#ash gets wind spells!

[omarwolaeth]

Not sure that Nibiru in Sky Striker is the best of ideas

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

Astro notes : Short N Sweet <3 Mercurial Design.

Mercury in the 1st - Comical. Socially abundant. Can be very quiet or loud. No in between. I love them actually. Would love someone that can match their flow, however most can never keep up with their every flowing wave. Their like the wind in human form. Their mind is a capsule of all the memories and experiences they've accumilated with time. Very interesting beings and could show you everything and nothing at the same time.

Mercury in the 2nd - This group has common sense enough to figure things out in such a small period of time that they can do almost anything to get what they want. They have issues with exploring things at first hand (taurus is the original ruler of the 2nd) so they can be a little stubborn but over time they quickly learn for new things to come to them from time to time. Very deep thinkers. Can be very open minded when they WANT to be.

Mercury in the 3rd - Intriguing personalities and are the gift that keeps giving. Soft spoken and has a mind thats free to any and everything. Really reluctant on having new friends but can become the bestest of friends later. they can really shy at times. There most open to conversations with strangers, it seems as they can let their whole world out from their mind and open a door to someone who is willing to listen. Beautiful spirits.

Mercury in the 4th - Sweet childlike personalities and honestly their mystique is one of a kind. Going into their world is like walking into a magical novel filled with fantasy, and coming out and it all disappears. Like a spell. Very captivating artists, and most keep the good stuff in a treasure chest, only the real ones will get a chance to open up whats inside.

Mercury in the 5th - Playful. Soft spoken. Interesting. Knowledgeable. Carefree. Those are the 5 things that is most prominent about their character. They will speak to you through song, writing, or even through and instrument. They work real well with their hands, if you can catch what I mean ;) Smooth charmers and could be a mini casanova so watch out for them. Very seductive.

Mercury in 6th - Talkaholics. Chatty Patties. You get my drift lol. Their caring to the ones they love and are advocates for everyone or everything such as animals and plants or even homeless people. You cannot get away with being mean to someone if they catch they are going to say some lol. Can be very mean spirited to the ones who deserve it. Overall, very practical and humane about things that need most of our attention. They aren't boring, their routines can switch up a lot depending on their mood so be easy on them.

Mercury in 7th - Charming individuals whose seductive prowess come out like a lightning bolt. Everybody likes them. Children come up to them the most tho. They have an angelic presence to their personalities and can get anyone to be on their side. Charismatic. Be careful, because the same way they can use this gift for good, they can switch and you know... do some damage ;)

Mercury in the 8th - Something about their wordplay is very special and potent. They have a gift with words that can transform the way you feel, think, breathe, etc. They have knowledge and insight about the world that most will never accept to be the truth. So they guard these secrets with their life, holding on until the ashes fall away connecting back with the wind. And allowing the circle of life to continue. The mind transforms a lot and they become a new person every once and a while. Be easy on them, their brain can take them to many stages psychologically.

Mercury in the 9th - Have a wit and charm to them that keeps the energy going. They aren't use to having people wanting to be around them or being attracted to them a lot however this happens more often than not. People love what they have to say, and want to hear more of how they view things from time to time. They are really interesting to say the least. Like what all do you know?

Mercury in the 10th - The audience admires these beings. Naturally charismatic and people love to see them on the big screen. They literally have a tv personality and can go viral at some point in their life. Gotta watch out for the people who always have their hands out, their naturally giving and love to share their time and energy freely.. a little too much. Keep your circle small.

Mercury in the 11th - Have a natural knack with entertaining all sorts of groups. Can commit to a cause like no other and get as many people on board. Very persuasive and social skills are through the roof. The social awkward become to most popular. The loner because the one everyone knows. These individuals are great with turning something that was 'lame' into someone fun and cool. Very different from the crowd, which what allows people to see them for their soul and not their flesh.

Mercury in the 12th - Spiritually inclined to feel the waves of the universe. Captivating the stars in the night and then going home to serve the divine with a painted canvas. A gifted creator who's only purpose is to live and die. To create and conquer the mind. The brain is the place of peace, when it wants to be. And when its not, they transmute that energy into something no other than. Something creative. Something special. The universe uses them as the vessel to give a message to the audience who desires to hear the words of God. You will never get another one of them in your life if you ever meet them.

[cherubfae]

𝔠𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔱-𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 || {𝔡𝔲𝔫𝔪𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔦}

ft. laios, marcille, chilchuck, namari, mickbell, & kabru

tags: sfw, bit of blood/gore, alcohol consumption, gender neutral/ implied afab reader (use of they/them), reader wraps their chest!, reader is implied to be a canine-like beast but left ambiguous (wolf, fox, coyote, etc) lovedrunk and flustered babies, pre-established relationship, reader can be interpreted as a beast-man, magically altered being, were-beast, etc!!, they can turn into an actual beast

a/n: I flustered myself writing this lmao, clearly i do not have favorites whaaaa-- haha! it's good to be back. I hope all of you are well and you enjoy this fic!! kabru's got unintentionally longggg <3 -- noah

Laios

Holy crow!! You are so, so, amazing!! This man will watch in awe as you easily strike down your enemy with a single downstroke of your blade. It glides through the monster like butter, a gust of wind from the blow kicking up dirt and debris.

You scoff, nose twitching in disgust as you shake off the bits of blood and gore that cling to the sharp steel. Your eyes drift upwards, ears perking up at Laios's interest. Eyebrow lifting into your hairline in question.

"O-oh, ah, good job!" Laios sputters, a rosy hue coating his cheeks. Lips tilting into a slight smirk you nod in response. You give him a thumbs up, winking your eye playfully at the blonde.

"Happy to help! By the way, why're you all red?"

Laios gulped, "Ju-just kind of warm in here, y'know? M'okay." He tugs at the collar beneath his chest armor for effect, his golden gaze looking anywhere but down at you and your pretty smile. He absolutely doesn't want to fixate how the points of your fangs jut out ever so slightly from beneath your upper lip, and how much he would very much like to touch them.

Marcille

She's no better than a man, she's no better than a man, she's no better than a man--

Marcille, despite the shame that digs deep into her gut, cannot tear her eyes away from you as you wash away the soot and ash covering your arms. Your shirt had been torn by the blast of one her explosive spells, leaving your arms and a bit of your bare torso exposed.

Tracing the path your veins map out, Marcille swallows thickly. Your arms were defined with muscle, not too bulky. You had clearly worked hard to get where you are. A much more experienced and capable dungeon explorer.

"You alright, Marcy?" Your voice floats to her ears, making them twitch. Suddenly bursting into a panic, Marcille blubbers out a screech.

Floundering, she squeaks, "Ah! Yes!! I'm so sorry-- your shirt!! I can fix it!" She grasps her staff, crowding herself in front of you. You wave her off gently, patting her shoulder.

You grin, fangs poking out. "Nah, s'alright. Got another one in my pack." You turn your back to her, peeling off the remains of your shirt, adjusting the wraps around your chest and back before kneeling down to rummage in your rucksack for a new tunic. Marcille damn near passes out.

Chilchuck

Normally he hates being shoved out of the way and pushed around like he's some kid, but with the absolute onslaught you bring during fighting, he's glad to have you looking out for him!

You are so many things: strong, swift, quick on your feet, and can be incredibly brutal when you need to be. You aren't just a threat to an enemy you face, you are a promise. You see to it that any foe will not harm your party.

Chilchuck himself isn't immune to the way you seem to get a bit more feral when he is threatened."He-ey!! What are you--!" He can't stop the way his heart leaps into his throat. His surprised gasp cut short when you scoop him up into your arms, dodging a long bow arrow barreling towards him.

With ears ringing at the deep, low snarl rumbling in the back of your throat, Chil blinks owlishly. He follows your gaze to see living armor being taken down by Izutsumi. Sighing in relief, the halfling relaxes in your embrace. He is incredibly lucky to have you looking out for him! Glancing up at you, his face explodes into a red glow upon seeing your tender gaze already transfixed on him.

Yeah, you might end up being the death of him.

Namari

A person after her own heart!! She revels in the rush of adrenaline that courses through her veins when she takes down an enemy, but you're even a step further than her!

Not only are you strong but you are an amazing asset to the team! You're incredibly versatile with weapons: axes, swords, lances, daggers, bows-- you name it! But what's really killer about you are your claws and teeth! How you can turn into an actual beast when angered enough, determined to fight for those you love. Namari has never met someone quite as unique as yourself. She just wished you weren't in Laios's party, but in hers.

You are immaculate, Namari thinks. She can't help but stare at you from across the bar, watching with an immense yearning as you laugh heartily with Laios and Marcille throwing your pints of ale up in a toast.

"Why don't you go talk to them? O-oh shit, here they come!" Chilchuck slurs from behind his own pint, cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol. Namari sighs, too buried in her own thoughts to register her friend's words. Setting down her cup fingers sliding along the lip of the glass. She clumsily reaches over for the pitcher, gasping as it nearly tumbles off the edge of the table. You catch it with ease, smiling with that same kind smile she loved.

Pulling up a stool, you settle down besides the two on the opposite end. Smiling, you refill your friend's drinks before filling up your own tumbler once more. Chilchuck downs his drink in one go, hiccupping softly. Folding his arms in front of him, he rests his head atop them for a quick snooze.

Snickering, your gaze turns to Namari, who suddenly feels like she's sobering up at a rapid pace. You're absolutely beautiful in the orange glow and warmth of the tavern. Drowning out the sound of the drunkards, she can barely focus on the words you're saying, her eyes going cross-eyed as she tries to read your lips.

"Let's get you home, Namari. I think you need some sleep." You gently muse, standing from your stool. Waving over your shoulder at Laios, you help Namari up, leaning her against your body. Marcille lifts Chilchuck up onto her back like a rucksack, despite his protests he ultimately relented. (They totally bickered like a teen daughter and her middle-aged father about wanting to stay five more minutes)

The night air was cool against your flushed skin. Namari shudders, tucking her chin and nose beneath the wool collar of her shirt, pressing herself closer to you and your warmth. Her hand slides carefully into yours, wobbly smiling when you lightly squeeze her hand. Even in her drunken stupor, she can't fight the awe of how easily you sway her stubborn heart.

Mickbell

If Kuro isn't the first to rush to Mickbell's aid, it's you instead. The more you help rescue him, the more he will start to rely on you, so don't you slack off!!

Mick gets an absolute kick out of watching you blast any sort of enemy away with your strength and he'd never admit out loud how much he enjoys the view, especially if you're defending him.<3 it makes him feel all giddy when you swoop in and save him.

Today was no different than before. A morgue of ghosts swarm the immediate area, dropping the temperature down a few levels. Accompanying the specters, is a lone basilisk. It's dual heads watching Mickbell like a lion on a hunt. Warm puffs of breath cling to the air as Kabru readies his sword, Holm making his way to the opposite end of the basilisk, a jar of holy water in his hands.

The basilisk lets out an ungodly shriek and surges forward. Knocking Mickbell back, you press your body over his, effectively becoming a shield over him. You're snarling, teeth exposed with intent to bite. Mick curls his hands against your tunic, eyes squeezing tight and prepares for impact.

"Now Holm!" Kabru slices downwards as Holm slices upwards, decapitating both heads. Mumuring a silent spell, Holm swirls the jar of holy water around like a lasso, shooing away the ghosts.

Gently prying Mick's hands from your shirt, you place a warm palm to his chilled cheek. His downcast green eyes open immediately, and he throws himself into your embrace, winding his arms around your neck. "Gaaah!! That was so scary!!" Over your shoulder, you miss how Mickbell gives Kuro a cheeky grin and a thumbs up.

Kabru

He has met all sorts of travelers and merchants and dungeon experts. While Laios is one that perplexes him, Kabru's curiosity in you reaches a certain level of fondness he isn't quite equipped to deal with. He knows he will be able to rely on you in the heat of battle at any given time. Your strength is plentiful, but even you have your limits.

"Does it still hurt?" Kabru softly asked. He sits beside you on the stone floor, shuddering at the slight chill that seeps in through his clothing. You lift your gaze to him, blinking slow. Kabru notes how your pupils dilate ever so slightly when you face him, something he feels hopeful for. You return your attention to the wound on your leg neatly wrapped in bandages-- a direwolf bite.

Giving a noncommittal shrug, you finish your handiwork, setting the bloodied old bandages ablaze. "I've had worse. If the wolf had broken my bones, that'd be another story. I don't want Rinsha wasting her mana on me. I can keep up just fine, I won't slow us down."

Kabru takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger softly, forcing you to look at him. "I didn't ask if you could keep up, I asked if it still hurt. You got hurt because you saved me from that direwolf, I've failed you." There's a tenderness in his azure stare.

"It hurts a bit," you whisper, unable to glance away. "You never fail me, Kabru." You smile. Kabru looses a small breath.

"I won't let that happen again. You have my word." For a moment, the world stills and the two of you find yourself leaning in. You can feel his warm breath on your lips, hyperaware of his large palm sliding down your arm to rest on your waist. Your hands slid to the front of his tunic, curling your knuckles into the fabric. He gasps softly when you tug him to you, lips almost touching when--

"HEY KABRU!" The shrill voice of Mickbell jerks the two of you apart. You gasp sharply as your leg knocks into the adjacent stone wall. Kabru is instantly at your side fretting over you.

Mickbell stares you two down from the doorway at opposite end of the room, mouth drawn into a confused expression. "Uhh, hey. Just wanted to know what's for dinner. You two good? Why do you look so red?" He shrugs his shoulders half a second later, deciding he really didn't care to know the answer. Wiggling himself between the two of you, Mickbell sighs and folds his arms back behind his head with closed eyes; completely oblivious to the shared flustered looks you and Kabru are sending one another.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[meownotgood]

don't go, not yet. / gale dekarios x gn!reader, fluff, light angst, hurt / comfort, you bring gale back to life with the scroll of true resurrection, and gale gets a glimpse of your true feelings for him. word count: 3.8k

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T'i n'uthrantha m'ahthra Gale. 

The letter held between your thumb and forefinger burns with sudden light, growing hot underneath your fingertips. Fire sears a scrawl of new script onto the parchment's surface. In a puff of ash and molten rock, wings closed around itself, the magma mephit disappears. Its wake scorches the grass, stray dustings constricting your throat. You wave a palm in front of your face, forcing yourself to hold in your coughs, your throat constricted and eyes threatening to water. 

Newly formed, the Scroll of True Resurrection curls in your palm. It gives off a faint, promising glow. A gleam that almost seems to exude its own sense of vibrant heat. Your jaw clenches, your hands shake. Your fingers press into the wrinkled parchment, and your heartbeat struggles to keep steady. The thick, mushroom-laden air of the Underdark has never felt more stifling. 

You take a slow breath — although it does little to calm you, in the grand scheme of things — before you quietly utter the necessary incantation. Instantly, the scroll blazes brightly, then crumbles into stardust. In its place, your palms radiate with the same sort of incandescent power. Beams of pure energy drift skyward, strands of blue encircling you. Magic flows through your veins; it fills your lungs with a soft, familiar scent, a lingering reverie brushing over your arms, like the crisp air of a rustling breeze. 

Shudders traverse over your body. You're hardly comforted, but the forming of the spell between your palms, pressed together and then guided up, does finally provide you with the smallest amount of relief. 

Your entire system buzzes as you feel the spell's power. Your head grows heavy, magic swiftly leaving your body to flow through another — and over the ringing in your ears, you still manage to hear the moment Gale takes an initial, irrevocable breath. 

With a huff, he begins to rise to unsteady feet. Lingering, floaty spell threads seem to make every movement easier. When they dissipate, leaving him to support his own full weight, he wobbles for a moment, a palm pressed to his chest. At last, you let go of the breath you were holding. 

Gale blinks, vision returning from darkness, then blurriness. Vitality crashes through him, blissfully effortless; a waterfall of stamina he'd since taken for granted. He stares down at his feet first, at the flattened grass around where he once collapsed, and he tries to keep from growing dizzy. He looks at his hands. The front, then the back. Dirt and blood are caked into his skin — his blood, clearly. Dried, dark red traces cling to the crevices in his palms, they smudge over the ends of his knuckles. Such a grim implication, he muses. 

Still catching his breath, those thoughts are forced to the back of his mind. Instead, he's letting a smile break over his features. As if the very action is remarkable, he closes and opens his hands again, he watches the way they move with amazement. He's alive. Gods, he's actually alive. The precautions he put in place worked. He won't condemn himself, or reduce the lonely depths of the Underdark to smithereens; nor will his demise wind up hurting his unlikely band of companions. And you, you're just fine. He kept you safe, he truly did. You brought him back, he'll see you again — 

With a spark in his gaze you find almost gleeful, almost adoring, Gale finally looks towards you. 

"My word, you did it!" He's gasping, laughing slightly, disbelief reflected on his face as well as in his voice. He briefly wobbles, further getting used to his weight on his heels. Without looking away from you, he absently continues to flex his fingers, feeling the blood rushing back to them, and he forces himself to take a much slower exhale. "Oh, it's good to be alive!" 

You're glancing him up and down once, twice, with an expression on your face he can't make sense of — and he doesn't yet try. If you're angry with him, he's sure he deserves it. All he knows is he's glad to see you. Unbelievably glad. 

His chest heaves. Breathing feels startingly simple, especially when the last thing he remembers is how viciously he struggled for breath. The sudden thrum of the orb comes back to greet him, constricting him as it always does, whispering a bitter promise into his ears that it is still here. He could've lost you. It's a realization that pains him far worse than the returning demand to devour within him. As warmth returns to his numb limbs, and as he's silently cursing himself for ever being so foolish, he realizes he almost did. He almost let himself disappear. 

"My hands are still cold so that handshake will have to wait," Gale swallows, brushing his palms onto his pants to hopefully be rid of the dirt. His tone remains upbeat. For a moment though, his smile seems to waver, in a way only you could manage to pick up. Only you, given how terribly close you and him have quickly become. You're more important to him than you might realize. 

"But in the meantime," He murmurs, standing up straight. "Tha-" 

Words left unfinished, Gale is interrupted when you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight, fierce hug. 

You bury your face in his chest, barely noticing the blood smeared onto your cheek from his filthy clothes. You squeeze him tightly. Your hands grab fistfuls of the back of his robe, nails practically digging into him. Your body presses so close to his, it's as though you were both meant to encompass the same shape. 

Gale exhales, deeply, steadily, and he relaxes into your touch. Your arms around him feel right. His heart thumps, skipping to a slightly eager, very real rhythm. Silently, you focus on the soothing sound while it echoes through you. It is calming, grounding. His heartbeat becomes a comfort you wish to memorize. 

At first, Gale hesitates, melting into your touch and glancing down at you, his hands hovering in the air awkwardly, mere inches away. In the end, slowly but surely, he returns your embrace. 

He hugs you with careful arms, and you slump, shoulders untensing. You breathe a sigh, pressing further into him, attempting to hide a muffled sniffle. His clothes linger with the sharp scent of blood, and the heavy undertone of ruin. When his palm settles onto the back of your head — so delicate, like you could be made of porcelain — you swear you can feel him shake. He grips just barely, keeping you close to him. Guilt roots into his chest and his heart as a gnawing ache. Tired eyes fluttering shut, weak arms embracing you with a tenderness more intense than you've ever known, he holds you close enough to interweave you. 

Your heart pounds along to the same eager rhythm as his. Gods, there's too many things you need to say to him; but your lips tremble, and you aren't sure where to start. You want to curse at him, vent your frustrations through the anger and sorrow you've since bottled up. You want to cry, but at the same time, you want to scold him for leaving you scared. For standing in front to take one too many blows meant for you. 

You need to tell him what you just can't put into words — Hopelessness, you felt utterly hopeless when you first watched Gale crumple and collapse. Your breath grew caught in your lungs. Swirling emotions you've never felt before clawed at your chest, resounding louder the longer you fixated on him: motionless, his blood pooling onto the cold ground. Try as you might, your mind was so muddled, you could barely make sense of anything in your view. 

Back then, with messily-cast spells and clumsy swings of your weapon, you finished the fight mostly unscathed. You scrambled over to him, your boots stained from the blood-soaked grass. As Gale's projection appeared in front of you, framed with a shimmering aura of purple light, you tried not to stiffen at the sound of his voice. You focused on his instructions as best you could, despite the tremble in your hands as you searched for the pouch he kept on him, or the clumsiness to your fingers as you pressed them to the holes in the flute. 

Some part of you wonders if there was an aspect of humanity to his projection. If it wasn't just a lifeless messenger, but rather, an extension of himself. 

Because you swear, when it — when he — spoke to you, his tone was filled with a familiar softness. The same softness Gale would embody when he asked you, Are you alright? after a fearsome confrontation. A confrontation you both got out of, unlike this one. You felt the same fondness radiating from him as the kind he'd have for you in life, when you talked over a nighttime campfire, his eyes seeming to linger on you for much longer than they needed to. 

Gale's shimmering projection gave you an earnest smile, and spoke a little softer, a little more careful. Practice will surely make perfect, He hummed, his warm voice reverberating through your head and your eardrums. Do not fret. It is my utmost belief that you will most undoubtedly emerge successful. I will see you once more soon. 

Or maybe, you'd already grown to miss his gentle smile, his tender words. You didn't want to imagine a world where you had truly, irreversibly lost him. Perhaps the familiar softness you thought you felt, his projection's lingering humanity — Ultimately, it was merely your imagination. 

You've grown to care for him more than you should. You have known this, regardless of your attempts to deny it. Either of you could die at any time, yet becoming close was effortless, almost as if it was meant to happen. Dire circumstances or not, you were meant to collide; it was only a matter of time. 

In the midst of turmoil and shadows of death, Gale has been your soft place to land. You aren't sure what to do with everything you feel. You don't know what you'd do if you lost him. 

As Gale lets go of a held breath, his arms pulling you in, your mind becomes calm like still water, yet your heart continues to race. This time, his voice is as warm as the sun; unmistakably devoted. He is your sun, an imprint of warmth in a sea of moonlit darkness. 

"Ha, I wasn't- uhm," He starts, stammering, speaking in a quiet tone. You lean further into his shoulder, and Gale rubs the back of your head, brushing his palm up and down with slow, barely-there movements. "I wasn't expecting… such a warm welcome, but Gods, is it good to see you. Even better than good, in fact. For a brief moment, I thought-" 

Trailing off with a slow, steady exhale, he doesn't allow those words to come into fruition. Instead, he pulls you a little bit closer, and hugs you a little bit tighter. 

"Well, I won't dwell on the outcomes yet to befall us. My mistakes have been righted. By someone very important to me, in fact. No sense in letting such regrets continue to drag us down. We have a rather important mission yet to be accomplished." He hums, his voice returning to its usual air of optimism. "Besides, I believe I still have you to thank for doing the honors to drag me back, isn't that right?" 

When you pull away, he's smiling, the glow of the nearby Sussur Tree illuminating his face in hues of soft blue. His hair is a mess, stray strands tickling his forehead. Bruises cling to his skin, still slightly pale, and dark circles are set underneath his tired eyes. But he's here. Finally, your head tipped in his direction to glance at him, Gale gets to have a good look at you. 

Your shoulders are tense, shuddery. He feels the subtle shake of your body in his arms. Your face is a blessing to see once more, but your cheeks are tear-stained, your brows are furrowed with some mix of frustration and dejection. And as he moves an instinctual hand to cup your face in his palm, you not-so subtly lean into his touch. Your eyes flutter closed, leaving the faintest sorrowful droplet to fall from your lashes. 

Oh. Gale's heart pangs in his chest, heavy and forceful. The unforgiving Underdark might have already gone and punished him for his oversights, but clearly, he misstepped far more than he might've imagined. 

"Oh, oh no- I didn't-" Gale nervously brushes the tears from your eyes with his thumb, his entire world instantly sent off-kilter. His words ache when they leave his throat, his vision threatens to grow misty. "Don't cry. I've got you, it's alright- I promise you, everything is and will be alright. I'm here. But I… must have brought you an awful heap of worry. If I had paid more attention, if I hadn't squandered so many chances to attain the upper hand-" 

As your eyes finally meet his own again, they enthrall him, capturing all of his attention. He half-expects you to crumble. And he would let you, he would keep you in his arms for as long as you'd allow him, holding you tight, with all the conviction of someone who would do anything to keep from vanishing. Nonetheless, you don't. Not any more than you already have. 

You push him away and stand up straight, although there's little force behind the press and shove of your palm to his chest. Glancing down, your weary gaze is now kept on your shoes. You count the specks of blood dotting each boot. Hastily, you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, and Gale flinches, your warmth leaving him once you've separated. 

"It's fine." You shake your head, and you swallow, willing your dry throat and tired voice to function. "I'm glad to see you're well. We can head back to camp whenever you're ready." 

Gale frowns. "No, it is not- and you, you are most definitely not fine. Come here." 

When his hand grips your wrist firmly to stop you from walking away, when his arms wrap around you once more, and you're confidently pulled into another embrace, you don't protest. You allow him to hold you, until your arms are weakly returning the hug. Until every blooming skip of your heart battles the fading ache of worry. Until Gale is exhaling, his breath warm on the shell of your ear, the feeling of his arms around you more than comforting. One arm is kept around your waist, while his other palm presses flat to your back. He holds you with an intensity you doubt you'll be able to forget. 

Damn him. You'll be craving this. Craving to feel his touch just one more time. 

"I'm sorry. I am so very sorry," Gale murmurs; stupid wizard, with his stupidly soft touch and his terribly soft words. His voice has shivers tracing up your spine, your every nerve glowing from the inside out. Of course you shouldn't be this attached to him. If only he didn't make it so damn easy. "You are important to me. Much more than you may know. I assure you, I will do all I can to make things right." 

Your eyes close, your shoulders slump, and you let yourself melt against him. The heavy scent of ash lingering on his clothes envelops you each time you breathe in deeply. There's no need to admit how you feel. Somehow, you sense he just knows, because the pure tenderness found in his every touch screams: You'll never have to let me go. 

Time becomes a slow, gradual thing. You aren't quite sure how many minutes have passed since he first held you, until Gale speaks, finally bringing you back to the present once more. 

"I'm sure you have questions." His voice is quiet, smooth, and effortlessly calming. He brushes his palm over your back, reassuring you. "I know I would, if I ever found myself in your position. After what you've done for me, I suppose it's only fair that I answer anything and everything I am capable of. No more secrets. You, out of everyone, deserve to know."  

"Later," You grumble, pressing closer. He breathes a faint laugh, then a slight sigh, and listens intently to your muffled words. "Tell me what you need to later. Or keep it to yourself, if you must. I wasn't worried about whether or not you'd give me answers, Gale. Just about you." 

"Were you concerned I wouldn't return?" 

"I…" You can't help but hesitate. "I don't know." 

At last, you pull away from him, just enough to meet his eyes. His hands grasp your forearms to keep you close. The way he looks at you is gentle enough to nearly pull all of the air from your lungs. 

"I wasn't sure, with your condition and all," You're explaining, looking away. He doesn't fail to notice the flash of fear in your eyes. He's never seen you so shaken. "I know you haven't told me much, but I really didn't know what would happen to you. My mind went to the worst possible outcome, and… It was frightening, for a moment. I didn't want to lose you." 

Gale takes a slow breath, gripping your arms tightly, until you're finally led to look at him again. "Sweetheart," He coos; the term of endearment tumbles from his lips before he can stop it, tender on his tongue, even more pleasant in your ears. "I do not wish to lose you either." 

You pause, your eyes wide, your breath quick. You almost speak again — perhaps about to accidentally admit more than you should, your heart busy strumming the notes of his name — but before you can, Gale is continuing first. 

"I won't leave you." He moves a hand to hold your cheek, subtly tilting you towards him. "I'll fight alongside you for as long as I remain standing. We won't perish, nor let ourselves become mindflayers. We will see this journey through- and, we will do so together, no matter what perils come after us. There's no need to worry about me. I do not plan on letting you down." 

"Gale-" You breathe in sharply, then slowly. You're offering him a genuine smile, one that makes a feeling he can't pinpoint flutter over him — something holy, surely. You were sculpted for worship. "Thank you." 

"You're the one I should be thanking, if we're being honest." His voice becomes a bit softer, as he murmurs, "And I do thank you. If we had the time, I'd thank you a thousand times over. It is good to be back. Truly. Perhaps I haven't shown the extent of my gratitude enough. You were there for me, in a way few ever have. I won't forget that." 

He begins to ramble, seeming lost in thought for only a second before he speaks once more: "The Fugue Plane is… depressing, to put it bluntly. It is a stretch of endless gray darkness as far as the eye can see, every shadow drawing in to swallow you whole. There is no warmth, no light. Compared to that fate, finally seeing your face again after you helped my eyes to reopen-" He breathes a quiet, tender-sounding chuckle. "What a beautiful sight indeed." 

You're silent, before the extent of his words finally dawns on you, leaving you to stare at him with a grin and an eyebrow raised. "Beautiful?" 

Gale holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "There's that smile. Beautiful is hardly grand enough a word, but yes. I want to see no shortage of smiles from here on out, understand? As many as such an adventure allows us, in any case." Briefly, he trails off, hesitating temporarily, his expression growing in resolve. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. I'll be better. Do better. I couldn't forgive myself if- if somehow-" 

This time, you're the one interrupting him. "Gale?" 

"Yes?" 

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you." 

It's strange. Right now, your futures are hardly assured. He can promise not to leave you with his entire chest, he can fight to live even as he's slowly dying, and it wouldn't matter, if the universe willed your efforts to save yourselves for naught. Yet, when you speak, when you're the one looking into his eyes, no matter how outlandish it might seem, no matter what is left of the fading hope he's been clinging to — In the end, he can't help but believe you. 

Your gaze is brimming with such conviction. He's doomed. He's so, terribly ruined, and it isn't because of the threat of the tadpole, or because of whatever pain is brought on by the rot inside of him. Gale is completely done in, because when he looks at you, he feels longing settle in his chest, a present devotion that overshadows every prayer he's ever called upon, and he knows the only thing he has to fear is eventually falling in love with you. 

If loving you is to be his fate, he thinks even in death, he might finally feel alive. 

He swallows thickly, his gaze never leaving yours once you've finally pulled apart. He watches you stand up straight and clear your throat, although your expression still softens with a telltale hint of nervousness. You're precious. 

"Stay behind me next time," You scold, "There's no way I'm going through those stupidly elaborate instructions again." 

"Oh, come on," Gale huffs. He's composed, but his face is flushed. He can feel the warmth pooling in his cheeks and the ends of his ears. The blood is just rushing back to his head, that's all. "You performed them excellently! I'd say you're already a natural at problem-solving and flute-playing. But I promise, next time, I won't fall so easily. You have no reason to fret. There will be no elaborate instructions, no flutes, and no more magma mephits in your future." 

"You better not," You're laughing, and his grin only grows wider when you push at his shoulder playfully. "Die on me again, and I might have to bring you back just to kill you myself." 

"Ha. I better not draw your ire, then." 

Gale watches you turn on your heels, while he's still awkwardly stuck in place like some invisible, adoring force is holding him there. His palm presses to his chest; bizarrely, the orb is silent, but his heart is pounding way too fast. You're turning back before you've gotten far, glancing at him to make sure he's following. 

"You coming? Everyone's waiting for us back at camp." 

Gale nods. He exhales slowly to clear his head, he catches up with you, and he ushers you forwards with an arm around your lower back. "Of course. Let us continue on. Lead the way." 

[oepionie]

HIS COMPLETE DEVOTION: THE AFTERMATH. malleus draconia

Synopsis: A week after the spell incident, Lilia tells Malleus about all the things he's done to you when he lost his memory. Horrified at his actions, Malleus locks himself away in his room to brood.

Character/s: Malleus Draconia x GN! Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Crack-Fluff, Malleus is really dramatic, Intense love, Lilia drags Malleus' ass, Lilia turns into his true form, Malleus has gargoyle bedsheets lol, Flustered Malleus, Malleus kneels for u

A/N: Might have went a little bit overboard here loll, I just read a bunch of sagau zhongli fics and it inspired me eheg

WordCount: 800+ | 💌Masterlist | PART I HERE

Malleus Draconia was in love with you. There was no doubt regarding that.

Every bit of your affection, no matter how small or big makes Malleus melt. In the aftermath of your love, he has trouble keeping his heart still as it bounces and dances around his chest. His face blossoms a bright red and a wide silly smile remains on his face for hours, leaving his cheeks burning and strained.

The dragon fae always clung onto you, standing by your side like a devoted knight - so vigilant and attentive that it would put his own retainers to shame.

Though, why is it now that you find yourself eating lunch all alone, with your dragon nowhere to be found?

Well…after the incident last week, Malleus dared not to show his face to you.

Lilia had told him about everything that had transpired that day and oh, how he hated to hear about the sorrow of his cherished treasure. It trod on, tore at, and beat at his poor heart. Even more so once he found out he was the cause of your pain. Such an unpardonable act that Malleus, overcome with grief, shut himself in his room.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't visit him. Every time you entered the area around his room, a push of wind magic would always carry you away; it was gentle enough to never hurt you but firm enough to never let you get past.

After days of trying, you decided to simply give Malleus his space, hoping that he wasn't taking it too seriously…

Guilt.

Such a twisted, dreadful feeling which gnawed at his bones and mauled his conscience.

Malleus sits in his bedroom, glaring down at his feet. After locking himself up, the young prince refused to speak to anyone and only came out when it was time for class.

When he was in school, he avoided you like the plague; immediately teleporting away as soon as he caught sight of your figure.

It was safe to say that he wasn't taking the situation so lightly and after a week of his dramatics and Sebek's mourning, Lilia eventually had to step in.

"No!" Malleus growls, tugging his gargoyle themed blanket away from Lilia's grasp and burying his head underneath it.

Lilia sighs and yanks it away from him once more, glaring at Malleus with a stern look. "Do you plan on going about the entire month sulking like this?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Malleus huffs, a puff of fire floating into the air before dissolving into ash and smoke. He turns his back to his guardian and shuts his eyes tight. "Leave."

Silence falls over the room as the two stay still. Lilia squints his eyes, slowly rolling the sleeves to his shirt up. His hair grows, draping over his shoulders and cascading down his back. Malleus turns to glance at him, eyes ripping wide open as he recognises Lilia in his true form.

"I may be old but that doesn't mean I've grown brittle." Lilia rushes forward, tackling Malleus in a vice grip. The dragon writhes in his arms but Lilia's hold doesn't falter one bit. He carries the wriggling fae out the dorm, along a path Malleus was all too familiar with.

"Now, let's go to that darling treasure of yours."

Despite Malleus' protests, the bat fae dragged the poor withered dragon all the way to your dorm.

Once they arrived, Lilia made sure to switch back to the form that you were familiar with.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Malleus stood uncomfortably behind him as the bat fae rapidly knocked on the old rickety wooden door.

There you appeared, disheveled and drowsy with Grim hanging off your shoulder. For the first time in weeks, Malleus' eyes fell upon your figure, and his heart hammered heavily in his chest. Lilia pushed him towards you. "Go on Malleus, I believe you wished to tell them something."

You looked up at him in anticipation, a bright smile on your face. With a trembling sigh, Malleus strode forward.

"I-I'm sorry." He dropped to his knees and bowed deeply, his head striking the ground hard. His shoulders were locked and tensed in a straight line, posture stiff and rigid.

"Malleus!" You gasped, rushing forward. Despite your hasty attempts to urge him to stand, he remained anchored to the ground like stone.

The dragon fae grabbed onto your ankles, his forehead pressed against your feet. "My treasure, I a-am so sorry."

"Oh Malleus, love, you're being a bit too dramatic. It's okay." You shushed him, stooping down to take him into your arms.

Almost immediately, he melts into your embrace, curling up against your chest. His head lay against your shoulder, an arm draped over his eyes. Apologies flowing out of his mouth in an uncommon display of vulnerability.

Sighing, you cast a glance at Lilia who only shrugged as if to say 'Well, he's your problem now.'

"I'll make it up to you." He whispers, throat burning after his numerous confession of guilt. You smiled, burying your face into his hair. "I know, Tsunotarou, I know."

" Though I must say…" You trailed off, and Malleus peered up at you, his eyes wide with curiosity. "That locket you had of me was really lovely."

Malleus coughed, his cheeks turning slightly red. "I hadn't intended for you to ever see it."

"Khee hee~ Ah yes, the locket." Lilia sniggered, grinning impishly. "Prefect, did you know he had a box of true gold specifically custom made for it?"

"Lilia."

"He was so protective of it, always growling if someone dared to touch what was his."

"Lilia, please."

"There was even an enchanted silk pillow! He would always place the box atop it. I'm quite sure both the box and the pillow were embedded with a protection spell.

"I beg of you, stop."

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas , @spadecentral , @crypticbibliophile ⤷ (want to be added?)

[weclassygirl]

visions

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: the high king makes his judgement, a new path opens

warnings: none

word count: 2,3k

author’s note: here we go, part two for bound… and soon more to come, let me just get their story straight. enjoy!

”The Woodland Realm has exiled you, why should we aid and welcome you in Lindon?” no greeting, no smile, you already feel that this conversation will take a toll on you.

“Did you believe me to be dead? Or did you wish for it?” you ask and curse yourself for your tongue speaks quicker than your mind. Gil-Galad looks at you with disdain. You try to calm your growing anger. “Whatever Oropher told you is not true.”

“Is it not?” he questions and steps closer. The guards watch your every movement, waiting for you to slip up, to give them a reason to attack. “Were you not the Elf that nearly killed a fellow companion because her anger grew into rage?”

An accident. A mere accident that decided the fate of your life.

“I never meant for—“

“But you did.” he cuts you off. You look to Galadriel who stands next to Elrond, he turns away from your sight but the Commander watches the scene unfold.

You wrote to her, countless times to seek her aid. Elrond as well. All of your letters went unanswered and you thought that perhaps an order was given to burn any passage written by you.

Gil-Galad regards you. “You sought out that which is forbidden. Lindon, Greenwood or any other Elven realm will not stand by it.”

You look up at him, the golden crown that adorns his head, gleaming in the sun. He looked like an emissary from the Valar themselves. Your eyes travel to your hands, so much harm they once caused. Gil-Galad waits as you try to gather your words.

“If you wish to punish me, do so when the blade at my neck is yours. I will not be humiliated. Not again.” you say through your teeth.

The Elves whisper around you.

Witch.

Traitor.

Morgoth’s servant.

Banish her.

Send her away.

You hear another whisper, so quick you almost miss it. Almost.

“Defiance does not suit you.” Gil-Galad states. He looks down at your hands, the dark fingertips as if dipped in black ash. The marks on your body, some symbols and some written in Black Speech. The sight disgusts him and for a moment he pities you and what you’ve endured for centuries. “You will fulfill your punishment in Eregion.”

You gawk at the High King as he makes his decree. “Eregion?”

He returns to his place by the Tree and the guards flank your sides, ready to take you away. “Be glad it’s not my blade at your throat. You will be confined in chains at all times, ones that will subdue your magic. Lord Celembrimbor will see to it. He makes them as we speak.”

Chained once again. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry, perhaps it’s best not to show any emotion while the others are looking. You let the guards take you away and you cast one last glance at Galadriel and Elrond. He meets your gaze finally and bows his head. You don’t know when you will see them again.

The guards chain you and tie your hands to the reins as the company gathers. You in the middle while four of them surround you. Most of the supplies for the journey were given to you, to weigh down your horse should you try to escape.

The road goes ever winding and after a few weeks of constant travel you reach the gates of Eregion. The Elves gather on their balconies, look through the arches to catch a glimpse at you.

The word has reached here as well.

You wonder why they take such interest in you but it is quickly dismissed. You dabbled in the dark arts, once made a mistake that scarred your path and were a prisoner of Morgoth, but you never served him faithfully, only to survive. The Elves had become paranoid.

The spell you cast was an accident, your companion was alive, received a wound in the process but survived.

Your curiosity however, you could never contain it and the darkness was alluring. It’s a shame to admit to it but it's a necessary truth.

However you don’t think yourself evil, yes you were quick to anger but who wouldn’t be after years of torture?

Celebrimbor stands in front of the gates with a man by his side, he holds a wooden box. When the guards help you come down from the horse you think of making a run for it but that would only prove your actions further.

Guilty and convicted.

One of the guards gives Celebrimbor a scroll, he reads through the letter from Gil-Galad with further instructions. He nods and twists the scroll back. He looks you up and down, your dress dirty at the hem, your wrists bound in shackles once again. You looked clean, no blood, no dirt, you never attacked the guards that accompanied you.

“Well then, I assume you never were to Eregion?” he asks out of pure curiosity.

“Once. Merely passing through.” you say and look around cautiously, Celebrimbor notices.

“Be at ease. You’re here in a form of punishment but I would like to see it as a form of shared work.”

You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “What will my duties be here?”

“You,” he starts and grabs the wooden box from the man beside him. When he opens it you notice two identical bracelets made of silver. “You will be an aid in my forge, however some… requirements must be fulfilled.” he explains and takes the bracelets. He steps closer and silently asks you to give you his hands. You do so hesitantly as you cling to your magic one last time.

He puts the bracelets on your wrists and tightens them ever so slightly, you would have to cut off your thumb if you wanted to free yourself and you did not want to witness that sight.

“This will hold your magic, you can still heal yourself and others should the need arise but until the High King gives a different command, they have to stay.” he taps them slightly and you think back to the way Sauron tapped your chains so often when coming up with another ways to seduce you into darkness.

He was persistent but you were glad you had someone to talk to, even if it was Morgoth’s right hand.

A shiver runs through you and your head whips back when you hear Black Speech in your ear. Celebrimbor looks the way your eyes fell but sees no one. “What is it?”

You shake your head and slowly turn to face him. “Nothing, I…“ you look back to where the sound came from. “…thought I heard something.”

The guards look at you as they mount their horses, ready to return to Lindon. One of them stays as he awaits a letter from Celebrimbor. He gives it to him, previously written since he knew you would not resist.

The Eregion guards take over and lead you to your chambers, as you settle and clean yourself up. You stand under a stream of water and look over at the bracelets, you try to tear them away, bent them out but the metal is sturdy. A perfect craftsmanship, you would expect nothing less from the grandson of Fëanor.

A knock comes at the door, the man that accompanied Celebrimbor at your arrival.

“If you’re finished I’ll take you to the forge.” he informs you and you follow him through the halls. You’ve put on a newer dress, the old one was the only piece of clothing you were left with on your journey to Eregion. The darker shade of blue fabric clung to your body and flew behind you with each step you took.

You visited Eregion briefly, a stop on your journey to Greenwood. You used to craft as well but never bore the talent such as Fëanor’s. You used magic to create whatever your heart desired, you used it when building your home in the north of Greenwood.

The woodwork became your craft rather than precious metals and as you enter the forge you begin to miss the comfort of your home.

The Elven smiths glance at you as you enter but continue with their work. Celebrimbor comes down from the gallery to show you around. “I believe you’ll come to enjoy it, I heard you once tried to create something as well.” he asks and you look down to the beaten ring you’ve made centuries ago. The black stone inside it broken but still held within the grasps of the uneven metal.

“A foolish attempt.”

He places a hand on your shoulder. “Not foolish. Perhaps with a bit more practice…” he says, leading you to a desk where a few jewelry pieces lay. Ring with green emerald, a necklace that shone like starlight, a golden bracelet with the most detailed design you’ve ever seen. Weapons laid there as well, shining metal in the dim light, handle wrapping around the blade. You stare in awe.

“Are you certain you have not bested Fëanor yet?” you ask genuinely but think that a bit of flattery on your end might help get out of your chains quicker.

Celebrimbor smiles and gestures to the forge. “Come, we have work to do.” and you follow.

You work for years under Celebrimbor, the Elven smiths have taken to converse with you even if at first they were avoiding you like a plague. With time you have learned to enjoy the craft, a slow process but it kept your life steady. No Morgoth, no torment, a temporary home.

The only pain you felt was the lack of magic in your life. You worked as a healer from time to time but it never compared to the dark arts. Your hands trembled at times as if trying to contain the power from bursting within you. And the visions didn’t help.

They came gradually, growing more persistent with each month of your stay in Eregion. A shadow, always the same and always cunning. It whispered into your ear, showed you the power you could possess. You almost gave in the first night it came.

But you felt it the most one day in the forge.

The same piercing pain you felt when you left Forodwaith. You hold to the table you’ve been working on, the saw and the pliers forgotten on it. The sound they made drew the attention of Mirdania.

“Are you alright?” she comes to your side as you claw at the fabric above your heart. You don’t hear her and shut your eyes as the ringing in your ears grows.

Celebrimbor hears the commotion and quickly comes to see the problem. When he sees you with your hands covering your ears his sight falls on the bracelets that subdue your magic. Could they have weakened?

But there’s nothing that would indicate that you used it.

Mirdania steps aside as Celebrimbor replaces her. His hands rest on your shoulders as you open your eyes. His voice is muffled as he calls your name.

“What’s happening?”

You shake your head, unable to answer and for a split second you see the same shadow behind him, it seems to be smiling.

Celebrimbor sees your frenzied eyes and tries to point where you’re looking at. The Elvensmiths gathered look helpless as no one knows how to help you.

The shadow vanishes as quickly as it came and the ringing in your ears stop. A drop of blood flows out of your nostril and you hear it as it falls to the ground. Your hand goes to your mouth and wipes away the blood, it’s then you notice your fingers. Where once they started to fade from the lack of dark magic, the mark showed up again.

Celebrimbor looks warily, the bracelets he forged would contain your power, he would know you used it even if done so unconsciously. The situation troubles him, the High King must be informed.

You grab him by his tunic as he stands up, the look on his face telling you his intention. “Don’t tell him, please. I didn’t use it, I swear.”

“How do you explain it then?” he points to your fingers curled around the fabric.

“It’s not my doing.”

“Then who’s?” he kneels down at your eye level.

You think over his question and dread the answer. You suggest Morgoth but would his influence still remain after all these years? You think of Sauron but you witnessed his death. Forodwaith is the only answer, centuries you spend there have left a mark, for you it’s the only explanation. You could not escape darkness even if you wanted to.

“He must be informed.” he leaves you with these words and you storm out of the forge. The guards close behind you as you run to the gardens and cover yourself underneath the shadow of a tree. It’s nearly dusk and you curse under your breath in every language you know. Black Speech makes its way on your tongue unconsciously and the guards tense up.

You stay there for a while until the cold wind beats against your skin. You look down at your hands and notice the black starting to fade once more, your head rests against your knees as you look ahead.

You close your eyes when you see it again, out of the corner of your eye but ever so watchful. It takes a form this time, not of a shadow but a man. You look away and his hand slithers under your chin to make you look up at him. When you do, you see perfectly green eyes and the stubble adorning his face, he looks at you so gently you nearly forget he’s the reason for your hauntings.

“Let it in.” he whispers. “A witch should practice her craft.”He returns to shadow and passes through you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you wake up in your bed. You look around and hold your head in your hands.

What is happening?

next part -> deception

[windvexer]

Six Directions Banishing for Removal of Malfeasance, and Protection Against Same

A version of a spell taught to me by the Beloved Goat, similar to other rituals that have been taught to me in the past. This spell requires no materials, but may take some playing around with it in order to get the feel of things.

The feel of things is the necessary component for this spell. We also need these definitions* to help feel out the right things:

Malfeasance: Wrongdoing against responsibilities and duties. Something should have happened according to honor and obligation, but instead something wrong was done.

Betrayal: Violation of trust.

Harm: Hurt, damage, unjust effects.

Identifying the problem

The first step is to conjure into your awareness the powers of malfeasance, betrayal, and harm that have been enacted against you.

OBFUK (observe, believe, feel, understand, or know) that within the universe are things harmful to you. Within the universe, malfeasance has been done against you.

Stay with this idea, considering that this is a force that exists in energetic form, and can therefore be manipulated and changed with energy. Play with the idea until you are able to OBFUK that malfeasance against you exists and can be dealt with.

Repeat this step with the concepts of betrayal and harm.

The more you understand and feel these ideas, the better. In this stage you are casting a net by defining what it is you want to deal with.

Contemplate what it really means to have your trust violated. Contemplate what it means for people to have responsibilities to you, and the debt that is created to your wellbeing when these responsibilities are ignored or neglected.

Dwell with these ideas until you have got a pretty good idea of what it is you want to banish and protect against. This stage may initially take several minutes, but with practice may be completed speedily.

Banishing

The second step is to banish malfeasance, betrayal, and harm in six directions. This step is the same for each direction, except you just turn in a circle and/or or re-envision the bisecting line.

Face north. Mentally bisect your body at the midpoint (solar plexus if lying down, middle of skull to top of feet if standing, etc).

OBFUK (observe, believe, feel, understand, or know) that this line of bisection extends infinitely across the universe. You will repeat this envisioning, so play around with it until you are comfortable with it.

Once you have gotten steady with the idea that a divide is going through your body that completely separates the universe into "the north," you are ready to banish.

Say, think, or sign, something quite like the following (note the four distinct sections; identifying problem, setting intent, commanding action, demanding results):

I see the malfeasance that is to the north of me. I see the betrayal that is to the north of me. I see the harm that is to the north of me. I revoke these things. I rebuke these things. I banish these things. They fade into the earth and into the blackness between stars. They turn to ash and dust and settle into the forest and into nebulae. They scatter to the winds and become the colors in the sunset. They sink into the waters and become algae the fish and frogs feed on. To the north of me, malfeasance, betrayal, and harm enacted against me are banished. They are no more.

It's best to stay with this portion until you are personally satisfied that you've said the right things. You may like to go on a diatribe about how the energies are burned by hellfire and consumed by demons, and so on.

The spell is all the better if you stay with each direction and gnash on the energies until you are satisfied that you have settled on the right words. Repeat sections as many times as you like, using any words that inspire you. Polish is less effective than conviction.

Protecting

After you have banished in one direction, re-focus on the bisecting line. In the middle of your body, on the axis of that line, is a core of power.**

OBFUK (observe, believe, feel, understand, or know) that this is your personal power.

That power is ready to flow around you in a spherical shield that protects you.

Say, think, or sign the following:

To the north, I am protected. I am protected from malfeasance. I am protected from betrayal. I am protected from harm.

As you intone this, OBFUK that an impermeable, impassable, perfect shell of protective power pours forth from you in a hemisphere, wrapping around you from east to west, entirely protecting you from what is in the north.

Repeat this portion as many times as necessary, or play around with it a bit, until you feel satisfied the protection has occurred.

Moving in 6 Directions

Repeat the Banishing and Protection step for each of the six directions (north, south, east, west, above, below).

You may go in any order you like. I move clockwise from north, hitting east, south, and west; then turning north again to finish above and below.

Each time you work in a new direction, adjust how you envision the bisecting line that goes through your body.

Your goal is to envision the line in such a way that all six lines intersect at the same point, if possible, marking a singular point. The banishing pushes everything outwards from this singular point.

In order to accomplish this, moving around or readjusting yourself may be necessary.

Remember that each time you conjure the Protection, it is a hemisphere. This means it necessarily overlaps the others. Half of the eastern hemisphere will overlap north, and the other half will overlap the south. The above and below hemispheres will encapsulate all for hemispheres before it.

You may find that banishment and protection are easier or harder in different directions, which is normal. Work in each direction until you are satisfied both with the banishment and the protection.

As you move through subsequent directions, you may find your hemispheres interlock or layer in ways you weren't expecting. Let the energy moves as it desires, as long as it conforms with your standards of protection.

When you have worked in 6 directions and laid down 6 hemispheres (to create 3 total overlapping spheres of protection), move to the finish.

Sealing

There are 3 complete spheres of protection around you; one created by the joining of north and south, one created by the joining of east and west, and one created by the joining of above and below.

Whether or not these spheres seemed to combine, or were combined, in earlier steps, seal everything now to properly finish the protection.

With your focus on yourself (not necessarily placed upon any direction), intone the following:

The protections to the north of me and to the south of me join together in perfect unison and perfect harmony. I am infinitely protected from all malfeasance, all betrayal, and all harm. The protections to the east of me and to the west of me join together in perfect unison and perfect harmony. I am infinitely protected from all malfeasance, all betrayal, and all harm. The protections above me and below me join together in perfect unison and perfect harmony. I am infinitely protected from all malfeasance, all betrayal, and all harm. I am infinitely protected from all malfeasance, all betrayal, and all harm.

The spell is complete.

[*The definitions are for the purpose of this spell, so we can sniff out what we are working on like a bloodhound sniffing out a rabbit. Dictionary definitions may differ.]

[**This is true for the purposes of the spell but not necessarily true in any other circumstance]

[andypantsx3]

some barbarian bakugou thing idk | sfw | gn reader | 1.3k words

It's cold.

The fire crackles at your back, sending warm licks of heat up and over your spine, but it's not enough. You shiver, trying to settle deeper into the hard ground, drawing your cloak up over your nose where it's beginning to grow cold.

Normally, you'd be snuggled deep in your bedroll by now, but you'd stupidly tied it too insecurely to your pack this morning. It had come loose just as your group had forded the river on Kirishima's back, the redhead wearily but gamely shifting into his dragon form to get you safely across the rushing water.

As he plodded across, splashing loudly, your bedroll had tumbled into the icy water, and you'd watched mournfully as it had been immediately dragged under and carried downriver.

It was another day from the nearest town, another day before you could replace it.

When you settled into camp, Midoriya had chivalrously offered his own bedroll—which you had declined, as the loss of yours had been your own fault—and Uraraka had offered a warming spell—but you could see the exhaustion around her eyes and mouth since the battle yesterday, and she still looked pale and peaky. You thought another spell might finish her off for good.

But now you almost wish you'd taken either of them up on it, their discomfort be damned.

Almost.

Suffering the consequences of your own mess was the least you could do for them, really. You owe them everything for saving your life time and time again, starting when they'd first happened upon your village under a bandit raid, you the only survivor.

You've tried your hardest to repay them, stitching up wounds and mending torn clothes, taking over the cooking and fire tending whenever you make camp. Once you'd even talked a merchant down from chopping off Kiri's hand when he'd gotten a little too me dragon, must hoard over a ruby necklace at market.

You won't put everyone out over something as stupid as a lost bedroll, not when you owe them more than you could possibly ever give.

A cool wind whispers through the trees, and you can't suppress another violent shiver. You inch loser to the fire, barely caring if the sparks catch on your clothes and light you up in the night if it means you can be warm now.

You roll onto your side, facing the flames, and shudder again when the cold creeps under your cloak at the movement.

The heat feels good on your face, dry and blistering. But your back is suddenly freezing, and you fight down a groan of frustration.

You'll never get to sleep at this rate.

As soon as this thought occurs, there's the barest whisper of a bootstep behind you. Before you can turn, a hand claps over your mouth, and a hard body slides up against your back, an arm hooking decisively around your middle to pull you back against your assailant. The scent of ash and the sweet, floral oil he uses on his leathers gives away his identity immediately.

"Don't fuckin' scream it's just me," Bakugou growls low in your ear.

You blink dumbly, mouth pursing against his rough palm. "Fwuuh?" you say.

Bakugou Katsuki is notoriously standoffish, the member of your party you'd learned the least about in your weeks with them. A barbarian from the steppes, he's got little time or patience for your people's mannerisms. He seems to like very few things—his dragon Kirishima, his broadsword Hearteater, and the opportunity for a good fight being the exceptions—and you seem to be one of the things he tolerates the least.

He'd been the one who'd run his sword right through the bandit about to kill you, but since then he's acted like it was a mistake. He barely looks at you when you clean his wounds, he never accepts any of your rations when you offer them, and he's recently taken to combat training you, maintaining a harsh commentary on all of your best efforts.

It's a shame he's also so handsome and charismatic, as it makes it difficult for you to discount him entirely.

"Could hear your fucking teeth chattering from the other side of the campsite," Bakugou growls, his hand lifting off your mouth. Something heavy settles over you, and you realize he's arranging his cloak over you both, the fur trim tickling your nose. It's heavy and velvety and soft, and so nice and warm.

You know you need to protest but the heat of him at your back is so deliciously good, you want to relax into him like a warm bath.

"Bakugou—what is this?" you splutter out quietly.

"What, you wanna freeze your ass off?" he demands, his words a harsh breath into your ear. His arm shifts over you, pulling you tighter as if daring you to attempt to escape.

"No," you say, trying to scrape your thoughts in order. "No. But you—is this okay for you?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Bakugou growls into the side of your head.

"Well you don't exactly like me," you tell him, too exhausted to be circumspect about it. You know he doesn't like it when you talk around things either. "I didn't think you were cuddling type, exactly."

Bakugou huffs a dismissive laugh into your hair. "You always fucking decide shit on your own," he mutters. "You decide you owe us shit, you decide what's best for Deku and Uraraka to do with their magic and shit, you decide you think you fucking know everything. 'S fucking annoying."

You start, not realizing he'd cottoned on to your thinking process.

"Well I've also decided that you don't much like me," you say. "And I...I do owe you guys. You've saved my life countless times these past couple of weeks."

Bakugou makes a snorting noise behind you. "You fucking village people always think that's how the world works. Owing. A favor for a favor. Trading and bartering and stupid shit. That's not how it works out here, brat. There's no equal exchange. You stay alive if you're strong enough, or if someone likes you enough to keep you alive, and that's it."

His voice is even raspier than usual, you notice. He's tired. You can hear the impatience in the clipped sound of his words, and you know his exhaustion is why you're even getting this much out of him.

You're tired, too, the heat of the fire at your front and Bakugou's hard body at your back both lulling you into a lightheaded sleepiness.

"And you like me enough to keep me alive?" You can't help but ask dubiously.

"I like you well enough even though you're fucking annoying," Bakugou says, his breath stirring the hair at the base of your neck. "But I won't if you keep fuckin' talking."

You can't help but smile at that, a little tired grin touching your mouth.

"It'll be another thing I owe you for," you say, settling back into him at last. You know you will have other thoughts about this in the morning, but for now you can't help yourself. If he's fine with it then there's not much to protest.

"Y' can repay me by shutting the fuck up," he says, before he lets out a heavy exhale, as if he too is being lured into sleep by the warmth of your own body.

You decide to leave your questions about this for the morning. It's too much to contemplate what this means for your relationship to Bakugou. Too much to contemplate that he wants, for some reason, to keep you alive.

His hand presses to your abdomen, securing you even more firmly against him, and you close your eyes again. His breathing evens out, his grip growing slack, and you can feel your own body mirroring him.

Too easily, and without another thought on the debts you're accumulating to him, you slip down into sleep.

[s-awturn]

Moon Spell || CS55

summary: They were fated to love someone they hated. There was no spell, no grudge, no curse that could break the bond that united them, doomed to die in the feelings they fiercely nurtured. The Moon had determined it and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

“These violent pleasures have violent ends, and die in their triumph, like fire and gunpowder, which, when they kiss, consume each other. The sweetest honey is disgusting in its own sweetness, and its taste confuses the palate.”

cw: Violence, conflict, soulmates, blood, magic, alternate universe, obscenity, pure filth, chaos, fighting, swearing, intense hatred, love, mention of death, blood.

a/n: This came to celebrate Carlos' birthday and to open the new phase of my profile. This is supposed to have five chapters, no more, no less. I don't know what else to say, so read on!

starring: werewolf!Carlos x witch!Fem reader

Part One: We Were Born To Die

”Choose your last words, this is the last time 'Cause you and I, we were born to die”

Europe, 1498.

She packed all her belongings into a deep leather bag, threw in crystals, grimoires, a few candles, and other magical items; she couldn't stay there long, her hiding place had been discovered and soon crazy fanatics would be there to drag her to the stake. She couldn't waste her family's sacrifice in keeping her alive.

“Let's go, Spix, let's not wait for those madmen to take us to the fire or the gallows” she said, picking up the cat and putting it in the basket. Toledo was no longer a safe place, in fact there was no safe place, with the frightening religious fanaticism that the kings of Spain were feeding, everyone was suspected of witchcraft and heresy, women were dragged to the catacombs of churches and were never seen again.

S/N saw husbands hand over their wives, fathers hand over their daughters, everyone wanted the silver coins that the Church was offering. She needed to get away from this, S/N knew that her neighbors were suspicious of her, a woman living alone on the outskirts of the village attracted attention. She couldn't leave any room for bad luck.

She threw a black cape over her simple dress, tightened her boots, and left the house, saying goodbye silently. That house where her parents lived their entire lives, where she herself spent her life, would soon be burned down, so many memories would be turned into ashes; He didn't look back, he clutched the bag under his arm and ran into the woods, listening to Spix's meows, nestled in the bag.

The moonlight illuminated her steps, ensuring that she managed to avoid roots and holes in the ground and it wasn't long before she heard the angry shouts of the villagers, She hid behind a thick trunk and saw the torches shining in the darkness, they cried out the name of God, calling her a witch and accusing her of heresy. S/N heard her door being broken down.

It wouldn't be long before they noticed her absence and went hunting for her in the forest. She needed to run far away, get away from poor fanatics after a few dozen silver coins. Her life wasn't worth that.

She made her way to a remote part of the forest, where wolves and other wild animals hid. No villager would dare to go there, after all, no one wanted to become wolf food.

When she passed through the oak arch, a shiver shook her insides, S/N looked at the sky and the Moon shone so brightly that it illuminated small patches of darkness in the forest, and a thought made her stop: It was a full moon night and the werewolves would go out to hunt.

She was vulnerable in the middle of the woods, with only a small dagger in the pocket of her cloak and her magic. Anyway, she hoped that no werewolves would cross her path, or she would have a lot of problems besides angry Catholics.

She went deeper into the forest, even Spix's meows fell silent. In fact, there was no sound at all, the wind did not cut through the trees, the leaves did not rustle, not even the nocturnal animals screeched in their hiding places. Until a deep sound echoed, an angry growl that betrayed hunger.

Y/N gripped the dagger with trembling fingers, witches and werewolves had hated each other since the first dawn, if it really was a hungry werewolf there, she would love to devour her, just for the pleasure of destroying her; he took a deep breath and ran between the trees, whatever it was, he wasn't going to risk staying there, even though turning his back was already a high risk.

She ended up in a clearing completely lit by the moon, the exact same clearing where she and her mother used to perform rituals to thank the goddess for the harvest and the coven celebrated.

But that was before Ferdinand and Isabella began their persecution. Before she saw her friends burn at the stake, her parents die on the gallows.

A dark bark stopped her in the middle of the clearing, Y/N heard the branches being broken and the frightening sound of teeth chattering. Her heart accelerated painfully, she was terrified, maybe she could make the roots hold him, but her magic wasn't strong enough for that.

Her magic core was weak and did not have enough strength to channel forces of nature. She would have to make do with an iron dagger and the help of the goddess.

— ☽ —

It was the night of the full moon and he could feel the effects surging through his body since early on, and there was a strange feeling present in his chest. Carlos felt that something was going to happen that night, and it wouldn't just be the milestone of his thirty years of age.

He saw his father cross the small village with a group of refugees, religious madness had arrived in those parts and was terrorizing his people, there was no one who did not fear being dragged into the church basement. No one wanted to be tortured and killed.

“Stop daydreaming and go help your sister, that roof is still going to fall on her head” he heard his mother order.

“Where is her husband? That’s that lazy bastard’s responsibility,” he questioned, but received a click of his tongue in return. He growled in irritation, Carlos would beat up his brother-in-law as soon as he could. And he wouldn't care about his sister's crying or his father's lecture.

He trudged over to his sister's shack, seeing Blanca hanging from the roof, hammering some nails into the central beam. This only made him growl even more, he really was going to punch his brother-in-law in the face as soon as he got the chance.

“Blanca, what the hell are you doing there?" He stopped far enough away to see his sister, Blanca wiped the sweat on her forehead and glared at him mockingly.

“I think I'm baking bread, what do you think?” she retorted sarcastically.

“And where is your useless husband? He must be sleeping…”

“Don't talk about him like that, you know his health is fragile” She tries to defend her husband, but this only increases Carlos' irritation.

“He's a werewolf, Blanca, the only fragile thing about him is his will to work” Carlos growled “Get down from there, I'll take care of this, since your husband is as useless as a leaky bucket!”

The woman came down from the roof, and Carlos took her place, still complaining about his sister's husband and insisting on hammering the boards hard, not caring if it would wake the sleeping man. Work distracted him from the strange feeling in his chest, he didn't know how the full moon night would end, but he knew something would happen.

Only when the sun began to set on the horizon did Carlos finish repairs to his sister's house — not without landing two hard punches in the face of his brother-in-law who dared to complain about the noise. He needed to prepare, As it was the first night of the full moon, the effects would be more intense, and he needed to prepare his body and mind to allow the beast to command him.

As night fell, Carlos felt the involuntary spasms and his gums itched, the bones in his legs and arms cracked painfully, anticipating the metamorphosis.

And of course, the sensation increased along with the discomfort, the beast inside him scratched the walls, howling as if it was foretelling something. Maybe it was the villagers appearing on the edge of their land, maybe it was the witches who had returned, it could be anything.

Any damn thing.

When the transformation, he began to run between the trees, smelling the wet grass, the animals nestled in their dens, Carlos felt the wet earth under his feet and when he realized it, he was running on four legs, his peripheral vision was greater and his sense of smell could perceive things dozens of meters away.

He stopped abruptly and howled at the full moon, announcing the arrival of his birthday. That morning Carlos had turned thirty and there was nothing like fresh venison to celebrate.

He sniffed the air, searching for his prey and licked his sharp teeth when he caught the scent of a fox lurking in the bushes. The huge wolf followed the scent into the clearing, his eyes fixed on the distracted fox, he was about to pounce when a different scent filled the air.

The sweet scent of lavender and lemon hit his nose like a blow, disorienting the lycanthrope and he turned his skull, searching for the source of the smell and It wasn't long before the leaves on the far edge of the clearing parted and revealed a girl. Up close, her scent was more striking, more mystical.

Witch.

He growled, angry that she had disrupted his hunt and stirred his senses. His heart was pounding and he studied the girl, she was running away and looked terrified, the witch was sweating under her thick cloak and breathing quickly, her eyes scanning the trees and the wolf knew she was aware of his presence.

He could hear her heart beating and the wind started to blow again, carrying her scent to him and he growled, torn between wanting to smell her up close and killing her.

Werewolves had been killing witches since the beginning of time and his nature insisted that he rip out the girl's little neck. She pulled out a small metal dagger and he grunted with laughter, the little witch really thought an iron dagger would stop him.

He was eager to see her try.

With a powerful leap, the werewolf stopped in front of her, seeing her gasp in fright, her heartbeat increasing to the point of occupying all of the creature's sensitive hearing.

That was his feeling, somehow someone would die that night, either him or the little witch, after all that was the final outcome — regardless of how many ages his existence could drag on, at some point he would die. And the little witch too.

After all, all creatures are born to die.

But fate changed its course along with the path of the wind as soon as the wolf met the witch's eyes.

That could only be a bad joke from the Moon.

[lou-struck]

Another Layer

Lucifer x Reader x Mammon

~ After an incident during magic practice, you no longer have a jacker to wear on your chilly walk home.

Genere: Fluff

Wc: 1.4k

Warnings: Brotherly competition, Mc is shorter than the brothers, mention of Mc overworking themselves and not taking care of themselves. Reader lights themselves on fire harmlessly.

It finally happened; you accidentally lit yourself on fire.

The enchanted flames from your fireball spell singe the fabric of your jacket, and you hastily throw it to the ground with a shriek. Your foot stomps frantically on the light pink flames in an attempt to salvage the garment, but you are unsuccessful and can only watch as the enchanted fire eats through the fabric, leaving nothing but a pile of ash in its place.

"Damn," you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. You really liked that jacket.

With another huff, you grab your bag and prepare to leave. Next time you decide to practice your magic on a day off, you'll remember to wear the magic-proof garments Solomon told you about.

Sensing your presence, the double doors part for you magically. The heated air of the building disappears as soon as you step across the threshold. You shiver; the air is so much colder than you remembered it being on your walk over.

The thin short-sleeved shirt you're wearing does little to keep your body warm as hundreds of little goosebumps prickle your skin, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep the little heat your body is letting out.

The cold wind seems to make your walk to the House Of Lamination much longer than usual as it whistles a melancholy tune that bounces off the iron fence posts along the walkway. The dark clouds overhead foreshadow a heavy bout of rain coming your way.

You quicken your pace, hoping to soon be back home and in the arms of one of your much warmer demons. 

Maybe you can take a nap with Belphie and watch the storm through the roof of the observatory?

Maybe Asmo will let you warm up in his bathtub?

Maybe Satan could read to you by the fireplace?

Whatever it is you end up doing, you know that you will be warm and relaxed, unlike now. 

The wind blowing in your ear and the drumming of your heartbeat makes it close to impossible to hear anything else as you turn a corner blindly and bump directly into someone's back.

"Oi, what gives?" a familiar voice says. Taking a step back, you realize that it was Mammon you had just bumped into. Just beyond him, you notice that Lucifer is with him as well, his arms crossed over his chest. "Huh, Mc? What are ya doin out here?" The Avatar of Greed asks, trying to hide the elation on his features at your presence.

"I'm sorry, Mammon, I didn't mean to bump into you," you say quickly. "I was just leaving the private casting room at RAD and wanted to get home before the rain came."

"Mc," Lucifer addresses, looking you over. His discerning gaze lingers on your exposed arms and shivering figure before narrowing his crimson eyes. "Where is your jacket? You had it on when you left earlier today."

Shit, of course, he would notice that kind of thing.

"I kinda set it on fire," you admit with an innocently guilty smile on your face. 

"Just the jacket?" he presses, raising a brow.

"I kinda, maybe, sorta was wearing the jacket when it was set on fire," you admit directing your gaze to the all too interesting pavement. The random cracks and stones are much less humbling than this conversation with Lucifer is.

"So you set yourself on fire."

"Yes…accidentally."

Lucifer's hands reach up to rub his temples in exasperation as Mammon gasps.

"What do you mean you set yourself on fire?" he exclaims, reaching out to grab you by the shoulders. His hands are warm on your cold skin, and his face is filled with worry. "What the? Your skin is so cold."

"I was t-trying to get home. "You say softly, doing your best to fight the shivers.

"Silly human, ur gonna get sick out here." Mammon sighs, pulling his leather jacket down his shoulders and placing it over his own. Although leather may not be the best material for generating heat, already, you feel as if you are being held tightly. 

Breathing in, you smell just a bit of Mammon's cologne. The scent comforts you, warming you up in a different way as you look up at the handsome demon whose body is physically shielding yours from the wind. "I feel much better now, thank you, Mammon."

His cheeks turn pink at the sight of you wearing his clothes, and he turns away, "It's nothin'; the Great Mammon just doesn't want to hear ya sneezing tonight, that's all."

"I see," you nod, not fooled at all by the tsundere's words. "So that's all?"

"Ya might want to stay close though, so ya don't get too cold."

Just as he is about to take your hand, Lucifer clears his throat.

Mammon, do you really think that will warm them up sufficiently?" The Avatar of Pride says, taking a step between the two of you. He looks down at you affectionately as he speaks. "Mc, you should really wear my cape instead; you would be much warmer.

"Oi, they're not taking it off," Mammon says protectively, zipping up his jacket all the way up to your throat childishly as a way of proving his point. 

"Hmmm, then I suppose I'll just have to give them another layer to keep them warm," he replies, taking it off his shoulders and draping it over you like a blanket. The weight warms you even more as you feel the soft fur against your face. 

"How is that, Love?" he says, leaning in to secure it in place. "Is this other layer warming you up?"

"Mmhmm, I feel much better," you sigh, giving him a content smile.

"You really shouldn't be so reckless," he breathes into your ear; his breath is warm but sends a different kind of shiver down your spine. "What would I do if you were to catch a cold out here?"

"I'm sorry?" you offer, unconsciously leaning into his warmer frame. He chuckles warmly and allows you to lean on him.

"Sounds about right," Mammon says, wrapping an arm around your other side. "Ya really gotta take better care of yourself, or at least let me take care of ya. I'm your first, after all."

You giggle as the three of you go along, not noticing the subtle way both brothers are trying to steer you closer to their side of the walkway. 

"Oh," Lucifer says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It seems the cape is a bit too long for you; I wouldn't want you to fall. Allow me to take you back." 

Looking down, you see that he is right; the dark fabric of his cape is dragging behind you. "Are you sure?" you ask. "We are almost back at the house; I can walk the rest of the way."

"Don't be silly; the rain is about to come down, so it's better if I carry you," he says with the persuasion expected of a demon such as himself. You find yourself nodding, and he scoops you into his arms effortlessly.

"I wanted to take them," Mammon whines, reaching a hand out to you with puppy dog eyes. 

"You didn't ask Mammon," Lucifer smirks at his younger brother before looking at you with a loving expression. "Is this comfortable?"

"Very," you nod, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of the two demons' clothing enveloping you.

Lucifer is too proud to ever admit it, but getting to take care of you like this is one of his guiltiest pleasures. Especially when you are draped in his clothing and secure in his arms. 

You work too hard, and they all know it. 

"Not fair," Mammon pouts, reaching out to hold your hand in hopes of getting some kind of physical contact with you.

You smile and give his hand a squeeze. "Just you wait, Mc; when we get back, I'll make ya the best cup of tea you've ever had, and then we can go and watch a movie under all those blankets you like."

"That sounds good." you say, "We could all watch something together by the fireplace; I can even show you guys the spell I was working on."

Lucifer and Mammon lock eyes worriedly, "Uhhh, maybe not." the white-haired demon says.

"Perhaps you should rest for now." Lucifer offers. "You can go and get changed, and I'll take care of the fire."

[sunnystaytiny2018]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ateez Fanfiction

Demon Seonghwa x Fem Reader

Smut

First Person POV

(Requests are opened as well if anyone wants to give me ideas)

Top!Seonghwa, female reader, Somnophilia, multiple orgasms, pussy eating, face riding, dick pounding, femboy!Seonghwa, femboy, Demon dick, choking, marking, succubus sex, stranger sex, breeding kink, pet names (angel, sweetheart, baby), supernatural sex, smut

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I felt stupid. Standing here staring at the damn pentagon I had made with ash from my parent's fireplace. Red and Black candles flickering through the basement that I was currently in.

How could I have actually gone through all of this? For what? To get laid?I looked down at the spell again in the book. I had been practicing the pronunciation for weeks and I still failed. I tried chanting again to no avail. Everything was still. No magical dark wind, no candles blowing out, and certainly not a demon appearing.

I sighed and threw the book back on my shelf. I knew it wouldn't work. But not even some creepy shit happening? Something to get my heart racing? Nothing. The candles suddenly flicker for a moment and spun around instantly to see if someone had appeared. But to no avail, nobody, no, something wasn't there.

I sighed as I headed upstairs for dinner and have to try to act like I didn't just try to summon a demon in my parents' basement. The basement was like a little apartment studio for me.

I came back down after dinner and immediately prepared for bed. I was too disappointed to even look at the pentagram. I got into my red silk shorts and top set that I had gotten for Christmas on. I switched the fan on and then cuddled down comfortably into my comforter.

I woke up to the sound of rustling. My blanket had now been tossed to the floor. I was told by many I thrashed a lot in my sleep. My legs were propped up with my feet on the bed. I groaned tiredly and went to shut my legs but something stopped my legs. I'm blinked in confusion until a moan rippled from my lips as a solid and broad stroke ran across my pussy and clit.

This was when I noticed my thighs were bruised and quivering, thrown over the male that was licking my pussy like it was the best ice cream he wanted to savor. My body covered in a sheen layer of sweat. All I could see of him was his long black hair and his hands that were now holding my thighs. I let out another moan as he delved his tongue deeper and towards my clenching pussy entrance.

"Who.. who are you?" I moaned and that's when I got a slight peek of his face as he lifted his head slightly to look at me. His eyes glinted dangerously, a dark storm that took my breath away.

"You don't even recognize the demon you summoned?" He asked as I heard the sound of him slurping my juices off his lips.

"N-No way..."

"Sorry, I was late, Mortal." He said as he sat up to his full height looking down at my soaked cunt. He spit on his hand and rubbed my clit as he bit his lower lip. I quivered as I saw his full appearance. He was hot and beautiful at the same time. His dark long hair to his nape, a crop top giving me a full view of his beautifully sculpted slutty waist and abs, and finally, a demon skirt hugging his hips.

I had never been much into Fem boys but boy, did this demon know how to pull it off. It almost made me feral. I almost wanted reverse rolls and show him how good I could dominate him. You let out a yelp as he smacked my wet pussy. I let out a quick and short yelp.

"You're so responsive, and a heavy sleeper..." He said as he leaned down and gave your pussy lips another stroke with his tongue, his eyes rolling back as if it was the tastiest thing in the whole universe. "You know you came twice before waking up?" He asked as he lazily stroked two fingers along my pussy lips. My clit was swollen and sensitive, telling me he wasn't lying.

"So you've just been... Eating me out while I was asleep?"

"Well, sweetheart. I was summoned for a reason. you being asleep wasn't about to stop me. Besides, you were enjoying it. The way you were squirming and moaning..." He let out a groan as his head fell back thinking about it. "You're so responsive when you are asleep.. I can't wait to see how responsive you are awake." He purred as he lowered his mouth back to my pussy. I was going to protest until his tongue pushed past my folds and inside my pussy. I let out a loud and startled gasp, my hand flying to my mouth.

My back arched in response. He once again held my thighs over his shoulders as he started eating me. His tongue and teeth are doing everything just right to pleasure me. My mouth was slackened open as I moaned and whimpered into my hand. One hand went to my clit and one went to grope at one of my thighs. I let out whimpers as my thighs were sensitive. My friends would always get startled when I panicked at them setting their hand on my thighs. My thighs were sensitive and a big turn on for me and it seemed like he knew that from how much my thighs had been marked up by his mouth and the way he was squeezing it now.

That wasn't the only thing clenching...

I panted and moaned as his tongue pleased me in an intense way. But I wanted more, I needed more. I wanted it harder. I wanted it faster. I needed it. I struggled to sit up as pleasure rushed over me in waves with each stroke of his tongue. He didn't seem to care why I was moving. I used the position to my advantage and used my legs and thighs to throw him onto his back with his face buried in my pussy.

"Oh fuck yes." He muffled against my pussy and began to eat it ravenously. It quickly took my breath away and I shook above his face for a moment before I settled all the way down and began to jerk my hips. He let out groans into my dripping pussy as I began to ride his face. Sliding my pussy up and down along his mouth and tongue. My thighs were burning and cramping as he encouraged me to ride his face. He tried to bury his face deeper and deeper in my hungry pussy. My moans came faster and became higher pitched as a new orgasm arrived quickly.

"Fuck! Just like that! Fuck yes~" I mewled as my pussy clamped down and his finger continued working my clit. I gave my hips soft jerks as I rode out my high, which he seemed more than happy to give me. Soon enough, I was flipped onto my back once more. His eyes weren't the only thing gleaming now that his face was covered in my pussy juices, which he licked.

"Fuck, that's even better than I imagined. I might come visit you often, Mortal." He purred as he kneaded my hips. "I've never seen one react so sexily like you.." I let out a whimper.

"You get summoned for this often?" I questioned and he grinned wickedly as he pushed down his skirt and revealed a dick you had never seen before. It was similar to a human dick but it had ridges, it almost seemed like it was made for giving more pleasure for fucking.

"Pretty, isn't it Sweetheart? And to answer your question... Yes. I'm a succubus." He purred as he let a hand travel over your breasts and down to give your pussy another stroke, as if to make sure I was still drenched. It was huge and standing erect with its ridges and swollen head. A throb of something in my chest made me feel strange. What was it? I didn't like the idea that he had been with others? Why am I feeling this way? He's just a demon I summoned to fuck me. That's it. A relationship or feelings was not in the terms.

I grabbed his hips as I panted, looking up at him. My eyes traveled from head to toe. I couldn't help but feel my pussy clench at the idea of fucking me with abandon in that denim skirt he was wearing. The idea was so painfully delicious, making me almost cum on the spot.

"I want you to fuck me with this skirt of yours still on.." I said as I pulled the skirt by its waistband and back in his slender waist, the skirt unable to hide the big hard erection he had raging underneath the fabric. A smirk slowly spread across his face as he pulled his skirt up to reveal his pretty dick once more. It was weird using the word 'pretty' for a dick but it was the only word that made sense. He pushed his hands from your hips, to your abdomen, to your breasts and finally settled on your neck. He softly wrapped a hand around it, firm but almost comforting.

I looked up at him and pressed my lips together as he gave himself a couple strokes despite already being hard. Using his thumb and hand to spread the precum along his dick. The lewd sound of his hand squeezing the sensitive flesh as his hand around my neck slowly increased in pressure. His head fell backwards as groans escaped his mouth.

"Shit, I can barely control myself.." He grunted as he gave himself another jerk. "I've never not been able to control myself.." He said before giving a growl and hiking my legs on his shoulders and lining up with my pussy entrance. I let out a low moan as he slowly pushed his swollen head in. My back arched off the bed from the pleasurable burn as he stretched me wide.

"Oh my God....!" I moaned out as he slowly sank into me, stretching me wider and wider with his ridged dick. The pain was immense, my vision blurring and seeing the searing white. But this feeling, this pleasure, this feeling was too much. It felt wrong yet right. There could even be a possibility of this man not being a demon at all and actually someone who broke in and decided to take advantage of me. And right now, I didn't really care. In fact the idea made my pussy clench. He smirks as he feels my tight pussy clench tighter. He leaned closer, his breath fanning over my face in a sexy way. His breath smelt like bubble gum and mint.

How odd.

"What are you thinking about that's getting you more worked up, Sweetheart?" He asked as he gave me a small thrust. I sucked in a breath. I didn't want to tell him, then I would really seem crazy. I remained silent and his grin only grew wider. "Oh, I see. It was something really dirty, huh?" He asked, his hips started to move, picking up pace as if the idea was making him hornier. "Something real nasty. What is it, huh? Tell me. Tell me, Sweetheart." He said desperately as he caressed my face, tucking hair behind my ear while pounding into me, making me lose my breath every time.

"I-" I gasped, I couldn't say it. The words were caught in my throat. I shook my head with a flush and Seonghwa only seemed even more fueled. He continued his thrusts and reached a hand between us to rub my clit. A whimper escaped my lips as his fingers collided with my clit.

"Come on, Baby. Tell me what it is. It must be sinfully delicious to make you clench me so tight. Fuck, you're going to break it in half." He panted as he looked down between us. Watching his dick push in and out without any resistance. The squelching sound loud in the basement. He watched it with a pervert grin and his ridges seemed to get even harder. "Tell me."

"I was just thinking-" I gasped, "that you could easily be an intruder and not actually a demon sinfully good at pleasuring someone." He grinned widely as he began to pound into me harder making me get closer and closer to cumming.

"Does that turn you on? That I could easily be a stranger that broke in and saw a sexy curvy beauty asleep in her innocent yet sexy pj's. I just wanted a taste." He whispers seductively in my ear and a shiver runs through my body. "You just looked so delicious. A little piece... Of heaven. Come on, Angel. Cum for me. Come on, Sweetheart." My body trembled as it tensed painfully before exploding pleasure through my body as I clamped on his big dick. "That really turns you on huh? Fuck. You're kinky." He said jerking his hips up into me.

I couldn't respond as my mouth laid slack as my body spasmed. Jerking and twitching as he kept pushing into me until he finally cummed inside me.

"Fuck yeah, baby. Take it all. Take it and get fucking pregnant, Sweetheart." He grunted as he continued to pump into me. My mind was fuzzy and my body was nothing but melted goo for his handling.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck.." I panted as he fucked my overstimulated pussy, pushing me quickly to another orgasm. I quickly took control once more, wanting it my own way now. I pulled his head by his hair and began to kiss and suck on his neck. He let out a hum in approval. I let my hands travel, going and cupping his ass through the denim skirt. He let out an approving growl at the way I was touching him and kissing his neck.

"I like when a woman takes control." He grinned in a sexy way and bit his lower lip. I started to ride his dick with moans and he groaned in response. Soon enough he was helping me slam myself down on him. He made me orgasm after orgasm, until I passed out from exhaustion. And when I woke up, the pentagram had been broken and my mysterious lover gone.

[bettyfrommars]

the corner of Heartache & Jameson

18+only, cemetery meet cute, talk of grief and death, allusions to depression and alcohol consumption. Eddie is grieving and so is reader.

wc: 706

You hug yourself against the brisk, icy wind, flexing the collar of your coat up to cover your ears as you stand in the cemetery staring with wet eyes at the headstone in front of you.

“Sometimes I hate you for this, you know?” You scowl and shuffle your feet.  “For dying on me like you did, for leaving me alone here in this shitty world.  It’s not fair.”

Your grandmother’s name is spelled out on the cement slab, and there are fresh poinsettias just below it that will soon suffocate under the freshly fallen snow.  The sun is down and darkness crowds in around you, as if stumbling over shafts of light in its eagerness to be by your side.  You don’t avoid them like others might; you let them curl into you like stray cats and make a home.

You silently dare the gathering shadows to do with you what they will.  

You sniff back a sob and wipe tears from your eyes with angry yanks across your cheeks.  “I came to say I love you and I miss you and I wish you were here.  I don’t have anyone to spend the holidays with so—-”

Footsteps crunch in the snow and you hear a lighter flick.

You look up to see the small flame from a few yards away, and then, a face. 

“Did I scare you?” A man's voice asks, lit cigarette bobbing between his lips.

He sucks in a drag, and you scoff at whoever it is, irritated that he would dare to interrupt your therapeutic, sulking rant to your dead grandmother at her grave.  

“Quite presumptuous of you to think you’d have any effect on me,” you bite, wrapping your arms around your ribcage tighter, feeling for the pepper spray in your coat pocket, just in case.  

“I’m sorry,” he says softly.  He lowers the cigarette, and you can only see his silhouette against the falling snow.  “I’m just not used to bumping into people out here this time of night.”

“You hang out in the cemetery a lot? How hardcore of you.” Your tone is mocking, you want him to leave.  You wish to be alone with your misery and the several travel-size bottles of Jameson.

“These past few months, yeah,” he admits with a shrug.  You can see the outline of his hand and the bright cherry glow on his smoke.  “Since my uncle passed.  He’s right over there.”

He sticks his elbow out to the right, in a general direction.  As if he can’t look, as if it’s still too hard. 

“He raised me,” he offers, as if to accentuate the point that the man had not been just any uncle.  “So, I like to come here and get sad, too, you know?”

You relax your hand on the pepper spray.  You relax your jaw too, and for a brief second, you hope that he is the grim reaper coming to take you away from this earthly hell.

He takes a tentative step closer, and in the dim glow of the moonlight, you can finally see the gentle curves of his face.  “Names Eddie,” he shoves one hand into the front pocket of his jeans and flicks ash from his smoke with the other.  Other than ripped jeans and sneakers, he only has on a threadbare concert tee and a thin leather jacket.

You don’t tell him your name because you’re not sure if you want to know anyone anymore.  Being alone is better, being alone is safe.  

But you can’t help but notice: “Are you cold?”

He snorts a laugh. “I kinda am, yeah. I didn’t really expect to come out here.  It just…happened.”

You understood the compulsion.  You’d driven to the cemetery in your pajamas once in a fit of grief.  

You felt in your other pocket for the tiny bottles of alcohol and rolled them around in your fingers so that they sounded like crashing marbles.  You held one up to him by the glass neck.  “You want to come back to my car and get warm? Be sad together?”

“Well, it is the holidays,” he tried not to smile but couldn’t help the grin that crept up one side of his face like the Grinch with an idea.  “Sucks to be alone this time of year.”

[deathbxnny]

Hi, this is my first time active on tumblr community, English is not my native language, so please forgive me for spelling mistakes <3

I have an idea for s/o Mitsuri (kny) with Blade, Jing Yuan, Dan Heng and Luocha please. who were dying in their arms and praying for another world, when they were reborn, and were turned into ordinary people with an ordinary past. Before I die, I want the reader to ask: "If we were to be reborn in a more beautiful world where there is no pain and loss, would you be my bride?". I am really looking forward to the reactions of the characters in hsr. Hope this angst idea is good enough-

Pray for you when you go, someone often remembers. When you return when someone is waiting. Pray for you to become the best memories in the world. Wishing you a life filled with love and happiness. I really appreciate you for the quality articles <3 Take care of yourself and I love you so much. Sorry for writing so long. (Sorry for the second post, I realized I forgot to add the character's name, so sorry =( )

-----♡

A/N: I know exactly what scene you are referring to here and I'll never recover from it tbh... Also thank you so much for your kind words and for the request! I hope this is okay!<33

Content: Potential Spoilers for kny! (?), Reader dies, hurt/no comfort (kinda), established relationships, angst, mentions of fatal injury, just pain

Reader has no set pronouns! (Though they do refer to themselves as a "Bride" per the request, but that's not outright mentioned here.)

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan's usual calm and playful facade drops instantly, when he has your bloody and near lifeless form laying in his arms. He holds you close, knowing that your end is near and that there is nothing he can do now. He tries to still appear so calm and collected like he always is, but it's hard, when the love of his life is dying.

And it becomes even harder, when he hears you utter those heartbreaking words, as you look up at him with pleading, weak eyes. He can't bring himself to speak at first, mainly because he wants to believe that there is still some hope left in saving you. But he is no fool. He knows, that you are doomed.

And so he nods, promising you that he will, his arms holding onto you tighter, when the last breath escaped your lungs and you smile in satisfaction at him, already looking forward to seeing him again.

"Ofcourse, my love... I'll wait eons for your return, if I have to."

-----♡

》Blade

He nearly loses his composure at the sight of you, the blinding rage of the loss he felt in his heart making him nearly dip completely into insanity. Yet he keeps it at bay for a moment, just to hold you in his arms. He's trembling and for once in a very long time, he feels afraid and lost.

Your words make his already broken soul break even harder, burn up into fine ash, until it gets blown away by the wind and leaves a gaping hole in his existence behind. He can't process them at first, wanting to be stubborn even in the face of your inevitable doom. He doesn't want to show, how much this weakened him, just to spite the grim reaper himself.

And yet, it all fails, when he just let's out a pitiful, broken sigh and agrees in pained defeat, just to give you your peace. You smile at him, as the last of your life fades out, your eyes looking right through him. Only then, does he allow himself to break completely.

"Very well... but don't keep me waiting for long... I beg of you."

-----♡

》Dan Heng

Dan Heng didn't know, how you two got to this point. It shouldn't have happened. He should've protected you. And yet, you protected him from the attack. You were bleeding out, your life draining from you faster than he could stop it. Once more, a person he loved dearly was slipping through his fingers and there was nothing he could do.

He felt like a failure, like all of this was his fault. He should've died instead. Not you. And that thought gets only solidified by your heartbreaking, hopeful words. You didn't deserve this fate. You deserved someone much better than him.

And yet, he selfishly agrees to your final wish to bring you satisfaction. Your smile made it worth it, the relief in your eyes before they were drained of their beautiful spark and dulled making all the heartache disappear for only just a moment. Left behind was the emptiness Dan Heng felt, as all he could do was stare down at you in defeat, his heart broken once more. And for good, this time.

"For you, I will do anything, my love. So I'll see you then..."

-----♡

》Luocha

Luocha didn't want to believe, that it was over. That there was nothing he could do for you. He tried everything he could. He was a doctor, surely he could save you from this simple injury, right? But it was no use. You knew it. He knew it. And yet, he still denied it to the bitter end, until you gently grabbed ahold of his arm and just shook your head. A signal, that it was truly over.

And for once, he breaks down, holding you close, begging you not to disappear and yet all you could do was chuckle and utter your last wish for him. It was a promise, that eventually, you'd return to him. You'd find eachother in the next life, you were sure of it.

He was reluctant, still so stubborn and heartbroken to accept your doom, until he did. His soul died with you, when you took your last breath, he swore it. And he blamed himself, for not being able to save you, when he surely should've been able to.

"I'll find you in the in next life and the one after that one too, my dear... I promise you that."

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was alright! It was honestly heartbreaking to write... also thank you for the request!<33

[beansidhebumbling]

Have You Ever Seen The Rain?

The sea breeze hit her face like the water of a baptism, cleansing her of her sleepless night, until her mind was as smooth and blank as the polished rock she turned between her fingers.

Nesta had never liked the sea, as a child had avoided its depths, even as Feyre moved between the waves like she was dancing. Some were born to love the water and some were born to fear it.

She'd always been the fearing kind.

--

The cliffs here were chalky white and treacherous, with jagged rocks that had eaten many a ship. The murky waves seemed hostile too, banging frantically against the shore- fighting a war they'd someday win against the land.

Keep your feet on land and you'll never die at sea.

Those words floated on the air before her. It's what her Mamó had said, sitting before a fire that had been ash for so long, it may well have become flame again. A rule to live by.

Nesta was cautious and yet..

and yet..

Here she stood all the same.

Some destinies could not be avoided after all.

--

Feyre had disappeared like steam rising, in her bed one night and gone the next. Stolen by the fae they said.

She had not known much about them then, only what the old men whispered to their bottles at Samhain, only that to engage with tricksters was a deadly business indeed.

If they'd seen her in the aftermath, gnashing her teeth and screaming like a wild thing, all composure sacrificed to the stone cold terror that bit at her skin, she reckoned they might never have taken her sister at all.

The arrogance of fae to assume mortals feared death first and loss second.

--

'We cannot winnow from here.'

His voice was beautiful and hard as a diamond.

The Bargain-Maker, whose hands were covered in winding black tattoos and whose wings broke through the mist like an oar through water.

'It is dangerous to be out here alone, girl.'

His breath did not fog like hers in the harsh morning light, did not create clouds of ice that rose like smoke from a chimney. He could not tell her why. Nesta thought maybe he was cold-blooded like the newt Fey had once caught by the peatland. She would never say that aloud, not when what had grown between them bloomed, despite being planted in rock.

'Many would say it's more dangerous to be with you, Scáth.'

She sniffed primly.

--

They hadn't shared names. Names meant more in Prythian he had told her under starlight, on one of the many nights they'd spent camping together, traipsing through Hybern. Names gave people power over you.

'Well, what should you I call you then? I'm getting mighty sick of calling you Sir.'

He cocked an eyebrow at that, something passing between them as their eyes met, too fast for her to name.'

'Call me Azriel.'

He murmured, brown eyes now fixed steadily on the sparking flames from the blue fire he'd conjured.

Turning on her bedroll to sit up properly, she snorted, her fear of this creature that was tied to her until Feyre was found, having eased after he saved her from the Bean Sídhe.

'All the pseudonyms you could choose and you choose that. Age doesn't breed sense in fae apparently.'

He prickled at her dig. No surprise, his hackles raised at everything, the grouch.

'Azriel is a perfectly acceptable name.'

He grumbled, picking a stick from the ground to poke at the fire with a furrowed brow.

'Aye, acceptable it is.'

Nesta snarked, more than a little amused. Men were men, winged or not she guessed, with egos more fragile than porcelain.

'I'd prefer to pick my own name for you. How about Daisy?'

'I vastly preferred you when you thought I ate humans, girl.'

He growled, amusement hidden in the slight quirk of his lips.

'I'll call you Scáth.'

It meant Shadow in the Old Tongue. She imagined someone as ancient as he would know that. But if he did, he gave no inclination of the fact. He only shrugged, like it was some small defeat and spoke into the night, in a sage, significant way, as if a spell were being cast,

'Then Scáth I am.'

--

The sea breeze was unforgiving, beating against his face and wings, making his scarred hands ache.

A pain that seemed miniscule when compared to the way his heart was being choked from his chest by the slight creature before him.

Standing on this cliffs of Uladh with her, looking towards the coast of Winter, he wondered if this was how it would continue to be. She leading them on a path of her choosing and him following despite the danger.

Azriel was cautious and yet..

and yet..

Here he stood all the same.

Some destinies could not be avoided after all.

[ryin-silverfish]

How would have the original audience of JJTW view Sha Wujing punishment for acciedently breaking a war chalice?

Would they viewed it fair? Or would it been taken as commentary/critique that the Heavens/ Chinese bureaucracy are insanely disproportionate in their punishments?

To quote my friend @Luminece on the JTTW Discord:

I think there is a level of critique of Ming capital punishment going on here on a meta level in the book. During the 1500s, there was an increase of corporal and capital punishment, both being put into law and in action. At the same time, the Tang dynasty was being hailed as a golden age of Chinese culture and society - a period known for decreasing the use of capital punishment (it was supposed to be only used as punishment for certain types of murder and treason).

She is discussing the use of the fillet spell, but I think it can apply equally to disproportionate punishments like what Sha Wujing received.

As for me: I know there's the common fandom theory that Sha Wujing was punished so harshly because of the "breaking a cup as signal of revolt" connotation.

However, I never quite buy into that. Rather, Sha's mistake reminds me more of officials messing up and violating rules of propriety during courtly gatherings.

And since he is the "Curtain-raising General", the guy responsible for announcing the beginning of JE's court sessions, my HC is that there's an element of "You should know better" in his harsh punishments.

Also: Heavenly Laws are notoriously harsh in general. Here's a collection of these laws in 道法会元, which involves ones such as "Any non-righteous god who scares children for fun and makes them cry get their head chopped off" and "If a mountain god can't guard the divine medicinal plants growing in their mountains and get them stolen by ghosts and other gods, they also get their head chopped off".

For formally ranked heavenly gods, it's no less harsh: just revealing "heavenly secrets" or not greeting a superior/official of the Law during the morning assembly are both punishable by death.

Oh, and this one for gods of the Wind Bureau: "If an official of the Law or Daoist submits a petition to the heavens (via burning), and their wind blows the ashes into the air, they get their heads chopped off. If it's intentional, their forms are dismembered (分形, which seems to be the disintegration of the souls and body?)"

...Through this lens, Sha Wujing's punishment really isn't out of the ordinary.

[windvexer]

+ „They fade into the earth and into the blackness between stars. They turn to ash and dust and settle into the forest and into nebulae. They scatter to the winds and become the colors in the sunset. They sink into the waters” I’m talkings bout those words. Like instead just saying normal basic words „it’s making me pretty/rich etc”

Sorry for adding

You can't go too basic. You can't lose the plot.

These are not fancy words. These are literal metaphysical commands.

If you don't like all that shit about nebulae and frogs, for the above incantation, instead you could say, "the energy I have defined earlier is reduced and transfigured until it becomes particulate and those particles are returned to the ecosystem of the universe to such a degree that they are consumed by the cycle of life and turned into something else."

You can't just say "the energy disappears and goes away."

That's not the same spell. That's not the same intent.

HOW does the energy disappear and go away? Because there is a difference between energy being transformed and returned to the ecosystem, and energy disappearing from your line of sight and going across the street.

You can simplify, but don't lose the idea that you are giving actual, real metaphysical instructions for what is happening.

When studying incantations, try making it literal. What is the actual incantation saying will happen? "The energy becomes the colors of the sunset." It sounds poetic, but what has to happen?

What has to happen is that the energy is transformed and reduced to such an extent that it becomes fundamentally different. The energy of harm someone did to you is so utterly reduced that it can no longer be extracted from nature.

That is the means by which the banishment is performed.

So it might sound poetic, but that poetry is just there to pave over the boring parts. That earlier paragraph I wrote that took all the fancy words out and said it plain, that was pretty boring to me.

A key element to incantations is emotional resonance.

Does it have power to you to say, "-transfigured until it becomes particulate and those particles are returned to the eco-"? If so, then do that incantation.

But does it make something resonate within you to say, "they fade into the earth and into the blackness between stars"?

You choose the words that stir power within you.

"It's making me pretty" "it's making me rich"

Alright. So the spell is to make you pretty.

Unintended consequences - paths of manifestation. How does it make you pretty?

Does it literally change something about your skin? Maybe we're having a pimple that needs to be cured.

The spell is to make you pretty.

"Make me pretty."

First, does that resonate with power? Such a raw statement of command, it could make a person feel powerful. Do you feel powerful when you say it?

So let's say you say it. "Make me pretty."

So what happens? Does the pimple go away?

Or, do you find a youtube video that teaches how to apply concealer correctly?

But what do you want to happen? Do you want something about your skin to change?

Because then you shouldn't just say "make me pretty."

Then you should say, "heal this blemish really fast so I will be pretty."

Do you not care how it manifests? Then go as simple as you want, as long as you can get the spell to work.

I think that it is really important to note that the spells you are seeing online are specifically created or intended for public consumption.

What is the point of posting a spell that says "meditate on a candle and say 'make me pretty'"?

Anyone can do that. The steps are obvious. There is no point in posting such a spell. That doesn't mean those spells are bad or don't work.

It just means... why bother to type that up? It's like saying "recipe for bean dinner: open a can of beans, heat in bowl."

So as you analyze incantations and prewritten spells, keep in mind that in the modern era, at least in my opinion, these things are written for public consumption. I prepare my spells for publication by keeping in mind that people who do not want to write incantations or who are looking for extra structure may appreciate a fully typed up and polished incantation.

Do I do those exact incantations when I do the spell? No. I even say it: "say something like this." "Say something to this effect."

So you can say whatever you want that stirs power and directs that power how you see fit.

The details are always up to you.