#a phantom in enchanting light

[ljaesch]

Yen Press' Announcements at New York Comic Con 2024

Yen Press announced 16 licenses during its pane at New York Comic Con 2024: Title: The Summer Hikaru Died novel Authors: Mio Nukaga, original story and illustrations by Mokumokuren Release Date: April 2025 Summary: The bond between Yoshiki and Hikaru is a welcome escape from their isolated village. But one fateful day when the two boys meet up, Yoshiki can immediately tell something is off.…

[bodybaggage]

Shadows and Crowns

John Constantine finds himself dealing with royalty

john constantine/danny phantom

---

The London night was dark and damp, as was typical, but something was off. John Constantine could feel it, a prickle on the back of his neck—a telltale sign that something eldritch was afoot. He lit another cigarette, letting the smoke drift lazily upward as he navigated the narrow alleyways with practiced ease. His trench coat fluttered in the cool breeze, and he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of trouble.

It didn’t take long.

A sharp chill in the air made him pause, and he squinted into the fog ahead. The magical wards he had set earlier had been triggered, a clear sign that something powerful—otherworldly—had entered his turf. But what appeared before him wasn’t what he expected.

At first, it was just a flicker of light, almost like a distant star. But then it grew, taking on shape and form until a figure hovered a few feet above the ground, wrapped in a swirling cloak of darkness and stardust. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his hair, a wild shock of white, floated around his head like a halo. His eyes glowed a vibrant, unnatural green, and his presence was something between awe-inspiring and terrifying. It was like staring into the cosmos itself—an eldritch being that seemed to draw the very night around it, bending reality with its mere existence.

John’s instincts screamed at him to run—this was no ordinary spirit, no run-of-the-mill ghost looking for a lost love or a wayward path to the afterlife. This was something far more ancient, far more powerful. Yet, his curiosity, the part of him that had always led him to the darkest corners of the magical world, kept him rooted to the spot.

“Bloody hell,” John muttered under his breath, taking another drag of his cigarette. “What the sodding hell are you?”

The figure tilted its head, the ethereal light of its eyes flickering with amusement. When it spoke, its voice was like a chorus, reverberating through the night air. “I could ask you the same, human.”

John’s eyes narrowed, not liking the sound of that. “Names, mate. I’m partial to knowin’ who—or what—I’m dealin’ with.”

The being seemed to consider this, the stars within its cloak twinkling brighter for a moment. Then, the dark shroud began to recede, revealing a figure beneath it. As the shadows peeled away, what remained was no less intimidating but far more defined.

He was tall, his body clad in armor that seemed to be forged from the cosmos itself—galaxies spun across the black metal, and constellations shimmered in the darkness. A flaming green crown rested atop his head, its fire dancing without heat, and a glowing green ring adorned his right hand, pulsating with power. The armor was intricately detailed, each piece enchanted with symbols John barely recognized but knew were ancient. Despite the regal appearance, there was something unnervingly beautiful about him—an otherworldly allure that tugged at the edges of John’s senses.

“Phantom,” the figure finally said, his voice still carrying that ethereal echo but now more grounded, more human. “King of the Infinite Realms.”

John’s cigarette nearly fell from his lips, but he caught himself just in time. “Infinite Realms, you say? Thought old Pariah Dark was still in charge of that bloody mess.”

Phantom’s expression darkened ever so slightly, the light of his eyes dimming. “Not anymore. I defeated him years ago. The Realms are under new rule now.”

John swore under his breath, stubbing out his cigarette on the damp pavement. The Infinite Realms were the stuff of nightmares—stories passed around in the magical underworld, tales of spirits and realms so dangerous that even the most seasoned sorcerers gave them a wide berth. Constantine himself had always steered clear of anything remotely connected to the place, and now here he was, face to face with its bloody king.

“Well, that’s just grand,” John muttered, more to himself than to Phantom. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. “So, what brings the King of Ghosts to my doorstep, eh? Don’t tell me you’ve come to add my soul to your collection.”

Phantom’s lips twitched into a small, knowing smile, and John felt an odd flutter in his chest—damn, he was ethereal. “Not quite. I’m here on business. I believe you’re familiar with the Soul Shredder?”

John’s blood ran cold. Of course he knew the Soul Shredder, a cursed artifact from the darkest corners of the Realms. It was said to be wielded by Fright Knight, Pariah Dark’s former right hand—a spectral warrior of unparalleled power. Rumor had it that the sword had been lost during Pariah Dark’s defeat, its whereabouts unknown. That was until now, apparently.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” John admitted, his tone cautious. “But what’s it got to do with me?”

“It’s been stolen,” Phantom said, his expression turning serious. “And the one who took it has brought it to your world.”

Constantine swore again. “And you think I know somethin’ about it?”

Phantom’s gaze was piercing, though not unkind. “I think you’re one of the few in this world who knows how dangerous that sword can be. And I need it back before it causes irreparable damage.”

John’s mind raced, trying to piece together what little information he had. The Infinite Realms, a missing sword, and now its king standing in front of him, asking for help. This was way above his pay grade, and yet… something in Phantom’s presence, in the way he carried himself with a mix of regal authority and a hint of vulnerability, made John want to help.

Or maybe it was just that damn enchanting aura the ghost was giving off.

“All right,” John finally said, resigned. “I’ll help you track down your fancy sword. But once we find it, you take it and bugger off back to the Realms, got it?”

Phantom inclined his head slightly, a gesture of gratitude. “Agreed.”

Constantine turned, motioning for Phantom to follow. As they walked, John couldn’t help but glance sideways at the ghostly king, admiring the way his armor seemed to shimmer with an inner light, how the green flames of his crown flickered softly. The presence of the Ring of Rage caught John’s attention next, the glowing artifact known for its destructive power. Yet here it was, worn by a being who seemed to hold it with ease, as if it were merely a part of him.

“So,” John said after a moment, trying to keep his tone casual, “how’d you end up with all that fancy gear? That ring, in particular, looks like trouble.”

Phantom glanced at the ring, his expression unreadable. “It was a gift from the previous ruler. It comes with the territory.”

John whistled low. “You must’ve really done a number on old Pariah to earn that.”

Phantom’s gaze turned distant, as if remembering something far away. “It wasn’t easy,” he said quietly, the weight of his words heavy with the memory of that battle. “But it was necessary.”

John nodded, not pushing further. He understood that some battles left scars that were better left unspoken. Instead, he focused on the task at hand, trying to ignore the growing attraction he felt towards the ghostly king. It wasn’t just Phantom’s ethereal beauty—it was the way he carried himself, the way his presence filled the space around him with a mixture of power and calm. It was bloody distracting, to say the least.

“Right then,” John said, snapping himself back to reality. “Let’s find your bloody sword and get you back to your Realms, shall we?”

Phantom smirked, a faint glow of amusement returning to his eyes. “Lead the way, Constantine.”

As they moved deeper into the labyrinthine streets of London, the odd duo—one a jaded occult detective, the other a regal king from another dimension—began their search for the Nightmare Sword. Unbeknownst to John, this encounter with Phantom would change the course of his life, forcing him to confront powers beyond even his own reckoning. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand, and the enigmatic figure at his side who, for some reason, made him feel more alive than he had in years.

——

john when he’s confronted by a hot inter-dimensional ghost:

[theplotmage]

Halloween-themed Fantasy Festival and Unique Events for Worldbuilding:

1. Whispers Eve – A night when the spirits of the lost whisper secrets to the living.

2. Harrowtide – A festival of fear where nightmares walk among the people.

3. Veilfall – The thin barrier between worlds collapses, allowing passage for the dead.

4. Moonshadow Revel – When the moon is dark, shadowy creatures come out to celebrate.

5. Hallowed Lanterns – A night where enchanted lanterns guide the dead home.

6. Soul’s Gate – The gate between the mortal world and the afterlife swings open.

7. Glimmernight – A festival where ghosts appear as shimmering lights.

8. Dreadmasque – A masquerade where each mask hides a dark secret.

9. Reaping Hollow – An event where spirits return to reclaim what they’ve lost.

10. Bloodfire Vigil – Bonfires are lit with blood magic to protect against the undead.

11. Darkmoon Ascendance – A night where the moon turns black and dark magic reigns.

12. Spectral Tide – The dead rise as the tide reaches its highest point.

13. Twilight’s Grasp – The setting sun never fully disappears, keeping the world in twilight where horrors lurk.

14. Night of the Wraiths – Wraiths descend to collect souls and drag them into the underworld.

15. Frostgrave Feast – A feast in the frozen woods where the spirits of winter grant wishes, but at a price.

16. Bonefire Rites – Sacred fires are lit to honor ancestors and keep malevolent spirits at bay.

17. Witch’s Mark – A night when those who bear a witch’s mark gain immense, but temporary, power.

18. Gravemist Rising – The fog from graves rises, filled with whispers and secrets from the dead.

19. Shadowveil Crossing – A ritual where people cross over into the shadow world to commune with spirits.

20. Autumn’s Curse – A festival where the curse of eternal autumn brings creatures of decay to life.

21. Lantern of Souls – A single lantern, said to hold the souls of the departed, guides the lost on Halloween.

22. Phantom’s Requiem – A symphony is played by phantoms, echoing through the realm of the living.

23. Cindershade Festival – Celebrating the power of fire to keep the dark spirits away.

24. Nightmare’s End – A gathering where the most vivid nightmares are summoned and must be conquered.

25. Hallowveil Procession – A grand parade of masked figures representing both life and death.

26. Gloomhaven Masquerade – A ball held in an eerie town where no one knows who is mortal and who is not.

27. Midnight Harvest – A harvest festival under the blood moon where sacrifices are made to dark gods.

28. Ebon Wreath – A wreath of black flowers is hung on every door to protect against roaming spirits.

29. Soulthorn Festival – A thorny forest springs to life, and only those who navigate it can escape the spirits within.

30. Eclipse of Ashes – During a total eclipse, the ashes of the dead rain down, bringing with them cryptic messages.

31. Gravenight Dance – A dance held in a cemetery where ghosts lead the living in one last waltz.

32. Night of the Void – The stars disappear, leaving the world in utter darkness as creatures from the void emerge.

33. Horror’s Ascendant – A festival that celebrates the rise of a forgotten terror that once plagued the world.

34. Tide of the Forsaken – A night when those forsaken by the gods are given one last chance to walk among the living.

35. Mournstar Vigil – A night when the mournful star rises and the dead follow its path back to the mortal realm.

36. Graveshadow Feast – A festival where the living feast with their deceased ancestors.

37. Shroudfall – The shroud between life and death dissolves, allowing creatures of darkness to invade.

38. Hollowlight Procession – Spirits of lost children carry lanterns, leading a parade through the haunted woods.

39. Doomveil Gathering – A gathering of witches and warlocks under a cursed sky to summon forbidden magic.

40. Veilfire Festival – A festival where fire dances upon the veil between worlds, granting glimpses of the afterlife.

41. Ruinwake Revelry – A chaotic festival celebrating destruction and chaos, where dark beings rise from ruin.

42. Blackthorn Masque – A masquerade in a cursed castle where everyone wears masks of thorns.

43. Echoes of Dust – A ceremony where the dust of ancient beings blows through the town, and their voices are heard once more.

44. Ashen Sun – The sun turns ashen, and with it, the spirits of forgotten warriors rise from their graves.

45. Night of Unraveling – A night when the fabric of reality unravels, and the boundary between dimensions fades.

46. Hushmoor Eve – A silent evening where all sound is banned to prevent awakening the slumbering dead.

47. Cryptwatch Festival – Vigilant watch over ancient crypts, where treasure seekers try to unlock the secrets of eternal life.

48. Wraith’s Breath – A chilling wind blows through town, said to be the breath of wraiths hunting for souls.

49. Duskmire Celebration – A festival in a swampy region where creatures of the mire rise to celebrate with the living.

50. Moonless Descent – A night where the moon disappears and the world descends into a temporary abyss, where anything can happen.

[persephoneaangel444]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Astrological Observations on the Ascendant signs as forms of literature writings ᯓᡣ𐭩

ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩

AIR ASCENDANTS:

Libra --- Aquarius --- Gemini

ᯓᡣ𐭩 LIBRA ASCENDANT ᯓᡣ𐭩 --- "I want my life to be beautiful & wild & filled with things I never imagined, so forgive me if I ignore everything you think is important & just get right to it." --- "I was within and without. Simultaneously enchanted and repelled by inexhaustible variety of life." --- "Barefoot. And with rose petals in her hair" --- "To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides" --- "She looked like a cruel immortal, finding her spiritual feast in the agonies of a dying race" ᯓᡣ𐭩 Libra ascendant short Description: --- Libra ascendants have these Bambi/Bunny like features, they always somehow look graceful and ethereal. They know what looks appealing to their features, usually pale/light skin or has Sunkissed skin and beautiful pink lips. They are quite tall or average height, has long arms and long legs and their smile is almost somehow flirtatious and charming.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 AQUARIUS ASCENDANT ᯓᡣ𐭩 --- "She's never where she is. She's only inside her head." --- "I was born for something greater than I was and greater I would become." --- "The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment may be our last, everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."' --- "She was the finest arranged stardust I had stumbled across" --- "And men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins" ᯓᡣ𐭩 Aquarius ascendant short Description: --- Aquarius ascendants have this airy feel of not a siren but of a fairy, they always seem like they would disappear the moment you lay your eyes on them. There's a certain cruelness to their distance to others and themselves, as if everything is a game of tag. You the chaser and them being chased.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 GEMINI ASCENDANT ᯓᡣ𐭩 --- "I am profoundly enchanted by the flowing complexity of you." --- "You still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago." --- "Innocence, once lost can never be regained. Darkness, once gazed upon, can never be lost." ---"A springtime sun-drenched landscape that is childhood." --- "And I, too, am dim to my friends and unknown. a phantom, sometimes seen, often not." ᯓᡣ𐭩 Gemini ascendant short Description: --- Gemini ascendants have conventionally attractive features. Their soul and aura usually shows inconsistencies and contradictories because they feel and see a lot of things. They want to know a lot of things and experience them but they always feel like somethings missing and because of that usually they feel more empty than others.

[ivys-garden]

More Minecraft ideas, what part of Minecraft needs improvement?

You're wrong, it's ponds.

Ponds, lakes, lava pools. They all suck in Minecraft, they end up just being big holes in the ground with nothing interesting about them that make the landscape ugly and hole ridden

Now you might say “Ivy, literally no one cares” and to that I say, wheesht and accept my ramblings ya donut

So, how do we fix Ponds? It's simply really: make ponds generated structures.

Ponds would now be generated structures taking up one chunk, with an actual human made design to make them, you know, look good. There would be, say, 100 or so different designs to stop them looking to samey (they'd be so small that something like that would be feasible)

Lakes would be done similarly, only with the key difference, they would be made up of 4 chunk “cells”, each making up a corner of the lake.

ponds and lakes in plains or forest biomes would be made of blocks like mud and dirt.

Ponds and lakes in deserts (or oases if you want) would be made up of grass and sand

Ponds and lakes in tundras would be frozen over on the top layer of the water and with clay spawning around the water

Now, let's see some things that can be found in ponds and lakes:

Frogs

Nothing new here, frogs and frogspawn are most common ponds, pond frogs also only come in the green frog varietie.

Perhaps the oasis can have a desert rain frog variant that gives a purple frog light

Toads

Toads and toad spawn can be found in lakes and ponds in forest and plains biomes. Toads emerge from toad spawn in the same way frogs do. Toads have an exaggerated size, being double the size of the frog

Toads come in several colours (Green, Brown, Yellow, Orange and Lime) but these colours do not harbour any game mechanics (in other words: sorry but there are no toadlights)

Toads will eat all mobs with wings, that being the Parrot, Chicken, Phantom, Bat, Bee and the player if they are wearing an elytra, so watch out.

All the aforementioned mobs are scared of Toads, making them and effective deterrent to phantoms in particular

Cattails, Reeds, Rice, Algae and Papyrus

I'll just do all the plant life stuff at once (these will generate dependent on the pond or lake cell)

Algae is a new decorative blocks that can be placed on water

It will connect to other blocks, creating an unbroken surface across the water

Algae has a bright green hue and can be found in both ponds and lakes with the same frequency

Papyrus is a new plant that spawns naturally in the oasis, it is used as a more efficient way of making paper as it can be bonemealed and only one papyrus is needed to make paper

Rice is a plant that grows in water in lakes and ponds spawning in cherry groves.

Rice can be used in two recipes:

Rice Bowls:Putting rice, a bowl and any meat together will craft a rice bowl

This food source that can be eaten twice, eating the meat and then the rice

Sushi: putting rice, dried kelp and one fish into a crafting table creates Sushi, a foodsoarch that can be eaten instantly without playing the eating animation, not very nutritious but good in a pinch

Cattails are a purely decorative plant found in ponds and swamps

Reeds are more common around rivers and lakes, being a fern like plant that grows two tall.

Reeds can be used to craft a new item: Pan Pipes

Combining 3 reeds and 3 string will create pan pipes, these can be played to draw passive mobs towards you so long as the button to play them is held down.

Pan Pipes can also calm neutral mobs like wolves, iron golems and bees, but doing this instantly focus the Pan pipes into cool down

Pan pipes have a cool down double that of the Goat Horn

Bagpipes

By putting Pan Pipes, 3 iron nuggets, 3 red wool and 3 green wool together you can make Bagpipes.

Bagpipes have durability on top of having the same level of cool down as Pan Pipes. Bagpipes cannot be enchanted.

Bagpipes have the ability to PERMANENTLY pacify all hostile mobs in the chunk the player is in.

Bagpipes will break after 10 or so uses

Willow and Palm

Willow and palm are new wood types, Willow spawns around lakes and ponds and Palm spawns around oases.

Willow has a dark Bluish-green colour, complementing mangrove, where as Palm is a desaturated pale white

(These will generate depending on the pond or lake cell)

(Part 1/3)

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Phantom's Adoration

erik deslter x reader- 538 words

tags- kinda angst mostly fluff, stalking, low-key submissive erik (even though this isn't smut) cause thats the truth :) canon true stalking/yandere themes

In the grand opera house of Paris, shadows danced and whispered secrets of love and tragedy. Among them lurked Erik Destler, the Phantom of the Opera, a figure veiled in darkness and mystery. From the depths of his hidden lair, he watched the world above with a heart heavy with longing, knowing that his disfigured face would forever keep him hidden from the light.

Yet amidst the bustling theater, there was one soul who captured his attention like no other – you. You, with your graceful movements and enchanting voice, seemed to float through the corridors like a melody, filling his solitary existence with warmth and light.

From the shadows, Erik watched you rehearse, your every step and note igniting a fire within him. He listened to the passion in your voice, feeling his own heart swell with a love he knew could never be. For how could someone as wondrous as you ever look upon him with anything but fear and disgust?

But still, he couldn't help but dream. Dream of a world where he could stand beside you in the brilliance of the stage, where he could hold you close and whisper his love into the night. In his mind, he spun tales of romance and redemption, where even the darkest of souls could find solace in the arms of an angel.

Yet reality was a cruel mistress, and Erik knew that his fantasies could never come to pass. So he remained hidden, content to watch from afar, knowing that the shadows were his only refuge.

As the days turned into weeks, Erik's love for you only grew stronger, his every thought consumed by the image of your radiant smile. He longed to reach out to you, to confess the depths of his affection, but he feared the rejection that would surely follow.

And so he remained silent, resigned to his fate as the Phantom of the Opera, forever condemned to love from the shadows.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

One fateful night, as the opera house lay shrouded in darkness, you wandered into Erik's domain, a curious light in your eyes. Startled, he watched as you explored the cavernous halls, your laughter echoing off the stone walls.

In that moment, Erik knew that he could no longer hide. Stepping out from the shadows, he revealed himself to you, his heart pounding with fear and anticipation.

You gasped at the sight of him, but to his surprise, there was no trace of fear in your eyes, only curiosity and perhaps a hint of something more.

"I have watched you from afar, my dear," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "And though I am but a man in truth, i can assure you my love for you burns brighter than any angels could."

Tears welled in his eyes as i reached out to him, my fingers trembling as they brushed against his teary cheek.

"you're...," i started softly, my voice a gentle melody in the darkness. "You’re…my angel of music?"

In that moment, Erik knew that his love for you was not in vain. For even in the darkest of places, there exists a glimmer of hope – a chance for redemption, you. 

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🖤 The Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) was signed into law on July 26, 1990. To commemorate the occasion, we celebrate Disability Pride Month each July. Disability Pride celebrates people with disabilities for who they are, as they are—no exceptions. To shine a light on the stories, voices, and experiences of disabled persons, here are a few beautiful, illuminating stories for #DisabilityPrideMonth.

[ List below. ]

💚 The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet ❤️ The Education of Pip 🤍 Get a Life, Chloe Brown 💛 Love From A to Z 💙 Only and Forever 🖤 On the Bright Side

💚 Into the Drowning Deep ❤️ Dragonfall 🤍 Cemetery Boys 💛 To Shape a Dragon's Breath 💙 Before the Devil Knows You're Here 🖤 Silver Under Nightfall

💚 Kinship and Kindness ❤️ A Power Unbound 🤍 Kit & Basie 💛 Key Lime Sky 💙 Fella Enchanted 🖤 Venom & Vow

💚 Fae's Freedom ❤️ Out on a Limb 🤍 A Taste of Gold Iron 💛 The Last Sun 💙 The Unwanted Prophet 🖤 Iron Widow

💚 The Spirit Bares Its Teeth ❤️ Stars in Their Eyes 🤍 At First Spite 💛 Phantom & Rook 💙 A Lady for a Duke 🖤 Don't Be a Drag

💚 Icarus - K. Ancrum ❤️ Cosmoknights 🤍 Nimona 💛 The Gentleman's Guide to Vice 💙 Paige Not Found 🖤 Tears in the Water

💚 The Secret Summer Promise ❤️ Love Letters for Joy 🤍 The Luis Ortega Survival Club 💛 The Year My Life Went Down the Toilet 💙 Will on the Inside 🖤 When the Angels Left the Old Country

💚 Disability Visibility ❤️ Run 🤍 We Are Never Meeting in Real Life 💛 Unbroken: 13 Stories Starring Disabled Teens 💙 Sitting Pretty: The View From My Ordinary 🖤 The Pretty One

💚 Diary of a Young Naturalist ❤️ The Degenerates 🤍 Meet Me in Outer Space 💛 The Silence Between Us 💙 Haben: The Deafblind Woman Who Conquered Harvard Law 🖤 Cursed

💚 Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice ❤️ Your Hearts, Your Scars 🤍 Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space 💛 The Collected Schizophrenias 💙 Say Hello 🖤 My Body and Other Crumbling Empires

💚 Mean Baby ❤️ True Biz 🤍 We've Got This 💛 Losing Music 💙 Easy Beauty 🖤 Life on Delay

💚 Crop Kinship ❤️ Demystifying Disability 🤍 El Deafo 💛 Hummingbird - Natalie Lloyd 💙 Show Me a Sign 🖤 The Chance to Fly

💚 Insignificant Events in the Life of a Cactus ❤️ One for All 🤍 You, Me, and Our Heartstring 💛 All the Right Reasons 💙 The Bone Houses 🖤 Fearlessly Different

[lucky-stick]

minecraft fox facts 🦊

(never saw myself as fiction kin but this also might be a fixtype too soooo and it doesnt have alll the info on it so ignore that i might also do a wolf one)

basic info:

behaviour: passive

spawn: 1-3

location: grove, (snowy) taiga,

breeding: berrys

behaviour:

day:

they will find a area, usually under a tree, which is shaded (under a block) and sleep. they will run away if a wolf, polar bear or an un-crouching player, unless trusted, and find a new spot.

night:

they will occasionally make a screech noise unless with a trusted player. baby foxes will follow adults. they will run away from wolves and polar bears still but wont attack back.

they attack chickens, rabbits, cod, salmon, tropical fish and baby turtles. they attack by running or pouncing, they can jump higher than 1 block (1-5), they prepare by tilting their head and lowering body and wiggle then jumps 2 blocks into the air. if there is a stage 3-4 berry bush around they will harvest it themselves.

"taming" (trust)

you cant really tame them but you can get them to trust you and they will have the same qualities as a tamed wolf. you will have to acquire a baby fox either by finding on alone or breeding two and "kidnapping" the baby with a leash, when its grown up it will be "tamed".

sleeping:

they are some of the few animals that can sleep in the game.

during the day they sleep under a light level of 14 or less. if a thunderstorm is occurring they will not sleep. if the light level becomes 15 or above it will wake up.

they will sit if they cannot find a place to sleep during the day.

items:

if any item is near a fox they will approach it and pick it up.

facts:

- if a fox is holding totem of undying they will get the same effects and will disappear after its used (just like a player would)

- they will always prefer berries over any item

- and food over any non food item

- they can jump over fences and walls

- if they are holding a weapon their attack will be affected by them

- same if the weapon has enchantments

- they will get stuck in snow if they pounce

- they wont sleep in thunderstorms

- red foxes like land creatures like chickens and rabbits while arctic foxes like water creatures like cod and salmon

- you can approach them by sneaking

- they can pick up items when they sleep

- they will sleep around players the trust while not sneaking

- and will sleep on a leash of a trusting player

- they dont sleep if they are in 12 blocks of an amour stand

- if the fox eats stew or soup a bowl will be dropped

- they are the only mob that dont get hurt by berry bushes

- foxes cant pick up items if mob griefing is false

- when they attack phantoms they dont jump

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Lights Go Out I Wake Up

König is my sweet little baby and I love him dearly. Enjoy some more Phantom of the Opera!König as he watches reader. He's a bit creepy, but he's also my little creepy baby. Also, this story has a very different interpretation of Carlotta. I thought it might be nice to have women supporting women this time. Or well, one woman being a support. Anna, who you have yet to meet, is not so nice at all.

Also, König learns he has competition! He's not too happy about that.

Anyways,

No Content Warnings

Wordcount: 2.4k

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

Lights Go Out I Wake Up

You looked up in the balconies of the opera house expectantly. You tried to see if he was there. Maybe, if you were lucky, you might see a flap of his cape or a glimpse of the crimson ribbons of his mask. You desperately searched but, as always, it was to no avail.

You turned back to the stage where the primadonna was on center stage. She flicked her long blond tresses over her shoulder as she reached out to the audience, serenading them with her warbling soprano voice. You were drawn into the siren’s song, listening to each staccato note followed by a sweeping drop, each rise and fall of her tone as she sang out the tune to The Magic Flute. She attacked, she defended, she swooped and she swelled with the song as she traversed across the stage.

You smiled softly. You would never be like Carlotta, not in a thousand years. She was leagues above anyone in the house, hands down. Men traveled halfway across the world to bear witness to her voice and her visage. By the final notes of the song, the stage had been outlined with a row of roses, each bouquet from a different suitor fighting for her hand. Carlotta’s voice masterfully lulled each one of them into an enchanted hypnotic state. You followed her movements, trying your best to memorize each and every single flick of her fingers or swoop of her wine red dress as she sang out to the crowds. In that moment, Carlotta had placed the dagger in your hands and sang to you of rage, hatred, scorn. You, Pamina, watched as your mother told you her plans and urged you to slay the sorcerer. You watched her, her passion and beauty overwhelming as she came to a crescendo of the song, the make-or-break of the piece, the part that broke many a singer’s voice before.

Carlotta’s face was clear and relaxed as she hit the high notes, a beautiful crystal clear attack, receding briefly only to sharply hit it again and again before swaying onwards. One of the most brilliantly technical pieces of opera written for a soprano, and yet Carlotta seemed to be floating as she swept across the stage. She was above it all as she magically twisted the song to her delight.

As always, you were floored.

Carlotta was the greatest opera singer to ever come from the British Isles. At least, that was your opinion. The true beauty of Carlotta though was not her voice, nor was it her impeccable diamond-cut beauty. The beauty of Carlotta was her loving eye. She looked into the crowd and you could see her love for them in every smile she gave them. She was the queen of the stage and you would never dare to steal her title. As always, she looked at home here, presented for thousands to admire. She was the songbird of the Vienna State Opera, but this building was her cage.

When she had finished, she left the stage with tears in her eyes. You immediately took her in her arms and hushed her.

“I don’t want it to be over,” she sniffed as she held you tight.

“We’ll still keep in touch,” you assorted her.

“We both know it’s not the same,” she held you tightly, then released you back to the darkness of the workshop.

“We can message each other online,” you tried to explain but she wasn’t having it.

“I won’t be able to teach you anymore,” she bemoaned, “and then you won’t have anyone to help you with Anna.”

“I don’t need help with Anna,” you huffed.

Carlotta gave you a look, “Darling, we both know that’s a lie.”

You frowned, but followed her back to the dressing rooms. You flipped on a single light, keeping the room only barely lit enough to be able to see yourself in the mirror. Meanwhile, Carlotta sat at her vanity and flicked on the lights to get a better look at her own beauty. You watched her slowly wipe off the theater makeup while she sat at her vanity. She drummed her fingers on her cheeks in a light massage as she cooled down from the performance.

“So, do you know what you’ll do when you get home?” you leaned on the wall beside the vanity.

“Go to my parents probably,” Carlotta said as she put a dab of skin lotion on her fingers, “they’ve missed me. I’ve missed this little cafe in London that makes the best butter tarts. I hope they’re still open…”

“If they make the best butter tarts, why wouldn’t they be?” you asked.

“Everything goes too fast in London. One day you see a new hat shop, the next day it’s a tourist trap. There’s never a dry day in London!” Carlotta gave you a quick grin before dabbing at her temples again, “and I miss it. Vienna is nice, but it’s not home.”

“I thought you said Madrid was your home,” you pointed out.

“I was born in Madrid but I was raised in London,” Carlotta explained, “I moved there when I was eight. I only visited Spain when going to see my family, but other than that I was at home in London.”

“You know, you’re the only english woman I’ve ever heard be nostalgic about London,” you mused, “everybody else calls it a tar pit.”

“Oh it’s a tar pit alright,” Carlotta laughed, “but it’s my tar pit.”

You smiled as she went through the rest of her routine, unwinding her hair from its high knot and gently sloughing the great billowing red dress to change into a sleek pair of leggings and a turtleneck. She tossed her blond hair over her shoulders, casting you a sad look as she watched you take off your own clothes.

“I don’t have much longer to teach you,” she sighed.

“Well, it’s not like I need the teaching,” you pointed out, “I’m not your protege. I’m just a backup singer.”

“But you have the voice for a lead,” Carlotta countered, “you have it! Oh stop laughing, I’m serious! You can do it! Anna can do it, but she’s not a natural. You are.”

“I can’t handle that much pressure,” you sighed.

“But you can!” Carlotta sighed, “I just… I wish I could take you home with me. I could train you, give you a position at the RBO, we could do it! You could be a star!”

You shook your head sadly, “I’m not a star though. I’m lucky I even got my parts here.”

Carlotta clenched her lily-white fists in her lap. Her big wide eyes narrowed into feline slits. She looked angry, frustrated, but most of all, disappointed as she whispered, “You don’t know what you’re throwing away, do you?”

“I just know that it's best if I stick to my own lanes,” you grumbled.

Carlotta’s eyes never left you as she pursed her cherry red lips. In the dim light, she looked like a perfect angel, much like the ones painted above. She clenched her hands together, then let them relax with a sigh.

“You’ll keep up your lessons with me?” she asked hopefully.

You nodded and sat on a nearby stool, “Of course. I love your lessons.”

Carlotta smiled thinly, “I love them too.”

You watched as she slipped her necklace back over her swan neck. The bright glint of ruby reminded you of the stage curtains she wrapped herself in. You couldn’t imagine Carlotta as anything other than a singer. She was born for the stage, after all. Her entire childhood had been preparing her for the opera house, following in the footsteps of her mother and her mother before her.

How you wished you could follow in her footsteps.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know,” you sighed.

“I’m going to miss my best student,” Carlotta gave you a somber smile.

“We’ll keep in touch, right?”

Carlotta flashed her award-winning smile, “I have all your socials; I’m not letting you get away from me that easily!”

You chuckled as you walked around the room, searching for a small brown box.

Carlotta got up to peek over your shoulder to admire the empty wrappers tucked under your shawl.

“Well,” she crowed, “looks like tubby got his treat after all!”

“Tubby?” you scoffed, “the phantom isn’t fat!”

“Well that’s what everybody else says,” Carlotta pointed out,” and if he’s eating candies and chocolates all day long then he’s bound to be… Well, you know… Tubby.”

“I’m telling you,” you rolled your eyes, “when I saw him he was skinny as a rake.”

“As a rake?” Carlotta raised a perfect eyebrow, “not a tractor mower?”

“No he’s skinny! Honestly, I should probably put out something a bit more substantial for him…” you muttered.

“Oh you’re going to go and make the phantom home cooked meals now, are you?” Carlotta smirked.

You huffed as a blush crossed your cheeks, “Well, maybe it would be nice.”

Carlotta hummed as she watched you go dispose of the wrappers. When you sat back down, Carlotta gave you a sagely nod.

“Well, if you get this phantom on a diet maybe he won’t be so afraid to show himself,” Carlotta shrugged, “who knows, maybe you could introduce us. You do seem to be his favorite.”

“Me?” you twittered awkwardly, “I don’t know about that…”

“Oh I know!” Carlotta laughed, “whenever you’re on stage the reviews are all five stars! I think the reason you’re being cast so often is that the managers are noticing how well we do when you’re on stage!”

You huffed, “You’re saying it’s not my skills as a performer drawing in the reviews?”

Carlotta bristled, “No I’m not saying that!” she relaxed as she took your hand in hers, “I’m saying that the phantom has a liking for you. I love you, but one particularly good background singer isn’t going to turn the tides of an entire production. You don’t ensure that lights magically keep working. Hell, one lead girl, Hannah I think but you’d have to check with her, her mic went out halfway through a performance. Not a single person noticed until they were doing audio checks after the performance! It was incredible!”

“Wait, you’re talking about the time we did Faust, right?” you asked.

“Yes that’s the one!” Carlotta grinned, “I’m telling you that something’s special about you when you’re on stage. Everybody else says you’re a lucky charm, but I think that a certain someone is watching over you.”

You looked away to try and hide your flushed face, “Well, maybe. But if he really liked me, wouldn’t he maybe introduce himself? I only saw him once…”

“I’m telling you,” Carlotta said primly, “he’s afraid you’ll think he’s fat! Either that or he’s an actual ghost, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I thought Henry was the ghost hunter around here?” you elbowed her lightly.

“What I said stays between us!” Carlotta warned you.

“Sure,” you smirked, “whatever you say.”

“You know, you should show more respect for your teacher,” Carlotta sniffed.

“I thought you were Anna’s teacher?” you pointed out.

Carlotta groaned and rubbed her temples irritably, “Well she’s no star either. If it weren’t part of my contract here I would’ve dropped her ages ago. She’s…”

“She’s something else,” you supplied.

“Oh she sure is…” Carlotta grumbled as she leaned her elbows onto the vanity, “at least I get one decent student out of this contract.”

You smiled, “I try to be.”

Carlotta turned to face you again with a ghost of a smile, “You are.”

You chatted easily in the dressing room, swapping stories of theater hijinks and arguing over the stature of the phantom of the opera late into the night. As you left for the night, you wondered once again if you had actually seen the phantom so long ago. Was it really true? Did you actually see the phantom, or was that just another performer? You suspected you’d never know for sure. You just hoped that you’d actually seen the whole event. You’d started to wonder if you were hallucinating the entire time.

You shut the door and locked it as you left.

Inside the room, König drifted from the corner of the dark room to your vanity. He heard voices coming from the alley behind him. Carefully, he used a nail he’d stolen earlier to tack a small letter to the corner of your mirror before ducking behind a panel in the wall. He noted that the gap was terribly small, far too small for a ‘tubby’ man to fit through. If that Carlotta wasn’t such a good teacher, well… König shook his head of the thoughts. As long as Carlotta was good to you, he’d be sure to watch over her too. His personal offense could wait another day if it meant ensuring you’d be safe in the opera house. He could be the ‘enormously fat rat’ as long as he could continue to watch your performances.

He hid behind the wall as the next group of singers swanned through the door. He listened to them titter about, laughing and giggling after such a successful showing. He heard a small gasp, and listened close.

“Look at that!” a girl said aloud.

“Look at what?” another asked.

“On the Songbird’s vanity! There’s a note!”

“Should we take a look?”

König bristled.

“No, no we shouldn’t. Let’s just ask her about it later.”

“Do you think it’s a lover?”

A scoff.

“I don’t think so. She’s not exactly a lovable sort.”

König rolled his eyes.

“Well, maybe. There’s that one guy who’s always asking about her.”

“Oh, that Makarov guy?”

That got König’s attention.

“Yeah, the russian guy. He’s always watching Songbird, you know? I’ve heard he only gets tickets when Songbird’ll be on stage.”

“You think he got backstage to pin a note for her?”

“Maybe, or he might’ve given it to a stagehand to do it for him. Either way, it’s so romantic!”

“Well, if it’s really Makarov behind that, Songbird’s got another thing coming for her.”

“You think so?”

“Oh I know so! Makarov… Well, he’s not a good man. Let’s just hope it’s anybody but Makarov.”

König glanced around in the dark. Makarov? Who was this Makarov? Why was he interested in his little Songbird?

He didn’t bother to hide his footsteps as he crawled away, too focussed on the new man to notice how the girls went silent as he left.

“Was that the phantom?” someone asked.

“Maybe. What’re your thoughts he wrote the letter?”

“A ghost writing a letter? Now I know you’re making things up.”

“Who knows, maybe he did. Can you imagine it? A phantom falling in love with our little Songbird?”

Someone hummed carefully, “Something tells me that’s not too far off the truth.”

König dump

Alternate Universes

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Evermore

This is based on the TikTok I watched. I am feeling super angst lately, so I hope you enjoy it! The reader is in love with Lucifer; however, Lucifer is in love with Lilith and doesn't see the reader. The song is Evermore from Live Action Beauty and the Beast. I recommend playing it in the background, as the song applies to Lucifer and the reader in their respective feelings.

Lucifer was a breathtaking creature, a being of unmatched beauty that defied all comparison. He embodied glory and grace, sin and desire, love and compassion. Perfection radiated from him, and the moment you laid eyes on him, you felt it—a magnetic pull that drew you into his enchanting world.

It didn’t take long for a friendship to blossom between you and the enigmatic king of ducks. Both of you shared a whimsical spirit and an eccentric approach to life, reveling in laughter and the absurdity of existence. You were mirror images of one another, two souls destined to intertwine. Yet, as the seasons turned, you found yourself in a painful limbo, watching the years slip by without a trace of Lilith.

You understood the bond between Lucifer and Lilith—strong and unbreakable. He loved her with a devotion that transcended mere affection, needing no one to fill the void she left behind. She was his eternal flame, and no one else could ever ignite his heart the way she did.

This knowledge tormented you, for your love for him burned fiercely, a flame that flickered in the shadows of his unwavering devotion to another. You resented Lilith, not out of malice, but because she had vanished, leaving Lucifer to languish in the castle, waiting for a phantom who may never return.

How you longed to be the one who filled his heart. How desperately you wished to occupy the space that Lilith once held. He was so captivated by a woman so far beyond his reach that he failed to see the one who stood before him—adoring him, aching for his affection.

For six agonizing years, you endured this silent suffering, watching as Lucifer gradually descended into despair, each passing day serving as a reminder of her absence. You observed him sitting before her portrait, eyes filled with longing, clinging to the hope that she would walk through the castle doors and into his arms once more.

Each year felt like a dagger to your heart, another opportunity lost to be seen, to be cherished. It was almost comical how you both mirrored each other—not just in your personalities but in the fierce yearning to love someone who was unreachable.

Your love for him mirrored his for Lilith, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. Deep down, you knew he would never leave your side; you were his best friend, a cherished companion. But that was all you would ever be—an echo of the love he reserved for another.

You were two fools, yearning for an everafter that would never come. Two souls grasping for a light that flickered tantalizingly in the vast darkness of loneliness, always out of reach.

Lucifer was indeed a great friend—the best, in fact—but how long could you endure this torment? How could you tell this broken man that your heart was fracturing under the weight of unrequited love? 

You could wait for eternity, hoping that Lilith would never return to reclaim him, but what good would it do if each year of her absence found you sitting beside him, watching as he wept for her? You could don disguises, try to morph into the vision of her that he so adored, but it would never satisfy the yearning to be loved as your true self.

After six grueling years of waiting, of longing for him to see you—to notice you, to desire you—you realized that he would always be entranced by Lilith. As you stole a glance away from him, you envisioned a life filled with love and acceptance, a life that felt perpetually just out of reach. Could you ever love someone who wasn’t Lucifer?

Tormented by the idea of leaving him behind, a painful clarity emerged. Perhaps that’s what you had to do. So, with a heavy heart, you took a step away from the man who had captured your soul yet remained oblivious to your feelings. You knew the door would always be open for him; he would always have a place in your heart.

As you walked out onto the fiery streets of Hell, tears streamed down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the love you had nurtured in silence. You realized that you would not have the man for whom you had waited so long. He would remain in that castle, forever hoping for Lilith’s return, locked in a longing that rivaled your own.

You knew he was your forever in a way, but perhaps he was meant to be your forever in unrequited love, and somehow, that would have to be enough for Evermore.

[deathofacupid]

thinking about heian!sukuna on the day of his execution. "ryomen sukuna, king of curses, for his unforgivable crimes – sentenced to death." ⤷ trigger-warning: insinuated suicide, execution, grapic-ish/gory-ish details .ᐟ

the words rippled through the city, a wave of jubilation crashing against the stone walls of his prison. his reign of terror was over. japan would breathe again.

heian!sukuna had accepted his fate. it was inevitable. in his cell, enchanted shackles bit into his wrists, cold metal against warm skin. he wasn’t afraid. death was a fleeting inconvenience, a doorway he’d walked through countless times. death should fear him.

boredom gnawed at him, a dull ache in his ancient soul. he tapped his clawed fingers against the iron bars, the sound echoing in the cramped space, a counterpoint to the distant cheers.

the stench of rust, stale blood, and something faintly sweet and decaying clung to the air. it didn’t faze heian!sukuna. a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. pathetic.

then, a flicker of movement. a shadow slipped past the guard. you. clad in a black coat, you were a stark contrast to the grime and decay. as you stepped into the dim light, the coat fell soundlessly to the floor, revealing a soft, pink satin kimono. his favorite color on you.

“oh, ‘kuna,” you whimpered, a hand flying to your mouth.

“butterfly,” heian!sukuna greeted, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“don’t laugh,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “it’s not funny. they’re going to kill you. my father…”

the irony had always been a bitter amusement to heian!sukuna. you, the daughter of his sworn enemy, the golden ruler, had fallen for the king of curses. you, who should have embodied purity and light.

and in a way, you did. he saw it in the gentle curve of your smile, the way you treated the downtrodden, the way you looked at him – not with fear, but with a tenderness that disarmed him. you saw a man beneath the monster.

heian!sukuna's smirk faded. your tears were his undoing. even the king of curses couldn’t bear to see you cry. he rose, the chains rattling, and moved to the bars. he longed to reach through, to wipe those tears away, to feel the softness of your skin beneath his rough touch.

“don’t cry,” he murmured, his voice softer than he intended.

“i don’t want to leave you,” you sobbed, pressing your face against the cold metal where his hand rested. “you promised… you promised you’d never go where i couldn’t follow.”

heian!sukuna who's chest tightened. you always knew how to make him feel… human. he leaned his forehead against the bars, as close as he could get. “i know,” he whispered. “i knew this day would come.”

“he’s going to make me watch, ‘kuna. how… how can i watch you die?”

a darkness flickered in his eyes, his jaw clenching. losing his life was nothing. but the thought of you witnessing it…

heian!sukuna who took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “you must be strong,” he said, his voice low and firm. “even when everything is falling apart… you can’t break. do you understand?”

“i don’t think i can live without you,” you whispered, a plea in your voice.

heian!sukuna who closed his eyes for a moment, a rare vulnerability showing on his face. “live for me, butterfly. please,” he murmured, finally.

please, you think. not a word you hear often from him. but you knew your fate. you would rather die, than live in a world without him. "okay," you say, instead.

“good,” he whispered back, a faint smile touching his lips. “that’s my girl.”

“and we’ll meet again?” you asked, your lips brushing against the cold metal where his would be.

a melancholy smile touched heian!sukuna's lips. “of course. i will find you. every lifetime, every world.” he leaned into the phantom touch of your lips. “you are mine, butterfly. forever.”

the guards dragged you away, your cries echoing in the dungeon. he watched you go, a bitter taste in his mouth.

at the executioner’s block, the sunlight glinted on the blade. your father stood on the platform, his face a mask of cold authority. heian!sukuna stood there, waiting.

then, a murmur from a guard. “my lord… it is your daughter.”

heian!sukuna who's eyes widened. his butterfly? he strained against the chains, his heart pounding in his chest.

your father sighed, then, without a glance at sukuna, said, “kill him.”

the blade fell. the crowd roared.

but heian!sukuna was already gone, his spirit untethered, searching. he would find you. he would spill oceans of blood if he had to.

you were heian!sukuna's butterfly. and he would never let you go.

all banner credits to @dollywons .ᐟ

[darkfluffydragon]

Phantasmagoria Short: Regular Week

Trigger Warnings: Blood/jam, mind control, Phantas

The moon hung high in the velvet sky, its silvery glow spilling through tall arched windows and illuminating the marble hallways in a serene, haunting light. The air was cool and still, steeped in quiet. Pure Vanilla walked carefully, his steps making almost no sound against the polished floors. His mind drifted in a pleasant haze, thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind. Contentment rested heavily in his chest.

He had been cleaning the grand chambers earlier. Dusting forgotten bookshelves, smoothing out impossibly soft blankets, and rearranging strange, elegant ornaments whose purposes still eluded him. His hands worked with practiced precision, driven by a deeply ingrained routine he didn’t recall learning but followed without question.

When the time came, he prepared a meal. The kitchen was a maze of dark stone counters and brass fixtures, its only illumination the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. He cooked methodically, savoring the familiar rhythm: chopping, stirring, plating. The scents of roasted herbs and sweet jelly filled the air.

He served the meals in the grand dining hall, where shadows were cast across towering columns and rich, midnight-blue tapestries embroidered with swirling silver threads. Shadow Milk was already seated at the far end of the long table, clad in his elaborate blue jester-like attire. His smile was twisted, his eyes aglow with an odd amusement.

Pure Vanilla set the plates before him, bowing low. He straightened—

Darkness.

…

Pain struck like a falling axe. His head felt as though it were splitting open, molten iron searing through his skull. He staggered, clutching his temples, breath coming in ragged gasps. A voice, familiar, alien, howled within his mind.

‘Remember! Remember! You have to remember!’ It screamed, desperation clawed at his consciousness like agonising rusted nails.

When his staff’s eyes snapped open again, he was standing upright. The dining hall was silent once more. Shadow Milk was still seated at the same spot, watching him. The plates before them were empty, practically licked clean. Pure Vanilla’s tongue tingled with an aftertaste he couldn’t place, a phantom sensation that filled him with sickening unease.

Shadow Milk tilted his head, gaze sharp, and dismissed him with a flick of his hand.

No words were spoken between them.

Numb, Pure Vanilla turned and walked from the room, each step heavier than the last. The pain in his head pulsed, a writhing, crawling sensation burrowing into his thoughts like squirming worms. His heart throbbed with something raw, something wrong, though he couldn’t grasp what it was. He didn’t dare look back.

The moment Pure Vanilla Cookie stepped out of the grand dining hall, the strength in his legs gave out. He stumbled forward, collapsing against the cold wall with a dull thud. His trembling hand shot up to his mouth just as a thick wave of scarlet jam spilled past his lips, staining his pristine robe.

He coughed violently, each convulsion ripping through his body like jagged claws. The metallic taste of jam coated his tongue, searing his throat with its sickly sweetness. His chest heaved as he struggled for air, the pain twisting inside him like living things writhing beneath his dough. He felt as though he was being hollowed out from the inside, as though something had ripped and torn his very soul apart.

Footsteps echoed softly down the corridor. He barely registered them through the haze of agony.

“Your Majesty.”

The voice was calm but laced with unmistakable concern. Pure Vanilla Cookie’s eyes snapped upward, wide and unfocused, meeting the emerald gaze of Wind Archer Cookie. His bow was slung across his back, though his hands hovered near it instinctively, as though ready to defend.

Pure Vanilla’s breath hitched at the title, something flickering in his mind—‘Your Majesty…?’—but the thought was lost almost as quickly as it came, drowned in the sea of burning pain and crawling nausea.

“I… I’m all right,” he whispered hoarsely, barely hearing his own voice over the pounding in his head. “I’ve… experienced this… many times before… in my years of service to Shadow Milk Cookie.”

The name left his lips like a confession, tinged with both respect and something much like resignation. His head throbbed violently, forcing him to bite back another wave of coughing. He pressed his trembling hand harder against his stained mouth, as though he could hold the rest of the scarlet jam inside.

Before Wind Archer Cookie could respond, Pure Vanilla turned and walked away, his steps uneven but determined. He didn’t dare meet the knight’s gaze again, couldn’t bear to see what might be reflected there…pity, suspicion, fear…

He didn’t see the deepening frown on Wind Archer’s face, nor the way his hand clenched tightly around the grip of his bow.

The cold hallway stretched endlessly before Pure Vanilla, its moonlit silence pressing down on him like a suffocating shroud. The crawling, burning sensation still writhed beneath his skin, and somewhere, deep within his fractured mind, something remembered. Something cried.

But he kept on walking.

The days bled together in a haze of quiet servitude.

Pure Vanilla Cookie moved through the grand halls of the castle like a restless specter, performing his duties with wordless precision. He swept vast rooms filled with cold, empty chairs, polished enchanted mirrors that never reflected his true face, and prepared meals he never remembered tasting.

His mind was wrapped in a soothing fog that dulled the edges of reality. The crawling ache in his chest never fully faded, but he learned to ignore it, as he did the lingering taste of jam.

And so a week passed, each day a seamless repetition. It was a carefully choreographed play where Pure Vanilla Cookie knew only his role as a servant. He existed only to obey.

Until the summons came.

His heart thudded faintly in his chest, though he couldn’t quite grasp why. He simply lowered his head, hands folded neatly before him, and stepped through the great double doors. They reminded him of the jaws of a great beast, waiting to swallow him whole.

At the far end of the hall sat Shadow Milk Cookie, draped across the silver throne in a far too comfortable way and his mouth curled into that ever-knowing grin.

“Come closer,” Shadow Milk laughed, words honeyed with amusement and a teasing tone.

Pure Vanilla obeyed without question, steps slow but steady, until he stood at the foot of the throne. His head remained bowed.

Shadow Milk Cookie rose fluidly from the throne and reached into the shadows at his side. From the darkness, he drew forth a crown. It gleamed gold, with twisted, curved points wickedly sharp like horns.

Without a word, he held his arms out and let it fall.

The crown struck Pure Vanilla’s head with a clang. Its jagged edges bit into his dough. His knees buckled as enchantment shattered like glass, unravelling his thoughts while shards of forgotten memories cut deep into his mind.

He remembered.

A throne of light, radiant and warm. A kingdom built on hope and kindness. The weight of responsibility and love, burdens he had carried willingly. Friends who stood beside him. A war. Betrayal. A silver tree, cut by his own hands.

His breath hitched, agony tearing through his chest. He collapsed to the cold marble floor, trembling. His hands clawed at the ground, trying to steady himself against the flood of memories pouring back with relentless force.

“I…” His voice cracked, hoarse and disbelieving. “I was… a king…”

Shadow Milk Cookie loomed over him, smile widening into something cruelly triumphant. He crouched down, tilting his chin up with a gloved finger, his gaze burning with cold delight.

“Yes,” Shadow Milk cackled, “You were.”

Pure Vanilla’s vision dimmed, exhaustion dragging his thoughts back into the pleasant haze.

“…This…this game of yours.” He mumbled, slowly pulling the parts of himself back together. “…How very cruel…”

“But it was fun~”

He did not have the energy to respond.

[d-z20]

The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 1

Sad about not getting more backstory to Agatha (and Rio lol) so I'm creating my own. We're going right back to the start and I'll probably turn this into a series leading up until the pre-wandavision time. It's gonna be so so gay dude.

Find it here on AO3 | Master List

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Birth Under Darkness

The night Agatha Harkness was born, the skies grew restless. Clouds roiled and churned as if in silent protest, cloaking the moon in a shroud of ominous shadow. A cold wind whispered through the trees surrounding the small clearing just outside of Salem, its ghostly lament slipping through the cracks in the walls and weaving around the chamber where the birth was to take place. The haunting notes of Greensleeves drifted through the clearing, carried on the crisp night air from the nearby tavern where townspeople gathered. Their voices, layered in mournful harmony, wove a prophecy into the darkness, each verse heavy with a sense of foreboding. The flicker of torchlight and the murmurs of conversation added to the charged atmosphere, as if the song itself were an omen, whispered from lips that knew of secrets better left unsaid.

“Alas, my love, you do me wrong,

To cast me off discourteously.

For I have loved you well and long,

Delighting in your company.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold,

And who but my lady greenleeves.”

In the heart of the chamber, where spells whispered through the walls and shadows seemed to have a life of their own, Evanora Harkness prepared for the arrival of her firstborn. The place was aglow with blue energy, pulsating with the power of enchantments that crackled in the air. The scent of yew and nightshade smoke coiled like serpents through the dim light. Evanora was a figure of formidable beauty and authority, standing draped in ceremonial robes that shimmered like a midnight sea, with deep indigo hues shot through with veins of silver. Her raven-black hair was meticulously braided and adorned with tiny, glistening gems, and her eyes - cold and calculating - held a relentless sharpness. The witches surrounding her were loyal but fearful, knowing the witch could bring them to ruin with a flick of her wrist. 

“Your vows you’ve broken, like my heart,

Oh, why did you so enrapture me?

Now I remain in a world apart

But my heart remains in captivity.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold,

And who but my lady greenleeves.”

Evanora’s voice, when she spoke, carried an edge that cut deeper than any blade. 

“Begin” she commanded, her voice steady as the storm brewed above. 

The coven, robed in shades of deep blue, chanted an ancient incantation in Latin, weaving magic into the very fabric of the room. When Agatha’s first cry pierced the thick silence, a subtle change swept through the air. A ripple of movement in the dim corner of the room caught Evanora’s attention -  a shadow deepening momentarily before melting back into the gloom. But Evanora’s glare dismissed it as a trickery of the light; she had more pressing concerns than phantom shapes. Outside, lightening carved jagged scars across the sky, illuminating the expressions of the coven, who stood huddled and silent, eyes wide with both reverence and dread. Once again, the melody of the townsfolk’s singing floated in, seeming almost spectral as it intertwined with the first breath of the newborn.

“I have been ready at your hand,

To grant whatever you would crave, 

I have both wagered life and land,

Your love and good-will for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold,

And who but my lady greenleeves.”

The air was now cool and unfamiliar, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something older, more mysterious. The shadows seemed to shift, deepening in the corner of the room again. For the briefest moment, a presence stirred, one not invited but always present when life and death converged.

Rio Vidal, the original Green Witch and the living embodiment of death, watched unseen from the veil between worlds. Her presence was imperceptible to mortal senses, yet powerful enough to send a chill down the spine of even the most seasoned witch. 

Rio’s deep, dark eyes, filled with an ageless wisdom and tinged with sorrow, lingered on the infant girl. She watched with an expression of curiosity and something deeper, a premonition whispering through her veins. Her figure was no more than a blur, a silhouette against the shifting shadows. To mortal eyes, she did not exist; to Agatha, she would one day be salvation and damnation intertwined. Rio felt the pulse of the newborn’s soul, a song thrumming with notes both light and dark, a complexity that piqued even death’s eternal interest. She sensed a unique power within Agatha, one that would grow twisted by fate and fear. Evanora, however, saw none of this. Rio’s gaze shifted to the new mother, that cold spectre of ambition, and a wisp of something - pity perhaps - flickered through her ageless eyes. The magic that saturated the room tasted bitter, sharp with control and fear.

“If you intend this to disdain,

It does the more enrapture me, 

And even so, I remain

A lover in captivity.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold,

And who but my lady greenleeves.”

Evanora held her daughter not with the wonder of a mother but the scrutiny of a sorceress appraising a relic. The baby’s cries were sharp and defiant, but even they seemed to falter under Evanora’s unrelenting stare.

“Quiet,” she commanded, her voice flat and unyielding. The room seemed to tighten around her words, stifling Agatha’s wail to a whimper. 

A faint glow of blue energy pulsed from Evanora’s fingers as she whispered, “You will be powerful, or you will nothing.”

Her touch was neither warm nor gentle, and as she passed the child to the waiting hands of a coven member, there was no tender smile or proud tear. Only the glint of ambition. The coven collectively drew their breath, for they knew Evanora’s love was reserved for one thing alone - power. She was known for wielding her blue magic with unmatched ferocity: she could fly with blue smoke trailing beneath her like ethereal wings, hurl beams of energy that shattered stone, and project formidable barriers that deflected even the most cunning spells. Yet despite her outward display of might, whispers of an unyielding fear lingered. It was said that Evanora Harkness feared what she could not control, and Agatha, with her uncanny stillness, became the silent embodiment of that fear.

“Ah, Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,

To God I pray to prosper thee,

For I am still thy lover true,

Come once again and love me.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight,

Greensleeves was my heart of gold,

And who but my lady greenleeves.”

The witches murmured amongst themselves, their voices woven with a tremble. 

“Born to an eclipse,” one whispered, fingers tightening around her charm, the metal biting into her skin. “A sign.”

Evanora’s lips curled into a thin smile, brittle as old parchment. 

“A sign indeed,” she echoed, the weight of her tone silencing the murmur like a blade to a throat. 

She lifted her hand, and a current of blue energy hummed to life, coiling around her fingers like sentient smoke. Her eyes flickered over Agatha’s tiny form, searching, judging. 

“This child,” she announced, each word heavy as stone, “will be either the vessel of power that secures our legacy or the greatest mistake I have ever allowed to exist.”

The coven nodded in unison, but in the corners of their eyes, doubt glimmered like a secret flame. No one dared question her, not when blue energy hummed in the air around her like a living thing, not when her gaze threatened to turn that energy into something lethal.

Rio’s eyes narrowed, absorbing the scene with a depth that even time could not erode. She felt electric tension, the raw potential in the room that radiated from both mother and child. Yet it was not the cold ambition of Evanora that stirred Rio’s ancient curiosity; it was the untamed spirit that flickered within Agatha, the blend of light and shadow that resonated through the fabric of existence itself. Here was a child who could grow to be a beacon or a blight, shaped by the relentless hand of her mother’s obsession. Rio distrust of Evanora’s intentions, honed over centuries of witnessing power twisted and weiled without conscience, made her decision simple. Agatha’s fate was now bound to her watchful eye. She would remain unseen but ever-present, a silent guardian and, when needed, a guide in the dance between destiny and darkness.

Satisfied with her resolve, Rio retreated, her silhouette melting into the gathering shadows as if swept away by the whispers of the wind. The veil between worlds shifted with her departure, leaving only the faintest chill in her wake. The night resumed, punctuated by the final notes of Greensleeves and the restless stirrings of the coven, as though the very air braced for the storm to come.

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[lesbiansforastarion]

A Silly Plan to Begin With

Astarion x gn tav

Summary: Everyone at camp rests for the night but Astarion's left to reflect on his new found affection.

Now he knows he's lost it. It was just a simple touch. Your fingers brushed the slightest bit walking during their journey that day. Nothing more than the fleeting feeling of skin on the back of his hand and now he's left lying here awake thinking about it. It was so silly, how many people had he been with? How much flesh has he felt in his 200 years in much darker ways just to have such an innocent gesture send him swooning like a damned school boy. This was not how things were supposed to go. You were supposed to be lying awake with thoughts of him. You were supposed to be swooning for him. You were supposed to be bending over backwards for him, awaiting his every command, pinning for just a hint of his approval. And here he was.

He felt like a lovesick teenager.

He felt like a dog.

He'd hated the term puppy love but what else was there to call it when he clung to your every word. When he'd follow you around mindlessly like a second shadow. When he pouted and moped at camp when you told him to stay. He did stay as you told him after all. He was no better than Scratch, except he never got the delightful petting that the damned mut did. He definitely couldn't say he was better when he decided that the best use of his time was to lay about your belongings like your scent would somehow bring you back sooner. He'd sit there and mend your clothing and tidy your space for your return, hoping somewhat wistfully that you might notice his work, maybe even praise him for his usefulness and skill. Perhaps he'd even get an enchanting smile made just for him. Maybe one of those compliments he'd been craving so much. A brush of lips. You'd might even hold his face again-

His back shot straight up from his bed roll. This had to stop. All these stupid thoughts and scenarios in his head had to stop. These were not trance thoughts, these weren't restful thoughts. These were lying awake anxiously longing thoughts. They were dangerous. He couldn't afford to get lost in such silly fantasies, that was supposed to be your job after all, not his. He was holding his face between his knees now trying to calm the phantom heart rate in his chest. His hand ruffling the hair out of his face. It should have been yours-

That thought sent him straight up, now standing completely and startled at the mere notion that he would want something so earnestly. He should leave, maybe not forever but at the very least hunt. Take his mind off of his apparent favorite companion, gain some clarity before these rising feelings decide to take hold of his mind. He was ready to stock off into the woods and murder something until he felt better but he'd noticed a dim light still in your tent, and he'd be damned if he wasn't curious. You weren't a creature of the night nor someone who could live without sleep so you being up at such an hour was odd, troubling even, if he were willing to admit to being worried for you. He found himself walking to your tent automatically without question, just the thought that he would be in your presence was enough to make him drop any violent thoughts he had about the woodland creatures.

There was a faint knock on the front post holding your tent up, not wanting to make too much noise in case you'd just forgotten to blow out a candle. But of course that wasn't the case, you were awake and fiddling with one of the many trinkets from the day's journey before you came and lifted one of the flaps to welcome him in. He already felt the tension leave him once his nose filled with your surrounding scent. He wondered if that was what made his own tent so uninviting recently, it smelled nothing like you. Save that tunic he’d found abandoned weeks ago, but the scent has faded so much after just the first night he slept with it that there was almost no point in hoarding it, except the mere embarrassment that would come with returning it.

“You okay?” Shit, they're speaking.

“Sorry, what was that darling?” Embarrassment was flooding him now even at just being caught gawking at you in your entranceway. He couldn't imagine how mortified he'd be if you ever discovered the tunic.

You gave a small chuckle and was cheery as always with your reply “Well I said ‘fancy meeting you here, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’ and then you got all spacy on me so I asked if you were doing okay.” You tilted your head “Are you okay? You've been a little out of it since the hike this morning. Something bugging you?”

“Oh yes! I'm fine my dear. Nothing serious I assure you.” He spoke too quickly and he could barely hold eye contact with you while he fiddled with his hands. He wasn't used to feeling so nervous and insecure around people but you just seemed to bring this shyness out of him. He was definitely taking too long to answer your question for him to come across as any form of smooth or suave. “Might I- Could I- You…you know I was just wondering if…”

You moved closer and rested your hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him a little. If he was having trouble concentrating on speech before he definitely was now that your warm flesh was touching him again. He cleared his throat, folding his arms neatly in an attempt to regain order on his person. “Well my sweet, I couldn't help but notice that you still had a light on at such a dreadful hour. Just wanted to check in on you, make sure you were doing alright or if there was a stray candle needing blowing out. That's all.”

You let out a small giggle at his clear excuse and leaned in more comfortably towards the man stood before you. “Well we all know how important fire safety is to you.” If he didn't know any better he'd say you were flirting with him now.

He'd gasped dramatically, clutching his non-existent pears “Why of course I am dear! I mean think of all the little snacks running around in the woods, positively flammable. Gods, what might Halsin say if he found out?”

You played along with his antics so well. You swooned into his arms with a distressed hand to your forehead “My goodness you're right! What ever shall I do if word were to get out?”

“He'd surely alert the grove.”

“The clerics”

“We'd never be allowed at camp again” 

“Tarnish the thought”

With each of your comments you'd both drawn impossibly closer. Leaning more and more against each other with your joking distress while you made lighthearted jabs at the druid. Just the two of you stifling laughter in each other's arms with a special warmth brewing in Astarion’s body that only you could be the cause of. He loves being like this with you. He loved the freedom he felt to be silly with you with no need for any sensual act. He loved more than anything that he could make you laugh like this. Like you've always been so comfortable with each other. It sparked hope in his heart that he knew would only add to the senseless daydreams that plagued him. If he could make you happy like this in such a fleeting moment, what would an eternity in your smile feel like? If instead of taking absolute power he chose to submit to your warmth instead. Devoting the rest of his eternity into making you as happy as someone as wretched as him could. He honestly was already confused by your fondness for him as it was but if he could, he'd love to kindle that with you. He'd never be worthy of your love but he craves to have the chance to try to prove a thousand times over that he could be deserving. Gods, he started this journey wanting you groveling at his feet in servitude and now here he was ready to do just the same, all to get you to look at him. Really it was a silly plan to begin with. Honestly, how was he supposed to not fall for you. You're you. And you're looking at him so fondly now that the laughter had died down and you're left both just holding each other with giddy smiles.

“Might I stay for a little while” he broke the comfortable silence. You were looking at him through your eyelashes, absentmindedly stroking his arm in that wondrous way you always did when trying to sooth him. He'd never asked to stay before. Even when he'd fed he'd leave after a while, trying to assure himself that it was only to let your need for him fester in his absence and surely had nothing to do with the fear that his own might if he stayed too long. But he's sure that he's beyond the point of no return now anyways. He was staying awake all night because he couldn't stop thinking of you and he'd definitely continue going restless if he didn't have you near him.

“Star, you could stay all night if you wanted” Your smile was all the reassurance he could ask for. Despite his flirty nature and affinity towards the casual pet name, something about you referring to him with one felt different. Even if it was just a little one, just a shortening of his name, it still made that bashful warmth bloom again. You were the only one that called him that as well, which made it even more special. He could almost be a little virgin with how all your innocent affection made him feel. That look in your eyes definitely wasn't helping. If you let him he would stand in that entrance forever getting lost in that loving gaze.

You seemed to come to the same realization that you two were just standing and staring in the opening of your tent. You pulled him in by the arm you were stroking earlier, giggling all the way while you pulled him down onto your bedroll. A complete disorganized mess of blankets and pillows that he couldn't care less about now that he's hearing such a happy sound from you again. He followed suit with you when he saw you getting nestled under the blankets. He squeezed in next to you and relished the warmth as he pulled you against his body. Rogue fingers finding purchase in the small of your back and another set stroking from your shoulder to your arm. This could be quite nice for eternity. You seemed to be not quite as comfortable yet as you shifted. He couldn't help his grip when it felt too closely like you were leaving. But of course you weren't. Instead you were shimmying up the pile of pillows before pulling his body over yours. Using a gentle hand to guide his head to your chest while a second stroked the skin of his back under his shirt. He moved both hands to circle tightly around your waist as you shifted the two of you. If anything this was better than before. Having such a delicate touch against him for a change was a pleasantry that had been so rare for him in his life. The small brush of fingers through his scalp, coupled with the slight circles you were drawing on his skin, he really was jealous of the dog if this is what it felt like to be petted and praised by you. 

A possessive thought crossed his mind as he inhaled your scents mixing together in your small space. Your tent and you would smell of him by morning and his being would smell of yours. Not that the wizard or the blade of frontiers would ever notice the subtle claim over you with their lackluster senses, but the druid and the githyanki would see the meaning behind your muddled scents. Maybe it’d even be enough to keep Lae’zel from enjoying your ‘musk.’  But those two were far from what he wanted his final thoughts to be before he goes into trance. That honor should only be to you and this made up happily ending he keeps longing for after all this mess is over.

His plan had definitely failed now, there's no return from his new acceptance. He still wants you to want him. He still needs you to want him, he supposed. Except now it's not for a vengeance plot, now it's for something much different. A completely new plan his mind couldn't shut up about.

[yourstarvic]

Summary: Starting a new job is always exciting. Especially with it's taking care of four hungry Jackals. So, here you are, working your way with their crazy antics and filling in for an advertisement.

Pairing: MSBY Jackals x Manager!reader, no romantic pairs...(yet? Still thinking about it...Maybe do a poll? Let me know what ya'll think)

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Another day at work, another day that wasn’t your day off.

Standing far from the quiet wing spiker, watching as the makeup artist touch him up. You smiled as Sakusa did his best not to make a scowl, hating people close to him, especially his face. Tearing your eyes away, you looked around, seeing how everyone was running around, fixing the set, making sure the cameras were working and position correctly. Seeing as everyone was went around their business, you had one thought, “Why did I had fill the PR job!”

It’s wasn’t that you were complaining, it was an honest questions. You were new, little over a month to the job, and sure you have done PR jobs, being a volleyball manager in college, you know a bit. But why you? All you wanted was to sleep in and enjoy what was supposed to be your day off. But you had to admit, the set did look amazing. Shooting a cologne ad, the directors went in the direction of wanting to be sexy and seductive, while also staying classy. You didn’t know there was something this grand in Osaka. The grand staircase, the crystal chandelier, the decor, it felt you were on the set of the Phantom Of the Opera. 

Noticing the people around Sakusa have left, you saw an opening to go to the only person you know. You took a good look at him, the makeup did amazing on enchanting his feature, especially with a silk black button up, the top buttons open for his chest breath through, and paired perfectly with black slacks, you needed to remind yourself you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home. 

“Are you nervous?” You asked, approached him carefully, not wanting to ruin his mood more than it already was.

Clicking his tongue, his dark eyes stared down at you. You never know what he was thinking, always having a cold expression. “I should be asking you,” Sakusa voice had some concern, you think it did, laced in his voice. “You seem nervous.”

“I guess it’s a bit intimidating,” You hummed, looking around once more. 

“Sorry, that your were dragged into this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You smiled at the spiker, noticing how his expression soften that you held no ill-temp of coming with him to the event. “This seems really cool, especially seeing the behind the scenes of an cologne ad. It would be fun being filmed.”

You giggled when Sakusa rolled his eyes, an annoyance painted his face as he crossed his arms, “Nothing fun about being filmed.”

“That bad?”

“The lighting make it hot and sweaty,” Sakusa listed, “having people close to me, telling me what to do, what to wear, how act. It’s annoying. I though you’ve done this before?”

“Not like this,” Looking around at the everyone. Seeing how much money was spent to create this ad. “The most I’ve done was help advertise the volleyball club durning my college years.”

“Some experience is still good experience.”

“Not in this case.”

“Sakusa Kiyoomi!” A man’s voice echoed throughout the hall. Turning behind you, you saw a man walking towards the two of you, dressed in a designer clothing, something you always thought a director would dress. You sniffle the giggle, seeing him fit the director stereotype. With open arms, he forcefully pulled Sakusa into a hug, making your face turned into concern as you saw the irradiated tick appearing on the poor spiker head. “So good to see you here! Happy they you are part of this! Big fan! Go Wolves!

“Jackals,” Sakusa corrected, final out of the mans arms and dusting himself off.

“Same thing,” the director waved off, “The model should be here getting ready, in the mean time-”

“Actually, sir,” you guessed it was his assistant, seeing how close and documents she had in her arms. “The model won’t be coming in.”

“What do you mean she isn’t coming it!”

“Something happened and-”

“You!” His finger now appeared in front of top you face, making you blinked at the suddenness of his voice. “You seem the same size as the model,” he then circled you, making you look at Sakusa in nervousness, shaking your head at him as you have a feeling you know what was going to happen. “Nice completion, hair could use a touch up, make up as well,” he snapped his finger, looking back at him as you rapidly shook your head no, “get her dressed up!”

“She doesn’t have any experience,” Sakusa countered, seeing the panic expression on your face as you were rushed to get dressed. “She’s just a manager, she doesn’t have what it takes to be on film, especially to replace a modal.”

Harsh, you thought, sending a glare at Sakusa, who only ignored your eyes. But the director did not care what words was said, telling those around him his vision of what the ad should be. Happy, that nothing will stop his effort of creating the greatest piece of his work.

You were soon standing in front of Sakusa, feeling the thing martial of the silk black dress that was held tightly by a corset, with the off the should sleeved loosely on your arms. You makeup was done and hair was done beautiful by the makeup artist. You only saw yourself when passed by a mirror, not able to appreciated how you look, but you had a feeling you looked amazing. A telling sign was those around you loudly whispered how beautiful you looked, making your cheeks heat up. 

Seeing his eyes widen at your appearance, you felt small. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you tried to lift the off the shoulder straps up to cover at lest your shoulders, but they only fell gracefully down. “Don’t look so surprise,” you mumbled, looking at everything but him.

“No, um,” He hesitated, looking away from your form for a bit before looking back at you. “You look good.”

“I knew it would fit,” the director gleefully came to you, looking at you with pride. “Now we film!”

Sakusa was right, filming was not fun. Not fun at all.

Having to retake the same gesture, walking, even a hand on on a shoulder, everything needed to be done until it was deem perfect by the director. You were exhausted. With the director issuing a five minutes break, you placed your hands on the railing, enjoying no one telling you what to do. 

“(L/n)-San,” your heard your name called out behind you. Answering with a hum, your head slowly perked at one of the makeup staff. With the brush and palate prepared in her hands, you turned your body with a sigh, smiling at her with a nod, understanding what was needed to do. Touching up your makeup for the majority of the time. When she finished, you thanked her before she walked off. 

“Still think this is fun?” Sakusa asked, walking up to you with a cocky smirk.

“Shut up,” You mumbled. Leaning your back against the cold railing, you placed your hand on either side of you. You ignored Sakusa chuckle, rolling your eyes, “Sorry for assuming this would be fun.”

Sakusa about to respond back, but before he could, the loud voice of the director boomed, causing you to quickly turned around, looking below to see what he was saying. “A vision!” He exclaimed, Placing his hand over his eyes as he woo over the idea he had. “I was blessed by an angel! I know the perfect scene to do! (L/n), Sakusa! All thanks to you! You are my inspiration! My muse! Quickly get everything ready! You two! Stay where you are!”

Everyone quickly buzzed around at his order, getting everything ready for the next scene. Glancing at Sakusa, next to you, you scrunched your face in confusion. Sakusa didn’t turned to look at you, rather he just clicked his tongue in annoyance as he glared at the director. Does he know something? You thought, blinking at his behavior as you looked down to the director as he quickly raced to the two of you. 

He quickly told you his vision that was graced to him by the angels above. Telling you what you need to do, need to feel, need to act, he described everything that was expected. With each word he describe to you, the warmer your face felt. Leaving right as he finished, you stood in shock, not knowing to express what to feel. Everything you done today was innocent, just a walk, maybe a small spin, a dance, a hand on the arm but this? This is madness.

Looking at the Jackal next to you, you knew what expression to feel: upset. There, written in his face was disgust. Scoffing at him, you started to get in the position the director wanted you to be. “You don’t have to look so disgust,” You spoke with a sneer, trying to hid your upset. “This isn’t ideal for me either.”

“I just don’t want to do it,” He mumbled, getting in position. “I’m tired of this."

There the two of you were, your back against the railing as Sakusa trapping you in. The director yelled a start to practice. Sakusa eyes bore into your as you only stared at him. Taking the lead, a hand gently touched your lower back, making you tense as it lightly grazed up your back. His face moved closer to yours, closing your eyes tightly shut, and slowly breathed to calm your frantic nerves. To others around you, it looked as if he was about to kiss your lips, but he then slowly titled his neck. Wanting to move his face into your neck, his lips accidentally graced your skin, making you open your eyes in shock with a sharp gasp, causing Sakusa to halt his movement, his eyes glancing back to your face, looking for any discomfort to-

“Why did you stop!” The director yelled in anger and disappointment. “It was perfect! The tension! It was erratic! It was sexy! It was perfect! Again! And this time we are filming! No way we’re missing this.”

Releasing a shaky breath, you placed a hand on your cheeks, feeling how hot your face become. You felt Sakusa eyes looking at you with a hint on concern, to which you only shook your head and let out a determined huff, “Let’s get this over with.”

Going back into position, the direction then yelled action. Trapping you between his arms, slowly trailing a hand from your lower back to your upper back. Closing in to your face and ducking into your neck. With his now moving to your shoulders, he lightly grazed his fingertip on your arms, goosebumps appearing in trails with his touch. With his fingers now having through yours, he slowly raising it closer to his face. Saying the phrase that was needed to him, he place a gently kiss on your pulse, making your breath hitched in your throat. Saying the catchline of the cologne, he then ducked his face and buried in your neck, having a tight hold on your wrist as-

“Cut!” The voice boomed with pride and excitement. With those words, you and Sakusa pushed away from each other, you feeling embarrassed about the whole situation while him, you assumed was the personal space. But why is there is tint of red on his cheeks? “Fantastic! Amazing! Now, do it again! But this time add-”

Never doing an advertisement again, you thought.

With filming finally over, your body felt tired from the embarrassment events from today. Now back in your regular clothing, you hold a garment bag close to you, at least finding something positive of the day, keeping the beautiful dress you wore. Sakusa, who was also back in his own clothing, also hold a garment bag filled with the clothing from the shoot, listening to what the director and producer were saying about the ad. You weren’t listening, it required to much of your energy, and it was something you were lacking of at the moment. And if there was a question regarding the shoot, you could always ask Sakusa about it when the moment arise.

A farewell broke you out of your tired trance, smiling as they left, the director swooning over the amazing shoot and the producer keeping a cool stance as they walked away, you breathed out in relief that the day was officially over. You turned to face Sakusa, about to mention how excited you were going home, but the moment his eyes looked at yours, you quickly tuned away. Thinking about the final scene in your head, you still felt the longing touch on your wrist and neck. Your face instantly started to heat up at the thought.

“Sakusa-San,” your voice cut through sharply. A sudden thought appeared to you. This ad will be seen by everyone. Given they told you in the beginning they will do their best not to show your face when publishing it, but the thought of the your team, family, and friends seeing it haunted you. “Tell anyone about this, and I’ll cough on you.”

“I-”

“Tell anyone that it was me,” You cut him off, sending him a warning look that made the tall man finch in fear, “I’ll sneeze on you.”

Sakusa only nodded at you, fear of saying anything to you would only increase the threats. Especially when you suddenly smiled at him and walked with a bounce on your step, him following you as you cheerfully said, “Now, let’s go home!”

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Notes: Hey! hope ya'll are enjoying it! I'm going to try and post once a week but if I don't please don't hate me <3 also 🫣 can you tell Sakusa is my favourite 🫣

Taglist: @usermins @walllflowerrrsss

[monstersdownthepath]

Herald of Besmara: Kelpie's Wrath

CR 15

Chaotic Neutral Colossal Outsider

Adventure Path: Skulls and Shackles: The Wormwood Mutiny, pg. 86-87

When one thinks of Besmara they likely think of "piracy," but her other two areas of concern are 'strife' and 'sea monsters.' One may thus believe that Besmara's Herald may be a powerful pirate captain, or perhaps an intelligent sea beast which either inhabits or commands a vessel. The most visionary may believe that Besmara's Herald could be nothing less than a whole crew of people running an enchanted ship! So when a mysterious fog rolls in and the lights of a ship that wasn't there alight from nowhere, the party may be tempted to look towards the helm, or the prow, or perhaps even the crow's nest to try and spot who's commanding the intimidating galleon... only for the skull at the front to tell you to quit eyein' its aft like some kind of pervert.

Indeed, Besmara has an elegant solution to the problem of what her Herald would look like. It's not a crew on a ship, or a sea monster, or a singular captain, it's a ship made of a sea monster which captains itself and utilizes a crew of zombie sailors when needed. Despite it's skeletal appearance and ghoulish powers, the Kelpie's Wrath is as alive as any demon or dragon, though it can passably imitate the feared ghost ships which haunt the seas at night, able to conjure ghostly lights (Dancing Lights), fearful sights (Major Image), and zombie fights (summoning a crew of up to 20 draugr) seemingly at a whim and wielding terrifying, spectral weapons and even whole ghostly creatures as though they were limbs. Many crews who've found themselves in its sights mistakenly believe its illusions and conjured zombies to be the real threats, unaware that the ship itself is their true enemy... and even if they did, it's unlikely to help.

Have you ever fought an enemy that was its own stage hazard? You don't want to, especially if that enemy can Plane Shift or Teleport with you in tow... or just immediately dive underwater. Though you have to fail a DC 18 Will save to be shanghai'd into another plane, having a ship suddenly teleport out from under you or dive a hundred feet underwater and drag you behind it is a real danger regardless of the situation, and it puts you at a huge disadvantage if you can't immediately clamber back aboard YOUR ship, fly, or walk on water. And if the phantom ship resurfaces right next to you...

Actually, what am I talking about? "If?" No, when. It's a pirate in service to the Queen of Pirates, and pirates are quite famous for never fighting fair. If you find yourselves prey to the Kelpie's Wrath, it's going to use every trick it has in the most underhanded ways it can. Let's take a look at what that entails...

We'll start with the obvious: It's an entire ship. Nearly a hundred feet long and hovering around 25 to 30 feet wide, the Wrath is a battlefield unto itself, but you absolutely do not want to stand on it to fight, because that's just asking for a terrible death. Engaging it from afar means you 'only' have to deal with its 40ft space and 30ft reach, denoting which part of itself it's focusing on defending, which is still a radius that covers most traditional battle maps entirely. Because you're only ever going to be encountering the Wrath on the high seas (regardless of what world or plane those seas are on), staying out of its reach is practically impossible unless you're using Pathfinder's rules for ship combat to engage it with a vessel of your own (WARNING: Do Not Do This), and you will inevitably be forced into melee with it... and then, unfortunately, forced onto it, which as previously mentioned is almost certain doom.

Everything within the Wrath's threat radius is subject to its trio of incorporeal touch attacks, which manifest as immense clawed hands, ghostly weapons, spectral sailors, and skeletal sea beasts of ages past, each one raking over the ship's target for 3d6 untyped damage plus 3d6 Electricity AND 3d6 Fire damage. The primary danger presented by these phantoms is that the party may not immediately know what's going on or recognize just how the attack works; the Wrath can conjure a crew of draugr to fight atop it AND it can use Major Image at any point within its reach, letting it clutter up the battlefield with obstacles which present no true danger to the party but which it can use as vectors for its incorporeal attacks, potentially making a party member out uselessly against illusions, insubstantial phantoms, and inconsequential minions.

Muddying the waters further, Wrath can use Seeming 3/day to swath its draugr sailors in magical disguises to make them appear more important than they truly are. Able to communicate telepathically, the ship can give complex orders to its entire crew at once to run baffling distractions or attack in tandem with it to make them seem like true threats, a tactic especially useful if the party doesn't yet recognize the ship is alive (or foolishly believes that only the skeletal figurehead is alive). Kelpie's Wrath thrives on sowing confusion when it attacks, and a DM would do well to remember that, describing its attacks and abilities in terms which feel ambiguous, like they could be coming from anywhere, like that one fancy draugr at the ship's helm that's dressed up like the captain or the strange balls of light dancing along its sails.

Even if the party feels like something is wrong, they'll have to go with their gut on this one; magic is unreliable when fighting the vile ship. Not because of any aura or unique ability it has, but because its space/reach means it can make extremely good use of its Disruptive and Spellbreaker feats, the former making it more difficult to cast spells defensively while in its threat radius (which is everywhere), the latter provoking Attacks of Opportunity if you fail the check to cast defensively.

Its touch attacks aren't just bad because of the damage, either. Being hit with two or more of them in a round lets it Keelhaul the unfortunate victim, repositioning them as a free action. Now, a reposition is a Combat Maneuver, which means it has to roll a CMB check versus the target's CMD. The average CMD of a 10th level Human Fighter is hovering anywhere between 25 and 35 depending on if they dumped Dex (WARNING: Do Not Do This) or got ahold of Str boosting items, and let's see what the Kelpie's Wrath has for its CMB...

+41?!

ah, right, Colossal size. This thing can juggle most players. Hope your party cohesion didn't rely on people being in specific positions!

In case you're not sure how the maneuver works: if you're repositioned, the attacker can shunt you into another space so long as that space is A) Within their reach, and B) within 5ft of your previous space... but for every 5 points the attacker's CMB check beats your CMD, that's another 5ft of movement. Now, remember how gigantic the Wrath's threat radius is? That's a LOT of potential spaces you can be shuttled into, and every 5ft you're moved from its Keelhaul you take an additional 1d6 damage because it's literally using your face to scrape barnacles and algae off itself. Keelhaul is an especially potent ability if used on the high seas, because the ability specifically states that it can use its repositions to drag victims underwater, forcing them into the ever-dreaded underwater combat scenario. Even if you've got Water Walk or Fly on, it can still shove you right into the drink if it beats your CMD by enough, forcing you to waste precious time getting back into the fight... if only to push you back down again, because pirates don't fight fair.

Also, Keelhaul specifically states "a creature hit with two or more of its attacks in 1 round," meaning AoOs and other off-turn attacks count. If you take one hit during its turn and then get schmacked because you triggered Spellbreaker or its Combat Reflexes, you're going into the soup.

If it doesn't want a victim in the sea, it also has the option to shove creatures directly into the center of its space, at which point victims are automatically dragged into its cargo hold and battered by treasure and captured supplies. This is treated as the swallow whole ability, victims taking 1d10+7 damage until they can get out, but it's not especially obvious what's going on, meaning players might waste their time trying to find an exit door out of the cargo hold or try to clamber back out the unyielding door when the 'proper' solution is to make a new door.

If the party manages to find out that swinging at the phantom limbs and illusions is useless, attacking the ship below their feet isn't exactly easy. The Kelpie's Wrath is magically reinforced, having an AC of 30 (hint: target its measly 6 touch AC) and DR 10/Lawful. It's got 30 Resistance to Acid, Cold, and Electricity, as well as 10 Fire Resistance and, of course, if you find yourselves managing to get past its defenses to outpace its Fast Healing 10, it can still suddenly poof away to rebuild, and if you think you can just use Dimensional Anchor or similar, it can still pop its once-per-minute Rush to crank its swim speed from 60ft to 150ft for one round, diving to the sea floor in a single round to give itself breathing room... and potentially taking breathing room from whatever schmucks are trapped in its hold.

And you know what? I've typed down... 12 entire paragraphs without even touching the Wrath's ranged options. This was on purpose! Because the Wrath is meant to get right up next to the ship it's attacking, and has every tool it needs to do so, including the ability to turn itself and its crew invisible 3/day or shroud its entire space with magical fog. Compared to all the shenanigans it can pull to get into melee and then make everyone wish it didn't, its ranged attacks need a little more preparation and math on the part of the DM, something they may not want to do on top of everything else it's already got. This is because its only ranged attack is using Telekinesis to hurl a storm of whatever garbage it's amassed at targets within 180ft of itself.

The Wrath can catapult up to 375 pounds of objects or creatures in a single action, not only allowing it to throw actual ammunition (which deals a flat 1d6 damage per 25 lbs; max 15d6 for a full weight object), but whatever it may have on hand or in its hold that it doesn't especially value. Since it can use Telekinesis at will and the spell itself has a tremendous range, there's no reason for it to ever run out of ammo, as it can simply dredge stones and wreckage from the sea floor and ferry it into its stores for later... but of course, there's nothing stopping it from using its enemies own cargo against it, or even lifting its enemies directly and throwing them around with nothing more than a thought. Most Medium-sized Humanoids weigh between 150 and 200 pounds, letting the Wrath snatch up two people at a time to toss around like ragdolls, including straight into the air if it wants.

There's something to be said about it hurling things far more dangerous than bricks and cannonballs, though, like casks of oil and a lantern, or barrels of Green Slime, or its own zombie crewmates. The Long range of Telekinesis also means it can get up to some pretty dangerous shenanigans if an enemy ship gets just a little too close, as it can pilfer cargo from a range, loose sails, send weapons hurling into the seas, or even spin cannons around just as they're about to fire if it readies an action to do so. Much like its phantom weapons, its telekinetic power helps make its illusions and zombie sailors all the more realistically threatening, adding to the confounding puppet show it puts on to throw people off.

The Kelpie's Wrath is one of the most dangerous Heralds a party to encounter, because they're going to encounter it on the seas (one of the most dangerous environments to fight in), AND they're not likely to even know it's nearby until it's dragging their crew to a watery grave. Even if they do, a DM can play up the possibility of it being a ghost ship for a while before any of them wise up to what they're really fighting, by which point someone might already be neatly folded and packed away in Davey Jones' Locker. It's not only dangerous for what it can do, but why it does what it does; most Heralds are only encountered if a god is offended, or has sent them on an important mission, but the Kelpie's Wrath freely wanders all creation in its off hours, attacking vessels with wild and greedy abandon. It's one of the few Heralds that an unlucky party may just randomly encounter, and thus have no possible way to prepare for.

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