#i love him and how he's so fixated on learning and stealing spells | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

with-love-from-hell · 3 years ago

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Hi Stormy may i ask Satan / Solomon x reader whos starting as a witch. they've been lurking through their books and stealing spell recipes. Just cute messy stuff? As for the personality, you already know me :P. Ily!

Hi Vi!

I'd love to do this request- being a pagan myself. I'll give ya a good, fluffy short fic featuring both of your favs. (:

Pilfer Now, Apologize Later

Fandom: Obey me!

Characters featured: Satan & Solomon

Genre: Fluff!

Written for GN!Mc

WC: ~1.6k

CW: none! other than depictions of insecurity, teasing, and theft I guess?

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

Your fingers trace delicately over the spines of the plethora of books on display in the RAD Library as you search for anything that would be helpful in learning how to brew potions with devildom herbs. Your mission to grow knowledge about various plants in devildom had lead you to discovering witchery, and now you were diving head-first into it. Call it a hyper-fixation, but you couldn’t help wanting to learn anything and everything there is to know.

Perhaps it was watching curiously as Solomon added various greenery and vials of liquid to his cauldron a few weeks ago made you more curious of the realm of brewing. He was trying to make a potion for better information retention to help Mammon study in exchange for some rare herbs from the 2nd born brother, but when he couldn’t pay his end of the deal, Solomon “accidentally” knocked over the bubbling liquid, fizzling pink foam into the floorboards of Purgatory Hall. When they all had left the area, you managed to sneakily snag some remnants of the potion that had pooled in a few divits on the floor, aiming to study the contents as best you could- that’s when the interest started.

It’s not like Satan and Solomon would miss any of the items you snagged from their rooms. They were very unorganized, and often lost things anyway. It wasn’t like they kept an inventory of their belongings like Lucifer did- which was a fact you learned when trying to sneak out a book of Curses from his office a few nights prior. He caught you so fast that you would have expected him to have eyes growing out of the top of his head as he told you to put back what you were taking while his head was buried in stacks of paperwork. Fortunately there were others who kept worse track of their stuff.

It’s not like you didn’t want to ask before borrowing the various books, vials, and other items from the two individuals you held dear. You were just a bit embarrassed. While you were sure that they would welcome your curious mind to their sides, you were intimidated by how much knowledge the two had on various subjects. They had both been alive for a really long time, and you wanted to at least learn some things before telling them about your new interest. It’s not like you could surpass their intelligence- but you at least wanted to impress them with how much you knew.

And you did feel bad for taking things from them, but part of you wondered if it was not their fault for making the things you needed to learn too easy to access. It was worrying at first because you didn’t want to get caught...but now you were worried about someone with ill intentions getting access to the materials they had- such as the Blood Curses book you had snatched from Satan’s room last night while he was trying to prank Lucifer.

You sigh, not finding the book you were looking for here. You knew Solomon would probably have the materials needed. After scolding yourself internally for a moment, you reside yourself to making a trip to purgatory hall to see the sorcerer. He was usually distracted anyway, so it wouldn’t be hard to grab a couple of things while he was hunched over his various spell books. Besides, you always liked watching him work. You learned so much from him that way.

You stroll your way over to purgatory hall quickly. After being let in and briefly having a small chat with Simeon and Luke, you head Solomon’s room. To your surprise, he wasn’t even there. Simeon must not have seen him leave when he said you could just invite yourself into the sorcerer’s space, but it gave you the perfect opportunity to sneak a peak at the various items he owned you weren’t able to look at before. You eagerly begin sifting through book after book on his shelves, looking for things that may help you learn more about witchcraft and sorcery. You were so lost in your excitement that you barely noticed the two curious pairs of eyes watching you from the doorway.

“So that’s where all my vials have been disappearing off to.” Solomon quipped. A sly smirk played on his lips as he watched you jump in surprise, nearly dropping all of the small glass jars, parchment, and herbs you had collected in your arms.

Satan let out an amused chuckle. “I suppose now I know who the book thief of the House of Lamentation is.”

If you could just melt yourself down to a puddle and disappear through the floor boards, you absolutely would. You weren’t sure if they could tell, but your face stung with warm humiliation as you realized you had been caught by not one, but both of the individuals you had been pilfering from over the last two weeks. And what’s more- they knew about their stuff going missing! You figured with how disorganized they were, they wouldn’t miss a few items here and there- but perhaps they were a bit more observant than you gave them credit for. You attempted to blubber out an apology, but stay frozen in place with the thieved items in hand.

What could you say? what could you do?

The two took their time roasting you, poking fun at how embarrassed you were and chaffing you for taking their belongings. It wasn’t as if either of them cared too much. Satan just thought Mammon was stealing and selling off his rare books again, but he was confused when he noticed the books turning up missing were of little value. Solomon just figured it was 13 messing with him, and he certainly had enough money to replace the supplies, since it was mostly common herbs, cheap parchment, and small glass jars.

After they had their fun giving you a hard time, they began to notice how uncomfortable you seemed to be- both sensing that you were near tears. Satan’s expression softened as he approached you, easing the items out of your hands and onto the few empty spaces on Solomon’s dresser. He then wrapped you in a hug, not wanting to push too hard on his teasing. He knew you were shy and had a lot of anxiety, so he felt bad for poking fun at you for too long.

“Hey, Mc.” He cooed, patting the back of your head softly. “It was all in good fun. We’re not mad.”

“Truly.” Solomon added, setting down his canvas bag filled with replacements for the missing items. “But why are you taking all this stuff anyway?”

You bite your lip, still embarrassed by the fact that you had been caught stealing from your two closest friends. You say nothing, shifting your weight awkwardly while being held gently by Satan.

Satan begins thinking back to the items he saw in your arms when he entered the room, and the content of the books he had found missing from his shelves. Finally, the lightbulb went off in his brain. “Are you interested in learning about witchcraft?”

You nod sheepishly. “I just...I was afraid to ask you guys for help.”

Solomon cocked his head at you. “Why would you be afraid of us?”

“Well...” You shift your eyes away from his. “You guys just know so much stuff, and...I wanted to learn some basic things before bothering you about it.”

Satan tutted at you, his expression still warm, but now displaying a scowl. “You’re never a bother to us Mc.”

Solomon nodded in agreement. “If anything, you’re the least bothersome person in all the three realms.”

Satan shrugged before bobbing his head in agreement. “I would agree with that statement. Besides, we don’t expect you to be on our level of magic yet. We’ve been alive for hundreds upon hundreds of years, Mc. We’ve had time to absorb enough knowledge to fill the Library of Alexandria.”

Solomon laughed. “Seriously, you’ve seen Satan’s room, haven’t you?”

Satan shot Solomon a dirty glare. “I know where each and every book is in my room. It’s not messy- just...cluttered.”

“Suuure.” Solomon made a sarcastic face back at Satan while putting both hands in the air.

“At least I don’t live amongst the pig-sty you live in.” Satan retorted dropping his arms from around you. He moved stepped a few paces in the room, picking up a dish with food remnants dried onto the ceramic and gesturing to it with his nose upturned. “Seriously. What the hell, Man?”

You let out a giggle are their senseless arguing over who the messier person was. Both turned their attention back to you, giving you a gentle smile.

“Anyways...” Satan continued turning his focus back to you. “We’d be happy to teach you what you know. You can feel free to borrow any books of mine that you’d like, as long as you tell me which ones your taking- but I encourage you to tell me what you’re trying to learn. I’m sure I could point you in the right direction.”

Solomon nodded in agreement, opening an empty canvas bag and filling it with supplies. “Anything you need...just ask!” He handed you the bag after putting the items you had been taking into it.

You smile shyly, thankful that the two didn’t see you as a horrible person for taking their items without asking. You truly didn’t have anything to be afraid of from them, and now you had to eager mentors willing to stumble over each other to help you learn how to be a stronger witch.

#obey me!#obey me #shall we date: obey me #obey me satan #obey me solomon #solomon #satan #obm satan #obm solomon #obey me swd #obey me fic #obm fic #fic #fluff #obm fluff #obey me fluff #gn!reader #gn!mc

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lassieposting · 3 years ago

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I'm mad at myself for asking this but 💘 skug/alt!Serpine

WHEEZES

U CONVERTED

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

KOTW.

Then, after Skug refuses to kill Serpine at the end of SOW, China spitefully makes him responsible for Serpine's behaviour while he's living in Roarhaven. "Parole officer" isn't part of Skug's job description but honestly he doesn't trust anyone else to make sure Serpine doesn't slip the leash, so

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

I mean, Serpine literally gets his dick out in their very first scene together, and he throws his towel over Val's head so it clearly wasn't for her benefit.

My headcanon is that he did have the hots for his own dimension's Skulduggery before he died. But Serpine has a very warped experience of emotions - he's not insane, and he's not a complete psychopath, but he has very low empathy, an obsessive personality, a considerable sadistic streak and a tendency to be jealous, narcissistic and manipulative. So his crush on Skug was more like an unhealthy fixation - hatred and lust and humiliation and the need to control, all tangled together.

On Skug's side...he has a few lines that read as flirty, in a D/S kind of way. But honestly I don't think this was deliberate. I get the impression he's actually imitating how Serpine spoke to him when he was the prisoner. Serpine's entire arc in SOW can be condensed down to "microdosing on what he put Skug through before killing him". He's surrounded by enemies who want him dead, he loses a body part, he's beaten up, he's humiliated, he's cut off from his magic - and he hates it. I get the vibe that this isn't lost on Skug, and he's repeating things Serpine once mockingly said to him just to rub it in.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Serpine.

I have him converting to the Church of the Faceless as a teenager, so he's spent his entire adult life surrounded by other selfish, scheming social climbers who'd sell him to Satan for a corn chip. His relationship history is chock full of psychopaths. He's used to betrayal and being used by his partners - such is life, as a bad guy.

So Skug protecting him during the Leibniz mission makes quite an impact. He even says himself that Skug has every reason to hate him and want to make him suffer - which is an attempt at empathy considerably deeper than anything we've seen from him before - but he's still shocked and devastated when Skug cuts his hand off. He genuinely expected Skug to decide to fight their way out rather than harm him. To me, that says he's come to rely on having Skug in his corner, which is a security net he is decidedly not used to having.

He doesn't necessarily express it very well? His feelings are complicated, and he doesn't understand most of them. A good part of him still hates Skug, just as a good part of Skug will always hate him. But his fixation on Skug shifts a bit - rather than obsessing over him as an enemy, he obsesses over him as an ally. He starts wanting Skug's approval and digging for praise, he gets sulky and jealous if Skug implies he doesn't trust him or goes to someone else for help or information instead, and he starts trying to insert himself into Skug's life.

Basically, he's gotten over that he spent the past 300 years as Skug's enemy, so Skug needs to be over it too. Right now. And it's unreasonable and unfair that he isn't over it.

where their first date was and what it was like

Skug is willing to acknowledge that if they were a couple, which they're not, because they're arch enemies, then maybe, if you really had to look at anything they do as "a date" then...perhaps the first time they went to the opera could in some way be considered their first date. But it wasn't. Because they're not together. He doesn't even like Serpine. Valkyrie just doesn't appreciate "yowling" and he had nobody else to go with because all his friends are dead.

Serpine will agree with this - but only because he knows that announcing that he lowkey considers their three day torture extravaganza to be their first date would go down like a lead balloon.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

They never have a "going steady" discussion. It's just

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

They're adamant that there's nothing to let anyone know about. They spend a lot of time together, and sometimes Serpine helps with cases, and they angry fuck sometimes, and Skug keeps a few shirts and a toothbrush at Serpine's apartment, but they're not a couple.

who’s more dominant

Skug. Serpine will die mad about it. He complains constantly about how much he gets manhandled during the Leibniz mission, how undignified it is to be cut off from his magic, how everyone tells him to shut up every time he tries to join in a conversation, he hates you all, remember that time he killed people you all cared about?

Unfortunately, Serpine is a massively subby bottom, so dom!Skug makes him deeply horny and even more angry about it. He's the epitome of "Stop looking at my fucking boner when we fight."

where their first kiss was and what it was like

It's New Year's. Serpine is out at a bar with some of his student neighbours because, why not. Skug is at the same bar, questioning the staff about a grizzly murder. The usual. Serpine goes over to say hello and make fun of him for Always Working and tell him he should chill out on occasion because isn't it your fucking birthday and you're still at work??? They're still talking when the countdown finishes and everyone around them starts kissing, which is a completely new concept to Serpine because that tradition wasn't part of the Leibniz dimension's New Year's festivities, so he just sort of panics because everyone else is doing it, grabs Skug by the front of his coat and goes for it.

Skug freezes, because who would know how to react when the man who killed you once tries to go to town on your fake face, and then gets his shit together and promptly arrests Serpine for assaulting a Sanctuary official, because he's petty and he can and Nef needs to learn some fucking boundaries.

They end up lowkey working on the case together through the bars of the temporary holding cell, and although neither of them would admit it, they actually have a good time. At the end of the night Skug relents, lets him out for "good behaviour" and gives him a lift home.

how into pda they are

Serpine is hugely into PDA. He likes a possessive, jealous partner, he's got a bit of an exhibitionistic streak, and ultimately he wants to be wanted enough to be fought over.

Unfortunately for him, Skug is not a PDA fan in the slightest. Serpine finds this bitterly disappointing.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

A Roarhaven restaurant with a live jazz band. Serpine likes the food, Skug likes the music, and it's public - so neither of them feels wrongfooted and vulnerable in the other one's territory. Although, as Serpine likes to point out, it would be a bit difficult to torture and dismember a man in his student accommodation apartment. If he can hear Maddie-across-the-hall having muffled sex with her latest beau from the far side of his flat , he's pretty sure the entire building would hear Skug fighting his way out of whatever diabolical trap he seems to think has been set for him every time he comes over.

who’s more protective

Skug is more obviously protective - he protects Serpine almost the entire time in Leibniz, rows with China in defence of his freedom, and (however reluctantly) steps up to help him settle in Roarhaven. But Serpine is territorial, and he can be surprisingly proactive about it. If Skug comes home injured, he can always tell - no matter how much he tries to hide it - because he's seen Skug at his very worst, he knows what 'trying to mask pain' looks like in the set of that jaw and the grit in that voice. He doesn't like anyone else playing with his toys, so sometimes he'll get very angry and lash out at whoever damaged Skug in the first place.

(He also tends to hover at the clinic like a particularly irritating bad smell. He insists it's because he just finds Skug's pain amusing. He's not concerned. Not in the slightest. He doesn't care at all. No, he will not go home.)

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

They first hook up a few months after returning from Leibniz, but it's a half-dressed up-against-a-wall sort of thing and neither of them sticks around for pillow talk. They don't actually share a bed - as in, fall asleep together - until at least a year later. Technically, the first time they fall asleep together, they're on a stakeout and Serpine dozes off on Skug's shoulder, then wakes up with a cricked neck.

if they argue about anything

Literally everything, 90% of their interactions are arguing. Bickering and snark is the only way they know how to communicate.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Serpine loves leaving marks and doesn't mind getting them, either. He's territorial and has an exhibitionist streak, so he likes everyone knowing who he belongs to, and he's deeply thirsty over the idea of everyone knowing Skug belongs to him.

Unfortunately, Skug is not easy to leave marks on. Any hickies he gives the facade will disappear as soon as Skug turns it off. Some of his scars still show, though - the ones that scored his bones - so at least there's that.

who steals whose clothes and how often

They're not too different in size, so they could probably both get away with it, but everything Skug owns was tailored for him and Nef is narrower in the shoulders, so Skug's shirts don't look quite right on him. That doesn't stop him borrowing a couple to wear around the house, though. He has no stored wealth in this dimension, so he's wearing off the rack until he can get his feet under him again, and Skug's shirts are all obnoxiously fine fabric. It would be silly not to steal a few.

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

They're not that cuddly. They do have occasional moments of softness, but it's more likely to be, like. A shoulder bump. Fixing each other's shirt collar. Tending an injury with a minimum of mockery. They do a fair bit of this when no one's watching, though.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

Bickering.

They also both like working cases. The Sanctuary won't officially hire Serpine because he is who he is, but when Skug hits a dead end in a case or has something that's really frustrating him, they'll go over it together. 400 years of enmity aside, their minds work in similar ways, and they're both very good at that sort of thing - if they hadn't met on opposite sides of the battlefield, they probably would have gotten along very well.

how long they stay mad at each other

They've never actually not been mad at each other. They're just all each other has left because all their friends are dead.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Initially, both black - maximum stimulants for Skug, maximum edginess for Serpine. But then he discovers Starbucks, and all the fancy things mortals are doing with coffee these days, and starts branching out into what Skug calls "frilly froufrou nonsense". After that his drinks are like 95% sugar and syrup.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

They never officially split up. This is mostly because neither of them will admit being together in the first place. They absolutely go through phases of being far more enemies than fuckbuddies, and they know how to push each other's buttons and hurt each other like no one else. This ship is comedic and incredibly toxic in turns.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

They don't live together. Serpine has no idea where Skug lives, and Skug wants to keep it that way. Serpine's flat is technically student accommodation - he just needed somewhere the landlord was too young to remember him from the war - so when Skug crashes there it's usually cramped and noisy and there's a revolving door of neighbours knocking on to ask to borrow some milk/loo roll/"hey, you're old, help me with my history thesis?"/"Are you coming out tonight?"

All Serpine's neighbours think he's a sex worker - to them, he seems to have a different well-dressed sugar daddy staying over every week. They keep trying to set him up an OnlyFans. Skug finds all this very amusing.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

Christmas was banned in Leibniz (as a religious holiday of a banned religion) so Nef hasn't celebrated since he converted in his teens, but he gets into it, because it's an excuse for a party and nobody is policing him. Skug is his usual grinchy grouchy self. Nef also celebrates several holidays that Skug isn't familiar with that were commonplace in Leibniz, but are only observed by strict Faceless worshippers in Roarhaven.

what their names are in each other’s phones

Skug is an old man about his contacts, so Nef is just "Nefarian Serpine".

Serpine, on the other hand, has recently discovered emojis, so Skug is "💀🍆".

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Who falls asleep first varies; Serpine is a night owl and likes to go to bed in the early hours of the morning, but Skug has some really fucked up working hours, so a lot of the time he's awake long after even the night owls have gone to bed. But it's always Skug who wakes up first - Serpine is Absolutely Not a morning person. He fits right in with the students in his building who have to be coaxed from under the quilt by the smell of frying bacon.

Skug, because he enjoys the odd opportunity to be an asshole, will sometimes wake him with a cup of coffee, and sometimes by holding a flame up to the fire alarm. Variety is the spice of life, Nefarian, didn't anyone ever tell you that?

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Cuddling is fairly new to Serpine. He's always enjoyed sex, but he has a solid tendency to jump into bed with the enemy - as shown by his laundry list of Resistance conquests - so he's never really gone for relationships where cuddling is a thing. He's more into the "forbidden passion" sort of dynamic.

Skug is a cuddler, but not so much in this particular relationship, for obvious and understandable reasons. Serpine does figure out though that he can burrow under Skug's arm while he's half-asleep or in a postcoital fugue state and Skug will just sort of let him, so he's probably the little spoon.

who hogs the bathroom

Both of them.

Serpine lives in a tiny one bed flat in a student building. His bathroom is miniscule. And when Skug stays over, they're both crammed in there first thing, Serpine trying to shave and do his hair and Skug elbowing him out of the way to cycle through facades until he finds one that's handsome enough to leave the house in. They bicker horrendously the entire time. It's a logistical nightmare.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

Nef kills them. Not because he knows Skug's not a fan, but because he's not allowed to torment humans anymore, so. Last time he checked, killing spiders wasn't an arrestable offence, Skulduggery, stop looking at him like that.

#skulduggery pleasant #sp headcanons #skulpine #this ship is GARBAGE but listen toxic ships are my jam #long post #yeets my crackships into the tag

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lady-charinette · 5 years ago

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Pro-Hero!Tamaki Amajiki X F!Reader (aged up characters)

Rated: NSFW

Tags: Body worship, Gentle Love Making, Rough sex, Biting, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom!Tamaki

Heart of a Lion

“Come on Amajiki, you need to have the heart of a lion, not a kitten!”

Nejire’s words had haunted him to this day, despite already working full time at Fatgum’s agency, Tamaki still felt like he was falling short behind the other pros.

Even if Fatgum always tried to…lecture him.

“Straighten up Amajiki! You’re one of our best horses!”

“I’m not a horse…”

“So, stand stall and proud and show ‘em what you got!”

Still, no matter how supportive his teammates and friends were, there were always heroes out there who thought little of him.

“That guy? Will he handle this on his own? What was Fatgum thinking hiring that kid? My five year old son looks tougher!”

“I wonder if his quirk’s as strong as people say, I guess you need to have a strong quirk to make up for that weak spirit.”

Tamaki’s thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper into a dark void, until a gentle hand began running a soothing path through his hair and the voice of an angel reached his ears. “Tama?”

Opening his eyes, the pro-hero glanced up at Y/N, his girlfriend of three years, and smiled wrily. She blinked down at him in concern. “What’s wrong? You look exhausted, dear.” her hand never stopped its ministration on his hair and Tamaki expelled a sigh of relief, body sagging deeper into the bed and the soft suppleness of her thighs.

“….I…I was just…” her other hand sought his own on his chest and squeezed gently, her eyes looking down at him meaningfully.

“It’s alright if you don’t wanna talk about it, you know.” she offered him that soft smile that never failed to breach his defenses and make him feel like what he really was, a skilled pro-hero and a good man.

He wished he could pocket her precious smile, so he would always have it with him when faced with doubts.

With a quickly spreading redness, Tamaki nuzzled his head closer to her stomach and thighs. “I…I just had a rough day. I was…I was made fun of on the field….”

The hand in his hair stopped and Tamaki froze, quickly wrapping his arms around his girlfriend’s middle to stop her from rising off their bed. “W-Wait, Y-Y/N!”

The look she fixated him with spelled of death and torture. “Who were those assholes, dear?” her smile was deceptively sweet, but he’d long since learned not to be fooled by its saccharine quality when the eyes just above spoke of ice and fire.

He shook his head, sitting up to lay his hands on her shoulders and calm her down. “It’s f-fine…They were pro’s I normally don’t work with.” he already knew, as soon as she’d wedge the truth out of Fatgum or Kirishima, there would be a news headline of a woman tearing down two hero agencies and beating up the pro’s who had coincidentally humiliated her boyfriend.

Quirkless.

She sighed, her hands moving to cup his cheeks softly. “No, it’s not fine Tamaki. You’re a pro just like them, I bet you’re even a much better one than them too! Don’t listen to such jerks, they’re just jealous of your talent and your looks and your sunshine personality!” she pouted cutely, a sight that made his heart skip a beat.

Tamaki tried to avert his gaze in fear of his heart bursting, but he couldn’t tear it away no matter how hard he tried.

Still, he relaxed at her words, his hands still resting on her shoulders beginning to rub them gently. The tightly coiled string in his stomach coming loose and relaxing. “M-My looks? S-Sun-Sunshine personality? But Mirio is-”

Y/N shook her head, thumbs affectionately rubbing his cheeks. “Mirio may be the most obvious sunny boy out there, but your beauty lies in its subtlety.”

Subtlety?

At his adorably confused look, his girlfriend smiled softly and giggled. “Mhm. Your sun comes out when you’re out there helping people and fighting off the bad guys, it comes out whenever you’re surrounded by your friends and smiling and laughing. And it comes out when you’re with me and we spend time together. You may be Suneater, but to me, you’ll always be the most beautiful sun out there!” she grinned sheepishly, a shy blush dusting her cheeks.

Tamaki’s face outdid the redness of the crabs he was known to eat before fights, it was even redder than the traffic lights. The indescribable urge to suddenly kiss his girlfriend senseless for saying all these beautiful things about him washed over him and his body shook, trying to suppress it desperately.

She noticed it, eyes glancing at his shaking arms. “Huh? Tama-”

His voice came out more breathless than he thought, an octave or two deeper that made the blush on her own cheeks darken. She rarely heard her boyfriend’s voice go lower than it already was. “W-…Wh-What about…my looks?”

He wasn’t looking at her anymore, but his girlfriend was clever.

The redness of his entire face and ears, the twitching of his whole body, the large hands on her shoulders massaging her gave her a very good idea what her previously innocent praises did to her precious boyfriend.

A small smile curved her lips but she quickly hid it when his intense stare bounced back to her.

Y/N pretended to think, tongue sticking out in thought, smiling internally when his ears looking as red as a clown’s nose. “Hmmm… your looks…let’s see…”

She shifted closer to her boyfriend, her thighs touching his and she noted the small jump with underlying glee. “Well, for starters. You have beautiful hair, dear.” her hand moved back into the messy mane, purposefully scratching her nails along his scalp and brushing it back from his face.

His cheeks glowed.

“Did I mention those cute ears?” she playfully but gently flicked one of the appendages, a startled yelp leaving his trembling lips. Tamaki crossed his legs tightly.

Y/N smiled. “And that adorable nose?” she leaned in to give it a quick peck and to nuzzle her own nose with his, a gesture of affectionate they often traded with each-other whenever her beloved was too shy for a kiss. She giggled, “And those beautiful, intense eyes that just lure me into a trance.” she batted her eyelashes at him and she saw the moment something clicked in her boyfriend’s brain when said eyes finally met her gaze head on.

He swallowed with difficulty, voice thick with an emotion that sent a thrill down her spine. “W-What else?” he squirmed on the spot and her smile widened.

Her finger ran over his lips but she refused to kiss him, only riling him up further. “Those soft sweet lips that always steal my breath.” she smiled adoringly and Tamaki’s gaze softened with affection.

She leaned in again, fingers caressing his face and jaw with a feathery touch. “That strong jaw of yours…” she felt it clench beneath her fingertips and resisted the urge to giggle. They moved lower, caressing his rapidly heating skin.

Her fingers moved over his neck, corded muscles shivering with strain, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Not to forget that neck of yours I have a weakness for…” she couldn’t fight off the grin when she traced his rapid pulse and Tamaki experienced a full body shiver.

She had to give her boyfriend credit, even after three years of being in a relationship, he still sometimes acted as if they were about to experience their first time. But now, his gaze was more focused, startlingly…intense and sharp.

Right at her.

Swallowing thickly, Y/N focused back on her mission. “Did I mention your broad shoulders?” her hands danced over the material of the black bodysuit he still wore from his hero costume, squeezing the iron hard muscles appreciatively. “So strong…” she caught herself, a blush blooming on her face, her hands slowly sliding down his arms, which twitched on her own shoulders still.

They almost had a death grip on her, but not painful, just the nervous, or excited, twitching of his hands. She hummed when her fingers ran over the hard bumps of muscle lining his toned arms, hidden beneath his suit. “Arms that could make any women turn and look twice.” she felt giddy at the nearly panicked look on his face and laughed. “They can look, but none of them can touch like I can.”

That certainly forced a more vocal reaction from him, a strained noise in the back of his throat, a small, short grunt.

His face was burning, throat working overtime and heart beating like a caged hummingbird, the sound of his own blood rushed in his ears that almost drowned out her voice. Almost, but her voice was too sweet to ignore, too entrancing to not fall into its honeyed charm.

Her eyes were knowing, but they turned to look at his torso instead, the definition of hard ridges and bumps outlined by the tight suit shooting heat down her stomach. “The muscles too…” she licked her lips when her fingers greedily ran along the sculpted pecs and abs of her beloved hero, trembling violently beneath her touch.

“Y-Y/N…” his tone was low, strained and if she had given it a second thought, could’ve been a warning.

Her eyes were alight with something mischievous when she spied the reaction she’d gotten from him, her hands running down his firm quivering thighs. “I always liked your legs too, nice and firm.” she flashed a feral smile when her hand dived down and squeezed the firm flesh of his ass, making Tamaki yelp and his face to erupt in a fresh wave of blazing redness. “Mhmm, definitely this too.”

Tamaki’s breath caught in his throat, now impatiently squirming in his spot at being touched that way again after so long. “Y-Y/N, you-you-”

She hummed, her hands moving dangerously close to the bulging tent on his pelvis. “Mhmm, how could I forget…” her hands danced around the area, refusing to touch him yet and Tamaki bit his lips and his hips bucked at the heat her touch sent through his body.

“Y/N….” his voice turned guttural, arms shaking from trying to restrain himself.

Something within him finally snapped when her hand cupped him firmly over the tight material of his bodysuit, his length straining painfully. “Your beautiful thick co-woah!”

Y/N’s eyes flew open when she was suddenly airborne, but giggled when her back met the soft mattress and her highly sensitive, overly worked up boyfriend towered over her with such intense, burning eyes that it made tingles erupt all over her body.

Even when he looked ready to eat her alive he was still patient and considerate to always ask. “Is it ok if-” she answered by pulling his face down to hers and it seemed like Tamaki’s last restraints finally snapped.

Strong arms wound around her immediately, nearly crushing her against his firm chest, erection pressed tightly against her clothed pelvis and the action made her mewl, his cock rubbing over her already leaking cunt.

His kiss was soft before it gained in intensity and her eyes nearly rolled back when he smashed his mouth against hers, stealing her breath and swallowing any moans she had as his hands shakily tried unbuttoning her flannel shirt.

Seeing his hand morph into something not human-like, she narrowed her eyes in warning. “Don’t. You. Dare.” the man above her swallowed, his quirk subsiding before his fingers continued their path down her torso. “You destroyed enough of my clothes that way! Do you know how many panties I-mpfh!”

Her boyfriend’s eagerness seemed to cloud his normal thoughts, he’d have been a cowering mess by now had he not been so turned on by her earlier teasing.

Even if it had been a game to reassure him, to maybe rile him up a bit, she’d meant every single world.

She released a sigh of relief when the first layer of clothes was stripped from both of them, Tamaki’s suit pushed down to his hips, naked skin now in full view to her hungry gaze.

She licked her lips and Tamaki caught the action, leaning back down to kiss her passionately again. Y/N moaned and tugged on his hair, leaning her head back to pant harshly and try to breathe. “T-Tama, you’re-you’re really eager today.” not that she minded, not at all. “Ohhh, dear, yes, just like that Tamaki…mmm…” she moaned when his large hands gently kneaded her breasts, her bra safely discarded onto the floor, thankfully remaining whole.

After the crab claw incident she’d banned him from eating seafood for a whole week.

Fatgum’s suspicious questioning of not eating their daily dose of takoyaki after work was only met by a very red faced stuttering Tamaki.

She squeaked when his fingers lightly pinched her nipple and her face flushed red all the way to her neck at the intense look he leveled her with. “How can I not be, with…with such a b-beautiful girlfriend…” he ran the flat of his tongue around her perked bud, before sucking on it, growling when her fingers tangled into his hair and pulled.

Tamaki tore himself away from her breasts and gave them a gentle, appreciative squeeze, before moving down over her stomach, squeezing the flesh almost possesively.

He suckled on the skin of her hips, leaving behind wet red marks, his fingers quickly worked to remove her pants, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head when her strong musk finally hit him.

Tamaki inhaled deeply, leaning close to her core and Y/N flushed in embarrassment, he didn’t think to-? “T-Tama? W-What are-ahh!” she gasped, body drawn taut and face half buried in the pillow when she felt her boyfriend bury his face against her soaking panties.

The clothing did little to curb his advances, his tongue dipping against the material almost insistently. “Off…” his voice sent shivers down her spine.

“T-Tamaki!” she jumped when he slipped her panties down her legs, discarding them somewhere behind them.

He leaned down and spread her legs, calloused hands roving over them appreciatively with a gentle, caring touch.

Then, he dived in.

Straight for his meal.

A choked cry filled the air and Y/N immediately fisted the bed sheets to keep herself grounded from the way her boyfriend’s tongue plunged into her messy cunt, fingers spreading her folds embarrassingly wide to shove the wet muscle in properly.

Y/N slapped a hand against her mouth, panting harshly into it and trying to tone down her moans. “T-Ta-Tamaaa-k-KI!” her voice squeaked when the tip of his tongue flicked at her clit, making her whole body jump at the sensitive touch.

Her boyfriend did it again, the tips of his ears glowing a bright red, but that didn’t stop him from eating her out like a starved man.

And finally, after her body stopped quaking and shaking violently on the soft mattress, her boyfriend rose from his comfortable perch between her legs, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

His fingers were still slick from her arousal and she covered her eyes when he licked them absentmindedly, as if forgetting to clean the spoon after eating ice-cream.

“How…h-how was that?” his voice was low, breathless, chest heaving with deep breaths.

She peeked up at him from between her fingers, face still red, but her lips curved into a satisfied smile. “That was great Tama!! I loved it!” she grinned cheekily, until she suddenly felt his hands settle on her thighs.

Her eyes shot to his face faster than the speed of light and she froze at the intense look he leveled her with. “R-Really?” she could see his previously shattered confidence slowly building back up and mentally gave herself a pat on the back.

Until his hands gently spread her legs apart. “Is…is this okay?” blushing to the roots of his hair, Tamaki swallowed thickly, his own arousal throbbing painfully in need.

Y/N wrapped her legs loosely around his hips, further opening herself up to him, her eyes hooded and dark when they leveled him with a look that could bring him to his knees if he hadn’t been already. “More than okay.”

He exhaled shakily, fingers trembling atop her warm skin and Y/N’s hands covered his shaky ones trying to unbuckle his belt. She smiled impishly at him. “Let me sweetie. Why don’t you…lie down?” at the hint of nervousness and doubt that came creeping back onto his face, she leaned in close to his ear, biting the pointed appendage gently. “Suneater.”

Her voice was molten honey and early mornings with laughter and cuddles, it was dripping with want and love.

All for him.

Just for him.

You aren’t the things they say you are.

Tamaki realized Y/N whispered the words herself, eyes focused on his meaningfully. Hands cupping his face affectionately.

The pro-hero fell silent, in awe at his girlfriend’s strength and unrivaled support and belief in him. It filled his chest with pride for being able to love and cherish someone like her and a sense of peace to know she was one wall that would never crumble, even if he himself crumbled.

Overwhelmed with his own feelings, he switched their position faster than she blinked.

His back met the bed and her weight settled on his thighs, hands working to undo his pants and underwear and push them down to free his length.

His gaze was adoring when he looked up at her. “I-I love you Y/N.” she’d only seen the man as confident as he was now on three instances.

When he was fighting villains, talking about his friends…

Or professing his love to her.

Fighting back the sting in her eyes, she leaned down to share a deep kiss with her boyfriend, their hips gently rocking against each-other.

It seemed like an eternity before Tamaki’s hand moved down to gently rub at her clit, causing her to jump and release a high pitched cry. “Oh-oh-oh-oh! T-Tama please!”

It wasn’t that it happened often, it wasn’t that she didn’t love the shy aspect of her boyfriend, but the look he gave her was definitely not that of her innocent shy Tamaki.

It was almost feral.

“Do…you want me Y/N?” she bit her lip, nearly hard enough to break the skin and she whimpered when he ran the tip of his weeping cock along her slick folds. “Where do you want me?”

Her boyfriend did a complete 180, the low guttural voice sending shivers down her spine, the thrill of knowing her good boy Tamaki was buried underneath that positively dominant male under her. “I-Inside Tama.” she would’ve covered her face in embarrassment at his intense look had it not been for her need.

“I-Inside?” his jaw clenched, fragile control already fraying at the seams as he rubbed at her sensitive flesh again. “…Here?”

She gripped his hips, fingers digging into the tough flesh, a groan leaving the depths of her throat. “Y-Yes Tamaki plea-ahh!”

It made her back arch like a bow when she felt her boyfriend’s thick cock stretch her walls, sharp pleasurable tingles shooting from her pelvis all the way up her back and arms.

It was exhilarating.

His harsh pants met her neck, hot breaths of air that made her dizzy with the strong thrusts into her core. She wrapped her arms around her boyfriend to anchor herself, trying to muffle her groans and shrieks into the pillow.

Tamaki leaned forward, lifting her legs up even more towards her torso and pushing deeper, to suckle on her neck. Y/N moaned loudly, nails clawing at his shoulders.

His low grunts and moans filled her ears and fueled her own impending orgasm, legs locking tightly around his trim hips before a particularly hard thrust made her see white behind closed eyes.

Y/N cried out, spasming and seizing up when her release washed over her, her boyfriend slowing his thrusts to near to non-existent bucks of the hips, just bucking between her shaking thighs gently.

Both adults panted, Tamaki still hard within her, the flutters and squeezes around his cock making him close his eyes.

They flew open when a soft hand met his heaving chest and Y/N’s glazed over eyes met his. Tamaki leaned down and captured her lips in a soft kiss, the complete opposite of their intensity before as he softly began rocking his hips back into her when she moved.

Y/N whimpered, still sensitive, but craving and wanting her boyfriend to finish. Tamaki ran his hands down her sides, gently squeezing the flesh of her breasts and cupping her face to kiss her lovingly.

His thrusts were deep and slow, drawing out the heat he felt that simmered just below his navel and her second orgasm.

This one was slow, less animalistic and more quiet. Tamaki’s long drawn out groan drowned out her own soft whimpers and cries of his name.

The couple shared a long kiss, their bodies slowly coming down from their highs.

Tamaki panted heavily, nuzzling into her neck and kissing the forming bruises apologetically, fingers gently gliding over the various bite marks.

Y/N giggled, a hoarse sound, before her hands lovingly stroked his messy hair.

Comfortable silence followed their afterglow, Tamaki gently removing himself to lay beside her and cradle her tenderly to his chest. She giggled, shaking her head at the plethora of emotions she could pull out of her shy boyfriend.

Tamaki’s own hand glided through her hair and down her back, grabbing the blanket to cover them from the cold air creeping over their sweaty skin. “So…are you still feeling inadequate?”

She laughed when she glanced at the bright red ears and cheeks of her boyfriend, who cleared his throat and ducked his head shyly, as if the events prior hadn’t even happened. “N-No…t-thanks to you.” his smile was soft and sweet, melting her heart.

Y/N nuzzled her nose with his, grinning. “You know Tamaki, if you’re ever feeling inadequate again, just tell me!” she winked and the action sent a shiver rushing down his spine. “Oh! I know, what about showing the other heroes how awesome you are if we do it in your office-”

Tamaki’s eyes widened in horror. “Y-Y/N n-not-not in the office!!” her shy boyfriend covered his face in embarrassment at the prospect.

There were Fatgum and Kirishima and all the other heroes. It would bring so much shame! He wouldn’t- he couldn’t-!

Laughter filled his ears and he felt Y/N’s arms wrap around his middle and her lips press a soft kiss to his forehead.

Bonus:

“What’s the matter, Suneater? I’m surprised you’re not in your chicken form from how well I can see those feathers ruffling!” one of the pro heroes shared a laugh with his colleague for the joke.

Tamaki, dressed in full hero costume and dusting himself off after a successful villain apprehension, glanced at them.

You aren’t the things they say you are.

You need to have the heart of a lion, not a kitten!

The pro’s laughed amongst themselves, until a sudden strong gust of wind knocked them off to the ground. “What the-!”

Wings larger than the size of Hawk’s own blocked the sun from sight, deep shadows falling on the pale faces of the two heroes, who looked up at the towering form of Suneater himself.

Tamaki’s wings spanned wide, taking up space for himself, sharp talons cracking the concrete beneath his feet. The black claws seemed larger than one of the pro hero’s hands and both men froze when Suneater spoke in a low tone, his sharp stare piercing right through them.

“Maybe you didn’t catch my hero name,” the two heroes were unable to tear their gaze away from the man glaring down at them, despite the shot of fear rushing down their spines. “But I’m Suneater and you’re in my way.”

#tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki smut #tamaki smut #bnha tamaki #smut #smut fic #bnha smut #mha smut #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki #aged up characters #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha fic #bnha fic

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robininthelabyrinth · 5 years ago

Note

I need to know what u think of an AU where JC is the one who dies (sacrificing his life to save WWX) instead of JYL, he’s not as angry with WWX bc JYL is still alive so when he sees his brother about to get murdered he just steps in front of him while JYL and WWX see :) I don’t even know what I want u to do with this? Give me some headcanons? Is it a prompt? Idk I just want u to to see what u make of this (I promise JC is my fav but my mind likes to make me suffer :p)

It wasn’t a matter of conscious thought when Jiang Cheng threw himself between that cultivator’s sword and Wei Wuxian’s unguarded back, all his defenses down in the face of Jiang Yanli’s pleading, same as always; it was just instinct. Wei Wuxian was always the troublemaker, the crazy one, and Jiang Cheng always the one being dragged along; he’d long ago learned to spend all his time watching his shixiong’s back, keeping him away from dogs, away from angry shopkeepers, away from any harm. It was instinct, just as it had been the day he’d thrown himself out into the street to distract the Wens, and he’d always justified that instinct because he knew that Wei Wuxian would do the same for him.

Though – he didn’t know that anymore, not after everything that happened recently. Wei Wuxian had made him all the promises in the world, to stand by his side through wind and lightning, and he’d seemed to have no issue abandoning those promises, picking the remnants of the Wen sect over the remnants of the Jiang sect without a moment’s hesitation and not even the courtesy of an explanation.

The Yiling Patriarch was all but a stranger to him, and Jiang Cheng still didn’t understand why.

So it was probably stupid of him to react as if the person being stabbed at was Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch – stupid of him to give up his life for someone who didn’t care about him nearly as much as Jiang Cheng cared for him.

But that’s why it wasn’t a thought. It was instinct.

He heard someone scream “Jiang Cheng!” as if their heart were breaking, and he thought for a moment that it was Wei Wuxian again, the one who loved him best. Wei Wuxian, not the Yiling Patriarch, who threw him to the dogs over and over again, put his sect at risk of utter destruction a second time over, just to indulge himself and his bizarre fixation on saving the Wens at the expense of everyone else. Who didn’t care about their duty to their sect, to their parents - who didn’t care about him at all.

Jiang Cheng’s heart hurt. It was probably just the sword that’d just been driven through it, though.

Hands grasped at his clothing, pulling him back; his sister’s face had lost all blood, and Wei Wuxian looked as if his world had ended – he wasn’t sure why. Jiang Yanli had her son to care for, a new life in Lanling that she refused to abandon even if Jin Zixuan was now gone; Wei Wuxian had his Wens, his new cultivation – perhaps it was some little regret, far too late, for the Jiang sect that would now come to grief, leaderless, the end of their family line and the disappointment of their ancestors. Jiang Cheng’s final and most absolute failure.

Jiang Cheng looked at them both, the ones he loved the most and who had left him without a single glance backwards, and found with his last breath that he had nothing to say to them.

He closed his eyes so they wouldn’t have to.

The battlefield was full of corpses, and Jiang Yanli didn’t care about a single one of them.

“Do you think he can be brought back, the way Wen Ning was?” she asked, holding the corpse in her arms as if it were still the baby brother she sang songs to as a child, the little crybaby who was so fierce on the outside and so soft on the inside. She had been able to lie to herself with Jin Zixuan’s body – he almost looked as though he were sleeping, head on the pillow beside her own – but Jiang Cheng had never slept well in his life, his brow always furrowed as if he was worrying about something even in his dreams, and the blank peace on his face was so wrong that she couldn’t bear to look at him.

She wasn’t asking Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian had only stopped the massacre when Lan Wangji, of all unlikely people, had bodily tackled him; everyone had always said that the Second Jade was like oil and water with her A-Xian, but he’d unexpectedly taken their side in this battle and was even now letting a barely-conscious Wei Wuxian sob Jiang Cheng’s name into his collar. He looked silently at her, his gaze a quiet reminder that her question was inappropriate – one Ghost General had already been enough to cause all of this tragedy, and certainly no one would ever accept another as a sect leader.

She looked steadily back at him, indicating in return that she didn’t give a damn about the standing of the Jiang sect if it meant she wouldn’t have to bury her baby brother.

Lan Wangji hesitated, looking down at Wei Wuxian. “You cannot stay at Yiling,” he finally said. “After this…”

They’d killed people from virtually every sect; no matter who had sympathized with Wei Wuxian before this or how much they felt he was wronged, they would have no choice but to raise up arms against him.

Jiang Yanli understood. They would be fugitives, condemned by all. She didn’t care. “Will you help us?”

He nodded and stood, Wei Wuxian cradled as gently in his arms as she held Jiang Cheng in hers.

“Will you come with us?” she asked. Anyone who loved her brother enough to defy his sect, to stain his untainted blade with the blood of his own kin, deserved a chance to court him properly, if she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions; she didn’t think she had, not with the expression so clear on his silent face.

“I will help you,” he said, and that wasn’t an answer, wasn’t the one she wanted, but it would have to do for now. “Let us go.”

It was Jin Zixuan who figured it out, oddly enough. Perhaps it was because he was an outsider, looking at the situation without affection to blur his eyes.

“You gave him your golden core,” he said, less than a week into his resurrection – Lan Wangji had been very efficient in his help, not only finding a new place to hide Jiang Yanli and the remaining Wens but also returning to Lanling to steal Jin Zixuan’s corpse and little Jin Ling before returning to his own sect at the first sign that Wei Wuxian would awaken from his coma. He hadn’t sent word since that time, whether from regret or other reasons; their only consolation was that there was no news of his death. “That’s why you couldn’t do anything other than demonic cultivation – is that right?”

Wei Wuxian looked at him through blood-red eyes. “Get lost,” he said; the phrase made up the majority of his vocabulary, these days, and because he refused to curse his shijie he mostly ended up not talking to her at all.

“Wen Qing was a famous doctor – she could have figured out a way to do it, and that would explain why you felt so indebted to them,” Jin Zixuan continued. “You never told him because you didn’t want to burden him. But instead you left him without any reason, any explanation: he must have felt that you abandoned him because you didn’t want him.”

“Get lost!”

“You broke his heart,” he said, and looked down at Jiang Cheng’s body – still perfectly preserved, but unmoving. The resurrection spell had already failed three times. “No wonder he doesn’t want to return.”

“I did it for him!” Wei Wuxian screamed, tears of blood dripping down his cheeks. “He didn’t – he wouldn’t – he has to come back!”

Jin Zixuan said nothing.

They ended up back in Yunmeng, rather unexpectedly; the new leadership of the Lotus Pier, a distant branch cousin who’d survived the massacre because he’d been night-hunting elsewhere, had all but begged Jiang Yanli to return. Against all odds her reputation had survived the massacre at the Nightless City; the loving wife, sister, and shijie that nearly sacrificed herself to save what lives she could and to banish the dreadful Yiling Patriarch who was never seen again from that day forth – she was very nearly regarded as an incarnation of the goddess of mercy.

She had no idea where that ridiculous notion came from, but it did mean that she could live in Lotus Pier again, with Jin Ling by her side – she’d told Jin Guangshan to name someone else as his heir, or at minimum as regent; the Jiang sect needed her and her son more. It wouldn’t have worked if Jin Zixuan hadn’t snuck into his mother’s room to convince Madam Jin to throw her support behind it; officially he was still in his tomb, since Lan Wangji had been very subtle, but in fact he lived within shouting distance of the Lotus Pier, spending his days playing with his son.

They all did, actually, the whole lot of them resettled into a tiny adjacent water town populated largely by civilians that relied on the Jiang sect for their prosperity. As long as Wei Wuxian never did anything, which he didn’t, the illusion that he was gone for good in a cloud of self-destruction after his terrible massacre could be maintained; no one expected they could possibly be so daring as to simply go home after all of it.

Lan Wangji was in seclusion, they were eventually told; Wei Wuxian hadn’t believed it for one second, smuggling himself into Gusu to check – he’d come back unconscious, slung over Jin Zixuan’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Struck by the discipline whip,” her husband, the fierce corpse that wasn’t fierce at all, said, and didn’t comment when she instinctively reached out to touch Jiang Cheng’s body, to trace the scar he had; she often spent her days next to the bed that preserved his corpse. “Many times; his body is ruined. It will take years for him to heal – the Lan sect saying he was in seclusion was their way of saving face. Wei Wuxian wants to bring him back to the Lotus Pier to hide him.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed her face, thinking not for the first time that the world would be an easier place if only her two brothers weren’t so stubborn. One who wouldn’t wake up, his spiritual consciousness all in pieces; the other who wouldn’t give up – “The Lan sect wouldn’t accept that.”

“He wasn’t planning on asking. That’s why I knocked him out. Anyway, they’re distracted with the Xue Yang matter now – my father’s still insisting on protecting him, and the Nie sect gets angrier about it by the day; without the Jiang sect, there’s only the Lan to play peacemaker, stop there from being another war.”

Jiang Yanli, who was very nice but also very much not the goddess of mercy, tilted her head to the side; something of her mother was in her eyes. “A war would be a good cover, though, or at least the rumblings of one. If we were going to steal Lan Wangji away from his sect, that is.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll sneak into Lanling to talk to my mother, maybe see if I can follow Xue Yang and see what he’s up to. You go talk to the Nie.”

Jiang Yanli’s visit to the Unclean Realm turned out to be more fruitful than anyone had expected. The moment she walked into Nie Mingjue’s receiving room, her Jiang sect bell rang so hard that it shattered, which it definitely hadn’t done during the war – they both stared at it wordlessly for a while.

Eventually, he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “You know my family history,” he offered as an explanation, embarrassment at the public revelation of his problem already turning to anger but suppressed by his strict adherence to etiquette.

“That’s no family history,” she said, bemused, as she crouched down to poke at the pieces. “The silver bell of the Jiang sect can steady focus and calm the mind, and the ones made for the family are the strongest by far; it would only shatter like this in the effort to resist a spiritual poison…how are you feeling now, Sect Leader Nie?”

He considered for a long moment, and his face grew black with rage. “Better. I feel – like my mind has been filled with fog, and a clear breeze has blown it clear.”

She smiled up at him. “Perhaps you should visit Yunmeng.”

He scowled, and she realized he must know about Wei Wuxian’s presence, though she wasn’t sure how; despite that, in the end, after a roaring argument with Nie Huaisang in another room, he agreed to go, even if the idea of staying willfully blind clearly pained him to the core.

Jiang Yanli quietly approved of his decision to put family over principle.

When they put their mind to it, the Nie sect had an underrated talent for saying ‘I don’t know’ to just about everything. Neither brother blinked an eye at the Wen sect remnants that still teetered every time they went on a boat, very clearly not Yunmeng locals; they politely greeted Jin Zixuan as if he’d only been gone a while and not murdered; much to his older brother’s very evident irritation, Nie Huaisang even leapt over to give Wei Wuxian an enthusiastic hug while Nie Mingjue was still talking with Jin Zixuan about what it meant that Jin Guangshan had hidden away the still intact Wen Ning, who Jin Zixuan had found in a hidden part of Koi Tower during his most recent visit and immediately liberated.

“Definitely a case of spiritual poisoning,” Wei Wuxian said after a short examination, and the most reliable doctor they had left in the Jiang sect concurred. “The silver bell can help a little –”

They’d already shattered seven of them, but Nie Mingjue had actually cracked a smile for the first time in months, to hear a sobbingly relieved Nie Huaisang tell it.

“–but it can only help so much; that technique is really only meant for acute cases. And you really need to figure out what was doing the poisoning; there’s no point in curing you if you’re only going to get poisoned again.”

“A matter for a later time,” Nie Mingjue, who clearly had some suspicions that made him look as though he’d been stabbed in the back, said. “Now that we know it’s a poisoning, and my mind is clearer, I can take some action myself – the Nie have plenty of techniques to stabilize the spirit.”

Wei Wuxian’s smile was full of self-hatred, as it always was these days. “I don’t suppose any of those are designed to work on the dead.”

“Actually,” Nie Huaisang said. “Several are. Why do you ask?”

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #lan wangji #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin zixuan #my fic #my fics #congrats!#you get a full ficlet #this one just wouldn't stop writing

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itrocloud · 4 years ago

Text

Remember Me [Leo X Reader]

“Remember me, though I have to say goodbye, Remember me, don’t let it make you cry.”

Sitting on the balcony of your apartment, you let out a miserable sigh. You couldn’t even sleep from how much worry was flooding your mind. You stared out at the moon before your eyes trailed around the city, somewhat loving how the moon’s light made it all glow.

Leonardo left with his brothers to face the Shredder, and you were overwhelmed with anxiety. What if he got hurt? What if he got lost? Or worse, what if he never made it back? You didn’t want to think about it, but thats all you could think about. You had every right to worry, but before Leo left, the first thing he told you was to not worry.

“For even if I’m far away, I hold you in my heart. I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart.”

Your mind trailed off to just him instead of him on his mission. You remembered all the wonderful times you shared together. Being dorks over Space Heroes, fighting for the last slice of pizza, and even training together. You had the best life with Leonardo, and now you weren’t sure if you’d ever see him again.

Your eyes widened when you remembered a certain tune that the turtle had wrote for you. It was short, but very sweet, heart touching even. You remembered every lyric, because that breathtaking voice he had simply couldn’t be forgotten. You recited the song in your head, imagining him there with you right now.

“Remember me, though I have to travel far, Remember me each time you hear a sad guitar.”

The memory of Leo sitting in front of you, his face flushed from embarrassment made you smile. He sat there with his guitar he snagged from the trash. It was old and beaten up, but Leo really wanted to use it, so he had Donnie fix it up for him so it played like brand new!

He strummed the strings, creating a soft soothing melody. He looked back up at you once more, an absolutely adorable smile covering his face. He brought his attention back down to the guitar and played it, a beautiful tune coming from it. After a moment of that, he opened his mouth to sing.

The vocals, the melody, him...! It was extraordinary! You were lost in his voice, your heart melting and your soul rising. You were blown away by his performance. It all went by so quick though, but once he was done you awarded him with applause.

“That was beautiful, Leo!!” You cheered, making him smile sheepishly. “You really liked it?” He asked, red still dusting his face. You nodded frantically, a huge grin plastered on your face. “Where did you learn to play guitar so well? And when did you learn how to sing?” You bombarded him with questions, but only out of love and amazement.

“I just... kinda taught myself?” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “But I’m glad you liked it.” He smiled, definitely planning to perform more for you in the future. Anything to see that happy smile across your face. He really felt like he did something right, something to make you happy. Little did he know, everything he did make you happy.

Your flashback finished, leaving you back in the real world. Your heart dropped once again, but you quickly shut all those negative feelings out. You had to stay strong for Leo, and of course, to always remember him. Just like he sang about.

“Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be... until you’re in my arms again. Remember me...”

You made your way back into your apartment, leaving your door open to let the nice cool breeze of the fall in. You sat on your bed, eyes fixated on your phone, scrolling through social media and chatting with friends. Your eyelids began feeling heavy, and that was your cue to go to bed.

Before you even had a chance to put your phone away and crawl under your warm covers, you heard a small knock on the glass of your door. Your head snapped into that direction, a little startled by the sound. You’re mouth dropped when you saw who was waiting on the outside.

There he was, Leonardo Hamato, just smiling away as he was crouched on the balcony. “Hello, Y/n.“ He spoke. “Did you miss me?” He chuckled, watching you run towards him with excitement. “L-Leo!” You cried in joy. He slid off the edge of the balcony and stood in front of you. You pulled him into a tight hug, almost sobbing at the sight of him.

He returned your embrace, and quietly said, “I’m home, Y/n. I’m home.”

—

END NOTE;

sorry if this looks kinda wonky, i copied and pasted it from my notes onto tumblr because i seem to write better up there— but here we are! another tmnt fic after so long. this time for leo because i love him so much! i kind of fell out of the tmnt fandom for a while but somehow got thrown back in so here i am! hope you enjoyed this, i stayed in bed writing this after visiting my boyfriend because i was in a good mood :> for anyone wondering, the song is from the movie coco! its a really good movie and song and i wanted to make this <3 if this has been done before i apologize, i do not mean to steal anyones idea. i did see something similar to this for a different fandom and kind of wanted to make my own version. everyone have a lovely night! please excuse any typos/spelling errors/grammar mistakes.

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #leonardo hamato #leonardo x reader #tmnt imagines #leonardo 2012 x reader #tmnt x reader #2012 tmnt x reader

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cherryquitecontrary · 4 years ago

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Elvira Casimiro

Decided to do a character bio for @arcana-echoes and because I haven’t made one since I first made this blog oops

Art by the talented @joeyhazell-art

Full Name — Elvira Casimiro

Meaning of name — Elvira: “foreign and true”; Casimiro: “peaceful”

Family — Ignacio Casimiro (Father; deceased), Camila Casimiro (Mother; deceased), Marina Valeriano (Aunt; deceased)

Nicknames — Evie, Starlight (by family & Asra)

Favourite meal — Pozole

Favourite drink — Honey lemon tea

Favourite flower — Marigold

Birthday — August 8

Age — 26

Height — 5′ 4″

Gender — Female; she/her pronouns

Romantic/Sexual orientation — Bisexual/ Biromantic

MBTI: ISFJ

Zodiac —

Sun: Leo

Moon: Virgo

Patron Arcana —

Major: Judgement

Upright: Judgement, rebirth, inner calling, absolution

Reversed: Self-doubt, inner critic, ignoring the call

Minor: Queen of Swords

Upright: Independent, unbiased judgement, clear boundaries, direct communication

Reversed: Overly-emotional, easily influenced, bitchy, cold-hearted

Familiar: Luna the Xoloitzcuintle

Appearance

Plague-Era and Present Elvira (sans white hair) created via Artbreeder

Height: 5’ 4”

Hair: black, thick and wavy (2c hair type), white at temples post-resurrection, about mid-back length

Hair style: parted to the left, typically worn down

Eyes: emerald

Build: slim, but wider at the hips, toned arms and legs (from climbing things)

Distinguishing features: strong nose, full eyebrows, full lips, birthmark under left eye

Skin tone: Honey Tan

Typical outfit: black dresses paired with a well-loved fringe shawl made of burgundy fabric, barefoot if she can help it

Languages spoken — Venterran, Vesuvian, knows some Vesuvian sign language

Hobbies — reading novels and poetry, tending to her many exotic plants, playing the guitar. singing, dancing, telling stories

Love Interests — Asra, Nadia, & Julian

Background — UNDER THE CUT

Childhood —

Elvira was born to Ignacio and Camila Casimiro on a small farm in the Venterre countryside. The small family was not wealthy and did not have the help of immediate or extended family. Ignacio was orphaned young and Camila had no contact with her parents or her older sister Marina. However, they were a very close and loving family unit. Elvira’s parents worked their land and managed farm animals, selling the products of their labor to survive. Camila was also a seamstress, and would make and repair clothes for the people in the nearby village. When Elvira was young, her father was in an accident on his way to a village further away to sell produce. He died and left Camila and Elvira to fend for themselves. Camila grew depressed when her husband died, but she tried to hide it from her daughter and continue to manage the farm without him. It became difficult to manage a young child, a farm, and herself as she grew sick from an illness she didn’t know she had at the time. Slowly, her health grew fragile, and many of the farm chores that couldn’t be supplemented by young Elvira went undone. The crops went unplanted, the farm animals were slaughtered for food. Eventually, food became scarce and Elvira had to steal from the surrounding farms for survival. She spent much of those years tending to a bedridden Camila. At the end of her days, Camila wrote a letter to her estranged sister Marina, letting her know that she was dying and leaving her little girl behind, and sent it to the last known place she knew her sister to be: Vesuvia. When Elvira was 15, Camila passed away, not knowing what would happen to her daughter.

A couple of days after Camila’s passing, a woman dressed in black came to what was left of the Casimiro farm. She was tall, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a striking resemblance to Camila. She told Elvira that her name was Marina, and that she was her mother’s sister. Showing her Camila’s letter, she informed the young girl that she was to come and live with her in Vesuvia, upon her mother’s request. Initially, Elvira refused. The years of struggling and watching her mother slowly die had hardened the girl. She didn’t trust her aunt, who was a stranger to her, nor did she want to leave behind everything she’d ever known. Eventually, she came around and left Venterre with Marina to live with her in Vesuvia. Initially, living with each other was not easy for the two women. Marina had spent her adult life living alone and she had no children, so she frankly didn’t know what to do with a teenager. Elvira was also wary of her estranged aunt, unsure of how to react to her and her new living arrangement. However, the two eventually grew close and changed each other for the better. They were both guarded people, traumatized by their pasts. But, they made each other open up. Marina became Elvira’s mentor and taught her everything she knew about magic- from potions, to spells, to fortune telling. Elvira adopted many things from Marina, like her fashion sense and her love of worldly topics- like romantic poetry and foreign languages. Eventually, Elvira befriended a young orphan named Asra that she had met a couple of times during the Masquerade and Marina took him in too. The three of them lived in happy bliss until the Plague came to Vesuvia.

The Plague —

At the start of the Plague, Marina dedicated herself to the research effort at the palace, leaving Asra and Elvira to run the shop. After months of working tirelessly to find a cure, Marina caught the Plague and died, never having the chance to say goodbye to her wards. After this devastating loss, Elvira and Asra started debating on whether or not they should stay in Vesuvia. Asra wanted to leave, but Elvira wanted to stay and finish the work that her aunt had started by any means necessary. After a huge fight tore the two of them apart, Asra left Vesuvia and Elvira offered her help to Doctor Julian Devorak as his assistant. The two worked closely together during the plague and managed to find comfort in each other while the Plague grew worse and worse (NOTE: this manifests as a romantic relationship only in Julian’s route). Eventually, Elvira, too, fell sick and died of the Plague. She passed away alone in her home, and was found with forget-me-nots tucked into the bodice of her dress and a book of poetry in her hand.

Resurrection —

When Elvira was resurrected by Asra, she had lost all memory, along with the ability to speak, read, and generally care for herself. She spent many tireless months with her former-friend-turned-mentor relearning how to perform essential tasks and how to perform magic again. While she regained some aspects of her former self- like remembering how to play certain songs on her guitar and how to care for her plants- she was no doubt different. There was only one physical difference: the hair at her temples grew out white as snow (Asra quietly remembers this as the way that Marina’s hair used to look). Personally, she had become a person Asra hardly recognized. She had guarded her heart, shut the world out like she did when she was a child and rarely ever ventured out of the shop alone. Elvira had also become fixated on regaining her memories. Even though Asra had to stop trying to help her access her memories through magic, she still had an aching in her heart to know who she was.

When Asra left on his first trip without her, she had to learn how to tend to her own needs. Her first time venturing outside of the shop, she found a small dog shivering in the cool night air out behind the shop. The dog was still a puppy and was scrawny. She initially avoided the dog, not knowing what to do or how to take care of it. But, the dog stepped closer and seemed to be illuminated by a moonbeam. Elvira took this as a sign to bring the dog in. She named her Luna and decided to keep her as a pet after she felt a connection with her. When Asra came back, he told her that Luna was likely her familiar, and the two have been inseparable ever since.

Presently, Elvira still runs the shop and lives with Asra and Luna. She is now fiercely independent and has taken more of a partnership role when it came to running the household and the shop. She is still guarded and tends to keep other people at arm’s length by nature. But, she is learning to be more open to others and new experiences.

#Elvira Casimiro #Echoes of the Past #<--- The official tag for all of my posts for the event #Aaaaaa I'm excited for this #It felt so good writing out the background stuff too

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otonymous · 5 years ago

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Kinktober - Oct 18th (Uniforms): The Way We Were (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: Revisit the days of your youth with Gavin Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Trigger warnings: uniforms, high school student role playing Word Count: 2549 words (~ 13 mins of reminiscence and smut) AO3: read here Author’s Notes: My fourth entry for @alloveroliver’s Kinktober challenge! Coming in a day late as I’ve been sick with the flu 🤒 Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and happy reading! 😊

All characters & Mr Love: Queen’s Choice owned by Elex

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“Are you ready?”

“Just a moment. The shirt is…a bit tighter than I remembered.”

You chuckle. Of course it would be. Gavin is much bulkier than he was back in high school. But then again, he was the one who came up with the idea to dress up as students for Minor’s Halloween party, saying he kept his high school uniform and looking hopefully in your direction when he asked if you did too.

You, for one, were surprised he even agreed to go when Minor asked you to invite him at work, muttering something about how Gavin would never turn down the love of his life and immediately sprinting off when you asked him to elaborate.

“Don’t laugh. I couldn’t do up some of the buttons.”

Gavin finally emerges from his bedroom, and you found you couldn’t laugh even if you wanted to. Navy tie slung loose around his neck to trail between firm pecs, the white dress shirt of your alma mater’s uniform couldn’t button up beyond the centre of his insanely defined torso.

“Is it really that bad?”

Eyes shooting up from the sizeable bulge outlined by the tight fit of his trousers, you find the officer studying you, brows furrowed in an expression of self-consciousness that was so foreign on Gavin’s handsome face. His fists clench and unclench at his sides before he blurts out, “You know what, this is a bad idea. I’ll just go as a cop.”

“Wait, Gavin! The whole point of Halloween is to dress up as something you’re not! Besides, you…” You swallow, trying not to look like a complete pervert as you scanned him once more from head to toe, “…you look amazing. Like the Hulk, except…sexier. And not green.”

And he did. Gavin’s muscular thighs strained against the fabric of his grey pants, and you found yourself wondering how it would feel like to perch on his lap, skirt hiked up to your waist and panties pulled aside.

“The who?” His confused voice disperses your daydream.

“You don’t know who the Hulk is? Big guy the colour of peas? In those superhero comics and movies?”

“I don’t really pay attention to that stuff,” he says with a shake of his head. Then, nodding towards his bedroom door, he says, “It’s your turn to change.”

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“Oh.”

Smiles spread wide on your faces to have spoken at the same time, you and Gavin share expressions of bashful surprise, stealing furtive glances at each other.

He had slicked back his chestnut hair while you changed, looking much younger than his years and suddenly, you were reminded of the rough-and-tumble boy who always sported a scuff somewhere on his face. A face that took you way too long to realize how truly beautiful it was.

Fidgeting under the intensity of Gavin’s gaze, you bend to tug at your white socks before smoothing down the pleats of your navy skirt. By the time you adjust the satin bow at the collar of your blouse, you finally find your voice, “The skirt’s a bit shorter on me now, but honestly, I’m surprised it still fits…”

Only to have it trail off when you notice his eyes settling at the shortened hem, grazing bare skin at mid-thigh. Cheeks burning as your heart rate skyrockets, you feel your chest strain tight against the buttons of your blouse with each inhalation, the sight capturing the officer’s rapt attention.

Biting your lip, you reveal your final prop as you slide them up the bridge of your nose: a pair of round, lensless glasses. “I wear contacts now, but for the longest time, I had these horrible coke-bottle glasses. I’m not sure if you remember—“

“I do,” Gavin interrupts, staring at you so intently you quickly look away, but not before you notice the tips of his ears, tinged with pink. He stands from where he was sitting, slow steps closing the distance until the scar across his chest is clearly visible, saying, “I thought you looked cute in them.”

One hand rises, hesitating for a fraction of a second before a deep breath gives it the impetus to settle on top of your head, fingers gentle as Gavin strokes the length of your pigtails.

“I remember these too,” he smiles, voice thick with nostalgia and suddenly very close. So much so that when you lift your face, the warmth of his breath tickles your lips and all you can see is yourself reflected in dark pupils of amber eyes.

“Do you remember…the first time we met? The very first time?” Gavin ventures, hesitant, his fingers trembling slightly as he carefully slides the spectacles from your face. And caught up in the spell of the moment, you cannot find the words to speak.

“You had forgotten your umbrella. I saw you run across the street holding your book bag over your head, completely soaked. By the time I started towards you, you were already taking shelter under a gingko tree not far from the school gates, wiping the rain from your glasses.”

Gavin’s lips tug into a lopsided smile at the recollection. You wondered how they would taste. And as he studies the frames in his hands, he chooses his next words with the same amount of care he takes to fold the glasses flat at their hinges.

“You were so startled when I threw my jacket over your head and told you to make a run for it. Guess it was a bit sudden. I was also probably a bit gruff back then.”

He laughs, but it is hollow: bittersweet warmth tainted with self-deprecation, eliciting a wave of guilt from the pit of your stomach as you remembered the boy everyone feared in high school.

Gavin looks into your eyes, molten amber lit by an other-worldly brilliance as he says, “I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. And I still do. You’re perfect, really. Guess some things will never change—“

You never imagined his lips would feel so soft when you press your own to his, tongue sliding into his mouth when it parts from shock. So you close your eyes to relish the sensation, willing your kiss to wipe the slate of your memories clean of each and every misconception you ever held of his gentle heart.

“Let’s start over, Gavin. Right now. Pretend we’re teenagers again, meeting for the first time in school. Give me another chance to learn who you really are, free from the influence of gossip and rumours.”

He smiles, bright as the sun. But then just as quickly, his expression darkens with a shake of his head, a deep flush making its way up his face when he says, “No…we…I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because the things I want to do to you right now are not appropriate for a school setting.”

You raise your brows. “Tell that to Loveland High’s resident bad boy, Officer Gavin.”

At that, he smirks, the smouldering desire in his gaze as it swept over your body doing little to rectify the image of him as a wild and unruly youth.

But if you were honest, wild and unruly was exactly how you wanted him between your legs.

Gavin exhales, running a large hand through his hair. “I-I can’t believe this is happening. Can I really—”

You take his hand, laying a gentle kiss at the tips of his fingers before your tongue swirls along the length of the index, silencing him when you suck it into your mouth.

You had always wondered what lay beneath the cool exterior Gavin projected. Calm and capable in even the most startling of emergencies, it seemed like nothing could ever faze the officer. So when he suddenly yanked off his tie and pulled apart that ill-fitting dress shirt to send buttons flying, you barely had time to register shock before you were lifted into his strong arms — Gavin folding your legs around his waist as he effortlessly carried you into his room.

Bed dipping under the weight of your bodies, Gavin climbs on top. Wasting no time in running your hands over the solid thighs straddling you, your fingers wander up and around those narrow hips until they feel the solid curves of his backside, so muscular there was barely any give when you gathered flesh to squeeze.

“You have no idea…how long I’ve wanted this…wanted you…but, are you sure—”

Gavin speaks breathlessly between kisses laid on the underside of your jaw, meandering down the column of your neck. And with each desperate press of his mouth upon your skin, you have never been more sure of anything in your life.

So you silence him, thumb tracing the contours of his lips as you ask, “Did you ever fantasize about me…back when we were in school?”

You reach for the bow on your collar, satin sliding smooth as it slowly comes undone. The sight has Gavin transfixed, eyes shining with the excitement of a child unwrapping a gift — his throat bobbing when he nods, “I did.”

“Tell me.”

With trembling fingers, you unbutton your blouse, fixated on the expression on Gavin’s face as more of your skin comes into view: the way his eyes linger on the swell of your breasts, trace along your ribs…pause at the dip of your navel, where his tongue sweeps out to moisten that lower lip.

He inhales through grit teeth. Your nipples harden.

And when he speaks, his voice is low in a way that makes you throb, the moisture between your legs palpable as it dampens and pools, preparing to receive him.

“You…you’d be dressed just like this. Lit by the late afternoon sun. Sitting on the piano bench in the music room, your skirt riding up past your knees. So absorbed in your performance you don’t even notice when I enter the room. Or when I lock the door.”

Calloused fingertips drag light across your collarbones as they trace invisible patterns, the swathe of goosebumps following in their wake giving the officer an acute sense of satisfaction to know he was at its source. And with your breasts rising at the end of each shuddering inhalation, he twitches against the constraints of his trousers, blood rushing hot to his rapidly hardening cock.

“I’d stand behind you and just…look. Watch your hands as they move across the keys. Strong when they need to be, soft if the melody calls for it. But always, always so expressive. Beautiful.”

Your mouth falls open to feel him finger the lace trim of your bra, thighs pressing tighter together beneath the pin of his hips.

“Then…when I can’t hold back any longer, I would stand a bit closer. Until I can smell the scent of your shampoo. Finally see the tiny details of your earrings.”

Gavin nuzzles into your neck, and you can’t help but close your eyes at the sensation. And when his tongue swirls about your earlobe to guide it into his wet mouth, you finally let loose the moan you’d been holding back.

His next words come on the heels of an audible swallow, a secret whispered in your ear: “I’d touch you…”

Fine hairs stand on end when the ambient air hits your skin, Gavin pulling off your blouse to let it crumple to the floor beneath him. On reflex, your hands pull up to your chest, crossing at the wrists.

“…Lay my palms on your shoulders. Run my hands down your arms — lightly, so I don’t disturb your playing.”

Pressing a soft kiss to the back of each hand, Gavin uncrosses your arms to lay them at your sides.

“Then, I’d start to unbutton your blouse from behind, until it’s just loose enough…”

Fingers undo the front clasp of your bra.

“…for me to slip a hand down…”

The satin cups fall away.

“…and feel you.”

You gasp as Gavin cups the swell of your breasts, gathers your nipple between thumb and index to gently roll and pinch. And when he buries his face in the space between — tongue running from chest to neck to chin, tasting the salt of your skin — you cannot help but buck up to grind against him.

His hand roams beneath your skirt, stopping when it finds wet silk clinging to swollen flesh. Then, fingers tracing torturously slow up and down the line of your folds, he watches you bite your lip with fire in his eyes as he continues to spin his fantastic tale.

“You’d really notice me then. Stop to turn and look up at me. See me without any fear in your eyes. And when that happens…I kiss you.”

A thumb hooks to pull your panties aside, and at the exact moment his fingers slide to reach into your ready wetness, his tongue slips past your parted lips, kissing you so deeply you weren’t sure which mouth was primarily responsible for the fire in your veins.

“Ahh! Ga-Gavin! Oh…ah, god!”

You are surprised by the raspy quality of your voice when you finally tear away for a breath of much-needed air, but the continued movements of Gavin’s talented fingers stroking at just the right depth and frequency soon had you past the point of caring about how loud you were or how desperate you sounded.

In all honesty, however, the officer already knew how you felt even if not a single word was uttered: the way you dripped down his fingers and palm, arousal tracing the muscles of his forearms to make a mess of his sheets, already spoke volumes. And the body never lies.

His was no exception, as evidenced by the hardness of his erection springing forth when he disrobed, eyes on you all the while to catch every single tremor coursing still through your body — the result of a series of climaxes brought about in quick succession by hands, lips and tongue.

When he finally nestles between your legs — the head of his cock searing as it aligned with your entrance — he gathers you within a muscular embrace, his whispers soothing in your ear as he begins to push in earnest, hoping to ease your tension in accommodating a man of his size.

Then, flesh gives, yielding to Gavin’s cock as his hips build to a rhythm that quickly becomes punishing — the man losing himself in the slippery heat of your pussy.

And he knows that no fantasy, no matter how vivid, could ever compare to the ecstatic reality of having you in his arms. Of calling you his own.

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“Minor is going to be so disappointed we missed his Halloween party.”

You smile as you stare up at the darkened ceiling of Gavin’s bedroom, savouring the touch of his hand on your inner thigh, fingertips dipping into the mixture of cum and arousal that had slowly trickled out of you. Stained the pleated skirt of your high school uniform.

Gavin chuckles. “I’ll just tell him my uniform didn’t fit…that we had trouble keeping our costumes on.”

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Thank you so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#alloverkinktober #kinktober #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fic #mlqc smut #smut #uniform kink #fanfiction #my writing #elex

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interestray · 4 years ago

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it’s always a good moment when I see a critical role episode with so many things happening that my adhd can’t help but develop a mind of its own, so now that my hyper-fixations have stopped beating the shit out of me theres a couple things I wanna bring up most of it theory stuff and the rest personal things. btw its a long post be warned.

SPOILER ALERT- I’m talking about ep 117 of critical role and its a doozy.

I’ve doing my recent posts in a different format and I’m liking it so I’m gonna use it here. btw I gonna mention some ship stuff I want to make clear I have no hate for any ships mentioned but unless I say I like the ship just assume I’m indifferent.

1. I gonna say I called it because even if I’m wrong about about future stuff I was right that it’s not just Lucien in that body, even if Lucien is completely right about molly as the group knew him is gone forever Molly (which I don’t believe at all) is still a fragment of lucien’s soul. now past that I do think molly as a conscious being is still in there and trying to connect with his friends. why? because theres this weird disconnect with how lucien acts communicating with the m9 from a far vs in person, in person it seems like he had his guard way up but when they scry or message him the barrier is lowered a bit I think when his guard isn’t up Molly bleeds into his actions and mind more. I personally see Lucien at being 130% whole because Molly grew into his own thing.

2. regarding my predictions for this episode I’m gonna give myself 2 points (with 1 of the points being made up of half points) I was hoping for flirting and I think we definitely got some version of flirting between Lucien and Caleb so I get a half point for that, not gonna lie I was a little freaked out (in a good way) how fast Lucien zeroed in on Caleb, I hope if things don’t go pear shaped we get to see those two interact more.

3. Personal thing I really wanted to smack Fjord and Veth for most of the episode like they both had moments of being rational (fjord more so) but for the most part i just want to slap them.

4. it was kind of hilarious to see how freaked out Lucien was of the m9, like there was a little of the bad kind of freaked out feeling I think it was mostly like how Ludinus felt meeting Jester. like poor Lucien he’s just doing his thing and suddenly this group of puppies imprints on him and follows him around poor guy. Seems like Lucien has so distrust towards the tomb takers with the whole ‘we are one’ thing, it seemed to be a recent development. I’ve seen people talk about whether the tomb takers/Cree will backstab Lucien I think it’s possible.

5. I think some members of the m9 have realized Caleb’s not doing ok, most likely from the corpse scene and him talking over Beau (bad caleb bad). what they do with this info is gonna be interesting I personally think Cad should talk with him in private maybe have yasha there as well (also hugs please someone hug the sad wizard man him and Yasha both need it).

6. personal thing I don’t understand jester x Fjord as a possible canon ship at this point in the story like i got it in early campaign but I think they’ve both grown and changed to the point where a relationship between the two would end quickly after starting (whether in tears or not). the only times I like seeing their romantic interactions is when Laura and Travis bleed through and at that point its nots really jester and fjord. again no hate you do you I just don’t understand the appeal.

7. I’ve not watched campaign 1 for a few reasons yet but I’ve done research on some of the bigger events one of which was Percy’s resurrection where Taliesin watched how everyone was acting to decide whether to come back or not. I think Cad’s whole talk about what the rest of the m9′s goals towards Molly/Lucien is first Taliesin’s way of deciding whether Molly will be a npc after this arc or if he picks up playing him again (this all of course depending on whether the m9′s stupid actions don’t get Lucien killed), second I think this is Cad’s way of deciding whether his “debt” is payed and if it’s time for him to leave. To be clear I don’t think this was the final decision I think it was the first step to see whether anyone could say they want their friend back and we had two (almost 3) say yeah they do so I think it was a good start.

8. I can totally see Lucien kidnapping some of the m9. this sounds weird but stick with me, it looks like the tomb takers as a whole have a few important spots missing in their mission like they (probably) have a blood cleric in Cree the goliath and halfing seems more strength based I’m not sure about the human and Lucien is filling spot of a little bit of everything. Lucien has already pointed out Caleb as being curious and smart so I think out of the party is Lucien steals any of them it will be Caleb, if not Caleb tho I think Yasha could also be one that gets his attention (especially if Lucien ever sees them fight) I don’t he would kidnap anyone unprompted but if they go through with their stupid plan I’m sure he’ll want payback.

9. I get a full point for crying at both the Yasha clover scene and Molly’s card about Caleb.

10. So my best friend is also a fan of critical role but he always works Thursday’s so he’s behind on actively watching the shows, but I can watch them so I take notes of all the funny, interesting, and weird shit that happens then I call when he gets off work to tell him everything that happened then we talk about what we think will happen next. why does this matter? because before the molly reveal when we first heard about them going to aore (I don’t know how to spell the ruin place) I said I had a feeling Essek would probably show up and run into the m9. well I was right so i’m supper happy, hearing floaty bois voice was awesome I hope Essek and Lucien meet at some point (hopefully not while trying to kill each other that would be sad).

11. Caleb’s eighth floor is so interesting like I hope we get to see all the rooms at some point, I think the room we saw this episode was his room at the asylum (mostly from it’s disarray and how drab it was) as for who he was talking to? I’ve seen a lot of people says its Essek or Astrid (I can smell the incoming discourse) I think it’s neither, it’s probably the simplest answer himself or more specificly Bren. I think he was talking to the Bren that spent years in that bed and chair wasting away.

12. wtf do you mean the big snow worm has a double reason for hunting the party Matt?! (I have no clue what that means).

13. the m9′s decision to try and get to A2 before Lucien and take whatever is there is such a shit idea, why did he kill Vess because she was a traitor she betrayed him what are they m9 about to do betray him even after the warning about straying from the path (which btw I think was molly warning them). If they actually go through with this plan I hope Cad is right on Lucien getting amused at them instead of fucking pissed. good news is that even if they get there before Lucien they could still salvage the thing with Lucien by saying they wanted unbiased answers. I get they’re grieving and in a bunch of pain but use the common sense I know you have and learn more about whats happening before fucking it all up. (also I get half a point from Lucien kicking Vess’s body)

14. I will say I mostly loved this episode (except for the ending) but them talking about possibly scattering Lucien to get Molly back no matter how brief did unsettle me a lot. no matter my feelings about Molly this is Lucien’s body when he was scattered molly did have the right to the body so I don't think any of his actions were wrong or bad but now that Lucien is whole again his bodily autonomy should not be violated just for a unsure chance Molly would come back. As it is Lucien seemed already uneasy and annoyed with stuff molly did (ex-tattoos).

15. I originally wasn’t gonna put this point but I think I should. when Taliesin said “he thought they would be on the other side of this” I think most people thought it was in reference to how it seems like Lucien is evil (I still don’t think he is) but what if he meant Molly’s arc. think of it wouldn’t it make sense for Molly’s arc to focus on his past coming back to meet him what if they always intended for Lucien to become whole again and it was suppose to be Lucien’s thoughts/feelings bleeding into molly’s. but Molly died so instead we’re getting the inverse Lucien has to come to terms with his past as Molly and the people Molly left behind coming into his life. I think it would be a good arc him learning that you can’t run from or ignore the past no matter how much you want to it can and will come bite you in the ass. would also make sense why Lucien and Molly both have that attitude towards their pasts (you know other than being pieces of the same person).

#critical role #Mollymauk #cr lucien #I already had an idea for Lucien kidnaps/saves Caleb story it's only grown now #I hope Yasha and Caleb get a hug soon #lets the introverts cuddle and cry together #Lucien and Caleb need a ship name #Don't look at me I'm terrible at naming things #so happy to see floaty hot boi again #he sounded happy to hear from them #Matt and Taliesin both had faces that I have deemed untrustworthy this episode #ray's interests #keep forgetting that one

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aj-artjunkyard · 5 years ago

Text

I think this is going to be a bit of a one shot series. There might be some time skips and not every chapter is a continuation of the same storyline. I like this better as if I ever go off writing this, you won’t be left on a cliffhanger. Every chapter has a complete story, so it’s also longer, which is a bonus.

There is a four year time skip. Apollo is now a fourth year.

My gold and black robes billowed behind me as I sprinted up another staircase and hung a left, barreling through some unfortunate first years as I made my way up to the hospital wing.

I’d began training with the Hogwarts matron in my first year, ever since I’d learned a particularly nifty healing spell that had popped a fellow student’s dislocated shoulder back into its rightful place. The Hogwarts matron had seen me and was impressed by my potential - and nearly four years later I was still being taught between classes. Today, they started at 1:55PM. It was now 2:15 (What? I had missed a staircase. Nothing to do with my poor awareness of schedules).

I readjusted my grip on my leather satchel and rushed past the little plump lady standing in the doorway of the hospital wing, smiling a greeting. She kept her ever-present stern facade intact as she shooed me inside.

“Don’t you be late next time young man, or I’ll be having a word to your father about your punctuality!” She called after me, slamming the door behind her. I smiled at the empty threat. There was no way she would tell my father about my secret lessons, or else both our heads would be on a stick. Headmaster Zeus had some pretty questionable ideology when it came to assigning genders to their copybook jobs. Nursing was a woman’s world, not a man’s.

I came to a halt at the trolly that overflowed with a mix of different overhanging herbs, anthropomorphised plants and some questionable-looking dried out slug-type creatures. Conical flasks hung suspended in the air, swishing their contents around in miniature whirlpools of colour. This, I’d been told, kept the contents oxygenated. The matron appeared beside me, her wrinkled features comparable to the severe expression of a weathered military general.

“Today is simple,” she barked. “Damage to the left arm due to a high fall. Broken humerus, dislocated shoulder, shattered clavicle. The patient is in bed A6. Collect what you need and do what you have to. No lollygagging!” She turned on her heel and marched to a patient who had managed to have the placement of their hands and feet switched. I stifled a grin. My younger brother, a third year Slytherin named Hermes, got a kick out of forging fake love-heart shaped chocolate boxes filled with enchanted candies and leaving them to be found by his unfortunate targets. His spells were never actually dangerous per se (however I would not put it past him. He is unnervingly clever), but they tended to land the non-willing participant in the hospital wing until the matron could figure out how to undo them, which was usually a few weeks. Hermes was a complete ferret of a person, and I always told him so, but he was undeniably good at his craft. I sniggered to myself. As soon as I worked out how to fix the enchantments, I’d have potential blackmail against my darling little brother. I planned to get him do give me something in exchange for me not immediately healing his targets and ruining his fun.

After choosing a few conical flasks and a vial of my experimental Skele-Gro (just in case) I jogged to bed A6 and slipped out my private notebook of healing spells from my satchel. As I flicked through the pages, I didn’t give the red-clad student a second look. It was just another reckless Gryffindor who had probably jumped from the astronomy tower for fun while testing out their friend’s levitating spell (that obviously hadn’t succeeded). I found the right page and set the notebook on the bedside table. Only then did I glance down at the the boy strewn on the bed. He was well-built and broad shouldered, even for a seventh year. His muddied, black hair was chopped in a military buzz cut, and his face and arms were littered with old and new scratches, some much deeper than the others. He wore the scarlet robes and leather armour of a Gryffindor Beater, though his uniform was torn and caked with mud and soaked through from the December rain. He looked like the definition of a stereotypical high school bully. His face held a permanent scowl. I gulped.

“Hey Ares,” I greeted weakly. His scowl deepened. I tried to ignore that. “Um, I just need to check your arm…” I edged around my older sibling like he was an angered boar, waiting to run me through with its horns. I all but hid behind my clipboard while I examined the twisted arm.

Let me be crystal clear with you, reader. I was not scared of my brother. He was violent and reckless, yes, but a coward. I knew that if he bothered me, I only needed to poke his shoulder and he’d be wailing for an hour. However, do you recall how I was trying to keep this little side gig a secret? For years I had been keeping track of the quidditch games and taking note when any of my siblings got injured in one, so I could avoid the hospital wing until they were healed. I was usually quite on top of the Hufflepuff games (as I was their seeker), and Artemis, who happened to be the seeker for the Gryffindor team, helped remind me when her matches were. If any of my dear half brothers or sisters found out that I was learning a ‘woman’s trade’, they’d either tell father (resulting in my death) or use what they’d found as blackmail, threatening to tell father if I did not do their dirty work (resulting in my drawn out, much more embarrassing death). Of course, there had been a few close calls and a few accidental slips of tongue. My best friend Meg (a first year Gryffindor that I had met back in September of this year, while she was stealing my bag) knew. So did my twin, Artemis, and my aforementioned brother, Hermes. I had sworn them all to secrecy, but I did not trust Tell-Tale Ares one little bit. I did not even know how I had forgotten today’s Gryffindor v Slytherin match, but it had crossed my mind that the corridors were emptier than usual.

I copied down useless bulletpoints on the clipboard, such as ‘broken arm’ and ‘ouch’, while my mind wandered down the dark paths of my anxiety, each thought more desperate and panicky than the last. What will father do when he finds out? Will he give me a lifetime of detentions? Will he expel me? Would my uncles and aunts step in? Probably not. Would I have to leave the country to go to a different wizarding school? Would I have to give up learning magic entirely? Will I-

“Apollo!” The matron hollered across the room at me. “Stop your clowning around! Treat the patient!” I wondered if she even knew Ares’ relation to me. My dad had so many kids with so many women that we were admittedly hard to keep straight, and I certainly did not act like Ares did. I was far more - how do I put this - refined.

Ares snickered at the matron’s tone.

“Stupid little Sunny can’t even do a girl’s job,” he taunted.

I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to the task at hand.

“Okay,” I said, starting as I would with any other student. “I am going to use the Brackium Emendo charm to fix your humerus and clavicle. I assure you that I am well trained in this charm, otherwise I would not be allowed to practice it on students. I then have to-”

“Get on with it, Sunny.” Ares growled, his mood swinging faster than the Whomping Willow’s branches. Wanting to give him the best hospital experience ever and possibly convince him not to blab, I obliged in silence. My hopes of getting out scot free were demolished when I was straightening out the newly mended arm a few minutes later. “Dad’s gonna love this one, Sunny,” Ares grunted through the pain. His face was tense with restraint, his forehead glistening with sweat and rain from outdoors. “If you’re lucky, you’ll even make it onto the papers. ‘Loser Son Disappoints Dad Yet Again’. Yeah, that’ll be fun.” I tried my best to bite down on my tongue, let it wash over me. I tried not to get angry. I tried not to scream at Ares to shut his face, and I almost failed. Luckily, I was distracted.

BANG!

The hospital wing door flew open, and a young girl sprinted in, looking around wildly until her cat-eye glasses landed on me. I recognised her as the one and only, bag-stealing, meat-scoffing ragamuffin Meg McCaffrey. She, like Ares, was soaked to the skin, her lenses dotted with raindrops and steaming up from the indoor heat. She wore her red high tops over her uniform grey tights, an obvious infraction of the school dress code (the teachers had already given up, and she had only been here for just over three months, which I think sums her character up very well). Her black and red Gryffindor robes were wrapped around her torso in a useless attempt to keep in heat. We shared a look of dread.

“You can go,” I said defeatedly to the healed Beater, all the angry wind gone from my sails. Ares stood, sneered at me and sauntered out, flicking Meg in the head as he passed her. She hissed, which I thought was an appropriate response. I kept staring at the empty hospital bed, my eyes fixated on the dent in the mattress where Ares had lay, slowly inflating itself. I heard the loud squelching of wet shoes approach me. Meg appeared at my side.

“I’m sorry,” She muttered. “I didn’t realise he was injured enough to go to the hospital wing. I was too far up the stands. By the time I noticed he was already on his way.” She lowered her head. “I didn’t warn you in time.”

I sighed. “It’s quite alright, Meg. You weren’t to know about the extent of my father’s strictness. Thanks for trying so hard though. It means a lot.”

“I know what it’s like.”

I turned to face her. Her glasses were still steamed up, and I couldn’t see her eyes. The expression she wore was blank and unreadable. I wanted to know more, but I didn’t want to push too much. I simply asked, “Your father?”

“Step-father,” she replied plainly.

…

Meg scoffed down her eggs and bacon like there was no tomorrow. I sat between her and Artemis at the Hufflepuff table. This was an advantage to all of us. Artie and I got to eat where the rest of our family didn’t bother us and Meg got to inspire terror into the meek Hufflepuff first years with her champion eating skills. Win-Win. Also, it was good to have two bodyguards from a house that was known for being protective and rash after the proceedings of yesterday afternoon. The enchanted roof was dull and grey with clouds, a reflection of my tense and dreading mood. I was awaiting the call to go to my father’s office, where my sentence would be given. Needless to say, I was not excited.

Nothing happened at breakfast. No word at lunch. By the time dinner rolled around at 6pm, I was almost gaining a little ray of hope that Ares had forgotten, or maybe held back in order to threaten me with it later. Then all conversation died around me at the Hufflepuff table. A low, gruff voice sounded from behind me, making me jump a metre and drop my fork.

“Apollo.”

My stomach sank to my feet while my heart leapt to my mouth. I turned to meet the stone chiselled, bearded face of Headmaster Zeus.

“Sir,” I squeaked.

“My office. After dinner. Do not be late.” He moved on to the teacher’s table at the back of the hall, leaving me pale and faint, unable to eat another bite of chicken pie without feeling like I was going to hurl, despite Artie and Meg’s attempts to reassure me.

Dinner ended so much quicker than it needed to. Students and teachers started filtering out as soon as 6:45. By 7, the hall was practically empty except for a couple of teachers and some Gryffindors, who were celebrating their quidditch win against Slytherin. I knew my time was running out. Father had stomped out a few minutes ago, glaring holes into me as he passed. Meg and Artie had stayed with me, but even now they seemed to be on edge about my punctuality. They wanted me to go and get things over with, while I just wanted the ground to swallow me. But eventually, even I could not make up another excuse. I stood and bade them farewell, then made my way towards my executioner on the seventh floor.

Reaching the headmaster’s tower had never been so exhausting. Every step reminded me of what and who I was waltzing toward. Questions burned through my head, demanding attention. I ignored them and instead focused on striding briskly through the hallways, trying my best not to get lost and be even later. I turned a corner and saw the gargoyle entrance to the office awaiting my arrival. The regal stone eagle had already leapt aside, the rotating staircase revealed. I stepped on and waited. The grinding of stone against stone grated my ears as the the stairs moved up the walls. It was an agonising wait. But of course, it ended.

I stepped into the silent office. It was small enough, but not cramped. Certainly smaller than father’s office at home. It was a round room, decorated with waist-high pedestals that held marble busts of past headmasters. The left wall had a large rectangular indent in the stone, which showed shelves that were stacked neatly with different objects, some I recognised as my father’s belongings (a bronze shield carved with the twisted face of Medusa and some bronze rods - his renowned enchanted lightning bolts), and some of which had obviously been confiscated - a stack of chocolate boxes that glowed a dim green (Hermes’ little experiments), a bunch of sharp iron weaponry, enchanted to drip blood and gore (Ares’ favourite toys) and a bottle of Dio’s Delectable Delight (an alcoholic drink made by my Gryffindor first year brother, Dionysus, that gave a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors sick with poisoning while they were having a drink-off between the houses. I remember because I had to treat them all).

At the back of the room, behind an intricately carved wooden desk, sat my father.

He was a six foot five giant of a man, muscular and powerful. His middle age eye creases and greying black hair did not distract from his obviously handsome features. His salt and pepper beard covered the bottom half of his face, and reached down to the base of his throat. His hair was long and slightly wavy, like mine, but less flamboyant and stylish. He wore a smart grey pinstriped suit, with dress shoes and a black tie. His bushy eyebrows were furrowed in anger over his striking blue eyes. He gestured to the small wooden seat opposite him.

“Sit,” he commanded. I sat. My palms were damp with sweat, so I rubbed them on my robes and folded my hands in my lap, fidgeting and changing their position constantly. My head was lowered and my golden hair swept down the side of my face, blocking my peripheral vision. I locked my sight onto a dark circle on the table before me. I could feel my fathers stormy eyes on my seemingly insignificant frame.

His voice thundered; “You know why you are here.”

I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously and chanced look up into the eyes of my father. They were a bright electric blue, and seemed to flash a warning, daring me to speak out of place. I looked down again.

“Yes, sir,” I muttered.

Zeus leaned over the table. It made a loud creak, and I wondered whether or not it would be able to support his weight.

“Do you know who told me?”

I nodded. “It was Ares. I healed him after the quidditch match yesterday.”

“Then you know that he is not innocent either.”

I looked up at him again, confused as to why I had not been zapped yet. He seemed to be…giving me a chance? No, that was impossible. And yet…

“Sir?” I asked, daring to ask for some clarification. Zeus narrowed his eyes and sat up straighter in his chair, increasing his height. His hands rested on the desk, his fingers laced like a top boss talking down to his lowly employee.

“I wanted to expel you,” he growled. “You embarrass my family tree time and time again. I need solid proof that you belong here. Unfortunately, I cannot put you to work as I would like. The ministry would never allow it. However, I have a different task in mind.”

I held my breath and waited for the verdict of my disproportionate offence. “Impress me.”

“W-what?” I spluttered, choking on the air I’d been holding in. Impress him? Him? My father? The most powerful wizard in my extensive family that could harness lightning? “How?”

“I don’t care for specifics, boy” Zeus scoffed, waving off my question. “This is a magic school, is it not? Prove you have ability. Prove to me that you are not just some filthy squib, destined to become a nanny. Such beings do not deserve to be called my son. If you succeed, which I doubt, you may continue with your hobby. If not…” He left it to me to fill in the blanks, which was almost worse. I just knew my imagination was going to run wild with that unfinished sentence. “You have until the Christmas holidays begin. Do not disappoint me.” He leaned back in his chair. This meeting was Over.

…

“He didn’t expel you?” Artemis exclaimed, looking mildly impressed. “Not even a little zap?”

“No! It was…very unlike him.”

“So you got off easy then,” Meg piped up through her breakfast, spraying me with bacon bits. “That’s good.”

“If you count vague instructions to show off to a guy that has the emotional range of a teaspoon as simple, then sure!” - I glared at Meg - “I got off easy.” Meg rolled her eyes and went back to licking the runny yolk off her sunny side up. I thought that to be selfish. I was the one in peril here! “The deadline is the holidays! We get off on the twenty-first of this month, and it’s already the third! Not to mention that I have the concert on the last day! How am I supposed to learn how to gain fathers respect in seventeen days?”

“Maybe you should start by thanking mother,” Artemis mused. “She is the one who got him to lighten up.”

I looked at my twin questioningly. “How did she know?”

Artie rolled her eyes and Meg snorted a laugh, spewing out half of the contents in her mouth onto the table.

“Honestly Ollie, do you ever listen?”

“No,” Meg sniggered, answering for me.

“I wrote a letter to mother about the whole predicament right after I heard about it. I got her response at lunch yesterday. I gave you her letter to read so you would calm down.”

“What? No you didn’t!”

“Uh, yeah, she did,” Meg mocked in an ‘obviously’ tone. “Check your pocket, dummy.”

I reached into my robe pocket and drew out a few items; a keyring, a harmonica and a folded up piece of parchment. Meg snatched the parchment from my hand and unfolded it roughly, then slammed it on the table in front of me. The ink was fashioned in neat cursive.

“Read it,” Meg stated. I picked it up and scanned down the lines.

Dearest Apollo,

I sincerely hope you are feeling better than yesterday. Artemis wrote to me about what happened. I wanted to tell you not to fret, for I am on my way to purchase a howler as I speak - the quill is writing for me. Please do not worry, darling. Your sister and I will not let that man touch a hair on your head, and from what you have told me about your new friend, Meg, I suspect she will help you too.

The letter went on, more reassurances, more threats at Zeus, more pet names. Yes, this would have helped yesterday. If I had not been so numb to the world around me and taken the time to actually read it. The letter ended;

Love you, Sunshine!

~Leto

“Oh,” I said dumbly, feeling my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. “I didn’t see that.”

“Yeah, no duh.”

“Shut up Meg.”

I remembered my mother fixing this kind of problem for me before. When I first arrived at Hogwarts, I had been sorted into Hufflepuff - what my father called The Weak House. The Friendly House. The house that none of his children should be put in, especially because he was such a model Slytherin, the house known for storming through the door first, instead of the house known for holding the door open for others. My father had gotten yellow on his ledger, and wanted to wipe it out. My mother shouted him down, and I kept my place in Hogwarts.

A new voice spoke calmly behind me.

“Begin with the library. Information is the starting point of all wisdom.” I spun around. Standing there was the tall, lean form of a seventh year Ravenclaw. Her dark brown hair was gathered into a tight bun on her head, and her arms clutched several dusty old rolls of parchment. Her grey eyes peered down her nose at us. The sapphire and obsidian robes she wore sat perfectly on her form, and her tucked in shirt and neat tie was exemplary of a Head Girl and Prefect - the badges of both gleamed on her lapel. Athena held herself with pride and confidence, knowing well that she was smarter, more privileged and generally better than the rest of us (read: Daddy’s Favourite). She knew rightly that whatever she did, she was untouchable. Thankfully, her freedom included helping me. “I can get you on the list for the restricted section. It is going to take some light-show to get on father’s good side. And,” - she smiled cockily - “some hard work and research.” Of course.

“So you aren’t really going to help me then?” Athena said nothing, but only smiled before turning on her heel and striding out of the hall to her first class. I rolled my eyes. Turning to my teammates, I announced; “I guess it’s just the three of us, then! No worries, I am positive that if we all work together-”

“-Actually Ollie,” Artie interrupted, totally stomping on my Inspiring Speech Hero Moment. “I have a load of stuff to do…with Orion. So…yeah,” she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. I tried to ignore the blush forming on her cheeks. She gained confidence and stated; “I will not be around a lot this month. Sorry.” My beloved twin stood abruptly and rushed out of the hall.

Naturally. The one time she gets a teeny crush, she abandons me to do my own dirty work. How rude. I was not fond of that tricky fifth year Slytherin boy, and let me tell you, I planned to get rid of him. But that was for later. Right now, I needed to stay on task. Though looking at my only remaining teammate, who was currently showing her chewed-up food to a grossed out Hufflepuff girl, I wondered if that was even worth doing.

…

“This is so boring!” Meg lay with her feet up a against a bookcase, tapping her toes together as she flung another priceless book into the Useless Pile.

“Meg, you aren’t even helping. You’re just looking at the pictures!”

“Even those are dull,” she whined. “It’s so late and the Gryffindor dorms are sooo far from here.”

“It’s only seven o’clock, Meg.”

“It’s dark!”

“It’s winter!”

“Shhhhhhh!” The librarian hushed for the umpteenth time that evening. I whispered our apologies and kept reading about turning people into birds of prey. However I did not think that giving my father another eagle would suffice. I too, chucked my book onto the Useless Pile. It was now the sixth of December, giving me exactly two weeks until the last day school before the holidays.

“Right,” Meg announced, “I’m going back to the greenhouses. Good luck, or whatever.” She grabbed her wand and stuck her hands in her pockets, then disappeared into the maze of the library, leaving me alone in favour of checking on her secret karpos friend Peaches in the herbology classroom.

I sighed. Admitting defeat for the night, I grabbed a thick book I had read many times before. The leather bound book was emblazoned with silver text in ancient greek, a language every member of my family was fluent in, and I was no different. The title read ‘θεός’. I flicked through the weathered pages. Every chapter was a different relation, introduced with a detailed portrait - It was a family tradition to get one done one your twenty-first birthday, when you are your in prime stage of life. I saw my father’s, my uncles’ and my aunts’ portraits, and stopped at the chapter entitled ‘Hecate’. Her mother was sisters with my own mother, making her my first cousin. She was extremely experienced in charms and transfiguration, one of the best witches in the business. I figured I needed some inspiration, so I sidled through the mess of ancient greek and scribbled diagrams. I found that her specialty was inventing new spells. Then I came across a very interesting quote from some guy named Hesiod who had wrote a different book:

“Zeus, Cronus’ son, honoured [Hecate] above all others: he gave her splendid gifts - to have a share of the earth and of the barren sea, and from the starry sky as well she has a share in honour.”

My eyes lit up. That’s exactly what I needed. Well, maybe father wouldn’t ‘honour me above all others’, but he might at least give me a pat on the back, and to get that from my father would be good enough for me. Inspiration struck as I slammed the book shut and began my hunt for any information that might be of help.

By ten o’clock, I had been chased out of the library and back to the Hufflepuff dorms. I went to sleep cosy and content, knowing that all I needed to do now was invent a new spell.

Apparently, this is harder than it sounds. Drat. Even thinking of a new spell took me all Sunday, but at least there was no classes. Meg and I spent all day outside by the lake, sitting underneath a laurel tree while I poured over a seemingly endless stack of books, eliminating spell ideas as I saw them mentioned. I knew I wanted something flashy, something I could add into my concert - which was a great opportunity to show it off in front of the whole school. But alas, as I crossed off ‘self playing violin spell’ I began to loose the inspirational buzz I’d started the task with. Meg leaned over and swiped my list of possible spells from my lap.

“‘Poetry generator spell’? Really?”

“Gah! I don’t know!” I wailed, waving my arms desperately and throwing down my quill in defeat. “I can’t think of anything else! There is not a single spell out there that has not already been created!”

I slumped back against the tree and sighed, watching Meg make a dandelion grow with ten times the regular speed. She had a real knack for herbology and garden magic, just like I did for divination. Divination class had never steered me wrong, especially because the professor is my grandmother, Phoebe, who says I’ve inherited her talent. I had stayed behind after class last Friday to ask Professor Phoebe about the future outcome of my little trial, and she’d told me to grab a crystal ball and see for myself. All I had gotten was the mist in the ball turning gold.

I glanced over to the lake where my uncle Poseidon was lobbing fish for the giant squid. He was wearing his usual attire; a loud Hawaiian shirt and tan kakis with loafers and his signature fishing cap, even in the cold winter weather. As his bucket emptied, he turned to stroll back into the castle when we locked eyes. Noticing my distress, he ambled on over to us, his hands in his pockets and his kind, sea-green eyes twinkling.

“I heard you’re in a bit of hot water with my dear little brother again, Apollo.”

I blew out my cheeks in exasperation and slumped even further down the tree, making Poseidon chuckle. “I know the feeling.”

“He’s impossible!”

“What have you got so far?”

I handed him my list of possible spells, which he read through with careful consideration.

“I want to invent a new spell for dad. Like Hecate did. But every spell is already taken! There’s nothing to invent!”

Poseidon scratched his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully.

“Well, when people want to sell a product, they usually want the product to solve problems.”

“So?”

“So what problems - besides the whole ‘Impress Zeus’ chore - do you have that can’t be solved with magic right now?”

I furrowed my eyebrows in concentration.

“I have a gig on the last day of class. I have this one song prepared that requires a whole congregation of different instruments, and I still can’t find anyone else with the mere skill set to play with me, so I had to enchant the whole orchestra to play itself. There’s no backup singers either, since all the muses are doing their own parts, and if they play every single song they’ll be exhausted.” I huffed. “Mnemosyne remembered her girls coming home to her in first year after the concert, and she banned them from doing it again. And she never goes back on a rule.”

“Enchanted backup dancers,” Meg snorted. Poseidon raised an eyebrow at my young friend, smirking at her humour.

“Yes,” I mumbled, my mind running at full speed, giving me the ideas and inspiration I had spent a week looking for. “Yes, that could work.” I grabbed my quill and ripped out a new piece of parchment and began scribbling like a madman, muttering and blocking out everything in my peripheral vision.

“Well!” I heard Poseidon say, his voice retreating and getting more distant. “Glad I could help.”

“Don’t Bother,” Was that Meg? I couldn’t tell, I wasn’t paying attention. “He’s gonna be in that trance for hours.”

…

It was 9pm on the eighteenth of December. Exactly seventy-two hours until the concert began. I stood in an empty classroom that was packed with grimy wooden crates that had probably been there for years. A few of the stacked crates acted as Meg’s high throne, where she proceeded to look down upon myself, who trying feebly to summon my incantation. I glanced yet again at my jotter, which was propped open on top of a crate to my left. On it was my scrawled notes on my new spell: the Golden Charmer. The incantation words were translated into ancient greek: Χρυσεαι Κηληδονες, or, Chryseae Celedones. Their purpose was to act as my backup group, to sing, dance and play whatever I asked of them. They amplified my own voice, but in any voice type (tenor, soprano, bass, you name it) or gender that I pleased. They were also supposed to have a golden form, but so far, I had only accomplished a yellow wisp protruding from the end of my wand.

“Be more magic,” Meg suggested unhelpfully before stuffing another fistful of popcorn in her gob. I rolled my eyes, turned back to the empty room, set my jaw and tried again. I pointed my wand at my voice box, uttered “Χρυσεαι Κηληδονες!” and flicked my wrist until the wand tip was pointed away from me. I then drew a steady line downwards with my wand, the golden mist following in its wake and sculpting itself until a beautiful apparition stood before us, casting out warm light and an aura of grace. Her detailed face held an impassive expression, like she could just as quickly bare her teeth in a growl as she could in a smile. Her sleeveless dress was draped across her shoulders and flowed majestically down to the floor. Her hair was folded in a loose bun on her head, the fibres drooping but far from messy or unkempt. She was perfect. I could feel my heart rate rise unnaturally with unbound excitement. I had done it!

Meg, whose mouth was hanging open and spilling chewed kernels all over the place, quickly shut her trap and made an effort to look unimpressed.

“Does it work?”

I glared at her, thinking about that bat-bogey hex Hermes had just taught me, and how many times I would get to use it on my young friend by the end of the school year.

“I just invented a charm, Miss McCaffrey. Can you be impressed for a little bit before ruining my fun?”

“Nope,” she stated, twisting to lie upside-down on her crate, her glasses falling up to her forehead. “Get her to sing.”

I sighed. Tapping my wand on a crate for the golden being’s attention (which was most likely unnecessary, but still, delightfully dramatic), I held my hands up like a conductor with my wand as his baton. The Celedon sang in tune to my gestures.

“Aaaaaaaaaah!”

I smirked at Meg, deciding I had every right to be cocky. The celedon’s voice was pristine. It carried brilliantly, and was as clear as day.

“Are you just gonna conduct, then?” Meg asked. “Like, you’re not actually singing?”

“No, no, no. I’m singing and playing violin for this particular piece,” I said, loosing a bit of my confidence. Did the Celedons need me to conduct them? If so, id just created a whole new problem. “I’m sure if I just…” I turned once again to the Celedon and cleared my throat. “Ahem. Celedon, sing Greensleeves.” Thank the heavens, it seemed to understand. She burst into a rendition of the mournful tune. Meg’s eyes turned glassy with tears that threatened to fall, her soul plunged into the despair of loosing a loved one. I, on the other hand, felt the sound was empty. It was good, yes. But it could be better. I held a hand up for the spell’s sound to cease. It obeyed.

Meg stared at me, wiping her eyes. “Why’d you stop?”

“One moment…” I performed the spell’s gesture thrice more (now knowing the correct way to cast the spell), and soon had a quartet of golden women before me, awaiting my command. “Let’s try that again, shall we?” This time, the song was flawless. The first Celedon took the lead, while the other three vocally danced around the first’s notes, emphasising the main tune. Even I had a tear in my eye by the end. I was glad I had soundproofed this classroom beforehand, or I might have reduced the transfiguration class down the hall into a sobbing wreck.

“Ah ha!” I exclaimed. “Fantastic!” My mind raced for something else I could give them to do. “Uhhh…here! Try this! Accio violin!”

Whoosh - craSH.

A violin smashed through a window, and flew into my open hand.

“Couldn’t you have just went and got your violin?” Asked Meg. “I thought the Hufflepuff dorms were like, a floor down from here.”

“Pizzaz, Meg.”

“You’re dumb.”

I handed a Celedon the violin and announced; “Celedon, play Swan Lake.” But instead of Tchaikovsky’s magical piece, a sound not unlike a spiteful cat dragging its claws down a chalkboard screeched from the instrument. Meg fell off her wooden throne in surprise, clutching her ears and screaming at the charm to stop. The Celedon, obviously not used to being hated on by twelve year olds (despite her limited existence time) paused her torturous tune and glared holes into the red-clad preteen. After the ringing in my ears subsided, stared into space wearily, knowing that I now needed to teach a spell to play expert level violin. And I had less than three days.

…

I tugged nervously on my blazer sleeve as Calliope finished up her last song. I had decided to wear my usual house uniform, but instead of the cloak, I had donned a sharp black blazer with a bright yellow lapel. I smiled at my half-sister as she jogged offstage and joined me behind the great hall’s doors.

“You’re up next, Ollie,” Calliope panted, her sweat dampening her brow and coming through the folds of her stylised Ravenclaw-blue t-shirt dress. Black skin-tight jeans clung to her legs and her socks had sunk below the rim of her pastel pink converse boots. She grappled blindly for her water bottle before dumping the contents on her face and chugging the rest of it. Her wavy caramel hair straightened and darkened under the weight of the water. Cal and I were the main participators in each year’s Christmas concert. And every other concert at the end of a school term. She had just finished her version of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’, and just before that, had sang a variation of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’ with me and her other eight sisters. She had also sang the song before that, and after three songs with hardly a break, she was rightfully exhausted. No wonder her mother had banned her from playing every song (a rule that my mother had belatedly decided to enforce on me too). Once she caught her breath, Calliope straightened up and patted me on the shoulder. “I hope this last one goes well for your sake, Ollie.”

I blew out my cheeks. “Me too.”

“It’s not a Christmas song though, right?”

“No, It just packs a punch. I wanted something that could really wow someone, y’know?”

Calliope nodded solemnly. “Of course. No one can do that with ‘Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree’.”

I knew she’d get it. Still, from behind the doors to the great hall where the tables had been cleared and a stage set up, I questioned every decision I had made leading up to this moment. Every face in the crowd was blurred together, but somehow I could easily see my father, reclining in his chair and glaring at the empty stage as if that would make the acts happen faster. I was terrified, and I do not get stage fright. I love being the centre of attention, especially when it’s for something I’m brilliant at. I did not doubt my own ability to put on a show. I only doubted my ability to read my father.

But of course, that did not matter. I had to start anyways.

As I sauntered out and onto the stage, I felt the heat of the room smack me dead in the face. The chatter of the crowd lowered to a mumble. I turned from my spectators and waved my wand at the hoard of unmanned instruments packed at the back of the stage, which sprung to life and readied their first notes. I then turned to my side and muttered “Χρυσεαι Κηληδονες!”. Twice before turning to my other side and doing the same again. I now stood between four Golden Charmers, readily holding matching violins. I silently prayed they had picked up the song I had attempted to teach them. Anything could’ve gone wrong at that point, and I could do nothing about it. I heard gasps and mutters go up from the students, but did not dare look. They may have been laughing - or something worse. Instead I focused on grabbing my own violin - whistling a single low note to signify that I was starting - and played.

As soon as my bow hit the strings, I felt the adrenaline flood my being, filling every bone in my body. I was no longer apprehensive. This was the feeling I lived for, and I intended to let it take over. My fingers flew across the strings, and at just the right moment, the Celedons joined in with perfect synchronisation. Everything was going to plan. The operatic voices of the Celedons joined the choir, singing along with the notes. “Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!”

The first verse arrived and the Celedones ceased their play, as planned. I continued with my violin, belting out the lyrics with all my heart and soul. The instruments gradually picked up, and I sang louder and louder, summoning all the melancholy I could muster. I could feel my musical magic making the audience break into tears. The exhilaration fuelled me. I could feel no exhaustion.

As soon as the last note evaporated, I felt my energy drain, my shoulders and head suddenly becoming a lot heavier. I wanted to heave for breath, but I simply could not allow myself to do so while still onstage! So I shortened my breath to what I hoped was normal, and not a person who had just ran several marathons back to back. My brow and torso were sticky with sweat and I had the urge to rip off my blazer for some relief from the overwhelming heat. I could hardly hear the applause that had erupted until I actively forced myself to listen. I was too busy scanning the audience to soak up the praise, but my eyes only landed on the unreadable, impassive expression of the headmaster.

…

I would have liked to be able to truthfully say that I spent most of the night celebrating the deadline of my trial and the end of the term with the muses, my twin, and all my good friends, partying to Pompeii by Bastille until the little hours of the morning, not bothering to concern myself with past mistakes or future hardships, drink too much butter beer and pass out on the Hogwarts Express the next morning. You know, the good life. But alas, that was not the case. For one, we were told to trot off to bed right after my final song, which was only a couple of minutes past ten o’clock, and warned that our heads of houses would be checking that we were all asleep by ten-thirty. If we were not, we would receive a detention for the first day back.

However, I still attempted to force my way through the swamp of students making their way to the doors so I could talk to my father, and perhaps get some clarification on my fate. However, my plans were spoiled when I couldn’t get past a particularly moody cow.

“Bed, Goldilocks!” Hera commanded, her hatred for any children of Zeus that were not hers abundantly present in her poison tipped words. “That husband-stealing mother of yours may cause Zeus to lighten his punishments, but don’t think for a second that I will have any displeasure in seeing you in detention for the rest of your years at this school!”

I leaned past her and searched around, not really taking in her threats (this is a common and practised reaction to children of Zeus), and tried once again to slip past her.

“I just need to talk to father real quick, then I promise I will be out of your…” I glanced up at her. “rapidly greying hair. Won’t be a moment.” At that second, Hera grabbed my wrist and yanked me backwards, almost pulling my shoulder from its socket. She sneered down at me, bearing her teeth and pointing to the exit. I realised it was not worth my trouble. I huffed and, turning on my heel, strode back to the Hufflepuff common room.

If nothing else, being in the common room was always a nice experience. The whole place radiated a calm laziness, the ever-burning fire in the fireplace keeping the temperature cozy in winter months. The low ceilings were just above ground level, so the highest windows let in the sweet smell of cut grass towards the end of the school year. A few older students were lounging on the comfortable yellow sofa facing the mantelpiece and the dozen beanbags scattered throughout the room. These were the students who were staying over the winter break, and had few concerns over the timing of their retirement to bed. Some congratulated me on my performance. A couple gave a thumbs-up and nothing more - I returned these with an added smile, of course. I took a crumb of shortbread (which I had stuck out of the kitchen on the way to the dorms) out of my pocket and tossed it to Badger, the friendly mouse who lay reclined on one of the low tables in the centre of the room (I had found him in first year and the whole Hufflepuff house had unanimously adopted him as our secret mascot). Then I slipped through the rounded, honey-gold wooden door that lead to the boy’s dorms and threw myself onto my mattress.

Was I off the hook? Did I pass the test? Did father approve? Did he hate it? It looked like he hated it. Why is it always me who’s on the wrong side of father? Would it have been different if I was in Gryffindor? Is that why he hates me? Does he hate me?

Fathers words rang in my head. “If you succeed, which I doubt, you may continue with your hobby. If not…” WHAT DID HE MEAN BY “IF NOT”? What did that IMPLY? Does it mean detention, expulsion or worse? Should I be terrified?

…

Why was I still worrying? Everything was out of my hands. I had done my best.

…

BUT WHAT IF-

The anxieties didn’t cease all night. I do not know when I finally managed to drift off.

…

I hurriedly stuffed my trunk full of the belongings I would need for the two week break. Artie and I were staying with our mother on Delos for the duration of the holiday, and I did not intend to miss the train. When all my things were safely tucked away, I slammed the trunk shut and hauled it out of the dorms and through the earthen exit of the Hufflepuff common room, bidding my farewells to the few students who were staying.

Due to my late night worries, I had woken up late and already missed breakfast, so I took the obvious solution to a Hufflepuff. I lay down my trunk at the end of the corridor and tickled the pear - the entrance painting to the kitchens.

I left ten minutes later, licking my fingers which were sticky from strawberry juice and greek yogurt. The house elves had been grudgingly generous, having just finished cleaning up for the winter. Smirking as they chased me out of the kitchen, I grabbed my trunk and began dragging it up the stairs and towards the castle grounds. Halfway there, I ran into a slight problem. Well, we kind of ran into each other.

The headmaster, my father, stood in all his muscular, bulking glory, blocking the way to freedom. He looked as authoritative as always, his grey-streaked beard and hair well-kept and neat, his navy suit and tie clean and imposing, his eyes a sharp shade of piercing blue. I backed off a few steps and tried for a chill smile, but I had a strong feeling that it looked more like a pained grimace. Father straightened his back, rolled back his shoulders and rumbled;

“So. You made… a singing spell.”

I gulped down the bile that was fighting its way up my throat. I hated the way he oversimplified things. It made all my achievements look so much smaller in comparison to their real gargantuan importance. For instance, take that time I recorded a mashup of myself and the muses singing to hit tracks in howlers, and installed the howlers in between walls - our own in-built speaker system! Genius! Unfortunately, a few party-poopers (cough, Athena, cough) complained and had father tell me to ‘Take the paper planes back’, which, frankly, is an utterly ridiculous understatement of the hard work and effort put into that project. But the past is the past. In the present, Zeus was still waiting for an answer.

Oh reader, I so desperately tried to tell him of the wondrous things even a single Charmer could accomplish! They were not merely singing spells! They could entertain, play for those who were lonely, fill vacancies in choirs or orchestras in emergency last-minute cancellations! They could solve more problems for a showman than there are notes on sheet music!

But Zeus would have none of it. He stopped me halfway through my righteous rant. Rude.

“Enough,” he commanded somewhat wearily, holding one hand up for silence and rubbing his temple with another. “It is too early for your passionate outbursts.” I may have pouted slightly at that. It’s not important. Zeus regained some of his intimidating authority and continued, “I have already decided the outcome.” I knew it. I was expelled, I was dead I was- “You were not at breakfast. I was on my way to your common room to inform you of your success before you depart.”

My face paled. I dropped my heavy trunk with a loud thump.

“My… success?”

Zeus grunted.

“Yes. It was… a good show. Many staff and students were moved to tears. That would be the sort of reaction I cannot ignore in my decision making. Spells are typically not simple to create from scratch. And to have seen someone pull such things off in a few short weeks was…” he paused, considering the right word to use. He begrudgingly settled on: “…impressive.”

Let me tell you, if I had still been holding onto my trunk, I would have dropped it all over again. I swallowed, struggling to process a compliment coming from the lips of the toughest, most powerful wizard in the family. My heart was buzzing, my head was light, my breathing was uneven (though I tried my best to hide it). My brain worked overtime to somehow comprehend these impossible words. Impressive. Dad…impressed. I was impressive. I had done something worth being impressed over. For him. He was impressed. Eventually I managed to croak a measly “Thank you.”

It could’ve been me hallucinating, but I could’ve sworn I saw the slightest smirk underneath the greying beard, and a minuscule spark of pride in those electric eyes.

“Ten points to Hufflepuff.”

@psychologymademeunderstand @go-danielle

#Hogwarts au #toa #trials of apollo #trials of Apollo au #my au #apollo #meg mccaffrey #pjo #artemis #zeus #athena #hermes #Poseidon #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #story

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soul-heart-and-beyond · 5 years ago

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José Carioca Headcanons!

Might as well get to this cute boi as I’ve been thinking more about him and his past and well, not would be the time to reveal such stuff about him!

Some of these things might trigger some people, so I will just put a warning here before diving further into this. Most of it should be pretty light, but you might or will know it gets around that feeling for you.

So, José has always been considered a user of Black Magic. However, that is not the case for him as he only calls it such to let others know that is something that normally would not be accepted in society, like real black magic. His magic instead of being black or dark, is just regular magic. Since he does not have the ability to manipulate elements like fire, water wind, and earth unless it is through the means of transformation and transmutation, he truly sees and recognizes it as regular or pure magic. it deals with all of the archetypes that normally would not inflict killing or lethal damage to others, while not something that can be used to heal or cure someone else either. For this, he never really a problem with living with that part of him, however, due to people shunning his magic anyway as it was still seen as black magic, he began to refer to it as such to strangers or those he did not like to either drive them away or let them know that he had “something” to do with that.

As usual, José magical abilities would undergo: Transformation, Transmutation, Size Modification, Teleportation, Duplication, Music Mastery and Manipulation (Some could also say he manipulates air or wind with this), and in some cases, Materialization. (Kingdom Hearts Universe would have him apply to Green Magic, White Magic, and Arcane Magic from Final Fantasy XII)

There is a small book of extra spells he keeps in one of his jacket pockets for whenever he needs to deal with anything that would not be in his mastered set of spells and incantations.

As a note for when José begins to use a lot of his magic or enters Song Sorcerer José State (Hey, an SSJ joke!), his eyes will shift from their usual red to other colors like brown, amber, or light blue (Light blue being his maximum magical energy output). This is to give notice to all of the different eye colors he has gotten over the years and give them a chance to shine. As his magic is enhanced now, it also is mostly performed through music, which usually would be through his umbrella which he uses as a conduit for channeling that magic energy. If not that, then he sings and that is how he can cast spells or magic.It just has to be sound and music related at this point, so if you can shut him up, or bind him, you’ve pretty much got him.

Outside of his eyes, his clothes will gain a resonating aura of usually white , but light blue when shifted to that level. No real hair changes, no size or proportion changes, none of that.

His cigars are a pretty odd but understandable topic for him; as while he never really had any remote interest in it, after giving it a few tries he found himself to like them more and more as an acquired taste. Most of the time, you would find him with one in his hand or mouth, as he has a problem with oral fixation and just finding it easier to help smoke his problems away. He knows the risks for it, but decides to do it anyway with joy and content feelings as it soothes him, helps keep his stress and magical concentration at a tolerable level from him blowing up on someone, and he just finds it a great venting technique for him. While he doesn’t encourage others to smoke as that is more of their choice like it is his to continue or not (And he’s already made that choice a long time ago), he knows it works best for him and nothing can change his mind on that. He would rather be a happy and jovial parrot than a sad and gloomy one. If you make him mad, he’ll turn away and glare at you as he lights one up, and if you steal that one, well...you have one angry parrot with magic on his hands. It may be some nonlethal magic, but it can still hurt. Whenever there are young ones or those that can’t take it for health reasons, he’ll try his best to suppress, but he can’t always guarantee, as it has just been something he finds trouble putting a halt on sometimes.

He tends to combine his learned languages into a multilingual jumble of sentences, phrases, expressions, and so forth. It isn’t to confuse those he converses with, but whatever he can think of that would be the most easiest to say at the time, he’ll say it that way as opposed to thinking about it in that set language. Unless his conversation associate is unfamiliar with other languages, and then he will refer to using the one they are most familiar with, though he will take a moment to find the right or good enough way to say it as his memory retention can only go so far.

That little umbrella of his? Think of it as like a wand for him to channel his magic into if he can’t normally do it from his hand. Really he just found it lying around on the ground one day in Rio and decided to keep it as it still seemed like something he could use. He wasn’t sure if the person who previously owned it went back to search for it, but hopefully they could get another one as he was too attached to the one he found. It’s been something to help him get through the many days of the year, and for that, he trusts it very much. Rainy days, cloudy days, sunny days, somewhat snowy days, practically everyday he will have that cute little black umbrella of his on him at some point. Jose considers it a lucky charm for him as his life did change when he acquired it. Whenever he plays it like an instrument, he’s using magic for that, which in turn can help with other things.

His past is one of the things he is slightly hesitant to share, but with time he grew accepting of telling it to others and to see how nowadays people have a very different reaction to finding out about his ability to use magic makes him happy that some people are starting to see that not everything is so bad as it would have seemed. There were still some people that won’t feel comfortable about it and they still had every right to do so, but to the green parrot acknowledgement and understanding was so much better than rejection and banishment for even having an avid knowledge of magic.

The relationships Carioca have had in the past can be considered that of a fling-like way, though he generally does try to make an effort in what he does to keep it as he does love his partners. However, it might be his more lax and slight lack of sensing how others feel that have lead his past relationships to disaster and tries to improve upon it with the next one. However, while he does improve with each relationship, somehow he still gets caught by the same or similar things that broke up the last one and he hates it.

That luck of his can be pretty shifty in how it works. Whether he can be a lucky gambler with his chances never mattering as he’ll find a way to get the money somehow, or there are times where it can be blown and he’ll just have to find a way to pay up. Usually he is gentleman when it comes to bets, bargains, and gambles, but there are times where he will let the code slide as he has to make a run for his life from danger. Of course he does have a gambling problem as well, due to his optimistic side of looking towards a better outcome, he continues sometimes when he really should bow out. However, if it hasn’t killed him yet, it probably won’t kill him ever, maybe.

#A Gentleman From Rio! (José Carioca)#DuckTales 2017 universe #DuckTales 1987 Universe #House of Mouse Universe #Guard Impact! (Headcanons)

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mal-likes-biscuits · 6 years ago

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Series Behind the Scenes (Diablo: Amor Aeternus)

I wanted to share some of the fun hidden eggs/did you know/lore reference/extra stuff that appears throughout the series, but I didn’t have a chance to mention as I posted.

LONG post: content after the break! (Also, series spoilers. In case that’s not obvious.)

In All Things Light and Dark

Water imagery: all the Aspects have an element associated with them. Wisdom/Death is water/ice, per their arcane spells and the domain itself (Pools of Wisdom). Malthael returns to life in a spot that reminds him of the Pools.

Biscuits are the first food Malthael ever eats. He likes them afterwards because they remind him of the warm compassion he was shown. This carries on into later stories, where he has an obvious preference for baking, but also a lingering soft spot for biscuits in particular.

Fallen angels carry with them some sort of lingering power. One of Mal’s most important but not really mentioned ones is that he can speak/read all languages. It’s about 50% practice and 50% magic. He just knows what things mean.

I probably should have had ice manifest on his hands in the church instead of the arcane glow. However, I also wanted to underscore the difference between his base element/person and the Reaper.

The blades themselves aren’t the cause/fix of his memory loss. He’s suppressing things due to a) an extremely painful death and b) his mortal brain trying to reconcile things with his previously immortal/corrupted soul. His taking up the blades and recovering the past through combat is purely symbolic.

Things Malthael does in the year before Tyrael finds him: scribe, translator, and at-no-pay demon cull-er. He spends his entire savings to buy Talm the farm sickles.

Tyrael and the companions probably overreact when they see Malthael, thinking he is a Reaper. But he also is super grungy looking and his clothing is all tattered. He’s been sleeping on the streets when he hasn’t been working at the church. He doesn’t look that far off from a corrupted Reaper.

The reason there’s a punisher in Salvos, and a demon swell in general, is because (you may have guessed it) another angel Fell near there, and is now living there. You see undead when Tyrael falls and his angelic power causes chaos. Any remaining Reapers come out of their fugue state and gravitate towards the lingering essence of their master...who is not really impressed to see them.

This does get mentioned elsewhere, but yes: they all drink the mead. They all get extremely drunk. Malthael and Tyrael get dragged into the farmer’s hand-to-hand just for fun fight and end up smacking the snot out of each other for catharsis.

Arcane & Apples

This story came about because I wanted to write a fun one-shot about how Tristram would appear to an outsider.

Also, I felt bad there was a lack of scholarly characters in the series after Cain dies and wanted to bring someone else in.

Farah was originally meant to be an Archivist (based on the April Fool’s content in the game) before I canned that idea, because I have plans for that later that are very different.

Osseus’ name was one he took when he became a proper necromancer. It derives from “ossuary”, or a place where the dead are kept (bones only).

Farah had a cat for most of her life in Caldeum, but she was currently without one or she would have likely brought it with. You see a few cat references from her throughout the series.

Aya and Tyrael were more than a little hoping that Malthael would strike up a conversation with Farah. They were just dodging around the topic most of the time.

Aya almost barfs when Farah sniffs one of Malthael’s journals. She says she doesn’t know where it’s been, but she has ideas from what she’s seen.

Originally Osseus was going to be Xul, until I learned that Xul was the Diablo 2 necromancer. Part of this carried over to my description of Osseus having a rather charming voice, which is more like Xul and less like the actual Diablo 3 necromancer. I’m chalking it up to artistic variance.

The unreadable scrolls about scroll-crafting are going to be important in Series 2.

The prophetic line from Farah’s dream about Malthael ("This man walks the crossroads. One path leads to ruin. The other, survival.") is meant to read as applying to the survival of the Nephalem (or himself), but it also applies to his decision about the Arch in Act 4.

Farah reacting to the tone of Malthael’s voice (beyond just basic surprise) was added in after several edit rounds, when the characters decided they had this Love thing going on in later stories. Still, I wanted to keep it relatively understated.

The "Aya, would you explain mortal courtship?” line was in the very first draft and was meant to be a humorous throw-away line, but, you know. He still doesn’t understand mortal courtship.

A Light in the Darkness

Most of the first scene was added in the final edit draft, because I wanted to up the banter between all of them.

Lyndon and Malthael pretty much subside by insulting each other, like the not-quite-brothers they seem to be. Tyrael is mostly relieved it’s not him dealing with it anymore.

There’s a small suggestion that people have been beaking at Farah for her being kind to Malthael, and this is true; he’s not making that part up. But they try and not whisper about it if he’s around because he would end them. He finds out anyway.

Lyndon isn’t bugging him for that reason, he really just likes pushing his buttons and doesn’t have anything against Farah or them all getting along.

Unlike Osseus, Zaira never changed her name. It’s hers. It’s who she is. That pretty much sums her up.

Zaira happened because I wanted to write a morally grey/lesser evil human character who was nonetheless on the side of good. Sort of like Malthael when he’s the Reaper.

Zaira’s unhealthy fixation that Lyndon mentions has been mentioned on this blog a few times and implied in the story. She is obsessed with learning more about the Reaper of Westmarch, and admires him greatly. Also, had a really weird infatuation with his power, which is what led to her and Osseus breaking up.

Chith never got far enough to even talk about adopting a new necromancer name.

Chith was named by my husband, when I asked him to come up with a name for a necromancer. He thought it was for Zaira’s character, who we’d chatted about in concept awhile earlier. Nope.

The book lady really has no idea she just called the oldest being in creation “young man” until after it happens.

The book lady is also important and is going to be reappearing later in Series 2.

The bit with Malthael arguing with the Reaper part of him (mentally) during the big gem-fight was added in much later, as part of a sweep I did across the series to build up that conflict for his character, as well as establish the level of PTSD flashbacks he experiences.

Born of Night & Beams of Light

This was originally meant to be the second large story in the series, and come fairly closely after “In All Things Light and Dark”.

The idea for the Archshards happened way before Diablo: Immortals and the Worldstone Shards were announced (my reaction to that probably makes more sense now).

I had planned on making Imperius the antagonist for this story from the beginning, based on his character development in Diablo 3.

Originally, the Prime Evil was going to take more complete control of Imperius, and his form was going to reflect that. But I didn’t think a character as strong as Imperius would give in that much, and that a lot of his behaviour would be due to his own issues and not the influence of the Hells.

The “charger” Tyrael rides in the opening chapters is a reference to Tyrael’s Charger from Heroes of the Storm.

I had notes for the scene in Salvos with Malthael drafted while I was writing “In All Things Light and Dark” because I knew he was going to be revisiting Death.

Talm and his family were originally slated to die in Salvos, but I thought Malthael bringing them back alive would actually have a more positive impact on his character, plot-wise. I wanted him to draw on Death out of responsibility instead of despair.

Malthael’s Death abilities (while mortal) are inspired by the frost magic he uses in Reaper of Souls, as well as by some of the magic the necromancers use in the game series. His Wisdom Aspect form is mostly intellectual abilities (scrying with the Chalice, languages, etc.); his Death Aspect is mage-ish.

The “mental connection” Malthael and Farah use is inspired directly by what Tyrael does with Leah in Diablo 3 in terms of imparting memories and feelings. The mortal angels seem to be at least partially psychic.

A lot of Aya’s character development in the series was inspired by me wanting to write a) a more HUMAN Nephalem and b) how a Nephalem would handle having imposter syndrome. (Since the Nephalem in the game are essentially unflappable.) It is a slight departure from the game characterization, but also my attempt to bring some realism to an overpowered character class.

Originally, Auriel wasn’t supposed to recognize/learn it was Malthael stealing the Chalice until after it was all done, to show that she was willing to help the humans specifically. But the scene ended up being very emotional and affecting and I left it as I wrote it, with her finding out his identity right away.

Auriel’s fate was somewhat undetermined, but I knew she would oppose Imperius. When Chith came about as a character, I decided to have her become mortal instead of dying because I wanted to be able to write a student-mentor relationship between them.

Itherael was plotted to die from very early in the series planning, due to the nature of the Prophecy of the End of Days. Unfortunately, for everyone who is a fan of them.

Auriel’s mortality is one of the more self-indulgent items I wrote into the series, mostly because that could have gone so many different ways.

I really wanted to explore Chalad’ar’s uses, particularly since it seems to be so powerful but isn’t really explained much even in Storm of Light. There’s a lot of suggested functionality, intentional or accidental, with how the user can interact with what they are studying.

Farah helping Malthael with the scrying was a relatively late addition to the story and didn’t appear until I began to write the scene.

Farah’s Nephalem abilities actually extend beyond the Sight, but aren’t fully developed yet -- though they are hinted at when she is able to tolerate Chalad’ar better than some of the others. This will be developed more in Series 2.

My description of the Chalice use/scrying was written before I read “Storm of Light” and ended up being surprisingly close to canon. I had to change very little.

All the various Nephalem classes from Diablo 2 and 3 are represented in the final battle, though not all are named characters. Some of the unnamed Nephalem will be appearing in Series 2 as “new” characters.

The final battle takes place somewhere in the Fields of Misery.

The “Death Knells” described by Chith are a reference to Auriel’s Heroes of the Storm ability that lets her see the “souls” of the dead in order to resurrect them with her ult. This idea will be expanded on in Series 2.

None of the end-battle deaths were planned ahead of time except for Imperius. I let the battle write itself fairly organically and saw what came out of it.

Malthael sees as much in the Caverns of Terror as Tyrael does. Imperius is correct when he says he is thinking about Farah: one of the visions he has is of her telling him that he has disappointed her (which, thanks to some of the mind-to-mind conversations they have had, he does not believe).

The arcane abilities that Aya unleashes on Imperius at the end of the fight are a reference to the wizard’s archon mode in the game. And like in the game, they are taxing and have a cool-down period.

We don’t see Kormac return as one of the souls that Malthael works with, because he is “ready to die” and at peace with how he goes out. It’s in many ways the ideal death he wanted to have as a warrior.

In the original outline I did for the series, Malthael was scripted to die at the end, ensuring Imperius could be defeated. I had a change of heart as his character developed throughout the series, and his redemption occurred in very different ways than I had planned.

Lyndon saving Malthael from death was not scripted at all, but when I started writing that part, it came about naturally. I went back and built up stuff with the two of them for the entire rest of the story to set it up, character-wise.

Malthael is meant to be the “brother” that Lyndon actually manages to save, vs. the one that he didn’t.

The bit with Farah waiting at the water is an accidental but direct mirror/echo of the opening story, where Malthael washes up on the lakeshore. More overt references to this were added in after the draft was completed.

There’s a lot of unwritten material that happens during the Epilogue, including lots of conversations between the characters, patching up, the wake/celebration, etc. This may be material I write and refer back to later, but I didn’t want to include it in the Epilogue because there is so much of it.

I hadn’t actually planned on getting Tyrael and Aya together until I wrote the Epilogue and it just sort of happened. Again, lots of additions/tweaks went into the story earlier to help set it up more overtly.

Malthael hasn’t actually been sitting on that bench for that long. He doesn’t specify when he leaves Farah to go back home.

Tales from Tristram

I wrote “Echoes” about 3 times partially, and scrapped each version, because I thought the chapter kept backtracking on Malthael and Farah’s character development from “Arcane & Apples”. The published version is the 4th attempt.

“Echoes” is also the first time we see Malthael’s PTSD manifest from his POV, post-memory recovery.

"Echoes” also gives the details of him working through the PTSD after fighting himself in Act 1, including some subtle references to the very annoying inner (anxiety) monologue he has.

“Night of Souls” was me writing a Halloween story and accidentally stumbling on pivotal character development for pretty much everyone.

Malthael’s comments in “NoS” about Wisdom angels stargazing is related to the description of the Pools. Even when they are pure they are said to show Balance, and I assume if you went high up enough in the Heavens you would eventually see the stars. It’s an interesting visual balance between light and darkness and very fitting of his role.

Malthael arguing with himself while sitting at the bonfire in “NoS” is an example of how he handles his anxiety when he’s in better control of it; the devil’s advocate voice is a lot more nuanced, and he’s more than able to tell it to be quiet.

“Justice and Wisdom Walk into a Bar” was the original plot idea behind “A Light in the Darkness”. Zaera-d was telling me a story about their DnD group burning down a tavern and I thought it was something the Tristram gang would do. Only they ended up not doing that in Act 3.

The above chapter was also the only real time in the series that Tyrael and Malthael’s sexualities get mentioned directly (though Lyndon hints at Malthael’s in Act 3); I really had to balance it being a humorous scene without actually making fun Tyrael because that was 100% not my intent.

#diablo: amor aeternus #my writing #behind the scenes material #long post #some fun stuff for you to read #a little insight into the stories #i'm sure there's stuff i'm missing #but this is a sample of some of my notes and related things

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