#the warlock becomes visible

[thewenglishwarlock]

Back from being in a tent and making purple stews and marzipan

[sapphic-bats]

Warlock asks Nanny about it once.

She’s cutting apples for him, just the way he likes, and he’s gazing out of the window at the lush, green gardens that his mother so proudly upholds. Among the waxy leaves and spindly saplings, Brother Francis tends to the flora carefully, though Warlock’s quite sure he’s just taking certain leaves between his finger and his thumb, and studying them closely. But what did Warlock know about gardening?

He notices Nanny looking out those windows, too. Though she always gazes and stares with a deep intent, as if she only cares when she does, and it so happens that she never looks upon the garden empty.

What was that funny thing Nanny and Brother Francis had taught him? The thing that Nanny discouraged, to which Brother Francis promoted quite devoutly?

“Nanny, have you ever been married?”

Warlock knows what marriage is. After all, his parents are married, if you can call it that. They married, once, out of love. But it’s since faded. It’s more traditional, now. Out of convenience and a general apathy to trying again.

Nanny’s quick hand stills, blade edge flat against the cutting board. With her back turned to the young boy, he cannot make out her expression. He never can, what with her poised shades she wears pointedly upon her nose. But she speaks soon again.

“No,” she replies, simply.

Warlock considers this. “Do you ever want to be?”

Nanny, who had taken up the cutting again, pauses once more. She sets the knife against the board and tilts her chin towards Warlock. “Wherever have you learned such personal questions, dear?”

She’s not refusing to answer him. She never has. She just asks in true curiosity, and perhaps a slight avoidance. But Warlock’s eight, now, and he knows how to navigate her tricks.

“Where do you think?”

At that, she pauses, lips pursed with their consistent purple tint. The lipstick she wears, that faintly stains Warlock’s forehead when she kisses him goodnight and tucks him in after a bedtime story: often about a garden, or a bird that chirped too loudly, and was cast down to the ground by the other birds. One who became the kind bird of the grounds, and took in other reject birds that had fallen similarly.

She considers his answer a moment more, satisfied with the obvious influence she’s had on him. She turns back to the apple slices.

“Perhaps,” she answers.

There is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t mind, he’s grown up with Nanny at his side, and has become quite fond of the silence. It is where thoughts are made, she said once.

She finishes cutting the apples, and plates the sweet snack to serve to the boy. “What troubles you, dear? You seem awfully curious, all of the sudden.”

Not that she minds. Nanny never rejects curiosity.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nanny, it’s just—” he pauses, considers his next words and how to place them. “You look at Brother Francis a lot, and—”

Nanny interrupts him after an audible, suspicious gulp. “Who?”

He frowns, eyes boring into the back of her head. “You know Brother Francis.”

She seems quite comically nervous, like she’s pressed a wax-seal act over her true thoughts. “Oh, yes,” she decides, too much breath coming with her words. “The gardener.”

“You like him, Nanny.”

She turns, abruptly. “I most certainly do not!” Her voice comes out a tad shrill, though perhaps it’s just outrage and scandal.

Warlock narrows his eyes, perplexed. “But you look at him all of the time.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with- with love?” She struggles with the word.

The boy shrugs. “Mum and Dad don’t look at each other,” Warlock observes. “But Brother Francis looks for you, too.”

Nanny’s mouth, ready with a retort, or perhaps a counter-argument, flicks towards a different shape. One that might be, he does? Or perhaps Warlock is mistaken. She pauses, lips pursed again, and sets her teeth.

“I’m sure he does, love.”

The plate is set before him, and Warlock soon forgets his questions. He never asks Nanny again.

But he’s reminded of it when her eyes, barely visible in the light, flick towards the window into the dazzling garden.

Years later, Warlock is nearly sixteen, and has since let the thoughts from half his lifetime ago fade. They never die, just sort of… wait. Wait to be plucked again, notes of memory leaping from their tinny strings. Like a harp.

His mother takes him into town. Soho, where he has no interest in seeing, but his mother so desperately needs a new vinyl, a coffee, and though she never says it: a moment to get away from the house, or more specifically, her husband within it.

She agrees to let him wander. She trusts him, for all she hasn’t before. And perhaps, she says, the fresh, un-televised air could do him some good.

He’s only taken two steps out of the coffee shop, where his mother remains to await her tea, before he almost runs smack into two pedestrians, arm in arm. He takes a surprised jump back, tongue set with an angry scolding, when he gets a good look at them from behind.

“Nanny?”

They both freeze in unison, as if they both know the name, and the voice that has conjured it forth once more for the first time in five years. Warlock notices something else.

“Brother Francis?” He prods, shocked. “Izzat you?”

Both of the two now turn, and everything around the three fades into blurring colors and churning noises.

Warlock would be a rotten liar if he had said he hadn’t missed them dearly. He would also be a lousy boy if he didn’t recognize them by the backs of their heads alone, he thinks. Because he would know them anywhere. They’d always done a much better job at raising him than his own parents.

They both look different now. Brother Francis seems to have had dental work done, and has cleaned up quite nicely. Nanny, though, appears to have changed her style completely. Her- his? Their? Who knows. But she still sports a fine pair of shades upon the bridge of her nose.

The pair seem to stutter, splutter with a little awestruck surprise. It’s as if they’d never expected to see him again.

“Oh- Warlock,” Nanny Ashtoreth begins, feigning a cool-headed surprise. “How good to see you.”

She sounds different too. Less of a high strain on her voice, more natural.

But Warlock seems to finally feel a gear shift, and a puzzle piece clicks into place. He glances down to the space between the two, where their arms are linked.

In his dumbfounded state, he feels a smile split the trance.

They both see it at the same time, chins tilting to follow his gaze. When they catch where his eyes are, their stares mingle together in concern. It’s a look that wonders aloud whether or not they should be worried, or blatant.

Warlock looks back up to their faces. “I see now why you two left,” he adds, grinning wider.

He can’t help it. He was right all along.

Warlock remembers something, then. It takes all of his power not to burst out into a triumphant laugh.

“I’m sure he does,” he says, slyly.

Nanny’s eyes, illuminated from behind with daylight, widen. She remembers, too. Of course she does.

And she bites back a twinning smile.

[immortalmrwavell]

Rejuvenation

(Original story posted May 19th 2022) This story has been Updated!

This is a sequel to Taking Back Youth! Make sure to read it first!

“What to do… What to do” Mr Wavell muttered to himself as he floated around town, looking down at all the potential test subjects. A Lot of the time he liked to pick a man (usually a gay one) out of the crowd and just follow them around for awhile, learning a bit about their life as a simple observer before making his move. Though as his gaze scanned across the people, he noticed one man in particular that stood out. Not because of his looks or what he was wearing but rather because his soul and body didn’t match?!

Curiously Wavell floated over to the man as he walked through the street with a confident smirk. He was a tall, relatively broad man. Handsome features with a short beard and ginger hair. A hot piece of meat for sure but how the hell did he acquire this body? Wavell couldn’t sense any magic emanating from the man’s soul meaning he couldn't be a warlock himself. He looked deeper to see if he could sense the residual magic of another witch or warlock who may have done it. There was something but it didn’t seem to belong to another being. It was natural magic. Which could only mean he used some sort of magic item or spell to acquire the hunky body this man now possessed. Interesting.

Of course Wavell could’ve just read the man’s mind to find out everything he needed to know. Most of the time he would. But he couldn’t help but feel that took the fun out of figuring things out for himself sometimes. Sort of like looking up spoilers for an interesting TV show. But that said he wasn’t about to float around for days trying to figure out where this man’s soul had originally come from. So Wavell placed an invisible hand on the oblivious man’s shoulder and focused.

“Now. Let’s see what kind of body you gave up for this one shall we?”

The ginger stud felt a shiver across his body as Wavell used the soul within to find a link back to its original body. Within seconds he sensed the matching signature not far from here. After that he didn’t waste any time, teleporting away towards the signature and leaving the youthful hunk completely unaware of what had just happened.

———

Upon arrival, Wavell found himself in a small apartment a few blocks away. There was an old man who looked to be in his early 60’s sitting with his head down on a desk, surrounded by masses of empty beer bottles. It was a sad sight in all honesty. This guy had been in the prime of his life before it’d all been stripped away from him.

“Tell me. How exactly did you end up in that body?” Wavell spoke, allowing his form to become visible and his voice heard.

“HOLY FUCK! HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE!?” Evan screamed as he whipped around to see Wavell standing rather nonchalant behind him. Yet Wavell didn’t answer him. At first Evan was afraid. Terrified even by the man. But then a wave of calmness washed over him. He couldn’t explain why but it did. As though there was no need to fear the handsome suited man before him. “Wait… w-what did you say?” Evan asked, his voice still a little shaky.

“I asked how you ended up with that body.” Wavell repeated. “I found the man who was piloting your real one so I used him to find you.” He revealed as if it were somehow obvious.

Evan quizzed the strange man on how he even knew about that. Mr Wavell responded by informing Evan of his own powerful magic abilities. To prove such, the Warlock used his power to rid the apartment of all its mess. With a simple wave of his hand, beer bottles were gone, clothes were clean and folded, bed sheets were made and so on. Evan was completely dumbfounded but at least now he knew this guy was for real.

“It happened about a week ago… I was getting drunk at a bar after a bad breakup when this old dude started hitting on me. I accepted him for god knows what reason and the next thing I knew I was absolutely smashed out of my mind and fucking this dude in his apartment. After we fucked I blacked out and when I woke up, he’d stolen my body…”

“Do you know how exactly he was able to do it?” Wavell questioned.

Evan thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. He just said something about a ritual I think. Also that swapping sexual fluids was the last component?”

“A ritual huh? He must’ve used some sort of magical item given to him to enact it. I wonder if Gilgamesh had something to do with that…” Wavell pondered while stroking a hand through his beard.

“Gilga-who now?”

“He’s a friend of mine with similar interests. Not that it matters to you.” Wavell gave a small smile. “Anyways I’m off. I was just curious about your situation. That’s all.” With that Wavell floated up into the air once again. He was about to teleport away when the flabby old man grabbed his leg. The warlock looked down as Evan began begging him to stay. Pleading with him to use his magic somehow to fix this and give him back his old body.

With a sigh, the warlock lowered himself down to the floor once more. “Look, Evan is it? Swapping souls, changing bodies, shifting minds. It’s what I live for. So why would I use my magic to correct something that I would've happily done myself in the first place?”

Evan’s eyes sunk as he looked back down at the aged, chubby body that’d been forced upon him. The last glimmer of hope he’d gained slowly fading as he sat himself back down on the bed. Mr Wavell was about to take his leave but as he glanced at Evan again, he couldn’t help but feel some sort of pity for the man.

Rolling his eyes he said to the man “Fine. I’ll help you out… but I’m not going to put you back in your old body.” Wavell said as his shoes touched the floor once again. Evan was confused, proceeding to ask how it’d be helping if not giving back his former body. Wavell was quick to respond. “Well from what I can tell, your soul is about 27 years old, correct? In that case how about I regress your current body to match that.”

Evan was fast to agree, eager to take anything he could get. As such, the warlock got Evan to stand towards the centre of the room. With a wave of his finger, Wavell conjured up a full body mirror out of thin air, allowing Evan to see his reflection. It was a sad sight which only got sadder when the handsome stranger waved his finger again to get rid of the old man’s clothes.

“Just so you can have a good view of this next part…” Wavell whispered while placing his hands on Evan’s shoulders. His palms began to emit a warm violet glow that was absorbed into Evan’s body, filling him with a strange sensation. A pulsing heat that surged its way across his frame and forced its way into every part of his being. It was as though he were being embraced by a warm aura of pure energy. But that was only the beginning.

It took a few seconds for him to notice but, as he stared into the mirror, Evan saw how the grey hairs on his head were slowly regaining their colour while his wrinkles began to fade. The fat across his body started melting away, loose skin getting tighter again while his body hair darkened and his skin became more tanned. Evan’s receding hairline started fixing itself, pulling forwards as his hair grew thicker and healthier, now completely dark without a trace of gray. The mustache on his upper lip became less pronounced, fading into a full face of stubble while his aged eyes regained a youthful glow. Lean muscle began to grow and define itself in places where fat had disappeared, restoring a strong and tight physique to his body.

“How are you feeling so far.” Wavell murmured, wrapping an arm around Evan before grasping his member. “Does the heat of rejuvenation feel good?” He added. Evan could only groan in response as his dick was flooded with newfound youth, growing hard as a rock at Wavell’s gentle touch. His body continued to regress back through its 30’s. Skin looking younger, hair looking thicker, testosterone increasing. His cock bucked with excitement as his balls began to churn, feeling so sensitive as Wavell continued to caress him gently. Then at last the heat began to subside as Evan reached his late 20’s once again. The same age his old body had been before it was stolen.

“I-I can’t… believe it.” Looking into the mirror, Evan could tell this was still Carl’s body but now… he looked like he could be a Men’s Fitness Model!

“Mhmm, this body was quite the looker in its younger days it seems. Perhaps not as muscular as your old body but certainly a few inches taller and I don’t doubt you’ll grow into it some more.” Wavell’s breath was hot against Evan’s ear, his beard brushing lightly against the back of the now youthful man’s neck. “Unless you want me to grow it for you.” He leaned in, kissing Evan’s neck while squeezing that excited cock a little.

“R-really?!” Evan pondered those words for a moment. Was Mr Wavell really offering to just hulk out his body right here and now? Evan had no doubt it was within the warlocks power after what’d just transpired but… he declined to Wavell’s surprise. “As fucking amazing as that sounds, I think I want to do it myself. If I’m gonna be bigger than the body that asshole stole from me then I want it to be thanks to my own hard work.” He stated confidently as he spun himself around a couple times, inspecting all his newly invigorated assets.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be your entire body. Perhaps just one or two little things you want to improve? Things that you may not be able to change very much naturally?” Wavell tempted, making circles with a finger as it glowed purple.

Evan thought hard for a moment while checking himself out from multiple angles. He had to admit, one of the things he was missing the most from his previous body had to be his former bubble butt. Just the thought that Carl was now flaunting that ass around town and getting lord knows how much dick was pissing him off. Speaking of dick, his current one seemed around average at what looked to be about 6 inches yet his old one was certainly over 7 inches at least. He thought it over for a moment but soon decided to ask if he could get improvements in both areas.

“Oh that’ll be no problem whatsoever.” The warlock smiled kindly. “But how about we make it just a tad more interesting.” Wavell stepped around in front of Evan, having to look up slightly at the man before getting down onto his knees and taking Evan’s already excited cock in his mouth. Evan was shocked but couldn’t bring himself to fight against Wavell’s bearded lips.

Murmurs of satisfaction slipped from Evan’s mouth as Wavell worked his tongue around the shaft like a pro. It felt odd though, like the heat of magic that’d embraced his body earlier now emanating from inside Wavell’s mouth and wrapping around his cock. After that Evan felt what he could only explain as a second erection. Almost as if his cock had somehow only been at half mast before but was now growing even further! Veins bulged across his appendage as it engorged. Wavell continued to bob his head generously, gradually having to open his mouth wider as the cock inside he was making love too thickened. Wavell grabbed hold of Evan’s balls in the process, massaging them as he felt the leaking member slowly push itself further down his throat. Evan grunted, feeling his balls pull up slightly before dropping back down with a bit more heft than before. This repeated a couple of times with his balls getting heavier each time until he had a nice fat pair of balls that were teeming with cum and testosterone. After that, all Wavell had to do was go deep one last time, swallowing the entire cock and that was enough to send Evan over the edge. Warm nectar came flowing out, coating the inside of Wavell’s throat white with man seed before swallowing every drop hungrily.

After taking a moment to savour the taste, Wavell pulls himself away from Evan’s crotch. An audible pop could be heard as his lips released the wet member to swing down between Evan’s legs with a new heftier weight to it. Looking down Evan could see the clear difference in size. It was longer and thicker than his old dick ever was! Most notably was the fat mushroom head it now adorned, still dripping with cum. It had to be at least 9 inches! Probably a little more! Not to mention the heavy balls he was swinging now. It almost didn’t seem real.

“Woah! I can’t believe how huge it is now! Fuuuuck…” Evan gripped his new and improved manhood. The length was amazing, sure but god did the girth feel phenomenal. Not being able to wrap his hand fully around his cock was an almost euphoric experience. It made him feel superior in a strange way. Though that could’ve just been all extra testosterone talking.

Wavell chuckled as he pulled himself back up. “Now… time for that ass of yours.” Smirking as he pulled Evan towards the bed, pushing him down onto the sheets. Evan laid down on his stomach, his ass served up and ready to be bred. Wavell kicked off his shoes while unzipping his pants, soon pulling out his own monster cock. He pumped a little for a moment as he pressed a finger inside Evan’s hole. Yup, that was gonna be far too tight for his cock but it certainly wasn’t something a little magic couldn’t fix. Just then Evan felt a shiver pulse through his body as his hole suddenly loosened and relaxed. “Perfect.”

The neighbours could only wonder what the hell was happening in that apartment. Through the thin walls they could onlh hear constant echoes of deep grunting and groaning mixed with sounds of a creaking bed. But how could Evan not groan when he felt Mr Wavell’s fat rod slide inside him. Even after having his hole loosened, Evan still felt himself being stretched slightly while Wavell pressed his entire length inside.

After that initial penetration, the warlock began to work up a gentle pace. Pump after pump filling Evan up as he started to feel that warm magical sensation one last time spreading throughout his backside. Magical violet energy pulsed from Wavell’s dick like a constant orgasm, slowly but surely causing Evan’s ass to inflate. Both cheeks bubbling up with fat and muscle that began to jiggle with every thrust. Seeing that only made Wavell hungrier, pounding in with more and more intensity. When the growth subsided, Evan was left with a juicy bubble butt that any gay man would die for. To have and to fuck.

Of course just because the change was complete didn’t mean they were gonna stop. Ooohh no. They were both having way too much fun. Wavell continued to pound down into Evan for a good while first before they repositioned themselves. Wavell was soon laid on his back while Evan bounced on his dick as best he could. Obviously Evan couldn’t see the change that’d been made to his ass but he could most certainly feel it. All that extra padding rippled every time his ass smacked down against Wavell’s crotch. He was loving it to say the least. Not to mention his new, fatter dick jumping up and down with every bounce. It was certainly a sight to behold for both men.

They must’ve been making a ton of noise because a couple of position switches later they heard a knock at the door followed by a voice on the other side angrily telling them to quiet down. The pair only laughed at this of course, barely even stopping before getting back into rhythm. If anything, Evan made an effort to moan even louder simply to piss them off even more.

After a good while longer however, The Great Mr Wavell was finally hitting his high. By this point they were doing doggy style with Wavell speeding up his thrusts, his full balls smacking against Evan’s round jiggly ass. Evan knew exactly what was coming as he heard Wavell let out a deep groan swiftly followed by an intense pulsing inside his welcoming hole. Next thing Evan knew, the flood gates had opened and Wavell was pumping load after load inside him. Thick, sticky cum drenching his insides and even spilling out due to the sheer quantity.

Wavell must’ve stayed on top of Evan for a good five or ten minutes with his cock lodged inside the seeded hole. Sighs of relief could be heard however when Wavell finally decided to pull himself out, taking a moment to catch his breath before hopping off the bed. Evan on the other hand needed an extra couple of minutes before gathering up the strength to stand after that onslaught. But he was determined to get one last look in the mirror at his most recent change. And boy was he impressed by Wavell’s work.

“Ooohh yeah… I’m gonna rip half the pants I own now.” Evan grinned, looking over his shoulder at his reflection as he placed his hands beneath each of his thick cheeks and jiggled them. “Definitely gonna have to buy myself a new wardrobe.” Masses of dudes were gonna be drooling over his ass now! He played with his huge ass for a bit longer until he eventually fell back onto the bed again out of soreness. Wavell tucked his cock away into his pants. Of course he knew he could rid Evan of the pain from being stretched but he loved leaving the men he’d bred with a sore ass for a day or two.

“So, before I leave, I’m curious about something.” Wavell began while fixing his clothes. “What are you going to do about the man who stole your original flesh? I believe you said his name was Carl. Though he’s probably going by ‘Evan’ now.” He shrugged while grabbing his dress shoes.

Evan had to think for a moment. Before today he wasn’t sure if he’d have ever wanted to see his old self again unless it was to swap back somehow. The thought of seeing everything he once had piloted by another man seemed too painful for him. Having to watch that body snatcher flaunt that young hunky body he used to own. Now though? Things were very different.

“I’m not sure right yet. I’m still pissed at him for using me when I was at such a low point just to steal my life and body. Until you came along I’ve been nothing but miserable. I should hate him but… thinking about my original body is making my dick twitch…” Thoughts about Evan’s original ginger stud of a body swirled through his mind. His old cock and ass… god he’d want a chance to touch those again. Maybe he’d even get the chance to fuck himself!

Wavell laughed. “Well I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you and check in every once in a while. Just to see how you’re getting on, you know? In the meantime I’ve made a minor adjustment to reality so all of Carl’s identification fits your new look. Nobody should suspect a thing.” Wavell tapped his shoes on the floor to make sure they were on properly before floating up into the air. “Enjoy your new life.”

Evan turned to thank the man for all he’s done but when he did, Wavell was already gone. Almost as if he were never there to begin with. Despite that, Evan knew he was still being watched.

“Thank you Mr Wavell.”

[vidavalor]

Crowley not wanting to be mistaken for SS in 1941, quite understandably, and so he had to wear a different color shirt and it gave him the excuse to wear Aziraphale's blue and white. Of all the colors, those are the one he picked. There's white in his handkerchief and on his tie, which is a color I believe we've only ever seen him wear when disguised as the waiter at Warlock's birthday party and, well... as an angel. The white in 1941 is hidden in dual layers beneath his overcoat. You only get to see some of it when he takes off the coat-- a little hint of white amongst the black in his handkerchief. When he opens his suit jacket, though? The white is the color of the design on his tie. It becomes the focal point of the outfit and where your eyes go. Peel off Crowley's defensive layers, bit by bit, and the white and the blue of the angelic become visible, mixed in with his demonic red and black.

[merlinswomb]

Arthur, upon waking from his stupor, hoisted the warlock up and quickly began dragging him in the direction of his rooms. Merlin dazedly thought this smart, as no one would dare interrupt them in the King's quarters.

The man kept glancing at his abdomen. The warlock understood. Now that he'd seen what had started happening to his own body, it was hard to look away from. Even the journey to Arthur's bedroom meant that his stomach had already gotten bigger.

The thought made his chest burn.

Except, as they collapsed onto the mattress, he realised that it wasn't just arousal in his chest. It was change.

He was so very warm. His nipples were tingling, and the suspicion of what was going on with them brushed the back of his mind.

Oof. His thin leather belt was beginning to dig into his middle now.

The King was positioning him upright against the headboard, fussily organising pillows around him. Merlin appreciated the man's sudden concern, but he wished he could have prioritised better.

"Arthur. Please. This belt, could you...?" he murmured.

He stopped moving pillows, and looked for what Merlin was asking. Something in his gaze darkened as he found the warlock's belly, growing rounder and rounder by the moment, the belt centimetres away from snapping. Merlin shifted, both aroused and uncomfortable.

Arthur moved closer to him on the bed, and leaned into him him as he slowly undid the clasp on the belt. As it fell away, the belly wobbled.

Shame prickled under his skin. Here he was, supposedly the most powerful warlock to exist, reduced to a mess as he suddenly found himself pregnant without a clue as to why.

With Arthur here to witness, no less.

What was the other man thinking? Was he disgusted by what Merlin's body was becoming? Had he noticed just how hot this was getting him yet?

An audible rumbling sound erupted from Merlin's stomach, and the growing intensified.

His belly looked like it could fit several grapefruit in it now. It rose fast, like something in cook's oven, and his shirt was now too tight for him as well. Arthur splayed his fingers against the stomach in amazement, palms resting on the skin beneath the shirt that no longer fit him.

The skin-on-skin contact had Merlin keening, and he had to close his eyes. It was all too much feeling at once. Whatever was growing inside him was fucking up his body, and Arthur was adding on to it all.

He needed more.

"Take it off. Off, off!" Merlin begged. His cock was so unbelievably hard, and despite the earlier fears, he realised that so was Arthur's. He could clearly see the tented pants.

The King pulled at the shirt, tearing it a little to get it off. Merlin languished in the way Arthur bit has lip when he raked his eyes over the exposed, pale, rotund belly.

Gods, he could feel things moving in him. Across the surface of the skin, there were visible moving potrusions.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Merlin said lowly.

Bewildered eyebrows raise. "Yes."

Arthur traced the widest point of his belly with light fingertips. Merlin moaned at the touch.

"Do we know what this is? I have never heard of this, even for warlocks," Arthur asked.

He squirmed, belly jiggling delightfully as he moved. It just kept getting bigger, nearing the look of a full term pregnancy now.

"No, definitely not a warlock thing. But... maybe because I'm a Dragonlord? I don't know much about them, other than their ability to command dragons."

Arthur's eyes widened as he processed the information. "Wait, so these... these could be eggs?"

Merlin glanced pointedly at the bumps on the skin of his belly, then looked at him through his lashes.

"Merlin, you. You never fail to surprise me. That is so unbelievably hot."

Part One | Part Three

[bestiarium]

The Thila [Burkinese mythology; Lobi mythology]

At the dawn of time, the supreme deity Tangba You created the world. Tangba You fashioned the land, the seas, and then the humans to populate the world. But human men lusted after women and soon began fighting one another over the women, and the deity eventually grew tired of this. He was the creator god, after all, and we can assume he had better things to do than solve every petty issue among mortals. So he withdrew from the world of men, never again interfering with mortal affairs. Before leaving, however, Tangba You figured he should leave someone to guide and watch over humanity, so he created the Thila (singular: Thil): a group of semi-divine nature spirits.

This is the creation story of the Lobi people, who live in the north eastern parts of Côte d’Ivoire and south western Burkina Faso. They trace their roots back to Ghana.

The Thila play a very large role in traditional Lobi religion. These spirits are not really gods in the common sense of the word, but they are somewhat similar to the angels of Abrahamic religion (but note that they are sometimes described as ancestor spirits). They offer protection to the people, but also tell them how they should act. Though normally invisible to mortal eyes, these beings take on the form of an animal or a human in the rare event that they do appear before people.

Normally though, a Thil communicates solely through a ‘Thildar’, which is a human diviner in direct contact with the spirits (the societal role of these people can be likened to shamans of some native American traditions). As per the rules of their religion, a Thildar is always male, and usually there are only one or two of these diviners in a community. Each Thildar stands in contact with his own group of Thila spirits, with whom he can communicate during a divination. He then relays the will of the Thila, which includes guidelines and taboos pertaining to all kinds of subjects, including how the people should dress, have sex, hunt animals, etc. Sometimes the spirits demand to hold great feasts or festive events, and sometimes they forbid certain practises. One example is the village of Korhogo (near Gaoua): the people living here stopped sleeping on mats made from millet stem, because a Thil once forbade it. Also noteworthy is that Thila sometimes demand that the Thildar takes up a specific profession, like becoming a smith or a doctor.

This may sound strict to outsiders, but Thila are kind and benevolent spirits. They receive offerings during special occasions such as births and weddings, and bestow rain and childbirth on humanity. Should the people break the taboos that the Thila enforce, however, they can wreak havoc upon a community.

These spirits are believed to reside in special religious wooden sculptures called ‘Bateba’, which are usually housed in shrines dedicated to that specific Thil. This is important, because the act of placing a Bateba on a shrine greatly enhances its spirit’s ability to manifest in this world, allowing it to protect the people against evil (such as evil warlocks). If a Thil wants a shrine, it will tell this to a Thildar, along with specific instructions of where and how the shrine should be built. Within Burkina Faso, the Lobi are actually renowned for their woodworking skills, and as such the Bateba tend to be impressive works of art.

Finally, I want to mention that there are different kinds of Thila spirits, and the distinction is easily visible in their Bateba carvings. Some examples:

Bateba Phula are humanoid figures with a stiff standing pose. They house regular Thila.

Bateba Ti Puo house protective spirits that defend against evil; they feature raised arms.

A Thil Dorka houses a particularly powerful variant of Thila. It is a humanlike statuette with two heads, referencing the spirit’s ability to watch multiple locations at the same time.

Sources: Asante, M. K. and Mazama, A., 2008, Encyclopedia of African Religions, SAGE Publications, 920 pp. Peek, P. M., 1991, African Divination Systems: Ways of Knowing, African Systems of Thought, Georgetown University Press, 230 pp., pages 98-99. Harvey, G., 2014, The Handbook of Contemporary Animism (Acumen Handbooks), Routledge, 544 pp., page 68. (image source 1: African Arts Gallery, lot 12963) (image source 2: MutualArt)

[lawsofchaos1]

Shadowhunter Headcanon #3: The Very Slightly Smutty One

Shadowhunters are not body conscious and, between training and post-patrol medical/clean-up, Alec and the others spend a fair bit of time shirtless within the Institute. 

Magnus, as High Warlock of Brooklyn, Consular High Warlock of the Americas, son of Asmodeus and, well, just him, is a fairly possessive soul and is very much not in favor of Alec waltzing shirtless through the Institute for everyone to daydream about because, well, who could see his darling shirtless and not?

There is, on the other hand, a relatively simple fix for this Magnus discovers. (One he very much enjoys putting into place.)

Who can daydream about having Alexander for their own when it becomes immediately obvious exactly how claimed Alec is the moment Alec takes off his shirt?

Alec, in response, is very much in favor of the overt possessiveness that Magnus displays, loving being obviously wanted that much. 

I want to see Alec stripping off his shirt for training one morning, Magnus' nail marks down his sides, love bites on the back of his neck, bruises on his hips, and just being absolutely, 100% unashamed and, frankly, satisfied as the cat who got the cream at the visible evidence of Magnus' love.

The other Shadowhunters keep glancing over and Alec just smirks because they can get their own warlock if they're jealous. Magnus is his.

[shoujo-wizard]

omegaverse steddie thoughts to b had

Halloween town AU with soulmate elements

Young witch omega Steve who never knew of Halloween towns existence till his 13th birthday came & he woke up to his bed floating underneath him & his parents had a screaming match that night & his father slams the door behind him as he leaves so Steve runs away to Halloween town tht night by wishing he could b with his beloved but mysterious maternal grandmother Marlene Cravenwell who he only gets to see at Halloween & when he opens his eyes the next morning he's in her house on her couch & she isn't as surprised to see him as he thought but she just waves it away by stating their family has always been stronger than the average witch

She takes Steve out to the market & various shops along the main street of town introducing him the whole time as her grandson & a talented witch, she buys him necessities like clothes, hygiene products, & nesting materials saying she's had a room ready & waiting for him in her house since he was born an omega visibly disappointed Richard Harrington who clearly wanted an alpha or beta child & Annabelle Harrington who never recovered from her postpartum depression

So Steve stays in Halloween town & spends the summer learning the basics about witchcraft from his grandmother & then the summer turns to fall & his mother hasn't contacted Marlene abt her missing son & he doesn't want to go back anyway & so she enrolls her beloved talented grandson in the local school where he's instantly latched onto by werewolf Robin who can smell the potential for their friendship & the 2 quickly become inseparable & grow closer every year not even separating in high school like every1 assumed they would & when she presents as an alpha every1 assumes they'll get together but nah she just becomes his unofficial guard dog against alphas w less than pure intentions bc she can smell their true feelings

Then one night three years after Steve arrived in Halloween town someone new moves into the house across from Steve's window & his grandmother is telling him to stay away from their new neighbors instead of taking him along with her to greet them & the next day a new alpha boy is at school dressed in black with dark sunglasses & an equally dark umbrella the rumors reach Steve's ear before he even has a conversation w the alpha; his name's Eddie Munson, he moved to town literally the night before, & he's a vampire whose ancestors killed a witch

Cut to: they have a class together the next day & the only available seat is next to Steve & Robin doesn't take the class with him & when Eddie sits down oh no he smells amazing & then Eddie is asking him for a pencil & as he passes him the pencil their eyes meet then glow purple & wind sweeps through the classroom even with the windows closed & there's a chorus of gasps as everyone (including the 2 of them) process that they found their soulmate

Cue Steve's first heat being triggered by this event & taking him out of school for a week & Eddie's corresponding rut doing the same & both of them feeling tortured because their soulmate is right there but their guardians have said they can't get involved with each other

Maybe there's an evil warlock they have to defeat, maybe they have to reckon w the past where Eddie's ancestor killed a witch, maybe their families vehemently disapprove

In the end though they end up bonded to each other & Steve graduates with a pregnant belly & months later gives birth to a pup with pointed teeth & a unique diet & witchcraft in their bones

[ransprang]

thank you to @magnitude101999 for your support <3 we hope you like your match up

if anyone else wants a match up this is our ko-fi

your match up is....

WYLL!!!

How you met: You were a bard at the Blushing Mermaid, a tavern which Wyll, still the son of a nobleman often frequented. He heard you sing one night and was enchanted by your voice so much so that he sought to have a drink with you afterwards. You were too shy to speak much to him that day, but he was polite and charming so he stuck in your memory. You began to look for him in the crowds, and he would always give you a bright smile whenever you caught his eye. You both began to chat after your performances since he always made it a point to compliment your singing. One night, you noticed Wyll looked troubled. When asked, he confessed that his father was set to disown and exile him for becoming a warlock. You refused to believe that kind man would do anything evil intentionally. Wyll heartened by your faith in him, invited you to accompany him in his travels. And so the pair of you roamed the Swordcoast, a traveling minstrel and the Blade of Frontiers.

When resting at camp Wyll performs his dances in private along with his sword practices. In those serene moments you love drawing him. And if you choose to show him the pages of drawings he'll be so pleased and a bit shy, “Wow darling, is this how you see me?”

He’ll pepper your body with innocent, light kisses on your hands, fingers, cheeks, forehead. He’s slowly build up his way to your lips like a gentleman

Wyll loves to caress your hair, admiring the color and beauty after a long day. The gentle touches turn into a head massage which helps you destress.

As a bard you have very weak capabilities in fighting with weapons, so Wyll teaches you the art of the sword. Similar to the modern world of teaching one to play golf, Wyll stands behind you and clasps his hands on top of yours. Guiding your hands

You would sing some funky tunes and Wyll would dance to them. He would drag you into a dance too once his solo performance was over.    

Wyll and you are both 6 feet. You both could exchange clothing if you wanted. Some nights you put on his little black crop top before going to bed. 

Wyll would appreciate your bubbly and cheerful personality in dark times, especially with a worm stuck in his brain. He has been through some difficult times but always tries to keep an optimistic outlook. He would admire your ability to stay positive.

It would be ages before you guys would do more than kiss and Wyll would be all the more happy to go slow with you. He wants that storybook romance, and is happy to play the part of Prince Charming.

Wyll often waxes lyrical about his partner. He would give you all the sappy, romantic words of affirmation you needed. "Your red hair dances like flames in the sunlight.” “For me, Y/n, your eyes hold the entire universe, and when our eyes meet, it feels like getting lost in a beautiful, enchanting night sky.

N/SFW

Wyll teaches you the way of his sword. Since you are shy, he’ll slowly teach you what he likes and how he likes it. At the beginning he’d let you pump it and put his cock in your mouth however you please. The longer into your relationship the more comfortable he grows teaching you what he prefers.

He’ll never pressure you into anything you don’t want to. He’d be the king of consent asking you if he can remove your blouse and panties.

Absolute praise kink and body worship enjoyer. He’ll tell you how gorgeous you look clothed, topless, between his legs, sweaty, full of his cum, and more. He is wholly devoted to you and only you.

Wyll takes it slow, he caresses your body softly with his finger tips, feeling your skin, curves and bends. You can see him breathe heavier, the more he feels. His pants get tighter, pushing against his zipper. His hard erect cock fully visible to you.

Wyll pleasures then gets pleasured. He would give your naked body soft kisses all the way down to your clit, while he lets his hands and arms roam freely around your chest and hips. Skin to skin contact already has him on cloud 9.

Wyll would slowly and steadily take you from behind as he would squeeze your breasts. He also brings himself close to your neck and ear while pumping to whisper about how much he loves you, and how you are his everything.

Wyll would take your hands and move them around his body, feeling your fingertips against his abs. Tracing his v line, smooth against his skin, that man would be dripping with precum.

He would have sex to classical music playing in the background. As the music and the instruments would get more intense, so would he. Wyll would pump faster and breathe with the rhythm to songs like fur Elise,

Wyll is going to look after you so well. He would play with your red locks, tangling them around his fingers, and kissing your forehead. He would say I love you at least 10 times after sex.

Wyll will make you lemonade to make up for all the sweating, especially if you’ve sucked him off. He will offer to cook you dinner or take you out for a meal. You are his princess and you’ve given him so much pleasure, so he must thank you.

yours wyllfully,

admins sar, san & sav

[heylittleriotact]

It's Wednesday. Have a WIP. It's another snippet from the LAST WIP I posted, and with some editing, cleaning up, and adjusting things to be less rambly and disorganized I'm hoping to get it up today.

The devil’s eyes flicked up when he sensed Astarion’s proximity to the woman whose hand he still held, and an oily but chilling grin spread over the face that wasn’t his own. He straightened and let go of Echo, gesturing his fingers over her. “A new look, I see,” he oozed, coercive flattery dripping off of every syllable. “Very dark, very dramatic. It certainly suits you.” His voice dropped, his intent plain as his eyes wandered unapologetically over the swell of her breasts and the defined lines of her shoulders and neck. 

She considered him as he did this, face unreadable, and placed her empty glass on the platter of one of the staff passing by. “I see they’re just letting anyone into these momentous social events these days,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought a no-name cambion would have made the cut for the guest list.” She took the fresh glass of wine from Astarion and murmured her thanks with a smile that visibly cooled when she turned back to Raphael, who laughed richly like she’d just complimented him.

“The new Archduke and I have history, and one never knows what they might learn at a fete such as this - merriment and wine make for loose tongues and fascinating opportunities,” his white teeth gleamed villainously as his eyes lingered on her neck - on something even Astarion could not see. “For instance, a little birdie has let slip that you and your charming archfey friend have had something of a disagreement of late. Could it be true?” He lifted an eyebrow teasingly. “You and just and fair Lady Lillian’s respected consigliere seemed so… intimate.”

Echo blinked, her expression one of amiable indulgence. “I’m not sure how that would be any of your business, even if it was true.”

“Opportunities, silly girl!” Raphael hissed playfully and Echo’s smile cooled further at the term of endearment that Astarion knew made her see red. “If you’re ready to stop playing childish games with an archfey who’s well known across the planes to be insane, I could be considered amenable to setting you on a path to real power.” 

Echo’s lip curled slightly: of course with Senna gone the soul-greedy cambion would come sniffing around looking to capitalize on the fact that she was a warlock without a patron. “You need only but ask it of me, Echo.”

“I’m afraid I’ve had my fill of owing my successes to someone else. I’ve become rather selfish, you see,” she said politely.

This was hardly a deterrent for the likes of Raphael.

“Think of the revenge!” He intoned passionately. “I know you well enough to know you want to get back at Lokasenna for whatever slight they are guilty of. Imagine how deeply it would cut him - how viciously it would vex him - to see his former associate under my caring wing, coaching you and raising you to heights unheard of. Better than anything you would have ever amounted to under their fumbling care - if you could call it that.” He uttered a sardonic laugh at the last part. “You, Echo, are an untapped font of potential, yearning to be set loose on the world, and you know I love nothing more than the realization of potential.”

“Especially when there’s something in it for you.”

“And yet you stand to gain more out of this hypothetical arrangement than I, clever Echo. One would think you to be an extremely motivated individual when considering what you’re up against. Going up against an elder brain controlled by the Crown of Karsus is no small feat.” He leaned forward, placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing: a gesture of comfort if it had been from anyone else. Something in her eyes darkened, but her face remained friendly, even as Raphael stroked his thumb over the bare skin at her neckline, slowly. Intimately. 

Astarion felt his jaw tighten as he fought back the urge to break every finger on the hand that had touched her. 

“Let me help you,” the devil said gently, his eyes soft, his tone sincere.

There was no way she was actually considering this, he told himself. She despised Raphael and made little secret of it, but Astarion watched as she looked from the hand still gripping her shoulder back to the devil’s face, eyes simmering with something that was not there before - something he could only describe as lust.

“You offer me the world on a plate before you even offer me a dance?” She queried softly, her voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the orchestra that played. “I thought you of all people would have better manners than that, Raphael.”

She had warned him about this. Told him that there may be instances tonight where she would have to act… differently. Pretend to be other. Let herself be thought of and treated in a certain way to get what she wanted out of people. It was no different than how he comported himself when he was forced to hunt for Cazador, but the comparison was cold comfort. Especially now when her eyes were boring into Raphael’s, brimming with forbidden curiosity that he could only hope was an act.

Raphael boomed a laugh again, tossing his head back as if she’d just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. His hand stayed on her shoulder still.

“How easily we forget ourselves on a night such as this!” He exclaimed dramatically, fingers sliding down the black clad length of her arm to catch her hand with his. Astarion got the sense the bastard enjoyed every inch of that touch. “May I have this dance?” He asked, dark eyes smoldering with the scorching heat of the hells. 

Astarion was beginning to feel resentful at the fact that he was apparently invisible all of a sudden, when Echo’s eyes finally landed on him. 

Sorry, they said. I hate this as much as you do. 

“Will you hold my drink for me please, darling?” 

“Of course, dear.” Just because it was easy for him to put on airs didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Not in this scenario. But he accepted Echo’s glass from her anyway and watched Raphael lead the woman he loved to the dance floor, her skirts trailing behind her like a plume of midnight smoke. 

He hadn’t been planning to partake in any dancing that evening, especially if it wasn’t with Echo, but a polite if nervous clearing of the throat next to him kicked that dream into its grave.

“Excuse me, sir, would you like to dance?” 

The question was asked with apparently all of the clumsy grace that the decidedly awkward looking teenage girl standing next to him possessed. Would he like to dance? Certainly not. Had Echo reminded him and the others during her brief etiquette lesson earlier today that it was a nearly unforgivable social faux pas to decline an invitation to dance excepting a scenario in which one was about to faint from exertion or needed to relieve themselves? Unfortunately she had. 

That didn’t stop him from sneering slightly at the well-dressed youth and saying, “Surely there’s a nice boy your age around here somewhere.” 

[taki-yaki]

The Chains That Bind Us Part 2

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Word Count:1668 Part 1

After refusing the ascendant's gift of immortality, he seeks to keep you bound to him, even if a pact has to be made to do so. (Tw: Emotional Manipulation, Character Death, Angst/Dark fic, Slight comfort/Happy ending)

As requested here's part 2 to TCTBU, things do become a bit dark here. Message me if I've missed any TW tags.

Life within the palace wall is pleasant, Astarion does give you free rein to explore some of the rooms in the palace, such as the dining hall and library. Most halls are empty half the time, with the occasional spawn that would scutter back to the shadows as if they were scared to even glance at you.

However, leaving the palace to explore the city is different. The only time you are allowed to go outside is to fulfil another task that you have been assigned to do.

Your perception of time slowly starts to warp, and days seem to blur together, how long have you been with him, Weeks? Months? The only one you can speak to within these walls is him.

When he throws his lavish parties in the ballroom, he always ensures that you never leave his side, displaying you as a prized toy to show to others that the grand hero of Baldur's Gate has the honour to stand by his side. Even if they don't know the truth of why you do it.

Some warlocks carry binding marks upon their skin, although most choose to hide it and think nothing more of it. Astarion however is nothing but persistent in making sure your mark is visible for everyone to see, a twisted form of ownership to him.

Two small holes that form a bite mark an exact copy of the one mirrored on his neck. Every attempt at covering it up with clothing just leads it to reappear on another part of your body. Neck, wrist, leg, it doesn't matter, as long as others know who you belong to.

Some days when you arrive back from clearing out another vampire spawn camp, he would not let any of the other spawn lay their hand on your wounds, fearing that the sight of your blood would cause them to harm you. Only he is allowed to tend to them. 

Speaking to you with a soft tone, how he'll never hurt you, whispering sweet little words into your ear.

"My pretty little warlock, my little pet, I don't like seeing such doubt cast upon your face"

He would mutter whilst placing gentle kisses onto your scars, admiring the bite-shaped pact mark in your skin.

Over time, you feel more of your vampiric master's power seep into you, and wrinkles start to fade away from your skin. Your respiratory system struggles to fall into a natural rhythm as if the need for oxygen in your body isn't required anymore. Most food and drink leave a plain taste on your tongue, even as you coat it in salt, it all tastes the same to you, an ash after-taste.

One day he offers you an answer to the torment you go through,

"I can take this pain away if that's what you want, One little bite is all it would take"

"All the luxuries of living will be returned to you, just one drop is all it takes" A sly grin spreads across his face, fulfil aware of what he's put you through. 

You know that he wants to see, you degrading yourself in front of him on your knees for him, begging just like that night after the black mass.

When you receive any new spells or pact boons from him, he always leaves a note by your bed, treating it as a gift. 

The various pacts you wield also take on a visual change.

Pact of the blade weapons now carry a necrotic touch to them. When used, the mark they leave is one of ash and dust that spreads slowly across the body. 

Pact of the tome, when read, you hear the silent whispers of those who have fallen by your hand. A constant reminder of the ones slain in his name to make a clear path.

Pact of the chain familiars have a slightly ghostly hue to them, whilst imps and quasits bear the markings of Mephistopheles.

Most of the time when you were tasked to yet again crush another uprising in secret by hunters. You were always reminded by him with a voice in your head. 

"I will be watching. I am always watching."

You thought this was nothing but an empty threat although oddly comforting that he would care to watch over you during your jobs.

The devil's sight that he gifted you, had the benefit of seeing normally in both magical and non-magical darkness. It acted as a second pair of eyes to him.

One day, whilst silently sweeping through another reluctant attempt to kill your master by the Gur, you find a child cowering, scared, unable to do anything but watch. Pulled from your trance, you decided to spare the child, an innocent shouldn't be harmed because of what he ordered you to do.

Have you lost sense of yourself after so many merciless kills all in hopes of keeping you and your companions safe?

As you watch the child hurry off into the forest, pausing to think.

“How many people have fallen by your hand, all in the name of protecting those close to you?”

“Was it even worth it anymore?”

Deep down, you hope that the child won't take the path that leads to their death by challenging the vampire ascendant, they all lead to the same fate anyway.

Arriving back at the palace, instead of seeing him waiting, sat on his throne for all to see. He stood above you at the door staring down at your figure.

Quicking clutching your wrist in his hand, grip tightening.

“You let that thing get away, In my lifetime they would be fully grown within a blur and now they could come back READY TO KILL YOU!” Snapping at you.

Flinching up at his yelling, frozen, unsure what to even say. His face softens.

“I-I’m sorry my treasure, I shouldn’t have scared you so easily. You’ll forgive me right?”

“I adore you terribly so” in a gentle tone, whilst holding you softly in his arms.

Unsure of what to even say to him after that, exhaustion falls upon you, relaxing in his arms.

The only way he can't see through your eyes is through your spiritual projection. Projecting your spirit from your body, you could pass through the palace halls undetected by any of the spawn and him, all whilst your physical body was sound asleep.

Knowing that this is your only slither of hope for freedom from this place. You reach out to Gale, surely he would know what to do.

Upon arrival at Gale's tower in Waterdeep, thanks in part to hitching a ride upon the weave, he seems surprised to see you. It's almost as if he's looking at a ghost of you. You explain everything to him, the contract you signed, your life in the palace and what he has made of your former self.

"After the party, He told us that you wanted to stay with him. But for him to reduce yourself to this- this form" He states whilst waving his hands at your body.

He agrees to gather everyone to help free you from him. No matter the cost.

Sitting on the throne next to him, you see your former companions walk in, none pleased to see Astarion, some can’t even look you in the eye, shocked by what has become of you.

Astarion knows that they’re not here, to sit elegantly and chat. He knows they're here to kill him and take you away.

His voice echoes in your head, a true test of your loyalty to him, to see how much you fall for him. Even if deep down you still loved him.

"Pet, you love me don't you, you'll get rid of them for me yes? Just like the rest"

Rising from his throne, readying himself to strike them down without a second thought.

You pause, you can't, you won't let him take another life, not by your hand nor by his.

Rushing in front of your companions, taking the full force of his attack.

A cry pierces through the large throne room. Looking down, you see his claws piercing through your chest, while your blade runs through him staking his heart cleanly.

Silence fills the room, and time seemingly stops, until it is quickly broken by his voice.

"Y-you wretch" He chokes out before you both fall to your knees.

You gained your freedom, but your death is still done by his hand. Even if you gave in and became his spawn, he would have killed you anyway.

Looking into those eyes, you notice the dull tone has vanished from his eyes, a glimmer of the man he once was looks horrified at you. Thinking back to the day of the rite, wishing how things could have gone differently for both of you. Clutching your body tightly, losing too much blood to even turn you into spawn.

"Aeterna amantes. Lovers forever, until the world falls down." Is the last thing you hear, a weak whisper upon his lips, before your eyes close for the last time.

Many decades have passed since that day, and the palace has long since been destroyed, nothing but a pile of rubble to the winds of time.

Gale, now more grey-looking, was walking near sorcerous sundries, until a familiar sight caught his eye, a young Drow with white curls with tips of silver on the ends and piercing red eyes. Next to the Drow, a person who took your face but in a form entirely different from what you were many decades ago.

The two looked like young lovers, smiling as they talked to one another, full of life to any unexpecting bypassers, yet to those who knew your previous life, a familiar face best left untouched to the darkest of your past.

The two of you smiled as you soaked in the warm touch of the sun. Perhaps being bound to another isn’t bad after all. 

Your future is yet to be written, after all.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I really wanted to add this part in but didn’t want to ruin the overall flow so I’ve put it here as a sort of bonus piece.

In the depths of the nine hells, Astarion stood in front of the archdevil, Mephistopheles, a wisp clutched tightly to his chest.

Your wisp never attempted to pull away from his body, no signs of resistance although you could do so freely. Your spirit stuck close to his heart, even in death.

Begging the archdevil to bring the two of you back, he’d even give up the powers of the ascendant even his memories just to see you once again. No matter how long it takes nor what form the two of you will have.

The arch-devil hasn’t uttered a single word to you both but simply raises his fingers as a loud snap is heard and a flash of white follows. 

It was a bit of a challenge to write some comfort/hopeful ending for this. I also aimed for some of the lines to be read in the narrator's voice. But I'll be writing something light after this. Message me any suggestions you guys have.

[carelessflower]

lucifer helped alec survive the svefnthorn - a theory

story time! i was ranting to @dustandducks about how i can't believe alec survive being stabbed by the svefnthorn (he stabbed himself but same sentiment) which was attuned to sammael at the time. sammael who, you know, is a literal prince of hell, with power only second to lucifer himself. and to add more onto this.

it is stated that only a warlock can survive being stabbed by the svefnthorn and nothing can reverse its effects. no other magical creatures in the shadoworld stand a chance against the svefnthron, except the warlock. pretty terrifying right? but this happened

alec survived being stabbed by the svefnthorn. not only did he survive, not only did there was no blood or injury or visible scar from the stabbing, but he was also able to call the thorn's power to him and used that power to help magnus. but why? how could that happen? we already established the power of the svefnthorn, and it was clear alec was not meant to survive it. i love alec, i would absolutely do something that ends me up on national news if it would make him happy, but i know his ability. he doesn't have extra angel blood or any blessing from the angels, or any secret gift that makes him exceptionally powerful, he's just your normal level shadowhunter

even alec himself was surprised when he realized he was not burnt to a crisp due to his 300 IQ decision-making skills. and i know we have the explanation about the alliance rune smoothing the thorn's demonic magic and alec's angelic magic to work together, but once again, how? we don't have a clear exposition for this, even from characters in the story

alec didn't know it would work, magnus didn't know why it worked. everybody's best guess were fate taking it easy on them. and for sammael-

he just...left, like how corporate taking down their pride flags the second pride month is over. no rage, no murder, nada, just disappeared into space. he also seemingly non fazed by the fact that alec survive a thorn with clearly anti non-warlock embedded to its manual.

@dustandducks raised a really good point, what if someone else, some higher power meant for alec to survive. the usual, and maybe logical answer would be angel looking out for their descendants, cause alec need to fulfill a greater destiny in the future. im going to play the devil’s advocate here and suggest that lucifer popped up and gave alec a little demonic magical assistance. this conspiracy somewhat tied up the loose ends in the lost book of the white and built some interesting story beat for the wicked power and the black volume of the dead

the twist fitting to what we already known from tlbotw

maybe the reason why sammael didn’t snatch alec up and put him in some demonic science lab in his realm is because he sensed lucifer’s presence and decided not to mess with anything lucifer was cooking up. (as lucifer is more powerful than him, which is also stated before the stabbing scene in tlbotw) it can also tied in sammael’s motive of gathering other princes of hell to talk about lucifer in the epilogue. tlbotw was setting up the grounds for tbvotd, magnus escaped becoming a greater demon’s minion leading to alec becoming the minion of a greater greater demon

how the twist affect the future events in the tsc universe

one might be thinking, why would lucifer saved alec, he just a normal shadowhunter, why would the literal mega ultimate OG devil care about him? as much as i would like to say it’s because everything revolve around alec and everyone love him (as they should), i know it’s not the case.

many have speculated that in the final series, there will be a showdown between demons and the shadoworld. and what if lucifer wanted to infiltrate the enemy’s side, wreck them slowly from the inside and make them suffer at the hands of their kind. his spy should held high position, a major voice among the children of the angels and has a connection to the downworlders, and someone who wouldn’t pose as potential suspect easily.

enter alec who fit all these criteria and more. who would think their consul is under the control of lucifer and is working against them? if alec under the influence of lucifer wreaked havoc from the shadow, it could create more base for the cohort to claim that they were right and the clave in exile would suffer under an incompetent lead, causing animosity and conflicts in the already tense political situation. and when the truth comes out? chaos everywhere. lucifer didn’t even have to lift a finger to see the shadowhunters crash and burn

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[thiawen]

Shadowhunters Prompt: Divine Right

So I’ve been playing around with a few ideas about why the Nephilim don’t have more obvious signs of their heritage. So what if ancient Nephilim did? They had wings, more powerful runes, their own brand of magic, and possibly immortality. Why don’t they anymore?

So what if the Divine Right of Kings was a legitimate thing for Nephilim? Raziel chose Jonathan Shadowhunter and his line to rule. The Nephilim were his and Raziel had no intention to get involved anymore unless it was to be called for the wish. But then the royal line is betrayed and the last of the main line is killed. A cousin who wanted the throne for himself?

That gets Raziel’s attention and he’s furious. So he curses the Nephilim. Basically goes Old Testament on all of them. They are stripped of their wings, magic, immortality, and much of their knowledge. Left to fight weakened and mortal. Barely more than mundanes. They will remain that way until Raziel decides someone is worthy and the new monarch will decide who can become true Nephilim like they once were.

So active Nephilim take the name Shadowhunters after their lost royal line, a reminder of their duty and punishment. And as an oath of loyalty to whoever their new monarch will be. The Clave is formed to rule in the meantime, their strict orders for obedience a reaction to what treason had already cost their race.

This fuels some of their resentment for Downworlders, Warlocks in particular. Warlocks who are immortal, have magic, and a visible sign of their heritage while the Nephilim had been stripped of theirs.

The Nephilim have pretty much resigned themselves to never becoming what they once were. Until Alec wakes up with the Sovereign rune.

(I just have a weakness for royalty fics. And the idea of Alec and Magnus ruling together as the ultimate power couple sounds awesome. And all the bigots can’t do a damn thing about it.)

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

Can you please please write something about about alec's feat of umbrellas 🤎

“The food was great. But the couple next to us ruined the entire night with their fighting,” Alec groans.

Magnus chuckles remembering the bickering couple. It wasn’t the cute kind of bickering. It was the annoying kind of bickering.

“They were something,” Magnus replies. He wraps his arm around Alec’s waist and places a kiss on his shoulder. “I’m sorry they ruined dinner, love.”

“You don’t have to apologise for them. It was quite entertaining,” Alec chuckles before pulling in Magnus for a sweet kiss. “And no one can ever ruin my night when I’m with you.”

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Idiot.”

Alec chuckles and they walk through Central Park. They can portal anytime, anywhere but it seems like a nice night for a walk.

They’re walking towards the loft, talking and kissing and giggling. Magnus twirls Alec around and the shadowhunter giggles.

Alec sometimes can’t believe how magical his life has become.

There’s a thunder and before they know it, it starts pouring.

“What has happened to New York? It doesn’t rain this time of the year?“ Magnus yells before he snaps his finger and an umbrella appears.

He pulls Alec closer by his bicep. “Come here. You’re getting all wet.”

Alec’s eyes widen as he sees the umbrella appear out of nowhere.

Fuck.

How does one tell their partner or anyone for that matter that they are scared of umbrellas?

No one in the world fears umbrella—no one except Alec, that is.

“Alexander?” Magnus calls for him again when Alec doesn’t move. His boyfriend pushes the button and covers his head from the rain with the object.

Evil object, Alec thinks.

And okay fine, he’s got no logic for that but it’s evil. He can feel it.

“What?” Magnus asks.

Alec can only do two things here. Tell Magnus about his fear of umbrellas or lie. So, he chooses to lie.

Easy.

“What are you doing?” Alec asks the warlock.

Magnus raises an eyebrow, “trying not to get wet, Alexander. What do you think?”

Alec gives him a sheepish smile as he replies, “It’s a beautiful night.”

“Not anymore.”

“It is.”

Magnus throws his hand in the air, “Okay, it is. And?”

“Come dance in the rain with me?”

“Darling, no. This outfit cost me a lot. I’m not letting it get ruined,” Magnus explains.

It’s hard to convince Magnus to do anything when it’s about fashion. There’s only a thing or two in the world that can convince Magnus.

One of those things, Alec can always use.

His eyes crinkle at the corner and a bashful smile appears on his face. He lets out a hand in Magnus’s direction. “Please, baby. Come dance with me?”

“I’m very comfortable under the umbrella?” Magnus pouts and Alec chuckles because he can see Magnus’s resolve slipping. He knows he’s halfway there.

“It’s been a while since we’ve got the night to ourselves. Things have been busy lately,” Alec whispers, close to Magnus’s mouth this time.

Magnus groans loudly, “You are an evil man, Alexander.”

Alec chuckles as Magnus throws the umbrella away and tugs Alec closer by the lapels of his jacket, kissing the breath out of him.

The rain pours over the two of them and Alec’s been halfway drenched already but Magnus gets all wet now too. His maroon shirt sticks tight to his body now, his skin visible now and Alec feels his heart beat rapidly. He drags his hand in Magnus’s hair and he kisses his boyfriend with a fervour.

When they pull back, Magnus looks so happy with that smile on his face. He creates a bit of a distance between them and lets out a hand.

“I was promised a dance, shadowhunter.”

Alec grins as he takes Magnus’s hand in his and twirls him around.

[in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene]

Other reasons Wyll having devil wings would both rule and make sense as a punishment (and why he should have them for me, specifically):

It'd be impossible to pass him off as a weird looking tiefling/he's more obviously fiendish

Maybe even requiring Disguise or Charisma checks at some points of the game to bring Wyll with you?

Hotter? Somehow??? Turns out Wyll can get even hotter

More visually evocative of devils like Mizora and Raphael whose insincerity and "help" contrasts Wyll's sincerity and genuine kindness

But also wings look very noble. Regal, even. It fits Wyll's prince charming aesthetic

Especially contrasts with Raphael's whole farce

Very visible. Can be seen from a distance. Hard to hide

He'd have to alter all his clothes (a pain!)

An excuse for a shirtless Wyll scene? Mayhaps

Bulky. Constantly getting in the way and knocking things over

He'd probably need a bigger tent as well

Sitting or lying down comfortably is even harder than if it were just the horns

Aylin can dismiss her wings at her convenience. Wyll cannot. He'd be stuck with them all the time

Imagine the horror of suddenly sprouting two extra limbs against your will

Using them to shield people

Using them as an umbrella from the rain/sun for a lover/friend like a gentleman (especially for Astarion)

Wrapping whoever he's cuddling or hugging with his wings

As Aylin has shown wings are peak romance. Wyll is a romance guy

Also Aylin-Wyll parallels more visually obvious?!

Wings evoke the idea of a cape. Capes are very heroic

Perhaps he can't fly at first (that'd be OP) but maybe around Act 2 he can glide?

At level 11 or 12 he learns to fly with them or maybe as a character event in Act 3

This would also be around the time Wyll can be freed of his pact(or not) so… symbolism!

Mizora isn't expecting him to escape his contract so his punishment both isolating and making him more useful fits

Plus a punishment that also doubles as a "gift" would fit her vibe. "But I'm so good to you Wyll! Look at the wings I gave you to help you be a hero better even though it was a horrific violation of your bodily autonomy! You owe me!"

Also wings look like a reward instead of a punishment to outsiders, even if Wyll tries to explain. "You did something presumably evil to be rewarded with cool wings by your devil patron" is much more damning and more believable than the truth

Mizora becomes even more insidious and smart in her abuse of Wyll as a result which makes her a more effective villain

Tadpole also nerfed him so Mizora's got to keep her pet warlock alive somehow

Winged but caged symbolism! Wings as ironic symbols of bondage! Wings of bondage reclaimed as symbols of freedom!

Kids would probably think Wyll was even cooler somehow with wings and that'd be cute

I think Wyll specifically would fucking love the freedom of flight. This man would love jumping off cliffs

Literally swooping in to save the day

[aidan-hartwood]

About Aidan Hartwood

The basics ––– –

NAME: Aidan Hartwood

AGE: 26

BIRTHDAY: November 13th

RACE: Human

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Straight

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

Physical appearance ––– –

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Bright Green

HEIGHT: 6′1

BUILD: Lean Muscle

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: None that are visible

COMMON ACCESSORIES: Aidan carries a scythe fashioned with the bones and parts of a Wicker Construct he killed in Drustvar. A belt with a few potions. And an amulet with a wicker fetish tied to the end that he never takes off.

FACE CLAIM: None

Personal ––– –

PROFESSION: None specifically. Aidan travels around doing his master's bidding or searching for the lost tomes of Jedelan. On occasion he will take an odd job here or there to make some money on the side.

HOBBIES: Gambling, Aidan loves dice games. Occasional drinking. Reading as he tries to learn more about fel magic and demons.

LANGUAGES: Common

RESIDENCE: Varies, Aidan travels all over and stays where he can.

BIRTHPLACE: Fallhaven, Drustvar

RELIGION: The Light, he doesn't really worship, but believes in it.

PATRON DEITY:  None

FEARS: Losing himself to fel magic, Undead

Relationships ––– -

Mother - Diana Hartwood (Alive)

Father - Brent Hartwood (Alive)

Uncle - Adrian Hartwood (Deceased - killed by the Heartsbane)

Ex-lover - Kendra Thorncroft (Alive - Aidan is unaware of her whereabouts after the events that took place in Drustvar)

Backstory and Other Info––– -

The Beginning

Born in the town of Fallhaven Aidan had a simple life growing up, his family owning a farm they would provide for the town, though his father worked the silver mines instead leaving the farm to Aidan and his uncle. He helped as much as he could growing up as a kid, and officially began helping run the farmstead once he was a teenager. Though he longed to be more, wanting to become a Tidesage.

Life was good. That is until Drustvar fell to the Heartsbane coven…

Perhaps one of the lucky ones, though Aidan would disagree, he was spared the fate of Fallhaven when his girlfriend ran away with him to "avoid a fate worse than death" according to her. Aidan would soon find out she had been recruited into the Heartsbane Coven…

Though he escaped Fallhaven he would soon find himself temporarily a prisoner of the Heartsbane coven as his girlfriend put him under the spell of the coven to keep him from being killed or turned into a wicker construct. Aidan does not remember his time under the thrall of the Heartsbane, only that he awoke near a dock where he would soon be found by some ferryman. On his person was a strange wicker fetish amulet and a note telling to never take it off as it would protect him.

Though he survived his brief encounter with the Heartsbane Coven Aidan was not the same, he was not aware of the side effects of the spell that was placed on him and then removed by his girlfriend. Since having the spell lifted Aidan began to have a run of bad luck and random times. Simple things like tripping, or spilling a drink, or a bad roll of dice.

Surviving the Heartsbane

After escaping the fate of his fellow villagers in Fallhaven Aidan found himself within the city of Boralus. He was lost and angry. It was during this time that he was approached by a powerful warlock. Perhaps sensing his hunger for power and desire to seek justice against the coven he offered Aidan a pact, and ice cream. It was an offer Aidan couldn't refuse, nor did he think twice about the ramifications of making a deal with a warlock for part of his power.

The warlock Percy gifted Aidan the power of a warlock and taught him how to harness fel magic, in exchange Aidan had to offer his soul by having it tied to a soul stone in Percy's possession.

With his new powers Aidan initially returned to Drustvar, taking the fight to the witches and doing what he could to help drive them out of Drustvar. And since then Aidan has served and done the bidding of his new master; going out and hunting people, demons, and all manner of creatures to collect souls for his master's schemes.

Vilthea the Watcher

One of Percy's demons, and the one he tasked with specifically watching over Aidan to make sure he does as he's told. She spends most of her time around him, fighting beside him, and watching from the shadows when it calls for such the occasion. Percy uses their connection to have her steer Aidan in the direction he wants to collect souls when asked.

Vilthea, however, has an agenda of her own. Having been summoned to Azeroth before by a warlock named, Jedelan, she seeks his grimoire that was lost after his death, and uses her charms to get Aidan to help her in her quest. Promising him the knowledge and power within the book.

Secrets of Jedelan

Jedelan the Seeker was a powerful warlock, and Vilthea's former master. Though he was powerful, he was more well known amongst his peers for his passion of acquiring more knowledge. All that he learned, all the knowledge he acquired over the years, was stored in several books he kept in his private study, though none held mre promise of power and knowledge of Fel and Demons than his personal Grimoire.

Sometime during the war against the Lich King Jedelan disappeared, his whereabouts? Unknown. His fate? Uncertain. Many speculate he perished in the cold wastelands of Northrend. Some say he disappeared into the Twisting Nether to further his knowledge. No one truly knows, not even Vilthea, much to her dismay. Vilthea seeks her old master's collection of books, particularly his Grimoire, wanting that knowledge and power for herself.

This, however, proved to be a problem. Upon Jedelan's unknown disappearance his personal belongings were all taken; some by fellow warlocks and some by looters just looking to sell anything for gold. This lead to his many books being scattered across the realm. So now Vilthea passionately searches for any clues or whispers that could lead to finding the lost tomes of Jedelan. To help in this quest she has enlisted Aidan, giving him information she gets so that they can follow any leads and try to hunt down Jedelan's tomes.