#Magic demon batter

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical

↳ song: si j'étais blanche—joséphine baker

↳ notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It wasn’t your fault you’ve always had a messed up sleep schedule

• Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldn’t give you a break even in death

• You weren’t exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night

• Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, they’d compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end you’d carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way

• The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until you’d started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind

• Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasn’t drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly

• In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out

• Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile

• You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear

• “I’m sorry—“ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. “—but you should have seen your face.” He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit

• “Hey! Watch it!”

• He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn star’s styled hair

• Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways

• Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass

• “Too much to drink?” She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if you’d wake if she pressed to hard

• Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now

• “Not exactly.” He huffed

• Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting

• Alastor had called everyone— more like demanded them —into the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact

• With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so

• You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids

• By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles

• But you? Well—

• “So!” Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. “What do you all thi— are they asleep.”

• Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake

• You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously

• “Uh, my bad?”

• Alastor’s smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half

• “Glad to know I’m keeping you entertained.” He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise

• You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastor’s least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles

• “Maybe we’ve had enough peer feedback for today—“ Vaggie cut in cautiously

• “I concur.” Came your quick agreement

• You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust x you #angel dust x y/n #husk #husk x reader #husk x you #husk x y/n #charlie #vaggie #x reader #headcanons

[rineptune]

hello! can i get a lucifer x fallen angel!reader, that is maybe seen as another parental figure for charlie, and there’s some jealousy from luci in the beginning before he realizes how much care reader has towards charlie? if that makes sense?

hell’s greatest parent.

summary: in which charlie thinks of you as a parent figure and once again lucifer’s genuinely distraught and scared that his one and only daughter would no longer need him.

a/n: he’s jus a little insecure, but lucifer’s doing his best and that’s what matters!!

lucifer could feel it. an irritated, uptight smile threatening to make itself known in his face.

“what was that, kiddo?” lucifer asks charlie.

“yn’s going to teach me how to make pancakes!” charlie answers. “it’s a great bonding activity that enhances familial relationships. they told me all about how pancakes made in heaven are soo different from the ones made here— i just had to ask if they could teach me!”

“she’s quite the persistent lady, your highness,” you chuckle. “i’m assuming she got that from you?”

“...yes,” he grumbles, straightening his posture. “but, charlie! why didn’t you just call me? no offense, but i make out-of-this-hell pancakes, too!”

“because, dad! you weren’t awake yet, and i wanted to surprise everyone here in the hotel with heaven’s recipe for a devilishly delicious breakfast,” she preened, hands clasped together. stars are shimmering in her eyes, possibly a candidate to outshimmer the pentagram in the skies.

lucifer sighs, defeated. “oh, alright... but i’ll watch.”

“ok! this could be a refresher memory for you,” she beams. “what first, yn?”

“well, to start, we need to wear our aprons.”

you held up one for charlie, the fabric littered with small red hearts for its pattern, which she gingerly took with delighted awe. you also offered one to lucifer, but instead of accepting what you had brought with you, he simply snapped his fingers, and with what’s left of his angelic magic, he conjured one of his own, which he wore with a smug grin.

“how efficient.”

“heh, i could do a lot more than that,” he proudly says.

“i would never doubt it, your highness.”

your indifference to lucifer’s (perfectly wrapped under the radar) jealousy is just perfect. not only did he deal with the radio demon, who had the balls to even duel him in a sing-off—now he had to win a cooking contest, too?

it’s crazy!

crazy if he doesn’t participate in it and properly show you why he’s the boss!

“and careful to put the batter, charlie,” you guide her hand to pour the batter onto the heated pan.

“whoa—.. i did it!” she cheers.

“good job, sweetie,” he tells her.

lucifer is on charlie’s left, observing how his daughter works herself around the kitchen. he had to admit, you were a pretty good teacher; that even he learned a thing or two about making pancakes.

would you look at that?

lucifer learning new things that he already thought he knew.

“now, what would you want to go with your breakfast, charlie?” you ask.

“there’s bloodied-sweet syrup, mini fresh eyeballs that a friend of alastor brought in earlier; oh— ah, here it is,” you pulled out maple and strawberry syrup along with some butter and fruits— actual fresh fruits that you managed to smuggle in your bag before the fall.

“what?! they actually have maple syrup, and not stale-oak sap?”

“yes, they do,” you chuckle. “would you like to try them?”

“do i? i’m so happy to!”

lucifer sits at the end of the table as charlie decorates her pancakes with the toppings and condiments of her liking. a smile is seen on his face.

he remembers the time when it used to be like this, simple and sweet. how times have gone by, really.

“pancakes?”

your offer brought him out of his trance of thought. a breakfast shaped into one of his favorite things in the world.

a duck with a little apple slice on its head.

“thank you, though you didn’t have to go through the trouble of...” lucifer’s absolutely speechless, and if it weren’t for the façade he has on, you bet your wings he would’ve been jumping up and down in joy. “serving it in this shape.”

“it’s no trouble at all, really.” you smiled.

and holy hell does that smile ease his worries.

“dad, oh my gosh! thesh are twe besht pancwakes, ever! like, weally—the absholoo best!” charlie says, words somewhat audible because she had her mouth full.

“charlie, dear, don’t talk while your mouth is full; otherwise you’ll choke,” you sigh, yet there was a smile on your lips, taking initiative to wipe away the excess syrup on the corner of her mouth with a damp cloth.

charlie giggles sheepishly, nodding.

“than’ weu!”

the realization sets in when lucifer sees this. that you actually care for charlie and are not there to replace him totally. he’s reassured, and happy as he finally takes a bite of his warm, delicious breakfast.

#classic ໒꒱ ink #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x you #lucifer fluff

[writing-fanics]

don’t mess with the devil ii

Part I final

Chapter ii: Home is with you

[warning: mentions of sex]

Lucifer Morningstar x human!Reader

Y/n

Y/n?

Sweetie?

The smell of chemicals wafted through your nose, and the occasional beeps that sounded like a heartbeat monitor? You groaned, and your vision still blurry. “L-Lu?..” Your voice hoarse, but the voice didn’t respond.

“It’s me mom.” The voice said, causing you to sit up quickly in response. “Whoa, slow down.” Your mother, said placing a hand on your back. “I-I’m back..” You whispered, and your mother looked at you worriedly. She gently rubbed your hand, “Yes you’re. Thank Heavens.” She said, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

You sat there and said nothing, staring blankly at the blanket. Processing everything, you were no longer in Hell. No longer with Lucifer. You were back home on Earth with your mother. Like you always wanted right? Then why did you feel so cold? So empty?

You felt as if a piece of you was missing. Like you were missing your other half. Your Lucifer. You missed his warmth, his smile, and his goofy personality at times. He always found a way to make you smile whenever you were feeling down, and you would return that sentiment.

You didn’t tell him you loved him yet, he’s told you. But he respected that you might not be ready to saw it yet. He understood completely, once you explained it to him. Having told him about your bad relationships in the past. Now, that all seemed to end right now. You were never going to see him again.

“Y/n, oh sweetie you look pale.” Your mother said, snapping you out of your thoughts. As she placed her hand on your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” She said, and you assumed she left to get the doctor. You frowned, as you laid back down in the hospital bed. The hospital gown fabric scratchy, and the sound of the heart monitor made you sick.

You laid on your side, back towards the door. Your stomach grumbled, but you didn’t feel like eating anything. Laying in the single bed made you, the king sized bed you shared with the king of hell.

The satin sheets and the comfortable bed. Mainly you missed, laying in bed with him cuddling or just laying there to relax. Or of course doing the ol devils tango. You missed the smell of the caramel apple candle that filled the bedroom. The smell of freshly baked apple by on Saturday mornings.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, as you hid your head into your pillow. As much as you were happy to be back home, seeing your mom again. Somehow, what was once home no longer felt like it.

You opened your closed hand to reveal, a golden ring with wing like textures engraved into it. Tears welled up in your eyes, as you were filled with so much regret.

“I should’ve told him..” you sniffled, as you closed your hand again. Hiding your face into your pillow once again. “How much I love him.” You whimpered, as you sobbed.

back in hell

Weeks later

Lucifer sighed, as he leaned forward onto his desk. His eyes wandered towards the framed picture on his desk, of you and him at Lu Lu World. “This is way better than Disney!” He remembered you said, after which you showed him pictures. He knew of another park called ‘Hellsney’.

You had faded away from his hands, and a part of him knew you were going back to the living world. He felt it when part of his magic he shared with you, returned to him. He didn’t even get to say goodbye, tell you how much he loved you before you faded away in his arms.

At least, he knew you were much sadder up there than here. He couldn’t bear the site of your beaten and battered body. Adam was lucky that Charlie was there to keep him, from killing him.

Lucifer stared down at Adam, as he held Charlie in his arms. His voice distorted and demonic. “You come at me my daughter and my partner!” said Lucifer, as his daughter stepped down onto the ground.

He lunged towards Adam, and stood over him. Eyes red glowing filled with rage, “Don’t forget your in my house now bitch!” He laughed, demonically as he threw punch after punch. With the intent to kill. You don’t mess with the devil or his family.

He’s going to miss that smile of yours, that infectious laughter. Your voice, and your delicious cooking that rivaled his. He never thought he’d find love again after, Lilith left. Yet, here you come in six years later. A human no doubt ending up in hell so suddenly, and he fell in love with you.

Now, you left too. Not by choice but you were gone as well. He was still recovering from Lilith leaving him while the two of you, were still in a relationship. You told him that you understood, being together for as long as they did you understood.

You being there with him helped seemed to heal that wound. Then fixing his relationship with his daughter helped too. But now that wound in his heart, seemed to open back up. Hells, he loved you god so fucking much. You were special there was something about you, maybe the two of you were soulmates.

A silly thing to think but it could be possible?

He reached towards the photo, and stared at it longingly. You had a goofy smile on your face.

He remembered that day, after that photo was taken. A hellbird flew down, and stole his caramel apple. You gave yours to him, and the two of you shared it.

God he was going to miss you..

“Come on.” A distorted voice said, he turned around in his chair. “Who’s there?!” He called out, but saw nothing. Was it all in his head. He could’ve sworn that voice sounded familiar.

“Lu!” A voice called out, a faint yellow glow as if a portal trying to manifest itself appeared behind him. He didn’t notice a hand reaching out to touch him, through the tiny hole.

He thought it must’ve been that Alastor, pulling some sick twisted prank on him. But he could’ve sworn, he felt a little bit of his magic leave him.. That could only mean..

Taglist: @96jnie

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer Morningstar x you #Lucifer Morningstar x y/n #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #lucifer imagine #lucifer x reader #Hazbin hotel x reader

[thebowieconstricker]

Sweet Mornings

Lucifer Morningstar x reader oneshot

Request: Them cooking together and it ending in either him cuddling her so much that they forget about the food and it burns, or baking and that ends in a food fight and kisses. Bonus points, if it burns down the Hotels kitchen and Charlie freaks out.

Okay so this is the CUTEST FREAKING THING EVER??? Love this request sm sorry it took a million years whoops lol enjoy

Tags: Literally just pure fluff, pancakes, kinda language, whipped-cream-related violence, gender neutral reader

~~~

Warm, soft mornings in bed with your beloved partner were becoming more common ever since you and Lucifer had become a couple. Not only was he excellent at cuddles, but his wings made the most delightful blankets to fall asleep under. On this particular morning, you were slowly waking up, and the first thing you noticed was the gentle grip Lucifer had on your form, clinging to your waist even in his sleep. You glanced at the clock to your right as you laid on your back and softly giggled. It was 3:00 in the morning, aka the “devil’s hour”, as some called it, and here he was, asleep in your shared bed. You shifted a bit to stretch and Lucifer made a small noise.

“I’m just moving a bit.” You whispered, bringing up a hand to brush through his blonde locks.

“Mmm, nah, just stay here.” He reached his arm back over your stomach and grabbed your hip, pulling you against his side.

You smiled affectionately, and while you looked at his quite literally angelic face, you thought of an idea.

“Hey, Luci… you wanna make pancakes?”

His eyes sprang open and his eyebrows shot up. A wide grin broke out on his face and quicker than you could blink, he had pulled both you and himself up and off the bed. With a snap of his fingers, the two of you were dressed in comfortable robes with silly slippers. He wore a bright yellow pair with duck faces, because of course he did. Your slippers were of your favorite animal, which was one of the many gifts Lucifer had given you.

With a wave of his hand, Lucifer had magically transported the two of you to the kitchen downstairs. It was a rather large kitchen, plenty of shelves and cabinets stocked with ingredients. You adjusted your robe and began to move towards one of the cupboards when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your torso. Following close behind was the warm face of your lover, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

“Honey, we can’t cuddle and make pancakes.” You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he replied, “Who says we can’t?”

He snapped once more and suddenly, all of your necessary materials and ingredients appeared on the kitchen island.

“There ya go, now you’ve just gotta stand there.”

You laughed and shuffled to the island.

You quickly realized that this was going to be far more difficult than you originally anticipated. For some reason, Lucifer was determined to make the simple activity of pancake-making as tedious as possible for you. When you measured the flour, he insisted that you had poured too much, leading you to re-measure six times. The eggs that you cracked always had a bit of shell in them, and instead of helping, Lucifer would just magic you more. “I’ll keep my arms right here, thank you.” He said from behind you. He did, however, beg you to add more sugar. You finally had to put your foot down after the 3rd empty bag. Why did you trust his horrible advice? No one knows, but according to legend, he apparently knows what he’s doing when it comes to pancakes.

After you had finally created some kind of batter, you struggled over to the oven with Lucifer’s arms still around you. You carefully poured the mixtures onto the skillet after putting the eye on the ‘high’ setting, and with the warm, sweet smells from the food and the demon snuggling your back, you were starting to get pretty sleepy.

That’s when you noticed it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that Lucifer had magicked some whipped cream in a can. Obviously, for the purpose of a topping, but you had other plans. You were sure that Lucifer’s eyes were closed behind you (you had even heard him snore a couple of times). Stealthily, you reached for the whipped cream and uncapped the can. You shook it and poured a bit into your mouth, just for fun. Then, you made your real move. You sprayed a good amount on your hand and put the can down.

“Hey, Luci, is it brown enough?” You asked innocently.

“Hmm..? I uh-“ He rubbed his eyes behind you and leaned over your shoulder to take a look at your pancake. “Yeah, you should probably flip-“

You swung your hand around and threw the whipped cream so it landed squarely on his face.

“AH-“

Lucifer’s arms eat go from your waist as he stumbled backwards in shock. His arms reached for his face to feel the whipped cream. Realizing what it was, he smiled wickedly as a forked licked the sweets off his hand.

“Oh, you have no idea who you just fucked.”

You doubled over as you cried with laughter at the sight of him, and laughed even more at that statement.

“It’s- it’s fucked with, Luci-“

Suddenly, whipped cream had landed on your face, splattering on your robe. You heard his musical laughter in front of you and, just like that, it was on.

Lucifer had summoned cans and cans of whipped cream on either of your sides and the two of you ducked behind and hopped over the kitchen island, throwing whipped cream at each other and throwing any other food you could find in the kitchen. You found a sleeve of graham crackers and started chucking those at some point while Lucifer grabbed some of his fire breathing ducks to melt the sugary ammo before it hit him. You took one of your shoes off and began chasing him with it, half laughing and half threatening him, when he finally, finally, held up a white napkin, and called, “I surrender!”

You kept laughing as you tackled him in a hug, the two of you falling to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Luci, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You playfully said to him.

“Hurt? I’m offended you think I could even get hurt-“

“Then why’d you surrender?”

His arms snaked around your waist once again and he smirked.

“I guess I missed ya.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him swiftly, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to care about the hectic state of the kitchen. Your hand went to his hair and carefully caressed it, trying to tidying it a bit. When you finally broke away, he looked at you breathlessly.

“Don’t get so excited there, you just had some whipped cream on your face.” You said to him, smiling.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and another can appeared in his hand, spraying some on his lips without missing a beat.

“You dork.” You said, and kissed him again.

Then, suddenly, a voice from across the room.

“OH MY GOSH GUYS THERE’S A FIRE VAGGIE GET THE EXTINGUISHER-“

So, the two of you may have forgotten about the pancakes.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader

[orphicrose]

The Co-Host (Alastor x FemReader) X

<

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

Warnings ! ! Mentions of Death and Bl00D

W/C: 2.3K

Note : Thank you so so so much to everyone who has enjoyed this story. This is the last chapter to this book BUT I can make another book if anyone is interested. I really do appreciate the love this has gotten. As when it started I thought no one would open it and now i have so many readers.

@cannibalcoyote @kahlan170 @sugxryratz @multifandom-superlover @t0xic1vi @saccharine-nectarine

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

Rage filled his body, replacing his lust. Surging through his veins like some sort of adrenaline booster. "Satan...."

A cane appeared in his fingertips, gripping to tight they turned white. Circulation scared to temper with the angered wendigo. Shadows tailed behind his hooves like an army of deviancy. Nothing more to lose but his second life, but that was meaningless anyway without y/n. His minions disperse from him like pathogens looking for a host, flying through the walls and dimly lit areas of hell, looking for their target. Satan. 

Alastor rampaged through hell, his demonic form replacing any evidence of someone who was a human once upon a time. Radio dials replacing his pupils, and black tar like legs emerging from his torso like something from the deep sea. Face like a crazed killer relapsing, reminding him of who he was supposed to be. Lilith hadn't given him this great power for no reason, and he was going to use it. 

On the other side of hell, Y/n lay battered on a warehouse floor. Abandoned by its former workers, bought by Satan to be turned into another means of business without a doubt. 

"There were no distractions" She spluttered on the floor, arms bringing her away from the dirt. "My numbers are up, I don't understand..."

"Not even your sins can be of deterrence to that fool." The man mumbled, trailing around her like a coyote. "I should of killed him when I had the opportunity"

Y/n sat still, doe eyes following his movements with any anticipation to flee for her life. "I never asked for any of this"

"No one asks for anything!" He bites back, stopping in his step to lean towards the cowering demon at his feet. "I gave you a job to do, and you failed. I gave you opportunities to be a great overlord, a wealthy power to be reckoned with. And what do you do with it?"

She remained quiet, face falling to avoid his gaze. 

"What do you do with it?" He repeats. Voice quieter, more sinister. "You don't even use it" The quiet whisper turns to a dark chuckle. Repeating the sentence over and over. "You don't even use it". He can't even comprehend how anyone wouldn't want the power, how anyone would fail to use it. 

"What could one want more than raw magic?"

"Normality" Y/n mumbled. Feeling the blood running from her heart to her fingers, a sensation she missed from her previous life. "What do you need a million souls for? " Her tone became accusing, bolder. Climbing to her feet and balancing her stance to oppose the large man in front of her. She couldn't lose more than her life in this moment, she thought. "There is a limit for power, even for a sin as important as you. So, why so many?"

He bared his teeth, psychotic grin turning upside down to a menacing frown. Words nor forming audible, except for the growl vibrating the glare from his fangs. 

"Why do you need the souls?" Her voice raised, coming closer. Too close. One move and he could bite her head from her shoulders like a rabid bear. 

"Power?"

"I must bring her back!" A vociferous outcry escaped him. A new level of hostility replacing his aura, a hand reaching out and grasping her neck. Restricting any air from escaping his prey. "They took her from me" Guttural sounds gave her goosebumps, watching the tormented memories in his eyes crying, driving him to the brink of insanity as the seconds passed. His anguish pouring out in a storm of shattered words and furious tears. 

Y/n clawed at the broken flesh of his fists in desperation, her fear doing the work for her as her body flailed about under his undeniable grasp. Air struggling to escape her muffled ranting for help. Her vision began to fade to the darkness of her eyelids, bloodshot at they roll away from the world. Her fighting against his merciless force taking her life from her. 

"You are replaceable, everyone is. That's what they told me. That's what they said when they took her" His fist grew tighter with ever slow word to fall from him. "They took her, so I'll take you"

Something flew through the air, something sharp. Hitting him in the hand, resulting in another nasty outburst of roars and splattered words from the sin. 

"So, this is why you are the Sin of wraith. Not very composed, I see. How fitting" Static rung in the air as y/n took in as much oxygen the world around her could offer. Clutching her throat in agony. 

The same static got louder and louder from the life outside the building, till it stopped abruptly. The sense of inevitable danger weighed on satans shoulders, looking around in a panicked state for the source. 

"A lot more paranoid than I suspected.." A hand landed on his shoulder, and sunk its claws into him. The large figure swung round, landing an elbow in Alastor's face. Stunning him. 

Satan took a long second to compose himself of the almighty being in front of him, almost too big for the large ceilings. "Impressive" he put a hand over his shoulder, a flicker of light hitting him before the wound was swiftly removed. "But not that impressive".

The sin tripled in size in just a minute. Legs stretching out, and new ones forming from his torso. Face warping into another species, one that Alastor feared the most. A hellhound, Hades himself would be scared. The absence of skin, replaced by hard bone, gave Alastor a feeling of doubt. Yet, his will to win never making a mark on the sinister grin sprawled across his jaw.  

Strong brick and infrastructure of the warehouse began to crumble. Falling around y/n like heavy snow. She had little time to comprehend what was happening as she was pulled out from underneath a falling brick. She sat, confused, on a patch of grass on the outskirts of a forest. A familiar shadow floating next to her on the floor, giving her a sad smile. Gesturing for her to remain in her place, before flying back to his owner. 

Green and Purple hues floated atop the skyline, rocks flying for miles around her as the two beasts began their decent on one another. Primal echoes of their agony sent a wave of anxiety into confused citizens. Scared to see what the commotion was about. A symphony of raw power emitting from the two, clashing and crumbling buildings around their feet. 

Y/n swallowed her fear, and struggled to her feet. It was true, she had power unlike any other overlord. Gifted to her from a sin himself, maybe she wasn't the most powerful being in the universe. But anything could help Alastor win this battle. She took a deep breath, and let it out. Letting her form sink into the ground with a purple mist following her to her destination. Materializing a few meters away from no-mans-land.

Alastor nor Satan took any interest in her presence. Till the ground shook under their feet, and Violet radiance blinded them. Almost like a storm was brewing from the core of the Earth. Years of pent up aggression and frustration came out in a loud bellow, her form warping into what could only be described as a Phoenix. Her large, dragon like body emerged from the human flesh on her back, ripping and burning it to ashes. Fur mixed with dark scales on her winged being, reminding everyone she was still a being from hell. A large beak let out a god awful screech, gaining the attention from everyone in the pentagram, and deafening those too close. Her feathers Ebony and Royal purple, resembling flames the colour of a dawning sky. Ash settled at the talons that broke the concrete below her weight, ash from her former body. 

Everything froze, to admire the beautiful beast in their presence. Mistaken for a corrupt god. Satan would have been proud, if the circumstances were different. He fell backwards a few inches, his form seemingly shrinking. Barely noticeable. 

"Y/n?" Alastor's figure remained the same, but the look in his eyes returned as he looked over to the large beast next to him. A mix of adoration and fear overcoming him. Y/n dared to move her gaze to him, then back to the offender. Remaining silent like a titan. 

Her stance shifted, a foot coming forward with great force in an instant. Letting out another unnerving scream. 

"What in my fathers name is going on here?"

Everyone looked over to y/n. Who did her best attempt at a shrug with her bird shoulders. Eyes widened as she, too, looked around for the source of the voice. The three of them turned to see a small man, hanging in the air with his large wings. Anger painted on his scowl, and arms crossed like a disappointed father. 

"Down!" He shouted, like they were animals, as he pointed towards the floor. The three of the beats shares a confused and almost embarrassed look, as they hesitantly retook their position as an average hell being. Shrinking simultaneously to their previous sizes. 

"Lucifer! How good to see you aga-"

The small man landed in front of Satan, taking no second to strike him across the face. "What do you think you are doing in pride? Destroying my buildings? Scaring my sinners?"

The large man looked down on him with a saddened look, holding the red mark on his face. "I had business to tend to"

Lucifer let out a frustrated laugh as he gestured to the damage around them. "Ya call this business?" He laughed again, stuttering, and holding his temple firmly "I don't even know what to say. Go home!" He flashed him with his horns for a brief second before letting himself calm down. "We will be discussing this later... But a few of your souls are going to be conviscated!"

Y/n stood awkwardly next to Al, holding an arm with the other. The king of hell turned to the two after Wraith had disappeared from his sight like a toddler with a tantrum. "And you two..." His arms crossed again, looking them up and down. Leaning uncomfortably close to them. "I expect more from overlords of my ring."

"I apologies... You're majesty" Y/n inched closer to Alastor for comfort, who remained silent. Staring at the short man in his gaze. 

The king shook his head, mumbling to himself. "This just won't do" 

"Do you mind... getting my soul back?" 

He returned her question with a very unimpressed stare.

"For Lucifers sake... Alastor!" Y/n's voice echoed through the house like a siren in the deer's ears. 

"Yes, Mon Cheri?" He appeared behind her in the kitchen, startling her. He spun and wacked him lightly in the chest in retaliation. "What's wrong?" "You ate the last of the snacks? I was saving them for our movie night" Y/n pouted, holding up an empty box of wafers. 

"I did no such thing. I don't even enjoy those bland creations" He pretended to take offence, holding his heart.

"Well, who else would have eaten them?"

He grinned wider, staring at her with little to no expression before grabbing her arm. "We are going to be late for our broadcast, dear. Lets solve this mystery later" He began to drag her behind him. 

"I think it's already solved" She mumbled, keeping up with his pace.

After the long journey they had suffered together, the two decided to bring a sense of normality to their life's. Staring a new Broadcasting service for all the rings of hell to enjoy. Y/n and co-host. Her name going from the overlord of souls, to the overlord of media. For now, at least. . They did broadcasts 6 days of the week, updating hell on gossip or general news. Even being introduced to sinners who listened to their broadcasts in life. Growing their names, all over again. 

If you want to know what happened to Satan, Lucifer had him put in mandatory therapy for his anger issues. And for his problems surrounding grieving. But y/n's soul was returned to her by the king himself. Well... not so much returned as it was re-located to lucifers possession. Giving a soul back is a lot harder than it sounds. But the point it, it is in a safer place. Satan's Business has been put on hold, for now. Losing over 70% of his workers to lucifer, due to mental instability. Maybe he will rise to power again one day, but at least y/n no longer has to worry about it. 

"Good morning you foul sinners, and today me, and my wonderful co-host Alastor, are bringing you todays news!" 

"Thank you Y/n! Yes, today is already a day not to forget. Turf wars making their way through the east side of the pentagram with someone known as Sir Pentious!" Alastor chuckled "He doesn't seem to be doing so well!" 

The two laughed together. The static from the radio emitting from the small device in a kitchen. Electronic fingers reach out to turn the dial, turning the volume up as the chatter continued. A large figure was perched, listening intently to the noise. A bored expression on his face. "you too, won't be doing so well soon" The boredom shifted to an amused grin. Baring his electronic teeth on his flat face. Static emitting from his body like a circuit.  Vox gave a knowing look towards his small radio. 

#fanfiction #x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel charlie #alastor fluff #the co host #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor imagine

[blues824]

Talking about the uppermoons how would they react to the female Solomon reader.

🧙‍♀️Learning that a human has cured ubuyashiki and later on muzan learning that it was not just a regular human but a human that has reatched his goal in life to become immortal and learning that she was born around 1000 bc and is one of the strongest sorcerers in the world.

✨How pissd of whoud they bet that a regular human became immortal on accident because of her shitty food when they though she did it on purpose but later on find out it she became immortal on accident.

🧙‍♀️Them later on finding out that she used to be married to yoriichi and that her even had the pact of Solomon (and kokushibo not knowing about it and being angry that his younger brother outdid him by being married with the most powerful soreror )

✨And her helping the demon slayers ever since and now has resurfaced and is helping the hashira and ubuyashiki again .

🧙‍♀️Them learning that the used to be royalty with a 1000 lovers and wives learning that they library of Solomon holds books that can destroy the world that only she can enter because of her magic.

✨Imagen them kidnapping her and hers summenig her 72 demon and telporting away and later on telling the demon slayers and ubuyashiki about the location of the infinity castle.

🧙‍♀️The uppermoons and muzan learning that she has pacts with demons that are way stronger than them and don't eat human flesh but their soul.

Does not include Hantengu or any of his other personas. Sorry, but it’s too much. I did include Gyokko and Nakime, tho.

Muzan Kibutsuji

He knew you existed, and for years he had been searching for you. After all, you were the wife of one of his greatest enemies, as well as an incredibly powerful ally to the Demon Slayer Corps. Not just that, but you were immortal and could roam the earth. You also cured Kagaya Ubuyashiki, so it was no wonder he wanted to see where you got your magic from.

However, when he did manage to somehow kidnap you, you didn’t do anything to demonstrate your power. In fact, you just sat there as you teased about how he was just so angry that he couldn’t conquer the Sun while you had 1000 spouses since he had become a demon. You could even destroy all of demonkind with just a whisper of an incantation, you further pissed him off by saying this.

Eventually, you got a bit tired and you knew that the demon slayers were struggling trying to get you back, so you activated each and every demon pact you had and proceeded to beat his ass and stomp it into the ground. As he laid there, battered and bruised, you stated how sorry you were for the diseases he had in his life and how they led to the decline of his quality of both life and demon-life.

Kokushibo

He was very angry that his brother managed to outdo him once again, but this time in picking a spouse. You were a legend all over the world, with powers unmatched and immortality, along with being able to roam about in the Sun, his brother won the jackpot. But, as furious as he is, he follows Muzan’s order to keep you alive.

The Rip-Off Michael Jackson himself had put everyone on shifts to look out after you and make sure that you weren’t up to deep shit. But, Kokushibo was aware that you would try to use his brother against him. What he didn’t expect was for you to say ‘I dreamed of meeting you, based on the wonderful things Yoriichi had told me about you. At least his wish was granted’.

This threw him for a loop as he just stared at you in shock. You took the chance to summon the 72 demons you had pacts with and quickly made an escape. As strong as your brother-in-law was, he stood no chance against the demons you associate yourself with. In addition to that, the demon slayers that were trying to get you back got assistance from a different kind of demon.

Douma

This man was not opposed to being assigned a shift of watching over you. In fact, he was very excited. But once he walked into the room with a smile, you (with a matching smile) told him to drop the cheery exterior and show his real self. Well, you didn’t have to be such a mood killer, now did you? He asked, after ditching the fake ass smile.

To be fair, while you were being held captive, you got to read Douma for who he really was. You were aware that he was idolized as a child for his eyes, and you were also aware that he was leading people to a false paradise that he didn’t even believe in. However, you knew that it was real, and that it was the Celestial Realm. You didn’t think it would be worth arguing with him, as it was his belief.

However, you drew the line when he said that it was sad how you didn’t make your husband immortal as well, and that it must have been because you were selfish. You let your emotions get the better of you, as this was a matter concerning the man you loved. Thus, Douma was trampled by the 72 infinitely stronger demons. Not completely dead, but he did not recover fast enough to stop you from making your escape.

Akaza

He wanted to challenge you to a fight to see if you were strong, but Muzan had ordered him not to. Unfortunately, for his shift, he was paired up with Kokushibo… the goody-two-shoes who always followed the rules. But, upon entering the room where you were tied to a chair, you said ‘I wish I could have been there. I could have healed your father, and your wife’.

This stopped the Uppermoon in his tracks, as there was no way you could have known about his life when he was a human. To be fair, you were a powerful sorceress, but to have this amount of power over him with just words. His partner didn’t have much mercy taken upon him either, and he knew that this would be a struggle.

At some point in the night, you sensed that the demon slayers were struggling due to a spell you had set in place, and you summoned the 72 demons you had on standby to pummel the two into the ground. You needed to escape, and you were aware that you wouldn’t be able to recite a spell quickly enough. You had to admit that you did feel bad for just layering on more pain, but to be fair, you were the one who was kidnapped first.

Gyokko

To say that he wasn’t excited to be ‘babysitting’ you would be the understatement of both his and your immortal lives. However, you weren’t exactly happy to be here either. Whenever you would attempt any form of small talk, he would bark at you to keep quiet and tell you that he was only here because the master had ordered him to be.

But, you were able to see into his human life, and you had to admit that he had been pretty fucked up as a kid. The villagers didn’t help either. You, in a moment of quiet, whispered that ‘an interest and fascination with the dead after seeing your parents’ corpses isn’t unusual’. This caught Gyokko’s attention, as he was constantly ostracized for his peculiar and even mortifying interest.

However, this little dance of trying to understand him was getting too tiring, so you summoned your 72 strong-as-hell demons and broke out of the restraints. It was saddening, as you wished to know his entire story and how you could help him reach the Celestial Realm. But, it was no longer your concern. What was your concern was making sure that the demon slayers didn’t die for you.

Nakime

Upon meeting her, you knew that this would be a rather boring night. Her responses to any questions you asked were kept brief and to-the-point, not wanting to let you receive any more information than what Muzan deemed necessary. Plus, there was danger in you knowing more than you needed to know.

But, you were the most powerful sorceress in the world, and you already knew more information than was given to you. You even said that you thought her music was beautiful, but that her husband was shitty. Her hands stopped one one of the strings on her biwa, surprised at what you had said.

When you felt some of the demon slayers you had a personal connection to shout your name with the spell you had once given to your husband to seal away, you knew that it was time to wrap up the show. You ordered your demons to not kill Nakime, as you knew that it would disrupt the fate planned out for her, but they left her incapacitated enough for you to escape and help the demon slayers.

Daki 

So, she also wasn’t exactly pleased to be put on a shift. After all, the master was showing clear favoritism towards you. She wasn’t able to lay a single finger upon a single strand of hair on your head. But, she didn’t want to anger Muzan, and thus followed his order. However, she did not indulge in any small talk.

‘You are fortunate to have your brother, but it’s disheartening to know how you have struggled in life and in your current afterlife’. This caused Daki to do a double take, as she knew that there was no way you could have known about her human life. She had to recompose herself so that you wouldn’t be able to see her as vulnerable.

As the night went on, you suddenly got a chill down your spine: a demon slayer had been killed. You summoned all 72 demons and ordered an attack to get you out, and you broke out of the restraints. It was all a whirlwind, but you used your magic to make it an easier escape. You were very angry, to say the least.

Gyutaro

Another person who is not excited to be watching over you, but he had received a warning from his sister that you would try to manipulate him by telling him that you were saddened by his human life. So, he went in expecting it, but you didn’t say anything. Instead, you just watched him as he took a seat in front of you.

What you did say was, ‘You regret being a bad influence to your sister. Don’t be. You taught her to be strong and resilient, and I saw that during her shift.’ Well, you just hit close to home, didn’t you? Gyutaro didn’t really know what to say in response, so he just stayed quiet. However, he saw that you were very graceful and very tender, but he tried not to let his guard down.

Eventually, you got the all too familiar shiver down your spine, and you knew that it was time to leave and help the demon slayers. You summoned your demons, and you were sad that Gyutaro was fighting his hardest while the 72 demons on your side were barely giving their ten percent.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan #muzan x reader #kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #doma #doma x reader #douma #douma x reader #akaza x reader #akaza #gyokko #gyokko x reader #nakime x reader #nakime #daki x reader #daki #gyutaro #gyutaro x reader

[boytumms]

A boy makes a deal with a witch/fae/demon for money/fame/influence/magic powers/whatever cool thing. A deal involving him carrying a child for that creature. He's told that three years from that day, he will give birth to it. So he figures okay, cool, he'll get pregnant in a bit over two years.

But not at all long after he made the deal, he begins to notice his tummy starting to swell ever-so-slightly. Oh. Oh. Oh no. He's going to be pregnant for the whole three years.

It's fine, at first, and whatever he got out of the deal is probably helping to make it easier. And maybe the child isn't growing quite as fast as in a regular pregnancy. But even so he looks overdue long before the time is up, and as the days are ticking closer to the end of those three years, the question of how will he ever be able to birth such a big baby starts to truly worry him...

It's going to be a hard birth, especially if the baby grows to the size of a three year old... Even with his gifted powers it would be long and agonizing. He goes into labor alone, far from the village he lives by, in his little cabin in the woods. For months his belly has been too big for him to walk, and he realizes too late his mistake of staying home instead of getting help earlier. Laying on the ground, he suffers through each contraction, moaning louder as they get increasingly stronger.

Maybe whatever he made a deal with is cruel, and shows up just to watch him give birth. He screams and cries for them to help as he desperately pushes, but they don't lift a finger to aid him. No one can hear him scream for days as the baby slowly inches it's way out, nearly ripping the poor boy in half as it batters its way through his narrow hips. Without his magic he would have certainly died giving birth to such a massive child, but suffering through so much pain isn't much better.

After what feels like an eternity, the baby finally slips out between his legs. The deity he promised the child to swiftly takes it away and disappears, leaving the exhausted boy on the ground in a pool of his own birthing fluids for someone from the village finds him.

#ask #anonymous #mpreg #hyper preg #birth #writings #belly kink #hyper pregnancy

[dilatorywriting]

(just a thought I wanted to shared thinking of grandpa Vil) Howl's moving castle au, Vil's beautiful so you think he'd be howl but no, he's an old grandpa crying about his beauty, you think the poor ol guy has started losing his marbles and let him in to live out his days traveling

Vil: "I used to be so beautiful, royalty envied my beauty, I was a muse!"

reader: "Okay grandpa, lets get you to bed, I'll bring you some tea" :)

Holy fuck holy fuck. Howl’s Moving Castle is genuinely my favorite movie. This is killing me. Also I know this is definitely going in a very different brain direction BUT LIKE. I CAN’T HELP IT

Vil as the Witch of the Wastes, desperately doing everything he can to maintain his youth and beauty. Neige as Suliman’s young prodigy, who easily sweeps in one day to take his place, leaving the once first choice to be the Royal’s Head Wizard as nothing more than a bookend. Vil who after losing access to all the grand magics of the Academy trades his soul away and begins dealing in the inexplicable in order to maintain even a fraction of the powers Suliman tried to strip from him.

Vil, who becomes a living legend and a nightmare—feared so well by all the little town folk that no one ever bothers to even think of getting in the way of his slowly building atrocities. Until one day he curses a poor, innocent, hat shop keeper he sees Neige leading through a waltz in the sky. Curses them to be old, and ugly, and everything he fears. Except after he no doubt ruins their miserable, little, life, they just keep running into each other. The Hat Shop Idiot just doesn’t know what’s good for them. Has sought out powerful magics without thinking to harness it for their own advantage, talks with a fire demon like its a pampered little pet, walks into danger with a stiff upper lip and an even stiffer, tackier, hat. They trade insults with him—as he deserves, who is he kidding—until the both of them are standing at the Gates of Suliman’s castle.

And then that tacky little idiot helps him when his magic fails. Cheers him on with genuine kindness and offers him an arm when his muscles are put under the strains of his real, battered, body for the first time in ages. When Suliman strips him of everything he has left, the poor little Shopkeep he once cursed out of nothing but cruelty takes him with them—saves him too. Gives him his own room in a magic castle and access to every, forbidden, thing he’s been hunting with such wicked fervor. And you, stupid hatter that you are, treat this real, ugly, version of himself with so much gentle kindness that how could he not finally see why all these other magical men and monsters have fallen in love with you too?

#Asks #Vil x Reader #Howl’s Moving Castle AU #Brainrot #vil schoenheit

[another-lost-mc]

Tolerance | RAPHAEL x gn!Reader 1.4k Words | NSFW | Hurt/Comfort | Fluff Content Warnings: Brief mentions of arguing, descriptions of weapon/magic training, kissing, suggestive thoughts (nothing too explicit but marked NSFW just in case). [ Obey Me! Masterlist ]

The defunct armory near the Demon Lord’s castle is a relic of bloody, war torn days from a version of the Devildom that no longer exists. The cold stone walls and dusty floors are neglected from years of disuse, and it’s only your growing familiarity with the building that guides your steps through the dimly lit halls. There are sconces on the walls, but most of them aren’t lit. The ones that light your path glow with a flame no demon or human could conjure.

You asked Barbatos once why Diavolo didn’t have the armory torn down or repurposed. He smiled and gave you a vague answer about the young prince’s sentimental feelings about history, but you know that’s not the full truth. The building feels less like a memorial and more like a reminder - or a warning - of what’s to come should Diavolo’s vision of peace between the realms fail. There are many rooms and narrow hallways in the armory you haven’t had the courage to explore. Some of them still smell faintly of ash and blood as you rush past them.

Your destination is the large training area near the building’s center. There are rows of different weapons hung on the walls, but none of them have been used in centuries. They’re caked with grime and dirt and you doubt you could pull one down if you tried. The entrance to this section of the building doesn’t have any windows, but you can see light flickering underneath the door. The threatening sounds of metal slicing through the air and cracking wood grows louder as you approach, but you’re not afraid. You push the door open and slip inside, and you smile when you see who you came to find.

Raphael doesn’t hear your arrival over the sounds of his weapon striking the wooden training dummy over and over again in quick succession. You can barely track the movements of the spear as he lunges and slices with deadly accuracy. He jabs his spear forward into the target of his frustrations and twists his body at the waist. The wood seems to burst from within and it disintegrates onto the floor in a pile of splinters.

He looks down the row of dummies still standing, all of them completely intact having escaped his wrath until now. He holds his arm out and his fingertips glow with the power of his Grace. His magic summons a large number of spears that hover in suspension near the ceiling. He makes a downward slicing motion with his hand, and the spears whistle as they hurl towards the targets below. The volley of spears decimates everything in its path, and he disappears from view in a thick cloud of debris and sawdust.

When the dust settles, the room is silent except for his panting breaths. He realizes he’s not alone and finally turns to you when your muffled footsteps alert him to your presence. If you didn’t know him better, you might think he was annoyed by your interruption; the warmth that leaks into his gaze tells you otherwise.

He makes a subtle gesture with his hand and with a wordless bit of magic, the remaining spear in his hand vanishes. His magic and physical strength are amazing to witness and you're captivated by him.

“You must be exhausted if you’ve been doing this since classes ended.” When he comes here, there's an endless supply of targets for him to practice his skills on. The training dummies in the building are under a type of enchantment that rebuilds them so they can be used repeatedly no matter how they're battered or worn. The ones he destroyed moments ago are already starting to reform behind him.

His coat hangs from a hook on the wall nearby. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his D.D.D.; he looks surprised when he realizes the time. “I didn’t notice how late it had gotten,” he muses with a bashful tilt to his lips. When you’re this close to him, you can see the sheen of sweat on his skin and the dirt and bits of wood that stick to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You know why he comes here: a physical and spiritual release of pent up frustration. He told you that he has difficulty navigating Devildom life sometimes, and he struggles with the urge to deliver retribution when he feels a great offense has been made.

You don’t have all the details, but you know Mammon said something earlier that infuriated him so much that they nearly came to blows after class. When Satan and Beel pulled them apart, Mammon muttered reluctant, half-hearted apologies and went home. Raphael came here to unleash his frustrations instead, so he wouldn’t be tempted to take out his anger on someone else (especially you). 

“The more I think about it, the more foolish it seems,” he admits quietly, busying himself with his coat, draping it over his shoulders and fiddling with his arm cuffs. 

You place your hand on his so that he’ll look at you properly. “Your feelings are your own truth, and you’re entitled to them the same as anyone else.” You shrug. “Mammon can take his teasing a little too far sometimes. Is that what happened earlier?”

His hand hovers over your cheek. His fingertips are calloused from years of training with his weaponry, and they’re speckled with dirt now too. The desire to touch you always lingers within him, and he worries that the dirt and blood on his hands might stain you.

He breathes a gentle sigh when you bridge the gap for him and rub your cheek against his palm. “He likes to boast that he's your first, and no matter what sense he means, it irritates me. Sometimes I forget that it holds little relevance when it comes to my feelings for you.” His thumb sweeps across your cheek gently. “I should know better than to let him get the best of me.”

You didn’t expect such an honest answer, and his sincerity makes your cheeks grow warm beneath his hand. You lean forward and brush your lips against his. They’re dry and slightly chapped, but you can’t resist him anymore than he can resist you. 

He slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in for another kiss. His other hand settles on your waist and he pushes against the small of your back so your hips are flush against his. His lips glide over yours lazily, and he tilts his head and slots your mouths together to deepen the kiss like he’s starved for you. He grows hard against your hip, and you moan quietly when his tongue licks into your mouth and teases yours. You clench your hands in his coat and only pull back when his kiss leaves you breathless.

He leans his forehead against yours and hums while you pant lightly. His eyes flicker between your lips and further down your bodies where he’s holding you tight against him. Part of him wants to push you against the wall and take you, and he fights the temptation to rut against you like a beast. He swallows thickly around the lump in his throat and stamps down the desire building within him like an inferno; you deserve so much better than that.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmurs as he touches his nose to yours. “I won’t rush my affections for you in this filthy place.”

You chuckle and kiss his cheek. “I can help you make dinner after you wash up,” you offer, and you flash him a bright smile when he nods.

He steps back from you and laces your fingers together so he can lead you back to the exit, and you walk in comfortable silence together. He leads you through the corridors that lead out of the armory, extinguishing the flames he conjured along the way.

During the walk back to Purgatory Hall, he glances at you from the corner of his eye. Despite the evening darkness, the Devildom streets are better lit than the armory was. He examines your face and sees the smears of dirt and sweat his fingers left on your skin. You don’t seem to mind in the slightest; you always seem so happy just being in his company.

He’s distracted by the warmth of your body so close to his while he escorts you back to his dorm. His lips are slick now from your heated kiss, and his eyes darken when his gaze lingers on your lips. He wants so badly to kiss you again, but he reminds himself that his patience will be rewarded soon enough. Both of you could use a shower, and arousal churns in his belly when he wonders how he can persuade you to join him.

#obey me raphael #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me raphael x reader #raphael x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #raphael smut #obey me raphael x mc #raphael x mc #obey me raphael x you #raphael x you #obey me fanfic #x reader #gn!reader

[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 5

Summary: In which you avoid Zagreus, until one day you can't. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

WC: 2.4k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut, MINOR descriptions of blood and injuries. Physical touch, affection. Just Zagreus being soft and doting and kind to you this chap

Damn her, damn her, damn her, damn—

Teeth clenched, your vision swims as you grip the rim of the basin for balance, washing off the blood as red drops swirl and mix like watercolor paints before the water clears again. It’s days like this where you wish you can get stronger, more powerful, but there’s a limit to everyone’s full potential, and unfortunately you met yours a long time ago.

Still, it’d be nice.

Contrary to popular belief, succubi can be vicious warriors, they’re simply in their own class. Their abilities, their magic, while never measuring up to gods, could ruin an army in a master’s hand, but it has its limits. Especially amongst demonkind.

As the water calms, you grind your teeth at the sight of your reflection, assessing the damage. Blood and darkness, that’s going to bruise, that one’s definitely going to scar, and you curse the universe because your job’s about to get that much harder now that you may have to use a glamor. Oh, you swear next time you get your hands on her, you’ll—

A resounding rumble quakes the room.

Your chamber door.

You curse. But you're sluggish from the blood loss, and before you can hurl yourself out the balcony, Zagreus steps in without his usual greeting, panting and laurels slightly askew, like he rushed in knowing you’re here. Wild eyes dart to every corner of the chamber, as if he half-expects you to be hiding, until they fall on you, embarrassingly hunched over your healing fountain.

One glance at your battered face, he’s beside you in a flash.

"Zag—”

“What happened?” His tone is surprisingly strained as his hands, clean of blood and gore, reach for you. Then something flickers across his face that makes him hover, his eyes—red and green and wide—taking in your new wounds with horror.

If only you had the energy to cower, shield your bruised face. He’s the last person you want to see right now, and your vision blurs, hating how he of all people is seeing you like this—broken, imperfect.

“I’m fine, Zagreus,” You croak, your voice quiet as you swallow your insecurity like bile. A poor attempt to put some distance between you, you try to step aside, but your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumple like a house of cards.

Of course, Zagreus catches you—asshole—strong, lean arms gentle as he hugs you to his chest, holding you up as if you’re the most precious of gems. Hate how quick you are to relax in his hold, clay in his hands. Blood and darkness, it’s so easy, so quick, so… right.

You squirm against him, but his grip tightens slightly, mindful of your injuries.

“Sure you are,” Zagreus snorts, though he gazes down at you so soft and sweet you want to shout, wondering if he tastes the same. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”

Unable to protest, you let him carry you like a rag doll, limp in his hands before he gently props you up on the lounge chair. You lean against the back with a groan. “Really, I'm—”

“'Fine', yes, you’ve said that,” Already, he’s rummaging through your cupboards, at least the ones he knows aren’t filled with art supplies. “Do you have bandages?”

“… Second last cabinet on your left.”

Without a word, he walks through your chamber with self assurance, maneuvering around your easel and stepping over splayed out canvas as they finish drying, careful where to leave his burning footprints. He finds what he’s looking for easily enough, a moment later pulling up a chair and plopping down in front of you. His hands are methodical as he lays everything out; two bowls of water, a small cloth, and the saddest little first aid kit.

In your defense, you hardly end up like this.

You watch his hands as he dips the towel in the water then wrings it out, before gently dragging it across your exposed arms. You flinch as he begins wiping off the grime.

“I know,” His tone is soft, terribly understanding as he continues. “Give it a minute, you’ll feel much better soon.”

You want to snort, snap at him that you’re fully aware of how it works, but the cool sting of water, the mild burn from the open gashes and cuts along your skin, is quick to clench your jaw shut. Pain ebbs across your body, and you watch him speechless, the rhythm he follows, painfully gentle as he drags the cloth across your skin, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Clean water, wring out, wipe, rinse, repeat; he even goes out of his way to change the water, and the relief that comes after would make you sink into the couch, if not for Zagreus's silence.

He's yet to say a word since he entered. He'd asked you already, yes, but you take him for someone who doesn't give up that easily. You expected more of a fight. Now, you're not so sure.

"Zagreus, I… I—" It's hoarse, hardly above a whisper, but it's a start.

You feel him pause before choosing to lay into your newfound cowardice like a wet blanket, avoiding his eyes. Who knows what you'll do if you meet his gaze.

Sensing your hesitation, Zagreus clears his throat, "Perhaps you should save your energy. We can chat when you're healed."

You shake your head, though it only makes the room spin. "No, I need to tell you this now. Before..."

"Before what? You start avoiding me again?" He resumes, wrapping gauze around your forearm, his touch ghosting your skin as he holds your arm out. There’s no malice or respite in his tone, soft and withdrawn as it comes, but you wince. If anything, it’s bittersweet, with an acceptance he long held before he approached your chamber, and it leaves your heart clenching. You don't know how to respond. Are you that obvious?

"(Your Name)... did I do something wrong?"

You blink, whirling to face him.

Zagreus bites his lip, emotions he can’t fathom threatening to spill out of him. That's always been his flaw, according to Father. He's attuned to his emotions, more than Nyx, Father, literally any of the chthonic gods. He stares as his hands tremble, attempting to knot the bandage. "Because if I did, please just tell me what it is so I can make things right between us."

"No-no, you've done nothing wrong," You assure him, sitting up through the pain even when Zagreus protests. When he raises a brow at your answer, you rush to add, "I swear! I've been busy with... work." Technically, this isn’t a lie.

"... 'Busy'. Is that how you got these?" Zagreus holds out your mangled arm by your hand, flicking his eyes over your body in the way you hate most. You'd take aura-induced desire over this: pity, disgust.

You wrench your arm away, cradling it in your lap and shrugging. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

"(Your Name), who did this?"

You freeze. Nerves go haywire, and you squirm under his piercing gaze, burning through you as you contemplate lying to him, but you know better. At this point, you know each other too well, and—blood and darkness—he'll see right through you. There’s a defeated sigh, then a quiet, "Alecto."

Zagreus's eyes darken, but you wave him off. "Don't worry. In her defense, I kind of deserved it."

Zagreus sputters, taken aback, staring at you as if you offended him. "'Don't worry'? Don't—how can you say that? First I've seen you in days, and you're—" A sharp intake of breath, and he clenches his jaw so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

"It's not a big deal. I disobeyed direct orders, and..." You trail off, thinking back.

Since meeting Zagreus, seeds of doubt sprout in your chest, in your lungs, suffocating you as you question the system you’ve worked under for so long. You’ve never questioned who you are and what you do, not to say you love your job, but it’s your life. Yet who’s to say there aren't poor souls sentenced to the wrong level? Genuine and kind, noble and passionate—people who don't deserve eternal damnation.

The possibility of your victims being innocent and undeserving makes you want to hurl, tortured shrieks and endless tears flashing across your memory and echoing in your ears. Your stomach clenches just thinking about it.

"(Your Name), I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Zagreus starts, mouth opening and closing like he can't find the words, his breaths coming quick and ragged. He just stares at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you can't quite place—as if your virtuous act breaks his heart, crushes his soul. Then he blinks, and it's gone, shaking his stupor. “This is my fault…”

You raise an eyebrow, “How is this your fault?”

“I… I just… you shouldn’t have…” You frown as Zagreus struggles, brow furrowed, clearly pained as he thinks over his answer, like whatever he says next determines your fates. Seeming to think better of it, he shakes his head and brings your hand to his lips, and you flush, your heart skipping as his lips graze over the bandages, warmth seeping through the material and into your wounds like a healing salve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He rasps between each kiss, trailing up the back of your hand and up your forearm, like they’ll heal the wounds faster. Like this is the best he can do, like this is all he can do. Not that you plan to stop him.

Your face burns, but you let him apologize, though you’re not sure what for as he stops before your shoulder. At some point, he slotted himself between your thighs, and now face to face, he studies your cuts and bruises, already fading away as his eyes, soft and glistening, flick over your features. Like he’s debating if his kisses will help them heal faster too.

Gods, if he brings those lips anywhere near your face, you might combust.

You meet his gaze, “What—”

“I lied.”

It comes as a whisper, his voice dry and low that you tilt your head, urging him to continue.

“I’m not some mortal soul, dredging their way through Tartarus,” Zagreus grinds out, scanning your face as if committing you to memory one last time. Then he sits back and stares at the floor, still gripping your hand as he rubs circles over the bandage. “I mean, it’s true I intend to escape the Underworld.”

“Zagreus—”

“And yes, I’m searching for my mother—”

“Zag—”

“But I’m really—”

“My prince.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “What?”

“None of this is your fault, my prince. With or without your influence, I’d have done the same thing anyway.” He gapes at you and you smirk, using the little strength you’ve recovered to squeeze his hand reassuringly, “Or would you rather I address you as Your Highness instead?”

Zagreus shakes his head, black hair flopping out of his shocked face. “I don’t understand. You knew?”

“For a bit now, yes,” You shrug as you turn his hand over, large and calloused in yours, swiping a thumb over one of his healed blisters, probably from gripping his weapons. “Took me a while to figure it out, but I can’t say I was surprised. It explained some of your funny behavior.”

He scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, “What sort of funny behavior?”

“Pretend all you like, but you can’t suppress those noble habits,” You chuckle, eyes crinkling seeing him cheer up. “All your mannerisms screamed ‘royal’, I just didn’t realize we were talking Underworld royalty.”

“Seriously?” Zagreus gazes at you in disbelief. “I thought I did a pretty good job acting—”

“Like a commoner?”

“Like a mortal,” He shoots you a pointed look, and you snort, relaxing into the love seat.

“You were okay.” You purse your lips, “While we’re on the subject of identity reveals, you should know I’m—”

“A succubus?”

You blink before pouting, snatching your hand away to cross your arms over your chest. “You only say that because I was about to tell you…”

“Not true,” Zagreus grins, leaning over to give your thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I knew from the beginning. Succubi magic doesn't affect gods, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

“And you still stayed? Knowing what I am and what I do?”

“And you still treated me as any other friend, knowing who I am?”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I disagree,” He coaxes your hands into his, prompting you to meet his gaze as his expression shifts into something more earnest. “We both tried—and failed miserably—to hide a huge part of ourselves in fear of what we’d think of each other, am I wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Exactly. (Your Name), I hope you know not once did I think any less of you for your work, much less your species.”

You respond in kind, “And not once did I consider bowing down to the Prince of the Underworld, especially not after seeing him stuff his face with wraps he picked off the ground.”

He guffaws. “Good, then we’re in agreement?”

“I guess...”

“Just what every man wants to hear from a beautiful creature.” Ignoring the burn in your cheeks, you roll your eyes, and he adds, “But we’re okay? You won’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Keep that up, you won’t be seeing me for another couple runs.”

“I was agreeing with you!”

“Your tone said otherwise.”

By the time your shared laughter dies down, the atmosphere clears, leaving a comfortable silence settling in the small space between you. In that time, he’s yet to let go of your hands, your thighs brushing as he rubs soothing circles against your hands, and while he insists on staying until he’s sure you’re better, acceptance rushes over you like the oncoming tide, because try as you might, Alecto’s punishment was nothing in comparison to Zagreus’s absence. These fleeting moments he stops by your chamber, whether to recover, commission a painting, or to simply have a chat, you appreciate each and every one of them. If that’s all you’ll ever have with Zagreus, you decide, your chest tight with a melancholic warmth, then that's okay.

This is enough.

—

Soon after Zagreus reluctantly leaves you once more, he enters the last chamber of Tartarus.

“Redblood! What say you—ack—hey, I wasn’t done talking!”

If he prolongs their time together, allowing him to indulge his cruelty, then consider it time well spent.

—

AN: One of my biggest peeves in media tropes is the betrayal and angst as a reaction from hiding identities from s/o, like in superhero media. It's overplayed, overdone.

A good, recent example of this is the new animated Superman show, My Adventures with Superman, where (SPOILERS) Lois forces the truth out of Clark, and is pissed when he confirms he is Superman. Bro, you literally said to his face how you'd reveal his identity to the public, can you blame the guy? Idgaf you think he's lying ab his feelings omfg he's protecting his idenity (its a good show tho pls watch it!!)

However, a cartoon that does the scenario right is in the old Nickelodeon cartoon, Danny Phantom (some of yall may be too young to remember), the older sister, Jaz, of the mc, Danny, quietly realizes he's the superhero of their town, and decides to patiently wait for him to tell her when HE'S READY. Like askjgdaksjhf yassss we love patience and understanding.

Which is why I like to imagine while Zag didn't outright tell you who he is, he didn't try to hide it either. The underworld's a big ass place, he's got no control over who and what ppl say and do, so however you find out, whether in passing or of your own sleuthing skills, you both wait.

Ty for coming to my ted talk :D

#zagreus #hades supergiant #hades game #zagreus x reader #zagreus (hades games) x reader #hades

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #7

The magic users of the Justice League knew that Danny would have different methods for handling an exorcism due to his ghost powers and him dealing with infinite realm ghosts in Amity Park. Even with this knowledge it doesn't prepare them enough for when they see Danny put in his hand and pull out the demon, Spirit, or entity out of the victim and immediately start beating it up with his fist. (Or when the being utterly battered and scared tries to flee from Danny and is spotted immediately gets sucked into a thermos)

#bones submissions #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc comics #writing prompts #dp x dc prompts #prompt art

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, Books, 13: An eclectic library of dusty tomes, fictional textbooks, pocketbooks, paperbacks, hardcovers, booklets, leaflets and magical manuals. Paper leaves and the binding surrounding them can help define a character, kick off a subplot, fuel a fetch quest or simply serve as a generic macguffin. Commonly seen in video games such as Baldur’s Gate, Neverwinter Nights, World of Warcraft and Skyrim, book items are a way to subtly world build while still handing out sellable loot. A wizard has a spellbook, a cleric has a holy text and now you have a trinket list.

A pulpy horror book filled with short stories made to terrify adolescents and thrill young adults. A creature who reads the book suffers from a Random Nightmare later the next time they sleep.

A large reference book on the subject of minted coinage within the realm. The top of each page has an illustration of both sides of a coin from a rubbing of the original, lovingly and delicately inked. Below is everything anyone could possibly want to know about the coin: number of dies in the designs, the date each went into service, the date each was taken out and destroyed, dates of repairs and re-engravings on each, quantities of each kind of coin struck. There is even a statement about whether or not there are known counterfeits. According the inside cover, the tome belongs to the Royal Assay of the city of TunFaire in the kingdom of Karenta.

A brand new copy of “Volo's Guide to What to Expect When You’re Expecting” with a couple of pages dog-eared in and “Congratulations!” written on the inside cover.

On the Sending Out of the Soul: An eight-page pamphlet on astral projection. The first seven pages of the pamphlet contain vague mystic writing; however, the eighth page details a formula for effecting astral travel. Among the required ingredients are a brazier and a mild hallucinogenic herb. The formula is always successful but has an unforeseen side effect: it invokes the horrid Outer God the Hydra. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that the pamphlet first appeared a few generations ago and circulated among occult groups. Most copies were destroyed in the wake of a series of grisly murders.

Dictionnaire Infernal: A full description of the hierarchies of demons. This edition includes sixty-nine illustrations of demons by Louis Le Breton a skilled warlock, infamous for trading his soul for legendary artistic talent rather than arcane power or material wealth.

A journeyman’s guide to the proper practices of the guild who oversees the use of Random Artisan Tools. The travel volume includes how to care for your tools and how to interact with other crafters to seek replacement tools and have worn ones maintained. Other chapters detail acceptable prices for goods sold and services rendered along with advice on any specific ethical concerns the guild may have on trading. Most of the book contains descriptions and diagrams on how to perform basic tasks with the tools to the guild’s standards.

A small book, entitled "The Torrid Affair of Knight Gawain,". When placed on its spine it automatically falls open to particularly risqué page.

A personal journal owned by a psychiatrist who was studying the concept of nightmares and their metaphysical properties. The doctor recorded dozens of firsthand accounts of her patient’s slumbering terrors within this volume as well as notes on the patients themselves and how the dreams affected them. A person who peruses the journal for more than a few minutes suffers from a Random Nightmare the next time they sleep. Upon waking they feel compelled to document their experience on one of the blank pages left near the end of the book.

Alchemy of the Flesh: A dark green tome describing how to use a plethora of humanoid viscera and organs to enhance standard potion brewing techniques.

Tome Of The Endless Tale: A small, worn book with fanciful creatures or locales on battered leather covers, the tome’s pages fill with serialized stories that engage and distract the reader. The Tome focuses on a specific genre (See Note) but the stories crafted within the pages are unique to each reader, tailored by the magic from their own imagination and so vibrant that the book’s tales seem to come to life in the mind’s eye. Once per day, the reader can speak the command word written on the book's inside cover to fill its its pages with a serial story tailored to the speaker. This story typically takes 1 hour to read, continuing from where the last tale completed. ---Note: The DM can choose a genre or roll at random; 1, Adventure 2, Romance 3, Mystery / Crime 4, Horror 5, Thriller / Suspense 6, Fantasy 7, Science Fiction 8, Historical fiction.

—Click Here to be directed to the Hotlinks To All Tables post, which provides (As you might have guessed) convenient links to all of the loot and resource tables this blog has.

—Click Here for additional Book Descriptions to give these objects even more personality.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A pulpy horror book filled with short stories made to terrify adolescents and thrill young adults. A creature who reads the book suffers from a Random Nightmare later the next time they sleep.

A large reference book on the subject of minted coinage within the realm. The top of each page has an illustration of both sides of a coin from a rubbing of the original, lovingly and delicately inked. Below is everything anyone could possibly want to know about the coin: number of dies in the designs, the date each went into service, the date each was taken out and destroyed, dates of repairs and re-engravings on each, quantities of each kind of coin struck. There is even a statement about whether or not there are known counterfeits. According the inside cover, the tome belongs to the Royal Assay of the city of TunFaire in the kingdom of Karenta.

A brand new copy of “Volo's Guide to What to Expect When You’re Expecting” with a couple of pages dog-eared in and “Congratulations!” written on the inside cover.

On the Sending Out of the Soul: An eight-page pamphlet on astral projection. The first seven pages of the pamphlet contain vague mystic writing; however, the eighth page details a formula for effecting astral travel. Among the required ingredients are a brazier and a mild hallucinogenic herb. The formula is always successful but has an unforeseen side effect: it invokes the horrid Outer God the Hydra. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that the pamphlet first appeared a few generations ago and circulated among occult groups. Most copies were destroyed in the wake of a series of grisly murders.

Dictionnaire Infernal: A full description of the hierarchies of demons. This edition includes sixty-nine illustrations of demons by Louis Le Breton a skilled warlock, infamous for trading his soul for legendary artistic talent rather than arcane power or material wealth.

A journeyman’s guide to the proper practices of the guild who oversees the use of Random Artisan Tools. The travel volume includes how to care for your tools and how to interact with other crafters to seek replacement tools and have worn ones maintained. Other chapters detail acceptable prices for goods sold and services rendered along with advice on any specific ethical concerns the guild may have on trading. Most of the book contains descriptions and diagrams on how to perform basic tasks with the tools to the guild’s standards.

A small book, entitled "The Torrid Affair of Knight Gawain,". When placed on its spine it automatically falls open to particularly risqué page.

A personal journal owned by a psychiatrist who was studying the concept of nightmares and their metaphysical properties. The doctor recorded dozens of firsthand accounts of her patient’s slumbering terrors within this volume as well as notes on the patients themselves and how the dreams affected them. A person who peruses the journal for more than a few minutes suffers from a Random Nightmare the next time they sleep. Upon waking they feel compelled to document their experience on one of the blank pages left near the end of the book.

Alchemy of the Flesh: A dark green tome describing how to use a plethora of humanoid viscera and organs to enhance standard potion brewing techniques.

Tome Of The Endless Tale: A small, worn book with fanciful creatures or locales on battered leather covers, the tome’s pages fill with serialized stories that engage and distract the reader. The Tome focuses on a specific genre (See Note) but the stories crafted within the pages are unique to each reader, tailored by the magic from their own imagination and so vibrant that the book’s tales seem to come to life in the mind’s eye. Once per day, the reader can speak the command word written on the book's inside cover to fill its its pages with a serial story tailored to the speaker. This story typically takes 1 hour to read, continuing from where the last tale completed. ---Note: The DM can choose a genre or roll at random; 1, Adventure 2, Romance 3, Mystery / Crime 4, Horror 5, Thriller / Suspense 6, Fantasy 7, Science Fiction 8, Historical fiction.

A cloth-bound book of short stories by famous pulp novelist Cissifin Judeel. The volume is in excellent physical condition.

A bound section that includes chapters six, seven, and nine of some kind of book on mechanical engineering, seemingly torn from a larger work. They describe in enormous detail how to construct an intricate clockwork mechanism, but what it’s supposed to do is left unclear – and, besides, with chapter eight missing you wouldn’t know how to build one of the most important parts…

A cookbook, containing stunningly delicious recipes which, unfortunately, require extraordinarily rare and hard to find ingredients to make. It is no doubt someone's life’s ambition to cook and eat all of them at least once.

An anonymous epic poem about the Brass Spear Prince, full of stirring speeches and descriptions of battle scenes. For many noble travellers, this inspiring story is the reason why they became an adventurer in the first place.

An old bestiary, full of detailed information about monsters and magical beasts. Its sources appear to be approximately one-third hard evidence, one-third rumour or hearsay, and one-third the author's own fevered imagination, with no indication in the text as to which is which. It's information could easily save your life one day if you can only work out which parts of it are actually true...

A strange book whose pages are thin, blank stone tablets bound with knotted leather cords. Skeletons and zombies bow and grovel in the presence of the book.

Phoenix Breviary: A hand-size book bound in what appears to be black ostrich hide. Its pages are empty. Placed in a fire, the book will be unharmed and reveal the canonical hours of a banned cult for as long as it is surrounded by flame. Anything written in it will disappear until revealed similarly.

A joke book, full of genuinely hilarious (If rather mean-spirited) jokes. There are enough one liners alone for hours of belly-laughs and the text would be extremely valued to a jester or entertainer.

An anonymous journal, which records in obsessive detail the suspicious activities of a variety of seemingly-innocuous local citizens, whom the author seems to have been keeping under close observation. Either he was totally paranoid, or they are engaged in some kind of conspiracy. Maybe both.

An instruction manual, which describes in lunatic detail how to build a giant mechanical owl in order to further the cause of righteousness in the land. (The causal relationship between these two things is not made clear.) Chapters 3 through 9, which cover the construction of the owl’s internal mechanisms, have been ripped out.

A book of abstruse speculative philosophy, heavily annotated by some previous student. The annotations to the early chapters are detailed and lucid, but as the book goes on they grow increasingly incoherent, finally lapsing into ravings about a Beast and a City made of Red Steel. Due to the quantity of crazy annotations on its final pages, the last sections of the book are effectively illegible. You've never seen another copy.

An antiquarian manuscript whose author attempts, from the surviving literary and numismatic evidence, to deduce where the major strongholds of the local sorcerer-kings were back in the Age of Wonders. If she’s right, then there are at least three in the area which have been completely forgotten about, one of which is now buried under the streets of a major city…

The memoirs of a famous explorer, describing his many travels. The last chapter describes his plans for his final expedition, from which he never returned. But if the reader can work out where he went wrong, then maybe they'll have better luck…

A catalogue of birds found in this and adjacent kingdoms. Holding the book makes you want to obsessively tick off every species you manage to spot. A former owner of the book seems to have ticked off far more of the really rare ones than you, which causes oddly strong feeling of jealousy. One day, you will surpass him!

A child's sketchbook. On every page that isn't just unintelligible scribbling is a horrific monster.

A book of rather moving and helpfully non-specific love poetry. Memorize some of it for next time you need to persuade someone just how much you adore them!

A notebook in which someone has recorded, in great detail, the gastronomic preferences of a whole range of important and powerful people who live in a nearby large city. Very handy if you want to make a good impression - or to set someone else up to make a bad one!

An extremely spicy erotic novel about the life and loves of a famous courtesan. You keep it with you for, um, further research purposes.

A book of woodcut illustrations, more than a century old, depicting various fantastical monsters. One of them shows a particularly grotesque many-tentacled beastie fighting with a figure in spiked armour, who (Unlike every other figure in the book) has a string of nonsense words engraved beneath them. Disturbingly, these words form an anagram of one of the PC's names.

A book of heretical, politically seditious, and intermittently obscene drinking songs, complete with musical scores. Owning it is highly illegal, but you can’t bear to part with it: after all, it might well be the only copy which survived the purge…

A children's story book with a pressed faerie sprite between the pages...

An engrossing and well-written mystery novel: it's not very deep or clever, but pick it up and you'll soon be wondering where the last six hours went. Handy if you need someone to be distracted without realizing it.

Naga Naga Yo Fraga Blaga: A book whose cover is designed to look as if it was made from green scales, and its pages have golden edges. The volume talks at great length about an ancient race of serpentine creatures of great intellect and natural mastery of sorcery.

Of Gospels and Prophets: A stark white leather cover with gold filigree encompasses this religious reference book. The book does not delve deeply into any specific topic, rather approaches the “mile wide, inch deep” style with no more than 3-5 sentences on any of its entries.

Demozain: A book written by a dozen ur-priests. It makes no attempt to hide the ritual that would summon a sentient black hole to consume a world, but between the lines it reveals secrets of where the gods truly get their power.

A palm-sized notebook that always has at least one more blank page.

A blank spellbook bound in scarred wyvern hide.

Libro Venenum: A vile text filled with pages of aged papyrus and wrapped in dried lizard hide. Translated it proclaims to be the Book (of) Poisons and must be handled with absolute care. The reader is insight into the long-forgotten art of toxic magic, practised primarily by hags.

Folio Malevolence: A profane book whose spine is crafted from the bones of tormented fairies. The pages are all exposed with no actual cover and emit a foul odor. Upon close examination one can see skin has been stretched and matted onto the parchment. The runes on these pages make the reader feel uneasy and waves of hatred flow over them. Good aligned characters will feel immediate aversion to the text. The text itself orders the reader to let malevolence overwhelm then and to lead a life of malice and constant all-consuming rage at the world and everything in it.

A diary that begins quite normal, even boring, but becomes increasingly nonsensical, and the final few pages are indecipherable scrawlings.

A heavy book titled “The Many Faces of Perun”. Dozens of flowers are pressed between its pages.

Opuscule Covetous: A small notebook created with haphazard pieces of vellum tied together with gold wire. If the pages are spread out they appear to be covered in numbered pictures. Anyone who puts the pages in the correct order will see the drawings magically animate. The story they show will be capturing and include scenes of immense wealth and decadence. Those viewing will be intoxicated with avarice and immediately desire the treasures presented in the story. Unbeknownst to the cursed readers this is an elaborate trap set by a witch. What appear to be treasures are actually items the witch herself desires but cannot obtain. Examples would be a sacred holy relic, a newborn child or perhaps a lock of hair from a person pure of heart. No matter what the item they will always appear as something else to the afflicted character. The curse will cease once one or all of the items are obtained and presented to the witch.

A bound album of various portraits and sketches of individual local people and families. Someone went through and meticulously clipped out the heads of all the people in the pictures, leaving the rest of the scenes intact.

A ledger listing quantities and types of Random Humanoid Race bones and teeth along with dates, costs, and prices of sales and purchasing.

A book of anatomy with detailed drawings on xenomorphic creatures completely alien to this plane of existence.

A book of genealogical research of a prominent family in the nearby city, mostly consisting of a bound collection of public announcement posters and firsthand accounts of the local historical society.

The Parchments of Pnom: A manuscript written by Hyperborea's leading genealogist and soothsayer. It is written in the "Elder Script" of that land and contains a detailed account of the lineage of the Hyperborean gods, most notably Tsathoggua.

A beginner’s guide for people learning to play the Random Musical Instrument. The slim volume includes diagrams with all the parts of the instrument along with instructions for proper maintenance and care. Past the introduction the book contains the basics of how to play, along with a dozen simple songs that even someone who is unskilled in the performing arts could learn to play by reading the book and putting in a few weeks of regular practice.

A lengthy tome that boasts as its title “A complete history of the Random Humanoid Species”. The thick tome is dense with small, fine handwriting and goes into impressive (If dry) detail on the known origins of the people along with the high and lows of their past.

A military historical reference book focusing on the construction, maintenance and historical and modern use of the Random Weapon as it pertains to various forms of warfare.

Book of Dzyan: This work is an ancient text from a far away land, which contains “unwelcome truths”—cosmic revelations inimical to any human mind, which the Book tries to reconcile. As such, it describes accounts of mental and physical rites which are protective to mortals, as well as otherworldly threats and how to deal with them. Anyone who casts bard spells can research the spell contrary melody in this book to learn it in place of a 5th-level spell known.

A child’s sketchbook that features named stick figures of various people in a dozen different hands. The cover is marked with a surprisingly ornate rune, almost beautiful, though reading it makes one’s eyes droop.

De Vermis Mysteriis: An eldritch and bizarre spellbook, written by Ludvig Prinn, an ancient alchemist and necromancer who was burnt alive as punishments for his crimes against nature. Its pages are full of spells and rituals that summon strange entities, familiars, and creatures from beyond space and time. It also has a number of rituals for contacting and dealing with Great Old Ones, Outer Gods, and their minions.

A tiny leather bound book that contains a piece of writing such as a story, a poem, a manuscript, or a recipe. Each day, a new piece of writing magically replaces the previous one.

A cookbook, heavily bookmarked and written on, with pictures to accompany each recipe in the book. Licking the pictures allows you to find out how each dish tastes. Writing new ingredients in the recipes alters how the pictures taste. The back of the cookbook has empty pages to allow people to write down their own custom recipes. A few of the pages already have recipes written on them, some of which sound absolutely revolting.

A small novel, in which its 100 pages are used to describe a pebble. It consists of a single run-on sentence, and the description is often repeated throughout the book.

A leather bound book that bursts into flames when opened and extinguishes itself when closed. The book itself is completely fireproof.

A translation manual that teaches the basics for a long lost language. The guide assists the reader in translating basic words and phrases from the lost language into a commonly known language. This manual has significant values in archeological and research circles.

A bible that contains the founding texts of a now extinct religion that was wiped out long ago. This tome chronicles the origins of a murderous and wild sect that broke off from a popular, but now dead, religion. It gives notes on famous individuals this sect claims to have killed, their method in doing so and gives small insight into where more information about this sect may be.

A humble prayer-book bound in homespun cloth. Even with all your knowledge and sophistication, these simple hymns still have an almost supernatural power to soothe your troubled mind.

The Book of The Keeper of The World: A yellow book that is almost as bright as the sun itself. A bloody skeleton is on the cover with a text in an unreadable arcane language, presumably the title. Eating pages of this makes something in the world just disappear out of everyone's mind, a nothingness filling the place it used to be.

A reprint of a banned book, the last copy thought destroyed decades ago.

A ratty journal overflowing with loose sheets of yellowed paper. They are filled with maddened scrawl and diagrams and calculations and degenerate ranting.

A heavy book filled with Holy Scripture from the Loregiver and proclamations of Fate.

A holy text containing the sacred oaths of the first paladins from each paladin order in the multiverse, listing those of Good alignment as examples to strive for while warning against falling to the dark temptations of those who made their oaths for personal gain or other dark desires.

A book containing a list of artifacts designed for dark purposes, primarily those associated with Evil deities, as well as instructions on how to destroy these items. Several items on this list have already been crossed off, presumably destroyed by previous holders of this book.

A large tome that contains what is likely the largest repository of knowledge on healing salves in existence. It lists out materials, costs, where to find each ingredient, and how to combine these ingredients. There is virtually no ailment that cannot be cured by at least one of these restorative mixtures should the text prove accurate.

A small prayerbook that contains a single long incantation that can be used to contact a celestial who specializes in helping unfortunate souls tricked into a contract with a devil find a way out of their unfair bargains.

Book of Ashur: An arcane tome, bound in ancient dragon hide that contains much wisdom on the conjuring and subjugation of spells.

Liber Noctus: A decrepit tome that bristles with dark secrets and eldritch powers. Reading from the grimoire summons dark thoughts and grim deeds.

A blessed tome containing tales of ancient valour, glory, and self-sacrifice are bound to inspire those of noble heart to greater deeds.

A large book, bound in human skin according to the note tied to it, supposedly it was owned by an ancient necromancer during the age of thunder but its impossible to open as the spirits bound by it will lash out at the carrier. At the bottom it reads that it's currently on loan from Candlekeep.

A thick, heavy leather-bound book that contains illustrations and descriptions of over 3000 different kind of animals, plants, fungi, and minerals that can be used as alchemical ingredients, and how to safely collect, preserve, and store them. It was written by a renowned dark elf alchemist and explorer in the north lands. He spent decades studying and experimenting with the various creatures and plants that inhabit that environment, and compiled his findings and recipes in this book.

A worn-out leather book that has a map of the southern land on its cover. It contains detailed descriptions and directions on how to find and harvest rare and expensive alchemical ingredients that grow in remote, dangerous or hidden locations in the southern land.

A green book that has a dwarven hammer as symbol on its cover. It contains detailed secret information on how to use dwarven alchemy, with a specialized focus on creating oils and elixirs to mix into liquid metal alloys during the forging of weapons and armor.

An old yellowish book that has an elegant symbol on its cover. It was written by a legendary elven alchemist who mastered the art of creating healing potions, over the course of more than half a millennia of dedicated focus.

A collection of slim volumes on a variety of topics, including a registry of the nobility, City Watch commanders, and other notable citizens. Blank pages, a vial of ink, a pen. A number of interesting maps.

A single tome that is a combined multi-volumed summa of unified theory of arcane & divine magic, mechanical physics, psionics, and the cosmos.

An old, small, leather-bound, time-worn book with a goat’s head tooled into its cover. The leather is badly foxed and the pages are barely readable. If studied carefully it seems to be the journal of a fiendish cult.

A sketchbook half-filled with disturbingly accurate anatomical studies of various people, the copper plates that cover it etched with a pleasingly abstract rendering of a human heart.

A strange esoteric translation manual that teaches the basics for a long lost language. The guide assists the reader in translating basic words and phrases from the lost language into a commonly known language. This manual has significant values in archeological and research circles.

A hand-written guide by a purportedly self-taught monk on how to manifest and nurture ki powers. Although the information is not grounded in traditional aesthetic principals, anyone with knowledge of ki will recognize some validity to the methods being discussed. It is from an unknown author.

A religious text of an extinct cult that was wiped out long ago. This tome chronicles the origins of a murderous and wild sect that broke off from a popular, but now dead, religion. It gives notes on famous individuals this sect claims to have killed, their method in doing so and gives small insight into where more information about this sect may be.

A bound set of written texts, recording the beliefs of a famous lone wanderer and philosopher. The individual is well-known throughout the land for his beliefs and exploits but it was previously unknown that he had personally committed any of these things down on writing.

A book of spells with particularly elaborate verbal components written in an unknown but important-looking script. Arcane PC's can determine that only one or two minor spells actually work. Extremely close inspection will reveal that the rest of the "incantations" and "magic words" are actually disguised and encoded reports from a deep-cover spy

A worn, leather-bound journal filled with notes and sketches, offering insights into the daily life of its previous owner. There are many blank pages. Reading from the journal causes miniature illusions to appear for others showing the details of the event written, whether truthful or fanciful.

An alchemical codex containing the formulae for various poisons.

A dusty, ancient tome filled with arcane knowledge and forbidden secrets, written in a strange serpentine language and illuminated with intricate flowing illustrations.

A notebook that contains private notes from a psychiatrist about a patient. The first two pages are banal and clinical; by the fifth, they are inscrutable ramblings.

An identifiable book with a dozen assorted silver nails impaling it. The nails look disorderly and haphazardly hammered, with many bent in strange angles. The book is constantly wet, and the title is illegible.

An arcane spellbook that doesn’t seem to have belonged to a single wizard, bearing many different hands and styles across undoubtedly centuries. Many pages are damaged, arcane scribblings made illegible by time and deterioration. On the pages that remain, it seems that many of the spells appear modified in some way.

A well-worn and obviously fake booklet on how to talk to ghosts.

A bound journal filled with sketches of plants and animals.

A medical journal written in a dead language. It's filled with diagrams and drawings of medical dissections of inhuman alien creatures.

The Book of Fate's Mercies: A book that details incidents where people were saved from death by random chance. For example, a barking dog caused someone to walk just a little quicker down the street, which moved them out of the path of a stampeding horse. The last story in the book is about you, potentially causing you to be extremely aware and reactive but utterly paranoid and agoraphobic.

An inconspicuous diary of a young girl named Fyla. At a young age Fyla's talents allowed her to see into the abyss and corrupted her mind. She wrote in detail about the monsters under her bed and her fears of what awaited her when they would finally come for her on her 18th birthday.

The Book of Wisdom: A tome that contains a collection of sayings, stories, poems, and hymns from every known culture, religion, and philosophy. New entries appear at random, as new Wisdoms are collected and recorded by other disciples carrying a copy of the Book of Wisdom.

A spellbook made from high quality blank parchment is covered in tiny runes. When one of these small inscriptions is pressed the parchment changes color.

Tome Of The Spellblade: A soft-covered leather bound treatise containing writings describing, in the most basic terms possible, methods of magical fighting. Even so, the material is fairly dense and requires definition and reiteration of various terms and ideas. Fortunately, it also contains many detailed diagrams.

Fearful Codex of Ancient Wisdom: A weighty volume bound in pale, scaled leather of unknown origin. This magical tome contains a wealth of knowledge both mundane and esoteric, and is inhabited by an archival spirit that will direct the reader to their desired content on request. Unfortunately, the spirit has undergone a great deal of trauma over the millennia and the "fearful" part of the title is now literal. Attempting to simply open the codex and read normally will reveal nothing but blank pages, with perhaps a fleeting glimpse of text slithering away to pages deeper in the book. Only through persuasion can you access the codex. The book has definite dislikes, some of which follow: Being read by firelight is terrifying - paper burns! Natural light is better, but being read outside in the weather is undignified and risky. Magical illumination is best, preferably indoors and someplace quiet. Any kind of liquid nearby is alarming - ink runs and paper is ruined! Don't even think about eating while you peruse the codex. The book doesn't really like to travel either and would prefer to tucked away safely in a library somewhere when not in use. It enjoys the company of other books but isn't fond of other magical tomes, even non-sentient ones. It's also really, really phobic about the number eight, and invariably uses constructions like "two cubed" or "nine less one" in its own text when needed.

[new-tella-us]

Oh yeah. I keep forgetting to post this draft. So I made sketches of Mika’s parents. I kept David mainly the same but Laura got a lot of changes including becoming a lot more relevant and intimidating to specifically the boys. I should probably finally go over David and Laura’s story but I’ll be brief…ish. It’s mainly about Laura btw as David lives a generally average life.

David is the son of CEO and Warlock Harold Anderson. He too, once, was a warlock practicing demonic magic as his father did. It was basically a family tradition. He would stop the practice all together when Laura was pregnant with Mika for reasons more relevant to Laura’s entire overhaul. He is aware of demons, angels, devils and the like but his distance from his father’s magic makes him susceptible to magical influence.

Now…Laura. For the longest time I’ve been saying that Laura isn’t completely human. But I never specified what she was. She is a nephalim. Same as Saero. Only she’s half angel-half human. Her father is long gone but she does have two living family members, her mother and half brother. These two are only relevant in James’ route where if you were to get the bad end, it would be revealed that the brother managed to convince the angel of destiny to return Mika to her mother.

But what happened to her? How did she end up marrying a human? Long story short, she got curious about the human world and the origins of her father. She attempted to go to the human world only to accidentally end up in the Abyssal Plains. This takes place six years before Mika’s birth. Demons don’t take kindly to angels and especially not the Demon Lord. Next thing she knew, she was in a cell for a year. Over that year, she did attempt a few escapes that didn’t work. She would lose a wing and an eye (hence the hair covering said eye) as “consequence”. It was only when she started talking to one of the prisoners, a woman draped in a red cloak, that she found her way out. The prisoner offered her a means to escape that she was going to take herself, Laura graciously took it and ran off.

One of those “means” was a spell to summon a portal to the human world for real and so, she ended up on earth. She was battered, bruised and injured but escaped. And then she met David. And the rest is history. She didn’t tell David the full story until she felt like she had to so her unborn child wouldn’t be exposed to demonic magic or magic at all and make the same mistakes she made. David, out of both respect for his wife and a new hatred for the cruel demons that would hurt her, stopped using magic and demanded his father do the same or never speak to his child. It was one of the many wedges in their relationship.

So Mika is 25% angel and I’m not just using that as a “fun fact”. I added a piece of lore that says that angels can’t be enthralled. Laura is completely immune to enthrallment and Mika is resistant. This closes the plot hole I notice where those who were enthralled would not be aware that they were being enthralled but Mika was aware even if she couldn’t resist. This is the reason behind that. As for how this would change the housewarming party, from Mika’s perspective (aka Seduce Me 1) it wouldn’t change. In front of her daughter, Laura would pretend to be enthralled and not question the boys.

However, there could be a cutscene or episode that reveals a moment where Laura walks away from her family and towards one of the boys, the one she suspects is trying to control her. And who would that be other than Sam and Erik, the two that opened the door in the first place.

Oh yeah! Another lore thing. Angels and sense demon magic and link it to said demon. Demon magic has a sort of aura that can linger on people that demons have used their magic against. Aka, Laura can see that Sam and Erik did…something to her daughter and she’s not happy.

#seduce me the otome #seduce me demon war #seduce me #redesign #seduce me fanart #seduce me david #seduce me laura #seduce me mika

[all-my-writings-and-musings]

Fair warning, this one is packed with ANGST! In my mind it has a happy ending, but you can interpret it however you wish!

Day 5: Death

Macaque x Reader

He'd known it would happen, it always did with mortals, and even if it wasn't supposed to happen like this he would have thought he'd be more prepared than this…

Yet here he was, cradling your motionless form, desperately looking for any sign of life as he screamed your name and allowed hot tears to surge down his cheeks. His heart felt like it was shattering in his chest, your motionless form refusing to even stir in his arms. A strangled yell tore itself from his throat while all the thoughts of what could have been threatened to fracture his very being.

He hadn't been strong enough, hadn't been quick enough, hadn't been enough of anything… From the day the two of you met he knew he'd only be trouble for you, why hadn't he listened to himself? You'd both be so much better off…

Tears fell onto your face from his, wiping away some of the grit left by the attack that had struck you down. 

"I'm sorry…" he croaked, cradling your head in his shaking hands. Some part of him, some weak and stupid and foolish part, wanted to hope you might still be alive. Perhaps the hit had only knocked you out, and there was still a flicker of life in the heart that had stolen his…

But he was never that lucky.

A cackle at his back evaporated the tears on his cheeks, the demon that had been hunting the two of you obviously delighting in the scene before them.

"Don't worry, you'll be joining them soon enough." they mocked from the sky above. His ears caught the whistle of a magical projectile hurtling his way, much like the one he'd failed to stop before. Rage like nothing he'd ever known filled every corner of his being, blinding him to the pain as he threw up an arm to deflect the attack as if it were nothing more than an insect. A nearby plateau was split when it took the ricochet.

"No, I won't be." he said cooly, laying you down as if you were merely sleeping. Clenching his fists at his sides, he turned away from you, what remained of his heart crumbling to dust. Power thrummed through him as easily as blood, crackling along his battered limbs until it overflowed and made the air simmer. His foe blanched, perhaps realizing the weight of their mistake as the mountain below started to shift, coming up by its very roots as the world around him became just as broken as he was.

There was some small justice in what was about to happen. You'd get another chance, or end up somewhere better, but him… he had other plans. In the span of an instant he had the demon by the throat, his fangs bared for the world as he made his final vow.

"But I will be taking you with me."

#lego monkie kid #mactober #lmk #monkie kid #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #lmk x reader #self insert #human reader #angst #character death #tw #macaque #mk macaque #monkie kid macaque #lmk macaque x reader #macaque x reader #the six eared macaque #six eared macaque x reader #reqs open

[monstersdownthepath]

For the likes of Demon Lords or equivalents - you know, divine or semi-divine entities that have stat blocks - are there any instances where their Servants are 'stronger' than them, with like higher BAB or more spells or any other craziness that can result from High-level Characters, or Monsters w/ Class Levels? I put 'Stronger' in air quotes because there's a lot of different types of strength, and being well-rounded is pretty important. No matter how huge your stats, if you have 7 Int a Maze is gonna lock you out. Asking because I was looking at WotR and had an idea (well, just cribbing an idea from another setting tbh) of giving Baphomet's cult a 'Muscle'. The Lord of Minotaur's is strong to be sure, but his cults tends to be more cerebral - sometimes, you need to break things. So, here's this super-Minotaur born from an exemplar of their kind - big, huge, strong, and barely sapient - a perfect fighting servant, to be summoned to his cults as needed. I do say Super-Minotaur because I gave them the Advanced Template, Class Levels and courtesy of Baphomet, some Mythic Ranks. It *is* for WotR after all.

-----

Hmmm... Among fiends, such a thing is nearly unheard of, and the times it is heard of are often laughed mockingly about; making something stronger than yourself is a surefire way to be replaced by it, regardless of how that strength manifests (see: Lyutheria, the former Horseman of Famine). I personally can't find an example of this occurring among the fiendish demigods where it didn't end with the created servant supplanting their creator! The closest available approximate is the fact the physically diminutive and statistically underwhelming Barbatos is in many respects physically and magically inferior to Furcas, over whom he holds dominion.

In Baphomet's case specifically, he himself is more powerful than his own Labyrinth Minotaurs--their species his most successful creation--by every measurable metric.

Even among good demigods, I can't immediately find anything like the scenario you're describing! I suppose, if you wanted to stretch the search parameters a little, Talmandor exists; he serves no particular Empyreal Lord, though, and this specific detail allows him considerable freedom when interacting with mortals.

there's actually a reason for this in and out of universe, actually; look at the crafting rules for any Construct or the rules of creating just about any Undead, and you'll always notice that the Caster Level needed to make such minions exceeds the creature's CR considerably! "You need to be more powerful than the thing you're trying to make" is built into the rules of reality!

All that being said, there's literally nothing stopping you from making your living battering ram have 40 Str/34 Dex/40 Con with two dozen and change combat feats. Baphomet has the wealth and resources of whole worlds at his disposal and, more importantly, ways to stop such a creature from turning against him... and if he doesn't now, he's too cunning to craft such a being without an idiot-proof failsafe (such as a kill-switch only he can activate or a phrase only he knows). Maybe he keeps the thing Imprisoned until it's needed?

side side note/fun fact I found out while digging around for a way to answer this ask: did you know the highest Str in the game (56) belongs to Cthulhu?

#asks #arch-arsonist

[hxney-lemcn]

Are you gonna do part 2 to Homage? Of course if you are busy or just don't feel like it take your time and rest :) i just really like the fic and your writing! You're amazing!

Summary: Reader introduces Hunter to what pancakes are.

tw: none.

a/n: Sorry that I skipped a request to do this one, I just got inspiration for this one first.

wc: 0.8k

Master List

“So palismen can choose their familiar?” I asked with wide eyes. “Do you think I could get one if I went to your world?” 

“Yeah,” Hunter nodded. “Theoretically.”

Hunter was at my house, explaining the magic that was in the demon realm. When I offered to hang out with Hunter, I didn’t actually expect us to hang out on our own. Luz was very adamant and set the entire thing up to be fair. It was kind of awkwards at first, us both sitting in silence. I brought up the topic of magic and he’s been going on explaining everything in great detail. It was really interesting.

“I’m…sorry,” He said sheepishly, looking down at his palisman. “I know my voice is annoying.”

I looked at him confused, “I don’t think so. I…I think it’s nice.”

He looked up at me with wide eyes, “Oh.”

Feeling embarrassed? I’m not exactly sure what I was feeling, but it made me want to change the subject. 

“So does your palisman have a name?” I asked. His palisman was a little red cardinal that had a scar over its left eye. It fit him. 

“Uh, yeah,” Hunter replied, picking up the cardinal. “His name is Flapjack.”

“Flapjack?” I asked in surprise. I felt a smile curl onto my lips, “Like a pancake?”

“Pancake?” He asked in confusion. His magnta eyes searched mine, like he’d magically find the definition.

“You guys don’t have pancakes?” I asked, flabbergasted. He shook his head slowly, reminding me of a kid who just got scolded. “Omg I need to…you need to try one. I think we’ve got a pancake mix.” 

I stood up from my bed, walking quickly to the kitchen. My mom paid us no mind as I searched the cabinets. I heard Flapjack chirp and Hunter hush it, but I ignored it. My mission was more important. Mission, introduce Hunter to the wonderful world of pancakes and breakfast foods. I let out a victorious ‘yes!’ as I indeed found the pancake mix. I checked the expiration date, just in case. I mean I don’t really cook often and my mom’s too busy too. 

I quickly gathered the other ingredients, not like there were many more, and got the batter ready. I put a pan on the stove and set it to medium heat, now waiting for it to heat up as I got out butter.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Hunter asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded, buttering the pan. “It's a pancake mix, so most of the ingredients are already mixed for you. That’s why I just had to add milk, to make it a batter.”

I poured the batter into the pan once it was hot enough. While it cooked, I grabbed a few plates. Flipping the pancake, I cringed at how it was burned. So I’ll scrap this one and flip it sooner, noted.

“It smells really good,” Hunter muttered. 

“Just wait till you taste it,” I smirked. “This is easy to make, even for someone who never cooks, like me.”

The next few pancakes were the perfect golden brown, and I internally pat myself on the back for how good they looked and smelled. I divided the pancakes between both plates and set one in front of Hunter. I then went to the fridge and grabbed the syrup. Can’t forget the best part! I rushed back to the dining room table and sat next to him. 

“Okay, so try a pancake without the syrup, and then with it,” I said eagerly. Hunter nodded and hesitantly cut into his stack and took a bite. I sat on the edge of my seat, curious to what he thought of it. It’s not everyday you get to introduce someone to something. Hunter’s eyes widened as he chewed, glancing at me then back down at the food. 

Swallowing, Hunter spoke up, “This is amazing!”

“You think that’s good?” I asked with a smug grin. “Now try it with some syrup!” He did just that and he seemed even more floored. I grinned, proud of myself. Now he needed to try some homemade pancakes. I ate my pancakes as well, content with the outcome of this little expedition. 

Flapjack hopped over to me, and I raised my hand up to pet it. Just in case it didn’t want to be pet. It twittered happily as I brushed its wooden feathers. Even though it was wooden, it was still soft. 

“Who's a cute little guy,” I cooed, petting the birds back. I heard Hunter choke, and I looked up in concern. He sputtered as he swallowed the rest of the water he was drinking, his face bright red. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” He nodded, not meeting my gaze, but showing off a shaky smile. Flapjack hopped back over to Hunter, then flew up into his hair. “Hey!” The bird just chirped and made a little nest in his hair. Adorable. 

I rested my arm on the table, put my head in my hand and stared at Hunter, “So, want to learn how to play Mario Kart?”

#toh #the owl house #toh hunter #hunter toh #the golden guard #golden guard #anon request #x reader #toh hunter x reader #hunter toh x reader #the golden guard x reader #golden guard x reader