#like out of all the magic powers you could give him electricity is the most out there like what

[floralovebot]

oughhh i am in such a helia mood i feel like i haven't talked about him in ages but also i've said literally everything already what more can i say oughhhhhhhhh

[holybibly]

He's just provoking us, isn't he? How can I resist when Seonghwa himself gives me food for unholy thoughts?

So, unholy thoughts of the day: You are an incompetent witch with hidden powerful potential. As your final assignment for the Lesser Demons course at the Magic Academy, you're given the task of summoning a familiar. It's simple—a light spell, a binding magic, an exchange of consent—and there you are, the happy owner of a familiar. But luck seems to have gone against you as you use the wrong ingredient and instead of a lesser demon, you bind yourself to a creature of pure lust and sex, the incubus Seonghwa.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice trembled slightly, either from nerves or the intoxicating feeling of sweet excitement that filled your veins. And that sudden feeling of euphoria that swirled inside you, telling you the answer before he even bothered to answer you. 

He tilted his head slightly, as if he amused you, and looked up at you with the most seductive bedroom eyes you'd ever seen. But behind the sensuality, you could see the dark purple haze of something utterly evil gathering in the depths of his pupils. His plump, slutty lips parted as he flicked his long, split tongue across them, and you could see the tips of his sharp fangs glinting in the half-light of the room. 

"It's easy, little witch." He purred sultrily, his intense gaze burning through you, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Your insides twisted, but not in a bad way. "I want you."

His words took your breath away, and your eyes widened as the whole situation came to you. 

Suddenly he was so close you could feel the heat of his body. One of his hands reached up to caress your flushed cheek, long, sharp claws scratching the delicate skin, causing tiny drops of blood to appear on the outside. While his other hand ran along the curve of your waist, making you shiver.

"I want everything—your magic, your soul, your body..." Seonghwa dug his fingers into your flesh, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but breath. His natural, sensual scent seduced you and made your head spin, not helped by the fact that you were completely at his mercy. Heat rushed to your face, and your legs trembled slightly. You could feel the slime starting to collect between your thighs, soaking the lace of your panties. "I want to taste everything. To make you submit to me, to corrupt this pure soul that beckons me to sink my teeth into you. You know incubuses are insatiable creatures, little witch."

His words had a greater effect on your resolve and your mind. His grip on your body tightened, his fingers digging into you with animal cruelty, and a soft, pitiful moan escaped your lips, which he immediately swallowed with his lips, inhaling it greedily, like a drug.

"It can't be..." You couldn't finish your sentence, your voice breaking, too absorbed in the feeling of him being so close, so close, that you could barely formulate a coherent thought.

"Really? Are you going to stop me?" Seonghwa let out a dark chuckle and brushed the hair from your face. His hips and chest touched your body; he was so close. The mischievous gleam in his cat-like dark eyes, shimmering purple like gems set in thick, fluffy eyelashes, told you to stand your ground, but the curve of his unacceptably plump, kissable lips as he smiled destroyed your attempts at resistance and lured you into his arms. "You are so naive, my love. I don't need your permission to take what I want because you're already mine."

You must have lost your head a lot sooner than you thought, because you found yourself nodding in agreement, overcome by the desire for him that had been building up inside you since he had appeared in your living room. "Yours."

The soft whisper of confirmation that escaped from your chest was all he needed to hear as a wide, devilish grin lit up his features before he dove down, his lips capturing yours in an instant, sending a rush of heat and electricity across the surface of your skin. You gasped for breath against his lips, your back arching as the desire in your belly twisted and tantalised, your hands coming up to grasp his shoulders. The way his mouth moved against yours made your head spin, your skin burning under his touch, and your legs tremble slightly. The way your body reacted and responded to him, you had no words to adequately describe. He was a temptation, a black hole of lust, and he had already sunk his claws so deep into you that you didn't stand a chance to save yourself—he was going to consume you completely.

His teeth caught your lower lip between them, and you gasped as he sucked it into his hot, greedy mouth, his fingers curling up and pressing into your flesh so deliciously that you were sure you'd wake up in the morning to find the marks they'd left. Your chest pressed against his, a shiver running down your spine as you felt the silver piercings in his nipples rub against your tits through the thin shirt and bra you wore. He'd done something to you, to your body—you'd never felt so sensitive or so hungry to be touched by someone else.

He made a soft, erotic sound that reminded you of pure porn as your fingers dug into the smooth, golden skin of his shoulders, which shimmered faintly in the darkness as if studded with diamonds. Your other hand was tangled up in his long, silky, black hair. You weren't even aware that you'd moved before the back of your knees were in contact with the edge of the couch, and you were roughly pushed down. The incubus slid easily between your legs, breaking from your lips to kiss your jaw and down the column of your throat as his hips rolled smoothly, grinding his massive cock against your pussy. A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips as pleasure shot up your spine as his cock pressed perfectly against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. 

"There you are, little witch. Moan for me. Moan for me as if you were praying for me, because when I'm finished with you, I'm going to be the only God you're going to know."

[thegnomelord]

PLEASEEEEE UR IDEA WITH MAGE M!READER AND MONSTER!COD MEN I'D LOVE THAT SO FICKING MUCH AND YES I AGREE THERE IS A LACK OF ALL THE VIOLENCE

Pov of how the world sees the reader Vs how TF141 reader :D. I'm in the middle of writing the first chapter of a fic with this idea, but guess who contracted TB like some coal miner 😞, me! So here's a sneak peak for the sort of vibe I'm going for while I'm trying to recover:

P.S: Ya'll are free to suggest/requests with this idea cause!

P.S.S: Check out bluegiragi who came up with this AU and give her some love!

Mages and Monsters

Mages are strange creatures.

In a world so full of monstrous hybrids and mythical creatures, mages sit on the proverbial line separating man from monster, stuck in both worlds without any hope of fitting in either one.

Because outwardly, they're average. No different from the billions of other humans. They're not born with the marks of monsterdom; they don't possess horns or leathery scales to shrug off small caliber bullets like dragons do, nor the claws and bone crushing jaws of werewolves, not feathered wings and razor sharp talons of harpies, nor the wraiths ghostly ability to become immaterial.

Outwardly, they're average. Ordinary. Mundane. Human...

Almost.

Because Price and Ghost are experienced enough to see the thing laying beneath the paper thin veneer of normality, are seasoned enough to quickly notice the one thing that puts an 'in' before a mage's 'human' description — Magic. Not the smoke and mirror kind magicians or charlatans use to swindle tourists out of money, but real magic.

The ancient kind, the capricious kind, slumbering like a beast inside the hollowed out cavern of a heart until it awakens with a terrible bloodlust. Each of them can attest to this; Price sports gnarled patched of scar tissue on the scaleless parts of his arm from ice burns, his draconic breath having saved him from frostbite that had devoured more than a few good men. Though Ghost doesn't show much skin, one can sometimes catch sight of branching fern patterns on his neck where lightning magic had shot through him. Gaz's back is peppered with hundreds of little cuts where a glass mage's summoned elegant ornaments had shattered into millions of shards, aiming to take out his wings.

And now Soap sports a mark of his own, his side tender red and blistered with a second degree burn. It could have been much worse, your flames were hot enough to melt steel, the only thing having kept him from an early cremation being the two solid concrete walls your magic had had to travel through to hit him and the enhanced regeneration of his thick hide.

But such power demands a cost — one paid in blood. For magic is as fickle and capricious as a rabid dog, just as eager to lunge for your throat as it will at the enemies, leaving lasting wounds for all to see; rough and calloused palms, skin blackened from blazing heat and freezing cold or marked with fern patterns of electricity, fingers stiff and marred with cuts from thorns and crystals and rock and glass, bone deep cuts where the liquid mana had burst out from the skin, leaving faintly glowing scars that never heal right.

All mages are born with this grievous gift, though one never knows whether it will present itself with a pitiful flicker of embers in a man's dying breath, or with a maelstrom of an infant's first hiccup. That's why most mages are sealed, by choice or force, a process which puts chains on the magic, making it and the mage docile.

But you are unsealed. And you flaunt that fact readily by melting the tail of their APC helicopter with one spell, not even waiting for them to crash before flooding the terrain with suffocating ash, the lenses of their gas masks already fogging up from the heat as they get out of the cloud of heavy sediment before it bursts to flames.

Sometimes the magic becomes unsatisfied with the weakness of the body, demanding more than just its pound of flesh and molding the body like clay to better suit it— Mage Marks, they're called — the subtle glow of magic in your eyes, the mana visibly pulsing inside your chest, the skin of your arms slipping away like wet paper before growing anew, this time mimicking the surface of magma, or the rocky barnacle encrusted reef, the gnarled bark of a tree, the crystalline inside of a geode, the ice spiked ground of tundra, or any other form that suits the magic in your veins.

The process is excruciating, the mana burrowing and gnawing on every nerve like a parasite that replaces what it eats with itself. But to you, that's an acceptable loss, because marked mages far surpass their unmarked fellows, your magic stronger and wilder, feral and viscous like the primordial force of nature.

So it becomes concerning when you're laying on the floor, captured, battered and bruised and calm.

Ghost had been waterboarding you for a while now, your body tied to a chair that had been tipped back so you were parallel with the ground. With water pooling around your head, your top half would have been soaked to the bone had your magic not been simmering in your veins, the magic suppression momentarily reducing the raging inferno in your chest to a meager flicker of flames.

They can't kill you, but limiting your magic for even a second is death in and of itself.

Your breathing is harsh as Ghost pulls away the cloth over your mouth, asking you a question as steam rises from your skin. Most would give in long before this point, but you just grin, eyes glowing with a burning glow, and make a comment about how good his arse looks from your viewpoint.

You manage only one small note of laughter, pitiful embers sparking at the corners of your lip, before Ghost drops the rag back over your face and begins anew.

Price watches all of this, sharp draconic eyes noting how the mana glows in your chest, pulsing like a second heart (assuming you had one to begin with), noticing how the water turns to steam a little faster when it splashes over your skin.

And Price knows.

You... You are going to be trouble.

[nymphybae]

Rainstorms with Alastor

It's unusual for hell to rain, yet this time the droplets grow heavier and thunders struck loud enough to make you unease. You shivered, covering your ears as you tried to focus on the television in front of you. Everybody else was asleep except for yourself, how can you when the storm reminded you of how you met your life's end.

The tv lost its signal and soon powered down, leaving you in an unsettling silence in the lounge room. You pursed your lips, feeling restless as you watch the rain pour from the window.

Footsteps were heard, coming closer into the room. You didn't need to second guess who it was, facing the red haired demon who looked down at you with a sly grin.

"Can't sleep my dear?"

"Yeah.. I just-" A loud thunder storm cut your sentence, immediately putting you in an anxious stance. Your hands were shaking, hugging yourself as an attempt to calm the pulsing in your heart.

Alastor puts his hand on your shoulder, giving you a faint squeeze. "Come with me."

You were a little curious, wondering why he's leading you to your own room.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked, pulling the chair of the tea table you had next to the window. 

"I'd love it." You smiled as he motioned for you to sit. 

With a snap of his fingers, he conjured the equipments needed for the drink.

"This is my favourite batch of tea, it's aroma is just purely sweet as if it came straight from heaven, ha!" he brewed the pot with his dark magic. 

"Here." 

You took the cup, thanking him as you took a sip of the warm tea. Who would've thought the caffeine would help you so much. "It's really good! No wonder you order this batch every other month."

Alastor sat across you, holding a cup himself. He had a pleased smile on his face. "Glad to hear. Now, tell me what's troubling you so late at night?"

Should you really tell him? You figured it was too silly, especially for the radio demon himself. Out of all things that could displease you in hell are the vigorous sounds from outside.

"I hate thunderstorms." You admitted. He didn't say anything, as if waiting for you to continue so you did. You took a deep breath. "It reminds me of the little remnant memories I have left of my death. I lived below mountains, you see. My brothers locked me out of the house because I turned in on our family’s illegal trading to the police- which I obviously didn’t. Then a really terrible thunderstorm came, wiped out most of our crops and farmland. The heavy wind threw me down a lake and I drowned till water filled my lungs.” You took another sip of the tea. “I guess it wasn’t the death, it was the fact that my own blood betrayed me only because of their own assumptions, and I end up losing everything in the end. But they got to live, probably thinking that I left and never came back.” Your hand formed a fist at the thought. It was a short silence for a bit until Alastor spoke.

"Hah, Men.” He poured more tea into his cup. You chuckled at his remark. Who taught him that sort of phrase?

“When exactly did you die again?”

You hummed in thought. “Decades ago.. I can’t recall.” 

Alastor’s permanent smile remains plastered on his face. “Men are soulless and willingly disobedient during my time! There were always reports of disloyalty in newspaper. I would know, I broadcasted them in my radio show!” 

You clicked your tongue playfully. “So much for someone who was a serial killer.”

His grin grew. "Haha, But I was not a vicious idiot darling!" 

“Oh? Did you happen to have any experiences with men in your li-“

A lightning struck at the hotel's electric circuit.  electricity buzzed and every power in the hotel was cut off. The only bit of light in your room came from the windows. 

"Shit, see this is why i fucking hate the rain." You panicked, shuffling around in the dark until a pair of hands grasped you from moving and hitting the furnitures. You look up and saw his glowing red eyes. 

When you finally stood still, he pulled his hands off from you. "Don't worry yourself. I'll take care of this." 

"Wait- You can't leave me here." 

Alastor hums a familiar tune, holding up his cane as he gave you his arm to take.

You hesitated at first, taking his arm before you both teleported to his radio station. 

"Why are we here?" You asked, looking around his personal building.

"Who did you think manages the electricity here? I can't let outsiders control our power supply, especially that excuse for a television head!" He opens a large electrical box, taking a glance at all of the smoked up wires. You waited there awkwardly, covering your ears in preparation for the next thunder strike. 

"You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you~" he sung to himself, working on the wires. 

"Frankie Valli's a classic." You spoke out. He's been humming the song for the whole week now.

“Couldn’t agree more darling! Apologies if it’s bugging you. I suppose the song is stuck in my head for some time.” he turned on the said music on his radio.

“How ironic! I remember my last theatre show was me dancing to this song.” You tapped your feet to the beat.

Alastor walks over to you, taking both of your hands that were covering your ears. “Let’s see if those dance moves are still in tact.” 

The music swept through the room as they danced together, moving enthusiastically while you try to hold in your laughter.

I love you baby! And if it's quite alright, I need you baby. to warm a lonely night.

I love you baby, trust in me when I say

You felt warmth spread throughout your entire being as Alastor spun you around. All the anxiousness from the on going storm washed away as you lead the dance, guiding him through a series of steps.

And there, in the midst of the music and the rhythmic beat, he saw something in you that he had never seen before. A determination, a drive, and a passion that left him chuffed.

The music faded away, and so did the rainstorm. You were quite pleased at this, looking at Alastor with a bright smile. "That was fun. Didn't even realized the power went back on halfway through the dance."

He tilt his head, planting a gentle kiss onto your knuckles. "It's been a pleasure. I suppose now you'll feel much better to lay off in bed?"

You nodded. Why of course, as from now on the heavy thunderstorms will only remind you of this unforgettable night with your beloved co worker.

[leo-muscle]

I’ve heard a little bit about this King Leon guy. Who does he think he is to call himself a king? Seems far to pretentious if you ask me. I wouldn’t be caught dead bowing to someone like that. Not in a million years.

Sure I’m the most basic looking white dude on the planet. My face gets lost in the crowd and my body is light enough to be blown by a breeze. But a king can’t change that, and I would like to see him or any of his subjects try to.

"Are you sure about that?" The bartender told you. You had just arrived on your vacation in Haiti, and the resort's bartender had decided to strike up a conversation with you over drinks. He was enormous, seven feet of pure surfer boy muscle, with a thick gut that was the very picture of strength. He would have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen, if you weren't in the middle of a massive rant.

"Oh, absolutely." You continued. "Whoever these 'kings' are, I don't want anything to do with 'em. Who are they to declare rule over the entire world, and who are we to listen to them?"

It was true, of course. Much of Africa, the British Isles, Central America, and even the islands you were now in had been united under the rule of these Kings. While many praised them for their novel social reforms and exponential increase to quality of life in their domains, many others, yourself included, remained attached to the old ways. Even this vacation was a scouting trip, to see if whatever propaganda these Kings were putting out was true.

"On the contrary, my friend, I am perfectly happy to listen to the rule of my King. You should have seen this island before King Kai came here. Homelessness, poverty... it's all been amended since he arrived."

"Really?" You asked, taking a big swig of your drink, savoring its tingle on your lips. "And NO one's uncomfortable being ruled by just one person?"

"People love King Kai. He is kind and just, like any good king should be. You'll see that soon enough." The bartender said.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, your heart racing.

"Oh, nothing much. Just give it a few seconds."

"What are you-- UGH!" You doubled over, your skin on fire with a sensation entirely alien to you.

The bartender walked out from behind the bar, and soon, his magical hands went to work. With his kingly essence in your system, you could be molded into a respectable citizen of the world.

He started with your pecs, cupping them from behind as they burst through your tropical shirt with new strength. They were enormous, voluptuous pillows, jiggling with muscle and a thin layer of fat.

He then moved his hands along your shoulders, pumping them into cannonballs of strength. The moment his hands reached your arms, they pulled and pushed, leaving your twiggy biceps and forearms as but a fleeting memory, replacing them with pulsing, powerful cannons of strength. In awe, you flexed your right arm, forming a mound easily as big as a baseball if not more.

You moaned softly as King Kai's beautiful hands lightly traced a six-pack onto your stomach, each ab popping into existence, forming an impenetrable wall of strength.

Soon, his hands navigated south, one massive hand palming your flat ass, while the other grabbed your tiny three-inch cock. You moaned, long, low, and hard as both of his hands began to move out from your body, pulling your cock and ass with them. Your cheeks rounded out into a big, bouncy bubble butt, bigger than most women's. It shook with strength and sexuality with every slight movement you made, much like your cock, which had grown so big with the King's touch that no pair of pants could conceal your enormous bulge. His touch was electric on your shaft, causing you to pre almost endlessly.

Your mind was in heaven as he continued to your legs. Your cock was at full mast at its enormous eleven inches as he took his hands to your legs, and blew them up into corded steel pillars as big as any christmas ham. You moaned, your cock firing blanks as he looked you deep into your eyes, placing one hand to completely cover your currently-unchanged face.

"As much as I love my people, we cannot be a global community if all my citizens are homogenous." King Kai said. "Hmm, where should I send you..."

Your skin flickered through thousands of shades in a single moment, before settling on a tone a few shades darker than your original. Your hair darkened to black, and you instantly sprouted a thick dark mustache, and a chinstrap beard to match. Your eyes became narrower and monolid, your stare intensifying into a sexy smolder. As King Kai leaned in and kissed you, your bulk increased, and your muscle became padded with a thin sexy layer of fat.

"Cum." King Kai commanded you, his voice sexy enough to send you over the edge.

You had been reborn, a Vietnamese stud in the Carribean. Your brain was aflame with new neurons, making connections faster and better than ever before. You knew you had been improved, in every conceivable way. You were stronger, smarter, wiser, and you had no one but your new king to thank.

[ladyelissarose]

“Kiss it.”

“What?”

“I said kiss it.”

Ghost scrunched his face up at the sound of your whining to the point of almost crying, he then looked down at your extended hand and saw the large, deep cut on your hand. Crimson colored blood trickled down from the top of your hand to your palm, your fingers were also covered in it as well, as it had spread everywhere quickly. That had appeared there after you got your hands through shards of glass from a broken window to reach a device Ghost needed on the other side. He said he could reach it, but you stubbornly didn’t want to see him in pain, (though he told you he had seen worse) but that didn’t mean you wanted him to experience it again. So before he could move to do such you stuck your hand inside. Meaning it was technically your fault for not letting Ghost reach through it with his tactical-gloved hand. As usual, Ghost was just going to scoff it off and walk away,  that���s who he was most of the time anyways. As a Ghost, he was soulless, emotionless and couldn’t give a damn about your carelessness and the consequences of it. But that was until he heard your small sniff, causing him to hold his breath and look at your face. He never heard that sound come out of your lips because of him, it was always either, ‘Yes Sir’- ‘Copy LT’ - ‘Got Your Back’- oh and your famous one, ‘Mind over matter, I don’t mind and you don’t matter’. You were tough and a badass, cussed like a sailor and laughed at the sad parts in films. (And enjoyed telling dark jokes to Soap) So his heart just about busted or slipped a beat, as he confusingly beheld your rosy cheeks, pouty lips, and large crocodile tears beginning to grow in your eyes. Something he’s never seen before.

 ‘oh fuck.’

Slowly your hand began to retract back but it was stopped by a firm grasp to your wrist, keeping it in place. Slowly with fear of pain or rejection your eyes carefully searched Ghost’s, to only find him sending you a small but sweet smile. Your breath hitch at the realization of seeing the bottom half of his face, to which you’ve never seen. An old scar laid across his chapped lips, he had a light stubble, barely covering what looked like old burned scars along his jawline. It was beautiful though, like when a tree stands through fire and still looks uniquely beautiful, with its missing branches, you know, the scars and all.

 “Ehem.”

‘Shit I didn’t mean to stare!’

Ghost caught your staring and you turned beet red at the realization of acting totally ridiculous in his sights, causing you to plead,

“oh sorry-“

*kiss*

‘oh.’

*kissssssssss*

And there Ghost- no Simon, held his lips, lingering the kiss, as if he had magical powers to heal the wound and make it all go away, and deep down, you believed he could. It felt like a heavenly eternity, feeling the warmth of his lips pressed against your hand, knowing when he took and let out every breath as it made the small hairs on your hand stand, and sending an electric spark up your spine. 

*pop!*

*peck*

Simon hummed with satisfaction as he glanced at your hand one last time before looking for your eyes to seek approval. He took what was your look of adoration as maybe you being displeased, he was quick to stutter.

“will- do you.. do you think it’ll heal? I’m sorry-“

Your hand landed over your heart as you cried sympathetically,

“Oh Simon, I’m sure it will. Feels better actually-“

“really?”

“really- oh! My cut left you a mess-“

His hand grabbed yours as you had reached out to use your thumb to swipe off the blood your cut had left on his once, clean lips, but he refused. 

“Leave it... the time blood is ever on my hands- or on me anywhere is when I’ve shed it for my j-job. Let me have this one time to say I’m painted red because I can kiss every drop to make it better. p-please.”

‘Awe goodness..’

“Si.”

Your words came out like a whisper, something light that could be carried away by the wind, but Simon grasped it like it was air, and took it in as he begged,

“can I kiss it again?”

You nodded confidently and witnessed his eyes gleam with relief as you voiced,

“Please... until we’re both healed.”

His brown orbs looked down at you as he very well towered over you, but he didn’t look scary or intimidating, as his eyes held love and faith within as he thought about your words with your hand against his lips once again, one hand was holding your hip tightly. He did this to ground his mind to let him know it was all real. He then opened his lips and promised with hope for the both of you, regardless of how the past betrayed you two, with old scars to prove it... or what fate was like in the future, what and where would new wounds appear...

“We’ll heal.”

[thescarletnargacuga]

We've had mother and son bonding with Pomni and Cade. Now how about some father and son time? It can be silly or sad, I just really enjoy seeing the little muppet boy.

A/N: Cade deserves something nice after the last couple stories involving him in peril

REACH OUT

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

AU credit @iamespecter @tadc-harlequin-au

WARNING: none

~~~

Deep in the basement depths of the manor lies Caine's workshop. A cavernous room full of equipment for designing and engineering inventions from the mind of the puppetmaster. Everything from watches and weapons to puppets themselves have been developed in that room. Most days, Caine retreats to his workshop for solitude with his thoughts, but today he brought a little helper.

For the first time, Cade was allowed to help his dad tinker. The young puppet sat on a tall stool, waiting for his dad to give him a task. Unable to keep still in his excitement, Cade fidgeted in place, but kept his hands to himself. He didn't want to touch something he wasn't supposed to and get kicked out on his first real visit to the workshop.

Caine focused on a small actuator, using his own energy to power the tools to construct the piece. He set down one of his tools and held his hand out to Cade. "Hey, be a sport and hand me the soldering needle?"

Cade snapped to attention on the stool and looked around the workbench. "Uh! Um....the sodder needle? This?"

Caine held in his laughter. "That's a wrench."

"Oh, sorry. Is it, uh, this thing?"

Caine snorted. "That's a screwdriver. Are you doing this on purpose?" He teased.

"No! I- I can find it." Cade searched furiously for what he thought could be the tool.

Caine picked up the tool that was right next to him. "This one, champ. It's pointy, like a needle."

"Oh." Cade sat back down and crossed his arms in a huff.

Caine pat Cade on the head. "Don't worry about it. You'll hand me the next one." He went back to the project at hand. Blue electric energy flowed through the tool, creating a tiny arc and soldering small parts in place.

Cade watched his dad with wide eyed fascination. The power of soul magic so effortlessly wielded was what he hoped to one day achieve. It was the coolest thing in the world. "How do you do that?"

"Do what, son?" Caine asked without looking up.

"What you're doing. The blue light. How do you make that do what you wanted to do?"

Caine stopped, contemplating how to explain soul magic in a way Cade would understand. "Your soul magic is an extension of your will. If you want something bad enough, you can make it happen. I want to power these tools to help me build the actuator. So I make it happen."

"But...how?" Cade featured with his hands in confusion.

"Practice. You have to really dig deep down inside yourself and find the inner strength to mold reality to your will."

"Wow. Sounds hard."

"Sometimes it is. Like I said, practice. Here," Caine picked up a spare lightbulb from a parts box. He held it by the conductive metal and it glowed bright blue in his fingers. "This is a very simple exercise. Will your energy to flow through the lightbulb to make it glow. Careful not to squeeze it too hard."

"Okay!" Cade held the lightbulb with both hands and stared at it without blinking.

Caine watched for a moment before going back to what he was doing. He finished the actuator and moved on to another part of the project at the workbench. "Your new toy is coming along nicely-"

"SHHH!" Cade shushed dramatically.

"Sorry." Caine said, smiling to himself.

Several minutes went by. Cade narrowed his drying eyes at the lightbulb. He wanted it to work! His dad made it look so easy. He twisted and turned the bulb. He changed hands. He tried everything he could think of. "Ugh! What am I doing wrong?"

"You're reaching with the wrong part." Caine turned on his stool to face Cade.

"Huh..?"

"Soul magic doesn't come from the hands. It comes from the heart." Caine pressed his fingertip to Cade's chest. "That is where all of you lives. To use soul magic, you have to reach out."

"Reach out..." Cade stared at the bulb again, even harder. "Reach. Out."

The bulb flickered yellow for less than a second. Cade dropped the bulb from being startled, but Caine caught it.

"You did it!" Caine stood and lifted Cade off his stool in celebration. "You actually did it! That's incredible!"

"I- I did it!? Wow! Can I show mom??" Cade wiggled in his dad's arms.

"Yeah! Let's go!" Caine rushed out of the room with Cade on his hip. "Pomni, dear!! You have to come see this!"

[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: It makes me unnaturally happy to finally see my Rocky boy get some attention. Big thanks to @rainbow-flavoured-skittles for beta reading this!! Here's my masterlist!

Warning(s): This takes place after the fight with the Overlord, I haven't watched Dragons Rising nor do I plan to so it's only really cannon to Crystalize and prior, it IS Cole x reader but I did world build a little lol, reader is the Ninja of Nature (maybe related to Bolobo idk), reader is GN but is written with F!reader in mind, reader is called Blossom, reader calls Cole Rocky (Mister Dangerbuff supremacy)

Pairing(s): Cole Brookstone x Master of Nature!Reader

•──────•°•❀•°•────ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ────•°•☁︎•°•─────•

After you fought the Overlord, it was quiet. 

Not in the sense of volume, but it was calm. Usually, you'd be restless, aching for a fight to keep the adrenaline pumping, but right now? 

You were happy to have a break. 

Especially with Cole. After months of figuring out feelings and sending mixed signals to each other (Cole had once thought you were in love with Jay — even though he was one, dating Nya, and two, you were asking the electricity ninja for tips on how to get Cole to like you back in the first place), he had confessed to you shyly and asked you out on a date. He took you to a coffee shop, and you guys just clicked. He made you happy, made you laugh, made you feel loved. And you loved him all the same.  

Seven months after dating, he asked you to move in with him, as if you didn't practically live with him from the amount of time you spent at his home. Moving in with him was seamless, it was like nothing changed, except now you woke up with an adorable, snoring Adonis of a man, and went to bed with a giant teddy bear who basically melted in your embrace. 

After you fought the Overlord, it was normal.  

It was like nothing happened, adjusting to your new lives immediately. Obviously, you and your fellow ninja were celebrities all over Ninjago - you all were probably asked to give autographs five times a day, minimum. Meeting up with your friends was a frequent occurrence, all going to Chen’s Noodle House and enjoying Skylar’s amazing cooking while catching up with the others.  

It was routine now, everything refreshingly the same, down to where you sat. You and Cole would take one of the booth seats, with Jay and Nya across from the two of you. Pixal sat down next to Nya, and Zane sat next to Cole, Lloyd and Kai at the head of the table (painfully single- much to Skylar and the rest of the ninja's annoyance).  

All of you had surprisingly adjusted to normal life without fighting opponents twenty-four -seven very easily, though some had more difficulty than others. 

 Jay worked as a event host at his local comic shop, organizing mini conventions and trivia nights for fellow geeks such as himself.  

Kai returned to the dojo he used to have, teaching children how to defend themselves so that they wouldn’t be as defenseless as he was when he lost his powers.  

Lloyd helped his mom and Master Wu reopen their tea shop from so long ago, working the cash register and making people’s lives a little happier with a bright smile every day.  

Nya worked as a mechanic in her free time, opening a garage and surrounding herself with what she did best: building. Jay stopped by on occasion, helping her with certain projects, but also joining her in tinkering with some spare 

parts sometimes. Zane and Pixal had the most difficulty adjusting, their different appearances making them stand out like sore thumbs. But eventually, they found their home giving lectures at schools with a different perspective on certain topics, enjoying the ability to share 

their infinite knowledge with others. And then there was Cole and yourself. Being a ninja of Nature, you worked at the local florist, finding it refreshing to be surrounded by so many plants whenever you could. You worked your magic with them, keeping the plants fresh and ending up owning the store yourself once the previous owner retired.  

Cole worked as a barista at the local coffee shop, and you stopped by to get food and give him some company on your breaks. It was nice, you think, to spend some time together with him after years of constantly fighting who knows what.  

You greet him, opening the door with a jingle, and walk up to him, as he was closing up.  

"Hey, Rocky," you hum, leaning against one of the tables as he sets his broom down. 

 He walks over to you, hugging you close by the waist and resting his chin on top of your head, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.  

"Hi, Blossom," he murmurs into your hair, and you take the time to just admire him. The curve of his nose, the small tilt of the corners of his mouth, showing that he was happy, the apples of his cheeks, the stubble that littered across his impeccable jawline. He smelled like the earth just after it rained, and ground coffee, one of the many things you love about him. His hair was artfully mussed, black tresses tucked underneath his visor, and you take it off his head, running your fingers through his hair. 

 It was just the two of you, standing inside the cafe in the light pf golden hour, drinking up each other’s warmth and love, together.  

After you fought the Overlord, it was nice.  

Taglist: @tinadablackthorn

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 13/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

There was no snow on the ground, yet, but Evan’s breath came frosting out in clouds of vapor as he stood in the middle of a field on his coven’s land, hands braced on his knees as he heaved in gulps of air. The remains of a few bales of hay smoldered merrily a few dozen yards away from him, black smoke billowing up into the crystal blue sky. There were still about five bales scattered around him that were untouched, though.

Again, Evan.

The calm, gentle voice echoed around him, accompanied by the surge of electric power that always signaled a familiar casting. The smoldering bales of all hay went up in crackles of white-hot flame, fresh clouds of smoke billowing up and swirling in miniature tornadoes around them. A few seconds later, the smoke scattered as though blown away by a fierce, sudden wind, and when the air had cleared, all of the bales were restored to pristine condition. And now even farther apart than they were before.

“Sally, come on,” he whined. He knew he was whining. He couldn’t help it. He’d been out here since school let out almost three hours ago, he was cold, he was hungry, he was starting to get a headache from so much casting…and he knew that his familiar absolutely was not going to let him go home until he’d performed the exercise exactly how she wanted him to. He turned to look at her anyway, pasting his best puppy-dog eyes—the expression that always worked on Maddie—across his face.

Sally was perched on top of part of an old stone fence, her tail twitching back and forth as she observed the field like a queen surveying her kingdom. Her mangled ear—a battle souvenir she’d earned back before Pennsylvania had ever even been a state—flicked towards him, and even from across the field, Evan could see the amusement on her face. Most of the other kids in the coven thought it was so cool to have such an old and powerful familiar, that it must be amazing to be taught and trained by someone who had so much experience. And sure, yes, it really was. He loved Sally, and was so grateful that she’d chosen to bond with him, especially after going so long without bonding with any other Buckley witch.

But sometimes, being taught and trained by someone with almost three centuries of experience really sucked. He couldn’t get away with anything!

Again, Evan, she said, picking her way over to another moss-covered fencepost and lazily starting to groom her rough, calico coat. You’re still not dispersing your magic properly. You should be able to hit at least three more targets with the same spell.

If it had been either of his parents saying something like that to him, a hot flush of anger and embarrassment would have swept through him. The black cloud of their disappointment (God, Evan can’t you do anything right? How can you mess up something that simple? I don’t know where your father and I went wrong! Don’t you dare embarrass us in front of the coven.) would have pressed down on him like a physical weight, driving all his self-control and concentration right out of his head.

Sally’s criticism never felt like that, though.

Mostly because Sally was never disappointed in him. She was firm, and no-nonsense, and never let him get away with being lazy or taking shortcuts…but he never doubted that she believed in him with all her heart and would never ask him to do something she wasn’t absolutely sure he could do. Her patience with him never ran out, and even in just three short years under her mentoring, his power and control had improved a lot.

The only other person who ever made him feel so loved and supported was Maddie.

So, despite being hungry, and cold, and tired, he pushed himself up straight and walked back to the spot that would give him the best line of sight to all of the haybales. He stretched his arms over his head and shook the tension from his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he started chanting.

This time, all but one of the bales burst into flame.

Excellent! Sally’s voice was filled with pride, and she vanished from the fencepost, reappearing seconds later at his feet. Her slightly ragged tail flicked back and forth as she once again smothered the flames and restored the haybales to pristine condition, this time all stacked together.

Evan looked down at her, hands on his hips. “Really? Again?” he sighed. Sally sat down primly and licked one of her paws.

Last exercise for today, she promised. This time I want you to do it without reaching through your coven bond.

Evan startled at that, looking down at his familiar in surprise. “Isn’t that dangerous?” he asked, like dispersing the strain of casting through a coven bond wasn’t literally one of the first lessons children learned when they started training with their magic. No matter how powerful you were, casting was difficult. It took a ton of energy and focus, and channeling magic—especially into more complex spells or multiple spells at once—could be exhausting. Drawing on your coven bond to alleviate some of the strain was an essential skill. While magic could be cast without the aid of a coven bond, it was like trying to lift something extremely heavy by yourself…the risk of injury was higher, and the longer you did it, the more dangerous it got.

I won’t let anything happen to you, little love, Sally replied calmly, and Evan scoffed.

“I know that,” he said, the idea of his familiar ever letting any harm come to him if she could prevent it so utterly ridiculous as to be a complete non-issue. He knew Sally would always protect him just as surely as he knew Maddie would. “I just—why practice that?” he asked, honestly curious. Sally never did anything without a purpose.

Strangely, Sally seemed to hesitate, looking out over the frosty field and wrapping her tail around her feet. I would see you prepared for any eventuality, she said at length. Even if it’s no longer a customary lesson, or something some might think a waste of time.

Evan knew his familiar well enough by now to know she was talking about his parents. She was always talking about his parents when she got that particular tone in her voice. Sally always played nice in front of other members of their coven or visiting guests, but in private she had never made her dislike for his parents a secret. She was polite—but every time she was in the same room as his mom and dad, the temperature seemed to drop at least ten degrees.

Truthfully, if Sally hadn’t been such an old and respected familiar, if she hadn’t held the status she did in their coven and in Pennsylvania witch society in general, he doubted his parents would have let her bond with him when she approached them about it. There had been no way for them to turn her down without it raising a lot of questions, though…and if there was one thing Phillip and Margaret Buckley hated, it was questions.

Still, Sally wasn’t wrong that a lot of her lessons and teaching methods were…old-fashioned. Maddie usually explained it as Sally just having lived most of her life as a coven familiar in times where conflicts—not even just with vampires, witch covens had once been a lot more volatile than they tended to be now—were a lot more common. Sometimes, though—sometimes Evan couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Sally was making her decisions about what and how to teach him based on something she was expecting. He had no real reason to think that way. It was just a feeling.

Perhaps sensing his distraction, Sally nudged his shin with her head, purring softly when he knelt down and scratched behind her mangled ear. You’ll wield tremendous power when you come fully into it, little love. You’re already stronger than many of my witches ever were. If your parents were wiser, they would be grooming you for coven leadership someday. Perhaps even a place on a high coven.

Evan snorted, even as a warm glow of happiness at her words curled through his chest. “We both know they’d never want me to be a coven leader. They hate my magic. They hate how I got it.”

Sally growled, low in her throat. They hate that it was given to you, and their part in how it was given at all. That they take their self-blame out on you is a shame they will have to reckon with someday. She batted at his cheek with one paw. You are blameless, Evan Buckley. You will be my finest witch. My last witch. Were it not for you, I would have left this coven when your parents…made the choices they did. You are precious to me and your sister, little love. And someday you will be precious to others. I would thank you to remember that.

He blinked hard, turning his face away and pretending to look over to the stack of haybales. Sally allowed him to, leaping up onto his shoulder as he stood slowly and draping herself over the back of his neck.

Now. Again, Evan, she ordered.

*

Evan took a few stumbling steps backward, almost tripping over the body of Jon—Greenway, Greenway, Greenway…he’d try to sell Evan out to vampires, damn it, he was directly responsible for this whole shitshow—Greenway’s familiar. The three vampires stepped fully out of the temp agency’s offices, and Evan’s heart dropped as another two appeared in the doorway. Five. Five vampires, their auras all roiling with the power that could only have come from drinking witch blood. Of their own volition, his eyes flicked to Greenway’s corpse, swallowing hard at the way the creatures stalking out of the offices and spreading out in the hallways had savaged him.

Kinard shifted, planting himself firmly in front of Evan, his movements shifting into the easy liquidity of a predator. The lead vampire—a massive blond man who looked like he’d fit right in as a bouncer or a bodyguard—looked Kinard up and down before zeroing back in on Evan. His companions weren’t nearly as physically intimidating, but Evan knew that didn’t mean anything. Evan was not a weak man in any measure of the word, but Kinard’s coven mate Lucy could have snapped him in half without any effort.

“Kinard,” blondie growled, his gaze never leaving Evan for an instant. “So you’re the reason our little present made it out of Gerrard’s party. Didn’t have that on the Bingo card, gotta say.”

Kinard tilted his head. “Do I know you?” he asked, his voice flat and cold, so different from the way he’d been speaking to Evan all day it was a little jarring.

Blondie finally looked away from Evan, smirking at Kinard. “Not personally. But don’t pretend the little traitor here didn’t give you the rundown.” He rolled his neck from side to side, scarlet light slowly starting to gleam in his eyes as his fangs dropped to visibility. He looked down at Greenway’s body, kicking it lightly. “Never tasted witch blood before…I’ve been missing out.” He narrowed his eyes at Kinard, his smirk turning a little more vicious. “Decide you’d rather keep him for yourself?”

“If you know who I am, then you know this isn’t going to go well for you, witch blood or no,” Kinard said, ignoring the vampire’s odd remarks. Why was he talking like Kinard knew what was going on here?

To Evan’s surprise, a couple of the other vampires glanced at each other uneasily. Logically, he knew that Kinard’s age granted him a lot of power…but he hadn’t realized it would be so much that a vampire might be worried about taking him on five to two. Especially as they’d all drunk witch blood as well.

“No reason this has to get violent,” Blondie said, though he very much sounded like he wanted it to get violent. “You walk out right now, we can all pretend we never saw each other.”

Kinard rocked back on his heels a little. “Generous. All right, kid, let’s go,” Kinard said, jerking his head toward the stairwell and holding out his arm back toward Evan like he expected Evan to tuck himself up under it.

Blondie chuckled mirthlessly. “Cute. Last chance, Kinard. Walk away. Leave the witch to us. I can’t say I blame you for trying to muscle in on the games, here…everyone knows your coven is strays and fresh turns. But you lost the gamble. Leave.”

A low, menacing growl reverberated through the hall. To his shock, Evan realized it was coming from Kinard. “Not. Happening.” The deadpan humor of a few seconds ago was completely gone, and Evan didn’t have to look to know Kinard’s eyes were glowing just as scarlet as the other vampire’s.

He bit his lip and murmured a spell, his power spiraling outwards and swirling around him. A circle of white light emblazoned itself on the floor, surrounding him totally. It was a risk splitting his focus on a barrier spell if he was going to be doing anything else—and trying to engage in combat magic without a coven bond was going to hurt no matter how quickly the fight went (and this was going to be a fight, there was no mistaking that). If he was going to risk using the kind of power it would take to help Kinard against five vampires, the smartest course of action would be to take the hit to fire off a transport spell and leave Kinard to deal with this mess.

He just…couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It was stupid, it was irrational…this was his chance to escape, damn it.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave Kinard alone to deal with these things. So, he braced himself, firming up the barrier that would hopefully keep any of the vampires that got close to him at bay long enough for him to cast against them. He sent a silent thanks winging to Sally—wherever she was. She’d only been trying to teach him the kind of focus he’d need to wield the amount of magic he had when she had him practice casting without relying on his coven bond…but she was the only reason he was still able to cast the kind of spells he could without ending up a heap on the ground.

“Bad choice, Kinard,” Blondie said. “Very bad choice.”

Evan knew vampires were fast. He knew they were very fast. He’d seen it firsthand a couple of times since Kinard had taken him out of that mansion.

Kinard and Blondie seemed to fucking teleport toward each other. One second Kinard was standing right in front of him, and the next he was a dozen feet away, leaping at Blondie with a snarl that sounded more animal than human. They crashed into each other, and Kinard twisted in midair to get one arm around Blondie’s throat so that when they landed, he was able to fling Blondie like a goddamn battering ram at the other vampires. Three of them went down in a heap, skidding back over the hallway floor until they nearly hit the stairwell door.

Kinard glanced over his shoulder at Evan, as though checking to make sure he was still there, and then raced forward towards the two remaining vampires. Only one of them accepted the challenge, springing at Kinard with fangs bared.

It did not end well for him.

Evan nearly lost the concentration of the barrier, staring in horrified shock as Kinard’s hands closed around the other vampire’s neck. As he slammed into the other vampire’s body hard enough to take them both to the floor. As he made a wrenching motion with one arm and a fountain of blood erupted around him. Kinard casually tossed something the size of a basketball aside and oh God, oh God, oh God Evan couldn’t look. Didn’t want to look. Kinard rose from the still-twitching body of the vampire and took a few steps back, repositioning himself in between the remaining four and Evan.

Mere seconds had passed.

“Sure you still want to do this?” Kinard growled.

Blondie and the remaining vampires rose, a new, animalistic wariness in their movements. Evan watched them fan out like a pack of wolves about to attack and shook his head, forcing his shock at the sheer brutality he’d just witnessed aside. Another spell, and a ball of flickering fire erupted in each hand. For just a moment, he felt like he was standing in a frostbitten field again, Sally’s soothing voice in his head—Again, Evan—as he stared down an array of targets.

Blondie dove at Kinard again, two of the other vampires flanking him…but the fourth darted around them and made a beeline straight for Evan. He heard Kinard shout, saw the vampire lunge for the one that was barreling toward him, only to be dogpiled by Blondie and his flunkies. Evan braced himself, breathed, and flicked his hand forward, the spellword falling from his lips in a sigh. The fireball leapt from his fingertips, zinging through his barrier and straight towards the attacking vampire with the surety of a guided missile.

The look of shock on the thing’s face as his spell slammed home, fire and smoke racing over the vampire’s body like he was made of kindling, was very satisfying. The vampire screamed, clawing at his clothes and hair as ghostly white flames enveloped him, reducing the thing to ashes almost as quickly as Kinard had dispatched its friend.

Two down, three to go.

Kinard had gone down in a tangle on the floor with all three of the attacking vampires, fighting like a maddened bear. Evan searched frantically for an opening, somewhere he could aim and burn Blondie or one of his henchmen, but he couldn’t do it without hitting Kinard. His stomach twisted at the thought of the vampire erupting into ash, dying at his hand, and reluctantly he let the fire spell dissipate. Sweat started to bead on his brow, his heart starting to pound as he summoned another spell, holding it, holding it, holding it…

One of Blondie’s flunkies reared up, his fist pulled back as though he were going to drive it down into Kinard’s back, and Evan struck. He screamed the spellword, and an invisible force slammed into the vampire, sending him flying back to crash against the stairwell door and land on the floor in a heap. Evan summoned the fire again, his head swooping a little at the rapid shift between spells, at the effort it was taking to keep the barrier up, He didn’t dare drop it, though. The fireball erupted from his hands, striking home and the hallway once again echoed with pain-filled shrieks that abruptly cut off.

“Get the fucking witch!” Blondie screamed, getting his hands around Kinard’s throat and slamming him down onto the floor, straddling him to hold him down as his last remaining crony scrambled up.

Kinard twisted underneath Blondie, managing to get his legs up and kicking straight out. There was a sickening crack of bone as Blondie went flying back, and Kinard lunged to his feet, catching the charging vampire by the back of his shirt just before he crashed into Evan’s barrier. Despite himself, Evan stumbled back a step, losing his concentration on the fire and having to summon the flames a third time. His head was pounding now, sweat dripping down his face…God, he was not looking forward to the headache this was going to leave him with.

But he needed to live long enough to have to deal with the aftereffects of this.

Kinard whirled around, still holding the vampire and flung him towards Blondie with another animalistic roar. He looked over his shoulder again, his scarlet eyes finding Evan’s, and Evan grit his teeth, giving him a shaky nod of reassurance.

Blondie and his lone remaining companion climbed slowly to their feet, fangs bared, faces twisted with rage. Suddenly, though, Blondie cocked his head as though he heard something. Kinard whipped towards the bank of elevators and tensed, crouching like he was getting ready to spring again. Blondie chuckled, a sick sort of smile spreading on his face.

“Whoops. Should’ve taken my offer, brother.” Then he slammed the stairwell door open, and he and his companion vanished, taking a running leap straight over the railing and disappearing from view.

The elevator chime sounded, the doors sliding open to reveal a new group of people. Four this time, but Evan’s breath caught in his throat. All of them were witches. All of them in military-style jackets with the sigil of the SoCal high coven emblazoned on the shoulder. The one in the lead—an older Hispanic woman—reeled back in surprise, her mouth falling open as her eyes landed on the body of Greenway’s familiar, then snapped to Kinard.

“Kill it!” she shouted, throwing out a hand towards Kinard.

Evan was already dizzy and drained with the amount of magic he’d just used, the strain of casting so many spells so quickly grating over his nerves. Even so, he knew better than most what a high coven cleaner crew looked like. And just how uninterested they usually were in talking. He acted on instinct.

The barrier dropped and he lunged toward Kinard, grabbing the vampire’s hand tightly and screaming the only spell he could think of to save them both.

His magic erupted around them in a swirling orb of white light, and he had no time to aim it, no time to structure the spell and give it direction. He cried out the transport spell and the only thought in his head was: safe. Safe, safe, safe, safe.

The temp agency’s offices dissolved in a shimmer of light and a sensation he hadn’t felt in years enveloped him. He was falling, falling, failing, tumbling head over heels and the only solid thing, the only anchor he had was the feel of Kinard’s hand in his. His stomach dropped, his head swimming with the energy a transport spell took.

The spell dropped them with a thud, the white light fading and leaving sunspots dancing in Evan’s eyes. Or maybe it was just the dizziness from the strain of casting. He blinked hazily, a confused sort of shock running through him like an electric current when he realized he had transported them back to Kinard’s loft. They were standing in the middle of Kinard’s living room. What…

“Holy shit,” Kinard breathed, turning to look at Evan with wide eyes that had shifted back to their usual dark blue. They widened even further, and suddenly Kinard was standing right in front of him. “Evan? Fuck, are you all right?” he demanded.

Dimly, he realized it wasn’t sweat that was dripping from his nose and running down over his lips and chin. Shit. He’d overdone it. He’d overdone it bad. The floor seemed to be tilting under his feet and without thinking he reached up and steadied himself against Kinard’s chest.

“Evan? Talk to me,” Kinard continued urgently, and yeah…yeah, he really should say something. Or at least take a step back from the vampire—especially with his nose bleeding like a damn faucet.

He went to do that, and his knees folded underneath him entirely without his permission.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Percy Jackson except Jason and Thalia were the first children born after the Big 3 vow.

Long before the events of the story.

Thalia still ends up and tree, but no one really knew what happened to Jason.

Until Sea of Monsters where instead of Tantalus showing up, Jason does.

Because if there's one thing Zeus/Jupiter's gonna do, it's punish his sons.

And just... Imagine everyone expecting some grised old being who's committed the worse crimes on earth.

But it's a kid.

It's a kid a few years older them wearing a tattered purple top.

He'd look like any other camper but there's chains on his wrists and ankles that drag behind him.

Scars covering his body and a tattoo no ones able to fully see.

His eyes mirror the sky before them and hold so much sadness that a person could drown in them.

Chiron is suprised to see him, a mix of greif and relief in his eyes as he greets him.

"It's good to see you, child."

"And you too, sir."

"None of that now, you are among friends."

Jason visibly relaxes at that, his smile goes from polite and practiced to genuine.

"Right... It's good to see you, old man."

His humour is so dry that's it's hard to tell when he's joking or not. And yet he's gotten some laughs.

It feels like a reward in itself when someone makes him laugh. His whole face lights up and for a second the sadness in him fades.

Jason's less off a new camp director as he is a glorified babysitter. And yet he takes it all in stride.

He's not a pushover and steps in to mediate, but for the most part let's everyone carry on as they wish.

If he's not around, Jason can be found sitting by his sisters tree. He talks in a hushed whisper, catching her up.

If anyone notices him crying, no one says a word.

Jason proves himself as a formidable fighter, having stopped a camper struggling with a sword technique and demonstrating it to them patiently.

Clarisse immediately challenges Jason.

He's clearly holding back but Jason does give her a fair fight. His fighting style is a lot more polished.

And yet, there's something wild about it.

He does smile at one point, when Maimer strikes him.

"I'm afraid, that little trick won't work on me."

It was a short fight but the Ares cabin definitely gained some respect for him.

Clarisse asks why he didn't use the electricity against her, and he says he can't.

Shaking his chains like that explained everything.

It's easy to forget Jason's parentage. Especially after seeing him gush over architecture with Annabeth.

Hell all he needs is grey eyes and he'd fit right in to the Athena cabin.

And yet, at the same time there's no one else who fits as Jason's parent than Zeus (well Jupiter but they don't know that.)

Jason's a natural leader, he's a great diplomat and can defuse even the most chaotic situations.

There's power in his words, authority and yet he doesn't abuse it. There's a weight that's always on his shoulders.

He's a mystery.

He doesn't sleep in the Zeus Cabin, he has a blanket and curls up on the ground. Apparently he's used too it.

Tho there's been times he has been persuaded to sleep in the Hermes cabin, it's rare he accepts.

Not that he sleeps much. People have heard the screams from his nightmares.

More often than not Jason's awake, talking to the Naids and Nymphs as he patrols camp grounds late at night.

Surprisingly none try and attack him, in fact they all treat him with respect.

Grover says that Jason's blessed by the wild by an ancient being, not that he knows who.

Jason doesn't talk a lot about himself, he will talk at length about his sister though. And old friends with a sad smile.

The past is a hard subject for him, he says bits and pieces but not much.

The camps magical food doesn't work for him. Jason goes out of camp borders and goes hunting.

He eats alone, outside and Hestia makes a fire for him. He always sacrifices some food to her.

But also to Hera, which was surprising.

"But your a son of Zeus... Does she accept offerings from you?"

"I'd hope so, I am her champion."

It takes a while for anyone to realise but Jason's chains are heavy.

In fact there are days where Jason simply can't move. Because lugging them around tires him out.

And sometimes the camps borders simply don't let him leave.

On those days some campers have hunted for him.

Jason's always suprised and thankful. He'll share and tell them not to out themselves in danger for him.

But they do so anyway.

Camp Half blood decided a long while back Jason was one of them.

He's like everyone's stressed out, tired, nerdy older brother.

Jason has no knowledge of pop culture and apparently that's a crime.

But since no tech is allowed at camp, which means a lot of reinactments of memes

He's still confused but very entertained.

They've seen him fight monsters and it's so different to how he's fought in spars.

Jason fights to survive, he doesn't have a weapon other than his own chains.

He growls, he rips monsters apart with his bare hands and teeth.

Only stopping when they've all been defeated.

It was awesome.

Tho he did almost get hit by lighting from above and had to rush back into camp.

"Can I ask, what are you being punished for?"

"Let's just say, me and my dad had a disagreement."

Zeus: He's a monster, he's nothing but trouble and a mistake.

Camp Half blood: If monster, why friend shaped?

[m4gp13]

Can we talk about how badly Rick nerfed Jason when he broke IVLIVS at the end of the book it was introduced in? And by nerfed I don't mean the destruction of it held him back in terms of power in any way, I mean in terms of the narrative and particularly his ability to stand against/alongside Percy.

Percy already had five books of context, backstory and time for the reader to get attached so Jason had to do a lot of heavy lifting to not get completely overshadowed but at every opportunity Rick had to let Jason have something to puff him up, it fell flat. Percy had a cool transforming weapon so Rick gave Jason one but then destroyed it in the first book of the series. It reminds me of Rick giving Jason a flying horse in the form of Tempest so he would have his own Blackjack but then Tempest hardly showed up and didn't have a fraction of the established bond that Percy had with Blackjack (also Tempest definitely should have been a giant eagle especially since it was established that Venti can appear as giant eagles).

The worst part about it is that IVLIVS could have been so cool! First of all, ranged weapons are incredibly underused in Rick's books. Clarisse had her electric spear that was relevant for one book but everyone else just has swords or knives, occasionally bows and arrows. It's especially annoying because in most historical military units, Roman and Greek ones included, swords and knives were mostly kept on person as a last resort. In an ideal fight, they never would have been removed from the sheath. The spears should have been enough and most of the time, they were enough. Jason being a Roman demigod could have made him using a spear much more impactful because it would have emphasised the strict and regimented approach the Romans have towards fighting. It would have contrasted with the way the Greeks fight. Since Rick already had the whole arc of Jason deciding he's as Greek as he is Roman, it would have made the whole thing about IVLIVS being both a spear and a sword may more narratively important. The spear represents his Roman side and the sword represents his Greek side.

Second of all, the functionality of it could have been very well-utilised. It's a coin toss. It's inherently random. It would have been cool to see Jason in a fight where he wanted to use one weapon but the coin gave him the other and we would have seen him improvise on the fly, showcasing his years of military experience and the skills that made him a praetor to adapt an ill-suited weapon for the situation and use it effectively because he knows these weapons very well and knows how to use them even in unfavourable contexts. Or you could have it the other way. He wants weapon A, gets weapon B which is much worse for the fight he's in and does poorly, extra points if it draws attention to the Greek/Roman debate he's having. Maybe he wants to use a spear when he's fighting the ghosts at the start of BOO but gets a sword and because of this, gets stabbed by the ghost guy who emphasises how Roman he is. Jason internalises his failure to be Greek (failure to use his Greek sword and fighting style to protect himself against the Romans) and how it caused him to be in danger of 'dying like a Roman' but does character development stuff and heals his wound with the power of believing in himself and realising he can be both Greek and Roman (*cough cough* because I'm a bi!Jason truther his dual identity could have been a great metaphor and parallel to his sexuality *cough cough*).

Lastly, it would have given him something interesting to help him stand out in a cast full of interesting characters with their own 'flair' to make them memorable. Percy obviously has Riptide, Annabeth had Luke's old knife (which she should have gotten to keep), Piper had Katoptris and later on the Boread's sword (which she should have gotten to use more), Frank was the only significant character with a bow and arrow, Leo had his magic toolbelt and Hazel had her spatha (but should have gotten to use it while on Arion a lot more, it's a cavalry sword). And Jason had a sword. Just a regular ass sword. Even Nico's sword had some intrigue because it was made of Stygian iron and it has its kopis shape (idk if that's canon or fanon because it's shaped like that in virtually all fanart of him but I can't remember it being described like that in the books. I could be misremembering this but I have no idea where that idea came from). Jason's already at a huge disadvantage and loads of readers (particularly when the hoo books were being released) just saw Jason as boring and unnecessary.

[somedaylazysomeday]

A Deal With a Demon - Part Four

You try to help Beetlejuice set up the store's information, but you both get a little distracted.

Beetlejuice x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 4100

Warnings: References to demons and witchcraft, background references to a sex shop, oral sex (fem receiving), coming untouched.

Previous | Masterlist

---

You took a deep breath in through your nose, reveling in the rush of it: Halloween. Or, as witches knew it, All Hallows’ Eve. 

Witches with a strong connection to nature got a little more out of the solstices - dark and light at winter and spring, respectively - but All Hallows’ Eve was more egalitarian. 

It was a magical time for everyone, really. The changing leaves were just at their most vibrant and the skies stretched a pale blue overhead. The crisp chill of fall gave each breath a hint of spice and the ground felt solid as iron beneath your booted feet. Spices from baked treats and flavored drinks filled the air. The world seemed to be simultaneously holding its breath and flinging itself vicariously through every moment.

The magic was growing stronger. It felt like you were tapping into the power without any effort at all, and the energy danced over your skin like a series of tingling electric shocks. 

Your senses were heightened, too. Your sight (and Sight) was improved, and you could hear even the faintest sound with clarity. A thousand invisible textures danced under your fingertips, and you could smell anything in the neighborhood from your home.

Which was why you hardly needed Beetlejuice to voice his complaints aloud: “This is so boring.” 

“You’re the one who decided to start a small business,” you pointed out, watching the leaves flutter past the open window. It was far more relaxing than focusing on the pouting pleasure demon in your living room or the intimidating number of forms spread around your ancient laptop. 

When you sensed that Beetlejuice was getting ready to launch another complaint, you gave him a stern look. “And you’re the one who decided that hypnotizing someone to give you a business license was better than doing all of the paperwork.” 

“It is better,” he muttered mutinously. “So why are we doin’ all-a this?” 

“Because,” you explained again, “if someone goes to dig up information about the store - and they will - everything needs to be legitimate.”

Maybe the explanation was harsher than was strictly necessary, but this was the dozenth time you had delivered it. You had run out of patience several hours before and relied on magical means instead. When Beetlejuice’s expression went pouty yet again, you drained what was left of the calming potion at your elbow. Well, technically, second calming potion. You had chugged the first to keep from committing murder against a being who was already dead. 

Wait. Were demons technically alive even though they had never been born? And if they couldn’t be said to be alive, they could hardly be dead, either. Maybe demons existed somewhere outside of the alive/dead dichotomy. 

You shook off the philosophical musings as Beetlejuice started muttering to himself. 

That was certainly enough of that. You weren’t about to let a petulant demon ruin your day, especially not All Hallows’ Eve. “Beetlejuice.” 

The demon in question flinched violently at your use of his name. When he saw the sternness on your face, he seemed to settle in for work. “Okay, fine, let’s do paperwork. But I’m not gonna be excited about it.” 

“Noted,” you said dryly. “Luckily for you, I’ve done most of the hard work myself. I just need some information about dates and where the funding is supposedly from. And we need to pick a new name.” 

“Ooh, a new name,” Beetlejuice said, instantly distracted by that. “What were ya thinkin’? I know I said you could change it, but I kinda like the one we got now...”

“No, it needs to be changed,” you reminded him. “If for no other reason than that it’s not very sexy.” 

Beetlejuice looked offended, baring greenish teeth at that. “Are you sayin’ my name’s not sexy, toots?” 

“It’s not,” you confirmed, but hurried to offer more of an explanation. “But only because the customers haven’t met you yet. You’re not sexy because of your name; the name is sexy because of you.”

“Oh.” He visibly relaxed. “That’s true. I am pretty irresistible.” 

You glanced at a spare piece of paper, hiding a smile. If Beetlejuice was always going to be this easily managed, maybe there was hope for this store. “I have a few ideas written down if you want to take a look. Let me know if there are any that stand out.” 

“Boring,” Beetlejuice announced, scorching a hole through the first name with his fingertip. He continued down the list even as the edges of the first hole continued to smoke and curl. “Overused. Stupid. Boring. Boring. Boring.” 

By your count, that was all of the names you had written. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to find a new copy of that particular form…”

“It needs to be something catchy,” Beetlejuice said, ignoring you and tossing the paper away in favor of framing an imaginary sign in the air. You did your best to listen as you scrambled to pick up the smoldering paper before it caught anything on fire. “It needs to snap, ya know? Grab your attention. But still be somethin’ we can work with. The name can’t overpower the store itself. Otherwise, it’s like… Ya know when you meet the worst, most boring person, but they’ve got a name like… like…”

“Beetlejuice?” you supplied dryly. 

He pointed a blackened fingernail at you. “Watch it, babes. That’s two digs at my name and two times you’ve used it. I’m gonna start taking it personally.” 

“Wish you’d take your business seriously,” you quipped, only partially joking. 

“That’s it,” he growled, eyes flashing in a way that felt more like an animal’s eyes at night than a person. Honestly, deer should have come to mind given your typical life experiences, but all you could think of was a crocodile. “I’m done listenin’ to this kind of abuse.” 

“Is there a different kind you’d prefer?” you asked, betting on the fact that Beetlejuice hadn’t seen enough old movies to be familiar with the joke. 

Sure enough, it took him a moment to work through that, but after he had finished absorbing it, his stained fingertips shot out in your direction. The grasp on your upper arm wasn’t tight, but it was… odd. Beetlejuice’s hands didn’t have the right amount of give in them, not like a normal person’s.

Before you could be swept away in another round of philosophical musings about demons, Beetlejuice used that grip to pull you toward himself. 

You watched, fascinated as his figure grew larger in your perspective, then he was gone. It wasn’t until your hands and knees hit the floor that you realized he had let you go mid-pull, flinging you past himself and onto the ground. 

“What the fuck?” you demanded. 

At the same time, Beetlejuice asked, “What the fuck?” 

While you were glaring at him, the demon was staring down at his own hands, studying them like he would see something moving beneath his pale, dirt-stained skin. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, making sure nothing was broken, sprained, or otherwise damaged. With that done, you tried to demand to know why Beetlejuice had tossed you across the room, but he was so busy talking to you that he didn’t answer any of your questions. And, to be fair, you weren’t answering any of his. And so, you decided to be the bigger person and stop talking. (It definitely wasn’t because you couldn’t concentrate if both of you were speaking at once and trying was going to give you a migraine. Not at all.)

“Fine!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air and scrambling to your feet. “You talk first. Go!” 

“What the fuck was that? Why are you crawling with magic?” Beetlejuice demanded. Something in his tone told you it wasn’t the first time he had asked it. 

You gave him the stare that deserved. Maybe demons didn’t have as strong a connection to the day as witches, but there was no way he couldn’t feel the way magic hung thick in the air. You could feel it pulse, feel it breathe. You could have been locked in a windowless basement, wrapped in a tarp, and suffering from history’s worst head cold and you still would have known what day it was.

But you tried to be kind. It helped that you counted to ten, then twenty as you took your position on the couch once more. That brief break helped keep your tone even as you answered, “It’s All Hallows’ Eve.” 

Beetlejuice looked blank for a moment, then let out a cackle that belonged on every Halloween sound effect CD you’d grown up hearing. “That explains the power. The way it’s just spillin’ outta you.” 

The way he said it turned an already-odd statement into something dirty. When he licked his lips, tongue only serving to draw attention to his overly sharp teeth, you could tell it had been on purpose. “Don’t you dare. We still have work to do.” 

“C’mon, babes,” he purred, clearly not dissuaded by your sharp tone. “You know I feed on sex. It’ll make both of us feel better.” 

“And then I end up doing the rest of this by myself?” you demanded, gesturing broadly to the mass of papers across your coffee table. “I’ll pass, thanks. At least choose a name. Then we’ll have sex before you leave. Okay?” 

“I think better when my dick doesn’t have dibs on the blood supply,” Beetlejuice countered, unabashedly adjusting himself. “It just makes sense - I suck a little power from the person I fuck and ya have way too much power going on right now. I’m not gonna be able to focus until the two of us get down and dirty.”

“Well, we can cross sweet-talking off your list of skills,” you said dryly. 

Beetlejuice scoffed. “Toots, we both know dirty talk is the most important skill. Fuck sweet-talking. Besides, we both know how good I am with my tongue.” 

You rolled your eyes, though it wasn’t easy to look away from the dizzying display created by his waggling eyebrows. “Beej…” 

“Okay, I’ll make a deal with ya.” That got your attention. If there was one thing Beetlejuice took seriously, it was a deal. “Lemme remind ya how much ya like my tongue, then I’ll do as much boring paperwork as ya want.”

It seemed like a good deal. That in itself was suspicious. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you disappear as soon as the terms of the deal are complete?” 

“What? No, that’s not true! Who told ya-?” Beetlejuice dropped his offended act when you didn’t seem even slightly convinced. “Okay, I usually do, but it’s not a requirement. It’s just a convenient out, ya know? But I don’t have to leave right away. Don’t’cha remember the first deal we made?”

“Yeah, I do remember,” you admitted. The demon nodded, but otherwise, kept watching you expectantly. You sighed despite yourself. You didn’t want to break your concentration streak, but Beetlejuice had already done that. And you couldn’t deny that part of you was eager to see how the extra power would impact sex. 

So you fixed Beetlejuice with a hard stare. “And you promise that you’ll actually help afterward?” 

“Absolutely, doll,” he said, nodding too many times. “Anything ya want, I’ll do it. I promise. I swear.” 

“And it’s not going to hurt when you siphon power from me?” you checked. 

He shrugged. “Ya haven’t complained any of the other times.” 

The suspicion you felt must have been clear on your face, since Beetlejuice rose up on his knees. With the broken springs and worn cushions of your couch, your faces were on the same level. “One way to check.” 

Well, surely there was nothing to lose by this point… You leaned forward, tasting the mossy rain scent of Beetlejuice on the air an instant before your lips met. Someone gasped and you weren’t entirely sure whether it was you or the demon. The power had gathered where you touched him, like static electricity in a globe. It focused on the places where your skin touched, making your lips and tongue tingle as you explored just how strong an effect the magic had on you.

When you parted, both you and Beetlejuice were panting. He watched you intently, pupils blown wide with desire. You couldn’t blame him - it had felt amazing, and if he was right, you were actually losing power. How incredible would it feel if you had been gaining it instead?

“Okay,” you relented. “I guess we can- ah!”

Without warning, Beetlejuice worked his magic and stripped every stitch of clothing from you. His shirt was gone, but he was still wearing his pants. One grubby sock clung to his foot. If pressed, you would have bet that he didn’t own a pair of socks, let alone wear them. 

Before you could begin processing that, he had muscled his way between your legs and grabbed behind your knees. After a hard yank, he buried his face between your legs as you gasped and clutched his head.

Your hands flew to his hair, burying in the thick, shockingly soft strands as you tried to catch your breath and moan at the same time. “Beetle-”

Sharp teeth sank into the tender skin of your inner thigh and you let out a soft cry. “None’a that. You know the rules,” Beetlejuice murmured against you, kissing your leg gently before he set to work sucking a mark into your flesh. Just as the pressure of his lips seemed to reach an apex, the magic felt like it took a deep breath, gathering where Beetlejuice was pressed. 

The resulting pulse of magic made you groan… and pulled a whimper out of Beetlejuice. 

Before you could fully soak that noise in, though it was echoing deliciously in your ears, Beetlejuice moved back toward more sensitive places. His tongue slid out of his mouth… and out… and out, until the tip of it was wriggling against you without him moving any closer to your core. It was disturbing, almost enough to shake you from your lustful stupor, but then it brushed over your clit and you stopped caring. 

 Beetlejuice reined himself in, bringing his tongue back to a normal length as he nosed up and down your slit, laving everything with attention. Well, almost everything. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding your clit then. Part of you was grumpy about that, but with the intensity of everything else, you had to wonder if you would survive him making direct contact with all of the nerves gathered there. 

But you hardly had a moment to note the lack of stimulation before your attention was drawn elsewhere. One thick, cool finger pierced the heart of you and thrust ever deeper until it was buried as far as he could reach. The intrusion felt sharp and intense, but right in a way that felt far too important considering that it was nothing more than a finger. 

You knew he was a powerful demon and you had a half a beat to wonder if he could shift forms, or alter his usual one. Gifting himself several extra mouths and tongues was the only way you could picture him being everywhere it felt like he was. 

Of course, all of those musings were there one instant and gone the next. That was approximately how long it took the sensations to hit you, and then the only thing you could do was desperately bury your hands in Beetlejuice’s hair and ride his tongue.

He gave you plenty to work with, too. He had proven several times that he had far too long a tongue for a typical human, and he seemed determined to coax every inch of it into the tight clasp of your core. As soon as you got used to the odd flexibility of the muscle inside of you, your body clenched so hard that you thought you would push him back out. At any rate, you were quickly getting addicted to the sensation. 

When Beetlejuice withdrew his tongue, it was to give his full attention to that wonderfully sensitive bud at the top of your slit. He didn’t ease into it - no, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked hard. 

You shrieked, thighs fighting to close and push him out, but the demon simply tossed your legs over his shoulders. With your calves and feet dangling helplessly down his back, your kicks were ineffective. You were utterly at his mercy as he feasted on you, and Beetlejuice had never struck you as the merciful type. Your hips danced in his steely grip and even you couldn’t tell whether you were trying to move closer to him or further away. 

Your climax hit you out of nowhere, fully blindsiding both you and Beetlejuice. Your throat hurt with the noises you were forcing from it, but you couldn’t hear any of them. The flood of pleasure rushing through your brain made it ignore silly things, like your sense of hearing. Your fingers were sank deep in Beetlejuice’s hair, wrapped so tightly that your fingers ached with it. You used that grip to hold him against you, hips bucking as you rode his face.

The orgasm was like a feedback loop - the sounds he made sent a wave of wetness between your thighs and a wave of magic absolutely everywhere on your body. When the magic tingled its way through you, it impacted Beetlejuice as well. He was moaning helplessly, fingers convulsing on your hips. The few times you were able to pry your eyes open, you found that he had his closed. 

The pleasure stretched on and on, lasting until your body was aching and your folds were too sensitive to be touched. Beetlejuice was still working you, trying to draw out sensations that had already concluded. You couldn’t fully blame him, though: you were still holding him in place and he didn’t have a choice. 

When you managed to release your grip on his hair, Beetlejuice flopped backward, the hard impact leaving him sprawled on the floor. 

“That was… incredible,” you panted out at last.

“You’re tellin’ me, babes,” Beetlejuice said, sitting up with a wince and a glance at his crotch. “If I don’t take care’a this soon, I’m gonna peel off some skin with these pants.”

“Did you..?” you started, trailing off awkwardly. Ridiculous as it was, it seemed indelicate to ask your demonic lover if he had come in his pants. Instead, you just gave a vague sort of wave. “You know…”

“Go off like a kid who just saw his first nudie mag?” Beetlejuice asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Yeah, sure fuckin’ did.” 

“‘Nudie mag’?” you echoed, grimacing. “Are you a Beastie Boy circa 1992? Never say that again.”

“That song was ‘86, but fine,” he agreed easily. “How about-?”

“Why didn’t you just magic your pants away when you did everything else?” you asked loudly, talking over the first of what promised to be a long list of euphemisms for porn. 

“Hey, it takes a lot of concentration to do what I do,” Beetlejuice informed you haughtily. “And I was a little occupied. It seemed more important to get ya naked than make sure I was, too. Just couldn’t wait to get my mouth on that cunt…” 

His gaze got a little intent at that. Your face warmed with embarrassment and your core gave a throb of either eagerness or dismay, you weren’t sure which. But since you weren’t ready to even think about going for another round, you put on your sternest look and tone. “Beetlejuice.”

“Okay, okay,” he agreed gracelessly. “I got my shirt off, but the pants… Well, it’s a delicate area. I actually went too far the other way. This isn’t even mine.” 

You watched Beetlejuice’s toes wriggling in the filthy sock - especially easy given the large hole over his big toe - and shook your head. “Anyway, I hope that was enough of a break for you. We still have work to do for your store.” 

Beetlejuice pursed his lips and made a loud farting sound. “I still think the name is fine.” 

“Yeah?” you asked challengingly. “Let me go ahead and try it out: Bee-”

A mossy-smelling hand clapped over your mouth before you could fully finish the first syllable. “Anyone ever told ya that you’re too mean for how pretty you are?” 

You would have accused him of sucking up if he didn’t sound so disgruntled. “No.” 

Beetlejuice didn’t seem to have any trouble deciphering the muffled word you’d said behind his hand. “Then you’re either meaner to me than you are to them or they’re idiots.”

“Enough sweet talk practice,” you declared. “What do you want to name your store?” 

“I dunno.” Beetlejuice folded one arm behind his head, and there was something about the angle of his elbow that looked either painful or inhuman. You started getting dizzy when you thought about it, so you focused on the wet spot on the crotch of his obnoxiously striped pants to distract yourself. It worked remarkably well. 

Beetlejuice was, of course, fully unaware of your inner distraction. He sighed, rolling his eyes so hard that you could only see the blankness of sclera between his eyelids. “Can’t we do somethin’ easy, like ‘Wicked’?” 

“I think there could be some confusion there,” you reminded him, half-chuckling. Your amusement faded when Beetlejuice gave you a nonplussed stare. “You know, the hit Broadway musical about a girl with green skin? Could be a relative, you know, though I don’t think hers was rot.”

“Mold,” he corrected. “I have mold, not rot. I wish I had rot. And I don’t really keep up on the Broadway musicals, toots. They’re always canceling the good ones and sending them out on a tour that’s probably just as good, but lacks the dependability of a permanent theater.” 

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “Just… not Wicked, okay?”

“Sure, fine,” Beetlejuice agreed, sticking his tongue out in concentration. “What about somethin’ that means the same thing?” 

“A synonym?” you mused. “Sure. Let’s see… Bad, wrong, evil, corrupt…”

“Nah, not the right vibe.” 

You nodded. “There are other meanings that lean more into the religious aspect of things, if that’s more along the lines of what you want. Immoral, ungodly, unholy…”

“Unholy has a nice ring to it,” Beetlejuice admitted. “But I don’t wanna give people the wrong idea. My store has plenty of holes in it.” 

Even when you made the noise that boast deserved, Beetlejuice was still grinning. You decided to push past it. “Hateful, rotten, villainous, impure, sinful…”

“That one,” Beetlejuice said decisively, sitting up and running a hand over the hair that you had mussed so thoroughly. “Sinful. It’s got everything I like. Sinning… and being… full. Yeah, Sinful. We’ll have to change the logo.” 

You nodded slowly, trying to commit his choice to memory. You really weren’t ready to stand up yet.

“And we’ll have to change the border.” When you glanced down, Beetlejuice was giving you a knowing look. “I know how much you don’t like the dick snake.” 

“I thought it was clever, having it designed as an ouroboros,” you objected. “Maybe we should add lips to where it’s eating the head. Then it’ll look more like a blow job and less like torture.” 

“Whatever floats their boat,” Beetlejuice told you with a shrug. “I don’t object to a little C&B torture.”

“Okay, I’m done with this conversation.” You stood from the couch, brushing random fuzz from your bare ass. There was a price to be paid for being naked and sweating on cushions that were falling apart. “Give me my clothes back. Now that you’ve picked a name, I can get started on all of the branding.” 

“Ooh, branding is fun.” 

You didn’t need to be psychic to know that he wasn’t talking about company branding… or to recognize that he was messing with you. Rather than reacting, you just threw a skeptical stare over your shoulder. “If you say so. Once we’ve figured out the logo, you can get it branded somewhere delicate. Now, are you giving me my clothes back or do I have to go find something to wear?” 

Beetlejuice pouted, but your clothes were back in a moment. In recognition of his lack of complaining, you decided not to mention that you were missing underwear. 

Again.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween! In case I offended anyone, I have not had the chance to watch Beetlejuice the Musical on tour. I'm sure it's just as good, but I couldn't resist a little fourth-wall breaking.

I don't offer a taglist for mature works, but you can find more on my masterlist.

[witchthewriter]

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛🔮

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

SFW🌿

・Emmett would find witchcraft so fascinating. His eyes would light up, and he would sit there dumbfounded

・This is a world where vampires and shape-shifters exist. So of course there’s going to be powerful witches

・Unlike Edward, who would be a bit wary of a s/o who can do magic, Emmett is absolutely on board - 100%

  “Babe, turn the lights off.”

*You turn the lights off without getting up from your seat*

   “Haha woah. Okay now turn them off!”

*They turn off*

     “Babe you’re so powerful!”

“No Emmett, you just need to pay the electricity bill.” 

・Has gone to the witchy store to get more herbs but he wrote them down on his hand and the ink didn’t dry. So he tried to make out what the word is while the shop assistant stood there dumbfounded

・Tells people his partner is better than theirs all the time - and that has nothing to do with you being a witch

・He likes to walk around with the incense stick. You told him that counter clock-wise rids bad energy and clock wise invites positive energy. So he vampire runs around the house waving the stick like a maniac 

・ “Oops set off the fire alarm again.”

・Has and will continue to interrupt you while you’re casting a spell

     “Babe I broke the door aga- oh sorry you’re hexing someone.” 

・There isn’t really a ‘mature’ person in the relationship. You would be the closest to it, but there are instances where Emmett has to remind you to be responsible 

  “I know he’s a douche but just because he insulted me doesn’t mean you have to curse his whole family tree.” 

・Calls you babe all the time (don’t know if you caught on to that yet or ...)

・Gets used to your customs, so when you forget to put your crystals out to charge he does that for you 

・Alice loves coming over and seeing everything. She has tried to redecorate, but who could do better than whimsicore? 

・Emmett knows you’re his mate because when you were in a dangerous situation, he thought he would die. Whatever happened to you, he would risk his life to save yours 

・And he went to Edward because he was so confused by these emotions, and Edward had to explain to him the whole mate thing 

・Rosalie is still in the Cullen/Hale family, but she has a different mate 

・You’re welcomed with open arms, and feel very close to Alice and Esme 

・Jasper makes you uneasy though. Probably because of his past - being a confederate soldier and all 

・Emmett wears protection stones and amulets. Even though he’s one of the most dangerous creatures on earth, you like to give him extra protection/safety

・People do come to you with their problems, but some you have to turn away. Others you do everything to help. 

・Your powers are unique. Every witch is different, much like vampires. Not everyone who follows witchcraft will have extra abilities. 

・All those who become witches have heightened intuition and senses. 

・But you were granted the gift of telekinesis (moving things with your mind).

・However when you use this, your aura can be seen (although not by humans.) 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Romantic Flight by John Powell

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Chaotic Dumbass Duo

Tragic Past x Ray of Light (goes both ways)

Big Dumb x Small Smart

[turboacek-blog]

Aqualad: most underrated Young Justice story

Just wanted to kind of layout how interesting his story was as I feel of the OG team his reserved personality makes him not stand out over the rest and some only thought he was interesting when playing the bad guy in season 2

Aqualad a young adopted kid training to be the next Aquaman with his best friend, and is in love with a girl. But he takes the opportunity to be Aquaman’s sidekick which takes him away from his best friend and crush

Only for him to come back in some months just to find that his best friend got with his crush…

And he has to essentially still save the day and be the hero, come to terms that he lost her due to his “job” while not being upset at them the arguably two closest people in his life

Like this is in any other medium is a movie in itself

Add through season 1 he’s the leader of a bunch of interesting personalities and was like the calm big brother of the team

Then in the time skip, his crush joins the team meaning he can finally spend the quality time with his crush he had to sacrifice before, and it’s a bit unclear if they ever got together during this time but on the mission she dies on your watch…

Not much time later you find out that your mentor/King’s enemy is your biological father so dealing with all these emotions is again it’s own movie itself

Not even going to go into the whole double agent thing in season 2 that people already like

But then one of your best friends Wally dies and you’re thrusted back into the job as your other best friend grieves his own way leaving mostly on your own

Then in season 3 he does it he becomes Aquaman he’s another leader of the Justice league everything is going seemingly fine

But does fall too deep with the secrets again…

And between seasons 3&4 he finds a new love

But all this time his first issue keeps coming back of balancing work and life which is how he lost Tula before and how he perceives to have lost Superboy until later revealed he’s fine

Idk I think Kaldur has the sneakily best story through the show in total

Characters like Nightwing adjust with each season more to fit that season's story than something overarching, and Miss Martian will always have her identity problems and so on but I feel the others weren’t as detailed as Kaldur I feel

I’m just saying you could easily make an amazing movie animated or real life about Kaldur the secret son of a villain learning under a hero and on the way has to juggle the problem of hero and villain and work and life and love or duty

You would literally just need to adjust his hero name tbh as I don’t think general audience will wanna watch a movie called Aqualad tbf

Like Garth got the Tempest alternative when he’s not Aqualad either swap that as Garth is still kinda seen more as Aqualad due to comic history and teen titans or just give him a new name as a character like Tim Drake will probably always be Robin primarily but he still has a couple of alternate names he can go by

Random but I kinda of like Tide, from Tidal Wave or Rising Tides or a play on his comic counterpart Jackson Hyde

And for visuals Kaldur has the Atlantean magic that Aquaman doesn't have so he can water bend for a more interesting power set as Aquaman is basically just super strong with no aquatic life around

Plus can generate electricity has weapons etc. giving him a mix of Queen Mera and someone like Robin

Idk I just feel that this version of Aqualad you could make its own version of the story just about him and be well received by a majority

[thedeafprophet]

If you don't mind me asking, who were your tes ocs?

Ah im being visited by the ghost of Hyperfixations past. I'm giving a warning that the art here is older, some more so then others.

SO I had a few characters.

behold: old pinterest boards [this is not all of them lol]

But my main oc who I've had since i was like 13 is Eliana. She's changed a lot over the years. I was, suffice to say, pretty obsessed with her for quite awhile.

She was my main PC for Skyrim, and she primarily did the Dragonborn stuff alongside Dawnguard and the like [i split up the different plotlines among different characters]. She's a battlemage, uses a combination of fire magic and sword work, and tends to wear more lighter armor for dexeterity based moves. Originally from Hammerfell, she came to Skyrim on a rather personal mission before, yknow, all hells broke loose and oh boy! Suddenly you're expected to save the world and also you're not entierly mortal, have fun with that.

(Also fun fact, while obviouslly not by name in universe, she has type 2 waardenburg syndrome, which is why her eyes are discoloured + has hearing loss)

El's generally a pretty friendly and sweet girl, but she very much tends to get caught up in her own head, and struggles a lot with the balance between power and responbility, and uh, quite a lot of ptsd and stress by the end of it. theres a lot more but uh, we would be here forever lmao.

and uh. i guess ill give a brief overview of the others under the cut. I had vague ideas of a lot of them exisiting in the timeline and their interactions overlapping.

Laymus is an imperial who originally grew up on a farm with a lot of siblings. He struck out on his own in hopes of taking a stronger control of his own life, and because there wasn't really much for him there. Primarily a hunter, Laymus had an unfortunate encounter with a werewolf... which, left a substiantial impact on his being. He specializes in archery and fighting from a distance... at least, most of the time. [yea he's a werewolf lol. i was gonna do the companions quest with him but never got around to it. i usually play as him when im playing with survival mods, its very fun. he was also one of my earliest forays into having a transmasc oc ]

Faelynn is a bosmer, but was actually raised in Cyrodiil by her adoptive father, who ran a tavern there. She is considerbly older then some of my other characters, and long since outliver her human parent. She had a fascination in poisons from a young age, and after an... incident, became far more invested in them. She is the character I play through the dark brotherhood with, specializes in daggers and poison, alongside alchemy.

Erion is an aldermi character of mine, someone who's family has ties to the thalmor, an area of which he does not connect to. He has a rather.... unfortunately complicated history with his family, that was made all the more interesting by an encounter with Nocturnal at a young age...

He focuses on shadowy skills, a master of sneaking and not being seen when he doesn't want to be. He is the one i do the thieves guild questline with.

Adra is a dunmer, and grew up with a particularly strong set of daedra worshippers, which, suffice to say, has some complications with her background. She vaguely remembers her mother, but has little concept of who her father could even have been. She struggles a lot with self esteem and has a tendancy towards jealousy of those she percieves as doing better then her.

She specializes as a mage, primarily in destruction magic, with a knack for electricity and lightning. She is a student at the college of winterhold.

and that covers the main ones! Or, at least the ones i play the game with anyway. Honourable mentions are Valia and Ashanta, who are Eliana's mothers.

These two met during the battles between Hammerfell and the Aldmeri Dominion, of which Ashanta was a warrior on Hammerfell's side, and Valia was a healer of whom defected, their paths crossing. Its quite a tale in and off itself!

Valia died prior to the start of skyrim.......... the aldmeri are particularly kind to defectors, we shall say.

And then i have a few others. Anja is a nord background character concept I made, who runs a bakery in Riverwood [inspired by me learning about the history of bread making and the important of a baker in a town]. She also ends up adopting some of the orphans in the game lol. Allian is my oblivion character who wasnt ever super developed, i should get back to that... he's an imperial, and is actually Laymus' uncle.

I'm pretty sure I have a few more somewhere but uh. yea! thats the base up of it. hope you were prepared for my great overview XD XD

[locustonlioden-blog]

So, I have formed a theory on Alastors deal that seems to fit with everything we know so far, unless I'm forgetting something.

Alastor is a powerful overlord in Hell who was close friends with Vox. Vox asks him to join him in a partnership, but Alastor refuses, wanting to remain independent. This has been highlighted as being important to him. Vox takes offense to this, and they have a falling out-however, Alastor probably doesn't take it too personally and doesn't consider him an enemy. We get to 7 years ago. Since that is when Lilith disappeared, we can assume that's when the exterminations began. We know the overlords are particularly interested in these. It would make sense that when the angels first attacked, the most powerful overlords would fight back. Overlords who are proud, bold, and/or want to make a name for themselves would be most likely to be out in the streets wanting to show off and take exorcists out. Alastor and/or Vox were out fighting. Vox is nearly killed, but Alastor saves him, being killed in the process.

Lets assume nobody but Vox and Alastor witnessed this. The truth would be embarrassing and conflicting to Vox. It would harm his image. Alastor is now gone. Vox makes up an explanation-they fought, Alastor nearly beats him (which would explain injuries Vox may have) but ultimately Alastor limps away-so defeated, ashamed, and put in his place that he goes into hiding.

Alastor goes to Heaven, since his death was a selfless one. He sees or hears about what Vox has spread about him. His resentment and regret grows. Alastor does not like Heaven. He does not like rules. He wants to go back to Hell.

Lilith, in Heaven on account of her deal with Adam, recognizes Alastor. She would, because as seen in the Pilot there are posters around of him, as they are of her. Likewise, he would probably know who she is. They may not interact until Charlie begins her quest to redeem sinners, which Lilith takes an interest in. She finds out about Alastor wanting back in Hell, and the power to ?? (the details of what sort of power he desires could be a variety of things, I haven't ironed out exact wording or anything yet) She offers to lend him her powers and send him back to Hell in exchange for protecting Charlie/The Hotel. He must not reveal anything about their arrangement. The lent powers are stored in his microphone. (When the microphone is broken, this could be irrelevant, but notice that two different colors of light are emitted-green, the same color of Alastors usual powers, but also a magenta color. It could just be electricity, or it could be showing that someone elses magic is inside)

There has to be wording that makes it that the agreement isn't broken if the microphone is. "You will protect Charlie so long as you are in Hell" would work. If all she said about the powers were that she would infuse his microphone with them, there is no contingency that if the microphone is broken so is the deal.

Alastor being able to wield Lilith's power gives a good reason why he seemed to confident in taking on Adam. When he fights Adam, he has no angelic weapon. Alastor is cocky, but is he that cocky to not equip himself with the only thing they know will kill an angel? I don't think so...which means, the power stored in his microphone is Lilith's power that she lent to him, making him believe that the microphone a divine weapon. Once it breaks, he knows he is defenseless. That is apparent by his reaction. The reason it fails is probably because he was not wielding it with selflessness, or his primary motivation isn't to protect Charlie/the hotel. It could also be that Lilith has demonic powers, not divine ones. He might not know this, simply assuming since she is in Heaven, she is angelic. Alastor seems to know a lot about Adam. There could be many reasons for this, but he seems a little personal. "You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate". If that a reference to Lilith/Eve and what she/they accomplished when they "took charge" and left Adam and the rules of Heaven?

In the end song of Episode 8, Vox sings, "After the battle, masterless cattle, overlords hanging by a thread" Why would he sing this? No overlords are hanging by a thread. The fight was at the hotel, and Alastor hadn't reclaimed any other territory after returning. So this makes me think he is referring to another battle-the original one when Alastor disappeared. He throws a knife in Alastors picture as he sings this.

Why would the Vs jump to conclude Alastor is going to be gone again? Well, because it is what happened last time..."Nature of war is a power vacuum, which leaves room for you and me" Vox and Val sing together...insinuating Val slipped into Alastors place beside Vox. Val is someone who takes advantage of and abuses the weak. Alastor, as seen in the prequel comic, is someone who defends the weak, and exploits and destroys those he sees as deserving of it. He would hate Val. They are mirrors of one another.

I find it interesting that the Vs part that seems to outline the original exorcist battle when Alastor died is immediately followed by Alastors part, which seems to do the same, only from his POV. "This place reeks of death" "Great Alastor Altruist DIED (not dies) for his friends"

He doesn't want to end the deal by going back to Heaven. He is determined to not repeat the mistake that landed him into the deal in the first place. He mentions the constraints of his deal-possibly referring specifically to his not being able to tell anyone anything about it. If he could tell someone, he could have Charlie ask her mother to release him from the deal and still let him stay in Hell. "Once I figure out how to unclip my wings" Given that he was in Heaven, is he possibly referring to learning to use his own angelic powers, seeing as he was once an angel in Heaven? Would his blood turn gold if he learned how to fight "for love"? Of course-he is headed about this is the complete wrong direction, choosing to embrace his desire for control and power.

How does Husk know about his chains?

In a previous episode, he mentions he is the ultra observant bartender or something along those lines. His conversation about the matter with Alastor comes across almost confrontation/reveal like. He begins by saying "You've been gone awhile, and it's not like anybody knows why" Alastor replies, "They don't need to know, and don't worry about it" Alastor pisses him off, and that was a great setup for Husk to reveal something he's figured out on his own. He fit the pieces together-Alastors absence, suddenly coming back, perhaps he notices a difference in his magic/abilities or behavior. It's not really surprising Husk would figure it out if anyone did, especially knowing we were given a setup by mentioning how observant he is about everyones hidden issues in the previous episode. After fighting the loan sharks, Alastor says "Oh I missed getting to let off steam" Why? Because you were in Heaven? Its also absolutely essential he makes Mimzy leave if shes going to cause trouble to the hotel. He has to protect it. That comes first.

How did nobody is Heaven know that a sinner (Alastor) has ascended before? Perhaps a few did, but it was kept quiet. Maybe only Sera knew. It is mentioned Emily is young and is spared knowledge of things. It could be another stipulation of agreements that Lilith, Alastor, and Sera keep it a secret to avoid disruption in Heaven. When Sera refers to Charlie in her conversation with Adam in episode 6, she calls her "misguided" the definition if misguided is "led or prompted by wrong or inappropriate motives or ideals" That doesn't mean wrong-she didn't say delusional or anything like that. Does she know that Lilith is guiding Charlies attempt in some way? She would view Liliths motive as wrong or inappropriate-Lilith wants to empower Hell. She tells him to do whatever he needs to do to keep the problem from getting any worse. Why would she ask him that and not just tell him to keep his mouth shut about the exterminations? Well because hes the one in a deal with Lilith. Of course he's dumb and just goes and threatens Vaggie instead of what Sera probably intended for him to do. In the meeting, most telling imo is Sera says, the purpose of the meeting is to see if a sinner can be redeemed by means of this Hazbin Hotel. Not redeemed, period. In the end she says the court finds no evidence souls can be redeemed-well, no evidence was presented there.

Alastor stats several times that he "always knew Charlie could do it, it was possible" etc etc. Of course he did, he had it happen to himself. He can't tell her that though, because of the gag order.

So how do I think Alastor can be set free of his deal? Assuming it's to protect Charlie, he will be free either: 1. He goes back to Heaven, which he probably will never want to do or, 2. Charlie no longer needs his protection.

This theory works essentially the same whether or not Eve/Root is Lilith.

Hope I didn't forget something lol but yea was thinking about this today at work