#everyday magic verse

[storybounded]

I think Scott should be in one vampire show AT LEAST. He deserves it.

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfamily x batbro male reader

Reader is a magic user (like the scarlet witch), he often uses his powers during his normal day to day life too

He’s constantly found levitating off the ground while meditating, reading his spell book and using his powers to do simple things like making his bed etc

However his powers has a side effect, his powers hurt him sometimes as every time his emotionally unstable or upset his powers can take over but the rest of the family doesn’t know cause he never told them he simply cuddled up to them

One day after a bad argument the pain was too much to hold in and he desperately needed to let go of his powers to get rid of the energy

However he couldn’t do that cause it could damage the manor and hurt the others so he tries to hold it in trying to deal with the pain

He walked into the manor and looked for the first person he could find and simply hugged them

They knew his love language was physical affection but they never knew it went so far as to stop him from having a magical melt down

He tries to explained the issue to whoever he was holding on too and they started praising him and rubbing his back trying to make him calm down till they get to an open space where he can let go

Okay, that sounds cool. And lowkey Bruce coded.

Summary: (Y/N)'s magic is complicated.

Warnings: none really, mentions of an argument.

(Y/N)'s powers are something that he was born with, since his mother shared the same powers. Unfortunately, his mother passed away and (Y/N) came to live with Bruce and the rest of the family. And since Bruce didn't know anything about magic, he called in John Constantine and Zatanna to help him navigate his magical powers. They've been doing it since he was a child and by the time he reached his teen years, he could control his powers.

But magic is not without any consequence. Sometimes, his powers can hurt physically. And his emotional stability is important here. If (Y/N) gets upset, angry or anything else that causes emotional instability, they can come out. And not in a good way. His powers could get devastating and could hurt someone. Thankfully, (Y/N) had a good remedy for it. Cuddling up to his family to calm his nerves.

He never told his family that. However, it made for a good practice to control his emotions. But sometimes emotions can overwhelm a person, no matter how hard they try to control. Bruce knew that something was going on with (Y/N)'s magic, but he choose not to dwell on it. He knew that (Y/N) had a control on it and whatnot, but still.

Bruce is not particularly well versed in magic so he allows (Y/N) to make decisions on that part. And besides, magic is fun to look at. (Y/N) more often than not can be found using his magic in everyday life. Whether it be making his bed, getting a cup of whatever from the kitchen without even getting up from the couch.

But the one thing that the entire family can agree on is the fact that when he is meditating, he levitates, a spell book near him, also levitating, is creepy beyond belief. According to the others. Bruce tried not to be freaked out whenever he saw it, but it was hard not to be. Bruce was both fascinated and kind of scared.

The rest of the boys have shared the same sentiment. It was a fascinating power that (Y/N) possessed, but scary at the same time. And of course, who could say no to cuddles that (Y/N) asked for? Not even Damian could say no to (Y/N)'s cuddles. Not even Damian, the person who despises affection, can't say no to his cuddles. Dick would await the entire day just for those cuddles.

(Y/N) loved his family to bits because of their acceptance, no matter how weird he might look when doing magic. And Bruce has a magic consultant at home, which is great. You never know when magic can pop up in Gotham City. Anything can happen in Gotham City and that was something that every single Gothamite lived by.

Anything can happen in Gotham.

(Y/N) was driving home, pissed beyond belief. His high school classes were done and he got into a bad argument with his friend. He knew that his magic would explode, sooner or later if he didn't find his family in the manor. Something has been brewing in (Y/N) from the moment his woke up. He didn't know why he was feeling that way today.

But something boiled over during the argument and his magic was just itching to get out. And he knew he should let it out. He knows he should. But that would devastate a lot of space. So, cuddles are the only option he has left at this point in time. He parked the car in record time and rushed into the manor, looking for someone who could help him.

That someone was Bruce. (Y/N) didn't expect to see him. He thought that he was at work.

" (Y/N)? You seem stressed, are you okay? " Bruce asked, worried about his son.

(Y/N) didn't say anything, simply buried his face into Bruce's chest and Bruce hugged him. Bruce squeezed back tightly, not knowing what's really going on, but (Y/N)'s love language is physical touch so Bruce didn't really find it to be odd. And besides, he likes these moments.

" Sorry dad, I just needed a hug. "

" Never apologize for needing a hug. Or any affection. Okay? " Bruce murmured softly.

" It's... More complicated than that dad. It's connected to my magic. "

Bruce frowned at that, confused as to what he could mean by that.

" What do you mean? "

" My magic is tied to my emotions. If I get any negative emotions, my magic flares up and itches to be released and it can be devastating. I can hurt people. When that happens, I look for you or my brothers to get cuddles, " (Y/N) murmurs, explaining to Bruce, who nodded in understanding.

He start rubbing (Y/N)'s back softly.

" You did good (Y/N). It can't be easy to control so much magic, but you are doing well. Just relax, breathe in and out and anger and frustration will simply roll out. Okay? "

(Y/N) nodded and Bruce simply continued his praises to his son. " Also, the manor is a space where you can let go okay? This is a safe space for you. Although, I would like to keep the manor intact, " Bruce joked and (Y/N) laughed with him.

" I know, I would like to keep this manor intact as well dad. "

" But in all seriousness, " Bruce began, still rubbing his back, " This manor is a space where you can be safe. Feel safe. Where you can do your magic freely. And if there ever is a time where you feel like your magic is itching to get out, feel free to seek us out, okay? Don't hesitate, " Bruce said as he still rubbed (Y/N)'s back.

" I know that dad, I know. "

" Just making sure kiddo. Also, John Constantine might drop by soon enough. He says he has a new spell book for you, saying you will like this one too. Now, are you hungry? " Bruce asked as he lead (Y/N) to the kitchen.

" I am. Also, why are you home so early? " (Y/N) wondered, knowing that Bruce wouldn't be home this early.

" A big meeting got cancelled, so I came home. Now, sit down. Alfred made some great Shepherd's pie. " Bruce gently sat (Y/N) down at the kitchen island.

Soon enough, his brothers came home, tired and hungry. Dick was surprised to see Bruce home early, but didn't question it, simply sitting down as well.

" Hey B, didn't think you would be home so early. "

The conversation flowed from there and slowly everyone came home. Damian, Tim and Jason all showed various stages of shock. Damian simply nodded, Jason raised his brow and Tim let out a hum as they all sat down, hungry and ready to down some food. It's no easy task feeding 5 boys.

During the conversation, (Y/N) opened up to his brothers about his emotions and connections to magic, essentially repeating what he told Bruce about his magic. Everyone understood and knew that if (Y/N) needs cuddles, they are going to listen.

They don't want their home to be devastated by magic. They like this manor, believe it or not.

[topazadine]

How to Kick Ass at Worldbuilding

Worldbuilding. You either love it and spend all your time dreaming up rules rather than writing, or you hate it and try your best to avoid it despite writing fantasy or scifi.

Or you are in the middle, which is where you should be. You have a healthy appreciation for what makes worldbuilding so special, but you also don't obsess over it.

Worldbuilding does not need to be complicated to be effective, as I've harped on a few different times now. So how do you strike the right balance? Let's take a look.

As always, this is just my opinion based on my own efforts creating The Eirenic Verses. You can disagree and that is fine. However, I hope you'll consider thinking about what I offer here as you craft your own world.

A lot of what people focus on when worldbuilding is not what the audience cares about.

Very few people like to read a book littered with random terms they have to keep track of. We want to build a unique world, but we also don't want to throw such an extreme amount of lore at our readers that they tune out.

When worldbuilding, we want to consider the cognitive load on our audience. This is how much information the reader needs to remember throughout your story so that they can follow along.

Cognitive load includes things like:

Character names and appearances

Relationships between characters

Place names, such as cities and countries

Unique mythological creature or fauna

Backstory, including mythology and folklore

Language names

The general plot (who is the protag, who is the enemy, etc)

Magic usage (who has the power, how they acquire it, any conditions it comes with, etc)

Power dynamics between characters, countries, and so on

Political systems, if included

Even in the most barebones fantasy story, this is a lot to remember. As such, we need to consider what is most important for our readers to generally understand the plot and emphasize this, letting the rest serve as background information that is not quite as essential. The more emphasis we put on something, the more we direct a reader's attention.

At the same time, we want to create a world that feels lived-in and interesting so that readers want to know more. How do we do this?

Consider what you think about foreign countries in our world.

Most of us will have a general concept of a country but only will think about the specifics if it is currently relevant.

Let's take Japan for an example. (I'm a bit of a weeabo, okay?) Here is what I personally think about when I imagine Japan, in order of what I consider important.

Japanese cuisine (sushi, ramen, ochazuke, sake, lots of rice dishes, seafood)

What the people are like according to my own stereotypes/cultural perceptions (polite, quiet, respectful, hardworking, punctual)

Climate and geography (temperate, island country, volcanos, mountains, beaches)

Unique flora and fauna (cherry blossoms, flowers, Nara deer, giant salamanders, pretty birds)

General landmarks, but not necessarily specifics (castles, temples, busy cities, red bridges, torii gates)

Clothing styles (kimonos, school uniforms, business suits, kawaii fashion)

Cultural icons (samurai swords, samurai armor, Shinto shrines)

General overview of the history (samurai, daimyo, feudal system, bushido, Meiji restoration)

Language, but not necessarily specifics of the language (Japanese, kanji, hiragana)

Religion (Buddhism and Shintoism)

Folklore (ghosts, kami, tsukumogami, evil spirits)

Any festivals I might know of (cherry blossom festivals, moon viewings, Obon)

Your own list may have these in a slightly different order, but it's probably what you most think about.

Notice that you will likely not think about these things:

Political system

Specifics of the language

Interpersonal hierarchies

International relations

Specific landmarks

Specific historical events

Famous figures

So why do we think like this? Because in real life, we also have a cognitive load that we must balance with things that are more relevant to our everyday lives.

If I tried to memorize specific details of every country in the world, I would go insane. I have better things to do, so I create a general image of a country based on pictures I've seen, people I've met, food I've eaten, and so on. You do the same thing.

To be realistic, you do not need to be specific. You need to approach worldbuilding the same way people generate their world knowledge: basic concepts and visual imagery.

What to emphasize in worldbuilding

So let's break this down on what you want to think about when creating a world.

Food is one of the most accessible elements of a culture.

Food is how many people learn about different cultures for a simple reason: if you have the ingredients, you can cook food from anywhere. You don't need to be introduced to it by a native of that culture.

Plus, humans tend to like food. We kind of need it to exist.

Think about these things when considering national cuisines and eating habits of your fantasy world:

Do they have spicy food? Bland food? Heavy hearty dishes?

Is most food served hot or cold?

What kind of spices and vegetables do they use? Root vegetables, beans, cinnamon? Salt?

What type of meat do people eat (if any)? Seafood, poultry, beef, pork?

How is bread prepared? What is it made of? (Look, nearly every culture has some sort of bread, we love carbs)

What about pasta? Does that exist here?

Are desserts important? What are they made of?

What kinds of drinks do they have? Coffee, tea, milk, lemon water?

Is alcohol a thing? What kind of alcohol? How often do people drink? Are there bars?

How often do people eat, and when? Do they have the typical three square meals, or do people eat kinda whenever they feel like it?

Do people prepare food at home or are there restaurants?

Are communal dinners common?

Cultural stereotypes provide tension and can help craft your characters.

Are people in your culture known for their boldness? Their cunning? Their resilience? Their standoffishness? Their fiery tongues, or their passive-aggressive jabs?

You can play with a lot of this, either confirming or denying the assumptions through your characters.

Landscape gives us an idea of where we are and what to expect.

Landscapes are some of my favorite aspects of worldbuilding rather than intricate magic systems and political concepts. Readers get a good sense of environment when you focus in on landscape and how it impacts the characters. You can also build a culture off your landscape, such as how certain geographic features may influence peoples' attitudes and lifestyles.

For example, a coastal landscape will have beautiful views of the ocean, sparkling beaches, and maybe tall cliffs. Being a fisherman may be seen as an honorable but dangerous profession. People might cliff dive for fun.

Mountainous areas may produce cultural enclaves, especially in a fantasy setting where everyone is more isolated. One mountain town may have a completely different vibe than the town over.

Flat, wide-open plains mean people can spread out, but since moving from one place to another is easier, there may be a more cohesive culture.

An area with caves will have a sense of mystery and fear; there may be a lot of superstitions about the caves.

A swampy area can also be very mysterious as there are so many places to hide out and a lot of dangerous animals.

Climate influences how people behave.

Hot climates make people need to conserve energy, so they may take afternoon naps in the worst of the heat. They might value relaxation and calm over industry and productivity because bro, have you ever tried to even walk outside in the Florida heat? Shut up and get me air conditioning.

Cold climates make people need to stay active to stay warm, but they can also produce a sense of isolation. Think about how outdoorsy the Finnish are but how they looove their personal space.

Temperate climates are probably a bit more even-tempered, but as weather changes get more extreme, people will vary their behaviors based on the seasons: spending more time outdoors during summer but holing up during winter. The culture may emphasize hospitality because people need to rely on one another to survive, and they have time to meet their neighbors during the summer.

I am very partial to temperate climates, being from the American Midwest. We're known for being nice and hardy people. You should come visit.

Flora and fauna help the world feel real.

When I worldbuild, I often base my cultures on a real place and what kinds of animals or plants are there. For example, Breme is based on Mongolia so I have herbivores, big raptors, and a lot of grasses.

A warm climate will have lots of reptiles. Sea life will be important in a coastal area. Swamps might have big predators. Mountains will have hardy creatures that can climb. A savannah area will have huge herbivores and fast, hungry predators.

General cityscapes or villages are great for providing a sense of place.

Do people build low spread-out cities or tall rickety homes? What kinds of building materials do they use? Are there lots of markets, bars, apocetharies, temples or churches? What do homes look like here? What are any unique architectural features?

This gives a sense that we are in a different but specific world that has a rich culture.

Clothing tells us what people prioritize.

Cold places will have lots of layers. Hot places will have soft draping outfits or very skimpy outfits. Natural materials that are easily available will make up the majority of the clothing in a fantasy setting. You wouldn't have people wearing cotton in a place that doesn't grow cotton. If there are lots of sheep, people will wear wool. If there's lots of cattle, people will wear leather.

You can also think about adornment. Is jewelry common? What type? Why is it important? Is it a status symbol, a way to keep wealth, or perhaps ways to honor ancestors?

Cultural icons demonstrate what the society values.

A warlike culture will prioritize weaponry. A pacifist culture will think about art and music. A nomadic culture may have a rich oral tradition. An agrarian society will emphasize farming rituals.

Think of a few things that symbolize your society, whether that's musical instruments, weaponry, textiles, statues, or jewelry. Consider how those traditions could have come about and why.

Folklore and mythology offer an offbeat but important sense of history.

Folklore is often tied up with many other factors of a society, such as their religion, landscape, history, and overall values.

For example, the Japanese believe items survive for over a century gain a kami, or spiritual essence. This shows that the Japanese cherish their long history and their material culture, and it also infuses their Shinto belief into folklore.

You can also think about cryptids or ghost stories. Isolated and difficult terrain often makes people think of monsters lurking in the woods. Areas with lots of caves will have myths about what is down there. Coastal areas develop myths about ghost ships.

Idioms, turns of phrase, and gestural quirks tell us more about the culture without overwhelming readers.

This one can be more challenging (I haven't done much with it) but if you can manage it, you'll have a very rewarding story.

I'm not talking about making a whole new language here, but rather about idioms and turns of phrase. Think about all the fun idioms that English has, like "beating around the bush" or "break a leg." Without cultural context, you can't understand them, so you'll have to incorporate an explanation without actually stating it.

For example, you can have a character say "the horses are running fast" as they look out the window to see a sheet of rain. We can guess from this that the idiom is rain = horses, so lots of rain = fast horses. We'll understand from this that this culture probably loves horses; maybe they're a formerly nomadic race.

Gestures, like whether people give thumbs-up, point with their index, or bow with their hands to their chest all give us a feeling of the culture without being overwhelming.

What not to emphasize

Now that we've gone through some things to focus on, let's talk about what you don't need to make up for your world.

A whole-cloth language

Please, you don't need to create brand new words for things that exist in our world. You can reference a language, but do not make people memorize nouns they don't need.

Don't even make up the language at all. Say there's a language and then write the rest of it in English.

Made-up languages are irritating for readers because they want to focus on the characters and plot, not mysterious words they need to translate.

It's possible to make languages interesting without going into specifics. For example, the Bas-Lag trilogy by China Mieville has a species that communicates in clicks but the species can also learn human languages if necessary. There's a language called Salt that's basically the common tongue blended from everything else.

Do we need to know how Salt works? No. Doesn't matter. We're told someone is talking in Salt, or they're learning it, or they switch to it when meeting someone from a different culture. That's plenty.

Specifics of a magic system

You're not going to instantly summon up all the rules of magical realms when you visit a new country; you might not even know them. And your readers won't be too interested in them either.

For example, in The Eirenic Verses, I have High Poetry. Readers will come to know that this was a magical system where certain people given the power can recite a poem and whatever they speak comes true. Every poem can only be used once.

It was given by the goddess Poesy to a specific woman, Saint Luridalr. It was so successful that the goddess started giving it to more women and a whole religious system arose.

I don't need to explain exactly how it works because no one cares. Someone makes things happen by coming up with a poem: that's about it. We don't need to question whether certain rhyme schemes or meter or punctuation impacts anything. That's too technical.

If you've got pages and pages of notes on all the intricacies of the magical system, you have too much. Pare it down.

Political systems

Unless you're writing a fantasy where politics are absolutely critical to the plot, you can just reference the political system in passing and maybe elucidate a few key elements, like who the leader is, how power is transferred, etc. You don't need to go into all the specifics because most people are not going to care.

Hierarchies

Please don't lay out the entirety of an army's ranking system or how someone is promoted. Make up something consistent and stick with it, but don't go into exhaustive detail. People aren't going to sit and question whether a captain is above a lieutenant or how long it takes to become a general.

We'll know that a general is a big deal if the characters make it a big deal. We'll know who the head of the army is but we don't need to know how they got to that position.

Exact city layouts

You do not need to tell us where everything is in relation to one another. Tell us characters are moving from one landmark to another. You could say "this is across a bridge, this is up in the mountains, these buildings are right next to one another, these two buildings are in opposite ends of the city." That's plenty.

If somewhere is very far away, just show them travelling there and how long it takes. You don't need to measure it in miles or leagues or whatever. We will guess that if it takes them a week to walk there, it's pretty distant.

Economic systems

We just need the basics here: mercantile, capitalist, bartering, etc. We don't need to know if the coinage is pegged to a certain precious metal or if people invest their money or how people are paid. That's boring.

In my world, I have two currencies: quillim for Breme and barnals for Sina. What's the exchange rate? I don't know and don't care. How much is one quillim worth? One quillim is not a lot but 2,500 quillim is. How much is the average person paid? Doesn't matter. Do people keep lots of coins on them? No one is asking that. It's not important.

Transit systems

Tells us if the roads are cramped, spread out, nonexistent, poorly maintained. Tell us if there are road blocks or toll booths. Tell us if there are roving bandits. The more physical and sensory you can get, the more real it feels.

Few people care about the specifics of even their own transportation system. I know highways are fast, I know tollroads are expensive, I know parkways are pretty, I know some cities have weird turnabouts and dead ends. That's exactly what I need and what I care about.

That's what I've got for you today. If you liked this, maybe you'll consider checking out The Eirenic Verses series, which follows most of these principles.

I've been told that my fantasy writing is very approachable, even for those who don't usually like fantasy, specifically because I don't get too insane with my worldbuilding. So maybe you'll enjoy it too!

[hazyange1s]

Enshrouded

Summary: (abbreviated from the ao3 version because this baby is long enough 😂) MC is an Auror seeking refuge from the arduous nature of her everyday life, and finds it in a secret wizarding club hidden in London; where she has an unforgettable encounter with a strangely familiar, masked man.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC / Reader

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ MINORS DNI. — p in v, oral (f and m receiving), drug/alcohol use, semi-public, anonymous, little bit rough but nothing too crazy, mentions of violence/blood (mc just really LOVES her job lmao), lots of adult language oop, aged up characters (everyone is in their early 20’s)

Word count: 7.3k

A/N: this idea came to me in a dream… nah jk it came to me while watching Bridgerton (go figure). Started writing it months ago and after much self-doubt I present baby’s first published filth 💀

read here on Ao3 🌹

It was the mystery. She had long suspected that was what kept her going back for more, time and time again.

The risk of it all was enticing too, of course, but more than anything, she loved a damn good mystery. One complex and intricate, one that took time and effort to unravel. As an Auror, well, her life was chock full of such simple delights.

Regrettably, there wasn’t much joy to be had in solving the cases slapped on her desk by the Chief Auror - any satisfaction in making an arrest was often muddied by the names of the victims left behind. So she often sought out milder (but just as potent) forms of that heady adrenaline rush in order to scratch the itch - and her absolute favorite was Reverie. Unassuming enough as names go, and the facade would lead you to think so, too: its uniform brick painted a dingy gray just like every other shopfront along the shadowed, misty cobblestone of Knockturn Alley.

If any of her coworkers found out she frequented such a spot …oh, she’d never hear the end of it. Worse than that, her Chief might even believe such behavior warranted suspension; as wanton impropriety from a well known Ministry employee would bring her morals into question. Likely, she’d get an earful about the utter shame it would bring upon the Ministry itself if she were spotted.

But that was the glorious thing about Reverie: the moment you stepped through its doors, you became somebody else.

Or, rather, no one at all.

Attendance was by invitation only; delivered anonymously while the recipient slept soundly in their bed (certainly disconcerting, but how could she complain?). No letter, just a silken black mask.

Donning the disguise allowed its wearer to see past the heavy glamor placed on the building and step inside - without being apprehended by one of the black-clad guards on watch. Yet the mask’s hidden talents didn’t end there. It was the club’s signature secret: while it was true they merely framed the eyes, each mask contained a glamor of their own that completely concealed one’s identity - whether or not someone would recognize them without it.

(You could be staring into the face of your best friend and would never know it.)

Which, incidentally, was expressly forbidden inside the club’s boundaries (one of very few rules, mind); as strict anonymity was what kept the underground facility running, despite the fact that the Ministry remained attuned to the whispers of a taboo venue boasting all manners of rampant debauchery right under their noses.

Still, the sorcery that offered Reverie protection had held true for well over five years, and its owners were more than dedicated to ensuring it was always so.

Most well-versed and connected members of English wizarding society had at least indulged in rumors of an alternative establishment hidden in the city. They traded whispers of what horrors may lurk behind those gray walls - dark magic and blatant impropriety and dangerous indulgences…

They couldn’t be more right.

The air was already thick with the tang of whiskey and rank with perspiration by the time she arrived an hour after its Friday opening. With each step she took through the meandering crowd, heels clicking on the marble floors, curling smoke in every shade imaginable wafted around the room and blissfully chased away the odor with frankincense and mallowsweet.

But she hadn’t come for the medicinals tonight, tempting as they were after a week that had left her emptier than the glasses long ago abandoned by drunken patrons. Not even a goblet of Merlot or a shot of coffee liqueur (with a splash of cream) could chase away what ailed her.

No, tonight she sought only one means of release, and needed nothing but the tension simmering in her blood as fuel for the fire driving her to desperation.

Nights at Reverie were not for the faint of heart (or stomach), nor the chaste and mild. While technically not allowed in open spaces, more than half of the attendees usually found themselves with a partner by dawn; in one of the many private back rooms or curtained-off alcoves - or dark corners, even.

After all, what did they have to lose when the strings of your identity weren’t a factor?

Usually she’d been content to let the men and women come to her, and admittedly there hadn’t been a shortage of such… entanglements in the three months since she’d received her own mask.

But the time for coy shyness and drawn out flirtation was long gone. Leaning against one of the wall-to-floor Grecian columns at the edge of the room, she simply tossed back her hair and began to scan it for potential prey.

There was a generous sample size, it was true. A tall, lithe gentleman whose hair shone like spun gold, a flawlessly curved woman with rich brown skin, a broad redhead sporting a wide grin…

No, no, and no… none of them are just right.

She huffed with restrained frustration, tapping her foot to the string music playing a haunting melody that seemed to fill every space in the curved underground.

You know there’s only one person you wanted to find here tonight.

Perhaps she’d have to lower her standards - beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

“There you are.”

Gasping, she pressed a palm to her satin covered chest, which heaved beneath the boning of her - possibly too tight - corset at the unexpected greeting. But what truly robbed her of breath until she was penniless… oh, gods.

They’d answered her prayers after all: the man standing behind her with a luminous grin was precisely the one she’d been hoping to see.

A regular, as luck would have it. She’d spotted him in attendance more often than not, but had never had the courage to approach (mainly due to the slew of witches and wizards who got to him first).

With her attraction being largely from afar, she’d assumed that his lack of…well, anything - other than a single dance lasting no more than five minutes - had meant he was uninterested. Though the smile he wore was genuine, not like the mask framing his dark eyes, and it sparked in the dim lighting cast from candelabras around the wide room.

“Here I am…?” She quirked a brow questioningly, hand lowering to her hip. “But, er, you must be mistaken. I’m not sure I’m the person you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are.” His chuckle was somehow more musical than the quartet filling the air and more rough than smooth, but exquisitely rich - as was the material of his dark vest and the deep gray collared shirt rolled above his elbows.

“On account of the fact that I’d know that particular dress anywhere. We’ve never been properly introduced, as I recall.”

“You recall correctly.” She smiled - maybe coy was still in the cards, if only to spend more time with this handsome stranger.

“I suppose that’s frowned upon here really, so…I believe there’s a better way we could become acquainted, if you’d be amenable.”

She had to be impressed with his wanton confidence, if nothing else…though she got the sense there were many rather impressive things about him. Even more arresting was the boldness of his touch; broad hands reaching for hers to bring to his supple lips, where they lingered for a moment before releasing her gently.

Alright. He knew what he was doing.

But she had to play just a touch hard to get - if only to give him a taste of what he’d been dishing out for months (intentionally or otherwise). He’d been playing coy after their first and only real interaction; shooting her little winks and whispered hellos on random nights - only to disappear again amongst the all-black crowd without giving her a chance to respond.

Likely, he’d been going off to find some other witch or wizard for entertainment.

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, a knowing smile playing on her own red-painted lips. “I don’t recall meeting you at all. Your face has a similar quality to many men here, you see.”

“Ah, somehow I doubt that.” Darkness collected in his dimples (how had she not noticed them before?)

“Saturday, precisely two months ago to the day, you were dancing in my arms wearing a red dress like you have on right now.” His voice was like honey and velvet as he spoke. With each word, he seemed to get closer.

And yes, of course she remembered. She was just surprised he still did.

It’s why she’d been stuck with a ridiculous, schoolgirl infatuation for weeks now; why she’d worn red each and every night in the hopes of catching his attention once more.

The brief escapades she’d busied herself with in the meantime had done in a pinch, but there was something about him she was positively dying to unravel. Perhaps it was the spark in those deep brown eyes - like the dark liquor she favored- that spoke of depths hidden far below the playful, self-assured surface.

Or maybe it was how he smelled from mere inches away, as he was now: pine, sandalwood, and a spicy scent akin to the smoke furling around him like a haze of fog.

“You’ve got quite the memory.” She mused, unable to stop her smile from bursting into full bloom. “I suppose that does ring a bell— you trodded on my foot.”

He groaned. “I’d had a lot of whiskey that night. I’m usually much more coordinated when sober. In fact…”

His fingers slid up her wrist, moving with slow caresses up her arm and shoulder until they came to rest beneath her jaw, angling it up to align with his gaze.

“Is it too presumptuous of me to ask…if you’d let me make it up to you?”

For a moment - just a breath, she hesitated. And why? This was exactly what she’d come for tonight, and with the man she’d lusted over for ages now falling right into her lap… what sort of woman would refuse?

It was something unidentifiable, intangible. A tug on her gut. Something that flashed in the white of his smile as it caught the candlelight. Like a sense of deja vu; there one second and gone the next, leaving her with nothing but the old itch crawling beneath her flushed skin.

“Presumptuous, certainly. But not unwelcome. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She purred, squaring her shoulders and allowing him to guide her to the edge of the room with one palm flat on her lower back.

What she’d expected was to be whisked away to one of the rooms tucked away in the back; filled with four poster beds and velvet curtains and enough firelight to be a safety hazard. Instead, he brought her up to the bar, catching the attention of its immaculately suited (and masked) tender with a wave of his finger. The movement distracted her while he ordered Merlin-even-knew what. She found herself watching the way his fingers curled and wrist turned with each gesture made, his palms visibly calloused - perhaps he had seen his fair share of combat, too - and the backs of his knuckles covered in freckles.

She had to wonder what constellations might be found if she dared to uncover the rest of him.

A glint of gold caught the light, mercifully returning her attention on the smiling eyes of the man who had taken to slipping a glass of red wine between her fingers.

“Shall we toast?” He asked, tilting his chin up in the direction of the raised goblet.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To…” his lips pursed thoughtfully. (Another startlingly distracting body part.) How pink and supple they looked, and how good they would taste when stained with burgundy…

“Liberation.“

Fitting, indeed.

“Santé.” She touched her chalice to his without breaking the meeting of their eyes.

“Slainte.”

The cloying bitterness of Merlot coated her tongue, filling her stomach with warmth - a taste she hadn’t encountered for years. One she missed dearly.

“How’d you know I’d like Merlot?” She licked wine from her bottom lip.

He spoke at the same time; thick brows arched high. “You’re French?”

They laughed, the sounds winding together into a hypnotic sort of harmony.

“You first.” He inclined his head.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m simply fluent in the language.” She couldn’t give away any secrets, not even the place of her birth.

“That accent was flawless. Nobody but a native could articulate like that.”

She shook her head coyly, though not without amusement.

“Fine.” A sigh that seemed almost long-suffering stirred the smoke coiling around them. “I prefer my women with a bit of mystery, anyway. As for your question, darling…”

Oh, he was a rogue through and through. His eyes greedily swept over every inch of her gown to settle on the curves and shapes he seemed to appreciate most before he even deigned to finish.

“It’s… bold. Much like you, if you don’t think me too audacious for saying so.”

He paused to take another sip, savoring the act of licking his lips as she had moments ago, and almost smugly noting her obvious interest. “And I’ve obviously noticed you enjoy the color red, even if that part’s a bit on the nose.”

“You could say that.” Her heart fluttered traitorously into her throat. His undivided and enthusiastic attention was not only a welcome surprise, but a conflicting one. It wouldn’t do to fall for a masked man - in the end, they could never truly know each other beyond the four walls that brought them together.

Reverie. A dream - that’s all. You’ll wake up in the morning.

She straightened her shoulders, resolved and refortified. “And do you? Enjoy the color, that is?”

Her voice was low, only audible due to the minute distance between them, the man tilting his head down towards her as one finger grazed the dip of her neckline.

“What’s not to love?” He mused. “Red represents… vitality. Danger. Passion…”

Her skin prickled in the wake of the trail he drew from collar to shoulder and down her arm, and when it found her free hand, their fingers threaded together with such ease that they could have done it a thousand times before.

He could hear her heart, couldn’t he? With that amount of surety behind his stare, there was no doubt she was being read like an open book.

“That’s why we keep coming back here, isn’t it?” He was near enough now that every word was felt as a cloud of heat gracing her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Because we relish danger, and need passion like air. We all come to feel… alive.”

“Hmm. It’s almost as if you prepared that line beforehand.” She laughed.

His was such a beautiful sound, bubbling like champagne and leaving her with a warm feeling as if she’d tasted it herself.

“Let’s say I did… is it working?”

”Absolutely.”

Whatever spell had allowed them to maintain a sense of decorum shattered after that confirmation, which said so much more than was spoken aloud. The look exchanged between them was another conversation in itself; a volley of traded questions and answers that sent pure lightning skittering up her spine.

“Come with me.” He said abruptly (though not without a dutiful incline of his head; dark hair shining with veins of red in the candlelight) before tugging her away from the bar, where their drinks were hastily abandoned.

It seemed he was just as content to curse restraint, pulling her along with such haste that she tripped on her skirts (more than once) - evidently forgetting his longer legs and her tall heels as she bumped into a distracted patron that was left with a spilled drink, a scowl, and a breathless apology she didn’t quite mean.

They paused at the mouth of the corridor tucked in the back. It was lined with nothing but identical doors of deepest mahogany: some tightly shut, some cracked, and others yet wide open.

The meaning behind each was simple enough: shut meant “do not disturb”, cracked meant “listen or join, if you dare”, and wide open meant “vacant”. The wizard gave her a boyish grin as they all but stumbled to a stop in front of one that remained ajar and beckoned with soft golden light from the candles within.

“What are you waiting for?” She panted.

Without waiting on so much as a blink, her hand fisted in the crisp white of his button down, guiding him through the threshold before the slam of wood against the frame echoed in the empty chamber.

“A witch who knows what she wants, I see.” He chuckled, his hands needing no invitation to wind around her waist until their bodies molded at each curve.

“Well, you’ve been taunting me for a while, haven’t you?”

She took advantage of her hold on his clothes, forgoing the ease of simply waving her wand when she could take the opportunity to feel every inch of skin she revealed by releasing the buttons on his shirt.

Freckled - just as she’d suspected, and with a neat nest of dark hair over the swell of his pectorals that her palms begged to rest on.

“Wait, wait.” He huffed, hands coming to halt hers before they had time to slide the heavy coat from his shoulders.

“No - not wait as in stop -“ he’d seen the crease between her brows. “Wait, as in… slow down.”

”You seemed rather impatient a minute ago when you were dragging me through the place.” She said wryly.

“Impatient to get you alone, yes.” His knuckle grazed her cheek gently, reverently studying what little of her face he was able to see.

“But…” It was as transient as a ghost, at first. A phantom of touch over the swell of her lip, and then firmer as his thumb outlined the shape. “I’d very much like to kiss you first. May I?”

That he even asked such a question - let alone made his intentions to savor the night clear - was enough to poke another hole in her notions of a one-night affair. What if she couldn’t stand to never have this man again when it was over?

Well… there was always the luxury of dreams.

“Yes, of course.” She whispered.

She’d been right earlier - the taste of wine clung to the corners of his mouth, somehow even sweeter when combined with a hint of peppermint cooling the sharp breath he took the moment their lips fit together effortlessly. Her tongue sought to part them in search of the buzz that the alcohol couldn’t take credit for; finding his and groaning with delight as he melted into her.

A soft tug on her scalp announced the presence of his fingers as they threaded through strands of hair with the sole purpose of eliminating any and all space between them. Eagerly he rolled their tongues together, smearing the red painted on her lips across his chin.

They only paused to share a breath that left her dizzy. The sight of his skin stained with rouge was more beautiful than any art piece hanging on the tapestried walls - and there would be more colors adorning it by the end of the night, if she had anything to say about it.

“Now…” The brunet exhaled when they broke apart, lips brushing with each word. “Now, you can take off my clothes.”

No need to tell her twice.

His vest slumped to the floor, giving her leave to continue her work on that long trail of buttons ending at the waist of his trousers. Before long it, too, was little more than a rag at their feet. When she was privy to every square inch of his bare torso, her hands took liberties to caress the panes of his chest, marveling without shame.

“If you’ll allow me the honor, I’d like to even the score.” His voice was near a husk as he watched her intently.

No complaints arose (alright, perhaps one — when he spun her around; effectively depriving her of the ability to keep touching him) as the skilled wizard sought the eye hooks at the back of her bodice, dexterous fingers releasing each one with a snap that seemed to echo. All the while his mouth found her skin - tongue laving over her throat, teeth nipping where it met her shoulder to plant a bloom of deepest red.

“Mmm… keep doing that.” She hummed appreciatively, head lolling to the side.

“You don’t mind if I leave you a few reminders to find in the morning?” He chuckled. By then, he’d succeeded in freeing her of the constricting garment, tossing it to the carpet by the fire before he started to untie her skirt.

“Not at all.”

”Good,” another kiss, just below her ear this time. “Because I want to be able to see that it’s still there next time we meet.”

If he wasn’t careful, she’d start to think he already had plans to do this again.

She didn’t wait for him to move her this time; taking control back once she was only clad in her underthings by going for the buttons holding up his bottoms. Oddly enough, her fingers took on a tremulous quality - one she’d rarely (if ever) experienced in an intimate moment since her very first.

He seemed to adopt a similar growing impatience that made him forgo the back and forth to slip the sleeves of her chemise down, guiding the garment over her figure.

”Gods, you’re a vision.” He groaned and reached for the curve of her waist, feeling out the shape only to travel upwards until he could cup a breast in each hand, thumbs teasing the peaks hardened against the air.

Even as she shivered when he leaned down to bestow a kiss on either one, she managed to get him out of everything but the long undergarments concealing that which she craved most. But when she went for them, he stopped her yet again - catching her wrist only to sweep the startled witch into his awaiting arms with a self-satisfied grin.

The mattress depressed beneath her weight, bouncing back as she blew away a stray lock of hair to look up at him. Watching the way his arms — corded with thick veins — flexed and his eyes narrowed. With barely concealed impatience he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his hands around her thighs.

“Quite the man handler, you are.” She giggled once he’d yanked her towards him so her legs fell open on either side of his knees.

That drew the attention of his wandering eyes.

“Somehow I doubt that was a complaint.” His mouth quirked in earnest. ”Nor do I envision you’ll have any after I’m done with you.”

He began to toy with the idea of removing her drawers - the last thing preventing her from losing her mind, potentially - by sliding his fingers beneath their frilly hems, nails prickling the skin of her thighs as they scratched up and down in a taunting rhythm.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered out of the clear blue. “Anything. The only things I know about you are that you’re French, love the color red and Merlot… oh, and you’re a much better dancer than me.”

Sharing random factoids wasn’t necessarily the foreplay she’d been expecting, nor the kind she was used to, but she couldn’t say she minded when his voice alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Uhmm…” She had to think of something vague; a throwaway tidbit useless to anyone else.

While he watched, waited with wide and patient eyes, she sighed, “I can’t go a day without coffee. Never quite developed a taste for tea. And I drink it with three sugars.”

He blinked twice in quick succession. All the while he had yet to stop playing with the edges of her knickers, though he gradually let one hand inch up her covered thigh, as if testing the waters. But, she wondered… what was there to test? He had been so self-assured outside this room, yet now there was a hint of nerves beneath the cool exterior.

”So dark and sweet is the way you like it, huh?” He simply couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

The smirk she donned was enough of an answer. “Tell me something about you, then.”

”Me… well.” His mouth quirked before he shifted on the bed - lying on his stomach to greet the center of hers with a kiss. Then each of her hips with a gentle nip.“I love to read. Anything I can get my hands on, really. Fiction, nonfiction, magical and otherwise… I’ll devour it all.”

A slight pinch followed by the softness of his lips alerted her to another cluster of marks he began working onto her lower stomach, covering as much ground as he could on her thighs. His breath, heating her core as it came in little pants, was beginning to become a significant problem - one made her feel warm and heavy. Like sinking into a hot bath, if it were near-boiling.

“In fact, if I had to pick my favorite place in the world, it would be sitting in front of a fire with a good book.” His fingertip ever so slightly grazed the inner curve of her thigh.

“A man of charm and intelligence…how ever did I get so fortunate?”

He chuckled at her teasing lilt, the sound tickling her sensitive skin while he began to make way for the kisses left up the length of her thigh — bunching her drawers up until his fingers just brushed the soft nest of curls at the top.

“Although right now I have to say; I’m very much enjoying this spot, as well.” The wicked man smiled up at her.

“Well, if you’re waiting for an invitation, you’ve got it.” She tried to sound casual about it all, but truth be told, she was fighting every urge to rip his underwear off and throw him onto the bed herself like some sort of madwoman.

He might make her into one before the sun rose, anyway.

She was sure of it when he began pressing tortuously chaste kisses to her other thigh, and when his fingers slid lower to deliver a gentle stroke down the center of her slit had her shuddering with anticipation.

“And how long have you been this wet, love?” His deep rasp was muffled by the fabric of her underwear.

She chuckled. “Hmm…since the moment you took me to the bar, probably.”

He sat up with a distinctly prideful grin, slipping the soft cotton undergarments down her legs, his eyes alight as he settled back between them.

She could almost see the words hanging off his lips as he gazed up at her (that sight was enough to make her hips shift needily), but for whatever reason, they weren’t cut loose. No, he busied his mouth with far more important pursuits. After pausing briefly to indulge his eyes in an appreciative sweep of her naked body, he at last found the perfect spot to make her whine (and on the first try, too) with naught but a languorous sweep of his tongue.

It wasn’t nearly enough to quell any bit of the ache driving her into inevitable madness, but he showed her mercy by flattening the wet muscle against her folds and following a slow trail up until the tip of it lightly flicked her clit.

“Oh, please do that again.” She pleaded (had she been reduced to begging so quickly?), one hand inching towards her breast — seeking any more stimulation she could find — as the other slid through the silken waves atop his head.

He obliged. But with more pressure this time, and so, so slow, observing her reaction as if she were the most scintillating thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

It really was something about those eyes. With such unfairly long lashes that fanned over russet cheeks, and the way the candlelight flickering off the walls would touch them just so to light the near-black irises with a rich gold. His lips stretched against her skin, noticing her attention and giving her an approving hum that was met by the push of her hips towards his tongue.

“Mmmph —“ he grunted when her thighs pressed to his ears, entrapping him between them greedily. “Like that, do you?”

Her answering moan earned another grin followed by a gentle suck on her clit that only brought out another breathy, low sound.

“But gods, you taste so sweet…decadent, just as I’d said.”

Merlin, his voice…the way it rumbled with barely contained desire and pulled obscenities from her own throat was sinful.

Drowning in sin didn’t seem such a bad way to go, at present.

The possibility became reality once he re-added a finger to the mix; curling it beneath his tongue to trace the folds before sinking gradually into her awaiting heat.

“Oh, f—“

One of her own fingers rolled her nipple atop the breast she’d been playing with as she shivered. If he kept this up much longer, she would surely come undone right on his tongue; wrapped around that rough digit gliding in and out of her as it stroked her upper walls.

But that didn’t feel right. As wonderful as the softness of his lips enclosing around her clit was, she couldn’t imagine a proper substitute for the stretch his cock would provide instead.

“I need…” she had been about to voice her request when the tip of his tongue prodded her entrance. Both of her hands now gripped his auburn waves like they were keeping her tethered to earth, legs trembling with the effort to fight off the warmth swelling in her core.

“Need what?” He took an eager breath in, only to release it through pursed lips over the throbbing bud he seemed to adore. “I want to hear it loud and clear, lovely.”

An impatient groan parted her bitten lips. “I need more. I need you inside me when you make me come.”

“There you go. Gods, you sound so pretty when you ask to be fucked…” It took one last excruciating pump of his finger inside of her before he withdrew to push himself up onto his knees with a mess of her own making shining on his clean-shaven chin.

“First, though…” The finger coated with her fluids was sucked between his reddened lips. When it was pulled out with a slick, slow draw, he crooked it in her direction. “Come here. I want you to get a little taste, too.”

Don’t mind if I do.

On trembling hands she raised herself up on wobbly knees pressed into the soft mattress, sucking in a breath when she curled her fingers over the band of his underwear and waited for approval.

“Don’t be shy.” He coaxed gently.

It was difficult not to be at least a little intimidated by the proud shape outlined through his bottoms (and leaving a very telltale wet spot in the light fabric), but she pushed past it with a firm swallow.

Her breath whooshed out without prompting as she rolled them over his hips and the rather shapely swell of his backside. And, as it had before taking a sip of the wine he’d offered earlier, her mouth watered when she was rewarded with the view of his cock as it twitched at the first rush of air over the leaking tip.

Personally, she wasn’t much of an artist. She preferred a wand to a brush and blood over red paint, but there was something about him that begged to be immortalized on canvas. How satisfying it would be to perfectly capture the artful tapering from wide shoulders to a slimmer waist, or even to carve from marble the thickness of his thighs.

She doubted it would do him justice.

“Are you going to paint a portrait?” He teased, as if ripping those very thoughts from her mind.

“Just might. And could you blame me?” She answered with a bite of her lip. But there was too much bloody talk going on. In the spirit of action, she lowered her mouth to meet the curve of his hipbone and began marking a wet trail downwards.

The light scrape of his fingernail over her cheekbone made her lashes flutter as he tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, his breathing growing more labored when her palm slipped over the softness of his length — only to fold her fingers around it with gentle pressure. By the time she brushed her lips over the head — then her tongue to collect the salty fluid now leaking down the shaft — he was keening under his breath.

“Mmhmm…keep going, please.” he murmured.

As if she would stop. On the contrary, she wrapped her mouth around him, making a circle around the ridge of his cockhead with the tip of her tongue only to trace the length of him by following a thick vein. He was thick — stretching her lips wide when she took him in inch by inch, allowing him to prod the back of her throat to moisten her mouth.

“Just like that. You’re doing brilliantly, love; just perfect.” He said breathlessly, scraping her hair back into a haphazard updo with a broad hand.

Spurred on by the praise, she hollowed her cheeks for a better seal, dragged her mouth along his shaft until he rewarded her with a broken, guttural moan. She kept it up until finding a rhythm that his hips desperately pushed forward to match.

“I won’t… fuck, you’re going to make me embarrass myself…” he chuckled weakly.

Well that wouldn’t do at all. As much as the idea of swallowing his seed enticed her, there was a far better option in her mind. Which is why, despite his immediate protest in the form of a low grunt and a harsh tug on her hair, she gave one last slow lick before pulling away.

The increasingly flustered wizard tracked her movements with lust-glazed eyes. “I was hoping to drag this out, but I think you’re proper ready for me, aren’t you?”

Her enthusiastic nod spurred a laugh as he unfolded her legs from beneath her, wasting no time in hooking one around his hips and propping the other up to rest on his shoulder. The view was… magnificent, and he seemed to agree as his tongue darted out to taste her essence on his lips.

She’d expected another round of teasing. How relieved she was when instead, the blunt head of his cock parted her readily, sweeping through the slickness there with a stuttered, needy groan.

And just when she was about to insist —

A gasp tore through her dry throat as he pushed himself inside of her with little resistance. She was suddenly so full; though it wasn’t until he was fully sheathed that she let out a long, breathy sigh.

“Good? You alright?” He murmured, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of her thighs. When she nodded, his mouth curled into a smile that she felt amidst the kisses left along her calf.

Oh, it was more than good — by the time he dragged his length out just to drive himself forward again, she was positively keening for more; her hands blindly reaching for some part to grab and managing to splay them flat on his lower back to force him deeper. He could hardly fight her, and it seemed like he didn’t want to anyway. The wizard’s eyes had grown hooded with lust, those sumptuous lips parting to make way for a moan that sent a shock down her spine. Her own eyes fluttered shut as he began to glide in and out of her in languid, practiced thrusts.

“Mm mmm,” he hummed chastingly. “I’d like to see those pretty eyes.”

His boldness — so wildly sexy.

Looking at him was almost a taboo in itself. Nine times out of then, her trysts had involved a lot of pleasure-filled sounds and heavy breathing; but conversation? Not so much. Some people didn’t even like to be kissed — and others found a prolonged gaze entirely too intimate.

This man didn’t just fuck. It was a different experience altogether, and it was bloody incredible. So, like the hopelessly besotted witch she was, she met his gaze and responded with a wanton moan at the sight of his head thrown back in pleasure while his hips made wide circles against hers.

“Gods, you fit like a glove,” his body shuddered with a stuttered exhale. “Feel so good…”

She canted her hips up to meet his in protest of his lazy pace, earning a broken chuckle before being rewarded with the head of his cock roughly probing her to its absolute limit.

“Godric…” she whined pathetically. “Again — right there.”

“Is Godric Gryffindor the one providing your pleasure right now?” He mocked. “No, I don’t think so.”

”Well, then tell me your name, and I’ll scream it as much as you want.”

Locks of mussed hair fell over his forehead as the man shook his head, ignoring her small pout, but soothing the disappointment by giving her something else she’d wanted.

Again, he speared himself nice and deep. And again; and again, until her nails were carving crescents into the muscle of his back and he was whispering streams of filth into her ears between husky groans. Just when she was about to warn him of her rapidly approaching release, he had to go and stop — worst of all, he dragged his length out of her.

“You must be joking,” she panted.

A wicked grin told her she was in for it, and her thighs squeezed together in anticipation as he twirled his finger midair. “Oh, we’re not done. Sit up for me, love, and turn around. That’s it… now put your hands on the headboard.”

When her fingers curled around the solid chunk of wood, the bed dipped and creaked as he came up behind her, chest to spine and fingers curling over hers.

“Make sure you’re holding on tight.” Without warning, he ripped a sharp cry from her throat by driving back into her lonely heat until his hip bones dug into her ass and she swore she could see the night sky in that very room.

“Buggering hell —“ she blurted. This new angle was sure to be the end of her, and he was well aware of it from the delighted chuckle he huffed in her ear.

”You’ve got such a mouth on you for a lady… damned if I don’t love it.” The wizard panted with pride.

He wasn’t taking it easy on her any longer. The sheer force of his thrusts was enough to rock the bed frame against the wall; the thuds as the headboard struck exposed brick likely heard by everyone in the surrounding rooms (not that she had any room to care in her sex addled brain). It was enough to wring every last coherent thought from her, rendering her a shaking, mewling mess and unable to do anything but meet each snap of his hips with her own — while holding on for dear life.

“Oh, yes…” he was on his way to leaving bruises on her hip from the force of his steadying grip, but the sparks of pain only led her to greater pleasure.

Well-attuned to the signs of her mounting release as it threatened to overwhelm her for the third time, he released her hand to reach around and find her clit, abandoning the precision and prowess from before. Those dexterous fingers worked tirelessly, and coupled with the uneven little pants warming her neck between his kisses…

“I know you’re close, love,” he shuddered. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

He threw every last bit of his energy into shoving her over the edge; and as his cock prodded that spot inside of her once more, she gave in and fell apart under his hands. Every unbridled, broken sound that tumbled out as she rode through her orgasm was met with an encouraging whimper from the wizard. Just when the last bit of pleasure was wrung from her body, he pulled out with a groan, releasing ropes of warm seed over her backside and spine.

There he rested for a moment. While he caught his breath, the man’s hands traced the shape of her body, slipping in the essence coating her with a proud chuckle. “Evanesco.” he murmured, restoring her skin to its unmarred state.

“Are you…” he gulped in a lungful of sex-scented air. “Are you alright?”

“Brilliant.” She panted, letting go of the headboard to turn and rest her back against it instead. “You?”

It was an understatement, really: all that stress pounding between her temples and tension in her shoulders had disappeared. She felt spectacular.

“Never better.”

He sank back to his knees, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he admired her with a lazy grin. How she wished she could peel the satin from his cheeks to see that smile reach his dark eyes…

“Only wanted to make sure. You were getting quite loud.” The question seemed more taunt than anything.

Walking might prove difficult for the next couple of hours (at the least), and her hair was likely in a right state (along with her marked-up skin), but none of that mattered when the lingering rush instilled her with a rare lightness.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not at all. I was very much enjoying the sounds you made. Means I did my job well.”

She gave him a playful eye roll, rolling onto her side with the intention of returning to the solace of his arms before she realized — pillow talk and cuddling were sort of an unspoken faux pas when it came to casual encounters. Usually, her or her partners would leave the bed before the sweat had dried on their skin, and for once the expectation felt…lonely.

It truly struck her when he cleared his throat a moment later, gingerly untangling their weakened limbs to climb out of the bed seeking the various items of clothing discarded across the room.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyes darting to her before he located his pants. “Water, food..? Anything.”

Though appreciative, she waved his offer away with a quiet laugh. “I’ll be just fine. Though I’m sure I’ll need a hot bath at home.”

Sitting idly in bed while he already had a foot out the door picked at her pride, and so the Auror dragged herself out of it on trembling fawn’s legs. She managed to locate her underthings and slip them on before plucking her gown up from the floor.

“Oh,” a flash of gold caught her eye, and she bent to retrieve his trousers — as well as the shiny pocket watch that had evidently fallen out while they were distracted earlier. “Here, you don’t want to lose this.”

He was dragging his shirt over his bed head when she walked over to return it. She couldn’t help but admire the piece’s subtle artistry; the metal so perfectly preserved with intricate curling ivy etched into the rim of the case. Such a unique design…

So unique that she could easily recall seeing one just like it before.

And it, too, had been monogrammed with the letter S.

If he hadn’t snatched the watch out of her hand before the shock hit, she might have dropped and broken one of the last artifacts of the Sallow family.

Merlin, the irony of her asking for his name to say it in bed when she wanted to scream it in outrage now. And of course he had the audacity to take a step towards her, to soften his wide brown eyes (how had she looked into them and not known) and adopt an innocent frown; the one he had always used before begging for forgiveness.

She took a step back in turn and fixed him with a look that could have frozen the fire in the hearth. It was enough to confirm for him exactly what conclusion she’d reached.

“Blast it all, it is you.” He breathed.

“Sebastian?”

[ranticore]

in inver verse (inverse, if u will), what's the difference between a faerie and a god? it seems to be less a matter of innate difference, and more a matter of whether or not a given entity is socially acceptable to worship. the Immortal Hound is a god, the Puca is not, despite both seeming to be of a similar nature

and if this is true, does that mean that the Southern God is also a faerie?

actually i will answer this but it's a waffling nonanswer as is my custom

although the monarchy & upperclass of inver (and lower class ppl from the regions in the west like Moya, arranged along what were once ancient battle-lines between Inver's founding people) certainly have their own set of cultural practices, celebrations, and rituals, they would not describe kossith as a god nor think of him as one. for a definition of god as we would understand it (i.e let's take the prechristian irish pantheon for example since i guess that's an apt base state to compare against. it's not like that). although the practices are on the surface somewhat worshipful it is not worship, and neither is it mandatory for any citizen of inver loyal to the monarchy to do the same. you, random person, you are free to take or leave the Immortal Hound. it doesn't matter what you choose or how you think of him because your disbelief is not an existential threat.

people who are in some sort of contact with faeries exist on a spectrum from witch (active communication) to any random everyday person who leaves a set of iron tongs by a cradle to guard a baby. if you aren't a witch you wouldn't be considered to be associated with any one entity - the farmer who stops to turn his jumper inside-out to ward off any faeries who might trap him in a field isn't participating in an act of worship or even self-defence. that's just mundane common sense. anyone would do that.

it was not just the monotheism of the church of suzette that was originally considered so unacceptable that it was banned from entry to inver, but the thought of 'organised religion' in and of itself was kinda fucked to consider for even ordinary people of inver. by the 1860s there would be small enclaves of converts, particularly along the border with Aquitan (which is a theocracy after all), but they were poorly understood by their peers. "so it's just the one faery?" they'd ask. "And you're answering to a bishop instead?"

but god is not a faery, the converts insist

conceptualising 'the actual Christian god' as presented by the Suzette Church posed a problem to the uncivilised barbarians of Inver. "now hold on," they would say, "the leader of Aquitan is a bishop? not god?"

"no," the missionary would reply, "the bishop serves under the Throne, who is in communion with God."

"sure we could just talk to god ourselves then, cut out the middle men"

tying the Church to its medical services (and other philanthropic activities) was the only method by which it got any foothold at all in Inver. their miracle cure, penicillin, was considered on the same level as a witch's spell. "god did that, I suppose." but the dilution of Suzette's faith by the inevitable incorporation of Inver folk magic was also a reason for it not to spread too quickly there, and to guard the foothold it had without trying to step any further.

is there evidence for god? any fool could look outside and know faeries and their servants are real. god, though?

[thiswasneverthat]

him as your bestfriend (who's secretly in love with you.)

happy belated birthday, sweetest christopher.

First and foremost, the term 'secretly in love with you' didn't quite apply to Chris.

It was not because he ever vocalized his affection; but rather, the poor guy's emotions weren't the type that could easily be concealed. There were times when the heat would slowly creep up his cheeks at the moment you unconsciously grabbed his arm during movie night; or when you simply sit a little bit too close to him.

From the very moment you crossed paths in college, your lives became intertwined. Fast forward a few years, and even in the professional world when the two of you worked at the same company, nothing had altered. You and Chris remained inseparable, like two puzzle pieces that had found their perfect fit.

All along, you were acutely aware of his feelings for you. It wasn't like he was the master of subtlety, despite his best intentions. He convinced himself that his emotions were a well-kept secret, solely because he never uttered a word about them.

But, oh, the truth was far from his perception.

Your mutual friends, the ones who witnessed the sparks fly whenever you two were together, were not as oblivious as he thought. They quietly shared knowing glances behind your backs, exchanging unspoken truths that floated in the air, forming an invisible thread of connection between you and this affectionate but seemingly covert admirer.

Knowing Chris for years had granted you an unparalleled understanding, almost as though you possessed a special ability to read him like an open book. It was in the subtle nuances, the unspoken gestures, and the way his eyes lingered on you just a moment longer than anyone else. The way he uttered your name held a unique cadence, a tenderness that set it apart from the rest of the world.

His actions also spoke volumes, a silent declaration of his affection. From those daily post-work rides that ended at your doorstep to the steaming cup of coffee that appeared magically in your hands each morning, even though he was no coffee aficionado himself. As if it was the most natural thing, he wove his affection into your everyday life.

And then there were the moments of solace where he held you close when tears welled in your eyes, offering hushed comfort when words fell short. On holidays, Chris became your reliable chauffeur, ensuring you reached your parents' house with ease.

But perhaps the defining moment was when he stepped inㅡ a knight in modern armor, to protect you from the advances of an unruly drunkard during a night out with friends. It was in these moments, when his affection for you transcended mere words and blossomed into the unspoken verse of actions.

Well.. How endearingly oblivious he was.

He carried this fallacy that by keeping his feelings unspoken, they would remain a well-guarded secret. 

More often than not, you also found yourself yearning for a different script, one where Chris would step out of his best friend persona and take the role of someone more than that.

You really couldn't help but wish he would just muster up the courage to articulate those elusive words, breaking free from the confines of the 'best friend' charade that he maintained with such dedication for years. 

The frustration, like a relentless drumbeat, echoed within you because you had lost count of the times you teetered on the edge of confessing your own feelings.

However, in the grand scheme of things, you were very much aware of the added layers of complexity. The cliché was undeniable: you wanted him just as fervently, if not more so. Yet, your hesitation served as a sentinel against reckless decisions.

You understood the profound risk involved. The weight of the question lingered in your mind like a persistent echo: was it worth jeopardizing the treasured friendship you shared for the possibility of something more like.. love?

Because the fear loomed largeㅡ that one day, if the tides turned unfavorably, your beautifully woven friendship with him might fray and unravel.

And more than you would like to admit, the mere thought of losing him shattered you into a gazillion pieces.

So, until the time you would be ready, or until that one point where you just really couldn't take it anymore, you convinced yourself to put on a smile and pretend to be blissfully oblivious as he was. 

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 12

Part 11

Last Time: Steve's struggling with Eddie being back in town, and Dustin just tries his best to help

~~~

Eddie’s been in Chicago for almost three months and Jeff’s only called once. They’d chatted for a few minutes before Eddie spilled all the beans about Steve. Jeff wasn’t all that surprised, which surprised Eddie in return, and when he told Jeff as much, his friend laughed. “It was only a matter of time, Eddie.” And he’d said it with such grace that Eddie felt the anxiety slough from his shoulders. Either with or without him, the band would be fine. 

Now, Eddie’s learned to savor the casual routine he and Dustin have established over the past month. It’s been nice, relaxing– normal.

While Dustin spends his days working from his home office upstairs, Eddie cooks, cleans, and avoids calls from his manager. Somedays Nancy and Jonathan invite him over for dinner. He’s also started meandering the neighborhood, discovering all the reasons Dustin picked here to settle down. Around the corner is a small game store which hosts DnD nights on Wednesdays and Magic the Gathering tournaments on Saturdays. It’s next door to a record shop and a small cafe that serves the best cranberry orange muffins Eddie’s ever tasted.

He’s starting to gain some of the weight back he lost, so the small amount of clothes he brought with him are starting to dig in. Dustin says it’s thanks to the home cooked meals and down time, now that he’s not partying every night. Cooking is another part of everyday living Eddie’s come to love. Steve had done all the cooking before, not just because Eddie didn’t know how, but because Steve genuinely enjoyed it. He doesn’t think his skills will ever be that good, but that doesn’t matter much. Eddie’s already halfway through a cookbook and hasn’t felt this proud of himself since he learned how to play.

It’s well into April when Dustin suggests renovating the downstairs guest bedroom into a temporary recording studio. Eddie considers it for a grand total of three hours before he calls his manager– much to their relief– to have his guitars and equipment shipped from LA on the promise of starting a new solo album. By the time it arrived, the room’s sound proofed with mounted wall hooks for each of his sweethearts. He’s also furnished it with a few plush couches and a black leather barstool beneath the hanging microphone.

This is where Eddie sits now, headphones pulled up and plugged in, his old-school acoustic swung across his back as he leans over a notebook scribbling out the lyrics falling muffled from his lips. He hums the melody, repeating the last verse to himself when there’s a soft poke on his shoulder. Startled, Eddie shouts and barely manages to catch his guitar before he tumbles off the barstool on top of it. Loose sheets scatter across the floor as he fumbles the notebook. He gathers as much as he can, but when he stands, he finds Dustin scanning some before he can snatch them away.

“Those are private, dude,” Eddie exclaims, shoving them unceremoniously into his pocket. Hopefully later he’ll be able to make out the writing through the wrinkles. 

“Yeah, seems like it,” Dustin replies. He avoids eye contact, shuffling back and forth, and picks at his fingernails. “So, are those–”

“New songs.”

“–breakup songs?”

Eddie sighs, rubs his hands down his face. Dustin’s eyes are on him when Eddie moves his hands away. He feels seen, overly scrutinized, much in the same way Max and Nancy first looked at him. Dustin’s the only kid who’ll talk to him, but Eddie’s been living here for two months now and on some level, it feels like they haven’t talked about anything. Stuff like what’s for dinner, shopping lists, TV shows, video games. Things that don’t really matter.

The studio’s suddenly claustrophobic, but as Eddie moves towards the door, a half-hearted bullshit reason to leave stuck in his throat, Dustin steps in front of him.

“You know Steve’s happy, right?”

Ok so they’re talking about it. Eddie’s been anticipating this since the phone call, but is still unprepared for the solid earnestness scrawled across Dustin’s face.

“Yeah, Nancy told me everything. About all of it.” Eddie crosses his arms, can’t help hunching in on himself. Big, loud, and obnoxious never worked around Dustin, who could match him step-for-step. And after his initial conversation with Nancy, all Eddie wants to do is hide– preferably here in Dustin’s basement. “She takes care of him, she’s practically obsessed with him, wants kids– the whole package.”

Bitterness coats his tongue, and Dustin doesn’t miss his seething tone. 

“She likes sports too,” Dustin adds, defensive. The kid’s always stood up to bullies to protect the people he loves. He used to do that for Eddie. Now Eddie’s alone on the opposite side of a chasm, wondering why he never considered what kind of relationship Dustin could have with Becky. 

“Nancy mentioned something about sports journalism.”

“Becky gets press tickets and front row seats. They go to Blackhawks and Cubs games all the time.” Tone rising, Dustin’s cheeks are flushed, hands clenched at his sides.

“That’s–” Eddie starts, but is interrupted.

“Has he called you?” Dustin shouts at him.

Eddie freezes, body coiled tight and ready to run, but also horribly, devastatingly confused.

“What?” Cold sweats break out down his spine, his hands tingle with tiny pinpricks. “Dustin, I don’t–” he wheezes, swallowing around the dryness in his mouth. “No, we haven’t talked at all.”

“Good. Right, yeah– that’s good.” Even though Dustin’s impeding stance doesn’t change, his tone is laced with uncertainty. 

“I swear,” Eddie pleads.

“I believe you,” Dustin heaves a great, heavy sigh, his body slumps. “Just– please don’t answer if he calls. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Eddie can’t help the snap of irritation. “Why?”

“Uhh,” Dustin’s voice drags out, dripping with defensive sarcasm that has Eddie deflating, “maybe because he’s planning a wedding with his new fiance and his ex showed back up out of fucking no where.”

“I know. Fuck, I know. I’m sorry.” Regret and shame crawl under his skin.

“You keep saying that, but it still doesn’t feel true.” 

His eyes are hot, the panic of confrontation bubbles up through his grief. “I want it to be true, Dustin, I’m trying to make it true. I know nothing I do will ever make up for what I’ve put you all through, but– fuck.” Eddie wipes at his misted eyes. “I’d give up everything if I had to. Everything I have, all the money and clothes, the parties and the awards. I’d grovel and I’d–”

He doubles over on a long exhale that lurches from his chest unrestrained. Eddie grounds himself by counting the checkered pattern on Dustin’s socks until his breathing evens out. 

“I’d give up Steve.” He almost vomits as the words leave his mouth, and at that moment he can’t tell if it’s the truth or not. “I just want my family again, Dustin– you and Nancy and Mike. I don’t want to be alone anymore. And if he’s truly happy with her, I don’t want to hurt him. He deserves to be happy, even if that means I never see him again.”

He stands up and sees Dustin’s crying now, soaking the tears into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Years or minutes or days pass as he waits for Dustin to answer, to say fucking anything after Eddie just carved himself open and spilled his guts on the floor. He can’t imagine never seeing Steve again, never hearing the sound of his laugh or grazing his hands against the moles on his neck. 

Except if Steve’s actually happy– truly down-to-the-marrow-of-his-bones happy– like Dustin says, Eddie can’t stand in the way of that. He won’t. He’s already hurt his baby so much, he won’t ruin the rest of his life too.

The realization tips Eddie’s world on its axis, the foundation of his life crumbing beneath him. As he does his best to reorient himself, Dustin scoffs a wet chuckle. “There’s going to be so much groveling. Like, a shit ton of groveling.”

A wide, relieved grin breaks out across Eddie’s tear stained face as Dustin smirks. The tone is teasing, but they both know he means it. Eddie wasn’t lying, he’ll grovel on the ground until his knees are soaked in blood. Giving up Steve feels wrong to the depths of his soul, but he’ll do it. Eddie’s not promising he’ll move on, but he can let go. He’ll do whatever it takes to earn the love and respect of his family, and he’s willing to rebuild his entire life to do it. Reconstruct it into something softer, more mundane and normal and utterly filled with a new kind of love.

And when Dustin pulls him into a hug and squeezes the air from Eddie’s lungs, he can’t help but feel overjoyed at the thought he’s already started.

~~~

Part 13

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21 @jaytriesstrangerthings @thewickedkat

@stripey82 @a-lovely-craziness

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Any fics that have Fresh as a main/important character? I would prefer angst but I know it’s slim pickings with Fresh already

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Sweet Sweet Swagger (After Dark) by MissPawTastic (Mature, Incomplete)

When a 90s jester skeleton one day decide to skedaddle himself into your everyday life casually without hinderance - you don’t know what to make of it at first. Living life in a world where the closest thing to a ’real-life’ skeleton appearing before you is only during Halloween - the very impossibility of his eccentric appearance and over the top personality pulls you slowly in. Having being dealt a bad hand with existing and simply living lately due to a difficult personal loss, you warily assumes he wants something from you with this ’forced’ friendship. But the more time passes in his company, the more you realize that - perhaps he genuinely just wants to be your friend despite your differences? And why does it feel like he knows things you’ve never told anyone before about yourself so… easily? …Tho, why is he so adamant about never taking those shades off..? *A feel-good story about the values of friendship, laughter, the gift of living and possibly the meaning of having a Soul.*(Rating may change later on)

Fresh New Antivirus by Hidden_Ajinn (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Fresh is Admin of the Multiverse!? This can't end well ... or can it? This is an alternate universe - er, multiverse - where Fresh is responsible for the monitoring and disciplining of Players and Hackers as well as hunting down and eradicating any virus or external threat to the multiverses balance systems. Now what's this about some unrad lady called Fate? Welcome to Admin Fresh Verse (AFV for short i guess lol) *** FGoD concept by Harrash6 Characters belong to their respective owners Undertale by Toby Fox

Two Worlds One Family by Scared_of_styrofoam (General Audiences, Complete)

In the Momma CQ universe, a different set of Error's, Ink's, and other characters exist. Fresh and Error were having a fight when Fresh's magic ended up pulling them all into a portal. While Fresh was always aware of the potential variants of himself and his family, he had steered clear up until now. He steered clear because it was dangerous. Even meeting their counterparts is dangerous, although that's exactly what is going to happen. Things are not exactly what they seem though. Their older selves have many issues that align with their own. Maybe they can help each other?

Why Me? by InkyOverlord (Teen And Up, Complete)

out of everyone in the school,why in world would Fresh befriend a bully? after all bullies never change can they?

The Parasite's Pyjamas by InkyOverlord (Mature, Complete)

Fresh ends up stuck in a mafiatale AU, all is not lost as a crime leader known as the 'Puppetmaster' takes a liking to them and offers them to work for him. At this point they can't say no.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Kinktober day 14: Master/Slave /Claiming Servant, Diavolo + Barbatos (branding, treating servant like property, pain play, no real smut)

-

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” You asked, carefully adjusting the restraints around Barbatos’ wrist. “If this is an important tradition, I don’t want to butcher it-“

Diavolo interrupted you. “Don’t worry, it’s different when a human does this verses a demon, if you make mistakes there’s no consequences especially given how well trained Barbatos is.” Diavolo ruffled his hair, speaking about his servant like he’s a dog.

“Thank you, young Master.” Barbatos replied quietly, looking ip to you. “You needn’t worry, I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t want it, I want you both to officially be my Masters.”

To think…he’s saying it so calmly when you’re basically going to claim ownership over him along side Diavolo. You carefully adjust to remove his collar, revealing the pale skin underneath. “Do I need to actually leave a mark? Even for a demon this has gotta hurt.”

Barbatos nodded. Diavolo was the one who responded. “It’s to symbolize that he cant leave you, the mark can be healed with magic, but he’ll probably want to keep it, right?”

Barbatos excitedly nodded. “Somewhere I can see it please? I wish to see it everyday.” You don’t miss the smile that goes across his face.

You look him over, his shoulder is too visible, he cant see it if it’s on his back…maybe thigh? “Here?” Your foot nudges his outer thigh. He nodded, quickly undoing his belt and pants and pulling them down just to his knees.

Like this his boxers were exposed, leaving little to the imagination though you’ve seen him naked before. “Leave the iron on his thigh for thirty to sixty seconds, remember he has a safe word if it’s too much.” Diavolo chimed in.

Barbatos braced as soon as you picked the branding iron up. You were wanted to let it cook for a second but if it cooled too much, you’d have to do it again. You press it to his thigh with not much pressure, testing the waters briefly.

He hissed but actually leans into it. “H-harder.” He hissed out with clear discomfort in his tone. “if you don’t use enough pressure, it w-won’t stay.” Barbatos groaned out.

Diavolo grabs your hand, putting enough weight into the iron that made you feel like you’d cause him bruising. To your surprise though, there was a visible tent forming in his boxers.

“See? He likes it.” Diavolo hummed out, notifying you that enough time has passed. You hesitate to pull away now that you know it’s arousing him.

“You enjoyed being marked?” Barbatos nodded, collapsing as soon as you released him. He was panting fast, to your confusion there was a wet spot where his cock head was resting in his boxers. “Shit it looks like you peed yourself a bit.” You nudge his arousal with your foot and earn a moan.

Diavolo checked Barbatos’ branding, grabbing one of the water bottles put aside and pouring it over the wound. Barbatos yelped, jumping a bit before relaxing enough that Diavolo could clean the wound. “Want to keep this?”

Diavolo asked Barbatos, who in turn moaned out a ‘yes’.

[hurkules]

Gale Headcanons with some NSFW ones below the cut

He loves kissing. He will never be a peck and go kind of man. Every kiss is deep and full of love. He’ll kiss your hands, your arms, your neck, your legs, your stomach, your back, and especially your lips. The two of you get carried away quite easily and before you know it, it’s been an hour of just kissing

Gale loves when you play in his hair. Whether you’re mindlessly running your fingers through it and massaging his scalp or purposely find your way into it during more intimate moments, he loves it. His eyes instantly close and he’ll hum (or moan) in pleasure

He’s touchy. Somehow, someway, he will touch you. Holding hands is fine and lovely, but he’d rather link arms or have his hands around your waist. If you’re leaning into him, he’s satisfied

Speaking of touching, he loves having you in his lap.

Gale is sickeningly romantic. He’s all about grand gestures and professions of love. Nearly everyday he finds a new way to say “I love you.”

He likes to lay on your chest especially after s rough day. In the past, he’d spend his time poking around in the library or cooking his feelings out. Now, he’ll crawl into your arms and lay his head against your chest

He always brings you back little gifts and trinkets. “I passed this on the way home from the academy, and I thought you’d love it” he’ll say with a grin

Since being in waterdeep, you’ve taken up baking. As a result, he’s started to gain a little weight. He’d never complain about it because everything is delicious, he’s glad you’ve found something to enjoy (he was worried about leaving you in the tower alone so often), it’s a simple fix, and he’d never turn down something from you especially when you’ve worked so hard

He shows you off. If you make him lunch, he’ll go around showing everyone what his lovely partner made. He jumps at the chance to introduce you as his wife/husband

He’s a crier. He cries at the wedding. He cries on the honeymoon. Sometimes, he cries just thinking back. He’ll hug you and through tears he’ll admit “I’m so grateful to you. I was a man long gone, and, somehow, you brought me back.”

He’s not a good dancer but he never resists when you pull him towards you giggling. When he noticed how much you love dancing, he does practice in private with a mirror image. After a while, he can follow along with you pretty well.

He unironically does a big dip and kiss and often.

Yes, he will make love to you in front of the fireplace and the piano will play a melody in the background.

He will also make love to you on the balcony. If you’re well versed in magic, you’ll cast a spell so one can see or hear you. If you’re not, he’ll cast the spell. At night under the full moon is your favorite. He’s more than happy to pleasure you any time of day, but his favorite time is at sunset. He just thinks you look so incredibly beautiful in the light with how the sun reflects off your skin

The two of you will never make love at the academy but he will definitely sit you on his desk and make his way between your legs. He’ll lock the door and cast the silence spell from before and he’s going in

We all know that when it comes to intimacy, he’s more of a giver than receiver. The man loves being between your legs. He hates quickies because he likes to take his time and admire you. He wants you to feel as much pleasure ad possible and quickies feel disrespectful. It feels like you’re a toy to be used and discarded, and you mean so much more to him than that. Despite that, he will find time to make you see stars from oral, give you a long loving kiss, and then return to whatever he was doing, elated that you’re satisfied

He loves all of you equally but he is a boob guy. Wear a low cut a shirt and he’s tripping over his words and struggling to maintain eye contact.

He can’t hide his attraction and he’s not ashamed of it. Even with this, he always asks permission. A gentle “May I?” while kissing you before moving to your neck. A breathless “is this okay?” as he’s lowering himself and kissing your legs.

Sex is slow and gentle with Gale. He likes to take his time with you, so nothing is ever hard and fast. If you wanted something rougher all you’d have to do is ask but it’s not his first instinct.

He’s pretty vocal during intimacy. He grunts, groans, and the occasional moan. Mostly, he talks. He for sure talks you through it and loves complimenting you throughout the whole ordeal.

[fadeawaywithyou]

inspired by the new minecraft movie trailer and how it reminds me of a shit jumanji, here is my take on the minecraft plot. this took me like 5-10 minutes, so it's not super serious.

I actually want to try spitballing a better plot in about five minutes-

Unnamed Man in Blue and Unnamed Woman in Green wake up in a forest and meet each other while exploring. Anyway, the Plot is killing the ender dragon. Why? It's the most basic thing about minecraft. The achievement is literally called "free the end" so maybe flesh out why. So, the plot is Gather Materials, Find Stronghold, Defeat Ender Dragon, and the end scene is them looking out into the world and talking about going on other adventures. In the movie they come across a variety of monsters, but specifically a Warden and Wither. The Warden could be a genuinely scary chase scene where they don't kill it. Maybe they have to summon the wither as part of a beacon fetch quest.

The movie has lots of references to minecraft community things. minecraft youtubers and developers act as cameos in people they meet. "don't dig straight down" is on a sign near a cave/town's quarry. Maybe they find books similar to those survival guides i saw in all the scholastic book fairs. Have someone hum Don't Mine At Night or go "awww man" when a creeper explodes. Have a reclusive but friendly town of "hermits" (hermitcraft). maybe you pass by someone saying "the aether is just a conspiracy/myth!" just, things the community of all ages will recognize and go "hey! the thing!"

other:

They decide on the names Steve and Alex themselves, idk when though. The nicknames of Green and Blue between them can stick around. Also while i'm here, idc about romance. have them be friends, or partners by the end, or implied whatever.

I want Steve and Alex to have a personality but also have a generic backstory for the "blank slate" appeal and function of their in-game selves. I have a couple ideas- amnesia or being an everyday person, for example. maybe they are orphans, idk. Waking up in a forest is all i'm set on because that could be the equivalent of "spawning in."

I also have a fun idea where it could be an entirely implied Isekai. ("implied" is the keyword because it's never admitted and the only canonical dimensions are the nether, overworld, and end.) Not like the movie, where you aparently watch them get Isekai-ed, but with how they react to Tree Physics, magic, monsters, etc. and people going "you're not from around here, are you" and/or "how do you not know what X is? have you been living under a rock?" (which would then introduce the audience to minecraft concepts and exposition.)

they live in a "post-age of heres" world where it could be implied that the Old People who build all the strongholds and shit are long dead and they disappeared going after the dragon. this immediately puts an added sense of danger to the quest. also an underdog story.

i also would like a reason WHY Blue and Green can defeat the dragon while the others can't beyond "they are the main characters." this could be the new thing the movie brings in, like a new enchantment or making netherite something the Old People didn't have but necessary? idk, this could go into "movie-verse" logic and doesn't necessarily have to be in-direct canon to the game.

you know those characters that minecraft made a while ago? like the different races and genders? those skins could be characters in the movies.

the soundtrack does have the most popular minecraft sounds, in-game sound effects are used, but maybe some "movie remixes" or maybe they pay and jump through hoops to have Revenge playing for the end Credits.

also this is all animated. embrace animation.

[amethyst-aster]

Blog intro

Hello! I’m Aster, a person who gives advice and who is still learning about the world as a whole. I am non binary, a calico cat therian and questioning voidkin

Fandoms/Artists/Bands:

Kingdom hearts (lore)

Castle of illusions (yt)

FNAF

Hellaverse (Hazbin Hotel + Helluva Boss)

Ride The Cyclone

Epic the musical

Gravity Falls

The Owl House

Heartstopper

The Wonder Years

How I Met Your Mother

Brooklyn 9 9

The Truman Show

Warrior Cats

The Blackthorn Key

Scythe

Together We Rot

Cinderella’s Dead

Loveless

Solitaire

TX2!!! (Met Evan, corky, and cam on March 2024! Saw Sam but never got to say hi)

Ice nine kills

Alesana

6ARELYHUMAN!!!!!

Asteria

Linkin Park

Iron Maiden

Sleeping with the sirens

My blog is mainly about anything that catches my eye, such as cats, food, memes, fun things, famous posts, photography, tag games, etc.. and centered around magic. It is also very therian themed, touch starved posting, and anything relating to my hyperfixations.

People don’t usually respect my DNI so I will just block freely at this point. Half the time it’s nothing personal, the other half is because you might be someone I would rather not be around.

I want to make clear: I do not want to be harassed or sent hate asks!(especially anon). Also no asks about Gaza or anything relating to Israel or Palestine

I am slightly unhinged at times and half the things that I say I don’t remember!

I am queer in many ways (also hold the title of the gay cousin, sharing custody with my cousin mel).

Boundaries:

Yelling (don’t yell at me please)

do not call me selfish or delusional

Invalidation (Don’t invalidate me or gaslight me in a way that’s not jokingly)

Apathy-like saying how you don’t care or seeming disinterested or acting like you have a problem with me without saying it to my face or just not communicating if there’s a problem

Too many bad things all at once

asking about my age or things relevant to that

insulting me to a higher level in a serious way (more on that here)

Showing me pics of your SH

men/boys hitting on me (queer + not interested, this includes trans men obviously)

Talking about eating disorders or going into detail about anything relating to eating disorders

anything relating to genocide

#lore drop” for posts about me, either emotion related or abt what’s going on in my life.

#asks for aster, #questions for aster, and #asks are all for asks and questions

#cat therian is mainly vent posts abt shifts and being a cat therian ooc

Notice: I am no longer in wizardblr but my lore has not been taken down and is free to use or have inspo of it

@amethyst-aster-2 is my alt

@same-pic-of-uranus-everyday is my pic verse blog

@anxiety-culture-iss is another blog I run

Fun fact: I can read and write in Norse runes

Fun fact 2: I am obsessed with shiny sharp things and creepy things (especially daggers, scissors, fire, swords, serial killers lore such as the Zodiac Killer and the Candy Man)! I also will not stop talking abt Greek mythology (specifically epic the musical)

Link to wizardblr:

TW Unreality, Mild Violence, Knives, Weapons, some drugs (it’s all yearning to try molly), and sexual references

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello, I wanted to ask if you know any games where magic system isn't that diverse? I mean, I like magic but it seems in most of games everyone can have tons of different spells which is a bit overwhelming for me, so is there any game where magic user could use only one type of magic like fire, water, illusion etc?

Theme: Specific Magic

Hello friend, I've got a few games for you here. All of these games come from very different houses of design. I hope you find a fit that is right for you!

Weave, by UFO Press.

A game about fashion, travel and everyday magic. You are mages who draw power from fabric, threads and garments. Your search for mystical power will take you to new lands and new cultures.

Fall in love with a local. Drink too much at a festival. Get entangled in town politics. Summon a spirit of yarn and tradition. Bargain for power, and try not to cause irreversible harm to your host culture.

Learn responsibility.

You've lived your entire life in the enclaves of your cult - until now. As a coming-of-age rite, you're travelling the world. You'll visit new cultures, find out why they value the fashion they do, and summon the spirits of garments to learn magical secrets. You're only novices, and things won't always go well. You might fall in love, get involved in local politics, or overindulge at a festival. When you summon spirits, be careful. You might twist them into a rampaging monster, or destroy the culture's relationship with the garment. What right do you have to power?  

This is a diceless game focused on fabric-magic. The character sheet contains a series of threads dedicated to “protects”, “Conceals” “suffices” and “reveals,” as well as three abilities called Traditions. There’s also a number of areas drawn as blank graphs, for you to fill in glyphs.

I don’t own this game, so I can’t tell you how it works but the loops on the character sheet and the presence of the graphs tell me that you likely have limited resources, and you’ll also be expected to create your own magic. It looks like there’s plenty of possibilities within the magic system here, but limiting how you can use it in the form of glyphs tells me that this might be a game that is specific enough to provide limitations for creativity.

Sordid Truths of Fire, by Shouting Crow.

You are a pyromancer, an avatar of flame. Kleptothermic parasites have frozen your world.You must walk the line between fire and flame-- feeding off of and transforming into the things which feed off of your energy-- without losing your sense of self in the drifting snow.

Sordid Truths of Fire is a classless, rules-lite TTRPG. It uses a roll-under system and is basically the bastard child of games like Tunnel Goons and The Black Hack.

This game is for the OSR lovers out there. With three base stats and a roll-under mechanic, character creation is fairly simple. I especially like the events that happen when you roll a 1 or a 20. Rolling a 1 grants you burnout. A little bit of burnout isn’t too bad, but accrue too much, and cannot cast magic. You do, however, gain the features of a creature called a walking torch. Rolling a 20 grants you a point of frostbite - which also takes away your magic, and grants you the features of a monster called a Heat Vampire. You can sacrifice points in your stats to save yourself, and gain points when you roll just right. Will you burn too brightly or get snuffed out?

Nancy Druid, by 9th Level Games.

In Nancy Druid, you will play as a druid scout who solves mysteries along with a trusty animal companion! Your magic is drawn from the natural world, the day-night cycle, and the turning of the seasons.

Will you be a sun druid, who brings brightness and a warm glow to all, with the help of your scout troop's companion critter? Or will you be a moon druid, versed in all things celestial and able to transform into an animal yourself?

The Polymorph system assigns different kinds of dice to roles, based on the character you have. Your role determines what kinds of things you are more likely to succeed at, giving clear strengths and weaknesses among players. This system usually also eschews lists of abilities or catalogues of spells in favor of a special ability that expects you to fill in the blanks.

In Extremis, by Keganexe.

In Extremis is a tabletop roleplaying game designed for 2-6 players, about fighting back the man using necromancy, that uses the LUMEN system by Spencer Campbell. Inspired by The Locked Tomb trilogy, players take on the role of exceptionally powerful witches who use their mastery of life, death, and the human condition to keep them and their own safe from other planetary invaders who want to steal their land. As a Necromancer, you are one of a handful of hideously powerful death witches that protect the planet Hecate, the final holdout for The Coven, from the ever encroaching war of the Corvus Dominion. 

This is a game for feeling like a badass. Every character option uses a different kind of necromancy, but you only really need to worry about your character. You get 3 stats: Muscle, Bone and Nerve. You get a passive and active social spell, a list of combat spells, and a weapon. The setting takes place on a galaxy-wide scale, as the game is heavily inspired by Gideon the Ninth. Your source of your magic is a resource called Wells: necromancers only have so many, but the amount you have at any given time is dependant on the phase of the moon. If you want your magic to be gritty and used in high-stakes situations where death is everywhere, this is the game for you.

[theromanticslit]

The Alchemy of Passion: Romanticizing the Art of Being Alive

In the tapestry of our existence, threads of passion weave patterns both delicate and profound. To romanticize one’s passions is to view life through a lens of wonder and enchantment, to dance with the very essence of our pursuits as if they were stars in our personal constellation. It’s an act of alchemy—transforming the mundane into the extraordinary, the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Imagine passion as a garden, its soil rich with the dreams and desires that sprout from within. Each seed planted is a venture into the heart of what we love. When we tend to these seeds with care, they bloom into vibrant expressions of who we are. To romanticize this process is to recognize the beauty in each bud, each leaf, each blossom, even as it begins to unfurl.

In this garden of the soul, passion is not merely a pursuit but a poetic dialogue between the self and the world. It’s a conversation held in the quiet of dawn, when the first light kisses the earth and reveals the hidden hues of our inner landscape. It’s in this silence that the true romance of our passions is whispered—an ode to the beauty of our endeavors and the grace they bestow upon us.

To romanticize is to see beyond the surface, to savor the subtleties and nuances that might otherwise escape our notice. It’s to perceive the rhythm in the act of creation, the heartbeat behind the brushstroke, the melody in the written word. When we embrace our passions with this perspective, we become lovers of our own lives, each moment a tender exploration of what it means to be deeply and authentically engaged.

Consider the poet who gazes upon a blank page not as a mere canvas, but as a sacred space where dreams and musings coalesce into verses that breathe with life. Or the painter who regards their palette not as a collection of colors, but as a universe of emotions waiting to be expressed. Each artist, in their romantic embrace of their craft, transforms their work into a reflection of their deepest selves.

Romanticizing our passions means allowing ourselves to be fully immersed in the joy of our pursuits. It’s in the way we lose ourselves in a book’s labyrinth, the way we find solace in the cadence of our own footsteps as we wander through our favorite haunts. It’s in the quiet reverence of moments spent with our passions, where time seems to pause and the ordinary becomes a portal to the sublime.

This perspective invites us to celebrate not just the triumphs but also the trials along the way. It’s about savoring the journey as much as the destination, finding poetry in the process of becoming rather than merely achieving. The struggle, the labor, the moments of doubt—all become part of a grander narrative, a love story written with the ink of persistence and the grace of vulnerability.

Romanticizing your passions is, ultimately, an invitation to live with an open heart and a curious mind. It’s to be a connoisseur of your own joy, to revel in the act of creation, and to cherish every step along the path of your unique journey. It’s about seeing the magic in the mundane, finding beauty in the everyday, and letting your passions illuminate the way.

So, let us walk with reverence through the garden of our desires, let us dance with the rhythms of our creative hearts, and let us romance our passions as though they were the most precious of loves. For in this romantic embrace, we find the truest expression of who we are and the fullest experience of what it means to be alive.

-by The Romantics

[on-stardust-wings]

Findings from watching the season two opening. Here be spoilers if you haven’t seen it, begone all who seek to avoid those.

Crowley climbs up the rock (and does not look like he enjoys climbing much). Does that mean demons can’t fly? Crowley in particular can’t fly?

There is a moth (butterfly) that starts flying with Crowley and Aziraphale when Crowley lights the match. It’s the first creature that accompanies them. Is it important?

The fuck is this thing. I thought it’s an elephant first? With a trunk? But it’s on fire. Could just be a rock? Whatever it is, the angel with the box (Gabriel?) spawns right behind it. I would say portal to Hell, but angels don’t commonly come out of those. Or do they now? Anyway mysterious fiery thing.

There’s also a bunch of animals in the background of this setting. They seem to be mostly sheep and goats. And there’s huge bones/skeletons. Dinosaurs are fictional in the Good Omens verse, though. (Something about the dinosaurs are a joke thing? Please let it be something about dinosaurs being a joke, I love this bit.)

It’s raining fire and the poor goats and sheep get torched. :( Looking pretty apocalyptic for a season that (maybe) isn’t about the end of the world this time!

There’s the pickled herring from the spoiler/bts pics! And this person looks like Hastur IMO. “Everyday” apparently already died; it’s on a tombstone. What is the person in the back (behind the herring barrel) carrying? A miniature airplane? A rocket launcher? A big camera?

And THEN there’s the lamp with a face and feet guy, walking in front of the person with the headscarf. WTF is with lamp with a face guy. Lamp with a face guy even has a smaller lamp attached to his arm. I do not want to meet lamp with a face on a dark graveyard!

There are some more spooky characters joining the procession as it goes underground. What’s up with red head and a lamp on a stick guy for example?

Lovelovelove Hell with the magma and the giant spider and the office chairs on rocks (some of them upside down). Giant pentagram in the background that seems to be spinning! I loved the basement office hell vibe they used for Hell in S1, but this fiery Hell looks so cool. Creature with bat wings perching on top of a rock! Great vibes, very hellish.

London during the airstrike has a cool blimb, a tank, lots of wreckage, is apparantly a 30 zone, so no speeding, and there’s an ad for Stairway to Heaven. Seems like a play or a movie maybe?

Aziraphale and Crowley with their wings out walk in front of a bus with “wings for victory” written on the side. And then an aircraft throws a bomb on them.

It is raining rabbits in the entryway to the magic show theatre, and there’s person sized and shaped rabbit in the audience. Is it Harry the Rabbit?

Lots of interesting head dresses in the people following after Crowley here, and there’s Beelzebub. They’re being led to meet Aziraphale in his magic uniform, now upgraded with a cape! (He should have worn the cape to Adam’s party, capes are cool.)

Space! Spacespacespace! Look at the planets and stars! Also the tank, it’s still here. And there’s... a rabbit astronaut? With glowing eyes?

Little UFO crossing in front of that moon/planet! Looks a bit like the flying saucer from season 1.

Thy kingdom airways lol! And it’s raining hearts! On Aziraphale and Crowley on the bookshop roof.

“Give me coffee or give me death” is a very metal slogan for a coffee shop. And there’s lots of music themed stuff in the street. There’s a jukebox, a pile of records behind it, that decoration between the street lamps looks like vinyl records cut in half strung up? And the Bentley is there, probably blasting Queen. :D

The skycrapers are elevator shafts. The one in the middle has an angel in it, riding down. Down to Hell? Ding!

It’s the Dirty Donkey! And the movie theatre is called “The Arrival”. It’s screening today! That’s very clever, wonder if the opening will change with the different episode titles? :) Also, there’s the image from the box the angel is carrying again, on the film posters for The Arrival. Can’t tell what it is.

Look at them all walking into the light! They’re going to be enlightened! Or something. But it is a very bright light! Lighthouse! It’s also covered in scrap and  junk nearly to the top. Whatever that may mean. (Guys don't walk into the light, no!)

My friends, I am really looking forward to stop waiting and see what this is all about!

[project-sekai-facts]

The 3DMV for DREAM PLACE contains multiple references to previous MORE MORE JUMP! events and cards.

During Haruka's solo line in the verse, she makes a megaphone appear. This is the same megaphone from her trained Perfect Premonition 4* card.

Shizuku makes a clothing rack appear during her solo line, which is probably a reference to her second unit event, Cast Spell on You. Airi's section contains another reference to Cast Spell on You, as she makes Shizuku's hat from her trained Feels Like Magic 4* card appear.

It's easy to miss, but Haruka actually made two items appear. The second item she summoned is a chess piece, which is a reference to the MORE MORE Making Xmas cards and Worldwide Wander 2DMV.

Minori summons a sofa with two items on it during her section. The first item is a post bag, which is a reference to the cards from the Happy Lovely Everyday event, specifically Airi's Messenger of Love costume. The second item is a cushion shaped like an angel wing. This is a reference to the events Let's Deliver! HOPEFUL STAGE ♪ and Dear Me, As I Was Back Then (the event DREAM PLACE was commissioned for), as they both had angel-themed costumes.

Finally, the TVs in the background of the stage seem to be a reference to the event teaser, which used retro-style TVs to announce the producer of the song.