current life as it is, until his eyes fall on Castiel, the new haunted butler working at Phantom Manor ride next door. Only a lake separates the two rides but Dean’s inability to stay normal in front of his crush might be the biggest obstacle in the whole painting.

Fanfictionland | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 21,165 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternative universe jumping, canonverse, idiots in love, mutual pining, cowboys, pirates, regency era, medieval, comedy, fanfic writers, TFW 2.0, season 8. Summary: Imagine a destiel writer with the power of one of the tablets. Imagine that destiel shipper writer trying to make Destiel canon, using different ideas. Now, imagine Dean and Castiel jumping from fic to fic, following the script, tropes and AUs we all know while Sam, Kevin and Becky try to stop that mess. Yep, someone had to do it...

The Architect Of Fate | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23,446 Main Tags/Warnings: Magic, modern setting, fate architect!Castiel, first meetings, character development, winged Castiel, pining, falling in love, top!Castiel/bottom!Dean Winchester, miscommunication Summary: Dean Winchester tries to live his life without any attachments as he looks for the perfect job that brings him money and prestige. But things are not going well for him following the path he decides to make. His luck changes when he meets Naomi, the leader of the Fate Architect Corporation. He only has to fill a form with the life of his dreams, and follow the instructions Castiel will give him, as his assigned Architect. It's time for Dean to get the life he deserves and get the perfect job and the perfect girlfriend. If only Castiel wasn't that beautiful, he could perfectly focus on his targets. Or… How a grumpy and professional Architect of Fate, named Castiel, has to lead with a stubborn and noisy human.

White Lightning (WIP) | @scatterbugged Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,941 Main Tags/Warnings: top!Dean, Bottom!Cas, Castiel's Grace, Touch-Starved DeanCas, Mutual Pining, Anxiety, Post season 15, AU, Castiel Has Sensitive Wings, Love Confessions, Dean Being Stupid, Dean and his Self-Worth Issues, Anal Sex, Dean and Cas in the Bunker Summary: It started in the kitchen, he thinks, the bursting of this weirdo thing they have between the two of them. Maybe the kitchen's the wrong spot to pinpoint- maybe it was those years ago, stood in an old, dank barn gripping fear and that demon blade. Or, rather, it was before all that, with Dean cutting folks up on the racks and carving out those rictus faces, and Cas still thinking he was worth saving anyway. Wherever it was- Dean thinks now, it really started to break in the kitchen, after everything else is said and done, and when it ends up spilling, he'll be left alone to clean up the mess. - or - Castiel's a little bit human, a little bit angel nowadays ever since he got spit out of the Empty, and both his body and his grace are still adjusting. Dean's more than willing to help his buddy out.

Indeana Jones and the Tear of Pele | @amaranthhiding Rating: Explicit Word Count: 32,679 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Beach Vacation, Adventure, Hawaiian Mythology, Fallen Angel Castiel, Humor, Light Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Mystery, Castiel's True Form, Castiel's Wings, Mutual Pining, Dean in Denial, Dean Makes Up Ridiculous Excuses for Touch, Castiel Uses Sarcasm, Castiel Goes Missing, Castiel and Dean Save Each Other, First Kiss, First Time, Grace-Powered Orgasm, Post-Season 11 Canon Divergence, DCRB 2024 Summary: What starts as a relaxing beach vacation in Hawai’i turns into a journey of self-discovery for Castiel and Dean. To save the world from the Darkness, they both faced what they thought to be their imminent demise and came out the other side very much still alive. So now they have to ponder the really big questions, such as what a bucket list is, what place in the world a fallen angel has, and how Indiana Jones ever managed to keep that hat on his head. The island seems to have a way of making the barrier of touch crumble to dust until they're sliding toward the edge of something new and fragile between them that neither of them dares to put a name to, lest it might disappear. When what really disappears is Castiel, there's very little Dean wouldn't do to get the angel back.

Even The Chicken is Gay | @avonlady42 Rating: Explicit Word Count: 53,730 Main Tags/Warnings: Gay Chicken, Dean and Castiel are clueless, top castiel/bottom Dean Winchester, switching, marriage, mile high club, smut, adoption Summary: Their senior year in high school, Charlie dares Dean and Castiel to play a game of gay chicken which they both reluctantly accept. Their friends wait impatiently to see who will chicken out first, but they’ve all given up on that happening when they show up to their 20-year high school reunion having been married for 14 years and both of them still thinking they are straight and in denial that they are in love with each other. This is based on a prompt from a meme on the Destiel forever Facebook group: In high school I was dared to play “gay chicken,” which is where two straight guys pretend to be gay, and the first one to chicken out loses. The other guy and I are really stubborn, and neither one of us wanted to lose. We’ve been married 14 years and run a bed and breakfast in Vermont with our adopted daughter. If that dude doesn’t chicken out soon, I’m going to start to suspect he’s actually gay.

My Cryo Sleeping Beauty | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: Explicit Word Count: 55,356 Main Tags/Warnings: Space AU, Action/Adventure, Torture, Gabriel Is The Narrator, Humor, Misunderstandings, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean, Denial, Hunted, Flirting, Minor Sabriel, Summary: Let me tell you a story about two adorable, yet frustrating, knuckleheads in love. We got Dean Winchester of Venandi, who wakes up on an unknown spaceship with a half-naked man in his arms, and no memory of how this happened. Cuddling him oh-so lovingly, we have, fresh out of cryo sleep, prisoner James Novak, who is equally confused about his whereabouts and to find Dean sharing a bed with him. Now, prisoner Novak is really Castiel, an old acquaintance of Dean’s and his real identity appears to be only known by Dean. That’s when the mercenary Henriksen, doing Empress Amara’s bidding, stumbles upon them and crashes their little (freak out) moment. While dealing with Castiel’s mysterious past and Dean’s personal and urgent quest, they have no choice but to work side by side as they banter away to escape from everyone’s clutches and find out what really happened. I know you might be skeptical. People often ask me, “How in all the stars do you possibly know all of this, Gabe?” The answer is very simple: I’m part of the story! I witnessed first hand their tribulations and lovey-dovey looks. Well, some part of it. As for the rest…Well I’m all about tall tales.

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Fantasy high headcanons let’s gooooo

Fhjy spoilers, long post so it goes ✨under the cut✨

Weekly sleepovers but that’s a given

Somewhere in one of the rooms in Mordred the Bad Kids all carved their names somewhere

Kristen and Fig have an entire corner of the Mordred living room designated as the ‘Secret Service Corner’

Riz is so good at shoplifting to the point that every time they go shopping Sklonda just keeps shooting glances at Riz’s hands to make sure he isn’t taking something or thinking about taking something

She has an entire pocket of her purse dedicated to distraction fidget toys because he can’t shoplifting if he doesn’t have anything to shoplift with

Fig perfected her screamo voice over the summer before freshman year (yknow the one where she was really pissed at her mom. Yeah that summer)

If Fabian ever needs advice on anything his go tos are Riz and Cathilda

Anytime one of the Bad Kids get a call in the middle of the night they just assume it’s Riz

Adaine is the only one allowed to ignore texts and calls and that’s only because she just uses the Message spell to respond to people

Kristen learned Morse code to talk to Fig in class

Fig does not know Morse code but by Cass she can pretend she does

After dropping out Fig will occasionally just shift into different fake students and drop by the others classes

The party always knows its her but nobody else ever does

The freshman thinks it’s a myth (legendary rockstar who dropped out of the school and is being hunted by the school just randomly shows up to classes she has never been enrolled in even when she did go there) but the seniors keep being like “no I swear to god I saw her at lunch earlier she’s gonna be in my class today I know it”

Agent Clark is always hunting her

Kristen Applebees has POTS and Ehlers Danlos Syndrome because I said so she my special girl

Gorgug has made each of the Bad Kids a playlist

And now for a list of things the party has banned Kristen “dex score of 3” Applebees from doing

Playing on Fabian’s DDR machine

Driving

Baking (cooking is fine though)

Skateboarding

Anything involving putting her on wheels

Juggling (you’d think this wouldn’t be a problem but she did try to once. It did not go well)

Any type of stitches that Riz would be capable of

A lot of Wii games

Just Dance

She also sucks at fantasy Mario Kart but nobody can figure out if it’s the low dex or if she’s just bad at the game

The story of the DDR machine is that once Fig and Kristen challenged each other to a DDR battle to the death and Kristen danced so hard she broke an arm

That was a fun call to Jawbone /s

Adaine once gave Gorgug one of those motivational cat posters except she changed the words to say it’s Gorgug keep going

He genuinely loves it it was one of the things he took with him when he went to go live with Fabian

They’re all neurodivergent because I’m neurodivergent and I said so

Adaine weekly has to take another pair of noise cancelling headphones out of her jacket because Kristen keeps losing hers

Kristen and Adaine are the only two who know how to properly cook

Gorgug is decent at it but he mainly just follows recipes

Riz and Fabian are banned from the kitchen

Fig hasn’t even tried to cook ever everyone knows it wouldn’t end well

Kristen swears she figured out how to make cottage cheese ice cream

She just froze cottage cheese and called it a day

Riz is constantly on hire by Fig to find Bobby Dawn

He found him like a day after he was hired (Bobby Dawn really isn’t that smart) and he told Fig exactly where he was but she just keeps vaguely bothering him

Her goal is to make him think he’s haunted

Riz refuses to take free money from Fabian so Fabian just keeps paying him insane amounts to do the easiest things

1000 gold pieces to make him 1 cup of coffee

Adaine figured out how to do the whole eyes rolling back and glowing thing on command so when someone pisses her off she just casts fly on herself does that says random words and then casts scatter on the person who pissed her off

They all love shrimp and they all love cottage cheese but they absolutely resolutely agree that combined they are fucking terrible

Aguefort does an “everyone gets a a familiar” day

Riz picks a fox

Kristen gets 5 snakes. People try to tell her she only gets one familiar but who is going to argue with the most talented cleric like ever wielding 5 snakes

Fabian picks a parrot and gives him a little eyepatch

Gorgug picks a straight up fucking bear

[magic-hcs]

Got a lil funny scenario for you!

The boy had a lazy free day, sleeping in late. He hears his brother coming home and head downstairs to greet him, wearing only boxers and looking all disheveled. To his surprise his brother isn't alone but has a human accompanying him (for some service they are doing at their house as it's revealed later.)

Turns out this human is their soulmate and the boy is meeting them for the first time looking like this !

Fooooooor Syrup! 😂

I had so much fun writing this! thank you so much for sending in this ask.

Syrup: US Papyrus

Time to cast some magic and see what we'll get!✨

✨✨

Syrup: Ah…

ground, please swallow him whole now, please and thank you.

“bro ya back, did you bring the new coffee beansss witthh youuu…” His words slowly come to a dragging halt as he stares with wide sockets at the human next to Sky.

oh bollocks…

Syrup had been working for quite a while, a day or two trying to crack at this malware failure that his current contractor had given him to fix. And the coffee in his canteen had been running empty, so he decided to go downstairs and fix his canteen with a whole new lot of coffee - maybe a lollipop or fifteen to keep him busy - when he heard the front door close and the recognizable taps of Sky’s boots and his voice. Only wearing his hoodie and some underwear, a thoroughly chewed through lollipop stick hanging between his teeth and bags for days underneath his sockets, Syrup strolled towards the hall, already mumbling his question.

And here he stood now, standing in his hobo looking glory, staring at the human who returned his gaze with widened eyes of their own. A small tug inside Syrup’s soul soon followed, filling him with the feeling of elation like he just found something he had forgotten about but been searching for oh so long. Afterwards, the searing and chilling touch of mortification followed it. Burning his cheek bones a dark orange, and drenching his back with a cold sweat.

The chewed out lollipop stick slips from his teeth, landing on the floor with a tack and his jaw falls open with a clack. A few seconds of absolute silence.

And then, Syrup’s damned sleep deprive and social capabilities decided to merge and introduce itself. “ahooga.” (He had meant to say ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’.)

once again, ground, you have permission to swallow him hole, please do it fast.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, i hope it was to your satisfaction.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 7 - The End

Time to say goodbye to this story. I've had the most fun writing it, I've loved Seren 🥰. I really, truly hope you've liked it too - hugest thank yous to everyone who's read it 😘. Always feel free to comment or message me or drop me an ask - literally I need no excuse whatsoever to go feral over Jack Lowden!

I am terrified about how emotionally traumatic Episode 5 is going to be so I distracted myself by finishing this off.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6

Masterlist

Tagging: @cillmequick & @thomasshelbyswife

Chapter 7

“Hi.” Seren said quietly, a small smile on her lips. River nodded, his mouth pinched in a tight line. He turned and went straight back into the kitchen. David gave her a push of encouragement towards the door and she followed him. His hands held the edge of the countertop with a white knuckle grip, she could see his back was tense and feared the worst. Confused, she spoke quickly. “You… you don’t want me here.” She concluded. “And I stupidly assumed you knew about this, I’m sorry.” She shook her head and held up her hands. “I’ll go and he can explain to you, we can figure out a rota or something.”

“He gets forgiven and I don't?” He asked quietly. She stopped in her tracks. 

“I haven't seen or spoken to you? Let's not forget who left me in the middle of the night and no word since?” 

“You didn't want me there.”

“Yeah, at first. I'm pretty sure that changed when-” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “when I let you into my bed! Or did you get what you wanted and that's that?” She hissed. His face fell. 

“Seren, you know that's not it. I left because I didn't want you to think that you had to forgive me. I wanted you to want to.” Seren took a deep breath and rubbed her temples.

“Look this is… I don't know how we've gone wrong here, I'm pretty sure we're agreeing but,” she shrugged, “this has all got fucked up somewhere.”

“Why would you think I don't want you here?”

“I dunno, this is your world, this MI5 bullshit and now I'm here and involved… what if that's what messes everything up?” She asked. 

“No, no, it's not.” He assured her. She could see the hurt in his eyes. She stepped towards him and covered his hand with her own, matching finger to finger. 

“No more cast?” 

“All healed. Well, I need to be careful but, y'know.”

“You're back to throwing fake punches, then?”

“Ahh, no. I gave up on that.” She traced his fingers with her own. 

“Oh?”

“I do spin class now instead.”

“The one on the bike?” She nodded in reply as he turned his hand around so they were palm to palm, and interlocked their fingers. He pulled a face. “Sounds grim.” 

“I needed the distraction.” She mused. “I know you were doing your job.” 

“Yeah.”

“And that job comes with a level of secrecy.”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his hand lightly and let go.

“Ok.”

“Ok?” He looked confused. 

“Ok. I get it.”

“... And?” She smiled at the hopeful look in his eyes, rolling her own in exasperation. 

“Do I need to spell it out?” He shrugged, a smile pulling at his mouth. “You're forgiven.” She told him solemnly. He smiled widely until she held up a hand and it faltered. “But-”

“But?”

“But I have let the entire secret service into my life - they have looked into everything I've ever done. They found out about when I got three speeding tickets in the space of a week fifteen years ago. They know every job I've ever had - including the Anne Summers Saturday job I had when I was seventeen. They know I broke my ankle when I was twenty one, they know how much Netflix I watch. They know more about my life than I can even remember, River. That's… a lot.”

“It is a lot, Seren dear, and I'm eternally grateful to you.” David ambled through, not paying any attention to their proximity. “It's rather a big commitment to make to two men who've mostly pissed you off. What was it you told me before?” He wondered, “Ah yes, we sounded desperate.” 

“You did.” She remembered with a smile. “You still do - I should fill up this fridge. Poor bugger, you've been living on microwave meals.” 

“He brought that on himself.” River pointed out, purposely nudging her. 

“How ever did the Cartwright men survive?” She wondered. 

“We didn't. That's why you're here.” David declared. 

“Hmmm, yes, and I expect you both to grovel for as long as I say so,” she called after him as he went back to the sitting room. She felt River behind her, his warm breath by her ear. 

“On my knees. Every day. If that's what it takes.” He murmured, placing a large palm on her stomach and pulling her body flush with his. She trembled against him as he leaned in to bite her earlobe, unable to stifle the low moan. She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Seren? Put the kettle on, would you?” David called. River gently pulled her hand from her mouth. 

“Better answer him. He might come looking for you.” 

“You knob,” she scowled. “It's on David, I'll come and get the pot in a minute.”

“Righto,” he said cheerfully, she vaguely heard the rustle of the newspaper over the pounding of her heart. The hand River had on her stomach had slipped under her t-shirt and drew loose patterns on her skin. The front of her thighs pressed against the table and she had visions of being bent over it, lifting her hips to meet his while her fingers gripped the varnished wood and he pounded into her. The thought had her keening against him as his hand moved up to cup her breast over her bra. 

“Something you need?” He asked, his voice low in her ear. She didn't trust herself to speak, instead she arched her back and pushed herself back against his hard cock. He growled against her neck, “I could just bend you over this table?” She whimpered in agreement. “But not now.” Seren twisted in his arms and moved her legs to let him rest between them. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue slid against hers. 

“River-” She whispered as he bit along her jawline. 

“Not here. I want to hear you next time.” He looked at her intently, his eyes bright blue and dancing with mischief. Seren whined in frustration. “I want to see how many times I can get you to make that sound,” he kissed her again. “I want to hear you every time you say my name, and,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “I want to not wake up to an empty bed this time.”

“You and me both,” she breathed. 

“Are we OK?”

“I mean, aside from this still probably completely inappropriate -”

“At least I'm not the one paying you anymore.”

“Fair point, yes, we're OK.” He leaned in to kiss her again, “but-” Seren held up a finger to his lips which he promptly drew into his mouth, making her whimper. “We really should figure out what this is, because I don't want to make my working here awkward or confusing for David.” He released her finger and nodded. 

“You're the boss.” He said with a smirk.

“Not you anymore, is it?” She teased, “no more calling you ‘sir’.”

“Makes sense, I'm the one supposed to be grovelling.” 

“On your knees wasn't it?” She asked curiously, looping her arms around his neck. 

“You got it.”

“My place later?” 

“Fuck yes.” 

“Seren?” David called from the living room. Her head dropped to River's shoulder.

“Later.” He promised. 

“On my way,” she called back to David, pushing River back so she could stand up away from the table. She went to collect the teapot and check what he needed while River put the kettle on. 

*

Seren left the Cartwright’s late afternoon, saying goodbye to both of them. Only a couple of hours later, River knocked on her door. She let him in and had barely closed the door behind her before River had her backed up against it. 

“All day,” he muttered against her collarbone, “been thinking about this all fucking day.” 

“Oh god, River-” She panted as he grasped the soft flesh of her thighs. “Wait, wait, wait, I’ve just come from the gym, I’m disgusting.” She pointed out. He leaned back to look at her, hair piled into a bun on the top of her head wearing a crop top and lycra leggings.

“Don’t care,” he muttered, licking a path down her neck.

“Fuck me,” she gasped as he bit her bare shoulder.

“Yep, that’s what I -” he broke off, listening, “what’s that noise?”

“The shower. I told you, I’ve just got back from the gym.” He took her hand and led her to the bathroom where steam billowed out from the still running shower. He reached out to unzip the front of her crop top and threw it in the vague direction of her washing basket, he pulled off his own t-shirt and added it to the pile. “What are you up to?” She wondered aloud, taking off the rest of her gym kit and stepping into the hot shower. He stepped in behind her and poured vanilla scented body wash into his hands until it frothed. He stood closely behind her so she could lean against him, and rubbed the soapy water from her hands, up to her shoulders and across the other side. He held her against him as he gently washed her stomach, over her breasts and the rest of her body. She sighed contentedly.

“This ok?” He asked, his hands running over and between her thighs. She nodded and reached up to pull the hair tie from her bun. River guided them further under the water stream, his height over her giving him a direct line of sight down her body. Seren took the shampoo from the shelf and he took it from her, gently washing her hair. He took his time, she relaxed against him, his eyes were drawn to the path the droplets of water took over her skin, like memories of where his mouth had been.

“Why’re you doing this?” She questioned as his fingers kneaded through her hair. She moaned at the slight pull, he kissed her neck, acknowledging that he’d heard her response.

“You look after everyone.” He explained simply. He replaced the shampoo and picked up the conditioner, repeating the same process until Seren was dizzy with her need for him. 

They lay nose to nose in Seren’s bed, close to sleep.

“We should be careful, David put himself out there by demanding Taverner employed me. I don’t want to break his trust.”

“I know. This doesn’t have to be complicated, maybe we should just enjoy the distraction. Keep it simple.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her with him. He felt her nod in agreement.

“Yeah. Keep it simple.”

“I want you to be able to walk away from this one day. You don’t want MI5 in your life forever.” He reasoned, half asleep. Seren stayed quiet. His breathing evened out and the hand that brushed up and down her bare back fell still.

“What if I do?” She whispered to the darkness.

*

Seren was on her way to David's when the phone rang through the car. 

“Ms Harrison?” Her stomach dropped to her feet, it didn't sound like Taverner fortunately, so her mind immediately went to the next worst case scenario - Mags in the care home. 

“Yes, that's me?”

“I'm calling from Medway hospital, we have David Cartwright here - you're listed as one of his emergency contacts?”

“David? Oh, god. Yes, yes I'm his home help, I'm on my way there now, what's happened?” She came to a set of lights and did a u-turn.

“You're not live in?”

“No, we didn't think he needed that just yet.”

“It's not too serious, he's had a fall and managed to get to his panic button. The ambulance brought him in about half an hour ago.”

“Ok, have you called his other emergency contact?”

“Not yet -”

“I will. I'll do it. I'll be there in five minutes.” Seren hung up and flicked her eyes to her dash display to select River's name.

“I was just thinking about you,” he answered before she could get a word in. 

“He's had a fall. I'm on my way to the hospital,” she interrupted quickly. 

“Shit, ok, I'm on my way.”

“They said it wasn't serious but-” her voice cracked. 

“It’s going to be fine, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“I'll call you when I know more.” He hung up first, she could hear muttered swearing as the handset moved from his ear so he could end the call. After hastily abandoning her car in the first space she saw, she raced to the reception desk. “David Cartwright, please? Came in an ambulance, I was just speaking with someone?” The computer keyboard clicked as the receptionist tapped her manicured fingers on the keys.

“Ahh yes, he's on the Acute Medical unit, Lister Ward, follow signs for Red 3. You're going behind me, turn left and up the stairs.”

“Thanks!” Seren ran toward the stairs to the next reception desk where she repeated who she was. A nurse led her down the brightly lit corridor to a small ward of 4 beds. In the far corner by the window was David. She rushed for the bed, managing to stop and slow down as she reached the end of the bed. “David,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. She went to his bedside and took his hand carefully, taking note of the cannula in the back. She followed the tubes up to an IV bag. His hand felt small and weightless in hers, the skin paper thin and cool to touch. 

“You've cold hands, dear girl.” He said hoarsely. She closed her eyes in relief at the sound of his voice. 

“Cold hands, warm heart.” She told him, reaching her other hand out to brush his hair from his eyes. “What have you been up to? Silly man.”

“Thought I'd get the kettle on for us, came a cropper on the stairs.” She tsked him lightly with click of her tongue. 

“Shit, I need to tell River you're OK, he's bombing down the motorway,” she picked up her phone and found his number. “He's OK, awake and talking to me. I just need to find a nurse for an update. Lister ward, Red zone 3.” She told him quietly. River arrived as the nurse did. They all listened patiently as she explained that aside from some bruises from the fall, he was perfectly fine but they did want to keep him in for a few days as a precaution. Once the nurse had left, River was able to reach to embrace David. He could only watch Seren but he could see she was itching to be closer to him. 

“You allowed a coffee old man?”

“I bloody better be, I shall discharge myself if not.” He declared. 

“Seren?”

“Yeah, I'll pop to the bathroom and help you bring them back. Won't be long, no causing trouble,” she warned David. In the safety of the corridor, away from the doorway to the ward, River pulled Seren into his arms. 

“You ok?”

“Silly bugger scared the shit out of me, I think I got flashed I got here so fast.” She grumbled, taking a deep inhale of the soap from her bathroom mixed with his own scent. He kissed the top of her head and then lifted her chin to kiss her properly, more intimately than she'd expected in public. The nurse who'd spoken to them blushed as she manned the reception desk. 

“C'mon, let's get his coffee, I only got you out here so I could kiss you.” He reluctantly let her go and went to push coins into the machine.

“You don't have to stick around here all day, you know?” David told her, “someone else is babysitting, go and enjoy yourself.” Seren looked torn. 

“I mean it. And you, shouldn't you be back in London? I certainly don't need both of you here.” He turned his attention to River. 

“I could go and visit Maggie,” Seren wondered aloud.

“Go,” David smiled. “Do go, dear girl. I'm fine, really.” River watched the guilt gnawing at her, that she hadn't been there early enough in the morning to have prevented the fall. Despite what the nurse had said, the worry was still etched in her face. 

“You should go, I'll stay here.”

“No you won't, I already told you, back to work.” River grimaced. “Go on, off you go.”

“Ok, if you insist?” Seren stood up and helped him get more comfortable in the bed, smoothing out the blanket, pouring more water for him and getting the newspaper from her bag along with a pen. “I'll be back later this evening, call me if you want me to bring anything else?” River watched, awed by their bond, the shorthand in their conversation and Seren's clear love for his grandfather. She kissed his forehead and gave him a winning smile, disguising the worry. “Be good for the nurses.” 

“I'll walk out with you, if you're sure grandad?”

“I am indeed, leave me in peace with my crossword.” River gave his hand a squeeze and gestured for Seren to go ahead of him. She turned at the door to wave at David. 

“So… going to work?” She asked once they were in the corridor. 

“No way, I'm going wherever you're going.”

“Oh you are, are you? To visit Maggie then?”

“Lead the way. We can drop your car off at the house and I'll drive?”

“Something wrong with my car?”

“Apart from the music choices?” She arched an eyebrow, 

“Tread carefully, Cartwright.”

“3 speeding tickets in one week, you got flashed this morning, it sounds like the wheels are about to drop off… anything else? Is your engine light on this week?” She scowled. 

“Not this week, no. I did do a probably illegal u-turn this morning though.” 

“Probably illegal?” He teased, slinging an arm around her as they left the hospital. 

*

“Seren, darling!” Mags called across the sunroom of the care home the second she came into view. Seren let the older woman pull her into a bear hug deceptively strong for someone in their eighties. 

“Hello Mags. God, I've missed you.” Seren squeezed tighter until Maggie clocked River standing further back. 

“Oh! You've brought your handsome man with you!”

“My friend, Mags. River is my friend.” 

“Well friendship suits you dearie, you certainly never looked this happy when you were my friend.” Maggie said slyly. 

“What's all this ‘was’ your friend, I am your friend you daft old bat.” 

“Cheeky, I can have you kicked out. Leave the man behind though.”

“No chance. How've you been?”

“Sit, sit, both of you. Are the girls getting some tea? I'm not too bad,” she flapped. “Service could be better,” she grumbled, looking around for a member of staff. 

“I'm fine, really good. You look well?” River sat down next to Seren but held back as the women talked, only being drawn when Maggie insisted. Seren's relationship with Maggie was similar to the one she had with David, she loved them and cared for them as if they were her own grandparents. He found himself lost in a near future where David wasn't around any longer. Found himself wondering and then what? It hadn't occurred to him that one day, his only relationship with someone outside of work would no longer be there. He would essentially be alone. He missed what Seren said as she stood up and brushed his shoulder as she left the room, but Maggie soon dragged him back into the conversation. 

“You're very quiet darling. I'm sure he'll be just fine.” River frowned. “Your grandfather? Seren said you've both come from the hospital this morning?”

“Sorry, yes. Yeah I'm sure he'll be OK.”

“But you're not?” She mused. “Out with it, before she gets back?”

“He's all I've got. It just occurred to me that he's all I've got apart from a few colleagues I'm not sure I'd call friends.” His brow furrowed again. 

“You've got her,” she nodded over at Seren who was laughing with one of the staff members. Her smile was radiant. He shook his head. 

“We decided to keep it simple, nothing serious.” Maggie's chuckle turned into a cough. 

“If you say so, love.” Seren came back over and Maggie fell silent.

“Apparently they're about to take you through for afternoon tea, so we'll head out.”

“Wonderful to see you. Bring cake next time, theirs is shite.” 

“Love you, Mags. Be good.” Seren gave her a hug and once she was released, Maggie ordered River over. 

“Don't be a fool, young man,” she muttered quietly. “Lovely to see you both, off you pop now.” As they left the room with Maggie watching, Seren slipped her hand into his and squeezed. 

“Everything alright?” She asked, her voice laced with concern. He nodded. 

“Yeah, yeah fine.” She didn't look entirely convinced, but let it go. “I, uhh, I'm going to head back to London if you don't mind?” Seren shook her head slowly.

“Sure, ok. I'll get my car and go back to the hospital for an hour.” They drove back to David's in near silence with Seren trying to understand what had happened over the previous couple of hours to have caused River to retreat into himself so much. “I'll call you later?” She asked, confused and a little hurt.

“Yeah, let me know if he needs anything. Otherwise I'll be back in a couple of days when he's ready to be discharged.” Seren nodded, her smile tight. She got straight into her car and decided to head straight to the hospital, not wanting to be alone. 

River made it one junction up the motorway back to London before turning around and going to Seren's house. She arrived home to find him sitting on the doorstep. She stopped suddenly, almost falling over him. 

“Oh shit!” She yelped, “you scared me half to death. What are you doing here, I thought you were going home?” He got to his feet and moved aside so she could unlock the door. She pushed it open and let him through first. “River? I thought you were going home?”

“I did. I am.” He said softly. Seren frowned a little, unsure of his meaning. 

“Ok,” she said gently, “ok. Let's get some food, you must be freezing.” He followed her to the kitchen where he sat at the table while she pottered around cooking. “David's doing fine, I think they'll probably let him out tomorrow. There's no reason to keep him in and they need the bed space.” She chatted to him, filling the silence. “I know you must be worried, but he's honestly alright. I'm sure the nurses are sick of him already. He was struggling to remember who I was, but I think it's the unfamiliar surroundings. I spent two hours with him telling me about his wonderful grandson, and then as I was getting ready to leave, he recognised me.” He moved to stand behind her, his chin on her shoulder and arms looped around her waist. She turned a little to offer him a spoonful of the rich tomato sauce she'd made. He nodded his approval and kissed her lightly, feeling her relax in his arms. His silence had made her tense, he realised. “You know you can talk to me about anything?” She hesitated, not wanting to overstep. 

“Yeah.” She didn't push any further but handed him a plate of pasta. “I always thought he was invincible.” He admitted sadly. She held her breath, waiting for him to go on. “Having you here, he was doing so much better. I thought he'd be here forever.”

“He's still here,” she reminded him, taking his hand. 

“And when he's not? Then what?” She shook her head.

“I don't know,” she confessed. She pushed the food around her plate, her appetite gone. “He talks about you constantly,” she started. “All the bloody time, even when he's lost in the past. He loves you so much, River.” 

“I can count on one hand the number of times he’s said it.” He mumbled, trying to recall the last time he heard it from anyone. His grandmother, Rose, before she'd died most likely. When he looked up from the table to see Seren watching him, he expected to see pity in her eyes, but there was none. 

“Earlier,” she took a deep breath, “when I said I thought you were going home? You said you are.” She paused, halfway between wanting and not wanting an answer to the question hanging in the air. “What did you mean?” 

“I love you.” He said softly, realising that he hadn't said the words since his grandmother had died, let alone heard them. “I've spent all day wondering what will happen when he's gone, when I'm alone, where home is. But I shouldn't have, because I'm not alone.” She shook her head, the movement spilling tears down her cheeks.

“No, you're not.” She moved from her seat at the table and onto his lap, holding his face in her hands. “You're not alone, I love you.” She kissed him, her hands leaving his face to run through his hair. “God, you're such a fucking moron.” He laughed into her neck. 

“When I saw how much you care for him, and for Maggie… She told me. She said I'd got you too. I know I said we should just be able to walk away, no hard feelings, but I don't want that.”

“You've always had me, I'm not going anywhere.” She sighed, heavy with relief and finally relaxing into him. “We do need to work out what to tell him though?” He kissed her shoulder. 

“Mmm. Give me tonight, that's tomorrow's problem.”

*

“Watch your step,” Seren warned, holding David's elbow as he lifted himself out of River’s car. River came round from the driver’s side to take his other arm but was swiftly batted away. Seren bit her lip to disguise the smile.

“Watch my bloody step,” he grumbled. “You watch out, I can still tell Taverner I’ve had enough of you too.”

“Ahh but then she’ll send back Pete who can’t play chess.” River told him.

“Is he the one who drank IPA? Disgusting stuff. I couldn’t even get him to fetch me a decent bottle of scotch. Over my dead body will he be back.” David complained.

“I’m sure he wasn’t that bad.” Seren reasoned as River went ahead of them to unlock the door.

“He was.” They stepped over the threshold together, “and he couldn’t make coffee and walnut cake.” David beamed at the sight of the cake in the centre of the table.

“God, what a crime. Looks like you did the right thing getting me back.” Seren guided him to the sitting room. “Are you feeling ok?”

“I’m not breakable, dear. I’m fine. They let me out didn’t they?”

“Yeah cos they were sick of you.” River muttered under his breath so only Seren could hear, disguising her laugh with a cough.

“I heard that young man. Seren, would you cut that cake please?”

“No problem, tea?”

“Excellent.” He settled back in his armchair, making himself comfortable. In the kitchen, Seren set a tray with cake plates and mugs. She drifted towards River as he came in.

“S’good to have him back here.” She smiled. He took her hand and pulled her away from the tray and into his arms. 

“Yeah it is. Means I shouldn’t be kissing you in the kitchen anymore though,” he grumbled. She leaned up on tiptoes and grazed her lips against his.

“As if that stopped you before.” She challenged. 

“Put her down River, goodness me I may as well look after myself if you’re going to distract her constantly.” David chided from the doorway. Seren sprung from River’s arms, blushing furiously.

“Shit, David, I’m so sorry. I-”

“No need to be sorry, dear. Did you really think I didn’t know? I may be losing my mind but I’m certain my eyesight is perfectly fine. I did tell you, he was bound to have his head turned by a pretty girl. I’m just glad it’s you.” Seren’s mouth formed a perfect O shape. “Just getting a pen for the crossword, I’ll leave you both to it.” He wandered back to the sitting room. “Wouldn’t say no to that cake, though?” He shouted.

FIN

[voidtouched-blue]

starter for @forgotten-contract

Bustling cities had a kind of charm about them that just drew people in. Merchants bringing wares to sell, adventurers seeking their next job, the impoverished looking for a new start, and of course knowledge seekers pulled in by the wealth of information and skills the guilds provided. Ul'Dah was the jewel of the desert. It's streets gilded by the sun, and its people the heart of its illuminating glimmer. Yet, in all the excitements and pleasures the glittering gem provided, what interested Cyra more were the secrets that laid in the dark.

It had been six months with no answer to her summons, and she grew tired of waiting. The wound still fresh in her heart had been her driving force for the last year, and now her curiosity and thirst had brough her to the Thaumaturges' guild once more. The brothers that commanded their charge of the tomb their order operated out of were no strangers to her. The healer had made generous donations of both monetary and service-related origin in the past. Even her interest in the arts of Thaumaturgy had captured their interest enough to allow her nearly free roam of the sanctuary. What interested her more than their method of manipulating aether was the carefully kept tomes secreted in their collection.

The art of Thaumaturgy was deeply rooted in an understanding of the Voidsent, and the natural charge of a Black Mage was the power of destructive magics at their fingertips. The techniques had been passed down from mages who had learned to wield and control the secrets given to them by the denizens of the Void, and Cyra's desire for those secrets carried an unnatural thirst for the forbidden knowledge stored within the sanctum. While she had the support of the guardians of the tomb, none of them were willing to grant her permission to access those materials.

Perhaps there is aught I can glean from their available texts. In the very least I can try to keep track of constant themes between tomes. Her thoughts danced around the idea of sneaking in after hours, even casting a simple sleeping spell on the brothers on watch just to get a glance. Initially, she only wanted to ask permission to simply see the secrets they kept locked away, but even her display of mastery over the destructive magicks wasn't enough to convince them that she could keep her wits about her.

They had the right of it.

Cyra's want for their information was borne entirely out of her craving for power. Were she a little more lost to her madness, she would have considered taking it by force, but her principles kept her from acting on impulse. She would not take a life so needlessly. Not unless her well-being had been threatened first.

The hours she had spent in one day alone was more than most of their students would spend practicing their craft. So driven was she by her desires that she neglected any attempts at getting her attention throughout the days she had spent perusing their collection. She would find the answers she was looking for, and if she had to, Cyra was prepared to even commit crimes to fulfill her wish. "Gods-damnit!" She cursed in a sharp whisper. "This would be so much easier if they would just let me have a peek." It took a significant amount of restraint to keep her from slamming her fists onto the table in frustration. Several stacks of tomes covered the surface within her reach, with a rather large and delicately decorated one opened in front of her. She tapped her dry quill on the page, rereading her notes as she compared copied passages from multiple books with one another. The mentions were too vague to have any immediate connections to the titles she had heard Cocobuki mention in passing to one of his brothers.

She leaned back in her seat, setting the quill down in the ink well and letting out a frustrated sigh. The Miqo'te rubbed her face with her free hand, her gaze shifted distantly to the candle that sat just out of reach on the other end of the table. The playful dance of the flame held her focus for a moment. It was curious how something so small had the power to cause catastrophic destruction. She knew what she asked of the brothers. She knew what the consequences would be should she lose control over the magick she sought to control. Cyra was sure that her determination and desire were strong enough to overcome any perceived failure they may have had nestled among their doubts.

"Aghk!" Something in the light felt like it burned a hole into her mind. She winced, hunching over slightly in the chair as she cradled her face delicately with her clawed hands. She had felt headaches before, but this was different. The sharp pain behind her eye moved to her forehead. Her vast knowledge of the body, and its innumerable ails didn't provide her with any immediate answers.

"Perhaps..." She grunted, rubbing her temples. "Perhaps it's time for a small respite from throwing my head at the wall." The healer pinched the bridge of her nose and pushed her seat away from the table. As she moved, the headache seemed to pulse. The way it ached had her nearly incapacitated. But as suddenly as the pain appeared, it had subsided to a dull throb. I should return home. I doubt they will grant me access, and I have much to go over. I would also prefer to suffer through this fatigue in the comfort of privacy.

As she stood up from her seat, spots obscured her vision. She wobbled, only catching herself at the last moment on the surface of the table before she had completely toppled over herself. In her brief episode, she had knocked over the chair. The sound of the wood clattering onto the stone floor had silenced any conversation happening throughout the sanctuary, and yet she couldn't be bothered to even pay attention to it. All she wanted was to regain control of herself. But something felt like it was wriggling around in her head, sending her vision into a spin and losing focus on the task at hand.

The flame on the candle flickered towards her curiously.

[dullgecko]

The bad kids (and by this I mean Riz) have a in depth plan for if Kristen dies in battle and fig is off doing something else.

Plan A

If she has the spell slots have Adaine cast summon fiend to summon fig to revive Kristen.

Plan B

If plan A can’t work due to lack of spell slots have either Riz or Adaine cast gentle repose on the corpse and summon fig the old fashioned way (full on infernal ritual with the pentagram replaced with fig anarchy symbol).

Plan A and B are only needed if plan C doesnt work (c stands for crystal, as in a frantic text message at the start of the fight and hope Fig has service so she can get there to help them).

They TRY not to get into fights if Fig isnt free, just because it feels weird not having her there but sometimes she's busy and they can't help it. Its dangerous going into battle with only one healer, and Fabian still hasnt quite mastered healing spells despite multiclassing as a bard.

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, May 26, 2024

My posts

My neck is fucked up in some inexplicable way (silent migraine?) and I have been trying everything I can think of. It’s a little better, but the strain persists. 

I am hoping everything in this post is coherent and spelled correctly, but it’s a gamble at this point. I only just caught "Spiders George."

Reblogs of interest

U.S. Justice Department seeks breakup of Live Nation-Ticketmaster through major antitrust suit

Google’s AI Overview results, “the new Lies Your Older Cousin Tells You machine” that uses headlines from The Onion to answer your most pressing questions, are a menace and they’re going to get someone killed. Here’s the magic code to get rid of it.

The Hot Vintage Lady Semifinals are Hedy Lamarr vs Diahann Carroll and Rita Moreno vs Eartha Kitt. “But what about--?” They were already knocked out several polls ago. “But--” Them too. Check out the (very lighthearted) Dracula fantasy cast polls while you’re there.

Tolkien imitators never actually understood Lord of the Rings

If your Willy Wonka isn’t at least partly horror villain, you may not have understood Willy Wonka

A handy guide for finding (tagged) posts on Tumblr

Terms of Service, Didn’t Read, a helpful website/browser add-on

News you can use: Paranormal experts say there may be a portal in an English forest letting in werewolves. 

The last time I saw the Dark Grocery Store on my dash, someone had it tagged “chilla’s art coded,” iirc, and I watch so many game playthroughs that I laughed a little too hard at that.

Something else I laughed at harder than I should have: “Soulsborne bitches will be like omg they brought back Lactus the Intolerant” in the middle of a post about Glup Shitto, Bumbo Wexler and friends.

This cat pole is awful. Let me love it.

If Godzilla fits, Godzilla sits.

Video

PBS Great Performances’ Shakespeare in the Park streaming schedule for May and June (with Danai Gurira as Richard III, even), free to watch.

Considering how much you’re able to see of Frog and their paintbrush, I’m still not entirely sure how India Rose Crawford makes these videos. Also, that amigurumi frog is a better artist than I am. 

The sacred texts

Will any of you motherfuckers ever help Blade fight the vampires

Spiders Georg broke containment and ended up in... Business Insider.

Heart eyes, motherfucker

Personal tag of the week

Some really interesting posts on my jewelry tag, including an emerald ring.

[foxens-den-of-divination]

Yes, Another Tumblr Oracle Blog!

Hi, yall! I'm Foxen. You may know my main account @the-fox-jawed-cryptid or my witchblr @the-fox-jawed-witch or my Witchblr Writing account @afledglings-guideto-witchcraft.

This is my Paid Divination blog and a place where you can find all of my other magical services.

First, what I offer and the prices.

Paid Divination

This first section is all general ADVICE related spreads. I will not answer yes/no questions, medical questions, time sensitive questions, legal questions, or relationship questions in these spreads.

2 Card Spreads $4

3 Card Spreads $6

4 Card Spreads $8

+$2 any additional card added to a spread.

This next section is all based on relationship spreads. Again, I will not answer yes/no questions, medical, time sensitive, or legal questions. All relationship spreads are for ADVICE.

5 Card General Relationship Advice $10

6 Card How do I find My True Love Advice $12

7 Card Basic Relationship Advice $14

8 Card Manifesting a Soulmate Advice $16

10 Card Potential Future Love Advice $20

+$2 any additional card added to any spread.

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5 Card Deity Contact Advice Spread $10

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Either every week or month (depending on my energy and adhd), four FOLLOWERS will receive a free 4 card reading.

You MUST be following me and interacting with my posts.

Sharing my blog to your friends, Facebook, and other social media also counts.

I will message you, and you will have 2 days to get back to me to accept.

No medical, time sensitive, yes/no, relationship or legal questions.

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If you wish to use any of the spreads that can be found on this blog, feel free to do so. I will not interpret ANY readings that you have chosen to do yourself.

Free Readings are open again.

[xlucy-in-the-skyx]

Chapter 13 - Gale

“I don’t like you, Astarion,”

“No? Aw.” Astarion pouts.

“I think you’re a selfish, self-serving, cruel person who delights in the unhappiness of others. I think you’re taking advantage of Siobhan’s kindness, kindness you’ve done little to show you deserve.”

“Deserve.” Astarion repeats, turning the word over in his mouth. “That’s interesting, isn’t it?”

Gale pauses, “How so?” There’s something dangerous about the way Astarion’s posture has shifted.

“You forget, Gale,” his name is bitter poison on Astarion’s lips, “that I’ve been alive almost two and a half centuries. You’re barely middle-aged. I have rather a bit more experience in the ways of the world than you, so listen to me when I say this,” 

Before he knows it, Gale is falling out of the tent and lands on his back— Astarion’s hand around his throat. Gale brings up a hand to shock Astarion with a fistful of lighting, but the vampire pins his wrist beneath his knee and, with his free hand, pins the other to the ground next to his head. 

“You have no idea what I do or don’t deserve, what I have or haven’t lived through, what I care or don’t care about.” Astarion hisses and digs his nails into Gale’s throat when he wriggles beneath him. 

“Astarion—” Gale chokes out. Restrained and out of breath, he cannot cast spells. He is at Astarion’s mercy.

“You dare judge me? My arrangement with Siobhan has been mutually agreed upon. An exchange of services, if you will. The terms of which are none of your bloody business. If, at some point, she wishes to terminate that arrangement, she’s free to do so. Correct me if I’m mistaken, but I believe you two have come to a similar arrangement. So, it seems to me that you and I—we’re not so different. Next time, you’ll do me the favor of not sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” The pressure around his throat becomes almost too much to bear as Astarion leans in to whisper in his ear. “Are. We. Understood?” 

Gale nods as best he can, head already beginning to swim from the lack of air. 

“Hmm, good.” Astarion releases him and stands while Gale rolls to his side and sucks in a ragged breath. “And, darling, I’ll have you know, I’m not opposed to sharing if it comes to it. You need only ask. Thanks for all the help. I’m sure Siobhan will be oh so grateful. Ta.”

Ao3