#magically started typing my information

[thefirstlioveyou]

a..hahahahah..

[fingertipsmp3]

The last like 12 hours have been one disaster after another tbh and I think I am mostly to blame

[multimilfs]

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader x Rio Vidal: The Prize

Summary: Agatha has been fighting to reclaim her prize from Rio for a long time.

AO3

Included: dark themes, lesbian drama & yearning, near-death experiences, smut; biting, orgasm denial, praise kink, degradation, s&m, blood, fingering, cunnilingus, use of pet names, begging

Words: 9.7k

Tag List: @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld @white--lillies @imtrashinflames

1750

Glowing hands press over the seeping wound, magic swirling around them, diving inside. There’s no satisfaction of watching the flesh knit itself back together. Instead, your magic drifts right back out like smoke. 

Oh Goddess. 

“Do take your time.” Agatha snaps, voice strained, “I have absolutely no plans.” 

Five types of poison are immune to tangible magic. You know antidotes for three. Staring hard at the wound, you look for the blackened edges consistent with Nightrot, finding the flesh as red and irritated as to be expected. Is it swelling or screaming that goes with Alewife’s Revenge? A glance up at her face finds it normal. Her lips are pursed. 

Your hands shake, one hovering over the open wound in her middle, the other clutching your head. Remembering has never mattered more so why is your mind empty? Pieces of information slip through your fingers like sand. Dozens of cadavers, hundreds of hours of study; useless. 

Unable to rely on your memory, you scramble across the floor for the dagger that’d flown from the wall. The little light coming from the boarded windows prompts the metal to glint. The edge of the blade is sticky with blood, beneath it a metallic sheen that can only be a witches poison. You hold it up to the slant of light to see the color. 

“Are you out of your mind? Heal me!” 

You drop the dagger the second the poison glints purple. You slap your hand over your mouth, panic beginning to course through your veins; the body’s own special brand of poison. 

How are you going to tell her?

“I’m trying!” You snap, voice breaking. 

It’s a cruel joke that the poison should be so well matched to the witch bearing its effects. You stare at the edge as it rocks from being dropped, your stomach turning when the color doesn’t change. If only you could be wrong this once. 

Were you a lesser witch, you’d curl in a little ball and quail under the weight of your failures. The idea is seductive. Yet, you turn to Agatha where she lies, pale and sweating on the floorboards. The pallor of her skin makes you whimper. 

“Agatha,” You start, your voice holding just enough, “it’s Saura’s Dread.” 

Things click into place behind her eyes despite the glazed-over look to them. She fights to find a way out of this, but you know well that the reality cannot be avoided. 

“Give it to me. You’re wrong.” 

“I know poisons better than most.” You hand the dagger over anyway. 

“That’s not saying much.” 

The comment stings, but you let it slide off you. You cannot give into petty squabbles now. With so little time to find a solution, you have to focus. 

She stares hard at the blade as if willing it to change. 

“Brew the antidote.” 

“I can’t.” You whisper. 

There’s a flicker of something in her gaze that looks suspiciously like rage. Your own internal fire leaps to meet it; of all the emotions to look upon you with—rage? As if this is your fault? You’re not the one that dragged her into this old cabin, intent on sifting through the contents. 

It’s not your fault. You know that as the truth. Yet, shame floods you. 

“You’re a healer.” Agatha spits, “What good are you if you don’t know the antidote?” 

“Someone didn’t let me stay with my coven long enough to learn it!” 

“The next time someone tries to keep you from me, I’ll let them.” 

The fire in your chest ebbs. An old argument at an inconvenient time. There will be no rough makeup sex following this argument, no unspoken apologies in Agatha’s kisses. All the time, all the bodies; they cannot be for nothing. They mean too much. 

Fleetingly, you feel pity for your old coven. In their minds they had attempted to do the right thing. Keeping you from Agatha must have seemed reasonable. But you remember how many bodies they made, how pleased it made Her. 

Saura’s Dread takes its victim within six hours. This, you know confidently. The demise is slow and painful, a poison intended for torture. You can’t stand to see Agatha in this kind of pain. You’re not ready for her to be just another body.

“I’m calling Her.” You say. 

“No.” Agatha counters, “She’ll never let me live it down.” 

“You won’t live down anything if you’re dead, Agatha.” 

“I won’t die.” 

She’s an idiot. 

Magic flowing into your fingertips, you trace familiar symbols on the floor. They glow bright and then dim as they wait. Around your neck sits an old, jagged bone, tied by a thread; you use the end of said bone to split your palm and drip blood over the symbols. 

Agatha’s mouth is moving, but you don’t listen. You mutter the incantation in latin under your breath. The words—old and comforting—curl your tongue in ways that you’ve only known between two pairs of legs. You end the incantation with the key that gets you around the waiting list; Her name, Her true name. 

There’s a blinding flash of light and a puff of fog, but the symbols contain it. You catch the glint of white teeth. 

“You rang?” 

Rio smiles, clad in darkness and bone and that same beauty that always stops you in your tracks. Upon seeing her, you breathe easier.

“We need your help.” 

“You wouldn’t have called so formally if it was quality time you wanted.” Amusement dances in her eyes. 

She eyes the symbols on the floor. They no longer glow, but still they contain her. She scuffs a foot along them. 

You smudge the symbols and the containment drops. Stepping over the magic as it sinks down into the earth, she catches you by the waist and devours you; lips and teeth and tongue dominating your own, leaving you helpless to do anything but give in. And you’re all too willing to do so. 

When she pulls back, you’re breathless. Somewhere in the fray your lip has begun to bleed. Rio soothes her tongue over the wound and you feel it close. 

“Hand.” 

You offer the demanded appendage, palm up. She places a kiss in the center and licks the blood from her lips. 

Rio turns her head to where Agatha has dragged herself to sit against the wall. The rise and fall of her chest is slow, but there. She glares at the two of you. You flush while Rio grins. 

“Hi, sweetheart. You look like shit.” Rio says, delighted. 

“A side effect.” Agatha grits out, “The same can’t be said for you.” 

Rio tilts her head back and laughs. It’s deep and rich and fills you with thoughts that are not appropriate for this situation. The hand on your waist squeezes as if she knows. Then, she releases you. 

She crosses to crouch before Agatha, devious smile shifting to something softer. One of her hands works through a lock of Agatha’s hair, brushing it out of her face. 

“What did you get yourself into?” 

Agatha’s eyes drop to Rio’s lips, but she stays silent. 

“Saura’s Dread.” You choke out, shame winding itself tight inside you, “I don’t—I can’t brew the antidote.” 

You should have done more to push off Agatha’s agenda; just so you would have finished your research. A few extra days wouldn’t have hurt. They would’ve infuriated Agatha—and Rio by extension—but then you would know the solution instead of watching her slowly wither away. 

Rio doesn’t look away from Agatha, but you know the soothing tone is for you, “It’s okay.” 

Something passes between the two that you miss. One moment, Rio holds Agatha’s face in her hand, while Agatha—hesitantly—leans into the contact. The next Rio is standing between the two of you, toying with her knife, all business. 

You feel a chill pass through you at the unfamiliar territory; staring into Rio’s eyes and finding the affection buried away. It stings more than knowing how you’ve failed. 

“You’re asking me for life in a bottle.” Rio says, grinning, “What do I get in return?”

Short of knowing that Rio would fix it should you ask, you find yourself shamefully bereft of anything with value. You search the space for anything to bargain with. Agatha’s eyes should be looking at you with knowing, but her gaze doesn’t leave Rio. 

When Agatha tilts her head and grins, turning on the bedroom eyes, you pause. 

“What you’ve wanted for years.” Agatha says, “Brew me a little potion and you can have her all to yourself.” 

Rio’s brows shoot sky high. You tilt your head, then freeze. It’s you. Agatha’s bargaining you.

There should be a sweetness in knowing you’re the only thing of value she has to offer, yet the taste is sour on your tongue. The words feel like a punishment, a reprimand—and not the kind you’ve begged at her feet for. That awful part of you would rather Agatha die than ever willingly give you up and Rio eyes you as if she knows it. Does it please her to know how they’ve twisted you?

One mistake, you think bitterly, and Agatha throws in the towel. Despite all the near-death experiences you’ve endured at her side. Despite the years you’ve spent together. You never expected a punishment of this proportion. 

You bite your tongue. At your sides, your fists clench and unclench. They glow with the anger you can’t keep hidden. 

Pride rears its unhelpful head and you speak before you can stop to think, “My life for Agatha’s.” 

Rio’s full attention is on you, then. Her eyes are bright. 

You speak directly to her, “I’m bound to you and The Road until such time as Agatha traverses it to collect me.” 

Had you not been so focused on Rio, you would have noticed Agatha flinch at your suggestion. Her wide, glassy eyes stare at you. You do not give her the satisfaction of your attention. If she is going to be cruel, so can you. 

Your terms are a challenge; and Agatha doesn’t turn down a challenge. 

Her devious, wicked mask clicks back into place. Rio’s expression is pensive. Despite the poison working through her system, Agatha almost looks as powerful as her best day. 

“You’d let me steal her away, O Death?” Agatha teases. 

The comment is salt in your open wound. You glare, wishing more than anything that you could wrap your hands around her pretty neck and squeeze. You want her not only to beg—but to apologize. 

But Rio’s eyes haven’t left you for a second. 

“Alright, sweetheart.” Rio says, “Your life, bound to mine, until Agatha comes to get you.” 

In it you understand the desire you both share; to have Agatha, one way or another. You wonder if the desire for possession is your own or something you’ve learned from her. 

From her pocket comes a small glass vial. She tosses it to Agatha, who only barely catches it. She cradles it like something precious. 

“Drink up.” Rio orders. 

Then Rio is there, arm around your waist, holding all your pieces together. You lean into her comfort as color returns to Agatha’s cheeks. 

“Te veo.” 

--

1754

“She waits for you.”

Agatha whips around, purple crackling at her fingertips. At the edge of the clearing, Rio leans her weight against a gnarled tree, eyeing the withered husks of once-witches in the grass with interest. She looks almost predatory. 

“Does she?” 

Rio nods, eyes shifting to Agatha, “Like a puppy. It’s almost pathetic.” 

It is pathetic, is what she should say. Time and affection have curbed her tongue on this small thing at least. On you. Agatha’s smile is knowing. 

Rio has pulled her punches toward you since the beginning. Agatha’s never minded. It’s almost sweet watching the oldest force in the multiverse tiptoe around a witch barely into her second century. Is it that craving for ancient knowledge in your veins that renders Rio down, or is it simply your pretty face? 

Does it matter? 

“I don’t have what I need yet.” Agatha rolls her eyes, “Witches these days don’t have the power they used to.” 

“Or maybe you’re leveling the population before they have time to strengthen.” Rio raises a brow. 

Agatha thinks, deliberately dramatic, then shrugs, “No, that’s not it.” 

With a shake of her head, Rio steps out from the treeline, and closes the distance across the clearing. Agatha watches every step with dark eyes. The stench of death and magic sends a chill down Rio’s spine; there’s nothing more delicious than a life snuffed out. 

The wind slows in the trees as if sensing her. Birds silence their sweet tunes. There is frantic rustling in the trees somewhere as creatures do all they can to get away. 

Yet Agatha stands, waiting, and allows Death to pull her into her embrace. 

One of Rio’s great loves is watching skin split so she can lap up the blood at her own pace. Yet, when her hands settle on Agatha’s hips, they’re gentle. She doesn’t open wounds with her teeth. Rather, she moves her lips over Agatha’s until she can’t breathe. Agatha is wary when she pulls back. 

Rio shrugs, “A message from her.” 

“I see. Forgiven me, has she?” A slow, taunting grin, “Anything from you?” 

“Have you earned it?” 

“These bodies didn’t make themselves.”

A tilt of her head, as if considering, “Maybe you’ve earned something small, then.” 

And they meet in a clash of lips and teeth. Rio’s hands are everywhere, leaving behind deep claw marks that make Agatha moan into her mouth. Agatha’s own nails pierce through cloth and skin at her hips but draw no blood. She tries to push Rio backward toward one of the trees, she just needs a little leverage and Rio’s thigh to—

Rio pulls back. She grins something wicked at the flash of Agatha’s purple.

“Something small.”

Agatha makes a face, batting her lashes. Rio doesn’t give in. 

“You’re awful.”

“You love it.” Rio says, then her face takes on something more serious, “Don’t keep her waiting, Agatha.”

Then she’s gone as if she was never there; the only evidence being the bleeding marks on her skin. Agatha stares at where she stood for a long time before moving on.

--

1801

The Road changes, you’ve seen, as the covens come along. Small cottages, ancient ruins—the most interesting was an old system of catacombs, though it lacked the remains you’d been intent on studying.

Your favorite, though, is the bower, absent of any illusions or spells.

Beneath a canopy of purple leaves upon a seat of grass, you watch the events unfold from afar. An old curved trunk sits at your back keeping you upright. The animals—lost familiars, mostly—wander up to you here, nibbling at fallen leaves and taking up residence in your lap.

From outside it could be mistaken for a simple tree. Yet, beneath it, the world is at your fingertips. The position of your place presents the underside of millions of glowing leaves to your view; lives, Rio said, witch and non-witch alike.

You find the one you love best among the foliage. You trace your finger down the purple veins, hoping she feels you, thinks of you, misses you. The veins seem to glow a little brighter at your touch.

Rio doesn’t enjoy you toying with them; worried a wrong move on your part will take a life too soon, upsetting the greater balance she’s beholden to. But she taught you how to handle Agatha’s. Trace, never prod. Caress, but never pluck.

A black cat settles in your lap and you sit straighter.

Soothing a hand down her back, she purrs. Her little body presses against your stomach and basks in your warmth.

“You really are too predictable.” Rio says.

She stands a few feet away, clad in dirt and muck, yet still beautiful. Always beautiful.

“I like it here. It’s comforting.”

“You like being close to Agatha.” She corrects.

The leaf in question glows brighter as if sensing the mention. You trace a finger along the edge, willing all your love into it.

“This is all I have of her.” You admit.

Something like softness creeps into Rio’s face. As soon as it appears, it recedes. She joins you under the canopy. The cat in your lap startles and leaps from your lap, darting back into the underbrush.

You had never thought to secure some token of Agatha’s, then. Now, with nothing of her’s to hold close, you settle for her life-line, begging it to tell you her whereabouts and if she’s safe; it is always silent. Rio is, too. She doesn’t mention much when you ask, though you know she knows the actions of every life tied to her.

The Road is a wonderful home. Rio is an attentive partner. But you ache, still, for the other set of hands you knew; those who were predictable in their firmness, balancing the sudden changes of Rio’s own.

“You’re crying.” Rio says.

Her face is dark, but fury lingers around the edges. Something like worry flutters in and out of her eyes. You have nothing to say, so you only nod.

Then you’re in her lap. Rio’s bunching up your dress to your waist, canines embedded in your neck. Her nails dig into your hips and the blood warms you. You whimper.

Lips kiss down your neck while a hand hovers between your legs. You bear down, desperate for any friction to dull the ache. And she gives it to you. Her hand is exactly where you want it, fingers rubbing and pressing, and you grind your hips hard, harder until you’re right there.

And then her hand is gone.

You whine. Your hips move of their own volition, searching for that pressure to send you right over the edge. Rio’s lips catch your own in a bruising kiss and you whimper into her mouth.

Needy, desperate, you can almost hear her say.

But when she pulls away and digs her nails in harder, she whispers, “Cry for me, sweetheart.”

She alternates between giving you what you crave and rescinding it for hours. You whimper, moan, and beg. She laughs and repeats herself—cry for me. You lose count of how many almost-orgasms tighten your body just to go unfulfilled. You do cry. You sob and she’s there, tongue licking up your tears and knuckle deep inside you, thumbing over your clit until you have what you want.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, after, crying against her.

--

1833

Rio’s arm is warm where you’re wrapped around it. She leads you through the winding stone streets, around grand buildings with stained-glass windows. Some of the scenes depicted in the glass are beautiful, simple; but the majority are Catholic in nature, dripping with sadness and guilt. You shake your head.

Passersby nod or tilt their hats, but don’t seem to see you. Their eyes go especially glassy when they look at Rio.

Whereas you’re clad in a dress of rich layered fabric, Rio has opted for more masculine attire. The low heels of her dress shoes click upon the stone. The unwrinkled fabric of her suit smells of smoke.

Your heels don’t quite agree with the stone. After the fifth time of a near-twisted ankle, you huff, “Could I not have worn flat shoes?”

“The heels compliment your legs.”

“You can’t even see them.”

“Yet.” She winks.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the heat suffusing your cheeks. Another nod to a passing couple and Rio makes a sharp turn. You’re led into a damp, dim alleyway.

The ground is made from rough slabs of uneven stone. You curse when your heel slips and only Rio’s strength keeps you standing. Water slides down the walls on either side, thick moss growing in the cracks. You reach out to feel it only for your hand to come away red.

If not for Rio pulling you along, you’d have screamed. Blood cascades down the walls. From it grow dark, twisted plants you’ve studied beside The Road. Beneath the plants and out of them come bones; most have yellowed with age, but there is the occasional bright-white specimen.

Surprise aside, you lean toward the bones with interest. Still, Rio presses on.

The alleyway is growing slimmer by the second. Should it continue to do so, you’ll be forced to walk behind Rio, and the thought makes you tense.

Rio squeezes your hand, “Relax, sweetheart.”

“I’d relax more if I knew what we were doing here.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Before you’re forced to walk single-file, you come to the end. Rio traces a counter-sigil upon the stone. With a shudder, a door is revealed. Above the silver knocker, embedded in the door, sits an unblinking eyeball. The blue pierces you.

Rio pulls and slams the knocker. The eyeball falls from the door and hits the ground with a sickening pop. You nearly shriek while Rio makes noises of delight.

“Ooh,” She chuckles, “we’re not the first to arrive.”

You try not to think about what the eye must look like now, “Can I go home?”

“Why so squeamish all of a sudden? You handle the cadavers I bring you just fine.”

“That’s different. That’s research.”

“Who says this isn’t, sweetheart?”

The door opens soundlessly. Inside, the scene is much the same; another dark, slim space, though notably absent of plants and body parts. The owner of this place must be allergic to candles, the lighting situation is just pathetic.

Rio waits. When you make no move to walk inside, she sighs, nudging you with a hand on your lower back, “Ladies first.”

You’re not sure if being first or last is the worst. If anything is to jump from the walls now, you’ll take the brunt of it; you’re reminded of that day with Agatha all those years ago. Rio’s warmth at your back offers the strength you need to continue. Though, you do cling to her hand the whole way.

The hallway empties into a full room. Dark shelves match the height of the walls, on them jars full of ingredients. There are tables boasting dozens of drawers, though none sit open. Glasses and tools and cauldrons line the tabletops. In the center of it all are two figures; well, one figure and one corpse.

You can’t catch your breath. She’s as beautiful as the day you lost her.

“Agatha.” You whisper.

Agatha turns and smirks. She doesn’t look nearly as surprised to see you as you do her. Upon seeing you, her expression softens, eyes full of affection and longing. It hardens a bit when she glances behind you.

“You ruined the surprise.” Rio says, arms crossed, though one motions to the corpse, “We needed her.”

“What could you possibly need with a poison witch?”

“Our darling healer wanted to study with her.”

Something like regret turns Agatha’s face when she regards you. With a wave, she produces a thick book full of yellowing pages. You tilt your head when she offers it to you.

“Her life’s work. I’m sure there’s more here somewhere.” Agatha shrugs.

You take it and hold it to your chest reverently. All this time you thought Rio was putting you off about finding a competent poison witch and yet here you are, standing in her apothecary. She lies dead on the floor but you couldn’t care less when the real gift stands before you.

You long for her. You ache to feel the gentle caress of her hands on your face, the threat of her nails on your scalp.

A look at Rio tells you she isn’t entirely pleased with the turn of events. Yet when she sees your excitement some of her ire dissipates. The yearning in your eyes must be plain, since she gives you a single nod.

Book of poisons tossed onto the tabletop, you throw yourself into Agatha’s arms. She’s as steady as you remember. Her hand grips your chin and forces your lips to hers. Her hands are predictably firm wherever they land. She grips you as if afraid you’ll slip away. But her kiss, oh gods her kiss; soft lips and taunting, sharp tongue. The length of her body pressed against your own and so warm.

There are hands in your hair and this is all you’ve wanted—all you’ve craved for years. Why, then, do you feel the urge to cry? To rip the heart from your chest and banish it to where it won’t hurt?

Agatha is warm and steady. You bury your face in her neck and her in yours. Your hands shake with the force of clinging to her.

The feeling is bliss. Yet, it isn’t complete.

You glance over Agatha’s shoulder to Rio. She stands in the doorway, watching the scene with dark-eyed interest; but there’s a weariness in the set of her shoulders.

“Beloved.” You call, holding one of your hands out to her.

Rio raises a brow. Her eyes don’t stray from your outstretched hand.

“This is your gift, sweetheart.”

“And it’s incomplete without you.”

Her eyes stray to Agatha, who has taken to watching her, too. This time, Agatha’s eyes don’t harden. They maintain that soft look you melt for.

Agatha extends her own hand alongside yours.

“Come on.” Agatha urges, soft.

You watch the resolve break moments before she wedges her way into your embrace. Her fingers lace through yours, but her face is pressed into Agatha’s neck. She pushes and nuzzles like she wants to become part of her. It reminds you of the cat that visits the bower—Ebony—but you don’t dare say so.

Agatha’s hands leave you to caress Rio’s face. A thumb rubs along her cheekbone. You press yourself against Rio’s back, unable to glimpse her face but sure of the longing in her expression.

In a perfect world, there would be no separation between the three of you. No clothes, no emotional barriers, not even flesh to keep your hearts from mingling into one. You settle for Rio’s hand in your own and Agatha’s blue eyes locked on you.

You lean over Rio’s shoulder and kiss Agatha, your free hand fumbling with getting into the former’s pants. She chuckles darkly in your ear. It ignites a spark in your chest; a dangerous longing for this to remain, to be always. You try to push it away and focus on how Rio moans in your ear instead.

--

1869

“Will you walk with me?”

Rio nods, smiles grandly, “Of course.”

You laugh. She holds out her arm, ever the picture of a gentleman, but you lace your fingers through hers instead.

As a rare treat, you lead. You pull her along the road. The leaves change beneath your feet, from silver and black to the hues of autumn and then to pure green. The Road opens its arms into a clearing bathed in the color. Only the stone building in the center stands apart.

Upon your approach, flowers grow in the flattened grass where you step; honeysuckle and heliotrope, baby’s breath and red chrysanthemum. Rio glances over her shoulder as the blooms spring forth.

Ivy grows up the walls of the building. You brush a gentle hand over the leaves.

Crumbling, worn headstones en masse wait behind the building. 

Rio tilts her head, “What is this?”

The door is unlocked. You knew it would be. The Road cannot keep you from this place. 

Inside is warm and hazy. Papers with elegant scrawl cover every surface, books half-open litter any free spaces. Shelves line the walls, jars bearing various specimens. Plush couches overflow with deep, red cushions, begging you to sit and stay. A fire cracks in the fireplace.

Rio turns this way and that. She wanders around the room, flipping through books. A fingernail taps against a jar full of eyes. An errant paper is plucked from where it sits haphazardly atop the mantle. She stops.

You know the paper the second she comes into contact with it; can remember the way you wax poetic about how beautiful she is, how safe you feel in her arms. She picks another, then another, so on, and you know every word the second she touches them; the way she unwinds in Agatha’s arms, her face twisted in perfect fury, the lightless turn of her eyes when she teeters on the edge of wickedness.

She looks at you, vulnerable and unsure, “What is this?”

“My heart.”

“That… then why is all of this here?”

Her hand shakes the papers for emphasis. You resist the urge to laugh, lest she think you’re making light of her. Death can be cruel, but you try not to be.

You step close. Gently, the papers are extracted and returned to their places. Rio stares and hardly breathes as you take your face in her hands.

“You pulled away after that night.” You whisper, finger tracing her cupids-bow, “Do you think I touch you only because it is convenient?”

Rio’s lip curls. Fists bunch at her side, crackling with green light. You feel the rumble of her anger working through her chest. She tries to pull from your hold, but you don’t let her.

“Do you think I kiss you and pretend it’s her?”

Rio snarls, “I will kill you if you don’t stop talking.”

You smile. The threat is a real one, but you don’t fear it; the outcome is remaining by her side. With one hand you reach and pull one of her fists between you. You unravel it, trying not to flinch against the bursts of power over her skin. You press the palm of her hand over where your heart resides inside your chest.

The snarl fades just so. Fury still lingers in her eyes. You press your hand over hers and will her to see, to know.

“Look at the walls.” You order.

Upon the walls, plain and dark, shimmering scrawl appears. Agatha Harkness, it reads in shaky lettering; like a name carved into a tree. One signature turns into ten and ten into countless. Purple and shimmering is Agatha’s brand upon you. Rio yanks and reaches for the dagger she keeps handy.

Rio’s true name appears in shimmering green letters, then. Same as Agatha’s, there are countless signatures. They conjoin and overlap until the walls of your heart look like nothing more than a child’s colorful scribbles.

She stares at the walls in disbelief. The knife in her hand clatters to the ground.

“I’ve carved your names upon my heart so I’ll never forget who it belongs to.” You whisper.

“Sweetheart…”

You bend and collect her blade, pressing it into her hand, “Now do it yourself.”

Her hand wraps around the handle reflexively. Rio’s hand doesn’t leave the spot over your heart, feeling the steady, truthful beat.

“It’ll hurt you.” Rio says. She doesn’t bother hiding the desire in her voice.

You urge, “Make me hurt.”

Each artful stroke of her blade is slow. You whimper, but grip her wrist and push the blade deeper into your flesh. She scoffs when tears flood your eyes. The tears run down your cheeks while you smile, filled with bliss and ache in equal measure.

It’s a gift to love so deeply it wounds you. You never want her to stop; who, aside from your shared scar, holds such power? Who else in the world could touch your heart truly enough to carve into it?

There’s delight in her every movement. She consumes the pain of millions and yet, none of it is of her own making. She can only relish in what others have done; torture for a being who remains eternally intimate with the greatest methods of drawing out agony. Death has no free will but that you offer her—and she takes what none else would give, ravenously.

Is it enough?

Not forever, something tells you, you think it might be her, but for now.

--

1925 

“You called?” Rio asks. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re avoiding me.” 

Agatha leans against the wall beside a small window. The pane has been slid upward, letting in the sounds of the city below, releasing the smoke of Agatha’s cigarette into the air outside. 

The cigarette is clutched in gloved hands. Her expression is amused as she draws in and releases the smoke, watching it form the shapes she wills. Though it has no effect on such a witch, Rio admires the object’s capability of bringing Agatha infinitesimally closer to her. 

“We’ve been busy.” 

“Busy or not, I’d say twelve bodies earns me a visit. And with the bulk of good booze I just removed from the market, I’d say I’ve earned a little more.” 

An obvious lure with paltry bait, still Rio bites, “What do you have in mind?”

“Let me see her.” 

She should. You’ve come to accept Agatha’s absence in your life, but she sees how much time you spend in the bower, and how you flinch when her name comes up. Rio hadn’t expected the frequency of Agatha’s name on the lips of covens walking the road to be so overwhelming, but it always drives you right into her arms; that she will relish. 

But Death is not giving. She takes. Taking is, in fact, her favorite hobby. Twelve bodies is not enough to make up for the haunted look in your eyes. She wants more—will have it. Agatha has to earn you. 

“I’ll need a little more from you.” Rio drawls. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to kill that many witches here with the nightlife?” Agatha throws her hands up. Ash flies from the forgotten cigarette. 

The sounds of Chicago seem to grow louder, as if to aid her point. Rio grins. She crosses the small space and takes the cigarette, snuffing it out on the back of Agatha’s hand. The action prompts a quiet moan. 

“It shouldn’t be a problem. What I want, you have an abundance of.” Rio’s smile widens as she manipulates Agatha’s hand, removing the glove, pushing and prodding until purple flashes along the flesh. 

A cooling breeze sneaks in the window and rustles the fringe along Agatha’s dress. It’s a beautiful thing, short and decadent. Rio knows you’ve enjoyed the few sightings of the period fashion you’ve glimpsed, but like her, you’d enjoy this specific dress in a pile on the floor. 

Agatha’s eyes stare at where Rio’s flesh meets her own. Her eyes are contemplative, calculating. She hesitates. And that is her fatal mistake. 

Rio throws her across the room with a shove. Agatha’s side hits one of the walls and she falls, face-first, onto the mattress she’s been sleeping on. The springs shriek at the sudden weight. Agatha snarls, throwing out a blast of purple that slams into Rio’s chest. Rio moans something filthy. 

There’s a brief struggle where Rio does her best to keep Agatha pinned; to the bed, to the wall, wherever there’s a surface. Yet Agatha is slippery. Her magic whisks her right out of the hold Rio puts her in and wherever Agatha wills it; which currently, is behind the other witch so Agatha can kick the back of her knees. Rio kneels not of her own volition. 

She braces to stand, only to find the blade of her own dagger at her throat. 

Rio’s gaze has lost any warmth. Her affection is buried deep, beneath layers and layers of earth she craves to bury Agatha in right this second, “You’re breaking her heart.” 

“That shouldn’t be a problem, you like seeing her cry.” 

“When I’m the one responsible.” 

Agatha rolls her eyes. She maintains a carefully ambivalent expression. Rio knows better; knows, under all that forced emotion, that Agatha’s heart is waging against her head, warring over her selfish desire to keep every bit of power. 

Then, something shifts. Rio feels it. Agatha has made her choice and it isn’t you. And it ignites a rage in her chest unlike anything she’s felt in centuries. 

She snatches the dagger back from Agatha’s grasp and only just barely resists the urge to bury it in her chest. If she has to drag Agatha back to you kicking and screaming, she will. You would like that, wouldn’t you?

“I’ll kill you.” Rio vows, and means it. Agatha can’t run away from the two of you if her soul is Rio’s to keep. 

Agatha’s eyes flash with fear. Then, she grins around it, “If you can catch me.” 

Latin words roll off Agatha’s tongue faster than Rio can comprehend. She recognizes the words and what they mean, where they’ve come from. Rio reaches out with her magic for the Darkhold too late; it, and Agatha, have completely vanished from her awareness. 

When she returns to The Road and finds you pacing before the bower, she stops short. 

“Did you—is she dead?” You ask, worrying your lip. Though your eyes dart every which way, looking for whatever manifestation of Agatha you believe she’s brought you. 

“Sweetheart…” 

--

1937

“Do you think if I cut you open you would heal too fast for me to do any research?” 

Rio tilts her head, considering. She’s sprawled out on the plush couch inside the physical manifestation of your heart, toying with her knife, having a staring contest with the unblinking jar of eyes while you jot down thoughts into notebook number… well, she’s lost count. 

“Probably.” She answers, “I’m also not sure I have organs.” 

You pause, “How is that even possible?” 

“Magic, sweetheart.”

Leaning back, your mind begins to race; given how old she is, it would only make sense that the organs the body came with are gone, rotted away—but would the flesh not go with it? You massage your temples. Life magic is no easier to understand than Death magic. 

There’s only one way to test your hypothesis. You stand from your place at the table and cross to her, straddling her hips where she lay on the couch. 

“I want to see.” You say, holding out a hand. 

Rio hands over her dagger and sinks further into the couch, as if that is possible. She grins up at you with no shortage of delight. You do your best to tamp down on your own grin. 

The flesh beneath your hands is warm and smells of damp earth where you peel away her shirt. Her eyes darken with every inch of flesh revealed to you. Firm and unafraid, you press the tip of the dagger down against her sternum. The action earns you an exaggerated moan. 

You rip the dagger away, glaring, “Behave.” 

“Or what?” Rio taunts, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek. 

“Or I stop letting you watch my dissections.” 

She tenses, “You wouldn’t.” 

“Wouldn’t I, beloved?” 

“Get on with it.” 

You lean down and steal a quick kiss. It melts away the darling little pout on her lips. 

When you press the dagger back down, the flesh bends, but doesn’t open. You tilt your head and press harder. Rio watches, unphased. There is absolutely no give to her flesh. It gets to a point where you’re pressing your entire body weight behind the dagger, but Rio only laughs, squirming as if the action tickles. 

You whine and sigh. The dagger is dropped unceremoniously onto her chest while you lean an elbow against the back of the couch, sinking somewhat into the cushion. 

“If you want live specimens, we can collect some.” She soothes. 

The idea isn’t intolerable, but you shake your head. 

“They scream too much.” 

“Anesthetic exists, sweetheart.” 

“I suppose that’s true.” 

You look away, tracing the walls and their offerings with your eyes. Upon them hang paintings of your own making; scenes of life, death, love, fear—mostly fear. 

The human condition fascinates you, always has. Of the emotions to study, fear is the hardest; it is always fleeting in your wake; your face is too kind, too trustworthy, wiping away any sense of the unease you seek to study. You stare at your paintings and feel only distaste, knowing they’re not quite right. 

You can’t claim to have always had such taste. No, a cultivation for the finer flavors of life and death takes time. You can pinpoint where the itch started, however; that day in your childhood village when a dying soul reached out to you—scarcely were you a day older than four—and found no assistance. 

How beautiful it was; grisly, messy, but beautiful. You did not flinch away. Rather, you found yourself drawn in, eager to see more. And being of a coven of healers, your desire was fulfilled. Death was yours before you knew her name. 

Looking down at her, she stares back, unashamed to be caught. The heart in your chest—which has felt so stagnant in recent years—warms toward something almost pure. 

Rio will one day claim your soul. This, you know, and accept; your soul belonged to her the second you watched that woman die. You fear the when. What becomes of you when she claims your soul? What if you have yet to conduct all the research you desire? There is so much still to learn and you know she’ll abandon it for the chance to keep you. 

You love her, but you’ll never forgive her the knowledge you’ll one day lose. The warmth in your chest doesn’t ebb. 

Her top is still splayed open from your attempt at dissection. A healthy amount of flesh is bared to your eyes. You trace one finger from her neck to the center of her chest and tap, just above where a heart should be. 

“When you come for me,” You say, “I want to hold your heart in my hand.” 

“You already do.” She utters. 

“Will you let me study it, then, when I’m but a soul?” 

“You can study whatever you wish as long as it leads to me.”

--

1989

Agatha dwells on mistakes, often. She just doesn’t allow them to distract from her purpose. She is ruthless, to her very core. 

She spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to open the damned door to The Road. One coven after another, all failures. There is an obscene beauty in claiming a reward for what would otherwise be failure on her part. 

Time passes, enemies made, promises broken. She shrugs them all off. Yet she can’t shake the feeling of your hands in her hair, on her face. The lingering whisper of your kisses haunts her. The Darkhold whispers to her, oftentimes in language she shouldn’t comprehend, and it offers her the solution, should she just be patient; 

The Scarlet Witch

--

2026

The power that floats before you is biting and all too familiar. 

It fights against your hold, twisting and writhing like a wild animal, desperate to return to its mistress. But you’re stronger for now. The Scarlet Witch threw this power into the ether in her attempt at playing Death, and now it is yours to hold until Agatha comes for it. 

Anger rubs against the heart in your chest like a cat. You lean into it, feeling your own power respond to subdue that which isn’t yours. 

Rio watches beside you. She runs her fingers through the purple electricity contained in your palms, laughing when it fights her. Lips press against your temple. 

“Not long now.” She assures you. 

You feel longing and fury in equal measure. 

“I want her soul, Rio.” You whisper. 

A small chuckle, low beside your ear. It sends shivers down your spine. Her hand grasps your chin and turns you to face her, her lips meeting your own. The kiss is soft. You melt into it. 

She pulls back, tone careful, “You didn’t walk The Road, sweetheart.” 

You have not earned what The Road promises to grant. 

--

2026

Agatha doesn’t expect the end of The Road to look like Agnes’ Westview home, nor does she expect to see Rio perched on the roof, leaning back, as if waiting. But every step closer to the front yard makes her more furious. 

She is owed her prize. 

Upon her first step in Agnes’ yard, the front door opens, and she is blasted with something so strong that it knocks her back to The Road, on her back. She groans. Yet, she feels more alive than she has in centuries. Her body shudders with its missing piece; her power curling up in her veins, pleased to be home. 

She sits up, wincing at the ache in her bones that continues despite the gift she’s received. Leaves stick to the back of her arms, little pieces having crunched beneath her weight and adhered to her skin. She does her best to brush them away while getting to her feet. 

Rio remains on the roof, grinning. 

There, on the porch of Agnes’ house, is you. All the glory of you. 

Agatha’s heart leaps in her chest despite the scowl on your face. To her, you haven’t aged a day; still the young, fresh-faced witch following at her heels, dizzy on knowledge and the thrumming power inside. Time has not erased the love she has—so great it threatens to bring her to her knees. 

“Dearest…” Agatha murmurs, taking a half-step forward. 

“You have your prize.” You sneer. 

Your heart aches, begging you to go to her; hasn’t it been centuries? But your pride holds you back. She left you here while she gallivanted around the world getting what she wanted. 

There’s a brief flash of hurt on Agatha’s face, before it morphs into a wicked grin. Her posture changes, too, to something more proud, as she slinks across the yard toward the porch. You resist the urge to take a step back. 

“No, I don’t.” She drawls, “Are you going to be a good pet and come home willingly, or do I have to put you on a leash?” 

Something inside you burns for her. You ache for her touch, for her to force you to do what she wants. It creeps through the cracks of your pride and turns it into something else. You stick out your chin. Agatha snickers. 

Magic pulses in your palms, pulling various items from around you to throw—not fast enough. Agatha has you kneeling with your hands bound in a blink. 

“That’s not very nice, dear. And after all I’ve done to get here.” 

You regain some of your fight, snarling, “You left me here.” 

Agatha hums. 

“Into the deal you stumbled your way into. I’m not the one who tied herself to The Road in a fit of pride.” 

“You were leaving me regardless. If I was going to be handed off, I was going to do it on my own terms.” 

“Did I specify a length of time in my proposal? Was there any explicit mention of how long She could have you before I came back?” Agatha asks, mean-spirited joy in her eyes upon watching the realization dawn in your own. All that time you spent agonizing… when you had shackled yourself, “Years lost because you wanted to be a self-righteous brat.” 

There’s a lilt to her voice that clues you in to everything you’d once seen instinctually; Agatha has been in just as much anguish as you have, left to walk the world alone. You see the pain in her eyes. Just like then, you try to get to her now, eager to fix it, to wipe it away. 

The binding around your arms keeps you stationary. You whine and pull against it. 

“Agatha,” You whine, “I’m sorry.” 

“You will be.” She says. Then she turns to your left, finger poised and accusing, “And you—you kept her away from me.” 

Rio shrugs, smiling, “I couldn’t just make it easy on you.” 

Agatha waves a hand and Rio is kneeling on the porch at your side, similarly bound. Yet where you look pained, she is delighted. 

“I’m sorry.” You repeat, “I didn’t mean to be bad.” 

“That doesn’t change that you were.” 

A cloud of purple smoke announces your arrival to the inner bedroom of Agnes’ house. It doesn’t look like what you’ve seen from Rio, though. Where Agnes had been bland and cookie-cutter, this is rich fabrics and deep wood. It is Agatha through and through. 

You and Rio kneel side-by-side at the foot of the bed, where Agatha perches. Her beautiful blue eyes don’t miss the slightest movement you make. She’s clad in a dark robe with snakes and flowers that has Rio leaning forward in interest. 

Agatha’s eyes lock on you, “You’re going to apologize. Properly.” 

“I’m sorry—” 

“With your tongue.” 

Leaning back on her forearms, Agatha spreads her legs, and you feel the desire in your body rush through you. It’s so strong you feel your head begin to pound. She’s pink and dripping and all you want is to do a good job for her. 

Yet, ever the brat, you lean forward and start with kissing her inner thighs. With every press of your lips to the delicate flesh you murmur an apology. She sighs. 

A hand weaves into your hair and yanks you back. Her eyes are dark. Her face is set in a punishing expression but you see the yearning in her that matches your own. She yanks again, lighter, and you moan. 

“What did I say?” She asks, before directing you where she wants you. 

Witches don’t subscribe to the idea of what a human would call heaven, but upon tasting her, you think you could get behind it. She’s warm and sweet. You flatten your tongue and drag it along her slit just to collect a better taste of her. Agatha’s hand presses you in harder as she moans. 

Without the use of your fingers, you have to use your tongue well. You stiffen it as much as you’re able when you delve inside her and hope it is even slightly close enough to satisfy. The pathetic sounds reaching your ears—breathy moans, sweet whimpers—tell you that you’re doing fine. 

“Good girl.” Agatha breathes out. 

You clench around nothing. You’re sure that you’ve ruined your undergarments thoroughly from how wet you are. 

Eager for more praise, you direct your attention to that small, fleshy bundle of nerves begging for your attention. You swirl your tongue around her clit and her hips stutter, before they grind against your face with a renewed sense of purpose. You smile. 

“Yes—there, more—” Agatha stutters. 

You were born to do as she commands. All you want is to make her happy. Following her directions is as easy as breathing. 

The tip of your tongue alternates between circling her clit and flicking it. Every flick earns you a high-pitched oh! and a firm grinding of her hips. Her thighs are tightening around your head, but she’s putting up a good fight. Her legs quiver. 

“There—there—I’m going to—” Is all the warning you’re given before Agatha shrieks and comes while rutting against your mouth. You lap up every drop of her wetness you can get with glee. You did this, you brought her this pleasure; the knowledge sends a happy jolt through you. 

Agatha’s grip on your hair releases and you lean back, taking in big lungfuls of air. She stares down at you with a thoroughly fucked-out expression that makes you preen. 

Then she leans over and pulls your lips to hers. She moans against the taste of herself on your lips, tongue collecting the flavor from your lips. You throw every ounce of love you possess into the kiss—willing her to understand the longing you felt, the thousands of hours you spent watching her lifeline just to make sure she was safe. 

“Good girl.” Agatha murmurs, pressing little kisses all over your face, “My good girl.” 

“All yours.” You agree.

She laughs, low and smooth, “That’s not quite the truth, is it?” 

The two of you turn to regard Rio in unison. She remains in the position Agatha left her in, kneeling and bound. You admire her restraint at not breaking the bindings. Though you guess Agatha wouldn’t take kindly to that. 

Rio’s eyes are black with desire. They dart between the two of you. She takes in the wetness on your face, licking her lips. You can feel her eagerness for a taste. 

She’s writhing a bit in her restraints, pressing her thighs together and wiggling, looking for any source of friction she can find. Agatha tuts and she stops. If it were up to you, your face would be between her thighs, ears enjoying every sound she makes. But it isn’t up to you. 

Agatha scoots back up the bed until she’s sitting against the headboard. That’s when you feel the restraints on you fall away. She beckons the two of you with a finger and you both follow the command, eager. 

“Come here.” Agatha urges you specifically, patting her bare thigh. 

You obey and straddle the appendage, shuddering against the feeling against your throbbing clit. There’s a split second where you think of just grinding down and taking what you want. But you don’t—you have to be good. 

Words pass between Agatha and Rio during your silent struggle. When you look, she’s lying along the length of the bed, legs bunched up and spread wide next to you. 

“What am I going to do with you both?” Agatha muses. 

“Fuck us?” Rio drawls. 

“You, my good girl,” Agatha says, ignoring Rio as she soothes a hand through your hair, “are going to use me until you come. And my bad girl isn’t going to come until I tell her she can.” 

You shudder, whimpering, while Rio whines next to you. Agatha kisses your forehead while dealing a slap to Rio that makes her groan. 

A hand settles onto your hip and begins to guide you through the motions of grinding against her. The friction is difficult to attain with how wet you are, but you do what you can, crying out everytime the pressure is just enough to make your toes curl. It won’t take long for you to finish. 

Your face is buried in Agatha’s neck, where you press loving little kisses to the flesh. As a result you cannot see Rio. But you hear her; every movement of Agatha’s deft fingers through her wetness, every growl and keen of desire, every slap of Agatha’s hand when she gets a bit too eager. She won’t last long either, from what you can tell. 

The image of Rio and Agatha in your mind is enough to push you toward that delightful little taste of death. Your hands tighten over Agatha’s shoulders. 

“Agatha, can I—please?” You plead. 

“So obedient, asking for permission even when you don’t need to.” Agatha praises, “Go on, darling.” 

With her hand guiding you and her voice in your ear, you come so hard you see stars behind your eyes. You’re not sure what sound leaves your lips, only that your throat aches afterward. 

You tune back in to hear a brutal slap of flesh on flesh. Rio snarls. 

“Beg.” Agatha’s voice commands in your ear, though you know it isn’t for you. 

Rio stays stubbornly silent. 

The sounds of Agatha toying with her come to an abrupt halt. You don’t have the strength to lift your face from your refuge, but you can imagine that stubborn, yet pleading look in Rio’s face; wanting so deeply but not willing to give up what is required. 

“If you don’t want to behave, she can have your pleasure instead.” 

“No! I’ll—” You hear Rio grit her teeth, “Please, Agatha. Please let me come.” 

Agatha laughs. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She coos. 

Seconds—or maybe minutes—before Rio wails. There’s something primordial and animalistic wrapped inside it, almost like a growl. It makes you shudder. Then all that's left in the room is the sound of breathing. 

You spent so long aching for something just like this. It’s beautiful, though you know it can’t stay; all three of you are far too ambitious to live a domestic existence, but it’s nice for now. You missed them. The heart in your chest feels complete again, filling to the brim with affection. 

Tears seep from your eyes and you pull back before Agatha can question it, though you do feel her stiffen. You press kisses to her neck, her sternum, the inside of her wrist; then you grab Rio’s hand and press kisses to every pad of her fingers. 

With every kiss, you murmur I love you. 

--

2027 

“If you don’t sedate him at least a little bit, his heart is going to give out.” 

Rio’s sudden voice next to you isn’t surprising. You’ve grown used to her coming and going—Death waits for no one, after all. Her lips press to your cheek and you accept the affection. 

“She did sedate him. Three times.” Agatha’s voice calls from the next room. 

“Oh, I see.” 

Rio leans over to examine the man on your table with no shortage of interest. He stares back, eyes impossibly wide. His heart rate picks up. 

“What is he?” She asks. 

“Not sure. Rapid regeneration, odd capabilities. Mutant, maybe?” 

“He’s certainly not a witch.” Agatha’s leaning against the doorway now, arms folded over her chest, “Though it is taking a fair amount of magic to keep him subdued.” 

“He’s no match for you, naturally.” You compliment. 

Both Agatha and Rio grin at that. The former comes up behind you, hands settling on your hips. Her lips press against your neck. Then, she leans over and steals a kiss from Rio, who is all too eager to meet her halfway.

You smile. The heart in your chest threatens to burst—not unlike the specimen in front of you. 

“Well, aren’t you sweet today.” Agatha comments. 

“Aiming for a reward?” Rio asks. 

Rio kisses her way up the flash of skin available to her eyes, making you sigh, leaning back into Agatha’s hands. Then Agatha’s lips fasten to the other side of your neck. Your head falls back and you laugh. Then you moan. 

The experiment on your table is forgotten as you’re dragged into the next room and bent into all sorts of shapes you couldn’t even imagine on your own. Oh, well; if he dies before the six hour mark, you can always just find another one. The same cannot be said of the witches bracketing you. And oh, how beautiful that is. 

[silverfairywings]

— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT III

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: sorry for such a long break!! pls let me know what u think and again if you’d like to be added to the tag list send me a message or ask as I rarely check my notifs and go back to them. also sorry abt the cliffhanger uhmmmm also unedited ok bye

“You look like crap.”

Your eyes flutter open to see Mor scrunching up her face as she peers at you from her seat across your own at the dining table. It takes a second for her words to register and you throw a belated scowl her way.

“Good morning to you too,” you mumble, sitting up to continue swirling your spoon around your bowl of barely eaten oatmeal. Your appetite seems to have vanished over the past week, but you try and force a spoonful down your throat, nearly gagging.

Mor narrows her eyes at you and her lips press into a thin line of concern. “No, you seriously look like crap. You’re not eating lately and you were literally asleep at the table when I got here.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say, defensively. “I was resting my eyes.”

“You sound like Cassian after a three hour afternoon nap.”

“I’m just having a little trouble sleeping.” You set your spoon down and push the offending bowl away from you before slumping in your seat. You brush off her skeptical look with a wave of your hand. “I’m always like this after absorbing Fae magic.”

And over the last few days you’ve been absorbing a lot. All in an attempt to find out as much as you could about the Fae rebel group that had been attacking the borders of multiple Courts, in order to weaken them and make a point against you.

Well, you and your sisters. Not all of Prythian was accepting of Feyre for how she was Made, and even less so of you and Nesta and Elain. Instead, they viewed you as unnatural mutations and the whispers had only become worse after the War. It seemed that the lack of conflict looming over Prythian was unacceptable in their eyes.

With the help of your powers and Azriel’s shadows, you were closer than ever to finding them. Truthfully, the idea that there were Fae out there who hated you didn’t bother you so much in the sense of feeling like outcasts, but you couldn’t lie. They were starting to be a giant pain in your ass.

“You’re never like this,” Mor scoffs, gesturing to the bags under your eyes and the hollowness of your cheeks. As her voice raises, the pounding of your head gets more intense and you attempt to hold back a grimace. “Why is it affecting you so much this time?”

“It’s the type of magic I’m absorbing,” you practically whine, abandoning all pretences of being okay and allowing your shoulders to drop. “It’s so angry and harsh and impure, Mor! It’s literally making me sick because I have nowhere else to redirect it.”

At that moment Rhysand and Feyre walk in to join you at the table.

Rhysand, having overheard you, chimes in as he reaches for a plate of fruit. “Good news, our little Siphon,” he nudges you lightly, the nickname making you scrunch your nose up in mock annoyance. “We have enough information now to move forward using Az and Cass and resources from other Courts. The only thing we need you to do now is rest.”

Rhysand’s upbeat tone brings a weak smile to your face. You know that he’s being flippant to make you feel better, like he always does when you’re stressed or unwell and you’re nothing but appreciative as he whistles under his breath, nonchalantly piling some fruit onto a plate for you.

“You should have been resting days ago,” Feyre eyes you from beside Rhys with furrowed brows, taking in your tired form. “We told you yesterday would be too much.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Give me a couple hours and I’ll be fine for the meeting in Summer.”

Mor snorts and looks up at you, amused. When you raise an eyebrow, her smile drops into an incredulous expression. “You’re not serious.”

“I need to be there to discuss what I siphoned from that knife we found at the border of Dawn,” you say, holding up a hand and rushing out the rest of your words when Feyre opens her mouth to speak. “And Rhys promised me I would be there since it’ll be all the High Lords, Court informants and even soldiers. I couldn’t possibly not go.”

Feyre sighs, sensing that you’re not going to back down. She nods slowly, pointing at your plate. “Finish all of your breakfast and your lunch later on and then you can go.”

You let out a breath, feeling nauseous when Rhys slides your plate closer to you and simply shrugs when you glare at him. Traitor, you speak to him in your mind. He suddenly becomes very interested in a strawberry.

“Watch me,” you say confidently, waving your fork at Feyre who rolls her eyes at you and goes back to her own breakfast.

Summer court is your least favourite court at the best of times, though you’d never admit that to sweet and kind Tarquin, who’s arguably one of your favourite High Lords.

The beautiful, shimmering lagoons aren’t of interest to you as large bodies of water have always unsettled you. The warm breeze that everyone welcomes always reminds you of the times you had to suffer through sweltering heat when foraging for food with Feyre in your adolescence. You’ve always preferred a colder climate and appreciated a more muted daylight.

Considering your current health, the ripples in the water make you dizzy and the light salty breeze nearly brings your breakfast and lunch up.

You’re thankful for the sheer, thin material of the sage coloured dress that Nuala and Cerridwen chose for you because you suddenly feel a sheen of sweat covering your body.

“Are we done sightseeing?” you ask weakly, desperate to be inside already.

Elain turns to you and winces. “You don’t look too good….”

“Aw, thank you, Elain.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she tuts, coming over to fan your face with her hands. You swat them away, sputtering and try to catch Rhysand’s attention to move things along. He reluctantly agrees and gestures everyone to move along, too used to your aversion to Summer.

As you all enter the palace made of gleaming marble, you hang further back to avoid the watchful eyes of Feyre who seems to be waiting to send you right back home to rest.

The palace is beautiful and you push down your nausea to look around and take in the tall arched windows. The jewelled embellishments adorning the frames trail higher and higher and you crane your neck to see them.

This turns out to be a mistake when your vision starts to blur and another wave of nausea causes your steps to falter, the world tilting sharply.

A firm hand grips your elbow in an all too familiar fashion, steadying you before you’re sent flying to the ground. Another hand settles around your waist where the cutout of your dress exposes your now damp skin, glittering with sweat.

You look up and find Eris’ amber eyes locked onto your own.

“Foolish,” he mutters, his voice sharp with irritation, yet his hands remain steady in their position, holding you up. It’s the first word he’s uttered to you since your encounter a couple of weeks ago in the Spring Court where he’d left on frosty terms. You had seen him twice since then, but it was in the middle of meetings and siphoning sessions and he had barely spared you a single glance.

Your lips part but your senses are too overwhelmed to think of a response before he carries on, lightly shaking his head at you. “You overexert yourself all week and then travel here? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m fine,” you manage to say, pulling away from him, but his grip only tightens. You can’t help glancing around and noticing that the growing crowd of all the Court officials has separated you from the Inner Circle. You huff out a breath as you register his words. You knew Rhysand had to communicate with the other High Lords with updates, but you didn’t know that included your physical state. “Gods, High Lords are such gossips…”

“You’re not fine,” he says, scowling like you’ve dreadfully inconvenienced him by nearly collapsing. His gaze flickers over the pallor of your skin and the way you’ve started to shiver slightly. “You drained yourself dry this week. And for what? To impress Rhysand? To prove something to him?”

“Let go of me, Eris,” you attempt to snap at him, but even you can hear the lack of strength in your voice. His eyes soften slightly when you say his name without your usual bite. “I can’t have this same conversation with you when I’m like this.”

“You think I want to be the one always catching you from falling on your face? Trust me when I say I have things I would rather be doing,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes.

You grit your teeth at the reminder and heat flares in your cheeks, whether it’s from embarrassment, anger or the climate of Summer, you don’t know.

Before you can retort, Eris sighs and straightens you up, still not fully letting you go. Releasing the hand around your waist, he loops your arm in his own and makes you lean on him for support. To your utter surprise, he doesn’t say anything as he starts walking towards the meeting room where everyone else files in. Despite your frustration, you’re grateful for his strength.

The moment of blissful silence doesn’t last too long, however. As he begins to lead you to where your family is stood and clearly looking around frantically for you, Eris leans in to whisper in your ear. “You need to sit down at the table,” he orders quietly, High Lord behaviour on full display.

You’re about to argue that no one else is going to be sat and he immediately catches this, cutting you off. “Don’t be stubborn for once in your life,” he murmurs, breath warm against your ear, making you shiver more than you already were. “Please?”

You quickly turn your head to meet his, shocked at the pleading in his voice. You didn’t realise how close this would bring your own face to his and words leave you. Thankfully, you’ve reached your family as you hear Cassian’s loud voice and it snaps you out of your little bubble.

“Finally!” he exclaims, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “We were about to send a search and rescue team, thinking you’d finally collapsed.”

“Why didn’t you?” Eris asks, coldly.

Cassian merely rolls his eyes at Eris’ attitude and gestures at Azriel.

Feyre comes forward to take your other arm in hers and explains. “Azriel’s shadows informed us that you were with her, Eris.” She smiles warmly and sincerely at him and Rhysand nods at him in recognition of his actions. “Thank you for looking after my sister.”

Eris shakes his head. “Don’t thank me yet. I foresee many falls in her near future that I’m sure I won’t be present for.”

Feyre’s mouth twitches, but she quickly smoothes her face into an expressionless one when you frown at her and she busies herself with disentangling you from Eris.

He takes a step back, dark and fiery hair catching the sunlight through the tall windows and glances at you once more, not breaking eye contact, yet his words are directed towards Feyre. “Just make sure she sits down. The Night Court doesn’t need a martyr,” he says drily, before walking away.

Your mouth goes dry at the double meaning in his words, but you can’t shake off the shock at seeing genuine concern in his eyes. You must have looked practically near death, but you appreciated it all the same and you don’t even realise your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away until Feyre sits you down next to Nesta.

Your older sister raises an eyebrow at you, always so intuitive and you swat weakly at her to look away from you. Cassian’s eyes flit back and forth between you two, confused.

Before he can say anything, the meeting commences and you feel a shift in the energy of the room, full to the brim of Court officials, emissaries, a few warriors and of course, the High Lords around the table.

Your turn to speak comes fairly quickly since the most information regarding the Rebels is from you and Azriel. As per Rhysand’s instructions, you don’t go into any details regarding your siphoning powers, instead just sharing the information you gained due to them. You try to ignore the way people are staring at your weak form, but you continue to speak with all the strength you can muster. Evidently, you’re doing a convincing job as people start to nod, satisfied and scribble things down.

When Azriel’s turn arrives, you zone out a little, already having heard everything a few times over. Your ears only perk up when everyone is discussing plans of action against the Rebels and a question is asked in your general direction.

“Who are we thinking is to be at the front lines of this hypothetical mission?” The question comes from one of the Spring Court advisors, Vaelith, an older Fae with silver hair gathered in one long braid down his back.

His gaze lingers on you for only a split second before moving onto Rhysand and you feel compelled to answer. “Myself and Azriel,” you blurt out, before you can think twice. “And others of course, but the two of us are the most familiar with-”

“We’re all aware of the Shadowsinger’s abilities,” Vaelith interrupts you, holding up a hand to stop you from talking. You hold back a scowl. “What makes you suitable to lead such a mission aside from your… familiarity with a selection of items left behind by these Rebels?”

“I’m more than able to-” you cut yourself off and swallow, gaining yourself a second to think of a way to defend yourself without giving away your powers, as per your High Lord’s request.

Careful, Y/N

Rhysand’s voice sounds clear as day in your head and you try not to wince at the volume considering the silence of the rest of the room. The other High Lords knew of your powers, but Rhysand had requested they keep it to themselves, even from their own Court officials. Whether or not Rhysand had used his Daemati abilities to ensure this, you didn’t want to know.

“I’m more than able to assist in a plan of action,” you continue firmly, voice hardening. “I’m not sure if you remember a certain War we just had, but you may wish to remind yourself who was at the front lines of that.”

A few laughs break the tense silence and some people start muttering, slowly raising the volume of the room. You almost don’t hear Vaelith’s next words. “You haven’t really answered my question.”

“Let’s use our senses, Vaelith,” a voice rings out from further down the table and you’re startled to realise that Eris is speaking up. The room finally quietens down and you sit up impossibly straight, surprised that Eris is about to defend you.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

He only spares you a fleeting glance, but even from your seat you could see it’s full of amusement and mocking. The thing that surprises you is that the mocking is directed at you. “Look at her. Are you really questioning the abilities of a female who barely has the strength to sit up in her seat, let alone fight?”

Your stomach drops, a ball of humiliation unfurling in your chest as he continues to speak.

“I’d like to believe Rhysand has more sense than to send someone on the frontlines who would just be doing the rebels a favour,” Eris drawls, raising an eyebrow at Rhys, still avoiding your gaze.

Rhysand nods. “I can assure you I’ll only be sending my strongest soldiers, Vaelith,” he smirks, faintly, as though the implication he’d do anything to suggest otherwise is laughable. “Now may we discuss matters of actual importance? Tarquin, what have your soldiers been preparing?”

The tension dissolves almost immediately, but you’re still shellshocked, shaking with anger rather than weakness now. It’s as though you’ve been pumped with a burst of adrenaline and it doesn’t seem to be dampening.

After the conversation has shifted to a completely different subject, you shift from your seat as discretly as possible and mutter to Nesta that you need some air before standing up.

You look at the High Lord of Autumn before you walk away, but it only infuriates you more. Eris doesn’t look anywhere near you, but his jaw is clenched all the same, as though he can feel you glaring at him.

Mor catches your arm as you’re walking out and hisses in your ear. “You’re still not well,” she turns her body fully towards you. “Wait for me to come with you.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head and clenching your fists to keep them from trembling as you speak through gritted teeth. “I feel suddenly energised. I’ll only be outside.”

Mor gives you a once over and is clearly satisfied with the fact that you’re unlikely to collapse again as she nods and releases your arm, allowing you to rush through the crowd of people and push through the guards.

You walk briskly away from the doors of the meeting room and further down the empty hallway until you’re satisfied that no one will hear your heavy breathing.

You lean against a pillar, exhaling in and out to control your anger and keep the tears at bay. Gods, you feel so stupid. Of course, Eris is incapable of being a decent male to anyone, let alone to you. Damn him and his cruel smirk and damn Rhysand too for allowing it to happen.

Brushing away the tears that have managed to fall, you curse yourself for not just pushing him away and allowing yourself to collapse on the hard marble flooring. It was giving you whiplash the way he could be so full of concern one second and practically call you useless in front of a room full of officials the next.

The longer you stand against the marble pillar, the weaker you begin to feel and that burst of adrenaline you previously felt is no longer present. The anger that fuelled you mere seconds ago is now winding you and a rising sense of panic begins to consume you.

You decide to turn around to walk back so you’re closer to the doors of the meeting room in case you embarrassingly do collapse.

However, the second you take a step, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye is all the warning you get before strong arms clamp around you from behind and a cloth is pressed against your mouth and nose, preventing you from breathing. You can’t even scream as the scent of something strong and chemical floods your senses, making your vision blur.

You thrash around in an attempt to use the little strength you have left to escape, but the arms only grip you harder and the world begins to spin. The last thing you feel is the cool marble floor as your knees give out and no one bothers to catch you as you hit the ground, darkness swallowing you whole.

tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant @deepestmentalityperson @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @abysshaven @nayaniasworld @rcarbo1 @paleidiot @tenshis-cake @bunnyredgirl @goldenmagnolias @whydohumansss @fandomtrash465 @mrsbarnes32557038 @aaprilshowers @scarsandallaz @-im-fantastic- @cat-or-kitten @annamariereads16 @adelina-127 @onlymexsarah @puddlesplasher17 @eyes-capone @hermaeuswhora

[kyu-piddy]

Ranking (some) twst love triangles on how messy they are

An: This is a very informal ranking and very informal type of writing. They’re just little overviews of how I personally think these love triangles would function. Hope you enjoy it. :)

Ps: This is the first time I publish something that features my favorite character! Hopefully I didn’t favor him too much.

Gn reader x Trey, Cater, Azul, Jade, Jamil, Kalim, Silver, Lilia

Trigger warnings: Swearing

2.1k words

Tiers:

S tier- The love triangle of doom. Messiest love triangles, where it’s all too melodramatic and/or complicated.

A- Not as messy as the above, but still a delicate bomb to diffuse.

B- Standard love triangle. They aren’t at each other's throat constantly, but leave them alone long enough and they will start fighting.

C- Chill love triangle. Either because they’re really good friends, or just because they’re that confident in their victory.

D- Is this even a love triangle? There are indeed two people who like you, but one has dropped out of the race for one reason or the other.

Trey vs Cater

Do you know those times where you and a stranger are both trying to get through a door in opposite directions, and while trying to let the other pass you just keep getting in front of each other, in a sort of embarrassing dance of polite smiles while internally cursing the other person? Well, that is basically the Trey x Reader x Cater love triangle.

Cater and Trey are both really perceptive of their own feelings and of others, so they would be aware of the others' crush.

They’re also some of the fakest motherfuckers in the cast (only behind Azul, Jade and Jamil) so they would not even think of confronting each other.

Initially they’d put this veneer of pseudo politeness, throwing some double entendres to each other and not making any moves on you.

But as time progresses they’re definitely becoming little shits to each other.

Trey is exploiting his baking talent and his unique magic to the max, making your favorite foods and serving them to you and Cater, making sure you see how Cater gags as he tries it, the food's flavor being imposed with a horrid one like old socks.

Trey is also using his dependable and mature reputation to give you advice that subtly favors him and subtly makes Cater look like a dunce.

Man is full on telling you every embarrassing story of Caters disguised as going down on a trip to memory lane, but always while you’re with more people around, so they can tell you how Trey swept in and saved the day.

Cater on the other hand, is making sure to seduce you with his tech savviness and social media knowledge.

He’s taking you to the hottest places in town and taking pictures of you both, posting them on his magicam with suspicious captions that make a ton of your friends start asking about your “boyfriend”.

Cater is also loudly proclaiming to everyone who will listen in the Heartslabyul common room the plans he had that day with you.

He used to also proclaim the ones he would have in the future, but stopped after Trey crashed one of his cafe hopping dates with you, creating the most bizarre outing of your life, balancing the polite shit talking of these two.

If Cater didn’t live with Trey he’d probably dox him on the twisted wonderland equivalent of Twitter. Trey would do the same if he knew how to use Twitter.

The worst part is that neither of them will back off or give the finishing blow of confessing.

They're stuck in this loop of ruining the others momentum that their friendship is close to breaking, so either you notice and step up, or someone else notices and gives them a stern talking to.

Out of their dorm, the only one besides them I see figuring it out, is Ace, but Ace is no match for Trey and Cater.

They’re denying it to his face and making Ace feel like a complete idiot.

When you finally notice the mess that these two have made, if you don’t confront them, they’re still going to be in denial.

You have to be firm! Tell them head on who you want, before they make the whole of Heartslabyul collapse.

In terms of the messiness of this love triangle, I give it a B.

It’s annoying and messy, since they’re both so evasive and a little lacking in the making substantial moves department, but they’re still chill on how they treat you and the uninvolved parties (most of the time at least).

Azul vs Jade

Azul and Jade are both conniving and scheming master mind wannabes, but they also tend to rely on each other for support, so pairing them up against each other will lead to some sort of 4d intergalactic chess competition between them, while you are playing checkers and surprisingly still winning.

They’re the kind of smart that turns back around into being kind of stupid.

Jade is like a weird kid in a horror movie, all weird phrases and sinister smiles, but Azul isn’t much better with his mob boss vibe.

You can try running from them, but these fuckers must have put some sort of tracking gps on you because they always appear at the worst time.

Neither of them really knows how to even be romantic to win you over.

Azul is following some sort of guide like “How to make her fall for you in a fortnight”, taking notes and everything.

But he does tend to exaggerate with his gestures, not as much as Kalim would, but just enough to seem sorta of fake.

He’d even try to offer you suspiciously good deals, like “Go on a date with me and I’ll give you a study guide for alchemy”.

He only added one teensy eensy hidden clause that if he didn’t enjoy the date enough, you’d have to accept to go on another one.

But Jade is there to rain on his parade and tell you exactly what line and page you should search for suspicious activity.

Unlike Azul, Jade doesn’t try to conform to the human way of courting.

He is going to share his mushroom collection with you and also scare the shit out of you with ominous warnings of their specific properties.

He’d probably even make stuff up or embellish it to sound worse just to see your reaction.

Azul is definitely trying to end any time you have with Jade, giving him tasks right as the eel is spending time with you.

But it tends to go bad for Zuzu, as Jade just brings you along or purposefully half asses the task.

They’re also snipping each other with pointed comments that sound more like thinly veiled threats of violence.

Well, Jade’s threats are more violence oriented, while Azul’s are more of the mansplain manipulate malewife variety.

But what neither of them was prepared for was Floyd’s fourth wheeling.

Initially, Floyd thought it was pretty funny to see the other two beefing, but he gets bored fast.

He’s going to start taking you away from the other two so he can watch them fume in anger.

If he’s in the mood, he might even try to play matchmaker with one of them, or start shit talking both of them. The latter is more likely.

This is another pair of fools who won’t confess. They pride themselves so much as always being thirty steps ahead that they will try their hardest to create a situation where you have to choose one of them.

But it might all be for nothing because Floyd might just feel like telling you and then there goes any sense of mysteriousness down the drain.

I’ll give this love triangle an A. It’s definitely messy as hell, but it could always be worse.

Kalim vs Jalim

Oh boy. This is the love triangle from hell. Nuclear fallout levels of toxicity, and you’re the bomb.

This is a type of love triangle that no one even knows is a love triangle.

Kalim is the most obvious person on the planet with his crush.

He's showering you with expensive gifts, buttering you up like you’re a particularly tasty muffin and following you around like a lost puppy.

Even though he’s doing all that, homeboy will not use his brain cell to deduce he has a crush on you immediately.

As soon as he does figure it out (which bless his heart, might take a bit) he will be dead set on confessing to you, only being stopped by Jamil.

Jamil is putting the brakes on Kalims stunts, but not out of the kindness of his heart.

He knows he can’t directly stop Kalim, so instead he’s going to try to slow him down, and win you over behind everyone’s back.

Jamil is actually good at the art of romancing.

He’ll offer you tasty meals (disguised as leftovers of the things he made for Kalim), to braid your hair.

He’ll even offer really solid advice.

The two problems with all of this are that 1) Kalim will most definitely barge in at every given opportunity and cockblock the hell out of Jamil, and 2) You can very easily misinterpret this as friendly or even as part of his duties.

You and everyone else, that is.

I can’t see anyone figuring out Jamil’s crush on you. He’s one of the most discreet people on campus with his feelings.

And with the added grief of sharing them with Kalim, he’s keeping it under lock and key.

Kalim is going to confess. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.

He’s strangely serious about the whole thing, bringing a 24 karat ring, with a red diamond bigger than your finger to prove his love to you.

Jamil is fuming. It’s like a kick to the nuts, and what I see it making him step up his game and basically confess to you as well.

He’d confess in a very roundabout way, the kind of confessing that leaves you wondering if you’re reading too much in between the lines. But remember, this is Jamil! Reading inbetween the lines is a required skill to actually understand this man.

This is such a messy love triangle honestly. If you choose Kalim, it’s going straight to Jamil’s mind chamber of repressed trauma. If you don’t choose Kalim, you’re going to have to deal with Al-Asim tears (he ain’t used to being told no in any capacity), which makes Jamil’s duties more stressful.

For all these reasons, I put this love triangle at S tier. Good luck to you, and my condolences. You aren’t leaving this mess unscathed.

Silver vs Lilia

This one is mostly just sad.

Silver is slow in matters of love. He’d be his normal gentlemanly self, barely changing how he behaves towards you, but to others he becomes lowkey really annoying.

Doing his homework? He's mentioning how he saw you through the window during that class. Sword training? He’s reminiscing on how you complimented his technique. Drinking water? You did say you needed to drink more water, maybe he should remind you.

This would most likely lead to Sebek flipping the fuck out and screaming at Silver to either do something about his crush or shut up.

Silver.exe is loading.

And then he just… nods his head and agrees that he should do something about it.

He’s going to get advice from Lilia, who isn’t exactly a master of seduction but at least has more experience under his belt.

Lilia already knew of Silver's crush, and sadly he also already knew of his own crush on you, but bat dad is dropping all of his potential feelings in favor of his son’s.

He’s telling Silver to bring you flowers, to take you out to dinner, to treat you with kindness and respect, the whole shabang.

And Lilia is always staying in the back, watching his little boy grow up. It does hurt him, but not exactly because of his feelings, more because he feels bad about sharing the object of his affections with his son. He’d never want to hurt his boy nor you.

Only Malleus would know of Lilia’s feelings, although Silver has an inkling that something isn’t right.

Lilia would never tell him, and Silver doesn’t know exactly what’s going on in his dad’s mind, but he definitely suspects that something is going on.

If Silver knew of his fathers feelings for you, he’d immediately stop pursuing you, so bat dad is making sure his son never knows what’s actually bothering him.

Malleus on the other hand knows that Lilia has some sort of feelings for you, but is also keeping it under lock and key at the request of Lilia.

Sebek is the only one fully out of the loop, which leads him to comment things that are really hurtful to Lilia.

Seeing as Lilia is emotionally constipated, he’d bottle it all up and proceed like normal.

When Silver confesses, Lilia feels bittersweet. He’s genuinely happy for his son, but pangs of sadness reverberate through his heart.

He’s downplaying his feelings even to himself.

In terms of rating, this is a D. Lilia just carries Silver on his shoulders and then dumps him in the finish line. It’s not even a proper race.

It’s very depressing, seeing as you will never even know about Lilia’s feelings, while Silver will always have an inkling that there’s something going on with his dad.

[floatyflowers]

Arthurian Legends | Dark Platonic King Arthur Pandragon x Daughter Reader x Dark Platonic Various

You are the twin of Mordred, and the child of King Arthur and Morgan Le Fay.

As you grew up, your mother mother shielded you, by placing protection spells on you, and also teaching you about healing using magic.

and she filled Mordred's head with hate on Arthur, claiming that he stole her birthright.

Mordred grew up with hatred in his heart towards Arthur, while you refused to hold ill intentions towards your father.

But that didn't stop you and Mordred from being inseparable and bonding as twins.

Whenever you have a suitor, Mordred gets rid of them with the help of his mother.

Morgan pushed you and your twin to reveal that you are his children at the court.

Mordred is quick to object on you coming with him, believing it to be dangerous.

"Mother, keep (Y/n) with you until I take revenge, I don't wish for her to meet the man who abandoned us and stole your throne"

"You and your sister have a connection, separation will only cause destruction"

You, on the other hand, did not want to ruin Arthur's marriage with Guinevere, yet you didn't wish to make your mother sad.

So, you started your journey with your twin.

Mordred made the first appearance by saving the king on a hunting trip, making Arthur knight him therefore he joins the Round Table.

Then Mordred introduces you to the court before announcing that the both of you are the children of the King

Arthur wanted to deny it even if he knew it was true, but when he saw how embarrassed you felt, he confirms it instead.

Later that day, you approach him and Guinevere shyly, stuttering out words of apology.

"I apologise for my brother's behavior and causing disturbance"

Your apology made Arthur obsessed with the idea of protecting you from any harm.

While Guinevere fall in love with the idea of you being her step-daughter.

She didn't have any children of her own, so you being her daughter is a really exciting thought.

Arthur makes sure to spend time with you bringing you on hunting trips with him and the knights of the round table.

He made you a tiara decorated with all types of rare stone gems for you to wear at all times.

Arthur would notice the closeness you have with Mordred which makes him decide to intask his son with many responsibilities so, you could spend more time with him instead of your twin.

"Your brother is occupied with his new responsibilities, allow to accompany you instead"

Merlin would grant you any wish you want, being more soft with you unlike how he is with Arthur when he was your age.

The old wizard also tries to advice your father to not keep you and your twin apart as it would might cause havoc.

But Arthur chose to ignore the warning, letting platonic obsession with you win.

On the other hand, Guinevere would take you with her on walks in the early morning.

Insisting you call her mother while she picks out expensive fabrics for the new dresses she ordered to be made for you.

"I wish for you to call me mother and to consider as such from now on"

"But, I have a mother, my queen"

"She is not here now, is she? I'm the wife of your father, so I'm your legitimate mother"

Mordred realizing that you are drafting away from him, your twin decided to cause chaos.

He exposed Guinevere in front of the whole court for having an affair with Lancelot, only to have his father cast her aside and order her death.

You try to reason with Arthur to spare her but seeing your love for her only made the king insistent on excuting.

The whole affair scandal caused a civil war.

Arthur decided to leave the kingdom and you in the care of Mordred while he went into war against Lancelot.

You helped Guinevere escape before she could get executed.

While Mordred seized the opportunity to ursurp the throne and become a king, allowing Morgan into the castle so all of you three could live together.

But you weren't pleased, taking a horse, you go to inform Arthur about what has occurred in his absence, making decide to return to reclaim the throne.

Thinking that Arthur has kidnapped and held you captive, Mordred almost went insane about how you, his twin, the other part of him, isn't by his side.

So, he went with an army to the battle of Camlann against Arthur's army.

The father and son stabbed each other severely, so both could die.

The end.

Actually, no, that's not the end.

Remember when your mother taught you about healing?

Well, it came to use, as you healed both Mordred and Arthur.

You made them both agree on peace, with Mordred returning the throne to your father, while Arthur forgives Mordred and open a new page.

Arthur banished Morgan, so she doesn't influence you and your twin ever again.

You, Arthur, and Mordred live in peace as a happy family.

A/n: I decided to give it a happy ending because I feel like it would be nice for a change.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese BL Starter Pack

It’s been awhile since I dropped a rec list, so I am here today to share one that is very near and dear to my heart—a Japanese bl primer for those who are new to the jbl game. I created this for @neuroticbookworm to help her on her journey when she decided she wanted to start getting into Japanese works. The fandom (on Tumblr and generally) tends to focus primarily on Thai shows because they are the easiest to access for international fans, since Thailand is working its way toward world domination via ql media and wants us all to be able to watch. But there is a lot of great stuff to watch beyond the easy access Thai channels, and Japan is the country where this genre originated, so its shows are important for anyone who considers themselves a bl fan. Japan doesn’t cater nearly as much to the international audience so tracking down the shows sometimes takes some ingenuity and can-do spirit, but that’s part of the fun!

And so, the list! Bookworm is about halfway through it and having a ball, so I figured it was time to stop hoarding it and share it with anyone else who would like to dip their toes into jbl and isn’t quite sure where to start. A few notes: 

I am not here to teach you about the deep roots of the jbl genre or give you a primer on yaoi manga. I am by no means an expert and there are other places to find that information. Start here with this great post by @nieves-de-sugui and then maybe wander over to @absolutebl to read up more on the evolution of the genre.

This list is by no means an exhaustive accounting of every important Japanese bl ever made; it is simply a nice sampler platter of the cream of the crop among various styles you will find in jbl. Watching through this whole list will not only expose you to some fantastic shows, but also give you a sense of what makes jbl unique and how the country’s style differs from others, and point you toward the types of jbl you’ll like most (they tend to put shows in pretty specific style and tone lanes and once you find the ones you like there are lots more where that came from). 

If you’re coming to this post as a jbl lover and you don’t see your favorite here, I promise it’s not because I don’t love it very much; I simply had to make some choices to get this down to a reasonable shortlist. Feel free to leave extra recs for others to find! 

I’m putting these in a loose suggested watch order that will take you through the various jbl lanes in a kind of popcorn style, because I always think it’s good to change it up so you don’t get too stuck in one mode, and it works its way up to most of the extremely Japanese stuff (you will know what that means by the time you finish). But do what’s in your heart and change up the order if you want, friends, I am not the boss of you! 

Cherry Magic (Crunchyroll or grey)

gif by @liyazaki

I believe everyone on Tumblr is pretty familiar with this one, which is not a coincidence—this is one of the most accessible jbls. Not in terms of actual access to watch it, mind you (we’ve all jumped through shady internet hoops to watch it) but in terms of its content and style. Cherry Magic is a classic workplace romcom with a magical twist, and it is charming af. It’s a great exemplar of Japan’s light and zippy comedy lane for bl—a lane in which, importantly, the romances stay chaste even when the actual plot is about sex, or lack thereof. My friend @waitmyturtles would kill me if I didn’t make sure you know that Cherry Magic also has a lovely follow up film. And bonus: there is now a Thai remake airing so if you watch the original you can get in on the discussion about the different adaptations between countries. This is pretty easy to find these days in all the usual places, but I strongly recommend watching it here.

Old Fashion Cupcake (Viki)

gif by @liyazaki

Moving on to a slightly more mature workplace romcom. Old Fashion Cupcake, another Tumblr favorite, is an age gap boss-subordinate romance, and it’s both very adult and somehow wholesome af at the same time. Sure, there is a lot of carnal desire going on here, but there is also a lot of wooing via fluffy pancakes. It’s a tight five episodes and a fantastic example of what Japan, with its extreme technical precision in writing, directing, editing, pacing, and acting firing on all cylinders, can do in two hours. There’s not an ounce of flab on this thing and you’ll want to watch it over and over again.

Utsukushii Kare (Viki)

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Time to get a little weird! Weird is a key feature of Japanese media, and lots of jbls explore unusual relationship dynamics rooted in complex psychology. This is the first show on the list that will likely feel very Japanese if you’re new around here—my advice is to lean into it and finish the show, even if you get uncomfortable along the way. In Japanese media, discomfort always serves a purpose. This is a high school story with a twisted relationship at its center, and I’m not saying any more than that. Don’t spoil yourself and go watch it! This one also comes with two sequels—one short second season and one movie—that continue from the original story. They are less essential but still excellent.

I Cannot Reach You (Netflix)

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Next up, another high school tale, but with a totally different vibe. This show is kind of a revelation in its willingness to tell a story about overwhelming desire—including sexual desire—with young protagonists. It’s rooted in a classic but often misunderstood trope, friends to lovers, and takes the angst of it seriously, giving us a low stakes story that feels extremely high stakes to our leads. It’s also gorgeous and uses a classic Japanese visual style (bokeh) that you’ll be dying to learn more about. 

His (Viki)

gif by @gabrielokun

Time for a break from high school, and we’ll sprinkle in a movie for some added flavor. His is a jbl film featuring a second chance romance between a stoic, introverted man who moves to a remote town to start over, and his ex-boyfriend who follows him there unexpectedly, adorable child in tow. Importantly, this movie does not take place in what we often refer to as the “bl bubble” where homophobia doesn’t exist; the leads’ experiences of being gay men in a homophobic society are hugely important to the plot and themes of the story. It’s a beautiful film and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched it. @bengiyo would surely also like me to tell you that this film follows a brief prequel show called His: I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love about the characters originally meeting in high school; I do not think it’s really necessary to watch it but completists can start there.

The Pornographer series (Gaga)

By now you should be ready to get into some classic Japanese fucked up psychosexual material, right? Right! The Pornographer series is told in five installments in this order:

The Novelist, a six episode miniseries

Mood Indigo, a six episode prequel series

Spring Life, a 15 minute short

Pornographer: Playback, a two hour film

Spring Life Continued, a 15 minute short

Confused by that distribution model? So say we all; sometimes Japan likes to make us work for it to make sure we really appreciate its many gifts to us. The story across these installments is about a very difficult to love protagonist, what makes him the way he is, and the also-unhinged-but-in-a-different-way man who finally gets through to him. It’s an extremely satisfying love story and one of the best character arcs I have ever seen, full stop. For this one, you’ll want to just pull the word problematic out of your pocket and store it in a drawer; nearly everything that happens in this story is problematic and that’s the point. Lean in! All of these installments except for the film are on Gaga, if you get that far hmu and I will supply you with the final puzzle piece.

Our Dining Table (Gaga)

You could probably use a break after those last two, so it’s time to shift over to a heart-tugging twofer: family trauma mixed with the cutest shit you’ve ever seen. ODT is an example of another classic type of Japanese show: the food drama (you will see the GOAT in this category at the end of this list). In Japanese culture, food is love, and the act of preparing food for your loved ones is a common path to romance. You’ll love this story about an isolated office worker who meets a pair of brothers, learns to cook as a way of connecting with them, and begins to heal from his own trauma as a result. The image above is a scan from the manga, which @troubled-mind curates to make extremely cool comparison sets like this one. Many jbls are faithful adaptations of yaoi manga source material, so it’s good to have a bit of familiarity with them.

Minato’s Laundromat (Gaga)

gif by @liyazaki

Japanese media loves to explore taboo, and often manages to do it in a way that is surprisingly light and chaste. This is an age gap romance between a teenager and his adult neighbor that explores internalized homophobia, emotional repression, and falling in love across seemingly impossible social chasms. It’s also a great example of old school yaoi seme-uke dynamics that still show up across the bl genre. Also, take my advice: end your journey with this one with the first season and just pretend season 2 doesn’t exist.

Eternal Yesterday (Viki)

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

Remember what I said about weird? Time to do that again, but with a heaping dose of grief and pain on top. It’s not a spoiler to tell you this show involves a major character death; a major character death is, in fact, the root of the entire story. This is a magic realist tale of first love turned tragic, and it will hurt and heal you. It is one of my favorite dramas of all time.

Restart After Come Back Home (Gaga)

And now for a break for your poor exhausted brain. This film is basically the jbl version of a Hallmark original movie, about a city boy who goes back home to the country and falls in love with a total sweetheart while working together on a farm. Enjoy it, bestie, you’ve earned it! 

Tokyo in April Is… (Gaga)

gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul

You’ve probably noticed by now that emotional repression and failed communication are big themes in Japanese works. This second chance romance has plenty of both, and it’s a great example of a kind of muted emotional style that Japan does so well, where the surface of the story seems almost placid and calm even as deep emotion roils underneath. This one (and Eternal Yesterday above) are part of a special line up of jbls on Japanese channel MBS called Tonku (Drama) Shower. The shows air one after another in the same time slot on Fridays (in Japan, perhaps Thursdays for you depending on where you live) and you truly never know what you’re gonna get, but they’re all interesting. Warnings on this one for sexual assault and trauma. 

The End of the World With You (Viki)

Time for sexy and weird again, but even more so! This has to be one of the most unique bls ever made; it goes to some truly divine and strange places, and it feels incredibly queer while doing it. Made by the same screenwriter/director of the Pornographer series with a lot of the same sensibilities, but in a more heightened apocalyptic setting. This one has existential angst, a road trip, a redemption tale, and a variety of interesting side characters in the mix.

What Did You Eat Yesterday? (Gaga)

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Congratulations, you’ve reached the end of the list and your reward is watching one of the best bls of all time, and a perfect slice of life food drama to boot. WDYEY now has two seasons (along with a couple specials and a movie that fall in between) because the universe clearly loves us. You can now get it on Gaga for easy access but I’m partial to the versions over at @kinounaniresource for better subs. Wherever you watch, settle in to get cozy with Shiro and Kenji and make sure to always eat before you hit play.

[toxycodone]

The way i need kabru to teach me the anatomy of the human body by using himself as a model and he’s explaining how all the vital points are laid out but he’s struggling because my hands are dipping a little too low below his belt and squeezing his neck a bit too firmly

vital points (kabru of utaya x reader)

wc. 1.5k

cw. romantic/sexual tension, nothing explicit

No one in Kabru's party is a particularly skilled dungeon crawler. Despite all efforts it seems his party is always taken out before they can do any true exploring of the dungeon's secrets.

Therefore, being the excellent leader that he is, Kabru has decided to take it upon himself to give out combat lessons. And it's only logical he starts with you first. Mickbell has his own specialties--poison darts and all. Kabru's not sure if he'd even be interested in lessons. And even if he was, would he even pay attention? It's probably not worth the trouble. Kuro is well, Kuro. What part of that demihuman's body isn't a weapon? His sharp senses make him one of, if not the most well-equipped members of his team. It's the main reason Kabru keeps a demi-human, one partly monster, like him around. Aside from the fact he's a package deal with the half-foot. Kabru's sure Kuro could make it throigh the dungeon on his own.

Daya is the second best. Strong. Capable. A weapons expert. She can take a hit and throw it back with ease. Rin and Holm are the magic users. Combat would likely be wasted on them. Rin's frail, but she already has similar knowledge to Kabru as she grew up with the same foster mom. And Holm...likely wouldn't agree to lessons. He's maintained a commitment to do no harm to others unless absolutely necessary. Kabru's not going to try to convince him to learn his way around a weapon and how to maim unless it's completely critical.

However. That leaves you.

You're different. Not entirely useless, but not entirely skilled on the other hand. Kabru's still trying to figure you out. Quite the enigma you are to him. He's come to the conclusion you're a jack-of-all-trades type of figure. For now, at least. You don't exactly take away from the party. But you're not hindering their descent, either. It's intriguing from an anthropological standpoint, yet infuriating from his stance as leader of his party.

But again, he wonders what skills you do possess, exactly. Everyone has their specialties, be it what it may. He wonders if combat might be something he can help you succeed--no, excel--in. He'll bring out the best in you via this method, and come to learn more about you in the process. Two birds with one stone. In the back of Kabru's mind, his own desire rears its head. The desire to be close to you. He's not exactly sure why or where this desire stems from. However...it can be satiated via a combat lesson. Three birds, he muses. You pique his interest in a variety of ways.

When it first comes to combat, jumping right in is never ideal. The first means of success comes from mapping out vital points. The human anatomy is a good start. Dungeons are full of demi-human and human adversaries alike. It's important to know them for one to defend themselves, unarmed or not. And these vitals seem to remain uniform among all creatures.

Head. Neck. Abdomen. Groin.

The four major sensitive groups one should know. He's starting small for now. Too much information could be overwhelming. It wouldn't be worth to teach you so much at once that

You're in front of him now, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not in a literal sense. A metaphorical one. Well, your eyes are bright. He's always liked them. Not that it matters. Why is he thinking of this?

Kabru shakes his head a little, trying to steady his thoughts. Back to business.

"The first lesson in defense is understanding anatomy." Kabru muses, looking through his notes. There's no real time to fetch a book at this point. Or a model. Kabru's not necessarily gifted at art either. Not that a simple drawing would do.

He can serve in its place, as an example. A physical specimen would be the most insightful. You're probably a hands on learner, he decides. It's definitely not as an excuse to have you close to him. Definitely not. Not that he's entirely against that, though.

"Starting with the head. There's plenty of areas you can exploit there," Kabru points to his eyes. You follow suit. They're such a striking blue. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.

"Eyes are the easiest to access. They're the first thing humans notice. You can predict someone's movements by figuring out where they're looking towards. It'll likely show you where they intend to attack." Kabru leans forward absentmindedly. "They're also sensitive. Even a simple move can distract or blind an opponent. Don't be afraid to strike there. Even though Mickbell might tease you for fighting dirty. All's fair in dungeon combat."

You chuckle and agree. Kabru's pleased his attempt at humor landed. It seems to lighten the air around you two.

"Next, the neck. There's two main points here you want to recognize." Kabru takes your hand, offering a reassuring smile as he does so, then presses it to the underside of his neck. They're a little cold, you note. And almost dainty. His hands aren't particularly calloused. He must take good care of them.

He guides your index finger to the skin on the outside of his neck. His skin carries a hint of heat to it.

"This is where the external jugular is located. It's one of the most important veins in the body. It carries blood to the head and neck area. Just a simple cut can slice through it. A simple turn of the head is enough to expose it."

He moves your hand more inward, now pressing slightly into the divot close to his trachea. His chest rises slowly, then falls. There's a faint beating under the skin now. Kabru's pulse.

"The internal jugular is here. If you can land a hit here, do it. You'll have to go deep and make sure you slice clean through the skin. It can disable a foe in seconds."

You try to keep your mind on the lesson. But his skin is remarkably soft. And smooth. You're close enough now to count his stubble. Well, you would if there was any to count. How does Kabru manage to keep himself so well groomed on dungeon excursions. Maybe you could count those thick, lovely eyelashes inste--

A simple call of your name breaks your thoughts. Not only were you not paying attention, but your fingerpads dig slightly into his skin. You struggle to find an explanation for your absentmindedness, then decide to pin it on you being hyperfocused.

Kabru, ever so forgiving, decides to move on without further question. Internally, you thank him for preserving your dignity. What's left of it. You're almost certain he's caught onto the fact your no longer solely doing this for the sake of combat knowledge.

"The abdomen hosts a majority of the body's necessary organs. The lung's can be pierced easily through the ribcage." Deft fingers lead you across the expanse of his chest. You're a bit shocked. Without his armor, Kabru's a lot smaller. Being revived time and time again has left its mark on his body. There's still power to him though. His muscle isn't all gone. You can surmise your leader has quite the lithe build.

Kabru continues to go on, despite you not listening. He likes to talk about anatomy, for one. But he's also trying to hide his own amusement at your reaction to touching him. You're admiring him in your own way. Which means you may harbor similar feelings towards him that he has towards you. Interesting. He takes note of this as your hands are guided lower.

Stomach. Liver. Kidneys.

And last is the groin.

Kabru's puzzled. He didn't really consider how this would play out in his hands-on anatomy lesson. Desire clouded his mind earlier, but now that he can peek through it...the realization of the situation sets in. How should he proceed? He can tell by your reactions you're fascinated by the lesson at the least. Kabru's sure you need this lesson. The groin is probably the most effective place to punch, kick, or slice in a pinch. As inappropriate as it is, in general and a workplace sense, he still wants you to keep touching him.

His hands leave yours. He's leaving it up to you, now. Whether you choose to continue or not will tell him what he wants to know--if he's been going too far or not.

"The groin is the last area you should become familiar with. I'm sure you're aware, but it's particularly sensitive." Kabru's not sure whether to look at you or your hands. He goes for the latter when your fingers trail over his belt, threatening to move towards the linen of his pants below.

"The genital area, more specifically. No matter the sex. A swift punch, kick. Even just grasping it. You can get an advantage in combat. Either as a distraction, or...."

Your fingers keep going lower. He's sure you aren't paying attention, now far too invested in your personal lesson on anatomy. There's a slight bulge in his pants. It's stiffens when you ghost over it.

Kabru's breath stifles. He swallows his spit like it's cement.

"A-and that's the gist of it."

Kabru stutters for the first time ever, you think. Your curious hands flee his body as a result, now returning to your sides. That was...exhilirating. So simple, yet...you can tell the two of you are craving more.

"Uh," You're first to break the awkward tension. "Thank you, Kabru. For the lesson. It was very informative." A certain tone lingers on the last word. Kabru can practically see the air quotations around it. His dark skin deepens with color. For once in your span of knowing him, Kabru's eyes don't tear into you.

"Right. It's my duty as your leader, after all. Thank you for listening. We can go back to the others now."

Kabru is known for his penchant for understanding others. Almost being able to predict their next moves with ease. However, your next move is wildly unpredictable, tossing out everything he once assumed about your attitude and demeanor.

You ask when the next lesson is. You'd like to study anatomy-perhaps his anatomy, more thoroughly.

And what he also doesn't expect is his eagerness to respond. The next lesson can't come soon enough.

[darkbluekies]

Like magic —Part 1

part 2 Male!yandere x female!reader x female!yandere

Hogwarts AU

Summary: your parents have denied you access to going to hogwarts, but finally in your 3d year, you manage to sneak off. But is life really that good at hogwarts when two students take a concerningly big interest in you?

Warnings: bullying, indications of unstable home life, kissing (dubcon?), forcing reader to throw up,

Word count: 6.8k

A/N: I have loosely followed the AU, but have made up my own things for the plot to work, so don't take my work literally :)

It has to be a joke, right? There’s no way that you can run straight through a wall! You gulp and look around, seeing if anyone else is doing the same, or if anyone is noticing how much you’re staring at the pillar separating the two platforms. Finally, you see two others make it through and you decide to make a run for it. You close your eyes and when you dare to open them again, you’re there. The train, the students, it’s finally time. After three, long years. 

You were supposed to start when you were eleven, but you weren’t allowed to. They didn’t believe you. If you hadn't picked the lock to your bedroom, you'd not be here this year either. You don't have anything — no books, no animals, no broom. You only have a wand and a packed suitcase. You watch the other students already wearing their Hogwarts uniforms. They hug their parents and catch up with their friends. You sneak onto the train and sit down in your own little coupe. Your heart is hammering against your chest. Your parents will figure it out soon enough and you're terrified that they'll stand on the platform and demand you to get off. 

Just start the train, make it leave.

"Oh, excuse me", a voice says.

You turn your head to the door, seeing a blonde girl standing there with a black, Grey and yellow uniform on.

"Can I sit with you?" she asks and quickly adds: "I saw you out on the platform. You looked rather lost so i just wanted to see if I could help you."

"Yeah, sure", you answer, startled. "Thank you."

The girl sits down on the couch in front of you with a smile.

"I'm Hedwig", she smiles. "Third year student. What's your name?"

"Y/N", you answer hesitantly. "I'm … new."

"I see. You're a first year student?"

"Not exactly, no … I'm supposed to be in third year too-"

"Oh, really?" Hedwig shines up. "I don't think I've ever seen you before. Which house are you in?"

"I don't know." You shrug embarrassedly. "This is technically my first year."

"Oh … I see." She smiles brightly. "That's totally fine. I can help you if you want. We have some hours to kill, so I can fill you up on most things so you're not as lost when you reach Hogwarts as you were out on the platform."

"Yes, please, that would be great. Thank you."

Hedwig fills you in on basic information. Four houses, different characteristics, a talking hat gives you your house. The school is a gigantic castle that has moving stairs, every house has passwords to their common rooms, some teachers are asses, some are okay, some are nice. Don't wander into the forest, especially at night, stay out of certain corridors. The janitor's cat is an asshole.

"I suppose you're a muggleborn then", Hedwig smiles and adds when you frown confusedly: "born and raised by normal people. Otherwise you'd know most things already."

"Are you?" you wonder, wanting to find something in common with this extraordinary girl.

"Halfblood, actually. My dad is a businessman and my mother is a witch. But don't worry, I don't care about what type of families people come from. It doesn't interest me in the slightest."

"Do some care?"

Hedwig squirms uncomfortably. "Some do. Some people think that being from a wizard family makes them superior to halfbloods and muggleborns, but don't you worry, those people aren't worth socializing with."

"Which house are you in?"

Hedwig smiles and shows you the yellow logo on her cape. You can see a badger in the middle.

"I'm a Hufflepuff!" she smiles and giggles. "The best house according to me, but I'm supposedly a bit biased."

"Which do you think I'll get into?" you ask.

"I'm not sure. It's hard for me to say after only talking with you for thirty minutes … but I think you could be a Hufflepuff like me … or a Gryffindor."

"Why a Gryffindor?"

"I don't know, but you seem to have a steady heart."

"Which is the worst house?"

"There's no such thing as a 'worst house', Y/N. Every house has both good and bad people — even Hufflepuff. Although some houses may have a bigger percentage of 'bad' people." She sighs. "Slytherin. Although I do have some friends from Slytherin, some of the students in that house can be quite … scary. Their pride can be extremely big and they let that go out over other people. Don't worry about it though, not everyone is mean."

You nod and gulp.

Hedwig catches you up on some easy spells and knowledge on the rest of the way. You avoid every type of question that can lead her to know about your … situation.

You get sorted into a house in private, after Hedwig asks the principal about not pulling so much attention to you. You're embarrassed as if already. You're a Ravenclaw.

"The uniform is so pretty on you, Y/N!" she gasps as you come out of Dumbledore's office. "The blue looks really good on you."

"Thank you", you say and feel the material. "What do I do now?"

"We'll go back to the welcome ceremony and then you'll have to talk to your prefects. They'll fill you in with everything you need to know." She takes your hands in hers. "If you ever need any books, let me know and I'll lend you one, okay?"

"Thank you, Hedwig."

She doesn't let your hands go. You have to pull them back to be able to walk to the hall. You sit down with the other third years and glance over to Hedwig’s table.

"You know Hedwig?" a Ravenclaw boy with black eyes asks. 

"I met her on the train", you say.

"She's the most popular girl in our year", a girl says. "Everyone wants to be her friend."

"Really?" you wonder and glance at Hedwig who's sitting and smiling with her fellow Hufflepuffs. "She never came across as someone popular."

Maybe you're too used to how the people back home act.

When all the first years have gotten their houses and the food has been devoured, you follow your prefect through mighty corridors that have ghosts flowing past. You enter a rower with a long, spiral staircase. Your legs hurt after four steps.

"Y/N", the prefect says. "Before I show you to the dormitory, I need to talk to you a bit. Do you know any magic at all?"

"Hedwig taught me a bit on the train", you reply, concluding that only saying her first name should work if she's as popular as that boy had insisted.

"You'll have to take extra classes unless you want to start all over with the first graders."

You shake your head quickly. Rather hard work now than be known as 'the third grader among first years' for your entire school time.

You're led into the dormitory and granted your own bed. Your things are already in your drawers. After this long, eventful day, you fall asleep quickly, finally where you should be. When waking up, you’re first confused about where you are, sure that everything that happened yesterday was just a nightmare … but no, it was all real. 

"Now, don't be alarmed, my dear", Hedwig says when you meet her. "You will do just fine, okay?"

"I have never been around the castle", you mumble and take a bite out of your toast. 

"Your first lesson is Transfiguration. You'll have that class with the Slytherin students."

"Will we have any classes together?"

Hedwig smiles widely. "Sure, we will. But I think you better go now, you start in ten minutes." 

Hedwig shoots her book over the table.

"Here you go" she smiles. "Good luck now, I'll meet you for lunch, okay? You can sit with me."

"Okay, thank you", you say quietly and walk out of the great hall. Your heart is beating loudly in your chest and you start to wonder if the feeling of needing to throw up is real or only imaginary.

You find yourself lost in the large corridors before finally finding your way.

"I'm so sorry", you say quietly as you enter. "I lost my way."

"I will have mercy on you this time", the professor says. "But don't think that this will be a habit of yours, young lady. I expect you to be on time from now on."

"Of course, Professor McGonagall. I'll never be late again."

"Very well." She looks around. "Sit down beside Edmund, all the Ravenclaw seats are filled."

"Yes, professor."

You glance over the class and see an empty seat with a boy wearing the Slytherin uniform sitting beside it. He looks bored out of his mind. Carefully, you make your way over and sit down. Edmund glances at you.

"Who are you?" he mutters. "Are you a transfer student or something?"

"Something like that", you answer. 

The class starts and you immediately feel your head spin. You can't keep up.

"What's the matter, new girl?" Edmund chuckles while he leans his cheek in his hand. 

"I-I've never done anything like this!" you hiss to avoid anyone else hearing. 

Edmund’s face drops. He seems to … crawl together without having to move.

"You're a … a-", he starts.

"Edmund and Y/N, if you're going to continue talking, I'll use the both of you as guinea pigs — literally!" the professor says sternly.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when the rest of the class turns to look at the both of You. Edmund rolls his eyes and grabs his book. When they turn around, you breathe out.

As break time starts, Edmund joins his friends.

"New girl", he says, catching your attention. "Next time, come earlier so I don't have to sit with you again."

"Of course", you mutter and leave.

You smile when you see Hedwig wait for you by the entrance to the big hall. She holds out her hand.

"I've missed you!" she smiles and hugs you tightly. "I was worrying for you all through Herbology!" She holds your hand while pulling you with her. "Tell me everything!"

You sit down by the Ravenclaw table to eat. Hedwig’s hazel eyes never leave yours. 

"I came late, so I sat down beside a Slytherin student."

Hedwig's smile thins out slightly. "Oh? Who? Do I know them?"

"His name is Edmund."

Hedwig chokes on her pumpkin soup and starts to cough. 

"What's wrong?" you ask quickly and pat her back.

"Did he say anything to you?" Hedwig asks worriedly. 

"He just told me to be quicker to class next time so he didn't have to sit with me. A bit rude, if you ask me."

"A bit rude? Y/N, that boy is a bully!"

You feel a shiver run down your back. 

"Edmund is one of those bad Slytherins I told you about", Hedwig says quietly. "He's a pureblood and … thinks he's better than anyone else. It's said that his parents helped … well, you know who, before he disappeared two years ago." 

Hedwig had talked about that man on the train. You gulp.

"Whatever you do, Y/N — and promise me this — don't go close to Edmund", Hedwig says and holds your hands in hers. "Please?"

You nod. Hedwig smiles and caresses your cheek.

"Let's go to the library and study on the lunch break", she says. "There's so much you need to learn!"

You study with Hedwig every day. But she doesn't seem to mind, she neglects her friends to be with you. 

"What a cute sight, isn't it?" you hear a voice say.

You're sitting in the courtyard, studying magical history. You look up, seeing Edmund and his two friends come over.

"One half and one mudblood, how sweet", he says with a wide smile. "They really do be letting anyone in these days."

“What is wrong with you?” Hedwig gasps. “Have you no shame?!”

“What? Did I say anything wrong? Aren’t you halfblood, Hedwig?” He turns to you. “New girl, aren’t you muggleborn? What did I say that is wrong, Hedwig?”

“You do not call Y/N that. You are a disgrace to the wizarding world, Edmund.”

“I find it funny how someone that isn’t fully pure is calling me a disgrace.”

Hedwig grabs your hand and helps you up on your feet. 

“Come, Y/N”, she says. “Let’s leave. We can’t study here.”

You nod. While Hedwig drags you away from the courtyard, you glance over your shoulders, seeing Edmund’s icy eyes follow you. 

“I can’t believe that he called you that”, Hedwig says quietly and pulls you with her. “I’m furious.”

“What did that mean?” you ask carefully. “Why did that matter so much?”

“Mudblood, Y/N, is one of the foulest things anyone can ever call a person. It basically means that your blood is disgusting for not being born into a wizard family. He … he called you something less than human. It’s disgusting.” Hedwig hugs you tightly and hides her face into your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that. You’re such a sweet soul, I’m so sorry.”

“Hedwig, it’s okay”, you promise with a smile. “I didn’t take any offense — I barely knew what it meant.”

“I get sad for you. You don’t deserve that.” She thinks for a moment and then lights up. "Would you like to have a sleepover?"

"How would that work out?" 

"Sneak into Hufflepuff, I'll give you the password. I'll take all the blame if we get caught. Please, Y/N? It'll be so much fun."

"The girls you share a dormitory with will be tell on us-"

"No, they won't! Trust me. The girls like me, they wouldn't tattletail."

It must be beneficial to be popular. You frown. Aren't you quite famous now too? After being glued to Hedwig’s hip for over a month must have caused rumors. You have been so busy with your extra classes and studying that you haven't been able to catch up with it all. You barely know what your fellow Ravenclaws are named.

"Please, Y/N?" Hedwig pleads. "It will be so much fun. I will get us some snacks and we can read together and tell stories."

"Where should I sleep?"

"In my bed, of course! We're friends, it's not weird. What do you say?"

"Alright, if you promise that we won't get in trouble."

"No one will tell, I promise!" She takes your hand. "Let's go to the library and study now."

You do sneak into the Hufflepuff common room that evening together with Hedwig. You can't help but feel terribly wrong and every motion you make feels watched. At any time someone will pop out and you'll be caught. Hedwig pulls you through the common room and you can't help but gawk. Why weren't you placed in Hufflepuff?

Wearing your pajamas, you climb down into Hedwig’s bed. She smiles, cuddling up beside you. Her arm hugs yours, her head leaning onto your shoulder. The other girls in the dormitory glances at you, but none of them say anything to you. 

“Y/N, what do you want to do?” she asks. “Would you like to read anything? Or just sleep? Or anything else?”

“I think I’d just like to sleep”, you say quickly. “My nerves are still telling me that this is a bad idea.”

You don’t admit it out loud, but you want it to be over as quickly as possible before someone finds you out. Hedwig nods and turns off the lights. You lay down in the light of the moon and feel how Hedwig crawls down beside you. She pets your hair in a loving manner, feeling it gently.

“You have such pretty hair”, she whispers, making sure no one else hears. “I always stare at it. Have you caught me looking?”

“Actually, no”, you smile. “I know you look at me a lot, but I didn’t know you looked at my hair specifically.”

“I’m not only looking at your hair, silly. I think you’re pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty too, Hedwig.”

“Really? Do you really think so?”

You nod. She seems to burst with happiness.

“But you already know that”, you say. “Everyone loves you. Everyone tells you that.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference when someone you don’t care about says it and when someone you hold dear tells you.”

You smile. Hedwig’s hazel eyes glisten in the moonlight as she smiles widely and curls up in your arms, like a cat. She holds you tightly, hiding her own face into your neck. You’re not sure how, but you do fall asleep easily that night — snug and secure in her warm embrace.

The next morning, Hedwig doesn't want to let you go. She begs you to skip breakfast and lay in bed, buy you insist on eating.

“Before we go, could you please try my uniform?” Hedwig pleads and holds up the yellow and black uniform. “I want to see how you’d look like if you were a Hufflepuff. Please, Y/N? Just for fun?”

“We’ll be late for breakfast”, you mumble. 

“Nonsense.”

She has already start to tug at your pajamas. You give in and put on the Hufflepuff uniform. Hedwig watches you with excited eyes. 

“Oh, why weren't you placed in Hufflepuff?” she sighs. “Why weren’t you placed with me?”

“I don’t know, Hedwig.”

“It’s so unfair.” She pouts. “We belong together. We’re destined to be side by side. Why did the sorting hat have to put us in two different houses?”

“The sorting hat has its reasons. Now, give me back my own uniform so that I can go to breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah …”

You change into your own uniform before sneaking out to the corridor with no one in sight. A small smile plays on your lips. You managed to to do it!

Together, you walk to the great hall but before you reach it, Professor Snape has caught the both of you. 

“You two better follow with me”, he says coldly. “You’re both in deep trouble.”

Shit. He knows. 

Hedwig takes your hand, squeezing it. You only have time to look at her terrified eyes before you’re pulled into Snape’s office. He’s not alone. It seems like the entire faculty staff is there. Hedwig’s squeeze becomes tighter. 

“Y/N, you went into the Hufflepuff house this night”, Dumbledore says, not sparing any sweet talk. “That is strictly forbidden.”

“I made her do it”, Hedwig says firmly. “Y/N hesitated, I told her into it, I convinced her. Please don't punish her, I was the one giving out the password from the beginning."

"These are serious things, miss."

"I know. I just … I really want to be with Y/N." She takes your hand. "More than anything. I’m so sorry for causing all of this, professor. I will never do it again. Punish me only, please.”

“Snape, this is a clear sign of innocent love”, Dumbledore tells the other man. 

You flinch. Love?

“I don’t care”, Snape mutters. “They broke the rules.”

“I don’t see any malice in their intentions. They only wanted to be with each other. I will not punish them — this time — but if they do this again, I will give them a week’s long detention in different classes. I can’t punish miss Hedwig all too much, after all, she is Y/N’s tutor. But if you break the rules again, Hedwig, we will find someone else to tutor her, is that clear?”

“Yes, professor”, Hedwig replies. “Thank you for not punishing us. We will make sure to behave.”

“You can go.”

Hedwig tugs on your hand before you leave. Your head is spinning with confusion. Who snitched you out? Did one of the girls do that? They could risk house points and to get in conflict with Hedwig … no they wouldn’t risk any of that. Then who?

“Breaking rules is so not Hufflepuff behavior”, a voice snickers. 

You turn to the side, seeing Edmund lean against the wall. 

“You spied on us?” you ask. 

“Spy?” Edmund wonders and stands up. “I couldn’t care less about the two of you, don’t flatter yourselves. You two are like annoying, loud flies, I can’t ignore you because you’re always in my face.”

“Don’t listen to him”, Hedwig says and pulls on your arm. “Let’s go get some breakfast, Y/N.”

“Careful, Hedwig”, Edmund smirks. “You heard what they said: break one more rule and you lose tutor privileges over Y/N.”

You roll your eyes as the two of you walk alongside each other. Edmund’s words don’t feel good in your stomach and you have an eerie suspicion that he’s going to do something. 

You sit out in the grass, reading. While Hedwig is having her defense against dark arts-class you have a free period. Deciding to take your alone time to your benefit, you decide to read up on some things beforehand.

"Where's your little halfblood?" you hear that voice ask.

You look up from your book, seeing Edmund and his two minions grin at you.

"In class", you answer shortly and start to change pages, hoping he gets the hint that you're busy and leaves you alone. 

Edmund snatches the book from you. You cut your finger on the paper. With a hiss, you stand up. Edmund laughs as he looks in the book.

"I learned this last year", he chuckles. "You really are a transfer student. Cute."

"Give it to me", you sigh. "I'm not in the mood, I have to learn that."

"You won't learn from the book. We barely used it for this topic."

"Great. I'm doomed."

"I could offer you some tutoring. I got full marks after all."

You frown. "Why would you do that?"

"What can I say? I'm a generous spirit. Besides, I'm bored. Teaching a little mudblood magic could entertain me for a week or two."

"Don't you have class?"

"Not until twelve thirty." Edmund points at the castle wall with the book. "Sit down, mudblood, let's learn."

That 'nickname' makes your stomach turn. After knowing the full definition, you'd rather have Edmund call you something along the lines of a whore — that way you could actually have some clever comebacks. Mudblood, on the other hand, is nothing you can answer to. You sit down slowly. Edmund sits down on your left side and his two minions on your right side. Edmund opens the book and puts his finger to a paragraph.

"See this?" he asks. "This is something you have to learn in case you want to pass. The checklist doesn't contain this, but it will come anyway. So learn it."

You nod. 

"Take up your wand", he says. "You have to learn this spell."

You pick up your wand from your pocket. Edmund orders one of his friends to stand in front of you as he holds his hand over yours, showing you how you're supposed to move. His hand is cold. The spell causes his friend's wand to be sent flying. You lay the word Expelliarmus onto your mind.

"This is actually great for dueling", he says. "We had some dueling classes last year, but I guess we'll have this year too. In that case, you'll have to have mastered these spells or you can kiss your ass goodbye."

"You'll end up in the hospital wing", one of Edmund’s friends grins.

"H-Hospital wing?" you say and damn yourself for stuttering. 

The three of them chuckles.

"Yes, little girl, hospital wing", Edmund smirks darkly. "Ending up there is never fun. People often scream in pain there. If you end up there you'll never be the same again."

Your wide eyes make Edmund laugh. He presses the book in your arms and stands up.

"Let's make a deal", Edmund says. "Do you know what quidditch is?"

"Hedwig told me on the train", you reply.

"I play. If Slytherin wins the next match, you're going to be my little maid for a full week. You'll do everything I tell you to. And if those ridiculous Gryffindors win, you're free from polishing my shoes."

"I don't get anything either way."

"Don't be greedy, transfer student."

He takes your hand and shakes it before you have time to register. 

"Now you can't back out", he smiles proudly.

"Did you enchant-?"

"Yes."

You rip your hand back, snatch your book and start to walk away. You meet up with Hedwig who's walking out of the classroom.

"What's wrong?" she asks quickly, rubbing your shoulder. "You look disturbed."

"Edmund and his friends cornered me outside. He forced me to make a deal with him."

Hedwig goes white. "What type of deal?"

"He plays quidditch and if he wins the next match, I have to be his maid for a week."

"Oh, my God, I hate him." She cups your cheeks. "We'll come up with a way to stop him or break the deal. Worst case scenario, we'll have to ruin for the entire Slytherin team and then we'll be dead, but if we have to then …"

You nod.

"Let's get you something to eat", Hedwig smiles and takes your hand.

She stays with you until your class starts. The second the classroom door closes, her smile drops. She makes her way over to the Slytherin entrance and waits for one to come out.

"What are you doing here?" the Slytherin girl asks.

"I need to speak to Edmund, do you know where he is?" Hedwig asks shortly.

"I'd suppose the quidditch court. He came in laughing and said that he had to train hard this time."

"That son of a- … thank you, for your help."

"No problem."

The Slytherin girl passes her and Hedwig scoffs. The audacity of Edmund …

She makes her way over to the quidditch court, finding him training all alone. He doesn't notice her at first, but when he does  a smirk plays on his lips. He flies down to the ground and steps off his broom, holding it close to his body.

"Well, well", he says. "I start to believe that you're obsessed with me the way you're always hanging around. By the way, did you know that there's a rumor going around about you and Y/N? You're not slick, you know. Everyone knows that you're head over heels for her."

"Cut the talk, Edmund. Break the deal with Y/N. She has enough on her plate. I'm not going to let you hurt her."

"You came here to threaten me? Careful now, Hedwig, think about what you're doing." 

"I'm not going to let you take her from me."

Edmund takes a step closer. His icy cold blue eyes seem to darken without having to change their light color. "Listen closely, you filthy, little halfblood", he hisses. "If you try to interfere — if you even try as much as to stick your pointy little nose into my business — I'll put you into the hospital wing until I'm done with Y/N. Is that clear?"

Hedwig can't answer. Edmund walks past her, intentionally hitting her shoulder with his. 

The day for the match arrives. 

"I think that I'm going to throw up", you mutter, taking a hold of the wood railing in front of you.

The two teams are flying above you, tension growing.

"I'm sure he won't win", Hedwig says, but she sounds hesitant. 

“Slytherin has the lead!"

"Let's hope that the Gryffindor seeker gets the snitch."

"Did you manage to destroy for Edmund?"

Hedwig shakes her head carefully. You groan and rest your forehead down on the wooden railing. Another score has been made and you don't want to look. Finally, someone has caught the snitch. Slytherin wins. You look up in horror, eyes darting to Edmund. He's looking right at you with a smirk. You're dead.

Already the next morning, Edmund waits for you outside the Ravenclaw entrance. He dumps his heavy books in your hands.

"We're having a class together", he says. "And you are going to carry my books."

You groan and take a better grip on his — and your — books, unsure how you're going to carry them all to the other side of the school.

"Where's your friends?" you ask.

"They're still at breakfast", Edmund replies as you start to walk. "I don't need them now, not when you're carrying my things. Speaking of friends, I don't want you to be with that annoying Hufflepuff during the entire week."

"I'm not going to be your dog."

"Oh, yes, you are — and you're going to bark if I tell you to."

"What am I going to do when you're in class and I'm not, then? Be all alone?"

"Yes, because if I find out that you've been talking to her, I'm going to make you wish you never transferred here, got that?"

You nod. Edmund doesn't say anything more until you reach the classroom. He catches up with his friends who laugh loudly when they see you. Oh, how you wish that you knew any transfiguration spell that could turn you into a mouse.

"Look, she's embarrassed!" one of his friends mock.

Others start to turn to look at you with chuckles. Their stares burn right through you. You want to hide your face in the pile of books in your hands. 

"Sit with me", Edmund says and grabs your tie to pull you with him. "You're going to take notes for me."

You sit down in the middle of the classroom. Edmund pushes you to the chair by the wall while he takes the aisle seat, trapping you. You take notes for him while simultaneously trying to ignore that he exists. Surprisingly, you're great at multitasking. 

You give him the notes as soon as the class is dismissed. Edmund reads it with a smirk on his face.

"Good job, little girl", he says. "I can actually read them." He folds it and puts it in his pocket. "Now, let's go get some air."

Together with his two friends, you walk out to the courtyard. You can see Hedwig with some of her friends walking from the Herbology classroom. She hugs books close to her body, one being the Herbology book, the other a book about potions. You meet her eyes. She suddenly looks incredibly sad, but tries to give you a small, reassuring smile. You're close to jumping out of your skin when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Turning, you see that Edmund has noticed Hedwig as well. He squeezes your shoulder while keeping eye contact with the girl. Hedwig turns her eyes away and speeds her steps.

Not seeing Hedwig feels like a punishment in itself. Edmund and his friends aren't pleasant, at all — or at least not his friends, Edmund’s not been as bad as you thought. He's toned down on the vulgar nicknames and started small talking when you're walking.

"Stop fucking yawning", Edmund mutters and hits you in the back of your head.

"Why are we up before the sun?" you whine and rub your eyes.

"You're going to watch my quidditch practice."

He drags you out into the cold, autumn air, over to the high wooden pillars of the quidditch court. You're sat down in the Slytherin section and told to sit there until he's done. Edmund disappears to the changing room and comes out in his quidditch uniform. You sit still, watching. You can't quite understand the rules, even if you've already watched a match. You're unsure of what Edmund’s position is or what the flying balls are used for. Every minute grows colder. When the sun has risen, you're as cold as ice. You can no longer feel your fingers or toes.

Edmund flies over to you, now holding his Slytherin scarf and gloves in his hand.

"You're so stupid, why didn't you bring your own scarf?" he mutters while tying his around your cold neck. 

"I barely knew who I was when I walked out of the common room", you mumble. "I was so tired. And now I'm cold and hungry."

"You do nothing but complain, do you? Breakfast is in an hour. Think you can hold out until then?"

You nod tiredly. 

"Good girl" he says and puts the gloves on your cold hands. "Keep your hands in the gloves and put them in your pockets. You're like a child, unbelievable."

Ironic, coming from a brat like Edmund. You take a deep breath and sink into the seat. When Edmund’s done, he changes into his normal uniform and comes to meet you. You start to take off the scarf, but his hands stop you.

"Leave it on", he says shortly. "Come now."

The second you enter the castle, you feel warmer. You're about to remove the scarf for a second time.

"God, woman, just keep it on, will you?" Edmund mutters and ties it to the point where you choke. 

"We're inside now, I don't need it anymore."

"Oh, trust me, you do."

"Why?"

Edmund smirks. "To give your girlfriend a sweet little memory."

"We're not together though."

Edmund furrows his brows and nods, clearly thinking hard.

"Very well", he says. "Winners keeper, I say."

"What?" 

"Nothing."

His icy blue eyes sparkle in a new, competitive way, like he's now gotten a new challenge. His hands tie a double knot in the scarf before sending you off to the Ravenclaw table. The others give you weird glances. By now, it's not a secret that you're Edmund’s pet. Although it's only two days left of your week, you're sure that your reputation as his dog will stay with you throughout your entire schooling. 

You look around, noticing Hedwig sitting by the Hufflepuff table. She looks at you with something you can't describe in her eyes, something dark. She holds something in her hand. You can just make out the outline of a small, pink bottle. She gives you a small, sad smile. All you want is to go over and hug her, but you remember Edmund’s warning. You have a class together after breakfast however, he can’t forbid you from going to it. 

Your plate is already set out with a glass full of pumpkin juice. Devouring it would be an understatement — especially after the morning you’ve had. You're happy no one is taking a picture.

The day continues normally after Edmund’s rude awakening. You can meet up with Hedwig in Herbology class, and oh, how happy you're to see her. You hug her tightly, earning a mirroring squeeze back. She buries her head into your hair. 

"I've missed you so much", she coos, hugging you tightly. “So, so much.”

You breathe her in, mind getting fogged up with her scent. Oh, how you want nothing more than to ditch Edmund and be with her. Hedwig doesn't seem to mind how you cling onto her and you’re surprised yourself with how much you want to hold onto her. She strokes your hair with a smile. Being back with Hedwig — despite Edmund's warnings — feels like absolute paradise. The few days spent apart has made you see her in a completely new light. You’ve forgotten how pretty she is. 

"I can't watch that anymore", she sighs and starts to remove the Slytherin scarf from your neck. "Where is your scarf, dearest?"

"In my dormitory", you answer sheepishly. 

Hedwig gives you a motherly stern gaze before taking off her Hufflepuff scarf and tying it around your neck. It smells just like her.

"That's better", Hedwig smiles. "Don't you think so?"

You nod. Much, much better. The teacher interrupts your talk with demands of the two of you working. You don't mind, because you work with Hedwig who knows exactly what to do. 

"Would you like to read on the break?" Hedwig asks you.

You nod, not even thinking about Edmund’s threats. You follow her out to the yard, sitting on one of the brick walls with her. You lay down with her head in her lap while she reads aloud for you. You can't focus on the words, only how they're formed through Hedwig's pink lips. You want to feel them on yours. Before you have time to think, you reach up to kiss her. Her lips melt into yours instantly.Hedwig lets go of her book and cups her cheeks to kiss back. Fuck Edmund, you think. You pull Hedwig closer, wanting to be filled with her and her only. Everything about her is soft, even her kisses. They're filled with love and taste like strawberry.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the voice you've just damned says angrily. "I warned you, mudblood, didn't I?"

He rips you from Hedwig, up on your feet. Edmund glances from Hedwig to you, and back. He halts and grabs a hold of your face, opening your eyes with his thumbs. 

"You sneaky bitch!" he gasps. "You've given her a love potion!"

"I have not", Hedwig replies defensively. 

"Really? Then why are her pupils heart shaped?"

Hedwig doesn't answer. Edmund grabs a hold of your arms.

"If you excuse me, I'm going to go shove my fingers down her throat to get it out of her", he says coldly.

"You are not!" Hedwig screeches and rips you back.

"Then you'll get it out of her. I don’t care how, but Y/N is going to puke that love potion out before the break is over. Y/N is still mine, remember? I have two more days to do whatever I want with her."

Hedwig groans. Edmund, you, Hedwig and Edmund’s two friends make your way to the girls bathroom. The boys wait outside while Hedwig takes you into the bathroom stalls. She helps you throw up the love potion, holding your hair in her hands. 

“And there goes my well earned breakfast …”, you sigh groggily and get up from your knees. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N”, Hedwig whispers guiltily with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want to trick you or anything, please don’t believe that. I-I just … I was scared that Edmund had manipulated you. I had to make sure that you knew that … he wasn’t good.”

You sigh and nod heavily. “I understand, but I had wished that you hadn’t given to me without my knowledge.”

“I’m really, really sorry. Can you please forgive me?”

The tears fall down her cheeks. You can’t be mad at her, not after every nice thing she’s done to you. You can see how bad she feels. You’re sure that she won’t do it again. 

“Of course”, you say. “I’m just grateful that you didn’t make a potion that did something bad. It wasn’t the potion itself that was bad, it was the way you did it.”

“I understand. I’ll never do it again, I promise! I will never, ever do anything like that again!” She takes your hands and sniffles. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I-I do like you more than a friend … but I will not let that come between our friendship. Please don’t leave me. I can lose every single friend I have … but not you. Oh, God, not you.”

You can hear Edmund bang on the door to the girls bathroom impatiently and you sigh.

“I can’t spend time with you right now”, you say. “Edmund’s right — unfortunately — I have two more days in his captivity. If not, he’s promised to ruin my life. I don’t want to take that risk, I’ve had enough problems.” You squeeze her hands. “It’s just two more days.”

Hedwig sniffles and nods. “Okay.”

You give her a small smile before going back to Edmund. He tells his friends to take you further down in the corridor while he talks with Hedwig. She wipes her tears and glares at him. 

“Silly girl”, Edmund scoffs. “You’re not that bright, are you?”

“I don’t know what you want Y/N, but at least I didn’t do anything to cause her harm, like you do”, Hedwig answers sharply. “I did something that would benefit her.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Y/N belongs to me now and if you don’t want to get hurt, Hedwig, stay out of my way, got it? I’m warning you. If I were you, I’d listen.”

Hedwig takes a step closer. “I’m not going to let anybody take her from me.”

Edmund’s eyebrow twitches. “Alright then. Suit yourself.”

With that said, he walks towards his friends and you, leaving Hedwig behind. He rips of the Hufflepuff scarf. 

“Get that ugly thing off of your neck”, he mutters and drags you with him. “Can’t even leave you alone for five minutes! Can’t fucking believe that little filth. If Hedwig gets to play dirty, then I do too.” He stops to wipe of your lips. “If you ever kiss her again, I’ll kill her.”

You try push his arm off of you, but instead, it tightens and he gives you a stern look. 

“I should just do it …”, he mutters. 

“Do what?”

He gives your lips a quick peck. You stand as frozen, looking up at him in shock. Edmund rests his hand on your cheek. 

“Never kiss her again.”

[sweetnans]

Pairing: f.reader/bakugo

t.warning: angst? war flashbacks and fluff

a/n: I'm sorry if I misspelled something. My hand hurts. Enjoy 💖

He be goddammed. Mina had asked specifically for a comic book to give Denki for his birthday, and none of the dumbasses on the squad have found it. So here he is, entering in the twelveth bookstore on his day off. Bakugo couldn't believe his position right now. The last time he had a day off was like ages ago, and now he has to find a stupid book for one of his friends.

He walked in with his usual scowl, looking for the labeled shelf with all the colorful spines highlighting above the bored ones.

The bookstore was empty. He was about to give up on his search when the building appeared on his way back home. It was a tiny store, cozy and brown. All shelves were made of wood, and the sitting area was no different. Brown chairs varnished with fluffy blankets on top. It was like a fairy forest magical paradise kind of shit. He liked the quietness.

"Hey, welcome! How may I help you?" The girl behind the desk spoke out of nothing, putting him in defense mode. He couldn't help it. He is a heroe, after all.

He saw the girl rising his hands in surrender with a comical smile on her face.

"Calm down, I'm only trying to help you," you said, putting your book down in a very slow movement.

"Shit, sorry" he apologized.

He couldn't help but notice how the smile on your face shifted to a weird look, scanning him from tip to toe.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" You tapped your chin while bending over your desk to have a better look on the man who was in front of you.

"Probably from the screen or magazines" He said nonchalantly. He was used to this kinda stuff.

"Mm yeah maybe" you were unsure about that. "So, what are you looking for?"

"Im looking for a comic book." He looked at you while you walked to the comics shelf, and he followed when he noticed that had no other information."It's a special edition, I haven't found it yet, and I'm starting to think that's not in stock"

"Just a few people have found this place, it's not even in the google map, so you have the odds to find it here, I like to keep my stock updated" you said, looking at him. God, where have you seen him? How could you forget such a guy like him?

While Bakugo kept searching the famous comic book on the giant shelf, you tried to search in your mind the sight of him.

"You told me that I could have seen you on magazines. Are you a hero, perhaps?"

Bakugo stopped his search in a bit. He wasn't full of himself like when he was younger, but it was difficult to believe that someone didn't recognize him.

"Yeah, I am"

The look on your face didn't change with realization like he expected. Your facade was even more puzzled than before.

You kept silent trying to think. You found Bakugo particularly special. He had features that weren't easy to forget, so why were you so confused?

"GOT IT!" The two of you screamed at the same time, sharing a look. Bakugo was confused, and you were extremely excited.

You two walked to the register, and he lent you the book he was holding.

"May I ask what you got?" He asked secretly, praying that you would give away the information.

"Oh yeah sorry, I remembered you" you scanned the code and put the book on a paper bag.

"Is that so?" Bakugo wasn't sure if you had like a dementia or a memory problem.

"Yeah" you simply said, "Also, you will love this book, it's so good" you said holding the bag to him after he paid.

"Have you read it?" He was curious. You didn't seem the type of girl fan of comics.

"Yes, I just did"

He would be amazed if he didn't live in society based on quirks. It was odd in the society working on a thing that wasn't related to the individual's quirk.

"How does it work?" Bakugo asked because he found that he liked the quietness your bookstore provided. He didn't want to leave.

"When I touch the book, I just know everything about it, the storyline, the plot, etcetera. It's pretty helpful. it works with people too, " you explained to him.

"That's pretty cool," he said, giving it a moment. "Wait, people? That would be pretty useful. Have you ever thought about working with the police? Or the Pro's?

You sighed with a smile on your face. He was getting used to your mannerisms.

"I worked with them for a while..." You intertwined your fingers above the counter. "When the war started, I was assigned to the special identification unit"

"I never heard of it." When the war started He was so busy fighting and being injured to notice anything else. "What was your job there?"

"I was in charge of the identification of dead and destroyed bodies"

Bakugo was shocked even if his face didn't give it away. You were about his age. He sympathized with you because he lived the same shit that you lived, the same trauma, watching people die and suffer in a different perspective.

"That's...-" He didn't know what to say.

"I know..., they pulled me out of the school to make me help them". It was raw, but the war made its havocs to everyone.

"So you were in the field..."

"Yeah, right after the heroes fought, we used to get the call and head to the battlefield"

"Why did you quit?"

You doubted. Maybe he wasn't ready for the upcoming truth...maybe he didn't even know what happened.

"You know, it all changed when I went to this battlefield. It was one of the last fights that occurred during the war. A lot of people were injured, some of them dead, some of them presumed to be dead...I was so excited when I remembered you because I never got the chance to thank you"

He was stunned. When you made a mention about him, his world stopped its rotation. You really knew him? Like outside the press?

"Thank me about what?" He asked curious.

"Your life vision," you said in a calm way. He didn't understand. "Fights and battles move out faster than you think, sometimes they're fighting in the sky, and then they're on the ground, so me and my team had to be quick following the main focus of them. I was looking for injured people to send them to the EMTs when I found you. I remember holding you in my arms. Your face was destroyed, and there was blood everywhere. I saw who you were, your failures, your accomplishments, your friends, your life, and it amazed me. You were just a kid fighting for the grown-up mistakes, but you liked it. You were devoted to your dreams. I never felt that while working with the police. " You stopped for a bit to breathe again. You couldn't look Bakugo to his eyes. "When I touch a corpse, I see everything in a gray hue, every memory fading away. It's sad. You were in my arms when that gray hue started to change to a bright and the most precious tone of orange and red, you were alive, I've never seen something like that before. I was, god, I didn't even know how to put it in words. I remember crying and thinking that it would be a chance for you to pursue your dreams. It wasn't over for you like it was for the other people I attended. Other colors started to appear as well. I felt your chest move again, and I took you to the EMTs. You were the most beautiful vision I saw during the war. You made me realize that i didn't want to watch other peoples crushed dreams. I wanted to live my own, you had your chance, I wanted a chance too, a chance far away from the sadness and catastrophe"

He kept himself quiet. For the first time in many years, he was out of words.

"This is head spinning, I don't know what to say." He was overwhelmed with everything you've said. He was well aware that someone must've saved him, but he never thought that he was presumed dead when it happened.

"Don't get me wrong, I feel like I did my duty as a citizen, and I'll do it again if they need me, but it was devastating touch those bodies and realize that there were people waiting for them at home or that they had kids that they never will be able to see grow up. I haven't done my peace with the war yet"

"I remember being carried to the ambulance. Was that you?" That was the first memory he had after he woke up. It was a blury one like those memories you don't know if they're real or not.

"Yeah, you were such a heavy lift. No offense, " you giggle a little.

"Not taken, how old were you?" Bakugo scratched the back of his neck, trying to assemble every piece of information.

"I was eighteen at that time. You were sixteen, i think, a major pain in the ass for what i saw. Before you woke up i was upset for you, the people you had around really loved you and cared about you, it was unfair and i started to feel guilty about the lives they would never be able to have, yours included"

"Dont be hard on yourself. It wasn't your fault. I was fighting for the grown-up mistakes, but you were definitely living the consequences of them"

The silence between you two was absolutely necessary. You dreamed about this day, you weren't looking forward to it, you didn't do your research or bother to look for him but it was happening. Bakugo couldn't piece the information right. You saved him. He didn't remember much of it, but he knew that someone, a girl, took him to the ambulance, but until a few hours ago, it was just a thought that appeared in his lonely nights. Now you were in front of him, sharing a crucial part of yourself and himself aligned.

"Fuck" That was the first thing he came up with. It was the perfect word to describe how he felt.

"Same," you said. You weren't sure how to feel either. You let it all out, and you were happy that He was alive. "Did you fulfill your dreams?"

He put a weird look that had you regretting your question.

"I'm the number two pro hero in Japan," You covered your face with your hands in absolute shame and laughed.

"I'm so sorry, I don't watch TV or anything." He smiled as well. Your laugh was contagious enough to make him smile. "I'm happy to see you alive"

You were cute. When he first saw you, he thought to himself that something, outside everything he had known, was pulling him to you, like an invisible string or something. You saved his life, and he didn't even attempt to find you sooner. He couldn't let you go.

"My friend's birthday is this saturday," he started. "I know it's not like a proper date or something, but if you don't have any plans or a boyfriend or something like-

Most of the time, he didn't get that nervous, but you were there, standing in front of him, looking at him with perfect eyes and trying to hide your smile.

"I'd love to," you answered before he could say anything else. He felt relieved for the interruption and for you saying yes.

"Good," he watched while you scribbled down your number in a paper.

You put the paper on his hand, and even though he was skeptical, most of the time, he would've swear that he felt a sort of electricity running up and down his spine.

"There you go," you said, batting slightly your lashes at him.

He felt weird. He didn't want this encounter to end. He wanted to tell you a lot of things. He wanted to vent about his life. He wanted to make you a part of him.

"Fuck the party" he muttered. "Are you free? Like right now? Let me buy you a coffee."

He was desperate.

"Let me think about it," you tapped your chin jokingly. "Help me close this thing, and I'm all yours"

The air that he was holding left his lungs. He didn't think that he was being impulsive with all this. He just knew that you were something that was meant to happen, but he never thought that he would have a second chance to meet you again.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[dunmeshistash]

Hello!

I'm Cyan (or anything you wanna call me) this blog started as just a stash for Dungeon Meshi extras and worldbuilding details but expanded as people asked questions and I did my best to answer! Hope you find it as useful as I do. I try my best to categorize my posts so they're easy to find but sometimes I forget.

If you'd like to share something you compiled yourself feel free to send it to me and I'll reblog it! You can also send a submission if you'd prefer. The main goal is to share Dungeon Meshi information :3

Consider checking the FAQ before sending an ask!

FAQ

Spoilers are tagged as "Dungeon Meshi Spoilers"

Please support the author by purchasing the manga if available in your region.

TERFs and other bigots aren't welcome

Icon and Banner

Ryoko Kui's Blog

Tag list under the cut

Types of post

For referencing - Canon things and other information you might want to go back to. Now I'm also using art reference when relevant

Compilation - Posts where I compile lots of canon art/sketches about a specific subject.

Dunmeshi thoughts - My own non canon thoughts. I also use the tag speculation when relevant

Dunmeshi complaint - Tag for more negative subjects/discourse in case you wanna block that. I usually go back and delete the ones that don't seem productive

Asks - Since I post quite a lot of asks I decided to divide them into some tags so they're easier to filter: Lore ask | Character ask | Meta ask | About Cyan

Parties

Laio's Party: Laios Touden | Marcille Donato | Chilchuck Tims | Senshi of Izganda | Izutsumi | Falin Touden

Kabru's Party: Kabru of Utaya, Diamond of Sadena, Mickbell Tomas, Kuro, Rinsha Fana, Holm Kranom

Tansu's Party: Tansu Floke, Yarn Floke, Kiki Floke, Kaka Floke, Namari of Kahka Brud

Shuro's Party: Shuro (Toshiro Nakamoto), Hien, Benichidori, Maizuro, Inutade

Canaries: Mithrun, Pattadol, Lycion, Fleki, Otta, Cithis

Races:

Tallman

Dwarf

Elf

Gnome

Half-Foot

Ogre

Demi humans

Orc

Kobold

Sources (<- check this if you're confused where the extras come from):

Adventurers Bible

Daydream Hour

Monster Tidbits

Bluray

Other tags:

Worldbuilding

Maps

Magic System

Post Canon (Extras about the story after the story)

Clothing (Details about character's clothes and in world fashion)

Dunmeshi Extra (extra comics that aren't in the main story)

Rooms

Modern Clothing

Dunmeshi anime vs manga (comparisons or panels missing from the anime)

Monsters:

Red Dragon

Chimera Falin

Mermaid

I'll be updating as I add posts/figure out how to tag stuff

About me: Cyan - Adult - She/He - Brazilian

[thementalshawty]

PAC Who Is Your FS? Pt.1

Hey I am back with another PAC but I’m going to do something a little different this time. I will be doing 6 piles but they will be in a 2 parter because I want the energy of the 6 to be separated. So at the end of the day you can read this one and get the gist and the sec on part is confirmation or even extra information, the others can and will find their answers in one of the piles in either part one or two. This is a general reading so with that you know the deal, take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. So Picc an Emoji and let’s begin now.

Disclaimer: Tarot is not final but is a mere suggestion, don’t you depend on the opinion or suggestions of anyone to make your own decisions and judgement calls.

P1: 🍩

P2: 🍉

P3: 🥘

🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩🍩

FS 1:

Animal that represents your FS: Crow Spirit. I feel like your FS off top is taboo, well for some of you here I’m hearing witches and warlocks as spouses in this pile, or maybe some of you are? Something about counting crows idk if they do that but I know that they definitely associate with crows in some way? They Cocreate with their spirit guides whether it’s aware to them or not. I told you some of them are witches and warlocks or are very powerful manifesters. They’re hella creative and they may have a Loud yell or call. They may have bird like features some of them. Something in them is Sharp? Like a sharp nose or a sharp stare??? Numbers: 1,7,8 & 17 may have some importance

Auset describing Your FS: Hapi Water Spirit. Numbers 1,3,4 and 13 could be of importance. I feel for some of you, your FS are water signs, mainly Scorpio and Pisces. They’re the type of person that needs to work energetically and with thought before making any moves. They’re definitely a planner and I’m hearing analyzer. This person wants nooooooo fuck ups! NONE HONEY!!! Baboons may have something to do with them too?? They need to visualize the moves for themselves before they do it. I’m telling you this is my alchemical pile right here, very very magical spouses, maybe you guys delve in magic too or should try it. If not you definitely them!

Describing Your FS (Oracle): Here & Now. Numbers 3,2,5 & 32 could have some significance. Some of your spouses are 32, I heard that not all but for some. They are not one to worry about the future or worry about the past, I heard they gotta plan for that already, they are just worried about executing the plan for today. They’re a very live in the moment and present kind of people. I see that they’re the type of person to get caught up sometimes and forget that though, cos being the planner that they are they do have worries about the future I feel in the past they weren’t as prepared and that shit caused them so much struggle and so from that day they wanna be prepared. This is a person who has plan b-Z if A doesn’t work. They are always present though, even when they worry about the future or the past they manage to always bring themselves back to the present cos they don’t wanna miss a thing. (Ha now I’m hearing that song by Aerosmith).

Your FS (Tarot): 9oPentacles, 6oSwords,Justice. You already know numbers 9,6,11,& 2 may have some importance to them. I feel that your FS are very accomplished, I feel it’s fairly new, they just acquired their success and blessings, they worked their goddamn asses for it! They aren’t a lazy person, they hate procrastinating but I feel they may do it sometimes which is why I feel they worked their asses off to get where and what they needed and it’s finally starting to pay off for them, matter of fact every single one of these cards sort of represent that, instead of telling me who they are it’s almost telling me what they’re going through, or what they’ve been going through and I think it’s because it’s a transformative time for them, they will be ascending and a lot of things that could describe them may be falling off so maybe your guides don’t want to fully share their personality because they’re experiencing their own experiences that’s showing them who they really are. I feel like they may like birds, crows, hawks Ravens etc. spiritually and materially they have just been blessed and they are enjoying every minute of it! They’re not missing a single second for the world! They have gone through way too much shit for them to not be anything other than present for this. They are FINALLY coming out of a dark place in their lives, they were in some drama mama! Some straight up chaos and that shit was so unhealthy it began to shut them down I’m hearing for some the others sort of just reacted angrily and it was so toxic they became spiritually and physically sick. I feel that they got some help to come in, and they were helped out by someone who moved them away from their toxic environment. I feel your FS are like that and I feel it’s cos they are compassionate, they know and understand struggle and they hate to see it. They could be a Libra due to the justice card of have Libra placements. They are the mediators of their group, I don’t see them having many friends, a selective few maybe some acquaintances that they laugh and joke around with but other than that nobody really close to them, I’m getting Lone Wolf and ranger type of vibes from this pile. They are someone who’s going to stand up for what they feel is true and fair and equal! They cherish and crave mutuality, if it’s imbalanced they not a fan. They honor equality and respect for all! They see everyone the same they don’t do favoritism and hatred towards anyone. They suffered. Some of your FS are Black, White, Some Asian/Korean/ Hispanic even too. I feel especially if you’re looking for women those ethnic backgrounds apply. Your FS has an ugly side tho, when unfairness or anything they feel is wrong or unjust comes out they are unmerciful. They can be ruthless if needed. Long hair for some, curly fros for others, black and brown hair colors I’m seeing. Gentleman and gentlewomen. Very soft but sharp features. True knights. Diplomatic and tactful, Hella charming. Playboys and women, they know how to bag a person! They’re very good looking, handsome, stunning, I’m even seeing gorgeous to some of you. It’s a very classy kind of beauty. Innocent and beautiful. They are quick to help out anyone they feel needs them and they’re not the type to swoop in and save the day assuming that needs to happen, they will always approach and ask “you need some help?” “Can I help you?” Perfect customer service representative honestly. They’re very sweet and kindhearted. Great smiles. They may be gardeners some of them, they like organic shit, they may not eat meat, or anything that has chemicals and toxic ingredients in food. They are very sensitive about what they put into their bodies. Smokers for some? (Weed not cigarettes or anything else). This person is a catch, a true victorious winner and they will treat you amazingly. Earth and Air placements especially Libra and Taurus! This person is Venus personified! Congrats! They’re hella seductive! I’m trying to find something bad on them honestly but it’s not working. They just fuccin rocc! Acts of Service is their love language.

I feel that. Congrats p1 you deserve it.

🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

FS II

Animal that represents your FS: Bee Spirit. So I’m seeing that 7 could have some significance, as well as the colors Yellow and Black, which leads me to think that some of your FS are mixed races. They’re very hardworking and some of them are the queen bees lol. They have been striving towards something and sweet results are about to roll in for them. I feel like they’re very goal oriented, tunnel vision. This is my workaholic pile I feel, they are workhorses some of them, others are spoiled by others. They have stingers but only use them if they absolutely must. They work like a well oiled machine, no rest. They are around the clock nonstop movers and shakers and they’re about to be rewarded if they aren’t already.

Auset Describing Your FS: Set. Numbers 3,7, 10, 1 & 37 could have some importance to your FS. Set is the god of chaos and war, dirt and sandstorms. I feel your FS have dealt with a lot of challenges and they have some negative traits that you will not like, I’m getting Aries vibes from this. The color red is coming to my head, something about rage. They may have anger issues, they are a jealous person. Some of your FS are bitter from all the challenges they went through, life gave them shit and they kind of internalized it and became dreadful, survival mode on lock, they are so paranoid, they may have or had beef with a sibling. They could have jealous family members. Some of them could have just been dealing with some shit. They can be the youngest sibling or the issue is with the younger sibling. People are intimidated by them. Their demeanor is don’t fucc with me and people heed that shit. They could be 37 some of them, or 10 years older or younger than some of you? They’ve seen some ugly shit in their lives in love, family, career etc. I’m seeing drug addiction for either them or someone they loved and they dealt with that shit. This person is strong but it tainted them in the process I feel.

Describing Your FS (Oracle): Treasure Island. The number 9 could be of some importance to your FS. I feel like they’re the type to see the beauty in things others may not. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, they may have that mindset. They’re beginning to see the results of their own actions, they’ve been moving slow towards this goal that they’re about to receive. This person is a treasure and you’ll definitely see them that way! Great at manifesting, they’re right now working with the law of attraction. They just received a financial windfall from out of nowhere to them. They’re very abundant right now or they’re definitely about to be.

Your FS (Tarot): The Empress, 3oSwordsRx, & The HermitRx. I see that the number 3, 9, & 7 are frequent in this reading so I feel like those numbers in particular are very important to your FS. They can be a Virgo or a Pisces. They’re very intelligent and intuitive. Your FS is beautiful you’ll be blown away by their beauty. Especially if it’s a woman too! They can have braids or locs some of them. They’re very sweet and loving, nurturing and parental. They could have kids. They may love moon bathing some of them, or they should. They are of the world; hella creative and open to whatever the universe/god is bringing them. They are always coming up with new ideas and projects they are the type of people to have plenty of hobbies, a jack of all trades. They are very blended in their energies, and elements. I feel whatever they went through shaped them and helped them become whole but I just think that they can’t see it. They are the type to not know the magnitude of how much they rule!! They may shit on themselves heavily! They are the type to be there for everyone except themselves. They put themselves on the backburner. They are so amazing but they are the type to wallow in their pain and own ignorance. They don’t want to face what happened to them or they don’t want to take accountability for their part in it, so maybe they had an outburst but they will always come up with excuses for it. They are jaded over this pain, I feel it makes so much impact with how they live, move and make decisions. They are so strong but they are so blinded by this pain or by this anger, they really see nothing but that. It overpowers everything that they are and do. They need to do some shadow work. They procrastinate when it comes to it, they may avoid those feelings because they don’t want to relive that hurt but what they don’t realize is that they’re replaying this pain on a loop subliminally in their minds so they’re technically always reliving that pain! That’s why they’re so jaded, it’s like getting sick of a song but you’re leaving it on replay. They need to get out of their head. They’re in isolation, this person I feel has little to absolutely no friends. They were in some kind of abusive relationship. I don’t really wanna get into that. If they don’t have kids, they’re very fertile!! They barely go out, a homebody and I feel to a scary point and I don’t wanna get deeper into that cos it’s reminding me of myself and what I am having to break out of and baby that shit is no joke and putting that business on here without knowing them personally is just fucked up so I won’t. They have been through some shit but they are beautiful person, their heart is being pulled in so many directions and it’s so hard for them to catch a break and they are dealing with it in a toxic way for them and they need to face their demons. I feel they just need someone to talk too, but I have a feeling this person is locked tighter than a bank vault after a robbery. They aren’t into letting anyone see them, not even themselves, Ugh my heart goes out to them. Words of affirmation I feel is their love language. Fear avoidant attachment style, they’re Virgo like, the highs and lows of the sign honestly, I feel like some are Pisces and some are Virgos. Very feminine energy. They want love but they’re afraid of rejection and getting hurt cos that’s all they know, so they’re afraid to dream bigger and want better for themselves.

🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘🥘

FS III

Animal that represents your FS: Pig Spirit🐽: The numbers 4,7,11,2,& 47 may have some importance. This is the kind of person who is quick on their feet, they give me air energy. They’re very intelligent. They’re not a messy person even tho they have messy moments. They’re fun loving and just want to enjoy themselves while they’re still on this earth. Happy go lucky type of people. They believe that pigs can fly, they dream big but they’re not delusional they understand the concept between reality and fantasy but they have a great imagination and they have big goals and aspirations for themselves. They wanna own the moon one day. They wanna fly the highest they can possibly get. They live on cloud 9!

Auset Describing your FS: Anubis. 3. He’s one of my guides!!!! I love Anubis he’s amazing! Your FS is such a great person! They’re very wise and give amazing advice. They take care of everyone, no favoritism with them, they treat everyone fairly, they judge by action, they feel like your hearts intention is based on how you move. You can protect on them to guide you whenever you need it, anyone who needs help, they are the one to call. So reliable and trustworthy, they may have a lot of people depend on them. Helping them transition from one state to the next. They can even be a therapist some of them, or the dr Phil/oprah of their group. They stand up for what they believe in and who they believe in. They’re a great protector. You will feel so safe, they feel like everyone should feel that way, “has the RIGHT to feel safe.” I heard that. Guard dog lover, they aren’t jealous but they won’t let just anyone get near you. They could’ve been abandoned by their parents (maternal esp if you’re looking for guy). They believe in healing of the soul by living out their passions. They believe that freedom to be yourselves is the best medicine. They want to get to know people for who they are at a soul core level. I feel they have GREAT FRIENDS. Certain LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 energy here, they created their own family! They love caring for others, they feel it’s part of their purpose, some nurses and doctors here. Therapist just doctors or medicators of some kind.

Describing your FS (oracle): A Leg Up. 3,4,7, & 34 could have some significance to your FS. They can be 34 some of them. I feel like they are the type of person to definitely lift others up, they aren’t selfish or greedy about shit, they will share their plate, cos they’re confident in their position. They themselves have received leg ups in life from people and they’re just passing on that energy. They’re not a jealous person at all they’re about progression. Sagittarius energy HEAVY! Sag and Aqua energy HEAVY! They’re very free loving. They’re very authoritative and they know how to delegate, they know how to both give and receive help. They’re not hyper independent they believe in teamwork! I love your FS! They’re my favorite! Shhhhhh don’t tell!

Describing your FS (Tarot): PageoSwords, 6oWands,& Judgement. They’re hella inquisitive and always asking about everything, they love to learn, very Gemini energy. They love to gossip with their friends, I also think that they’re the topic of gossip. Reading is everything to them. You’ll always catch their face in a book. Great conversationalist. Young at heart. Playful. They know how to multitask and juggle many things at a time. Their mind is always racing and they can’t turn it off. They’re a student of the world! They want to learn everything. The type who’s learning how to speak different languages. 6,2,& 20 may have some importance to them, some of your FS in this pile is 20. Some of you????? If that’s the case this is confirmation that you chose the right pile! I am seeing that your FS for some 2-3 maybe are celebrities like well known celebrities! No K-pop I don’t sense that here but I’m seeing some notoriety and some household names being here. The rest your FS is known in their field. Wildly successful and part of that has to do with their success story, how they came up and what they went through their hustle to mask it out of the “hood” or bad circumstances so to speak, they have brown hair, long, wavy, curly and straight, it varies I’m seeing. They are hella influential and inspirational to a lot of people, they’re extremely popular. An important person I’m hearing VIP. The it boy/girl. Everyone wants them, everyone wants to be them. They’re not cocky though, they’re all smiles and laughs, very joyous, I’m hearing for the celebrities, once you meet them and get to know them a little you’ll understand why they got fame. They’re so fun to be around. Fun and bubbly personality. They have loud voice. They’re very in demand. They know how to control a room. How to perform. They’re hella entertaining and I think they’re funny cos I’m feeling the urge to laugh and giggle. They may laugh a lot or giggle. You will find that cute. They’re not all about themselves, I see confidence but I also see that they’re a bit insecure too. They dress nice. They dress and look expensive. This is my glam and glitzy but humble pile. They’re such a fuccin joy. And they’re themselves regardless of what’s happening or who’s around. They are the essence of them and that shit is untouchable. They feel like people should see who they are, to love them and experience them to a full extent. They do enjoy the spotlight on them but I’m hearing they deserve it. They’re so litty. They remind me of me! I’m still feeling giggly and giddy, I feel this is how people feel around them (especially them celebs.). They are accepting too, they don’t judge, they’ve faced a lot of backlash and judgement from being who they are so this is the smack in their faces to your FS, their whole image can be about fuck society and their standards etc. I’m getting rocker energy from this pile so some of them can be famous rockers? I was getting the older numbers like 47, so some of you may have a FS in their 40’s, so what??? You’re all over 18 & you will know this person is your person, I feel this connection between you guys is that of a spiritual one. You can feel their spirit, it’s strong! Their presence is very powerful! This person is electric and everyone loves them! Nothing bad to say about this pile! Not really!

Alrighty my dearies! That’s it for part one of who’s your FS! Thank you for taking this ride with me and stay tuned for good ole part two coming soon!

Hope you have clarity!

Now Spread Love and Light!

EeeP Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee 👋🏽

Heka 🕊️🏆

[felassan]

July 22nd DA:TV Game Informer article (their last DA:TV coverage article) on Everything we Know about Bellara - cliff notes:

Bellara is Dalish elf (played by Jee Young Han as we know). There might be more to her than meets the eye

"Now, with two of [the elven] gods on the loose, magic has poured back into the world in a big way"

CC is expansive

Bellara is the first companion we will recruit (Neve and Harding join automatically it seems)

She is a mage, a Veil Jumper (who she represents), quirky, energetic, effervescent, optimistic, bubbly, academic, a tinkerer, an explorer of ancient elven ruins

John Epler wrote her and led her development, and collective team effort from lots of departments brought her to life

The BW team really love her

Gary McKay quote: "I love Bellara, I think she's fantastic. I see people that I know in her and so that's how she really resonates with me. I love the whole tinkerer aspect to her. It was a collective to bring that character to life. It was everything from the writers, to the editors, the animators, to character modelers, to the texturing, to how we light her. I'm really proud of that character."

She is a good choice in combat for both support and elemental combos. She starts out as a support character, but can be built in other ways

She attacks with a bow at range using electrically-charged arrows. She can also cast time-slow and healing spells (she can be built to heal Rook autonomously). She does this by channeling magical energy into her gauntlet

As such she leans into electrical damage

Damage type matters a lot in the strategy and tactics of combat

She can unleash a devastating vortex to pull enemies into an electrical storm (an AOE spell)

She can debuff enemies with the shocked affliction, which makes them take passive damage

Corinne Busche quote: "Oh my goodness, she is amazing. [The Veil Jumpers] investigate the ancient ruins of Arlathan. Everything about her character as a mage leans into that, but she also challenges the kind of archetypal idea of a mage."

The Veil Jumpers journey through Arlathan where the ancient empire used to exist and left a lot of artifacts and magical technology behind when it disappeared

Bellara represents this yearning to find the truth of who the elves were after they lost their magic, immortality and a lot of their history

"they still left a lot of their artifacts and a lot of their, for lack of a better term, magical technology behind"

John Epler quote: "A lot of what they know of their past is based on myth, it's based on rumor. Bellara is a knowledge seeker. She wants to find out what's true, what's not; she wants to find the pieces of who the elves used to be and really understand what their story was, where they came from, as well as figure out where they're going next, and find a future for the elves. And within the context of The Veilguard, she joins the team, first of all, to help stop the gods because Bellara feels at least partially responsible since they are elven gods, but also to maybe find a little bit more of who they used to be. Because again, you're dealing with these elves that were around millennia ago that have now reemerged into the world, and who better to teach her who the elves used to be than them."

Magic's place in the world in DA:TV differs from prior games. In Tevinter and other spaces in DA:TV it's much more present by definition and the lore (though the devs wanted to make sure magic didn't violate previously-established lore rules)

Solas is a "determined and tragic character" who "tends to wallow". [nb, these are quotes from the article]. in contrast, Bellara has seen a lot of tragedy in her backstory (we will see this as we get into her arc), but instead of wallowing, she has forced herself to push past it. "She looks at her regrets, and she tells herself, 'I don't want to feel regret'

John: "Whereas again, Solas tends to wallow in his to a large degree. And it allows us to create a very big differentiation. Part of it is also because Solas is an ancient elf, whereas Bellara is a Dalish elf, but she just sees a problem and wants to solve it. She feels a tremendous amount of responsibility to her people [...] to the Dalish, and to the Veil Jumpers, and that drives her forward. That said, she does have her moments where she has doubt, she has moments where she has a more grim outlook, and there are moments where you realize that some of her sunny, optimistic outlook is kind of a mask that she puts on to hide the fact that she's hurting, she's in pain. But in general, she doesn't see any benefit to wallowing in those regrets."

[source]

[bet-on-me-13]

Lady Gotham raises Bruce Wayne

After the tragedy that happened on that fateful night in Park Row, the Spirit of Gotham understood something.

Bruce Wayne was destined to become the Dark Knight of her City, the Protector of Gotham and all of her peoples, as well as one of the Greatest Heroes to ever exist. And to fulfill that Destiny his life would be filled with hardships and pain beyond what most Mortal men would be able to Handle.

So, she decided, "Nope. My child, my rules."

She may not be as caring or compassionate as her Sister, Metropolis, but she can still feel enough compassion to know that she doesn't want this little boy to suffer all that alone.

So she takes on a Mortal Form and crafts herself an Identity, and then gets herself Hired as the new Maid, as a partner to Alfred.

She take up a Maternal Role in Bruce's life, similar to Alfred's Paternal Role. But while Alfred starts teaching Bruce about all of his old MI6 Training, Lady Gotham starts training Bruce is more Mystical stuff.

She basically teaches him everything there is to know about Magic, everything he could possibly ever need.

She teaches him about the different monsters of the world, how they can be beaten and how they can be befriended.

She teaches him about all the different types of Magic she knows of, just so he knows what he is getting into if he ever decides to learn how to use it. Or how to counter it.

She teaches him about all the different dimensions she can think of, from the Fae Wilds to the Ghost Zone. In fact, she teaches him mostly about her own original home, the Infinite Realms.

She tells him about the history of the Realms, how they came to be and all about the beings thay reside there.

She tells him the story of Pariah Dark, the good king who fell to his own Hubris and became a tyrant.

She tells him about Clockwork, the Ghost of an Ancient Tita who now lives in search of redemption by keeping the world safe.

She tells him about the Ancients, who banded together to Seal away the Tyrant Pariah, and then split up to rule over their own Kingdoms.

And this information comes in handy when he eventually becomes the Batman. While he never did learn how to use Magic, he is still one of the most accomplished Magical Consultants in the World (Something that really ticks off a certain sad trenchcoat man). Whenever the League has an Issue with a Magical Threat, they always turn to Batman.

So Lady Gotham thinks she did her job pretty well.

And then he adopts kid...and she absolutely ADORES THEM!

Dick is so Carefree and fun! Jason was such a bookworm, even after his death and resurrection! Tim was such a smart kid, she was honestly hoping he would be chosen as the next Robin. Stephanie added a much needed air of joy to the house, for her short time with them. And Damian was such a petulant but creative child!

She absolutely loves them!

So when some crooks manage to kidnap HER Grandbabies while they are on a civilian family bonding trip to the Park, there will be Hell to Pay.

She may not be as compassionate as her sister, but she can be twice as Vengeful.

[ambermotta]

Protection Magic: Some Important Concepts

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Long post based on my experience and research. Meant to be informative. I don't claim to know the absolute truth.

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Protection magic is any type of work meant to protect A from B, and there are many ways that this can be done: prayers, charms, talismans, tokens, casting circles, setting up wards, visualization. The list can go on and on because it can be done in many different ways and combining many different methods.

But methods are not the topic of this post today. No, today I would like to talk about some key concepts to keep in mind before getting started on making protections and keeping them effective.

The Importance of Cleansing

Before doing any protection work I like to do a cleansing. Imagine you have an open water bottle, and because it was open, a lot of dirt has found its way into it over time. You decide to seal the bottle so no dirt comes in, but you don't pour out the old water, so you end up sealing it in. Yes, you'll keep more dirt from coming in, but the muck is still there.

It is easier to see this being applied to a physical location, but I personally also apply this to personal protective tokens. I feel they work better when you are taking care of your energies by doing regular cleanses and managing internal negativity.

Important Definitions

Protection ≠ Banishing ≠ Cleansing

I feel a lot of people are under the impression that these are all the same. I think they all work together towards a similar goal, but their jobs are different.

Protection: protecting something from something

Banishing: driving out entities

Cleansing: clearing out energy

You can do cleansing, banishing, and protection at the same time, but that doesn't mean they are the same. You can do a ritual including all of them, but you can also just do a cleansing or just do warding (which is a form of protection).

Note: cleansing is not restricted to “negative energy”. You can cleanse any kind of energy. Exemple: a friend of yours decides tarot is not for them and hands down their deck to you. If you wanna work with that deck it is highly advisable that you do a thorough cleansing of it and then infuse it/consecrate it with the energies you want. It's not that your friend has “bad” energy, it's just that you might not want to work with the same energies they have, or use a tool that has someone else's energy in it.

Not Necessarily a Lazy Job

One important thing with protection magic is that no matter how strong or how successful are at doing it is that it is not failproof. I have yet to see protection work that lasts forever, and there may be a few reasons for it.

Negativity also comes from within

Imagine you have a fish inside an open fish tank. Just like the bottle example earlier, you decide to put a lid on so you prevent leaves from falling into the tank and polluting the water. However, there's a fish, a living being in there, and it produces waste. It is impossible for the fish to live without producing waste. If you don’t regularly clean the water, ammonia and fecal matter will build up.

In this analogy, you are the fish. I am the fish. Humans literally cannot live without ever having a negative thought or feeling, it is part of our existence and we have to live with it. No one lives in constant bliss.

That doesn't mean we have to live in the muck though. That's why cleansing yourself is important.

No one is immune to the environment

Here I have another analogy for you. Imagine you're facing a harsh winter, but you are safe in the security and warmth of your house. Your house is protected from the cold so you don't even mind it. However, you have to go outside. You dress up, go out and you feel very, very cold. You could perhaps wear something warmer, but it will never feel the same as home. Yet it is better than going outside naked, no?

Same thing for energies. You can have protection, but depending on how strong the energy in the environment is you are sure to feel it to at least some degree. However it's best to have some protection than no protection at all.

And there is a difference between Feeling an energy and dwelling in it vs Feeling an energy and not letting it latch onto you.

Energy can wear off, and new energy can build up

Energy is ever changing, ever moving. If you do a strong protection spell once, it can last for a long while, but if you forget about it it will likely lose a lot of its strength over time. Some of what you put out there might wear off and be substituted by something else. The energy can also grow stale, which means it becomes less effective.

But if you do a strong spell every month you will not only make your protections stronger, but also constantly renew the energies and not let them stagnate.

So keep doing cleanses and every now and then give a boost to your protections so they are refreshed and recharged.

Note on "Negative Energy"

One of the main reasons someone might choose to do a protection ritual and a cleansing is to ward off negative energy. But is that really needed? What is "negative energy"?

Negative energy might feel like a sense of heaviness, dread, pain, sadness, feeling ill, angry, sad or anxious. Emotions produce and attract what we can call "negative energy", the same way it can make us feel those things.

And while I personally think nobody wants to feel them, we must understand they are not always bad at their core.

The uncomfortable feelings they can cause may also be a gateway for healing and transformation. Pain tells us there is something that needs to be worked on, that needs change.

If you are feeling negative, ask yourself why. Why does this bother me? What makes me feel this way? What can I learn from this pain?

If you happen to feel negative energy, it is good to cleanse and protect. But I advise you to always look for the source to see what can be done about it or what you can learn from it. Don't just try to use spellcasting to run away from your shit. Own your shit. Deal with it.

Otherwise, it will keep coming back no matter how much protection you have.

Conclusion

It is impossible to always be free from “negative energy” all the time, no matter how strong your protections are. But protections can absorb some of the blows that you would otherwise take and ease the ones you were going to take no matter what.

Protection magic alone will not solve all your problems. It is a great tool to help you keep your center and remain grounded, but it is not usually something you do once and forget. It is a continuous, ever evolving work, meant to be used in conjunction with other types of spellwork.

And most importantly, it can give you some comfort through the many trials of life.

Thank you for reading, and good luck on your path! ♡

[hedwig221b]

Do you have any fic recs that involve chasing? Like Derek gives in to the urge to run after stiles and catch him?

I kind of didn't really understand what you were asking lol so here are a few types of "chase" fics:

Mating Run Fics:

Wants & Needs by MadcapRomantic

Derek Hale has been participating in the Beacon Hills Mating Run for a decade, each year coming up without a mate. His mother, convinced this is his lucky year, persuades him to run one last time.

Enter Stiles, a young Omega with an unwanted Alpha nipping at his heels.

Family or not, Peter is determined to have Stiles. But convinced they are True Mates, there isn't anything Derek won't do to keep Stiles safe.

The Cursed Wolf by SinQueen69

2023 Suggestion Anon Wanted: Feral alpha Derek, who has been cursed and got in that feral state. The only way to lift the curse is the "sacrifice" of a pure heart. And Virgin Omega Stiles is willing to help him but the ritual has to be a mating run.

When Things Go Right by SylvieW

Stiles is nervous for the mating run. What if his soulmate is disappointed? Scott’s convinced that Allison will catch him, but Stiles isn’t so sure of his best friend’s girl, and the results could be upsetting for everyone.

Angel Choirs and Magic by LadyDrace

Derek has been very, very patient, and has shown frankly incredible self-control in the face of brutal teasing and flirting for two months. But now it's time for the mating run, and he's about to get his reward.

Except for how maybe it's actually Stiles getting a treat. Win/win.

Stiles gets kidnapped and Derek gives a chase:

Out of Focus by exclamation

Stiles was taken prisoner by a coven of witches. Now his only chance of getting home is if he learns how to control his own magic… and stops blowing stuff up by accident. With surging power inside him that he can't restrain, Stiles must deal with memories of the nogitsune, and fears that he might end up hurting those he cares about.

Meanwhile, his family and friends don't even know if he's alive. His father desperately searches for answers, and Derek will do anything in his power to find Stiles, even if it means asking an Argent for help.

of gods & monsters by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“I’m not the best at conversation. I’ve been told I have no finesse for it.”

Stiles took a step closer to Derek, pushing the billowing silk out of the way. “And what would you say if you looked at me now?”

Derek looked up, startled for a moment when he realized he was now looking at Stiles’ unveiled face. He was silent for a beat, taking in Stiles’ features for the first time, convinced he would never see such beauty unveiled for him alone.

Stiles runs away and Derek catches his ass:

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void.

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

My Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“If he wants to mate Stiles, why not let him?” Jackson asked, ready to part with Stiles if need be.

“Because if I did that, I’d be demoting Lydia,” Alpha Stilinski replied.

“We don’t even know how good of a Beta he is,” Lydia countered, bristling some that her status was being challenged.

“That’s because he’s not a Beta,” Alpha Stilinski stated. “He’s an Alpha.”

If you wanted fics with their own chasing scenes, I am sorry to inform you that I have a memory of a goldfish, and do not remember any in particular, though I am sure they exist somewhere in the wild. If someone knows some, please, feel free to add!

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | mafia