#YOU DID HIS VOCE SO WELL

[kazeton]

(( I am in LOVE with High Noon Yone

I WANT TO PUT MY FACE BETWEEN HIS BOOBS!

[fayes-fics]

Ingénu

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: On his eighteenth birthday, Benedict loses his virginity with you on a warm summer's night...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Loss of male and female virginity. Sex education (sort of, mostly innocent leading innocent), vaginal sex, alfresco sex, withdrawal method, orgasms (them lucky kids). Childhood friends to lovers.

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: A fic I started more than two years ago, from THIS anon suggestion. Please note, the age of sexual consent in the UK is currently 16, so everyone is legal, although, in Regency, it was 10 (yikes). Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Err, enjoy! <3

Benedict Bridgerton.

If you were to give yourself to anyone before marriage, you know it would only ever be him. 

You grew up as neighbours, your family estate bordering his family’s in Kent. Born five months apart, it’s like destiny that you would be close. You shared your first chaste kiss when you were both twelve and then a French kiss at sixteen. And now, well, perhaps a lot more.

It’s his eighteenth birthday party when, while Colin draws attention to himself, Benedict grabs your hand and whisks you away without anyone noticing. Perhaps the brotherly distraction was by design. 

Wordlessly, he leads you far from the house into a small clearing in the woods around Aubrey Hall. There is a blanket, some pillows, and even some candle lanterns that he now lights. It appears he has something planned, and it causes a flutter in your stomach.

“Benedict, what is this?” you enquire sotto voce, his hand so large wrapped around yours. So safe.

“A quiet spot just for us,” he smiles back.

“To do what?”.

“To celebrate my birthday privately. In a manner that I know we are both so keen to,” he proclaims at first enigmatic, before clarifying: “You said you wanted to know a man before you are married, and I wish to know a woman.”

“But….” 

Beyond that, words fail.

You had indeed said as such just the other day. It was an idle, throwaway comment as you lay together in the long grass by the lake, squinting at the sun and enjoying the summer heat on your face. A languidness in your being had made you carefree with your words.

“It may be fine for you, Benedict, but I must be a maiden when I marry,” you point out.

“Well, what if you were to marry me someday?” he contends matter of fact.

“Is that a proposal?” you splutter. “Because I find it to be severely lacking.”

He chuckles at your affront. “No, you shall receive a ring when I propose,” he affirms.

“So, it is a when now, is it? “ you volley back, a smile tweaking your lips, unable to be anything but playful with him, as you have been for many a year now.

“Of that, you can be certain.”

There is a seductive edge to his voice, which seems so much older than his eighteen years; it’s quite captivating.

“But how can you be certain my answer will be yes?”

“I cannot,” he admits, seeming bemused by your quirked brow. “But I hope it will be after tonight.”

“And how can you be sure of my answer about tonight?” So much fun to toy with him.

“Again, I cannot,” he replies with a slight shrug but a soft, crooked smile. “I can only hope you deem me worthy,” he adds, gesturing around you.

“It is rather romantic,” you allow, watching in the lantern glow as he breaks into a much bigger grin that reaches his eyes. Candle reflections dance in his enlarged pupils. 

“I am so pleased you think so,” he beams. “I rather suspect Anthony plans to take me to a brothel this weekend. He did as such for his eighteenth and is of the firm opinion that I should follow suit. But in truth, I, well… “ he hesitates and takes a step forward, grabbing both of your hands in his. “...I want my first experience to be with you.”

The heartfelt, almost bashful admission has you squeezing his hands reassuringly, hoping it silently telegraphs how much you want the same, despite your reservations about preserving your honour.

“May I kiss you?” His tone is so sweet you don't want to say no.

Instead of answering with words, you push up onto tiptoes and land your lips on his. It’s familiar and exciting all at once. You’ve kissed secretly a few times now, and on each occasion, it has been incredible—like a live wire sparking between you. You push into his tall frame as your mouths open and your tongues gently touch. He tastes of peaty scotch and the smoky tinge of cigars, both likely birthday indulgences. 

His hold around your waist tightens as your kisses get more insistent and probing, tongues parrying. This time feels different—portending something more profound. Only breaking apart to take a breath, then, after a fleeting exchange of shy smiles, your lips smashing back together urgently, exploring anew.

As you cling to his waistcoat, his hands slide down your dress to grab your bottom, making you squeak into his mouth. You've never been grasped there before, and his fingers seem to span the whole of your cheeks. You stutter his name as your lips part, his aromatic breath gusting over your face as he flexes his fingers. He observes your face closely, the material of your dress bunching between his knuckles. 

“I like the feel of your bottom,” he declares with tender honesty.

You beam up at him and trace your hand down his back, running over the crisscross pattern of laces on his waistcoat before landing on his behind. His eyebrows raise as you splay your fingers over rounded, taut muscle.

“I like yours too,” you respond in kind, emboldened by how his pupils dilate and his mouth falls open at your pluckiness.

One of his hands moves to cup your jaw, diving in for another kiss, more demanding than before, your boldness catalysing a new urgency in him. His fingers trail down your neck, skating over your pulse point that you know is hammering hard, then sweeping lower over your shoulder.

“Is… is this alright for you?” His voice is full of awe as those fingers slip inside your dress, the heel of his palm resting lightly on your collarbone.

“Y… yes, it’s… wonderful, actually.”

It seems like he is mapping your skin, the contours of bone and muscle across your chest, sinking lower until his hand is resting on the swell of your breast. He worms inside your neckline, and two fingertips catch against your nipple. It pebbles hard at the slightest brush, your breath catching. You meet his blistering stare as he slowly swipes a finger over the puckered skin again. Heat prickles through you, a heavy tingle between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” 

His timbre is a beguiling mix of tease and hope as his fingertips gently swirl a circle around your areola. You nod, your lower lip snagging under your top tooth as a new tide of sensation washes through you.

“Where did you learn such things?” You marvel, your hands still on his bottom, flexing slightly, a mirror of his movements.

“My brother has told me some things,” he elucidates with a slight smirk, “including that if I touch your breasts, you will be excited for more.”

“I am,” you confess as intrigue steals your tongue: “What did he tell you to do next?” 

“That I should remove your dress and kiss your naked body, especially here.” he counsels, sliding over your nipple again.

“What else?” you pant, the thought of it making you lightheaded.

“I should feel between your legs for wetness that shows you are ready for me,” he intones as if recalling a verbatim conversation, even as his fingers spider across to your other nipple. You gasp again, a shiver running down your spine.

“Ready for you?” You echo, mildly embarrassed that you do not know any detail of what happens between a man and a woman. You have only a vague notion from the overheard gossip of people in your family’s employ. 

He grabs your right hand from his bottom and guides it to the front of his trousers. There is a hardness straining the material that you swear wasn't there before.

“What is that?” Your breath catches as its warmth seeps through the material into your palm.

“That is my cock, and if you wish to know a man, it is an essential part of the process,” he smiles winningly.

You squeeze gently on instinct, the resulting low growl in the back of his throat enthralling you.

“I think we should take off our clothes now,” he proposes, and you nod your acceptance.

His hand slips from inside your neckline and lands on the buttons between your shoulder blades as yours slide up from his trousers to his waistcoat, popping its buttons as those on your dress also relent.

“Is it alright to undress each other, or should we undress ourselves?”

“Either is acceptable, but I am rather enjoying this,” he divulges as you push his waistcoat off his shoulders.

“So am I…” 

He pulls off your dress, the silk pooling around your feet, a yen to crowd into him as the cool night air seeps through your gauzy chemise.

“You do not wear stays?” he seems taken aback, his gaze now intent upon your nipples, jutting out against the thin cotton.

“No, not yet. Mama says I am but young, and my bosom is still perky,” you explain, aroused by how his breath becomes a little laboured as you voice it.

“I like it when you say such words,” he rags, pulling you into him with a firm grip, his hands so hot through the thin cotton of your chemise. You have a sudden tart need to be naked with him, a tingle between your legs that can only be excitement.

“Take off my chemise, Benedict,” you encourage, guiding him to the ties at your neckline. You pull the bow loose, the material bunching in his hands as you both tug either side down, exposing your breasts. 

He groans as your nipples instantly pebble in the cool air. He tilts you backwards in his arms, his face descending. You rasp his name, your hand flying into his hair, twisting his chestnut waves between your fingers as the contrasting heat, suction and wetness of his lips enclose your nub. It's exquisite, and you never want this loop of pleasure coursing through you to end, pushing your breast further into his mouth.

While he lathes with his tongue, you slacken the neckline further and shimmy out of the chemise, keen for more, already addicted to this wondrous feeling coursing in your bloodstream. 

He takes a step back to look at you as the last scrap of fabric flutters to the ground.

You see the quiver in his hands and the tented outline in his trousers as his eyes drink in your naked form, lingering on your nipples, wet with his saliva, and the patch of hair between your legs that is also damp now, a slickness between your thighs that has you wanting to squirm. 

His pupils are blown wide, his lips glisten, his cheeks are rosy, and his hair is wild from your tussling as he suddenly whips off his shirt. It sails through the air in a puffed arc. The captivating sight of his pale skin glowing like sculpted marble in the moonlight ties your tongue.

But your admiration is short-lived as he is on you again, propelling you into his arms. Your mind buffers as his broad, smooth chest collides with your dampened breasts, his kiss plundering your mouth. 

It feels like you are both drunk on a fascinating cocktail of urgency and nerves, navigating new territory with a bumbling, innocent, but innate excitement. 

“Lay down,” he whispers delicately into your mouth as you emerge for air.

You do as bidden, holding his hand as he assists you onto the blanket and laying back to stare up at him, towering over you now. His hands fall to the buttons on his britches, and you can't help but bite your lip, a shiver of anticipation to see how he looks naked.

He seems almost nervous as he pops the buttons and then shuffles the woollen material downwards over his thighs. But you only have eyes for what lies between his legs. Like yourself, there is a patch of hair there, but also something entirely other that makes your thighs clench together reflexively. This must be his cock. It is a rigid mass, reddened at the flared tip, jutting out from his body at least half a foot and beneath are adjoined sacs that droop a little.

“Do not be afraid,” he murmurs, perhaps misinterpreting your curiosity for fear.

“I know you will not hurt me, Benedict,” you placate, your eyes flitting up to his face and reaching for his hands to bring him to lay down with you on the blanket.

He sighs as he kneels beside you, his hand cradling your cheek. “That is the thing, my sweet; my brother says it might hurt for a lady on her first time.”

Your breath catches at the term of endearment he employs, placing your hand over his. “I know you will do everything to mitigate such.”

His eyes go soft, and he rolls on top of you; so much warm skin. An all-consuming sensation as you lay together naked, that cock branding your inner thigh as he settles atop you.

“Indeed ‘tis true…” he confirms, then hesitates before continuing in an ardent intonation: “I meant what I said. I wish for you to be my wife one day. I do believe I love you, y/n.”

Your heart soars at his tender confession. “And I believe I love you too, Benedict.”

His responding smile lights up his whole face. 

You may only be seventeen, but you know the contents of your heart. There is no man you have met whom you trust as much as this wondrous boy, now man, you have grown up alongside. You sincerely hope to have the privilege to grow up and, indeed, old with him.

“Are you certain?” he checks sweetly, and you can only nod as his touch trails down over the ticklish skin of your belly, leaving little lines of fire that sear in his wake.

There is a jolt to your entire being as his fingers slide into your most intimate area, somewhere only you have touched before. You keen and press up into him, quite certain nothing has ever felt like this before. 

“Oh, you are very wet,” he stutters, almost stunned. “But that is good,” he quickly appends before you can become self-conscious. “It means you desire me as much as I desire you.”

“I do desire you, Benedict,” you are at pains to express, a restlessness fizzling under your skin and a clawing need for him in your bones, knowing this can only be of his doing and wanting to burn so much more. “What happens now?”

He guides your hand gently between his legs. He moans as your hand instinctively curls around it, the skin so silky even over a mass so rigid. “I put my cock inside you,” he stumbles. “Into the place you are leaking from…”

“Will it fit?” You frown, unsure you have a place within yourself to accommodate it.

“Yes.. well, at least, that is what I have been told.” 

His slightly vulnerable admission makes you release his cock and grab his face, tilting his gaze to meet yours.

“We shall find out together,” you assure, smiling when he nods gently.

This is just another adventure you will embark on together, much as you have since you were children. 

He kisses your knuckles and guides you to hold onto his shoulders as he shifts above you. Butterflies behind your ribs as he looks down at what he is doing, a slightly anxious expression as he grabs his cock and manoeuvres it between your legs. 

You spread your feet wider to the edges of the blanket, its threads scrunching between your toes as you feel blunt pressure between your damp folds. You can't help the noise you make from the intensity of it. 

Benedict’s head shoots up to scrutinise your face, concern flooding his handsome features.

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I think so, just nothing I have experienced before…”

Then his eyes go as wide as yours as just his tip slips into your leaking channel.

“You are so hot and tight,” he stumbles, floored by what he is experiencing as much as you are.

“You are so hot and large,” you answer in kind, gripping his bicep as he presses deeper and an odd pinch of pain flares; it makes you hiss and bite your lip. 

He mumbles an apology, pausing. “I assume that is what they were referring to. Sh-should I continue?”

“Yes, I am alright now,” you reassure him, briefly touching his cheek, curiosity outweighing the fading, dull ache. 

You are slack-jawed in astonishment as your channel stretches wider to accommodate his push forward. He is panting, and his eyes are almost like saucers as he stares down upon you, neither of you blinking.

“Oh my goodness,” he mutters enraptured. “Please tell me this feels as good for you…”

“It’s wonderful, Benedict,” you promise breathily, a warmth unfurling behind your ribs that he would care as such. “Intense, yet wonderful.”

“Same,” he exhales shakily, a vein throbbing rhythmically on his neck as he sinks deeper.

Each fractional inch has you surprised anew, a captivating gradual invasion. Just as you think you could not be any fuller, he stops.

“I am entirely within you now.”

You try to catalogue all the feelings at once, to savour them, but it's impossible. The sense of him inside and surrounding you, flesh entwined, is all-consuming; defies words or descriptions.

“I shall move when you are ready,” he whispers into your cheek before kissing you softly. 

With your nodded consent, he withdraws and then surges back in, your channel clinging to him—a sensation unlike anything you have ever experienced before, so intimate and powerful. Your fingernails claw into him, hugging him down onto you, wanting his skin upon yours.

“Oh Benedict….”

It’s all you can voice. 

A tremble all over as you share this moment, tentatively moving with him in a complementary rhythm, almost a dance like that in a ballroom. Give and take, push and pull. And there is no one you would rather be dancing with. Your bodies meld together perfectly as if designed to be joined as such. You certainly don’t understand why some women dislike relations with a man—you would happily do this anytime.

Benedict's motions speed up, your folds swelling around his plunging cock, your heart hammering against your ribs, watching the ripples of ecstasy wash over his expression, a dew gathering in his hairline.

“It’s.. it’s overwhelming,” Benedict shudders. 

Indeed, there is a quake in his being, like he is a simmering pot about to boil over, even as his face appears anxious, like he does not yet want that to happen but is powerless to stop it. You quell his movement, clutching the belt of muscle above his hips.

“Rest within me a while,” you suggest, and he stills, a staccato exhale into your hair as his cock twitches inside you.

It is wonderful to be pinned under his weight. You run a soothing touch over his skin, the soft cotton of the blanket rubbing your shoulder blades as you shift under him, wrapping your ankles around the back of his knees. Your toes tease his fuzzy calves in soothing strokes as his breathing returns closer to normal. You know, somehow you should not kiss him, an incitement he does not need.

“I do not wish this to be over too soon,” he laments quietly into your hair—a swell of emotion within you at his honest admission.

“Neither do I, but it is our first time. We cannot expect to know or be good at everything, Benedict,” you rationalise, pausing for him to meet your gaze. A sheepish mien that makes him look so adorable. “We can learn to get better together.” 

The knit on his brow loosens a fraction as he hums in agreement.

“I have heard that should I finish before I want to, there are other ways I may ensure your satisfaction,” he offers humbly.

“What does that entail?” Enchanted by the idea he would be concerned for your pleasure as much as his.

“I may touch a nub between your legs that is like a freshwater pearl nestled within folds of dewy flesh,” he states, a poetic description you are sure must be from some book.

When he pulls up to glance at where you are joined, it makes his cock prod a new spot inside you. An incredible bloom of novel sensation that has you gasping and grabbing his arms. Your channel ripples around him, and he groans heavily, collapsing back upon you inelegantly.

“Holy fuck,” he curses, sounding winded.

And you know the time for talking is over. You are impatient for him to move again, for his cock to graze that spot once more.

“Bring your legs up higher,” he tutors, intuiting your needs. 

Just as your heels curl around the shapely curve of his bottom, he moves again, making you cry out in pleasure as he hits that exact target, your nails digging into his back.

“Don’t stop Benedict,” you appeal over a ragged gasp as he grazes it again, your eyes rolling, clinging to him.

His motions are jerkier now but rougher in just the way you need. He holds nothing back, both of you fumbling towards the ecstasy growing inside. Hands grabbing, moaning into dewy cheeks, wetness matting into the downy hair below, the most debauched of sounds from where your bodies meet as he pushes into you over and over.

All your muscles start to tense, a delirium washing over you that makes you impulsive. One of your hands worming between you to strum an engorged nub just above where he fucks you, knowing on some instinctual level it is key to your pleasure. You cry out, and your pussy clamps hard onto him. Benedict groans his approval as he takes a final harsh snap, you falling over an edge, fluttering hard around his now rippling cock.

He growls and wrenches himself out of your channel rapidly. But you are barely cognizant of a milky liquid spurting over your belly as you writhe under him, body febrile mind a thousand miles above amongst the summer stars

When you return to yourself, you feel him collapse onto the blanket next to you, pulling you into his arms as if there is a compulsion to always have your naked skin on his.

“No one warned me your body would do that,” he pants, astounded. “It took all of my strength to withdraw…”

“Why did you?” You crane your neck to pout at him, believing it would feel so much better to reach that peak wrapped around his cock.

“I thought it unwise to leave you with child…” he frowns as if his reasoning were obvious.

You buffer for a few seconds, then sit up and twist to look down at him, shock flooding your already overloaded senses.

“This?!” You splutter, “This is how babies are made?”

He chuckles at first, then tempers his face when he realises you are serious. 

“I… I thought you knew…”

”No! I have not been told a thing!” you bemoan, only now realising how much of adulthood you have yet to navigate.

He delicately pulls you down to rest on top of him, nuzzling your cheek. 

“I am sorry that is the case. One day, we shall have children, I am certain. But perhaps tis not a good idea just yet. We are still young, not even yet engaged.” 

You vehemently nod in agreement, flooded with gratitude that, even as he was in the throes of his first sex, too, he had the respect and forethought to care for the consequences for you both. 

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, burrowing into his embrace as a gentle waft of breeze cools your flushed skin.

“‘Tis me who should be thanking you.” he insists, caressing your shoulder. “That was amazing. I am so glad we did this together.”

“As am I,” you return, as you lay entwined together, knowing already this will be the first of many.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @hanji-emo-blog @sya-skies @urfavnoirette

[book-of-forbidden-knowledge]

Magic in Ancient Greece: An Introduction

I have seen some people claim that magic or witchcraft did not exist in Ancient Greece. This is not the case. So, I thought I'd take the opportunity to introduce you all to the strange and wonderful world of Ancient Greek magic!

First, what do we mean by "magic"? Radcliffe Edmonds, one of the leading scholars on Ancient Greek magic, defines "magic" as "non-normative ritual behavior." In short, what makes something magic, and not just normal religion, is that people in a given culture think it's weird. The word "magic" itself refers to the magi, Zoroastrian priests — the Ancient Greeks thought they did magic because to them, Zoroastrianism was foreign and weird. They also thought that Ancient Egyptians could do magic for the same reason — what the Greeks thought was spooky magic was just normal religion in Egypt. Within their own culture, magic was basically heteropraxic religion. Magic was not considered hubristic, at least not inherently.

There are multiple Ancient Greek words that refer to magic. The word μάγος, magos, itself means "magician" or "charlatan." There's also γοητεία, goetia, usually translated as "sorcery." The word most often translated as "witchcraft" is φαρμακεία, pharmakeia, the use of drugs or herbs to transform or influence people. This is what Medea and Circe do.

One of our best sources on Ancient Greek magic is the Greek Magical Papyri, or PGM, a set of magical texts from Hellenistic Egypt. When I first learned about it, I thought it was too good to be true, but here it is: uncorrupted ancient pagan magic! Essentially, the PGM is one of the oldest known grimoires, and the ancestor of the entire Western magical tradition. The papyri contain spells and rituals for almost every purpose: curses, love spells, divination, dream oracles, summoning daimones, necromancy, even full mystical rites. Most of them include invocations to various gods, which are heavily syncretic. Helios/Apollo (treated interchangeably) is invoked the most often. Aphrodite appears pretty often, too. Hekate-Artemis-Selene-Persephone (conflated with a whole bunch of other chthonic goddesses, including Ereshkigal) has her own set of spells. You'll even find the names of Egyptian gods and Hebrew angels in there.

One of the most common features in PGM spells is voces magicae or barbarous names, nonsense words that are supposed to be the secret names of the gods, which give you the authority to call them up. They act almost like a written form of glossolalia. Most are supposed to be spoken or chanted aloud. Some sound like actual names, or are well-known magical epithets like ABRASAX. Some are just strings of Greek vowels. Some of them are palindromic; there's lots of spells that use the "abracadabra" disappearing-letter-triangle format. There's also charakteres, apparently-meaningless magical symbols, the distant ancestor of modern sigils.

Another major source for Ancient Greek magic are defixiones or katadesmoi, curse tablets. They're little lead leafs called lamellae, which are inscribed with curses and then deposited in wells, graves, and other chthonic places. Thousands of them have been found.

Here's the text of a curse tablet that invokes Hekate and Hermes Kthonios (copied from Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World by John G. Gager):

Hermes Khthonios and Hekate Khthonia Let Pherenikos be bound before Hermes Khthonios and Hekate Khthonia. I bind Pherenikos’ [girl] Galene to Hermes Khthonios and to Hekate Khthonia I bind [her]. And just as this lead is worthless and cold, so let that man and his property be worthless and cold, and those who are with him who have spoken and counseled concerning me. Let Thersilochos, Oinophilos, Philotios, and any other supporter of Pherenikos be bound before Hermes Khthonios and Hekate Khthonia. Also Pherenikos’ soul and mind and tongue and plans and the things that he is doing and the things that he is planning concerning me. May everything be contrary for him and for those counseling and acting with…

Another curse tablet, which invokes Hekate to punish thieves, includes a drawing of her and charakteres. This is how she's depicted:

From Curse Tablets and Binding Spells in the Ancient World by John G. Gager

It's supposed to be a woman with three heads and six raised arms, but to me it looks like Cthulhu, which is honestly appropriate.

There was a very fine line between love spells and curses in Ancient Greece. Some love spells in the PGM call upon the spirits of the dead and chthonic gods to torture a poor girl until she submits to the magician. Just as many defixiones attempt to forcefully bind a lover. But there's another, gentler kind of love spell described by Theocritus in Idylls, in which a witch named Simaetha invokes the Moon and Hekate and uses an iynx wheel to make a man love her.

If you want to know how to apply all of this in modern practice, I'm still working that one out. I've found the PGM very hard to adapt, because a lot of its requirements are dangerous or impractical. Many of its spells require gross ingredients worthy of the Scottish play, or plants that scholars can't identify, or procedures that I don't plan on attempting. And if you haven't noticed by now, most of them fly in the face of modern magical ethics. (Don't let anyone tell you that the gods will punish you for doing baneful magic, because that's clearly bullshit.) On the other hand, Crowley adapted his Bornless Ritual almost word-for-word from PGM V. 96—172. So far, the best resource I've found on modernizing Ancient Greek magic is The Hekataeon by Jack Grayle. Its material is clearly historically-inspired, but still doable, and spiritually relevant. I really recommend getting it if you have the means, especially if you have an interest in Hekate specifically. I'm happy to have it as a model for how to adapt ancient magic for myself in the future. To me, it strikes the perfect balance between historically-informed and witchy, which is right where I want to be.

If you can't access that one, here's some other books I recommend:

Drawing Down the Moon: Magic in the Ancient Greco-Roman World by Radcliffe G. Edmonds III: An introduction to Ancient Greek magic, both scholarly and accessible. It covers the definitions and contexts of magic, curses, love spells, divination, theurgy, philosophy, basically everything you need to know.

The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation by Hans Dieter Betz: The definitive English edition of the PGM. A must if you plan to study ancient magic in-depth, especially as a practitioner.

Curse Tablets and Binding Spells in the Ancient World by John G. Gager: An English edition of the texts of many curse tablets.

Magic, Witchcraft, and Ghosts in the Greek and Roman Worlds by Daniel Ogden: a sourcebook of ancient literature concerning magic.

The Golden Ass by Apuleius: A Roman novel about a man who is turned into a donkey by a witch. A very entertaining story, also our source for "Cupid and Psyche" and one of the best sources on the Mysteries of Isis that we have.

Ancient Magic: A Practitioners Guide to the Supernatural in Ancient Greece and Rome by Philip Matyszak: A simple and straightforward introduction to Ancient Greek magic, less scholarly but very easy to follow and directed at practitioners.

[tasiawrites]

Kinktober Day 1: - Pizza Dare Armin Alert

Armin x black reader smut. Contains: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), implied mating press, doggy style etc. Enjoy!

Armin was tired. He knocked on the apartment door in front of him, already impatient. He was so glad it was his last delivery for the night, fuck eren for daring him to take his night delivery shift. He knocked on the door again and this time it flung open. The first thing Armin saw was the light blue sheer robe with faux fur along the edges. His eyes flew up to the face and he saw you. His blue eyes took in everything; the visible sheen of sweat on your darkened skin, the way that the robe hid everything but made it very obvious that you were naked underneath. He felt weak.

“Oh, Hi Armin,” you said, snapping him out of his trance. “Hey… I um have your pizza,” he said, face flushing an adorable shade of pink. “Oh yes, thank you sugar, would you like to come in while I get you a tip?” Armin nodded as you led him into your home. The first thing he thought was that it smelt so good. There were LED lights making the space glow a dark purple. He swallowed as his eyes followed the sway of your hips.

“You can place it on the table and make yourself comfortable,” you voce snapped him out of the unholy thought swirling through his head. As he did what you asked, you slipped into your room, grabbed your purse, and walked back into your living room to see the blonde sitting on your couch looking lost. “You good Armin?” that effectively in your direction. You walked over to him, taking out $50. Instead of taking the money he wrapped his fingers around your wrist.

“Please don't hate me.” was all he said before he pulled you into him. His lips met yours before you could even process what happened. Armin expected you to pull away but instead, you let out a soft moan and wrapped your arms around his neck. His mind went blank as you sat on top of him. His hands moved up your arms and trailed your body until you felt him grip the globes of your ass. Reluctantly you pulled away so the two of you could breathe.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” he said softly while trying to catch his breath. “Really,” you asked, running your fingers through the hair on the back of his head. He just nodded as his hands encouraged your hips to grind into his. “Well you should have,” you whispered against his lips before kissing him again. He bit your bottom and rubbed his tongue against the seam of your lips begging to be let in. Your lips parted and you could taste the mint on his tongue.

A soft moan left Amin's mouth as his tongue met yours. He quickly shifted under you and lay you down on your couch. He hovered above you. He pulled away for a second to remove his t shirt revealing his toned chest to you. Without a word, he went back to indulging in your lips. His hands trailed your sides tugging at the sash that kept your robe together. His fingers grazed your soft skin and he pulled back to take you in. The sight of you, half naked with half-lidded eyes, slightly sweating with labored breath did something to him.

“Fuck, where's your room?” he asked pulling you up. “Over there,” you whispered as you pulled you in the direction of your bedroom. As soon as the both of you crossed the threshold into your bedroom he pushed you up against the wall to get another taste of your lips. He was taking the breath out of your lungs with the amount of passion he was kissing you with. His lips left yours and his blue eyes met your brown ones. Words were not needed as you both knew what you wanted.

Your back hit the bed as Armin kissed down your body leaving small marks along your neck and down your chest. He spent some time playing with your nipples gently rolling one between his fingertips as he sucked on the other. His other hand was rubbing your inner thigh, teasing your wetness but never touching you where you desperately needed to be touched.

“Please Minnie,” you begged, trying to get him to do anything. He quieted you as he hissed down your stomach. He was slow and methodical when he finally got to your pussy. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your mound before diving in. his tongue ran tantalizing circles around your clit as he spread your thighs open wider around his head. Your fingers found themselves in his hair as his tongue got you wet and messy. You weren't sure if you should pull him closer or push him away but you did know it felt too good.

You moaned in shock when a finger entered you as he pulled away to spit on you clit. His head went straight back down as his tongue flicked your bud. It didn't take long for the sounds of his ministrations to get to your ears. It was filthy. Simultaneously it wasn't enough. You needed more. “Armin, do something,” pleaded, pulling him up so you could get a kiss. All that escaped him was a choked moan as he slipped out of his shorts and boxers.

“You're-” you nodded cutting him off, fuck the condoms you needed him now. Armin tried not to fucking cum at just the idea of fucking you raw. His tip was red and dripping as he tapped it against your entrance. You entwined his fingers in yours as he pushed in for the first time. A simultaneous breathless moan escaped the both of you as he sank deep into your heat. You could feel him twitching as he tried to pull himself together.

Armin could feel the way your pussy swallowed him. Every part of you felt like it was sucking, pulling him in deeper. It was so warm, and wet- god he felt as if he were dying but he had to pull himself together. He needed to make you feel as good as you were making him feel. Armin gave an experimental thrust, slow and deep. His blue eyes took in every detail of your body as he slowly fucked into you trying to find that spot. The one that made you, he shifted his hips lower and your back arched, there.

Armin adjusted himself and started drilling into your sweet spot and you felt like you couldn't breathe. He had you folded in half as he used his weight to get as deep as possible in you. You felt so full, so good. Words failed to come to your mind. You just had to take it. He wasn't fucking you fast or rough, just deep hitting the same spot over and over. You forced your teary eyes open to watch his facial expression. His blue eyes were laser-focused on where the two of you were connected. His hair was damp with sweat and the gold chain he had around his neck dangled and reflected the low light of your bedroom.

“Minnie,” his name sounded filthy on your tongue. His snapped up and his blue eyes met your darker ones. “Fuck princess,” he sighed bringing his face closer to yours kissing you. You pulled him closer feeling his chest against yours. His hips slowed as he kissed you harder. You felt him slip out and before you could beg him to fill you again he flipped you over. “Need you like this at least once for the night,” he breathed into your ear.

Again before you could respond he was fully sheathed into your pussy. He hit your Gspot dead on and a filthy moan escaped your throat. He took that as encouragement and began fucking into you. He filled you completely and with every snap of his hips into yours, you could feel a delicious friction against your clit. You were dripping all over making both of your thighs slick and wet. Armin was ruining you. Moans and whines flowed out of your mouth like water. The grip you had on your pillow was the only thing keeping you grounded as Armin turned you into his.

There was a thrust that hit something in you that made your back arch and your arms give out. The only thing that left you was a strangled moan as tears filled your eyes. “M’ gonna cum,” the words tumbled out of your mouth, slurred and wet. Armin said no words but his finger found your clit rubbing it in slow circles making your toes curl. The orgasm hit you as if a dam broke, your body ceased as your back arched before you went slack.

Armin was going to die, he was sure of it. You were cumming on his dick and it felt heavenly. Your pussy was pulling him in and forcing him out. Its walls were pulsing around him, sucking him, it's like you never wanted to let him go. He kept thrusting as his orgasm approached. “Gonna cum princess,” he managed to get out. He didn't even have to ask as you begged him to fill you up.

He only had a few more firm thrusts left in him as he fucked his cum deeper into you. Even after he came he pumped himself into you slowly. The aftershocks of your combined orgasms left shallow spurts of cum flowing from your overstimulated pussy. Armin finally pulled out watching the mixture of both of your pleasures escape you. He restrested swaety forehead on your back as the both of you caught your breaths.

You lie on Armin's chest, clean and warm. “So… were together now right?” he asked. You rolled your eyes and looked up at him. He has a soft blush on his face and you couldn't help but kiss him. “What do you think?” you whispered to him as you pulled away from the kiss.

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

Nigga idk I just woke up🥲. Let me know how y'all feel, what I missed, if I made a mistake, or if you want something on the list changed. Stay safe love y'all ❤️

Masterlist

[neiptune]

it only takes some convincing

cw: 1.5k wc, female reader, morning after, suggestive, you're so down bad after one night you try to keep him from leaving and he lets you. birthday fic for the birthday boy happy oliday i guess

As your finger remains at safe distance while carefully tracing the bridge of his nose, you can’t help but think it’s a little unfair that the man in your bed still looks as good as he did last night even in the unforgiving morning light.

You’re propped on one elbow and are manually mapping out his features, except the pad of your fingers never actually touch him. Oliver’s eyes remain shut, chest gently rising and falling as he lies on his back, utterly unaware of the odd way you chose to explore him.

Your fingers move gracefully in the air and you imagine how his stubble would feel under them while you trace but not really trace his throat, then a strong jaw. You let your hand wander over the apple of his cheek, his nose again, the forehead covered in tufts of dark curls, eyelids and long lashes that almost trick you into believing they flutter under your imaginary touch.

You save his lips for last, finger dangerously close to be actually touching them. They’re full and unfairly skilled, the reminder of how good he is at using his mouth still visible on different portions of your body. You’re not one to romanticize a one night stand but something about him is different. Maybe it’s because you’ve met him before through your childhood friend or perhaps because you’ve never been handled the way he handled you just a few hours prior. For multiple rounds actually, each one surprisingly attentive, precise, focused on your pleasure more than his own. You don’t need much more to conclude that Sendo had a point: he is a dangerous man, in more ways than one.

“Are you done? Starting to creep me out”, his eyes stay shut when he speaks, the corners of his lips curled into a faint smile. You click your tongue in surprise and retract to your own side of the bed, half your face buried in a pillow too soft.

“I was exploring”.

“My face?”.

“Yeah”.

Oliver peels one eye open, bright green staring back at you as he stops fighting off that dazzling grin of his.

“Freak”.

“Well proportioned, I’d say”, you shrug, “but my examination isn’t concluded yet”.

“That so?”, Oliver rolls onto his stomach to get closer and ends up nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, one arm curling around your middle to pull you in, “you’re gonna have to be quick. I have to go”.

The deep rumble of his voce and his lips moving against your skin almost make you shiver in the cooler air of the morning. You bury your fingers in the lighter, longer hair falling on his nape, nails gently scratching the scalp with intention. He lets out a low, satisfied sound against you.

“Go? Where?”.

“I’m needed in places”, Oliver starts pressing hot, open mouthed kisses across your neck. You feel his smile when you sigh.

“That’s too bad. I had a few ideas”.

He hums, still focused on his ministrations. He takes a pause to gently blow air over a particularly wet spot on your skin.

“Like what?”.

You gather a few strands of hair in between your fingers and pull with moderate strength. The sound Oliver lets out makes you smile.

“Like cooking breakfast, taking a shower. Letting you eat me out in said shower”.

He chuckles and you’re embarrassed by the way your stomach flips.

“Not gonna pretend that’s not tempting. But the places”, he dramatically sighs, “they need me”.

You pull back enough to give him room to lift his head and bore a playful gaze right into your narrowed one.

“Okay. Go, then”.

With a groan, he rolls away, lying on his back once more, hands supporting his head as biceps that are unreasonably big serve as an unfair distraction.

“I can always call you. For that shower”.

With an amused smile, you crawl on top of him and sit right below his navel, knees caging his hips. Oliver can’t help it: one of his hands rises to your hip right away, thumb rubbing circles over your upper thigh.

“You won’t”, your right hand closes around the base of his throat, “and if you do, I won’t pick up”.

“Really?”, an amused grin splits across his handsome face, “I’ll just show up here, then”.

“Door will be locked”.

“Shuto will give me his spare key”.

You lean forward, enough to brush your nose against his. The hand on your hip tightens its hold.

“That’s a lot of planning for someone who wants to leave so bad”, you whisper, lips too close to his. Oliver tries to kiss you but you pull back just enough to be out of reach, a small smile that makes him scoff as you apply the slightest pressure to the sides of his neck. “I said, okay. You can go”.

“Well, you’re sitting on me”.

You cock an eyebrow. When you make an attempt to get off, Oliver drags you back down with both his hands squeezing your hips. Your knowing smirk is met with a menacing twinkle in his eyes.

“But the places? You’re needed”. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart”, the room turns upside down when he flips you over so quickly, so easily. You don’t quite understand how you end up on your back, caged underneath him. Your chuckle is sweet, the vague threat met by your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him further down.

“What game? I just wanted to cook breakfast for the birthday boy”.

That surprises him.

Oliver cocks his head to the side, taking in your sly grin.

“How do you know?”, he asks, so wary you almost burst into laughter.

“You literally used that to get in my pants last night. Aw, come on, is that any way to talk to the birthday boy? Can you give me one more, as a birthday gift?”, the way you parrot his petulant tone makes him roll his eyes and you chuckle at his scoff, sincerely amused.

Truth is, Oliver doesn’t quite remember which option he picked from the ‘incredibly convincing arguments to get them to sleep with me’ repertoire last night. He’s faked his birthday plenty of times before but somehow ended up deciding against lying to you, one of his best friend’s oldest acquaintances.

He had met you a few times. It doesn’t take much to impress him but to pique his interest? That’s an entirely different matter. You sparked his curiosity instantly with your pretty eyes, easy smile and the innate ability to piss Sendo off. You two are like brother and sister, completely at odds at all times and yet harboring such deep affection for one another.

The more you rolled your eyes at him, the more you pushed back against his flirty comments, the more Oliver felt drawn to you. Finally, on the one night your mutual friend couldn’t show up, he got lucky. And now you’re getting dangerously close to luring him further in, like a wicked mermaid whose song he’s not quite sure he’s strong enough to resist.

“You have a smart mouth”, he murmurs, entranced by the way your eyes are crinkling at the corners.

“You like that”, you whisper back, impudent.

Oliver offers a lazy smirk.

He brushes his lips against yours, the tip of his tongue bold and teasing when he traces the shape of your upper lip. You exhale and he takes just a moment to revel in the way you shiver underneath him before he finally presses his mouth to yours in a firm but unhurried kiss, one that allows him to savor every little reaction he draws from your body. The way one of your legs lazily rises to rest around his hip, your hands tangling in his hair, the soft sound caught in the back of your throat. You nip at his bottom lip and Oliver almost gives in, he almost wraps his arms around your frame and claims you again, in the one way he’s allowed to.

But he can’t. This is not what he does, or rather it’s not how he does it. He’s already stayed too long, convinced far too easily by your stupidly alluring, captivating charm.

“I have to go”, he repeats in a murmur and you kiss him again, soft mouth engulfing his in a way that makes something weird stir in his gut.

“You’re free to go”, with a smile, you blink up at him and lightly scrape your nails along his scalp again.

He hums, shuts his eyes when you start dragging your lips over his neck, the base of his throat.

“I don’t feel so free right now”, Oliver meets your mouth again in a series of soft, featherlight pecks.

“How do you feel, then?”.

“Like I deserve some birthday breakfast”.

You pull back with a grin and he softens at the sight of your sincere enthusiasm. Fuck, you’re alluring and cute.

“I make the best sunny side up eggs”.

“I’m sure you do”, Oliver smiles, fingers lightly tracing your collabone, “but I’m gonna go turn on the shower first”.

[darethshirl]

teia/viago, fake relationship

“I just think,” said Teia, sotto voce, teeth clenched as she fake-smiled at a passing couple, “that stabbing him in the face will be easier in the long run.”

“No,” Viago said.

“It makes for a better message,” she insisted, digging her fingers into Viago’s bicep for emphasis. “What strikes more fear into the Crow’s enemies than a bloody explosion where a face should be?”

“A corpse does. Especially when it’s found in the middle of the night, with a whole household as witnesses and all traces of poison gone.” Viago stood straighter as they approached the Merchant Princes at their grand table, not even bothering to plaster on a smile—he’d already cultivated his persona as the disgruntled husband, and saw no need to change his naturally occurring glower. Playing to his strengths and all that. “We’re following the plan and that’s it.”

Teia sighed. With as close as the two of them were, arm-in-arm and heads leaning intimately together, Viago could feel her ribs expand as she inhaled, could smell the mint on her breath when she exhaled. Her body heat seeped through her clothes and out to Viago’s side, warming him from shoulder to hip. Her cloud of hair tickled his cheek.

The clench in his stomach loosened, softened by guilt and another, more elusive feeling he wouldn’t name. “Trust in the plan, Teia,” he said, voice pitched apologetically. “Trust in me.”

Teia’s hum contained multitudes, each fraction of emotion too complex to decipher on its own. But it was a peace-offering, begrudging yet sincere, so Viago took the win. He steered them towards the balcony, keeping the target at the edge of his vision. Well-dressed couples swayed out of their way, swanning ladies and peacock gentlemen, gleaming smiles and exotic hairdos. Viago noticed the way their gazes snagged at Teia’s elf ears, their expressions ranging from disapproving to scandalized. He pressed his lips together, but followed Teia’s cue and kept his silence.

The target was watching them too, Viago noticed with a pulse of adrenaline. Over his wine-laden cup Prince Casimir’s gaze was low-lidded, self-satisfied, and focused heavily on Teia.

Or more specifically, on her ass.

Viago stopped in his tracks. “Excuse me.”

Teia’s chuckle had entirely too much amusement in it as she patted Viago’s arm. “Relax. He’s not the first or the last one to look at me like that.”

“You’re a married woman!”

“We’re not actually married, Vi.” 

“He doesn’t know that,” Viago growled, choked up with—with some feeling. His shoulders tensed. His mind whirled with images, plans, notions. “I changed my mind,” he said before he even knew he was going to say it. “We’re stabbing him in the face.”

He expected Teia to squeal with delight equal parts girlish and bloodthirsty, but she did none of that. She turned to him instead, her expression serious, her dark eyes black and glittering like the moon-kissed waves of the nighttime sea. “Do you mean it?”

He should say no. “Yes.”

There was the delight he’d been expecting. Teia’s grin bloomed on her face like the first breaking of the dawn, transforming her beauty into something sublime—and mischievous. She grabbed Viago’s shoulders with enthusiasm, not caring how they looked. “You’re not going to regret this.”

“I already am,” Viago grumbled, but he was smiling back.

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 8 part 2 of 3

masterpost

“I will work with Black Bat?” Robin paused, looking between her and their Batdad. Batdad was still in his slippers and sweatpants.

He nodded at Robin. “That’s correct.”

“Finally,” Robin said. “A professional.” He turned on his heel to dismiss their Batdad from the conversation. “I will go suit up.” He waited a moment for her acknowledgement, not approval.

Cass gave him a double thumbs up. When he was out of sight she made eye contact with her Batdad and waggled her eyebrows at him. He did a big sigh. “Thank you for taking care of your little brother,” he said, because he meant well but he was really very silly about things. Robin did not need taking care of. Robin needed a place to jump and scream and bite.

She just nodded. No point in explaining.

Black Bat took the wait time to read through the most basic details of the ongoing case. The takeaway was: boring mission. Look at mechanic with her eyes. Take footage of his face. Find his name or other biographical information. Look at any ongoing projects to determine if anything required immediate action. Do not engage. Do not reveal self. Do not fight mechanic.

Boring!!!

It took very little time for Robin to ready himself. Damibat was a true professional, despite the sentimental wishes of the old people.

He spoke to her in sotto voce when they had gathered. “I admit relief.” Robin flicked his mask into place. “I am weary of being quashed by the authoritarian impulses of my…betters.” His disgust was clear. His tone and shoulders said: 

I miss Richard. My Father is a fool and Alfred is constraining my artistic soul. The regulations are unending. I do not feel confident of my survival in these conditions. I was forbidden to take home the tiger even though I saw it first. I may wilt.

Poor baby. Her face twisted with empathy. He did deserve the tiger. He would love it very well.

“Wanna drive the Batmobile?” Cass asked.

His sorrow lightened infinitesimally. “I cannot reach the pedals in order to operate it correctly. However, we could take the new cycles.” Robin scrolled to the right inventory item. “I took the liberty of customizing the paint jobs.”

Cass peered over his shoulder. “Ooh,” she said. Shiny. Spiky. “Looks fast. Let’s go.”

“No,” said Brucedad, from a distance. “Take a two person motorcycle and have your sister drive it. You do not have a license, Robin, you are 13.”

Robin made a sound of disgust, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I am beset by enemies,” he muttered. He stomped away towards their limited options.

Black Bat aimed a disapproving look at her Batdad. “You are crushing his artistic soul,” she informed him. 

“That’s a burden I will have to bear,” Batdad said gravely, and put on his reading glasses.

She hissed at him but they took one of the approved models out. 

Robin further debriefed her on a private channel on their ride into town, voices muffled to the outside world by their protective helmets.

“One of the previously uninfluential local gangs has been gaining territory and members in recent months. We have attributed this to an influx of unique tools they have access to, which have so far been unconventional tools.”

“Tools for what?” Cass took a hard left turn at a lean and let her fingertips trail just barely over the pavement.

“Excellent,” Robin said about the turn, and then, “they have been used to commit robberies. However, the designs are concerningly martial.”

He did not sound remotely concerned. He sounded approving. Cass asked for clarification with an upwards lilting “Mmm?”

“There was a bazooka that shot temporary voids,” Robin said, sounding young and excited. “They were used to bypass a bank vault and to intimidate a teller.”

Cass lifted her eyebrows and nodded. She could see why Brucedad would be antsy about bazookas, even if they didn’t hurt people. 

“There was also a device that created a foam which immobilized those it was deployed against by creating a sort of calcification effect. It ended naturally after a period of hours, but no technique we employed before that seemed to have a weakening effect on the substance. We were unable to attain samples.”

Cass hummed, feeling a little depressed about tonight’s mission after all. Science. Evil science. She was a little burnt out on evil science. She felt tired at the thought. This wasn’t fun.

Damibat noticed. He was silent for a few seconds. “After we confirm the location of the workstation, we could go to the docks,” Robin suggested.

She perked up a little bit. 

There was always someone to fight at the docks. Always a drug deal, smuggling big bad things, always something.

“Good plan.” 

“We will inform Batman afterward.”

Black Bat nodded her agreement. He didn’t need all the details of their schedule in live time. 

She felt a lot better driving out into the night with something to look forward to.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hi ducky can I please have an emergency request? can u write a story for a y/n who keeps her emotions in bc every time she tries to tell someone someone else complains about something.

and I think u started watching black clover so can u write it with luck and magna ? either together or separate is okey.

thank u 💔

Yes you sure can.

Bumping this one up bc I’m really feeling this hardcore rn

I may make this kinda self-indulgent with the issues y/n is facing???

My dms are open if you wanna vent! I’m here for you, anon. 💜💜💜💜

CW BELOW THE CUT: none.

Luck Voltia and Magna Swing

Things weren’t going too well for you, there’s no way to hide that fact.

From whatever it was, your day was poisoned by unhappiness, and you didn’t know what to do to aid it.

Of course, you refused to let any of the other bulls in on how you were feeling. It was especially difficult to keep Asta from pestering you; the kid is very attentive.

“Show. Never tell.” Is what you would tell yourself, forcing the feelings back into a tiny box.

You tried so hard to keep your face up as you walked through the base, but most days it was impossible to get anything besides a hopeless frown.

When asked how you were, you shrugged it off, merely explaining that you just have a “resting sad face”

Many believed you, nodding with an “ohh” while walking away.

But Magna we’re not buying into any of your nonsense. The two would exchange worried glances at your excuses.

When the team slowly gathered together in the living room after dinner, you were not doing great whatsoever. Your mood was sour, and you were barely focused on anything.

“Hey, everything alright?” Asta asked as he sat next to you. “You didn’t eat at dinner, and usually you have a great appetite.”

You sighed with a broken smile, “To be honest I’m-“

“Oh my god, Asta, did you see what Yami had me doing today? I didn’t get a break once! I’m so tired of being his wheels all the time,” Finral whined as he plopped down next to the anti-magic user.

To your dismay, everyone gathered around their senior to listen to his tale of woe, leaving you behind and ignored again.

You stand up and retreat to your bedroom, leaving without a single word.

You didn’t have much time alone before there was a gentle knocking on your door. “(Y/N)? Can we come in?” It was Luck’s voice…?

You didn’t reply, instead burying your head into your pillow. You heard their bickering through the door.

“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way-“

“Magna no! They didn’t give us permission to come in-“

“And what if something happened to them?? Would you rather us stand out here and do nothing when-“

“You need to respect their wishes!”

“You can come in,” you say stoically, not moving from your previous position.

The door opens slowly, revealing the two bulls.

“Hey, careful doing that,” Magna quickly made his way over to your bed, turning your head toward them. “You’ll suffocate if you don’t leave room for air.”

“Whatever…” you murmur, eyes glazed over.

“(N/N),” Luck begins, “Are you okay?”

You sit upright to greet them “Yeah I’m-“

“No, like actually okay,” he interrupts, moving to sit next to you.

There’s a solemn silence…

“Hey, (N/N), tell us what’s going on, kid,” Magna hums as he brushes a few stray hairs out of your face, sitting on your other side.

They wait with baited breath for your reply, worry evident in their eyes.

“I’m not okay… and I don’t know what to do,” you finally confess in a sotto-voce tone.

Both put a supportive hand on your back or shoulder, listening carefully.

“Everything is falling apart… and I-I’m not sure what to do. I’m usually g-good at fixing things but…” you laugh a bit in pitifulness, “I can’t even fix myself.”

“You don’t have to fix yourself; that’s why we’re here,” the mowhawked mage mutters, squeezing your shoulder gingerly.

“But what if I can’t be fixed? What if I have to live like this every day?”

“Nothing lasts forever,” Luck’s sweet voice chimes. “Time won’t stop whenever you feel sad, it will keep moving and you’ll be forced to feel better.”

“It feels so hopeless… nobody cares…” you whisper

“That’s not-“ he attempts.

“It is true. The moment Fin complained, everyone turned to listen to him instead. I don’t feel heard or respected… I don’t-“ tears start to fill your eyes “I feel so alone.”

“Hey,” Magna’s low voice sounds, “You are far from alone…” he wipes a falling tear with his thumb. “You have people who love you and are willing to support you every step of the way.”

“Yeah!” A quiet cheer of approval left the lightning mage. “You know how much we love you, and we would do anything for you to feel like yourself again.”

The flame mage gets in front of you, locking your eyes. “Tell us anything that’s on your mind… what’s making you feel like less than you are? Anything is fair game, don’t be afraid.”

You look around at their concerned faces once more, and suddenly everything falls apart. Your shoulders heave up and down as your body is wracked with the sobs you’ve been keeping hidden.

As you wail loudly, the two instantly move in to hug you. Magna cradles your head against his chest while Luck hugs around your torso and lays his head on your lap.

The two wordlessly cling onto you as you spill your tale of woe. Many—having heard your pained cries— attempt to check in multiple times. Magna shooed them instantly, shooting a death glare to anyone who tried to enter.

When you finally finished, you slumped downward, resting in their loving embrace. “Thank you…”

“Anytime, kid… anytime.” Magna whispered as he pats your shoulder.

When no response was given from the Cherry berserker, the two of you look down to notice that he had fallen asleep on your lap.

And for the first time that day, you started laughing.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[sadistic-cardinal]

His Mother's Nose

Copia broaches the subject of getting plastic surgery with Sister Imperator.

Word Count: 1255

Read it on A03 here:

"Come in, C." Sister Imperator looked up from her desk as she answered the gentle knock on her office door.

"Ah, yes, thank you Sister."

Came the accented voce from behind the heavy oak door as it was pushed open. A pointy nose protruded through the gap, followed by a pair of mismatched eyes, one a subtle olive green, the other an unholy shade of ice-white. Copia, her boy, steped into the office. He was a stark contrast to the confident, mincing, hip swinging performer who entertained thousands of fans every night on tour. No this was not Papa Emeritus the Fourth in his sparkly blue jacket, dripping and sparkling over his body like liquid sapphires, skipping offstage to greet her with a wry grin on his black and white skull-painted face. This wasn't even The Cardinal, in tight black pants swishing around in a vampire-esque cape like Bela Lugosi. No, this was just little Cardi with his black panda eyes, displaying his usual anxious off-stage demeanor, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he wrung his hands by his waist.

"Er..."

"Come in and sit down, boyo."

Sister said, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

"I know when you want to ask me something. Come on."

"Right, right."

He mumbled, shutting the door and making his way over to the chairs in front of her desk. Hesitating for a moment he looked between the two chairs, and Sister Imperator could practically see the cogs turning as he struggled to pick which one would be better to sit in. Both were identical: straight backed hard wood chairs with no cushions. Sister did not like her guests to spend longer than necessary, so as a rule saw no need to provide anything over the bare minimum of comfort as a seating arrangement.

"C, take that one, love."

A gentle prompt usually did the trick when he was in this sort of mood, and sure enough Copia graciously accepted her suggestion, taking a seat on the one closest to the unlit fireplace.

"Thank you, Sister."

He says, looking down at his worn double monk-strap shoes. As she followed his gaze she briefly wondered if she had seen him in anything else in the past six years, he even wore those shoes with that damn tracksuit he insisted on wearing as casual wear as often as he could get away with. On more than one occasion she had considered consining it to the bin, but knowing how particular he was about his outfits, had opted just to leave him be. Satan knew if she were to do that he would only turn up in something even worse. Nevermind. He wasn't wearing it now, opting instead for his usual red cassock, sans biretta - he had probably misplaced it somewhere and forgotten about it.

"Cardi. What brings you here today?"

She asked, snapping them both out of their thoughts. Generally if one of them doesn't start the conversation rolling they are liable to sit there for the best part of an hour daydreaming.

Copia's eyes snapped up to meet hers and he nods.

"Ah yes. So... i was thinking about this eh... this Papa thing. And my debut on stage recently. I've had a lot of time to think about it actually and you know, i think i am not looking so right with the make up and the... rest of me."

"The rest of you?"

Oh Satan below he doesn't like his vestiments. Sister closes her eyes, imagining a repeat of how long it took to design and approve Copia's Papal robes.

Weeks. Weeks it took, and they still had had to send them back for further adjustments.

Copia nods.

"Er... yes. It's...-"

"Let me stop you there." Sister interjects. "The robes cost us a small fortune. We went over and over them and you approved everything. The blue and gold. The rhinestones. The mitre...-"

"Oh no Sister! Er it's not that."

He says meekly, the tips of his ears starting to go red and radiate heat as he spoke.

"No, what it is er... is... well, me."

"You, C...? I don't... what do you mean, you?"

"Well...-"

He looks at her and gestures to himself.

"I don't really look like Papa, eh? Like a Papa. You know i have been noticing it more and more and when i put the Papal paints on too you know i see what they all mean when they say about me, you know..?"

Sister shook her head, not quite following.

Copia sighed heavily, the realisation dawning that he was not going to be able to beat around the bush.

"I look ...ah shucks... like a rat."

He says, hanging his head.

"The Sisters all say it, i know all the rumours. They're right. Look at me. Papa shouldn't be eh... a creepy... little... rat man. Maybe it is okay when i was just a Cardinal but... i am Papa. He should be strong eh? Regal, no? I guess what i am saying is i want to get the eh... the surgery to fix it."

Sister Imperator recoiled just a fraction, a wave of mixed emotions forming a hot, uncomfortable sensation in her chest. Oh her dear boy. Her poor, neurotic, shy, outcast of a boy who was so desperate for approval. He was worried he would not live up to the Papas before him, she could see that, clear as day. He did not look like a rat. Not to her. What she saw when she looked at him was the reflection of her younger self. Almost nothing of his father, Nihil, with his square jaw and mop of thick black hair. No, little Cardi was all her. Sure, he had inherited Nihil's hetrochromia, but the almond shaped eyes that looked back at her were her own. His profile in particular was the exact spitting image of her younger self; a long, elegant, pointed nose; a thin angular jaw, his brow set in a perminent determined look, no matter how much worrying he did to offset it. Combined, these features gave him an intelligent, almost bookish appearance. Far from the dimwitted brand of handsomeness his father had had in his prime. Even his mousey brown hair, now greying at the temples, that formed smooth waves when he pushed it back, was the exact shade she was naturally before she elected to bleach it. He wasn't to know what traits they shared, however. As for all she saw the exact image of herself in him, and had since he was just a boy, Copia was unaware that she was even his mother.

"Oh, C..."

She sighed, hating that he thought he had to change himself to live up to Papa. Still so much self doubt despite all his achievements as frontman.

"Please, Sister. Per Favore. I... i really would like this."

She looks at him for a long moment, not daring to betray the pain she is feeling as she looks at his pained expression, knowing just how much bravery it took for him to even broach the subject with her. "If... it will make you happy, boyo. If it will make you happy."

His smile lit up his face. Oh his sweet, handsome face, where even his crows feet and laughter lines had developed in the same places as hers.

"Thank you! Yes, thank you. You know... i... if you don't mind the suggestion maybe even you could join me...- i heard there was a two for one on!"

[fizzingwizard]

Hi hi, I arrive with a little ficlet for prompt blueberry. Pretty PG stuff with a sweet indulgent dose of Snufmin :)

--- Blueberry Summer

"I want to go blueberry-picking," Snorkmaiden announced, sitting up.

"So go," Moomintroll replied lazily from where he lounged beside her.

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"No." He had no plans of moving. The summer breeze was warm on his back, and he'd molded the soft, pliant grass into a perfect Moomin-shaped nest. He didn't feel like stooping among the bushes in the heat, getting his paws stained purple with blueberry juice. He closed his eyes, fully intending to doze off until the dinner bell.

For a few minutes there was no noise but the bird song. Still, he sensed Snorkmaiden waffling. She wanted the berries, but she didn't want to go alone. Typical Snorkmaiden.

Most days he would give in and join her. But… not today. Just now, he really wanted to prolong the peace and quiet. She could do this one thing without him, just this once.

"I heard Snufkin was thinking of picking blueberries this afternoon," she said after a while, sotto voce.

In spite of himself, his ear flicked.

"So you are awake." She sounded smug. Cheeks burning, Moomintroll slowly, slowly uncurled from his oh-so-comfortable position. He stretched his arms with a huge yawn.

"Well," he sighed, "if you insist on it. I guess I'll come with you."

—

They did find Snufkin in the blueberry patch. And not just him - Sniff, Little My, Snork, and Moominpappa and Mamma were there as well. There was no need to pick the blueberries either, as they had already filled several baskets to the brim.

Clearly this was some pre-arranged gathering of sorts, but the truth didn't hit Moomintroll until Moominmamma lifted the cloche off a frosted three-layer cake.

"Oh, it is my birthday," he exclaimed.

"Did you forget?" Snufkin asked in amusement.

"No!  But since no one said anything, I figured there was a surprise waiting at home. I never expected the surprise would be in the blueberries."

"There was a reason behind it," Snorkmaiden explained, scooping up a handful of berries and placing them artistically on the top tier of the cake. "Your birthday cake is lemon-blueberry, so we thought why not some fresh blueberries to go with it?"

"Also Moominmamma is going to make jam later," Sniff added.

Moomintroll accepted a glass of raspberry juice from his mother as the others fussed over the cake. The picnic blanket was strewn with daisies. The wireless played cheerful music at a low volume. There were plates of sandwiches and salad, and his friends had set lanterns all around, predicting that the party would extend, as Moomin family parties were wont to do, long into the night.

"Snufkin, don't you have a blueberry-picking tune?" asked Little My.

"Hmm? No…"

"Why not? You have a tune for everything else."

"You should ask him to make a tune for Moomintroll," said Snorkmaiden. "After all, it's his birthday."

Looking for an excuse to hide the mounting color in his cheeks, Moomintroll dipped his head to take a big bite of sandwich. To his surprise, Snufkin seemed equally off-balance, stammering through a weak reply about not being good at composing on the spot. (Which was rubbish - Snufkin could compose melodies in his sleep to make Apollo jealous. Not that Moomintroll was any expert in judging music… or could sing or play himself… anyway, everything Snufkin played sounded wonderful, at least to him, and that must mean something.)

"I do have an idea for a blueberry-picking song," Snufkin went on in a hurry, shaking loose pebbles and leaves from his pocket as he drew out his mouth-organ. He played a quick scale to warm up before launching into a merry, staccato tune, which reminded Moomintroll of grasshoppers jumping in tall grass.

Although they'd picked enough blueberries to last all winter, Moomintroll, Sniff, Snorkmaiden, and Little My ran laughing into the bushes, impelled by the song. Snufkin trailed after them languidly.

There were no more empty baskets, so they competed to see who could carry the most in their paws (or, in the case of Little My, who refused to be left at a disadvantage due to her smaller-than-average paws, in their frock). The bushes still teemed with berries even after the earlier harvest. He picked and picked, cradling the berries in the crook of his arm when he could no longer hold them in a single paw.

Sure he was bound to win, he glanced up, only to spot Sniff tossing blueberries into his mouth.

"Sniff! You won't have a chance to win if you do that."

"What do I care about winning when there isn't even a trophy or a bag of gold? This is tastier."

"I concur," Little My said, and bit into a ripe blueberry still on the bush.

Moomintroll turned to Snorkmaiden in appeal. But he stopped short on seeing the tell-tale spots of purple dotting the edge of her mouth. She blushed and covered her face. "Well, they just taste so good!" she giggled.

"Sniff's right." Snufkin sauntered over. He nudged Moomintroll with his elbow. "Besides, instead of picking berries, you can have a blueberry-eating contest."

Little My's lip curled in a smirk. "In that case, you lot might as well forfeit here and now. No matter how much you eat, none of you will ever outdo me when I swallow this."

And she produced the biggest blueberry any of them had ever seen. It was easily twice the size of the largest they had gathered, and bluer than a cornflower.

"A mutant blueberry!" Sniff let out an awed gasp.

"Gosh, can you even eat that? It'll get stuck," added Snorkmaiden.

"Cut it in half like a cherry tomato," Sniff suggested.

"No way." Little My's bun jiggled furiously as she shook her head. "I'm eating this baby whole in one gulp."

"That's not a good idea, Little My…" Moomintroll said, but he knew trying to warn her off the idea was useless. Little My always did exactly what she wanted.

Sure enough - "Watch me," Little My said flippantly, and popped the blueberry into her mouth.

She didn't chew. They all waited with bated breath, but Little My had gone still as a statue, unmoving except for a twitch in her brow.

"She's choking!" wailed Sniff.

"How can you tell? She looks the same as always," Moomintroll said. But as he looked closer at her face, he thought her skin did have a strange blue tinge. Her eyes rolled back and her paws rose to her throat.

Sniff squeaked, jumping up and sending blueberries flying. "Now she's drooling! She's going to die! Who knows the Heimlich?"

"What's the Heimlich?" Snufkin asked. "Just give her a good smack, here -"

He pulled Little My in front of him, drew back his arm, and gave her a few sharp slaps between her shoulder blades. She made a gurgling noise, but nothing more happened.

"Let me try," Moomintroll said, switching places with Snufkin. As the heel of his paw came down on her back, she jerked forward and the blueberry shot out of her mouth like a marble.

Snufkin gave an approving nod. "Good work."

"You enjoyed that," Little My glared at him, her voice hoarse but strong as ever.

"Hitting you? Of course not," Moomintroll protested.

"I was hoping I'd get a turn…" Snorkmaiden looked away wistfully.

"Me too," said Sniff.

"You're a bunch of violent louts. But I don't care. I won at least."

There was a sudden uproar.

"You didn't win!" Moomintroll cried. "You didn't swallow one blueberry! We had to Heimlich it out of you!"

"Well, are you going to try to swallow it?" she demanded.

They looked down at the mammoth blueberry lying on the grass, soggy and deflated.

They looked at each other.

"... Like I said, there isn't even a bag of gold to win," Sniff replied with a shrug. "I'm going to see if Moominmamma's cut the cake yet."

"I'll pass too." Gathering as many unbruised berries off the ground as she could, Snorkmaiden followed Sniff to the picnic blanket. "We've already picked more than enough blueberries. Some bird or squirrel will be very grateful we left the biggest one for them."

Everyone knew what Snufkin's answer would be. That left Moomintroll to bear the brunt of Little My's dagger eyes all alone.

"Alright, alright!" he groaned. "You win, by virtue of being the stupidest of us all! Even though it's my birthday and if anyone should win for no good reason, it should be me."

She grinned, satisfied. As she strode away, Moomintroll took some small comfort in the conspicuous dark stain down the front of her dress. That would take some work to wash out, and Mamma would make her do it herself too.

He must have seemed rather forlorn, because after a minute Snufkin wandered over and slipped an arm around him.

"Purple's not really her color, is it," he offered.

Moomintroll shook his head. "No, it isn't."

"I prefer normal, non-mutant blueberries anyhow. But not the teeny tiny ones. They tend to be extra sour."

"Exta extra sour."

Snufkin gave Moomintroll's shoulder a sympathetic pat. "Race you up the hill?"

It bothered him a little, to be coddled by Snufkin. He expected it from Snorkmaiden. But he wished Snufkin would see him brave and decisive and grown up - someone to respect, not pet. His tail stiffened. "I don't know…"

"Oh, I guess your legs are rather short for sprinting."

"What!" Moomintroll cried, but Snufkin had already taken off. He was laughing so hard it was a wonder he could still manage to run. The wind blew his hat off his head and right into Moomintroll's snout.

"I'm winning, Moomintroll!"

Moomintroll absolutely did not yell out what the others later claimed they heard him yell at that moment. Snatching up the hat, he dashed after the old green trickster, who was only less of an annoyance than Little My because he was worlds lazier, and one day Moomintroll was going to smack him for it.

Yes, smack him. And afterward maybe Snufkin would let him kiss it better.

… It was his birthday, after all. "One day" might as well be "today."

Later, Little My would swear she had never seen a Moomin move so fast, or a Snufkin go from unflappable calm to abject terror with such alacrity. It was a good thing there were so many blueberry bushes around to conceal them once Moomintroll got a fistful of Snufkin's smock. It was less of a good thing that they'd eventually have to return, exhibiting the proof of their little misadventure in the stylish form of numerous purple polka dots.

But after that neither of them could ever manage to eat blueberries without breaking out in laughter. Little My drew a picture to commemorate her enormous blueberry find that Sniff claimed was greatly exaggerated. And "the blueberry summer" became a point of reference for the Moomins whenever they wanted to think on a time when they had been particularly happy and particularly content.

[nyxshadowhawk]

The Ars Notoria!

This is one of the grimoires of the Solomonic tradition of ceremonial magic. The Ars Notoria is technically part of the Lemegeton, but sometimes it’s treated as a separate text. I was expecting it to be in Latin, so I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was in English — very readable English, and in beautiful handwriting! It’s a translation of earlier Latin versions, but it has the feel of a personal Book of Shadows. A human wrote this. There are lines crossed off, words squeezed into the margins or added with little carrots.

This book is a great example of the fact that there’s a very fine line between a prayer and a spell. It mostly consists of a series of prayers and psalms, but it has some “voces magicae”-esque recitations of sacred names or multilingual incantations.

Did you know that hydromancy, pyromancy, and chiromancy count amongst the Liberal Arts? The Solomonic grimoires really make it clear how much magic is intertwined with the Liberal Arts (i.e. mathematics, philosophy, theology, grammar, rhetoric, astronomy, etc.). Many of the demons listed in the Ars Goetia teach these subjects (no wonder Faust was a scholar). The Ars Notoria says that you have to study certain liberal arts on specific days, just as you have to perform rituals on specific days and during specific planetary hours and so forth. And recite long mystical incantations before studying philosophy. Just like folk spells, these long prayers are supposed to have specific magical effects, like improving your memory and speech.

The Ars Notoria isn’t nearly as exciting as the Ars Goetia. I only found two magical figures in it. It took me way too long to realize that the mystical figures that surround the second one are, in fact, the alphabet. I guess that’s what you get when your grimoire is in English? Well no, actually. That figure actually demonstrates a handy spell that uses a magnetized needle (that’s what the symbol in the middle is meant to represent) to communicate with a friend at a long distance, using a method similar to an ouija board or one of those pendulum boards that you can get. As the needle turns, it spells out the message that your friend wants to send to you. Kind of interesting that this book includes a whole magical operation for something that we can do with our phones in an instant, and with much greater accuracy.

I looked up who Bernard Zufall was. Zufall was known for his ability to memorize anything, and had the largest collection of books dedicated to mnemonics, which was then donated to Yale University. He was more of a stage magician than a ceremonial magician. I’m not sure how or why he acquired an Ars Notoria, but I’m grateful that he did, because that means I get to see it.

[pixie-felix]

So we all know these are grown ass men, who are not celibate, and definitely not virgins, but how tf do they all organise their 'private time', who uses an app, or a discreet service? Do any of em have a secret booty call? Who does what now and how???

❄️

P.S. I love your shit, it makes me cackle xxx

Why hello hello what have we here 👀 a new anon! Welcome ❄️ anon! (Would you prefer snowflake anon or ice anon? Or snow anon? Let me know please <3)

So I was going to wait to reply to this until I'd written out the thing in my head, but being realistic that might take forever or maybe never happen 😅

What is this thing I might never write? Admittedly, it's not particularly original but... well.

For idols, dating is dangerous territory. Casual hook ups? Even more so. Plus nothing ruins the mood more than a post-cotius NDA. But sex is a natural human need, and the more frustrated idols get, the higher the risk of them doing something reckless. So the company reached out to Sotto Voce: an escort service comprised of the most revered sex workers in Seoul, so exclusive that even the upper echelons of society speak of it in hushed tones. After weeks of softly voice negotiatons, carefully scrutinized contracts, the mother of all NDA agreements, and a great deal of money, Sotto Voce came to an arrangement with the company. To maintain their exclusivity, their services would only be avaliable to the top performing (and therefore highest risk) artists. These callgirls and dominatrixes are more than familiar with the needs of sexually frustrated idols, knowing exactly how to take care of them with the utmost discretion and professionalism.

I've seen a lot of people doing follower events recently, and I passed 500 a while ago... (how?! also, thank you 😭) I'm not sure if I'll do one, but if I did... well, we all know there's not enough sub!skz on Tumblr...

Btw, the definition of Sotto Voce: in a quiet voice, as if not to be overheard. Seems fitting, right?

And if you're wondering why I kept refering to JYPE as "the company", well... did you really want the image of JYP begging beautiful dominatrixes to take care of him his most precious boy group? Yeah, I thought not. You're welcome.

Sorry ❄️ anon, this isn't the answer to your question at all 😖 I got carried away. I'll think more on your question and write you a drabble!

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger Reader Insert | Season 1 Episode 12: Invisible Brad

pairing: Ray Manchester/f!reader

summary: Captain Man's friend Brad, who was accidentally turned invisible years ago, shows up to visit but quickly overstays his welcome. He hates Henry, and (y/n)… She’s living her own personal nightmare.

rating: M - canon divergence, mutual pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, idiots in love, reader insert, adult themes, trigger warnings: stalking, unwanted sexual advances, Brad being a creepy weirdo, harassment, voyeurism, Ray wants to rip his head off

word count: 5.5k

Thank you for reading! I (respectfully) yearn for likes, comments, and reblogs. Click for vibes

Last Chapter - Next Chapter - Season 1 Masterlist - Masterlist

~Down in the Man Cave~

"Hey, hey Char?" Henry walked over to Charlotte from the back room. She was sat at the supercomputer, typing away on her PearBook.

"Yeah, what's up?" She asked him, not looking up from her screen, but giving him her attention.

"Have you..err--have you been noticing anything, like, weird about Ray and (y/n)?"

"Uhhh, every day. All the time. Why? Did you know he took her to Sotto Voce last week?" Charlotte told him.

"Wait? Really?" Henry couldn't believe what she told him.

"Yeah, but she insists it wasn't a date." The dark-haired girl gossiped, feeling the same frustration with the two adults that Henry did.

"It was totally a date, they're just too dumb to realise it." The boy said in exasperation.

"I know!" She agreed, but Henry realised he was getting off point.

"No, anyway! I mean, they've been talking... like, when nobody else is around." Henry told her what he'd been observing.

"You mean like, talking to themselves?" Charlotte asked.

"Yeah! Like, full-on conversations with people who aren't there." He said, but the girl wasn't convinced.

"Are you sure they're not just talking to each other?" She inquired, thinking that Henry had misheard them or interpreted the conversation wrong.

"No, they're talking and referring to someone else." Henry insisted.

"Okay, well, my uncle Rosco talks to his food before he eats it," Charlotte told him.

"What's he say?" 

"Stuff like..."well, hello, hamburger, you're about to take a trip to belly town." Her voice deepened as she impersonated her uncle. As soon as she had finished speaking, the sprocket opened. Ray and (y/n) came out talking, but not to each other. Weird. 

"Is that a serious question?" The woman asked, looking over to her left. Whoever she was speaking to, wasn't there.

"No, we can't go riding rollercoasters with you." Ray also said to thin air.

"'Cause we have jobs!" The woman swatted her hand, looking like she was insane.

"Stop poking me!" Ray looked behind him, also appearing like he was some kind of madman.

"Hey guys, you find out any more info on that motorcycle thief?" Ray approached the kids, (y/n) following behind him.

"Stop standing so close to me! I can feel you breathing on my neck!" A pale-faced (y/n) snapped, even though no one was close to her. She definitely wasn't referring to Ray, mainly because he wasn't that close to her, but also because she usually couldn't get close enough to him for her liking. 

"Thank you." The superhero wasn't phased by her odd behaviour, but Henry and Charlotte were concerned.

"Why are you guys staring at us?" Ray asked when he noticed their expressions. (y/n) leaned into his side, moving away from whatever was bothering her.

"Uh...." Charlotte didn't want to appear rude.

"Because you're talking to nobody." Henry, on the other hand, didn't care.

"Shhhh!" The girl next to him tried to quiet him down.

"It's got to be said!" Henry said to her firmly.

"Right, you guys don't know Brad." (y/n) could see why they were so weirded-out. When Ray first brought Brad home, she thought he'd gone crazy.

"Brad, this is Henry and Charlotte. Guys... this is Invisible Brad." Ray clicked his fingers to the space next to (y/n), feeling fairly certain that's where the guy was stood.

"Hiii, Brad."

"Looking good, Brad." The teens said hello to the air, not believing that the two adults actually had an invisible friend.

"Brad, say hi," Ray said when the man didn't answer immediately.

"They think we're insane." (y/n) whispered in his ear, so they began to feel the air around them

"Brad? Ugh. Come on, Brad." Ray grumbled as the teens kept staring. 

"He does this a lot." The woman said with a nervous laugh, as Ray felt around the room.

"Brad? Where are you? Come on, this isn't funny anymore, man. Brad!" He was wiggling his hands everywhere and even (y/n) thought he looked funny.

"This is so sad," Charlotte said to Henry, as the woman began searching too. They certainly made an entertaining sight. 

"They're not okay." They watched the friends swatting around the room until Ray finally grabbed onto...something.

"Ah, gotcha!" He wrestled with the thing in the air and then threw it into a tool trolley, knocking it over. At least it proved that they weren't lying.

"Now, say hello to those kids." (y/n) pointed to Ray's fist.

"Hey, guys. I'm Brad." An unknown, masculine voice said. Henry and Charlotte's mouths fell open and then they looked at each other in surprise.

"There's no such thing as an invisible person," Charlotte exclaimed, her strong belief in science not wanting to acknowledge something not real outside of comic books.

"Tell that to him." (y/n) gestured at the 'man' Ray was holding.

"Okay, what would you believe that Brad's real?" Ray asked the teens, who still thought it was all some kind of trick.

"Let's see him slap Henry." Charlotte challenged them.

"Yeah. Come on, slap me, Brad." Henry scoffed, not fearing a smack from a man he didn't think was there.

"Right here on my--" The boy's cockiness was literally slapped out of him, as the sting across his cheek was so brutal, it made him fall to the floor. He stumbled and slipped around as he stood up. 

"Okay, that was a bit hard." (y/n) cringed, but once the kid got back on his feet, he and Charlotte looked at each other and then at Brad.

"Heeeyyy, Braaaad." They said in small voices, believing that Ray and (y/n) were telling the truth.

~

(y/n) had set up lunch, consisting of chicken, fries, corn, chips, dips and many other tasty snack foods. Brad was sat next to Ray, who was squashed up next to (y/n), Charlotte and Henry. 

"Hey, can you pass the ketchup?" Henry asked, holding his hand out for the bottle.

"Sure. Here you go." Brad made it look like the bottle flew across the table, and it still fascinated the teens. Ray and (y/n) however, were starting to feel like he was outstaying his welcome.

"So, Brad, I have a question. Did something make you become invisible or were you just born this way?" Charlotte asked the guy, making (y/n) suck in a breath of air sharply.

"Sore spot." She coughed out, as she felt Ray tense beside her.

"Nah, nobody's born invisible." His voice seemed to have moved to behind where the kids were sat, confusing everyone at the table.

"Wait, I thought you were sitting right there," Charlotte said, looking around the air. 

"I was, but...my leg was cramping up so I'm walking around." He excused himself, his poor manners irritating Ray and freaking (y/n) out.

"How do we talk to a guy we can't see?" Henry looked at his bosses. 

"Here, Brad. Put these on and sit down." (y/n) said and lifted a pair of sunglasses behind her head. 

"Yeah, okay, sweet stuff," Brad said, the smirk in his voice evident. Ray bit his lip and curled his fingers into a fist as the woman next to him shuffled closer to him in discomfort. He took a sip of water to calm himself down, the dainty hand on his knee helping too. Brad put on the glasses to let the kids know where he was. 

"So, you turned invisible, like, when?" Henry asked the glasses.

"Five years ago. It was all Captain Man's fault." Brad told them bitterly.

"Here we go again." Ray sighed and put his arm around (y/n) so she could lean into his chest. 

"Well, what happened?" Charlotte asked.

"Okay, see, I was being chased by this insane criminal, who wanted to turn me invisible." Ray began his story.

"Why?" Henry butted in.

"Probably 'cause he hated him and knew how much he loved being visible." (y/n) answered, looking up at Ray with a grin. He smiled down at her, the pair of them making a perfect, romantic image.

"Yeah, like I used to be." Brad complained, killing the happy mood.

"It wasn't my fault." Ray protested at the invisible man.

"Yes, it was!" Brad snapped back at him.

"Just tell us what happened," Henry begged, like a child desperate to hear the end of a bedtime story.

"Okay, so this evil dude was firing at me with his invisiblaster, right?" Ray continued.

"I was just riding my bike, minding my own business," Brad growled, thinking back to the fateful day.

"When I dove out of the way, the invisiblaster's beam missed me and--" Ray explained, but Brad rudely cut him off.

"HIT ME! And that's how Captain Man ruined my life." The glasses looked at Ray, who took another chicken leg.

"How was I supposed to know you'd be riding your bike right behind me?" Ray asked him, bringing his right arm over (y/n)'s head so he could rest them both on the table.

"You owe me!" Brad barked at the superhero, who just dropped his chicken leg on the table in frustration.

"He lent you 4000 bucks so you could buy a damn hot tub!" (y/n) slammed her hand on the table, her voice harsh. She knew Brad had taken advantage of Ray's kind heart when she wasn't around, using his accident to guilt him into buying him stupid things like hot tubs.

"And, we let you stay here in the Man Cave for two months after your girlfriend dumped you." She reminded the man. That time had been horrible for her. Living with an invisible man had put her on edge because she didn't know when he was watching her, eat, change or sleep. She had locked her door every night and even slept in Ray's room a few times, her nervous nature falling to pieces with an unseeable man creeping around.

"And who paid for that nose job, huh? This guy." Ray piped up, appreciating how the woman next to him stood up to the man he knew frightened her. 

"Great. Now I have a beautiful nose that no one can ever see." Brad didn't care about all the things the two had done for him, he just hated Captain Man.

"Their relationship is really complicated," Charlotte commented to Henry, seeing how Ray hated the man who unnerved (y/n), but also felt a sense of duty to him since it was he who facilitated the accident.

"What do you want from us, Brad?" (y/n) asked in a strained voice, refusing to look at the floating glasses. The invisible man took them off and threw them onto the table, freaking her out and confusing the others.

"I want to be your sidekick!" Brad said to Ray.

"What?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"Hey, hey, whoa, whoa, hey! Ray's already got a sidekick, me." Henry said, his hand on his chest. (y/n) was clutching Ray's arm like a terrified child. She couldn't have Brad living in the Man Cave again, she just couldn't.

"You're just a kid, who's visible." Brad mocked him.

"Oh! So you're better than me just 'cause I'm visible and you're not?" Henry started to argue with him.

"All right, guys, come on. Let's not play the visibility card." Charlotte stopped them before the woman next to her hyperventilated.

"Brad...I think it's time for you to go." Ray started shuffling along the couch and pushed the invisible guy off of the seat.

"Think about what great sidekick I'd be. I could sneak up on bad guys, and then..." Brad started to say, then punched Ray across the face, the woman and teens on the couch fliching at the sound the collision made.

" Ow! I'm okay." Ray quickly recovered. 

"See, you never saw that punch coming," Brad told him.

"Look, he already has an excellent sidekick and that's Henry." (y/n) said, her hand gesturing to the boy.

"Thank you." The sidekick replied.

"Don't be like that, babe. What if Henry quits?" The masculine voice sent shivers down her spine, and Ray stood up a little straighter.

"I'm not quitting." Henry insisted.

"He's not quitting," Ray told the invisible man sternly.

"But what if he does? Then what?" Brad wouldn't drop the subject.

"All right, Brad. If Henry ever quits, you can be my sidekick, okay?" Ray had his back to (y/n) and couldn't see her head snap up in pure terror. Charlotte grabbed her hand and looked at her in concern.

"Are you all right?" She mumbled to her, feeling her rocketing pulse on her wrist.

"He can't be his sidekick. If he lives here, I'll never sleep again. He watches me shower, he watches me eat, he follows me around, I hate him!" She ranted, trying to slow down her racing heart.

"Does Ray know about this?" Charlotte asked her. The woman looked down in shame.

"He knows some of it, just not the full extent." She revealed. Ray didn't know how deep her fear ran since she knew how guilty he felt in regards to Brad's invisibility. She thought that he'd send her away instead of the creepy dude.

"You have to tell him." The girl told her, as they focused on what the two men were saying again.

"Anything else?" Ray said to Brad.

"Yeah, I want your shirt." The guy had a strange request, but (y/n) knew he just wanted Ray to be humiliated as he had been.

"You can't have my shirt," Ray told him, but Brad just tore it straight his body, revealing his toned chest and abs. (y/n)'s cheeks superheated to a deep red blush. She tended to avoid seeing Ray naked, feeling like it was an invasion of his privacy. She let out a small squeak as her heart rate picked up again and a fire burned in her lower belly.

"Hey! Brad! Give me my shirt back, Brad!" Ray tried to grab the material, Henry and Charlotte watching with confused faces. 

"Guys, don't...don't look at this." Ray covered up his naked torso, feeling exposed in front of them. (y/n) kept looking down, but the image of skin over hardened muscles would never leave her mind.

"Okay, seriously, though, it's not funny anymore, so...okay." Ray kept reaching for the red shirt, but Brad kept pulling it back. The half-naked man was so close to his best friend that she couldn't help but look at him, committing every freckle, bump and perfect blemish on his skin to memory. He tugged on the material, his abs flexing in her face.

"Brad. Brad! You don't wear clothes anyway!" Ray and Brad ran off across the Man Cave, leaving the kids and a starstruck (y/n) on the couch. Charlotte passed the woman her water, which she gulped down rapidly. Her mind tried to process the rollercoaster of emotions that she had just been on as she fanned her warm cheeks. 

~Henry's house, later that night~

Henry was tucked up in bed asleep. After a long days work, he had crawled under his sheets and snuggled down for a good night's rest. Sadly, he didn't hear the door open, or notice how Invisible Brad sneaked into his room. Ignorant in his bliss, the boy carried on snoozing, unaware of what was about to happen.

The door shut quietly, and Brad used all his strength to flip over the mattress Henry was on, tipping the poor boy out of bed.

"Oh, what the...what's going on?" Henry woke up with a start, his fight, flight or freeze instincts kicking in.

"Quit your job," Brad told him simply, before running away and exiting via the window.

Piper entered her brother's room, having been woken up by the noise. She gazed over the mattress and her brother on the floor with a puzzled face.

"Uh...did you feel that earthquake too?" Henry asked her, trying to find a believable reason as to why he was on the floor with half his bed destroyed. Telling her that an invisible man with a grudge against him had done it just wouldn't cut it.

~The next day, in the afternoon~

Ray and (y/n) were sat close together on the Man Cave's couch, playing a game as Henry ranted behind them about everything Brad had been doing to him. The woman was trying to find a good time to tell Ray about how much of a violating weirdo Brad was, but there was never a suitable moment.

"So, I'm sound asleep in my bed and Brad sneaks into my house and flips my bed over," Henry said angrily.

"Ah, this game's impossible. I can't get all these ants in this little pair of pants." Ray complained.

"I feel like you're not listening to me," Henry said to his boss. (y/n) had stopped playing a while ago, as she chewed her lip in thought, wondering how to tell the man.

"Look, I know Brad's kind of obnoxious," Ray said reluctantly, not wanting to admit to himself that Brad was way more than obnoxious.

"Kind of? He snuck into my school, put a bucket on my teacher's head, splashed water on my area, and then he spanked my teacher with a mop." Henry told him what had happened in school that day, and (y/n) could fully believe it.

"Yeah, that's Brad." She sighed.

"And every time, before he runs away, he goes, 'quit your job.'" Henry mimicked Brad's voice into Ray's ear, but he was too busy with the game.

"Hey! Another ant... in the pants." Ray looked at them both with a proud smile, but then they saw a metal pipe floating in the air near the elevator.

"Hey, what is that?" Henry asked.

"I don't know, looks like a steel pipe," Ray explained, and (y/n) knew exactly what was going on.

"Oh my god! He's here!" She yelled, wrapping her arms around herself in fear. 

"Brad!" Henry realised that she was right.

"What are you---" Ray was cut off as Brad hit Henry sharply in the shin with the pipe, making (y/n) scream as he bent over in pain.

"Brad!" Ray knelt down next to Henry, who was clutching his throbbing leg. 

"Quit your job. And (y/n), I love you," The voice said, before running off. 

"This has to stop!" Ray called after him, not realising how obsessive the invisible guy was over the woman who ran to Henry's side with her first aid kit. In an emergency, she could swallow her fear and help her friends with an impervious attitude. 

"Oh, why, why, why, why?!" The boy cried at Ray, his femur bone possibly cracked, fractured or broken. (y/n) took out her splints and began to immobilise the limb as Ray looked on in horror. 

"I think it's just badly bruised." She sighed after a few minutes of assessing the damage. 

"You're very lucky, but your leg's gonna hurt like hell for a few days." She told him and Ray helped him up onto the couch.

"What do I do now?" The teen looked at his boss, who looked both worried and guilty.

"I guess, we're just gonna have to wait and see what happens next." Ray breathed out, and (y/n) knew that it would take something serious to get him to act against Brad.

~The next morning~

Henry took a frozen leg out of the freezer and rested it against his swollen eye, another piece of Brad's handiwork.

"This better work," Henry said to Charlotte, as she worked on her PearBook at the kitchen table. He'd called (y/n) a few minutes before to ask them to come to his house and she'd recommended a cold compression to bring down the swelling. What she meant was like an ice-pack, but all the Hart's had was a turkey leg.

"What is that?" Charlotte looked at him.

"Turkey leg." He told her, before taking the leg off to show her his injury.

"How's my eye look?" She gazed up and winced at the deep, purple bruising. 

""Put the leg back on." She gagged at the gruesome sight. The doorbell rang, announcing that his bosses were here.

"Finally," Henry sighed and limped over to the door. His legged was still in agony from the beating it had taken yesterday.

"Your parents here?" Ray asked as he and (y/n) walked into the living room.

"Nah, just come in," Henry said, and everyone gathered in the sitting area. 

"What's he done now?" (y/n) looked at Henry from her place on the couch and knew that Brad had struck again, and judging by the turkey leg, she could guess where.

"This." The boy removed the leg and the two adults gasped at the state of his eye.

"Who gave you the black eye?" Ray asked, even though he knew the answer was Brad.

"Invisible Brad," Henry said, his voice soft but deadly serious.

"He punched you?" (y/n) looked at the boy with concern. She knew Brad was a scumbag, but she didn't think he'd stoop as low as beating a child like that.

"Worse. I was in gym class today, and I was standing in front of Mitch Bilsky." Henry began to explain.

"So what'd Invisible Brad do?" Ray questioned him.

"He pinched Mitch Bilsky on the butt! To make Mitch think I did it." Henry growled.

"Ooo, yeah guys don't like that," Ray said in a low voice.

"No, they don't." Henry reiterated in an angry voice.

"Uh, girls don't like that either, just so you know."Charlotte piped up from her laptop and (y/n) agreed with her. That kind of behaviour was unacceptable to any person. 

"We gotta do something about Brad." Henry looked at him, but Ray wasn't sure. Charlotte saw the way he hesitated and realised that he didn't know all the facts regarding Brad.

"You still haven't told him, have you?" She said to the frozen woman on the couch, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. (y/n) felt her stomach drop, as Ray looked from Charlotte to her in confusion.

"Told me what?" He asked her, and she felt the tears starting to come.

"Uh---" She couldn't find the words, and hot, fat tears started to roll down her face. Ray saw how terrified she looked, and knelt down in front of her, as Henry and Charlotte moved to the kitchen to give them some space.

"(your/nickname), you can tell me anything." He spoke to her softly and took her hands into his. Her face screwed up, and she bit back a sob.

"You know how Brad followed me around and wouldn't leave me alone when he lived with us." She croaked through the tears, and Ray nodded.

"Yeah, he has a crush on you." He told her what he thought, but she shook her head in despair.

"No, he's obsessed with me. He watched me sleep, he followed into the bathroom when I was showering, he looked at me when I changed." She listed off everything Brad had done to her five years ago and watched as anger built in Ray's eyes. His large hands covered hers completely, as she finally looked up at him.

"Please don't be mad at me." She pleaded in a small, fragile voice, and Ray felt his heart shatter. He had been blinded by his own guilt and it had gotten her hurt, something he had always tried to protect her from. 

"Oh sweetheart, I'm not mad." He pulled her into a hug on the floor, and they just sat there for a while, her glad to be safe and truthful in his arms, and him glad that she was still around for him to hold. 

"You don't have to keep things from me. You're my best friend," he whispered into her hair, and she sniffled as her tears started to dry up.

"Okay." She pulled back from the hug slowly, her mind and heart feeling so much lighter.

"What do we do now?" She asked him, as they stood up from kneeling on the floor.

"I'm going to rip that bastard's head off." He replied, making her giggle at his fierce protectiveness. Ray kissed her forehead and brought her into another hug, as he gestured for Henry and Charlotte to come back over. 

"So, what are we gonna do about Brad?" Henry asked as they all sat on the couch together. 

"Don't worry, we're gonna get him," Ray reassured the boy, but a voice behind them said otherwise.

"I doubt it." They all jumped up in fright, (y/n) especially. Ray instantly curled around her, as she kicked at the air around her.

"Quit your job," Brad said to Henry as he knocked the boy off his feet. Henry groaned on the ground, as the invisible man left the house.

"You have a beautiful home." He called out as he slammed the door. Henry ran after him and started hitting his frozen turkey leg against it in anger.

"How do we beat a guy we can't see?" Henry asked.

"Uh, we fix it so we can see him." Charlotte told him, and (y/n) was starting to see what she was driving at. 

"How?"

"Yeah, how?" The superhero duo asked, annoyed that this guy was terrorising them and they had no obvious way of defeating him.

"We could use paint." (y/n) looked at them, and Charlotte gave her a high five. Great minds think alike.

"Oh, come on, how is paint gonna..."

"I don't really think paint is the answer that we're..." Henry and Ray started but then it clicked into place for them.

"Paint!" They said together, leaving the girls to smile at how slow they were sometimes.

~Later, in the Man Cave~

Henry, Charlotte and (y/n) were setting up the trap for Brad. With Ray out to lure him back to the Man Cave, it was up to the woman and two teens to get the paint ready.

"Okay, is the tripwire set?" Henry called out to the two girls from his position up the ladder near the elevator.

"Just about," Charlotte replied to him, as (y/n) tied the wire to the leg of a machine.

"Oh, this is going to be so great. Invisible Brad's going to get covered with red paint, so then we'll be able to see him, and kick him about fifty times, right in his invisible---" Henry told them angrily as he filled up a tub of paint, wanting revenge for himself and his older friend.

"Okay, I get it," Charlotte told him to calm down. They didn't need any accidents from flaring tempers.

"Don't forget the 'ripping off his head' part." (y/n) shouted up to him, and he smiled down at her.

"Yeah, that too." He said, as the tube came down and a pale-faced Ray entered the Man Cave.

"Ray?" 

"You weren't supposed to come down the tube," Charlotte exclaimed, thinking that everything had been ruined.

"You were supposed to walk out of the elevator with Brad." Henry looked at his boss in surprise. This was not part of the plan. The large man stumbled down the steps to the couch, worrying the three that observed him.

"I...I need to sit down." The superhero mumbled out and (y/n) helped him to the couch, recognising the signs of shock.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" She asked as brushed a hand over his forehead, feeling his clammy skin.

"Is Brad in here with us now?" Henry asked, and the three looked around the hideout with outstretched arms.

"He'll never be in here again," Ray said in a quiet voice. The woman next to him looked at him in concern and took his hand in hers, much like he had done for her earlier.

"Tell us what happened." She told him gently, even though she was almost jumping for joy at the idea of never having to deal with Brad again.

"Everything was going according to plan. I told Invisible Brad that Henry quit and that he could be my new sidekick." Ray said to them.

"And did he buy it?" Henry asked.

"Ohhhh... he bought it." The superhero said. The memory still burnt brightly in his mind.

"What does that mean?" Charlotte inquired, not understanding what Ray's cryptic words meant.

"Well...we were finishing our root beers. We took a selfie; I paid the check, and then we were walking across the street together on our way here..." Ray continued, leaving them all in suspense.

"And?" (y/n) looked up at him expectantly.

"Brad got hit by a bus. I guess the driver just didn't see him." Ray finished, sending them all into reels of shock. Henry and Charlotte patted his shoulder sympathetically as (y/n) gave him a hug.

"At least it's over now." She said, and they all agreed. It wasn't the way they wanted it to go, but it was done nevertheless. 

"Yeah," Ray said, still finding comfort in her embrace.

"You kids can go home, I think we've done enough for today." The young woman gave them a tired smile, and they both knew that Ray wasn't in the mood for any more fiascos.

'Yeah, all right. See you tomorrow." Henry and Charlotte waved goodbye, as they left in the elevator, leaving the two adults alone.

~Later that night, (y/n)'s PoV~

I felt exhausted after such an emotional day. My arms and legs ached and begged for sleep but my mind just didn't want to be quiet. I had let go of one worry, in that I thought Brad was history, but now I knew that Ray would be the one to carry the burden of his death. Poor Ray, I knew he already carried the weight of the world, despite his childish exterior shielding it from view. 

I let out a long sigh and stood up from my bed. After tossing and turning for hours, I knew that sleep wasn't coming anytime soon. I glanced at the luminescent numbers on my clock and they told me it was 3AM. Running my eyes, I groaned and sat up. The eeriness of the pitch black made me shiver a little and I knew there was only one place I'd be finding any rest tonight. 

Throwing back the blankets, I wandered out of my room and down the corridor to Ray's, hoping that like me, he'd be awake. 

His door slid open, and I could see a large lump under the sheets on his bed through the darkness.

"Ray? Ray!" I whispered and sneaked in. The lump didn't move, so I gave it a small prod. Nothing. 

Taking a deep breath, I poked his shoulder hard so he groaned and turned over, his blurry vision probably seeing me like a blurry lump too.

"(y/n)? It's three in the morning." He looked at his clock and then back to me. His rough voice sent shivers down my spine, but I ignored them in favour of telling him why I was prodding and poking him in the middle of the night. 

"I can't sleep," I murmured through the dark, and I could faintly see him budge up to the right side of the bed to make a space for me. He acted as though my question bothered him, and gave a small sigh that made me wince for a second when I remembered the time and how I'd rudely disturbed his slumber. But then, he sighed and pulled the comforter back, welcoming me in. 

"Come on." I grinned and dived into the space, snuggling down into the warm, familiar scent of Ray. I was intent on just staying on my side of the bed, but Ray was a huge nighttime-cuddler. He pulled an arm around my shoulders and held me against his bare chest. I was frozen for two minutes before he finally spoke again.

"Your feet are cold." He grumbled when my icy toes brushed his leg.

"Oops." I smiled into his neck. My heart had never felt lighter and I wondered if I should tell him. If it all went wrong, I could just put it down to careless, middle-of-the-night mindlessness, and hope that he'd buy it. 'Yeah, I'm gonna say it.'

"Hey, Ray?" I said in a quiet voice, gathering all my courage.

"What?" My heart was in my mouth, which suddenly felt very dry. It was now or never, just say it, three little words...

"I--I...did you know that cows have best friends?" I stammered, changing my mind at the last minute. I couldn't. Even though I wanted to with every fibre of my being, I just couldn't. I wasn't brave enough. 

"Go to sleep." He mumbled into my hair, and I settled down into the plush pillows. I sighed against the skin of his chest, annoyed with myself since even with every ounce of courage I could muster, I was still falling flat. 

My panic began to dissolve as the lull of his heartbeat echoed under my ear, soothing me better than any lullaby. His gentle breathing played in time with it like a duet and it finally pulled me to sleep.

Maybe one day.

[janniks1nner]

omg please recommend italian music!! i love any genre, so its very wellcome :) i'll also check your other blog! (i'm already excited for all the fics and edits ideas hehe)

hi!! um sorry this is like 10 days late 😭 i hope you still see this anon 💔

also this is the worst possible thing you could've said to me "rec italian music" because i AM taking this too seriously and i will NOT shut up. so this is way too long i'm sorry fjfvjh

but okay i decided to pick some of my favorite artists from different genres and rec some of their songs that i like. i initially was also gonna rec singular songs i like by other artists but that would've been TOO MUCH 😭 but if you want more or like, a wider range of artists, feel free to send another ask! i'll never get tired of talking about italian music. oh also i tried to limit myself to one song max per album but i did break my own rule sometimes lmao (either bc i like the songs too much or bc the artist has few albums)

okay so! i don't want a million sections so genres are loosely interpreted 😭😭 but let's start with modern pop singers/singer-songwriters

ermal meta: odio le favole, vietato morire, piccola anima, le luci di roma, certe cose

mahmood: gioventù bruciata, il nilo nel naviglio, rapide, talata, stella cadente

marco mengoni: ti ho voluto bene veramente, non me ne accorgo, come ti senti, muhammad ali, proibito

epoque: boss (io & te), nemica, no stress, aposto

madame: per il tuo bene, voce

fabrizio moro: desiderare, libero, 21 anni, alessandra sarà sempre più bella, io so tutto, portami via, sono solo parole

gaia: cuore amaro, nuvole di zanzare, il rosso delle rose, chega (okay this song is not in italian at all but she's italian-brasilian and i really like it 😭)

elodie: proiettili (ti mangio il cuore), ok. respira, bagno a mezzanotte, a fari spenti

liberato: niente, nove maggio, nunneover, anna, vien' ccà (part II), 'a 'mbasciata (he mostly sings in neapolitan! and also his music is often like... electronic/dance?)

modern pop bands

pinguini tattici nucleari: lake washington boulevard, cancelleria, pastello bianco, irene

eugenio in via di gioia: perfetto uniformato, non vedo l'ora di abbracciarti, altrove, sette camicie, argh!

zero assoluto: sei parte di me, per dimenticare, all'improvviso, svegliarsi la mattina

la fame di camilla: buio e luce, niente che ti assomigli, rivoluzione, non amarmi così

older & not-pop bands

cccp - fedeli alla linea: annarella, amandoti, io sto bene, svegliami, guerra e pace (punk rock would be a good genre description i think. they actually came back in 2023, but they were mostly active in the 80s and i don't think they made new songs since coming back..?)

premiata forneria marconi: peninsula, l'isola di niente, appena un po', la carrozza di hans, amico fragile (fabrizio de andré cover) (prog rock, they're actually still active but their older music is better imo lmao they still rock live tho, i hear)

older pop singers/singer-songwriters (some of these are still active but they're mostly well known for their work in the 60s/70s/80s etc.)

raffaella carrà: rumore, a far l'amore comincia tu, tanti auguri (lgbt+ icon we miss youuu)

fabrizio de andré: khorakhané, amore che vieni amore che vai, don raffaè, amico fragile, verranno a chiederti del nostro amore

mina: mi sei scoppiato dentro il cuore, insieme, nessuno, città vuota, parole parole

mia martini: dove il cielo va a finire, sentimento, scenne l'argiento, gli uomini non cambiano, almeno tu nell'universo

francesco de gregori: la donna cannona, rimmel, san lorenzo, niente da capire

lucio battisti: e penso a te, insieme a te sto bene, mi ritorni in mente, ancora tu

lucio dalla: tu non mi basti mai, caruso, come è profondo il mare, l'auto targata "to", ayrton, telefonami tra vent'anni

ivan graziani: il chitarrista, monna lisa, firenze (canzone triste), la rabbia

rino gaetano: mio fratello è figlio unico, nuntereggae più, sandro trasportando, a mano a mano

rap/trap

ghali: ninna nanna, cara italia, cuore a destra, bayna, sto, niente panico

caparezza: torna catalessi, eroe (storia di luigi delle bicocche), vieni a ballare in puglia, vengo dalla luna, ti sorrido mentre affogo

j lord: sixteen, tanti auguri a me, be mine, the prayer, my g (he mostly raps in neapolitan)

that's all, hope you find something you like and that i didn't like scare you away with the amount of stuff i recced 😭😭

[antigone-ks]

Spoils of the Avvar

Summary:

After visiting the Avvar, Quiz shyly admits to Cullen that she'd like to see him in nothing but his furry mantle and a loincloth. He opts to surprise her with a full-throttle, bride-stealing Avvar roleplay one night.

Originally written for dragonage_kink, 2015

Warnings: consensual dub-con roleplay

Tags: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan; Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford; 

Roleplay; Sexual Roleplay; Virginity Roleplay; Explicit Sexual Content; Established Relationship; Avvar Cullen; Sexual Fantasy; Roleplaying dubious consent;  But not actual dubious consent; Furry Mantle fetish; Cullen is game for anything apparently; really cliched speech; sex is better with barbarians; Oral Sex; some people are better at roleplaying than others; dominant cullen; 

Chapter One

“They’ve read his books?” Josephine looked delighted.

“Well, one of them has,” Evelyn said, grinning. “He only mentioned Hard in Hightown, though. Nothing about . . . the others.”

“They’d hardly need something like Swords and Shields, though, would they?” Josephine asked. “Somehow the Avvar have always seemed so, so naturally bodice-ripping.” The women ignored the sotto voce “Maker’s breath . . .” from the other side of the war table.

“There is more to romance than tearing off one’s clothes,” Cassandra objected. “And they wear so much fur, it cannot be easily done.”

“Oh, the Avvar understand romance, Cassandra,” Leliana replied, a little smile dancing at the corners of her mouth. “There may be less bodice-ripping, but there’s enough dashing warriors and swooning maidens and bride-stealing in any good Avvar tale to satisfy even you.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“I can picture the dashing warriors,” Evelyn said, thoughtful, “they’re all very tall, and their weapons are massive; I – “ she broke off at a choked sound from the final advisor.

“Can we decide on a strategy for this issue, or should we table the discussion?” Cullen asked, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

Leliana turned to the door. “Some scouts have recently returned; I’ll see if they have new information. Josie, find out if we have anything useful to trade. They do enjoy Orlesian spices; it could open another door for us.”

Evelyn leaned against the war table as the three women filed out, Cullen fiddling with one of the map-markers. He looked up suddenly as the door shut. “Massive weapons?” he grinned. “How did you see any of their weapons?”

“Well, they wear them right out in the open. Big hammers. Swords made for just the right sheath.” She smirked at him. “Your ears are red.”

“You’ve been gone for two bloody weeks, and before you even say hello you’re talking about hammers and, and bodices. And ripping bodices.” His arm snaked around her as he bent his head. “I never knew you had such a filthy mind,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers.

“I missed you,” she whispered against his lips, when at last they parted.

“Surrounded by dashing Avvar warriors, and you thought of me?” His lips traced a path down her neck as he slid a steadying arm around her waist.

“I thought of you a lot,” she confessed, sighing against his cheek. “Especially you in your furry mantle. Sometimes in nothing else.”

His warm breath huffed against her neck as he chuckled. “What, really?” She made an affirmative sound and he straightened, looking into her eyes. “Just the coat?”

“And maybe a loincloth. Sometimes paint.”

“I only wear loincloths on very special occasions.”

“We could go to my chambers and see how special today is . . .”

The blare of a horn signaled the return of Bull’s Chargers from their latest task. Evelyn sighed. They would want to debrief as soon as possible and move on to their celebratory drinking. “I think we’ll need to make it special very quickly.”

Chapter Two

The water hit her aching muscles, almost too hot to bear but instantly relaxing her. The scent of crushed embrium filled the steamy air, and Evelyn leaned back against the tub. Another long journey, nearly a month this time. A month of cold splashing baths and no tea and no Cullen.

Still no Cullen. He’d stood beside her at the war table as she gave her report, his fingers brushing against hers (quite brazenly, she’d thought, which was unlike him when he was on-duty), and hadn’t done more than murmur “that sounds like a good idea” when she’d mentioned going to the baths. She’d rather hoped he’d join her, but she was turning red and wrinkly and there was still no sign of him. Sighing, she wrapped a robe around herself and headed toward her chambers, hoping it was late enough to shortcut across the Great Hall without being noticed.

The Hall was utterly empty; not even Varric sat by the fire. Evelyn stared down the length of the room, a tense feeling creeping over her. Even in the evenings Vivienne would often be up researching and crafting, usually – if it wasn’t too late – with a young courtier dancing attendance on her. But all was still, as if the world held its breath.

Unsettled, she pushed open the door to her corridor and closed it decidedly behind her. A prickling feeling at the back of her neck made her spin around, peering into the shadows. Her heart pounded painfully as she heard a breath, a movement, a –

“Cullen?” She collapsed against the door, pressing a hand to her chest. “Andraste’s flaming hairy damned . . . things, why are you lurking in the dark?”

“I was waiting for you, lady.” His voice was different, deeper, darker, with an edge and an accent not his own.

Evelyn pulled her robe tighter and tried to look indignant. “I . . . I waited for you, in the baths.”

“Your men might have seen me, lady. I couldn’t let myself be thwarted beforetimes.”

“Um.” He stepped out of the shadows, the pale light from the windows shining on his hair, twinkling off the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. Strapped to his back? He wore it at his side. She’d made him choke on a frilly cake once, running her fingers over the pommel during an endless meeting with nobles. But now he had it – the sheath was – her cheeks flamed almost painfully as she realized that his sheath was missing because his trousers were missing because he wasn’t wearing trousers because he was naked – blessed Andraste, was that a loincloth? – under his mantle. His furry. His mantle. The mantle with the fur. The furry mantle she wanted to see him in and nothing but a loincloth and

“Paint?” she asked tentatively.

The light struck the side of his face and she saw swirling kohl markings down his cheek, around his eye. He looked wild, and dangerous, and somehow bigger than usual and oh, Maker, he moved like a prowling lion as he approached. If she pressed any closer to the door she’d leave an Inquisitor-shaped hole in it, and anyway this was Cullen, and she’d asked for this. Something like this, anyway.

His breath whispered across her face, his eyes hooded as she looked up at him. “Is this for me?” she murmured.

“I would do anything for you, lady.” His body pressed against hers, his hands sliding to her waist. “Let me claim you. Let me have you.” Her breath hitched as his lips traced the shell of her ear. “Submit to me, my pretty lowland maid.”

Evelyn felt giggles, unbidden, threatened to erupt from her throat. It wasn’t funny, she wasn’t amused, she was – she was nervous, just as if this were real. Well, two could play at this game.

Wriggling ineffectively, she threw her head back (a bit too hard, it bonked against the door and Cullen winced for her) and exclaimed “owOh, oh no ser, no! I must not!”

Even in the dimness, she could see his grin. His hold tightened. “Don’t fight me, lass. You shall be mine.”

“Unhand me, you barbarian!” His mouth twitched, then he swooped down and claimed hers. His lips, usually so soft, were hard against hers, demanding. He pulled her body tight against his, his muscled thigh slipping between hers. She mewled against his mouth as he rocked them together.

“Barbarian, am I?” he growled, tangling his hand in her hair. “A barbarian would take you here, against this wall, and let your people hear you scream. Let the men who want you hear your pleasure and know that a barbarian has given it to you.” Stooping, he swept her up into his arms. “I am no barbarian, lady. You will beg me lay claim to you.”

He started toward her chambers, stopping at the first flight of steps to rearrange her weight while she tapped her fists against his chest, protesting quietly. “No, you mustn’t! Let me go! Put me down – No, really, Cullen, put me down, these stairs are tricky.”

Setting her down, he looked momentarily stymied, then – “Will you walk to your fate, lass, or must I force you?”

“I needn’t be carried like a babe, ser. But, but you will not have me, brute!” she flung at him, marching up the stairs. As he followed, Evelyn was certain she heard him snickering.

Chapter Three

The fire was blazing, furs were piled into a nest before the hearth, and Evelyn took a moment to appreciate how much effort Cullen had put into this night. She gazed at him warmly as he approached, skin golden in the firelight. He smiled lopsidedly and reached for her, brushing the hair from her face and gently pressing his lips to hers.

“All that I have is yours, lady.” Cullen leaned his forehead against hers, eyes softening for an instant, before turning predatory. “If I may have all that is yours.”

“I have nothing, ser,” Evelyn said, looking down modestly.

He pulled her closer, provoking a gasp as his hardness pressed against her stomach. “No, lass, you have everything I desire.” One finger traced the line of her throat down, down, following the edge of her robe and dipping between her breasts. Evelyn squeaked and pushed at him, drawing a grin as he held her tight.

“I warned you not to fight.” Cullen’s smile turned hungry. Evelyn had only a moment to brace herself before his leg swept behind hers and he bore her to the ground atop the furs. His body radiated heat, and the scent of him, the warmth of the mantle cocooning them, made her feel as if the world had disappeared and there was nothing left but the two of them. She craved the caress of his naked skin against hers, the slick of their sweat as they moved together. Her legs parted, cradling him in the center of her being. His eyes glazed as the heat of her brushed his still-covered cock.

Pinning her wrists in one large, calloused hand, Cullen raised himself enough to force open the robe. “Conquering you will be so sweet,” he murmured, cupping her breast with his free hand. She arched beneath him as he flicked his thumb against her nipple, her cry swallowed by a punishing kiss. Trapped beneath him, she could do no more than gasp when his mouth followed his hand, suckling at her, nipping and teasing. Pleasure arced through her veins and she struggled against him, needing to touch him, to stroke him, to pleasure him as well as he did her.

“Please . . . please, Cullen-“ she gasped, and he released her, lifting her enough to pull the robe from her body. Evelyn wrapped her arms around him, fingers running through the fur at his neck and up into his hair. Her lips sought his, and she felt him tremble and for a moment thought the games were over and he would take her then, hard and needful.

Instead he nuzzled at her neck, seeking that sensitive spot below her ear, murmuring softly as he unwound her arms and laid her back into the nest. The fur beneath her was soft, smooth against her bare skin. She wanted to writhe against it, against the fur and against him, trapped between them until she could feel nothing else. She reached for him as he leaned over her and he caught her hand, brought it to his mouth.

“Lowlander,” he whispered, her pulse jumping as his lips brushed over her wrist. “Open yourself to me.” He kissed the tip of each finger, then guided her hand down his chest and lower, lower to the straining hardness still hidden in the loincloth. “You see that I need you. Let me give us both pleasure, my sweet maiden.”

“Ser, I cannot.” Evelyn gazed at him through her lashes, schooling her face into what she hoped was a wide-eyed innocence (but feared was just simple-minded). She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. “Please, ser. My maidenhead is all that I have, and it belongs to my husband.”

She wasn’t sure how he would react – was it too much? – but she got her answer when Cullen ground against her, eyes black with desire. He was so hard, and he knew exactly where she was most needy. She gasped and arched beneath him as he thrust again, then loomed over her.

“Your maidenhead,” he scoffed. “You writhe like a cat in heat, lass; you’re ready to be taken. You need it. And,” he lowered himself until his weight pressed her into the furs, his lips against her ear, “when I’m inside you, you’ll call me husband.”

How could something so staid and . . . and socially acceptable sound so unimaginably filthy? Evelyn whimpered and bucked helplessly against him as he sucked and bit at her neck, his hands leaving trails of fire as they roamed her skin, cupping her breast gently, then giving a bold squeeze. He swallowed her gasp, stole her breath with his kiss, and descended lower. He stroked the tender flesh of her thigh, watching her face with heavy-lidded eyes. As his fingers brushed through her curls, Evelyn gasped and reached for him.

At once, he gripped her wrist. “Be still, lass,” he whispered. “Let me please you.” She pulled against his grip, twisting against his strength, needing to touch him, to stroke his hair, to show him how very much he did please, but she could not break free. “I said lie still,” he said, his voice harsh. “Else I will bind you, and you will be at my mercy. Do you want that?”

“Oh Maker, yes,” she whispered. “But not now.”

“Not now,” he agreed. “Later, I’m going to fuck the air from your lungs. But for now,” he kissed the back of her hand, “be my good girl and let me love you.”

“Yes, ser,” she breathed, as he dropped her hand and slid both of his along the crease of her thighs, cupping her mound between them. He pressed a kiss, almost chastely, to her plump mons, then his thumbs parted her lips and he gently kissed her hooded pearl. Evelyn held her breath, held herself still, as his breath ghosted over her, his thumbs stroking along her lips. If she’d thought herself wet before, it was nothing compared to the moisture gathering as he toyed with her. He kissed her again, and she sobbed in need.

“Like a cat,” he whispered against her, so softly she didn’t hear it, couldn’t hear it, but she felt it crawl inside her skin, sparking against her nerves and setting her aflame.

“Please. Please, ser.”

“Please what, darling?” He kissed her again, just a touch of his lips to her, and her thighs quivered.

“Please kiss me there,” she whimpered, lifting her hips to show him.

Cullen chuckled. “I am kissing you there. Do you want more?” Before she could respond, he licked a long line up the seam of her lips, dipping deeper to flick against her clit, and she wailed.

“Yes, yes, Maker, yes please pleasepleaseCullen!”

He buried his face between her thighs and devoured her. His lips closed around her clit and he sucked, hard, as his long fingers teased her entrance, opening her gently. The contrast made her writhe. Evelyn covered her face with her hands as he stroked her slowly, invading her patiently, inexorably.

Cullen pulled his mouth from her with a gasp. “Maker’s breath, you’re so wet,” he said, sounding awed. “You’re dripping.” His finger curled inside her, and she mewled as he added another, sliding in a little more quickly, curling to match the other. His thumb pressed against her nub, the tips of his fingers found that perfect spot, and as he lowered his mouth to her again Evelyn sent up a prayer of thanks for this man and his hands. And his mouth. And his – and his – his hand thrust harder, his tongue flicked against her, and suddenly she was bucking and shaking, sounds like a trapped animal coming from her mouth. Cullen pushed her through it, not stopping until she twisted away and closed her legs. He chuckled as her thighs trapped his hand; he cupped her gently and let her ride him until the final throes dissipated.

Chapter Four

A warm drowsiness spread through her, limbs too heavy to move. Her eyes blinked slowly at the shadows on the ceiling, hazy and sinuous. Cullen gathered her into his arms, nuzzling her ear, his lips moving slowly along her neck. She could easily fall into sleep in this moment. She might, actually. It would take huge incentive to keep her awake. She shifted against Cullen.

Ah, there it was.

Evelyn cuddled close and rocked her hips, smiling lazily at his hiss. “Oh, ser, what have you done to me? I have thrown away all modesty for the sake of a few kisses!”

She felt his lips press against her temple. “Sweet maid,” he murmured, voice achingly low, “how can modesty stand against such delights of the flesh?” He seized her thigh, pulling it up over his hip, rocking hard against her. A bolt of pleasure shot down to her toes, and she gasped. His thumb caressed her lower lip. “And now you shall show me the same delights.”

Evelyn gasped theatrically, as heat spread through her body. “I cannot!”

Cullen smirked at her. “You don’t fight like an outraged maiden any longer, lass. Do not speak like one.”

Evelyn jerked out of his grasp and sat up, drawing a fur close around her body. “How dare you! It’s not my fault that a barbarian has kidnapped me and ravished me – “

“I haven’t ravished you yet.”

“ – threatened to ravish me, and made me feel such unmaidenly things – “

“And squeal such unmaidenly things.” Cullen was grinning outright, his grin, not his Avvar-predator smirk. Evelyn leaned forward, pecked her lips against his scar, and gave him a shove. It was like pushing a boulder.

“You beast!”

She surged upward, almost reaching the stairs before he caught her in his unyielding arms, pulling her tight against his chest. “Unhand me, or I will call the guards!”

“Do you want them to see your shame, lass?” He tugged the fur loose, baring her to the cool night air. Her nipples hardened, her skin flushed. “I will have you. I do not care who sees.”

“I could have you here where we stand,” he whispered, his hands moving down her body. He thrust against her, his heart thumping unsteadily against her back. “Would you like that, sweet? Do you want me to mount you, here, like a stallion covers a mare?”

Oh, Maker’s fucking breath yes.

Maker, he was still clothed. Well, still loinclothed. And furred.

His hand slipped between her legs, through the dampness that lingered, and parted her folds with an obscene sound. “That is no way for a maiden to be claimed, but I will do it unless you yield to me.”

Evelyn shook her head, gasping as his fingers drew circles around her bud. His other hand pressed against her back, gently but inexorably bearing her down against the railing. She rested her cheek on the cool stone and rocked against him, against his hand and against the thick weight that thrust against her core. He could almost push into her, just enough to make her thighs tremble and head swirl, and her breath caught on a sob when he removed his hand from her and pulled away.

“Cullen. Cullen, please,” she whispered as he caressed her back. “I need you. Maker, please fuck me.”

A rustle of cloth, and his cock slipped between her folds. Evelyn braced herself to push back against him, to take him deep, but he held her in place with more control than she’d known he possessed.

“Sweetheart, if you do what you’re thinking our evening will be over far too soon for my pride to bear.”

Her answering chuckle turned into a groan as he thrust so very slowly into her, shallowly as he would a true maiden. He was so careful with her, so gentle she felt overwhelmed with it, overwhelmed with the fullness of him moving inside her and with the fullness in her heart. He stroked her tenderly, running his fingers through her hair, whispering soothingly to her, until at last he was buried completely inside her. Bending over her, Cullen kissed her shoulders, her back, the hair at the base of her neck.

“Cull . . .” her voice choked off, unable to squeeze past the feeling of her heart lodged in her throat.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his own voice thick. “Darling. Evelyn.”

At last he moved, pulling back until he lay just within her, thrusting forward slowly until the tip of him touched her womb, repeating until she writhed beneath him. She felt him smile against her shoulder.

“Lass, are you ready?”

“Oh yes . . . yes.” Evelyn braced herself as he straightened and began to move in earnest, his hips beating out a quick rhythm against her buttocks that matched the pulsing in her blood. She began to arch against him, and his hands pressed her down again, against the railing, holding her a still vessel for his lust.

“That’s it, sweet, take me deep, let me fill you, let me – ah – let me have you,” his voice broke and he gasped, hips stuttering. Evelyn gripped the railing and pushed back, forcing him deeper, to the barest instant of pain. Her breath came in sharp staccato moans, her cunt aching with need. She was so close, Maker, give her only a moment more and she’d –

She jumped as his hand swatted across her backside, then squealed in outrage as he withdrew from her.

“I did warn you,” Cullen said, more teasing than reproachful.

“You absolute bastard,” she hissed, turning on him. He laughed and caught her hands, pulling her against him and capturing her mouth with his.

He spun them toward the bench that rested by the railing and sat, pulling her into his lap, guiding her legs to cradle him, his cock nudging her entrance. “I need you like his,” he whispered against her lips. “Need to hold you.” She shifted against him and took him inside, took him fully as he took her mouth again. “Need to see your face as you come apart on my cock.”

His hands fell to her hips and lifted her, guided her, settled her into a rhythm that had them both crying out. His hot breath ghosted across her breasts, his mouth suckling her until she arched back, running her hands through his golden curls to hold him against her. She had no words now, only mindless mewls that fell from her lips with every thrust of his hips. One arm wrapped around her hips, moving her quickly; the other hand slipped between them. At the press of his thumb against her bud, Evelyn hissed and Cullen raised his head to look in her eyes.

“Look at me,” he ordered, pulling her hips down hard. “Look. At. Me. I need – “

Her body quaked.

She saw only his amber eyes,

felt her cunt clench,

heard an animal moan,

(is it me? Is that me?)

felt warmth filling her,

bathing her core.

When at last she returned to her body, her own body, the body on Thedas and not in some desire demon-wracked corner of the fade, her head lay against Cullen’s chest, his heart pounding in her ears.

She smiled and cuddled closer. “That was the nicest welcome-home-from-a-bog gift anyone has ever given me.”

“I certainly hope so.” His voice was rough and breathless, his lips soft as they grazed her forehead. “I’ll carry you to bed in a moment. Or, no, we need to. Um.”

Maker’s breath, that he could blush after what he’d just done to her.

“We need to clean the barbarian seed from my freshly-ravished thighs?” Cullen made a noise, half-laughing, half-choking.

“Just so, my pretty lowland maid.”

[chocottang]

forgot to add these in the bunch of questions from before so i hope u dont mind an ask........... and i also hope u dont find it weird that i ask this but !! do you by chance happen to have any voiceclaims for your shadows,,,, maybe?

it's something i love about character making and since originally the shadows (except fred) have the same vas as the character i was wondering if you had anything in mind for their voices (or even just a general idea of what theyd sound like) now that theyre humans and separate ppl??

(again.. hope this isnt weird !! just think voiceclaims are aewsome)

heyyy!! ofc i dont mind i love asks!! not weird at all lmao i dont have voiceclaims though :( idk, when i think of scenes i dont usually think of how the characters sound like?? if that makes sense?? i can tell you how they talk though. like, gold speaks in a very monotone tone, and very painly. no big words, nothing that makes him sound fancy. he doesnt even make a lot of gestures or…moves… when he talks. very plain. jay…picture a stereotypical mean girl. she makes way more gestures and uses modern phrases and such, and her voice is very uhm emotional? shows a lot how she feels from her voice, i guess. s.fox (im thinking abt naming him fennex or fennec, btw, like the fennex fox. i saw somewhere that it was a name but when i google it it doesnt appear anymore so im not sure lmao) im not entirely sure,, i picture him as having a deeper voce than fox, but not like super deep either. and he usually speaks in a mocking tone, because hes usually mocking people lmao. also makes a LOT of gestures, hes basically jumping around as he speaks jhjahd. tath's voice would be much more high-pitched than cami's, because she's much younger, and i imagine she sounds like shes about to cry all the time. she's very shy, so she doesnt gesture a lot when she speaks, shes usually grabbing onto something or someone and hiding.

i hope this makes sense???? also since we're here im gonna answer all the others questions here if u dont mind!

@thedumbestfuckingpersonyouvemet yea! JDHSFKJ he usually doesn't do it himself anymore though, because jay scratched him a bunch and kicked him so bad he had to let go the first time, he only does it when joy asks him to. jay can sometimes be quite nasty to her sister, or be nasty to other people when they're out doing something, so when joy has enough of her bratty attitude she just… asks gold to pick her up and leave with her. and he does so, until jay inevitably kicks his stomach and he has to let her go out of pure pain. joy is the kindest to gold, but she is also not immune to "ask the guy who does literally anything to do something for you"

yes! joy and jay are sisters from the same parents

yea!! he's dead LMAO. both golden's parents are dead and that does play a role in the whole ordeal. golden's dad died before golden was born, and his mom died later, when he was around 7 or 8, so his grandpa became his primary guardian. and.. he's basically his dad. he's the only father figure he has. and that's also why he's much much more annoyed at gold…well….existing. golden feels like his grandpa loves gold a lot more. golden is the heir of the company (family drama time: grandpa and joy/jay's dad have a badddd relationship, to the point he's not even in the will, they still keep contact becaue joy/jay's mother asked his husband to, and she actually gets along really well with her father-in-law lmao) so he put him under a Lot of pressure and lots of expectations, which gave golden the feeling that he had to earn his grandpa's love. after all, his grandpa never chose to take care of him, he was legally forced to. golden feels like a burden to his grandpa, so he has to do everything well to prove himself. buuuut at the same time he reaaaaally resents his grandpa for, well, being an asshole. not only did he put him under a lot of pressure, but he never validated him. he always told him about the things he could've done better. golden's grandpa sees this as pushing him to be the best he can be, ensuring his future. he truly thinks his grandkid can be better than himself. but he just. keeps. pushing.

and then gold appears! who's actually, biologically, grandpa's son. but well, he was an accident! that surely makes golden feel better! wrong! because even if gold wasnt planned, golden's grandpa still actively decided to be a part of gold's life. he could've just given gold's mother a bunch of money to stay silent and then dip. but no, he constantly risked getting found out for 14 years just so he could be at least a little bit of a decent dad for the kid. time he could've spent wth golden. and now he's taking him in, risking absolutely everything. and everytime he interacts with gold, he's way more patient and warm than he has ever been with golden. and grandpa never asks gold to do anything. gold started working in the company because he wanted to. grandpa doesnt push him to do or be anything, he just loves him the way he is. golden doesnt feel like he has that unconditional love, he feels like his grandpa will only love him for what golden can provide. from golden's perspective, gold has nothing to prove, he's undeniably the favorite child form the 2. the only one, technically. of course, gold doesnt feel like that at all. he's an illegitimate son, he doesnt even have his dad's surname. he was a mistake. his dad wanted to hide him forever. he didnt want anybody to know he was his son. he doesnt expect anything of him, because gold was never meant to be anyone. from the moment he was conceived, he was unfit to be the son that his dad needs. but he tries his damn hardest to be what his dad would expect if he was his legal son. its uh a complicated mess between these 2. sorry about that long tangent. anyway. yea. goldens an orphan and his grandpa is basically his dad and it driving him insane.

yesssss itd look something like ths

its just an ideea, not definite outfit. soo fred likes to dress with a more alt style but he doesnt…actually do it? he´s like half way there. think of an eboy. mostly bc he has to follow the uniform rules (he doesnt have the golden family priviliges of showing up dressed in whatever u want) and freddy is annoying about it + their mom wouldnt let him. so he uses a white shirt to go with the school uniform and then a black one on top for the cool guy vibes. he wants to be cool soooooooooooo bad but mostly fails. he dyes his hair black also to be cool and emo and he keeps his hair short. meanwhile freddy keeps it longer, a little bit to hide his face. both of them have some acne but fred covers it up with makeup, he also uses some eyeliner to make his eyes more.. pointy? like feline. idk how to describe it. also fred likes to go out at night and wakes freddy up whenever he goes away or comes back (they share a bedroom), and sometimes even drags him along which is why freddy has eyebags lmao. freddy is still boring ol freddy using the normal uniform. he wants to look normal and not stand out soooo bad and fred HATES that

@loopscereal (i know this isnt a question but the tag made me go neuron activation mode. hope u dont mide me tagging u) she actually doesnt! because in the au, gold is completely aware of what the villlains are up to! since there are no shadows, there is also no magic (because i hc that all magic in the series stems from the shadows… ignoring the camp arc magical creatures bc i can) so the villains plan is just to rig the event to make owynn win. why is gold ok with this? he doesnt really think he's going to win lmao and he just saw joining the villains as a way to make friends. he didnt have any friends in his previous school, so when owynn approached him (with intentions of using gold's sudden media attention and resources to get HIM attention) to join he took the chance. besides, hes only there as an assistant with paperwork, and he likes paperwork! hes good at it. hes also mostly there for cami. when they met they became interested in each other because of how similar they are, so joining the villains is a good way to spend more time with her. and he just grew fond of them over time, even owynn. he really didnt like owynn at first, hes the kind of slimey opportunist golden warned him about, and is generally weird, mean and selfcentered. but hes also undeniably fun, just from the wacky things he does. so yeah, no ulterior motives, gold is in on the evil (he just doesnt care)

i do want to keep cami being a witch though, but in a more real world way? like, whether or not she has magic powers will depend on whether or not you believe witchcraft exists in the real world. she does the herbs and the stones and all that stuff. le hizo un amarre a gold, te lo aseguro

uhh ahhh i think thats all!!! thank u for the ask and the questions and the nice comments and being interested!! it makes me very happy!!! and thanks everyone for being so nice!!! i love you so much mwa mwa mwa !!