#adoring warlock all at the same time?

[gender-luster]

do you have any idea how hard it is playing bg3 when you're a queer multigender aspec? there are too many goddamn choices. i wanna be a lesbian. i want to be a gay twink who gets topped by a bear (both definitions of that word would fit in this case, ahem...) i wanna be a bisexual(+) menace. i wanna be aroace i wanna aroallo i wanna be able to get the spicy stuff without the whole "companions falling in love with me" issues. i want to be romantic. i want to make a polycule out of my entire crew, but they don't like each other enough for that even if they all swung that way. not even to mention all the gender stuff goin on as well

[theelfsongbard]

Jealous Astarion Drabbles

Cw: brief mention of breeding

Word count: 1235 words

Astarion glares daggers through the canvas of his tent in your general direction. He hated the way you made him feel weak and uneasy. Every reassurance, each offer extended to him to drink from you, the way your kindness weaves its way into little unnecessary niceties that you give your companions. He couldn’t understand why your actions threatened to make him fall for an illusion of trust. There must be a catch to all of this. There always is, he just hasn’t found it yet. You are an unexpected problem because despite his racing mind telling him otherwise, he can feel himself slipping into complacency around you. He finds himself enjoying your company beyond what is needed for a mere travelling companion and he *burns* with a feral desire that he doesn’t understand. He wants to claim you as his own, to fill you and be the only one who can know the whole of you inside and out. Every draw of blood that he takes is a battle to temper his own imaginations before he loses control of his carefully crafted facade.

He wants to act quickly and secure you to him as soon as possible, for he sees the lingering affection in the wizard’s eyes when you draw near. *Competition* is all that repeats in his mind like a resounding threat of a challenge. He doesn’t like Gale, and Gale doesn’t seem to like him, even if it’s not for the same reason. He chooses to believe it is though, only because it fuels his want for you, even in the unsteady waters of his burgeoning emotions.

For now though, he has more pressing urges to attend to and the straining in his trousers just will *not* do.

~~~

The days pass with ever increasing tension for Astarion. Despite the unusually sunny weather they were experiencing that he usually adored, Astarion was feeling absolutely wretched. Wretched and angry. And on top of that, his campmates thought he was jealous. He scoffed as he sat on the ground beside you and Gale, dressing his kill just as you instructed and taught him. Jealousy? It could not be further from the truth.

He was not jealous when he came back from his hunt with his prize only to find you dancing with Wyll. He was not jealous when he saw the way he pulled you close enough for your lips to brush and he was certainly not jealous when The Blade invited you to *practice his swordplay* later on. If he were being honest, Wyll was a man worthy of making anyone swoon, even Astarion. If only his moral compass were less of an impediment, he may have thrown himself at Wyll. But this was the hand he was dealt, and the Blade was threatening his little bid for protection from you. After all, how could he win his favour if he wasn't *The Favourite* in your eyes?

But the way Wyll’s eyes trailed after you as you sauntered over to assess his kill and the way he had put his hands around your waist just moments before made him want to rend the monster hunter to pieces and to announce to him that you were *his* territory. When you weren't looking, he made sure to send what he hoped was a frightening enough message to the warlock, baring his fangs for good measure.

Now, sandwiched between the idle conversation you shared with Gale, he couldn't see how his life could get any worse. His list of competitors was growing and given your warm reception to both, it would only be a matter of time before someone initiated a romantic relationship with you. Astarion was a seducer and had no idea what to do to romance someone. But clearly, it was time for him to start learning if he wanted to make things work. Either that, or it was high time that he started disposing of some of his less savoury companions. The sound of your laughter, genuine and untamed as Gale recounts his shenanigans with his cat is enough to convince him of it.

As his hands work mindlessly, his thoughts drift to something more fun. The smell of you sitting so close beside him sends a pang of familiarity down to his gut and at the same time fills him with arousal and passionate imagination. He thinks of how you might look stretched around his manhood, keening with pleasure as he thrusts into you, filling you full until you're overflowing, over and over until your mess becomes the proof to the entire camp that you are spoken for.

He imagines you below him and on top and all the delicious ways he might have you, wants to nuzzle into your breasts and drink from you as he loses himself in the pleasures of your flesh. And for the first time in an eternity, he even wants to lie with you, holding you close to him your back to his chest, keeping your safe and tucked against him for all eternity. Something stirs in him and he isn't sure if he likes it. This is too tender, too vulnerable and another weakness that he doesn't need.

He's only doing this for protection. Nothing more and nothing less. These are just part of his plans to seduce you, he’s only sorting out the details to make sure everything is perfect.

Mildly, he’s aware of the twitching in his trousers and the slight wetness dribbling from within. Excusing himself rapidly, he stalks off to the forest, away from prying eyes to indulge himself a little. All these thoughts are so distracting and it would do him no good if his campmates saw him in such an unbecoming state.

He needs to be alone for a little while. Yes, he just needs to clear his head because he doesn't need to be thinking about you when he has Cazador, a tadpole and his protection to contend with. But trying times call for trying measures and when he makes sure that he’s far away enough to not be heard or seen, he loosens the ties of his trousers just enough to slip himself free. Already, he knows that he’s going to need a trip down to the river to wash his undergarments, soaked with his arousal as it is. But he can't seem to find himself annoyed by his predicament.

Leaning against a tree, he closes his eyes, wrapping his hand around his length and stroking himself to the thought of you. Imagines you taking him in hand or into your mouth. But his hand is corpse cold, so void of the flush of life you have in you that it brings him back to reality with a growl of frustration. This is nothing compared to how you would feel around him.

And so with increasing vigour he rubs one out, alone and cold in the forest, watching as his seed dribbles and spurts out, landing in the dirt. Wasted. How he would love to stuff you full with it, right up to the brim, keeping it inside you until your belly starts to swell with the evidence of what he has done to you.

If only you knew what kind of effect you had on him. Maybe you would take pity and indulge him.

[dragonfly0808]

How Daphne Haunts the Narrative

I love the concept of a character haunting the narrative. Just… ugh I can’t even explain it.

My favorite examples of this are Sejannus and Lucy Gray in the Hunger Games.

I always found the concept of Daphne to be a very interesting one in the OG, this girl who was a Nymph and an amazing fairy sacrificing it all for her sister and winding up a ghost in a lake.

But I felt like that concept was never used to it’s full potential.

So… I tried to do just that.

In my rewrite, Daphne is almost this larger-than-life entity. She wasn’t just Bloom’s sister. 

She was an amazing fairy in her own right, she was a Nymph and the best Guardian of the Dragon Flame that’d been seen in centuries. On top of all of that, she was a dedicated Princess.

That’s part of what makes her tragic, she was the best, and she was still taken down.

Now, Daphne’s situation isn’t what I would call a proper haunting of the narrative, but she’s definetly very present in the way that, in some way or another, almost everything leads back to her.

Bloom is haunted by the idea of having to live up to Daphne, the more she learns about her sister the more she feels like she won’t be able to do just that. 

Bloom’s haunted by the memory everyone has of her sister, everyone who remembers Daphne has an insane level of respect for her and misses her dearly. That’s something that can intimidate Bloom from time to time and even make her jealous.

Then, there’s the fact that, if Domino hadn’t fallen and Daphne hadn’t been cursed, then Bloom wouldn’t even be a fairy in the first place.

Daphne gave up, not just the Flame but also a big part of her own power in order to keep Bloom safe and give her the power she would need to be the Guardian of the Flame.

Due to this, Bloom is haunted by guilt and resentment. Guilt due to the fact that pretty much everything she has could technically be seen as something that was ‘taken’ from Daphne. There comes the guilt, which then meets… resentment. Guilty resentment towards Daphne for giving her the Flame and being the action that drops the dominoes towards arguably every bad thing in Bloom’s life.

So, Bloom’s view and relationship of/with Daphne, is complicated to say the least.

This is something I love, since it allows for Bloom’s complex feelings to turn into something that I feel a lot of little sisters can relate to, just the confusion of loving and adoring your sister but also feeling jealousy and resentment and just, not being sure whether you should be like them and trying to be your own person when you have the same teachers… I think it’s kinda relatable in a way. If you take away all the magical shenanigans of course.

This is how Daphne haunts Bloom specifically, but this is named after the narrative, so how does Daphne haunt the very narrative of Veiled Wings?

That, is a very interesting question that has a bit of a complicated answer.

There are two ways in which Daphne haunts the narrative.

The first is ala Star Wars; the story ‘rhyming’. I don’t know if you’ve watched this very old interview with George Lucas but he said something along the lines of “the story rhymes”, what this means is that the same beats occur in the story, in opposite or contrasting ways. They ‘rhyme’.

This is what happens with Daphne and Bloom, in a sense, their stories rhyme.

Both grow up a bit lonely, both find their heart and soul in Alfea. Both make life-long friends there. Bloom finds her connections with fellow fairies while Daphne preffered witches and warlocks and Palladins.

They meet Tabitha and Stella, both with similar personalities but opposite powers. Avalon and Timmy, with the same habit of diving head first into research about anything they’re passionate about and being just a little (unapologetically) weird.

Then there’s their romances. Both Daphne and Bloom have tragedies as romances. Daphne and Valtor started off great, it was their ending that was oh so tragic. While, for Bloom and Sky, it’s Valtor that turns them into a tragedy in the middle of their relationship.

Politea and Selina, both dear friends lost to inner darkness.

Bloom’s story parallels a lot of Daphne’s. (Even if a lot of it is stuff that I just made up that hasn’t really been mentioned or explained).

The second way in which Daphne haunts the narrative, is that, like I mentioned before, almost everything leads back to Daphne in some way or another.

A lot of the villains or people we encounter have ties to her or are situations that she began/participated in in some kind of way.

Darkar was created in part due to Daphne. Darkar attacks Daphne, in turn, Valtor curses him and he becomes the red skeleton we know and love. Daphne is his origin story.

Before Bloom fought Icy, Daphne fought Icy’s cousin and her coven, who was the first to awaken the Ancestral Witches spirit. That is one parallel that I really like just, adding to the fight even if neither Icy nor Bloom are fully aware of the history of previous family also fighting.

Teachers we know (Griselda, Tabitha and Avalon most of all though Codatorta and Palladium also fall here) were once friends with Daphne.

Valtor’s entire reason for fighting is avenging and trying to bring back Daphne. And of course, the Ancestral Witches are locked away in time back in Domino as Daphne’s final act as a warrior. 

The end of Daphne’s story sets up the world the Winx start off in.

In a sense, all roads lead back to her.

The narrative can’t escape Daphne’s past actions, her choices, her story rhymes with Bloom’s and a lot of what happens in the story happens due to Daphne’s past and things that she once did.

I always felt like she was never fully utilized in the OG show and I really wanted to have her be a nearly constant presence, I wanted her to be perhaps even more than a ghost.

And thus, the idea of her haunting the narrative and Bloom.

[pouralaura]

I wanted to ask you this because I adore your Tav and how you write Raphael. Seriously I can’t get enough of them together. ♥️

We all talk about finding Raphael’s diary, but what if he found Tav’s? Tav who’s all prideful and teases him, acts like they’re not interested in him. Keeps their guard up, ya know? But he snatches up their diary and uncovers that they are anything but uninterested…

Basically just constant gushing, all of those embarrassing, obsessed, horny thoughts written down that Tav would rather die than admit to. ESPECIALLY to Raphael.

Thank you so much for the kind words! I love to write em mutually obsessed in the worst way. down so bad. 24/7 gross about each other.

here's a little something

--

Tav is out.

She's traipsing about with her companions (far less interesting than she; nuisances toward whom Raphael simply can't help his indifference) around the city, so it's a perfect time to do a bit of reconnaissance. Normally he'd demand this of Korrilla, but he is quite fond of Tav.

And sending Korrilla into Tav's private rooms at the Elfsong won't be quite enough this time. Some clients require a more personal touch -- more exclusive scrutiny.

(And, if he happens to find a delicious little morsel during his perusal through Tav's personal items, perhaps all the better.)

...Also helpful to have his little warlock downstairs to keep watch, just in case his target returns unexpectedly.

So: yes, Tav is out, and Raphael is in. He's poofed into her little bedroom, surveyed her meager possessions, and found...

...what has he found? Not much. Some emptied bottles and a wine glass that ought to be washed, a few books here and there in various states of being read, some dirtied laundry (but in a literal sense, not really what he's looking for).

There is, however, a small leather-bound volume on Tav's nightstand. Unassuming. Perhaps a journal.

He flips open to the most recent page, half-full of Tav's blocky print, and he discovers he's correct. Her writing is smudged inelegantly where he presumes she's rested the heel of her hand against the paper as she moves along. It's poor penmanship. Raphael tuts in disappointment.

But then he takes in the actual content of the page, and...

It's quite the discovery.

Oh, there's no mention of illithids anywhere. No reference to the Astral Plane, or their travels along the Sword Coast beyond a few landscape details. Not even a single acknowledgement of the long-awaited death of Ketheric Thorm.

No, it's something else entirely.

Her language is tentative and blushing at first, but grows more and more lewd as the paragraphs wind on. Such a hard-headed woman -- it's not a compliment -- headstrong and obstinate, keen and incisive...and she might as well have written a name in looping cursive surrounded by hearts all over these pages.

But what name? A lover from her past? Surely not one of her little friends.

Who is this man, who's clearly enchanted her so thoroughly? Tav writes of warm brown eyes and curls she'd like to touch and oh she knows he's absolutely fucking packing under those ugly-ass trousers --

Positively troglodytic language from his favorite little mouse. Raphael scoffs. How curious he is now to uncover the source of her more basal fantasies (aspersions cast on attire clearly notwithstanding). He flips another page, and scans the contents he finds.

Something tells me that man likes the sound of his own name more than anything. I'd say it all he wanted if I could have his mouth on me.

Raphael tastes iron and brimstone as he bites down on his tongue. His piercing gaze darts to the opposite page.

Would hate to stifle his sinful voice, though, even with it between my legs. Wonder if he'd sound the same with his cock buried so far in me he'd cum out my damn nose -- "Little mouse", he'd groan for me --

...

The devil blinks.

Well, well, well.

So it's he whom the hero of the story fancies so intensely, is it, now? Usually so quick to brush him off, to turn up her nose at his delivery...but ah, how her writing contradicts her demeanor. What a find. What a delight. Raphael's shit-eating grin nearly rivals his erection in size. (Also, yes, he's obviously packing; the little mouse is entirely correct. As if he'd glamour himself a small human cock.)

But he's not able to bask in this delicious revelation for long, as he feels the press of Korrilla's signature sending spell at the edge of his mind, signaling Tav's return to the inn. Much as he'd love to read more -- perhaps alongside a glass of wine, a hot bath, and the willing, pliant flesh of his pretty incubus (in the form of the Archduchess tonight, he thinks, as his cock aches) -- it's time to vacate the premises.

Carefully he replaces the leather-bound volume on Tav's bedside table exactly as he'd found it, snaps his fingers, and he's gone in a puff of smoke and glittering sparks. As if he'd never been there at all.

--

It's not a week later when he sees her again at the Caress, come to ask another question and draw out her inevitable agreement to his terms once again.

(He's in no hurry. He's not the one with a ticking time bomb in his pretty mortal head.)

It's not until she gets up to leave, her little friends in tow --

"See you later, Raphael."

-- that he makes his move. Stands with them as is polite, sweeps around elegantly to Tav's side as she follows her companions to the door.

Raphael places a hand delicately at the small of her back, giving her pause. Leans in close to her ear, pitching his voice low:

"How I do love the sound of my name more than almost anything else, little mouse. Particularly when it comes from your mouth."

Fingertips drift down further, tracing the line of Tav's hip to a point between decent and indecent -- the lightest of touches; almost-but-not-quite a caress. Raphael watches a flush travel from the apples of the mouse's cheeks down her neck, its trail further hidden by the unfortunately high line of her leather armor.

He thinks he's got her, but then she looks up to meet his eyes, and there's laughter behind her gaze as she delivers her line and exits stage left.

"The quilting on your trousers is ugly as all the Hells."

The devil is left bereft of words as Tav skips off to join the vampling and the Selunite at the door, casting one last (heated? mocking? both?) glance back at him. A wink in exchange for the sneering curl of his lip -- a rose for his thorns; a thorn for his roses.

But his scorn melts into a smirk when she disappears from sight. If it's more than a bit fond, who's to say?

He does love it when his clients put up a fight.

Perhaps he'll bring her to her knees in more ways than one. Give her an eyeful of the expensive quilting she seems to despise so passionately.

[jenyifer]

Hum I realized I haven’t shared any of my book recs on here. I know I should watch new bl. I plan on finding something in June.

Since I got broken up I’ve been reading lgbt books. My ex gf had been showing me things about being lgbt that I had never imagined before and without her I still wanted to learn to experience different stories. So I used my love of fantasy and sci-fi and started listening and reading as much as I could. I don’t really care for overly spicy things but I like when the characters are realistic adults. So keep that in mind with this list.

1. The House in the Cerulean Sea 10/10 Fantasy great characters and mc growth. Found family always gets me. The ending was perfect. I’ve listened to it 15 times and forced my parents and uncle to read it. I’m excited for book 2.

2. The Darkness Outside of Us. 10/10 Sci-fi Space. This book made me feel so much. Surprised me. Had me gasping for air in my cube to the point people had to ask if I was okay. Had me running to the car to cry as I listened to the last part. Go in blind and enjoy the space and gay of it all.

3. Dark Rise 10/10 Classic Fantasy It is incredibly rare any book surprises me. Most of the time I can guess the plot a mile away. Dark Rise hit me over the head a couple times had me crying. But it was so epic and adventurous reminded of the feeling I had reading David Eddings as a child. (Not that lgbt as I would have liked but… it was there I assume book 2 a lot more)

4. Iron Widow 10/10 Sci-fi Mechs Fantasy Post Apocalypse I adore a mechs and history. It was extremely exciting. I adore the main couple even though main girl is actually mentally unstable but you love her anyways.

5. The Extraordinaries 9/10 Superhero. The main character is lovably stupid aside from his ADHD which I can relate on. I loved the lesbian side couple. The story was fun felt like it was written for the early college me who loved superheroes.

5. Adam Binder Series White Trash Warlock 9/10. Urban Fantasy. It gives me flash backs to Harry Dresden and Iron Druid but not in the obvious way just in vibe. I love main characters being country. I’m from Mississippi not Oklahoma but I can relate to being a gay in a small town moving to a big city. I love the main couple. The mystery magic system was interesting. I wish it had a bit more romance actually. Just because I love the main couple and side characters a lot and want happiness. I wish I could get more people to read this one it’s wonderful a lot better than a lot of urban str8 fantasy I’ve read and it was my main category for years. The mystery element was decent. I need to start book 3.

6. Ocean’s Echo 8.5/10 sci-fi mystery the main characters are… so wonderful. They are extreme but I love them so much. I’ll protect them to the end of days. I have this book over it’s… I guess in the same universe book Winter’s Orbit because I think the mystery suspense is more intense in Ocean’s echo also much more spacey sci-fi. Romance is also arranged marriage but is VERY different from winters orbit. I wish… I wish this book wasn’t associated with the other because it gets unfairly compared because the narrator is the same etc but Ocean’s Echo is great in its own right and is definitely not a copy

7. Winter’s Orbit 8.5/10 MYSTERY sci-fi edging on fantasy. Arranged marriage. Slow burn. These characters are also 10/10 I love them. I have experienced an abusive relationship before and appreciated seeing a character with the scars a similar past. Often if a character is portrayed as in an abusive relationship they focus on the event but it effects Everything in your world. Even now I have these scars after 8 years. I loved the mystery it was the main focus which I liked. The romance felt natural.

8. Fragile Remedy 8/10 one of the first books I read it made me cry and was a good single dystopian gem. Had a real… divergent hunger games kind of vibe to the world from what I remember.

9. Lightning struck heart 7/10 classic fantasy this is what I said on my insta at the time “It is an extremely comedic fantasy adventure with wizards, unicorns, knights, and dragons. Right up my alley! However the ending was disappointing. I'll listen to the next book in the series and hope it improves. Just found character arch unbelievable in last chapters.”

10. A wish upon a star by tj klune ^follow up books I read like 4 of them 5/10 I did stop listening to it this is what I said on my insta “Well I continued listening the tales of verania series and made it to the original end of the series. I'd say if you want a gay fantasy comedy without too much thinking Listen to the audio. Narrator is the biggest part of why I didn't quit. Idk if I'll read the other books though it is very friendship is magic smooth brain ideas I've read”

Unable to finish (been desperately trying to find a lesbian story and finding nothing)

Girl, Serpent, Thorn 4/10 my review from insta “Unable to finish it. The world is interesting. The first 3rd seemed promising but after major conflict the writing goes way down. But the MC doesn't grow. The f/f is so shallow it made me roll my.eyes until I had to stop listening. Wanted the bad guy to win and kill everyone”

The Midnight Girls. So intensely annoying and childish. I couldn’t do it I think I made it to chapter 3 but it was a struggle.

In the ravenous dark. I got to one third of the audio book and had to stop. The universe was okay but main girl was very annoying. Was kind of hoping her and the ghost would be together not… not the weird bullshit that was going on. Idk what the end of the book was going to be but it was not for me.

I’ll post another with my current to read list. I’m really going through them now because I have to drive two hours a day to and from work. Give me your suggestions though please thank you.

[nemo-in-wonderland]

There's such a sad love Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel Open and closed Within your eyes I'll place the sky Within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart Beatin' so fast In search of new dreams A love that will last Within your heart I'll place the moon Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through Makes no sense for you Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all But I'll be there for you-ou-ou As the world falls down

Falling As the world falls down Falling Falling in love

"AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN" - Labyrinth

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

SO.

I was listening to some very perfect music a few days ago, music that ended up fuelling this VERY self-indulgent Mephistea Artwork and of course, as it always happens when I listen to music, the brain starts working and branching out with ideas would go very well with an idea that has been brewing in my brain ever since I drew the whole " sudden proposal" from Mephisto to Aranea.

And my brain cannot stop thinking that Mephisto's corruption of Aranea would start VERY early on.

Like, we are talking "as soon as Aranea is done with her vengeance" early on.

So, between the moment when Aranea signed her contract with Mephisto and the moment she exacts her revenge for Halim's death, I calculated it would pass around 5 years, that Aranea would spend in Cania to study *directly* underneath Mephisto himself (it was one of the clause of the contract that she herself had put. She reckoned that her soul would be lost anyway, so, in for a penny, in for a pound).

During those 5 years, Mephisto would start taking an interest in this curious Warlock of his, who was SO hyperfixated in acquiring as much power as possible to destroy the people that had taken Halim from her in the cruelest way possible.

Like, I love to imagine that in those five years, he saw in Aranea the same kind of focuse, obssessive need that often pervaded himself as well; the same kind of relentless mania; the same fury and ruthless ferocity that he felt deep within his soul each time he tried to overthrow Asmodeus.

And this left him quite enrupture with Aranea.

So, I like to imagine that, sometimes after Aranea was done with her vengeance, he would actually start to plan his moves to have more than just her soul.

He wanted to corrupt her in her entirety, so that she would match his soul completely.

AND THAT'S WHEN REALIZED THAT "AS THE WORLD FALLS DOWN" WAS JUST *PERFECT FOR THEM, AT THAT STAGE OF HER RELATIONSHIP.

The lyrics, the music, the whole scene was *precisely* how I imagine Mephisto would behave with still innocent Aranea (which is why I drew her with shorter hair and a bit younger than how I usually draw her).

How he would organize a ball for the sake of parading his prized warlock around, when, in truth, he started his seduction of her, his call toward his darkest side, with him whispering in her mind while she constantly looking for him through the crowd, moved by something she cannot, for the love of her, understand nor explain.

And well, if you know this part of Labyrinth, then you know precisely what the atmosphere would be!

And by the gods, these two have me by the throat fml.

I adore them so much. SO MUCH.

Also, fml, am living for their height difference and I like to imagine that Mephisto gave her one of the heaviest dresses possible, so that the only way she could dance if she is dancing with him.

That being said, now I will go to sleep a bit because I was up until late to finish this and I am *tired*.

But I hope you will like it anyway! <3

--Nemo

[yinora-evergreen]

It’s sort of a comedy ship idea. Dead Boy Detectives Cat King x reader, Edwin’s alive relative who is a warlock. In the UK they were nicknamed curse breaker and helped the boys on their cases. Unfortunately no matter how hard they try they can’t get the bracelet off Edwin. The Cat King finds their attempts hilarious……the warlock confronts him and tells him to knock off the mockery!

Warlock: “If you don’t release Edwin I swear I will-!”

Cat King: “Sorry little magician but I’m not a common being, spells don’t work on me. Nice try though and you look so adorable when you’re angry.”😼

pairing: the Cat King x Payne! alive! warlock! gn! reader, Edwin Payne x alive! relative! gn! reader, Charles Rowland x platonic! reader

a/n: i wasn't sure how to add romantic attraction to this so i tried to keep it so it's implied, i hope it's as you hoped!

ps: i tried to write warlock! reader as accurate as possible, but it's probably not perfect, so excuse any inacuracies and feel free to point them out!

Edwin's first though when he got back to Crystak's 'apartment' with that damned bracelet was that you could get it off, right?

so, Charles mirror-travelled to where you said you'd be if you were available, a specific backroom in an abandoned warehouse that you called home.

you kept a mirror there just for them, as it happened more often than they'd like to admit that they needed you to break a curse or needed your magic expertise.

so when Charles practically barged in to drag you to Port Townsend, you weren't exactly surprised.

untill you saw why they needed you.

you happened to already be familiar with the Cat King, as you had a time or two when you had to visit the town for a client needing a spell done, or removed.

you walked into the room with Charles, seeing Crystal practically covering her ears as Edwin banged the bracelet against the different furniture and pipes in the room.

"hey Edwin, what's the problem?" you inquired and he seemed to be relieved.

"take this off, as quick as you can." you raised an eyebrow at him, one he knew all too well.

"...please..." "ofcourse, i can try, do you mind giving me some info on how you even got it in the first place?" you say as you take his wrist and look at the golden bracelet, a vague sense of recognition washing over you and you touch it.

"well, i used a simple, utterly harmless binding spell on a cat, and-"

"you used a spell on a CAT?!" you practically yell, already feeling the vague headache you'd get from the Cat King.

"well, yes, and i do realize it wasn't the best idea, now that i have this inconvenient bracelet" he says in an annoyed tone.

"and let me guess, you got to meet the nuisance that is the Cat King?"

"you know of him?" Edwin asks in a slightly surprised tone.

"ofcourse i know him, he's a pain in my ass" you mutter.

you turn to Crystal, a forced smile on your face which seems more like you're on your last strand of sanity.

"it would be best if you'd take a step back, if this spell backfires it might disintegrate your skin" you say it so casually you can see her confusion with a hint of fear on her face.

"and yours won't? you seem pretty alive to me" she comments, though she does take a step or two back.

"i'm a warlock, i have the influence of a demon in my magic and that very same demon allows me to be able to suffer through higher temperatures without being in any physical pain, so don't you worry about me" you say as you wrap your hand around the bracelet, murmering some words in latin as your hand starts to glow a red-ish orange, though even after over 30 seconds it does absolutely nothing to the bracelet, much to your annoyance.

"well, that seems to have worked splendidly" Edwin comments, instantly receiving a glare from you.

"just, do whatever he told you to do to get it off, i'll go pay mr whiskers a visit" you grumble.

you walk out, speed-walking to the place where you've found the cat king before, much to your luck you actually find him too.

before he can say anything, you start talking.

"if you don't release Edwin i swear i will-"

"sorry, little magician, but i'm not a common being, spells don't work on me. Nice try though, you look so adorable when you're angry"

the tone that he uses makes you want to punch that little smug grin right off his stupid face.

"you're such a nuisance, i hope you lose another one of your nine lives like last time" you grit out through clenched teeth.

"you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid~" the Cat King nearly purrs, which only irks you even more.

"fuck you, and your cats, and those stupid eyes of you and your stupid hair" you practically yell, which makes him put on a fake, pained expression.

"oh no! not my cats, dearest warlock" he laughs, his mocking tone making your blood boil and your cheeks turn red, though as much as you deny it he does have his appeal.

"just, don't inconvenience me even more, asshole" you mumble as you turn to leave, and as you walk away you hear him yell after you.

"come see me whenever you like, i promise i'll make it worth it!"

[alexanderlightweight]

I miss writing. I miss malec

I plot in my head every night but it’s not the same.

I miss writing about how Magnus and Alec tease and find and appreciate and murder for each other and how much they love each other.

I miss Team Immortal and how Magnus and Cat and Ragnor and magical rituals and the spiral labyrinth politics and the finer elements of magical and warlock culture and

I miss diving into world building with magical botony and zoology and thread magic to pocket dimensions. How magic isn’t equal and there’s different levels and wild nature magic. The way that while the spiral labyrinth has changed and evolved, that it still holds to the very oldest of rituals. Everything carefully and continually read by each new Elder and the acolytes of the library learn by trade. Because knowledge isn’t kept in books alone. There are singing histories and spells kept alive by enchanted pieces and the memories of those devoted to learning. Carving and thread work and rituals in tapestry or furniture.

(Because elder isn’t a title based on just age but also elder knowledge. Warlocks who especially dedicate themselves to either singular or a plethora of fields and excel at creation and learning become elders. The very best researchers and scholars of the wealth of knowledge and magical prowess. Being an elder isn’t just a perk it’s a dedication and an oath to the protection and betterment of their people. Active oaths to keep them from stagnating in the decades of immortality and aging.

If you truly start slacking or losing your way, the magic prods you. Eventually you are forced to make a choice, forsake your roll as an Elder and retract and be released from your vows. Or uphold them. )

Metalworking and leather working and the labyrinth contains it all.

I love expanding on the shadowworld and the different ways magic is used by each race and how they all separately interact with the outskirts of the mundane world.

Of figuring out how a warrior society would work and the different styles of life that could have evolved.

And how much sheer adoration and platonic love is between the three of them. And the trust.

Because even when Ragnor is ignoring Magnus (a petty fight that turned into a research binge that turned into a few more years of silence than intended while Ragnor experimented in a pocket library) Magnus is still going to show up and make sure he’s fed and hydrated because the pettiness never outweighs the care.

(Cat has spells on all their vitals and vise versa. But she sent Magnus over with an excuse around year theee when she figured Ragnor had just lost track of time. Magnus doesn’t even remember that Ragnor was being petty and Ragnor doesn’t remember the argument at all).

I miss Alec figuring out what he enjoys and that he’s allowed to enjoy.

Honestly I got a little off track but I’ve been wanting to write malec and post for so long.

I miss the interactions and comments and looking forward to new Wednesday prompts. I miss writing Wednesdays so much and I’m looking forward to starting them up again when I’m healed :/

This took about an hour to write the first time but half got deleted and had to be rewritten when Nightshade started barking outside (it’s past the neighborhood noise curfew and I had to run to grab him so we stayed polite).

Nightshade likes to go outside and ‘guard’ the house for a bit every night before his door gets locked shut for bed, but since bed is subjective to my insomnia and not his sleep schedule he sometimes goes to ‘guard’ rather late. He huffily settled in his crate, perturbed I wouldn’t let him ‘protect’ the House.

Honestly I’m just happy I can write on my phone without a ton of pain anymore.

💜 lumine

The House made a rule (without me lol I was outvoted) that every time anyone buys anything they have to consider if it’s for public House use and if it is, how likely I am to injure myself with it. Or how likely is it to randomly break and hurt me.

It’s very sweet but I hate that it says something that they all agreed. It’s also hilarious because I’m the one who does all the yard work (I’ve had to delay fertilizing for a month and had to stop PT for 3.5 weeks while it healed enough for me to go) so I have axes, clippers, trimmers I use frequently.

[razrbladekiss]

okkkkk this might be a strange request, but i vaguely remember you posting an ahs apocalypse inspired piece, and i just wonder if you can do one for joel? like… reader is one of cordelia’s witches, and joel is the michael langdon of the bunch. 👀 your old ahs shit was amazing, i CRAVE this. it doesn’t have to be smutty, just the visual of joel being literal satan is hot enough. 🔥

hey! oh, you’ve been here a very l o n g time if you remember all of that stuff 🫶🏻 but, anon, your wish is my command.

TREACHEROUS | Joel Miller

PAIRING: AHS AU antichrist!joel miller x witch!fem!reader

SUMMARY: joel is dead set on getting underneath your skin. you’re dead set on ripping his off. after the death of your supreme, you make it your mission to make joel miller pay for what he’s done.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: i’ve literally lifted THAT scene from ahs here but tweaked it so that joel is just a horny, evil lil antichrist. AHS APOCALYPSE SPOILERS (even though it’s literal years old.)🫶🏻. most character’s names have been changed for reasons. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. mentions of past sexual activities. lil bit of sexual tension. blood and blood loss. weapons. violence. some witchy magical shit. reader has hair long enough to push over her shoulder. not proof read, parts have been lifted from a previous unpublished work so sorrrrrry if there are little nicks. but enjoy, anon!

With Angelica, her downfall was predicted.

Whilst her powers had started to dwindle, to ebb away into something reminiscent of perpetual weakness, her expulsion into perdition was something that you had always predicted.

As much as you once admired your Supreme, she was a heathen. A wonderfully vindictive woman whose faculty had the potential to lay within the realms of moral righteousness, but instead nestled amongst decades of stewing villainy.

She was, by nature, evil. Completely and utterly freezing cold to the fucking bone. And you weren’t exactly sorry to see the back of her, then.

Angelica taught you a lot about the real world, how mortals viewed witches, and how warlocks had never seemed to be able to practice anything of upstanding value—which was remarkably rich, coming from her—but Sabrina was who truly bestowed any form of wisdom onto you.

She had always been the supreme, in your eyes.

Everything about the woman was completely and utterly indescribably perfect. Sabrina was the kindest, most adoring woman—let alone witch—that you had ever had the privilege of being in the mere presence of, and she could do no wrong, in your eyes.

So many sacrifices, so much she had lost to protect and care for her girls at Robichaux, and she had bounds and bounds to show for it.

Everyone passed into her care, each young woman that she was tasked with granting sanctuary to, had always walked away—or stayed—completely satisfied and ready to embark on their next endeavour with inexhaustible understanding of the powers that they beheld.

Sabrina was a perfect scholar, custodian, maternal figure.

And that was what maimed you.

“What’re you gonna do? Kill me?” Exhausted, you ask.

It’s a palpable fatigue, something that he can taste. Something that he’s feeding off because seeing you so forlorn, so hopeless is a notion so inexplicably delectable, Joel Miller struggles to reign in his lecherous urges.

“I’m fed up, Joel.”

“Oh, come on, cupcake. Don’t give in that easily.” He promises in that tone. That sweet, lustrous rhythm that’s dripping in an almost sickening sweetness. Saccharine, perhaps. “You’re more resilient than this. I know you.”

“You don’t know shit.” You defend. Snippy. 

“I know that you like sharp objects. And blood.” Joel twirls the blade—that Christine had stabbed him with some five minutes ago—between his thick, calloused fingers, and lets out a gentle hum. “You liked it when I choked and pounded you at the same time.”

Oh, Joel. Fuck—Joel.

You cringe at the thought. How he used to sneak into your room—through the fire escape next to your window—and fuck you senseless. How Joel would hold his hand over your mouth—still decorated with his spend and spit—and rut into your pussy, fast and hard. 

Many a night you would cry his name. Many a night Joel would stuff you full of his cock, and leave before you could wipe the tears from your eyes and cum from your stomach. 

And though you enjoyed it—at one very, very low point in your life—you shirk the notion. 

This is retribution. 

“The sex was good. But I’ve had better. With you, it was just stupid mistake, after stupid mistake. ” You snort a laugh. Histrionic, of course.

Joel gasps. He feigns offense, taking a step toward you for he knows that you’re lying. 

Nobody ever fucked you that good. 

“You’ve had better? All those nights were just…mistakes?” You nod. Joel licks his lips. “How come?”

“Because you’re the literal spawn of Satan, for fucks sake.” You spit, gesturing to his blood-sodden chest, hands, face. “You’re the antichrist, Joel, and you’re hellbent on destroying everything that anyone has ever loved, so why wouldn’t it have been a mistake?”

He just stands there with a small, sly smirk, dripping what seems like buckets of blood. 

“You killed everything.”

“I destroyed everything.” He corrects. “There’s a difference.”

He’s insufferable. 

You can’t believe that, once upon a time, you regarded him as high as what you did Sabrina. 

“You have killed Paris.” You ignore what he says. You’re the one walking toward him, now. “You killed my best friend, you killed Christine, and because of you—and whatever the fuck you did—my coven is dying!” 

Joel doesn’t care to figure out who is who in your little monologue. They were all just burdens, to him. Witches in his way from fighting the greater evil. 

“Baby—“

“Don’t you call me that, you bastard!”

Before he knows it, he’s being pinned against the stone-clad wall by a force so fervent, so unbelievably dominant, he struggles to comprehend that you’re the one behind it. 

This is so incredibly sexy. I wish I could just bend her over my fuckin’ knee and—

“Don’t look at me that way.” Your chest is puffed out a little bit, tits damp with blood and sweat, and Joel wants nothing more than to lick that crimson away from supple flesh. 

But he shrugs it off, hoping that he’s not appearing to be as desperate as he feels. 

“Sabrina’s favorite witch is fucking insane.” He muses, using his entire strength—every last morsel—to pull himself back to earth. 

Or, at least, to the ground. 

“Believe me, I am no match for you.” You pant, still spent. “You’re as unbalanced as they could ever possibly come.” 

Condescending, he tilts his head. “Are you flirting?”

“With you? Absolutely not.”

You take another step toward him, pushing maroon-coated strands over your left shoulder.

“With death?” You exert a soft, subtle smirk. “Always.”

“Angelica taught you well, hm?”

At that, you can find it in yourself to chuckle. Because you suppose that it holds some semblance of truth. 

Danger—the concept of fucking dying—hadn’t been much of a thought before you came face to face with your first supreme. 

You were once so mindful, so careful not to dance along the thin line separating life from death, and you’ve always been remarkably successful.

Up until today. 

“She really did.” With a sick, toothy smile, you confirm. 

Out on a complete limb and, with the power of telekinesis, you strive to snatch Joel’s weapon of choice from the confines of his fist. 

It happens too quickly. You don’t have enough time to calculate the angle with which you should catch the blade, and it cuts deep into your palm. 

You hiss at the blood loss, but you’ve got it. 

He licks his lips. 

“Angelica was a wonderful teacher.” Mimicking his earlier action, you skillfully spin the knife in your hand. “But Sabrina really taught me everything that I know.”

Joel snickers. It’s derisive. Cold. Seductive. 

“She warned me.”

“About what, baby?”

“You.” Without reluctance, you blurt. You’re mere moments away from lunging forward and slitting his fucking throat.

But you remain poised. You apply some equilibrium. Something that Sabrina had always ingrained into your mind.

“Paris did, too.” At that, Joel stills. 

What could Paris Montgomery possibly know about him?

“Well, it wasn’t so much a warning. More a divulgence of past activities.” You tease, watching the man start to fucking sweat.

Beads of perspiration fall from his temple to his cheek, glistening wickedly beneath the sparse light within the space. You notice it.

Is he getting turned on? Or is he shitting his pants?

“What you did to your poor grandmother, firstly.”

“I’d tread very carefully, if I were you.”

“Why? What’ve I got to lose now, Joel?” Your words are doused in venom, tongue blanketed with vitriol spite. You’re spitting his poison back at him.

Not many would be ballsy enough to contest him. To regurgitate his wickedness. 

But Joel’s baby is.

“She killed herself to get away from you—all the shit that you put that poor fuckin’ woman through—“

“I said enough!” He barks, stalking toward you. You can almost sense where it’s going. “Do not fucking talk about her.”

The two of you are toe to toe, now. Almost chin to chin. 

Plump lips smirk, raising the knife to rest over the placket of his shirt. Slowly, you lift it—glide it—toward his partly exposed chest.

“Why not?” Your qualm is tangled around a soft, dulcet whisper. Something that resembles comfort, almost. “You’re gonna kill me, anyway. So, what difference does it make—“

“All of the difference in the fucking world.”

You both still. Your arm drops, the blade resting against your side. Simply stunned.

“Sabrina.” Joel greets, stepping away from you. He makes his way toward the supreme, only stopping when he feels a hand tug him backward. He shrugs you off, though doesn’t dare to get any closer.

“Sabrina, I have this handled.” You—the youngest witch in the clan—plead, understanding what’s brewing.

What this means.

“Go back to Melissa.” Almost completely desperate, you state.. “She needs you—“

Sabrina’s gaze is penetrative. It seldom flickers away from Michael as you strive to reason with her. 

“She’s fine. Bloody, but fine.”

He snarls. He hadn’t succeeded with killing off the entire council quite yet.

But, with his rival before him, Joel cannot afford to waste any more of his most valuable time. 

“How did you think this would end?” Each syllable crushes you.

You can feel something ripping through flesh and bone as he shows absolutely no mercy.

“Prophecy is inevitable. I was always going to win. Miss Supreme.”

Sabrina looks between you two, watching your wounds weep and heart visibly shatter within the confines of a wickedly palpitating chest.

“Not on your own.” She exerts confidently, about to drive her claws as deep as they could possibly go. “You’ve been led by the hand, coddled the entire way. By your father, the warlocks.”

With each flying comment, Joel’s blood begins to boil. It bubbles, sputters like wildfire. But he has to take it.

Listening to what she has to say is the very fucking least that he can do.

“I look at you and I don’t see a man. I see a sad, scared, pathetic little boy so pathetic he couldn’t even kill me with a thousand fucking nuclear bombs.” 

“But I never expected to.” Almost instantly, he declares.

The depletion, the absolute fatigue riddling their bodies is painfully evident to you as you can do absolutely nothing aside from watch—and wait—for the ending that you have so desperately tried to put off.

“Like a cockroach, I knew you’d survive the nuclear fallout. I wanted you to.”

His fists clench, rings scraping against bloodied and bruised palms. Your cunt throbs—remembering when his knuckles were deep inside of you—but it’s not the right moment.  

He makes you fucking sick, now. 

“And now I’m gonna have the satisfaction of watching you die, knowing you failed.”

“She has not failed.” You speak up.“She will never fail, either. And when she dies, her legacy will live on for fucking ever. Which is a hell of a lot more than what can and will be said for you.”

He turns his head to heed the snark, the sheer irascible complacency written on your beautifully withered completion, and scoffs.

“The world is over, sweetheart.” Joel tells you. “When Sabrina dies, then so do all of you other witch bitches—“

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Fed up of exhausting the same point over and over, Sabrina rasps. “Even now. You think there’s only winning and losing, success and failure.”

Tears begin to brew, to roll downwards and toward the apples of her cheeks.

“But failure is when you’ve lost any semblance of hope.”

Your breath hitches, rhythm becomes sporadic.

“You will get to watch me die.” Says the supreme while her voice cracks, and Joel Miller watches her begin to crumble from the inside out. 

He’s enjoying it too much.

“But you won’t find it satisfying.” Sabrina finishes, snatching the bloodied knife from you. 

Her throat closes up, heart slows down.

“Satan has one son, but my sisters are legion, motherfucker.”

And before you have time to wrangle your thoughts, to produce a reaction, you’re watching as your supreme—the one woman that has cared for you since you embarked on that beautiful spiritual journey at Robichaux—plunges the blade straight into her heart.

“No. No—“ Unable to produce anything aside from a mere whisper, you rasp. 

Joel is just as shocked. Devastated, perhaps. Because he isn’t the one driving a dagger into Sabrina’s chest, or ripping her head from its place on her neck. It’s her. Just how he had feared from the start.

She’s gasping for air, but there’s a smirk creeping toward her face as she stumbles backward—fist perpetually curled around the blade protruding from her chest. 

“Sabrina…” You mumble, breath breaking into a sob as your supreme—your best friend—mouths I love you before falling—flights—toward the ground.

“No!” Joel yells, sprinting toward the ledge. “Fuck!”

But then your eyes light up. 

“You were never going to get the last laugh, Miller.” 

“It isn’t over.” He pants. His chest heaves as he watches blood ooze from the body that lay atop the concrete ground. “It is far from fucking over.”

He turns on his heels to see you there in the doorway, draped in black, somehow even more vibrant than when you arrived today. Your skin gleams, it glows and you smile because you are certainly aware of what will happen over the course of the next sixty seconds.

Sabrina is dead, so a new supreme must rise.

“It’s over, Joel.” Your nails dance along the crimson jacket, inching closer to his throat. “You failed to execute whatever the fuck it was that you had planned, and now its over.”

You’re teasing as always, stifling a wicked little snicker.

Joel wishes that he could fuck the smile from your face one last time. And maybe he will. When you’re both rotting in purgatory for eternity. 

“We had fun though, don’t you agree?’

“I thought you regretted it?” 

“I have only one regret in this life.” 

Licking your lips, Joel’s eyes search your face for an answer.

“And, tell me, what would that be?” His habitual cockiness returns for one final jab, though he is simply no match for you, now.

Your telekinetic energy—ardent power—is being put to the test once more, summoning that fucking knife from its residual position lodged between Sabrina’s ribs.

It flies into your grip—by the handle, this time.

“Not trying to kill you sooner.” You snort, thrusting the overworked knife into the toughest, hardest part of his spine and he drops to the floor.

Blood pours from his back, saturating the already red-stained blazer, and you’re simply unable to do anything aside from laugh. 

Because this is the end. It’s all over and fucking done with, now. 

And though—once upon a time—you enjoyed fucking his brains out, watching him die a slow, painful, death—at your hands—is a lot more satisfying. 

Will he end up coming back? Who knows. With the antichrist, anything is possible. But for now, you’re reveling in the idea that you—a mere witch bitch—is the reason for Joel’s unruly demise. 

You can’t help smiling as you get to the ground—hands on your knees—and rasp; “I’ll see you in another life, baby.”

[barbatusart]

adding on to the initial evil wyll post here, messy thinking outloud below the cut lol

one thing i really like doing with characters that feel underwritten is taking that nebulous quality at face value & as deliberate authorial choice. i also feel that in this light, it was no accident that wyll went from boisterous & egotistical to a more gentle & humble demeanor yet still retained the entire warlock pact backstory (which again if a character is in a warlock pact at all that says something about them imo)

mixing this all together for myself - the humble & charming persona, the “blade of frontiers” spoken of like he’s talking about someone who isn’t himself, the scorned boy striving to become the hero arguably to try & fill that psychic wound hole his father’s rejection left in him - im left with a portrait of a man with a nature steeped in a strange breed of the duplicitous. the nature of his pact with mizora demands secrecy to begin with (the reason for his banishment in the first place when he physically couldn’t speak a word of it to his father to explain) but i feel this motif goes a few steps further - on a surface level one could argue that he feels he needs to (for lack of a better word) “trick” those around him into believing he is heroic, he is chivalrous, he is kind, he is gracious, because he cannot attribute those qualities to his own self. which is wild because wyll IS heroic, chivalrous, kind, gracious, & all of these good qualities, he’s inarguably a very gentle & sweet man. i think that’s part of what “duplicitous” means here, but i feel the real core of it is something way harder to get his hands around than a lack of self esteem

to me, any time i run into a character that feels underwritten or nebulous it becomes an opportunity to consider them as a character who is ignorant of their own motivations. with the prior paragraph of needing to fill that void with other’s approvals to try & manufacture self worth, i think that’s what he’s doing & simultaneously is 100% unaware that he’s doing it on any conscious level. but take all that a step further into an evil wyll playthrough, the void of self worth is still present & he still is unaware he is trying to fill that hole, but leaning harder into his pact it becomes not only trying to fill that void with approval (to become the blade of frontiers) but with power. if he’s aware of trying to glean self worth from others’ love, it’s only on a subconscious level & therefore completely obscuring the real darkness of an evil run of that self worth manifesting as power - denied from his exile, arguably hunted for in his making a pact at all. a simultaneous “people will adore me” and “the people Will adore me.” acknowledging that At All however would completely fly in the face of the cover of wanting approval for approval’s sake, & in the same way he can’t bear to speak of himself as the blade i feel he certainly couldn’t bear to speak of himself as any kind of egomaniac, or anything Genuinely negative that would make him have to look at himself

and ultimately that’s what’s really interesting to me about my character interpretation of what we have of wyll, this subconscious damnation of the self for what amounts to extremely normal human things to want. everybody wants to be loved, everybody wants security. it’s not bad to do good deeds because they make you feel good, it’s not bad to enjoy praise & a pat on the back for a job well done. designwise if the eyes are the window to the soul & one has been clawed out and replaced with stone - outside of other people no longer being able to “see” the full picture of the bearer (lacking that window), what would a stone make of that self. i think if a stone could speak or think, it would be very black and white, rigid, and demanding of itself to be cold calculating perfect stone.

sloppy as always but still, much to think about

[foodsies4me]

July Malec fic rec!

Thanking the ever talented and wonderful @lawsofchaos1 for letting me barge in the DM’s to ask for help for this month's theme! This time the theme is a double one aka parabatai-feels/Alec&Jace friendship and religious themes! The same rules apply as always, one fic per author, even though all of these authors have other brilliant fics you should be reading and if you want to add your own recs in the comments, tags, or reblogs please feel free to do so! 💜

Also, I have tagged the authors whose Tumblr account I know (aka found on their AO3 profile), but if you'd prefer I not tag you, please tell me! I don't want these to be annoying for the authors.

One-shots:

3 Times Jace Feels Alec’s Happiness by fancyachatup: Just like the title says, three times Jace feels Alec being happy through their parabatai bond.

Summary:

3 times Jace realizes that Magnus is the best thing that's ever happened to Alec.

I cannot touch because they are too near by @faejilly: Still one of my favourite fics about the parabatai bond to date!

Summary:

If Magnus is going to love Alexander (which of course he is) then he's going to have to understand his parabatai and their bond, at least a little bit better than he does now. But he's not entirely sure how or where to start...

The Oddities of Sharing a Soul by @facialteeth: Another lovely Magnus learning some more about the parabatai-bond and what it means fic. Cute and fluffy and definitely recommended.

Summary:

Magnus goes to visit Alec and learns from Isabelle that there are some odd features to having a Parabatai Bond.

and miles to go before I sleep by ralf: Magnus meeting his kids in the past. This fic is just adorable and reading it never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Summary:

“Alec, can you come to the Institute?” That's Clary's voice, coming through the line in a low whisper. Alec tenses instantly. “What is it?” “It's Jace.”

Parabatai by SilasSolarius: A more eldritch as well as a queer platonic approach to the parabatai bond! Also, Ragnor lives because of course he does!

Summary:

Summary: Parabatai. Everyone, even downworlders were aware of the most sacred of the Nephilim's bonds, and yet very little is known about it. As far as most are concerned, the bond is merely a fancy way of calling each other brothers-in-arms, or best friends. Yet in reality, it is so much more. Ragnor Lives! AU

Multi-Chapters or Series

Angelus ex Machina by @bluemeridian: Rec-ced by lawsofchaos1, but I will 120% rec this series as well because it is just avdnz’gj’z’glg I love it so much, the way they parabatai bond is described is exquisite.

Summary:

Demons have disappeared from the city and the local Shadow World has discovered the hard way that the only thing worse than demons is an institute of Shadowhunters with no demons to fight. But that situation is (hopefully) temporary. The whole thing with the parabatai bond being weird is something else entirely.

Take Me To Church by j_writes: I don’t’ know how to describe this fic other than I love it, that’s all.

Summary:

Alec is the acting head of the Institute trying to deal with the new pressures this title brings. A string of Mundane murders and strange demonic markings leads him to seek help from the nearest High Warlock, Magnus Bane. Upon meeting him, Alec realizes that his secret is at risk of being revealed. He tries to keep his growing attraction for Magnus hidden as best as he can. With the support of his sister, Isabelle, who is trying to find love herself; they both try to discover if they can let their worries go and accept love with open arms.

The Whipping Boy (orphan account): This fic hurts. It just hurts.

Summary:

1. a boy brought up together with a young prince and required to take the punishment for the latter's misdeeds 2. scapegoat

The burden of command is one Alec shoulders gladly. When protecting his family has always meant taking responsibility for their actions, he's had a lifetime to prepare. 

It's the one thing he's good at. The one thing about himself he knows is worthy.

So, of course, Magnus and his siblings hate it.

The truth written on our souls by @to-the-stars-writing: Immortal Alec meets good parabatai Jace meets some religious imaginary meets magic gone wrong and worldbuilding which are the two things that make me go feral above all, so yessss!

Summary:

Be careful what you wish for.

That was a saying that was something most people threw around in a teasing sort of way. Something to chide another with, maybe, after something goes wrong. But when dealing with magic there were no truer words. Be careful what you wish for was a very clear warning. One that Alec had heard Magnus lament over people not heeding so many different times.

Today was only further proof of that.

They’d come into this planning on doing a spell to give Alec immortality. They’d done their research, prepared themselves as best they could, but they’d forgotten that basic tenant. Be careful what you wish for.

Holding Angels by @echo-bleu (Hi Echo, I love you💜💜💜): Alec tells the Clave he made the wish and not Clary. This fic hurts and is painful and I love it.

Summary:

The decision is anything but easy, but it’s simple. It’s suddenly limpid in Alec’s head, like this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life.

(He tries not to think about how morbid that thought is.)

“I would have done the same,” he repeats. She sniffles against his chest.

“In fact,” he continues, pushing her back gently to look at her, “that’s exactly what I did, as far as the Clave is concerned.”

Alec tells the Clave he's the one who made the Wish.

Laudanum by @lawsofchaos1 that I couldn’t not rec. (Sorry, Laws you had to know this was coming when you mentioned religious imaginary). While I generally try to limit myself to complete fics, this fic has had me by the jugular for years now and I am obsessed.

Face blank, Alec steps forward without a moment of hesitation to stand in front of the Inquisitor, his people parting respectfully before him to clear his path as he goes. He comes to a halt a few paces in front of the Clave representative and the guardsmen she’d brought from Alicante. A coiled leather whip hangs from the belt of the man at her left shoulder.

Shoulders drawn back and hands clasped behind his waist, Alec meets Imogen Herondale’s steel gaze. The words are ritual and although Alec has said them many times before, never before has he meant them less.

“That it may please the Angel to bring back into the way of righteousness all such as have erred, I place myself before you for Discipline.”

Imogen Herondale smiles.

[mara-tevith-solo]

One Enchanted Evening

Just a little Adam Warlock fluff. This MFer restarted my Will Poulter era and I stg... man’s too good for this world

Pairing: Adam Warlock x Ex-Avenger/ Guardian!Reader

Warnings: It’s fluff, mentions of drinking, Blurp being adorable, flirting, established relationship, making out

Rating: 18+

Words: 1.1k+

"C'mon Y/n! Let's go get pretty boy wasted for the first time! Drax, Nebula, and some of the others will be there!" Rocket called from the front door, sounding way too enthused with his little side quest as Adam smiled brightly, and innocently, beside him.

"I can't, I have to take over for Ullette tomorrow; her daughter is coming for a visit." You apologized with a breathy laugh, shaking your head at the two. "Don't poison yourself, Rocket. I'm betting a quarter mil that his alcohol tolerance is about as good as Steve's."  

"I'll take you up on that bet!" He laughed with pride and little foresight.

"Who's Steve?" Adam asked, cocking his head to the side slightly. There wasn't any jealousy there, just pure curiosity.

"He was one of Y/n's Super Soldier Earth pals, worked on the same team together for over a decade, stopped the world from ending a few times, we all reversed the Snap together about three years back. Good guy. Was hung up on a broad he used to know."

"What's a broad?"

"Its a term for a woman, though it's not so respectful. Y'all better get going before Drax pre-games too hard."  

"Alright alright, I'll keep lover boy out of trouble, swearsies."

Adam shifted on his feet, looking at Rocket's retreating form before looking at you like a puppy who didn't know which way to go. You placed your hands on his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt soft under your palms as you raised up onto your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek "Don't let them drink too much. Last time a challenge like this happened, Drax had to have his stomach pumped."

"Should I be worried? Because I'd be more than happy to just stay home with you and we could finish that show and--"

"It'll be fine, Adam. Go have fun with the others. I'll still be here when you come back." You smiled teasingly before pushing him the rest of the way out the door, Rocket's crossed arms and exasperated expression in your peripherals, shaking his head at the two of you.

"Don't have too much fun without me." He finally conceded with a cheeky wink before turning and making to leave with the Raccoon.

As soon as the door closed, Blurp let out a soft little whine, making you turn back towards him with a small pout that turned into a frown as soon as you saw the sadness on his little face, the worry in his eyes that was always there whenever Adam left without him. You swooped up the little fuzzball and nuzzled your face against his "Oh, come on fluff, you can help me make some ice cream sundaes for us." You hummed as you began dancing to a phantom melody only you could hear, his eager agreements nearly busting him loose from your arms. You laughed as you set him on the counter, motioning for him to sit and stay while you went for ingredients.

It wasn't the first time the two of you had done the late night treat, the F'saki watching as you began making two bowls, his topped with Orloni jerky with strawberry sauce while yours was just a simple vanilla with hot fudge sauce. He was vibrating with anticipation as you picked up both bowls and began leading the charge back to the living room, being careful to not trip you on the way. He'd done it once, and only once. He'd gotten too excited and had zipped over your foot while you were beginning to take a step, resulting in you faceplanting into the hard wood covered cement floors, breaking your nose in the process. He'd felt so bad about it, and hadn't zipped anywhere near your feet since. He sat by the couch, tall and pretty as he waited for you to put his bowl down "There ya go, buddy. Enjoy!" You giggled softly as he dug in with a happy chirp. You curled up on the couch to enjoy yours. Afterwards, you didn't bother with the dishes, suddenly too exhausted, laying down just a bit to nap until Adam returned. Blurp was all too happy to join you, cuddling up on your stomach with happy little purrs, falling asleep well before you did.

"Y/n!" Adam's whispered shout pulled you out of a light doze, still curled up on the couch with Blurp, an excited Adam leaning over you both. Blurp didn't even flinch, just grumbling softly in his sleep as he curled up tighter, much like a sleepy, disgruntled cat. "Sorry!" He giggled, still whisper shouting "I figured it out!"

"Figured what out, handsome?" You hummed groggily, smiling sleepily up at the golden man who was smiling ear to ear at the endearment, a dreamy gleam in his eyes.

"Drax helped me figure out why my chest burns whenever I think of you... and when I'm around you... when we're apart... any time you're even mentioned really. He said that's how he felt about his Ovette. He called it 'love'." Your heart skipped a beat, realizing where the conversation was going. "He said that I need to make sure you know how I feel about you, that you never doubt how much I love you. And then he cried... a lot... he's very drunk..."

Your heart felt like it was soaring as you reached up and cupped his cheek, your fingers then moving to trace his jawline and his chin. He moved down with you, like he didn't want you to stop touching him, an intoxicated warmth to his eyes that wasn't from the liquor. When your lips touched you could swear it was unlike any kiss before, it was electrifying to your very core, your very soul. It made your breath stutter as one of his hands planted firmly on the couch by your shoulder as the other gripped your hip. "I love you too, Adam." You murmured against his lips, your voice feather light, just for his ears. His kiss became hungry, devouring everything that you gave him like a man starved, some of his hair falling into your face, the tickling sensation making your toes curl and your heart splutter.

He almost closed the distance between you, but Blurp squeaked in protest on your stomach, almost pouting up at him like you'd both mortally betrayed him "Sorry Blurp. But I need to borrow my love." He was gentle as he picked up the F'saki, usurping him of his position. The fuzzy being only huffed and went to steal your bed. Adam didn't give you a moment to laugh at the situation, swallowing the sound eagerly as his tongue begged for entrance, his hard length making its presence well known against your thigh. He moaned loudly as your tongue came out to play with his, your hips bucking up into him, begging for friction "Y/n, oh gods." He moaned, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss and nip at his neck.  

[i-hug-exploder-shanks]

Hiii!!! :3

Can I request a ficlet for O14? I really like the stories you write for them, and I have a prompt I want to see you make!!!

Anything at all just make something where Osiris is needlessly embarrassed by Saint!!! It'll be so cute!!

Oh no. Saint absolutely adores flustering Osiris so there are so many options! A cheeky surprise kiss somewhere semi-public, a cheesy pet name used in front of Ikora/the vanguard, Saint just being his golden retriever level enthusiastic self and complimenting his partner in a situation where it draws extra attention to Osiris... Hmmm. What to choose?

Osiris crossed his arms as he leaned against a wall near the edge of the arena where Saint was tossing around another titan he recognized as the young Daffyd. Watching Saint use his shield to catch the other Titan's Fist of Havoc and shut him down before bashing him in the face with the same shield did bring a small smirk to his lips. Daffyd was a good person and a talented guardian so Osiris wasn't surprised Saint had taken him under his wing, but he had a feeling he knew the real reason for the training.

"He lasted a half second longer this time but I still don't think he'd best Lord Shaxx in a 1v1." He said stepping out and Saint smiled at him while Daffyd's ghost healed his bloodied face.

"Osiris, my love! I am so glad you came! Young Daffyd here wants advice on how to woo his warlock love and I figured a practical demonstration was in order." Saint said and before Osiris could ask what that meant he was being scooped off his feet and up into Saint's arms as if he weighed nothing.

"You see, Warlocks are often on the smaller size. They like to be scooped and held, but you must be careful not to squish them too much. Hold them gentle like bord." Saint announced to the delighted younger titan whole Osiris' face burned and he started to demand to be put down.

Saint ignored him.

"If your warlock is fiesty like mine then they will not stay settled for long, you will have to move quickly to transport them to the date you have set up. If they try to float away, usually you can keep them in place better like this..." Saint shifted his now spitting and threatening partner over his shoulder with a hand firmly on his ass, void suppressing any attempts Osiris made to try to set him on fire.

A quick jog had Osiris being seated at a picnic table that had been set up with a rather romantic looking display nearby where he glared at Saint with bright golden light in his eyes promising violence the moment the titan was even a inch off his guard.

Daffyd was openly snickering at this point, clearly loving the show. "Scoop, hold gentle, transport quickly... I understand. How do you keep them from setting you on fire or striking you with a million volts of electricity after you get them to the date?" He asked grinning and brushing some of his messy hair from his face.

"Ah, you must distract them! Warlocks cannot resist a puzzle like cats cannot resist a ball of yarn. Or you can just do something like this..." Saint directed and as Osiris opened his mouth to ask just how many crayons he had eaten that morning Saint knelt down in front of him on one knee and took Osiris' hand in both of his, violet eyes peering up at him with such intensity it stole any words right out of his mouth and left his throat feeling dry.

"Where you have flown, I have chased you and where I was lost you have found me. We have danced around each other for eternities yet every moment I see you the happiness and love I feel is like the first moment I realized my feelings all over again. Not even the most devoted of your cultists could ever compare to the adoration I have for you. Osiris, Phoenix of the Dark Ages and light of my life, will you marry me?" Saint asked while Osiris' face turned more and more red and the perception of anything outside the two of them vanished.

"Saint... Did you plan this?" Osiris choked out once he remembered how to use words again but Saint wasn't put off by the deflection.

"I did. Daffyd helped. As did Ikora and the Young Wolf and your new apprentice Lenore. They are waiting to either congratulate us or comfort us depending on your answer." Saint said waiting patiently as ever and Osiris' finally gave in.

"I suppose I will do you the honor of allowing you to call yourself my husband. You did go to all this effort." He said and Saint beamed at him and gently took a strip of violet fabric from his armor and tied it around Osiris' wrist over his sunbracers in a way that felt more intimate than any ring would have.

"Thank you. For indulging me in this and for giving me a chance all those years ago." Saint told him and finally stood to gently bonk their foreheads together and then kiss him.

The kiss started getting a little heated until a throat being cleared drew Osiris back to the moment and he hid his face in Saint's shoulder in embarrassment that he had forgotten Daffyd was still standing right there.

"I'm going to go share the good news with the others! Maybe go home before trying to undress each other, but yeah... Congratulations!" He said a little awkwardly before bolting, arc energy sparking from his heels as he ran away making Osiris laugh a little.

"We aren't that bad are we?" Osiris asked but Saint scooped him up again.

"Not yet but I think I will be happy to accept his suggestion this time. We should celebrate but we can take the wine and food home with us if you want." He offered and Osiris grinned.

"I think that's wise because you're still in trouble for grabbing my ass like that." He said the flames in his eyes returning but this time with a different sort of fire.

[wikitpowers]

Any hopes for Matthew’s love interest in A sea change (or whatevs his short story is called).

I honestly think his love interest may be a downworlder (think fae or werewolf in particular). Butttt if it is a Shadowhunter, I hope it’s one from a family we’ve already seen in modern times but not past times. Like imagine a Fairchild with a Rosales :,0 or like- Pedroso, to tie into Thais !!!! It would be so fun

OOOOO!!!! i actually hope it's a downworlder! a faerie or vampire i think would be super cool! i'm kinda wanting them to be a downworlder bc we haven't really had many downworlder love interests in tsc recently (ik that james and lucie have tessa's warlock blood but it's not quite the same). so, it would be extra cute to see matthew being the one to break the cycle. shadowhunter/downworlder relationships are always v interesting because they're really different from only shadowhunter x shadowhunter ships! but if he does end up with a shadowhunter, obviously it wouldn't bother me at all! they will still be adorable i bet! and i totally agree that if he got with a rosales or pedroso ending up w/ matthew it would be SO cool :]

but truly, i just hope my boy is happy with whoever he chooses, be that shadowhunter or downworlder, boy or girl <3

[contritecactite]

Radio Omens time!! Strap in for my subjective personal opinions made by one person about the full-cast radio adaptation of Good Omens.

We're gonna begin with: I am blowing kisses to the scripting/editing/production team. This thing is an impeccable adaptation. Im-pecc-a-ble. The voice talent is fantastic, the energy is stellar, the pacing is excellent, and the sheer amount of atmospheric info they managed to translate into radio-friendly format? Mwah mwah mwah. I think it's the kind of listening format that's not for everyone, but it is SO for me.

Time for some specific highlights! It was a long day so we're a little extra silly this time. It's also long and not in a reasonable order.

(Ok good my page cut is working this time.)

- Good GOD I forgot the primary voices were Like That. I shrieked (happily) as soon as Aziraphale's mouth opened. This is why I travel alone /hj

-- (Incidentally, I said "oh fuck holy shit I can't do this" when Crowley started talking, but I did it anyway *sighs in bisexual*)

- Hheeeennghsh the opening scene in Eden is. The way it's written successfully sets up who Aziraphale and Crowley are, who they're supposed to be to each other, and a hint at who they're going to be to each other later because they are SO delightfully snippy at one another in this scene. Aziraphale's "oh, it's you" and Crowley's "mmhm, yeah, well done on keeping demons away. Bravo" (heavily paraphrased) will be living rent-free in my head until I have time to write a fic about it.

- So, having Aziraphale do the early narration is an excellent way of setting the tone. What I need you to do, if you've only done tv omens (which is so so valid and I think really is another excellent adaptation), is remember Aziraphale's magician persona. And then imagine him being that for the entire story. The pitch, the rate of speech, the slightly frantic energy, the drama: it's all just part of his overarching character in radio omens, and it's SO good for storytelling.

- Radio Crowley knows what's in all of Aziraphale's infamous Bibles so well that he can quote them. I love this detail, I love it as a means of establishing their relationship during their "let's be godfathers" scene, and I love how hard he's ribbing poor Aziraphale about the extra verses in Genesis.

- Radio Crowley is SO like... tender? I mean, all Crowleys are to some extent Soft but something about this one has just a little extra something. I love the way he talks about his temptations and shenanigans. He's so proud. It eases what could feel like needless exposition because he really seems to like explaining his process.

- That's a bit of the same of what I mean about Aziraphale's personality. Since he's very obviously inclined to dramatize a story, exposition just fades neatly into his character rather than grating on the nerves.

- They reference The Arrangement a lot and usually with a great deal of affection. There's one particular time when they even acknowledge something about wanting to protect each other.

- I adore the way Anathema and her ties to Agnes are introduced. It's so concise but meaningful, and it's just the right amount of setup for her character appearing later.

- The baby swap scene in other iterations relies so much on descriptive narrative or visual language, but you know what? The heavily trimmed down version also works surprisingly well.

- Crowley knows about the hellhound way beforehand (and, of course, he tells Aziraphale. They plan their roles for the party years in advance, which is an extremely efficient way of communicating about that scene to the listener).

- At Warlock's party in the book, Crowley gets all suspicious about a gerbil being gifted to him. In the radio drama, Aziraphale wonders aloud if the gerbil might be suspicious and Crowley tells him not to be stupid. Just struck me as a funny thing to shuffle around.

- Adult radio Anathema is everything to me actually.

- Poor Newt's childhood gets skipped over (unless I missed it, which is possible), but I liked his adult introduction as well; it brings in the whole Witchfinder-adjacent cast at once and makes it super clear how they all know each other without lingering.

- Shadwell. Just. The actor's voicework is so evocative of someone who is very gesturally expressive. There's no way he wasn't swinging his hands around in the recording space.

- The Them are all 100% perfect. Shout-out to Adam for that mind-rending scream that I was not expecting to go on for so long. Interestingly, in chapter credits, the Them are not grouped with the humans! This makes sense, but it also made my brain go !!!

- The horsepeople (both original and extra) were also so good, and that chunk of the cast gave the impression of good chemistry, so the scenes were really fun.

- Crowley says Aziraphale's name a lot. A lot a lot. Actually, most people do; probably for simplicity's sake, there's no "Mr. Fell," or "Nanny Ashtoreth," just "Mr. Aziraphale" and "Mr. Crowley."

- Well, Shadwell does say "Mr. A," and there is a Brother Francis.

- One of Nanny's rules for Warlock is "don't talk to the creepy gardener" rkahjdjs Crowley what is wrong with you

- I did in fact let out another sound when the Nanny voice happened. We're not talking about it.

- When applying for the jobs, Aziraphale just straight up calls dibs on gardener and Crowley complains and says something like "can you see me in a skirt?" and Aziraphale just pulls a date at random on which he'd seen Crowley in a skirt. This was probably also in the book, but I noticed it here and didn't there.

- Crowley's idea of something calming to listen to was a radio gardening talk show ;~; and he likes listening to televangelists for the lulz (I have never used that phrase before in my life but I'm keeping it)

- Having him hear Aziraphale possessing the televangelist was absolute genius for keeping the plot cohesive.

- Seance scene continues to be painful ahahaha...

- Hell's emissaries know that Aziraphale was discorporated and they're mean to Crowley about it in a way that implies Hell has long been aware that they're working together. Intriguing...

- There's mention at some point about how no homes in Tadfield have PlayStations or Xboxes, and I think that's a cool bit of writing to establish the time period (along with Newt bricking smartphones, which I think was said at least in breadcrumbs).

- Almost forgot, but Mr. Gaiman and Sir Terry Pratchett being the policemen trying to book Crowley for speeding in the beginning is so cute.

- When Satan is about to show up, Aziraphale worrying about everyone else and Crowley going "and me!" like hello, I am also in danger, that's my boss?? if u even care?? was SO funny in this version to me.

- Look, there were a lot more things, but it's already been several hours since it ended, so I'm sure I'm forgetting many.

- Oh! Pepper's backstory being transformed into her speech to Adam was SO good on so many levels. It really drove home that Adam does love his friends, it deepened their lore gradually, it made Adam's role and decisions very clear, and it also struck me as "Pepper says trans rights" even if that wasn't the intention, so hell yeah.

- The gag reel leads me to believe that Peter Serafinowicz is A) probably the funniest person alive to work with and B) extremely relatable due to the amount of time spent on the struggle bus. Also whoever put the breaking glass sound over all the accidental swears, I love you forever.

[peachesofteal]

ok hi it’s me I was the one who asked for more detail about the fae boys and I don’t have a fic fleshed out but I have Thoughts.

Pre-nereid snatching, Ghost mentioned trading favors across dimensions, and roping in the rest of the 141 to help.

One of those was a deal with a witch, Soap went in Ghost’s place (in disguise of course) and asked for some help figuring out the blood magic bit (the little piece that was so obvious and Ghost couldn’t believe he missed it) so Soap’s like ‘great, thanks see ya never!’

and this is all fine and good for the witch, until news of a nereid becoming a fae’s wife hits across the magic world, and the witch can’t help but notice… how similar that spell was to the one she gave a man with a mohawk and- motherfucker. Well. She has a reputation to uphold, so she spends the next several months hunting down the fae (she knows the infamous Ghost wouldn’t show his face to just anyone, so it had to be one of his companions. Then she figured out Soap is the one with the mohawk, and puts it all together).

So when she finds him, she’s clearly furious, but trying her best to remain polite and Soap can’t help but laugh at how adorable it is that this witch is demanding an apology for tricking her.

and that’s really all I’ve got off the top of my head but I just think Soap with an angry witch wife is absolute perfection.

Okay… okay 👀 I love this! 🩵 Let’s say she’s a reader character…

You track him down in the mortal world. After all, the guys realm is nearly impossible to travel to, especially if you’re not from there. Which you’re definitely, definitely not. Your magic is completely different than Fae magic, existing within the confines of the tangible power mostly, fire, water… blood and bone. Your kind comes from the mortal realm, existing in the same pockets of forgotten lore and magic, much like the Nereids.

Here’s the other thing, Fae are the APEX in the magical realms. Even in worlds outside of their own, they are well known. Their power, intelligence, tricks and lust for bloodshed are whispered about far and wide. So imagine how you feel when you realize you inadvertently gave one of them the key to abducting a Nereid from her watery home? You would be devastated. Not to mention, every being knows that blood magic is witchcraft, not Fae magic. So your own community is turning their back on you because you’ve done this, you’re the one who allowed this to happen. You’ve betrayed them, gave away the knowledge of a magic that has lived well protected for centuries, all because you allowed yourself to be tricked by a handsome mortal? Who wasn’t even a mortal at all? How could you not see that… how could you be so blind?

Because you were flattered, that’s how. You were struck by how sweet, how kind and clever he was. You were entranced by his questions, his interest in you and the bookstore, hypnotized by the way his graceful fingers stroked the spines of your most treasured volumes. You weren’t like the others in your coven, you weren’t chased relentlessly by warlocks, weren’t praised for being an eternal beauty, you spent more time with your books and spells and cauldron than you did with with your peers. The few friends you had included your familiar, a mortal girl who worked in the shop with you, and your aunt.

After months of research, tearing apart grimoires and reading tea leaves, you finally figure it out. You finally learn the spell you need to track Fae, and then you cast it to find Johnny. You don’t have much to go on, but you remember his eyes, the sea glass blue shade that shimmered in the afternoon light when he approached you in the bookstore, following you into the back room. You had been completely charmed by him, and thus disarmed… distracted by clever words and his pretty face, letting yourself flirt with him by asking about his mohawk and intriguing accent.

You had been a fool.

So you shuttered the shop early one day, pulling his true form to your mind’s eye, the confirmation of the truth curdling your stomach as you cast the scrying spell, the presence of his magic shimmering all throughout the plane until it led you to a pub, a mere four blocks away.

Your rage, your shame overshadows your fear… a mistake you realize too late that day, far too late until you’re standing in front of him with your hands on your hips… spitting mad, magic swirling around you in violent hues of red and purple while he chuckles openly, admiring how your hair seems to float in the air with the electricity of your rage.

“You used me.” You hiss, fist unclenching, raising in front of your body like a weapon. “You tricked me, you Fae bastard.” Your finger extends, pointing right at him, and in the blink of an eye the air shifts, and he drops his glamour, exposing the true strength of his power, the tips of his ears, the mighty weight of the magic he carries in his veins.

Your words die on your tongue.

Johnny may not know much, but he knows well enough to never, ever, let a witch point at him, for a hex will surely come after.

His hand darts forward, strong fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you close, close enough that he can incline his head above your ear, voice razor sharp, lethal and cold when he whispers,

“Did you just point at me, little witch?”