#where's the magic coming from and who has it and what does that change!! would there be milestones and badges for mastery of magic? and

[theroundbartable]

(sending hugs)

what are your thoughts about aithusa? personally i love her way to much, but she rarely comes up in fandom discourse

HEY :D Thoughts about AIthusa, huh? I have many of those. Thoughts, I mean. In my brain. They like to swim around and create a whole mess of things sometimes.

I think the reason why Aithusa doesn't come up in fandom discourse often is because there isn't very much to say. Aithusa was born, then color coded as a sign for the golden future of Camelot and was then abandoned by Merlin. Tortured by a crazy guy. Then raised by Morgana and used to create the sword that later killed Arthur. Whenever they come up in fandom discouse, it's mostly about Merlin doing his job as Dragon Lord right or wrong. But you wanted my thoughts, so I'm gonna allow my head to spin weird shit around the ungendered Dragon. (That is why I will use they/them pronouns for Aithusa.) When it comes to Aithusa's name, not the canon translation, I mean what it literally means, it's hard to find, since they used old English for the language of magic, and I think Greek for the language of the Dragon Lords (which doesn't necessarily have to apply to the Dragon names) and I haven't seen anyone make a post about it. All I get from Google translate is "Hey you" in Gaelic and that's a bit useless. Or well, this:

The automatic language recognition in Google would let me interpret Aithusa as a gift to the world. Or Arthur, depending on your shipping interests. Or, you know, if I could make up the Old English maybe pseudo-parts of the word (the writers were very lazy in BBC Merlin, they are literally quoting Beowulf when Merlin magics the blue ball in the poisoned chalice.). Something fitting I found in my old English dictionary is agan, meaning to possess, and to own, and thus (spelled with a thorn which my keyboard doesn't have) meaning as follows. So, in my absolutely amateurish and interpretational, and way too far reaching ways, I would say Aithusa could mean: A(gan) thus (a): To own the future.

(Again, you asked for my thoughts, this is not canon and probably pointless, I just needed to go down this route first.)

In the fandom wiki, we find THESE informations on Aithusa.

So, things we do know are very few

Aithusa is a baby

Aithusa was tortured and is therefore crippled

Aithusa cannot talk

Aithusa probably has Stockholm Syndrom because of Morgana

But you know, I think it's very interesting to know that Aithusa is the Light of the Sun, the literal sign for a Golden Future and that very sign can be hurt by a mere human. Not only does this mean that humans can kill Dragons (the Dragon lore doesn't make any sense, I swear to god) but it's also meant to be symbolism. Merlin, just like Arthur, is shown to be his own doom through Aithusa. They are hidden, tortured, kept from living their truth, abandoned by everyone who should be leading and protecting them.

With Aithusa being born it means that at that point, Merlin had already fulfilled his destiny. At this point in time, the golden age is already there and it should have been a sign for Merlin to speak up about his magic. He never did, that's why Aithusa remains mute. And just like magic itself, when harmed or in danger, Aithusa can easily be used for evil.

Apart from the symbolism and their part in Arthur's death, Aithusa doesn't contribute much to the story, I think. Yes, they console Morgana and they are like the continuation of the Dragon lineage, but that's ultimately pointless. Aithusa will be, inevitably, be the last Dragon. Which is honestly really cruel, but again, parallel to Merlin himself. That's where Aithusa's arc ends, unfortuntaley. Personally, knowing all that, I find Aithusa hard to use as the character they are in canon. With what little defines their character, you have to ultimately change everything about them to use them in fun fics and comics and stuff. That's why they end up as a little dog creature so often.

Don't get me wrong, I love Aithusa. But I love FANON Aithusa, just like I prefer fanon Sir Leon over canon Sir Leon. Because fanon Aithusa is like a domesticated chicken that Merlin keeps in his rooms or fights custody over with Morgana while Arthur is either oblivious, supportive, or being gaslit. But maybe I am overlooking a lot of things. So, if any of you like to disagree or add anything to my points, feel free to engage ^^

#bbc merlin #merlin #Aithusa #faq #ask #answer #merlin meta #sorry if this wasn't what you expected #I never know what to do with Aithusa

[not-quite-graceful]

Hey, um… with the whole “Bluejay!Jason” concept… has anybody ever considered it as an Inkheart reference instead of just a play off his name?

Follow me here, and sorry in advance, this turned into a ramble.

In the second book of the Inkheart trilogy, Inkspell, one of the main protagonists adopts a Robin Hood-esque approach to defeating the tyrant king, and adopts the name of ‘The Bluejay’ from famous folk legends and songs written by a beloved poet and often sung by travelling minstrels. He’s -Inkspell spoilers ahead, though this book is unironically older than I am- known for toppling said tyrant’s throne through the binding of a magic book (a recurring theme throughout the series, if you’ve never read it, which you should). He’s a champion among the Motley Folk, who were that world’s equivalent to a travelling circus and also regularly aid him in his quest to topple the Adderhead (the tyrant king mentioned above), and sought to help the poor and downtrodden. The Bluejay is aided and abetted by his family and friends, which include a shapeshifting wife, a daughter with the ability to make anything she reads come true, a fire-dancer who can speak to the flames, and a knife-throwing 'circus' prince with a black bear companion. (They're not called the Motley Folk for no reason, people!)

Now, consider for a moment: Little Jason Todd, in the local library, absolutely devouring the Inkheart series. It's everything a little kid could dream of in a fantasy book! And there's three of these fat books, what more could you possibly want? And he has an excuse to sit in a warm, safe building for a few hours.

Now imagine, Inkspell becomes his comfort book. Of course it does- every kid had one, and I can't imagine an orphan who grew up alone on the streets of Gotham picking anything other than a story about a strange man helping the opressed and downtrodden in a land he grows to call his own with the help of his family- and The Bluejay is an excellent father to his daughter, too, of course Jason pictured himself as part of that family, as whisked away into that world.

And of course, the rest of the series is wonderful too -Inkheart is where it all began, after all, and Inkdeath is the final triumph over evil!-, but Inkspell is a story about becoming. About learning to be more than you were born as- after all, if Mo the simple bookbinder could become the hero The Bluejay, what could Jason the street orphan become?

Maybe, instead of discovering this book in a library, he found it in the trash. And maybe he wondered, as he read it, why anyone would ever want to throw away the tale of Mo the Blujay, of Meggie the Silvertongue, of Resa the brave swift, of Dustfinger the loyal Fire-Dancer? (And maybe the last one took a while to get there, but he did get there! Eventually! And maybe Jason can understand why it took Dustfinger so long to truly come to trust someone again, because trust is a terribly dangerous thing to give to someone, because you can never really know what they'll do with it.) Maybe he read it through without knowing anything about Capricorn or The Shadow or why they feared the man named Basta, because they hadn't thrown away the first book, only the second. Maybe he wept for the death of Dustfinger, at the very end, because he didn't know that Death wouldn't keep him, because they hadn't thrown away the third book.

Maybe Inkspell found its place among his most treasured possessions. Maybe, when he met Batman and Bruce Wayne in one night and his life changed forever, Inkspell came with him, with its familiar story and characters and world and sorrows.

Maybe one of the first things Bruce did, upon seeing Jason reading that same battered old paperback, was to order Inkheart and Inkdeath and leave them in his room. Maybe that was when Jason started to realize that he wasn't going to leave forever.

(Maybe Jason and Dick would play Motley Folk together, because Dick was in the circus and could most certainly throw knives, even if it gave Bruce a heart attack every time he saw it.)

And maybe, after he could no longer have Robin, he remembered that old paperback book, that old story and that old world, and he thought of a new name for himself.

Bluejay, he thought, as he picked up the book that had been his constant companion for so many years. I'll be The Bluejay.

(I don't really know what this is. I saw some Bluejay!Jason art the other day and just started thinking of the Inkheart trilogy and the fact that Jason would absolutely have read it and probably loved it. And then it spiralled.)

#dc #batman #batfamily #batfam #batman family #jason todd #robin jason todd #the red hood #red hood #Bluejay!Jason Todd #bruce wayne #good parent bruce wayne #well he's trying to be #trying to connect with his new son #dick grayson #nightwing #inkheart #inkspell #inkdeath #mortimer folchart #mo folchart #mo inheart #inkheart trilogy #bluejay inheart #I think that's everything #let me know if there's something else I should tag

[aemonds-fire]

The Sapphire Spell Ghost Aemond x Female Reader Part One - The Night Before

Summary: Can a spell cast by Alys long ago bring Aemond Targaryen back to life centuries later in Westeros? When the remains of the Kinslayer are found and put on display in a Cabinet of Curiosities, the ghost of Aemond discovers the proprietor’s beautiful daughter is the only person who can see or hear him.

Word Count: 708

Warnings: Canon character death.

Enjoy! Reblogs and Comments are appreciated.

Sapphire Spell Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

The Night Before

21st day of the 5th moon of the year 130 AC

Aemond paces restlessly, watching his lover, Alys, stare into the flames of the small fire he has made for them. They are camped under a full moon at the edge of the forest, near a clearing large enough for Vhagar to rest in. He remains silent, hesitant to distract the witch while she searches for visions.

Only when she leans back slightly, searching through the bag she brought, does he stop. “Tell me what you have seen,” he demands. The months of maddening rage at being outmaneuvered by Daemon eating away at him, along with his obsession for Alys, and the terror he is now unleashing upon the Riverlands, slake his thirst for vengeance to any degree.

“You will fight Daemon in the skies above the God’s Eye, and he will die, but not before he kills you,” she ominously tells him as she lays out herbs, oils, and other magical items beside her. "But I can change that fate." Alys looks up at him, smiling darkly, the glow from the fire casting shadows over her face. “Give me your sapphire eye, and I will cast a spell on it. You will feel the pain of your wounds, but the magic I will put in the stone will heal them. You will survive your injuries, while your uncle will not.

Impetuous and unrestrained fury replaces rational thought as Aemond removes the sapphire from his eye socket and hands it to Alys. “You are certain my uncle will die?” he asks irritably, driven by a savage need to deal a death blow to Rheanyra’s side by killing her husband and greatest weapon.

She places the sapphire in a bowl, then adds the other necessary items. She then draws her dagger, looking up at Aemond. “I have seen it; now give me your hand,” she says, holding out her own to him.

Without pause, he extends his hand to her. He does not flinch as she takes her blade to his palm, letting his blood flow into the bowl. Alys begins to speak words he does not understand, chanting them again and again before pouring the contents into the fire, causing the flames to dance higher while changing to unnatural colors. This continues through most of the night, until she returns the shining stone to him, neither undamaged nor soiled by the flames, as dawn approaches.

“Nuncle, I hear you have been seeking us,” says Aemond.

“Only you,” Daemon replied. “Who told you where to find me?”

“My lady,” Aemond answered. “She saw you in a storm cloud, in a mountain pool at dusk, in the fires we lit to cook our suppers. She sees much and more, my Alys. You were a fool to come alone."

“Were I not alone, you would not have come,” said Daemon.

“Yet you are, and here I am. You have lived too long, Nuncle."

“On that much, we agree,” Daemon replied.

As the two mighty dragons claw and tear at each other with flames so bright, it looks as if the clouds have caught fire. Daemon leaps from his dragon to the other, driving Dark Sister into Aemond’s blind eye and forcibly dislodging the sapphire from the socket.

It was upon the twenty-second day of the fifth moon of the year 130 AC when the dragons danced and died above the Gods Eye, and two men, two dragons, and a sapphire stone fell into the waters of the lake.

Some years later, after the end of the Dance of the Dragons, Prince Aemond’s armored bones are found still chained to his saddle, with Dark Sister thrust hilt-deep through his skull. His remains and the skull of Vhagar are brought up from the lake bottom and returned to the Red Keep. By Targaryen tradition, the dead are burned by dragonfire, but there were no more dragons and no one left alive who would mourn the Kinslayer, so his bones are placed in a stone sarcophagus in a chamber deep beneath the Red Keep, to be forgotten for centuries.

The sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye was not found, lost beneath the murky waters of the God’s Eye.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #house of the dragon aemond #ewan mitchell #dark!aemond x reader #dark aemond #dark!aemond #dark aemond targaryen

[yu3s]

** okay now that i'm awake for real what if i put the witch class from www in pokemon..crafting and consequences and community. in pokemon

#yu.txt #holding out my hand come play in these worlds with me!! thinking abt what that could be like what magic would feel like there/how it could #contrast with the legends and lore already in pokemon!! ouagh im thinking and imagining like what about wizards and when would this be and #where's the magic coming from and who has it and what does that change!! would there be milestones and badges for mastery of magic? and #what about pokemon that seem magical already like fairy types? would proximity to any specific types affect the magic a person manifests? #how could the egg soul phenomenon from dungeon meshi best be applied here? what kind of magic is merging souls considered to be? if we thin #about the partnerships between people and pokemon and the bonds they forge what kind is considered the most powerful and how is it viewed #and how is that perception altered when magic is added? can magic affect pokemon or only people? how can i put a timeloop in this story?

[seonghwaddict]

the best of the best — jeong yunho

in which yunho didn’t expect his tiring shift to end with fucking the prettiest girl who’s ever walked into the clinic.

ripperdoc!jeong yunho x fem!reader. genre. smut. cyberpunk 2077 au. warnings. non-sexual use of daddy, explicit sexual content mdni, big dick!yunho but what else is new, fingering, BACKSHOTS, yunho is a tease, implied voice kink, creampie, he gets a little rough, nicknames (pretty, baby, princess). wc. 2.5k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this is really REALLY rushed because i was hit with inspiration and started writing without actually stopping so like sorry if it’s ass lol. her cyberware is based on this.

DEFINITIONS. ripperdoc; medical practitioners that can install cybernetic prostheses, called cyberware // eddies; game currency. feel free to ask for any clarifications.

listening to. cyberpunk, ateez (duh).

masterlist.

yunho sighed as he threw a bloodied towel into the sink, hands finally clean after having installed some new cyberware on a customer. his day was spent operating edgerunners, never quite seeming to catch a break. but what else could he do as the best ripperdoc in the district, let alone this shithole of a clinic? besides, he somewhat liked his job and the pay was well, his way with words getting customers to give him a few more eddies than they were obliged to.

but, alas, it was finally closing time and he’d no longer have to deal with people until the next day. or at least that’s what he hoped.

the familiar sound of the clinic’s door rang through the lobby, singaling someone had entered before he could lock up and making his sigh in exasperation. he pinched the bride of his nose, calling out over his shoulder from the backroom, knowing whoever it was would still be able to hear him. “we’re closed, come back tomorrow!”

“please, it’s an emergency!” the person replied and he froze.

a desperate, feminine plea. yunho can’t say he’s used to hearing that tone in the clinic. with furrowed brows, he emerged from the backroom to the lobby, right behind the counter as he laid his eyes on you. he was obviously much taller than you, looking up at him with round doe eyes and softly flushed cheeks. you wore a short black skirt and a loose sweater; not a sight he was used to here either, not that he was complaining as his eyes momentarily flickered to the sliver of cleavage exposed by the low neckline. maybe he could make an exception… no. he wanted nothing more than to go home, and a pretty little thing like you couldn’t just magically change his mood.

“my ‘ware has been acting up and i heard this is the best clinic in the area,” you walked closer to the counter, one of the steps looking particularly painful as you winced mid-sentence and stumbled before continuing, “please, sir, i promise i’ll pay you well.”

he down at you with a raised eyebrow, letting a beat of silence wash over you before he finally answered with a sigh, “fine. go through that curtain and wait on the table. the metal one.”

you followed his hand to see him pointing at a curtain much like the ones separating beds in hospitals. with a quiet nod, you shuffled over as he ducked through the door he previously came out of. there was a small space behind the curtain and it reeked of hand sanitiser as you sat down, the table cold against your thighs. you smoothed your skirt down as he walked through the curtain and set down a tray of tools on a desk pushed against the wall.

“so, where’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his arms and giving you a once-over that had you feeling a little nervous.

“my back,” you muttered, looking down at your hands shyly as they played with the hem of your sweater, “i’ll have to take this off, if that’s okay.”

“oh, um…” he blinked before nodding and clearing his throat, moving to stand behind you. “yeah, it’s fine, go ahead.”

after a moment of hesitation, your body stretched lightly as you pulled the shirt over your head, his jaw nearly dropping at the sight. an intricately designed thin silver chrome spine merged with your skin and extending from between your shoulderblades down to just above your ass. instinctively, he reached out and brushed his fingers down the length of it, biting his bottom lip as he caught the way your back arched slightly.

“god, you’re a masterpiece.” he couldn’t help but sigh out as he let his fingertips explore the metal and the skin surrounding it. the clasp of your bra covered up just a little bit of it, but there was plenty more to see. after a moment, he caught a glimpse of a little spark in the metal on the small of your back, humming. “i see the problem… must be some sloppy wiring. i’ll take care of you, baby, just relax and stay still. you can do that for me, can’t you?”

“y-yeah.” you practically squeaked out, mentally slapping yourself for making it obvious how his words and touches made you feel.

he grinned but didn’t say anything, reaching for his tools and beginning to work. as he did, he deliberately brushed his fingertips or his wrist against your skin, against anywhere he could reach while fixing the wiring between the blades of the metal spine, just because he enjoyed messing wiht you. your waist seemed to get the most reactions out of you, unable to hold back your hitched breaths and your thighs pressing together. you were so sensitive and sweet, trying to hold back all your sounds as he riled you up with teasingly calculated touches.

“how’d you pay for this, anyway? a mod like this must’ve cost a fortune.”

“my daddy paid for it,” you explained with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting something like this for forever, so he let me get it done on my 18th birthday.”

he raised his eyebrows in surprise, nodding with a soft smile. “well, baby, you must be daddy’s pride and joy if he’s willing to drop so much on an implant like this that does nothing but make you look that much more appealing.”

“appealing?” you echoed his description of you, glancing back at him over your shoulder, “you think so?”

“of course, i’m not blind,” he roles his eyes playfully, licking eyes with you before going back to work, “in fact, i’m jealous i wasn’t the one to install all this ‘ware.”

it didn’t help that as he talked, his breath fanned over the back of your neck since he adjusted the table to raise you higher for him to work more comfortably. you learned each other’s names as he talked you through the procedure, trying to distract you from the occasional prods of a needle and sparks of the wires. he also liked to watch goosebumps form on your skin and the way your back arched just a little more as he responded to your words with low hums or muttered acknowledgments.

his hands feel a little colder than your skin as he barely runs them down your back, eyes trained on the gleaming metal. the tips of his fingers momentarily dipped below the back of your bra before slipping out again.

“does anything hurt?” he asked quietly, in a tone he noticed always made you stutter a little.

“n-no.” you shook your head before holding your breath, feeling his hands covers your waist and move down slowly, holding your hips lightly.

“good.” he hummed, nodding and removing his hands before stepping away from you completely.

the loss of his hands made your brows furrow as you looked at him, stepping into your line of vision with his back turned to you as he put away his tools.

“did you need something, princess?” he tilted his head at the sight of the pout you were trying so hard to hide, voice taking on a mocking tone.

your cheeks warmed and your brain short-circuited as he took a step toward the metal table he sat you on, standing a breath away from your knees and leaning down to your eye level. his hands braced on the table of either sides of your hips. if he wanted to, he could lean forward just a few inches and his lips would finally press against yours.

“you.” you blurted out without thinking, unable to process any thoughts in the flustered state he put you in.

“me, huh?” yunho chuckled, silky and low, fingertips brushing against the hem of your skirt as he pulled himself up to his full height and looked down at you. “a ripperdoc like me who works in heywood fixing cyberware? you need me, baby?”

flustered and a little speechless, you could only nod, lips parted as you left out soft breaths and looked up at him with eyes that begged him to kiss you. his hands left your skirt but found you again quickly, one on your waist and the other cupping the side of your face, half of his hand buried in your hair as he leaned down and finally pressed his lips against yours.

a whimper made it past you as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth, mingling with yours and exploring. you felt him smile against your lips as you let out that sound, his fingers in your hair holding you a little tighter as his hand on your waist slid down your thigh. you, however, didn’t feel that hand moving until his fingers pressed against your soaked panties, somehow easily finding your clit through the fabric and eliciting a whine as he pulled his lips away from you.

“so wet and i’ve barely done anything.” he whispered, kissing you again as he nudged the fabric aside to run two digits through your folds, quiet squelching sounds mixing with your little moans and whimpers as he circled your clit excruciatingly slowly.

not expecting his hands to feel so good, you couldn’t stop your hips from squirming, unable to kiss back very skilfully. he circled your clit with just the right speed and pressure, keeping you restless as your pussy clenched around nothing and click slowly dripped out to smear against the table and inner thighs.

yunho gave your swollen nub a sudden pinch and you winced, your hands on his biceps clenching as he pulled away from you with a click of his tongue. “didn’t i tell you to stay still, princess?”

you parted your lips to respond but could only moan languidly as his fingers easily pushed themselves into you, crooking and perfectly prodding against your sweet spot.

“do my fingers feel too good? is it too much for you, pretty?” he mocked with a fake pout, drawing his fingers out before pushing back in. you felt his hand drop from your hair to reach for something and with a push of a button, the table lowered itself smoothly.

moments later you were on your knees, facing away from him, hips pulled up and chest pushed down. some time while he moved you to this position, he managed to remove your skirt and bra. your nipples brushed against the cold surface of the table, shuddering at the feeling combined with one of his hands kneading your ass intently while the other ran down the length of your spine. as he got to the small of your back, he pushed down a little harder, making your back arch.

“hm, so pretty and perfect,” he hummed as his clothes and very much erected cock pressed against your flushed core. you let out a broken whine, burying your face into your forearm comfortably, his fingers sliding through your folds again and spreading them apart. he groaned at the sight, your wetness glistening in the neon lighting of the clinic, spread between your thighs messily, needy hole fluttering.

when he finally pressed his tip into you and eased his way in, your breath hitched followed by a moan of his name, hands clenching as you pushed back against him. he steadied your hips with his hands, eyes rolling back from your tightness as he bottomed out and stilled to revel in the feeling if you wrapped around him for a moment.

butterflies roared in your stomach as he leaned down and kissed the top of your spine sloppily, pulling out before rolling his hips against yours. you weren’t used to this angle, especially not with someone as huge as him, but your embarrassing amount of arousal made it easy for him to move. you cursed softly, a string of whines and moans falling from your swollen lips as his fingers dug into your hips and his teeth explored your upper back, licking and sucking and biting marks into your skin.

“f-fuck, you feel s-so good.” he moaned, forehead dropped between your shoulder blades for a moment before he straightened up again, pulling your hips against his harshly as he thrusted into you, teeth sunk in his bottom lip.

not long after that you felt a knot quickly tightening in your abdomen, feeling your breath knocked out of your lungs with each snap of his hips. one of his arms wrapped around your waist before venturing lowers so he could rub at your clit quickly, the knot drawing tighter and tighter until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“y-yunho- i’m g-gonna-“

“let go, baby. go on, be a good girl and cum for me,” he cut you off, voice gentle despite his rough movements, snapping the waistband of your panties against you, “you’ll cum for me, won’t you? i’m making you– fuck, i’m making you feel so good, right? p-please cum, baby, just let go.”

his words egged you on and soon enough you did as he said, shuddering and clenching and squealing as you came all over his cock, your juices drooling down his length as he continued pounding into you. his hand left your clit to grab your hips tightly, chasing his own high now that you finished. knowing what he needed, you clenched around him rhythmically, whimpering softly because you knew he liked the sound.

without warning, he spilled himself inside you, filling you up with his hot release. your combined panting and shivers filled the area as he emptied himself. once he collected himself, he pulled out slowly, shuddering as he did so before tucking your panties back into place before his cum could seep out of you. he flipped you around easily and found your lips.

you kissed each other lazily for a while, mind foggy after your orgasms. you gasped against his lips softly as you felt his fingers press right on the fabric covering your hole.

“if you can keep everything in while i close up, i’ll take you to my place for another round… or maybe a few more,” he kissed your cheek, reaching to the side and giving you your clothes before tucking himself back into his pants, “if you’re up for it, of course.”

you giggled, also kissing his cheek in return. “i’d like that, actually. you have a really good dick.”

“is that so? good thing a pretty girl like you only deserves the best.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #atzhouse #ateez x reader #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho reactions #jeong yunho smut #yunho imagines #yunho fluff #yunho angst #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez smut

[peachesofteal]

Mermaids

Simon Riley masterlist

Simon Riley/mermaid!reader 8.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Dark themes. Magical beings eating human hearts. Magic. Blood, Violence. Explicit sex. Blood kink. Breeding kink. Creampie. Dubious consent. Possessive Simon Riley. "And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, you crawled from the sea to break that sailor's heart" - F+TM

It begins early this year.

Earlier than usual, when your hunting ground in the mortal world was just starting to turn green, shaking its frosted and frozen branches free to make room for bright blooms and emerald leaves. Just as the steps of Brighton Pier changed from ice slick ledges to waterlogged, weeping wooden planks, and human clothing shifted from long coverings that protected their fragile membranes from the bitter wind to soft and flowing fabrics that allowed their bodies to breathe.

This time of the year the mortal world was alive. Full of rebirth and growth, strong and vibrant.

Vibrant, like the song that began early this year, the frequency echoing deep below the water’s surface to where you waited for its pull. The siren song of a true treasure, far beyond any other, the melody of your chosen, the ebb and flow of the rhythm that is not unlike the sea. The siren song of a mortal’s heart, the cacophony able to reach you and your sisters far below the swell and crash of the ocean, far beyond where the light ceases, the melody possessing the ability to pull you to the surface once a year.

Once a year, to hunt.

One a year, to dance and drink and fall in love, if only for a night.

Once a year, to sacrifice a human heart.

Your eldest sister holds you tight to her body in an embrace as the sun rises. Elegant fingers fuss with your hair, smoothing and tugging and pulling, a vain attempt at taming something wilder than her own heart. Her face is grim, a black void that reflects no joy or excitement, just dread. It is a mirror of yourself. It is a pain that you know too well.

“What bothers you?”

You are the last two left on the beach. The others have all gone, eager to stretch their legs and seek their own songs, the trill of the blood bubbling up in their veins, their bodies pulled like magnets to the source. One heart, one song, one human male for each sister, poor mortals who have no idea what awaits them today, their ignorance bliss on the last night of their lives. Your sisters, as well as you, all live for this night. The joy of the love, the thrill of the hunt, the taste of the ichor that sustains you. The anticipation of this night fills your dreams with swirls of violent songbird chords and sweet melodies of affection. It is all you talk about for cycles, leading up to the day when you leave the water at sunrise and your tail shifts and shatters to reveal two very human looking legs.

“I am weary.” She tells you plainly, an announcement that does not come as a surprise. You have watched how she fades. Watched her linger in the darkness of the caves, watched her float lifelessly on slow currents, gaze hollow, vigor lost. “My song is faint.” She pushes further, holding your hand tightly as she releases you from her embrace. “I think I may not take a heart this year.” But we must. Must we? It was a question unanswered, but one that plagued you both. How else could you live, if not for these sacrifices?

“You would choose to die.” You surmise and she gives you a curt nod, as if it is obvious. As if her admission does not rattle you down to your very bones. Perhaps you too, one day, would make this choice. Would choose not to hunt. Choose not to love and lose. The notion pains you, fills you with sorrow as it has for many, many years. This was not an unknown feeling, even though you still experienced the joy, the bliss of your hunting, of the harvesting, you still felt the pang of loss every time, stronger and stronger as the years ticked by.

“It aches now, knowing I will fall in love this night, just for it to end as the sun rises.” The sea crashes onto the beach behind the two of you, and her lips part with a smile before she leans in to graze a kiss along your cheek. “Happy hunting, my sister.”

The song encourages you onward, leading you through a maze of streets and buildings while the sun rises and lingers in the sky. You comb the city for your male, following the electric hum of the song through alleys and neighborhoods, stopping to enjoy the day, your one day on land, as often as you can. You relish in the things that are rare for you, the taste of coffee and human food, the smell of flowers in the park, the feel of grass on the bare pads of your feet. The dress you’ve chosen flutters in the breeze, allowing the cool air to caress your skin softly, and the sun beams down on your exposed limbs, warming you under its light as you indulge in mortal world. It is nice, you decide while you bask in its rays, to feel the sun as humans do. Such spoiled creatures, being so close to something that gives so much life.

That same sun begins to sink lower behind the skyline and you’re still mindlessly gazing at small insects and diving birds when your heart trills, the force of the song slamming between your ribs, a smattering of warning bells going off within you. He’s close, your blood croons, so, so close. The incessant rattle, the insistent pull is enough to bring you to your feet and anxiously smooth the wrinkles of your clothing, eyes darting wildly around while you hunt for the source, feet flying beneath you. So close, so close. 

You come to a stop in front of a pub where a black door is propped open, music and revelry echoing from inside. Here. He’s here. The supersonic vibrato that hums in your own blood draws you into the dimly lit bar, and you hear the song in his veins grow even stronger when you step through across the threshold. He is not hard to find, this close, and your magic strings out before you, weaving and seeking past the bodies that dance closely on the floor, each as desperate for one another as you have grown for your mortal and his song.

 He stands in the back, half covered by shadow, the dark pitch of the room matching his clothes and the mask he wears over most of his face. Everything about him is bigger than the males that have called to you in the past, his height, his arms, the width of his shoulders, even the feeling of him in this place. Everywhere you venture, every spot you position yourself in, you feel his eyes on you. He is unusual, and watches, from his vantage point, his companions, other humans, the bartender.

You perch atop a barstool on the opposite side of the room to study him. His eyes carry a ferocity, a heaviness of emotion that stirs the blood running through your own veins until it is pounding in your ears. The severity of him nearly intimidates you, the level of his awareness, the pools of his amber rich brown eyes occasionally flicking over to where your fingers wrap around a glass of beer, the heat of his gaze searing away at your skin underneath the dress. The mask confuses but does not caution you, and your own heart now beats in time with his due to your proximity. Handsome. You muse to yourself, caught up in tracing the outline of his cheekbones. Beautiful, in a dark way. 

There is something about him. Something ruinous, something different. Something you cannot name.

It is of no consequence. You are the huntress. You will have your prize, your immortality, the taste of his heart on your tongue. His death becomes your life. His love, his heart, becomes yours, for eternity.

But how nice, might it be, to keep this one? It is an impossible thought, a dreamless idea, but one that still crosses your mind. The fantasy of falling in love for eternity, of having more than one night, more than the blood and violence that follows, more than the loss that would sustain you. If it were to be one, you know you’d choose this one. Your thoughts stray to your sister for a moment, imagining her alone beneath the surface, mourning the centuries of life she has lived, the centuries of love she has lost. Did she know this feeling? This hopelessness, this despair. Your lips tug downward as you consider her words. It aches. It aches, knowing I will fall in love this night, only for it to end as the sun rises. Gloom washes through you, your own yearning itching inside your soul, your desperation for your human itching at your skin. It aches. It aches, it ach-

“Hello.” Someone says from behind you, a deep, distinct voice, and you snap upwards, straightening your posture to turn into the body that crowds you. You jerk backwards on the stool when you realize how close he is, the action unsettling you from your seat, and you slip forward, nearly falling free from your wooden perch. Balance on land is difficult, and yours is perpetually off, a skill you've never mastered. A massive hand wraps around your elbow to right you, gently steadying you, and your jaw goes slack when you finally look up.

It's him. 

“Hi.” You smile, trying to recover from your less than graceful impression. Your heart thunders in your chest, and the melody inside him screams for you.

“I’m Ghost.” He motions to your mostly empty beer and raises his completely barren one in return. “Buy you another?”

The indulgent smile that scrawls across your face is practically involuntary as you give your answer.

“Sure.”

His name isn’t Ghost, but he keeps his true name close and won’t give it to you. You give him a nickname, one you usually use on land, and he doesn’t bat an eye, even when you tell him it’s a pet name and not your real one with a wink. The name Ghost doesn’t strike you as odd, after learning what he does, why he keeps it tucked away, and you marvel at him while he tells gives you bits and piece of himself, occasionally peeling his mask up to drink. He’s a solider, a Lieutenant in a special task force, some of which he happens to be out with tonight. He likes bourbon, specifically from a certain region in America, and he smells like the forest. You lean closer, completely unable to stop yourself, inhaling as deeply as you can, breathing in the mossy, earthy, green scent that hovers in the air around him. It was heady, and endless, and wrapped you in a dizzying cocoon of memories that you couldn’t place, but clearly envisioned. Forests, teeming with life and glowing chartreuse from top to bottom, oceans with aquamarine waters, shallow pools for you to bathe in under the sun, the water crisp and cold, your skin eagerly soaking it up its potent brine. Sapphire skies, the beaches stretching on and on, their seas fathomless, their bounties endless. You push closer, nosing as near as you can to his skin and take a lungful of the air. Strange. You knew humans wore things to mask or change their scents, but had never encountered one so… affecting.

“Alright, love?” He brushes the lightest contact of his fingers against yours, and you straighten, eyes ducking down in embarrassment.

“Yes, sorry. I- I was… distracted.”

Unusual indeed. 

One drink turns to many, and you carefully note how Ghost’s posture becomes more relaxed, shoulders less tense as the two of you indulge. He continues to surveil the room, observing and cataloguing, and you find it dangerously appealing, how in tune he is to his surroundings. How vigilant. Your hand lays gently on his thigh when you can no longer hold off the desire for physical touch, and he inclines his head to speak above your ear, the warmth of his cheek behind the fabric pressed casually to your head.

“D’ya want to go somewhere else?” Yes. You nod, and he motions to his group before excusing himself, his large body cutting a path through the packed room like he’s parting the sea.

You note the couplings around the bar as Ghost approaches his companions, leaning down to speak to one who is seated, legs spread wide on a faux velvet chair. He has a mohawk, and cerulean blue eyes that trace you from head to toe after Ghost begins to walk back towards where you're seated. You break the eye contact hastily, observing the others, pity pulling on your heart strings over a distraught female who sits in a corner, watching another with longing. The state of her broken heart is written all over face, her body rife with grief. The object of her affection, another stunningly beautiful female, dances with a different mortal, her artfully woven hair spiraling from her shoulders in tune to the way she moves her body. They have it so hard, you think. The song does all the work for us. You never have to woo your mortals, just provide them with the opportunity to find you. The song pushes them to seek you out, drives them to near madness unless they are in your company. They don’t always love you back, as you love them, certainly. But you never have to vie for their attention, never have to posture for their affection.

A large hand takes yours, warm and beating with the pulse of his heart, the rhythm of the song.

“Ready?” You open your mouth to say yes but nothing comes out, and the feeling of dread, the ache swamps you for a passing second. I think I may not take a heart this year. All you can do is nod.

As he leads you through the crowd, you cannot help but reach forward with your free hand and clasp onto the dancing woman. She pauses, eyes lighting wantonly when she sees you, but you push a sprinkle of magic through her, sparking desire in the base of her consciousness for the mournful dove in the chair.

You don’t look back at either of them as you leave, and silently pray to no one that they find happiness in love, that they relish it and keep one another, if only for you.

You bring him to the beach, as is your custom. It was where you felt safest, closest to the ocean, it’s where your power felt most pure should you need it, should something go wrong. You shiver at the thought, shoving down the memories that threaten your balance, and you clutch Ghost’s hand.

“Come down here often?” He inquires and you shrug, a response you know mortals are fond of.

“I like it here.” You offer, and he hums in acknowledgement. You tug him towards the overhang of the pier, where the shadows will shield you, where no one dares to venture. The only light comes from the moon, it’s silver glow glittering dimly through worn wooden pier slats, and you watch it catch his eye, his pupil expanding and contracting as you step closer and closer. “I want to kiss you.” you implore. “Will you remove your mask?” The song. You’re depending on the song to help you with this, depending on his desire, the power of the melody in his veins to urge him to comply with your request, and when he tilts his head like he’s considering you, you hold your breath.

It happens quickly. He removes the mask in a fluid motion, and then his lips are upon yours, hot and seeking, tongue exploring your mouth while yours opens for him, your body clenching with dizzying desire at the feel of his touch against your skin. 

“I knew it.” You gasp when you pull away and trace the fine point of a fingernail down his jaw. “I knew you were breathtaking under there.” He chuckles.

“Happy you think so.”

Your mouths melt together as he holds you around the waist, your bodies getting closer and closer until you can feel the hardness of his cock in his jeans, feel the scorching heat of him through his clothes. You are desperate for this mortal, your desire to feel him moving inside of you nearly as strong as the lust you feel to taste his heart. You sink to the sand together, a dance of limbs and movements that have you panting astride him when he settles, propped up on his elbows.

“Simon.” He says mid breath. “That’s my name. Want ya to have it.” Simon. 

“Simon.” You whisper it, and he nods before pulling you back to him, two large palms cradling your face like you’re a delicate creature. It makes you feel special, makes you feel cherished, like you’re something gentle to be treasured, and not a monster out for his life. You kiss him tenderly, one more time, as softly as you can manage, your heart trembling inside your chest, before your teeth bite into his lip, the ferocious intensity of the act returned by him, his mouth meeting yours full force. You bite again, and this time his flesh gives way, bright, mineral rich blood bubbling from the tiny cut and you eagerly lap at it, the ichor coating your tongue and exploding across your senses. He laughs, the echo of it rumbling deep in his chest, and you place your hand against his heart greedily, the vigor of its beating nearly making your eyes roll back into your head. The length of his cock throbs between your legs, where only the fabric of his jeans separates you, and you rut against him helplessly. Sparks ignite between you, your body shuddering when his hands hook into your hip, strong grip guiding your movements against him. Your magic swells inside of you, and your head spins.

Take him, take him. Take his heart, take his song. Have him, his love, his heart, for eternity, forever. 

You push him onto his back, dress rucked up around your hips, fabric pooling around the two of you.

“I want you.” you tell him, fingers fussing with his clothes, encouraging him to strip his shirt free and then unbutton his jeans. It’s messy, uncoordinated, and sloppy but you can’t find a care. You’re too filled with want, overflowing with desire for your mortal, your desperation mounting as he stills you, tracing a finger over your ribs and then down your pubic bone to where your slick, silken folds wait to be touched.

“Simon.” you whisper his name again, the word close to begging, and he shushes you, swirling a finger down where you’re leaking, circling the swollen bud of your clit with agonizing strokes that fill your senses with electricity.

“Shhh. I know what you need.” He soothes, and deftly pushes a finger inside of you, stroking along your walls. You shiver, face dropping into the crook his neck, and he turns his head so that the soft puff of his breath wafts over your skin as you whimper. “Does that feel good?” He asks, pressing another inside, his thumb flicking over your clit in lackadaisical patterns. You moan, body welcoming his touch, and you nip at the skin of his shoulder, eager to tear it apart, to taste his blood again. His other hand pushes at the back of your head, until your teeth are flush with his skin. “Go on.” He urges, and your eyes slip closed with bliss while you break the thin membrane, blood pooling to the surface as he lets out a small grunt. Your tongue swirls in it, painting his skin ruby, and you drag your lips downward, over where his heart pounds wildly in his chest. For you. It pounds for you. It sings for you. 

“I need you inside me.” He pulls at the straps of the dress, divesting you of the top, exposing your breasts to the cool air and silver light of the moon. His thumb rolls one of your nipples and you feel for him, already free from his under garment, the things humans wear under their outside clothes, and you swallow when you feel the size in your fingers.

You sink down onto him with a hiss, body stretching for the intrusion, cunt spasming around the width and length as it fights to make room. He pets your hip soothingly, and you sit straight up, letting out a cry when you feel the true length of his cock inside you, the absolute fullness of it nearly seated in your belly. When you look back down, your eyes trace the smear of blood from his lips and shoulder, and your tongue darts out against your own skin, seeking the flavor of ichor that waits on the corner of your mouth.

Something glitters in his eyes, something shifting as if he finally recognizes the danger he’s in. Even here, with you astride him, split open his cock, hips stuttering in slow circles, wariness flexes across his face as if he knows, finally, that he is the prey and you the predator.

“It’s okay, do not be afraid.” You reassure him, stroking a fingernail over his breastbone, to where his heart flutters beneath your touch. He blinks, eyes blissfully blank, the firm grip of his hand on your hip relaxing before he says:

“Will you not tell me your name?” A long sigh slips between your teeth. Mortals. So hung up on familiarity. But how could you refuse a dying man his last request? Your lips kiss the shell of his ear as you give it to him, the point of your fingernail pressing into his delicate flesh, desperate to seek the strong muscle beneath, the song in his blood echoing through your own bones with supersonic vibration. The sounds and colors of the mortal realm all increase, too bright, too loud, everything shaking like the earth is suddenly trembling and then-

Something snaps inside of you. Magic, raw and powerful, a force unlike anything you’ve ever felt spills into you, your body being washed over with the rush of floodwaters, your heart and blood now singing for him, yearning for him, desperate to be consumed by him. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

The claim burns beneath your skin, your magic twisting away into something completely new, something more powerful as your mind grapples with the changing reality.

In the next moment, you’re spinning, tumbling through the air until you’re on your back, splayed beneath him, hands trapped at your sides. Your legs are folded underneath the width of his torso, your body opened for him just so, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, stretching the slick walls of your cunt with each punishing thrust.

“I-“ the words are cut off sharply when he seals his mouth to yours, teeth gnashing and gnawing down from your lips to your jaw and then up to you ear.

“You,” He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust, and you gasp. “are mine, little huntress.” It is a vow, snarled through clenched teeth, and your own body betrays you by tightening around him, eager and willing to be claimed. The air is hot, humid and electric with magic, the burning effects of your error travelling through your every vein, every cell of skin. The utterance of your name, the act of your own foolishness strings heavily between you, while your body tenses underneath him.

“Simon.” You breathe and he only nods, holding your cheek in a gentle palm, stroking a loving touch across your face.

“Sweet little Nereid...” He names your kind with a growl, and your heart slams in your chest, his cock thrusting into your cunt wildly, desperately. “More beautiful than the sea herself.” The laugh is crooned, like the satisfying scratch of a needle against a record, and his fingers stroke your clit while he presses himself to you, your hips pinned beneath his weight, your body immobile. “Did you truly believe me to be a mortal?” He smiles darkly, lips curling with sinister satisfaction, and you feel the cold hand of fate reaching into your own chest cavity, rooting around in your soul until magic is searing across your skin, a bending and scraping feeling digging underneath your ribs, your own magic twisting and clawing until it burns away into something new, something changed, something imbued with him.

No. It’s not possible. 

“You… you’re-“

“Yes.” 

Simon cares little for the mortal realm. It’s pace and its noise and its scents are all cloying to him, obnoxious and foreign, the general rush of its inhabitants and their lack of care for their world offensive to him and his kind. They do not care for their realm, and do not take care of it ether, instead choosing to let it rot and fester beneath their feet, their drive and determination to outdo one another single handedly responsible for the destruction of most of their world. They call it something here, 'capitalism', like naming it will excuse it, while Simon just calls it murder, and greed.

Mortals and their extreme indifference do allow him certain things, however. Their love of violence and obsession with wealth put even the most well-off of his kind to shame at times. His kind loved things that shone, certainly. But mortals? They loved things that bled. It was this lust for power, this ravenous streak of greed that gave him the opportunity to position himself as he has.

As a hunter. A killer. A ghost.

Simon had been hunting for the thing he loved for a very, very long time.

And tonight, he was finally going to bring you home.

The first time Simon saw you; over a century ago, it was beneath Brighton Pier. You had a human male panting after you as you walked beneath the wooden overhang, your hand cupping his cheek softly, eyes full of tenderness and love. Simon, and the man, were both entranced by your beauty, the way your body moved under the night sky, how your skin seemed to glitter against the sand. Simon watched as you led him to where the moon couldn’t reach, beneath the shield of the slats, the dark of the evening hiding you from all prying, curious eyes, except for his.

He watched you take the male inside your body, watched you lavish your tongue across his neck and chest, watched your lips form sweet words of reassurance and honey while you tasted his blood. He watched the nails of your fingers gleam in the low light, watched them sharpen and then dig, scratching and clawing beneath the threads of the male’s skin, until you held an ichor rich organ in your palm, a complex system of vessels and ventricles, it’s sinew glowing red beneath your touch. He stood in awe as you devoured it, your feeding turning into a frenzy as you consumed it piece by piece, the male bleeding out and dying slowly, all while still buried inside your cunt.

After your feast, you dragged the male’s lifeless body down the sand to the water with you, where you pulled it beneath the waves, never to be seen again. Surprised, and intrigued, he stood at the water’s edge, watching the tide that was tinged red lap calmly at the shore. He knew humans had a taste for blood, but this was another desire onto itself. What were you? 

The following year, Simon couldn’t help but return to the same area in hopes of spotting you again, the creature unknown to him, a mystery begging to be unraveled. You appeared at dawn on the same day, with a horde of others, who then dispersed into the city and surrounding areas, following the sound of a song he could not hear. He became a creature obsessed, tracking your every movement, watching your every hunt and sacrifice. He stood in the dark while you made love to the mortals whose lives you would take, watched you hunt with wild abandon, watched you enjoy the small, tiny things in your eternal life that others often overlook. He began to know you, began to learn what you liked and didn't, began to learn what made you smile. 

You became the brightest spot in his own too long existence, the yearly reminder of love, of vitality, of life. He loved you, desperately, recklessly so. His dreams were filled with soft, sweet visions of you, bloody moments of passion and adoring, lingering kisses that he swore he could still feel when he woke.

It took time, too long of a time, before he discovered who, or what, you were. He spent a century trying to learn how to lure you to the surface. Simon tore apart libraries, bargained favors across dimensions, granted wishes and wove powerful spells just to trade for information on you and your sisters, the Nereids, the lasting remnant of a forgotten power, reclusive magic lurking inside the deepest depths, a realm inside a realm, never to be discovered unless you wished it so. And even then, the additional answers he sought were scarce.

Every year, he returned to the human realm to see you, tucking himself away in cloaks of magic and darkness so that he could creep as close as possible to you. Every year, he watched you hunt, watched you capture your prey effortlessly and consume their heart. He watched you shed a tear for them. Watched your drag their corpses down the beach to the sea, where you carried them into the water with you before disappearing all together.

Eventually, time began to change you. He watched you regard your lovers, your mortals with callousness, and cruelty. He watched you treat them with tenderness, and adoration, caring for them, making their ends sweet and soothing their fears. He watched you stand on the beach for hours at dawn and try to fight the urge to hunt. He burned to take you away from this world, to sever you from your ocean, bring you home to him, but your kind did not live in his realm. He was unsure how to sustain your life, and the search for answers was slow. Years went by, and the soft dreams that he had always welcomed turned to nightmares, fueled by the fear he’d lose you before he even had the chance to try to bring you home. 

A decade ago, he watched you falter. Your body trembled as you took your sacrifice, your cries so hysterical he was certain you’d draw the entire block to where you hid in the shadow of someone’s gaff. His own body was rigid with tense, untethered magic that sought to lash out, and he was rife with worry that you’d give yourself away, you’d be caught by some mortal force and unable to return to the sea when the sun rose. The fear he felt was unreasonable, uncontainable. He'd level the city to protect you, to keep you safe, and he nearly did. He almost took you, that night. Was quite close, so close that he was crossing the street in front of vehicles and preparing to pull you into his realm when you composed yourself and completed your harvest, the glowing organ in your hands proof of your will to live, to love.

He rarely left the mortal realm after that. Only to seek his final answer and solidify his plan, his masquerade as the masked Ghost allowing him to exist in the realm indefinitely, giving him the availability to be close for when the time was right, for when you would be ready.  

A year ago, you were the last to return to the water, your steps slow and clumsy, your eyes tired and weepy. You appeared satisfied, but as you looked back on the city from the shoreline, he saw the hint of desolation in your eyes, the shadow of dejection haunting your face.

It was more than enough, to spring him into action. More than enough, to find your promised mortal for next year and steal his song, bringing it into himself by a small piece of blood magic, something so simple and obvious Simon cursed himself for not realizing sooner.  

This morning, as he observed you and your sister on the beach, he knew he had been right. He could see it in your face. The pain of sadness, of loss twisting your elegance into an ache, those feelings compounded by the admission of your eldest sibling. This could be your last hunt.

It was time to bring you home. Forever. 

“That her then?” Johnny nods, indicating he’s looking the same direction as Simon, watching you walk down the curb, paper coffee cup clutched in your hands, face smiling at the sun.

“Yes.” Simon answers, shifting uncomfortably. The bloody song has been heating his flesh for weeks, boiling in his veins and driving him practically mad. Nymph magic. Its incessant hum has been battling his own power, jockeying for position as it worked to pull you to the surface. Combined with his own, he wasn’t surprised it possessed the ability to bring you up earlier than normal, encouraging you and your sisters through the depths and to the shore. If his blood was singing, then so was every other poor sod’s in this city. 

You cross the street into the park, dress swaying around your hips, and he indulgently stares at the form of your body, the set of your shoulders, the texture of your hair. He closes his eyes to breathe, reaching into himself to get a handle on the battle of will going on in his blood, the warring magic factions pushing and pulling beneath his skin, begging to be let out, trying to lash out. Soon. He reassures himself. She will be with him soon. 

He can smell you from here. You’re ripe. Overflowing, your scent is like a flickering ocean breeze, briny and cold but full of life, of promise. You’re ready, ready to be taken from this awful realm, ready to be bent underneath his body, ready to be crying on his cock as you come while he floods your womb with himself and his power, tying you to him for all eternity.

That is, if he can get you to relinquish your name.

It is a key piece of his plan, and the one that worries him the most. 

He knows you do not give it freely; knows you keep it guarded. It’s like you’re already aware that he waits in the shadows for you, watching, keeping track of every step you take, every year, from sunup to the next, until you slink beneath the water where he cannot follow.

The pressure inside his body is nearly unbearable by the time you step into the pub. Dozens of heads turn towards you, mortals’ eyes roving all over your body like you’re a treat for them, like you’re something delicious they’ll have an opportunity to taste. Foolish, greedy mortals, too busy staring dreamily at you to recognize the predator that you are, or the predator he is, oblivious to the two hunters in the room with them right now. He wonders, if you'd bathe in their blood, given an opportunity. The image makes him smile. 

Johnny clears his throat expectantly, and Simon nods, casting a glance over to where Gaz sits with a pretty female on his lap, her attentions focused solely on him, her eyes heavily lidded with lust. Johnny gives him a nod.

“Good luck.” He offers and Simon waves him off. He’s no need for luck. His blood sings your song.

“Ready?” He nearly loses control when he watches your face fill with despair for a moment after his question, his aching need to soothe and comfort you almost forcing his hands out to touch you. I'm here, little huntress. You are not alone anymore. He cannot tell you this, not yet. So instead, he applies pressure to your hand gently and waits. When you nod, he breathes just a tiny bit easier. 

He cannot stay in this place any longer. The eyes, the mortals, their inane thirst for alcohol and violence starting to scratch underneath his skin. He needed you, needed your name, needed to take you home to his realm, and all this noise and smoke and foul-smelling liquor stood in his way. The feeling of your hand in his soothes him, calms the anxious explosion that’s building in his chest, but it’s not enough. Nothing will be enough, until he has what he wants.

On the way out, he does not miss your little spell. He is, and has been, the most powerful creature in this room. He has felt every ounce of magic used, by you, by Johnny, by Kyle, all night long. It makes his heart swell when he feels your effort to push the dancing female into the arms of her scorned lover, makes his heart soar when he realizes perhaps, you have not given up on love, on life. Perhaps, you just need something else, something other than the hunt, to live for.

He allows you to take your time beneath the Pier. He cannot rush you, cannot allow you the feeling of anything being amiss, being off. You are so close to the sea, so close to the edge of the water that if he spooks you, it will be too easy for you to slip away. Too easy for you to be lost beneath the surface, again, just as you have been for hundreds of years.

When your teeth tear into his flesh he nearly moans, almost loses control again, but tamps down the urge to spring forward and toss you into the sand beneath him. He needs your name, needs your name so bloody badly it has his head spinning, his entire being desperately urging him to act, to claim, to take you. Your cunt is searing hot around his cock, your body shivering in his arms as you rock your hips delicately, eyes watching him half addled, crazed with the lust for his blood, for his heart.

“Will you not tell me your name?” He thrusts slowly up into you, and pity flashes across your features as you bend forward to brush your mouth against your ear. He feels your lips part, hears the intake of your breath and then-

You’re his. The magic begins immediately, bonding you to him, searing you into his soul and vice versa, the song in his blood slipping away until all he feels is the combined force of your power and his, the melding of souls and magic that will guarantee your existence in his realm, by his side, guaranteeing your survival, your ability to thrive. He takes advantage of your confusion, of the chaos that rises in your heart and flips you on your back, spreading your thighs wide beneath him and plunging his cock as deep as he can. So close. So, so close, and then you will be truly his, for as long as you both shall live. 

“I-“

“You,” he thrusts harder, desperate to claim you. “are mine, little huntress.” He hisses it, pushing the words forward with the brunt of his power, and you gasp before whispering his name.

“Sweet little Nereid…more beautiful than the sea herself.” He kisses your throat, stroking your clit at a torturous pace while your confused gaze tracks his every movement. “Did you truly believe me to be a mortal?” The magic pushes through your blood and bones, continuing to stitch and sear you to him, and he can’t help the feelings of possession that come over him.

His. His. His. 

His magic cuts and gnaws at your own, ripping and shredding it to bits until it’s infected with him, the strength of your name, your free admission to him, turning you inside out, changing the very chemistry of your body. He watches with dark satisfactions as your face shifts, your lips parting with understanding, eyes widening with your knowledge of the truth.

“You… You’re-“ Clever little huntress.

“Yes.” He purrs, and punches his cock back up inside of you, pressing close to your cervix, your body wet and needy, just for him. You shudder and blink hazily, confusion flickering across your features while his magic roots around inside of you and binds you to him, cell by cell. He can still smell you, smell the cool salt air of the sea that comes from your skin, smell the ripeness of your body, your willingness spilling forward in the air, the scent of sweet honeysuckle and sea holly. Your thighs tighten around his hips, your body rocking swiftly in time with him while your brow furrows, like you’re not sure what you should be doing. He licks at the stain of his blood on your lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth, and you let out a sharp whine, small hands flexing against his chest.

“No.” you admonish, face stricken. “No. No, you t-tricked me.”

“I did.” He agrees, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit in a swift circle, your breath hitching. Your face twists into something sour, but your cunt clenches around him, and his lips curl into a crescent moon smirk. “Are you going to come on my cock, sweet one?”

“Unnf.” You moan nonsense, turning your face away from him but he does not stop, hips snapping against yours, his body working to bring yours closer and closer to its climax.

“I think you are.” He hisses and grips your jaw to turn your eyes back to him. They’re wet with tears, but he doesn’t see fear in them, doesn’t see the despair. Only flares of rage, and the heat of desire, the electricity of the magic that is now shared between the two of you. He smiles triumphantly. “I think,” he relaxes his pace, dragging his cock out of you painstakingly slowly, gaze never leaving your lovely face. ��you’re going to come for me, and then I’m going to breed you, little huntress.” You tense around him, squeezing his cock, the words pulling a delicious, physical reaction from you that shakes his focus for a moment. His palm lays flat over your lower belly, low enough that his thumb can feel the hardness of your clit, can stroke around it’s hood while you gasp and convulse in his arms. You shake your head stubbornly, chest heaving for breath, and he slams himself back into you, your spine curling forward into his chest.

“Gods.” You cry out, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto, finding his shoulders and sinking deep, deep enough that he knows you're drawing blood. It oozes from the tiny wounds, tracing down his skin and when you pull away, your fingers have been darkened with it.

He watches with small wonder as you slip them into your mouth, face going slack with bliss, cunt spasming around him while he strokes deep. His skin prickles, mouth finding yours again, and you moan into him, uninhibited, full of abandon.

“I have watched you for over a century, my sweet Nereid. Watched you hunt, watched you love, watched you lose.” He slows to look down at you, caressing your face with a gentle touch. “I have watched the light fade from your eyes, watched despair take over your existence.” Your gaze widens, mouth dropping open in surprise, and then closing abruptly, eyes softening around the corners.

“Simon.” You murmur, pressing your finger to the weeping wound from your teeth.

“My huntress. You will never be alone again.” He noses your jaw, licking and sucking against your skin, cold brine exploding against his tongue. Your scent crests, peaking with the honey flower and salt, your body yearning beneath him, cunt milking his cock. “Come for me.” He encourages when he knows it’s time, when he sees the glossy want all over your face. It doesn’t take much urging, another stroke of your clit and you’re coming, body locking up around him, muscles straining as you cry out, face full of bliss and legs tense around his hips. You clamp down around him, holding him deep inside your body like a vice but he works you through it, thrusting slowly inside your scorching cunt, your walls desperately trying to keep him inside. “There you go.” He soothes, fucking you through the aftershocks, your face still twisted up. “That’s just what I needed.” The orgasm makes your more pliable, more soft and less angry, and he sees in your eyes what he knows to be true. You want this. Perhaps this is not what you would have chosen at first, perhaps the magic was too strong in your veins in the beginning, but your body knows what your mind works to accept. You are choosing this, choosing him, over the hunt. Over the sacrifice. Over the immortal life of loss.

So, so close.

He folds your legs towards your chest, opening you deeper and you mewl, lips parted in dazed, post orgasm glow. He can’t help but kiss you again and again, his painfully slow thrusts forcing irritated breaths to puff from your nose.

“Something you want?” He teases, and you nod, pressing your face into his shoulder and groaning into his skin.

“Simon. Please.” You voice breaks, and he feels your cunt pool around him, liquid heat forcing him to grit his teeth in an effort to stave off his own orgasm.

Ask me for it, little huntress. 

“Please, what?” He mocks, thumb pressing down on your clit hard, causing you to keen. He doesn’t move, just stays steady inside of you, your cunt working pull him deeper.

“Please, please. I want-“ you gasp when he bites the skin of your neck, and he smiles wickedly. Your cunt practically strangles him now, body working to drag his orgasm from him, magic singing in both of your hearts.

His. His. His. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

Your scent overpowers him, the swell of the ocean behind him combined with the salt of your essence pulling him harder into your gravity.

“What do you want?”

“I want your come.” You beg and he snarls, finally losing control, fucking into your eager body with abandon, hard and punishing while you moan and cry beneath him. He takes your earlobe in his teeth before whispering a vow:

“Then you shall have it.” He plays with your clit, the intensity of his strokes matching the pace of his thrusts and you pant eagerly. “You shall have it every day until you are full of me, full with my child.”

“Yes.” You moan, and he feels you moving towards another climax, your muscles spasming and eyes slipping shut.

“I’m going to breed you, give you my baby, sweetling. Make you mine, forever.” Your back arches and you wail, your cunt clamping down on him again, and he thrusts as deep as he can, chasing his release, fueling his burning desire to empty himself inside of you. He lets go completely, untethers his magic, lets it fully fuse with yours as he spills inside of you, the pressure of his orgasm working against your aftershocks, and your own magic that wraps itself wildly around him, clawing at the seat of his power, desperate to attach itself.

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

His. His. His. 

You fall asleep on his chest, body relaxed and sated, mouth open in a small o. He needs to get you up, needs to get you ready to travel to his realm but in this moment, he’s content to sit here, against the old wooden pier, timing the rise and fall of your breathing and planning for the future, for eternity.

“Will you care for her?” A musical voice asks from a short distance, and his head snaps up to see your sister, the one you stood with on the beach this morning, inclining her head towards your peaceful, sated body that sits snugly in his arms.

“Always.” He promises, and she nods, eyes looking down the shoreline.

“I am happy for her.” She looks sad, forlorn, not unlike how you appeared hours ago.

“It is not too late, for you to hunt. There is still plenty of time before the sunrise.” He tries to encourage, and she nods.

“Perhaps.” Simon briefly wonders if Kyle or Johnny are still in town, a sinister idea forming in his mind, taking shape before his very eyes. He pushes, just the gentlest bit of magic, the piece that’s mixed with yours, towards her. A long moment passes, and then, “I think I’ll walk.” She motions up the pier and gives a goodbye nod, as he strokes a hand down your spine when you shiver in his arms.

You do not stir until she is a speck on the horizon, and when you do, you lift your head wearily, like you’ve slept for a thousand years.

“What’s going on?” you murmur, shifting your dress so it covers your thighs. He presses a light kiss to your forehead before giving an answer.

“We’re going home now, little huntress.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #mw2 #ghost call of duty #mermaids #mermaids au #magic au #ghost x reader #cod fanfic

[corroded-hellfire]

Continuing on with my baby fever I came across videos of parents "laying" (softly hovering) on their babies lap to see their reaction. Some babies are gentle with one parent and push of the other parent. But I wanna see how Eliza would react to the entire Munson family doing this. Thank you!

Baby fever you say? 👀 Step into my office…

Honestly, looking up reference videos for this fic was the most heart melting thing ever and I thank you for bringing that into my life. I hope I have done this justice for you!

Words: 3.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Ugh,” Luke groans as he flops down on the floor of Eliza’s nursery. The Minnie Mouse shirt and pair of toddler jeans he’s holding smack him in the face as his dramatics bring him down.

Eliza sits on her miniature butterfly couch and watches her brother, face stoic as the two-year-old is used to the theatrics he’s inherited from their father. 

“What is taking so long?” Ryan strolls into the room and leans against the door jamb. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches an eyebrow as he clocks his brother on the ground. 

Flinging the articles of clothing behind him, Luke huffs and turns his head to meet Ryan’s questioning look.

“Every outfit I pick out she doesn’t like!”

Heaving a loud sigh, Ryan saunters over to the closet tucked into the corner of the pink room. Curious as to what he’s doing, Eliza cranes her neck in an attempt to see past her oldest brother. Try as she might though, she doesn’t have x-ray vision and has to wait for Ryan to turn around to see the black and white striped dress and pastel green sweater.

“Eh?” Ryan raises his eyebrows as he holds the items out towards the toddler.

Keeping her chin high, little Eliza looks over the proposed outfit before nodding her affirmation once. 

“What?” Luke shouts as he bolts upright. “The Minnie Mouse shirt is way better!”

Ryan throws a smirk over his shoulder at his younger brother as he helps Eliza get changed into the winning look of the day. 

“She must love me more.”

“Uh, no,” Eliza hums as her head pops free from the confines of the dress. “Better clothes.”

Luke cackles with laughter, arms crossing against his stomach as he falls on his back once more.

“Oh, that’s too good! Please, we all know I’m her favorite,” Luke says.  

At only two-years-old Eliza is already used to her brothers competing in almost every aspect of life. She rolls her doe brown eyes and allows Ryan to help her into the green sweater before leaving the two boys alone in her room. 

“I seem to recall us having this argument before and Grandpa somehow coming out the winner,” Ryan says, following the little girl’s lead and heading towards the door. 

“Well,” Luke says, stretching out the word as he scrambles to push himself up into a standing position, “then this time we don’t allow him to be part of our bet.”

The older Munson brother shakes his head in amusement as he walks out into the hall and to the right, towards the rest of the house. Luke is right behind him though, practically nipping at his heels as he waits for some kind of response. 

“What bet?” Ryan asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Yeah, what bet?” Eddie echoes, eyeing his two sons over his “#1 Dad” coffee mug where he leans against the counter. 

“Seeing who Eliza’s favorite is. And not Grandpa this time,” Luke informs his dad as he slides into a chair at the table. 

“I believe that would be me,” you say with a proud smirk, traipsing in from the living room with an empty sippy cup. “I just turned on Rolie Polie Olie for her.” 

“No one can compete with the Rol,” Eddie jokes, giving you a playful wink and a smile. 

“She definitely loves that show more than she loves any of us,” Ryan says. He yanks the refrigerator door open and stares inside as if something new is magically going to appear before his eyes. 

“I bet I could interrupt it and she’d be okay with it,” your husband says. “And will you either grab something out of the fridge or close the damn door?”

“So, you’re saying you’re the favorite, Dad?” Luke asks, eyebrows disappearing into the curls that are getting too long for his liking. 

“Isn’t that old news?” Eddie asks with a smirk as he walks over to grab Luke’s box of Lucky Charms. 

“Everything about you is old,” Ryan says.

The joke has your hand slipping, causing the apple juice you were refilling Eliza’s sippy cup with to spill all over the counter. Avoiding Eddie’s eyes, you try to hide your snort of laughter as you grab a towel to mop up the mess. Once the sippy cup is successfully filled up, you turn back towards the living room—Eddie’s eyes still firmly burning your back—and go to give your daughter her drink. 

“Didn’t we already do this? I feel like we played this game before,” you say. “Eliza picked Wayne over all of us.”

Eddie shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee. “No beating the old man. The actual old man.” Eddie narrows his eyes at Ryan, who just chuckles in return. 

“No,” Luke says. He shakes his head as he lets the marshmallow cereal fall into his bowl. “We have to know who her favorite in the house is.” 

“Any ideas?” Ryan asks, plopping down in the seat across the table from his little brother. 

“Hmm,” Luke hums as he chews on a bite of his breakfast. “I’ll brainstorm at school today.”

In the end, it’s you who comes up with the idea that sets the competition into motion. Once Eddie heads out to work and the boys to school, you realize how much you’re able to get done around the house because Eliza is thoroughly hypnotized by her favorite show. It’s not until the hour of Rolie Polie Olie is done that Eliza is running around the house, wanting to play with every toy under the roof. 

After dinner that night, and once Eliza is in bed, you bring your idea up to the boys.

“So, like, we take turns? One person a day?” Luke asks.

You nod in confirmation.

“Right. Because if we all did it one after the other on the same day, she’d get cranky and it wouldn’t be fair for whoever goes last.”

“What, we like, pick straws?” Ryan asks. “Then someone goes Tuesday, then Wednesday...?”

“I’m game,” Eddie says. He lifts one flannel-clad arm and rests it behind you on the couch, giving you the perfect opportunity to snuggle into his side. 

“So…” Luke muses as he walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to you, on the opposite side of Eddie. “We just put our heads in her lap like this?” The younger Munson boy demonstrates by laying his curly head on your thighs, staring up at you with wide blue eyes. 

“Exactly,” you say, reaching down to boop the tip of his nose. “See if she cuddles you or pushes you off. And then we’ll see who she has the best reaction to.”

“I like it,” Ryan says.

“Me too,” Luke agrees. “Ryan, go get straws. Cut one short!”

With an irritated eye roll, Ryan does as his little brother says, feet shuffling along the carpet as he goes. 

The plan springs into action the next day. According to the laws of the straws, Ryan was up first. Followed by Luke, you, and then Eddie rounds it out. 

Tuesday morning starts off like every other weekday, everyone running through their routines to get ready for whatever lies ahead for them that day. Once Eliza is dressed in her purple long sleeve shirt, pink overalls, and her morning apple juice is finished, it’s time for the games to begin. 

You, Eddie, and Luke watch as inconspicuously as you can from the kitchen entryway as Ryan approaches the couch. Your daughter’s eyes never leave the little yellow robots, even as her oldest brother kneels on the dusty-brown cushion next to her and keeps scooting closer. 

Eliza’s leaning back, her legs out straight in front of her, and Ryan takes advantage of the open space to lay his head right down on her little knees. The two-year-old just seems confused at first. She looks down at Ryan, back up to Rolie, down to Ryan, up to Rolie, then back down to Ryan again. After staring down at her big brother for a little while, Eliza reaches for his head and begins to card her tiny fingers through his golden-brown locks. Her hands continue the movements even as she turns her attention back to the television screen. Ryan can’t help but smile; it actually feels really nice. She keeps up the motions until there’s a commercial. Then Ryan rolls on his back to look up at her and she giggles down at him in return, not sure what he’s doing, but happy to have his attention. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Ryan asks.

Instead of answering verbally, Eliza wraps her arms around her big brother’s neck and settles back against the cushions. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ryan says with a chuckle, before adding under his breath, “and as a win.”

Wednesday, it’s Luke’s turn. Once Eliza’s got her favorite show on and a cup of apple juice in her, he makes his move. It’s clear from the moment Luke’s head hits her lap that Eliza is in a feistier mood today. Whether she woke up like that or Luke brings it out of her is anyone’s guess. 

“Ow,” Luke groans as two small hands beat down on the side of his head as if it’s a drum. The boy winces, face scrunching up, but as you watch him alongside Eddie and Ryan from around the corner, you can tell Luke is trying to stick it out and see if he can somehow salvage a win. There’s a brief glimmer of hope when Eliza stops percussing on her brother’s head. However, it’s short-lived. 

Short, stubby fingers make their way up to Luke’s curls and the youngest Munson boy breathes a sigh of relief, seeing as how gentle the toddler was with Ryan’s hair the day before. The problem, they discover, is that since Luke’s curls are far tighter than his older brother’s, Eliza’s fingers quickly get caught in them. 

“Oh, please no,” Luke murmurs, but it’s too late.

Eliza tries to yank her hands free, frustrated that her fingers can’t run smoothly through his locks like she did for their eldest sibling. She pulls Luke’s hair while letting out her own whine.

“Ouch! Why are you whining? I’m the one who’s about to be bald!”

Next to you, Eddie lets out a snort of laughter. 

“Bald?” Eddie says. “Wayne? That you?”

Giving a roll of your eyes, you gently swat at his stomach. Luke also hears his dad’s remark and gives him a glare from the couch as he tries to wrestle himself free from the toddler’s grip. 

Finally, Eliza is able to slip her hands free from the rat’s nest that’s become of Luke’s hair—thanks to her. She’s thoroughly annoyed now and grumbles a few low groans, giving up on words completely. If she were old enough to know swear words, she’d definitely be using those.

Luke breathes a sigh of relief and raises a hand to rub at his sore scalp. Before he can make contact though, both of Eliza’s hands splay flat on the back of his skull and she gives a hard shove. The implication is clear: get off my lap.

Not willing to risk any more of her tiny wrath, Luke rolls off her and off the couch altogether. He lands with a thud on the carpet and gets the chance to rub at his head at last. His eyes narrow as he looks up at Eliza, who is no longer paying him any mind. She’s immersed in Rolie Polie Olie once again, the rest of the world forgotten. 

Your youngest son pushes himself to his feet with a huff. He shuffles back towards the kitchen, back towards the rest of you.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he mumbles as he passes, heading straight for the fridge. 

To Eddie and Ryan’s credit, they do both stay silent as the three of you turn to watch Luke yank a Yoo-Hoo out of the refrigerator and pop the top. He chugs down half the bottle before wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. 

“Ugh,” Luke says with a sigh as he heads toward the hallway. “It’s not even 8 am yet.”

With both of the boys’ attempts out of the way, you’re up. You debate going in straight for the lap when you give her the purple sippy cup of apple juice, but something tells you that you’d end up with a wet and sticky face though. Instead, you wait until most of the beverage is gone and she’s let the bottle roll out of her hand onto the cushion next to her. 

“Good luck, babe,” Eddie says, giving your ass a pat before you walk out into the living room. 

As soon as your knee touches the couch, the television show your daughter is so transfixed on goes to commercial. She turns her head to look at you, large brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

You freeze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It’s odd to be struck still and silent by your two-year-old, but here you are. Rolie Polie Olie being on a commercial break could either make or break this for you. 

“Mama!” Eliza chirps.

A breath loses from your chest, and you give her a grin as you move to lay your head on her little legs. The moment your body makes contact with hers, Eliza’s arms encircle you as much as they possibly can, and she leans down to rest her head against yours. Her cheek smooshes against yours, her chin bumping into the corner of your eye. 

Warmth floods through you, your heart growing three sizes as she lays all her body weight against yours.

“Hold on,” you hear Luke mutter from the kitchen, “wait to see what happens when the show comes back.”

There are only about forty-five seconds until just that happens. 

Eliza’s skin brushes against your cheek as she adjusts her head to get a better view of the television, but otherwise stays where she is. In fact, it feels as if she cuddles into you even further as she settles in to watch her favorite show. 

“Oh, come on,” you hear Luke complain. The twelve-year-old is clearly not happy that he is losing this competition so far. It’s not as if Eliza could be bribed, though. Luckily, toddlers haven’t been corrupted by life yet. 

Luke walks into the room and stands at the side of the couch, hands resting on his hips. 

“Comfy, are we?” he asks. 

It’s evident your daughter is quite cozy as she doesn’t look up at her brother or move for the rest of the episode. 

“All right,” Eddie says, rubbing his hands together. “Saved the best for last.”

“Debatable,” Ryan says as he chomps on a granola bar. 

Your husband flicks Ryan’s black-rimmed glasses so they slide down his nose. With a huff that sounds far more sophisticated than one coming from a fourteen-year-old, your son shakes it off. 

“Ready?” you ask, slipping your arms around Eddie’s waist. 

“Always up for snuggles with my girls.” 

A wet, smacking kiss is placed on your cheek, and you let out a soft giggle.

“Gross,” Luke groans.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Eddie taunts, proving he’s as mature as his adolescent sons. 

You let your arms drop from around his middle and you cup Eddie’s cheeks. 

“Go get her,” you say.

He pecks your lips before heading out into the living room.

Eliza is as entranced as always in her cartoon and Eddie takes advantage of that by silently sidling up to her. She doesn’t even realize he’s there until the couch dips next to her and her empty sippy cup rolls until it meets Eddie’s jean-clad knee.  

He moves the cup aside and slowly lowers himself until he’s able to rest his head in his daughter’s lap. 

At first, it’s as if Eliza doesn’t even notice. She’s watching her show, letting her dad just lay down on her. But after a few seconds, her stare breaks from the television and her brown eyes meet matching larger ones. Her head tilts to the side, inspecting him, and her curls bob with the motion. Eddie smiles up at her and a slow grin grows on her face in return. 

One of Eliza’s tiny hands splays across Eddie’s forehead, some of his bangs getting pushed to the side, and some getting caught under her warm palm. Her other hand lands on his chin, delicate fingers curving around his jaw and rubbing against some stubble. 

Eliza stays like that, looking down at her father, not moving. It takes everything in Eddie not to laugh as he just stares back at the inquisitive little face that reminds him so much of you. 

Quickly, Eliza leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of Eddie’s nose. Gone is his urge to laugh, replaced by the most adoring grin as he revels in her affection. He’s about to thank her for the kiss when she leans in to do it again. This time, however, her mouth is open, and she ends up enveloping his nose in her small mouth.

There’s no way Eddie can hold in his laughter this time as he feels her drool dribble up his nose onto his face. The giddiness is infectious because Eliza pulls her mouth off only to begin laughing alongside of him. 

“You might just be as weird as I am,” he tells her, which makes her laugh even harder. 

That night at dinner, the results are discussed.

“So, who wins?” Ryan asks as he spears some green beans with his fork.

“Not me,” Luke grumbles, slouching down in his chair. 

“Oh, relax,” Eddie says, reaching over and clapping the younger boy on the shoulder. “It’s not like this was scored or anything.”

Luke drops his fork onto the plate with a clang and raises his hands up in front of him.

“My hair ruined it for me! That’s not fair!”

“You know, she can talk now,” you point out, looking at Eliza happily eating in her highchair next to you.

“Good point,” Ryan says. He clears his throat and leans across the table towards her. “Eliza, which of us is your favorite?”

The little girl pops a grape in her mouth and chews, looking like she’s thoughtfully thinking over the question.

“Me,” she finally says.

“No,” Luke says with a shake of his head. “Which of us?” He emphasizes his point by gesturing to the four of you around the table. 

Eliza nods her head once, with finality. “Me.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and shrugs his shoulders.

“Her Majesty has spoken.”

“I don’t think it counts,” Luke laments, looking back down to his plate.

“Yeah, her vote doesn’t count,” Ryan agrees.

You and Eddie share a look of amusement across the table. With these three around, life will never be boring.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holidays! Dealers choice?

a continuation of 1

The young Lord de Bois returns with the same uptight lord as before and a young dark skinned man who’s grinning like this is the funniest thing he’s ever seen. They disappear into the blacksmith’s home along with several other men and Mrs. Cole, who’s husband’s been dead for thirty years and who apparently remembers a time two lords past when things were handled differently.

They don’t emerge for the rest of the day, candles bright in the cracks of the shutters to show that they’re working through the night. It’s almost noon the next morning when the village assembles to hear what’s been decided

Merlin still isn’t allowed to look, but he sneaks glances anyway. He wishes he could get a better look at Lord de Bois, but there are several people in his way, almost deliberately keeping him from view. He wonders what his mother promised them to get them to do that.

“My father,” Lord de Bois sighs, “has decided that if I’m old enough to complain about how things are handled then I’m old enough to handle them myself. Ealdor is now under my purview and authority, which means we’re going to have to turn a profit here if it kills me.”

Great. How does he expect to do that here? He might as well just execute people now if he’s planning on starving them slowly. He’d seemed to know better, before, but now that it’s his neck on the line he’s apparently a lot less sympathetic.

“And it might,” says a new voice, probably the dark skinned man Lord de Bois has brought along.

“Shut up, Elyan,” Lord de Bois says, just for a moment reminding Merlin that they’re nearly the same age. “We’ve worked up a new plan for mining for ore and replanting the fields – the soil’s exhausted and it’s all too far from the river. We’re going to have to set up an irrigation system as well.”

They know that. They’ve always known that. It’s just that there’s nothing to be done about when the time lost to start again would mean they lose out on a whole season of crops, since the ground is too cold to do much of anything in the winter and they don’t have the people do any of that and get food in and out of the ground.

There’s stirrings of discontent and it’s Will, of course, who shouts, “Who’s going to be doing all that? We need to eat ourselves, not waste time feeding you too!”

“You little,” hisses the lord from before and there’s again the sound of a sword being drawn.

“Enough, Gregory,” Lord se Bois snaps before addressing them. “Unfortunately, I am now required to put my money where my mouth is. I’ll be covering your taxes this year to the king and providing grain to make up for the lost food while we work out these changes. Your debt now is not to the king, but to me. I’ll be coming back frequently to check on your progress.”

Merlin pinches himself, sure he’s dreaming. Who does this? It’s crazy. It’s ridiculous.

It might actually work.

“You can’t just let them take and get nothing in return,” Gregory says angrily. “Don’t be stupid about this.”

“Too late for that,” Elyan says. “Why don’t you take someone to work at the castle? Their wages can be put to the town’s debt.”

Lord de Bois sighs. “Why would I take someone useful from here when I’m trying to get all this done?”

“Take someone useless, then,” Elyan suggests.

Oh no.

“Alright then. Who here is useless?” he calls out, clearly mocking.

Merlin’s ears burn as he feels the weight of far too many people’s gazes. It’s not his fault! His magic just makes things – complicated.

“Wow,” Lord de Bois says, laughter running through his voice. “Move aside then. Show me this useless person.”

His mother tenses at his side as people shift and then Merlin is staring down at a pair leather boots that are probably worth more than everything he’s ever touched combined.

“Who’re you, then?”

He’s not supposed to move or speak or look at anyone, but surely his mother can’t expect him to ignore a lord. “Merlin.”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, Merlin.” He snaps his head up and is immediately caught up in the brightest blue eyes he’s ever seen. “Are you useless?”

His face burns and he shrugs.

“He’s young, my lord,” his mother says carefully, and Merlin can’t help but feel guilty over the way her voice wavers.

Lord de Bois’s face softens. “You’re his mother, then?”

She dips into a curtsy. “Hunith, if it pleases my lord.”

“Hunith,” he says, “don’t worry. He’ll be fine at the castle. Being my servant isn’t that difficult.”

His what?

“Your servant?” Gregory sputters. “Every time your uncle assigns you one, you fire them for incompetence!”

“Well,” Lord de Bois says, “then he’ll at least be in good company.”

Elyan walks over and claps Merlin in the arm hard enough that he stumbles. “Good luck.”

Lord de Bois rolls his eyes and Merlin considers how his he should really be careful what he wishes for.

He’s going to get plenty of chances to look at Lord de Bois, apparently.

~

His mother lectures him over and over again about keeping his magic to himself, about how they’ll try and control him and abuse him and turn it into something terrible and dangerous if they know what he can do. He really can’t do much of anything, but he nods and agrees and lets her kiss his face.

They don’t have a horse to spare, so he rides with Elyan. Gregory takes the lead, angrily muttering to himself the whole time and Elyan leans over and whispers to Lord de Bois, “We could just make him walk back. He might run out of steam by then.”

“We’re not going to get that lucky,” he sighs.

The ride is shorter than Merlin had feared, which is good because he’s not used to riding. They enter the city just after nightfall and they pull the gates open as soon as they catch sigh of them. Several people brighten and wave when they see Elyan and Lord de Bois, although they duck away from Gregory.

There’s an actual castle. Merlin is being taken to a real castle. It feels fake and he’s walking inside one.

“ARTHUR!” a high pitched, childish voice yells out as the sound of small feet come running.

“Excuse me, my lord,” Gregory says, beating a hasty retreat.

“Is he running from a little girl?” Merlin asks, too surprised to keep silent like he’s supposed to.

“She doesn’t put up with him like we do,” Elyan answers.

What?

“Arthur! You’re back!” shouts a girl who can’t be older than six with brown eyes and curly brown hair.

Lord de Bois scoops her up in his arms. “I told you I would be.”

“You lie,” she says promptly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Merlin finds himself pinned by her narrowed eyes and understands Gregory a little better. “Who’s this?”

Lord de Bois – Arthur, apparently, since now there’s more than one Lord de Bois to keep track of – says, “This is Merlin. He’s going to be my servant. Merlin, this is my cousin, Amabel de Bois.”

Before Merlin can figure out how to greet a child lady, she says, “Hi Merlin. I’m a witch.”

Uh.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Stop telling people that.” Merlin relaxes. “You’re going to be a sorceress, but only if you study very hard and listen to your mother. You don’t think she became a high priestess without listening to her tutors, do you?”

Merlin tries very hard to not make any sort of expression at all.

“Yes,” Amabel says promptly.

 Arthur makes a face. “Well, maybe, I wouldn’t put it past her, but you have to listen. You haven’t even stabbed any of them with a sword, I don’t know why you’re going through so many.”

“She lit the last one on fire,” Elyan says. “Honestly, between the two of you it’s a shock that any of them are willing to step foot in the castle.”

He shrugs. “Well, my aunt and uncle are very scary. Dad’s not, but that’s what he has them for.”

This is so much worse than he’d feared. Keeping his magic a secret among a bunch of nobles was going to be bad enough, but a high priestess? And a kid training to be a sorceress?

Merlin has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #girl-reading2 #merlin

[togrowoldinv]

To Show Thanks

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Wanda does all of the cooking for Thanksgiving and you help her see just how thankful you are for her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, bathtub sex (W receiving), soft sex

Note: The most wonderful time of year indeed. Enjoy the milf!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

The house smells of turkey and the holiday season as Wanda stands by the stove. She’s been cooking since the crack of dawn, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’ve helped with a few things, but mostly it’s been Wanda who is putting in the work. The twins run around the house and play as they wait for the company to arrive.

“No! I’m running out of time!” Wanda’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“It’s only 5, baby. You still have about an hour until the guests arrive,” you say.

“That’s not long enough,” she says, a sigh falling from her perfect lips. They form into a pout as she observes the work she has ahead of her.

“Well, you could use your magic,” you say.

Wanda smiles but shakes her head.

“No magic today. Just me,” she says.

“You are magic no matter what, my love,” you tell her.

You stand up from your chair and hug Wanda from behind. She sinks into your touch. Dropping a kiss to her cheek, you make her feel relaxed even if for just a moment.

“Tell you what,” you begin. “I’ll get the rowdy boys to set the table and I’ll help you do anything you need. We can do this.”

“We can do this,” Wanda repeats though she’s not sure she believes it.

You kiss her cheek once more for good measure and then you go find the boys. They’re in their room playing Mario Kart.

“Hey guys,” you say. “How about we pause the game and go help Mom get ready for the guests?”

“Okay!” Billy answers easily. He’d do anything for his mom.

“Can we finish this level?” Tommy asks.

“Later, buddy,” you say.

“Okay,” he says, a slight sigh in his voice. He pouts like Wanda does.

“I have a super secret task for the two of you,” you tell them before you leave the bedroom.

“What is it?” Tommy asks.

“Today is Thanksgiving, which means that you tell people that you’re thankful for them. I got your mom a card and I was thinking you two could write a sweet note in it for her. What do you think?”

“Yes!” They both agree. Anything for Wanda.

You smile and lead them to the home office where they work on the card. You leave them to go back and help Wanda. Once they’re done, they come downstairs and set the table.

Wanda was right about timing being close, but you manage to have everything cooked and ready to serve at exactly 6 o’clock.

“We did it!” Wanda says excitedly.

“You did it, babe. All you,” you say.

Wanda smiles softly and places a soft kiss to your lips. The boys feign disgust. Soon, the doorbell rings.

She answers the door and lets guests inside one by one. Steve is first with Natasha, Maria, Tony, Sam, and Bucky not far behind. You remember meeting them all at the boys birthday party, but it’s so nice to see them again.

Everyone gathers around the table and begins to eat Wanda’s wonderful food.

“This is amazing, Wanda,” Steve compliments.

“Yeah, great job, Wanda. Reminds me of home,” Sam says.

Wanda smiles shyly and tries to share the credit.

“No, this is all her. I can cook, but not like this. She’s like professional level good,” you say. Everyone nods in agreement.

“So, how’s everything going?” Maria asks Wanda.

You know what she’s referring to. After Wanda and Vision split up, the woman has gone through a hard time with the divorce and now child custody hearings. You’ve been the bright spot in all of it.

“It’s good,” Wanda says. “I didn’t know going to court would be so expensive but it’s almost over.”

“I’d sue his ass for what he’s put you through,” Natasha jumps in. Maria nudges her shoulder but she only shrugs.

You shoot her a smile and she returns a smirk.

“How about we just talk about what we’re thankful for?” Steve, ever the peacemaker, tries to change the subject.

“Great idea,” you agree. “I’ll go first. I’m thankful for Wanda and her wonderful children and friends.”

Wanda smiles and kisses your cheek at your words. You hold her hand under the table. You’ve become her everything over these last few months.

Wanda speaks next. “I’m thankful for friends who have become family, for my precious babies, and for y/n who is truly my best friend.”

Everyone goes around and continues to share what they’re thankful for. Love and laughter fills the air as the hours pass by. After dessert and socializing, the guests go home.

Wanda is in the kitchen running a sink of dishes when you stop her.

“Come with me,” you say, pulling her softly.

“But the dishes, baby. They won’t do themselves,” she tries.

You keep walking and lead Wanda to the living room. The boys are there with Wanda’s card in hand.

“We got you this, Mommy,” Billy says, handing her the card.

“Oh, thank you, baby,” Wanda says. She sits between the two boys. She opens the card and tears fill her eyes.

“We all signed it to say we’re thankful for you,” Tommy explains.

“Wow,” Wanda says softly. “This is so sweet. I’m so thankful for you guys too.”

Wanda kisses them both on the forehead as they lean into her. She reaches out to you too and you join the snuggle pile.

“Can we finish our level before bedtime?” Tommy asks after a moment.

“Yeah go ahead boys. Mom and I will be up to tuck you in soon,” you tell them. They hug you both before running up the stairs.

Wanda tries to get up but you pull her gently back onto the couch. She lands on your lap and you grin at her.

“Thank you for the card,” Wanda says.

“That was from the boys,” you say.

“Mhm. I know you were the mastermind,” she says. “I should really clean up dinner.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Wanda asks.

“You, my dear, did all the cooking so I will do all of the cleaning,” you say. “I’ll pour you some wine and you just get to relax, okay?”

You don’t give her a chance to say no. Instead, you kiss her and get up to start cleaning. Wanda sits at the counter and watches you. After a bit, you tuck the boys into bed and finish up cleaning.

“How about a bath?” You ask Wanda, leaning over the counter in a way you know draws her eyes to your chest.

“Only if you’ll join me,” she replies, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Yes please,” you say.

You go to the bathroom together and run the water. Wanda slips off her clothes first and slides into the warm water. You join her and settle in behind her.

She rests her head on your shoulder as you softly run your hands over her body.

“Thank you for today,” Wanda says.

“You did the hard part.”

“No, I mean- you didn’t have to clean up or give me a card or anything,” Wanda explains.

“Oh,” you say. “I just thought you’d like it.”

“I did. I loved it,” Wanda rushes to say. “It’s just- no one’s ever done that for me before. It’s new.”

“You deserve it, Wands. Everything doesn’t have to fall on you. And you deserve to hear how thankful we all are for you,” you say.

“Hmm,” Wanda hums. She turns her head to look into your eyes. “I really love you.”

“I really love you too, Wanda Maximoff.”

She leans up and kisses you. You deepen the kiss and let your hand slip between her legs. Wanda gasps at the feeling.

“Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you,” you say.

She lets herself relax against you as you move your fingers through her folds. Wanda lets out the sweetest sounds with every stroke. You slip fully into her easily and make quick work of getting her to her high.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go,” you say softly as she comes against your fingers.

Wanda’s eyes remain closed in pleasure as you simply hold her against you. She stays there until the water gets too cold and you have to get out.

You get dressed in warm pajamas and snuggle into bed next to each other. Wanda clings to you.

“I’m so thankful for you,” Wanda says as her eyes droop closed from exhaustion and relaxation.

“I’m thankful for you too, Wanda. I always will be,” you tell her.

With one more shared kiss, you two fall into a deep slumber that lasts until morning.

Wanda has never been so happy and that’s all thanks to you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff fluff #milf!wanda x reader

[moonstruckme]

can i request some poly!marauders where reader tells them they love them for the first time… but like sooo passionate and sappy, maybe some tears of relief.. ugh i love your writing sm 😭😭

Of course you can sweetheart, sorry it took me a bit to get to it!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Lately it’s like you can hardly stop yourself. You’ll get off the phone with James, or Remus will let you run your fingers over his scars, or Sirius will braid your hair for you, and you’ll want to say Ugh, I love you.

In some ways, you feel a bit silly for agonizing over it. You know the boys have been saying it to each other for years, platonically before romantically, so sometimes it feels like you’re a bit behind the curve. Sirius flings it about like he has love in endless supply (and from what you can tell, he does). Evans, you know I love you, but that hat is a crime and You have a great personality, Prongs, but I love those big shoulders most of all and Is that drink for me, Marls? I knew I loved you for a reason. And it’s such a small thing, objectively, just three words in their natural order, but it also feels like sort of a big deal. 

You do love them. So much it sometimes feels like your heart swells until it crowds out your lungs and steals your breath, but telling them is no simple matter. Do you tell them together? That feels like making a big deal out of things, like calling a family meeting or something. But if you tell them separately, you’d have to pick an order, and that could only go poorly, too. You don’t want it to be an announcement, though you don’t just want to blurt it out like it’s nothing, either. Maybe it is to some people, maybe even to them (although you don’t think so), but it’s not to you. You’ve never loved anyone like this before, let alone three people. The severity of it had hit you like a truck, all at once, vaulting you into love faster than you could catch your breath. 

It's a new feeling to you, this romantic sort of love, but you have enough acumen to recognize magic when you feel it. No matter how much you hate being at the center of attention, you aren't going to trivialize that. 

The confession tempts your tongue now, sitting on the bathroom counter with Sirius between your legs and James sitting on the floor beside him. 

“I just think you would look cute with a couple little braids.” Sirius’ breath fans your face as he speaks, one hand on your cheek to keep you still as he does your eyeliner. 

“I don’t want to look cute,” James argues. “And everyone else thinks my hair looks great as it is, thank you.” 

“Cute isn’t the right word. Rakish. Kind of like a pirate.” 

“You can’t change the terminology to fool me. I look rakish every day, don’t I Moony?”

“You do.” Remus comes to lean in the open doorway, pulling on his socks. ���Though I do think a braid would be fun to try, sometime.” 

Sirius takes only a moment to relish in this small triumph before he's frowning. “You are not wearing that to the party.” 

Remus looks down at his faded green sweater. “It looks like I am. I don’t intend to shiver during the walk there.” 

Sirius scoffs, and James, spotting a pot to stir, says, “I like you in that sweater, actually.” 

Remus knows exactly what his boyfriend is doing, but he smirks anyway. “Thank you, Prongs. It’s like we’re his little projects, aren’t we? At least someone doesn’t want to change me.” 

Everyone’s eyes find you, waiting to see what side you’ll pick. You burn under the spotlight. “I think you look great either way.” You shrug, but stop when Sirius hisses sharply, his grip tightening on your face. 

Remus eyes you, something searching in his gaze that you don’t like. You can never hide a thought for long before he susses you out. But to your surprise, it’s Sirius who says, “You okay, sweet thing? You’re being even quieter than usual. You still want to go, yeah?”

“Yeah, I wanna go,” you say quickly. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, finishing up with your eyeliner and stepping back to look at you. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You squirm, pinned like a butterfly beneath his gaze. “It’s nothing, it’s silly.” 

A poor choice. Now you have everyone’s full attention. 

“I’m sure it’s not silly.” James smiles at you encouragingly. “What is it?”

You start to pick at your nails, but Sirius' eyes narrow at them, and you stop. “I just…I’ve been thinking lately.” 

A beat passes before Remus fills the silence. “That’s always a good thing,” he says slowly, amusedly. “C’mon, dove, out with it.” 

This isn’t how you wanted this to go. You’re on the spot. It’s going to feel like a forced confession. They’re expecting something silly and light—I just don’t feel like my outfit is going to work for tonight—and you feel like you’re about to drop a bomb on them in comparison. 

In the end, you give yourself away before you say the words. “Okay, I’m gonna tell you something, and I just need you to know I mean it, but I don’t need it to be…reciprocated.” 

Sirius cocks his head at you, and you decide to burst the bubble of tension before it can expand any further. 

“Just, I love you.” 

And maybe you wanted it to be like when Sirius says it, like he’s thrown confetti and everyone seems brighter and happier for it, but each word falls heavily from your lips, landing at the feet of your boyfriends for them to decide what to do with. Why did you add in a “just”? There’s nothing just about this. It’s a humiliating attempt at downplaying the phrase, and painfully ineffective too. You feel like you could light yourself on fire with the intensity of your embarrassment.

"Argh, sweetheart,” James says after an impossibly long beat, “I wanted to say it first.” 

“No fucking way.” Sirius whirls on him. “You were gonna say it and you didn’t tell me? I was waiting for one of you to do it first.” 

“Dove,” Remus says, relaxing against the doorframe, “I think we’ve all been feeling the same way for some time. Thank you for having the confidence to say it first.” 

You beam so hard your cheeks start to hurt almost instantly. “Yeah?”

“Color me impressed,” Sirius says. “This whole time you've played coy, but you’ve got more balls than any of the rest of us, haven’t you?” He pauses. “Wait, are you crying?”

“Oh, um, I guess so,” you reply when you touch a fingertip to your lower lashes and it comes away wet. “I’m just relieved, I guess. I was pretty nervous.” 

Sirius grabs some toilet paper, pressing a wad under each of your eyes. “Well shit, don’t fuck up your eyeliner, baby. It was never that dire, not like anyone wasn’t going to say it back.” 

“Well, I wasn’t going in with any expectations,” you mumble, holding your makeshift tissues. 

“Sweetheart,” James whines, his bottom lip beginning to tremble sympathetically. “How could you think we wouldn't? I love you so much.” 

“I love you so much,” you counter, laughing even as the paper under your eyes grows damp. “I’ve been wanting to say it forever. I feel so lucky to have you guys, you know?”

Remus crosses the room, forcing you to discard your toilet paper clumps as he takes your face in his hands, kissing your salty cheeks. “We’re lucky to have found you,” he says, and the words are even, sure. “I don’t say it often enough, but I love you all too. You’re everything to me.” 

“Oh, fuck all of you,” Sirius says, blinking rapidly to save his own sparkly eyeliner. “Obviously you’re the best things that’ve ever happened to me. Pricks.” 

Your laugh is wet, and you wonder if you’re peaking right now or if you’ll be this happy forever. With the three of them around you, you’re betting on the latter. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Think you could fix my makeup before we go, Siri? Please?”

He huffs, but the kiss he presses to your lips is syrupy sweet. “We are going to be well past fashionably late.”

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders scenario #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #marauders fandom

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Just like how kalim embodies scarabia's mindfulness in his own way, how do you think other boys embodies their respective dorms spirit?

For the sake of ease and consistency, I will be using the official TWST localization's terms for each dorm's core value.

Please note: these are my personal interpretations; even the definitions of each dorm’s “spirit” is not explicitly defined within official TWST materials, so I’ll be running with my own definitions before covering each NRC student. Additionally, since I’ll be covering 22 characters in this post I may not have time to get into painstaking detail for each one.

***Main story spoilers (including late book 7) below the cut!!***

The Queen of Hearts' Spirit of Strictness

Literally speaking, strictness refers to following rules or beliefs exactly. There is rigid enforcement of these rules or beliefs, and very few, if any, exceptions or mercy granted.

Right off the bat, it’s easy to see how Riddle aligns with the spirit of strictness. He is the embodiment the law in Heartslabyul, serving as both judge and executioner to his students. Riddle insists that the rules—no matter how nonsensical—be followed, and he does not hesitate to unleash his wrath and collar those who step out of line. He is strictness itself. Beyond book 1, we do see Riddle trying to be more patient and flexible—however, the fact remains that he upholds rules and continues to have trouble with circumstances where he has to think independently or without a set of instructions to refer to.

Trey is known for frequently indulging others and behaving in a manner which some may call kind. The twist here is that Trey’s strictness is present in the “big brother” role he adopts when dealing with his peers. He’s generally more lenient than Riddle, but Trey often alludes to the fact that he shouldn’t be underestimated or thought of as a nice guy. There are moments when Trey gives others their comeuppance for misbehaving (such as in his dorm uniform vignettes, where he deprives first years of cake for complaining about his same-y baked goods). The thing is, most don’t see it coming because he’s typically so… nice. When he wants to be stern and put his foot down, he certainly can—it just isn’t something that happens a lot, since he’s more mild-mannered than his classmates.

Cater is strict with his public image, specifically how his peers view him. This is most obviously seen in his obsession with social media. He's constantly taking pictures and posting, being heavily involved on Magicam—a space where he can control the narrative about the type of person he is and the life he has. Cater keeps up this front in real life as well, acting cheery and sociable with his classmates while masking a far less motivated and sad side to his character. (This is implied in his Lab Wear vignettes, where a mandrake he infuses with his own magic becomes gloomy and huddles into itself.) There are occasions when Cater expresses that he is lonely or that he wishes he had more friends growing up, but he never fully opens up about his true nature. He strictly keeps that part of himself locked up tight and is seemingly afraid of what others would think of that persona.

Like Cater, Deuce is strict with himself. In Deuce's case, this arises from a past of delinquency and the desire to reform and to be an honors student that his mom can be proud of. Because of these goals, Deuce tries very hard to excel in class (but often falls short) and to behave in a way that he believes honors students would. This means changing the way he looks (he let his natural hair color come back in; it used to be bleached blonde), the way he speaks (not using foul language), the way he dresses, and, most importantly, the way he acts. Of course, his temper gets the best of him at times and his delinquent self bubbles back up (like in book 1 when the eggs were ruined), and Deuce is currently working on better repressing that.

Ace is probably the most carefree and the least stereotypically "strict" of the Heartslabyul group. Instead of having a focus on enforcing rules, Ace is usually the one breaking or defying them. How, then, does he embody the Queen of Hearts' spirit of strictness? I believe it comes through in some of Ace's most iconic scenes: the ones where he is calling others out on their bull crap. Time and time again, it's Ace that is bluntly telling others what they're doing or saying is hypocritical or wrong, or that they haven't truly taken accountability. He does this no matter who he is facing, be that his own dorm leader (book 1), an undead bride (Ghost Marriage), or Malleus Draconia himself (Endless Halloween Night). Ace has his own set of morals and beliefs, and he speaks them loud and clear without imposing as harshly as Riddle does.

The King of Beasts' Spirit of Persistence

Persistence is when one continues their course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition. In other words, there is an obstacle in the way of achieving a goal, and one persists in the face of that obstacle.

Leona is a somewhat strange case to make for persistence because initially he comes off as a very lazy character. We quickly learn that though he appears unmotivated, he’s comfortable scheming and thinking multiple steps ahead to cut out difficult or unnecessary work. There’s no doubt that Leona has had a challenging childhood, feeling like he was always being compared to his brother and never recognized for his own talents. We feel the effects of Leona losing this hope as late as book 6, when Leona says that Jamil is capable of change, unlike himself. Some fans even speculate that Leona’s dialogue implies he has fallen into depression as a result of frequently being dismissed and put down in spite of his efforts to be seen. Even when Leona is dealing with such trauma, he cooks up a plot to return his dorm to glory and to support its future. He, the lowly second born prince, wants to prove himself and his team of misfits, as being worthy of respect and admiration. When the plans fall through, Leona is quick to give up (which seems to go against the idea of Savanaclaw’s persistence). However, I would say this is part of his character growth in book 2. Later in the main story, Leona also throws in the towel quickly—but it doesn’t contradict his development; he knows when to strategically retreat in book 6.

Ruggie comes from an extremely impoverished background. He has had perhaps the least “cushy” life out of the entire NRC cast. Even so, Ruggie was able to study and work hard enough to earn decent grades, get multiple part-time jobs, and pick up many useful survival skills. He’s street smart and knows that what he lacks in strength he can make up for by sticking to someone who is strong (Leona). (Their relationship is mutually beneficial!!) Ruggie knows that just having money isn’t sustainable in the long run, so he’s hauling ass now to make something of not only himself, but also for all the people in the slums.

Jack embodies persistence through the events of book 2. At first, Jack tries to get Leona to see reason by letting him know that he genuinely is a figure Jack admires. He’s put in a moral dilemma when Leona argues that even if they play dirty, he has good intentions. If Jack interferes, he is messing with the future job prospects of his dorm members. Jack wrestles with the question before ultimately coming to the conclusion that he has to tell others about it—and, what’s more, put his own pride as a lone wolf aside to confront Leona and stop to his machinations.

The Sea Witch's Spirit of Benevolence

Benevolence may refer to meaning well or general kindness and compassion. It involves a willingness to help others and caring for them.

Azul, being at the head of the operations at Octavinelle, passes himself off as a benevolent man who will listen to your woes and grant your wishes. In fact, he does—but at a price. The shady ring he’s running is NOT wholly benevolent; the deals can definitely come across as malevolent in book 3 (when Azul wrote the contracts in such a way that the loopholes could fuck clients over). The deals themselves (assuming no foul play), however, are neutral since both parties agree to the terms. Contracts are written with the idea that they will benefit the clients. And Azul is, of course, also seeking out benefits for himself, as that is the nature of business dealings.

Jade represents a kind of benevolence associated with acts of service. He’s Azul’s right-hand man and information broker—furthermore, much of how Jade presents himself alludes to being a butler or some other supportive role. Jade just generally behaves in a way which benefits others. He acts demure and servile, then uses the trust he has gained through service to ply what he wants out of others. Jade does it so sweetly and so expertly that his prey don’t usually notice, or willfully overlook it, being far too impressed by his abilities to fixate on his ulterior motives. This strategy works even on notoriously stern individuals such as Vil (Jade Dorm Uniform vignettes).

Floyd gives “free hugs” :) is… well, ironically, the “kindest” of the trio in a weird way. While this is highly dependent on his mood, the fact of the matter is that Floyd is the easiest to read in terms of “telegraphing” his actions. If he’s in a bad mood, he usually will not hide it. You know what you’re signing up for as soon as you see him. He also typically doesn’t put forth an effort to manipulate or to scheme like Azul or Jade would; Floyd would prefer to be direct and get it over with already. That, in a sense, is the mercy that he offers: something swift and plain to see.

The Sorcerer of the Sands' Spirit of Mindfulness

Mindfulness is a state of being aware of oneself and the present moment. A mindful individual can aknowledge and accept one’s feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations. Mindfulness may also extend to being aware of others and perceiving their own states of being.

Kalim is not viewed as the most intelligent or crafty of leaders, but where he shines is in his ability to welcome and to bond with his dorm mates. His emotional intelligence is extremely high, which proves itself to be a useful skill in getting to know others and to earn their trust. Kalim has made a name for himself in Scarabia because he is always there to listen and lend a helping hand to his dormmates. He is unabashedly open about his own emotions too, crying when he is sad and trying hard when he is frustrated or dissatisfied. He often asks to know what is wrong when he senses upset within his classmates and wants to do what he can to rectify those situations. This is peak mindfulness--not only is Kalim acutely aware of his own emotional state, but he's also pretty consistent with sensing those in others (the one big exception here, of course, is Jamil). Sometimes Kalim can be blindsided by his own blind faith in others or his overeagerness causing him to blurt things out unintentionally. He's definitely not perfect in this regard--however, there's plenty of room and willingness to grow and to learn (something which Kalim has expressed both in book 5 and in birthday vignettes).

Jamil more readily fits in with a less savory interpretation of mindfulness. He thinks ahead and uses what he knows of others to manipulate them or put himself in an advantageous position. This notably occurs in book 4 (when Jamil plans to use the feedback of Yuu and the Scarabia members to dethrone Kalim), as well as in events (like Beans Day, where he plans to entrap Kalim when Kalim cooks a fragrant lunch that Jamil purposefully packed for him). He uses what he notices or knows about others (Azul’s shadiness, rumors about Lilia being a bad cook) to avoid interactions which could be less than beneficial to him. Jamil’s main fault is that he fails to recognize people’s strengths (something which Leona calls him out for in book 6), and instead focuses mainly on their weaknesses, shortcomings, and how those could be exploited (mostly because he’s in a position where he cannot outright act in certain ways without suffering some consequences). Jamil is aware of these potential consequences and finds or plans workarounds for them. However, he is also mindful in a more conventional sense too. He’s usually the competent one in Scarabia’s leadership and fulfills the organizational tasks that Kalim doesn’t. The duo is like sun and moon; they balance each other out.

The Beautiful Queen's Spirit of Tenacity

Simply put, tenacity is determination and endurance. One is persistent in maintaining, adhering to, or seeking something valued or desired. Each of the members of Pomefiore knows what they want, and they are stubborn in their pursuit of it.

Vil makes it clear in book 5 that he wants to win VDC/SDC, thereby proving to himself and to the world that he is capable of more than playing the part of a “villain”. He already had high standards for himself prior to book 5 (exercising, doing skincare, maintaining a healthy diet, etc.), but you can see how single minded Vil is toward this one goal. He drives his team members hard and even cancels a major job offer from his manager so he can dedicate all his time and energy into seizing the win. And how many times has Vil lost in the past??? Countless, I bet. Yet here he is, trying again and again, even when he knows that happy endings aren’t guaranteed and his efforts may not bear fruit after all.

Rook pursues any and all things beautiful!! He used to just be content admiring beauty, but with Vil’s prompting, Rook soon also found value in beautifying himself. It means Rook can also put beauty out into the world, and helps him better appreciate other works of art. This man is infamous around campus for his… admittedly creepy and unnerving habits. He follows people around, documents them in photographs, memorizes their personal details, etc. His keen eye has also earned him praise though—Vil can comfortably rely on him for honest feedback, and Neige recognizes him as a dedicated member of his fan club. Rook is nothing if not determined and dedicated to his craft.

Epel is tenacious too, but in a way that Vil would not approve of in all circumstances. Epel is stubborn in his thinking and refuses to let go of his hometown roots. He’s very proud of where he comes from, so he puts up a fight with Vil when Vil demands that Epel address his upperclassmen more politely. Epel sees the command as a threat to himself, and a challenge to the hometown he loves. Additionally, it takes Epel a while to reevaluate his deeply ingrained views on gender norms. He’s all-around very strong-headed!

The King of the Underworld's Spirit of Diligence

Diligence is when one is involved in careful and persistent work or effort. This principle generally governs all of STYX, the blot research organization operated by the Shroud family. Their job is a thankless one—they do such important work, yet it isn’t recognized by the general public due to STYX’s secretive nature.

Idia, as the temporary acting director of STYX in book 6, gets involved in their research. There’s many Phantoms kept in the STYX facility, so there are many safety precautions in place and care taken to ensure no one is harmed. (Ironically, it was Idia’s lack of diligence that led to Ortho’s passing.) Outside of book 6, one can say that Idia has a diligent personality, at least when it comes to his hyperfixations. He becomes dedicated to media that captures his interests to the point where it actually incentivizes him to leave his room (Ghost Marriage) and overcome his meek stutter to speak confidently and lecture people (first Halloween event, his Dorm Uniform vignettes, etc.).

I believe Ortho is diligent in being Idia’s emotional support both before and after Ortho is officially recognized as a separate student. He cheers Idia on and encourages him to touch grass socialize, wishing nothing but the best for his big brother! Ortho wasn’t always like this either; he used to be quite stiff and monotone, and had to learn how to emulate emotions by carefully observing and absorbing media. His motivation in book 6 is also fueled by diligence—Ortho worries about what he can do to support Idia’s wishes, and this is ultimately what drives him to taking over STYX and unleashing the Phantoms. Then, in Fairy Gala: What If, Ortho stubbornly tries to come up with his own ideas regarding the theme of evolution rather than rely on others for answers. He works hard to developing his own concept and is able to put on a show-stopping performance with it!

The Thorn Fairy's Spirit of Nobility

To be noble can refer to strength of character, mind, and/or literal position, birth, rank, or social status. No matter which definition you go with, I think they could all apply to the members of Diasomnia.

Regarding noble status, Malleus and Silver are both princes. Lilia and Sebek may not be nobles themselves, but they (in addition to Silver) serve royalty and have close personal connections to people in high places, be it via friends or via family. Diasomnia is very well-connected.

Beyond superficial nobility, one can say that those in Diasomnia are noble in character as well. To begin with, Lilia has sacrificed himself for his country on multiple occasions. This isn’t limited to going to battle, but also ferrying his princess’s egg to safety, traveling the world for knowledge on dragon eggs, and going so far as to give up his own life force to hatch Malleus. And what does Lilia get for all of this? Banished from the capital, screamed at, shunned—all because he is a nobody, a bat of no status. Despite this, Lilia does not become bitter nor hateful, he instead opens his heart and mind to the world and seeks to instill others with the same wisdom. Through all the tragedies he suffered, Lilia rose stronger than ever rather than sinking to the same levels as the narrow minded senators that rebuked him.

Silver is, perhaps, the most overtly noble in character. He extols the virtues of listening and getting along with others, often serving as the peacemaker between parties (typically between Sebek and their peers, but we’ve also seen Silver smoothing things out between all of NRC and diurnal fae). He also assumes the best of others and is ready to leap into action to protect them at a moment’s notice. His kind and gentle nature attracts many forest animals to him, who can likely sense the purity of Silver’s heart.

Sebek’s brand of nobility isn’t geared at others in general but rather is pinpointed on one person (that being Malleus). He is noble in the sense that he dedicates himself to his prince. It’s no secret that practically everything Sebek does is to “live up” to perceived standards so as to not shame Malleus or the Draconia royal family—from doing well academically to dressing neatly and throwing himself into training… Sebek’s passion and eagerness is what makes him stand out. It could also be said that he fiercely defends his friends and those who have earned his respect (albeit maybe not worded in the most tactful ways). That, too, in a sense, is honorable.

Finally, we have Malleus. What can be said about him that hasn’t already been said? He is the prince of a nation, so there are many people looking to him for leadership. As such, Malleus must always conduct himself in a manner that puts his country’s best face forward and expects the same of others. Indeed, he reprimands Sebek for behaving in poor taste and instructs him to apologize to Leona, the prince of another nation. However, what is most telling about Malleus is his impetus for Overblotting. He deludes himself into thinking “this is what is best for everyone”. In his mind, he frames forcing everyone into dream states so they can stay forever and have their happily ever afters as the “good” and “noble” thing to do. He’s definitely not doing this for himself, he argues, it’s a gift for everyone. And throughout book 7, Malleus tries to gaslight others into this belief too 💀 when bro’s already convinced himself of this and refuses to see otherwise—

#twst #twisted wonderland #Octavinelle #Diasomnia #Heartslabyul #Savanaclaw #Scarabia #Pomefiore #Ignihyde #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #spoilers #twst en #twisted wonderland en #question #notes from the writing raven #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis

[terrythemerry]

I just watched Wish (2023) and it made me realize something kind of sad about Disney’s treatment of villains.

So Disney has a long history of villainy from the OG Evil Queen who is willing to murder a girl just for being pretty to the misguided like Auto thinking he’s protecting humanity in Wall-E. They are mean, jealous, prideful, vain, and many relish in just being the worst of the worst. However every now and then we get a glimpse of more complexity. Zootopia’s Bellwether dealing with years of racism and mistreatment, Gantu trying to stop what he thinks is a monster in Lilo and Stitch, Up’s Muntz being a heroic explorer before paranoia consumed him, etc. The thing that makes me sad about these villains is that not one of them has ever had a chance at redemption or change in Disney’s eyes and nowhere is that sadder to me than their latest villain, King Magnifico.

(Spoilers below)

King Magnifico is the magical founder of a utopian society that accepts people of all races, religions, and backgrounds. Who created this wonderful place after what is heavily implied to be a violent invasion destroyed his homeland when he was but a child. This past trauma led him to study magic and become a powerful sorcerer so that nothing could hurt him or the people he cared about ever again. His magic is a protection that he extends to all who choose to live in the city. The city is vibrant with a colorful community full of artisans, musicians, and dancers. He takes no taxes from them, but does take their one true wish upon joining this society.

When given these wishes it is understood that he will ensure their safety and possibly grant them one day. Something important to note about the physical manifestations of the wishes is that they give off a warm and comforting aura as they represent some of the purest parts of a person’s soul. Magnifico has been surrounding himself with this magical comfort for a very very long time by himself and I don’t think it’s unfair to say he has become addicted to their presence. The wishes are giving him a magical comfort through the kind souls within them, a feeling he could’ve probably also gotten if he had spent more time with his people.

It doesn’t look like he ever really got the chance to commune with his people properly because somehow the society kicked off on his wish granting abilities. People had to give him their wishes if they wanted them granted and eventually the ones that he couldn’t grant in good conscience or out of fear started adding up so he began locking them away. Keeping them safe so no harm came to the people. The rare occasions that anyone else interacts with these wishes is during wish granting ceremonies that the people are borderline rabid for. With good reason, it is their souls they’re thirsting for after all even if they don’t really know it.

However, Magnifico clearly doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as he’s given these people a wonderful safe haven from the horrors of the outside world where they can be whoever they want to be, do what they want to do, make what they want to make, and still all they see in him is a tool to fastpass to something else they want even more than the peace he’s given them.

This is clearly shown early on, before any of his evil behavior starts to take root, in relation to his assistants. We get a expo dump after the first song telling us that Asha wants to become one of his assistant to increase the odds of her grandfather’s wish being granted as there is a correlation between past assistants and having wishes granted. Something important here is that there have clearly been many assistants, suggesting that it’s a revolving door position without really explaining why. Who would want to keep finding assistants over and over again, when really you should find someone who could do the job long term right? Well we get to find out the likely reason when Asha steps up for the role.

When Asha comes to interview for his assistant position he sees she is nervous, he tries to calm her down, and he even manages to relate to her through fond memories of her kindly father who he clearly knew. After seeing her true resolve to do good he decides to trust her with something few people in the entire kingdom get to see, the vault of wishes. To which Asha doesn’t even hesitate to ask, after politely being told not to prior, if he’ll grant her grandfather’s wish.

Magnifico is blatantly stricken by her request, sadly remarking that most people at least wait a few months before doing so a.k.a pretend to be interested in helping him rather than trying to use him to grant a wish. This is likely why the assistant job is a revolving door. Magnifico tries to find someone who he thinks will truly and selflessly fulfill the role only to discover time and again that people are just using it to get direct access to him to ask for a wish. Then he can’t trust their true intentions anymore and moves them along.

After Asha makes her request he does take the time to look at her grandfather’s wish but dismisses it as too dangerous because it is the vague desire to inspire the next generation. Clearly we as the audience know that her grandfather means to inspire them to do good, but we have to remember Magnifico has seen the worst of society. He has seen the darkest wishes and desires of mankind and survived them. He brushes Asha off telling her she’s too young to understand, which is honestly true. She’s lived her entire life cloistered in peace and comfort thanks to him and the rules he has made. She has never had to know war, strife, or hardship thanks to him, yet she doubts his decision without understanding the trauma that guides it. This is what I believe pushes Magnifico into his villain arc, something that I don’t think we’ve ever really witnessed in a Disney movie.

Usually a villain already is the villain by the time the film rolls around, even the twist villains. Lotso had already been deliberately sentencing other toys to torture. Prince Hans was already planning to murder his way to a throne. Evelyn was already plotting her revenge. Magnifico wasn’t though. He was the hero. He had saved his wife and a whole city’s worth of people from whatever drove them from the mainlands. He wasn’t physically abusing/mistreating people like Gaston even if he was vainly basking in their adoration.

When Asha pushes him on the wishes he pulls back from her, identifying her in his mind as a threat and treats her as one. He dismisses her and tells her that her family’s wishes will never be granted by him, but he will still keep them safe as he has been doing. Essentially meaning nothing will change for her from what it has been. You know a happy loving existence of complete acceptance and wholesome family life or as Asha interprets it, a fate worse than death.

His interaction with Asha triggers him, as she’s pushed at the flaws in his reasoning for holding onto the wishes. The flaws are true, but his mind is clouded by fear of a lack of control, likely stemming from the horrors he witnessed in his childhood when he had no control. He also likely has a bit of an addiction to the warm fuzzies that the wishes give on top of his fears. While he’s ruminating on that some massive wave of magic blows through the kingdom and messes with the thing he’s already stressed beyond reason about, the wishes.

Magnifico frantically searches for any answer, even considering a dangerous tome of forbidden magic that he knows is trouble before his wife manages to talk him down.

The fact that he could even be talked down rather than ignoring her outright shows that Magnifico does have good in him. He’s just reacting out of a genuine panic. His panic is only worsened by huge mob continuing to beg him for wishes in exchange for doing what should be the selfless act of defending their kingdom from what is essentially perceived as an attack. Not having any faith left in his people he turns back to the evil book to give him the key to stopping this perceived attack.

Just to be clear King Magnifico goes to the big bad evil book not to gain more power for funsies, but to try to find a way to stop a perceived threat. Everything he does from this point on, such as threatening his wife, can no longer be fairly tied to him, because as the movie repeatedly tells us he is under the EVIL book’s influence. His wife even looks through the same book to try and see if there is a way to break the sway she knows it has over him, but says she can’t because the EVIL book said no.

Yada yada yada and Magnifico is sealed inside a magic mirror and smugly told to rot in the dungeon by his previously loving wife.

Seriously?! What the heck?! This guy was the perfect candidate for rehabilitation. He wasn’t flawless, but he wasn’t a murderous psycho like most of the other Disney villains. Disney loves to preach kindness, acceptance, and good will with their heroes, but never does it allow the message of change.

I was shocked going back through the catalogue and slowly realizing none of their villains, regardless of how tragic their origins are, are ever truly allowed a second chance. The hero may offer it, but the baddy never is truly expected to change or reform. Which is honestly super messed up to me. People make mistakes. Some can be small/insignificant, but some are big and do hurt people sometimes. That doesn’t mean they can’t change for the better.

Now I’m not saying every villain is redeemable or good, it’s just a bit surprising that for all the messages of kindness and acceptance we haven’t really gotten forgiveness in 100 years. Seeing the “bad guy’s punishment” just deeply bothered me this time. Probably because so much of the bad that Magnifico does is clearly a trauma response and as a punishment for not acting appropriately to said response he gets sentenced to eternity is magical cell.

#disney wish #wish 2023 #king magnifico #wish magnifico #magnifico x amaya #queen amaya #amaya #wish king magnifico #wish asha #disney villains #100 years of disney

[solselah]

✨SECRETS ?✨

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

PILE 1 : So someone wants to tell you

SO BAD that they are scared of intimacy & being Open !! For them it doesn’t matter WHO you are it has been a persistent issue for them in life. They are trying their best to hide this from you , you can tell they don’t want to sabotage the beginning of something Amazing! They are holding back communicating to you that this is an issue they deal with. They tend to run when things get a little hard & they are TRYING to hold that back from you! They just don’t want to have to move on because of it. Honestly your understanding would touch them in a way they never felt before , prompting them to at least try to be transparent!! They are afraid of the karma they will receive from keeping this from you !! You can always ask to have a conversation and see how that goes as far as I see , it can go pretty well & encourage healthy habits!!

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PILE 2:

Awee this is so adorable !!!

You have a lover or crush who secretly is in love with you (Too?) but the love where it’s so Mushy so sweet & pure!! They speak to their guides & ancestors/God about you!! They explain to them that you take such good care of yourself & Your just the definition of love for them! They leave this a secret because they want the seduction to like never END ! It just spices the dynamic up 100% they secretly watch you , definitely does not seem weird more so like if you’re walking by they are checking you out! they are looking for sure! You’re what we would call a

“secret lover”✨

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PILE 3: soooo …. I’m getting two scenarios one is that There is some one intending to do magic on you !! I’m getting their name starts with the following

(N,L,S,U,D,C) for this next scenario you could be practicing mirror magic or Doing beauty spells which currently help your self love journey out 100%!!

I’m also seeing someone could be jealous of the results of these spells … it seems to also be some form of mirror magic / Beauty magic they want to “Reverse” I truly hear that someone is jealous of your looks! You’re looking like a baddie always / your looking handsome always & they really just can’t take it! The energy I’m feeling from them is Very bored & Powerless! Like this attempt to Put magic on you … or attempt to reverse yours!

this persons magic WILL NOT dare leave the 3D haha ! Little do they know your ANGELS are on GO ! & you have this natural connection to KALI MA who has been fighting these battles alongside you those that you can’t see fully ! Don’t you even worry. This persons magic is so petite & kind of already Got blocked by their own guides 😬 that’s how you know it’s petty!!

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PILE 4:

The secret being hidden from you is the change you’re about to go through !! I’m not permitted to say too much but I will say it will have everything to do with public scenery , Party scene , and entertainment!! You will be stepping out a zone you haven’t left since maybe high school or even middle school for some !! This will change your personality and character for the better !! People wont even recognize your maturity and new zeal for life !! I’m so excited for you to experience this change and enjoy it as much as you can !! Later in life things will slow down in the sweetest way! For those who have been apartment hunting and looking for a HOUSE , this is coming in sooner than you think!! Also quick reminder to Someone make sure you Update your important information

License , certificates , Paper work etc , you may have someone who wants to double check so I would even make some copies if possible! Its always Beneficial to be over prepared than to be unprepared in totality. :)

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Hope you enjoy ✨

IG: @soleccentric

#pick a picture #pac reading #pick a card #spirituality #love #tarotdaily #tarot reading #connection #culture #pick a pile #universal #pick a deck #pick a photo #tarotcommunity #tarot #oracle cards

[superkirbylover]

FINALLY!!! the VERY final refs for the ponified cast of pizza tower. everypony has the same name except for pizzahead, who's called pizzahoof. pizzahoof was also designed by @c0met-dr01d!! go check them out :]

under the cut is me rambling about their cutiemarks (or lack thereof) and other design choices

gustavo's cutiemark is a pizza with three mushroom toppings, because he's a chef, and earlier in pizza tower development, he was a gnome! this isn't the case anymore though, but i still like to think he is. that, and i just associate him with gnome forest, so it felt fitting. plus, i suppose it adds to the mario comparisons lmao

peppino's cutiemark is a pepperoni pizza alongside a pizzacutter. i know people are raising eyebrows at the pepperoni, but my excuse is... uhh, they're not actually pepperoni. it's like, some vegetarian alternative. probably made of flowers or some shit. the pizza is obvious, he's a chef and he cooka-da-pizza. the pizza cutter isn't just to hammer that in, but it's also a callback to the various times throughout pizza tower development where he used to have a pizza cutter buzz-saw! especially in pizza massacre

noise's cutiemark is a bomb with its fuse lit, because it represents his explosive personality and he often uses bombs. dude is wacky, unpredictable and can be a feral fucking thing. also something about acting, being a mascot or being in the showbiz somewhere in the mix. he has a tail, but it's just... in his suit. he's a dumbass

noisette's cutiemark is a ruby chocolate bar. she runs a cafe, and while she presumably has Really Weird Taste, i figured it would be a really cute fit for her. it's sweet, just like her! and pink. just like her!

fake peppino deliberately does not have a cutiemark. it's to add to the sense of "failed clone," where many aspects of peppino have been successfully recreated (body type, hair color, coat color, outfit, facial hair) but other small things have been muddled or changed by mistake (height, eyes not staying in their sockets, hair being more smooth looking, face shape). not to mention, he's made of dough, like his original clone counterpart. in the show, it's established that only ponies can have cutiemarks. while he looks like a pony, who's to say he really is one?

stick's cutiemark is that television hud you see when you have enough money to buy a boss gate in pizza tower. i chose this cause on top of being a tv, a reoccurring object throughout the game, it also has some modifications to make it more... stick-y. it has his hat and a propeller coming from the top, and if you know stick, that man likes to make shit, specifically to sell and make money. that's also why there's a money sign in the tv. stick has a tail stub but i never really draw it myself. he's completely bald. mind you, he still has his coat, but no mane, no tail. zilch. he's a bald motherfucker. also stick's magic color is green

pizzahoof also does not have a cutiemark. he's a fucking cheese pony, why would he need one? dude just exists to be silly and whimsical. giving him one i feel would go against his character of just being clownish, doing what he wants when he wants, regardless if it means others suffer because of him or not. also, he's MADE of CHEESE!!!

#ponified #pizza tower #mlpfim #peppino spaghetti #gustavo #the noise #noisette #fake peppino #mr stick #pizzahead #peppino #gustavo pizza tower #noise pizza tower #noisette pizza tower #pizzahoof #peppony #ponytower #mlp #my little pony #my little pony friendship is magic #sklart

[askdiscordwhooves]

This update was drawn by me, @jitterbugjive

I want to address one thing that I KNOW some people are going to complain about because they've already complained about if it would happen, and that’s The Doctor and Derpy getting together in the end. I understand the concerns. This is in no way meant to say ‘your abusers will eventually change for the better if you just say the right things to them’. This isn’t that kind of story. These are special circumstances that DO NOT EXIST in real life where the abuser was under MAGICAL mind control. That’s not who he actually is and when he’s himself he’s not remotely an abuser. He is safe from having a relapse, the curse is gone and over with because the core Discord was killed while the fragment left over in their universe has been reformed.

 Real abusers are not under any kind of puppetry or mind control when they do what they do, and no not even getting drunk counts as this because when someone is an abusive drunk they’re still choosing to get drunk when they are well aware of what they do when under the influence. If The Doctor did any of this abuse on his own terms, I wouldn’t have let them get back together. I’m an abuse survivor, I know better than that. When you try to compare completely fantasy scenarios that can’t happen in real life to.. Well, real life, you’re kind of reaching at straws at that point. Besides, this relationship wasn’t automatically better just because he returned to normal. Both of them suffered damage and trauma and both needed to navigate around it to be able to trust one another again. If there’s any kind of comparison to make, it’d be more like a loved one suffering a psychotic episode and doing horrible things they’d never do in their right mind. And some people are able to understand and forgive, while others are not. The pain of having a psychotic episode and saying and doing things that hurt people is really hard to overcome, it’s hard to trust yourself and it can be hard to make amends. But a psychotic episode does not dictate who a person is. It just doesn’t. And that’s the closest thing to reality this story is. I tried to handle this as best I could, because in my line of work recovery is the most important thing and I understand that someone coming out of a bad episode needs support and compassion (Unless they’re a terrible person in general) and there have been extreme cases where perfectly good people end up going as far as murder- even murdering their own children, but their loved ones are able to reason that they were sick and they are going to suffer great pain upon realizing what they’d done, and they are going to seek help. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to forgive someone who did terrible things in a psychotic state, and that’s within your right, but it doesn’t mean people who can forgive are any less valid. Listen, if a husband can be capable of not blaming his wife for killing their kids in a psychotic state (a very real event that happened rather recently, simply google “wife psychosis news killed children husband forgives” and you’ll find it), it's perfectly reasonable that someone can forgive someone who was under magical mind control.

If you are in a physically abusive relationship, you need to get out of it. The likelihood of this person changing for the better is extremely low, and you can’t cling to the idea of the rare few people who manage to work through these kind of things. Those are very special circumstances and in my opinion if there’s a relapse into violence after making genuine efforts to change, that should be the end of it once and for all. It shouldn’t be happening to begin with, it should not be tolerated. You matter, you deserve to be treated with kindness and compassion. Never let anyone tell you or make you feel otherwise. Please take care of yourselves, and DO NOT use this story as a basis for how to manage your own relationships, no matter how much you might think you see yourselves in it. This is fiction, and the scenarios in this story do not happen in real life. If you can’t discern reality from fiction, that is all on you, not me.

#discord whooves #doctor whooves #my little pony #derpy hooves #dinky #sparkler #warden #aurora #pierce #neosurgeon #carrot top #jack harkness #disclaimer

[devildomwriter]

Demon Types

Here’s my extensive guide to demon types and their psychology and physiology

What type is your OC

Avian

Avian demons are categorized based on feather or other bird like attributes.

A common avian demon will have one or more pairs of feathered wings, in rarer cases they will have a feathered tail, feathered ears, a bird’s beak, or bird’s feet.

Avian demons tend to be on the prideful and showy side and normally share one or more personality characteristics with the bird they most resemble, the most common being a raven or crow.

They tend to have a lighter body weight and their wings are more fragile since the bones inside are hollow allowing a lighter body for flight.

Another contributor to a light body weight is they have stomachs smaller than most demons which leads to them becoming full easily and not being weighed down by food

More common magic abilities in avian types include voice mimicking, flexible necks, heightened navigation skills, and a good amount of speed thanks to light bodies and feathered wings

Avians have a difficult time maintaining their wings or feathers on their own and will usually require help.

Every so often they keep their wings out to allow old feathers to fall and if they have no patience for this will do it themselves or ask for assistance

Similarly to angels, avian demons mix a special brew that must be applied to their wings to keep them clean, healthy, and shiny as they don’t produce it naturally like wild birds would.

Avians tend to have a habit of surrounding themselves with jewelry or nicknacks and collecting things they find like shiny pebbles. They usually can’t ignore fallen change on the street or purchasing any jewelry they deem appealing to the eye.

For this reason many avians are either wild thieves or high class citizens for the sole purpose of obtaining what they desire as demons lack sufficient control of their impulses.

Typically avians have jobs in offices, fashion, design, high profile positions, and the STEM field.

Given that many avians were once angels or are renowned in the same way Lucifer is, they are stereotyped as a high class type of demon though the majority live in the wilds acting more like vultures than peacocks

Known Avians: Lucifer

Commonality: 1/10

Reptilian

Reptilians demons are categorized based on scales and other reptilian features.

A common reptilian demon will present a long scaled tail, forked tongue, and slit pupils but not always all three. They will always have hard armor-like scales, and very rarely have wings.

Reptilian demons tend to be more hostile to others until they trust you and come out of their shells, which could take a long time.

Reptilians are easy to distinguish medically, because of their cold-blood combined with scales. For the rare winters and freezes in the Devildom, this is a real issue and they need to prepare their homes to maximum heat, as they don’t do well in the cold and could fall into a coma-like hibernation until they’ve become warm again.

The myth of demons being creatures of the night has a lot to do with reptilian demons. The reptilian demons are usually sent as spies warriors to the human realm due to their thick armor-like scales. However in the human world where the sun shines they become more lethargic and relaxed as they absorb the sun’s energy in the day and are more active and awake at night, using the energy they stored.

Reptilian magic tends to be geared more towards offensive spells since they are common soldiers and the original demon species, aside from the draconian devil. They can use defensive magic but their thick scales are usually protection enough from major wounds.

Every so often reptiles will shed their scales and regrow more durable ones, even if the specific demon does not need them for battle. Demons who are used to combat and battle will shed theirs more often, the bodies natural response to any inflictions.

Reptilians usually gravitate towards more militant jobs or ones that don’t appear in public eye like working from home, or in a quiet office room.

Reptilians don’t tend to have a social class stereotype because of their commonality but many are proud to be reptilian types and see themselves as the originals.

Known Reptilians: Barbatos

Commonality: 10/10

Aquatic

Aquatic demons are categorized based on their adaptability to water and the usual appearance of gills and webbed finger or toes.

A common aquatic demon will have a long tail, usually with fins or slick scales that help them adapt to the water and move more gracefully through it. Very rarely do they have wings but sometimes with will have large fins that appear to be wings.

Like reptilians they are cold blooded and in times of rare cold on the surface, they prefer to retreat to the warmer oceans and lakes or a heated indoor pool.

Similarly to fish the aquatic demons have a air-bladder that allows them to control their buoyancy and maintain the depth they are in the water without expending too much of their energy swimming upwards and downwards.

Not all aquatic demons will have gills but most have lungs adaptable to air and to water. If they don’t have gills they will need to exercise often to maintain their naturally powerful lungs allowing them to hold their breath for extended amounts of time. Most aquatic types can hold their breath for hours on end, untrained lungs should still be able to hold their breath for close to an hour before it becomes painful.

A downside to living on the land includes increased chances of dry skin and dry eyes. They usually compensate by taking more baths and showers, living somewhere more humid, and using eye drops.

All aquatic babies are born with gills and do better a water-crib—a bath-like crib full of water specifically for aquatic type demons—these cribs allow them to breathe more easily after birth and slowly adapt to the air.

More common magic and non-magic abilities in aquatic demons are water adaptability, water manipulation, communication with sea animals, great speed and grace in water, smell great distances underwater, excellent marksmanship, clearer vision, and some even have the ability to change their sex.

Their jobs typically involve water in some way for example working at an aquarium, being a life guard, being part of the navy or cost guard, teaching swimming are aqua aerobics, etc.

Aquatic demons tend to be more easy going, happy-go-lucky, bubbly people but there are exceptions and some can be very stealthy, shy, and introverted. They enjoy surrounding themselves with reminders of the ocean, lost treasures, and things like beautiful petals and shells

Known Aquatics: Leviathan

Commonality: 5/10

Mammalian

Mammalian are warm-blooded demons that bare clear animalistic traits in their demon forms. These can include bovine markings, felines eyes, more natural body hair, cloven feet, barbed tongues and many more common distinguishing features. Mammalian are very rarely winged, and usually have tails related to their animal. Most mammalians have cow, bull, sheep, goat, or lion features. The animal they are related to usually has a lot to do with personality, for examples the lions tend to be more proud and aggressive, the bovine are easily angered and slothful, the goats like to but heads with others and will eat just about anything, the felines tend to be loners and the canines tend to have large friend groups, etc.

Mammalians are usually heavier and physically stronger than they appear but their magic is usually weaker than the average demon as compensation.

Common magical abilities will also vary depending on the animal they relate to but usually include night-vision, increased senses, increased strength, heightened awareness of their surroundings, energy absorption, high adaptability and stealth, and silver tongues.

Mammalian demons have a tendency to shed and must brush their hair and tails often. They grow body hair more quickly and need to shave more often too, while some don’t mind this others are annoyed enough to seek out medication it magical alternatives to laser hair removal. Some however take great pride in their body hair and female/non-binary mammalian demons tend to be more attracted to those with beards or more hair.

They have a harder time resisting temptation than most, this reason isn’t fully known, and they are typically outgoing and well known people, even the quiet ones have a large presence or air of mystery surrounding them.

Mammalians find fluffy pillows, clothes, and blankets to be very comforting. They prefer meaty foods and milk-based drinks although some stick to a more herbivore diet (based on their animal) however this is exceedingly rare as veganism/vegetarianism is almost unheard of for demons.

Mammalians tend to have more athletic, therapeutic, salesmanship or nature-based jobs including professional athletes, physical trainers, job recruiters, hosts, therapists, gardeners, farmers, etc.

Known Mammalians: Belphegor

Commonality: 4/10

Insectoid

Insectoid demons are distinguishable by their insect or arachnid features. Most will have more than one pair of eyes, bug-related wings, a scorpion tail, or piercers in their demon form.

Insectoid females tend to be larger than regular females and are more brazen and domineering. The males tend to be more quiet, aloof, and isolated.

Insectoids have larger appetites than most, can carry things much heavier than themselves, work best in groups, and tend to copy each other (almost like a hive-mind)

They are much sturdier than most demons but have a very fast metabolism as a means to help them fly more easily, so they can often be seen eating and you’d be hard pressed to find a youthful overweight insectoid.

Insectoids can also shed their exoskeletons and scales, which appears rather frightening but doesn’t cause them any harm and helps them in many ways. They become more durable, lose any trace of scars, and become more appealing too.

Insectoid demons usually have poison that can cause pain, immobility, or attraction. They use it as they see fit, but there are rules governing the usage and legality of some things their poison allows them to do.

Insectoids may have other amazing natural abilities like detecting a change in air current, incredibly high jumps, superior strength, hypermobility, superior durability and agility, silk-production, poison production, mobile heads, may have extra stomachs.

Magical abilities that insectoids may possess are mind-control, hormonal manipulation, invisibility, chemical manipulation, telepathy, magic tunneling (creation of tunnels using magic), and other earth-related abilities.

Insectoid males tend to gravitate towards laborious work, athletic careers, and somewhere they can be part of a large team, while females tend to seek jobs of power and strive to make their way up the ranks in the political and working world.

Insectoids tend to be clingier than most, like to observe others closely, are easily manipulated by trends, are very trusting, and a little aloof. For females almost the opposite can be said. These personalities also depend on the insect they represent but generally gender plays the largest roll and changes the way they think, however therapy can work for those who do like being naturally aloof or domineering. It should be noted that this is not always the case.

Insectoids are usually generalized as hard working and/or manipulative people and do very well in Devildom society.

Known Insectoids: Beelzebub

Commonality: 7/10

Draconian

Draconian demons will either have scaled dragon-like wings, or a dragon-tail. Those without these features may be categorized based on natural fire magic combined with cold-blood.

Draconian types have a very high tolerance to heat and fire, more so than the average demon. They have very strong wings and are highly capable fliers.

Unlike reptiles who absorb energy from sunlight to preserve, Draconians are completely photosynthetic and not only absorb energy for immoderate use and preservation, but heal faster, have their fire abilities fueled, and become more powerful in all aspects.

Like reptilian demons they usually just preserve this power for later, but are the most dependable fighters anywhere the sun shines as they don’t become relaxed and lethargic in the sunlight but much more aware.

Every year or after substantial damage is done to the body, Draconians will shed their scales and regrow nicer and sturdier scales to replace them.

Draconians tend to be very prideful since they are the same type as the royal bloodline—the original Draconians.

Like the beasts they’re named after, Draconian expect respect and adoration. They enjoy surrounding themselves with Golden and shiny things, gems, jewelry, expensive things and anything that enhances their charm and sense of authority.

Draconian’s are naturally more proficient in fire magic and typically do poorest with water magic though they’re able to become skilled in it too. Other magic they excel in are dark magic, curses, hexes, and voodoo, detection magic, summoning magic, mental manipulation, and seduction.

While their fire magic is exceedingly powerful, it will dull in colder temperatures.

Their natural abilities include heightened senses, accelerated healing, limb regrowth, powerful jumps, and fire resistance.

Unlike other cold blooded demons, the fire magic inside them keeps them warm enough to endure blizzards and freezes although they still feel the affects.

Draconian demons have a few quirky habits like slowly blinking, tilting their heads, flicking their tongues, hissing and lots of fidgeting.

Draconian types are generalized as upper class demons and haughty. They usually aim for high ranking jobs and political positions although due to their commonality, they can be found in every career although they prefer to avoid work they feel is demeaning or too demanding of them.

Known Draconians: Diavolo, Asmodeus, Mammon

Commonality: 9/10

Elemental

Elemental demons are very rare and possesses elemental features like rocky skin, twig horns, thorny tails, vine hair, etc.

Elemental demons are methodical and very in tune with their surroundings, allowing them to naturally adapt to social situations and blend in to a crowd.

Elemental demons’ personalities are reflected in their demon forms. A demon with a hostile personality may possesses rock like features or thorny tails, those with more wooden or nature related features are usually free spirited and down to earth, someone with fiery features are usually bold and outgoing, someone with ice features may be more introverted, etc.

Elementals are very rare and no two are exactly alike so not much can be determined about their physiology though it’s been shown they are proficient in the element reflected in their features.

Demons with earthen features will be proficient in earth magic, gravitational magic, strength enhancement, durability, defensive magic etc.

Demons with nature features will be more proficient in nature magic, growth and healing magic, energy magic, etc.

Demons with fire features will be proficient in fire magic, light magic, energy magic, offensive magic, etc.

Demons with water/ice features will be proficient in ice and water magic, blood magic, voodoo, positions, and empath magic.

Demons with shadow features will will be more proficient in dark magic, shadow magic, stealth magic, invisibility, etc.

Depending on their body they may shed leaves, replace and regrow bark and rocks, their fire may dim in cold months, their water may freeze in the cold, etc.

Elemental demons tend to gravitate towards more social and service related jobs. Although often seen as a powerful position, political positions are also a frequent option since they are meant to serve the public. Medical jobs are also a common choice.

Known Elementals: Satan

Commonality: .5/10

Deviant

A deviant demon has a form that does not fit into any specific category. Deviant types are extremely rare and named after such. These demons may have more or less than two horns, unusually physical abnormalities, and an undetermined representative animal. They are usually very powerful magic users and often appear as hybrids of known types.

Due to their rarity not much can be said about them other than they usually cause a stir when spotted and become famous more quickly due to their unique appearances and abilities.

Known Deviants: none

Commonality: (.02/10)

Lucifer

Lucifer is of the avian body type. He has four large black wings that are powerful enough to create gusts of wind and make him a very capable flier though he does not often use them to fly great distances.

Mammon

Mammon is of the draconian body type. Like other draconian demons he is resistant to fire and privy to fire magic. He is very energetic and due to lack of sunlight and crashes after using his energy instead of constantly being able to absorb more.

Leviathan

Leviathan may seem reptilian but he is of the aquatic type. Possessing defining gills and slick scales and a long tail that help him swim swiftly in the water he is the ultimate aquatic demon with extremely powerful water magic and command over sea life. His horns resemble coral that enable more stealth in the oceans.

Satan

Satan is of the elemental type. His tail relates to minerals and thorns as it is spiked and rock-hard. He is more capable of wielding fire rather than his body element of earth. This makes him somewhat of a deviant type.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus may have a scorpion as his representative but he bares stronger resemblance and characteristics of a draconian demon though this can be debated. Asmodeus has plentiful energy and four scaly wings which place him into this category. As someone who absorbs sunlight he does not easily tan or relax in it.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is a fine example of an insectoid demon. His wings resemble of fly's wings but despite appearances they are not delicate and make him an incredibly fast flier, possibly the fastest of them. His wing scales sometimes shed and are replaced by stronger ones.

Belphegor

Belphegor is of the mammalian body type. He has a prickly cow tail which is very strong and fast, making it a powerful weapon to him. As a mammalian his magic is a little weaker but he is the strongest of the mammalian demons.

Barbatos

Barbatos is of the reptilian species. His bony horns represent the lost species of serpents like the one who tempted Eve. Despite being shaped like wings they by no means allow flight capabilities. His tail is forked and scaly and allows him to hang by it or easily tear things down with it. The scales are much smoother than the average reptilian which is useful for swimming. Barbatos was once considered a deviant type which is fitting for his magic and distinct characteristics but he was later evaluated as reptilian.

Diavolo

Diavolo is of the draconian body type just as all the proceeding kings were. The draconian type is held in high regard due to being a signature trait of the royal family. Diavolo has four large wings connected at the back and sharp talons which he covers with golden sheaths to prevent accidental harm and damage to his surroundings. He is very energetic and Fire is his strongest elemental magic type. Due to his status he can freely visit the human world and make use of his absorption abilities

#obey me headcanons #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demons #obey me shall we date