#as they can do magic with just their body without risk if they know what they are doing

[micechicken]

Flick and her Scythe

Usually the first step in becoming a wizard is finding your staff, as it allows for safer magic use especially when practicing. You either carve it yourself, find the right branch, buy it, or be given it by a mentor. Whatever way it's obtained, you also need a magic stone to channel magic from. Though all humans have an innate magic ability nowadays, it's better to have one as it leaves you less tired after doing magic. Much to the suprise of Nick Flick wanted hers to look like a scythe, especially since outside of Draowal scythes aren't seen as badass.

[littlestarprincess]

. . . I hate when people mistake "the narrative doesn't explore this female character's interiority" with "this female character is dumb and helpless".

It's better when they say "passive" because at least that is something you can concretely see or not see, but . . . when you don't see anything of a female character's thought processes and default to assuming she's "dumb and helpless" that says more about you than anything else.

[obsidiangx]

cyberpunk at its core is about speculative dystopia. fantastical developments that should benefit society but exist in a system fundamentally designed to beat people down. alluring transhumanism imprisoned by money, class, and other axes of oppression. it's about the real world issue of new and exciting technology corrupted by the world that produces it.

armored core stands out against the common war stories in mecha. it's about gig workers risking their lives thanklessly to kill poor people just to survive and get ahead. even while the entire system around them crumbles

dorohedoro is a story about a stratified society where incredible magic that could be shared to benefit others is used in petty arguments and 'experiments' on those treated as subhuman. it's about how hierarchy creates struggle for everyone, but the blood and tears always runs down to the bottom.

i do love the basic cyberpunk aesthetic. the edgerunners kind, the blade runner kind, like ghost in the shell and gunnm. sci-fi, cybernetics, robots and cities are dear to me. but when you put on the skin of a dystopian genre without knowing what the bones look like, you make something that isn't just bad. it's insulting.

i live here. i know how it goes. the robot dogs are cops and my smartphone was obsolete when i bought it. the air quality is garbage and my health is a mess because my government treats corporations more like people than me, even though we can magically cure or prevent almost any ailment. there are more vacant houses than homeless people. it's theft to take food out of the garbage.

cyberpunk is a city full of vacant buildings and streets full of poor people. it's a raspberry pi duct taped to a cybernetic arm to intercept advertisements before they reach your brain. it's a gig economy that forces you to work overtime just to get paid enough to eat. isn't it frustrating? isn't it frustrating that we have to live like this? flying cars, body augments, virtual reality, and we still live like this.

[sinswithpleasure]

To-Do List: Cream & Coffee

—------—

Thank @friskyriskywhisky for this fic. Without him, I'd never write Minju.

Kinks: Public Sex, Magical Mischief, Blasphemy (really, this fic is that).

—------—

Sometimes, you forget Minju is an angel. 

She’s an angel, of course, but she’s also an angel, in every sense of the word. As in, “be not afraid” angel, as in miracles type, heaven-born angel. She embodies purity, compassion, kindness, and all that is holy and good with… well, almost every action she takes. 

Of course, you’d questioned it before: “Almost? Aren’t angels perfect?” It’s a valid question, and Minju corrects you every time you mention it: “Not perfect—blameless. Also, the rules have relaxed a bit! That’s why I’m always around you humans!”

If your next question is about what exactly Minju isn’t good and holy about, she’s had an answer for that too, with a wink and a smile: “Everyone says I’m mischievous, so it’ll only be a while before you’ll find out~.”

And find out you have—thoroughly, even. Minju seems to orbit around you a lot, and you’ve been roped into her schemes one too many times, much of which bring far too much risk for you. However, there’s no denying the satisfaction those schemes bring though—Minju makes sure you benefit too, whenever she decides to pull one of her tricks. Win-win scenarios are her bread and butter, she says, with a little swish of her hand and soft glow from her eyes, because “a few heavenly miracles don’t hurt anyone”. Far too many times she’s used it to get both you and her out of trouble, and you swear she’s way too mischievous and curious for anyone’s own good. It’s this mischief of hers that leads you to constantly remind yourself that she’s celestial, even if she doesn’t carry herself like one.

As you sip your coffee, Minju’s fork clatters against her plate, and she leans back with her signature smirk. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she’s acting up again. 

“Yah, Minsik.” Minju calls for you. “I—”

“No, whatever it is, no.” You’re quick to shut her down. “I’m not about to do whatever it is you’ve thought up.”

“I didn’t even say what it was!” Minju’s pouting now, arms crossed over her letterman jacket, looking every bit like a petulant child. “You’re no fun.”

“That’s because every scheme you put me up to involves us doing something that could get us jailed.” 

“But I always get us out, don’t I?” Minju sulks, but it morphs into a grin quickly after. “And you can’t lie to me about how good I always make you feel when I make you try anything I think up.”

The memories instantly come flowing back—Minju on your bed, Minju on her knees, Minju on your lap, Minju bent over a desk, Minju against the wall. In some of these memories, Minju is naked, and in the others, she’s clothed in varying degrees. With these thoughts in your head, your body betrays your mind—your cock begins to harden in your pants, and you shift your legs to attempt to hide your bulge, even if Minju doesn’t have it in line of sight. 

“Yeah, I can’t, but what happened to ‘just having a normal afternoon drinking coffee and eating cakes’, Minju? We can’t even have that anymore?” 

“Oh, shut up, you.” Minju’s mischievous grin only grows bigger. “You can’t lie to me, you’re getting horny just remembering what we’ve done.”

“No I’m not.” You lean back in your chair, coffee in hand, taking a sip through the straw. Even if the effort is futile, you’d do it anyway just to spite Minju. 

Minju rises from her chair, and she slowly sashays around the table. You take advantage of this moment to ogle her thighs in her jeans—her body is nothing but perfect. She bends down right in front of you, her grin now stretching from ear to ear as she notes your reactions.

“Liar. You know I can tell when humans lie.” 

Minju leans in close to whisper her proposition.

“I think we should have some fun, Minsik.”

You sigh in resignation, then take the bait. “What kind of fun, Minju?”

“Well…” The angel stands back up and winks. “I’ve never had sex in a cafe before.” 

With a wave of her wrist, white light glows from her eyes, and the world around you ripples, as if it were water. You take a moment to enjoy the visual effects on the world around you. In that time, Minju closes the distance—she straddles you and plants herself on your lap, your bulge pressing right against her body. 

“Liar.” Minju repeats, smirking. “You said you weren’t horny.” She crosses her arms as she grabs the hem of her white tee, and you watch in barely restrained lust as the angel on your lap peels her shirt off her. As the cloth rises above her head, her petite, yet perfect breasts greet your eyes as she drops her shirt on the table behind her. Once again, no bra—the angel despises underwear, having “not needed any of it for the entire time I’ve been an angel”, something which you definitely have no complaints about. Minju rests her arms over your shoulder, and she grinds down on your bulge as she softly groans in pleasure. You join her in vocalizing your pleasure, all pretenses dropped, and you hold the angel steady by her hips as you grind into her too.

“It’s great to be an angel.” Minju sighs softly and bites her lip down on a particularly hard grind. “I can just cloak anytime and enjoy having sex, and no one would know.”

“You’re so corrupted, Minju.” You shift your hands up to caress the angel’s body, and she whines in pleasure when you cup one of her breasts in your palm, soft kneads and squeezes of her flesh drawing more sounds of pleasure from her. The angel only laughs, and she denies it with a wave of her wrist. “Heh, no I’m not. I just do what I enjoy doing, and no one’s going to stop me. Not the old man next to us with his newspaper, not the lady to your left working on her financial reports, not the baristas behind me, and most of all,” Minju’s pointer finger pushes against your chest as she taps you three times, “Definitely not you.” 

The angel is right—you’re not stopping her at all. Even as the old man to your right shakes his paper to get a better grip on it, even as the businesswoman to your left takes a glance in your direction, you’re not protesting at all when Minju’s hand trails down to undo your pants and zipper. You’re still fondling Minju’s bare breasts, and the angel leans in to push her lips against yours. No one can see you—the angel’s magic ensures that. She only lets the people see what she wants them to see, and right now, she wants them to see nothing at all. 

“Mm, so hard for me, that’s good.” Minju has her hand over your bulge now, having shifted down to your lap, and she only gives you a cursory few rubs before she withdraws her hand, to your disappointment. That doesn’t last long though—the angel begins to undo your pants, and she pulls your hard, twitching shaft out from underneath your zipper. She wraps her hand around it, soft slow strokes along your length drawing soft groans from your lips, groans that she silences with a hot kiss. Her tongue meets yours in the middle, and you pull her tighter against you, eager to feel her body against yours. However, Minju pulls herself back now, her weight leaving your lap as she gets off you. 

“Minju—”

“Shhh…” The angel giggles at the look of desperate need all over your face. “Give me just a second~.”

It happens in an instant—Minju is on your left one moment, and then in a blink of an eye, she’s on your right. The only difference between both of them is this: the Minju on your left seconds ago had her jeans still on, and the Minju on your right has them off. The angel is naked right next to you, her thighs glistening with her arousal as she straddles you again. It is at this point you notice that you’re naked too, your clothes and hers in a neatly folded pile on her chair. 

“This is cheating, Minju.”

“And who’s keeping score, Minsik?” Minju stands over you, her lips softly brushing against yours in a ghost of a kiss. “This little miracle doesn’t hurt anyone, does it? Especially if it gets us closer to having sex.” The angel lifts her legs one by one to fold them up over either of yours, almost as if to kneel right in your lap, her ankles supporting her weight with your help. Her knees are in the air next to both of your thighs. You instinctively grab Minju by the hips and ass while she balances herself, and she grins when she grabs your cock to brush it right against her labia, the moan torn from your lips exactly what she wants to hear.

“Mm, I love this part.” Minju exhales in stutters, the hot breath brushing against your lips. “The part where I drip all over the cock I’m about to fuck.”

And drip all over it she does. Minju coats your cock with a sheen of her slick, her hand helping to spread it all over with soft strokes once more. She takes a glance to see how aroused both you and her are, and the angel only giggles at your dazed expression of lust, pleasure, and anticipation when she looks back up. 

“Oh my God, Minju…”

“Hey, not in vain.” The angel jokingly chastises, as she always does. “I’ll smite you.”

“Do your worst,” is your challenge.

“That I will.” Minju lines you up with her hole, and in one stroke, she slams herself down on your cock. You moan out loud as Minju takes you to the hilt instantly. A loud whine of pleasure accompanies your moans as well, before Minju shakily breathes, “Just. Like. That.”

Just like that, she says. Just like that, you’re having sex with Minju, again, on her whim. The angel “smites” you over and over with her hips, engulfing your cock in her velvety, warm, tight cunt with every time she impales herself on your shaft. She takes to sex like a fish to water—you have no idea how, no idea why, and neither do you care or have ever cared. What you do care about right now is how she bounces herself on your cock, every stroke reaching deep into her as she fucks herself down on your length. Neither of you hide your moans as the world carries on around you—the cafe’s patrons are none the wiser about the sexual activities just inches away from them. This knowledge excites both Minju and you— as she fucks herself down on you hard, the almost-crazed joy displayed in her eyes from having such wanton public sex is mirrored in yours as well. Minju is a godsend—figuratively and literally—that has you able to do things you’ve only dreamed of in your wild fantasies, and you’re going to enjoy it for as long as you can.

“You’re hitting me right there every time, Minsik~!” Minju’s G-spot rubs against your shaft with every stroke of hers, and you thrust up in time with her as well. Your loud, vulgar exclamations of pleasure mix with Minju’s own, and the claps of her flesh against yours as well as the wet sounds of her pussy milking your cock only leave you both more and more aroused.

“Oh, fuck, Minju, fuck, you’re so tight, fuck!” The angel’s cunt massages your shaft, as if trying its best to coax your cum out of you as soon as possible. Her pussy is incredibly tight, and the pleasure you derive from it has you close to orgasm already. Minju is no better—she’s softly muttering about how close she is right next to your ear, her pussy drenching your cock and balls in her arousal, walls getting tighter and tighter as she gets close to her peak. 

“Fuck, Minsik, make me cum, make me cum together with you, make me cum all over your cock—”

From experience, you know Minju’s a talker, and her words only push you to thrust up into her harder, deeper, faster as you chase your high with her. The girl on your lap fucks herself on your cock in time with your thrusts, and both of you wrap your arms around each other however you can, pulling each other tight against the other as you hit your combined peaks simultaneously. 

“Oh, Minju, I—”

“Minsik~!”

Neither of you bother holding back your moans as you orgasm together. Minju’s hips buck against your faltering thrusts, her juices flowing down all over your lap as jets of squirt drench your lower half. Even as your hips stutter, you keep fucking into Minju as well as you can—burst after burst of thick white cum shoots deep into the angel’s tight cunt, and with every thrust, you push your load deeper and deeper into her, prolonging the pleasure both of you enjoy. The carnal pleasure seems to last forever, and both of you hold each other tightly as waves after waves of it wash over your bodies. Both of you make a mess where you sit—Minju’s juices mix with your overflowing load on the chair and the floor beneath you, and the air smells of sex. You hug the angel in your embrace as your highs subside, and she pushes herself off you urgently, though the smile on her face promises she means no offense.

“Don’t get mushy on me, fucker.”

“Shut up.” You help Minju off you, and your cock twitches when you fully exit her—thick drops of cum fall from her freshly fucked hole onto your shaft, and you can’t help but groan when you see it. 

“Already wanting a round two, Minsik? We can make it happen.” Minju giggles as she reaches a hand beneath to collect your flowing excess, then raises it to lick it all off. “You always taste so nice.”

“Oh my God, shut up, Minju…” You chuckle to yourself, the corrupted angel joining you as she grabs her clothes. With a wave of her wrist, both you and her are clothed, the mess beneath you cleaned up, and you’re both right back where you started—a normal afternoon drinking coffee and eating cakes.

“This was fun, Minsik.” Minju’s eyes flash with mischief once more. “I wonder where we can do it next…”

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 5: Back Scratches

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Back scratches (🌼)

Summary: Matt needs some comfort after a long work day.

Warnings: Fluff. Established relationship. Slight angst.

Word Count: 901

A/n: Another day, another Fluff Day in Fictober! The angst mentioned above is very minor, and it's just Matt's inability to take comfort.

Read Me On AO3!

The door unlocks to Matt’s heavy footsteps. His dress shoes drag over the floorboards, accompanied by a heavy breath from his lips. He’s finally home. Home with you.

You can tell almost instantly that he must have had a rough day. He texted you earlier, telling you to have dinner without him. He and Foggy spent the whole day working on the opening statement for their next big case, and it ran just a little longer than he expected. You would never hold it against him; he’s doing something good for yet another innocent person. So, you had dinner by yourself, putting away the leftovers for him to heat up once he got home.

Though as soon as Matt steps through the door, dinner is the last thing on his mind. He’s tired, his bones are aching, and all he needs is you. He missed you so terribly Foggy teased him about it all evening. “You’re so whipped, dude,” he’d said. There was no use denying it, anyway. 

His body yearns for you. The scent of you pulls him through the hallway and toward the couch. Your heartbeat is steady, unbothered. It sounds like home.

“Hey,” you greet him softly, looking up from your book. 

There is a deep crease between his brows, his hazel eyes glistening in the dim ceiling light. He clumsily feels around for the edge of the couch until he finally finds it. You know how he gets; his senses may be impossibly heightened, but when he’s tired and desperate and he just needs you, he gets disoriented. His brain can’t catch up with his body fast enough, every thought lulled into a dark gray fog. 

You sit up straighter. “How was work?” 

His lips twitch. “Long,” is all he says. 

“Yeah?”

Matt hums, lowering himself down next to you. 

“Did you get anywhere, at least?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “But I– I don’t wanna talk about work. I just…”

A moment of silent contemplation follows. He’s fighting with himself. Should he take what he wants? Should he ask? Or should he just stay silent?

When it comes to accepting love, Matt struggles. He gives everything to those he cares about, and he would risk anything for you, but he doesn’t know how to ask for any of it back. He doesn’t want to.

What if it’s too much? What if what he wants comes off as too overbearing? And what if he doesn’t deserve the kind of love you are so eager to give him? Those thoughts have always been there, hiding, but you see right through him. 

You open your arms. “C’mere,” you murmur.

Matt ruffles his hair, listening for the honesty in your heartbeat before he slowly, slowly, sinks into you. He’s almost careful—no, he’s hesitant as he rests his head on your chest, right above your heart. 

“Stop overthinking.” You wrap your arms around him. “It’s okay. Just… let me hold you, baby.”

A strangled grunt escapes him. Baby. He loves it when you call him that.

Your nails run down his back, over his dress shirt. He’s not itchy, not at all, but it feels good when you do it. His muscles melt like ice cream under your very touch. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t understand why the drag of your fingernails works like a magic potion of tranquility to his senses, or why when he lays like this, the rhythmic beating of your heart is all he suddenly seems about to hear—none of that matters because you already consume his every waking thought. 

One of your hands tugs the shirt out of his pants, and then it slips underneath. His skin is hot. You trace every little mole along the path up his spine, every last crack, scar, and imperfection that makes him who he is. He is so beautiful. 

Matt melts a little more, nuzzling his nose between your breasts. If he could, he would let you swallow him. He would let you consume him and live inside you until the end of his days. 

Your chest rumbles with a soft chuckle. “Comfortable?” you ask.

He gives a satisfied hum. 

Your fingernails start moving again, from his shoulders to his lower back. You paint galaxies on his milky skin. Seconds turn into minutes, yet they feel like hours as you lie there on the couch. 

Maybe one of these days, he will finally accept that he deserves to be taken care of. 

Maybe one of these days he will learn to take what he needs without a sliver of hesitation, without a sliver of doubt that he even deserves it. 

Maybe one of these days he will let you love him the way he loves you, unconditionally and with your whole heart. 

In an ideal world, Matt would have never gotten hurt. He would have never had to learn how to be alone. He would never have had to experience the pain of loss at such a young age. In an ideal world, he would have been okay from the start.

You can’t fix what’s already broken, but you can take care of him now, make him feel loved now, even if it takes some time to teach him that he does deserve it—and as he falls asleep in your arms with a breathy, “I love you,” you vow to do so until death do you part. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie a little fluff to celebrate I reached 200 followers 🥺🤧. Thank you so much! I love you all! ♥️♥️

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 (You're here) , PART 11

A little more of "The Mark of Nimueh"

Arthur: (Knocks the door to Gaius's Tower) Merlin!

Merlin: (opens the door) I'm on my way. Sorry I'm late.

Arthur: (Smiles at the feeling of deja vu) Don't worry. I'm getting used to it. (stops smiling when he notices the flowers on Merlin's neckerchief)

Merlin: Oh, uh. (pulls out the flowers) Gwen gave it to me.

Arthur: (jealous) You two are pretty close aren't you?

Merlin: (confused at Arthur's sudden question) Uhm.. Yeah, I guess? I mean, we just known each other for a couple of weeks so-

Arthur: Do you like flowers?

Merlin: Uhm... I do actually (smiles a little). They're a nice gesture but...

Arthur: But?

Merlin: It's sad they have to cut them. Just to die in days time. (thinking) Why did you say that?! He's going to think you're a sappy petticoat now! 😖

Arthur: (points the flowers) And you like forget me nots?

Merlin: I love them! 😊(puts the flowers back in his neckerchief). Not that I think the other flowers aren't beautiful. But there aren't many that are purple and-

Arthur: And you like purple.

Merlin: Yeah... (blushes, thinking) Why are we talking about what flowers I like? He never asked me that before.

Gaius: (interrumping) Sire? Do you have a message for me or...?

Arthur: (blushes) Oh, right. My father wants to see you inmediatly.

Time skip. Merlin and Arthur fighting with the Afanc.

Afanc: (Throws Arthur aside)

Merlin: Arthur! (runs infront of him and raises his torch to the beast, ready to use his wind spell)

Afanc: (blows the flame)

Merlin: Oh, fuck. (falls on his back when the beast aproaches him)

Arthur: Merlin! (covers him with his body)

Merlin: Your torch! Arthur, your torch! (points the fallen torch that fortunatly still has a little flame)

Arthur: (grabs it and raises it at the beast while still on top of Merlin)

Merlin: (thinking the spell so Arthur can't hear him) Lyfte ic þe in balwen ac forhienan se wideor!

Afanc: (is set on fire and dies)

Arthur: (turns to Merlin and gets to see just a bit of the gold in his eyes before it dissapears, thinking as he catches his breath) So this was also you.

Merlin: (Catching his breath but also nervous, cause Arthur is still on top of him and keeps looking at him directly in the eye) Ar...Arthur?

Arthur: (caress Merlin's face, concerned) Are you okay?

Merlin: (Nods, red to his ears) Ahm... could you...?😳

Arthur: Oh, right. Sorry. (stands up and helps Merlin to stand up)

Merlin: (covers his embarrasment with anger) You! You can't keep putting yourself at risk like that! 😡

Arthur: (shouts back) I could tell you the same thing! You came here to fight the beast alone, didn't you? Why didn't you come to me? (thinking) As you did last time.

Merlin: I had it under control! I just needed fire to defeat it (thinking) And wind and magic. But you can't know that! (says) I didn't want to put you in innecessary danger!

Arthur: (in shock for a second but then smirks) You care about me?

Merlin: (red again) N-No. But I can't keep my job if my master is dead!

Arthur: So you love being my servant.😏

Merlin: I... 😳(thinking) WHAT IS HAPPENNING?! 😨😱(says) It pays well 😠. (starts leaving as dignified as he can)

Arthur: The exit is the other way.

Merlin: I knew that! 😡 (goes the other way)

Arthur: (laughs a little and follows him, thinking) Do you love me already? When exactly did you fall in love with me?

Time skip. Merlin enters his room and finds a purple lily in a pot next to his bed. Surprised and confused, Merlin reads the note next to it. The note says "There are many purple flowers you just have to look for them carefully. Here is one in a pot so it doesn't die, but knowing it's under your care I bet it'll last a few days anyways. Don't go into danger alone again. Atte Arthur".

Merlin: (puts the lily back in the table and sits on his bed calmly... and then sinks his face in a pillow to scream)

[puppetwoman17]

Okay so I love all of the cap identity reveal stories. Obviously. The anticipation of the reactions, the fact that someone they’ve known for so long, someone they’ve fought with and laughed with and cried with, is not even half their age…

But what if they NEVER found out? Cap’s identity, I mean.

I don’t mean life just continues on with Billy leading his separate lives. It’s more like(this next part is so fucking drastic lol) the league thinks cap is dead and suffer with the hole he left behind, only to somehow find out he’s alive, and to add fuel to the fire, he’s a young radio host in Fawcett.

The JL( and other heroes if you want) are fighting a being with incredibly powerful magic. I’m not good with the specifics, but it lines up with someone like Lady Blaze. The YJ team are acting as reconnaissance and backup. Everyone’s doing their part, including Cap.

But then something goes wrong. A miscalculation is all it takes for the fight to spin in the villain’s favor. Magic is a fickle thing. One wrong move, and sparks will fly with reckless abandon.

The fight is nearing an end, and it’s clear that almost all the heroes have been rendered useless. They’re either limping up to go again, or unconscious from the strain.

Everyone but Captain Marvel, that is.

To bring an end to the fight, Cap unleashes a powerful stream of magic, something no one has ever seen him pull off. It seems to zap everything out of him. The next thing you know he’s falling, his body slowly disintegrating. He makes it to the floor and smiles at the other heroes, all of whom are crying their hearts out as gold dust replaces him, for divine beings have no blood.

Billy, on the other hand, is fucking pissed. Apparently, Shazam created a failsafe in case something like this happens. He wakes up in the rock, unable to transform. His magic is still there, and with Solomon’s help he learns that his champion form will return after a couple years. For now, he needs to rest his reservoir.

Now, you’d think he would go tell the league, right?

But he’s not so little anymore, and he now knows that him being younger won’t be the only issue. Younger him was only worried about that little tidbit, but in truth, there was no guarantee they would let him stay if they knew he’d been lying so much. If he’d been able to keep his age a secret for so long, what else could he be hiding?

It’s not something he wants to do. The League, the YJ team, the Titans, they’ve all become like a family to him, despite almost all of them(barring the magic heroes) not knowing who he is. But he can’t risk being watched by parental hawks whenever he’s doing his champion work as Billy. He can’t risk them learning about his… circumstances. His crappy uncle, his annoying cousin, his(an oc I created for this post specifically but dw he’s not that important) crooked cop of a younger-older cousin. His living situation, his previous state of malnutrition, and all of his responsibilities. What a nightmare that would be, explaining all of that.

Also, he tries not to sound too cocky in his head, but he’s fairly sure at least a little less than half of the JL would kill for him. Or at least they’d beat someone to a pulp, which is still a pretty big deal.

So, he washes his hands of the JL and the sub teams and handles his champion work(bar fighting now cause his other body needs to regenerate) in his civilian form. It helps that the magic community, all sides of the spectrum, collectively decide not to tell the other heroes that their Champion is alive. They can get really annoying when it comes to their Boy Scout 🙄.

Plot, plot, plot happens. I’m thinking maybe Whiz gets an opportunity to interview JL members and they send their best reporter for the job. Or maybe something happens on the magic spectrum that brings them closer to Billy. Either way, the JL finds out Cap’s identity without Billy knowing and they are PISSED.

Billy has to deal with countless vigilantes, heroes, and teams lounging on his couch trying to goad him into revealing who he is. Either that r they follow him throughout Fawcett. Some people are angry with him, like Conner or either of the Roys. They try to make him angry. They want to see the real Cap, the real Billy(which is stupid cause of course cap isnt a fake persona but they’re too mad to realize).

Others feel betrayed, like Artemis and Wally(I refuse to acknowledge his death). Cap was a best man at the wedding and they really started to look to him as a sort of father figure. In fact, all the younger heroes love how he stood up for them and validated their feelings. To know that so much of their worries were being shouldered by someone who was years younger than them…

And the JL is worse off too. Their coworker, who they trusted and cared for, had been living alone since he was a child. Having to save for scraps until he finally got a home of his own.

The magic users are practically waiting for Billy to blow a fuse at everyone either fussing over him, attempting to make him mad, or following him whenever they felt the need. Mary’s laughing her ass off and Freddy’s smirking because now he can say “I told you so”. Shazam’s shaking his head because he told his damn protege that the champion doesn’t DO teams, but look where they are now.

Teth is honestly ecstatic. Comes to the next higher ups meeting and laughs in Billy’s face.

And Billy? Billy at least hopes he can make some money off of this: Okay but if I let you stay on my couch for the next three hours, that’s gonna cost you.

No no, I’ll let you follow me, but only if you do this one interview.

Maybe just stop trying to make me mad and just talk to me? Like I get you have issues but I already have a shit load of that so…

[gale-force-storm]

He refuses to fall for the first person to show him kindness. He may be feeling sorry for himself, but that's a bridge too far.

Even if they are beautiful. And kind to everyone, not just him. And brave. And clever. And strong. And they love animals, and reading. And they have a wry sense of humour that he adores.

He won't. He can't. Besides all else, this is decidedly not the time. A bomb in his chest and a worm in his head and a weight on his shoulders and a shame in his stomach and a shattered heart he's still trying to gather the pieces of. Desperately clinging to the cloak of his past, wrapping himself in his former confidence, pretending it hasn't been worn threadbare with time in isolation and eaten ragged by the moths of doubt and fear and past mistakes.

He fell from grace so far so fast, but he cannot beg affection off the first hand to offer him help up, even if it is the first time he's touched another person in months. Even if that hand did send a sudden warmth through him and feel so right in his own he could almost cry from it.

...This is getting out of hand.

He can just be friendly with them, surely. How does one make friends, again? Shared interests? He mostly just has the one, so he'll share what he can. They pick it up quickly, and the warm magic that surrounds them is a balm on his soul. Right up until they imagine kissing him, and his heart skips a beat. It can't be. It can't be. They can't want him back. It's not possible. And how, after it all, after everything, is he meant to resist the overwhelming temptation of being wanted?

They don't let up, either. Lingering glances. Warm smiles. All but propositioning him at the tiefling party. If there is a single positive thing to be said about his year of orb-imposed abstinence, it's that the willpower he had to build up and the practice denying himself were the only things that enabled him to decline their advances.

Well, that and the risk of blowing up the both of them, along with everyone else in or near the camp.

The warm smiles and lingering gazes and casual touches still continue, though.

This is fine. He's fine. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, someone cared for him like this, and he can't do a damn thing about it, but he's fine. Everything is fine. As fine as it can be, anyways, given everything else about the situation.

He supposes he should probably be more upset about Mystra's orders. At this point, though, it's hard to feel like it's anything besides a way out. A relief that he can be good for something. One more miserable experience, and then he's done with it, and all their problems are solved. There are worse things.

Except.

They're so angry about it. Everyone is, but them especially. Arguing with both him and Elminster the entire time, insisting there's another option. That they'll find or make one. Whatever they have to do to keep him around.

Gods help him, but he does want to stay with them. Stay for them.

He sleeps that night, and awakens with a jolt, a groan, and a realization. He's glad that prestidigitation exists to clean himself up without leaving his tent and risking the others' notice. His body had, apparently, caught up with certain implications before his brain. Though from what snippets of his dream he remembers, maybe it was only his waking mind that had been lagging behind.

He wants them, and he can finally have them. Can give them as much of himself as he's able, in the time he has left.

He had refused, at first, the idea of falling for the first person to show him kindness. And he hasn't. He's fallen for someone who is so much more that that. And he will not, cannot, die without letting them know. If he has to leave them, and he fears he will, then he will not leave them feeling unappreciated, or uncherished, or unloved. Not when he can finally embrace the full depth and breadth of what he feels for them. Has felt for them for what can't have been more than a tenday or two, but feels like a lifetime and a moment all at once.

He will not leave without showing them the full scope of his admiration and appreciation and sheer joy at their presence. The full scope of how impossibly deeply he already loves them. Not while he has any say in it.

[thatnonameuser]

The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 1.

You feel like you're floating. Gliding.

Your mirror glows, beckoning you forth.

"What is this?" You climb out of bed and take step after step, it's like walking on something soft yet hard, instead of the splintery hardwood. The mirror glows brighter with each step, and it ripples when you stop directly in front of it. A part of you feels compelled to touch it.

So you do, like an enormous idiot.

As soon as your fingers press against the cool glass, you're rocketed forward through a bright light.

Your body hits grass. Soft grass. You stand up, looking down to see grey grass.

The world you landed in was completely black, white and grey. And at the same time, it looks like a fantasy land straight from a storybook. Around you are rose bushes, comically large all a pale colour if the pale white is to be believed.

Behind you is the mirror, showing your bedroom still coloured the way it normally is and just as you left it.

"H-Hello?" A handful of- Card Soldiers? rush pass you. All holding paint buckets full of red paint and paint brushes. The paint is the only colour you can see. They didn't see you.

<Hurry up and paint the roses red!>

<Slather them quickly, as aforesaid!>

They sing as they quickly paint all the white roses red.

"They're...painting the roses?"

Someone nudges your arm.<Miss, why are they painting the roses?>

You whip your head to your side. A girl, black and white, like the world around you. Her light coloured hair is tied up with a black ribbon. And she's wearing a light coloured dress with black and white stockings.

You point to yourself, "You can see me?"

<Of course. In fact, you're the most normal thing I've seen here.> Her voice is far away, like an old movie. You open your mouth to answer, but the girl wanders off, walking up to the card soldiers. <Why are you painting these white roses red?>

<Huh?>

<Why, you ask? Well it's simple...>

<The Queen likes her roses red. If they're white, we'll lose our heads!>

The cards sing.

This is Alice in Wonderland. You know this tale. A lost little girl falls into a world of absurdity, only to find out it was all a dream.

You wish your wonderland was just a dream.

<Goodness!>

<And so, we're painting the roses red>

But why was the mirror showing you this? Why was-

The sound of thunderous knocks echo through the dream world, it ripples and you're back in Ramshackle.

"I swear I was asleep in my dorm a second ago. How did-"

The world ripples harder, faster as the knocks increase in volume.

The world distorts and goes black.

Your eyes open. "Is someone at the door?" You whisper. Grim squirms in your arms, irritated by the noise.

"Mmm-....human? What's that noise..?"

The knocks are loud. So very loud.

"I think....someone's at the door." Your heart pluses with adrenaline. It's only been a week, how could someone try to stake their claim on you so quickly?!

"Is it one of those pesky ghosts again?! Why can't they just give up?!" Grim whines, burrowing himself into your sheets.

You snatch the knife on your bedside. You're not dumb enough to go back to sleep, you're risking something happening while you sleep, so you'll do the other dumb thing, go to the door, armed with a blade to a magic fight. Someone is trying to stake their 'claim'. But you're not going down without a fight.

Careful, you slip out of bed, avoiding some of the more creaky floorboards. You tip-toe over to the wall, separating you and the hallway. You lift on of the sheets to reveal one of the holes to the hallway, and it's thankfully empty.

So they're at the door, leading outside, in the dark, when the only other people here are ghosts and a sleepy magic cat.

"Henchman, go back to sleep," Grim whines. "The blankets are all cold now..."

"Grim, can you come with me to check it out." When you get no response, you change your angle, "It might be a foe for the Great Grim to vanquish?", still no response.

You sigh, as the knocks start up again. "Grim, do you want to sleep in my room tomorrow night?"

Grim pokes his head out of his blanket cocoon, "Three nights."

"Two."

"Henchman, you are demanding the Great Grim's help. You can't bribe me." You give him a look, he huffs," Two nights, it is." Grim sits himself on your shoulders. "Let's get rid of the intruder so we can go back to bed!"

You drag the dining chair away from the door handle, and the hallway is still as dark as you left it. The knocks get more erratic. You gulp down a deep breath, as you enter the entry hall.

"W-Who is it?" You call out, knife at the ready in both hands, just in case.

"It's me, Ace! Just let me in, all right!" Of course it's Ace. Still with what you learned yesterday, your guards not down yet.

"Ace, it's the middle of the night! Why are you here?" You speak through the door.

"Hey! Calm down, I'm not here to kidnap you or anything..." You freeze at the kidnapping mention. You swallow. Well, now he's gotten you into a bind. If you hesitate any longer, he might get suspicious.

You slide the knife into your pants waist band and cover it with your shirt. You hope it doesn't nick.

You unlock the door and, "What the hell are you wearing?!"

"Bwah! That collar!" Grim doubles over on the floor laughing, at the sight of the heart shaped collar around Ace's neck. And the fear you felt earlier is being replaced with giggles bubbling in your throat.

"I can't go back to Heartslabyul House." Ace grumbles, as you finally let out your laughs.

You smother your laughter long enough to talk, "W-Why? Did they laugh you out for wearing that?"

Ace's frown deepens, "I'm joining your dorm. For good." Wait, what?

"Myah! Come again!?"

Ace repeats himself, "I'm joining your dorm. And I'm never going back to Heartslabyul again!"

Cold sweat erupts on your skin. "Wait. You're not serious, right?" He pushes past you into the entry hall. Turning to give you a cheeky smile.

"Completely serious." he slings an arm over your shoulders, "What do you think _____, wanna make me your Vice Dorm Head?"

No. Really, NO. Having a yandere in your house where you sleep sounds like you're asking for trouble.

"A-Ace, you can't stay here!" You immediately regret how upset you sounded. Especially with how Ace's mischievous grin vanished as soon as you said those words.

"Huh? Why?"

Because he's a yandere, and you're a 'darling', or more specifically, 'his darling'. It's common sense.

Instead, you change tact. "Look, why don't we just talk about what happened," You scoop up Grim, and lock the front door. "Come on. Let's go to the living room."

"You're an idiot, Ace." You say, facepalming.

"Hey!"

"If you ate my tuna, I would be pretty mad too."

"Still, locking off my magic is insane for eating a ONE slice of tart!"

"Yeah, it is." But it puts him on your level, magicless, powerless. "But-" "He might as well have cut off my arms and legs. What kind of jerk cuts mage off of his magic?!"

"Ac-"

"I mean, it's not like he could eat all THREE of those tarts to himself."

"ACE!" You yell as you cup his face in your hands and he calms down immediately. His eyes light up as he looks at you, with that same sparkle you saw in the halls earlier. Shit...

You let him go as you take a few steps back, to distance yourself from the man obsessed with you. Who's probably obsessed with controlling you too. He's still staring, and you drop you hand to where the handle of the knife rests on your stomach.

Grim speaks up, "Y'know if there were three of 'em, they probably were for a birthday party."

"A birthday party, huh?" Ace thinks aloud, his eyes still locked on you. You can feel his stare going into the walls behind you.

"Did you even apologise?" And he snaps out of his staring daze.

"Hey _____, I thought you would be a lil more sympathetic. I'm a victim here!" That look in his eyes darkens slightly. It's scary as if he's mad that you're.....not........defending him. Double shit.

You backpedal, "He....may have been a tad extreme." "But he stole food, that's not ok!" Grim objects. Damn it, Grim. Try to keep your henchman free, ok?

"Stealing food is a serious offense." you say, reluctantly.

"Aw, man you got to be kidding me." Ace complains.

"But if you apologise, he might forgive you." That look feels darker now. Maybe, you can just......"Ace, I'm your friend. I want to help you." You reach to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. The light brightens, "Just let me help."

"All right, all right...I'll apologise." Cool, all well that ends well, now all you have to do is get him out of your dorm and then all is well and good.

"But you're coming with me, _____" Damn it. Now you have to go with Ace to the controlling dorm, full of psycho control freaks, one of which is a dorm leader that cuts off magic for eating a tart. Great.

"Fair enough." You lie.

"By the way, do you have anywhere where I can crash tonight?"

"You were serious about that? Outside of the room, me and _____ use, this entire dump is buried under a foot of dust. So if you wanna crash you better start cleanin." Oh no.....Please don't ask to stay in my room, please don't ask to stay in my room, please do not ask to stay in my room.

"Dude, no way. I hate cleaning!" Don't say it. Don't say it.

"C'mon _____ Lemme stay with you, I'm real slim. I won't take up much space~" God dammit. That look in his eyes come back, as he pulls you closer. Too close.

Now what are you going to do? That look is back and you don't like seeing it darken. If you say no, he might get mad. If you say yes, you'll be sleeping with a yandere who might do seven-only-knows to you!

Grim runs in between you, separating you from Ace's piercing gaze. "No! Henchman promised to let me stay in her bed tonight!" Ace deflates, backing down. Thank you Grim I owe you some extra tuna-y tuna.

Wait a second. He's giving Grim a dark look. Is it jealousy or something?

You let go of Ace's hand and tightly embrace Grim, "You can sleep on the couch tonight. I'll get you a pillow and blanket."

You get the hell out as fast and inconspicuously as possibly. You yank open the topmost comforter and pillow from the linen closet, run back and toss it to Ace as fast as you can. Before you can disappear into the hallway back to the maybe safety of your room, "Hey ______?" You freeze.

"Yes? You turn and try to smile, but you can feel the muscles in your lips beg you to frown.

You swallow a whimper as he advances toward you. Too close, too close. "Good night."

"Good night, Ace." You turn back and.

....Soft lips on your forehead. He's kissing you good night.

It's been a week. One week was all it took. He fell for you in one week.

"S-see you tomorrow..." You say, dumbstruck.

You. are. doomed.

[experimentfae]

Alastor x Wife! Sick! Reader

Fluff / oneshot

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

You believed that when you woke up that you be completely fine and healthy well sorry to disappoint but you’re the opposite of that, you’re sick and I mean very sick.

You woke up to feel you’re skin felt hot and dry And now you had a headache that really hurt you then called for alastor which woke your husband alastor up, you heard him groan out “what’s wrong my love?” He turns to his left side to look at you just one look at you he immediately knew something was wrong making him immediately get up.

“By the looks of it you a bad fever (y/n).” “I’m fine it’s just- just then you felt like you were to vomit, and you did “oh satan I’m- I’m “no need to apologize love.” He made the one of the shadows clean the vomit. he snapped his fingers and got magically dressed to go down to the kitchen. “No worry dear I’ll make sure you get better.” Without another word he left leaving you to feel the symptoms coming to you little by little.

Alastor’s pov:

I had to make sure (y/n) got better I hate seeing her in such a sick state especially since we won’t be able to do our usual married life activities. Such as cuddling or going to our favorite places.

Just then Charlie is in front of me “hey alastor have you seen (y/n)? I need her help.” “Unfortunately Charlie my wife fell into a terrible fever so she won’t be able to help you.” I stated just then Charlie face formed into concern “oh no can I help? She always helps around here so I should repay this way.”

This would be beneficial for (y/n) “all right I need you to get my (y/n) some fever remedy medicine, make sure it’s a Belphegor brand she makes the best medcine.” I handed Charlie some money “oh no alastor let me pay for it, like I said I wanted to pay her back.”

“Well… if you say so thank you Charlie.” She smiled “alright I’ll be back soon promise.” She immediately left which now lead me to go back to make the veggie soup.

(Y/n) pov:

You felt your body aching now and “damn it why do I still get sick, for duck sake I’m dead!”Just then alastor came through the door and he immediately came to your side

“dear I know you won’t like this but you have to let me feed you.” “Alastor I could feed myself.” You then tried to lift up your arm but due to the aching it was a struggle, alastor then smirked “hmm I don’t think so.” you just sighed “please just feed me.” He smiled wider “of course.”

After his feeding you, you went to laying in the bed with alastor’s help “oh dear I forget to- just then someone knocked “that must be Charlie.” This confused you he opened the door to see Charlie with a bag “here I got the medicine (y/n).” This made you smile “you got me medicine? thanks Charlie.” She smirked in return “yeah wanted to repay you for helping the hotel.”

She then handed you the medicine. The. Alastor’s tuned to you with his usual smile “I made sure got the best medicine for you love.” you smiled “thank you alastor.” just then you felt alastor kissed the top of you’re head “al, don’t do that what if you get sick?” “that’s a risk of willing take.” Alastor stated with a care.

“Um I’ll just leave.” Charlie interrupted and she walked out leaving you two, you then turned your attention to alastor again “that vegetable soup was delicious, can you make me a Crawfish étouffée tomorrow?” “Of course I haven’t had that in a while myself.”

You then took the medicine. “With that medicine you will be better in no time (y/n), you should rest.” “Yeah you’re right I’ll gonna take a nap.” As you quickly fell asleep you didn’t feel as alastor stroked your face. Gazing at you with so much love and care.

“Get well soon.”

<- Back to MasterList or back to hazbin hotel

[alphajocklover]

Like OMG hunty! This is like totes, such a fun little site you have here. Apps, charms, and all that like. So here is like the stitch bitch, I’m this super swishy liberal queen but like I’m also an actor. And I’m up for this part and like I totes don’t know why my agent even thought of it for me. He’s this super conservative, awful straight douche. Like totally obnoxious. Crude. Belittles women and guys like me. And like I said super conservative. And I was wondering like omg, this is silly but is there anyway you could make me fit the part?

I’m glad you like my work, though I’m a little offended at how you put it. Calling it ‘a fun little site’ makes me worry you might not be taking what you’re getting into very seriously. Being transformed is incredibly serious business. You’ll be giving up your identity, or at least a large part of it, to become someone else. And even the safest ways of doing transformations can go horribly wrong. Taking on that risk for a movie role… either you’re a fool, or an incredibly dedicated actor. Possibly both. I’m going to assume it’s just the latter for my own conscience, and because if that really is the case… I’m actually pretty impressed. To go as far as to use unnatural means to alter your body and mind so you can better fit a role… it speaks to a passion for your work that most people never find. So even though I’m still a little offended… I’ll help you. More than that, I’m going to make you one of the greatest actors of all time. This isn’t going to be an easy task. I know you specifically asked for help fitting into this one role, but if you’re going to become a truly great actor, you’re going to need range. Playing only straight douchebags will only get you so far. You’re going to need to be able to change to fit whatever role you’re playing, which means an ongoing transformation. Those aren’t very easy to pull off. There are ways to do it, but my work isn’t sophisticated enough to do those. I’m a decent TF reporter, but actually doing TFs is still fairly new for me. A spell could work, but it would take much more magic than I have. I’m not even sure a talented wizard could pull off a spell like that without a coven to back them up. My next option would be nanobots or something, like the kind the Douchebag Revolution uses. But I’d have to get some from the revolution, and then reprogram them… and I’m not exactly an expert programmer. Programming is hard enough, but programming nanobots? Magically charged nanobots? Yeah that's not happening. I could always ask my Uncle’s friend Nick, the devil I’ve mentioned before, since his magic can do some truly incredible and complicated things, but for something this big he’d definitely want your soul. Even the wishing supernova might not work, as wishes this complicated are incredibly hard to pull off right. None of the other methods I’ve mentioned before would work well either… so if we’re going to pull this off, we’ll have to use something different. Something new. Something like… A potions set! Now, that probably sounds a little strange. I mean, considering how complicated I just told you this transformation will be to pull off, making it work with some magic cocktail probably sounds crazy. The thing is I’m not giving you one potion. I’m giving you dozens of them. In the box you’ve just received are a large amount of potions, each one set to transform you into a different movie cliche. We’ve got one that will make you into a hardboiled detective, one that will turn you into a sports star, and even one that will make you into a superhero. And those are only some of them. Take a potion that's the closest to the role you want to get, and for the next 24 hours you’ll have the personality of that person, all while still remembering your true self. With this, you will literally be the perfect method actor! And with a little extra magic, people won’t even realize you’re doing it. They’ll just think you’re a great actor! With the set of potions I’ve given you, some hard work, and a bit of deception, you just might be the greatest actor to ever live. And when you’re not playing a role, you can always have some fun with the potions in your regular life. Why don’t you try one now? This one looks interesting. ‘The Action Hero’.

Ok… wow. That worked really well. I wasn’t sure it’d be this effective but I guess I’ve got a knack for potion making! I’m glad you like your new body so much. I would too honestly, look at those pecs! And the personality transformation aspect seems to be working well too, considering the hint of superiority in your smirk and how you can’t keep your eyes off the delivery woman's tits. Enjoy being a straight, douchebag action hero. And if you ever need a potion refill or anything specific, just let me know. Now stop flirting with that girl and get going, you’re going to miss your audition!

**I'll admit, I think this one might have gotten a little bit away from me. I've been thinking about potions a lot lately, and the idea of an actor literally transforming to fit a role really excited me. I know the person who sent this probably wanted a bigger focus on the douchebag part of the TF, but I got so excited by the idea. I hope you still like it, and feel free to send in another on**

[pandafruit]

Ok, I’ve been tossing this AU around in my head for AGES, and I have to get it out or I’m gonna explode.

So in TEC, it’s made pretty clear that there are numerous risks to reviving Butler that even the fairies can’t fully account for. No healing like his had ever been attempted before, and there was really no telling what was gonna happen.

What if, in the face of all this, Holly refuses to heal him?

She’s not a trained medical warlock. She’s on her own. And she’s being asked to desecrate the body of her friend, with unknown, possibly catastrophic results. She refuses, tries her best to console Artemis and goes home.

Now, a lot changes from here.

Artemis obviously isn’t giving up hope. He transfers Butler to longer term cryogenic storage and has human surgeons fix his wounds as best they can in the meantime.

Artemis and Holly’s friendship is shattered. Artemis could never forgive her for not even trying to heal Butler. Holly doesn’t hate him in turn, but she does (mostly) believe she did the right thing, and wishes he would see her point of view. The LEP might still occasionally contact Artemis for help (though not for long - I’ll get to it) but the two of them remain, at absolute best, frosty around each other from then on.

Spiro and Blunt are no longer getting the “off to prison” treatment lmao. Artemis contacts Carla Frazetti and convinces the Chicago mob to turn on Spiro and assassinate both him and Blunt. Afterward, Artemis ends up taking Spiro’s place as benefactor and strategist for the mob. In return, Carla provides him with a security detail when needed (which is how I’m getting around Artemis not dying without Butler every 5 minutes lmao). The relationship proves very beneficial to Carla, and absolutely horrible for Artemis’s moral compass.

Artemis becomes obsessed with learning how to use magic - if the fairies won’t heal Butler, he’ll do it himself. This strains his working relationship with the LEP to the breaking point, and he eventually becomes a fairy fugitive. (I’ll be honest, this one is just bc I think Warlock!Artemis is cool as hell. They should’ve let him keep the magic >:(((( ) (Also cue tragic-yet-awesome scene where Holly is trying to bring him in and they get into a magic fight. The drama. The cinema).

Speaking of his magic! Artemis is no longer actively monitoring Foaly’s work, and the calculation error for the demons goes unnoticed until far too late. Thousands die in Hybras’s return to Earth, and the fairies come dangerously close to being revealed altogether.

When Artemis’s Atlantis Complex hits, because of his decidedly more amoral life path and extra dabbling in magic, it’s a hundred times worse. He has full blown hallucinations, panic attacks, multiple alters, and can no longer access fairy help for any of it. He stumbles by with human OCD treatments, but it’s not nearly as effective. He still refuses to see a psychiatrist.

Eventually, years down the line, Artemis masters magic well enough to revive Butler. It’s both better and worse than it would’ve been had Holly healed him - he no longer has to deal with the Kevlar strands thanks to the human medical intervention, and Artemis was able to train for years specifically to heal him, but the extra time in stasis means it takes even more of Butler’s life force to revive him.

When Butler finally awakes, he no longer recognizes the cold, paranoid, angry young man he used to dutifully protect. Butler may have been the one who was revived, but it’s Artemis who came back wrong.

There’s a million different ways this AU could go, but this is the stuff I’ve been tossing around. Also I know for a fact I haven’t hit every plot hole - PLEASE please share what you guys think would happen with me!! As of rn, I have no name for this AU, so I would appreciate suggestions for that too lmao

[raayllum]

Rayla's Super Selective Hearing, or What is Callum Actually Afraid of?

There's a running current throughout the series, but especially Arc 2 and S6 in particular, about recognizing fear in another individual and the importance of it as a sort of moral horizon line not to cross.

We see this time and time again being twisted/warped with the dark mage characters:

as well as others as a warning sign

which is contrasted most notably with Rayla in S1 as an explicit reason for mercy and recognizing personhood:

RUNAAN: You let him go! RAYLA: Runaan, I'm sorry. The human — he looked up at me and I saw the fear in his eyes. RUNAAN: Of course he was afraid, but you had a job to do! (1x01)

RAYLA: And then I just... let him go. I don't know why. EZRAN: Because you felt for him. RAYLA: But he was a human. My enemy. EZRAN: Yeah, but then you saw he was scared, and you knew he was a person, just like you. RAYLA: That shouldn't have mattered. I had a job to do. (1x08)

and in pleas of ignoring fear:

versus reassurance that it's okay, even if the two can overlap:

And fear, is, of course one of the most consistent feelings that Callum has towards Aaravos, and subsequently one of the threads built upon between Callum and Rayla.

Some of this, mind you, is because they're going to have to confront the "it doesn't matter that the human was afraid, you had a job to do and should've killed him" holdover whenever Callum gets possessed again, which is also part of the reason why Runaan turns and flees from Rayla's compassion and forgiveness in 6x09: he's afraid he doesn't deserve it, and that he "can't go back". He's worried that he's too far gone, and that he's a monster.

This also plays into Viren's realization and acceptance of what had happened with Lissa, who was terrified of him and said similarly that he had "become a monster" as previously noted (and eventually he was able to acknowledge that she was right).

This same fear of becoming monstrous one of the many fears we see plaguing Callum in S6: that not only will Aaravos control and/or manipulate him, not only did he do dark magic again, but that if it happens again or if Rayla finds out that she'll be scared of him, down to similar framing to boot.

Callum's fear doesn't come to fruition in 6x03, with Rayla being not scared of him, for scared for him. As she lists out reasons why he shouldn't do dark magic (without knowing why he did so), she cites:

Because it's dangerous. Because it hurts you. But most of all, because it makes you vulnerable to the thing you're most afraid of. [...] I just don't understand why you would keep doing it, knowing that it puts your life in terrible danger.

And Rayla has good reason to think that Aaravos is Callum's worst fear, given that Callum has emphasized his fear over Aaravos a few times to her:

So Callum is scared of Aaravos, as are most of the characters, but the possession gets to him specifically. Part of this is because the possession strips Callum of the quality he cares about the most: his agency ("You think [making a mistake because Aaravos took control of me] makes me feel better? That makes me feel worse" / "I felt so weak and out of control. I was his puppet"). This is also what he affirms to Ezran in 4x05 ("when he took over my whole body and used me like a puppet").

The other side is one that he spells out for us in 4x07, so let's go line by line now that S6 has provided more reaffirmation / context.

I'm not afraid that he'll hurt me.

This line, of course, shows Callum's selflessness and willingness to risk his life (1x02, 2x07, 3x01, 3x09, 5x08), in addition to his rationale for asking Rayla to kill him. If his destiny under Aaravos and the harm it brings it inevitable, his own life and safety would be a reasonable concern, but it's not. And we know this because it's Rayla's primary concern in the possession plotline, and one that's not good enough for him. "We're all in danger," he rebuts when she just talks about him; she questions why he would use dark magic again when "it puts your life in terrible danger". But just his own life being at risk isn't enough to get him to not do something — at least not when he has a good enough motivation ("You can risk your life to learn magic" vs jumping off the Pinnacle or trying to take Ezran's place).

I'm afraid that he'll use me

This line is the crux of Callum's dynamic with Aaravos on his end — the fear, the concern, the paranoia. In 4x07, it's a scary possibility; in 6x01, he treats it more like an imminent inevitability unless he can find a way to destroy the pearl: "As long as it's here or anywhere, it poses a threat, because Aaravos can manipulate people on the outside. Like he did with Lord Viren. And... me." We'll get to why I think this change of "he will" (still leaves some room for doubt) to "he is" (he is going to) has happened in the next couple of lines. We also see that Callum finding out that Aaravos has used him in switching the pearl in 6x06 was enough to break his spirit even without knowing anything that leaving the pearl back in Katolis was going to lead to, so the stakes of the action itself (losing agency/control) are high. It's scary to think he might've already "played into" Aaravos' hands per his 'destiny' even if we know (thanks to the pawn intro) that he hasn't and much more is in store.

But what is Callum scared about when it comes to Aaravos' hold on him? Especially since 6x01 trims both of these things out of the mix in terms of verbal dialogue.

to do awful things

This is the first thing Callum mentions, so it accordingly has weight. We see that Callum, like the bulk of the main cast but especially the core trio, wants to and tries to do the right thing ("The right thing, I hope") and it's something he admires in other people ("she does what's right even when it puts her own life in danger"). He doesn't want to cause unnecessary suffering and he doesn't want to hurt people, and unlike characters who also feel that way most of the time but don't follow through (hi Claudia, hi arc 1 Viren), he is usually accordingly tormented and guilty when he feels like he hasn't lived up to his own ideal (apologizing to Ez for his temper, doing dark magic, etc).

However, "awful things" is a little vague. It can't include hurting the people around him per say because that gets its own distinction, so what does 'awful things' refer to? Harrow refers to his choices with the Magma Titan and Avizandum and Zym as "terrible things"; Soren asserts the same about trying to kill the princes; and Terry most explicitly tells Claudia that "I've seen you do a lot of awful things, dark magic things". So the most distinct thing we can get there is 1) killing and/or sacrificing people and/or 2) dark magic in general.

This is, to me, part of why 5x08 is so difficult for Callum as an episode, because he's forced to do some terrible things. Finnegrin tries to make him pick which one of his loved ones is losing a hand; Callum is nearly coerced and then chooses to use dark magic; he gives a dangerous man an even more dangerous spell and the trade doesn't even amount to anything.

Because if it comes down to doing terrible things, Callum would prefer doing that in order to not

or hurt people I care about.

Callum clearly thinks that dark magic and doing dark magic is awful. We see this routinely expressed throughout the series, scaffolded by dark magic always being a last resort and nothing else for him thus far: "But is it really so wrong?" "Yes!" (2x08); "But in your eyes I see guilt. What have you done that's got you so twisted up inside?" (5x08); "I did it, I'm ruined, it's too late for me, who cares?" (6x03)

Ergo, on Finnegrin's ship, in his own eyes, he did something awful. This is because I think it's evident that being vulnerable to Aaravos isn't Callum's worst fear, as Rayla posits: it's losing her or Ezran.

Being vulnerable and possessed by Aaravos is scary to him because it might mean hurting them. Yes he doesn't want to do something awful, but we've seen in canon that he's willing to if the alternative is letting either of them die (much like how Rayla didn't want to emotionally hurt Callum, but it was a trade she was willing to make if it meant keeping him physically safe). We know he's not worried about Aaravos controlling him just for his own safety (points to previous sections).

The phrasing of the line itself is interesting, as you can read it two ways, of him being scared Aaravos will use him to hurt his loved ones, or scared that Aaravos (generally) will hurt his loved ones. Neither is an appealing prospect.

But as Finnegrin says:

All that talk about how love makes you stronger, but the second you see that elf girl in pain, you completely lost yourself.

Callum would rather do something awful (dark magic) and make himself vulnerable to Aaravos, his 'worst fear,' than lose Rayla (or Ezran), which is his Actual worst fear. This is, of course, just perfect Greek tragedy irony: Callum getting possessed in order to save Rayla, only to inadvertently put her in danger again under Aaravos' control. Nor is this exclusive to Callum — I imagine the worst fears for basically everyone in TDP would be the loss of the people they love, even over the loss of their own life, and this is something we see reflected time and time again with Harrow and Sarai, Gren and Amaya, Aaravos and Leola, Rayla and Callum, etc.

What is more exclusive to Callum is the sheer lengths he may be willing to go to in order to not lose them. As he says in 4x07, he's afraid Aaravos will use him because it could lead to doing awful things or hurting people he loves; in 6x01, his speech has changed because he has a better understanding of how/why Aaravos would be able to manipulate him, and because he knows he'll do things he considers awful to protect/save the people he loves.

After all, as previously noted, Callum is afraid of having no choice... and that's exactly what happened.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,6k words | masterlist

"And what now?" The general's voice is still tinged with the shock from the earlier happenings, his breathing ragged.

"The box won't open without…I don't know. Without what?" Cassian looks at Nesta and only wants to wrap her into his arms, keeping her safe. Nesta holds Ataraxia tightly in her hands, face displaying nothing but strength and determination, but when her eyes slide to the box, completely untouched and closed, on the table in front of her, in the middle of Rhysand's office, disappointment passes over her features. It makes the former determination disappear and her shoulders slouch. Nesta looks exhausted, even a little sad and Cassian just wants to hold her, tell her she did her best, that she did everything she could and it is enough. 

"We need magic. A greater force," Nesta breathes, gaze not wavering, trained on the little onyx box. Vassa, the clever fire bird, managed to steal the box Koschei always kept with him. They need to destroy it in order to destroy him, but right now it seems impossible — they can't do it. At least not with the tools at hand. 

Even Amren is clueless. What should they do? How should they go forward? 

Silence, palpable and heavy, falls upon the room and for a moment everyone seems clueless until—

Amren taps her fingers against her chin and then opens her mouth. "There is one person that I know that could be able to open this box." 

The temperature in the office cools at least five degrees, a chill coursing through it. Amren moves towards the desk, fingers tracing a line over the box, eyes squinted. "She has power beyond our knowledge." Amren inhales a deep breath. "And you, boys, put her in the Prison many years ago. Many centuries ago." She looks over her shoulder, dark hair shifting with the movement. "Azriel, Cassian."

A cold shiver cascades down Azriel's spine. A Prison inmate would be their solution? It can't be—

"We can't free a prison inmate," Cassian says, voice strong. 

"Of course not, we can also let Koschei destroy us." Amren's statement is gleeful, almost mocking of the general. Cassian only narrows his eyes at her, fighting the urge to flip her off. 

"I mean, how can we be sure she is loyal to us and not to…Koschei. Or that she doesn't try to murder us the first chance she gets?" Cassian looks a bit scared and Amren frowns at him. 

"Why should she be loyal to Koschei?" she asks in a bored voice. 

"If she is a creature that has to be kept in the Prison the connection for her to be loyal to the Death Lord or any kind of evil spirit is not too far fetched," Cassian says and lifts his arms in despair. 

Nesta takes a step back, moving closer to her mate, her heart still racing with the former actions. She was the one who tried to open the box, but failed. The power that held it close is just too strong. Alone the trial left its markings on her skin, on her body. She is shivering, goosebumps spreading all over her body. The ancient force having fought against her, fiercely. 

"Remember where I come from, boy," Amren snaps and throws Cassian a deadly look. "I've been in there once as well. And I know her. I know about her. And I know that she will help us and isn't loyal to Koschei."

Rhysand, formerly having been calm, silently observing the situation, now steps in, Nyx cradled to his chest. "Can we truly trust her, Amren?" His voice is deep and strong, bouncing of the walls of his office. 

They can't risk anything and freeing someone from the Prison can be deadly and cause more problems than they already have.

"We can." Her statement is steadfast, like nothing can shake her belief that the female in question can truly be their life saver. "She might be a little out of practice after being locked away for centuries, but I know she has the kind of power and magic to open this box. After all she was part of…them."

"Of who?" It is Gwyn who asks this question, her voice hushed, almost like whispering about a secret. 

Amren turns her head to the priestess, smirking. "Of the Wild Hunt. Not their leader, but the second-in-command." 

Silent gasps rumble through the room, and surprise flickers over Gwyn's young face. She has heard about the Wild Hunt, read about it, but she had no idea that someone who was apart of it was locked away in the prison. 

Shock takes root in Azriel's chest, rattling his very bones. He has to grab the backrest of the chair in front of him to keep from tumbling. There is only one female this description fits. A female he locked into the prison himself. A female who promised vendetta. A female he loved once. You. 

His throat works on a swallow, shadows nervously swirling around him. Azriel isn't the type to be scared of most things, but you? You are a different kind. A different breed. Something otherworldly. Something - a being - that indeed scares him. 

"We can use the Harp to enter the cell," Nesta suggests and earns herself a round of agreement and planning immediately starts. But Azriel is unfocused. He thoughts return to you. Always. His body feels weak and he is shaking on the inside. For centuries he has been thinking about you, and now…

"Azriel, you will get her." The shadowsinger wants to say no, but he can't. He has to do it. If someone frees you, it has to be him. So, he only bows his head in silent agreement and already moves towards the door. 

"I'll return with her," he says as a matter of good bye, his mind too distressed, his body still in shock, to answer anything else or to do anything else. 

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

The prison still looks the same. The same dark stone walls, the same mossy smell. The only thing that has changed is Azriel himself. He no longer is this young boy that would do anything the High Lord tells him, without the blink of an eye. He has grown now, and he knows that what he did to you back then, was wrong. The situation — you — should have been handled differently. But he can't take back his actions. But maybe, maybe there is a chance for him to explain it all to you. 

His steps hollow through the dimly lit halls, prison cells on either side of it.

He still remembers your cell. It is a memory imprinted on his mind, but one that has been locked away for hundreds of years. 

A cold shiver curls around his spine, just like his shadows curl around his body.

He had clamped down on the pain for so long, for centuries, but now that he is here again it all comes back and nearly breaks him. Now, he can't believe what he did. He can't believe he hurt you like this.

Why did he not try to fight? Why did he not choose another option.

Because there wasn't one. It was the only option to keep you safe. To protect you. And your safety was always his priority. Even if it meant locking you in here and ripping his own heart into shreds.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird won't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns to brass—"

Your voice catches in your throat, when your nostrils flare, taking in the new, uncommon scent. Someone is here. Someone that hasn’t been here in a long time. The scent is not fully unfamiliar, but you also don’t remember its owner. Until—

A nest of shadows is the first thing you see when the door to your cell opens. The black mist clears and reveals a male of ethereal beauty. A male you've come to loathe even more with every passing century.

"Shadowsinger." A vicious grin spreads over your face, showing your elongated canines. "We meet again."

Alongside the general of the Illyrian armies, the spymaster caught you and put you in this Cauldron-damned prison. It had been centuries ago. But you haven't forgotten. You never will. But why he returned is a mystery….

Before he can so much as blink, you lunge at him, chains clattering on the cold stone floor, covered in dirt and mould. You want to claw at his throat, at best rip it out. The fire of fury inside of you has burned for centuries, wasn't diminished once. And his presence alone added enough fuel to make your weak and broken body move. The sound of the chains reverberates through the dank, musty air, your long, elongated canines gleaming with a feral snarl. 

"I'm going to kill you." But you can't. Technically, you can't kill him while in here. Magic binds your power and you are restrained, also by magical chains, that keep you from moving too far or too close to him. But that doesn't stop you from trying. 

Hatred, raw and powerful, fuels you and makes you blind with the only thing on your mind being to end his life. He condemned you to this wretched, soul-crushing place. He never cared that you had no choice other than being part of the Wild Hunt. You didn't choose your fate. So, he had no right to do so either. 

"You think these chains can hold me, Azriel?" Your voice is a venomous hiss, each syllable dripping with disdain as you strain against the biting restraints, the cold metal spikes digging into your flesh. "I'll tear you limb from limb! I'll rip your throat out and watch you bleed out until the very last drop."

Azriel, his demeanour not giving away the whirlwind of emotions within him, stands in a stance, Truth-Teller clasped in his scarred hands. He seems composed and not afraid and that angers you even more. And so does his voice, cold, low, velvety. 

"I'm not here to fight you," he says, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside the Prison cell and within both of you. "I am sorry for—"

"Stuff your apologies up your pretty ass!" With a guttural roar, you hurl yourself at him again, driven by an insatiable hunger to destroy him. Memories of the centuries that have passed, of degradation, and the pain you suffered reach the front of your mind and drive your anger forward. 

But the chains hold you back and Azriel swiftly side-steps you. It isn't even necessary. If he doesn't get any closer, there is no chance for you to reach him. 

You bare your teeth again, the thin, white nightgown clutching to your body like a second skin. You shiver, but not from the cold, rather from the rage blazing through your veins. "What do you want from me? Why did you come back? Why did you come back now?" you demand, but he leaves you without an answer. 

"I don't want to hurt you," Azriel repeats instead, a note of regret tinting his voice.

"Hurt me?" You sneer. "You've already destroyed me! You broke me and you left me broken. Bloody and cold. I lay in my own puke for days, bleeding, wounded."

A pang of hurt hits Azriel right in the heart. He only followed what Rhysand's father had told him to do. He had no other choice. Everything else would have meant your death. He couldn't have risked it. 

"I come here because I—because we need your help."

His eyes drop to your hands, scars also marring them. Your pointed nails are still sharp, but brittle, almost like you have been clawing at the stone walls. 

Memories flash in his mind of how you sunk them into his skin. How you scratched them over his skin. And how…simultaneously your lips met his, mouths dancing, tongues toying—

"You betrayed me," you seethe, "and now you want my help?"

Azriel's expression looks pained, torn. His eyes drop anew, to the chains binding your feet to the wall. Your hands, though, are free and you can't wait to sink your sharp nails into his neck. Your fangs as well. 

"Only over my dead body!" you scream, fury clouding your vision like black haze. 

Only for you to realise it is not fury that clouds your vision. He is using his shadows to do so. You can't see anymore and it makes you panic. And this panic makes you lose control. You forgot about your former target, the darkness so looming and scary it makes you scream. 

Chains clatter to the ground, but you are too caught in a stupor to move. To run. To attack. 

With a swift and calculated manoeuvre, Azriel is behind you and secures handcuffs around your wrists, binding you. Binding you…binding you…You are restrained again. 

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this." His voice is softer, but it hurts you. You don't want to hear it. Don't want to see this side of him. Because it isn't his true self. His true self hurt you. Broke you. Destroyed you. 

You hate him so much, it almost hurts. You can't allow the pain. You will never allow it. You only allow anger. 

Blind rage surges within you, a thunderstorm of emotions brewing. And then he does the most unforgivable thing. He knows about your past. Knows about your fear of the dark. And yet, darkness swallows you wholly — a blindfold tightens over your eyes. Helplessness makes the content of your stomach sour and burning tears dwell in your eyes. Rage simmers beneath your skin, but it is the pain of betrayal that nearly gains the upper hand. The sort of pain you have been pushing away for centuries. 

You scream anew. His name. Curses. Noises. 

"Forgive me," Azriel whispers from behind you. "Forgive me, please."

But you wouldn't even imagine doing so. Never. Only over your dead body. 

"You'll regret this." Your voice is not strong. It is hoarse and broken. "I will never forgive you."

Azriel moves swiftly. In his hand, he holds Nesta's harp, the key that allowed him to enter your cell.

"Forgive me," he says again and his hand lands on your hip. 

You resist, squirming against his grasp, frustration and anger lacing your voice. "Let me go!" you demand, a mix of desperation and in your voice. But he is stronger. 

Ignoring your protests, Azriel gathers you in his arms, scooping you up with ease that is beyond you, cradling your frame against his chest. He adjusts his hold, ensuring you're secure and you feel that something cold, and metal - you can't quite tell- is placed on your belly. The Harp, but this knowledge is unbeknownst to you. 

"Stop fighting," he growls. "I'm taking you away from this place."

"Only to lock me up somewhere else." Your tears wet the blindfold. 

You struggle again, but it is useless against his strength. Your voice turns into a seething growl when you feel cold air brush you. Azriel rises. You rise. He is flying. And he is taking your with him. 

With a powerful surge of his wings, he gets airborne, leaving the prison behind. When air and wind swirls around you, you continue to squirm and strain against his hold.

"I won't let you imprison me again!" you seethe, fear and anger loud in your voice. 

He stays calm. 

Gradually, your resistance lessens, your body relaxing slightly against Azriel's chest, tension and pain still coiling inside of you. But you are tired. Exhausted. You only want to sleep. And that for ages. 

As you fly farther from the prison, towards Velaris, Azriel's embrace remains steadfast, his eyes brushing over your body from time to time. His actions are the only reason for you to hate him so much. And it hurts him as well. 

"Forgive me," Azriel breathes into the chilly night air, but you don't hear him anymore. 

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[hanafubukki]

CW & TW: Blood, some gore, mentions of miscarriages I'm wondering... Since Lilia's 700 years old (which is pretty old in Fae years and for his supposed species), would he have complications getting someone pregnant? Also, I've been thinking about Y/N having complications getting pregnant due to easily becoming stressed and because of some medical conditions that had been inherited in Y/N's family. How do you think he would feel about that? But despite those things being against them, Y/N happens to become pregnant. HOWEVER, they would have to have a healer or a medic from STYX and from Briar Valley collaborating together, watching the pregnancy almost 24/7 just in case the creation is miscarried. But as luck would have it, before the creation is miscarried, the magic that is used to save the child ends up working. Because of this, the child ends up being a miracle child. Y/N is shocked to see that this has happened since their dream of becoming a parent had been dashed a long time ago; those times were filled with despair and agony, their body having rejected many a creation before this one. Yet through the technological advancements of medicine and fertility magic combined had brought about something that nobody could predict: a half-Fae, half-human child who was born healthy and without much complication. You don't have to reply if you don't want to since these themes can be hard to talk about, but if you do, then I think you'll be great at it! Besides, there's (in my opinion) nothing stopping them from being accepted regardless by the Diasomnia fam!

Hello Faye 💞🌷💚

If we follow some general fae lore 🤔 it’s harder for faes to get pregnant and, depending on the species, it’s rare to have children? Though, none of this is ever mentioned or implied in twst lore.

In some fae lore, that’s why having children with humans are easier because humans are more fertile. 👀 This is also not mentioned in twst lore but given that the only half fae and half human we know of right now is Sebek who has older siblings…it might be true?

But there isn’t anyone to compare to as of right now nor do we know enough about BV culture and fae lore. Absjsjshs I know I went off topic, but I was very curious lol.

I don’t think Lilia would have ever considered having children before meeting you. He’s already has Malleus and Silver. He helped train Sebek.

For him to want kids? Especially with you? I feel it would be something he would gradually want. a little piece of you and him. I think he would feel sad if he couldn’t have them with you but even more so, he feels for you. That he couldn’t give them to you. Whether it be a you or he health problem or combo.

Either way, you’ll always be loved and welcomed in Diasomnia family lives. You being you is what they have always adored. Not being able to have kids has anything to do with that at all.

If you do get pregnant despite all the odds, I won’t put it past Lilia to be by your side or one of the boys being near you always. Especially since it’s a high risk pregnancy.

I think with the combination of STYX, fae knowledge, and the history of Mrs. Zigvolt; was any of this possible.

This is your baby. Your miracle baby. Yours and Lilia’s.

Through the support of friends and family, your baby was born. Your precious baby.

The one love beyond any measure even before their birth. 💞🥹

[misc-obeyme]

Hello! For your kinktober event, may I suggest a Gn or fem MC corrupting Simeon?

Hello hello!

Okayyy I haven't written corruption before, so hopefully this turned out okay! I didn't describe much about the setting, so it could be taking place in either game. I also didn't describe Simeon's outfit for this reason.

Thank you for submitting a prompt!

KINKTOBER 2023

GN!MC x Simeon

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: corruption, penetration (reader receiving), uh please let me know if I should add anything here

It was clear from the way he couldn't look at you that Simeon was uncomfortable. You were sitting side by side on your bed, your legs touching, and you had leaned in to press a kiss against his cheek. The blush that followed seemed to spread outward from the spot where your lips had pressed. You could tell he was trying to suppress a shiver, but not quite managing it.

You were also fully aware of the erection in his pants, but you knew you couldn't bring attention to it without risking scaring him away. You wanted to reach out, to touch, to make him gasp and moan and whimper your name. But there was still too much tension.

The expression on Simeon's face was one of determination, despite the still prominent blush. "I should go now, MC," he said quietly.

You put your head on his shoulder. "Do you have to?"

Simeon sighed. "Yes."

You put a hand on his thigh, gently, turning your head to put your lips against his ear. "I can tell you don't want to."

Simeon's breath hitched and his body jerked like he was about to stand up, to run away. And yet… he stayed.

You took the chance and put your hand on the bulge in his pants.

"We can't," Simeon breathed out, voice shaky.

"Why not?" you asked.

Simeon shook his head slightly. "I'm an angel, MC."

You kissed his neck. "Then isn't it your duty to show me a glimpse of heaven?"

Simeon actually laughed at this. "Are you trying to corrupt me?"

"Is it working?" you asked, kissing his neck again, letting your lips travel up to his jaw. You reached out to turn his head so you could kiss his lips and you found them ready, waiting. Despite his protestations, he wanted you.

"I know you've been trying to be a good angel for some time now," you said, allowing your lips to travel back down his neck. "You've been trying not to give in to temptation. But Simeon, you can't deny me forever."

"MC," he said. "I can't-"

"It's okay," you said. "No matter what you do, you'll always be my good angel."

It was as though you had said the magic words. Simeon turned toward you, his arms going around your waist as he kissed you. There was a hunger behind the kiss, even though it was also hesitant. Like he wanted nothing more than to ravage you, but his guilt over it continued to hold him back.

He broke away for a moment, breathless. "It's just… you make me crazy, MC," he said. "You make me…"

You ran your fingertips down his chest, making him shiver. "I make you want to sin?"

Simeon groaned and leaned his head against your shoulder.

You tugged on his pants and it surprised you when he moved to give you better access. In moments, you had freed his beautiful cock, straining with need already.

When you touched it, ever so lightly, Simeon whimpered. His eyes were squeezed shut as he bit his lip, attempting to hold in how good he was already feeling.

You had to encourage him to touch you as well. He almost pulled back when you tugged on his hand and put it between your legs. But when you moaned at his touch, he didn't pull away.

In fact, your noises of pleasure seemed to make it harder for him to resist and he put his lips on your neck. They descended, but stopped when they reached the edge of your shirt.

You quickly discarded your top and lay back on the bed, pulling at his hands. Although he hesitated for only a moment, Simeon let you lead him and ended up straddling your hips.

You tugged at his clothes and he took the hint, pulling off his own top and exposing his beautiful chest. When you put your hands on him, his blush became even more pronounced.

After a little more fumbling with your clothes, he was hovering above you, leaning over you now, so close to putting himself inside you, but not yet willing to do it.

You reached up and cupped his cheek. "Simeon, I need you."

Somehow you knew that was what he needed to hear. And you were right because Simeon sank his cock into you. It was slow and hesitant, but once he had begun, he didn't stop. You responded by arching your back and moaning, your arms wrapping around his back.

Simeon was so gentle at first, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be. And yet things became more heated as you moved beneath him, meeting him fully and overwhelming him with your own passion. He couldn't help but respond to it.

And soon it was as though he could no longer think about anything - not sin, not guilt, not being an angel - he gave in entirely, thrusting into you desperately. He was covering you in kisses, having lost all reservations, his lips all over every inch of your skin that he could reach.

"Ah, MC," he panted. "You make me feel…"

You moaned. "Like a sinner?"

Simeon gripped your hips, his fingers digging in. He rose up enough to look down at you, his eyes glittering. "You make me feel holy."

The way he said the last word, with desire and need and want practically vibrating out of him, made you reach up and grab his face, pulling it down so you could kiss him.

It wasn't long before his cum was filling you, his warmth inside you and around you as he cried out, looking absolutely stunning as he did so, a true angel.

Simeon spent the rest of the night in your arms. He needed a little reassurance from time to time that it was still okay to be there. But you would never forget the way he had said the word holy while he was inside you. As though in that moment he had converted his faith from heaven to you.

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