#mayhem is brewing

[penumbra-mayhem]

Tank “I wish I could be someone else” Shaw

and

Sam “I wish I could feel like myself” Collins

[unhingednerdyredhead]

Idea for a tale:

Able likes to drink, but in his words, "This bitter (untranslatable, goes on for about 15 seconds) Is. NOT. Beer. "

Bes, being a god of mirth and brewing/fermentation, hears this and wants to know why the pretty Sumerian is pissed off.

Able: "This."

Bes takes a sip, spits it out,and spends the next ten minutes gagging. "What vile trick is this!?!"

And from then on, an idea is formed. The resurrection of "real" beer.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Love on Lockdown

Blaise Zabini x reader

Summary: You’ve been locked in with Blaise Zabini one too many times for this to all be accidental

word count: 3k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You had never had an issue with Blaise Zabini. Sure you had never been best friends or the like as he had always been one of the more reserved and quiet ones of the group, but you still enjoyed his company. One might even say you admired the boy’s subtle charm, tact, and top marks in your year. The handsome face didn’t hurt either. All that to say is there were definitely worse people to be locked in the bloody potions ingredient closet with.

“Damn it. The potion will go bad and we’ll have to restart the whole thing if it sits too long,” Blaise grunts, shoving at the door as it scrapes stubbornly against the floor.

The two of you had been taking advantage of the extra credit assignment offered in your potions class, staying late to brew a simple calming draught. All would have been well if not for a certain poltergeist with a penchant for causing mayhem.

It had started with Peeves serenading the both of you with an almost 30 minute long rendition of Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. In opera. When it was clear you both still had most of your sanity in tact, the poltergeist switched tactics to swiping your ingredients when you weren't looking. But this, this really took the cake.

Really you probably should have seen it coming. It was right up Peeves' alley to pull a stunt like this, yet, like fools, you and Blaise had stupidly walked into the ingredient storeroom together in search of another crocodile heart as Peeves had sent the last one flying out the window. As soon as you were inside, the door was swung shut with a loud clang and a gleeful shriek from the meddlesome poltergeist.

“That stupid little- Peeves let us out!" You shout, banging on the door.

It's no use however as you here the poltergeist's laughter fade away.

"I should've let Draco and Matt hex that bloody ghost when they had the chance” you huff in annoyance.

Turning, you light your wand as you browse the shelves. “Aha!” Reaching up, you pluck a wrinkly, rock looking item off the shelf. “One crocodile heart.”

“Wonderful. Lot of good it’ll do us while we’re in here, and our potion is out there.” Blaise mutters, pointing his wand at the door’s lock again.

You ignore him, going instead to examine the door yourself.

“It’s not locked, just jammed shut,” Blaise says, leaning back.

“How cross do you think they’ll be if we just blast the thing off its hinges?” You ask, examining the rusted metal.

“You’re joking. You’ve been spending far too much time with Matt and Draco. That’s a horrible i-“

“Diffindo”

With two clean flicks of your wand, the door is off its hinges and on the ground with a loud thud. The both of you look at the door, then at each other.

“Well, at least we won’t have to start the potion over,” you say finally, stepping over the fallen door and making your way over to the potion station where your project is still a glistening shade of blue.

“Bloody hell,” you hear Blaise mumble as he joins you.

You almost miss the sly smile he tries to suppress.

“Do try not to get yourself all locked up,” Mattheo shouts after you with a cackle as you make your way toward the old shack that housed the Hogwarts quidditch supplies.

“Oh remind me why I volunteered to help you again?” You shout back, flipping the boy off. Rancid bastard.

Ever since you and Blaise had, against both of your better judgement, told your friends what had happened that day in the potions classroom that landed you both a week’s detention, they hadn’t let you forget it. Propping the door open with an old broom, you begin digging through the old junk. You didn’t even know why they found it so amusing. Realistically the whole situation had only lasted a few minutes at most, hardly note worthy in your opinion. On top of that, it had been several weeks since the incident. Initially you had thought it would blow over rather quickly, but here Mattheo was, still poking fun at it.

The only silver lining of the whole situation was that you and Blaise had actually begun seeing each other outside of group settings in order to escape the near constant teasing. It was strange. You couldn’t remember another time they were this caught up on a bit.

“Need help?”

Feeling a light tap on the shoulder and with the sudden noise, you let out a yelp, backing into the rack behind you. A box of quaffles goes flying, dislodging the broom holding the door in place, and slamming the door shut.

“Sorry,” Blaise says awkwardly, glancing around the cramped shed guiltily.

“Oh it’s fine. Just spooked me a bit is all. Didn’t hear you come in,” you reply as you continue your search through the jumbled supplies.

“I’d be surprised if we actually find any more beater’s bats in here. Mattheo has been running through the things lately. Has to be the third one broken this month,” Blaise comments as he begins to help rummage about.

“Maybe he should start taking notes from your book then. You haven’t busted through a single bat yet this season, but somehow Mattheo is single handedly running Quality Quidditch Suppiles out of supplies,” you reply in exasperation.

Blaise lets out a small laugh. He’d been doing that a lot more lately; and every time, you could feel your heart start pounding in your chest.

“That’s what I’ve been telling him, but you know how he is. Doesn’t listen to shit. Oh look!”

Before you have the chance to turn to see what he’s on about his chest presses against you as he reaches up and over you. Out of the corner of your eyes you can see his toned, muscular arms around you and you try not to stare.

“Probably the last set in this dump,” Blaise says, pulling a box of the very top shelf.

You take a gulp, composing yourself.

“Oh perfect. Let’s get out of here,” you reply, turning to open the shed door.

It doesn’t budge. You try again, harder this time. Nothing.

“Oh for Salazar’s sake,” Blaise mutters, dropping the box on the floor as he too tries shoving the door open.

“They are so never going to let us live this down,” you groan as you both pound on the door.

After a minute you both slump to the floor, staring up a the blasted wooden rectangle. You look at the door, then at Blaise, and slowly begin to reach for your wand.

“I could always just-“

“Absolutely not. One week of detention with Snape was enough for me, thanks,” Blaise interrupts, snatching your wand from your hand.

“Oh, I was only joking. Mostly. I’ll be careful this time,” you protest, leaning over to snatch your wand back. “Come on, give it back.”

Blaise just leans away further, another laugh escaping him as he holds your wand further out of reach.

“Blaise, please,” you laugh, leaning into him further.

It only takes a moment for your eyes to meet his, and for his eyes to flicker down to your lips before you realize just how close the two of you are. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he lets out an awkward cough, pulling away slightly.

“Sorry.” Blaise clears his throat, handing your wand back. “Anyway, we’ve been gone a bit, the others’ll come looking for us. No point blasting the door down.”

“Right,” you agree, suddenly finding the ground to be rather fascinating.

Shockingly, it doesn't take the rest of the day for your friends to come and rescue you, but you don't particularly care for the look on Mattheo's face when the door to the shed is finally pried open.

"Not one word Riddle."

“Do you hear that?” You ask, stopping in your tracks as you try to pinpoint where the sound was coming from.

“What, the cat screaming bloody murder?” Blaise asks seeming rather uninterested.

The two of you were on your way down to the library to study for the upcoming charms exam. And also to escape the chaos that seemed to follow Mattheo and Draco wherever they went.

“Yes, but listen. That’s Pansy’s cat. Darn thing probably got itself stuck in one of the passage ways again,” you sigh, making your way over to the wall of paintings that the meows of distress seemed to be coming from.

“That sounds like Pansy’s problem if you ask me,” Blaise says, but he still follows you over.

“You see a cat sneak through here?” You ask a painting of a rather disgruntled looking knight.

“Yeah. Blasted thing ‘as been screaming behind ‘ere for ages,” he replies.

“We’ll get him, open up.”

“Wouldn’t if I were you, but suit yourselves,” the knight says matter of factly before swinging open to reveal a narrow passage way and Pansy’s cat scratching manically at the walls.

You gesture for Blaise to follow you as you step over the threshold, coaxing the cat towards you. It only takes a bit of convincing before the grey tabby is securely in your arms. As you go to leave however, you find that your feet are strangely locked in place.

“What the-“

Next to you, Blaise tries taking a step towards the exit as well, only to find that he too was locked in place.

“For the love of fucking Salazar, you’ve got to be joking,” he says finally after a bit of struggle.

“What do you think it is? Epoximise?” You ask, straining to try and see if you could see anything sticking you in place.

“Likely. Would be nice right about now to be studying for that charms exam so we knew how to undo it.”

You’re about to cut your losses and begin screaming for help when the portrait door swings open once more revealing one Mattheo Riddle. His smug grin falls when he sees the two of you glaring back at him. You were going to murder him.

“Oh shit.”

“What in Salazar’s name did you do Riddle?” You ask between gritted teeth.

“Okay hear me out, let it go on record now, this wasn’t intended for you two,” the boy says sheepishly. “Blaise’ll thank me later though,” he says under his breath, quietly enough that you don’t quite catch it.

Blaise does however, and you see his hand tighten around his wand.

“Cut to it Riddle,” he snaps.

“Sorry, sorry! I might have been playing a little prank on Pansy. And Malfoy. They started it though! It wasn’t my fault!”

“Mattheo-“

“Alright! I was messing around with that sticking charm from class, did a little meddling, made it so I could set it up like a little, ah, what’s it called? A mouse trap! But with the cat instead of cheese. Obviously.”

“Just tell us how to get out! Salazar Matt, we didn’t ask for your whole evil plan,” you exclaim in exasperation.

“Oh! Real simple, just need a kiss!” Matt replies, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Really Matt? A kiss?”

“It wasn’t meant for you two! It was for Pansy and Draco!”

“Oh my god, you’re not even creative. Mistletoe. You just made magical mistletoe,” you say in frustration.

“What?”

“Nothing! It’s a muggle thing.”

Before you can lose your nerve, you reach up quickly, grabbing Blaise’s tie and pulling him down. Your lips are only touching for a few seconds before you let the boy go and, with your newly freed feet, rush out of the passage way.

“Immobulus,” you mutter as you stomp past Mattheo who freezes in place.

As soon as you’re out, Pansy’s cat leaps from your arms, scurrying off.

“We really just going to leave him there?” Blaise asks, following you out.

“That sounds like Mattheo’s problem if you ask me,” you reply, hoping Blaise hadn’t noticed quite how flushed your face still was.

He just lets out another low laugh as the two of you continue on your way to the library, both trying to ignore the way your fingers kept brushing as you walked.

"That's a muggle game. I thought you lot were supposed to despise everything to do with muggles. Wait, actually, where did you all even learn what seven minutes in heaven is?" you ask in confusion, watching with bewilderment as your friends situate themselves in a rather crude looking circle.

Your eyes can’t help but find Blaise who looks completely unbothered by all this, despite his usual aversion to these little games that Pansy so loved to drag everyone into. You weren’t quite sure what was going on between the two of you, and you weren’t entirely sure if you desperately wanted to be locked in the closet again with the boy, or if you wanted to run the hell away.

Pansy places an empty bottle of fire whisky in the middle and beckons you to take a seat next to her.

"Does it really matter where we learned it from? Come sit," she says, brushing off your concern.

And that's how you had ended up here. Pressed up against the wall, in the dark, with your arms wrapped around Blaise's neck, his hand covering your mouth as he pressed kisses down your throat.

One moment you were both protesting as your friends all shoved you into yet another closet, confiscating your wands, and locking the door. And the next, Blaise was whispering in your ear as his hands made their way to your waist and you melted into him.

It was definitely not what you had expected to happen. You had no idea where the sudden burst of confidence from Blaise had come from, but you weren’t about to complain.

"If we're going to be stuck here, we might as well make the most of it, no?" he had murmured, tilting your head up with one hand, forcing your eyes to meet before slowly, carefully pressing his lips to yours.

You didn't pull away and that seemed to be all the encouragement Blaise needed as he pressed your bodies together. You could feel your heart trying to beat out of your chest as his lips moved against yours, warm and soft, mind turning to a muddy haze.

You barely register the gasp that escapes your lips as Blaise begins to trail kisses down your neck, and don't even bother to fight back as his hand presses against your mouth with a low laugh before he continues back up, finally meeting your lips again.

It all comes to a shattering stop though when the banging starts.

"Hey! Knock knock love birds! Time to open up!"

And just like that, you're momentarily blinded as light rushes back into closet and you hope to Salazar that you're some semblance of put together.

It had been a long fucking week and all you wanted to do was collapse onto your bed and cuddle your damn boyfriend. Was that too much to ask?

"Go, go, go, go, go," you hiss, racing into your dorm room, Blaise hot on your heels.

As soon as you're both in the room, you slam the door shut and turn the lock with a hasty "Colloportus".

"Think they saw us?" Blaise asks, pulling you onto the bed and into his arms.

"I don't care. I just want like, ten minutes without hearing Draco and Mattheo and Theo and Enzo fighting like wild grindylows," you groan, burying your face in the boy's chest.

The boys had begun trying to drag you into their latest scheme and you simply wanted nothing to do with it. You weren’t even entirely sure what the whole plot of their scheme was as you had been actively ignoring most of what they were saying at dinner. All you knew was no matter how many times you or Blaise told them that locking Draco and Pansy in a closet together on purpose was actually a horrible idea, they wouldn't listen.

"At least you're not the one who shares a dormitory with them," Blaise remarks with a laugh. “They were going on about how I’m ‘an expert’ at not knowing how to properly function a door earlier.”

"Yoohoo! We know you two are in there!" Matt's voice calls from the other side of the door.

"And here we see Blaise and y/n in their natural habitat. A locked room." Theo quips as the other boys fall into a mix of laughter and other jabs.

"Maybe if we pretend we died, they'll get bored and go away," you mutter, hoping the obnoxious train wreck outside your door couldn't hear.

"Perhaps we didn't properly appreciate all the time we spent all locked up. Only way to get some peace and quiet in this castle," Blaise agrees as the knocking on your door continues.

"Alohomora!"

The door slams open revealing a very smug looking Draco surrounded by his accomplices.

"Oh good, we were worried you might being doing something nasty," Enzo says, inviting himself and the other boys in.

Oh perfect, the circus had arrived with its clowns.

"As we were saying before you two so rudely escaped, we were thinking, since my whole cat trap didn't exactly go as planned, do you two have any ideas on how we can get Pansy locked up with Draco? Since it worked out so well for you?" Matt asks.

You glare at the intruders.

"Get. Out."

"Fine, fine, just asking! Thought you might want to help a ferret out," Matt says, raising his hands in surrender as he now has you and Draco both glaring daggers at him.

"Out."

"We're going, we're going," he replies as he and the other boys slowly begin filing out.

"And lock the door behind you!" Blaise calls out as the door finally slams shut. "Salazar those buggers don't know when to shove off."

"I don't even want to think about them," you reply rolling your eyes before pressing your lips to his.

You really needed to start looking into a better locking charm.

Anotha year, anotha Hogmarch challenge from @thatdammchickennugget

[bluephoenixprincess]

Courting Tournament: Spicynoodles edition~<3

and now to outline for you all here, the premise of a Courting Tournament fic i plan on Actually Writing.

So, its post Season 5, and for the moment at least, MKs hero life has slipped back into the comfortable rhythm of jobber demons causing trouble and MK stopping them, as many weak or low level demons get emboldened by the powerboost from the Pillar Stones.

But then things start getting weird. Slowly but surely the Various Demon attackers get less and less focused on whatever Mayhem or theivery or whatever they were up to and start focusing more and more on MK himself. Not in a "defeat you for glory way" either, in a much more uncomfortable way.

And if that werent bad enough, MK finds himself slipping into his Monkey form more and more often, thankfully without emotional distress or uncontrollable power outbursts, but it just keeps happening and MK still isnt very used to the form to begin with.

Mk being Mk of course tries to hide slash ignore these issues until he cant anymore. Culminating in a fight with a stronger than average demon who get MK on the back foot for a hot second and starts saying some very uncomfortable things about how he cant wait to take MK home and make him his little wife/husband/mate.

MK hearing that immediately goes monkey mode, puts that guy through several walls, and flies off to FFM to find out what the hell is going on.

And Like, MK knows about courtnapping, the basics at least, that demon tradition considers whisking away prospective mates and showing them how well you can protect them and provide for them the height of romance. A little weird but hey, humans have had some weird romance traditions as well.

But the realization that all the demons he's been fighting want to courtnap HIM? combined with the weird stuff going on with his monkey form? MK cant deal with this.

By the time he gets to Wukongs house he's crying and stuck in his monkey form with no idea what to do about everything. Wukong immediately bundles his successor onto the couch and, after a glass of water and some comforting fur grooming, manages to get out of him whats wrong.

Needless to say Wukong is Concerned and a bit miffed that MK didnt tell him or anyone else what was going on. But concern and caring for his crying student whos clearly stressed the fuck out now, lecturing later.

With his eyes of truth and maybe a magic test of some sort, Wukong discerns the cause of all the nonsense.

MKs body has Reached the demonic state of full maturity, which most notably includes the core of his magic fully maturing. Because of this, not only is he more or less stuck in Monkey form for awhile, but every demon for miles around can feel vibrant energy coming off him in waves.

And they want a peice of that.

So, Regardless of how widespread the knowledge of Sun Wukongs successor (and basically heir) was before, its spread to all corners of demon scociety now. And just like his mentor before him poor MK is getting swarmed.

MK is understandably upset by these revelations and may or may not start hyperventilating while trying to play it off and insist he can totally handle it. Wukong decides to call in the rest of the Monkie Kid Crew to come up with a plan.of action. Cause while MK could probably handle most of his suitors, he shouldnt have to.

Some explaining, arguing and tea brewing later the whole crew is gathered in Wukongs house, Mk cuddled up between Mei and Tang.

Options are gone through and discarded, letting MK just deal with them as they come is out. Wukong offers MK to stay on Flower Fruit mountain till the suitors get the hint and leave him be since thats what he ultimately did, but when asked how long that could take Wukong makes an uncomfortable noise and avoids eyecontact as he remembers it took over a century. So... no.

Eventually Wukong Sighs and brings up a solution he knows can deal with these types of situations, at least for awhile, If they Hold a Courting Tournament for MK, they can deal with all of his suitors at once and turn what could be months of headache into a couple weeks at most.

Theres a lot of yelling and explaining, and Wukong ultimately puts the decision in MKs hands. Mk thinks long an hard but ultimately decides a couple weeks/few days of being a spectacle is preferable to who knows how long of being harrassed.

"*sigh* Lets do the tournament thing"

~●~●~●~●~●~●~●~

So wheres Red Son in all this? At some big fancy Demon gala/festival thing with his parents, bored out of his mind and surrounded by people he mostly dislikes. As is typical for such gatherings.

He and his parents are there to shmooze, make alliances and work on properly reestablishing the Demon Bull Families influence in Demon high society.

Redson, after having one to many snide comments made his way about his families repeated defeats at the hands of Wukongs successor, is hiding in a corner sipping a drink waiting for the night to be over.

And definitely not thinking about how much he'd rather be hanging out with the Dragon Girl and Noodle Boy, especially Noodle boy.

Until the host of the event calls the whole rooms attention to make a big announcement. That theyve just recieved a messenger from Flower Fruit Mountain. The mere mention sends a stir through the crowd, the Monkey kinds been basically a reculse for the last several centuries so him sending out a message is big.

And it is big. As the announcement, to this gathering and all of the three realms, is that Wukong and company will be holding a Courting Tournament, no not for the Monkey king again, but for his Successor.

Red Son Drops his glass and cant even begin to care when it shatters on the floor.

~○~▪︎~○~▪︎~○~

Back with Monkie Kid Gang plans are being made.

Mei all but insists on being MKs Champion. And While MK is worried she might get hurt, Wukong swears to him that he as host will enforce Strict Rules to prevent such things.

Thus, the stage is set. I'll come back to this, but since i plan to write this as a full fic, i dont want yo spoil too much.

[missriggie]

If Inquisitor Lavellan is Hope, Elf!Rook is Freedom

Forgive my rambling but I just wanted to share this, see if it inspires discussion/theories/new friends to reach out, and maybe cement myself in this fandom.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I've given a sparing thought to some theories and headcanons I've seen circulating with the confirmation of elves once being spirits in Veilguard and all the clues sprinkled throughout Inquisition. One has popped up that I find intriguing and I agree with. Inquisitor Lavellan is a Spirit of Hope.

I think there is a very strong case for that, especially for those Solasmancers out there who love to pair them up as Wisdom and Hope. It's a very beautiful thought as they are without a doubt soulmates, at least in the cases where those two end up together.

Hope defines the Inquisitor's journey. They become the Herald of Andraste, a symbol to look to after a period of ruthless war, then into the ass-end of a demon apocalypse trying to mend a broken world. Deed after great deed they prove their capabilities, and become a formidable player in Thedas's history, keeping people looking up. They are the Dawn That Comes.

Now that Veilguard has since confirmed that Elves were spirits made flesh, I've started to wonder at what possible spirit Rook could be, should they be of Elven lineage. I've decided, either through evidence or delusion or trying to piece together the fanfic I've got brewing, that Rook could be a spirit of Freedom.

Every faction could have some way of a purpose toward liberation. A Veil Jumper would want to free their history and their people from ignorance. A Grey Warden would want to free Thedas from the Calling and the Blight. The strongest background, and most the likely canon faction for Rook would be a Shadow Dragon, putting pressure on the Imperium to abolish slavery.

Rook has a knack for freedom. We free Lucanis from the Ossuary, the Dalish Elves from the Venatori, the Kal Sharok dwarves from the Titan's anger, young griffons from the Gloomhowler. We even free ourselves from a prison of regret built specifically to lock up gods.

My first go round, I played a Lord of Fortune Spellsword, and it coincided very nicely with this theory. An ex-galley slave turned marauding treasure hunter with no masters to hold them back. She lived and breathed freedom so it made sense, at least for my Rook.

We also see the potential to corrupt that spirit of freedom. Into what you ask? CHAOS. Which also ties into the other thing that connects them to Solas; The Tower.

The big teaser for Rook as the protagonist back when it was still called Dreadwolf was the Tower/rook chess piece and floating head of a wolf. Solas's Arcana at the end of Inquisition is the Tower. This Major Arcana represents calamity, disruption, upheaval, unavoidable change, chaos.

Too much freedom leads to lawlessness, and Rook is never one to follow rules as far as we witness. In all backgrounds, no matter the faction, Rook's actions cause unrest, turmoil, disruption, often a total breakdown of authority, much like the spirit they are mistaken for when delving into Solas's memories in the Crossroads.

Rook cannot be caged or told what to do. But also, Freedom cannot go unchecked, to do so on either end of the spectrum just leads to untold mayhem. It needs a guiding hand. It needs Wisdom.

With this in mind, it just makes their dynamic with Solas so much more fascinating. Everything he has done is in the name of Freedom, and if he were to have a living embodiment of it move against him it would be so confronting. It would make him question his entire angle. Why is he really doing this, if not for freedom? But his pride would keep him in imprisoned in denial and regret. This denial is then reflected back to Rook in regards to the fate of Varric.

The case for each spirit, both Hope and Freedom, only intensifies if one chooses the Atonement ending.

Lavellan sees the Wisdom in Solas and tries to appeal to him through that. She gives him Hope, and joins him in the dream, forever protected from his fear of dying alone.

Rook holds a mirror to his Pride, his mistakes, his trauma and makes him confront it. They gather all the pieces needed to unravel his fear, allow him to let go and make his own choice to atone and return to his true self, opening a path to true Freedom to finally come home to the Fade. WHICH IS TWIN-FLAMEY AS FUCK

So yeah, I love this game. EDIT: I've expanded on this with a second part regarding Elgar'nan and will in the future take a look at Rook/Freedom in relation to Mythal as Benevolence and Retribution.

[pseudowho]

Thank you everyone for your utter patience during Haitch and @mrhaitch radio silence!

The house move is...going. We are unpacking and drilling and childrearing and preparing for Christmas and EVERYTHING all in one fell swoop.

Watchmaker!Nanami is almost finished, and I am brewing some delicious Papamin stories.

And I miss you all.

Like...loads.

☝️ me and @mrhaitch passing each other every now and then in the mayhem.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[tsuutarr]

A were-wolf hottie and no pic, give me the fluffy hooligan please 😫

Extra points if it's enemies to lovers trope, except no vampire verses wolf, more like were cat or coyote vs wolf?. Scooby-Doo zombie mayhem got me

(So I ended up doing a bit of a rivals to lovers kind of thing rather than enemies! I didn't have too much info to go off of, so if this fic isn't to your liking, feel free to send me another ask with more details!)

Pairing: Vilkas Lunewood (werewolf OC) x werecat! reader

Contents: one-sided rivalry (somewhat one-sided romantic pining) where Vilkas thinks of you as his greatest rival to beat on exams.

Word count: 1180

Even though Vilkas would rather read his favorite book in a cozy nook, he’s known as a brute – someone who can weaponize his fists to subdue all that cross him. His sharp eyes and broad figure do little to deter his reputation as a brutish hooligan. However, despite his reputation, Vilkas has never started any fights – it’s just that he’s always finished them, being the last one standing.

It’s hardly his fault that he’s so strong, though, especially since strength is the least of his concerns. No, his much bigger concern is defeating you, his stupidly pretty werecat rival, academically.

“Hm… I could’ve done that a bit better…” you murmur from beside him. You’re both staring at the recent exam scores posted on the bulletin board.

He smells you before he hears you. Vilkas has always noticed your scent, something warm and soft – something he associates with afternoon naps basking in the gentle rays of the sun. Not that it matters, really, not when you’re constantly kicking him to the curb in terms of your grades. He’s been number one for as long as he can remember, but then you come along and place him in the number two spot consecutively. And you look cute while you do it. Frustrating!

“Ah, Lunewood, your score’s gone up, hm? That’s good to see.”

Vilkas scowls at how easily you address him, gloating about your victory. You’ve never been scared of him, always talking to him whenever you can. It’s stupid. You’re stupid. You and your stupidly lovely ears and stupidly adorable tail and that sweet voice and–

“Lunewood?”

“What?” he growls, his eyebrows furrowed at the center.

“Ah, you look rather upset, is all.”

“I am not.” Of course Vilkas isn’t upset – he’s good at taking a loss! And even if he is upset (which he isn’t), it’s not like he’s bothering anyone! The clear distance most people are keeping from him is definitely, definitely not because they think he’s scary for scowling – that’d be ridiculous!

“If you say so.”

Vilkas’ scowl deepens.

“Ah. It was quite nice chatting with you. I’ve got to head off now.”

Vilkas’ nose scrunches. You’re probably gonna stick your nose into a stupid little book (something he’d do too). You’re gonna brew yourself your favorite beverage as you curl up to read something you like and you’re gonna look so cute doing it and it’s so annoying to Vilkas to think about.

Stupid, stupid werecat.

.

.

.

The next time Vilkas encounters you, it’s because he smells your warm scent mingled with a scent he’d only describe as sour. His frown deepens as he follows the smell, before coming across you getting harassed by some no-good werewolf.

Ugh. Seriously. Like yeah, you’re cute and charming and whatever, but couldn’t that stupid werewolf pick another cat to pick on? Like why’s that dumb werewolf wasting time flirting with you? And why haven’t you just beat that stupid, no-good werewolf off with a stick? You’ve got the claws to scratch him up. Ugh. Whatever. It’s not his business–

“Leave the cat alone,” he spits, despite his inner monologue. He’s not helping you because he thinks you need his help or because he’s worried or whatever. He just doesn’t have anything better to do. That’s what he tells himself as he sizes up the werewolf that’s been hitting on you.

“Yeah? What’re ya gonna do about it if I don’t?” the no-good werewolf hisses, standing taller to appear bigger. The no-good werewolf is bigger than you, a werecat, but can’t compare to the sheer muscle mass Vilkas boasts.

“I’m not gonna do anythin’ about it,” Vilkas growls. “‘Cause you’re not gonna give me a reason to do anythin’ about it.”

The no-good werewolf falters briefly at the deadly gleam in Vilkas’s eyes, but decides to stupidly stand his ground. “You want me to give you a reason to scram?”

“You think you got what it takes?” Vilkas shoots back, his teeth bared. His tail bristles, ears flattened against his head.

“Lunewood,” your voice calls, which irritatingly makes Vilkas feel calmer. “Let’s just go.”

Vilkas isn’t sure what to do – he’s not really one to back down from a fight, but your voice and smell just make Vilkas feel… softer, like he’s wrapped in a you-shaped blanket.

“Wait–” the no-good werewolf’s face pales. “Lunewood? Vilkas Lunewood?”

Vilkas stands taller. “What about it?”

“No–nothing!” a squeak leaves the werewolf’s mouth as his tail tucks between his legs, before he runs away.

“...I should’ve punched him once,” Vilkas grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Hm, maybe you should’ve,” you agree lightly. “The more I think about it, the more I dislike him.” You spin on your heel, turning to Vilkas with a smile. “Thanks, by the way. I appreciate it.”

Hmph, a good ploy on your part – trying to make him lower his guard by thanking him? If you think that your thanks makes Vilkas’ tail wag, you’re so very correct – Vilkas tries his best to temper his tail’s excitement, but he just gives up because he can’t. “It’s nothing. I didn’t do it for you.”

Your cute little cat ears and tail twitch. “Oh.”

Vilkas immediately feels bad.

“I guess it was one of those territory things, then? Did you want to mark your territory?”

Vilkas huffs out something akin to a laugh. The only thing here that he’d want to mark is you – wait, scratch that.

“Well, anyway. Can I take you to a café or something to thank you?”

What? Why would you want to feed him? It’s not like he did anything great. Is this a trick? Are you trying to poison him?!

“Or do you not like sweets?” you look contemplative. “Maybe barbeque…? But my campus job doesn’t pay that much…”

“A café is fine,” he grunts, tail swishing behind him. “You can buy me a barbecue when I beat you on our next exams.”

You tilt your head to the side, confused. “But you’ve never been able to beat me before?”

Vilkas’ eyes narrow as you hum in thought.

“Oh! Is this like a bet?” your eyes glint mischievously, a cheeky smile curling on your lips. Cute. “How about it, Lunewood? If you beat me in the next exam, I’ll treat you to a barbeque. If I win… Well, I’ll keep that a secret for now.”

“What?” Vilkas asks, frown set deep in his mouth.

“Hm? Are you scared?” you tease, your voice taking on a lilt that makes Vilkas want to chase you down and mark you.

“Don’t bet on it, kitty-cat,” he responds. “I ain’t scared of anything.”

“Then is the bet on?”

Vilkas doesn’t hesitate when he answers with, “You bet.”

.

.

.

(You two do head to the café, much to Vilkas’ pleasure [since he wants a sweet treat, that’s it. It’s not because he’s hanging out with you or anything]. You’re surprisingly interesting to talk to, which he should’ve maybe expected since you’re his rival. You’ve got pretty good tastes when it comes to books and a good eye for cute cafés too.)

[intothedysphoria]

The thing is Billy’s unpredictable.

He claims it’s just a symptom of his ADHD, he’s a naturally jittery guy.

Steve may not be going to Harvard anytime soon but he’s pretty sure ADHD isn’t the cause of what Steve means.

It’s like Steve never quite knows where they stand.

Some days Billy loves him to the stars and back again. Some days Billy doesn’t acknowledge him at all.

It’s not like they’re together. Like Billy’s his boyfriend or anything. And of course, Steve has a vague idea of the storm brewing behind closed doors. There’s not a person in Hawkins who doesn’t have their story about Neil Hargrove.

He knows all of that but facts can’t exactly ease heartache.

So Steve takes what he can get.

He takes to gripping to Billy in a feverish heat, passion and fear woven into kisses.

Like he’s scared Billy might slip away.

It’s still a shock on July 4th 1985 when he actually does.

Life feels like a haze after that. Robin offers him tips for grief, he starts talking to Carol in earnest again.

None of it fills the emptiness. Not really.

1986 dumps itself on Steve’s doorstep unceremoniously and with it, more demons, more heartbreak.

It’s his first time actually in the Upside Down and he’s already nearly been torn apart.

It’s horrible, stinks of rot.

Well, almost all of it.

A shadow lurks in the darkness.

About 5’10. Muscular. Carrying a machete.

It almost looks like

“BILLY?”

Those are the last words Steve manages to get out before arms wrap around him and pull him into the dark.

Ok, so Billy’s alive. Well, alive might be a stretch but he’s certainly not dead.

And the way he’s staring at Steve………it almost looks like love.

It’s probably not smart to bring maybe-a-zombie not-quite-a-boyfriend to the real world but Billy can’t exactly cause more mayhem then Dart did.

What’s the worst that could happen?

@shieldofiron @oopsiedaisiesbaby @robthegoodfellow @thatgirlwithasquid @harringroveobsessed I am apparently physically incapable of not writing more monster Billy whoops

[thesassypadawan]

Halloween Pumpkins (Padawan Anakin x RealWorldFemReader) *Headcanon*

Summary: It’s been one year since you and a certain handsome devil.  To help celebrate this momentum occasion, Anakin has arranged a few cutesy and spooky scary surprises.  That he knows you will absolutely love and leave you moaning.  (Follow-up to A Scary Good Time!)

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because of all the lovely smut. Breeding, pumpkins, misuse of a lightsaber, bad puns, and, as always…Ani’s big, veiny dick.

Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡

*Cutesy Scary, SFW*

- Ani loves Halloween, it's his absolute favorite holiday!  Not just because of all the mischief, mayhem, candy…  But it just so happens to be the anniversary of when a certain bootiful angel came swirling into his life.

- To celebrate, the whole month your handsome devil does all the cheesy…cutesy scary things that you both enjoy.  Watching  frightfully bad holoflicks, baking and consuming a plethora of sickeningly sweet treats, cuddling under a pile of fluffy blankets during those dark and stormy nights.  And, most importantly, carving pumpkins.

- He’ll sift through each batch sent from the agricorps.  Searching for (even fighting off a few of the more menacing  padawans) the most perfect pair.  One big, the other adorably small…  “Just like us,” he’d declare all proudly.   Wide smile on his sun kissed face, as he places the tiny gourd in your hands.

- Turning it into a whole ghoulishly delightful date night; the two of you sit at the worn table in his shared quarters.  With you taking the time, having patience…using those silly tiny tools to carefully help give your jack-o-lantern a truly cute, spooktacular expression.  Whereas Anakin would simply scoff at the miniature, flimsy knife; opting for his lightsaber instead…cutting the most twisted, wicked grin into his.  “What?  It got the job done, didn't it?  Seriously though, don't tell Obi-Wan…please.”

- Once they were complete, illuminated with the help of a few glow rods you found stashed in his utility belt. You'd proudly display the mismatched couple on a shelf in his room, before heading off to the temple's annual party.  Hand in hand, fingers laced and intertwined together.  Wearing the same costumes you did when you first met, giggling the entire way there because…  “Seriously?!  Did this shrink?!  No kriffing way did I put on this much muscle in a year!  I'm going to pop a seam if I sneeze or something!”

*Spooky Scary, NSFW*

- After a night filled with dancing, laughing…stolen kisses, and a slew of potent witches brews.  Ani wraps a strong arm around your soft middle; fingers brushing, ghosting along your flared hips.  Insisting that you let him spirit you away, back to his room for…  “A scary good surprise, a little something you're always going to love.”

- Legs bent, pinned into a mating press; numb, sore from exhaustion.  Weak whimper bubbles up from your throat; merges with the wet, lewd sounds of his powerful thrusts.  Face and body flush, burning hot under his sinful gaze.  Words slightly slurred from the abundance of poison in your system, from the overwhelming pleasure pulsing in your core.  “I…I…  Too m-much…  Cun-Can't, gotta pull…  Gonna get me…”

- Monstrous length twitches in response, low groan rumbling in his broad chest.  While small (to him) spurts of pre coat your aching walls in a fresh coat of clear, sticky arousal.  Pumping more into your already packed pussy, making that cute paunch of yours round out and rise up just a bit further.  “Yeah, that’s the idea…”

- Big hands run across, calloused fingers trace along the surprisingly firm swell.  Pushing down hard enough with his bulk to make you squirm, mewl.  Some of his sweet, creamy filling seeping out around the base of his fat cock; splattering onto the stained sheets.  “Going to plant as many seeds as I can in this little patch of yours…”

- Mind blanks with each brutal, raw plunge.  Unable to think of anything but the sensation of his veiny shaft scraping.  The stuffed, bloated feeling he’s giving you.  A feeling that may or may not linger, go beyond this magical night.  Only to return over and over.  “Until we got ourselves a whole bunch of mini pumpkins…”

- Drives grow deeper, harsher.  “So you'll always stay…”  Bed rocking, banging; slamming against the wall, that one lone shelf.  The very same that holds your jack-o-lanterns, his most precious possessions.  “Never leave this universe ever again…”  Including one very special jedi holocron.  That goes crashing to, smashes into pieces on the floor.  Light flickering and extinguishing for one last time.  “Happy Anniversary, my padawan from Coruscant.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @cacti5539, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey, @skyguys-princess

[stxrsniolo]

♰ֻㅤ۫ㅤֵ⠀𝅥⠀ campfire hearts ꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱⠀⠀ִ⠀﹚⠀❟ㅤ

ㅤ◜ ✴ ⠀ 𓈒ㅤ ﹙sullen camper!zoey x clownish camper!chris ﹚─── ⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ crystal lake summer camp is a chaotic wilderness hotspot where rebellious teens and rickety cabins collide. zoey, a brooding guitarist forced to attend, clashes instantly with chris, a prankster who thrives on camp mayhem. their fiery feud kicks off on arrival day, landing them as cabinmates under strict counselor rules. with eight weeks of tension brewing, this summer’s set to be a wild cage match. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ( ˖ ࣪★˳ ) : first chapter → welcome to the shitshow!

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( aegan's notes )﹕a round of applause because i FINALLY dared to start writing this au that i introduced a while ago.

Crystal Lake Summer Camp sprawled across a ragged slice of wilderness, a fever dream of sun-scorched clearings and twisted pines clawing at the sky.

The lake shimmered like a dare, its inky waters lapping at a dock so rickety it groaned with every gust. Shitty cabins squatted along the shore, their wood etched with teen rebellion—dicks, curses, hearts with arrows through them. Dirt paths zigzagged the grounds, strewn with pinecones, crushed beer cans, and the faint whiff of stale weed, looping past an amphitheater where a fire pit smoldered, stinking of burnt marshmallows and last night’s staff fuckery.

The air thrummed with cicadas, heavy with sweat, regret, and cheap bug spray—a summer of chaos waiting to explode. A warped sign at the entrance read “Crystal Lake: Where Memories Are Made,” its chipped paint laughing at the suckers who bought it.

Arrival day crashed in like a bad trip.

Three buses roared into the gravel lot, spitting dust and campers into the mess. The first, a glossy yellow charter, dumped a pack of 17-year-olds with vape pens and overpriced backpacks, snapping pics by the sign like it was worth the hype.

The second, a clanking blue junker with busted windows, unleashed a feral mix of 18- and 19-year-olds; some chucking empty Red Bulls, others trading dark jokes about the counselors’ sex lives.

The third, a gray death trap wheezing smoke, coughed out the stragglers; Zoey among them, stepping into the shitstorm with all the joy of a funeral march.

Zoey slunk off last, her black hoodie zipped tight against the muggy heat, guitar case slung over her shoulder like a weapon. At 19, she was done with this crap, too old for camp songs, too bitter for team spirit.

Her dark hair hung over her gray eyes, and she fished a cigarette from her pocket, lighting it with a flick of her Zippo as she glared at the scene. She’d lost a bet to her dad—if she didn't make friends before summer, he'd send her to this hellhole—and now she was here, eight weeks of teen purgatory instead of chilling on her roof with a joint and her tunes. Her combat boots crunched gravel as she adjusted her headphones, the growl of a metal track bleeding out.

“Fucking survive this,” she muttered, exhaling smoke, already plotting how to ditch every dumbass activity.

Chris, meanwhile, cannonballed off the blue bus like a sugar-high toddler, his sneakers slamming the ground with a thud that sent rocks flying. At 18, he was a walking disaster—goofy, loud, and sweeter than he’d ever admit. His faded Crystal Lake T-shirt hung loose on his wiry frame, already smeared with ketchup from some pre-bus snack war.

“Crystal Lake, you sexy beast! Let’s make it epic!” he whooped, flinging his arms wide, blue eyes sparkling like he’d just won the lottery.

A few campers laughed—some nerd with a D&D manual, a punk girl with a nose ring—while others groaned and dodged him.

Chris lived for this: the chaos, the giggles, the chance to turn every moment into a playground. He raked a hand through his messy brown hair, grinning like an idiot as he scoped the place out.

The campers stumbled to the amphitheater, where Counselor Mike, a wiry burnout with a megaphone and a clipboard, perched on a stump, yelling over the racket.

“Alright, dickheads! Sit, drop your crap, intros! Name, age, fun fact—go!” The roll call kicked off with jagged vibes.

Mia, a twitchy 17-year-old with braids, chirped, “I can do the moonwalk like Michael Jackson!”

Jake, a lanky 18-year-old with a buzz cut, bragged, “I can chug a beer in six seconds. watch me later.”

Snickers and middle fingers followed, while Zoey slouched on her log, arms crossed, sucking on her cigarette.

When her turn hit, she stood, voice flat as a gravestone. “Zoey. 19. I play guitar. Piss off.” She dropped back down, exhaling smoke, ignoring the scattered chuckles, her mind on the weed she’d stashed in her sock.

Chris bounced up next, beaming like a golden retriever. “Chris! 18! Prank god—last year, I filled the counselor’s bed with Jell-O. Took him days to unstick!”

The crowd roared, a few tossing him fist bumps, and he ate it up, until he spotted Zoey; she was flicking ash, staring through him like he was a ghost. Oh, a sourpuss. How fun, he thought, already plotting.

Their first clash hit like a slap, minutes later, as the group hiked to the cabins.

Zoey lagged back, dragging her duffel, smoke curling from her cigarette, when Chris—bouncing like a jackass—cut into her path.

“Yo, Rockstar! Gonna blast us some screamo tonight, or you just here to brood like a vampire on a diet?” His voice was loud, goofy, dripping with mock cheer, pulling snorts from a couple of geeks nearby. He waggled his brows, blue eyes glinting, hands flapping like a deranged bird.

Zoey’s head whipped up, eyes blazing. “How about you shove your head up your ass and leave me the fuck alone?” she snapped, flicking her cigarette butt at his feet, the ember hissing out in the dirt.

She shoved past him, shoulder slamming his, but he spun, cackling like she’d just told a killer joke. This clown’s begging for a kick in the nuts, she seethed, her blood boiling.

“Damn, spicy! I’m shaking, Rockstar—gonna write a song about me yet?” Chris shot back, his grin widening, voice thick with playful venom. He skipped closer, towering just enough to grate her nerves. “Camp’s for fun, not sucking the life outta everything.”

“Call me Rockstar again, and I’ll shove that grin so far down your throat you’ll shit teeth,” she snarled, squaring up, smoke still clinging to her breath. “Back off, Prank Bitch.” She yanked her headphones on, cranking the volume, but his stupidly relentless laugh still pierced through.

Counselor Mike broke it up, waving his clipboard. “Cabins, morons! Two per—Pinewood’s co-ed. Chris, Zoey, you’re paired. Rules: no smoking inside, no pranks after 10, no sneaking out. Break ‘em, and you’re scrubbing the john. Move!”

The group groaned, splitting off.

Zoey stormed to Pinewood, duffel thudding, cursing her fate. Chris pranced behind, whispering to himself about glitter bombs, blue eyes flicking to her back.

This summer was a cage match, and they were the first to bleed.

⠀̋⠀★ . ᅠtaglist ູᅠ͞ — @courta13 @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @immaqulate @wysmols @chrepsi @mattslolita @ribbonlovergirl @milo-the-dog @madisturni @ariestrxsh @myluck4u-com

[penumbra-mayhem]

Darlin’s Wolf Form

@krashkitty wrote this delightful little post, which in turn inspired this:

——————

Darlin’ doesn’t show Sam their wolf form for so long because they’re terrified of his reaction. They know how they look. Their wolf has always been frightening, even before they acquired the numerous scars carved across their body.

It’s partly their size; they’re just a bit smaller than David (and that guy is fucking huge).

It’s also their gait. They walk with a stagger, which makes their movements slightly disjointed and jerky.

And it’s their teeth, which are unusually sharp and too large for their mouth, causing their lower jaw to hang open in a permanent gaping grin.

Even the sounds they make are horrifying: every growl and snarl and howl is layered—haunting and gravely and resonant and raspy. Hearing them is fucking eerie.

——————

When the Inversion happens, Darlin’ is watching the games at home on the tv. As soon as they see the shades onscreen, they shift and race to the stadium. Fast as they are, though, the ward is already up by the time they get there. They claw and bite at that ward for hours before it finally comes down.

They don’t even think about how they look while they’re searching for Sam; they are just laser focused on his scent. Only after they see him, hurt but safe, do they shift back and tackle him into a hug.

After the Inversion, Darlin’ is still apprehensive about shifting for Sam. But now at least they can skip the formal presentation that most mates do the first time they shift. It takes away some of the pressure. They shift once when the two of them are attacked by Quinn’s cronies, but that’s about it.

——————

Until one day, Darlin’ asks Sam if he is scared of their wolf form. Sam bursts out laughing. Nothing—he assures Darlin’—nothing about them is scary to him. Impressive? Yes. Awe inspiring? For sure? But scary? Never.

Later that night, he finds a very large wolf sprawled in front of his fireplace.

Sam learns every spot on Darlin’s body that they like to be pet. He boops their scarred snout and gives their fur sweet kisses. Darlin’ gives tentative kisses (licks) back, until they realize they make Sam laugh. Then they barrage him with kisses (giant, slobbery licks), until Sam is on the floor in stitches.

——————

One time, Sam calls Darlin’ ‘pup’. He doesn’t mean to; it accidentally slips out. Cause that’s how he sees them, just a big adorable puppy. He splutters out an apology, mistaking Darlin’s scarlet face as a sign of embarrassment. Darlin’ then has to admit (quite meekly) that they actually really like the pet name, much to Sam’s relief and delight.

It’s pretty amusing from an outside perspective to see Sam cooing at this enormous, nightmarish wolf and calling them his puppy, and to see said wolf furiously wag their tail in response.

[sugarplumkneecaps]

Sips of Solace & Soft Spines

Shadow x Sonic Slow Burn

C/W: mentions of loss, brief fantasy violence Summary: Peacetime is a rarity, one Shadow never truly got to experience... until now. With no real threats at work, Shadow is urged to take advantage of this time and settle down somewhere for the time being. With much reluctance, Shadow does just that.

However, the peace and quiet gives Shadow time to reflect on his life, his loss, and the relationships he's built up (or avoided) since coming out of stasis. A/N: I figured it might be time to start posting my Sonadow fanfic here! I will be posting these chapters weekly. If you want to read more up to date chapters, I'm posting them on my AO3!

Chapter 1 (HERE) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Chapter 1: Brewed Beginnings

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ☆。。☆。✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Earth’s mantle spat out fiery gushes of molten rock, threatening to consume anyone near. The way the ground had split from sheer force before Shadow’s eyes sent a wave of panic through his entire being; this might truly be the end of him and his gaggle of friends. Friends? Could he even call them that? He caught sight of Rouge, the same sense of impending doom petrifying her where she hovered.

“Rouge!” he cried out desperately.

The bat met his gaze and quickly reached his side. “It’s no use Shadow. We have to find the others! We can’t face this head on.”

Shadow’s grip on his great sword tightened before he finally relented, accepting the truth in Rouge’s plea. He gave her a curt nod before scanning the area around them to find their companions. The chaos that ensued around them made it nearly impossible to differentiate between rubble and flesh.

“Rouge! Shadow! Over here!” Tails’ voice strained over the mayhem. Much to Shadow’s relief, the small fox was accompanied by both Amy and Knuckles. Amy’s pink form was hunched over Knuckles, the magic at her fingertips working against time to save their friend. Shadow and Rouge appeared beside them, taking in the scene.

“My magic is barely doing anything,” Amy whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the soot they were all covered in. Shadow looked down to see the gruesome state Knuckles was in; a deep wound across his stomach gaped even against the magic Amy exerted on it.

Shadow reached out in an attempt to help, placing a hand on the echnida’s head before speaking into existence a spell of his own.

The rumble around them trembled as a lone Iblis erupted from the blazing pit, quickly taking notice of their vulnerable state. It’s long form radiated, before...

“Sonic!” Amy fumed, slamming a fist on the table. “I thought we agreed on no TPK’s?!”

The blue hedgehog’s face nearly split from the wide grin that stretched along his lips, “What? I don’t remember that! It’s a one-shot, why does it matter?”

“It matters,” Rouge offered, her tone revealing her own annoyance, “because this is Shadow’s first time playing? You know how hard it was for me to even convince him to come with me?”

Sonic shrugged, his demeanor blasé as his friends continued their verbal assault.

Shadow sat in silence as he stared at his miniature figure. Rouge had pleaded for him to come over to Amy’s house so they could all play Dungeons & Dragons with her and the Sonic Team as a way to help him integrate into “normal life”.

The game seemed a bit pointless, and once they realized who was going to be running the one-shot, the first twenty minutes or so there was spent with Sonic getting lectured on the do’s and don’ts for this particular game (all of which went out the window when Sonic led the party into a doomed fight). Still, Shadow felt he at least owed it to Rouge to accompany her as a way to help repay her for letting him crash on her couch.

It had only been about a week since Commander Tower told Shadow that GUN had noticed a lull in activity from all known threats - extraterrestrial or otherwise. He implored that Team Dark take the opportunity to settle down and enjoy the rare break. Shadow had tried to refuse at first, insisting that Eggman, Black Doom, or even GUN themselves could use this as an opportunity to attack.

“What, you’re going to tell me that the Ultimate Lifeform is going to be unable to respond if needed?” the Commander scoffed. With a blow to Shadow’s ego, the Commander knew it would be enough to cease any further discussions on the matter. This left Shadow with no other choice but to acquiesce.

Though, with the current situation at hand, maybe he would have fought back a bit harder or even caused a scene himself if he knew that he would find himself at Amy’s rubbing elbows with Tails, Knuckles, and his rival Sonic.

“How dare you dishonor me so with this,” Knuckles motioned at his downed figure, “dee kay?!”

“It’s ‘TPK’, darling,” Rouge cooed, “it means total party kill. Sonic wiped us all out.”

Sonic laughed, finding the amusement in his friends’ collective vexation. “Oh come on, I tried to make it all dark and brooding for our friend here.” He motioned his hands toward Shadow, his voice sarcastic and teasing. “You had fun, didn’t you Shads?”

Shadow’s ear twitched slightly before he let out an exasperated sigh. ��Rouge, I’m ready to go.”

The group turned their attention to the dark hedgehog as he stood from his seat, various protests layering one another in an attempt to change his mind. Rouge, however, could feel Shadow’s irritation radiating from him.

“Ah, you know, Shadow’s right. It’s getting pretty late and we do have an apartment tour scheduled for tomorrow morning,” Rouge sighed, pushing Shadow toward the front door. “Thank you, Amy, for being such a wonderful host as always.”

Amy clambered out of her chair in a rushed effort to see them out, “of course Rouge! And thank you Shadow, for coming out and tolerating Sonic.”

Shadow imagined Amy clobbering Sonic with her large hammer as payback for the end result of tonight’s game and smirked, “give him a good bash on the head for me.” His response was met with a look of surprise and amusement from the pink hedgehog before she waved him and Rouge off.

Streetlights beamed down on the two friends as they walked to the edge of the small neighborhood, their breath visible in the cold, night air.

“Well, that was certainly something, wasn’t it?” Rouge prompted, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Shadow let out a small “humph” as he kept his eyes trained on the pavement. As much as he cared for Rouge, he yearned for silence to cleanse his palette from the chaotic environment they had departed from. Rouge took the hint, smiling a bit as she looked up to the night sky.

The distance between her house and Amy’s was only a short jaunt away, which was both a relief and a discomfort to Shadow. The idea of all of them having such close proximity to one another was not only strange but downright irksome. As much as he felt he owed Rouge, he did not want to make it a habit to continue to accompany her to these outings.

Rouge’s keys jingled as she unlocked the front door of her house. Shadow’s stay with her was not the first time he had been to her place, but any extended amount of time spent with anyone that wasn’t Maria felt strange to him. He insisted on staying on her couch instead of her guest room, worried about the implications of getting too comfortable somewhere. Rouge knew Shadow’s methods were unorthodox, but chose not to push the matter too much.

“Well, I think I’m going to call it a night, handsome,” she sang, knowing the nickname would evoke at least a side eye from Shadow. She was right. “Be sure to get some rest! We’ve got a big day tomorrow and I have a good feeling about this place!”

Shadow shook his head slightly, watching the bat saunter down the hall into her own room. Once he heard the door latch shut, he let out the breath he was unaware that he was holding. While it wasn’t out of character for Rouge to put on a facade in an effort to cheer him up, he could understand why the prospect of him getting his own place would be a genuinely joyous occasion for her. They had both been working diligently to secure him not only a place to live, but also an in between job over the past week. Who would’ve thought that having no prior residences beside the ARK and no real way to measure a yearly salary as a part of Team Dark would cause so many issues in that endeavor?

“What the hell was I thinking agreeing to this?”

He rested his face in his hands, before massaging his temples in an effort to fight off the inevitable headache creeping up his skull. As much as he loathed to admit it, Rouge was right; he was going to need as much rest as he could get. Slipping his air shoes off, he made his way over to the couch before curling up under the blanket placed there for him. It was embarrassing that something as simple as viewing a potential apartment would cause such distress, alas it was impossible to ignore the effect it had on him. Shutting his eyes and letting his mind wander, he made the trivial wish that maybe Rouge’s enthusiasm would rub off on him by morning.

The coffee pot hissed to signal the end of its brewing cycle, stirring Shadow awake. Glancing over at the clock on the wall, he took note of the time, appreciating Rouge’s subtle effort to roust them both at a reasonable hour. As he entered the kitchen, the sweet and familiar aroma enveloped him. While he usually was not one to drink coffee, Rouge had threatened bodily harm if she found him digging into her stash the way he would with his own personal collection of coffee. He wasn’t going to test it.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Rouge called from the living room, waltzing onto the linoleum. “Oh and good morning to you, too, Shadow.”

Shadow rolled his eyes at her jest, pulling down two coffee mugs for the both of them. “Cream and sugar?”

“You know me so well!” Rouge grinned, bumping her hip against his before sitting at the dining room table. “I figured we could grab breakfast while we are out that way we can check out that cafe I was telling you about!”

The dark coffee swirled with the cream in Rouge’s mug, mesmerizing Shadow as he made up the two cups in silence. He sat across from the bat after placing her nearly full cup in front of her gingerly, taking a slow sip from his own.

“I don’t know how you add all that nonsense in your coffee,” he muttered, appreciating the smoothness of his black coffee.

“And I don’t recall asking” Rouge teased, bringing her own cup to her lips, “were you listening?”

Shadow raised an eyebrow at her, “is this the same cafe you told me you and Amy work at?”

“What do you know, you do listen sometimes.” A playful smile tugged at Rouge’s lips before she continued, “I have no doubt they would hire you on, what with you having two glowing reviews from two of the greatest baristas that place has ever seen!”

His coffee betrayed him as he choked a bit in response to her exclamation, “what, you think Amy is going to help get me hired there? After how many times I’ve kicked her boyfriend’s ass?”

“Lucky for you, they aren’t dating. And just as lucky for you, if not more so, I already asked her to!”

The look of pride that Rouge wore on her face wasn’t convincing enough for Shadow, but still, he wasn’t going to argue with her. They finished their coffee without exchanging another word, the silence a victory for both in their own minds. Shadow pulled his jacket on, inspecting himself in the entryway mirror before slipping his shoes on and following Rouge to her car.

Shadow had to admit that Green Hills at least lived up to its name. The scenery around the small town was breathtaking, with endless seas of trees and vegetation that reached far beyond the valley. It was a stark contrast to that of the ARK, where the view featured the curvature of Earth in a blanket of endless night and stars that reached far beyond his or Maria’s imagination. A small bit of comfort Shadow found was that the town resembled that of many of the pictures Maria had shared with him.

“You tend to see that in small towns,” Rouge commented, “residents are much more likely to want to restore older buildings in order to keep their town history intact.”

Small buildings lined either side of the street, their window displays decorated with various odds and ends. Shadow read off some of the weathered signs; Barb’s Bits n’ Bobs, Made by You Ceramics, Secondhand Treasures, Rebel Ink. Each block a different assortment of shops offering anything Shadow could never imagine. After a few moments, the buildings shifted to those of a more domestic feel with several thin townhomes nestled together in between larger apartment complexes.

Rouge turned into the lot in front of a simple, modest building, parking her car in one of the spots marked for “guests”. She turned the key in her ignition, shutting off the engine before contorting herself to face the dark hedgehog.

“Well, this is it! What do you think?” she beamed.

Shadow turned from her to survey the building; it was a two story complex with only six apartments featuring a stairwell leading to the second floor to the far left hand side of the building. He noted how the outside of each living space was nearly identical, save for the few personal touches that were added by a couple of the current tenants. All things considered, it was a rather unremarkable building, which put Shadow at ease.

As they exited the car, an older gentleman called down to them from the second floor, “good morning! Are you the ones who asked about the apartment?”

“Yes! We are! I’m Rouge and this is my friend Shadow,” Rouge shouted back, her voice an octave higher than her usual tone. “He’s the one who would be renting it.”

“Wonderful to meet you both! Why don’t you join me up here and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

The two mobians obliged, taking to the stairs and joining the older man at the door. He opened it, describing in detail the various features that came with it. Shadow stepped into the apartment himself, taking advantage of Rouge’s overt interest in making conversation with the man. Shadow was not surprised to find that the living space matched the exterior; simple and modest. He enjoyed the open concept of the main living areas and easy access to the kitchen with a backdoor leading to a private balcony. Down the hall were two rooms and a single bathroom. Although it would just be him there, he appreciated having options for what he could do with the space.

His stomach filled with butterflies at the thought; what was he going to do with the space?

“What do you think Shadow?” Rouge’s soft voice brought Shadow back to reality, and he looked at the bat and older gentleman with a blank expression.

“I’ll take it.”

Rouge cheered and pulled the old man into a slight hug, making the man’s face burn red before he cleared his throat. “I’ll just need some time to write up the rental agreement. I can have it ready by this afternoon. Move in day is on the tenth.”

“That’s only three days from now Shadow!” Rouge giggled, moving to grasp his hand in her own. “We’ll be back later this afternoon then!”

The car doors shut and the two friends sat together for a moment in stunned silence.

“Oh my gosh Shadow, this is wonderful! I can’t believe this worked out!” Rouge cheered as she drummed her fingers along the steering wheel.

“What happened to having a good feeling about this one?” Shadow quoted, ignoring the feeling of dread creeping up on him again.

Rouge stopped drumming for a moment to buckle herself in and start the car, “Oh, don’t get hung up on that. I explained your situation over the phone and he sounded understanding. But sometimes,” she paused, admiring herself in the rearview mirror, “things change once you’re in person.”

Shadow crossed his arms over his chest in contemplation, “Humph. Well, that answers the question of where I’m going to live. But I won’t be able to live off my savings forever.” His train of thought was cut off by the sudden closeness Rouge imposed on them. Leaning over into his space, she shot him a toothy grin. It took less than a second for Shadow to realize what was coming next. “...we’re going to the cafe-“

“Yes, we’re going to the cafe next.” Rouge grabbed Shadow’s hand to give it a squeeze before peeling out of the lot onto the main road again. “And as luck would have it, Amy is working with our manager right now!”

“Something tells me that has nothing to do with luck and more to do with your scheming,” Shadow pouted.

It took them mere minutes to arrive in front of the cafe, which by great contrast to its neighbors had a much more modern look to it. “The Mean Bean” was plastered on the windows of the glass doors and in an arch over the entrance. It sat on a corner of the main intersection, making it easily accessible for anyone strolling through town. This much was evident when they pushed open the door and was met with a long line of customers. A chime rung through the space, alerting those working behind the counter of new visitors.

“Hi! Welcome to the Mean Bean,” Amy shouted, her tone pleasant as she continued to punch in the order for the person in front of her. She barely glanced up, having to do a double take before a warm smile spread along her lips, “Rouge! Shadow! I didn’t know you were stopping by!” Her eyes shifted to Rouge, giving her a wink. The display was enough to make Shadow groan.

Rouge lead Shadow to the pickup counter on the other side of Amy, waving her arm to the tall rabbit working the expresso machine. “Hey Max, I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

The rabbit turned to the two friends, throwing the rag in their hand over their shoulder and bringing their hand up to give them a casual salute. They ambled past Amy, whispering something to her before outstretching their hand to Shadow, “heya, I’m Max. Heard you were looking for a job?”

Shadow grasped their hand in a firm handshake, “Seems like it.”

Max chuckled lightly, wiping their hands on their apron and shifting to lean their side against the wall. “Hey, I get it. I don’t want to be here either, but gotta pay the bills somehow. Rouge here tells me you’re a coffee fanatic.”

Rouge choked back a laugh as Shadow shot her a menacing glare. He swore if he could kill someone with a stare, he was putting everything he had in the idea of accomplishing that with this one. “Yeah. Something like that,” he turned his attention back to Max, “I’m hoping to start as soon as possible.”

“Woah, quite the mood shift,” Max chuckled. “Sure, yeah. Let’s get you started. Hey Rouge,” signaling to her with a single nod. “Since this guy comes so highly recommended by you, how about you train him?”

The delight on Rouge’s face annoyed Shadow to no end, “sure thing Max! First thing tomorrow.”

“Welcome to the team, rookie.” Max winked at Shadow and returned to the machine before the hedgehog had a chance to respond.

“My, my. You’ve gotten a new place and a new job all in the span of one day and it isn’t even noon yet,” Rouge said, her voice toeing the line between sultry and sarcastic. “All thanks to little ole me.”

Shadow grimaced at the idea of what came next, “what’s the catch.” The question came off as more of a statement, his tone suspicion. He had worked with Rouge for years and she was one of the very few friends he had. If there was one thing he knew, it was that she was definitely up to something.

Rouge held her hands up innocently, “I’m wounded Shadow! You think I wouldn’t help you out of the goodness of my heart?” She pulled one hand to her chest and the other lay over her forehead in a dramatic display.

Shadow stood absolute, waiting for her theatrics to cease.

“Fine. You’re really a buzzkill sometimes, aren’t you?” Rouge rolled her eyes, collecting herself and leading them to a table. “All you have to do is actually try to adjust to life here.”

Shadow paused before taking a seat, once again shooting daggers with his eyes at the bat, “what’s that supposed to mean?!”

She plopped down in front of him, her expression unamused. “You know exactly what I mean, Shadow, don’t play dumb with me. The Commander said to take the time to adjust to civilian life. That means you actually have to put in the effort to adjust.”

“I agreed to get that apartment and get this frivolous job, didn’t I?” he shot back at her, his frustration threatening to boil over.

Rouge let out a sigh before adjusting in her seat to place her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her palms. “Yes. You did. But it’s more than that. You have to work on building connections with others, finding a hobby,” Shadow raised a finger in protest, to which Rouge shot down immediately, “that doesn’t just consist of training!”

Shadow’s finger retreated and he sat back in his chair, a scowl working it’s way onto his face as he peered out the window. Once again, he was loath to admit that Rouge was right. In all the years he had spent outside of stasis, he hadn’t given himself time for recreation. All he knew was what he had done with Maria, and even then, those memories had begun to fade.

Biting at his bottom lip, he finally relented, “okay. Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll try.”

“Great!” Rouge beamed, “because we are going to Amy’s again tonight.”

Shadow whipped his head to look at his counterpart, mouth agape, “what?! Why?!” he hissed.

As if to signal an abrupt end to any protest he could muster, Amy approached the table, balancing a tray in her hand. “Coffee with cream and sugar for Rouge! Black coffee for Shadow and some of our house special quiche!” she sang, placing the items in front of their respective recipient before slipping the serving tray under her arm.

“Well, you see Shadow,” Rouge started as she slung her arm through Amy’s, “Amy is hosting a karaoke night! Doesn’t that sound fun!”

Amy let out a strained chuckle as she looked nervously from Rouge to Shadow, “Eh-? Uh, yeah! I am! Would you, uhm, like to join us Shadow? You don’t have to be good or anything. Knuckles himself could make my ears bleed-“

Shadow glared at Rouge before replying through gritted teeth, cutting off Amy’s nervous babbling, “I’ll be there.”

“Isn’t that wonderful! We get more time to hang out and get to know one another! Won’t that be nice since we are all going to be coworkers!” Rouge sang, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Shadow got the job?” Amy gasped, “Congratulations Shadow! Even more reason to celebrate!”

“And,” Rouge added, “He got the apartment. He signs the agreement today!”

“Ah! That’s incredible! We have to plan a housewarming party for you! Oh my gosh!” The girls practically bounced with excitement in unison.

Shadow slumped down in his chair, looking at his phone as his thumb hovered over Commander Tower’s name. He swore to himself that he was going to give that man an ear full for subjecting him to this.

[theyungihven]

The Demon's Infatuation • Sex Demon Yunho

CHAPTER 1

↬ pairing: dom demon yunho x sub female reader

↬ genre: smut, romance

↬ warnings: breeding kink, cream pie, pain kink, unprotected sex, hip bruises, biting kink, slut-shaming, choking kink, hard core dom yunho, yunho is OBSSESSED,

↬ word count: 1.2K+

↬ author’s note: this full novel length fic is a dedication to my boyfriend alex and the demon that visited me at night two years ago every full moon night

Summary :

It might sound crazy to say that I've become a demon's infatuation and you might ask me, 'how did you even end up in this place?' Well well, even I don't know how it happened and whenever I ask him or confront him about our first meeting, he avoids the topic by sensually kissing me and making me forget about the question with an orgasm. I can't leave him because I can't live without him either. He is as if an intoxication I cannot get out of my body and desperately need in order to stay sane. He says, 'no one will love you like I do, darling' but how do I tell him that no one has ever loved me and no one ever can because my soul belongs to him, so does my heart and they worship him day and night.

She's just an innocent heartbroken girl who just wants to be loved for once despite her flaws and imperfections and he's a wicked demon who wants nothing but to corrupt her soul to till all she can think of him. What can go wrong if he takes a little interest in her? Heaven along with Hell are not going to collide with the Earth, or will they?

What could exactly go wrong if I sit alone under the full moon at midnight?

What could exactly go wrong if I sit alone under the full moon at midnight? Nothing. So I don't give it a second thought and make myself comfortable in the chair placed out in the balcony, bathing in the moonlight. The faint melody of my favourite song plays in the background through my phone as it echoes through the balcony.

The balcony is my only safe space these days. It provides me comfort and solace when I desire it the most, in moments of utter hopelessness. It sports a pretty popular viewing and gossiping spot for my family on the first floor as it opens up towards the roadside. It also serves as a common concrete stairway to the rooftop.

The moon attempts to brighten up my gloomy mood as I dwell into my sadness. The cool breeze, which is as light as a feather, ruffles the tall green trees lining the streets and also caresses my cheek. It reminds me that I haven't been completely abandoned by this world and also that there are still some forces which appreciate my existence. 

Now, I cannot hope but wish that someone touched me in a similar manner. I wish someone held me like a mother holds her dear child, like a lover holds his significant other, like a child holds onto his dying pet. 

However, no matter how much I try to forget the incident that happened this afternoon, I can't seem to get it out of my head. I cannot get that picture of the people I once considered to be my friends, mocking me for liking a guy. I cannot forget the words they called me just for daring to like the most popular guy of my grade. 

They make me feel as if having a romantic interest in a boy or just simply liking someone is the biggest sin one could commit on the Earth.

My body shakes as the turbulent storm inside me rises to the surface and brews a great tsunami. It drenches my cheeks and my face as it brings destruction and mayhem along with it in the face of a heart-wrenching pain in my chest, hopelessness and a wave of absolute sadness which hits me like a speeding truck. Somehow, the hopelessness inspires me and convinces my mind to beg whoever deity is willing to listen to me. 

So, I do. 

“To whoever is listening,” I manage to say despite the water rising in my chest as it tries to suffocate me by drowning me in the lake of sadness but I need to beg the deity. So, I continue with my remaining energy, “I want a guy, who will love me for who I  am, despite my flaws and imperfections.” 

The dam breaks as the sea of sadness drowns me in it and finds an outlet through my eyes and the salty water flows along with my last words, “I don’t care about how he looks, or even if he’s a human!” At the end of the sentence, I end up on my knees, upon the cold white marble of the moonlit balcony, as the still water gushes out of my eyes and my body trembles like a tree against strong winds. 

An eerie silence follows, as I recover from the tsunami’s devastating damage but it isn’t long when I hear a deep chuckle, which is so crisp and clear as if the person is sitting right beside me. I look up and around to identify the potential maker of the noise, but end up meeting with disappointment when I fail to do so, but it doesn’t fail in sending a chill down my spine and my body on high alert. 

“Hello? Anyone here?” I say, but come to regret the decision of doing so in the next second when a shadow appears out of nowhere, sitting on the stairs leading to the rooftop. It leans back, placing its hand on the step as its lips curve up in a creepy smile. 

Its eyes glow a bright red and just one look at them is enough to send chills down my spine. When my body registers its glowing red eyes and black shadowy figure, its first instinct is to recite holy verses. I do as my mother taught me to wherever I encounter the child of the banished angel. However, I fail to pronounce them properly, as my tongue fails at cooperating with my mind and my body screams RUN. 

I do. I run, for my dear life.

I run inside as my fight or flight system takes over with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, at the highest concentration ever in my life. My poor heart tries to keep up with all the sudden increase in cardiac output, but the picture of his creepy smile still lingers in my mind,   as if imprinted onto my neurons. 

The first thing my itsy bitsy brain thinks of as a distraction is the radio my grandfather made for me. I turn it on, tuning the dial to search for stations while expecting some soothing tunes to play and it does. I breathe a sigh of relief when the radio plays Sparks by Coldplay, my all time favourite.

However my peace evaporates into thin air when the radio goes off tune and randomly switches channels only to land upon the frequency 66.60.

An eerie voice follows, which says, “you cannot run away from me, kitten.” 

I don’t even dare to touch the radio and follow my instincts this time. I run downstairs to my family who look at me as if they saw the stars when the sun rules the skies. I am breathless as I stand in front of my mother, who looks at me in surprise while I struggle to form sentences in my head as I sweat ridiculously.

“You look like you saw a ghost.”

“A cat.”

“Yeah, yeah, a shapeshifting cat.”

“As if anything of such kind exists in this world.”

“Dumb humans”

TAGLIST

@yunhogrippers @strbryjoonie @haram-monbebe @atinism @yvnhoos @st4rhwa @lomons

[aurelion-solar]

Norra, Bewitching Morgana & Beezcrank in "Magic Is Brewing" - Magic n’ Mayhem TFT Launch Cinematic

[razertail18]

Every single time I see a Fantasy! AU of Miguel O'hara it's always a royalty! or knight!miguel x royalty! or commoner!reader and I am soooo disappointed I haven't seen a witch!reader.

I MEAN, COME ONNNNN

Knight!Miguel being your usual knight who follows the rules and hunts witches, warlocks, and demons because most of them cause mayhem.

Meanwhile witch!reader is not your typical witch since she doesn't really do catastrophic damage, only really does hexes or curses(it's not that bad actually) most of them can be considered as pranks and the townspeople, that live near witch!reader's cottage, can only get annoyed or find it hilarious and sometimes even paying her to hex someone or get a curse off of them. And reader is actually sweet but strange(?), she brews healing potions or using her magic to help the townspeople and in return the townspeople help the reader hide the fact that she's a witch from the knights who did a monthly checking of the kingdom's towns.

Knight!Miguel who, one day, was injured from fighting a dangerous warlock and found the cozy cottage of witch!reader.

Reader helps knight!Miguel despite the risk of getting exposed that she's a witch.

Knight!Miguel who went against the rules and didn't report witch!reader and would do a monthly or(twice a month?) checking to see if she doesn't make anything malicious.

Knight!Miguel realizing there are actually good witches and warlocks since doing magic and not being registered or officially as a magic user or sorcerers.

(I dunno what I'm doing. I guess witches are just wild and untamed not being affiliated with kingdoms and their rules. I thought it would be in line with the movie since being a witch can equate as an anomaly...so reader can be like an anomaly which I also likeee)

Knight!Miguel who is conflicted as he slowly falls for witch!reader and he's a mess.

[demifiendrsa]

BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE | Official Trailer

Poster

Synopsis

Beetlejuice is back! After an unexpected family tragedy, three generations of the Deetz family return home to Winter River. Still haunted by Beetlejuice, Lydia’s life is turned upside down when her rebellious teenage daughter, Astrid, discovers the mysterious model of the town in the attic and the portal to the Afterlife is accidentally opened. With trouble brewing in both realms, it’s only a matter of time until someone says Beetlejuice’s name three times and the mischievous demon returns to unleash his very own brand of mayhem.