#cackles from the den

[hobgobbin]

Hello am Taheerah Mohammed Abdallah, are you willing to help me get my insulin? I'm down to my last pen and its pretty much close to being empty.Nt asking for a much, only need $67 rn to save my blood sugar. please help me with a small donation or share,reblog any help can save my life.  Thank you so much and be blessed.🙏

EDIT: nvm I see this is a scam don't donate to this person lol https://www.tumblr.com/neechees/756181096741421057/hello-i-got-an-ask-from-the-account

[hobgayblin]

bee, wasp, beetle for whichever guy youre thinking abt rn!!

AUH thank you chi !!!!

I'm gonna do these all for Kveldulf and Tyr bc I'm in my GOW era part 134655665

Bee - Do they have their own little love language that’s just theirs? Any pet names, inside jokes, or regular gestures that mean something special to them?

Tyr is very romantic and sweet with him and Kvel's special love language is not tearing him apart for any of it GHKSGDH Kvel hates most forms of human contact, but he likes holding onto Tyr's arm and lets Tyr touch him without biting him (most of the time). His love language is basically like a feral kitten being socialized

Kvel doesn't really do pet names but Tyr calls him all the traditional ones like darling, my love, and will also call him little wolf sometimes, which Kvel likes because it's the only time someone hasn't said it in a rude way to him

Wasp - Who has the higher pain tolerance? How do they look after each other when one is sick? Who’s the better caretaker?

Tyr definitely has the higher pain tolerance because he has godly regenerative abilities and Kvel does. Not. I don't think Tyr can actually get sick either because of that? Which is good because Kvel is a piss poor caretaker SHDFGH He would bring food (big chunks of meat, not advisable to eat) and maybe lay with Tyr if he did somehow get sick but he is HORRIBLE at being caring.

Tyr on the other hand is the PERFECT caretaker. If Kvel gets sick Tyr is always by his side and cooking him food and making sure he's comfortable. Tyr would keep other people away from him too because Kvel gets even crankier when he's sick, and hates people seeing him in any sort of vulnerable state.

Beetle - No holds barred, who would win in a fight, and how would it go down?

They spar all the time but in an actual FIGHT FIGHT it's a little hard to say. Tyr is definitely a lot stronger and smarter than Kvel, but Kvel has a lot of tricks and transformations and is incredibly chaotic while fighting so it's difficult to get a read on what he's gonna do to be able to react to it.

I THINK, honestly, Kvel would win just through Tyr being Too Nice to hurt his beloved too badly. Kvel is generally not one to hold back but won't even hold back on Tyr because he knows he can heal himself afterwards. Also Kvel is Not used to the honorable duel sort of fights so he fights very dirty and hates backing down from any fight until either 1. he's dead, 2. he's clearly won, or 3. he's physically dragged away (happens often)

[u3pxx]

Oh jeez, I dunno, cootchie eyes are like the 🥺 emoji kinda??? All big and extra sparkly! (it definitely CAN be suggestive, but I didn't mean it like that!)

ANON I AM SO SORRY FOR MISUNDERSTANDING YOUR EARLIER ASK, MY BRAIN CONNECTED THE DOTS JUST NOW DFGDHJDK

"ohh 'cootchie' as in like 'cootchie-coo' and not 'cootchie' as in. the other thing that i thought it was accidentally misspelled as" DFGHD 😭😭😭😭😭

pls accept this little birdy as my apology DGHJFGF

[infictionalwonderland]

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

part 1 / part 3

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out���leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

[itsswritten]

Cauldron-born | Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word count: 4.1K

Summary: When an unexplainable energy pulls the Inner Circle to barge into the Day court, they're all shocked at what they find. But it's Azriel who can't help wonder if his dreams have finally been answered.

Part 1

A cackle pierced through you as Cressida  looked upon you with a devilish glint.

“You believe you are a witch?” Her tone caught you off guard. Her patronisation questioning everything you had ever held to be true. Surely you were? It was the only thing that made some sense. Your brows furrowed  tightly as you regarded the woman who had offered you shelter and refuge over the past few years.

Her laughing died down, her beautiful skin perfect by the ruins and spells she’d used for centuries, not displaying a single crease visible upon her flesh.

“Oh child what an easy life this would have been if we were more akin.”

~

You sat upright with a jolt, the murmuring of a dream— a memory whispering at the corners of your mind. Your heart swelling with the familiarity of someone you missed, despite her disposition, her cruel tone, that mean glint in her eye— you missed her. But as you felt the plush sheets beneath your body you knew you were no longer in the witches cottage at the corners of The Middle.

You had left that plagued land a while ago now.

A soft rap roused you from your thinking. The usual wake up call must have been the noise to stir you from your slumber in the first place, a familiar rumble of a tone behind the oak doors. 

“Come in,” you replied softly. Your feet swinging off the side of the bed, as you walked towards the large curtain that hung from the high ceilings to the dark obsidian floor beneath your feet.

It should have been cool to the touch under your toes, but the house had a magical way of ensuring your comfort— always.

You heard the bedroom door swing open, your back to the welcomed guest as your fingers dropped from the luxe curtain fabric you had just pulled, inviting the warmth of the morning sun into your rooms.

“Blessed be my morning star, did you sleep well?” A deep sing-song tone bellowed into the room, a playfulness dancing on his words.

You cringed under the greeting, choosing not to turn to show your disdain at his choice of greeting and nickname. The sun was only just rising, sending splintered beams of light across your bedroom floor and walls.

“Helion, must you greet me in such a way?” He could practically hear the way you rolled your eyes and cringed at his words. You hadn’t turned to him yet, your gaze settling on the tops of the city below that the curtains had just revealed.

The view from your bedroom had changed more frequently in recent years. No longer the welcomed view of your childhood— the farm fields you grew up in, the misty fog that covered the northern part of the continent that you had always found comfort in.

No longer the harsh winding forest, dark trees that looked more like creatures that lurked outside the witches cottage— Cressida’s home— if you could even call it a home. Her den, rooted in The Middle.

No longer the glistening golden rooftops of Day, the sparkling white walls that danced the sunlight off the buildings in a way that made the whole court shimmer.

Instead, the panes of glass showed three mountainous peaks, dusted with snow in the distance and a city below— Velaris, the city of starlight.

Or the city of slumber. You were not well acquainted with the routines of the Night court residents. Them usually rousing from sleep well later into the day. However it did make your mornings quieter.

The auras of people settled in sleep, their noise, their colours dimming as you watched the kaleidoscope of energy dance lazily along to rooftops. It would be beautiful, if it wasn’t so loud.

You winced slightly at the sight, the lights and colours nudging on your mind. Poking and prodding a little harder than they had yesterday. It had been several days since Helion’s spell. A string of wryds to help contain your ability— dim it down, to subdue it, make it more bearable— but the spell was wearing thin.

Ever since that night—that fateful night where you almost left this world— your ability had been at a loss. Something that had always been as easy as breathing, as easy as a crisp night breeze filling your lungs, was now overwhelming and terrifying. If it wasn’t for Helion and his spell cleaving you're not even sure you’d still be here, in fact you’re certain it would have consumed you. 

As beautiful as the auras of the world were, if you couldn’t control it— it would be the death of you. 

“How are you feeling?” You had finally turned to Helion now, his question lingering in the air. 

How were you feeling? 

You could see, feel, taste Helion’s energy in front of you. A golden glow, so fitting for the High Lord of Day. It beamed within him like an orb of sunlight. You couldn’t touch it though, not like you used to, not like when you were a child and you used the naively play with creatures auras like a toy. Not like how Cressida had taught you to toy with people’s auras which was far from play.

That sense of control had broken, leaving jagged scars across your body to match.

Your hands, almost subconsciously went to touch the rugged scar that ran from your shoulder down to your torso. It tingled under your thoughts, but you pulled your hand back. Not allowing another moment to be wasted on what had happened and the marks it had left on you. 

That was why you needed Helion and his spells. He had a way of dimming it with his own power, making it easier for you to navigate your day-to-day without being utterly consumed by the noise and colours of everyone else.

“I feel okay actually,” you had responded, your eyes moving up to the lines on your friends face. He smiled softly at you.

“This is the longest you’ve been without us having to spell cleave, but today—“

“Today could be a noisy day,” you finished his sentence, understanding what he was implying.

Tody, you were to begin training with the Valkyries.

“Those priestesses are already a bundle of emotions when they pass you, I think resealing the spell would be wise. Amren agrees.” 

Well then, it wasn’t really up for debate. 

You cocked a brow at Helion before moving towards the table in your room. That was now adorned with breakfast, courtesy of the house of course. Helion folded his arms across his broad chest. He still wore the colours of Day, white and pristine, glittered in gold jewellery along his wrists, earrings bejewelled with sunlight themselves. Grand and beautiful, just like him. However he looked so out of place against the dark background of the Night interior. As ornate as the House of Wind was, Helion didn’t fit. 

No, he belonged among his own court, but the High Lord of day had left his court to accompany you. That in itself was such a large display of loyalty. You swallowed your guilt as you sat at the table, spreading butter across the warm toast and taking a bite. 

“But of course the decision is always yours to make y/n,” Helion spoke, his tone as warm as the butter melting upon your breakfast.

They only wanted what was best for you, you knew that. Reminded yourself in moments like these. But you couldn’t help the feelings that slipped up to the surface. Since you’d come to the Fae courts and discovered who you were—what you were. Every piece of guidance came with a weight you felt like you couldn’t refuse. 

You were the Mother’s daughter— Blessed be— you had status, respect, power— to do as you please, but that came with a responsibility that felt too heavy to bear. Every decision you made had to be considered, because it didn’t only affect you but the entire world and the peoples and creatures within it.

That meant, even if you wanted to try and push another day without the spell. See how far you could go as the spell thinned, you couldn’t risk it. As it wasn’t only you who it would endanger, but every living thing.

When Helion had found you— a shattered version of yourself— he’d spent the time piecing you back together. Perhaps out of duty to begin with, but somewhere along that journey a genuine friendship grew. However that would never negate from who you were, and what you were born to do— what your life’s duty was to be, and what he, what Amren, whatever everyone else on this island needed to do ensure you accomplished it.

“Let’s reseal the spell,” you muttered before taking another chomp of your toast, a softer look on your eyes this time. “…after breakfast.”

Helion smiled warmly, joining you at the table as he had done now every morning since he saved you.

~

The simmering of the fresh spell lingered on your skin, Helion’s magic coursing an invisible shield around you. The spell acting as a filter to the aura you were always so sensitive to.

The early days of his spells were always the nicest, at least they were nowadays. After building your tolerance back up with Helion, the first week of his spell usually lasted with minimal discomfort. He always had to be near though, his rooms were only down the hall to yours.

Sometimes your tolerance was less, or someone or some creature’s aura louder than usual that you needed him to reseal. It was why for the past year he’d essentially been attached to you at the hip, like a doting father or brother. And then there was Amren— doting wasn’t the word you would use. But she was always there too now. Out of duty of course, the way she’d collapsed down to her knees in your first encounter revealed how strongly her loyalty would lie to you.

Or lie to what you stood for.

Amren, the ancient one knew what your existence meant. Felt it in her bones, remembered the murmurings of stories and prophecies she listened to back in her own adolescent years. She knew what was coming, and knew how important it was that the Mother’s daughter had her ability under control.

So here you were, stood before Helion and Amren like a girl on her first day of school. Helion tightened one of the straps on the leathers you had been told to wear. He couldn’t attend the training class, only approved males were sanctioned so he would stay the floor below. In a waiting room. A handful of books already tucked under his arm.

“Stop fussing over the girl,” Amren snapped, her expression as hard as it always was. Despite her being utterly devoted to you and your protection, that dedication did not come with a slither of a smile.

You may have found her scary, if she didn’t remind you so much of someone you missed.

Helion gave you a knowing look before playfully winking at you. His large hands coming to squeeze your shoulders.

“How do you feel?” He asked, ignoring Amren at his side.

“The world is quiet once more,” you replied in a slightly chipper tone that garnered a smile from Helion.

He tapped the top of your head, “If we need to reseal, or something triggers it you leave right away, okay?”

You nodded in response along with a hum in agreement. This training was supposed to do the opposite of just that, however there were concerns. After the inner circle had barged their way into the Day Court a month ago, after Helion revealed who you were— a lot had changed.

Your belongings— which wasn’t very many— were packed up, along with you and Helion as you were practically shipped to the Night Court. You realised when you arrived how this had always been Helion’s intention. Why he’d taken the time to tell you the names of the Night Courts inner circle all those months ago. It was because they held significance in your journey.

The Night Court was safer, Velaris having an ancient spell that had protected it for so long. Amren was to teach you, she had knowledge that even Helion’s libraries didn’t share. There was Rhys too, with his mind and magic who was a crucial part to play in you regaining control of your power.

And now there were the Valkyries, who you were to train with.

~

You leaned against the railing of the rooftop, your eyes dancing upon the still sleeping city. It was quieter now, thanks to Helion. No noise and colours probing into your mind.

It was peaceful, and yet so lonely. When you had full control of your ability, back when it felt like an extension of you. You could slip in and out of it with ease, danced with it, sung with it. Now, it felt like a headache that could only be dulled with Helion’s magic.

“It is the mind-stilling which is a priority in your training. I believe it could be key to you regaining control over your abilities. You will train with the Valkyrie’s everyday until you master it.” Amren spoke. You didn’t turn to look at her, your eyes still gazing onto the cityscape below. Your mind wandering to what the people below were up to, what they may have been dreaming of. Thinking back to a time when your life was much simpler, when the most daunting part of your week was whether one of the village boys would fancy you.

You stopped yourself there. Stopped yourself from indulging and reminiscing in the past. The continent was so far away now, as was that version of you.

“What if it doesn’t work?” You turned to Amren, concern evident in your tone. The sun kissing your face as your brows furrowed.

She was sat in the shade, back against the cool stone wall of the house, “It has to.”

A silence settled between you both. Amren was right, this had to work because Mother be damned if it didn’t.

~

Nesta cringed as she watched the priestesses fuss. She had told them to be on their best behaviour, but in the presence of a living deity the females couldn’t help themselves.

They blushed and whispered, giggled and muttered words of prayer, some even curtseying as soon as they stepped onto the rooftop. Rollings of ‘Blessed be’ harmonised from their tongues and even Gwyn’s eyes widened in the presence of you. The female looked ready to burst with excitement.

There was something about your presence that was otherworldly, not just in your beauty but in the way you moved among the earth spoke of grace. Nesta couldn’t believe her eyes when she had found out you’d grown up on the continent on a farm and then The Middle— with a witch! And yet there was a regality that existed within you that couldn’t be taught, it had just always been, you had been born with it, cauldron-born to be exact.

You stood in front of them all, your own embarrassment from the fuss evident in your averting gaze. Gently— with delicate grace— you bowed your head towards the priestesses, responding appropriately with a whispering “Blessed be,” which only seemed to elicit more noise from the females. Enough noise that it took you a beat to notice the gust of wind that blew across your face as a shadow blocked out the sun for a moment. With a thud two large Illyrian males landed in the middle of the rooftop balcony.

Helion’s spell had been working fine till now, not a whisper or a simmering of aura— till you saw him.

Felt him, scented him.

In a flurry of steps you found your back pressed against the railing on the rooftop. The very presence of someone causing your feet to stumble back, hands clutching the railing tightly in a blur of a moment. He was here. The very male you often found yourself dreaming of when your mind wasn’t caught in the past.

Azriel.

Amren had launched from her place, she had been watching you so closely that even just a tremor of difference she would notice. But it wasn’t just Amren who had stepped towards you, the Shadowsinger himself had taken several large strides since landing as if he’d also always been watching.

“Do I need to get Helion?” Amren asked with an urgency in her tone.

Your breaths were shallow, your gaze falling to your feet as you tried to focus. You had been caught off guard, in the silence of spell you hadn’t expected any noise at all. You hadn’t been affected by the lively group of priestesses, Nesta’s silver aura hadn’t been licking at your mind or even the thousands of people in the city below hadn’t affected you.

But him. He had triggered something, somehow.

Azriel looked upon you with a concern that felt heavy. Hesitant as he stood only a step behind Amren.

Had he startled you? When him and Cassian had landed? Azriel couldn’t deny he had rushed to this training session, after spending the month on a mission. Rhys had sent word that you were to begin training, and the swell in Azriel’s chest was enough to have Cassian trying to keep up to the Spymaster on their entire flight home.

Azriel’s eyes wandered over you, his shadows whispering their own concerns. They had noticed your nerves, just as he had noticed them during his first encounter with you. It was his job to notice the little things, his duty as spymaster to notice the things others couldn’t, but even he couldn’t explain why he felt so attuned to you.

The morning breeze gently blew across your face, pulling the pieces of hair that were loose from your braid. You had calmed yourself, calmed yourself enough to raise your head to the audience on the rooftop. He could see you now, fully, for the first time in a month, and Azriel forgot how to breathe.

Divine.

He thought it was his shadows that whispered it, but maybe it was his own thoughts too. You were the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on— angelic and saintly.

Divine was the only word for it.

Divine, divine, divine. His shadows sang.

“No, I am fine,” you finally replied to Amren. She looked at you sceptically, a look in her face that told you if you were lying then there would be hell to pay. You repeated yourself though, stepping away from the railing you had pressed yourself against.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet. Not after what he had just triggered, that tightness in your chest was new and overwhelming to say the least. It was different though, to the way auras usually felt that left you with confusion and questions to why the Shadowsinger felt, smelt, tasted so different to everyone else.

You were grateful for the male beside him who decided to speak. “Sorry we probably startled you, just dropping from the sky like that— we tend to do that sometimes.” It was Cassian who had spoken, a warmness in his tone that reminded you of Helion. There was a twinkle in his eye of light-heartedness that seemed to dissipate the unease that had settled among the group.

You offered him a soft smile that only seemed to spur him on. His tone bellowing as he outstretched his arms in introduction, “I’m Cassian, and this is—“

“Azriel,” you finished his sentence for him. Not being able to stop yourself from saying his name out loud. Not being able to stop yourself from finally looking at him.

“Right, Azriel. You’ve already met,” Cassian replied, a look in his eye as he glanced between his brother and you.

It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair how much lovelier he was than in your dreams— which you didn’t think could be possible. The handsome lines of his tanned face, the dark hair that fell in loose curls and those large wings that were tucked behind his back. Your eyes dragged across him, finally landing on his own gaze. How it brought you back to that first moment you met him—how he had trapped you in his gaze back in the courtyard of Day.

“And I’m Gwyn,” the words had practically burst from the red-headed female. Her deciding now was clearly the right time to introduce herself, not that you minded. In fact if she hadn’t you may have just stared at the Shadowsinger all day, “…and I think I can speak on behalf of us all, but it is truly an honour that you wish to train with us.”

There were some murmurings from the priestesses then, as if in agreement and even Cassian tipped his head in bow towards you.

There it was again, that weight you held. Crushing and terrifying, they put you an a pedestal, showered you with adoration you weren’t too sure you deserved. With subtle strain you forced a gentle smile onto your lips.

“The honour is all mine Gwyn,” and you meant it. The people on this balcony had earned that praise more than you ever had.

“She just said my name,” Gwyn whispered in disbelief to her friends, her cheeks going rosy at the recognition. Nesta simply rolled their eyes, Emery teasingly nudged Gwyn with her elbow.

But it was a sentiment Azriel was still stuck on too. You had said his name, knew his name— knew him. His name on your lips was like a song, a melody you serenaded him with. His shadows had felt it too, your recognition of their master causing a stir that had them wanting to reach out—which they would have if Azriel didn’t have them on such a tight leash. Azriel only tore his gaze from you when Amren spoke up.

“Enough about honour and names,” Amren snapped, her eyes not landing on you but the the two males who had just arrived. They understand her stare, her tone, the waft of her had as she strode back to her spot in the shade.

“Right let’s start ladies, find a space and we’ll begin with stretches,” Cassian commanded, his tone authoritative that had the females moving into motion. Even Azriel snapped himself from his thoughts, collecting himself as he stalked towards one side of the balcony.

You followed suit, following the motion of the other females and finding yourself in amongst the group to begin. You noticed though how Nesta had come to your left, Emery flanking your right, and Gwyn directly behind you. As if creating their own shield. Perhaps a statement to the swooning priestesses— regardless, you were appreciative.

Stretching began, and you copied Cassian’s movements in front of you. In sync with the other females around you. Moving your muscles in a way you hadn’t for a while, stretching the aches you didn’t know were there. Cassian stood in front of the group, bellowing whenever the stretch would change.

The movement was welcome though. You’d always had an active life. Growing up on a farm, tending to the crops and harvests had been your way. You weren’t new to the ache of a hard days work. Then you’d spent your time in The Middle, with Cressida who had an unrelenting method of training you.

“I’ve heard you’re not a novice?” Nesta asked you as the group was split in two. One side had been pulled to practice mind-stilling, the other, your group, had been given wooden staffs to practice more physical exercises.

You took the staff in your hand, curling your fingers around the rod. Nesta wasn’t referencing your past though. She was asking about your time in Day, you hummed in response with a nod. “I trained with Helion’s sentries for a few months,” it helped…for a while. Your progress had soon dropped off though, plateaued, which was why you were here. To see if the Valkyrie way of training would help in any way.

Nesta nodded in response, before tapping your staff twice with hers. “Show me then,” she moved into a defensive stance and your brow quirked.

It was a challenge, she had been the only one who had dared, the only person to treat you with some semblance or normalcy— and it made you smile.

a/n: well here is part 2, I’m sorry this has quite literally taken months to get this instalment live, so I really appreciate any of you who might still be around to read this! I do think this has the potential to be a slightly bigger series than I first anticipated, but I guess that’s my fault for giving our mc the coolest back story ever 😅 anyway enjoy my loves 🤍 - Lottie xx

[lordprettyflackotara]

sandman || fred weasley

smut 18+, minors dni

You lacked the capability to relax.

Being in Ravenclaw the expectations of the world were on your shoulders, not including the dementors that circled Hogwarts walls that made your skin crawl.

You had been up late studying with Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, who had already been dragged to bed by Ginny.

Clutching your quill you continued to scribble on the parchment paper, your temple beginning to throb.

“How did a Raven manage to fly into the lions den this late at night?” Fred Weasley’s recognizable voice asked you. You poked your head up from your Herbology textbook, Fred’s curious eyes watching you.

“I was studying with Hermione, she ditched me early. So much for an all nighter,” You explained, marking your page. You resisted the urge to fold the corners, placing your quill in between the pages about gillweed.

“Granger going to bed early to avoid studying? How out of character. Did you give her some of our drowsy draught potion?” Fred teased. You giggled, watching the lean quidditch player approach you. A white wife beater revealed how much muscle he truly had, his usual robes keeping them concealed.

He strode over to you confidently, taking a seat on the floor beside you. The fireplace cackled behind you, the warmth of the fire drawing Fred closer. “It’s almost three am, do you plan on sleeping?” Fred asked curiously. You knew as well as he did that he was notorious for sleeping through anything. Including the dreadful hail storm that once terrorized Hogwarts.

“I’m basically an insomniac at this point, I can’t relax for more than five seconds without racking my brain to solve an equation,” You admitted sheepishly. You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear as Fred leaned back on his hands. “Here turn your back towards me, I have some legit magic that’ll help you relax,” Fred told you. You hesitantly raised your eyebrow. The ginger tended to be a mischievous prankster, even if you weren’t a victim of his tricks.

“And you’re not going to prank me?”

“Pfft, of course not,”

“Promise Weasley?”

“I promise,”

You shifted around, your back now turned to Fred as you pulled your skirt down. You weren’t sure what to expect, acutely aware of how close you both were. Fred brushed your hair away from your back and over your shoulder, before beginning to massage your shoulders. “I thought you said this was magic,” You say timidly, his large hands massaging your skin with ease. Fred chuckled at your response, brushing some of his shaggy hair out of his face.

Merlin he needed a haircut.

“Yes this is the magic of relaxation,”

Your tense body began to slowly relax under Fred’s touch, the gingers eyes scanning your neck.

“Looks like you’re good at something other than pranks Weasley,” You say teasingly. Fred rolled his eyes. “I’m good at quidditch too ya know,” He countered. Fred could feel himself growing flustered as he continued massaging you, his eyes wondering down your figure.

“Your neck looks pretty tense, I can fix that for you if you want. I’ll just need you to turn around,” Fred offered, trying to appear cool and confident. You felt your face flush pink as you shifted around, facing him. You had never gotten a chance to interact with Fred one on one, George always connected to his hip.

The moment seemed oddly intimate, even though you had never considered relationships or sex worth your time. Yet the ginger sat in front of you with his large hands and soft lips, practically begging for you to kiss him. You had never considered yourself to be attracted to Fred Weasley, yet your body was yearning for more of his touch.

Fred couldn’t contain himself anymore, closing the gap between your lips and his. He tasted faintly of butterbeer, your eyes fluttering shut as your lips danced against his. Your arms found themselves around his neck, Fred’s hands slithering down to your waist. In a swift motion he had pulled you onto his lap, straddling him in front of the fire. Your fingers found his hair, small groans being swallowed by him as your hips bucked against his.

You could feel a wet patch growing in your panties, the soaked fabric rubbing right against Fred’s growing boner. His large hands slipped up your skirt, grabbing your ass. Your hips grinded against his, lust boiling in your stomach. “I wanna taste you,” Fred muttered against your lips, his words a confession. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you briefly pulled away, Fred’s lips almost chasing yours.

“W-what Weasley?”

Fred brought his thumb to your lower lip, dragging it downwards.

“I want your lips wrapped around my cock as I make you cum on my face,”

His filthy words sent a shiver of arousal down your spine, right down to your cunt.

You went to unzip your skirt before Fred grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Keep it on,” He whispered, his order teetering on the line of a plea. You swallowed as the ginger laid down in front of you, eagerly awaiting you. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” You admitted, causing the ginger to chuckle. You stood up, pushing your panties down to your ankles before stepping out of them.

“I’d be a lucky man if I were to die between your thighs. C’mere,” Fred told you. You kneeled down over his head, your cunt inches away from his face.

“Fred what if I crush-”

Your concern was silenced by Fred’s hands pushing you down onto his face. You whimpered as his warm tongue licked a stripe up your cunt before assaulting your clit. You felt your thighs tighten around his head as his hands kept you in place, your filthy noises becoming louder by the minute.

“Fuck, right fucking there,” You moaned, grinding your hips onto his mouth. His lips began to suck at your clit, causing your thighs to shake. Your eyes centered on Fred’s boner, his cock throbbing inside of his pajama pants. You leaned forward, hungrily shoving them down. The lack of boxers caused you to giggle as his cock landed on his stomach.

“No underwear huh? Naughty boy,” You teased. A sharp smack landed on your bare ass, causing you to winch in pain for a brief moment before Fred’s tongue brought you back to ecstasy.

The ginger was longer than you expected him to be. You took his shaft into your hands, bringing it into your mouth. A soft groan was muffled by your folds, encouraging you to sink your head further down onto his cock. You took as much of him as you could in your mouth, using your hand to jerk the rest of his cock.

Fred admired your determination and for a brief moment he considered switching positions, the thought of you on your knees for him mouth watering. Yet, there was something about having your pretty lips wrapped around his cock as he was buried into your pussy that pleased him more.

You tasted divine, much sweeter than any other girl he had fooled around with. He licked up your cunt, pushing his tongue inside of your hole. You were involuntarily animalistic, your hips having a mind of their own as Fred laid there in heaven.

Fred’s hips were beginning to do the same, bucking upwards. His cock hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag as saliva trailed down your chin. Fred momentarily pulled away from your dripping cunt, smirking as your juices coated his lips and chin. You took him out of your mouth, gasping for air.

“You sound so pretty when you gag on my cock. Do it again and i’ll make you cum,” Fred ordered. You tried to grind down onto Fred’s face but his strong hands kept you in place. You could feel his warm breath a mere inch away from your cunt, taunting you.

The idea of cumming on Fred Weasley’s face had never been more appealing to you.

Desperately you brought his cock back to your lips, shoving it down your throat. You forced yourself to keep his shaft in place as you gagged around him. Saliva was trailing down your chin and neck, beginning to dampen your blouse.

“Such a good listener aren’t we? What a good girl,” Fred praised, kitten licking your folds. You pulled back, inhaling deep breaths of air.

“Now be a good girl and ride my face until you make yourself cum,”

You leaned back hesitantly, gripping his chest for support as he placed his mouth back onto your cunt. It was as if he somehow had memorized your body, his tongue licking every right place. Your moans were sinful enough to wake up the entire Gryffindor house and it was a miracle no one had bothered to go into the common room.

“Freddie, I, fuck-” You groaned, a familiar knot in your stomach forming. His lips had wrapped themselves around your clit, sucking harshly at the sensitive bud as your thighs trembled around his head. His large hands kept you on his face, refusing to let you move away.

You could feel your cunt clench around nothing as your thighs began to shake, squeezing Fred’s head unintentionally. Unholy moans that were mantras of his name echoed off of the common room walls as you came. Euphoria had washed over you, your nails digging into Fred’s chest.

Fred licked and sucked at your clit until you slowly lifted off of him, your knees almost buckling as you shifted away from his face. You weakly sat beside him, your after orgasm glow apparent to the ginger in front of you. “Look at you, you’re so cute,” Fred teased, using his thumb to wipe away the remaining spit on your chin.

In a swift motion you brought your lips back to his, Fred rising to his knees. You could taste your juices on his lips as you roughly meshed your lips against his. Fred couldn’t take it anymore, pulling away to meet your gaze. He shrugged his wife beater over his head, discarding it without a second thought.

“Bend over for me, yeah?”

You turned around, bending over in front of him without a second thought. You could feel him lubricate the tip of his cock by running it up and down your folds. The sensation of it hitting your abused clit made you shiver. “You have no idea how long i’ve thought about doing this,” Fred confessed. A cool breeze hit your bare skin as Fred lifted up your skirt, exposing your ass in full to him. As he pushed inside of you his fingers gripped your waist forcefully, as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

“So full- shit,” You groaned, your eyes screwing shut as he bottomed out.

“You’re practically fucking milking my cock, merlin, you slut,” Fred groaned. Your cunt only clenched around him tighter at the sound of his degrading words, causing him to smirk.

He began picking up the pace, fucking into you slowly. Your noises only grew louder as his hips began to snap into yours faster. Fred’s thrust were merciless, his body chasing an ecstasy only you could provide.

Strings of curses mixed in with your name left Fred’s lips as he watched his cock go in and out of you. He was so deep inside of you that you almost thought you were seeing stars, your body drunk off of the feeling of his cock.

“You feel so good Freddie, so fucking- good,” You slurred, your words of encouragement only making Fred pound into you faster. His cock was abusing your g spot, causing your legs to shake as your knees dug into the carpet below you. You could feel the rug digging into your skin, making it raw which each thrust.

“I wanna fuck you everyday, make you my personal Raven,” Fred grunted. He could feel you getting closer to your final high, his hand slithering down to your swollen clit. You began to squirm as his fingers circled around your sensitive bud, unable to handle the fast circles he was drawing. “Oh- i’m gonna cum, I can’t, fuck!” You cried, your walls spasming as Fred ripped you into a state of euphoria.

Fred fucked you through your orgasm mercilessly, ravishing in the sight of you in a state of pure bliss. He was so focused on you that by the time he tried to pull out his cock it was too late, his cum painting the inner walls of your cunt. Your body was spent, slumping over onto the floor as Fred pulled out of you.

Two orgasms was all it took to get you to finally go to sleep. Fred smirked to himself as he shoved his pajama pants back on, your small sleeping body curled up into a ball in front of the fire. He grabbed your things, shoving them into a bag he knew he’d deliver to you in the afternoon when you ran into each other in defense against the dark arts.

He eyed your panties on the floor, contemplating putting them back on you. Instead a more mischievous thought came to mind, which caused him to decide to shove them in his pocket instead. He picked up your body up bridal style, carrying you upstairs to the girls dorm. Fred knocked on the door, hoping whichever gryffindor girl opened it wouldn’t be a first year.

A sleepy Hermione Granger opened the door, rubbing her eyes as her vision settled. “Y/n is still here?” She asked. Her mind was already scrambling itself on what to do, the responsibility of being a prefect weighing on her shoulders. “Yeah she finally just went to sleep, I don’t think I can deliver her to Ravenclaw tower at this hour,” Fred shrugged. Hermione stared at Fred, shirtless and hair messy. He looked like a wreck, and you didn’t look much better.

Questions were on the tip of her tongue, ones she decided could wait until the morning. Hermione knew there were a few extra beds that were designated for first years, but in emergencies they would have to do. “The spare beds are to the right, be very quiet and don’t pull anything stupid,” Hermione said sternly. Fred carried you inside of the room, ignoring the dozens upon dozens of sleeping gryffindor girls. Hermione trailed close behind him, ensuring he wasn’t up to any funny business.

“How’d you get her to go to sleep anyways? Shes practically an insomniac,”

Fred shrugged, laying you down and bringing the red colored comforter up to your shoulders.

“I’m not sure myself, guess you can call me the sandman,”

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine being pregnant with King's child and not knowing about it until you give birth

At a distant Beast Pirate base

You: [has been away from Onigashima for seven months]

Jack: are you sure you're okay?

You: [hunched over, grasping your sore back, and sweating profusely while trying to catch your breath] Yes, I'm fine, my sciatica is just acting up.

Jack: I think you should go to the infirmary.

You: [snaps] Dude, seriously? I said - [feels a deluge of fluid flood your pants] ... you know what, I think I need to go to the infirmary. In fact, you need to carry me.

Jack: bitch, you have legs, how about you walk?

You: [doubles over and shrieks in pain]

Jack: ugh [rolls his eyes and runs you to the infirmary]

Twenty-six hours later

You: [looking at your infant in shock]

Infant: [a beautiful chubby Lunarian baby girl with a tiny set of black wings]

Jack: congratulations on the baby! [walks in to see said baby] fuck... need to go call King.

You: ... kill the medical staff first, no one can know about her.

The staff: ( ' O__O)

You: Once you're done with that, can you please get us out here?

Jack: of course [turns to the staff and cracks his knuckles] Also don't tell me what to do. [gets to work]

You: [cradles your child closer so she can't see or hear what's happening, and laughs] Thank you for being so reliable, Jack.

Jack: I just... I wish you had told me sooner that you were pregnant.

You: I didn't know until today that I was pregnant.

Jack: How could you not know you were pregnant? That shit seems hard to miss.

You: We've been out at sea for months, I figure I was just the normal amount of nauseous, sore, fatigued, cranky, and hungry.

Jack: [breaks the neck of the last nurse] Ugh, now you get three weeks of seafaring with a newborn because I'm taking you to King.

You: Why would you think my baby would be safe with King?

Jack: [gives you a "bitch, really?" look]

You: ...

Jack: ...

You: Oh my god, he's a Lunarian too

Jack: How have you been fucking him enough to make a baby, and not know he's a Lunarian.

You: Do you really wanna know the answer to that?

Jack: You two are gross. I'm taking you to a safe house until we are ready to set sail.

At the safe house

King, via den den mushi: What do you mean you're pregnant?!

You: no, I said I was pregnant, not I am pregnant.

King: what the fuck does that mean?

Your daughter: [starts to fuss]

King: please tell me that is not a goddamn baby, I hear.

You: Yeah, sorry, I didn't know until she decided it was time to come out.

King: what color is her hair?

You: She's a newborn, she doesn't have hair yet.

King: [stumbling over his words] Does she look a little... Is she ... fuck... Is there anything off with the baby?

You: No, the doctors said she was healthy, especially her lungs. She came out screaming, it was so loud that she made the doctor's ears ring.

King: So she has your loud ass voice, great.

You: And she's got a cute little set of wings like her daddy.

King: oh, don't call me that... Are there any other features I should know about?

You: She's got your fat head, too.

Kaido: [cackling in the background on King's end]

King: Is that so? Jack, how long until they can set sail?

Jack: On such short notice, three days.

Three weeks later in Onigashima

King: Alright, let me see her.

You: [hands her over]

King: [lifts her up to get a good look at her] She has your nose.

Queen: [mutters] She really does have your fat head.

King: Get away from my child, I don't want you even looking at her]

Queen: I, honestly, never would have pegged you as the paternal type, but then again, I always thought I'd have kids before you.

You: You would have to have sex with someone to have a child, and last time I checked you couldn't pull any bitches. But also, seriously, stay the fuck away from my kid.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[azzibuckets]

Hey!! I was wondering if you could write a fic of Azzi being at Paige’s families lake house? Idk if you saw the photo or not but I feel like this could be a cute fic!

seven years in the works [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: something little to tide you guys over while i work on my next series! masterlist

word count: 700? idk

“You fit in so well.” Azzi’s looking at the sunset, admiring the way the soft pinks and blues cast a haze over the lake, but the warmth of hands sliding across her stomach and the weight of a chin on her shoulder makes her turn around and stare at something she thinks is even more beautiful.

“Hmm?” she murmurs, not quite understanding what her best friend is talking about but not really caring when she looks like this. Paige is in a simple red shirt, hair messily tied into a low bun, but the way the falling sunlight brings out the blue in her eyes and the glimmer in her smile has her wondering if this could be their forever.

“With my family,” Paige specifies, hands roaming across Azzi’s body and pulling her body closer. “They love you, you know.”

“What can I say?” Azzi smirks. “I guess all Bueckers have a thing for me.”

“And you’re gonna be one soon.” Paige smooths Azzi’s hair out of the way before starting to kiss a trail down the younger girl’s neck, smirking to herself at how Azzi shivers at the contact. Azzi giggles, hands snaking her way into Paige’s hair before she registers what exactly her girlfriend’s just said. “Excuse me?” she says indignantly, letting go of the blonde and taking a step back. “You’re taking my last name.”

Paige looks mildly offended. “But my nickname is Paige Buckets.”

“Well, Azzi Bueckers just doesn’t sound right.”

Paige grabs Azzi’s wrist, desperate for physical contact after only a few seconds of separation. “What about Bueckers-Fudd?” she offers.

Azzi grimaces. “That would be kinda long on the back of our jerseys.”

“We could keep our own last names?”

Azzi scowls, a dark look overtaking her face. “You might as well return the ring.” Paige opens her mouth to start another round of arguing, but they’re called into the house before she can say anything. The family’s gathered in the den watching a movie, and Paige plops down, easily pulling Azzi down onto her lap before the younger girl can even blink.

“Paige,” Azzi says. “There’s open seats.”

“Don’t care.” Paige’s face is already buried into the fabric of Azzi’s sweater, her hold on Azzi’s hips tight. “Want you.”

“I’m 6 feet tall, I’m not sitting in your lap.”

“5’11, but okay,” Paige cackles. But she adjusts Azzi’s legs so that only the upper half of her body is lying on the older girl. Looking down at Azzi’s face, she smiles, running her fingers gently along her scalp. “Better?” Azzi hums, grabbing Paige’s hand to fold it with hers and bringing it to her mouth for a kiss.

“You guys make me sick,” Paige hears one of her cousins remark, but she’s not sure which one because she doesn’t look up from Azzi’s face. She only sends a middle finger in their general direction, earning her a slap from her best friend.

“Azzi, come play Fortnite with us,” one of the younger ones call out.

“She can’t, she’s busy,” Paige tells back, pressing a soft kiss to the wrinkle on Azzi’s forehead, but Azzi only rolls her eyes. Pushing off Paige, she gets up and saunters over to the little kids. “Sure I can,” she agrees. Paige grits her teeth, deciding to follow after the girl.

“Come on, guys,” Paige pleads. “You guys played with her at the lake for hours this morning. Aren’t you tired of her?”

“Don’t be so selfish,” Drew reprimands his sister. “You get her for nine months a year.” He grabs Azzi’s hand and pulls her down into one of the beanbag chairs, offering her a Wii controller. Azzi takes it, shooting Paige a sly grin that she knows will get her in trouble later but hey.

Paige glowers at her little brother. “I can put you in a plane right now and send you home, don’t even play.”

“Don’t talk to Drew like that,” Azzi defends, turning to the 11 year old to dap him up.

“Bruh,” Paige complains. She sidles up to the beanbag and tries to plop herself down next to Azzi, but gets shoved to the floor instead. “You’re too big,” Azzi laughs before turning her attention to the TV screen. Sulking, Paige gets up from the floor, rubbing her butt and looking for something to do.

“You’re so pussy whipped,” Lauren informs her cousin once Paige makes her way into the kitchen. “But I understand. Azzi’s amazing.”

“I’m not making you one of my bridesmaids anymore,” Paige mutters.

Lauren tosses Paige a sparkling water. “When you gonna pop the question?”

“Azzi wants to focus on college, so definitely not until after she gets drafted. Even then, I’m not sure. I don’t want to distract her during her rookie year, you know?” Paige glances at Lauren, and even though Paige is always poised and confident, her cousin knows her too well, can detect the nerves underlying her voice.

“Paige.” Lauren runs a soothing hand across Paige’s shoulder. “If you keep letting outside stuff dictate your decisions, you’re never gonna get married. If you love her, then ask her.”

Paige rubs a hand across her face. “I just wanna make it perfect. She deserves it.”

“I’m being 100% honest when I say that you could propose to her at a McDonald’s and that girl would still look at you like you’re the moon and stars and everything beautiful in this world.”

“But don’t.” Paige and Lauren turn around at the same time. Azzi’s leaning against the doorway, but she pushes off to press a kiss against Paige’s nose. “Don’t you dare propose to me at a McDonald’s.”

Paige blushes furiously. “How much of that did you hear?”

Azzi grins. “Enough.” Lauren takes that as a signal, and she leaves the room, giving the two their privacy. “Hey.” Azzi cups Paige’s face in her hands, tilting her chin so that they’re making eye contact. “I mean, this has been, what, seven years in the works? Don’t stress about it.”

“I know, I just-” Paige is cut off by a kiss to the lips, and when Azzi pulls away there’s that dazed look in her eyes she always gets whenever Azzi touches her.

“I told you, I don’t need you stressing out over me. You already have so much shit going on. I’m supposed to be your safe place. Okay?”

“Okay,” Paige concedes. Azzi presses another chaste kiss to her lips. “You gonna go back to playing Fortnite now?”

“Nah.” Azzi tilts her head outside. “Wanna catch the last of the sunset?”

Paige’s answer is immediate. “Anything you want.”

[urhoneycombwitch]

sweet.

Steve x reader smut, 1.3k

foreword: u know that scene from Euphoria where Elliot makes out with Jules’ hand as if it was her pussy… anyways Steve Harrington take it away!!! 🎤 (dedicated to 🦊 anon thank u for your wisdom)

___

Sure, the drinking and the dancing is a good way to pass the time, but you’re partial to the end-of-night rituals you and Steve have settled into over the years. Your personal afterparty usually involves a shitty romcom, occasionally some weed, and always snacks both sweet and salty to soak up the alcohol.

Steve’s parents are out of town again, so the two of you are down in the basement den, passing a joint between fingers sticky with candy film.

From all your years of reading Steve’s body language you can tell he’s pretty high- feet planted on the ground but head lolling against the back of the couch, hands lax at his sides. There’s a dopey grin on his face- practically primed for a shitty joke or annoying comment- and you let the smoke out with a huff, asking on the exhale, “What?”

“You owe me five bucks.” Steve presses the side of his head into the couch, looking at you with red-rimmed eyes, still smiling.

You scoff, leaning in to pass the joint back and swiping a handful of gummy bears from the coffee table while you’re at it. “Since fucking when?”

“Since I bought this from Eddie.” Steve waves the weed for emphasis before taking another hit, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You’re matching me in pace, princess. This joint was ten bucks- ergo, you owe me five.”

You cackle despite yourself- “Ergo? You’ve been watching too many Perry Mason reruns.” You know Steve’s not actually gonna make you pay for the weed, he’s just trying to rile you up, and the fact that it’s not working is getting under his skin.

He shrugs a shoulder, just shy of pouting. “Point still stands.”

“Well, you shoulda let me buy from him. Eddie always gives me discounts. On account of these.” Here, you straighten your spine and gesture to your chest- after all the night’s activity, your boobs are practically spilling out of your bra and t-shirt combo, skin glowing in the muted TV’s light.

Steve blinks, clears his throat, and busies himself by ashing the joint into a spare candy wrapper. “Uh huh. Right. I’ll be sure to remember your tits the next time I’m talking to Munson.”

“At least someone will be thinking of them.” You mean it as a joke, but your voice is a bit too mournful to be taken lightly.

“Ah, and you’ve been picking such winners, recently,” Steve intones, dryly. The pillow launched at his head in your poor attempt to hit him is easily batted away. “C’mon, sweetheart. You’ve been going out with total losers. Aaron Conroy? Jamie Porter? Wouldn’t trust either of those guys to find their own dicks. Let alone your whole… business.”

Steve’s aborted gesture to the general area of your jeans makes you guffaw. “Oh, and you’re the reigning expert on girls’ business?”

“Sure am. King Steve, after all.” Said king juts an overeager thumb into his chest, winces, then gives his hand a little shake.

“Mmhm.” You slide across the couch cushions to take the joint again, knee knocking into Steve’s. “I’m pretty good at it too, y’know.”

Steve stares with wide eyes as you suck smoke into your lungs, blinking owlishly before stuttering- “You- you’re saying you’re pretty good at eating pu- at eating girls out?”

Another cackle looses from your chest along with the smoke, you can’t help it- Steve looks so properly shocked. “No, Steve, obviously I meant sucking dick. Not that I’d be opposed, per se, to a girl’s… business.”

The word drips in irony and Steve scrubs a hand down his face in irritation as you settle against the couch next to him, brushing shoulders as you continue. “Just aren’t enough girls in Hawkins to go for. Who are both out and not my friends,” you amend, before Robin can be dragged into the conversation against her will.

“You wouldn’t go down on a friend?” Steve fidgets a strip of paper Clark Bar wrapper between his fingers, crinkling quietly while he waits for your answer.

The weed has settled in your system now, a haze in your veins as you stub the roach out and leave it on the coffee table. You settle back into the couch, suddenly aware of every point of contact- thigh to thigh, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder with Steve, who’s seemingly paused his breathing.

“Uhm. Yeah. I’d sleep with a friend,” you say, staring at your lap, empty hands twisting around themselves.

The tension of the moment swells, you can feel it in your chest, even as Steve draws in a breath to muse, “Wonder who’s better at it.”

“Eating girls out?” You look at him to confirm, feeling a pang when you see the lock of chestnut hair that’s flopped from its place to rest against his forehead. “I mean… probably you. Seeing as you’ve got the most experience.”

Steve smiles, lazily, tipping his head in acknowledgement, then says, “I could teach you. If you wanted.”

If Steve feels the way you stiffen in response to his words he doesn’t point it out, instead tossing the wrapper aside in favor of taking your hand into his. “Only if you wanted, though.”

You start nodding before the words can come; a shaky “Okay,” and Steve’s wrapping two warm palms around your right hand, manipulating your fingers into making a fist.

“I like to start with kissing,” he says, voice low, gaze fixed on your combined hands. “Y’know. To work her up, get her wet.”

It’s not even technically dirty talk, but the pitch of Steve’s words make your thighs clench involuntarily, seeking friction. Steve brings your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the base of your thumb, and your breath hitches.

“And then I… usually…” Steve trails off, and you can see the gears turning in his head at how best to teach. Apparently, he pegs you for a hands-on learner, because instead of words, he dips down to lick a stripe up the flat of your thumb.

Your mouth falls open as Steve licks deftly into the crease made by your thumb and index finger, curling the point of his tongue near the base again, your clit throbbing in response as if he was actually between your legs.

Steve makes out with your hand for what feels like hours, all sense of time warped by the heady weed. His mouth is warm and wet, saliva dripping through to your palm as he holds you in place despite your squirming.

What’s really turning you on is how into this Steve appears to be- his eyes are closed as if to savor the moment, brow pinched with pleasure, little noises from the back of his throat sending vibrations down your arm.

You fight the urge to sink your free hand into those silky brown locks; instead, your nails bite into soft skin as you clench a fist at your side, willing the subtle movement of your hips with each stroke of Steve’s tongue to stay subtle.

There’s an obscene squelching noise filling the otherwise quiet basement, and this seems to spur Steve on, suckling at your sensitive skin, heat coursing through your body as you gasp out, “Steve…”

He pulls off your hand with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting you both, his mouth a glistening half-moon in the low light before he swipes the back of his hand across it. “So. Yeah. Something like that. You taste good, by the way. Sweet.”

You fight with the hinge of your lower jaw to put it back in its place, breathing heavily as you wipe your slick-coated hand against the leg of your jeans. It leaves a wet patch- likely not the only one, if the heartbeat between your legs is any indication. “Probably the gummy bears.”

“Uh huh. You think you’re any better?” Steve’s got that easy grin back on his face, cheeks rosy, lips flushed with color, too.

A quick glance down confirms that he’s hard as a rock, sizeable outline of his cock visible through the denim, betraying the bravado in his stance.

Oh, you’re gonna wreck him.

With an easy grin of your own, you reach for Steve’s hand. “Dunno. Wanna find out?”

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 87

“Mother, I crave violence.” 

  Danny paused in the middle of his work, turning off the torch as he turned towards Dan. Who had once again be de-aged for destroying a world a few years before. (Ellie had cackled for hours about her being the older sibling now) The currently-six year old was scowling, definitely not pouting. 

  He raised an eyebrow, setting his tools down. “Jordan, we’re literally in an assassin’s den right now-” Honestly running into someone he’d met in his time-traveling was rather interesting, apparently his old rival had become so ecto-contaminated that he was immortal now. “-and I know you just got out of sparring, so are you really ‘craving violence’ or are you just bored?” 

  Dan pouted, sorry, he scowled. “Your ‘friend’s’ kids kept tryin’ to copy me and got in the way.” He hopped up onto one of the chairs, visibly not happy about not being able to fly as he glared at tiny legs. Tough shit, he knew better than to destroy worlds, they couldn’t always reverse time. 

   Danny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re just trying to play-” Maybe to a human they wouldn’t, but honestly everyone here was so liminal they were probably closer to ghosts than anyone except for Amity. Which had also been displaced in time after getting dragged to the ghost zone, so it had been soaked in ecto longer anyway. 

   “They got in the way and I almost stabbed Dusan!” Dan whined, despite what he’d insist. “At least Elnath can go intangible and Nyssa can dodge!” Ah, that was the issue. He’d been worried. 

   “Little sunbeam, you don’t have to worry,” Danny soothed, scooping up the ghostling. Even though he had been an adult, the chemicals in the brain and body were still that of a child’s. A young child at that. “The trainers are there to keep an accident from happening.” 

  Not to mention that he was rather confident that between Ras and himself they could keep any injuries to minor ones. Sam would have loved to meet him, Danny thinks. Honestly they would have been best friends, but Sam was off on another world on a mission to collect every plant in existence, so good for her, and Tucker was back in the reincarnation cycle. 

  Oh well, at least he wasn’t waiting for them alone, and maybe Dan having more siblings would help stop another timeline-breaking accident from happening. 

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 17

Kinktober Masterlist vox nihili - "voiceless" Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader Kinks > demons, face fucking, come inflation, dubcon Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

As an experienced witch, you decide to summon a powerful demon because you need his help, but the only way you can get his energy is by swallowing his come. 

Warning: some dubcon, some actual goofiness, some come inflation; you know the drill. Don't like it? Don't read it!

You were prepared this time. You had bought the best supplies from very reputable sources. You’d mapped out the star charts. You’d articulated the spleens. Everything was in its rightful place. You were summoning a demon tonight, or you were hanging up your grimoire for good.

Ever since you’d discovered you had found a true Book of the Beyond, you’d practiced with it. You’d managed small things - imps, fairies, the odd incubus here and there - but, you wanted power. And true power came at a price. You had made a sacrifice or two over the years, and if you were being honest, sacrificial chicken fried up in a pan just like the real thing. So, it never went to waste. But, it just wasn’t cutting it. 

So, you switched over to blood magic. Now, as you sat on your wooden floor, surrounded by candles and runes and attuned crystals, you took your blade in your hands and cut your palm to drip your own blood onto the bright white, chalk pentagram in the middle of the magic circle you’d created. 

This was going to work. It had to. You were going to be the most powerful witch in the whole wide… wait.

What is that?

Your blood had created a small portal, and through it came a huge, dark hand. 

Out of the floor in your den, a huge Arch Demon crawled into your space, steaming from the heat of Hell, snarling with vicious fangs, and yet looking like the most handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. 

When he finally made it to the surface, you looked down at his legs; the furry, cloven hooves making ruts in your hardwoods. His tail swished back and forth, and he held a black, iron trident in his right hand. He was fully nude, his body carved from marble, nearly seven feet tall, with black, twisting horns that sat low on his head. His chest was broad and well-muscled, and his belly rounded right down into a swinging, engorged, uncut dick that was as big as your arm… soft. 

“Hail!” You said, repeating your memorized mantra like you were supposed to, “Demon of the Underdark, Ruler of Great and Powerful Evil, I have summ–”

“Wha’s goin’ on in here, love?” The demon sounded… British?

“Well, I was reciting my mantra to summon you to this plane, my lord, just as the great tomes have des–”

“You summoned me?” He cackled, dark and deep, “Is that what this is? Oh, fuck me. Tha’s so adorable, babes.”

“Adorable? I need your powers, demon. Together, we will control the entire realm! Pray, tell me your name that I might write it in my book of magic.”

“Are you mad, love? A screw loose up there? These candles are from the department store, and I’m not sure what that is, but it’s definitely not eye of newt, if that’s what you’re thinking,” the demon chuckled, crossing his arms over his hulking chest, smiling down at you, “But, the name’s Gaz. Write it anywhere you want.”

“I just…” You felt tears spring to your eyes, trying to fight the frustration, “I always get so close to doing it right! The spells, the incantations… I even used the right runes this time. But, I still don’t have my true powers.”

“And what powers would you like to have, pet?” Gaz furrowed his brow as he looked at you, considering you with more regard, using his thumb to raise your chin up so he could see your face.

“I want to be a Master Summoner,” you sniffed, trying not to let your trembling lip give away your desperation.

“Ahh,” Gaz nodded knowingly, placing his hands on his hips, biting into his full bottom lip, “I think you’re missing a key element of your spell, babes.”

“What’s that? Please, my lord, I will do anything to know your secrets,” you prostrated yourself before him, your hands nearly touching his black hooves as you splayed yourself on the ground. 

He bent down and pulled you up to your knees, shaking his head,

“It’s no secret, love. Demons only come when they know there are souls to harvest. I’ve come for yours, sweet as it is, but if you want to attract more of my kind, you must have more souls.”

“How do I get more souls?” You asked, watching his deep brown eyes calculating and manipulating the world around him, figuring just how to get what he wanted.

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss you on your pouting lips, immediately forcing his slithering, forked tongue into your mouth, plunging through your throat, testing its depth.

You choked around its soft, writhing form, but you let him devour you, feeling yourself swell with lust between your legs. He pulled away with a pleased moan.

“I can put them in you,” Gaz purred, standing tall again with a dark look in his eyes. He reached beneath the behemoth that was his cock and fondled his heavy, melon-sized balls, “I’ve got plenty in here. Just need to make sure they stay inside your body where you can keep them safe, pretty witch.”

“Whatever you believe will work, my lord,” you peered up at him, trying to look obedient and worthy of receiving dark powers, “I am your humble servant.”

“C’mere,” he beckoned you, and you crawled on your hands and knees to kneel before him, hanging your head in deference.

Gaz used his demonic paw to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head back, stretching your neck and bending it at a terrible angle. You gasped, hissing from the sudden pain. Then, he held your head in place and began to rub the oily body of his demon cock against your face, dragging it over your nose and mouth, letting the head drool across your cheek. 

“I think we should keep them in your belly, love. Are you gonna suck them out of me, or do I need to put them there myself?” His voice was a jagged growl. 

You looked up at him and stuck out your tongue, using both of your hands to massage and rub his cock all over your face, letting your tongue lick the fire and brimstone smokey taste from his shaft. You found the head at the end of his long length, and you suckled away at the shining, dripping precome that oozed from his slit. 

The only problem was, you weren’t sure how to fit this huge cock into your mouth. You made a feeble attempt at sinking his head between your cheeks, and he chuckled at you, guiding himself a little deeper, making your jaw ache from his intrusion. 

“Tha’s it, lovie. Gotta work for it, babe.”

“Mm hmm-nm,” you told him. 

“Oh, yeah? More, you say…” He winked, watching your eyes widen with concern, and he took both of his terrible fists, curled them into your hair on the back of your skull. 

Decisively, and with a steady strength, Gaz shoved his cock through your stretched lips, past your tongue, and rammed it against your soft palate, making you gag against him, your body convulsing, trying to stop him from going any further. The demon snarled, 

“Now, suck. Show me your true powers, witch.”

You were bolstered by his belief in you, even if you also felt like your jaw was going to dislocate itself from your face. When your eyes peered down your nose to map out just how much more cock you needed to swallow, you shivered. But, you were going to be a Master Summoner, and you weren’t giving up that easily. 

You began to suck in long, aching pulls, breathing through your nose, working your head back and forth with Gaz’s help, massaging his wet tip until it was practically bursting with dewy drops of his slick. You swallowed it down your throat, and you were surprised at how comforted you felt by the sensation of his warm fluid slipping down into your empty stomach. 

“Good… so good,” Gaz rumbled with a pleased resonance, “Are you ready for me to fuck this tight little throat of yours?”

“Mngh! Nhuhmph!” You tried to shake your head back and forth, but his heavy prick had hardened, and you couldn’t move or turn your head at all. You were trapped on him, stuck in place, primed and ready for your mouth to be claimed by a demon. 

“I knew you would be,” he smiled sinisterly, taking a step forward and shoving his cockhead past your palate and into your throat, feeding himself down your neck and stretching you in places you were almost positive you should not have been stretched. 

The sting made your eyes well up with tears, flowing freely across your temples, and you tried to shut them to clear some of the pain, but your hellish master used his hand to slap your cheek twice in quick succession, punishing you for it, his voice a sinful command,

“Eyes on me, you fuckin’ slag. Power hungry girls don’t get to be shy. Face your challenges, witch.”

You looked up at him, finding that dark defiance within you. He was right. You did hunger for power, and you wanted him to fill your belly full of souls so that you could control the demon army of your destiny. This was your time to shine. 

You wanted to impress him, so you stared into his gaze and sank yourself even deeper down onto his dick, gagging violently as you tried to take him. It felt like his cock was in your chest. 

“Ooh, yes,” Gaz grinned with sharp, white teeth and fangs, proud of your fury, “Tha’s it, babes. More. Take more of me.”

You felt him press himself down and down and down, all your hopes of taking one last breath were dashed, and you could only wriggle helplessly on the end of his long rod like a fish on a hook, caught and without any chance of escape. 

Maybe he would kill you and take your soul to Hell, you thought. He was a demon after all. But, he wasn’t done with you. Gaz watched you struggle to remain conscious, trying to breathe as he rammed himself in and out of your throat, fucking your face with reckless need. Then, he pulled himself out of you just enough for you to suck in a ragged, drooling breath, and he held himself there, watching you carefully. 

“There,” Gaz purred, petting the same cheek he had so violently abused, “Breathe, pet. Better make it count.”

You were crying from the desperation, unsure of how to get your lungs to feel even the slightest pull of relief, trying to suck in air through the thick drool and slick precome that coated your nose and mouth. 

Then, he pet your head and sighed, 

“That’s enough for now.”

He was back to his pounding. You were taking him all the way down to his swollen root now, and his black curling pubic hair brushed against your nose and chin. You used your hands to fondle his swinging sack, massaging his balls, coaxing them to dump their many souls into your willing body. You were preparing to be a vessel for a demon, and the feeling between your legs let you know just how much that idea turned you on. 

“Suck!” Gaz shouted, slamming his cock through your mouth, “Suck me harder, you filthy little bitch. Suck me like your life depends on it,” he leaned his head down and made his eyes flash red, “Because it does.”

You wailed, but it came out like a moan, trying so hard to please him, sucking him when you had the ability to do so, but for the most part, you were nothing more than his warm cocksleeve. 

He buried your face in his pubes, holding your head down as you thrashed for air, pushing at his furry cervine legs for freedom, and then… you stopped. You felt euphoric. Your mind stopped fighting as soon as you felt the molten hot stream of Gaz’s viscous demon come filling your belly. 

“Oh, fuck! Yes,” he moaned, smiling sickly, trembling and shaking above you, keeping your head pressed down, forcing you to take him as deep as you could, “Swallow it all, witch. Drink up all these fuckin’ souls.”

You swallowed and took in as much as you could. He had been pumping and throbbing inside of your mouth for so long now, you could actually feel the weight of his seed inside of yourself, and it made you feel so powerful. You rubbed your lower belly, rounded from the creamy gulps of demon come that was being stuffed inside of you, enjoying how full you were. 

Then, all of a sudden, Gaz released you, raking himself out of your throat, bringing strings of come and drool and spit with him. Your body clenched, gagging and coughing as he left you empty, your throat feeling like it had been burned. You could taste his spend on your tongue, and you sat back, panting, trying to let the oxygen get into your brain again. 

“Mmm,” Gaz moaned, jerking his softening prick in his huge hands, taking the tip and rubbing its sticky remnants all over your face, “Such a good little summoner. You summoned my come right into your tummy, didn’t you, slut?”

“Yes, my lord,” you rasped. 

“Does my nasty witch wan–” Gaz’s salacious comment was interrupted by the portal reopening. You both slid away from it, unsure of who or what was coming through.

“Gaz?” A demon with a tall mohawk and long, straight horns that went back across his head, squeezed himself through the open gap in your magic portal, “Mate, where did ye run off to? Didnae even finish your third torture sesh. Oh! Oh… what’ve you got here?”

The apparently Scottish demon startled you, and his gaze was unsettling. He stared at you like he wanted to eat your bones for supper. 

“It worked!” You celebrated, “Oh, thank you, my lord. The souls you gave me have summoned another demon!”

“What?” Gaz said, “Uh, no… this is Soap, and he was jus–”

“Summoned? I wasnae summoned here, lass. What was supposed to work?”

“The souls,” you explained smugly, “Lord Gaz has filled my belly with his seed, and he told me that it contains a multitude of souls that I can use to attract other, more powerful demons.”

“He told you that his fuckin’ spunk was full of souls,” Soap asked, his face curling into a boyish grin, “And you believed him.”

You nodded. Gaz sighed, waiting for the next quip that he knew was on its way out of the other demon’s mouth. 

“Well, bonnie,” Soap sauntered over to you, jerking his own immense phallus, “Mine’s got twice as many as his does. Hope you saved room for dessert.”

[hobgobbin]

What do you think lesbians are attracted to in women that lesbians can’t be attracted to in men?

It can’t be anything about femininity or masculinity obviously. That’s both sexist, and cultural so can’t be what drives woman-only attraction.

It can’t be anything about stated identity because someone could lie just as easily as they could tell the truth in such a statement, and it makes no sense because homosexuality and heterosexuality exists in other species with no stated identities. It’s not like other animals without gender are all pan.

Saying idk it’s the vibes or some indescribable trait women have that men can’t but “I can’t explain” is a nonanswer.

Soooooooo what is it? Or do you think any sexuality but bi/pan is just cultural performance or an identity rather than an inborn orientation?

[hobgayblin]

want some Gale feels? imagine your character learning how to play an instrument and singing "Your Guardian Angel" by Red Jumpsuit apparatus to Gale. 8)

AUAUGH this is the first time I've heard this song but my god its so.... I was just thinking abt Gevadi trying to learn an instrument too. GOD !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GOD

[haveihitanerve]

Guess who!! Yes I'm back, tis been a while

A video of Bruce singing gets leaked and his kids find out he's an amazing singer, and now they won't stop pestering him to sing for them

okayyyyy- see i am one of the firm believers that Bruce will sing only for his kids- so Dick was raised on Bruce singing him to sleep, sometimes on patrol when Dick would burst into song, Bruce joins in and harmonizes, all of his kids have been serenaded by him, either for bed or like hospital visit or just because bruce sings at home sometimes/while hes working... but i do likey-

It wasn't even something that he had done on purpose. It was just natural, sometimes, to sing. He would hear a good song on the radio and hum along. Play music while working a case. He didn't make it obvious he could sing- cough cough dick cough

But Selina. She had an obsession with it. Trying to catch him singing. Trying to record it.

"You're so good!!!" She would gush when he cut off whenever he spotted her recording. Bruce would shake his head. Wave her off.

But she must have caught him at some point. Because now there was a video. Bruce bit his lip to stop his scream as the late night host showed it off. This would not end well for him.

"Yo! Guys! Get in here!" Tim bellowed through Wayne Manor. He was already on the phone with Barbara and Dick, and they were heading to their apartment as fast as possible to watch.

"What's up?" Jason asked, entering the den where Tim was sitting on the couch.

Tim gestured to the TV. "B's on." Jason rolled his eyes, but flopped onto the couch next to his brother. Tim was the only one who consistently watched every Bruce interview. A habit that never died from his obsessive stalker observant stage before Robin, and now was even more prominent as he was actually connected to Bruce. Wanted to check he wasn't getting asked stupid questions.

Jason snickered as he spotted his brothers laptop open to the hosts persona information. Any wrong move, and Tim would destroy him for Bruce.

"Why did you call Drake?" Damian sniffed, entering the den with Cass. Tim shushed him, pointing to the screen.

"Just watch- I went back." There was a scream as Steph fell from the window, breaking in as always. She straightened, landing with the ease of someone who had trained with both the Batman and Catwoman, and hurried over.

"Did you see it?" She gasped excitedly, taking a seat next to Tim.

"I'm showing them." He hushed her hurriedly. Intrigued, the others took their seats, Duke strolling in last. He cranked the volume up higher and they leaned forward, eager.

"Now, recently, a particular video has taken Gotham by storm," The host was saying. Jason cocked his head, tugging his phone from his pocket to search for said video.

"Just wait." Tim coaxed, hands rubbing together like an insane man.

"We're watching." Barbara mumbled through the phone.

"Oh dear, I do hope it's not that one." Bruce was saying, chuckling, fake nervousness and smile on his face. The host laughed along, waving his hand to gesture the video play.

Jason choked on his tea and Steph's fingers dug half moons into Tim's arm as she watched with baited breath.

The video was of Bruce, in the manor, light instrumental music playing in the background. The video quality left something to be desired, crouched behind the couch, blurry, and audio a bit scratchy, but it was undoubtedly him.

"Am I blue? Am IIII Blue? Ain't these tears in these eyes-" The video ended abruptly, most likely because the recorder had been caught, but the damage had been done. Bruce looked near the tears he had been singing about.

Steph's grin was blinding. Dick's cackle erupted through the speaker of Tim's phone. A slow smile spread across Jason's face. "Oh this is going to be fun." Damian murmured.

"Damn it!" Jason cursed as his foot connected with the table.

"Language." Bruce immediately responded, more impulse than actual chiding.

"Yeah yeah." Jason grumbled. "Sorry. It's just... I've been a bit blue lately. Can't think straight."

He hurried out of the room before Bruce could see his grin. Bruce, on the other hand, was gripping his spoon tightly.

"Man," Dick complained, scrubbing at his eyes underneath his mask. Bruce frowned at him from the nearby roof, leaning closer.

"You okay?" He rumbled, reaching for a tissue or something to offer his son. Dick waved him off, dabbing at his eye with his gloves.

"Yeah- I'm fine. There's just something in my eyes. Probably tears." He winked, falling backwards off the roof. Bruce's jaw cracked from the force with which he was clenching it.

"Fu-" Steph grunted as she slammed into the floor, hands reacting too late to protect the hard landing.

Batman landed a step behind, hands moving immediately under her arms to lift her. "'m fine." She grumbled, wincing as she attempted to put weight on her left foot.

"Clearly." Bruce agreed, wrapping an arm more firmly around her waist to take most of her weight.

"B!!" She whined, but let him take it. "I can walk." She muttered. Bruce huffed a laugh, herding them both back into the cave.

"Of course you can. Think of me as a cane." That got a laugh from Steph, even as she let out a yelp as he let go to grab some gauze. "Sorry," Bruce murmured, helping her onto the med table. She waved him off, letting him prop it up and feel around.

"Sprained. Should be fine in a few days." He started to wrap it and Steph let herself recline, letting out a heavy breath as his fingers brushed a little too hard against her ankle. "Sorry." He mumbled again, but she just nodded back.

"You gonna be okay?" Bruce asked, helping her sit up. "Your room is still set up. It won't ever not be. You're staying here tonight, at least." Steph nodded her agreement, not willing to fight over it. Besides, she wanted to stay needed to torment him.

"You know what would really make me feel better?" She asked as he carried her up the stairs after they had changed back into civvies.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "What?" His voice was flat, suspicious.

Steph smiled sweetly, wrapping her arms around his neck so he couldn't drop her and escape. "If you sang for me."

Bruce groaned, and as suspected, his arms relaxed marginally, prepared to drop her and make a run for it, though of course he didn't actually let her go. Steph grinned.

"Its really your fault," She pointed out. "If you had just told us-"

"I never kept it a secret." he grumbled, bringing her into the den, where, as planned, the rest of the kids sat. Dick smiled at his father, accepting Steph from his arms and setting her down next to Tim. He smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer.

Jason cleared his throat, holding up a microphone from Dick's twelfth birthday. No one said a word, just blinked expectantly at him.

Bruce sighed. They'd all gotten those damned puppy eyes from Dick, he was sure of it. As if to confirm, his eldest batted his eyelashes extra, and Damian even rubbed his eyes, sticking out his bottom lip. Unfortunately, being aware of the source did not lessen its effects in the slightest.

He snatched the mic from Jason, cleared his throat, and began.

@jellynber

[amarynthian-chronicles]

The Unwritten

(I could not resist, I simply had to write a little drabble with your magnificent slasher Sun and Moon and Final Girl Astrid, it is such a joy to imagine scenarios with the boys, I love them and I am so grateful you created the silly murder lads @wyervan )

Moon was quite athletic, his lithe form strong and elegant. It was in stark contrast to his rather drowsy demeanour. One might imagine him as a ballet dancer that could sleepwalk his way through a show without elaborating anything afterwards. A circus prodigy and master gymnast, he took delight in making use of aerial silks or random cords to sleepily hang from the ceiling, waiting for the perfect moment to frighten arcade patrons of his choosing, akin to a spider descending from his dark den.

This was quite useful when he wished to scare away guests that he did not find suitable, as well as those that had an aura of Evil around them.

Lethargic and lethal, Moon was like a blade taking its sweet time.

And he was currently using his talents to hang upside down right in front of you and your book.

"May I help you, Mister Moon?"

"Oh, no, I am perfectly fine as I am, thank you for asking."

"How are you even doing that for so long? Your blood pressure must be regretting all of its life choices right now."

"Never underestimate the resilience of a contortionist. What are you reading, Starlight?"

"A book."

To your surprise, he shamelessly snagged it from your hands, grin wide and sharp. He turned the book upside down and proceeded to inspect it.

"Torture Methods Throughout History: A Comprehensive Guide. Getting some interesting date ideas from in here, hm? We could try the position from page seventy-four."

"Very funny."

You reached to retrieve your stolen treasure, but to no avail. Moon kept on reading, humming a rather distorted tune of what must have been a nursery rhyme, adding a sinister air to its initial innocence.

Through your Sight, you could see his soul glide along the walls, akin to a shadow, its eyes a blazing inferno, smile impossibly wide, taunting you. Unphased, you observed it as it spread into various shapes, infinite sharp grins, silent cackles. Moon had an incredibly powerful soul, you had to admit. You dared not admit to yourself that you also found it morbidly beautiful.

A few moments passed and you felt a finger under your chin, diverting your attention from the walls back onto Moon himself.

"Eyes on me, Starlight. What are you so captivated with? Share with the rest of the class."

"You boys need to change your wallpaper."

He blinked in confusion, unable to make sense of your words. Finally, amused with the absurdity of the statement, he snickered and averted his gaze to the other half of the room, eyeing his esteemed colleague as he was busy taking care of the group of children you had brought over.

"Sun, apparently we need to change our wallpaper."

"I beg your finest pardon that you currently have available?"

Pouting and quite offended, Sun huffed as if he were a dramatic king, his mane of copper hair only accentuating his leonine and regal aesthetic. The arcade was his realm, his dominion, and heaven help any poor soul that dared to insult its interior design. A perfect counterpart to Moon, Sun was incredibly swift and diligent in his duties. Sometimes you thought he had superhuman speed, capable of appearing by your side within mere seconds in any given situation.

He was everywhere, he knew everything, he was merciless sunlight capable of cracking mountains with the sheer heat of his presence and personality.

You did your best to remain unphased as you observed the essence of his aura around him. Blinding light, impossible to gaze at for too long, the soul's head crowned with sharp rays worthy of the star that commands the center of the galaxy. His spirit mirrored how agitated Sun currently was. Moon's shadowy soul merely mocked it, and the two entities began to chase one another other across the walls and wrestle with each other.

You returned your attention to Sun's exchange with Moon.

"-my vintage wallpaper, thank you very much. It shall remain where it is and I expect both of you to make a written apology to it. Moon, stop laughing!"

"This reaction is better than that one time I caught you cooing at the pinball machine."

"It is an excellent listener and has never disappointed me, unlike some people I shall not name here."

"Are you still mad about the laundry from this morning?"

"My white linen is blue now. Unacceptable, unforgivable, beyond description."

"I think it is a bad time to inform you I clogged the sink on the second floor then."

"Moon, if you want to put me in my early grave, give me something a bit more dignified than a simple heart attack."

The boys were absolutely fascinating. Your Sense and Sight had acquired new heights from their mere presence. Continuously sharpened, like a fine blade, you could read nuance and emotions of each fibre of flesh and fabric, Sun's heavenly eyes reflecting a scene that had happened mere hours ago, the final moments of his victims echoing in his aura akin to forgotten music in a cathedral.

So many little things revealed their secrets to you. Sun's professional handshake, the same hands that had crushed a man's windpipe a mere forty minutes earlier. Beautiful jester fabric, freshly washed, unable to erase the memories stored in each thread, death upon death interwoven.

Moon's caresses and soft whispers, playful jokes, that same voice had been a shrill cackle, relishing the sight of a man eviscerated the evening prior. Those same teeth that Moon would allow you to inspect had been used to rip endless throats open, allowing the blood of Evil to flow in rivers to the darkness from whence it came.

You were a reader of the Unwritten.

Seemingly innocent pieces of furniture, hammers, nails, kitchen knives, each object eager to tell you a tale, one more gruesome than the other. Walls and mirrors contained invisible blood, the earth contained the songs of the dead.

Each murder equally justified. The boys were vigilantes in their own manner. However, the fact remained that two people could not battle the system forever without getting caught, either by human or supernatural forces. And so, you had done your best to assist in secret. As silent and unassuming as a narrator helping your favourite characters.

The police were easy to mess with, throwing them on a false trail or tipping them in another direction to avoid suspicion falling on your boys.

However, Death itself never rested. Vengeful spirits would gather and crawl around the arcade each night, many consumed with desire for retribution, determined to settle the score. Invisible to the eyes of most humans, but quite palpable and dangerous. Silent as the night, you would appear, ink and paper in hand, tracing sigils and calmly banishing the wicked souls as they roared and shrieked in agony. Not a single force of Darkness had the right to touch what was yours.

The town needed heroes. The world was a broken and sad place. Sun and Moon may not have been the ideal of what a hero should be, but it was all that was realistically available in that moment to protect children. You sighed, returning from your thoughts.

Sun had returned to his seat, dragging Moon along with him, picking up a few fairy tale books and placing them in his hands.

"You can make it up to me by helping me give our tiny starlights a perfect storytelling experience. I shall read the lines of the knight and you read the lines of the dragon."

"Is there no role of a tavern-keeper that doesn't give half of a damn?"

You smiled at the scene. How silly it all was.

The local library was going through some renovations, therefore the little reading group that you would normally care for in the designated section was unable to gather in their usual location. Wishing to still give them a nice experience and unwilling to send them home disappointed, you decided to bring them to the arcade. Sun had happily stolen your role of storyteller and wished to read to the children himself. It was rather adorable, so you did not complain much and simply allowed him to have fun with the little ones.

The children had given him quite the run for his money in the meantime, always questioning the plot of the story and wishing to know all there was about lore and worldbuilding.

Perhaps one day you would join the process of weaving the story together, adding lines of your own. Perhaps Moon may even get his wish of being a sassy tavern-keeper that teaches the principles of tax fraud to his tiny starlights, while King Sun keeps wondering where all the infrastructure money had gone.

So many possibilities. Stories slumbering peacefully in the realm of the Unwritten.

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon, Night 5: The Shoes That Were Danced To Pieces (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

The streets of Treviso are eerily silent tonight. As if the city itself has become the quiet before the storm.

Madeleina Mercar and Lucanis Dellamorte weave in and out of abandoned buildings and leap between rooftops, two shifting black dots in a dark landscape. They move quickly, and with purpose.

Earlier that night, a letter had come through from Viago.

One of his Crows had captured a Venatori spy, caught lurking about the Drowned District. The unlucky cultist was dragged into the den of the Fifth Talon, and like one of Viago’s snakes, had been milked for every last drop of usefulness they could provide.

“How’d they get him to talk?” Madeleina asked, as she scanned the contents of Viago’s missive by flickering candlelight. “I can’t imagine the Venatori spill their secrets easily”

“Viago has his ways.”

Why did he have to name his truth serum Pillow Talk.

“… Let’s just say he can be very persuasive”

Madeleina looked up from the letter and quirked an eyebrow. She was clearly expecting more details, but when he remained silent, she dropped it.

“The specifics don’t matter” Lucanis gently pried the letter from her hands and set it on the nearby table. “What matters is we have a location. Viago has his Crows watching the Venatori. We’ll move when you’re ready”

She grinned, “No time like the present – let’s go”

We’ll make her pay, for everything she did to you. Side by side. I swear it.

Her words hang in front of him like a beacon lighting the path to the Chantry. When he turns them over in his head again, the undercurrents of Spite’s glee reverberate through his body. It sends a shiver down his spine.

Her Heart. On Our Knife. Rook’s lightning. At Our backs. A cackle echoes in his head. The Witch. Dies today.

Tonight, he would have his revenge. For himself. For Spite. And for Caterina.

For a moment, he’s back to the Ossuary. His hands and legs chained down to the stone slab beneath him. He remembers the chafing of the metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles, the skin red and raw. Remembers the hunger. The fear. He was too tired to struggle against the bindings. His objective shifted from escape to survive soon after arriving.

“From flying vermin to malicious spirit. That’s quite the promotion, isn’t it, Master Dellamorte?” Zara pinched his cheek with a long, slender finger. It took every ounce of discipline he had not to recoil at her cold touch. Her full, red lips pulled back in a sneer. He could smell her sickly-sweet perfume as she leaned in. It turned his empty stomach.

“Well, then. Let’s make a real Demon out of you, hm?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Madeleina calls over her shoulder, pulling him out of the past. She is already half-way up the ladder to the overhang above them when she realizes Lucanis isn’t following. Pausing on the rungs, she cranes her neck to look back at him, “Facing Zara, I mean”

He lifts his gaze to meet hers. Tries to keep maintain eye contact instead of staring elsewhere.

“I lost a year of my life to that Venatori Witch” He begins, before climbing up himself. “I owe her for that”

They both reach the overhang and squeeze out of a broken window on the top floor of the warehouse. The two land soundlessly on the side-roof jutting from just below the window sill. Just one more rooftop until they reach the Chantry.

As Lucanis follows Rook’s careful steps, he remembers his dissatisfaction at traversing the rooftops in Vyrantium a year ago. The harsh slopes and rounded clay tiles made a poor foothold even for his perfectly cobbled boots. But the rooftops of Treviso are flatter, the inclines less harsh, and made of interlocking shingles rather than layered tiles. Very friendly for a Crow looking to sneak around. All of Treviso, with its dark, narrow streets, high vantage points, and closely connected rooftops, was practically designed for them. A Crow’s nest made a city.

Madeleina jumps down from the side-roof and onto a balcony overlooking the Chantry courtyard. He watches her come to rigid halt a few steps ahead of him. He can just barely make out another figure in the darkness.

Illario?

Lucanis wastes no time jumping down to the balcony, coming to stand beside Madeleina. She’s close enough now he can feel the tension coiling around her body. Her mouth is set into a hard line, and her eyes fixate on Illario.

So, she was just as thrown off by his appearance at the Chantry as he was. Good. He can get right to the point without preamble.

“Illario - what are you doing here?” Lucanis asks, his voice low.

Illario smiles widely as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m coming with you, of course. No arguments”

Mierda.

“This is my job” Lucanis says firmly, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

“This is Crow business” Illario corrects him. He feels a muscle in his jaw tick.

“How did you even know we’d be here?” If the contents of Viago’s letter were anything to go by, only he and Madeleina should be privy to this information. From the corner of his eye, he can see the weariness settle more firmly onto her features. She folds her arms over her chest and frowns deeply.

Illario seems to notice the shift in her demeanour. He ignores Lucanis’ question and turns to address her instead. He plasters on an insincere, charming smile. The same one Lucanis has seen him use to seduce countless targets. From the way Madeleina’s brows draw further down, he surmises it has the opposite effect on her. Good.

“Rook” He all but purrs her moniker, and for a brief moment Lucanis is thankful Illario doesn’t know her real name. The tone of his voice sets both him and Spite on edge. “Always a pleasure. Touring the city with my cousin?” He pauses to gesture to Lucanis with a sultry grin. “You must allow me to show you the sights”

Madeleina’s voice is stern, almost biting, when she answers, “Lucanis told you not to come”.

He is silently grateful she’s not encouraging Illario. Even more grateful, a small part of him thinks, that his cousin’s attempts at flirting backfire so spectacularly. He can count on one hand the number of times that’s happened. Once Illario realizes his usual approach won’t do him any credit with Madeleina, his face settles into a more neural expression – a little too quickly.

Lucanis decides to interject before he can get a word in edgewise, “This isn’t your type of job, cousin.” He means to needle him about his earlier attempt at Madeleina. He’s not sure whether that’s more him or Spite. “There’s no one you can charm here. Only fanatics. All you can do is get yourself killed”

His words land with the desired effect, if only for a moment. There’s a brief flicker of annoyance in his eyes that only someone who has spent many years with Illario would be able to pick up. It’s gone as soon as it came, now replaced by a challenging stare.

“You think I’m not good enough” He doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“Are you?” Lucanis retorts, tilting his head, throwing the challenge right back at him.

Illario’s nostrils flare. There is concession, but not defeat in his eyes. He settles for a placating smile, but Lucanis has a sinking feeling in his gut that whatever is going on with his cousin will not pass so easily. Perhaps it’s the overly saccharine way he concedes or perhaps it’s the uncharacteristically light tone in his voice given the subject matter. He bows his head, “Fine, have it your way cousin.”

Before Illario turns to leave, he lets out a bitter chuckle. “You always know best, after all”. And without another word, he disappears into the night.

He shakes his head. There’s no time to worry about Illario’s antics right now. Lucanis Dellamorte has a target. And he always collects.

You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis.

“Let’s go, Zara’s waiting”

Lucanis doesn’t wait for Madeleina to catch up before he starts making for the Chantry courtyard.

She follows him soundlessly, like a shadow.

~*~

“Amatu- “

A sickening crack as Zara’s neck is snapped by Illario, who dropped down from the ceiling just a moment earlier.

She doesn’t have time to think about the implication of what she just heard. Zara’s final words are pushed to the back of her mind as an anguished cry escapes her companion’s lips.

“No! Mine!” Lucanis and Spites voices meld together, all rage and hurt and betrayal, reverberating through the Chantry in a familiar discordant symphony. His purple and black wings unfurl. A high-pitched whistling fills the Chantry, like the firing of an Antaam canon. Then, Illario is sent flying back by a blast of magical energy shooting out of Lucanis. Madeleina is knocked back a few steps from the sheer force of it.

A second later, Lucanis – or rather Spite controlling Lucanis’ body, is on Illario. The dagger in his hand comes down, ready to kill his cousin. A scream tears through his chest as Illario resists, his arms the only thing between him and the dagger’s edge. Lucanis’ face is a twisted mask of hurt and anguish. When he speaks next, his voice is strained. There’s more of him than Spite, like he’s fighting the demon to even get the words out.

“Get. Illario … Out!” He cries over his shoulder, eyes burning like bright, purple sapphires. His arm inches the dagger closer and closer to Illario’s neck, acting of its own accord.

“What? No – “

I won’t leave you here alone.

She winces and stumbles closer. Another pained yell reverberates through the chantry.

“Rook!” His eyes are pleading. He’s losing the struggle against Spite’s rage, and fast. The dagger is almost touching Illario’s neck now, just about to draw blood, “I can’t –! “

“That’s enough!” Shouts Illario, and he does something that Madeleina can’t see from where she’s standing. But she can sense it. Even smell it.

Blood magic.

A plume of red erupts from Illario’s chest. It slams into Lucanis, knocking him back onto his forearms. The heady scent of iron and blood and sulphur fills the air. She can taste a metallic tang on her tongue.

Illario pulls himself to stand and puts his hand out in front of him like he’s commanding a dog to sit. The sight of it turns her stomach.

“Relent” Lucanis’ head swivels, she can see the whites of his eyes as they roll back. “Somniare”. He falls unconscious and his head hits the stone floor with a crack.

Madeleina is behind him not a moment later, cradling his head in her hands. She breathes a sigh of relief when she can’t feel any blood pooling in his hair.

“Lucanis? Lucanis wake up” she whispers, shaking him by the shoulders. When he doesn’t stir, she looks up at Illario, eyes burning with rage. “Venhedis. What the fuck did you do to him, Illario?” She snarls.

“Nothing” Illario says, straightening to his full height. “I don’t know what happened any more than you”

Liar.

“You have to get him out of here” Illario points to Lucanis, still unconscious in her arms. When he turns towards the door, Madeleina calls after him. She has about a million questions swarming her thoughts like wasps kicked from their nest.

“Illario, don’t you dare lea-!”

“Rook. Keep him away from Treviso. From the Crows” His voice is low and even. Too calm, for what he just did. “He’s a danger to the family”.

She stares in disbelief as Illario Dellamorte disappears from the Chantry. He leaves Lucanis and Madeleina alone in the basement chamber. Well, sort of. Madeleina is not Emmrich, and she doesn’t count the dead bodies of several Venatori and Zara Renata as company.

“Shit”

She wished, more than anything, she had prodded Emmrich’s brain about a healing spell rather than learning to summon wisps.

Wait.

Wisps.

Using what remained of her magic, she called forth a bouncing ball of familiar blue-green light from the Fade. It’s light chittering filled the silence of the Chantry as it floated in front of her face, bouncing on an invisible air current.

“Find Viago de Riva. Bring him here. Can you do that?” The Wisp zips around her head, before phasing through the far wall. She prays it understands the command. There’s nothing she can do except wait for help. She won’t leave him alone. Not here.

She shakes him gently by the shoulders again, “Come on Lucanis, wake up. Please, wake up”.

The faint smell of blood and sulphur still lingers on him.

Blood magic. She was still grappling with the fact that Illario had used blood magic to control Spite. To control Lucanis. How? Why?

Madeleina bites her lip. Her fingers curl softly against the fine, dark leather of Lucanis’ armor. Zara’s final words come rushing back and hit her like a tidal wave.

Amatus.

She was about to say Amatus.

Dread settles in her chest as she comes to a chilling realization.

Illario Dellamorte and Zara Renata were lovers.

Venhedis.

Illario had to be the one who sold Lucanis out. There was no other explanation that made sense.

The longer she thinks about it, the faster the pieces start clicking together like the whirring gears on one of Bellara’s machines. There were a million little things about Illario’s behaviour that never sat right with her. When looked at separately, they were never overtly suspicious. But taken together, they paint quite a damning picture.

Each fact clicks neatly into place with the one that comes after it, like a line of collapsing tin soldiers.

Illario avoided coming down to the Ossuary with them, and the same night, Caterina was killed. He tried to throw Lucanis off Zara’s trail by convincing him that she was back in Minrathous. His strange behaviour at Caterina’s funeral. His knowledge of where they’d be tonight. Killing Zara just before she revealed who sold Lucanis out. And most damning of all, the fact that he could control Spite with Blood magic.

She bites her lip.

Kaffas. How am I supposed to tell him the last member of his family sold him out.

Lucanis still isn’t waking.

Madeleina watches the soft rise and fall of his chest, worried that if she looks away for even a moment, he might stop breathing.

“Please wake up” Her voice hitches.

His head is resting on her knees. She’s afraid to move him. Afraid to leave. She has to trust the Wisp she sent after Viago will bring help soon. She’s also furious that his own home is no longer safe for him. Not while as Illario is running around with the ability to control Lucanis and Spite with Blood magic.

She brushes a stray lock of hair from his cheek and tucks it behind his ear. Let’s her fingers drift across his skin, her touch feather-light, for a brief moment before pulling away. Madeleina isn’t used to seeing him like this. He rarely sleeps at the Lighthouse. She would know, given all the nights she stays awake with him telling stories. She tries, at the cost of her own sleep, to make his long, waking hours less lonely. Madeleina wonders if he’s dreaming of better days. Prays he’s not stuck in some terrible nightmare, lest it fuel Spite’s wrath. The last thing anyone needed tonight was for the demon to claw his way to the surface again and wreak havoc in the streets looking for Illario.

She sighs, and stares aimlessly at the arched ceiling of the Chantry basement.

It was going to be a long night for both of them.

~*~

Lucanis Dellamorte has forgotten what a good night’s sleep feels like.

Only, this didn’t feel like sleep. It felt like stasis. Paralysis. Even Spite didn’t stir.

He did not dream, he did not feel. There was only crushing, oppressive darkness in every direction. Like he had been dropped to the bottom of a black ocean.

Lucanis regains movement in his fingertips first. Then his toes. And then, he can move his legs – but only a little. They pedal back and forth a few times as he tests out his strength. A groan escapes his lips. His lips feel dry, and his mouth is thick with the taste of cotton. His eyelids are leaden weights that are slow to lift.

Once he can blink away the tears clouding his vision, the familiar roof of his pantry bedroom comes into focus.

Back at the Lighthouse.

“… Mmmh…” he groans again. As some of his strength returns to him, he’s able to push himself upright. His head is throbbing something fierce. “…Mierda…” He hisses, when his mouth can finally form words.

A moment later, he hears something shift beside him. His head snaps to the side, and he’s ready to pull the hidden dagger he keeps under his pillow. But Lucanis settles, lets the tension uncoil from his body, when he sees Madeleina Mercar asleep in a chair next to his cot.

She has her knees pulled up tight to her chest, her head resting atop her folded arms. Madeleina’s face is curtained by a mass of brown curls. Her head slowly lifts, and her eyes flutter open.

“Madeleina” All Lucanis can do is whisper her name because he’s tired, everything hurts, and he can’t think straight.

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and yawns. “Lucanis” Her voice is low, husky. “You’re awake”

He wonders how long she’s been sitting in that chair. She’s still wearing her mage’s overcoat, the same armour she wore when they confronted Zara. Black leather with a gold trim – a serpent in the middle of her chest. All sharp angles and harsh lines, in the Tevinter fashion. It was a stark contrast to the roundness of her cheeks, the fullness of her lips and the softness of her curls. 

Lucanis swings his legs over the side of the bed and leans on his forearms. Flashes of their confrontation with Zara play on a loop in his mind.

Illario killing Zara. The terror of losing control to Spite. The way he came tearing through his mental barrier and took over so quickly it gave him whiplash, while Lucanis sunk into the recesses of his mind. A passenger in his own body. Illario’s neck beneath his blade. Begging Madeleina to get Illario out of there. Fear in her wide eyes. And then, overwhelming, oppressive darkness.

He remembers rage. So. Much. Rage.

He almost killed Illario. What if he lost control again? What if he hurt someone else?

What if he hurt her?

At the thought of hurting Madeleina, the demon ripples underneath his skin, and prods the edges of his consciousness.

Smells like thunderstorms and blood. Spite hisses. Sulphur and ash and iron. She’s never. Right. Anymore.

And who’s fault is that, he wonders bitterly.

She’s looking at him. Her gaze is soft. Always too soft. Even when he failed to take down Ghilan’nain at Weishaupt. There’s never blame, or anger, or judgement. She always has some way to justify being kind to him, even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.

Search as he may for something else, he only ever finds patience. Peace. Understanding. And that’s terrifying to him, because he’s never known that before. Caterina loved him… in her way. But he knew the back of her cane as well as he knew a comforting hand.

“I …” Lucanis starts, but the words die on his tongue, reeled back into his mind until he can form them into a proper sentence. Madeleina tilts her head and rests her cheek on her arm. Her legs pull in just a little closer to her body.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you”

She blinks slowly. “What do you mean?”

“There… there aren’t words enough to apologize” He answers, his voice low, but even. Just barely. She looks confused at the apology, her brows drawing together. “I never wanted you to see me like that”

A quiet settles between them. Madeleina looks thoughtful.

Her knees slide down the chair and there’s a soft thud when her boots land on the stone floor.

“And yet I’m still here”

He could swear his heart stops in his chest. Lucanis doesn’t know what he expected her to say. Anything but that. He hangs his head, rather pathetically, if he’s being honest with himself.

Why? He wants to ask, but his lips won’t move, held together by some invisible seal.

What could he, an abomination, offer her except for problems and pain and misery? What could he, an assassin, give her anything but death?

She. Won’t. Hurt us. Spite whispers. He said that the first day they met too. Hers was the first kind voice, kind eyes he’d seen in a year. Spite didn’t forget that either.

“I …”

“Hey” She whispers quietly, before he feels her fingers gently lifting his chin. As soft as he’d imagined. Warm and comforting like he’d hoped. Her jade green eyes still have a habit of making the rest of the world disappear. “Lucanis, there’s nothing to apologize for. Really”

There is. There’s so much to apologize for.

I failed to kill your God. I could’ve killed you. I’m no good. We’re no good.

His thoughts whir about themselves, twisting and morphing together into new things he wants to say, new things he feels he should apologize for. New reasons why what he desperately wants – this thing they’ve been dancing around, is a bad idea.

When she pulls away, he wants, more than anything, to reach out and place her hand back on his face. To keep that warmth there just a little bit longer. Linger in the softness rarely afforded to someone like him.

“Listen” She folds her hands in her lap, “We have a few hours before the rest of the team will be up. I think… I think there’s a story you should hear”

“Madeleina, we have to talk- “

“About Illario, I know. We will. Tomorrow”

He wants to argue but knows it’s pointless with her. She only has to look at him a certain way and the resistance will die on his tongue. Lucanis runs a hand down his face, and sighs.

"Fine. But first, coffee”

~*~

Sometime later, the pair find themselves in front of the fireplace once more. There’s fresh coffee, and some leftover dessert from two nights ago – Nevarran Hazelnut Torte, a recipe from Emmrich’s late mother. It had become a fast favourite around the Lighthouse, to the Professor’s delight.

Madeleina’s cake is untouched. It was very unusual for her, given how voracious her sweet tooth is. Lucanis has watched her put away a dozen churros like they were grains of rice. Where does it all go?

He’s not used to seeing her in armour around the Lighthouse either. The large overcoat dwarfs her and makes her look smaller than she really is. It’s never that apparent in the heat of battle since they’re usually trying their best not to die from the monster-du-jour. He briefly wonders if she’s overheating in it, being this close to the warmth of the fireplace.

“So, what tale will you tell tonight – uhh … this morning” He quickly corrects himself. One can never be certain about the time in the Fade. Sometimes, when he thinks it’s close to dawn, he can hear waves crashing in the distance.

“Have you ever heard the Orlesian tale of The Shoes that Were Danced to Pieces?”

“I haven’t” Lucanis swirls his coffee a few times before taking a sip. “But I assume I’m about to”

“Mmm” She hums, with a slight frown. “Indeed”

 There’s something different about the way she’s starting tonight’s tale. He can’t quite put his finger on it. So, he lets her continue without interruption, hoping to glean the reason through the course of her story.

Her hands alight with blue flame, she sweeps her forearm across the air like she’s swatting a fly. In her wake, twelve figures spring to life, each one more beautiful than the last. The women are dressed in classic Orlesian ballet attire, and each has a thin, delicate band across their forehead.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a King and his twelve Princesses” The figure of the King appears, perched on a floating throne above his daughters. The King’s face is weathered by time, and even though he is an illusion, there is a deep sorrow in his eyes.

The King disappears and twelve beds, arranged in concentric circles appear. Each princess appears next to one of the beds.

“All the Princesses sleep together in one room. And each night, the King bolts the door shut”

“Strange thing to do” he remarks, between bites of Torte. “Even for an Orlesian” Lucanis snickers.

“Stranger still is the reason” Madeleina continues. She waves a hand through the illusion, and it disappears, now replaced by the King. He’s holding a pair of ballet shoes, which have been completely worn through.

“Every night, the King seals the girls in their room. And every morning, their brand-new dancing shoes are discovered to be worn through from dancing. No one, not even his wisest scholars or most sensible hunters could figure out how. So, the King puts out a proclamation” She raises her hand, and the figure of the King stands from his throne, holding the worn-out shoe in an outstretched hand. “’Whoever discovers the secret of my daughter’s dancing shoes, may marry one and take my place as King when I die’”

The figure of the King disappears, and in his place, is a young man in an intricately woven doublet. His fine hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. A bejeweled rapier rests in its hilt by his hip.

“A young prince from a neighbouring kingdom is the first to take up the challenge. And so, he is sealed in the antechamber of the Princesses’ rooms, that he may observe their comings and goings at night.”

The young prince lies down on a small cot that has appeared next to him. “But the prince travelled a great distance to arrive at the Kingdom, and his eyelids grew heavy with sleep.” The prince closes his eyes and drifts off into a peaceful slumber. “He doesn’t see where the Princesses go. But sure enough, the next morning, their shoes are full of holes in the soles” The Princesses parade their shoes in a circle around the young prince, almost as if to taunt him.

“On his second night, the same thing happens. The prince cannot stay awake, and the Princesses dance the night away”

The prince falls asleep again, but this time, he disappears.

“On the third night, the young prince vanishes – as if he had never been there in the first place”

Now that has his attention. Lucanis raises an eyebrow at the empty cot floating in front of him.

“Curious” he mumbles, taking another sip of coffee.

She waves several other figures, all of different statures and heights and builds. Elves, dwarves, humans. Warriors and rogues and princes.

“Each potential suitor who takes up the King’s challenge meets the same fate. On the third night, they always disappear without a trace” Each figure winks out of existence, one by one.

“One day, an older, retired sailor from Rivain hears of the King’s challenge while passing through Orlais. He also hears that every previous suitor has disappeared after three nights. But he’s not worried”

With a flourish, a middle-aged man with a tall, well-built stature appears. His face is handsome, but scarred from battle. He’s dressed in humble traveller’s clothes and carries a mage’s stave on his back.

“He’s either very brave, or very stupid”

Madeleina just smiles and winks. “Or, he has help that the other suitors didn’t have”

An amorphous, shifting ball of light appears next to the Rivaini man. “The man was a mage. A tidemaker in the Rivaini navy. His mother was a Seer. Although usually only female mages undergo the training necessary to be able to communicate and bond with spirits, the man had a great talent for magic from a young age. His mother would never let him become possessed by one, like she could, but she taught him enough to be able to commune with them and ask their guidance”

The man walks through the air, with the ball of light bouncing along beside him.

“’Ho there, Spirit-Friend’ he said. ‘I should very much like to unravel the mystery of these Princesses and their dancing shoes. What wisdom can you offer me?’”

The Spirit whirs around the sailor-mage, “’Take not the wine the eldest Princess will offer you before bed. Pretend to be in a deep slumber. Then, under cover of dark, steal after the Twelve to discover what lies beneath the castle’”

If he wasn’t intrigued before, he certainly was now.

The spirit is waved away. The old sailor, armed with this new knowledge, presents himself to the figure of the King, hovering above him.

“The King welcomes the sailor, and just as he did with the other suitors, locks him in with the Princesses”

Madeleina brings the Princesses into view again.

“The oldest princess, Delphine, does exactly as the Spirit said she would. She offers the sailor a glass of wine.”

The figure of Delphine, wine goblet in hand, indeed offers the sailor a drink. But just as the spirit told him to, he refuses, by shaking his head and pretending to go to sleep. He lies down on the same cot the first prince used. The figures of the princesses surround his cot, rather ominously. Lucanis is convinced they’re going to murder him on the spot.

“’He refused the wine! What shall we do?’ cried the second oldest sister, Marie.” The sailor doesn’t stir in his cot. “‘He’s quite asleep, Marie – let’s just go. He cannot follow’ says the eldest. ‘Perhaps he will take the wine tomorrow night’”

One by one, the sisters form a circle around an ornate stone circle, floating beneath them. And like the princesses, one by one, the stones on the circle lift in the air, and a winding staircase opens into the floor.

“The princesses had a secret doorway in the castle. A doorway to another world – or so they thought, at least” Madeleina frowns, and as the princesses disappear down the staircase, the figure of the sailor, creeping behind them, comes back into view. He is glowing black, instead of blue.

“The sailor was clever. He used magic to wrap himself in a cloak of night so as to blend into the shadows. He followed the youngest sister, Charlotte, down the enchanted stairway.” The figure of the sailor walks slowly behind the youngest sister – a beautiful young woman with long, plaited hair and a simpler gown than her sisters.

As the figures continued down the staircase, Charlotte stops. “’Sisters- I know not why, but I fear something terrible will befall us tonight’, says the youngest sister. The other sister’s pause, and it’s the oldest who speaks next. ‘Oh, you goose, you are always frightened. Come, let us enjoy ourselves tonight’”

The figures continue down the endless stairway. The sailor, eager to see what lies at the end, gets a little too close to the figure of Charlotte. His boot catches the end of her dress.

“’Oh! Something pulled at my dress!’ cries the youngest sister, but the others do not heed her. ‘Goose, you have merely stepped on a nail. Come now’” Madeleina puppets the figure of Delphine to wave the other sisters down.

Everything disappears for a moment, while Madeleina regains her strength with a sip of coffee and a nibble of the Hazelnut Torte.

After she’s thoroughly cracked all her knuckles, her hands resume their work. She conjures into existence, the scene of a brilliant underground cavern. A castle within a castle. There is an eerie lake separating the princesses from their destination. Eleven longboats, similar to the one the Caretaker ferries them through the Crossroads with, appear at the lakeside.

The figures at the helm of the longboats is what intrigues him. Lucanis’ eyes widen as he realizes the eleven longboats are steered by the headless figures of the previous suitors.

“Mierda” He whispers, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t know the Orlesians to be so… macabre”

Madeleina shrugs, “Surprising, right? When I first heard this story, I thought was from Nevarra, honestly”

She makes each princess file into a longboat. Charlotte takes her place beside Delphine in the first one. The headless body of the prince begins rowing them to the other side. The other longboats depart soon after. The figure of the sailor wastes no time sneaking onto one of the other longboats, so as not to tip the weight.

“As he rides with the princesses, the sailor has a sneaking suspicion that he is meant to helm the twelfth longboat. He is thankful for the spirits help, and thankful to have his head on his shoulders”

They arrive at the castle. Madeleina decorates the boughs of trees lining the path with leaves of silver and gold.

“The sailor knew he would need some kind of proof to bring to the King, so he snaps a twig from one of the trees and tucks it in his pocket” He watches the figure do so at Madeleina’s command.

She waves several instruments – trumpets, drums, harps, and more, into existence. They float in the air, above the princesses, and they each take their positions with a respective headless suitor. Except the last princess, Charlotte, who begins to dance on her own. They pirouette and twirl about, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“How did they find this strange castle in the first place?” Lucanis would usually never interrupt a story, especially not one as intriguing as this, but he had to know.

Madeleina gives a sad smile and erases all the figures with a flourish of her hand.

Soon, the figure of Delphine returns, and she is sitting alone on her bed, with her dancing shoes in her hands.

“’Woe is me’ she cried once. ‘I should like to dance with my sisters forever. Alas we are all to be married.’” Delphine lies on her bed and her shoes lay on her chest. “’We shall be scattered to the farthest reaches of the continent to find the most handsome matches. I would do anything to dance with my sisters for a while longer’”

“Ahh….” Lucanis nods. He can see where this is going.

“Yeah” Madeleina frowns. “Something heard her plea. Something that had been trapped in the castle for a long time, watching and waiting for the right time to strike.”

She raises a hand and forms a demon he could only surmise is Desire personified. It has large, bare breasts, barely covered by dangling jewels and chains. Narrow waist, wide hips. Everything about the demon was made to entice. Even its horns added a certain appeal.

He can feel Spite rolling his eyes in the back of his mind. He doesn't like Desire either.

“’Do not despair my child, for I have a way for you and your sisters to remain together, forever’ the Desire demon says to Delphine. ‘And should your father bring any suitors, take their heads and present them to me. I will make sure they never leave this castle. You and your sisters may dance your nights away in my domain. All you need to do is wear the shoes I will gift you every night’”

The desire demon gestures with her hand and twelve pairs of shoes, arranged neatly in a line, and glowing an eerie pink light, appear beside her.

“Delphine agrees, of course. She tells her sisters of the shoes and her plan. The dancing shoes were the key to unlocking the secret castle. Every night they would go and dance the night away. And every time a suitor would come, on the third night, they would behead him and drag his body down the winding staircase.”

A gruesome scene of the eldest princess hacking off the head of the younger prince from the start of the tale begins to play out in front of him. Red light spatters on the princess, before they all fade out.

He’s rubbing his beard absent-mindedly, completely engrossed in the tale now. He’s forgotten about his coffee, and his cake. Every pause stretches into an infinity. Spite is also eager to know how this one ends, and he claws at the backs of Lucanis’ eyelids impatiently.

Madeleina once again conjures the image of the underground castle. The princesses are dancing with their headless suitors, and their ballet shoes are glowing pink now.

“The sailor knows there is dark magic at work here, and he needs to stop it” The figure of the sailor moves soundlessly between the dancing couples. “He follows the trail of magic to the demon’s lair inside the castle”

A room filled with jewels and gold and all manner of treasures appears in front of Lucanis. The desire demon lounges on a settee, adorning herself in riches. She is propping her elbow on the head of a handsome elf. The fifth suitor, he remembers.

“The demon, true to its nature, offers to make any desire of the sailor’s come true” The demon begins sauntering towards the figure of the sailor, all swaying hips. Sailor draws his stave and starts preparing for a battle.

“’I want for nothing you can give me, demon’” The sailor replies. "'Save your head'"

A great battle of magic erupts between the two. They lob arcane missiles and bolts and fireballs at each other, until the Sailor summons the tides of the nearby lake to his side.

“The sailor overwhelms the demon with his power, and she perishes. Almost immediately, the spell over the underground castle starts to fade” The bodies of the dead suitors drop to the ground.

Next, the sailor is standing with the princesses, who all look like they’ve woken up from a dream.

“’What happened?’ asked Marie.” Madeleina has the sailor walk closer to her. He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “’You were beset by a demon. Fear not, for I have slain it. But let this be a lesson. Put not your faith in whispers of promises too good to be true, my ladies.’”

With that, the sailor bows to the princesses and begins walking away.

“’But sir!’ The youngest calls after him, ‘Won’t you take a reward? Surely our father would give one of us to you in marriage and make you king?’”

The figure of the sailor smiles and twirls the silver branch he plucked from one of the trees.

“’It is reward enough to slay the demon that haunts this palace and learn the secret of your dancing shoes. I never came here to be king’”

Madeleina waves the figures away.

“The sailor continues on his journey across the continent, and Delphine makes peace with parting from her sisters by making the most of what time they have left”

With a final flourish, she has the figures of the twelve princesses pirouette around Lucanis’ chair. They disappear one by one soon after.

“The end”

Lucanis rubs the back of his neck, “That was … something” He says quietly. “I think I need more coffee”

Madeleina nods and stretches out her limbs. “And I think I’m in desperate need of a nap”

Lucanis stands and gathers their uneaten cake on a single plate, as well as their half-empty coffee cups. “Go on, I’m awake. I’ll clean this up. You should sleep”

There’s something in her eyes that makes him feel there’s more she wants to say but can’t bring herself to form the words.

Somewhere, deep in his chest, he knows exactly what it is she’s trying to tell him. Tried to tell him through her story.

But he’s not ready to face that particular truth yet.

There’s someone else’s lips he needs to hear it from. He shudders to think of seeing her wretched corpse again. Not ready for the feelings it’s going to bring up, nor the question he has to ask.

He knows, deep down, that Madeleina pieced it together already.

Lucanis just prays he has the strength to face it when the time comes.