#Just... Using magic intended for harm to watch over another

[purrassicjet]

Aelwyn's Nemisis Ward for Adaine and Sandra Lynn's Hunter's Mark on Fig my beloved

[pinguwrites]

Kinktober 2023 | Day Two — Cillian Murphy + spanking, authority kink

Pairing -> dom!cillian murphy x stepdaughter!reader

Warnings -> kinda dark and sick, stepcest, mentions of masturbation, use of the word daddy (not really sure if it counts as kinky or not, but it's in there), huge age gap (implied Cillian and reader knew each other before reader was fourteen but no relationship), slut shaming, spanking

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Your stepfather, Cillian, laughed. A dry laugh, his fingers touching his lips for a moment. You were sitting on his bed, hands interlocked, waiting patiently for him to say something. 

You knew you fucked up. When you decided to wear that pink mini-skirt — the type that showed a scrape of your bottom — with a crop top that accentuated the curve of your breasts, you knew you were asking for trouble. 

Your intention hadn’t been to make him upset. Just a little pissed off, enough for him to sweep you away to some corner and work his magic on you, but you had ended up making him angry. Angry enough to call off the entire night and bring you back home.

What was I expecting? He was still your dad. Sure, you had sex, but in some fucked up way or another, he still saw you as that little girl he met all those years ago, the one that needed to be cared for and protected and disciplined.

Cillian sat down on the bed beside you, thinking for a moment. Then, “Get over my knees.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn’t spanked you since you were fourteen. 

“What?” The thought of him punishing you like that, now that you saw him in a different light, was both humiliating and arousing. 

“Get over my knees,” he repeated, with that soft Irish accent you loved. “You need to learn a lesson.”

Not wanting to make it easy for him, you complained. “It was only a dress! Why—”

Cillian cupped your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” he said earnestly. “It’s either my knees or against the wall.”

The thought of standing while he spanked  you made you shudder. Your knees would probably buckle and you would collapse into his arms, which didn’t sound like a bad idea, but you would rather be laying down while he did it — to avoid the embarrassment. 

You nodded, and laid over his knees, feeling a sense of excitement rush through your body. “What if Mom finds out—” you tried to say, but he didn’t let you finish. He pulled up your skirt and pushed your underwear between your cheeks, giving you a nice, hard slap on your ass.

You yelped. “Mr. Murphy—”

“—Be quiet!”

He slapped you again, this time on the other cheek. You made another sound, the pain stinging like a burn. He wasn’t being gentle. Behind each slap was intent and fury.

“How dare you behave like that in public?” he said, his voice low. “How dare you flirt with other boys like a desperate slut?”

“I was just — oww — I was just tryna get your attention!” 

“Yeah?” He spanked you again, this time much harder. The force of it made your ass jiggle. You forgot how much this hurt.

“And you couldn’t have just asked me politely? You know I would give you anything you want — anything.”

Another spank. 

“M’sorry!”

Cillian shook his head. “That’s not enough. Do you understand how painful it is for me, to see you act like that? When I see you wearing these things in public.” He tugged at your dress. “I mean, what even is this? A bikini? Some type of lingerie?”

“It’s just a skirt,” you whined, noticing a familiar bump on your thigh. He was hard. Your dad was getting hard hitting you. 

Fuck, you thought, feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. 

Another slap. You cried out.

“It’s my job to watch out for you. Is that not something you want?”

“I do want it,” you said earnestly, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

You knew calling him that did something to him. Everytime you used that word he would always give into your wants or give you extra affection. 

Cillian’s eyes softened. “I know you are.” 

He gave your sore bum a rub, kneading the flesh. “Come on, sit on my lap.”

You did as he asked. It still hurt a little, but you managed.

He gave you a kiss, a gentle one, long and tender. Lips locked, you ran your hand down his body to the bulge in his pants, but he stopped your hand. “I’m not going to please you tonight. And you are not going to touch yourself.”

You groaned, frustrated. You were aching for him, that’s the whole reason you decided to tease him in public in the first place. What was all this spanking for if he wasn’t going to fuck you at the end of the day? “Why not? I said sorry!”

“I told you that’s not enough. Now, go finish your homework.” He lifted you off his lap and placed you on the floor. “If I catch you masturbating,” he added, his voice low, “you’re not getting anything at all this entire week, okay?”

He said this almost condescending tone, which made you infuriated.

“Fine,” you grumbled, leaving the room.

He won’t find out.

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

[findmeinthefallair]

The scenes towards the end of the finale were like an intersection of multiple characters experiencing the loss of father figures, in different shades:

Luz's relationship to her late father took on a different form, after King's own father passed on and his glyph magic was gone for good. Manny gifting her the Azura books before his death, and Papa Titan offering her glyph magic before he too passed on, helped Luz find her place in the world and defeat Belos.

Apparently this scene is what made Sarah Nicole-Robles bawl in the recording studio, right after she recorded the lines.

When these changes happen - when we experience the loss of a person, when our ties with them are wrangled into a new form, against our will - it can be devastatingly painful. Change and transformation make for fancy, dramatic scenes in fiction, and they always incur loss in some form, painful or not. It also made me so emotional when seeing how much 18-year-old Luz resembles Manny, and how her enrolment in the university is linked to both her biological father and Papa Titan.

King's experience of seeing the majesty of his father, however brief, left him in awe and exhilaration. He can rest in the beautiful knowledge that Papa Titan was watching over him the whole time too. The message that his dad left him, relayed by Luz, is something he'll hold dear forever.

Hunter will never be truly harmed by Belos ever again. But he can't discard the memories of Belos granting him attachment: even if the attachment ended up not being real in a sense. However, like what can be applied in real-life therapy, he can get guidance on how to rescript those memories.

Belos's lies about having good intentions don't change how it felt real to Hunter all those years ago. Hunter was a young child when receiving this 'love', and in a twisted way...the mission given to him by Belos kept him alive up till he could escape the Coven, because the mission gave his life meaning despite the circumstances being awfully terrible. A child cannot survive without attachment, and needs attachment even if the experience of attachment has been horrendous and scarring. And holy Titan don't get me started on how at age 16 (before the timeskip), he had yet to learn more grisly details about his predecessors - whom he might view as older brothers and fathers whom he never met - and the generational trauma in his Golden Guard family tree:

which would have definitely been explored before he could experience that amazing hard-won serenity and peace at age 20.

Even Philip's arc is inextricably tied to his manner of coping with how he murdered Caleb, who was the closest thing he had to a father, given how these two brothers were orphans. In the end, Philip meets his end while Luz gazes upon him the same way Caleb's ghost did. Philip won't be haunted by Caleb's ghost again, and he joins the person who was essentially his father figure in death. Till the very end, he was projecting onto another person because he didn't want to recognize the same traits in himself. He was the one responsible for his father figure's death.

But grief doesn't mean the relationships in question have ended altogether. It's kind of like what this post about the finale (link) says, and it even extends to the relationship between us fans and the show itself.

The cliché "5 Stages of Grief" is the most commonly mentioned grief model, but I follow the development and advocacy of a newer perspective on grief that challenges it. In fact, the 5 Stages was originally just intended for terminally ill patients, but it was taken out of proportion. I began a serious investigation into the newer models after I went through something that parallels Hunter losing Flapjack...eerily, it happened to me two weeks before TTT's release date. No wonder I feel so close to Hunter as a blorbo, I guess.

Unlike what the 5 Stages of Grief says, grief and linear time don't mix well. Without "stages" to follow, there isn't an expectation of some deadline or permanent end of a tunnel in the newer models. Such pressure wouldn't be honoring the sacredness of connections between us. Instead, less famous grief perspectives like the dual-process model and continuing bonds model, are a better fit to honor relationships that mattered, since they aren't given an expiry date.

I wonder how Luz would be feeling on the day she graduates from the Wild Magic University, and how King feels each time he unlocks his own new glyphs since he is the new Titan to supply the Isles with magic. And I wonder how Hunter felt when his coven sigil was replaced with the Flapjack tattoo, and how he feels when he sees the Gravesfield town seal and Wittebane statues.

There are ways in which they can get creative to integrate their grief (notice I didn't say "get rid of", "remove", "erase" or even "manage"...the pain is what is to be managed, not the grief itself) the best they can. In canon, we have examples such as the Hexsquad agreeing to get their Flapjack tattoos together. Luz letting go of the light glyph sheet here:

is also a fantastic representation of rituals like sending off a message in a bottle at a beach, tying a message to a balloon and letting it fly away (this happened in Reaching Out, didn't it?), or burning a message in a campfire to let it float up towards the sky in the form of embers.

It is a common recommendation to have exercises like letter-writing where the griever writes to the lost loved one. What many may not know is you can also do the reverse: you writing as your lost loved one, to yourself. Because the griever takes a piece of the lost loved one with them, that the griever has shaped within themselves. This is especially good if you need to extend forgiveness to yourself. An example from a book called Bearing the Unbearable:

The author felt responsible for the stillbirth of her child, but had a "happy accident" where she intuitively asked for forgiveness and then received it, by invoking the love that her child would have shown to her in a world where said child had remained alive.

I think Hunter in particular could benefit from something like this, writing to himself as the uncle whom he saw as genuine and nurturing, and gaining ownership of that part of him even though Belos was a liar and is now gone for good. It can help him move forward especially since he won't be spared from nightmares in which his loss is re-enacted. With this kind of rescripting, historical accuracy doesn't actually need to matter. After all, our own minds lie to us at times and mess with historical accuracy anyway, like Luz's thoughts telling her she was as bad as Belos, and how true that felt.

A physical loved one is lost to death, and it can feel just as painful - only in a different way - if people become estranged or separated without a literal death having occurred. But the connection to them isn't lost, it is only adapted. The bond continues. For better or worse.

I believe the pain in grieving is connected to each moment when we remember all over again that the one we loved isn't coming back.

It's like the needle of a gramophone getting stuck in the loop of an unpleasant-sounding record scratch noise. It's a bit like what C.S. Lewis says in his book A Grief Observed: "In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out." I can't find the other part but he later said something like, therefore if a friendship is lost, the part of you that only that friend could bring out, is also lost. Something in you is locked away forever, though new things can also be unlocked after the loss.

It wasn't shown onscreen but I wouldn't be surprised if it's regular for Luz to come across a meme and be freshly reminded of her dad's absence, because she can't show him that meme. King would be wishing that a new funny cat video he discovers is something his dad could also laugh at along with him. Hunter would be hoping that Flapjack, the previous Golden Guards and Caleb are watching as he brings back palismen.

Bereavement, and any grief that is significant enough to alter our personhood forever, are the forms of love that can never really grasp how time flows in a linear way. They can't be reasoned with, only experienced.

"...the howling at the center of grief is raw and real. It is love in its most wild form" - Megan Devine.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 26

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 26: So it begins

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was trapped in a chair. Something was clamped around my head and kept it firmly tied to the back of the chair. My arms and legs were completely immobile, not a centimeter of space left. I could feel Alastor's panic. I let out a scream as I pulled hard against the chair, completely helpless.

Burning pain ran along the sides of my head. I screamed louder, harder, and fought tooth and nail for my magic just barely out of reach.

Next thing I know I'm running through the forest. I was in my Dragon form, my large claws clearly in view as I jumped across streams and weaved through the trees. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

I came to a clearing and stopped. Standing across was a man in all white. He spread his huge bird-like wings and pointed a finger at me. A moment later I was on my side, shaking from pain, as he stood over me with clenched fists.

He lifted one fist and brought it down on my face.

My head jerked back and I gasped. Alastor flinched awake, eyes snapping open and scanning the room for danger. My own eyes remained locked on him as wide as they could go. I couldn't take a deep breath.

"Another nightmare my dear?" he asked sweetly, hand coming up to cup my face. I couldn't move. He noticed and pushed his mind further into mine than usual. He lowered my heart rate and loosened my shoulders. He moved down my body until the tip of my tail was no longer tense.

"A vision," I breathed. "Something was wrong. I was trapped and something was happening to you."

"I won't let anything happen to either of us, my darling." That was what he always said after my nightmares.

"But what if something does happen?" I pressed.

"Darling," his tone was firm, "we don't know when these events will occur or if they can even be considered visions. You have yet to discern between a vision and dream. This could be your fear creating nightmares."

I let out a short, terse sigh and sat up. I couldn't see but I knew he was rolling his eyes and sitting up as I slipped out of bed.

"Darling--"

"I don't appreciate you discounting me like that. Six surface Overlords are gone, Blackwater is creating an empire through word of mouth, and we barely survived getting away from him last time. How are you not concerned?" I faced him with my arms extended in exaggeration.

"Last time he lured us into a trap." He stood up and ran a hand through his messy hair. If I wasn't so upset I might've considered it attractive. "He is nothing against me in a full scale battle. He cannot harm you or this Haven while I am here." He crossed the room to place a gentle hand on my cheek. My tail came around to wrap on his ankle. "Let me worry about this, darling."

I was quiet. There were a lot of things I wanted to say to him. I wasn't some useless weak mage, not anymore. My magic was getting better with every day and I was doing a lot in the Haven to get it more fortified and help with morale. And why wasn't he showing even just the slightest bit of concern? He could've died last time we ran into Blackwater. He was building an army as we spoke. Alastor was good but even he could be overrun if there were enough of them, especially if they had Overlord magic.

Alastor brought his other hand up to hold my face in both hands. He tried to catch my eyes but I forced my head down. He moved his hands to my shoulders and gently squeezed them, trying in every way to get me to look at him without forcing it. I kept our minds separate but allowed him to press along my shields like he usually did.

He succumbed to hugging me instead. I pressed my cheek into his chest while his arms folded over my shoulders and behind my head. I took a long, slow deep breath of his cedar wood scent. I had the urge to cry. I knew it wasn't from just this one nightmare. I've been having them steadily now and each time he told me they were nightmares, nothing more. He could help sooth the nightmares but that didn't prevent the effect it had on me during the day. It was getting overwhelming.

I rubbed my face on his soft black long sleeve. He brought a hand up to my head and ran his claws lightly along my scalp. I let out a hum of satisfaction, the muscles in my arms loosening around his waist. He pushed further on my shields and I finally let him in, melting our minds together. I felt warmth seeping through my body and relaxing all the tight muscles. I was surprised to see how much of an effect my physique had on my mentality.

How did he always manage to relax me like this?

"I will take extra precautions, my love," he finally said, chest vibrating as he spoke. My arms wrapped tighter around him and I smiled.

"Thank you."

"Can I have a kiss now?"

I tilted my head back to look at him, finally meeting his gaze. "Is that all you were looking for?"

One of his ears fell to the side. "It wasn't an attempt to manipulate you."

I laughed, bringing my hands up to his face and pulling him down for a brief kiss. "I know, Al. Thank you for listening." My ears picked up on a certain sound. My tail moved up his leg and the sound grew faster. I noticed his smile wobble a little but before I could make a comment he kissed me again. My tail continued up until it found his own tail. It had been wagging. I laughed into the kiss and tried to pull away but he refused, hands holding my face firmly against his so I couldn't say anything.

I tried moving my body to pull away and one of his hands came down to wrap behind my back. He pulled me flush against his body as his other hand moved to the back of my head, lips parting mine and long tongue slipping through. I made a surprised noise and gripped his shirt in my fists. He hummed into the kiss, making me moan.

I pulled away finally, shocked at my own actions, and quickly looked at anything other than him. His chuckle was deep in his chest. He planted a kiss on my cheek then on the side of my forehead.

****

"What do you mean he's missing?" I asked Althea, struggling to find a way to put our healer at ease. Vivian and Vilcin were also trying to talk to her but she was pacing like we'd never seen her do before. Vilcin was visibly upset at their friend's behavior, concerned owl noises bubbling in their throat. Vivian was the better of us three, trying to make conversation and pull out information from anything and everything.

"He's gone. My brother he's...he's just gone. No note, no word, no nothing." She grabbed random things off her shelves and pretended to busy herself. "The guards haven't seen him all day, either. Where could he have gone? He doesn't just disappear."

Althea had been reunited with her brother only recently. Husker had lead a group to save more fighters from the rings and it took mere seconds for Althea to find her brother as she surveyed them all for injuries. He joined the guards as most of the fighters did and any time he wasn't on duty he was in his sister's hut. To be honest, I was often jealous of their close relationship. Even after years of being separated, they came back like no time had passed.

A funny feeling settled in my chest and not a good one. Part of me worried if it was a trap of some kind but it wasn't as if I couldn't not help my friend. I was always the one who went out and searched for angry runaways with worried friends and families.

Althea was so upset. She wasn't thinking in her usual calm way. I had to do something to help her, even if that meant pushing past my own nerves. She was my friend, after all. One of my first friends in the haven.

I reached with my magic to see if Alastor was up at the house. I wanted to let him know that I was going out but he wasn't anywhere on the premise. That made me even more worried, however, that did mean I didn't have to argue with him over leaving the grounds. He would probably argue against it.

"Let me try finding him. I'm good with things like this," I said. Althea finally stopped moving. She turned to look at me as did the others. I waited a moment longer before turning and leaving the healer's hut. They all knew, especially Althea herself, about my worries of Blackwater. I had confided in them about my nightmares since Alastor wasn't the greatest when it came to the aftermath of those.

"Wait!" Althea called, "Let me go with you."

"Huh? Why?" I came to a stop as she ran up.

"At least you'll have someone with you out there. And I want to make sure he's okay when you do find him."

"I'm not sure, Althea," I admitted, "It's easier for me to move by myself as a Dragon. And we need to make sure our one and only healer is safe."

"You also need to be safe," she argued, "If anything happens to you, happens to Alastor, we're nothing against Blackwater."

"You have Charlie. She's pretty powerful. Plus her father is the King of Hell. He'll come to her aid."

"I'm not sure from the things she's told me." She glanced around to ensure no one was listening.

"Maybe we're reading too much into this," I tried, "your brother might have just gotten separated and lost. I'll be careful. I'm also powerful, you know." I turned away and started for the border before she could say anything else. The guards at the edge watched me but said nothing as I passed and morphed into my dragon form, quickly slipping into the forest.

I moved along the tree line until I caught wind of his scent. It was faint, obviously from the night before, and followed it further into the forest. I could smell others which told me he had been with a group. I felt my adrenaline surging through my veins. I missed moving through the forest like this, thinking of the scent and only that, and my claws kicking up dirt behind me. Even the wind slipping under my wings felt great. I felt free.

His scent grew stronger around certain areas. He must've stopped with the group a few times. Then at one point his scent diverted from the group. My nerves went up and reached out with my magic. Everything was on high alert now.

It took only a few strides before I realized something was up. I felt a presence nearby. It wasn't Alastor's and it wasn't Blackwater's. It didn't even feel normal; didn't feel natural. This had to be Blackwater's work. This was a trap. But I couldn't turn back. Not now. I had to save Althea's brother. I couldn't wait for Alastor either. Blackwater might be trying to extract magic from her brother this very moment.

I came to a clearing and dug my heels into the dirt. Standing on the other end was a man in white. He noticed my presence almost immediately, spinning around and extending huge golden wings.

My vision. It's happening!

His face was all black with sharp yellow eyes and teeth. He had black claws and horns. What kind of Demon was this?

"Well well well, nice to finally meet the bastard he spawned," the man said.

"Who are you?" I demanded as I shifted into my Demon form.

"The name's Adam. Like Adam the first man."

"First man?"

"Ch-yeah. I'm the Adam. From the Bible." He planted his fists on his wide hips.

"The Bible?" I deadpanned.

His toothy smile disappeared. "Do you seriously not know what the Bible is?"

I shook my head. "No. I've never heard of it."

"How? It's literally the most popular and controversial book in the whole fucking world."

"So what are you?" I asked.

"I can't fucking believe this." He crossed his arms. "I'm a fucking angel."

He talks weird.

"You look like a Demon, though." I knew Angels existed, being half of one myself, but I had never actually seen one. I thought they might not have a way to cross onto the surface like Demons did.

"Angels don't have a demonic look so I took that into my own hands. But here, let me demonstrate so you actually believe me." He pointed a single finger and a gold beam shot out. I barely moved off the line of trajectory and was thrown backwards into a tree. Stabbing pain throbbed in my shoulder, the smell of burning flesh reaching my nose almost immediately.

I looked down at my shoulder to see a large, steaming hole straight through it. The burning spread from the wound and went down my arm and seeped into my chest. Panicked, I immediately healed the wound and stopped whatever it was from reaching my heart.

My eyes looked up at him through my hair.

Game time.

There was no going back.

I moved to all fours as he spread his wings out. I waited, wanting him to make the first move. And he did. He flew at me at insane speed, barely giving me enough time to roll out of the way. His wings weren't obeying the laws of gravity.

I went into the woods and kept him at a distance with the dense trees. Where was Althea's brother? Where was he keeping him?

I came around a tree and uprooted it as he flew by. He slammed into the roots and crashed into the next one. I jumped on him and pinned his wrists to the ground, claws covering his to prevent him from using his death ray. I used my wings to pin his to the ground as well with surprising ease. I felt bigger. I felt deadly. I felt powerful. What other magic could this Angel do? Surely I was superior because I had both types of magic.

"What a position you've put me in," Adam smirked, "does your soulmate know you do this to other men?"

"Where is the boy?" I demanded, ignoring his remark.

"Like I would fucking tell you." His laugh was cut short when I sank my teeth into his shoulder. The taste was sweet on my tongue but my adrenaline was overpowering the urge. It actually made me uncomfortable to taste anyone else's blood other than Alastor's. "You little bitch!" he yelled as I lifted my head. "Is that how we're playing?"

He twisted my wrist funny and his yellow beam shot through my hand and hit my nose. I fell back and rolled away, clutching my face. He kept shooting at me as I fled among the trees. I uprooted the ground beneath him just to get him to stop.

I casted wind through the trees and sent him tumbling head over heels. I covered my bleeding face and healed the injury on my nose. My shoulder still ached from the first time he hit me. Maybe he didn't have the magic I had as a Demon but that beam of his was incredibly deadly. He could kill me if it hit my head.

I shuddered as Alastor looked through my eyes. I suddenly lost sight of Adam and panicked. I picked a direction and ran, weaving in and out of the trees. Where had he gone? I had blinked and he was gone. That wasn't possible, surely.

Something hard hit my face. It snapped my head to the side and I fell hard on my injured shoulder. I rolled once and slammed my face into a tree. I attempted the 'force field' Alastor had been teaching me. It was short high wings really close to my body to keep anything from reaching me. Though it probably couldn't do anything against his death ray.

A hand gripped my hair and slammed my face into the ground. Adam stepped on my wings and brute forced me onto my back, effectively popping my wing out of its socket. I cried out as he straddled me and closed his hand around my throat.

I felt Alastor reaching for me through our bond but something else, something bright, stopped him. I felt my soul being torn from my body. The pain wasn't physical but no words could describe such a horrible feeling. My mouth opened in a silent scream as it felt like stitches were being popped out the further my soul came from my body.

I shot my magic through my own soul and into Adam's. I pictured grabbed his throat with my own black claws. He suddenly let go and my soul snapped back into my body. My connection with Alastor wobbled.

"I'm done playing these games," he growled, standing up but not removing his feet from either side of my injured form. I was shaking uncontrollably. "You, half bastard, will get what you deserve soon enough."

He finally stepped off my wings and I rolled onto my side. He knelt beside me and grabbed my shoulders. A moment later everything felt as light as a feather.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

What's gonna happen? Who knows? All I know is that this is the 51st PART! That's so many! And you've been with me since the beginning <3

Next part will come Wednesday morning at the latest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

got possessed by a writing ghost for exactly two pages.

Re: this post.

____________

Stiles wasn't even supposed to be in this part of the preserve. Technically it was Hale land, and normally he would be giving it a wide berth. No sense in drawing the attention of a huge pack while they seemed perfectly content to ignore the witch in town. He didn't need a herd of hall monitors watching his every step.

However, he'd noticed a small patch of plants there, that he'd been unable to find anywhere else in the preserve, and a couple of them were extremely valuable. "Month Long European Vacation” valuable. And he was jonesing for some Swiss chocolate.

So, he didn't see the harm in a little bit of a stealth charm. Just a touch of misdirection magic. He'd slip in and slip out, and the Hales would never need to know.

Or at least, they wouldn't have, had one of them not been face down in the mud next to the plants he wanted.

Stiles mused as he carefully picked and jarred the roots, keeping one eye on the motionless figure. It looked pretty dead. Stiles was still sure the Hales would never know he was here; his spellwork was comprehensive and the rain was washing away any slight evidence his magic might leave behind.

He stood up and tucked the last jar away in his bag, brushing his wet hair away from his face as he considered the lump of werewolf in front of him.

Werewolf teeth could go for a lot with the right buyer.

And a Caribbean vacation could be nice after the European vacation.

He stepped a bit closer, checking out the face. It was beat to hell, and only vaguely familiar. A Hale for sure, but not one that stuck close. Maybe the pack wouldn't even be looking for him.

Stiles gave the body a little kick.

It groaned.

"Fuck," Stiles swore to himself, imaginary money evaporating from his wallet as the not-quite-corpse sluggishly moved.

He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers as he considered. Having a favor to call on from a werewolf pack was it’s own kind of valuable, really. He wasn’t looking for friendship bracelets, but it could be nice to have a one-time call out up his sleeve.

He kicked the werewolf one more time to make sure he was still alive, and was answered with a twitch of the hands, claws flexing in and out for a moment.

“I don’t think those are gonna be a lot of use to you buddy,” Stiles muttered, finally crouching down to put a hand on him, rolling him over to fully assess the situation.

His critical eye noticed the injuries weren’t healing at the usual rate. Alpha inflicted. Damn. The Hales weren’t going to owe him jack shit if he brought back someone they kicked out. Maybe the injuries had been given by an outside Alpha? There was just no way of knowing without asking.

Stiles sighed resignation and reached in his bag for that most magical of cures: epinephrine.

He briefly considered acting out his Pulp Fiction fantasies, but went with the thigh instead. The wolf’s eyes shot open a moment after deploying the pen, growling and snarling, arms and legs not quite under his command yet, but swinging enough for Stiles to quickly stand up and step back.

“Hey,” he shouted over the rain and growls. “HEY. Who half-assed your transformation into a corpse?”

The werewolf snapped his eyes onto Stiles for the first time, half lunging before falling directly back into the ground.

“Alright Mudcakes, you’re not really in a position to be making threats. Tell me who fucked up your shit. Was it your Alpha or another one? If I take you back to your pack are they just going to finish the job?”

“I have no Alpha,” the werewolf snarled, still struggling to move in a direction that might reach Stiles someday.

“Well that answers that I guess,” Stiles muttered to himself. He was soaking wet at this point, and fully ready for the shower he’d been intending to take as soon as he got home. He should really just leave and let the werewolf drama run its course. Not his circus, not his monkeys. Or wolves, in this case.

But… the opportunistic wheels wouldn’t stop turning in the back of his head. Sure there would be no werewolf teeth to sell, and there would be no favor owed from a large pack… but someone from inside the pack with no loyalty to it could also be valuable. Information sold even better than spells sometimes.

The wolf’s movements were slowing already, the epinephrine burning through his blood faster than a human’s.

The wolf would probably be easy enough to control for at least the next few days, given the ratshit state of him. What harm could it do to at least bring him back to the shop for a night? Stiles was sure he’d be grateful, at least.

With the other option being facedown dead in pond mud, how could he be anything but adoringly thankful?

[lucagray813]

Shadow Monkeys

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 1,691

Main Characters: MK, Macaque, Bǎi Hé

Relationships: None

Summary: There are some odd monkeys on the other side of the island and MK and Bǎi Hé are excited to meet them.

Additional Tags: Worldbuilding, monkeys

CW: None

Link to AO3 Version

----

On the other side of the island, about as far from Water Curtain Cave as you could get, there was a much smaller mountain that hid an extensive library. And as impressive as it was, MK couldn't help but roll his eyes at the dark and gothic decor - there were no prizes to be won for guessing who it belonged to.

But while the library was cool and all, it was its occupants that he was really interested in. Because there was a whole troupe of silent, dark-furred monkeys that lived here in harmony with an uncountable number of shadow elementals.

He'd never even heard of shadow elementals before, let alone seen one and he couldn't say for certain he wouldn't have preferred to live in ignorant bliss. They existed as purely 2D creatures moving over every surface in the library. And while he was sure they couldn't physically harm him, the way they moved and changed shapes made him uncomfortable.

And he wasn't convinced they weren't deliberately trying to freak him out. Because why else would several of them come together to form some huge, monstrous silhouette while his back was turned and then only scatter once he'd all but tripped over himself in fear?

And he swore it was just him they were doing it to!

But as sour as he was about that, it was fascinating to watch the monkeys interact with them. All of the monkeys were impressive shadow puppeteers, able to contort their hands, or even their whole bodies, in elaborate ways in order to communicate with the elementals.

He couldn't really understand what they were saying to each other but he could see that the two groups liked to play with one another. Monkeys would chase and "catch" elementals using their shadows or elementals would lead monkeys to a surprise with a series of clues. He was even confident there was some sort of shadow version of Rock, Paper, Scissors being played.

If the elementals didn't give him the creeps he probably would have thought the whole thing was pretty cute. Bǎi Hé definitely seemed to think so, and she wasn't at all put off by the elementals, but given the shadow lantern hanging from her belt he wasn't at all surprised.

She had wandered away from him a while ago to squat by a monkey and an elemental to try and learn the rules of their game so she could join in.

When they had first arrived, it had taken several sharp warnings to both the monkeys and the elementals to stop them swarming either Macaque or Bǎi Hé. Some of them were curious about him too but clearly lacking any sort of shadow magic made him significantly less appealing.

He wandered over to where Macaque was going through a stack of books looking for whatever it was they'd come here for in the first place. To be honest, he hadn't been paying that much attention - he had just wanted to tag along and see what the fuss was about.

Conversationally, he asked, "So what's with the monkeys? Red Son and Mei have theories and I'm really hoping they're both wrong."

He'd, of course, been sending live updates of his adventure to their group chat - including pictures and videos - and it hadn't taken them long to put on their conspiracy hats.

Red Son suggestions centred around the theme of Mad Scientist Macaque manufacturing them for some, possibly nefarious, purpose and he deliberated whether these were the intended outcome or simply failed experiments that he had locked away here.

Mei was pretty convinced Macaque had just banged a load of monkeys back in the day and these were his many, many descendants but given these were monkeys and not demons that theory sort of gave him the ick.

Not turning away from his task, Macaque responded, "Just what generations of hanging around with shadow elementals will do to you."

He was exceedingly grateful Mei was wrong but that didn't necessarily rule out Red Son's theory.

"Yeah, why are there so many of those here? I swear I've never seen them anywhere else."

Macaque shrugged, "They tend to show up anywhere I spend a lot of time but you can find them out in the world - normally somewhere dark and quiet."

Well that would explain why he never came across them - dark and quiet generally wasn't his scene. It was actually just on the edge of too dark in here as it was and he kept having to use his golden vision just to make sure he didn't walk into anything.

Curious he asked, "How come there's none back at the palace? You spent loads of time there too, right?"

Most of the palace inside Water Curtain Cave probably didn't have the right conditions for them but there definitely was the odd tunnel or abandoned room they would find themselves right at home at.

Macaque explained, "I didn't spend that much time in the palace. But they don't like being around Wukong either. His magic hurts them. I'm actually a little surprised they're fine around you. Especially with your eyes becoming beacons of light every two minutes. Although it could just be because of how saturated with shadow magic this place has become they're able to tolerate it."

A little sheepish, he silently resolved to try and use his golden vision less. It was probably really annoying for everyone here if he was randomly glowing after all. Hopefully his eyes would actually adjust to the darkness if he gave them a chance.

He pushed on however, a little surprised at Macaque's response, "You didn't spend that much time in the palace? How come? I thought you lived there."

"I have a room there but let's say I wasn't particularly welcome most of the time. Wukong and most of the monkeys were happy to have me there. The other demons though? Not so much."

Despite not having the full story, he found himself immeasurably sad on Macaque's behalf but before he could question further he was startled by Bǎi Hé's voice suddenly appearing right beside him, "People don't like things they don't understand."

Macaque nodded, still not turning around, "Doesn't matter when or where you are you can always rely on that to be true."

Man, he forgot what a downer Macaque could be.

And seeing the sad acceptance on Bǎi Hé's face, he felt compelled to argue. But his passionate speech about the good in people was stopped before it could even start as a monkey used his head as a spring board to catch a moth.

Bǎi Hé snorted before bringing a hand up to stifle her laughter. He glared at the monkey but they seemed much more interested in Bǎi Hé's laughter, climbing up her clothes and coming to sit on her shoulder while trying to get a closer look at where the sound was coming from, which only prompted more laughter.

He couldn't keep up the glare, it was nice to hear Bǎi Hé sounding so happy after all.

Back to safer topics, he nodded towards the monkey and asked, "These little guys just hang about the library all the time?"

Macaque responded, "They do during the day - they're mostly nocturnal but you can find them outside in the surrounding area at night. They're pretty sensitive to sunlight."

He posed thoughtfully, "They're like the total opposite of the monkeys back at the cave - do you think they would get on with each other?"

Macaque shrugged, "No idea. They're far enough apart that it'd be rare for them to run into each other."

Maybe he was just hardwired to like monkeys but these little guys were growing on him - they definitely had some unique quirks but they were still island monkeys, "Would it be ok if I came and hung out with them when you're not here?"

"It's your island, Monkey King."

He scrunched up his nose, "I mean, technically yeah, but this is your place. These are your monkeys."

Macaque's tone was indifferent, "They don't belong to me and this place hasn't been mine for centuries - do what you want."

He frowned but Bǎi Hé piped up, "Can I stay here for a bit then?" She shot him a somewhat apologetic look, "The palace is sort of a lot..."

"Knock yourself out."

MK sagged a little at Bǎi Hé's admission. He had been the one to all but force her to take a break from her travels, and he thought she'd been enjoying her stay.

She was quick to reassure him, "I'll still come visit you in the palace! It is nice seeing you all! It's just a bit much when you're not used to it..."

The sound of her misplaced guilt had him picking himself up and trying to respond more upbeat than he felt, "I get it. We are all pretty high energy, even I need a break from it all now and then! But can I at least help you get set up here? We can tidy up and then go grab some supplies from the palace."

At least this way she was still close by.

She smiled, "I'd appreciate that, MK. C'mon, let's go find the best place for a bed first."

He turned back to Macaque to check that he was okay with this plan but he was met with an irritated look that told him just to get on with it already.

Geez, sorry for trying to be considerate.

Macaque could tell him all day this place and its inhabitants didn't mean anything to him but it really wasn't hard to spot his tells that sold him out - a little solid shadow here and there to play with monkeys, his shadow moving independently to pet a close by elemental, the care in which he showed the books he held.

All of it told him that this place mattered, that it was important, and if Macaque was entrusting him with its care then he would do everything he could to make sure no harm came to it.

--End--

LMK Fanfic Masterlist

[ultraericthered]

A tale of two evil Disney kings.

I put this out not to make any statement about how one villain compares to the other, but to compare how similar in the spirit and the details of their evilness these two are; the last straight up Big Bad of a Disney animated movie before the next decade and the first straight up Big Bad of a Disney animated movie we've gotten since.

And I also want to touch upon something that confounds me.

King Magnifico, despite the film teasing at him being a nuanced and even sympathetic character at first, ended up becoming a villain vile and irredeemably heinous enough to be upvoted as a Complete Monster on TV Tropes. Majority vote approved, so that's fair. ...But Turbo, the dude with a similar rap sheet, is still not only ruled a non-example, he's in the "never to be discussed again" category for all the nixing of adding him to the trope ever since 2012. Because why, exactly? I am legitimately finding no good justification for this now.

Turbo locked away his subjects' memories within Sugar Rush's code without giving them any say on the matter (whereas with Magnifico it's at least a contractual arrangement between him and the people who give their wishes to him), and while the Sugar Rush characters don't appear to be acting all that off in any way besides not remembering Vanellope, no one in Rosas really seems to be suffering, depressed, dispirited, and poor off from having given up their wishes and forgotten about them either: it's a frequent criticism that they all seem to happy and prospering, and that the bad side of Magnifico's reign is more told to us than shown. The suffering only really visibly occurs on-screen when Magnifico takes and breaks the wishes (though even then it's written off as "making people feel sad" by a lot of watchers, so it's not easy to argue it's all that heinous). And sure, Turbo's manipulation of Ralph left Ralph with more of a choice to make regarding Vanellope's cart and her ability to race compared to Magnifico with Simon, but that could be argued to make Turbo that much more insidious and reprehensible in his approach.

And then we have Cy-Bug Turbo vocally making clear his intent to overtake all games in the arcade he chooses and forcing Ralph to watch the Cybugs attack Vanellope, comparable to Magnifico vocally making clear his intent to break all wishes in Rosas in order to enslave the despirited masses forever and forcing them all to watch him torture Asha. Yes, the latter might hit harder since it's such a betrayal of all the people he was supposed to be protecting and caring for, but that doesn't make Turbo's climactic villainy any less heinous. Turbo lacks magic powers, he's just a program who overrode that of a Cy-Bug and intends to make full use of the bug's capabilities to infect the lifeblood of other games and to physically harm others, namely Ralph, who he tells straight to his face that he wants to kill. And like Magnifico with the dark magic tome, Turbo's code merging with the Cy-Bug doesn't destroy his moral agency, it only makes him into a more unhinged, unfiltered and destructive version of the same cruel, egomaniacal asshole he already was. The fact that he uses the words "virus", "arcade", and "game" in the same sentence proves he's not merely another instinctive Cy-Bug; he knows exactly what he's doing, and sets out to hurt countless others knowing that he's hurting them not caring, and even relishing it.

Well at least we have other trope wikis to look to if we wish to find Turbo under his rightful classification. He is a Complete Monster, period. With the raw deal TV Tropes has given him for over a whole decade, he's the one who should sing "This Is The Thanks I Get?"

Yes, I am aware that the Complete Monster trope is not a badge of honor or trophy for whatever villain ends up on it,

No, I could not pass up this image.

[iamnmbr3]

hi again! So i remembered some points these days that i decided to share 'cause who pictures drarry better than you?

The fact that in CoS, harry used rictusempra on draco like really?? Did you seriously intend to tickle your arch-enemy in a DUEL?(idk but i never imagined draco as a truly happy kid bc happiness isn't brought about teasing and mocking or boasting but here i just love the way draco is genuinely laughing, it's cute to me...idk maybe i go too deep into it^^)..harry it's actually harmless and draco's just wheezing but you still wait bc you think it's unsporting?like what?standing there and watch him wheeze?i know harry is a verrryyy good person but c'mon it's playfulness rather than fighting!

I recalled a meta i read some time that talked about malfoy manner scene(when harry grabbed 3 wands from draco's hand and cast stupefy on greyback)that how, deciding to grab wands, harry actually didn't think draco is gonna do the same & cast triple stupefy or sth worse to hurt him and keep them there? he thought he's gonna help or hand wands over?really wanted to know his thoughts here:(

Thanks for reading!

Ah you are too kind! <3

1) I really like the dueling scene in book 2 because it's a great parallel to the much more serious duel they have in book 6. (Books 2 and 6 parallel each other in many ways and this is only one of them). We see Harry incapacitate Draco harmlessly with Rictusempra in book 2, and then much less harmlessly with the somewhat similar sounding Sectumsempra spell in book 6. In book 2 Snape helps Draco with the duel and in book 6 he (unwittingly) helps Harry through his old potions book which teaches Harry the Sectumsempra spell. (As an aside I always thought maybe Serpensortia was another one he'd invented).

In terms of Harry not using very aggressive spells in this scene I think it makes sense since it's only second year so he's not that good of a dueler yet and also since he's not actually fighting Draco out of anger here (unlike in book 4 for example) but rather because he's been told to. However, I do think it's quite interesting and kind of adorable that he hangs back and doesn't want to attack Draco while he's down even though, as you say, it's only a tickling spell. Certainly doesn't seem like Harry's feeling that vindictive towards someone he dislikes...

And also Draco at this point may actually know more spells for fighting than Harry does. I mean I'm sure his parents don't enforce the no magic at home rule. But he opts for very harmless things too. Not only here, but also when they actually fight in book 4 outside Snape's classroom. He doesn't like hurting people. Especially Harry. Though I'm sure he'd see this as a failing and want to avoid admitting it to himself.

2) Yeah the Manor scene is fascinating and very, very drarry for many reasons. The wand bit is quite extraordinary because Harry doesn't disarm Draco with magic. He physically wrestles them out of Draco's hands. And yet Draco, despite putting up a bit of a fight at first, apparently can't bring himself to simply use magic against Harry which he certainly could have done since he's still holding the wands.

And we know he has fast reflexes because he was nearly as good a Seeker as Harry and was also able to hold his own against Harry in sixth year for a few rounds - longer than pretty much anyone else Harry has dueled - despite the fact that by that point Harry is absolutely deadly in a duel. And yet Draco does nothing to incapacitate Harry with magic and instead surrenders the wands, leaving himself defenseless.

And Harry in his turn completely ignores Draco from that point on and doesn't do anything to harm him at all even though he immediately stuns Lucius on sight. Apparently in Harry's mind Draco's in another category though...

[fangsandsoftgrass]

Day 14 Date night./Vampire.

Since I still haven't finished their introduction from Fennorians POV I figured I'd use my small blurb from Cir's POV as today's vampire prompt :3

Having lost the race to warn the priests of Kilkreath about the incoming storm, Cirwedh makes an unlikely ally with whom she unknowingly shares a mutual past ;)

The cold wind whipped at the exposed skin of Cirwedh's cheeks as Gladriel raced through towards the blizzard raging atop Kilkreath, each droplet of moisture in the air like a shard of ice against what little face wasn't covered by her cowl. She was covered in dark blood from her assailant moments prior, and the stench of vampire guts threatened to overwhelm her senses as she cut through the waves of Bloodfiends that appeared after him. As she disposed of the last one, her nose picked up a new scent; the unmistakable smell of Reach magic. They crested the hill just in time to watch the clouds overhead reach a boiling point before splitting like a wound and bleeding into the sky, staining the air itself a deep red. Her heart sank. Just like the Doomcrag.

Before she could lose herself in the thought, a shadow draped in ash-colored mist streaked from behind the trees and into the path before her. There was a jerk as Gladriel dug her paws into the ground and halted, laying her head low and growling. The smell is what hit Cirwedh first—the cold scent of undeath clinging to the air around them—then the too-slow beat of their heart in their chest, and finally the snowy pallor of their skin, all screaming to her that this was a vampire. They were thin and tall (easily taller than her), and as she pulled the string of her bow back, they threw their hands into the air and cried out

"Stop! Turn around. A disaster has befallen Kilkreath Temple!" His eyes were wide now, almost glowing with each flash of the storm's light.

"State your business!" behind the cloth covering her mouth, she bared her teeth. "By Y'ffre, if yer with the bloodsuckers that jumped us, I'll put an arrow in that heart of yours!" she hoped it sounded as intimidating as she'd intended.

There was an audible gulp as he swallowed, and when he spoke, there was a quiver in his voice.

"D-don't be alarmed! I mean you no harm, but there are harrowfiends swarming Kilkreath Temple who do. You and-" he looked almost uneasy as he glanced down at Gladriel, "You and your bear should get back to safety before they find you!"

Just then, a crack of thunder sounded behind them, and the vampire jumped before turning to look over his shoulder. Something was different about this one; Cirwedh couldn't help but notice. Behind him, the sky churned and spit forks of crimson lightning, leaving behind the stink of sulfur with each strike. Time was running out. Though she was too late to warn the temple, and every bone in her body was screaming at her to run away from her nightmares incarnate, something had to be done. Realizing her breath had become ragged, Cirwedh relaxed the grip on her bow and let it fall to her side. It was clear to her now that whoever this was had no part in the creation of this storm, and as Lyris was likely still in Solitude, it fell on her and this stranger to put an end to whatever the Icereach had done.

"What did you call those Bloodfiends?" she called over the storm as she patted a hand against Gladriel's neck, urging her forward despite her growls of protest. "Harrowfiends?" As she approached, the fog between them grew thin, and she realized how familiar the stranger looked. There was a certain sharpness to his features she'd seen before, and something about his scent was similar to one she'd known in the past. Whatever it was could wait, however, as another scream shook the thought from her mind.

"Harrowfiends. A nasty result of this Harrowstorm, I'm afraid." He startled at another clap of thunder. "As for me, I am Fennorian of House Ravenwatch. I know now is not the time for introductions, but I feel the need to assure you I am here with only good intentions."

House Ravenwatch. That's what it was. She could see it now in the way he carried himself; this was one of Verandis' wards. At least he was Verandis' ward. A sudden sadness overcame her, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw an uncanny resemblance to her old friend.

"I am a friend of the Ravenwatch," she said, bringing a fist to her heart and bowing as best she could, still seated within the writhing saddle of vines atop Gladriel's back. Many apologies for my earlier ehm—hostility." She said it like she hadn't charged in, covered in blood and threatening to shoot him. "I meant to warn the temple of a Reach Witch attack, but we both know that didn't happen."

If she'd had the luxury of time, Cirwedh would have asked more about the state of the Ravenwatch since her departure, but as she felt their time slowly running out, all she could do was pull her bow back to arm and offer him a hand.

"I still aim to do something about those Witches. Are you in?' She flexed her gloved fingers and nodded towards the temple.

"I am." He nodded and took her hand. "If you can fight the fiends, I can do something about the storm. I've been watching the Coven for a while now and know what to look for."

Good, she told herself. If she was going headfirst into trouble, she was at least glad to have an ally who knew their stuff. She thought back to what he'd said earlier about the Ravenwatch, and if one of them was here, the threat was more than what Lyris had expected. Above, the storm looked like it was calming; the sky beginning to clear despite the surrounding air remaining red. Something worse was coming. She knew it. And as they cleared the space between them and the temple, Cirwedh couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

[illuveterian-archives]

The Last Illuveterian - Part 1

Content Warnings: gore descriptions, death, blood, harm of children, food descriptions.

First Person POV: Raymond

I must begin my story by stating that I am the last of my kind. And because of that, as well as other reasons I will get into shortly, I cannot die. It is a fate I would never even begin to wish upon another being, as it is endless torture on one’s body and mind.

My species carries the name Illuveteris adopted from the Latin phrase “illi veteris lucis” or “those of old light” used to describe us by the humans of old. Though our species existed much before the evolution of Homo sapiens, I don’t know why a name had not been chosen or whether or not a name had even existed before that point; I could never find a reason in any of the texts I read over. Now, before I delve into how I became the last of my kind, and what led me to kill hundreds, if not thousands of humans, I should tell you a little bit about my species so that later occurrences make sense. It will seem like a whole lot of nothing, but it feels important to get out of the way so no inconsistencies occur. However, feel free to skip to the story.

As far as physical descriptions go: think of a glass frog when imagining this, being see-through and all. I do not look like a frog, nor am I shaped like one, it’s just an easy visualizer to begin. We actually look quite similar to humans in terms of shape and proportion. As far as we can tell, our most basic structure of a skeleton is either near or outright identical, however there are plenty of key differences. The most noticeable being the fact that the Illuveteris do not have any organs internal or external, in any sense. The food we eat is instantaneously completely transformed into energy. So, there is no waste needing to leave. And our young come from growing them through magic, sort of similarly to budding, between partners. We also lack the presence of “skin” as it’s known in others. We do have a flesh that encases our bones and lack of organs but the colors range and it’s entirely transparent. The different colors signify different personality traits. My color is important to the story so I will elaborate on those.

The color of one's body tells how they will act throughout the majority of their life. It doesn't mean that someone will always “act their color”, but it summarizes their entire future. There was often a pressure in my society to fully live up to your color, or to fully act the opposite, depending. Red means “honest”, often to the point of detriment. Orange is “gentle natured and calm”, in almost any and every situation. Those with orange bodies are often raised and trained to be decision makers. Yellow means “optimistic” and often end up as entertainers or the creative crowd. Green means “cold natured, un caring, emotionless”. Many were pushed to act as if they were any color but green. Purple means “loyal”. Those who were purple often stood up for those closest to them, sometimes putting themselves in harm's way. Blue means “Big hearted”. They often became knowers of medicine or therapists.

My color is, unfortunately, mostly blue.

Having a lack of organs, or “vital” body structures did not mean that we were impervious to harm. Our bodies are made of a physical condensed magic. We could very much still die. And many of us have. Back before the “incident” by several decades there was a small war waged between us and some other magical species, leaving our population to only about 160 members. I will stop the descriptions here. I have a couple candid photos of myself I took fairly recently, originally intended to document my scarring as I gain more and vitiligo as it spreads; however, they can act as a visual for how most Illuveteri looked, should anyone actually be interested.

How do I know that I’m now immortal? Well, several reasons, actually. Firstly, because of the things I have survived which should end life through mortal injury. I watched someone die of the same injuries I obtained shortly prior to me being the last. Secondly, I went back and read as much ancient text as I could as soon as I was able, and as soon as I located the records of the last time there was a single member of our kind left. This took many weeks of searching the expansive library. Roughly 64 million years ago was the last and only other case of a single member being left. That number probably sparks memories of certain mass extinctions. The texts were all written in the oldest forms of our language. We are all born knowing it, yet like any language, it evolves and meanings change. So making out exactly what they said was completely impossible. What I could piece together is that the magic our body is made of is sort of its own being in a way. But only partly. And it’s apparently a little bit slow as it only realizes something is incredibly wrong once there's only one life force left. If only it had noticed at 2. However, I digress. I’ll move on into the actual story now.

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

I was born in the year 1930 in a castle heavily surrounded by the 17 and a half million acres of forests hidden in Maine. My mother was the queen of our kind. She was always busy, but often pulled away from her duties to bond with her children; and my father, her royal assistant and lead magic researcher. He had a little more free time. Technically, all of my siblings and I were born to him. I had 4 older siblings. My oldest brother, Sage, 68; My sister, River, 46; My sibling, Briar, 27; and my twin sister, Sunni. We may have been twins but the entire family used to swear up and down that she was born first, making me the youngest. 

The first part of my childhood I was spoiled, and I lived well. All the children had human nannies that had been hired to help raise us while our parents were busy. The nanny Sunni and I had was a hearty black woman from Louisiana named Cecelia. She made the best foods I’d ever eaten, and I’d give anything to see her again today. 

On July 23, 1936, the day of mine and Sunni’s 6th birthday, there was an extravagant celebration commencing. Generally around the age of 6 is when Illuveterians begin to gain access and control of our magic, so it is deemed as a very important day. Massive festivities covered the yard and lavish food adorned tables covered in decorations. Both of us were dressed in ornate robes that had been made and set aside for this specific day, and atop our heads were small crowns, each designed to fit our exact specifications and desires. Cecelia had made several of our favorite dishes; jambalaya, etouffee, beignets, the list goes on. I’m glad I got to enjoy the food that day. It remains the only speck of happiness within a memory shrouded in horror. I cannot enjoy that summer's day anymore. All I seem to be able to force myself to do is mourn those lost once it rolls around every year.

My mother came to check on us as Cecelia finished the fastenings on our robes and made sure that our crowns were positioned so they wouldn’t fall off at any point.

“Thank you, Cecelia, for all the work you’ve put in for today. They both look stunning.” My mother smiled at her.

“Ma’am, you know these two mean the absolute world to me. I’d do anything for them.” Cecelia bowed her head slightly. My mother hummed gently.

“I see that Raymond is wearing River’s old crown. It looks nice on him.”

“River said I could!” I called back, hugging onto my mothers dress. I wasn’t anywhere near tall enough to reach anything further.

“He insisted on wearing it.” Cecelia chimed in, “Said it was so pretty and he wanted to wear it for their birthday.”

“Well, so long as River agreed to it, then there’s no issue. Now, I believe it’s time for dinner.” My mother smiled again, putting a hand on both of our heads. Sunni and I ran off to the dining table, being sure to take our seats as quickly as possible.

We had eaten well and played many games. It was just as we were getting to the cake and presents that events kicked off in the entirely wrong direction. I remember I had just taken the first bite of my slice of cake when a guard hurriedly walked forward and whispered to my mother. A look of worry covered her face and she rushed out the door. I turned to Cecelia for an answer, which was met by a smile and a hand on my back. I kept eating. It was a coconut cake paired with pineapple ice cream. The thought of those flavors make me feel sick nowadays. I was 3 bites in when I heard a scream. It was my mother’s. I looked over to Sunni and saw she had also heard it and was visibly scared. Several of the guests began to panic. Every guard in the room took off running in the direction the scream came from. My father was with them. Several loud popping noises sounded nearby. At the time I didn’t know what they were, but now I know very well that they were gunshots. Cecelia took the plates from our hands and set them on the table, picking the both of us up and walking quickly into a nearby bedroom - her own. Admittedly, she was probably a little rougher than she meant to be. As soon as we were within her room she shut the door, and I heard the lock click. She ushered the two of us into the closet, motioned for us to stay quiet, kissed each of us on the forehead, and closed the doors. Through the tiny gap left between the doors I could see her rummage through the bedside table and pull out a large kitchen knife. I remembered having seen her cook with it and wondered when she’d stashed it. She then pushed the dresser in front of the door. Its legs scraping against the wooden floor were loud. From within the closet I could hear more pops ringing out. Several people were screaming. I remember a few of the screams being abruptly cut off. Sunni was crying and I am certain I was as well.

Cecelia sat herself on the edge of the bed, right in front of the closet, yet facing the door. She had such a grip on the handle of the knife that her knuckles were white, a stark contrast to her complexion. I saw a tear roll down her cheek as she grit her teeth. She looked over to the closet and smiled. It was forced and fake, but she was trying her best to keep the both of us calm. It felt like hours before nothing more could be heard. Though, it was probably only minutes. The door handle rattled furiously as someone on the other side tried to open it. They then threw themselves against the ornate oak. It was sudden and the breach of the silence caused me to jump. Sunni whimpered and covered her mouth. The banging continued. Cecelia shook as fear encompassed her person. She stood and pointed the knife to the door, though she looked like she might collapse at any second. Her face seemed to pale to an ashen gray. I, at least, had assumed that it would be too sturdy to be broken through. I learned very quickly that I had assumed wrong.

The wood of the doorframe splintered, loudly cracking as the lock gave way, the door slamming into the dresser, leaving barely an inch of view. I could hear a deep and gruff laugh. It sounded as if whoever it had come from had been smoking for the majority of his life - and I’d bet he had. Once he had the door busted from its lock he simply pushed against it to move the dresser. And once again that awful sound of its legs scraping the floor sounded out. Cecelia was frozen for a moment. I could not see who she was looking at but his footsteps were thundering. Within moments a very large figure towered over Cecelia, blocking nearly my entire view of her. She came back to her senses and swung the knife at the man, who easily dodged and ripped it from her hands. He grabbed her hair with one hand and she let out a cry of pain. He lifted her near effortlessly off the floor to be eye level with himself. 

She held his gaze, refusing to look at us. There was a stubbornness in her facial expression. In pain and imminent danger, yet continuing to protect us. He took the kitchen knife and plunged it into her stomach, dropping her to the floor right after. Unbeknownst to me, Sunni had stood over me to peer out, and she let out a gasp. That was all the indication the man needed. He made his way over to the closet doors, a crimson puddle forming around Cecelia as he did so. He did not throw the door open violently, instead choosing to slowly pull it open, peering down at us with an ear to ear grin on his face. He knelt down to where Cecelia’s body had fallen and removed the knife from her abdomen. He then crawled back over to the closet and began his seemingly endless shower of stabs. I turned away from him in an attempt to cover Sunni. As I did so I saw joy in his face. As I was the closest to the door I took the brunt of it all. The world was silent. I remember crying and screaming, but not hearing a bit of it. At some point I opened my eyes to look at Sunni. She was sobbing. My gaze fell to the floor as I was unable to keep my head up. As I did I felt the knife wiz through my hair just over my head, knocking my crown off. When I looked back up I saw the knife being pulled from Sunni’s face and ripping backwards across my left shoulder. I watched her body crumble and fade to nothing, just leaving her robes in a pile on the wood, covered in my blood. Her crown lay now atop it all. I yelled out for her. I yelled to nobody. That was the point I was officially completely alone. The last of my kind. The man had not stopped. I felt the knife then go through the back of my head a few times. The blade was long enough for it to go all the way through and out my forehead.

I felt a heat then envelop the whole of my body. It was as if molten metal coursed through me.. I had seen those older than me experience surges of magic, but never had I thought to imagine what they may feel like. It was quite an unpleasant feeling. My body at the time was not ready to handle such energy. I could see blue flames spouting out of every wound; yet they seemed to almost be just simple projections to the air around me, as they, themselves, seemed to produce no heat. It was then that my hearing came back as I heard the man behind me yelling out in pain. I could smell the sickly sweet scent of burning human flesh. It was overwhelming. The heat swelled hotter and hotter until a bright flash of white surrounded me. A void of nothingness. This, however, lasted only for a brief moment before I could feel myself falling. My body landed hard against a metal, grated floor; and the sound it made rang through a seemingly endless corridor. As my vision slowly faded out I caught a glimpse of a paper that had fallen off a table next to me. All I could make out on the page was ‘Dr. Z…’. And then all I knew was darkness.

[paganwitchisis]

What Love Can Change Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three:  The Bond

Rated: E for Explicit!!

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav/Spawn Astarion

Words:6,053

TRIGGER WARNING -Breeding kink, violence, descriptions of trauma, sexual assault, torture, suicide attempt and mention/idealization, self harm, starvation, depression, pregnancy, hyper-sexuality, Dead Dove Don’t Eat and rape

The Dividers are courtesy of the ever artistic @cafekitsune

Thank you @alyssac9 for proofreading!!

AO3 link is here!

Story:

Getting to the Stormshore Tabernacle was relatively easy, even with Astarion carrying Tav to the establishment. Once inside Tav was put down on her feet. The keeper of the Stormshore Tabernacle watched them with a weary eye as the pair walked to the statue of Mystra.

“So... how do we…?” Astarion said, unsure about how to proceed.

“I’m not sure, just talk I guess?” Tav replied as she shifted from one leg to the other, clearly nervous.

“Well... here goes nothing,” Astarion muttered to himself, cleared his voice, and walked forward in front of the statue. “Mystra, it is Astarion and Tavaria Ancunin. As one of the undead, you may not speak to us.” He said this part as a whisper to not alert the keeper of the Tabernacle. He continued, “But we would like to speak to you. It concerns the item you seek. If you’d grant us an audience, we could…”

Astarion didn’t have to finish his sentence as the ground shuddered slightly with the ripples of magic. A blue haze filled the area to the right of her statue.

It was a portal.

“Do you think it will take us both?” Tav asked, “Or…”

The portal, seeming to know their question, increased in size slightly. It was as if the magic was calling to them.

“I think it will, my love.” Astarion held her hand and made his way to the portal. He glanced at the keeper, who seemed surprised and frozen where he stood. He chuckled and walked into the portal with Tav in tow.

The unfamiliar environment was pitch black.

It was total darkness that even Astarion’s elven eyesight could not pierce. There was a blue hue around a woman that was familiar to both of them. They both had seen Gale project the image of his ex-lover many times while in camp, so her appearance was well-known to everyone. Before them was a woman with long brown hair and dark eyes. She wore a blue dress and had pale skin. Astarion held Tav’s hand tighter and began the conversation. The fact he was standing on nothing was creeping him out and he wanted this meeting to be over with.

“We have something we want to speak to you about,” Astarion said, unsure how to approach the deity as he didn’t want to anger her. They upset enough gods lately that he didn’t want to add to it.

“Just the two I wished to speak to. I was preparing to have my chosen contact you. This is quite fortuitous.” The goddess’s voice was smooth as she spoke to them, the feeling of the weave emulating from her.

“You wished to speak?” Tav asked confused.

“I have been following you both for quite some time. I know of your question, and I know of your plan. I knew Gale’s inclination towards the crown, and I knew he had no desire to give it to me. This meant I needed another way to guarantee the fate of the Netherese magic.”  

Astarion and Tav were stunned that their plans and their lives were intruded on and watched by the goddess, but there was little they could do about it. Instead, they continued to listen to the goddess and see what she wanted with them.

“Is it true you intend to return to me the Crown of Karsus?” The Goddess asked with a serious demeanor. Astarion nodded quickly so as not to upset her by waiting.

“Then,” Mystra continued, “I shall accept your proposal.”

“Wait, you mean for the wish spell?” Tav asked, worried that she was misunderstanding the proposition.

“Yes. You wish to become immortal as you are without the drawbacks of a normal wish spell. Or am I mistaken?” Finally, Mystra smirked, which made Tav feel uneasy.

“Yes. We wish her to remain how she is but with immortality. No drawbacks or phrasing issues.”  Astarion confirmed.

“Then if you deliver me the crown, it will be so.”

‘That was fast’ Astarion thought as there was now only one last subject to speak about.

“About our question, do you know about…” Astarion started but was interrupted.

“The bond you both now have? Yes, I created it.”

“What? Why?”

“To help aid you both in getting me the Crown of Karsus. I felt that you may need the assistance considering you are going up against the dead three.”

“That’s understandable... I guess.” Astarion didn’t see the connection but again, he didn’t want to upset Mystra, the goddess of magic. “Can we lessen it a bit at least?” He asked. “It’s just that certain things are a bit... overwhelming”

“Like?”

“Well…” Astarion blushed, unsure how to broach the subject, and bit the bullet. “Sex. Can it be lessened for that?”

“What is the problem exactly?”

Astarion felt like he almost couldn’t speak or breathe. How was he supposed to explain to her the problem? Thankfully, he didn’t have to; his wife took up that task.

“When one of us comes, so does the other, and we’d prefer that to stop, please. That and we’d like to be able to have privacy in our own heads.” Tav knew the second problem wasn’t as bad as the first but felt it should be addressed as well. Mystra smirked further and looked between the two.

“I merely tried to recreate the bond a vampire bride would have with a vampire lord. I felt it would be similar to the bond I created and that it would be agreeable. If not, I can remove those aspects of the bond.”

“Please,” Astarion asked.

“Done. Now if that is all…” Mystra stated and waved her hand, sending the couple back to their plane. It was a shock to them as they were before her in one moment, and the next second, they were in front of the keeper of the Stormshore Tabernacle. Astarion was confused and needed time to sort everything out that had happened. He quickly picked up his wife, who yelped in reply and walked his way back to the tavern.

“Star, what are you doing?” Tav asked as she clung to her husband.

“Getting back to the tavern so we can check that Mystra was good on her word,” Astarion murmured as he crossed the threshold into the Tavern.

“Aren’t we going to talk about…”

“Later, right now I want to fuck you so hard you see stars. I’m taking every hole I can and I’m going to leave you a whimpering mess.” Astarion huskily whispered in Tav’s ear as he bound up the stairs two at a time.

“Before that,” Tav mentioned as she was being put down on the bed, Astarion doubled back to lock the door. “I want to do something, if you will entertain me that is”

“For you, anything.” Astarion came back to the bed, but before he could get in it, Tav stopped him. She sat on the edge of the bed and began undoing the laces to his trousers. “What is my little minx up to?”

“I need your come down my throat.” Tav gave a rakish smile and pulled Astarion’s pants down along with his underwear. He was already half hard when she unleashed his cock to the wind. “I want to make you squirm in pleasure. I need to make you come. Please, indulge me.”

“Darling, you can drain my cock any time. Now go ahead and suck me.” Tav brought her hands up to his pert and supple ass, holding him in place as she opened her hot, wet mouth and took his cock inside. Astarion moaned at the feeling of his hardening cock between the slick warm walls of her mouth.

“Fuck that feels good,” Astarion groaned in pleasure, his left-hand landing on the back of Tav’s head, and his right hand gripped the headboard of the bed to stabilize himself. He kicked off his trousers and underwear that clung to his lower legs. He was now fully hard and wanting; his cock was getting licked and sucked, and the suction was sweet and pleasurable, but he needed more.

“I’m going to fuck your face, my love. Will you let me?”

THE REST IS ON AO3 HERE

[cgoodin]

The Illusionist

The Illusionist will be another supervillain in the Dasher comic series with the ability to cast illusions to the surrounding crowd. I started with developing his suit design first before I went into designing the character.

The suit he wears under his red overcoat is designed to protect him from seeing his own illusions being projected onto him by accident. I plan for his suit to be his greatest strength, but also his weakness.

Bio:

Fletcher was brought up by a struggling family that lived on government benefits. They didn’t have enough money to support themselves. Fletcher's' father worked as a taxi driver, and his mother couldn’t work. Fletcher’s loving mother and father did everything they could to keep themselves from becoming homeless and support their son. The money given to them by the government was only enough to keep a roof over their heads and to bring food to their table. As Fletcher grew up, he practiced his magic tricks as his hobby, which became his calling to become a public magician for Blackpool.

Fletcher began his life as a street performer to entertain the public. He started his life as a magician in his early twenties to watch the public smile at him during his performances. Over time, he realized what he wanted was to crave attention to make himself known as better than every magician in the world. He had little money paid to him by the same government that supported his parents during his childhood, but it was only enough to help him live in a small apartment complex. Despite all his years as a self-employed street magician, Fletcher had asked for a role at the Blackpool circus time and time again but was continuously let down.

The day after he was given powers from “the shock,” he had trouble controlling his ability to cast illusions without effecting himself. His newfound powers prevented Fletcher from going out publicly to continue his performances. The first time he accidentally uses them on himself, he saw another version of himself mocking the real Fletcher, who does not have a better lifestyle. He was scared to death by how his illusions had affected him. One day, he met with Professor Conway in a café to ask for help managing his powers so he wouldn’t risk harming himself or others. Thanks to Professor Conway’s assistance in developing a suit to shield him from his illusions, he realizes his opportunity to prove himself to the circus. Unfortunately, his chances backfired when his powers did the opposite of what he intended. Fletcher's illusions scared the crowd and the performers on stage into fleeing the circus when he made everyone see their worst fears. He was immediately fired for his stunt and would never return to perform again.

His life was over at the point he couldn’t work as a self-employed magician anymore. Over time, he lived homeless on the streets as a failed magician, just as homeless as his parents were. He felt hopeless and let down by the public after everything he had done for them. He eventually realized that he could use his illusions to get away with robbing the banks of Blackpool so he could continue to survive on his own without getting caught. Despite being let down by the circus, he continues his life as a magician who steals from the rich and keeps the money for himself. Because of his illusions, the police could not find or catch Fletcher, as his newfound home was shielded from view thanks to his powers. He gave up his name, Fletcher Smith so that he would be remembered as the Illusionist.

[musecaravan-info]

Owain ap Nudd

"You've seen my descent, now watch my rising." ~ Rumi ~

Basic Information

FACE/BODY CLAIM: Richard Armitage

AGE: Timeless

EYES: Dark brown

HAIR: Dark Brown; wavy, and hangs a little past his shoulders

HEIGHT: 6'2

PRIMARY OUTFIT: It depends on the time period, but Owain always prefers to look casually fashionable. Due to his situation, he doesn't have a lot of control over that, but when his choices/preferences are taken into consideration, he'll almost always look like he just stepped away from a 'men's fashion' photoshoot.

Personality

Owain is... complicated. And how he acts can be a bit dependent on WHERE in his timeline your muse happens to come across him. Generally speaking, he's a privileged royal (and usually acts it.) In other words, he typically believes that his status and his magic make him 'better' than most people. However, that belief doesn't stop him from treating others with care and respect.

This attitude is less apparent the longer it's been since he was cursed by Gwyn. Each master of the bottle wears him down a little more. Some of the attitude is still there, but usually he's just grateful to have a master who doesn't want to abuse the powers owning his bottle grants them.

If your muse was ever unlucky enough to be the first person to open Owain's bottle, they'd be in for a bit of a ride. Everything that happened to him and his servants and his home is still perfectly fresh. On top of that, his powers aren't being dampened by his castle anymore, so everything he does has more force behind it than he intends.

Powers & Weaknesses

Like his twin brother, Gwyn, Owain has all of the typical powers and weaknesses of fae royalty. He's a powerful creature whose magic makes him capable of doing countless things - summoning objects from nothing, controlling the weather, moving things with a mere gesture, altering his appearance with a simple thought. The list goes on.

However, the fact that he's been cursed changes things a little. He's not allowed to use his magic unless given permission to do so by his current master. And if ordered to do something with his magic, Owain has no choice but to comply regardless of whether he wants to or not.

The curse also binds Owain to his master's will. If they give an order - ANY order - he has to follow it. The longer he tries to not follow an order, the more pain he feels.

Owain also has all of the weaknesses of a typical fae (such as iron.) He usually won't mention those weaknesses unless specifically asked by his master... or it he thinks it might stop his master from giving an order that would do Owain harm.

Romance

Owain's situation is a little unique. Romance isn't something he really thinks is possible for him, not while he's cursed. On top of that, the last person he loved was raped, tortured, and murdered while he was forced to watch, so attachments make him wary.

Sex, on the other hand, is usually welcome if he finds the other person attractive. Keep in mind, sex with a master can be a teeny bit tricky. Owain is cursed to obey any order given, so if his master doesn't word things carefully/watch their phrasing, it could make things uncomfortable. Not every master who's owned Owain has cared, of course, but even the ones who do can make mistakes sometimes.

Where to Find Him

If you find his bottle, you find him. So basically, just about anywhere - on the beach, at an estate sale, in an antique shop, etc. If you have an idea for something, let me know and we can plot.

Verses

Just because a verse isn't listed here doesn't mean I'm not interested in writing it. I adore all kinds of AUs, and welcome the chance to get creative with my muses. If you've seen a verse that another of my muses has, and you'd like to see this muse in something similar, let me know. You can also check out my 'Plot Ideas' tag, too. ^_^

Main Verse:

Owain is basically a genie in a bottle... only without the three wish limit and without the ability to say 'no' to whoever owns him. Opening his bottle releases Owain and magically binds him to whoever opened it. If his master dies, Owain goes back into the bottle until someone new opens it. However, his master can also choose to give the bottle away (but that rarely happens.)

To avoid repetition, please read more about Owain's backstory here. Please be aware, this post has brief mentions of VERY dark situations.

Current/Ongoing Threads

If your thread with Owain isn't listed here it's probably because it's been long enough since your last reply that I thought you'd dropped it. Message me to let me know you're still interested, and I'll happily add you to the list (with no pressure for a reply.) ♡

Andel:

Afraid of Standing Still (Main Verse)

Stuff That's Good to Know Before Starting a Thread

Owain's backstory is dark, and it's possible that he will have nightmares about it. He also thinks about it now and then, so there will be brief mentions of dark topics. However, I promise to never go into any graphic details without getting approval from my partner first.

Links

Please keep in mind, this blog is an ongoing work in progress. Not all of these links may lead somewhere, but they're here because they link to potential tags for this muse.

All Things Owain

Headcanons

Drabbles

All Threads

Ask Replies

Meme Replies

Aesthetics

Face

Special Links

Original Blog

Return To Full Muse List

[superglitterstranger]

Purification Herbs Other Than Sage | Alternatives To White Sage

Here are some other purification herbs that you can burn as incense in place of sage. Due to media dabbling and along with long standing misconceptions in magickal herbalism as a practice amount wiccans and those of the magickal communities, sage (specifically white sage) has been put on the "watchlist for potentially endangered species" due in part to over foresting of the herb to provide the high demand of this herb mainly for use as incense by consumers who have heard the herb has strong purification powers.

Unfortunately they purchase this herb in bulk from ill reputed vendors adding to the danger of the herb becoming extinct. As such if you were to use white sage it is highly recommended that you grow your own and or only buy from local sources and reputable vendors. In response to the herb being put on the watch list for potentially endangered species I have compiled a short basic list of alternative herbs that can be used the same purpose.

It is good for anyone practices magical herbalism to understand the impacts of over foresting, though dabblers and lay people may not intend to grow what they use, a savvy practitioner of the magical community should know better.

Here's your alternative list to white sage for purification incense:

Clove- a powerful purification herb especially against harmful energy. Grind whole cloves with mortar and pestle, a little goes a long way.

Frankincense- always a classic, this herb will raise the vibrations of an area pushing out harmful energy.

Cinnamon- careful with this one as cinnamon also increases energy of a space, be sure to ground afterwards.

Cedarwood- highly spiritual wood that raises the the vibration of a space to such a point that low vibrational intoxic energy cannot remain. This is one of my favorite ingredients for purification incense and it is very easy to come by.

Palo Santo- another very spiritual aromatic wood very popular in Latin culture especially in the tradition of brujeria. Palo Santo is an all-around purifier is cheap and a little goes a long way with this pungent wood. Light and let the smoke fill in the area you wish to purify. It will instantly clear and bless the space from all harmful unwanted energy.

Bright Blessings

http://lionheartrealm.blogspot.com/2015/12/just-friendly-reminder-that-white-sage.html#:~:text=Purification%20herbs%20other,Bright%20Blessings%2C

[junehan]

#805A40 ┈ ekko x fem! reader ; genre/trope: (physical)hurt comfort (??) , not sure ekko gets in a fight and you save him ; wc: 1300+ warnings: mentions of blood, ekko gets beat up

[08:20am] ekko steps backwards, wincing quietly as pain digs into his right ankle. his knee buckles and the boy has to force himself to balance, knowing the small creature by his side would do little good if he gave in.

the three men snicker at his show of weakness and close in around the pair, malicious intent glinting off the shine of knives and axes.

heimerdinger flutters nervously around ekko's feet, jittering and uncertain. "gentlemen," he stutters. "we mean you no harm. as you can see, my good friend here is injured, so, eh, if you could let us through..." he trails off as one of the men laughs.

"my, we can't have that now can we?" the men step closer, laughing to themselves. "say, if you hand over that fancy watch you have tucked in your pocket there, little boy, we might be able to give you a little something. what do you say, hm?"

ekko clenches the handle of his sword but even he knows the chances of surviving were slim, even without considering heimerdinger by his side. his ankle throbs, an unnecessary reminder of his disadvantage.  

he thought he had left being weak behind, left the churning sensation of being useless, staring the reaper in the eye and being able to do nothing still, in his past. yet here he stands, backed into a wall with the taunting of death breathing down his spine and he realises then that nothing had changed, not his lack of power, not his cry for help, not the gnawing worm of pain that refuses to undo its clutches on his soul. his demise had been long overdue after all, expired and decayed yet clinging on not by anything natural but by the will of a mortal and the magic of a watch. the universe was eager to watch him die.

"well," ekko thinks, a tired smirk tugging at his lips. "it's not like i'll ever be going down without a fight."

his hands readjust his weapon, heaving it over his shoulder. he tilts his chin upwards, staring the men in their eyes. “and if i don’t?”

the men glance at one another before laughing. “you’ve got guts. but no one wins a fight with just determination.” the tallest man spits at his feet.

everything happens in a flash. ekko shoves heimerdinger to the side, the yordle landing on his bottom, narrowly missing the throw of a knife. the boy himself bends over, hands finding purchase on the ground as one of the men sends a kick to his stomach, the shoes skimming the fabric of his tank top. his weapon skids on the ground, disregarded. ekko intends to use the momentum to swing his own legs around and knock his attacker to the ground but pain erupts from his leg before he can, the consequences causing him to stumble in his movements, effectively receiving an elbow to the face.

his back hits the ground with a thud, something warm and uncomfortable colouring his face, but he has no time to sink into the sensation when his senses tingle and he pulls himself onto his feet, his arms coming up to deflect another punch. someone comes up behind him and he grabs onto his attacker’s arm, flinging the man’s entire bodyweight up and over, behind him. they lie in a pile behind him and he huffs, catching his breath.

“behind you!” the yordle cries but it’s too late, something solid makes contact with the side of his face.

ekko’s feet can’t keep up as his sense of balance shifts drastically and he falls with the aid of a kick. his back hits a wall and he stays there, unable to move as the man walks towards him.

something urges to come out and he coughs, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

a pair of boots enter his sight of vision and he endures a punch to his face that sends pain ringing in his ears. still, he looks up and makes eye contact. if he was going to die, he thinks, it’ll be by staring death in the eye.

the man bends down and plucks his watch from his pocket. he makes a show of observing the object before he takes it. “you’re too full of yourself. i don’t hate that. if you hadn’t picked a fight you never would have won, maybe we would have taken you in.”

ekko glares through half-lidden eyes. the pain from his previous encounter with jinx on the bridge and now the pain from his current situation was proving too much for his body. darkness threatens to embrace his weary body though he had no intentions of giving up now. but his body couldn’t keep up; he had pushed himself too far this time.

still, he forces his mouth to open, his throat protesting as he speaks. “fuck you.”

the man’s face twists. how satisfying, ekko thinks, before he notices the rise of the man’s arm.

was this it?

time seems to slow as the man’s fist draws nearer, the boy’s breath growing shallow, pounding throbbing in his ears, his chest heaving, leg clawing in pain. was this it? his eyes drift to the side, seeing heimerdinger knocked out unconscious on the ground.

when did that happen?

his vision warps in and out, his eyes staying closed for longer than he liked, the adrenaline fuelling his body draining at his fingertips. he feels his guard drop and he knows when the punch makes contact, he’ll feel it for all the strength behind the fist. great, he thinks, this really is the end.

a cat saunters between the two.

ekko blinks. was he already dead? had hallucinating always been a product of death?

even his attacker is momentarily surprised, paused in his actions.

“i’m so sorry!” a new voice enters ekko’s perception and he raises his head as an unfamiliar girl peaks around the block.

your eyes search the place, studying the passed-out yordle – why did he seem so familiar? – the boy who laid limp on the ground and the big, burly man who stood over him. finally, they land on your cat.

“sorry for interrupting, my cat just loves to wonder off. if you don’t mind, could you pass him over to me?” you say, hands behind your back as you address the man.

ekko grunts with effort as his hand inches towards his weapon, perhaps two metres from his fingers. his attacker remains distracted as he talks back to you. “huh? who the fuck are you?”

you take a step forward. “just a passerby. i promise to leave once i get my cat back.”

the man laughs shortly. “and why would i do that for you? who even are you, give me a name damnit.”

ekko stretches further, finger grazing the handle of his weapon.

“well,” you start. “if you do i’ll—” before you can finish, you spin around, rising your leg and successfully planting your foot into the six foot tall man. before he can come to, you send a punch up from under his chin.

he stumbles back but doesn’t fall, wiping blood from his lip. “you bitch.”

the man comes running. he ducks as you swing an arm but it was a fluke and you raise your knee into his face. your fist revs back and comes full force into his stomach. this time, he does fall back and just to be sure, you dig your heel into his groin. the man howls in pain, unattractively drooling, eyes rolling back before he faints.

your fingers dip comfortably into every crevice of his attire, withdrawing any goods you deem valuable and stuffing them into any free space on your body. your hands enclose around a small, metallic watch and you hum in satisfaction at its intricate design, gentling placing it into your pant pocket.

you turn to face the boy whose hand had enclosed around his weapon. he looks at you oddly. you smile, offering him a hand.

“you look like you need some help.”

“who are you?”

deciding that you were tired of being asked that question today, you answer. “my name is [name].” you swing his arm over your shoulder. your cat meows, rubbing his face against your leg. “yours?”

“ekko. wait, you mind taking that yordle with us too?”

[pagesfromthevoid]

Here to rep for TVDU -- It's gotta be Klaus Mikaelson and confessing your feelings to someone you think are asleep. She/her or GN whichever you're feeling~~

It certainly wasn’t unusual for her to end up in Klaus’s bed. Actually, it was such a frequent occurrence that she had several sets of clothes in his drawers and a toothbrush set aside simply for her. Two; three times a week perhaps she was there for one reason or another. Usually to help protect his family with her magic, sometimes to help him with the bit of chaos he liked to wreak on the city. But he would never admit how much he adored her.

Love was a trivial thing, and he had learned over time that it was a fatal weakness.

Tonight, however, was so different than their previous encounters. Tonight, she took too much from the other side —used so much of her magic that blood had cascaded down her face. But she insisted, pushing the limits until she collapsed. His enemies wanted his child, and she simply refused to let that happen. If it killed her, she’d help protect Hope the best she could.

He truly thought tonight was the night he would lose her.

Freya had tended to her as he paced outside, plotting his revenge. The witches would pay for the harm brought upon her tonight. For the harm they intended to place in his family. Love was trivial but Klaus was a fool to think he didn’t consistently kill for it. And he would kill for her if needed.

“She’ll wake in the morning,” Freya announced softly as she exited his bedroom. “She’s asleep now, but she’ll be fine, Nik.”

He didn’t respond, pushing passed his sister to enter his bedroom. The door slammed him as he stared at her in his bed —tucked safely into the blankets like she was simply sleeping soundly. But he knew better; the sleep she was experiencing wasn’t a willing one. Freya had calmed her the best she could, but as Klaus crossed the threshold of his room, he could see her stirring under the blanket.

A bit too aggressively, he yanked the chair in the corner to the side of the bed she slept on. He spent the next hour or so simply watching her breath, listening to her heart beat as her fitful sleep finally subsided, and she had calmed down. Klaus leaned forward, reaching to push her hair out of her face.

“You stupid girl,” he murmured, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you would die for me.” Of course, she was asleep. There was no response as he continued speaking. “I expect people to die for me —unwillingly. Necessary sacrifices for what I want. But you…you willing almost died for me. Sacrificed yourself for my family —my daughter. You stupid, stupid girl,” he reacted, his thumb running over her cheekbone lightly. “I will kill the witches who did this to you, love. If it takes the whole of eternity, I will.”

Klaus took a deep breath, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered, hovering there for a moment as he whispered, “I can’t risk losing you; you have no idea how much I love you.”

He pulled back, straightening up as he stood. There’s a moment where he considers staying, but he decided against it as he walked to the door. No, tonight he needed to finish what the witches started.

“Klaus?”

His hand clung to the door handle, gripping it hard as he heard her stir.

“I love you too, Nik,” she whispered, her voice weak. “Please don’t leave.”

Klaus glanced over his shoulder, swallowing hard. “I almost lost you tonight.”

“But you didn’t,” she countered, attempting now to sit up. Klaus was at her side in an instant, pushing her back into the bed. Her hands reached up to hold onto his wrists. “I promised I’d protect your family, Nik. That wasn’t just because I like Rebekah and Elijah.”

He watched her closely, easing down onto the edge of the bed beside her. “You’re foolish, then.”

“If it’s foolish to love you, I guess you’re right to call me a stupid girl then.”

“It is incredibly foolish to love me.” She simply smiled though, reaching up to touch his cheek. Klaus leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “I will keep you safe, love.”

“I know you will, Nik.”