#fic: witching hour

[lyrebirdswrites]

I wrote this fic for a skfs zine last year and I'm excited to finally share it! Enjoy <3

sukufushi · witchcraft au · familiar summoning

jjk · 3k words · T · oneshot

[theallianceofcelestials]

Important thing just popped up for fic writers and artists

Hello everyone! I'm writing this because I've locked my fics on AO3, due to a GenAI scrap of AO3. Most of my works are sadly affected, and have thus gotten stolen, except for like the newest two. @morriganfey has locked hers down too, and some others may too in the future.

If you want to read my works, whether new ones or old ones, you should get an AO3 account! I promise it makes things much easier!

If you're a writer on AO3, you might want to take a look at this Reddit post, see if any of your works are affected

This is a problem regardless of fandom or anything. If your fics weren't locked down already, and they fall between a certain number of ids, then it got stolen.

Now I've tagged this with mostly my own fics and the fandoms I've been posting fics in, but I've also tagged some Anti-AI tags and some tags relating to AO3, so hopefully a couple more people will see it too.

It'd be great if people could reblog this. Because regardless of fandom, this is a problem for everyone, both for artists and for writers

Thanks everyone! Even if this is really annoying, I know

[teencopandthesourwolf]

FUCK IT FRIDAY

i was tagged by the lovely @demonicfaerie (thanks, fae!) to share a current WIP so here's some of a mild blood kink slash beta shift derek slash frotting in the forest PWP kind of fic. it has the terribly imaginative working title of 'BLOODY MONSTER FUCKER STILES FULL MOON FIC' lmao.

this excerpt is SFW.

.

It's a balmy Tuesday evening in April when Derek realises he wants to taste Stiles's blood.

The notion comes to him not as some strange intrusive thought, or a guilty dream, or Anne Rice-induced moment of madness, but at the first scent and sight of it trickling down pale wrist bone and two large knuckles, to then drip from the tips of the boy's spider leg fingers.

Having neutralised the threat of what they thought might be a Vigilantes Oscuros but actually turned out to be a rogue Nagual, and once Derek satisfies himself by checking over and scenting the rest of the pack who are thankfully all mostly unscathed, he stalks over to where Stiles is standing, his chest heaving with the aftermath of their victory.

“Hey, big guy, d'you wanna—”

He trails off when Derek takes the bleeding arm in both of his hands. He lifts Stiles's shirt sleeve and—sighing with relief at the injury being merely a flesh wound—begins to syphon off most of Stiles's pain.

Stiles answers by sighing his own breath of relief.

Derek hesitates, for one thrilling moment, before he's opening his mouth—only to quickly close it again as he clamps it around the sticky mess of Stiles's skin, Alpha-gaze never leaving big, brown Bambi eyes shining with the godly reflection of a full moon.

Stiles's mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and, surprisingly, the only other thing he has to offer Derek is an uncharacteristically quiet and breathy “Oh.” Derek boldly takes it as permission to start sucking at Stiles's skin with wild abandon, delighting at the gooey texture and unique flavour of the blood overwhelming his tongue and taste buds and feelings.

It's all at once that he hears Isaac’s wolf-whistle and Scott's, “Ew!” and Allison's, “Um?” and Lydia's, “Told you,” that she aims at Jackson, who just scoffs, and Derek doesn't need to be looking at Boyd to know that Boyd is looking at Erica to try and convince her not to say, “You owe me twenty dollars, babe,” smug as all fuck, which she obviously says anyway.

Derek growls, loud enough to feel Stiles's trembling in his teeth and for the rest of the gossipy pack to shuffle off through the trees before Derek can threaten to make them shuffle off this mortal coil if they don't.

Stiles's ever-sharp eyes—which had been darting faster than the dragonflies buzzing down by the lake, his gaze landing on one wolf, and then the next, as Derek's irritating pack let their irritating thoughts on the situation be irritatingly known—now find their way back to Derek's.

Derek is watching Stiles carefully. He's transfixed, actually, has been for the entirety of the exchange. Honestly, he doesn't think he could look away if he tried.

Bronze eyes blown wide, Stiles now licks at unbearably pink lips, slowly, his cheeks doing their best to match the hue.

Taking the action for what he hopes it is, Derek starts to suckle at the boy's skin some more, sampling his prize. After a moment he pauses, to swallow down the pool of tangy red gathered underneath his tongue.

Then he knows, deliciously knows, that Stiles's treacly blood tastes of sodium and iron, yes, but also like fresh earth and morning dew drops and mine.

Noticing that the kid's heart has picked up the pace to a speed even more Springbok than usual, Derek releases the vacuum of his claret-tinged lips with a resonating pop. The sound echoes defiantly around the small glade in the northern part of the preserve they're standing in, and Derek's wants to prance and preen.

The moon sings to him as he waits, impatiently, preparing to be challenged on what the human likely thinks of as shockingly beastly behaviour.

Only Stiles doesn't challenge it.

He doesn't say anything at all, weirdly, opting instead to brutally gnaw some more on that unbearably plump bottom lip, shiny eyes misting over as his chemo-signals spike and morph into something smoky-sweet, something that reminds Derek of incense and trailing mandevilla and sex.

Derek's vision shudders for a beat as his synapses fire ten to the dozen, causing his eyes to flash impossibly redder than red, the glare from them illuminating Stiles's elfin features in the gloom.

He looks, and feels, like magick.

With mouth watering and gums tingling, Derek perceives Stiles's inaction to mean he's maybe allowed to do the thing he really fucking wants to. Thinking fuck it, he decides to try his luck.

He hesitantly starts to lick, cleaning up the scarlet streaks staining Stiles's milky skin.

The boy's mouth falls open for a breathy sound to punch its way out of what Derek is now considering an incredibly biteable throat, and he smells only of pure desire.

Emboldened by these things, Derek starts lapping away in earnest at the trails of spilt blood, in long and deliberate strokes, flattened tongue running up and down, up and down, washing clean lean muscle and dark hair and those pretty peppered moles, and warming the cold pebbles of Stiles's gooseflesh as he goes.

Stiles keeps trying to swallow down the saliva Derek can hear flooding his mouth, his breath hitching and hiccuping with each lick.

Derek's mouth doesn't form an ‘O’ shape. Instead, his mind flickers with alluring and morish images as his animal instinct wills him to flop bonelessly into the scrub and roll around in the dirt and howl, howl, howl, all wild and feral and fierce. His nature is urging him for more; pleading with him to try; begging him to cry out his wants and desires to lead Stiles into the deep, dark indigo of the creeping night where Derek is most at home.

He's really not sure why, but for once in his woefully shitty life Derek just allows himself to agree with the voice saying fuck it in his head, and do exactly that.

So he howls, howls as he breaks the bones of dusk and selfishly and gleefully drags the sheriff's son down onto the damp, ash-laden ground of his dead family's land.

And Stiles—for all of his usual brashness and caustic pride—lets him.

.

(tags beneath the cut, play or nay. anybody else who wants to do the thing, pls just consider yourself tagged and have at it!)

@shealynn88 @novemberhush @greyhavenisback @raisesomehale @princecharmingwinks @ohhalefire @blue-eyedbeta @angela-feelstoomuch @evanesdust @jmeelee @thebigoblin @hedwig221b @isthatbloodonhisshirt

[3amfanfiction]

What about Simon as the bog witch?

He sits on his front porch, wooden boards cracked and blackened with age. There's moss growing along the sides of the house, creeping fingers into every crevice. The window panes are caked and dirty with untold years. The stilts it sits on sink deep into the mucky ground in an attempt to keep it raised and dry.

It doesn't work.

He has his rocking chair out front, a great creaking thing that glides back and forth in perpetual motion, idling the day away talking to the toads and the ghosts of the land, skull mask on so as to blend in. His closest neighbors are half rotted away in the wet ground not three miles over, the mottled skin of their bodies giving way to ivory bone. They find comfort in the familiar.

You can't find him if you're looking. The paths that meander through the swamp lands warp and change and lead to no-where dead-ends as you circle and circle and circle, feet sucked into the wet ground, each step a chore, a great prying of foot from earth only to be reintroduced a scant distance later.

No, his house isn't one to be found. It does, however, show itself to those who have the right shade of despair about them. A fine fragrance of anguish only the truly despondent can carry. Something he can sniff out with his bloodhound of a nose as soon as they enter his territory.

Those.

Those make their way to his doorstep, raised paths giving no choice but to follow as they twist and wind through the murk, will-o-wisps luring them ever forward. They stumble across him right as it's dinner time, candles flickering in the window as the shadows begin to loom, smoke creeping up from the chimney in a playfully taunting curl, enticing you into the warmth.

And his door opens with him backlit in its frame. This behemoth of a man, shoulders turned sideways to fit through the doorway as he steps forward, deep thump settling his weight firmly on the weathered boards of the porch.

You think it's death come to greet you, the way he's decked out in all black, bone white skull leering at you, dark, dark eyes pinning you in place. A knife half the size of his forearm hangs from his belt.

He waits. Waits for you to make the first move.

Always.

You're the one who decides how this plays out. What side of him you get. Tooth or tongue. It's all up to you. Your actions.

If you play your cards right he invites you inside. Into the maw of his control, a slavering thing that has its teeth covered at the moment, a tight reign on emotion but one that stirs as you step inside. The wakening of a beast that draws its first breath, searching, searching.

The inside of his house is eclectic. A fascinating display of handcrafted trinkets and trifles, made by him or traded for over the years, an organic blend that could have only come from time. Years and years. Decades even. How old is he?

You won't ever know. Would never get a straight answer if you asked. Those kinds of details no longer matter. Not here. Not in this place.

So you sit. And you talk. And you never notice. Never notice his long steady inhales, drawing something (drawing you) in. You don't notice the way true night falls over the house, a steady blanket of shadow that engulfs everything, leaving you buoyed together, surrounded by these four walls. Never notice yourself slowly becoming more tired, sinking into the warmth and the ambiance of the house, its own breaths settling in the evening coolness.

Things wind down, conversation slowing and then stopping as he ushers you away to a bed tucked into the corner covered in hides and rough pillows. Ready to kip for the long hours of the night, when the true chill set in and things in the dark would bite first.

But you don't have to worry. Because you fed him that night, didn't you realize?

Even as he scented your anguish and despair, he drew it in—pulling it deep into the crags of himself, letting it fill all the dark spaces. All the putrid dark corners that oozed in the decay of him filled with your hurt. Shed and consumed in one swoop, gone to never bother you again. Unburdened of the weight you had carried to his doorstep. Carried for far too long. Each word you spoke, another piece.

It was such a shame that the memory went with it.

So you were safe from his teeth.

But he had other hungers that swelled in the long hours of the night.

The next morning saw you lighter, no longer dredging the bottom with every step you took as you leave the house in the bog. Your path back straightforward and unwavering, leading you forward with assured steps.

Simon would watch from his porch as you made your way, dark eyes sated in the morning light as he sat on his rocker once more. The steady creak creak creak of the wood filling the morning air, accompanying the buzz of insects already starting to pick up in the mid morning warmth.

Next

[magalidragon]

knell of a requiem bell | a smutty spooky Jonerys fic | 👻

Happy Halloween! 🎃 Enjoy this no plot smutty one shot.

Dany remained in a crumpled heap, her black and red gown thrown about her body, covering her in layers of lace and velvet. It was freezing, she realized, her body shivering. The adrenaline fading, she suspected, and she kept her eyes closed, forehead pressed to the cool stone floor, breath coming in sucking gasps. Oh gods, she wanted to sleep for days, she was drained.

But did it work?

She lifted her head gingerly, peering through wispy strands of her hair, focusing on the dim moonlight now filling the throne room without the candles to provide light. A light click echoed around her. Footsteps She blinked, seeing black boots in front of her. They were relatively shiny, expensive looking. They didn't seem like anything Rhaegar would be wearing, but...she didn't know what to expect from a returned soul to the earth. She didn't know how much time she had, and she lifted her head further, rolling her eyes upwards.

And stared straight into a set of piercing gray ones she had never seen before in her life.

Those gray eyes belonged to a man who stood about a foot from her, dressed in all black. Black boots, black skinny jeans, and a black-- really tight-- t-shirt. None of which had a speck of dust, which only made her slightly envious because she could never maintain that level of pristine fabric with three cats wandering around her house. The clothes weren't the only surprising feature, but also that he was, well...wow, she thought, taking in the sight of the skinny jeans painted on a pair of strong thighs, riding low on a trim waist, and the shirt pulling at the seams over a broad chest. A set of powerful arms crossed over his chest, biceps flexing. She kept looking up, she took in his pale, angular face, jaw swathed in a dark beard and loose dark curls that fell just to his shoulders, half of them tugged in a knot. He had a straight nose, which was currently wrinkled in the corners, and his lips– sinfully plump–were curled over sharp white teeth in a sneer of disgust.

The super hot stranger glared at her and opened his mouth, exclaiming:

"What the fuck am I doing here?"

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood. He’d been warned from the time he was a child, back before the wolf, that it was home to its namesake. And not just any witch, a dangerous one. One that had killed an entire hunting party, unprompted, with the flick of a finger. None who have entered those woods since have ever returned.

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood, but he doesn’t have a choice. Robin is slumped over his back, hands clenched tightly in his fur, clinging desperately to consciousness. He can feel her blood, warm and sticky, matting the fur of his back. His own gait is slowed, every step jolting the silver teeth digging into his right hind leg and sending sharp pain shooting through him. He’s not sure how much longer he can run, and he can hear them - the bloodthirsty cries of the townsfolk dead set on his murder.

They had been found out. So many cycles of living in this town, living among its residents as a friend and neighbour, and still they’ve all turned on him. Of all the times for it to happen, too. It was the moon he had agreed to make Robin a wolf. She had already been weakened from the wolf taking hold when they had been attacked, the silver already a weakness but her body not yet given over to the strength of the wolf.

Steve wishes he could take her to Nancy, knows Nancy would help despite everything, but the townspeople have blocked them off, funneled him in his blind panic. His only hope is to lose them is the wood, but even then he might lose Robin to his own fumbling medical knowledge.

But first, he has to get away from their pursuers. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Steve enters the Witchwood.

————————————————————————

Eddie is no stranger to people trying to do him harm. It’s been a constant in his life from the time he was a child, long before his gifts had awakened. And one that had- well. It’s been a constant of his life, sure as the cycle of the moon and sun. So he notices the prickle of someone entering the woods, but he gives it no regard. It happens a few times a year, that someone gets it into their heads that they will be the one to kill “The Witch of the Woods”. None ever even make it to him, losing themselves in the enchanted trees.

These trees are older than him, and their magic is their own. They like him and welcome him among them, but otherwise are hostile to outsiders. In the beginning, he had tried to help those who became lost in the woods, but those days have long since passed. Despite what his uncle says about his soft heart, Eddie’s become bitter and jaded and he no longer pays any mind to those who venture into the woods.

But this time, something is different. Eddie feels the disturbance of someone crossing into the forest, feels the shift of magic as the forest warps around them, and it’s… different. The ways and paths of the trees are second nature to him, he can tell by the shimmer of magic against his skin which paths have been revealed and which hidden away and this…

The forest is being lenient, gentle. The interlopers are shown the ways to peaceful places, soft and danger-free. Eddie can recall only a few times that the forest has been kind to intruders, and it has almost exclusively been to children.

So he’s more than curious already when he feels the buzz of more people crossing the boundary into the woods. A lot more. And Eddie realizes that this hunt is not for him.

The trees are not so kind this time, opening its twists and turns like a maze, a trap for anyone foolish enough not to turn back immediately. They don’t, of course. They never do. Eddie pays them no mind, drawn instead by curiosity to the two that are being pursued.

He steps between the trees, slipping into a space that’s folded away between reality, picking his way with ease through paths that are there and paths that are not until he emerges at the edge of a small clearing, moonlit and mossy. Theres a tiny spring-fed pond and there, limping toward it, is a wolf. It’s huge, the size of a small bear, with a strong frame and thick russet fur.

It notices him at the same time as he notices it, and it’s massive head swings to face him, teeth already bared in a snarl. It’s hackles raise, and it turns fully, squaring up, a threatening growl rumbling across the little clearing to him.

Eddie steps back, already gathering his power until it glows around him with dark energy, because this is no normal wolf. Even without the size and the silver trap clamped around its leg giving it away, he can see it in its eyes, feel in its presence that this is something more.

He recalls his childhood, the warning tales at his mother’s knee. He remebers later, freshly chased out of town and taken in by his uncle, watching as the old man leafed through his ancient book and warned Eddie that he wasn’t the only dangerous thing in the wilds. Eddie has no doubt that he’s come across one of those dangerous things now. He looks at the wolf and knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A werewolf.

[1425fivefive]

actually horrible for my general well-being how productive i am between the hours of 11 pm and 2 am

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Witching Hour: Final Chapter

Pairing: Detective!Bob Floyd x Reader x Sheriff!Bradley Bradshaw

WitchAU

Warnings: Death, Fluff, Angst, Misery, Black Magic, Magic, Witchcraft, Swearing, Danger

- Chapter 9 Here -

——————————

18+ Only

——————————

You stood in the middle of the coven, your mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out how you were going to get Bob out of this situation you’d caused.




You could try to unbind him using a charm and then make a run for it, but the charm would take at least 5 seconds, and the door was at least 20 feet away. You doubted that none of the 13 witches surrounding you would notice and stop you, but even if somehow you did manage to mumble the charm under your breath and no one noticed the ropes falling from Bobs limbs, you were sure they’d at least block you from your exit.




No, plan 1 was a no go.




You thought about how you could fight each and every one of them individually, about how you’d fight tooth and nail for Bob, but you knew you were no match for your aunts power.




Plan 2 wasn’t really a plan at all.




You considered that your only option may be talking your way out of the situation, pleading with Gillian’s soft side, the side that helped raise you and spent so many Christmas’s by your side. You knew she hated you in this moment, hated you for jeopardising others for your own selfish need. Hated you for going against what she and the others had fought so hard to stave off, but at the end of the day it was still sacrifice, it was still murder.




“Gilly, please. I know you hate me right now, but I’m begging you to take me and let Bob go. I’ve learnt my lesson, I’m sorry, you don’t need us both.” You began to plead with her.




“No, Bree.” Bob whimpered, a look of pain and horror etched across his face. “Don’t you do this to me!”




You bit back a sob and tore your eyes away from Bob, squaring up to Gillian.




“Take me, let him go, I’m begging you. Make it as slow, and painful as you need to, I will suffer for what I have done, please just let Bob go.”




Gillian’s eyes glinted, and you realised there was no love left for you.




Gillian was a shallow, heartless woman for the most part, but the little love she did once have for you was long gone.




You finally understood what you needed to do to save Bob.




“If you let Bob go, and take me, torture me, it’ll hurt both of us. He’ll have to live with that for the rest of his life and that will be so much worse than if we both die.” You plead as you glanced at Bob, and the look of horror on Bobs face was too much to bear, so you turned away.




Gillian pretended to think about it for a moment, pursing her lips as she looked between you and Bob.




“Hmmm… no, I don’t think so darling. Unfortunately the beetle’s already spoken, shhh… listen? It’s ticking, it’s time.” She chuckled.




And she was right, you had to strain to hear it, but it was there, ticking and clicking menacingly under the floorboards of the warehouse.




“No! I’m willingly sacrificing myself, so it can’t hurt him! That’s not how it works!” You screamed, suddenly frustrated as you lunged towards Bob and began to manually untie him.




No one stopped you as they watched you struggle with the tight knots around Bobs hands.




“Bree…” Bob sighed, defeated. You ignored him as you worked frantically to get him out of his binds.




“Bree.” He said more sternly this time. “Bree, stop!”




You looked up into his striking eyes, your hands slowing to a stop.




“Bree, it was your mom all along.”




“What… what do you mean?”




“Your mom, she was the one who called you here, she came to find you to plant it in your head that I ran off, that I was in danger. It wasn’t true, Bree. She came by the cabin while you slept, said not to wake you, that she wanted to check in. Next thing I knew I was waking up in the dark… in here.”




“That means nothing, she would never-“




Suddenly a soft laugh, almost disturbingly calm, came from the back of the group. The witches parted and your mom walked to the centre with a soft grin plastered across her beautiful features. Behind her your older sisters followed.




“I’m sorry darling, I really did try not to get involved in your love life, but… when the stars align, we simply must.” Her grin began to make you shiver, there was something unnatural behind it. Gillian shrunk behind her, and you suddenly realised it was all a front. She was merely a showman.




“What do you mean?” You breathed out as you stood, facing them.




You mother moved forward slowly, stroked your cheek and then spun quickly to admire your two older sisters, Kylie and Antonia.




“Your sisters, they have made me so proud.” She explained, “They’ve both found their true loves, men who make them happy. Men who would do simply anything for them, just like you and your little Bobby here. But the problem is, honey, as you well know, Mr Deathwatch is always ready to pounce.”




You held your breath as you listened and your mother paced. A terrible, cold feeling washed over you.




Your mother continued, “So imagine my surprise when your aunt and I were doing our yearly ritual to find the next star crossed bastard who was lucky enough to be sacrificed for the good of our kind, when the bones fell on your name, and the parchment burst into flames. I was horrified of course, at first. My own daughter, I couldn’t imagine it, and I so hoped Bob would jump to take your place, but when you somehow outsmarted Gilly under the pier that day, it got me thinking, why had the parchment burst into flames in the first place? It was normal.”




You were genuinely lost now, standing confused and in a half protective stance in front of Bob, ready to defend him at any moment.




“So we went home and I channeled our ancestors, tried to get them to help me, and… I was just about to call it a night when our great ancestor Maria decided to speak up. And you know what she said?” Your mom chucked, her eyes suddenly dark. “She said you were the one they prophesied about, and with you, the entire curse could be broken. You hold the power, my darling, you are so much more powerful than you even know.”







You scoffed, you couldn’t believe any of this was unfolding, “Okay, I already told you, I’ll take Bobs place. There you have it, a willing sacrifice, you can let him go now.” You were angry, furious that your own mother would do this to you, for the sake of your sisters’ happiness.




Your mom shook her head slowly, bringing her fingers up to her lips to press down a smile.




“No, darling, you don’t understand, do you? Poor, young thing. We need both of you for this to work, as well as another very important piece of the puzzle, I’m sure you know who’s followed you here, don’t you?” She gestured her hand at the door almost theatrically, and a second later, the green door burst open.




You clasped your hand over your mouth as the silhouette of those oh so familiar curls stood in the doorway, his large frame towering and clueless.




“Bree! You had me worried sick, I-“ Bradley stopped in his tracks as his eyes adjusted and the women surrounding you in the dimly lit room came into view.




“Bradley, no, you need to go! Now!” Your body went ice cold as you screamed for him to go and you realised what was happening.




It was too late, the door slammed shut behind him as he looked around, surprised.




“Bree, you called me here, what’s going on?” Bradley said as he rested his hand on the gun in his holster.




“No! I didn’t, Bradley, please you need to go!”




Bradley crossed the space between you and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, his large hand resting on the small of your back.




“Bree, what’s happening here?” He breathed down at you, concerned by the unusual gathering.




You shook your head and tears sprung to your eyes, you were so close to him you could feel his breath on your face and you could see the confusion in his eyes. “Bradley I’m so sorry…”




A force suddenly yanked you back ten feet so that you were out of reach of one another, and your mother walked up to him and smiled, “Hello Bradley, nice to see you again.”




Bradley’s face twisted into an expression of confusion and horror, and his jaw clenched and ticked as he realised he couldn’t move, your mothers deceptively soft touch freezing him to his spot as his eyes met yours.




“I’m glad you could make it, you really are an incredibly big part of our puzzle. Without you…” she chuckled, “well, we wouldn’t be able to do it.” Her face had now changed, and the woman you had spent your life trusting and loving was no longer your mother, but rather a shallow, hollow version, devoid of the love she once so openly poured out. You wondered now if it was all an act and this was the real her.




“Mom…” you whimpered, “You can’t do this. One person is enough!”




Your mom shook her head with a smirk, “Not this time. You’re the only witch in the history of our bloodline to have two true soulmates. Sure, some had multiple lovers, but never true, untainted love completely equally for two people. If you all die, none of us will ever be cursed again.”




Your lip began to tremble, you had tried so hard to suppress your feelings for Bradley, you kept telling yourself it was a crush and Bob was the one, but in all honesty your heart was crushed by the immense weight of your feelings for both men.




Now all you felt was the awful weight of guilt, having brought them both into this nightmare.




“Bree… I don’t understand.” Bradley forced out through a clenched jaw. “Do… you love me?”




You wanted to cry, to shake him and ask “that’s the part you’re focusing on??” But all you could do was nod as you looked into his beautiful brown eyes, which sparkled at your affirmation.


“I love you too.” He breathed, still struggling in place to get to you.




Bob flinched behind you, and you suddenly were overwhelmed by the guilt of it all.




Your eyes darted between the two men as your mind raced and you tried to figure out how to get out of this mess.




The problem was, you were surrounded completely, and it now wasn’t just one person you needed to protect, but two.




You realised now that your mothers love for your sisters was stronger than her love for you, and that you needed to do whatever it to took to save the men you loved, even if that meant hurting your family.




“If you lay a finger on either of them, I swear to god you will regret it.” You gritted out, anger bubbling up to the surface. Heat pooling at the tips of your fingers.




Gillian rounded into view with a smirk on her face, cocky as ever as he stood beside your mother, “Poor thing, you never stood a chance really. I mean don’t get me wrong, we do love you dear, but this is for the greater good of our kind.”




Your mother nodded, “Wouldn’t you want nothing more than to protect your family, Bree?”




You scoffed, “What, the family that would rather I die than their husbands? Why would I sacrifice my life and the men I love for that? If you let them go, I promise you I won’t resist.” You pleaded again, hoping their love for you would help them see clearly.




You mother looked at the ground and sighed, and you hoped for a moment that your pleading had worked.




“Mom?” You said softly, appealing to her motherly instinct.




Your mother looked up at you slowly, a soft smile and gentle eyes, the way she always looked at you when you were a child.




You held your breath as the seconds passed, the heat in your fingers slowly ebbing away as you felt that you may have gotten through to her.




Then, seemingly with the flick of a switch, her face turned stone cold. “No.”




Your mother flicked her wrist, and suddenly Bradley went limp and the light seemingly disappeared from his eyes.




You screamed, you screamed so loud you couldn’t even hear it anymore, and the heat in your fingers turned into white hot power that engulfed the room and everyone in it. It all happened so quickly, and you weren’t even sure if Bradley’s knees hit the ground before the dark room was fully illuminated.




You screamed as you dropped to your knees and shook, blinded by the bright light you emitted and filled to the brim with anger and hatred.




You could feel Bradley disappear, you felt it like part of your soul had been torn out of you like a page from a book, sharp and jagged.




You felt incomplete, and you screamed.




After what felt like hours, the light began to dim and your screams turned to sobbing.




You eventually opened your eyes, your fists clenched against the cold hard ground, and you were alone in the room with Bob, and Bradley’s cold body.




Bob blinking as his eyes readjusted, “Bree, baby untie me, please.” He instructed, voice strong and determined.




You stood on wobbly legs and sniffled as you stumbled toward him, your eyes landing on Bradleys body and making you want to scream again.




You dropped to your knees at Bob’s side as you removed his constraints.




The second Bob’s hands were freed, he held you.




You’d expected him to run, or to be furious at you for loving another man as well as him, or for pulling him into this mess, but there was none of that. No animosity, no resentment, just pure love and worry.




He held you on his lap for a long time as you wept, stroking your hair and kissing your wet face as he rocked you back and forth.




“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “For everything, I’m so sorry.”




Bob didn’t say anything for a while, but eventually he sighed and shook his head, “Bree I don’t pretend to understand your world, but I do understand that you can’t help who you’re destined for, and who you love. I know you didn’t mean for any of this, it’s fate, just like how you and I came together…Can you just answer me one thing?”




You looked up at Bob with watery eyes and nodded.




“Do you still love me… the same as you did before all this?”




You let out a fresh sob and nodded, “Of course, you idiot. My love for you didn’t change because of Bradley, you were always the one.”







———————————




You had no idea where the coven went when you exploded, but you knew despite the fear of them returning, you had to take some time to say goodbye to Bradley.




You sat with his body for long time, and Bob said nothing while you kissed Bradley’s cold forehead, or when you confessed to him that you really did love him all along, even though you knew he could no longer hear you.




You set the warehouse alight along with Bradley’s body, and you watched in pain as it burnt to the ground.




By the time police and firefighters had arrived, you and Bob were long gone.




You drove Bradley’s truck south and dumped it 4 miles out of a small town you’d stopped at overnight, before getting on a bus to god knows where.




You had no idea what the future held, no idea where you were going, and no idea where your mother was or if they were even still alive.




All you knew was you had Bob to protect and you would very clearly do everything in your power to do so.




—————————-




Writers note: sorry this took so long to finish! I feel like I really struggled with this one and my creative flow was not… flowing! But I hope you guys have enjoyed this series regardless!

[theallianceofcelestials]

Update on the AI scrapping situation

I really wish I didn't have to make another post about this, but here we are.

The AO3 dataset, while currently unavaible on the HuggingFace website. has been made into a downloadable, still avaible Torrent file by the person who scrapped AO3

And all the others are avaible here too!

This person scrapped all of these works, whether they be drawings or writings, for AI purposes and to sell them!

The website datafish, the one these are avaible on, is based in Russia, and from what I know it's not responding to DMCAs. Despite all these datasets consisting of stolen work, so far nothing has been done against these!

This was brought to my attention by @mazois in the previous post's comment section, and I've did a little bit of further digging into this, but just know I'm not an expert in this! I'm just another scared person who's work was stolen

This dataset is still downloadable! This can still be downloaded and used by anyone who wishes for it!

Now I really hate doing these tumblr posts, mostly because I shouldn't need to, but also because I kind of feel like I'm bothering people with this, but I just want everyone to have a chance to do something about this.

Right now I don't know if the same approach will work with this one. Even enough DMCAs get filed, maybe something will get done. But I don't know. All I know is that these things are still avaible, even at least one of those that were deleted off of HuggingFace

Now I've tagged the same things as before, with a couple extra added tags, and I'll also link the last post relating to this issue here

Now, while this is a shitty situation, please do not harrass this person! Not because of the whole don't get on their level or whatever, but because it might help them get these datasets back online if they can say they've been harrassed over this! If we want something to get done about this, we must not give this person ground to push back!

Sorry to bother everyone about this again, but I wanted to share this in case someone wanted to know this.

[lunarharp]

"Found out" set in kind of a made-up chapter where the girls are in trouble, or something.

[partly-cloudyskies]

Red Birthright

Witch From Mercury/Star Wars AU

Chapter 6

Loret Noor’s capital city had one of its spaceports set in an outlying enclave. That was where she had been instructed to put down. The spaceport squatted like a bulky, high-walled fortress honeycombed with landing pads that saw starliners and haulers come and go. It anchored one end of a wide boulevard and on the other end was a gaudy mansion—no, palace, more like. Lining the boulevard between was what had appeared to be storefronts but—upon their unscheduled acquisition of previously spoken for goods through the use of emphatic coercion—turned out be concealed auto-turrets. The entire ‘town’ was an artfully concealed fortress for an extremely wealthy, extremely paranoid, and now extremely angry Hutt. “Raddu,” Agrum had said, half an hour ago before everything went to hell. “A respectable Hutt, not like the violent warlords you get out on the Outer Rim. By which I mean, he’ll introduce himself before having one of his henchmen slit your throat.” And yes, Raddu was indeed announcing himself. Via a four-story tall holoprojection of himself, beamed out of his palace. He thrashed and flailed in all his slug-like glory, a glass of some dark liquid sloshing in the grip of one hand as he raged in Huttese. Miorine had to confess her grasp on the language was rusty, but she heard the name ‘Shaddiq’ followed by a string of profanity that she definitely recognized. In that moment, she felt a kinship with Raddu. It was a shame his bodyguards were trying to kill her. “Why isn’t the cargo moving?” Miorine shouted over the firefight. The three skiffs that occupied the middle of the road were laden with their ill-gotten goods. They had glided serenely on hover skis a good way down the main thoroughfare until coming to a puttering stop roughly halfway between the palace and the spaceport. “I am unsure!” Agrum said. “Doc is responsible for remoting the skiffs and I have lost contact with her!” Doc? Miorine furrowed her brow. Who was— She heard an impact of blaster bolt against metal and caught a shower of sparks in her periphery. Above her. Second level of the storefront. Something fell, feet away from where she crouched. Limp limbs tangling together in a heap on the paved street. They landed with the sound of metal scraping on concrete. “Doc!” Agrum called out. Doc, it turned out, was a slicer droid, slight and stealthy. Not, it appeared, sufficiently so. Agrum shifted his aim, pointing above Miorine, and fired. A Raddu henchman fell atop Doc then rolled away with a smoking hole in his armor. “This sucks,” Miorine said under her breath.

[dr-pipis]

I DIDNT KNOW SHONEN JUMP RELEASED TODAY I MISSED EVERYTHINGGGGGGG FMLLL

[inkburnt]

The Witching Hour

Chapter 14: Glad to See You Go

Fandom: Devil May Cry Mature // Gen // In-progress // Chapters: 14/? // Words: 123,060 Characters: V, Griffon, Shadow, Nightmare, original characters Warning(s): Graphic depictions of violence Additional tags: V is not part of Vergil, V’s name is Vitale, witch V, canon divergence, post-Devil May Cry 5, canon-typical violence, sorcery, witchcraft, clairvoyance, magic, magical bullshit, childhood trauma, referenced loss of parent(s), friendship, bonding, many boss battles, elements of Norse mythology, musical elements, very slight Girl vs. Boy but it’s not harmful, tentatively tagging with, rivalry, there are tones of misandry but mainly coming from the antagonist, which is to be expected since she’s cracked and Evil AU info  //  Series on AO3

Months following the fall of the Qliphoth, a childhood villain reappears in V’s life and descends upon both him and a city still licking its wounds. Armed with dark sorcery and a menagerie of resurrected boss-level demons, she wreaks her own brand of havoc as she goes on the warpath. Meanwhile, another sorcerer interferes with questionable motives, all as V and his familiars find opportunities for growth—and a chance for V to tie loose ends and make final amends.

(Updates slowly, on Sundays or Mondays.)

Masterlist

[magalidragon]

wolf and flame | a witchy Jonerys Orgasmic October 2023 fic | day 7: witching hour

Here we go, I managed to get it in just before Halloween! This is for @snowxstormworld Jonerys Orgasmic October 2023, day 7: witching hour! Enjoy!

He reached into his cloak and removed a heavy piece of parchment, pushing it towards her with his gloved hand. She took it, flipping it open and staring at the ruins inked into the weathered pages. It was a map. A map she had been looking for, for ages. Her violet eyes flicked up to meet his piercing blue ones. “You found it?” she murmured. “In a way,” he answered vaguely. She opened her mouth to speak when her nose wrinkled, an odd scent permeating through the smoke, sweat, and ale-scented smog of the pub. It was a scent she had only smelled once in her life. The worst day of it. Wolf Her lips curled in a snarl; in the Stormlands, Drogon screeched, turning northward immediately to be at her side. The fire sang in her blood and she turned her fingers up, curling them, drawing the candle flames near to her. Except…this had something to it. It was cloaked. The wolf was trying to hide. She cocked her head, her violet eyes almost black, staring at Davis. “There’s a wolf here.” Davos smirked. “I hear there’s one in the Kingswood. The local children tell stories. They don’t go there.” “Wolves can’t survive long out of the North.” They were her mortal enemies. The ones who helped murder her family. She scanned the pub, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, until she paused, her gaze landing on a black cloaked figure standing at the bar. She narrowed her eyes, tapping her fingers on the table, fire burning through her skin, dancing from fingertip to fingertip. The person at the bar was magical, but she couldn't put her finger on why. The figure turned, glancing her direction, and for a brief second, she saw a pale face, dark beard, and piercing set of gray eyes before the figure disappeared into a throng of people who had just entered the pub. She sat straighter, one hand disappearing the map into her cloak, the other flicking her hood further over her silver hair; she had been here too long. There were some who were beginning to notice. This might be neutral territory for the likes of her, but Targaryens did not survive long in Westeros and it was best she get a move on. Davos tapped his fingers to his lips, smiling vaguely. "You might want to canvass the Kingswood, search for this mysterious wolf. The children refer to him as the Big Bad Wolf." "Well they're children, they're stupid." He shrugged, as if to give her that point. She didn’t like the fact that the wolf scent had been so powerful, but also so fleeting. She also didn’t like the fact she couldn’t tell what sort of magic the black-cloaked figure held. It probably didn’t matter; this city was a transit point for anyone seeking access to the greater part of Westeros. She nodded to Davos, standing swiftly in one move. “Davos.” He smiled again. “Search the Kingswood. You might find…something useful.”

[bugeyedfreaks]

It’s the PPG witching hours so this is probably why I feel compelled to write this but also because that last ask has inspired me…

…I am always on the lookout for PPG fanfictions that people think I may enjoy, so… just to let everyone know if you did not already… I am always open to recommendations…

[umber-cinders]

🔞🚨Attoye Kinktober Fic Snippet ❥ 🔞🚨

Incubus!Attuma x Witch!Okoye - Monsterfucking Category

I may be 5 foot irl, but my writing is 6'6", if you know what I mean. So longer snippets for my oneshots are required. So just enjoy the 600 word appetizer because there's more to come when it drops later 😂💕 Join us for Attoye Kintober at @theattoyearchive for more, we'd love to have you visit ❣

Updating this snippet post with the full fic link!: