#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

[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 3

pairings: Childe, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Wriothesley x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship (married/engaged/mated), secret relationship, immortal reader in Neuvi's part

word count: 6.1k+ words

a/n: part 1 and part 2 can be read here!

Childe

Spurred by the whistles and a whip of a coachman three fine white horses are trotting along the snow-covered road, dragging a big sleigh. Made of the sturdiest wood and painted in red and gold, the construction is effortlessly sliding on ice crust, almost lulling you under all those warm blankets and furs Ajax has thrown over your half-sitting half-lying bodies. You are glad to have this instead of jolting in a carriage (not like it’ll even be able to ride through all this snow), sure to have an aching arse even under the thick sheepskin coat, and instead of whatever machinery your lover could’ve gotten his hands onto due to his position - otherwise it wouldn’t have been so romantic.

Resting your head onto his shoulder you sigh blissfully, puffing out a small cloud of warm air. The fluffy-looking firs, tall pines and naked larches are flashing past in a magical gleam of snow-covered branches; you think you see two grayish squirrels chasing one another on a tree on your left.

“Oh, little minxes. A couple of seconds later and that snow could’ve ended up on our heads.”

You giggle at the young man’s comment, taking your gloved hand out of the sable muff and reaching to adjust the hat with earflaps (which he once again refused to tie under his chin) on his head. Before you can retrieve, a bigger hand clad in mitten wraps around yours and brings it to the chapped pale lips. As if spellbound you watch him press a tender kiss just where your ring finger joins the palm - right where the engagement ring is hidden under the thick material.

Now it’s hard to tell if your cheeks are rosy from cold or the swirling emotions.

“A little bit more and we will be in Morepesok,” he says softly, deep pools of his blue eyes staring back at you adoringly. “I can’t wait to share the news with ma, pa, sisters and brothers…”

You know he’s written them a letter right after you said ‘yes” to him, too excited to wait. So excited in fact, that he couldn’t sit still in expectation for the response, so he solicited an impromptu week-long vacation with the help of Pulcinella, and here you are, on your merry way to his home village.

“I can’t wait for that too,” you smile, leaning up to peck his nose, eliciting the same smile from him. “But I worry a little - will they be happy for us? I mean, that it’s me who you are going to marry?”

“Absolutely!” He nods enthusiastically and you have to readjust his hat again. “They all love you very much, I promise you. And if I am being completely honest, mom and Tonia did keep asking me when I intended to make you my wife during the last couple of times we visited.”

“Wait, really? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was already planning a proposal at the time - didn’t want to spoil it by accidentally letting my tongue loose.”

It’s hard to believe that this man is one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers. Childe is surprisingly good at separating his work and off work behavior, turning into a completely normal, maybe just a tiny bit unhinged, young man as soon as his family is involved. You know he’s built this facade to keep them and you away from harm, but you also know it comes from the heart as well.

“Then I can only hope we can bring the female members of your family to the capital soon - I want them to participate in the wedding dress shopping.”

You are immediately gathered into a tight embrace and your laughter is smothered by the fur on his collar. Yes, he is the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia, Tsaritas’s soldier, Childe… But in moments like this he is just Ajax. Your Ajax.

His parents’ house meets you both with the quiet creak of the gates, the barking of two big fluffy malamutes outside, the clink of the horseshoe against the wood on top of the front door, the warmth of a well-heated inside and a bit taller than the last time you saw him Teucer, who runs full speed at his big brother, practically tackling him.

“Big brother is home, big brother is home!”

Ajax joyously laughs, somehow managing to take off his coat and dropping it to the colorful carpet at the front door before hoisting the exclaiming boy into his arms. Kicking off your felt boots to step from the anteroom, you watch with a smile as he squeals when your lover presses his cold cheek to the warm smaller one, squirming in the strong arms. 

Not a minute later more of his siblings appear, closely followed by their mom - freckled, with her ginger with gray hair tied in a thick braid and an apron thrown over her green dress, the woman smiles brightly and, letting her children surround their brother, walks to you with arms spread, ready to embrace you.

“Mother, my clothes might be cold,” you try to warn her, but she doesn’t listen, hugging you anyway.

“As if it can affect me! Oh, I’m so happy to see you, my dear. How was your trip? Are you tired, hungry? I’m almost done with lunch, and in the meantime I can ask my husband to throw in the firewood and heat the bathhouse for you two.

“It’s very kind of you,” you smile, wrapping your arms to give her a hug in return. “But I think we’ll wash up in the evening - I really doubt Ajax’s sibling will let him go in the following couple of hours.”

Before she can say anything, a tall, wide man appears from the other room. His beard and hair are gingerly brown with gray too, thick brows naturally furrowed. By the rosy cheeks, the remnants of snowflakes melting on his hair and the choice of clothing you guess he’s just returned to the house through the back door - probably after chopping wood.

Upon lowering his gaze to you, his facial features smooth out.

“If it isn’t my son and a dear soon-to-be daughter-in-law!” His gruff voice booms across the house, immediately redirecting everyone’s attention to you and making you blush. “I knew Ajax was too impatient and would rather come to visit and bring his fiance along than wait for a response letter.”

As he moves to greet you properly and help with discarding the outer clothes, you notice your gingerhead whispering something to his siblings, to which they giggle and throw glances at you. Catching the gaze of your lover, you lift an eyebrow, as if asking ‘should I be concerned?’. But he only shakes his head with a smile and ushers everyone to the dining room.

However, the curiosity is getting better of you, as throughout the evening you keep catching the glances, watch Tonia whispering something to her mom, and the woman giving Ajax a ‘really?’ kind of look, but with a fond smile, and then his dad slapping his back with a boisterous laugh, saying something along the lines ‘I was the same way with your mom too’.

So you confront him once you are left alone in the room.

“Hey, foxy, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” He lowers the blanket that he’s just tucked inside the duvet cover and reaches for the sheets. “What do you mean, bunny?”

“Whatever you’ve been doing,” you put one of the pillows down and reach out for the other as well as the pillowcase. 

“And what’s that ‘whatever’ I’ve been doing?” You don’t miss the sly smile finding its way onto his face. You huff.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

The man hums, tucking the edges of the sheet between the mattress and the bed.

“Nothing you should worry about. I just asked them all to practice a little.”

“Practice?” Cocking your head, you throw both pillows onto the bed. “Wait, did you start planning something for the wedding?”

“Not quite. Rather for after it.”

Confused, but intrigued, you step closer when your lover sits down and beckons you, being dragged into his lap a second later. Blue eyes look at you in an unspoken fascination, as he leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth, prompting you to loosely wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Since we are getting married, I deduced that it would be only right for my family to call you my wife. Thus I asked them to get acquaintanced with the term, so they could start doing it as soon as we are pronounced husband and wife.”

You blink at him once, twice. After the third time you exhale, shaking your head, but the lift of your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by your fiance.

“I should’ve known you’d pull something like this, I am not even surprised, let alone mad. But they could just keep addressing me by my name. Plus your siblings already call me ‘big sister’ and your parents made me an honor of acknowledging me as the ‘daughter’. It won’t change much.”

“But it will!” He pouts and you can’t resist the urge to pinch his cheek. “You will be my wife and I want everyone to help me show it! Does it bother you though?”

Looking into those uncharacteristically begging eyes, you really can’t deny him his little antics. Not like you were going to in the first place.

“No, no, I don’t mind, love. Honestly, it's very sweet how excited you are. Makes me look forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Look at him, smiling like a satisfied cat, who's had too much sour cream for its own good. His embrace tightens on you a little.

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes as Ajax enjoys the many kisses you pepper to his face, squeezing his eyes shut, grinning, boyishly eager for more.

“Do you think I should ask the whole village to do the same?”

“Ajax, no.”

Nuevillette

“Mother, do you mind helping me a little? I can’t reach over there…

“I’d be delighted, my dear.”

Neuvillette watches with a fond look as you put the tea cup down and stand up to walk closer to Verenata and assist her with whatever the potion maker needs. Your figure is ethereal, clad in the finest fabrics, flowing with every step and gently dropping as you crouch gracefully to hoist the melusine in your arms. From above the rim of his silver goblet the Hydro Dragon can't tear his eyes from the way one of your many “daughters” wraps an arm around your neck and reaches up, while the corner of your lips, which he can see from his position at the table, is turned upwards.

“Mother is so kind and patient,” Laume says just a step away from Neuvillette’s chair. When the man turns his head to look at her, there is Flo standing too.

“Yes, and she is so beautiful,” the other melusine sighs, clasping her hands together. “And she always brings us such nice and comfortable clothes…”

“Monsieur Neuvillette married a wonderful woman,” a couple more melusines nearby agree and there is a warm and fuzzy feeling takes place in the Judex’s chest.

Marriage… Such a beautiful concept humans came up with to validate the union of two. It begins with the wedding - a day full of happy tears and blissful smiles, shared vows to be together in sickness and in health, sweet claims of love and promises of joyful life ahead. Then this very life begins and for beings like you and your husband it’s a long, but welcome trip.

You’ve been claimed by each other for quite some time before the more ‘mortal appropriate’ ritual, and the melusines - the wonderful creatures Neuvillette once took under his wing - were aware and happy for your relationship. And it was actually their idea to hold a wedding too, once Sigewinne naturally asked how the two of you planned to introduce your bond in civil words to humans.

And it was their initiative to start calling you “mother”. With your actions you quickly became one for them anyway, and the girls actively sought your company when it was possible. Thus, such tea parties at the Merusea Village as today are a common occurrence (besides, you always welcome them because it's a great opportunity to dig your husband out of the pile of responsibilities he tends to bury himself under).

However, lately Neuvillette started noticing that when he heard the word leave the girls’ mouths, a strange feeling began rising in his chest. Even though not quite familiar with the concept of jealousy, the Judex was sure it was not the case - he loved when the melusines called you that. So, he could not really put his finger on why the action caused such an indescribable reaction.

He decided to observe. On his walks throughout the city, the man seeked the sights of parents with children to attentively listen and watch while leisurely passing by or stopping at the shopping booths to linger on the scene. He was quick to note that the interactions were hardly different from the ones between you and the girls - kids would call for their mothers in all the same tones: when happy, when asking for help, when seeking comfort and many other typical occurrences he’d seen a handful of times before.

What really caught Neuvillette’s eye was the way the parents behaved. And soon his focus shifted to the married couples instead. As reserved as the nobles seemed to appear, the ones in love still managed to slip a murmured ‘my dear’, or ‘beloved’ or ‘my sweet [Name]’ in their speech. All the things the Hydro Dragon was all too used to call you too, relishing in the image of your loving smile and joyfully crinkling eyes as you responded in kind.

But it is like a waterfall pours on him when a week later, after that tea party where he once again sunk deep in thought, a keen pointy ear makes out a simple word in the crowd.

"Wife"

Male’s heart flutters. The understanding quickly dawns on him, even more so when his eyes find the couple on the other side of the road, - it was no simple term to introduce the partner to the third party. No, the tenderly spoken word was used by that man to address his lover, to softly draw her attention to him, to remind her he is happy she is holding such a position in his life…

At least that’s what kind of puzzle pieces together in Neuvillette’s head. The couple is long gone, yet he is still standing there, hand resting on the handle of his cane and eyes staring into space.

He starts to remember all the sweet names he called you, each and every one stored in his memory with the heart-warming images of your reactions. There are all kinds of those: my love, my pearl, lizzy (affectionate from ‘lizard’; you used to tell him that dragons are just big lizards and it kinda stuck), kisses-stealer, fairy-tail nymph… The man is surprisingly creative with his words when it comes to you.

Sure, he calls you his mate, quite often too, but to his chagrin it has never occurred to him that he could call you ‘his wife’ too! It’s so simple, so absurdly logical, yet it took him weeks to figure out.

Humans are truly fascinating.

When Neuvillette returns to his office in the Palais Mermonia you are already there, lazing on a sofa with a bunch of papers, in which your husband guesses the script of probably another upcoming play of Furina. And judging by the more than a half pages turned you’ve been waiting for him for a while.

When the door closes and the cane disappears in the myriad of sparkling bubbles, you lift your gaze, and a smile immediately lights up your lovely features.

”Neuvi,” You speak softly, getting on your feet and leaving the script behind, “I hoped we’d depart on the afternoon stroll together. So imagine my disappointment when Sedene told me you had left just ten minutes ago! Oh, I knew I’d be late if Lady Furina had kept me for another minute, yet I still hoped I’d be on time…”

As you are approaching him, the Judex remembers the melusine’s words upon arrival: “Mother waits inside”. This makes all his previous thoughts resurface, and when he meets you half-way and reaches for both your hands to place a kiss to the back of each, Neuvillette has half a mind to try out his new discovery.

“Our Archon enjoys your company a lot, and, knowing you, you are not really mad,” you roll your eyes playfully, tiptoeing to peck the tip of his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘hush, let me be a tiny bit indignant’. “And I’d be honored to keep you company for the evening stroll,” and then, after a little pause of hesitation, he adds, “wife.”

He watches as the previously present smile on your face grows even bigger, but after a couple of seconds starts to fade slowly, eyes squinting a little bit to stare at him in hardly-concealed curiosity.

“What was that?”

“What was what, dear wife?”

“This!” As if to emphasize your words you point your finger to his mouth, and it’s Neuvillette’s lips’ turn to curl in a small smile.

“It’s something I hoped to discuss with you,” his gloved fingertips soothingly brush over your knuckles and soon your hand is clasped into his, as the man leads you both back to the sofa. “You see,” he starts when you sit down, “I am fascinated with the notion hidden behind the word ‘mother’ the melusines like to call you. That’s who you are for them both in reality and in terms. I’ve made some observations, and figured that sometimes humans in marriage also use the…familial terms to address one another. It seemed lovely to me and I wanted to try it out with you. What do you think?”

You hum in thought, replaying in your head the way Neuvillette spoke to you twice. It is hard to explain, but you somehow immediately see the appeal and understand why your lover got hooked on it. Seems lovely indeed. You wonder, what if you…

“Will you tell me more about those observations on our evening stroll, husband? Ooh, it does sound wonderful!”

Mark him stunned, but for a moment Judex grows speechless. The violet depths of his eyes swirl with adoration as you clap your hands gleefully, and he knows, that from now on your everyday routine will never be the same

“With pleasure, wife.”

Pantalone

Dancing snowflakes are slowly descending in their tender waltz and are gleaming like the tiniest of gems in the streetlights’, enveloping the already magical winter capital of the Cryo region in a solemn atmosphere. The white cover of the ground is crunching with every step of a passerby and every wheel rotation of the fancy-looking carriages, while the street is a jumble of fur coats and heavy military overcoats, finally breathing life into the afternoon-quiet city.

It’s a wonderful evening, too marvelous to spend it at home, too enchanting to miss the new ballet at the Bolshoy Theater, the true accumulation of the Tsaritsa’ nation’s nobility and intelligentsia. The wonder of Snezhnayan architecture is both the place to rest and enjoy the purest form of art and home to many gossip circulating in society. Some fresh and just hours old, some ancient and undying, like the topic of the Ninth Harbinger’s lovers.

Lord Pantalone is well-known and often-praised for his contribution to the Snezhnaya’s economy, along with extending the Fatui influence all across the Teyvat. But also he is quite famous for the women he appears in public with. It’s always someone new, it’s never the same one as before. Different shapes, different hair, different style - it is impossible to guess the raven-haired man’s tastes. However everybody knew - the Harbinger never entertained the company of the ladies who made attempts to catch his attention. Those ladies themselves say as much.

The Regrator’s companions never open their mouths, never utter a word - at least not when there are people around. There has never been a single name, never a remembered face - all women wear the mask covering the upper half of it, concealing the identity of yet another lucky choice of the rich man. 

Never the same woman - always the same mask.

This evening does not disappoint the gathered crowd - lifting their gazes, directing attention to the Harbinger’s personal box, they once again see the notorious mask. The long fringe of wine-red hair is coquettishly framing the ever-lasting piece of leather, similarly flaming lips are tugged in a haughty smile - as if the young lady doesn’t realize that once the night is over, she’s going to be discarded like many others before her. The dress according to the latest fashion trends and the beautiful garnet necklace do not surprise the audience anymore - even known for his love for replacements, Lord Pantalone dresses his partners royally.

The man himself has chosen yet another black costume, with a dark burgundy shirt hidden underneath and bird-shaped garnet brooch on the left side of his chest. Multiple beautiful rings catch the light when he lifts his gloved hand to adjust diamond-shaped glasses, before turning his head and addressing something to his tonight’s escort. She boisterously laughs, saying something in response, but even if attendants tried to strain their ears, they wouldn’t hear anything so far away. Even harder it gets when the third ring of the bell echoes across the theater chamber and both the Harbinger and the woman are forgotten, until the performance is over.

So no one sees when the ring-decorated hand reaches for a smaller female one, fingers sliding under the chintz-covered palm, thumb immediately reaching to tug on the hem of the glove, so the thin cool lips could press against the small patch of bared skin. A glimpse of a smile is what Pantalone gets when you glance at him with amusement playing on your lips.

Always the same mask, never the same woman, huh? 

Pride has long slithered into your heart, yet it still lifts its snake-like head every time your act of decisiveness succeeds, happily hissing. Every time it’s a test of your skills, a gamble with the eyes of ones around you, and every time you hit the jackpot, leaving the people guessing, staying the only one in possession of the banker despite the speculations.

As long as Her Majesty Tsaritsa is aware of your existence and the place you occupy next to Pantalone, you are free to do anything you want with his reputation relationship-wise. And he allows it, because should you desire the whole world - he’ll throw it to your feet like the cheapest trinket. One would say it’s because he is prideful too - he knows it’s because he loves his wife.

Loves to the point of entertaining the masquerades she stages whenever the two of you need to appear in public. It plays wonderfully into his possessive nature and desire to keep his precious beautiful wife to himself and helps with the enemies - “changing the ladies” minimizes the chances of putting at risk his one and only. Not like many know of you in the first place.

It’s a win-win arrangement for you as well - there is still an opportunity to cling to his arm, to use his expensive cologne, to play with the rings on his fingers and sneakily make out in a dark corner where no one can see. To be tugged into his lap in the carriage on the way back to his mansion, to have his long fingers undo the strings of the mask, and once the piece of leather falls onto the floor, have the palms slide down the sides of your neck, swiftly fiddling with the heavy necklace, only to let it be, the caress the shoulders, pushing the sleeves down… 

…to leave them at the elbows and grab your arms to push your back into his chest as the warm lips press to the juncture between the neck and the shoulder.

And what if you’ve lost your name in the process of this disguising? Having been an actress a long time ago made you used to it. But isn’t it fun to come up with the new ideas for your next performance? Your husband gifts you way too many dresses and jewelry sets - you must find use to all of them! He now has to simply spend a bit more on the wigs and makeup to fit each combination of fabric and gems.

“Did my wife have a pleasant evening?” The velvet voice of the man behind you caresses the ear and you meet his gaze in the full-size mirror in front of you. Amethyst eyes sparkle in the bedroom light and you smile coquettishly, red lips stretching seductively.

“Did she? How could I know?” You tease, reaching to your back to undo the corset, just to be stopped by his hands, fingers digging into the dozens of strings. “And don’t you know, Mr Harbinger, that it’s very offending for the woman, when the man speaks about another lady in her presence?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware,” he muses, tugging a bit harsher on the ties and making you gasp, “that my dear wife can be jealous of herself.”

“When you know her poorly. Tsk-tsk, what a bad husband you are.”

Pantalone laughs behind you, shaking his head at your untrue words, and you reach to your head to remove the fiery wig. By the time Pantalone is done with your corset, you are done letting your naturally beautiful locks down, sighing in relief from both the released ribcage and hair roots.

The dress, having lost its vital support on your body, falls to the ground next to the wig and quickly becomes forgotten as you two step away from the mirror.

Your husband is still mostly clothed, having only eased out of his coat and unbuttoned the jacket, so you busy your hands with tugging the black article off and then reaching for the gleaming tiny buttons on the shirt. Your figures bask in the warm light of the room as you continue undressing the man - your eyes concentrated on the expensive fabrics, his - on the lovely expression of your face.

“But if you must know,” Pantalone raises his brow, when you look up at him, a much sincere and tender smile lighting up your visage, “your wife loved the evening very much.”

And that’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear. Fingers tangle in your hair, you harshly inhale, and his lips are on yours. Lipstick is smudging, your fingers accidentally catch the silver chain, and his glasses get slightly askew, but it doesn’t matter. His wife loved another thing he’s done for her. The banker’s day has ended in a great profit.

Wriothesley

Fortress of Meropide is a huge metal labyrinth of floors and corridors, where noise is never-ending even in the late hours of the night. The metal box which is the Duke’s office however, is constructed to mute the annoying sounds or else the one inside would have a very hard time concentrating.

Usually, even the ruckus happening outside and the clanking of the heavy machines underneath can’t sway Wriothesley’s attention if he has his mind set on doing the paperwork, even something as boring as bills. Today, however, the man has caught himself multiple times glancing at the clock he’s hung up a couple of years ago - there is no way to tell the time all the way down underwater, true, but it serves him a greater purpose. It helps him count hours and minutes before you arrive.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are the days when you take a half of the day off to come down to the Fortress to meet up with your husband. You both quickly realized that traveling back and forth together in either of the directions (fortress or home in the city) would be way too inconvenient. So, you improvise by visiting him throughout the week a couple of times and then he comes home to properly spend the weekend, having learnt to delegate his responsibilities to the most trustworthy guards. So far you’ve been extremely pleased with the arrangement, and the Fortress’s crew have learnt your face by heart to not cause you any obstacles in reaching your beloved’s office.

Today, nevertheless, something must’ve gone wrong. Pale blue eyes are practically drilling the minute hand of the previously mentioned clock, watching it moving further and further from the tiny 10-minute bar, which should’ve marked your appearance at the top of his stairs. And he gets it, everything could’ve happened, something as trivial as the queue at the pastry shop that might’ve gotten longer today, but when the delay surpasses the half-hour mark, the warden puts his fountain pen down and follows it by the creak of the chair legs on the metal floor.

As he descends down the stairs - each clunking under the heavy soles of his boots - a fleeting thought of you stopping by at the medical bay first is immediately brushed aside - his office is right on the path of entering the Fortress’s main body, and you love your husband too much to let him sulk in his longing. 

When he pushes the colossal doors open, eyes instantly start searching the area ahead of him. However, nothing unusual is spotted - two guards are standing at the front of his abode, not even flinching at the unpleasant scraping noise the metal makes; a couple of inmates are walking past them, bowing their heads right as they see the appearing the figure of their warden - Wriothesley simply nods and sends them off with a flicker of his hand; then there is Monglane’s desk with its irreplaceable owner. And no trace of his beloved wife.

Closing the doors behind him, Wriothesley comes up to the guards, inquiring if they’ve happened to see you. Getting a negative response, he hums and starts walking forward, to the corridor leading to the elevator, not bothering with asking the very same questions to Monglane.

With every passing minute, especially while waiting for the elevator, the man starts realizing how impatient he is growing, if the tapping of his foot and crossed arms are not an indicator enough. Even with just one day apart, he’s missed you so awfully much, your adoring smile, your soft voice and cute little giggles, that he feels rightfully robbed since you are not yet in his embrace, showering his face with kisses and then whining pretentiously because he’s forgotten to shave once again. Sometimes you swear he is not a big bad wolf, but a mean huge hedgehog.

He almost stomps inside the cabin the second its doors slide open and pushes the button to the reddening of his fingertip. It is a long trip up to the next level, and he admits he’s tugged on his leather straps wrapped around his arms a couple of times, but Archons, how little it all matters, when, exiting the elevator, he finally hears such a familiar voice. Your voice.

Your husband’s legs carry him like they obtained a mind of their own, following the full of amusement lilt he knows can belong only to you, just to come to a halt next to the wooden boxes piled up on the side of the path. 

He can see you, quite clearly, adorned in a cute pair of pants and a shirt, shoulders covered in a crocheted shawl - always ready for the cool air of the Fortress, yet looking so comfy, that Wriothesley can't help but desire to tackle you to the sofa in his office and cuddle this instant. And he would've done just that, if the conversation you've been having didn't catch his attention.

“No, it's wrong again. It's not Britney, it's Brytnneigh.

“But you are saying the same thing!"

"No, it is not B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It's B-r-y-t-n-n-e-i-g-h."

"Slower, please."

In the second voice the warden easily guesses a new guard that has just been employed a couple of days ago. He remembers signing the papers his weekend substitute brought him on Monday. Wriothesley also remembers how the man swore that he’d passed on to the newbie all the information and training he needed to know. But, it appears, he forgot to mention the most important thing…

“Did you make sure to write my name with two N’s?” Your voice is laced with hardly concealed mirth, and, though he can’t see the face of the guard talking to you, your husband is sure the poor young man looks quite miserable.

“Yes, mademoiselle, I did.”

“Wonderful, but it’s ‘madame’, I am a married woman after all. But no worries, I am flattered you think I look so young,” Wriothesley shakes his head with a silent chuckle. He adores you so much, but maybe it really is time to stop your little play of a new inmate, or else he’ll surely have to call for Sigewinne to check on the poor guard.

“And your last name, madame?”

“I am Brytnneigh Deirdrophnea de Troistêtesloup. Do you want me to spell it for you, dear?”

Yes, he really should stop you.

Before you can open your mouth again, you see in your peripheral vision a figure moving. Upon turning your head slightly, you are graced with the sight of your beloved husband, walking towards you with a quirked thick brow, and crossed arms. All you can do is sheepishly smile, waving at him.

“O-oh! Duke Wriothesley, Sir!” The guard behind the registration desk immediately jumps to his feet, squaring his shoulders and saluting at the arrival of his superior.

“At ease, young man,” Wriothesley nods, stepping even closer, practically invading your personal space, icy blue eyes looking at you unblinkingly. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing much, Mr Warden,” your eyes crinkle in the corners, a sight so infectious, that the man’s lips turn into a small smile. “Just a cute old me, ending up in the Fortress for Archon knows what time.”

“M-madame!” The guard exclaims rather loudly, that even your husband turns to look at him. “Even if it's not your first stay here, you shouldn’t be taking liberties with the Duke!”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Wriothesley raises his hand. “She is no longer your headache-”

“Hey!” You elbow his side to the bewilderment of the guard. In his shock he doesn’t even reach for his weapon.

“-I will personally escort this troublemaker inside. And cross out that abominable name out, would you? It’s not her name.”

“It’s not..?” Now Wriothesley really sympathizes with the guy, he looks utterly lost.

“It’s not. But,” a big scarred hand gently cups you under the chin and turns your head more properly towards the guard, “be sure to remember this adorable face very well for the next time. You’ll need that to let her in and out.”

“...out?”

“Yes, indeed. This woman is my wife.”

As the elevator doors slide close and the cabin starts moving down, you turn to Wriothesley and throw your arms around his wide frame, face burying into his chest.

“Are you proud of me for coming up with such a long and difficult name in a single thought?”

“Oh, for sure,” strong arms circle your waist and chapped lips press to the top of your head, “I bet you would be hard-to-catch if you were a criminal. But why did you decide to play such a prank on a poor man?”

“Well… I just wanted to see his face when he found out that I am the wife of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself. Another reason is that there was no guard who knew my face and I doubt he would’ve believed my word. I just got creative with the way of making him summon someone else. You simply got here before anything could happen. Plus, it’s good to keep them on their toes with a job like that. Besides, I did apologize and praise him for his patience.”

At that Wriothesley just sighs and then chuckles, raising one of his hands and threading his fingers through your hair, pressing your head even closer to his chest. He is not even feeling iffy about the lost half an hour of your time together anymore. Because you gave him an opportunity to introduce you as his wife once again.

[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

[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.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Merry Christmas everyone, technically late technically not

Ungrateful hearts pt3

“So all this time he's been watching some girl? That's the reason he refused to raid that god awful place” Ghiaccio sneered. His wooden lower jaw clenched.

“She's not just some girl, she's the reason we're all here to begin with. If she hadn't saved the boss's life then at least half of us would be dead” Melone argued.

“I can't imagine the boss ever needing to be saved, then again he probably wasn't the same as we know him today” Formaggio thought out loud.

“So what's the plan? We pillage the town and he accosts her?” Illuso asked.

“As much as I put faith in Risotto I'm unsure if he'll be able to go through with it” Prosciutto said with folded arms as he rested against the wall.

“Then why don't you help, surely if that spell book of yours can give us this then there must be a spell to make her love him if she refuses?” Ghiaccio asked while pointing out his jaw and Melone's limbs.

“Love is a different affair, I'm not going to bring magic into it” Prosciutto explained

“However if he doesn't act upon his intentions then I want you to help me get her” he continues.

“And how do you intend to do that?” Formaggio asked.

🎁🎁🎁

The cold air roused you out of your slumber, the growing smell of smoke hitting your nose alarming you. You shot up to see your window had been opened and a distant glow illuminating your surroundings.

You ran to the window to see in the town the glow of a fire spread. No it couldn't be.

You made haste to get on a coat and boots. You had to go to the orphanage. You had to help the children.

Fortunately the orphanage wasn't in direct danger but you know a stray breeze could change that. You as well as the other workers woke up all the children and gathered them into the main area, trying your best to keep composed so as to not panic the children. You pulled aside one of the ladies to ask her if she knew what was going on.

“Raiders, they're setting the town ablaze” she told you. You felt a lump grow in your throat and a shiver down your spine. All you could think was what would happen if they came here. What they would do to the children.

“We need to grab the kitchen knives” you told her and she scurried away to do so.

“(Y/n), what's going on?” One little girl as she approached you.

“There's a fire in town, we're not in danger right now but we're just making sure everything is ready just incase” you told her.

You could see the uncertainty on her face before she walked back to the group she was with before.

You watched over for a while before another child pulled at your coat eagerly.

“What's up?” You ask him.

“It's a surprise, follow me” he told you playfully.

“I'm sorry but I have to stay here” you told him.

“But it's really important” he told you, sounding disappointed by your refusal. You sighed.

“Alright but I have to be back quickly” you told him. The biggest smile appeared on his face as he pulled you by the hand towards the stairs and up the second floor til you arrived at his dorm.

“You know how last year Santa couldn't deliver our presents?” He asked all giddy.

“Yes?” You asked.

“His helpers came, they told me that they wanted to talk to you about the presents” he tells you bursting with glee.

You froze, eyes widened at him. You felt your blood go cold.

“What's wrong?” He asked you before the door opened.

A man with three wooden limbs standing by the frame draped in animal hide and face covered with a goat-like mask.

“Indeed we have” they said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Go down stairs” you tell the boy, not wanting him to get harmed.

Then two more made their presence known to you.

“Leave the children alone!” You hissed.

“Oh but we're here bearing gifts” one chuckled, pushing a large worn sack into view filled to the brim with toys.

“What are you really here for?” You ask, knowing damn well that their motives were sinister.

“An exchange”

“The children can have their food and toys that we so graciously offer now, all we need is for you to come with us”

“What do you want from me?” You asked.

“We won't hurt you, we're just trying to fix some severed ties” they tell you. You're in no position to say no, not when the lives of so many are at risk.

“Fine” you told them.

“Great, now why don't you introduce us to the kids” one said. So you led them down to the children, two of them carried sacks with them.

“I'm glad they repainted those walls, used to be the most horrid mustard yellow” one remarked.

As you reached the stairs everyone looked up at you, you put on a plastered smile as you announced to the children that Santa's helpers were here to give the children their gifts. The children didn't even question you.

The ladies grabbed chairs for them passing you worried glances as they did so.

“It's fine, they'll be safe” you assured them.

“So why do you look like that?” One of the children asked one of the men as he handed her a doll.

“It's very cold, we have to keep every part of ourselves warm if we want to make it to everyone” the one man with wooden limbs replied.

“Why did you come?” another asked.

“Because of (Y/n), such a sweet soul. She's helped so many, including a very close friend of ours” he explained.

“That's why she's coming with us for a while, we want to show her our appreciation,” he continued.

After they were done the children said their goodbyes. So happy that you were going to be around Santa's helpers. Some asking if you could join but you told them that only adults could go as they didn't want to ruin the magic of Christmas.

After the doors closed you only walked a few steps away before a sudden wave of drowsiness consumed you. Causing you to fall straight into the arms of one of your captors.

“this will be easiest if she is asleep” you could hear one of them tell the others.

🎁🎁🎁

You woke up. The warmth of a thick blanket enveloped you, a pair of strong arms holding you close to their frame. You should be alarmed but it felt oddly familiar. They seemed to take notice of you being awoke and spoke.

“So many years I've longed for this once more” a deep gruff voice lulls.

“Who are you?” You asked, panic finally settling in. His arms loosened enough so you could turn to see who was behind you.

Those features… you'd only seen those on one being. It was undeniable that it was the boy you saved all those years ago. Yet all that softness was gone. His features more pronounced, sharp and chiseled. His horns, once stubs now thick and spiraled. His presence was cold, what little warmth he had as a child was gone.

“Do you not remember me?” He asked in an almost somber tone.

“What happened?” You asked him.

“I did what I had to to live, I told you one day I would marry you… that was what kept me going” he told you.

“No… no” you stuttered as you tried to leave.

“No? Are you afraid of me now too?” He asked. Before pinning you underneath him. His hot breath turned to mist from the temperature.

“(Y/n), you belong here, where your kindness is appreciated “ he told you.

“And take me away from the rest of the world?!” You yelled.

“I didn't do this, my men acted without my knowledge” he told you.

“I wanted to take you but I couldn't bear the thought of you seeing nothing but a monster before you” he explained.

[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.

[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.”