#when wearing red is like wearing an invisibility cloak

[montereybayaquarium]

Behold the brilliant bloody-belly comb jelly! While you might think this scarlet sensation stands out in the deep sea, it actually blends in beautifully. Red is the first wavelength of light absorbed as you descend into the depths of the ocean, so crimson-colored animals appear black, making them virtually invisible in the darkness of the deep sea. It’s a super-stealthy way to avoid becoming somebody’s snack. 

So next time you’re “seeing red,” think of how useful that would be when catching a meal in the deep.

#monterey bay aquarium #bloody belly comb jelly #who turned out the lights? #clever camouflage #when wearing red is like wearing an invisibility cloak #on fridays we wear red

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Oooh! I think I got a fun one. Can I have some headcanons for the lamb? He was walking around one day and encountered a tall human who wears a cloak with lamb horns? He doesn't know their human until they remove their hood (Also the reader is nonbinary because gender gets boring sometimes :]) (Also I headcanon that humans are either nearly extinct or the all of them live underground.)

- Kneecaps Anon

Aw I adore this idea!!

Also this will take place in the early days of Lamb's cult (where they're still getting the hang of managing followers, rituals, etc...definitely long before slaying and indoctrinating all the bishops)

...........

While Lamb was crusading through an unknown part of the Old Faith, they came across the ruins of a village that looked most peculiar. Much unlike previous ones they've discovered.

The homes, although desecrated, were far bigger than ones Leshy's followers would live in. They could barely reach the doorknob!

So they continued to investigate, before noticing someone emerging from the bushes with a bag and bloody dagger.

It's you, a mysterious tall figure wearing a cloak and sandals. But what intrigued them the most were the horns that poked through your hood.

They were unmistakably a lamb's horns.

At first they were hopeful that another one of their kind survived the slaughter...although when they called out to you, you stopped and stared at them in bewilderment.

"W-Were you talking to me?"

"Of course! Are you a lamb, too?"

"...ah...I'm sorry to say this, but no. I am not." Realizing who this was upon seeing the Red Crown, you uncovered your hood, revealing that you were in fact human. "I can understand why my "horns" led to you to believe that."

"That's too bad.." They frown, before expressing surprise that a human was still living in these lands...believing that they've all gone extinct.

But you politely corrected them on the matter.

"There used to be a lot of us, living in villages just like this. My ancestors had treaties with the Bishops until they were attacked by the One Below. And for whatever reason they chose to take their anger out on us, demanding that we go live in their domains or perish. Obviously we refused and, well...now this little village is the only proof we ever existed here."

"I see.." Lamb grimaced. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you the only one left?"

"Yeah. This place thrived for generations, invisible to the eyes of the Bishops, but all my friends and family either died off or fled to some other land, unable to cope with the constant feeling of danger all around us. Though I wanted to stay because I didn't want those false gods to scare me away from my home." You end your somber tale with a determined huff, still smiling. "But yeah...it sucks, but I've managed to survive for this long...so.."

Seeing as your views aligned with theirs, Lamb immediately invited you to join their cult, promising you safety and better living conditions in exchange for your devotion.

But unlike the more simple-minded animal followers they've wrapped around their finger, you weren't so easily convinced.

Although you admired lambs, you didn't like how this one was basically giving you the same ultimatum the Bishops once did to your ancestors: Join or perish. It seemed quite hypocritical.

In the end, you request to see the cult first and decide for yourself.

They oblige..but unfortunately for them, that means they can't just warp you there and use omnipresence to return to the temple grounds quickly.

But they knew they'll have to earn your respect and make a good first impression--and dropping you through a demonic portal's not exactly the best way to do that.

When you finally arrived, you were impressed by the architecture and the temple...

As well as all of Lamb's followers who flocked to you, awestruck at a newcomer like yourself. Some were familiar with your species, others have never seen anything like you before.

Regardless, they shook your hands in greeting, being fascinated by your cloak and how your hair looked, asking you so many questions that they nearly overwhelmed you.

You haven't gotten this much attention in years!

Lamb was lowkey jealous and pushed them all back to give you some breathing room.

The adorable creatures won your heart over, and you agreed to follow Lamb's teachings faithfully.

They simply changed the colors and symbol on your cloak to match those of the followers. You still kept the horns, as they found no reason to get rid of them.

Afterwards they showed you around, only to realize that you'll need some major accommodations if you were going to spend the rest of your life here.

You couldn't exactly take the mattress from your village here, and the little beds/shelters were too small for you to comfortably sleep in; and grassy gruel and berry dishes weren't going to sustain your hunger for long.

Nevertheless, they vowed to meet your needs, though they also worried about how well you'll fit in and get along with everyone--considering you're the only human.

Later around sundown, you noticed one follower (the only one who didn't greet you this morning) sitting in front of a makeshift grave with a depressed expression.

Lamb explains they've been stuck that way since their indoctrination several days ago, being the sole survivor of a massacre. The grave was that of their lover, who was murdered right in front of them by one of the Bishops themselves.

The sheep learned what happened via mindreading..but apparently it was so traumatic, they spared you from the details.

However, they expressed frustration in failing to convince this follower to move on and start contributing to the cult.

They've exhausted every possible effort at motivating them: inspiration, random gifts, even a funeral service was conducted (and for someone who wasn't even in the cult)..but nothing worked.

Lamb was starting to get angry, but quickly calms down and just reassures you not to worry, instead trying to show you where you'll be sleeping.

"Wait, do I have permission to approach them, Leader? Maybe I can help them out."

"....I doubt it. It's like talking to a piece of stone....but you have my permission to try." They allow you to go, wondering what you'll do differently.

You just went over to the follower and introduced yourself, sitting beside them for a few minutes in the hopes your presence would comfort them.

At first Lamb thinks you're wasting your time, but somehow....you got that silent follower to actually talk about their lover and all the good memories they had together, getting choked up by the end.

You offered them a hug, which they accepted as they buried their face into your chest, sobbing their little heart out and wailing over the cruelty of the Bishops.

It filled you with both sorrow and anger, wanting nothing more than to see their blasphemous empire crumble because of the grief they brought upon this one follower alone.

Meanwhile, Lamb's standing there just..completely shocked, especially after you calmed down the follower and bring them over to them.

"F-Forgive me, my Leader, if...I was being a nuisance by not listening to you." They apologize. "If you want me to start working right now, then I shall. I feel okay enough to do so. Whatever you need, just say the word."

"Wha...??? But....n-never mind. You're forgiven, [F/n]. For now just get some rest." Lamb dismissed them, and only after they've gone to bed do they turn to you with comically-wide eyes. "By the One Below...how did you do that???"

"Dunno." You shrugged. "I guess all they needed was a hug."

"...then why didn't they just ask me for one???"

"They probably didn't know they needed one until now. But I figured your mindreading powers would've anticipated that."

"...are you insulting the might of the Red Crown!?"

"I mean no offense, Leader." You chuckle, patting their wooly head. "Now, where will I be sleeping?"

Although a little irked, Lamb quickly got over it, relieved that you were able to help that follower...how ever you managed to do it.

You had a selfless heart, and that was a good asset to have in the cult.

Why were they ever worried? You'll fit in just fine.

#clanask #kneecaps anon #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #cotl lamb x reader #lambert x reader #platonic #headcanons

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

A pretty distraction

When Gale transforms into a woman during a mission, Tav and Astarion can’t keep their dirty thoughts at bay. Poor Karlach and Wyll get caught in the cross fire.

(Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut, threesome, body worship, cowgirl, fellatio, fingering, polymorph spell)

Notes:

Karlach’s and Wyll’s faith is based on this fic.

"The Staff of Authority. What's that thing again?"

"It's the sceptre that the Council of Four passes onto their successors during the ceremony," Wyll explained a second time, slightly irritated. "It's a meaningful and important artefact of the Baldur's Gate nobles."

"How boring," Astarion retorted. "They have no imagination. They should have come up with something more fun. Like a butt plug. That would be more enjoyable than the stick those nobles have up their asses."

Wyll almost frothed at the mouth.

"Have you no respect? These noble families play an extremely important roles to keep Baldur's Gate the flourishing city it is!"

"It still can't hold a candle to the City of Splendors," Gale chimed in, smirking smugly.

"Stop encouraging Astarion's bad manners!" the warlock hissed.

"Calm down, sunshine. Gale's clearly teasing," Karlach chuckled and wrapped an arm around her lover.

Wyll grumbled unintelligible, but was glad for the grounding touch.

"But the Staff of Authority got stolen and your father tasked us with getting it back," Tav finished the conversation.

The vampire spawn wrinkled his nose.

"I never liked playing the hero."

"Stop complaining, love. We all know, deep down, you're a softie," the bard teased him lightly, kissing his cheek.

The addressed pursed his lips and tried to look more pissed than he actually was – and failed.

"At least, we know where the item is," Gale sighed. "I'm glad we're done drinking our way through every seedy tavern of the city. The watered-down beer was repelling. Downright vile."

"Oh, shut up, darling. We all know you prefer the finer things in life. Something full-bodied and red."

"Like me!" grinned Karlach and winked.

Tav burst out into laughter and the tiefling was pleased with herself.

"Anyway, we must hurry to get the Staff of Authority back because it'll be auctioned off via the black market tonight," Gale brought the conversation back to the original topic. "So, here's the plan; Tav will wear her best red dress, heading towards the building. The security guard will be distracted by her beauty and, with a weaponized smile and wink, she'll get pass them. After walking down the hallway, she'll enter the buffet room and open a window, complaining about the stuffy air inside. While everyone will move to the auction hall, Astarion will squeeze through the window, cloaked in an invisibility spell, make his way backstage to the storage room, and boom; we'll get the Staff of Authority back."

"You know that won't work, right?" remarked Astarion, eyeing the wizard judgingly. "Nobody would let Tav in, not to mention that she doesn't own a single dress in the first place."

"Well, we could make it work," replied the wizard, miffed.

"Let me do it then. I look smashing in red," beamed Karlach, already planning her sneak attacks.

Tsking, the vampire spawn rolled his eyes, annoyed of all the bullshit.

"I hate to be the one to say it, but Astarion's right," chimed Tav in. "Neither you nor I are what men typically desire in a woman."

Karlach pouted, fussing with her braids.

"We could really use Shadowheart right now," said Wyll.

"Mhm, but she can't neglect her duties as a high priestess of Selûne. They're really busy at the temple at the moment because the Moon Festival's near," Tav replied, looking wistful.

"Hm... I have an idea," Gale announced.

He waved about his arms elegantly, reciting a magic spell, and right before his friends' eyes, he turned into a beautiful, shapely woman.

"Gods, you're gorgeous!" Astarion blurted out.

Immediately, Gale turned crimson.

"You think so?" he muttered with a warm, singsong-y, sultry voice.

"Fuck," Tav breathed, enraptured.

"Indeed, darling. 'Fuck'," the vampire spawn snickered, licking his lips.

"Can you two stop eying your lover like a dish on the dinner table?" Wyll asked, uncomfortable.

"Oh, we'll eat him right up, don't you worry," Astarion purred and Gale hid his heated face behind his hands in embarrassment.

Wyll was thankful that his skin colour concealed the blush which would have been visible all across his face and neck otherwise. Karlach laughed and pulled him against her chest.

"Gale does look hot though," she smirked.

"Hold that thought," Tav told Astarion who grinned, "but first we must complete our task."

Instead of squeezing through a window, they used an invisibility spell to sneak into the building. Gale didn't even have to enchant the guards, all he needed was a sultry blink of his big, brown eyes, a coy smile, and the plunging neckline of his deep blue dress. Stealing back the Staff of Authority was easy – especially when being accompanied by someone who had nimble fingers like Astarion. Within five minutes, they were in and out of the building, and when the black market merchants realised that the item was gone and chaos broke out, Tav and her friends were already halfway across the city.

"That was easier than expected," grinned the bard. " Ulder Ravengard will be pleased."

Wyll's father was delighted about their successful deed, thanking them profoundly in the name of the Baldur's Gate population. Tav wished they would have received coin instead of praise, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Thank you for helping to keep a decades-old tradition alive," Ulder beamed. "It would have been an absolute devastation to lose such an important and meaningful historical artefact."

"No problem. It's our job to help people in need," Tav lilted, hoping to remind the Grand Duke to finally pay them with actual money. "And it's wonderful to see Wyll and Karlach again. We hadn't found the time to meet up since they'd left Waterdeep two months ago. I'm dying to find out what they'd been up to."

"About that... There's something Karlach and I want to tell you," replied Wyll, clearing his throat. "Well... we've decided to extend the hunting lodge in the nearby forest that belongs to the Ravengard family. There, we want to raise our future children. Of course, guests are always welcome. And I'll take on the offered position as General of the City Guard."

Tav raised an eyebrow and asked: "You'll be a part of the Flaming Fists? The guys who made our lives harder when we fought the Absolute?"

"No, no," Wyll explained hastily. "The City Guard is a new faction. It was founded after we destroyed Gortash's Steel Watch. They're a separate group and have nothing to do with the Flaming Fists."

"Unfortunately, the latter aren't what they once were," sighed Ulder. "Back when I was a marshal, the Flaming Fists were in their prime."

Tav bit her tongue to keep herself from giving a cheeky reply. One look at Astarion revealed that he was doing the same.

"Finally!" the vampire spawn exclaimed, slamming the door of their rented room shut. "I thought Ravengard would never shut up! He didn't even pay us, that cutthroat!"

"Yeah, it's a bit disappointing," Tav agreed.

"An understatement. But... we can finally devour our wonderful wizard."

Astarion locked eyes with Gale, licking his lips hungrily, and the latter shuddered in anticipation. The wizard hadn't dropped his magic disguise yet, still presenting himself as a busty woman. Astarion stalked closer to him, truly looking like the predator he was.

"I want to devour you, darling," he purred, stroking Gale's cheek. "Take your dress off."

The addressed blushed, but snapped his fingers and was stark naked in an instant.

"You're beautiful this way, but I would miss that lovely cock of yours if you'd stay like this forever," the vampire spawn revealed.

The wizard cleared his throat, flustered.

"Well... I can change my uhm… 'appearance'. Down there."

"Hmm, Gods, yes." Astarion bit his lip and felt arousal shoot through him like lightning.

With a heated face, Gale mumbled a spell and his genitalia changed back to its original form. Both the vampire spawn and the human bard stared at him hungrily.

"Gods, darling, let me. Please," Astarion begged, almost whined, and before he got an answer, he was on his knees and swallowed Gale's member down. The latter gasped, one hand immediately flying to his lover's head and stroking his pointed ear. Astarion moaned around him and the wizard shuddered.

"You look so beautiful together," Tav remarked.

She moved closer, petting Astarion's hair with one hand while pulling Gale in with the other. They kissed tenderly, a sensual slide of their tongues. The wizard moaned lowly into her mouth.

"Astarion," he warned. The addressed hummed, rolling his balls in one hand. "Stop, please. I - I don't want it to end yet."

The vampire spawn drew back, panting and with his pupils blown wide. Gale gasped for air and desperately tried to gain control. Tav kissed his cheek and asked: "Everything alright?"

The wizard nodded, still slightly out of breath. A bit unsteady on his legs, Astarion got up. Tav reached for him and kissed him hungrily. When she finally let go of him, Gale gave him a peck too. They moved over to the bed, laying the wizard out like a feast. Tav started to kiss his collarbones, then, his breasts. Astarion nibbled on his neck. Gale trembled with pleasure, panting erratically. The few, low noises he made sounded foreign to his own ears. He wasn't used to the female voice that left his mouth.

The wizard still struggled to accept being at the receiving end of pleasure instead of giving it. Tav had realised his reluctance, how it had been hammered into him by Mystra to be the worshiper, and, since then, the bard showed him over and over again what it means to be worshiped for once. Gale was still slightly uncomfortable with it, but got better at enjoying it each time, no longer feeling so terribly guilty for taking instead of giving.

Now, it wasn't any different, and Gale let the pleasure wash over him guilt-free, panting and trembling under the gentle affection provided by Astarion and Tav.

"Beautiful," the vampire spawn whispered, petting the wizard's long, sweaty mane.

"Can I ride you?" the bard asked, looking desperate.

"Please do," whispered Gale and almost choked on a moan when his lover sunk down on him.

Tav was always so soft, wet, and hot around him. She felt amazing and wasn't afraid or ashamed to voice her desires. He loved it.

Astarion fondled Gale's big breasts, sucking on his nipples, and the wizard's hips bucked up with a gasp.

"That's it, darling. Show us how good you feel," the vampire spawn purred and kissed him sloppily.

Gale's breath hitched when he climaxed, trembling all over. Tav moaned loudly and shamelessly, grinding her hips down. It was too much and the wizard whimpered.

"Apologies, love," the bard panted and got off of him.

As always, she'd interpreted his body language correctly. Gale sighed a breath of relief. Tav crawled closer and started to blow Astarion who moaned against the wizard's lips.

"Slow down, darling."

The vampire spawn's plea fell on deaf ears and he mewled when Tav slipped a finger into his hole. Astarion's head fell back as he panted open-mouthed, exposing the long line of his neck. He lifted his right leg up over Tav's shoulder to give her better access. Gale littered the vampire spawn's neck with kisses, making him pant even harder. Suddenly, Astarion whined, digging his nails into Gale's shoulders.

"Yes! Right there, darling, right there! Aah!"

Tav hummed pleased and kept sucking him off while stroking his prostate. Astarion almost screamed when he came, covering Gale's soft stomach with his seeds. A bit roughly, he grabbed onto Tav and hauled her up to smash their mouths together.

"Gods..." Astarion felt dizzy.

Smiling at him, the bard caressed his cheek.

"Alright?" she asked.

The vampire spawn nodded, sighing contently when Tav kissed his forehead and Gale his temple. The latter finally dropped his polymorph spell, feeling incredibly drained and tired.

"I need sleep," mumbled Gale into Astarion's shoulder.

He curled up against the vampire spawn while Tav scooted closer to Astarion's other side. The latter smiled contently and sated.

"We must do this again," he remarked and his lovers hummed agreeingly.

Snuggled close together, they fell asleep.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #karlach #karlach cliffgate #wyll #wyll ravengard #astarion x gale x tav #smut #mind the trigger warning

[infinite-criseas]

Wolfstar/Jegulus Drabble

Part 2/2

Back in the common room, Sirius and Remus’s clothes were splayed across the floor. They sat in their boxers, Sirius wearing Remus’s sweater, cuddling together under the warmth of a quilt by the window. Remus was staring at the the night sky, pondering about what was revealed in the nights tomfoolery. Did everyone really think he was attractive? He couldn’t wrap his mind around such a foreign concept, especially after he had himself so convinced that his scars were the ugliest thing imaginable despite Sirius’s constant protests.

Sirius stared entranced by Remus’s beauty. His messily styled dirty brown hair glistened in the starlight, and his scars were accentuated in the dull lighting. Sirius began to absentmindedly trace his fingers across the marks on Remus’s bare chest. Sirius would never admit it to anyone (other than Remus of course) but he found Moony’s scars so very sexy, they were a testament to his boyfriend’s endless bravery. He had really fallen for his knight in shining armor. Sirius shook his head back to reality, hoping no one heard his corny thoughts.

Remus smirked at Sirius’s sudden jolt, “Knut for your thoughts?” He asked turning to face his boyfriend. Sirius smiled into Remus’s face with a gentle peck on the lips.

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when they were interrupted by someone creaking down the stairs. “You guys are still here? I thought for sure by now you’d be in bed.” Dorcas said.

“I fear the unspeakable is happening in my room and I’d like to live in blissful ignorance” Sirius spoke dramatically, raising his hand to head head pretending to faint.

“James and Reggie” Remus clarified, to a very puzzled Dorcas while catching his overly dramatic lover and knocking over the quilt covering them in the process. Dorcas stared wide eyes in shock which quickly turned into laughter as she saw the red love bites trailing down Remus’s chest. Remus blushed and flustered to grab Sirius’s white button down shirt that was strewn on the floor to cover up. Sirius opened his mouth to say something cocky but was once again cut off by a clattering down the opposite stairwell.

Silent whispered giggles followed by loud sushing and more giggles came from a set of invisible voices. That was until two sets of feet became visible under what was so obviously the invisibility cloak. “Well looks like you’re room just freed up” Dorcas commented, as three of them watched the semi invisible teetering figure struggle to find the door.

One of the feet (presumably James’s) stumbled on the cloak, revealing the two boys. James’s hand was gripping Regulus’s waist, and Reggie’s hands were clasped against Jame’s neck and chest to stop from falling. Reggie’s hair was a messy sweaty mop of black swept back and his shirt was buttoned incorrectly - very clearly rushed and in the dark. James on the other hand, clearly not trying to look even remotely put together, had his shirt unbuttoned, one sleeve falling off his shoulders and his hair was as messy as one would expect after snogging your boyfriend for hours on end. Upon closer inspection, you could see a trail of hickeys across James’s chest - a revelation which sent Dorcas into another raucous fit of laughter.

The four boys were as stunned as a dear in headlights, a variety of emotions from embarrassment, love, hatred, and disgust running across their faces.

“Who would’ve thought that biting runs in the Black family” Dorcas chortled as she grabbed a book of the table and went back up the stairs.

…..

Part 1/2:

#wolfstar #jegulus #the marauders #marauders #remus x sirius #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #sirius and regulus #sirius black #remus lupin #Wolfstar/Jegulus Drabble

[vaicomcas]

@juliet-hellhound-week, here is a ridiculous little story for the Juliet Appreciation Week day two prompt "claws and fangs."

It can be considered a backstory for this awesome outfit drawn by @1967-impala

(This took place in the AU after the end of my fic “Heart of a Hellhound”.  Having defeated their enemies and restored their families, Castiel and Jack and Kelly were living in a cabin in the woods, Crowley reclaimed hell, and Castiel and Crowley were good friends.)

“Why is my new suit not yet ready?” Crowley barked at his tailor, most displeased.

“It’s not my fault, your majesty.”  His tailor spread out his hands.  “I’ve had to restart it three times.”

“Because you screwed up the seams?”

“No, each time it was perfection. But look what happened to them.”

The tailor led Crowley to the back room, where three identical suits hang on three mannequins.

Indeed, the suits were elegantly shaped, beautifully detailed, each one more handsome than the next.

…Except for the part where the front or back or both had been thoroughly slashed in five long, clean lines.

“Ah.” 

Crowley had a pretty good idea what happened.

“Juliet!” He summoned his head hellhound.

A frenzy of loud clicks and clacks announced the arrival of the beast; when going to see Crowley, she doesn’t bother to retract her claws for stealth.

“What’s up, Papa?”

“Did you do this?” Crowley pointed at the shredded suits.

“Oh yes!  The fabric feels so nice under my claws!”

“Juliet, these are my suits.  You must not destroy them.”

“Pfffft.  They look great with the slits.  You should wear it on a date.”

“Do you hear me?  You are forbidden from touching my suit.”

But Crowley knew that his admonishment went in one ear, and out the other.

So when it happened again three more times, Crowley finally had enough.

He went to Juliet’s favorite woods, and found the tree stump Juliet liked to scratch her nails on.

He performed a transmutation spell and altered the tree’s substance from wood to a kind of coarsely ground angel blade material.  Like an adamantine sandpaper.

Whistling, he went back to his throne, and waited.

Soon, he heard a blood curdling howl. 

Crowley was starting to feel a little uneasy.

Then the hellhound was standing in front of him, red eyes glaring at him accusingly.

“I know it was you, Papa.”

She held up a paw.

“Look what you’ve done to me!  Look!”

Her nails were filed down into neat, smooth half moons. 

“Why, Juliet, your nails are so pretty!” Crowley suppressed a laugh.

Juliet threw her massive head back, and howled bloody murder once again.

“Papa, why do you betray me?”

Crowley huffed.

“Betray you?  I’ve improved you!  People pay good money to get their dog’s nails trimmed!  There are television commercials!”

"I am defenseless now!"

"Oh, aside from your sabor teeth, your fire breath, and your invisibility cloak? Besides, all our enemies have been vanquished, who do you even need to defend yourself against?"

Inside, Crowley was indeed feeling guilty.  But he was determined not to let Juliet walk all over him this time.

Juliet barked and growled, whirled around like a beast possessed, and scratched furiously at Crowley’s throne—realizing, to her further horror, that her trimmed nails were only able to leave shallow incisions on the upholstery.

Realizing that no amount of tantrum was going to bring her razor claws back, she stopped, gave Crowley a tragic stare, and disappeared in a black smoke.

Crowley decided to let his spoiled hellhound cool off for a few days.  She’ll forget all about it, he thought.

When Juliet was nowhere to be seen for three days, he started to worry.

Crowley went to Juliet’s own suite in Hell, with a sweeping view of the burning sulfur lake.

There he found a note that Juliet left for him.

“I have run away from Hell.  Goodbye forever.”

Crowley groaned and picked up his cell phone.

“Hello, Crowley.”  Said the gravelly voice on the other end of the phone.

“Hello, Feathers.” Though worried, a smile cracked involuntarily on Crowley’s face.  “Is Juliet over there with you?”

A beat of silence, and then, “No?”

Crowley’s smile grew bigger.

“You are a terrible liar. ”

“I am sorry, Crowley.  I don’t know what happened between you two, but she made me promise not to tell you.”

“It’s alright.  Let her stay with you until she comes to her senses and comes back.”

“Crowley, she was crying.  With tears!  Whatever you did, you should apologize to her.”

“How come you never choose my side?”  Crowley’s voice dripped with hurt feelings, and he enjoyed immensely the minutes of awkward stammering as the angel tried to redeem himself.

A week later, Juliet returned to Hell.

However, instead of a defeated, demure pet that Crowley expected, Juliet sauntered in with head held high, and eyes gleaming like rubies. 

“Juliet!  Did you have a good time at Castiel’s house?”

“Of course!  They treat me like a queen over there!”

Juliet stuck out her plump belly.

“Look! Jack fed me honey cakes every day!”

“You are a hellhound.  You can’t get fat.”

“Take it back!  Hellhounds are supposed to have pot bellies!”

“Fine, congratulations on your pot belly.”

“And Kelly knit many sweaters for me, and didn’t mind it at all when I shredded them.”

Crowley groaned.

“Ah… still mad at me about your nails?”

“Not any more.”  Juliet twirled in a tight, elegant circle, like a triumphant ballerina. 

“Now, look and weep at what Castiel did for me with his grace.”

She held up a paw.  Her claws had grown back sharper and stronger than ever, glistening menacingly like five daggers.

She walked over to the throne.

“No…  Don’t you dare, Juliet.”

With eyes directly on Crowley, Juliet brought down her claw in one smooth swipe, and rent the upholstery into oblivion.

“Juliet!”

Another two weeks passed, and it was time for Castiel and Crowley’s monthly meeting (or date, if you’d like).

“Nice suit,” Castiel didn’t usually understand fashion, but the dark grey and burgundy combination was so dashing he would have to be blind not to notice.

“Thanks,” Crowley beamed.  “Now, show me your blade.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if it was some kind of innuendo, but he agreeably drew his angel blade.

“What for?”

“I want you to stab me.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Come on.  I assure you, it’s fine.”

Castiel frowned, and made a gentle slash at his suit.

“Oh Cas.  I asked you to stab me, not to tenderly caress me.”

Seeing that the suit remained pristine, Castiel understood the purpose. 

This time, he drove his blade forward with some real force.

He could always heal Crowley if necessary, he thought.

The blade was stopped at the burgundy vest, and could not penetrate it.

Castiel was pleasantly surprised.

“You made an angel blade-proof suit.  I am impressed.”

“My R&D demons and my tailor made a good team, don’t you think?” Crowley grinned proudly. “Protection sigils, woven into the fabric, with efficacy against a wide range of weapons.” 

“I take it you are now invincible to demon knives, salt, holy water, etc.”

“Yes.  Most importantly, my suits are now indestructible by hellhound claws.”

So this was how Crowley invented armored suits that were warded against all supernatural forces.

--and he made matching armor for Juliet too, of course!

#juliethellhoundweek #hellhound juliet #crowley spn #castiel #juliet appreciation week #day two #claws and fangs #crowstiel #sort of #I realize my Juliet is a bit cat-like #fluff #crack

[fieldofdaisiies]

In Love With A Fairytale

for my two year writing anniversary I planned on doing something special and something a little different, which will now be acotar x Grimm fairytales. thank you @ultadverb for the initial idea and @autumndreaming7 for being such a great help in developing the story lines etc. 💛💛💛

✥ Sleeping Beauty (Elain x Azriel) 🦋

When exploring the garden, young Elain meets a to her unknown malevolent old woman and stings herself on a rose and falls into an endless sleep, there is only one person who can help her, a male borne of shadows and darkness. he comes for her, but can he save the young woman's life and win her heart? (for Elriel month)

✥ Hansel & Gretel (Emerie x Morrigan) 🌶️

On a search for food that takes Emerie and her brother to the forest, the young woman does not expect to instead of food discover a witch who is not only absolutely intriguing, but also nothing like Emerie had imagined a witch to be.

✥ 12 Dancing Princesses (Nesta x Cassian) 🌫️ 🦋

The three sisters go dancing each night, lying to their father. The father is furious and wants to find out their secret, young men from the kingdom are tasked to discover their secret but all of them fail. Until one man, Cassian, returns from war. He walks through the woods, is gifted with a cloak of invisibility and can so secretly follow the three sister. What he does not expect is that in his attempt to discover their secret he slowly falls in love with the oldest of them. 

✥ Red Riding Hood (Elain x Lucien) 🌶️

On her way home from her sick aunt when the sun already starts to set Elain stumbles upon a fox. What she does not know is that this fox is a beautiful man who wants nothing more than lure into his fox’s burrow, wanting to show her all the pleasures their night together has to offer.

✥ Rapunzel (Gwyn x Azriel) 🦋

Escaping her haunting past Gwyneth saves herself in a tower that is locked from the inside without a chance to enter. In order to pass her time there she reads and sings. Her song is so enchanting that a young man is drawn there and keeps returning to the forest, but will she let him enter? Will he help her heal and live again? Or will he be just another whisper between the trees?

✥ Cindarella (Eris x Azriel) 🌫️

Newly crowned King Eris wants to bring about change and reform in the Autumn Kingdom, after his father, the late King Beron passed. He knows he can’t do this on his own so sets out to find the one and holds a ball, inviting every nobleman and woman to a masked ball to celebrate the kingdom and to find his intended. Azriel, who barely sees the light of day, living in his father’s dungeon and being treated as nothing more than a servant in the family household, hears there is to be a ball and longs to go and get lost in the music of the evening. Little does he know what the future holds? (for Azris week)

✥ The Devil With the Three Golden Hairs (Feyre x Rhysand) 🦋

The king is looking to marry, and Feyre’s father would do anything to ensure his youngest daughter - Feyre Archeron - will marry King Tamlin. The king  wants proof that she is worthy of wearing the crown and bearing him heirs, and so sets her a quest - to steal the three golden hairs from the devil. Feyre sets out on her quest for the Hewn City, unaware that the devil is already waiting for her arrival. What will Feyre find in the Hewn City, will she be able to outwit the devil or will she have to strike a bargain to get what she needs to save her family?

#elriel #elucien #gwynriel #azris #nessian #feysand #emorie #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #acotar au

[many-melancholies]

If Love is the Answer – SoapGhost

♡

tags: fluff and angst, engineer!ghost, hologram!soap, character death

part: 1/5 [part two] [part three] [part four] [part five]

♡

What does it mean to be human? Don’t ask Simon Riley. As far as he was concerned, he had lived his life surrounded by machines and technology invented through decades of research; he didn’t have time, or he simply didn’t know the mysterious answer to the famous question.

Perhaps one day, he’d know, if it’s the ability to see or touch, if it’s the blood that courses through veins, or if it’s the many mistakes and lies that mankind has made.

The only thing is that Simon didn’t expect that day to be so close.

* * *

If you lived in the city parts of Germany, it’s no question that it wasn’t often snowflakes would fall on the ground during Christmas. And yet here it was, Berlin having a winter with white pounds of snow on land. Joyful, red-faced children played around and built snowmen, couples enjoyed warm cups of coffee and raclette as they snuggled below mistletoes, and workers drank away to celebrate the birthday of their Saviour. Christmas was only one day in a year; almost everybody spent their day merry-making, laughing, and smiling as presents in the holiday.

All except a young man with brown hair, whiskey-brown eyes, wearing a turtleneck with a nameplate of ‘Simon Riley’ and leather goggles resting on his shoulders that sat at his desk, scribbling his answers on his college textbook as he soaked the heat of the sun while it lasted. He was oddly eager to finish when he usually did his schoolwork like it was his hobby, sipping some hibiscus tea while doing so.

(His peers always did think he was a Brit.)

Ding dong!

Closing his textbook and pulling the curtains shut, he walked to the door to check the person who rang the doorbell. He opened the birch-wood door to see a dishevelled and freezing delivery man carrying a box.

“Good morning and Merry Christmas,” the delivery man greeted tiringly. “Here’s your delivery, that’d be around-”

The sound of euros interrupted the delivery man as Simon put a bill in the man’s hand in exchange for the package. As the delivery man computed the change, Simon felt the urge to help the poor shivering worker. He entered his flat without a word and gave him a spare jacket.

“What’s this, sir?” he asked.

“Keep it,” Simon said. “You’ll get sick of hypothermia at this rate,” he answered as he left without giving another glance or word at the confused but thankful delivery man wanting to get away from the sheer cold.

The college student, still carrying the taped box, headed downstairs to his dim basement. Blueprints and graphs of the male human body were scattered to the floor, progress diagrams on mental and physical proficiency were pinned on a corkboard, long USB cables, and red, yellow, black, and green wires were plugged in an electrical socket, and the cold and quiet expression that Simon often had shifted to something more determined.

He also had tons of inventions he made stacked in a mountain-like pile. Amongst those were fingerprint scanners, a device to create fire and ice depending on its settings, invisibility cloaks, a small cube that let out a chemical that slowed people’s sight speed (a flash-bomb, he called it), and many other machines.

Simon opened the plastic box to reveal a small, circular glass to frame his latest invention. With the help of a pair of black gloves, a screwdriver, and a wrench, his creation was complete.

A metal orb floated up from its wireless-charging holder. The orb projected a hologram; it would’ve looked like an actual human aside from its glitchiness and its bluish tint.

A man seemingly a few years younger than Simon appeared in front of him. He had a strange glow emitting on him, sporting a ridiculously charming mohawk and rich, ocean-blue eyes that was staring intently at his creator. The hologram wore a modest yellow dress with lace sleeves, barefoot, and slowly took a step towards Simon.

First, a brief attempt to touch. The hologram phased through Simon’s chest, glitching in its effects. Then, a scan. A ray of blue light shone at Simon, making a hologram sign appear, showing Simon’s name, age, past, and other fragments of his life. Lastly, the inventor plugged a hard drive at the one data cord the orb had. The orb whirred and the hologram’s stoic and lifeless expression was no more.

What replaced his face was a look of fondness and kindness, a beaming grin spreading wide across him.

“Yer Simon Riley, right master?” the hologram asked, dropping his formalities the moment the hard drive was entered. For some reason, he sounded Scottish. “Age 23, oxygen level 98, heart rate 79, occupation, college student on the degree of Engineering,” he answered automatically and emotionlessly, before becoming casual again.

“Thank ye fer creating me,” the hologram said, having the polite manners of the person its appearance and behaviour was based on. “I’ve noticed that I don’t quite have the skill ta…touch.”

The hologram looked at Simon and was surprised to see him on the verge of tears, his eyes glossy and his lips quivering. The invention squeaked and carefully tried to comfort him.

“A-Are ye alright, sir?” the hologram worriedly asked, patting him on the back, nudging his shoulder. “I'm here fer ye, don’t cry, ya numpty; ye haven't consumed any liquid since yesterday morning. Ye should hydrate yerself.”

“No,” Simon replied, voice stern, yet noticeably holding back. (He hides it absolutely terribly, the try-hard sociopath.) “It’s nothing at all. You were designed to contain the same capabilities of a…good friend of mine.”

“Of course,” the hologram smiled in thought. “Johnny. Er, he’s yer friend. A pretty healthy, wee lad. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough information about that person.”

Simon nodded silently. “I invented you not to know anything about him.”

“Indeed, my academic stats are noticeably higher in the medical field. I suppose that must be Mr. MacTavish’s talent?”

“Refrain from talking about him,” Simon gritted through his teeth. It was getting too personal. He averted his gaze, his eyes trailing to the floor. "Please," he added carefully.

“Now, about touching objects, I might be able to create gloves to let you materialise enough and give you an indefinite shape. But that will be coming shortly; I’ve worked on you for months and believe me when I say humans get tired.” He sighed.

“We’ll have to establish rules in this household,” Simon said as he paced through the basement, nearly slipped on the flash-bomb, then dramatically stopped as he held his fingers up for the two rules. “Don’t go out unless I allow and accompany you, and don't talk about MacTavish. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir Riley!”

“Please drop the ‘sirs’ and ‘masters,’” the inventor wagged his hand. “‘Riley’ is fine.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know my…purpose,” the hologram said. “Yer father is very strict about perfectionism, so should I be providing ye with information on how to gather success and results in your fields? N-Not that you aren’t intelligent enough or anything…kinda…” he wheezed. "Eh..."

“No,” Simon said bluntly, rolling his eyes and putting his tools back into his toolbox.

“Then what is the reason for my existence if I have no goal?”

“Nothing,” Simon retorted. He started to recall his old friend’s endless thirst for curiosity and mindless chattering.

“Riley, sir,” the hologram intervened again.

“Aren’t you the smarter one-?”

“What does it mean to be human?” he inquired.

The question left Simon breathless.

“Si, swear ta me you'll continue yer inventions and machines. You’ve got real talent – don’t give up on it.”

Hot tears spilled down on both of the men’s bloodied graduation togas. Fragments of glass had stabbed him; scars filled one of the boy’s face while a huge shard thrust at the other’s stomach.

“The ambulance is on their way. They’ll make it in time, I promise. And now is not the time to talk about my career ambitions.”

A forced smile etched through Johnny's lips. “They won’t make it. The nearest hospital is kilometres away. It’s best if I say my goodbyes now.” The boy groaned in pain as he tried to sit properly. “The glass hit a crucial organ of my body; removing it will cause me to die of blood loss while letting it stay will make me unable to breathe.”

“You Scots and your big-brained med course and your bloody smile,” Simon shook his head, crying more intensely than he ever did before. “You used to be the positive one,” he laughed humorlessly. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m not being negative; I’ll move to a better place when I’m gone anyway, no? I’ve left all my progress in med school in my apartment. You’re working on a hologram project, right? You can use my research on the human body if you’d like. Just don't check my notebook; it's hell of an embarrassment.”

“Please,” Simon spoke gently. “Don’t spend your breath on me. Do you want me to pass a message to anyone?” he asked, voice sore. “Johnny?”

“Screw that,” his breath hitched. “Ye promise me that even with all this machinery the world has given you, you won't bloody dare forget what makes you a human. You barely spared a glance at anyone before. I'm hoping just because I'm KIA and whatnot, ye won't turn into some ghost again.” Johnny tugged his shirt. “And with that, I trust you won’t forget me-”

Enemy? No, they were mature enough to avoid using such childish terms. Rivals? Perhaps, but they were long past their reign of competition. Friends? Maybe. (Can we be more? Let's be more than that – than what we really only are.)

But most importantly…

“-partner.”

And that was when John MacTavish last parted his lips, still with a beaming smile and a faded heartbeat. Simon was so distraught, his thumb tersely gripping Johnny's pulse, that he almost didn’t hear the deafening blaring of the ambulance’s siren or see the eye-blinding blinking colours of its headlights as he sobbed in the debris the earthquake had caused.

“Riley?"

"You spaced out a while back,” Soap noted. He expressed alarm and apologised when he noticed the inventor’s heart rate spiked up. “I'm a bampot – I won’t ask any questions like that anymore-, sorry.” He scrunches his nose in annoyance at his own attitude.

“You just…” Simon muttered with an irritated frown. “It’s nothing.”

Soap brought up a holographic chart on Simon’s daily routines.

“Here,” he mumbled. “It seems you’re often inactive around December. I suggest you should exercise more to make up for your habits,” he glanced at Simon. “Only if ye'd like, of course. Lest ya wanna stay here and rot like a corpse.”

Simon sighed. He should’ve known Johnny’s obnoxious personality would cross with his creation. “I am well aware of that,” he said impatiently, then rubbed his eyes in the room’s poor lighting. “No matter how hard I try to fix the lighting here, nothing works in this basement. I should head upstairs.”

“Ah, you mean ‘we’?” Soap corrected with a small nudge. It made him phase through Simon, making him drop to the ground before standing upright with a laugh. “You’re not alone anymore.” (Emphasis on anymore.)

The college student should have normally been angry when someone attempted to correct him. He was short-tempered; furiousness was all he had been before the real Johnny entered his life. He had isolated himself inside his walls of pride and ego, back in high school.

But Simon gave the tiniest hint of a smile (the first of so many years after what had happened) as he climbed up the stairs.

(It's still quite the same damn smile so easy to fall for.)

“Yes. ‘We,’” he responded before looking away.

A cardboard box had been put aside beside the stairway with the words “Highschool.” Soap peculiarly checked what the box had stored. Aside from some articles of school uniforms, old school books, and broken pens and pencils, the hologram didn’t miss the singular picture Simon kept.

He saw a picture of two male students fresh out of high school with their graduation togas. Simon in the photo looked begrudged and annoyed while the boy with the odd haircut looked cheerful as he side hugged the other man.

Soap tried grabbing a Scottish dictionary that he found in the box as Simon went down the stairs to pick it up for him, ignoring the picture the hologram saw. When they went up after a little fuzz about how Soap would read without turning the pages, Simon sat on his couch and set the book on the table on a random page, fiddling with the TV’s remote unsure of how to feel with the new company, while the invention sat on the floor reading. The hologram couldn’t help but feel a sense of wanting to feel, while the human wanted nothing else but to stop feeling the conflicting emotions of his past.

Soap wordlessly read the first thing he saw in the dictionary, a bit confused on why Simon would own a Scottish dictionary out of anything.

(He does his best not to feel the odd wave of nostalgia coursing through his veins.)

♡

a/n: something to ponder about – who's the guy speaking in the parenthesises? :/

#soapghost #ghostsoap #fic #fanfic #cod mwii #cod mwiii #drabble #modern warfare ii #ghoap #mm i love me some sad gays #wrote this in 2020 and predicted soap's lil boo-boo #cod modern warfare #soap x ghost #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

[mrwavellswaps]

Rejuvenation

Read the first part of this story: Taking Back Youth ⬇️

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

Curiously Wavell floated over to the man as he walked through the street with a confident smirk. He was a tall, relatively broad man. Handsome features with a short beard and ginger hair. Not to mention he was shirtless due to the hot weather and showing off a generous amount of red chest hair. A hot piece of meat for sure but how the hell did he acquire this body? Wavell couldn’t sense any magic emanating from his soul meaning he wasn’t a warlock himself nor could he sense the magic residue of another witch or warlock that may have done it. Which could only mean he used some sort of magic item or spell… interesting.

“Now let’s see what kind of body you gave up for this one shall we.” Wavell placed an invisible hand on the oblivious man’s shoulder. The ginger stud felt a shiver across his body as Wavell used it to find a link back to its original soul. Within seconds he sensed the matching signature not far from where they were. After that he didn’t waste anytime, teleporting away towards the signature.

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

“Tell me. How exactly did you end up in that body?”

“HOLY FUCK! HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE AN-… wait… what did you say?!” Evan was startled by the sudden voice behind him as Wavell undid his cloaking spell.

“I asked how you ended up with that body. I found the man who was piloting your real one so I used him to find you.” Wavell stated simply. Evan of course inquired this odd man on how he even knew about that to which Mr Wavell responded by informing him of his magic abilities. To prove such, the Warlock used his power to rid the apartment of all it’s mess. With a wave of his hand, beer bottles were gone, clothes were clean and folded, bed sheets were made and so on. Evan was completely dumbfounded but at least now he knew this guy was serious about that magic stuff.

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

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

“I’m not sure. He just said something about a ritual I think and that the last component it needed was for us to swap sexual fluids?”

“A ritual huh? He must’ve used some sort of magical item given to him to enact it. I wonder if Gilgamesh had something to do with that…”

“Gilga-who now?”

“He’s a friend of mine with similar interests, not that it matters to you. Anyways I’m off. I was just curious about your situation. That’s all.” With that Wavell floated up into the air once again. He was about to teleport away when the man grabbed his leg. Evan begged Wavell to stay, pleading with him to use his power to fix this and give him back his old body. With a sigh, the warlock lowered himself down to the floor once more. “Look, Evan is it? Swapping souls, changing bodies, shifting minds. It’s what I live for. So why would I use my magic to correct something that would’ve happily done myself in the first place?”

Evan’s eyes sunk as he looked back down at the old, chubby body that’d been forced upon him. The last glimmer of hope he’d gained slowly fading as he sat himself down on the bed. Mr Wavell was about take his leave again but as he glanced at Evan again, he couldn’t help but feel some sort of pity for the man. Rolling his eyes he said to the man “Fine. I’ll help you out… but I’m not going to put you back in your old body.” Evan was confused, proceeding to ask how the hell it’d be helping if not giving back his body. “Well from what I can tell, your soul is about 27 years old. How’s about we have your current body match that.”

The warlock gets Evan to stand more towards the centre of the room. Upon doing so he conjured up a full body mirror from thin air, allowing Evan to see his reflection before waving his hand to get rid of the old man’s clothes. “Just so you can have a good view of this next part…” Wavell whispered while place his hands on Evan’s shoulders. They began emit a warm violet glow that pulsed into Evan’s body, filling him with a strange sensation. A pulsing heat that surged it’s way across his body, forcing it’s way into every part of his being. It was as if he were being embraced by a warm aura of pure energy. But it got better. It took a few seconds for him to notice but as he looked into the mirror Evan saw how the grey hairs on his head were beginning to regain their colour while his wrinkles faded. The fat across his body gradually began to melting away as he got leaner while his body hairs darkened and his skin became more tanned. Evan’s receding hairline began fixing itself, pulling forwards as his hair grew thicker and healthier, now completely dark brunette. The mustache on his upper lip became less pronounced, fading into a full face of stubble while his aged eyes regained a youthful glow. Lean muscle began to grow and define itself in places where fat had disappeared, forming strong and tight.

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

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

“Mhmm, this body was quite the looker in its younger days it seems. Perhaps not as muscular as your old body but certainly a few inches taller and I don’t doubt you’ll grow into it some more… unless you want me to grow it for you.” Wavell leaned in, kissing Evan’s neck while squeezing that excited cock a little before letting go.

“R-really?!” Evan pondered those words for a moment. Was Mr Wavell really offering to just hulk out his body right here and now? Evan had no doubt it was within the warlocks power after what’d just transpired but… he declined to Wavell’s surprise. “As fucking amazing as that sounds, if I’m gonna make this body just as if not buffer than my original, I want to do it myself.” He stated confidently as he spun himself around a couple times, inspecting all his newly invigorated assets.

“Are you sure? Doesn’t have to be your entire body. Perhaps just one or two little things you want improving?”

Evan thought hard for a moment, checking himself out from multiple angles. He had to say, one of the things he was missing the most from his previous body while looking at this one had to be his former bubble butt. Just the thought that Carl was now flaunting that ass around town and getting a bunch of dick was pissing him off. Speaking of dick, his current one was seemed about average at what looked to be around 6.5 inches yet his old one was certainly over 7 inches. He thought it over for a second but soon decided to ask if he could get a slight improvement in both areas.

“Oh that’ll be no problem whatsoever but how’s about we make it just a tad bit more interesting.” Wavell stepped around in front of Evan, having to look up slightly at the man before getting down onto his knees and taking Evan’s already excited cock in his mouth. Murmurs of satisfaction slipped from Evan’s mouth as Wavell worked his bearded lips around the shaft like a pro. It felt odd though, like a similar heat to what he felt while regressing was now emanating from inside Wavell’s mouth and embracing his cock. After that Evan felt what he could only explain as a second erection. As if his cock had only at half mast before and was now somehow growing even further! Veins bulged across the growing appendage while Wavell continued to bob his head generously, gradually having to open his mouth wider as the cock inside thickened. Wavell grabbed hold of Evan’s balls in the process, massaging them as he felt the leaking member slowly push itself further down his throat. Evan grunted, feeling his balls pull up slightly before dropping back down with a bit more heft than before, repeating this cycle a couple of times until he had nice fat balls that were teeming with cum and testosterone. After that, all Wavell had to do was go deep one last time, swallowing the entire cock and that was enough to send Evan over the edge. Warm nectar came flowing out, coating the inside of Wavell’s throat white before swallowing every drop.

After taking a moment to savour the taste, Wavell pulls himself away from Evan’s crotch. An audible pop could be heard as his lips released the wet member to swing down between Evan’s legs with a new weight to it. Looking down Evan could see the clear difference in size. Before this body had been average in the dick department but now it was longer and thicker than ever! Especially the fat mushroom head it now adorned, still dripping cum. It had to be at least 9 inches! Probably a little more! Well it was certainly bigger than his original cock that’s for sure. Not to mention the heavy balls he was swinging now.

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

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

The neighbours could only wonder what the hell was happening in ‘Carl’s’ apartment as through the thin walls they could echos of deep grunting and groaning. How could Evan not groan when he felt Mr Wavell’s fat rod slide inside him. Even after having his hole loosened, Evan still felt himself being stretched slightly while Wavell pressed his entire length inside. After that initial penetration, the warlock began to work up a gentle pace. Pump after pump filling Evan up as he started the feel that warm magical sensation once last time spreading throughout his backside. Purple energy pulsed from Wavell’s dick like a constant orgasm, slowly but surely causing Evan’s ass to inflate. Both cheeks bubbled up with fat and muscle that began to jiggle with every thrust. Seeing that only made Wavell hungrier, pounding in with more and more intensity. When the growth subsided, Evan was left with a juicy bubble butt that any gay man would die for. To have and to fuck.

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

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

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

Wavell must’ve stayed on top of Evan for a good 5 or 10 minutes with his cock lodged inside the seeded hole. Sighs of relief could be heard however when Wavell finally decided to pull himself out before hoping off the bed. Evan on the other hand needed an extra couple more minutes before gathering up the strength to stand after that onslaught, determined to get one last look in the mirror at his newest change. And boy was he not disappointed.

“Ooohh yeah… I’m gonna rip half the pants I own now.” Evan grinned, looking over his shoulder into the reflection as he placed his hands beneath each cheeks and bounced them. “Definitely gonna have to buy myself a new wardrobe to wear.” Masses of dudes were gonna be drooling over his ass now! He played with the huge cheeks for a bit longer until he had the throw himself back onto the bed again out of soreness.

Wavell tucked his cock away into his pants. Of course knew he could rid Evan of that pain from being stretched but he loved leaving the men he’s bred with a sore ass for a day or two.

“So, before I leave, I’m curious about something.” Wavell stated while sniffing the sweaty pit stains on his dress shirt. “What are you going to do about the man who has your original flesh? I believe you said his name was Carl. Though he’s probably going by ‘Evan’ now.”

Evan had to think for a moment. Before he wasn’t sure if he’d have ever wanted to see his old self again. He thought it’s be too painful for him to see that young beautiful body he had while he was stuck with an old flabby one. Now though? Things were very different. “I’m not sure right now. I’m still pissed at him for using me when I was at such a low point just to steal my life and body. Until you came along I’ve been nothing but miserable. I should hate him but… thinking about my original body is making my dick twitch…”

“Heheh well I guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you and check in every once in awhile to see how you’re getting on. In the meantime I’ve made a minor adjustment to reality so all of Carl’s identification fits your new look. Nobody should suspect a thing.” Wavell slipped his loafers back on before floating up into the air.

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

“Thank you Mr Wavell.”

#magic #male body swap #male body theft #identity theft #hairy #mr wavell #age regression #cock growth #ass growth #middle aged to young adult

[hellowyelloww]

Second set of Doors Entities !!

same as the first one, here’s my headcanons about them :) vvv

Some of Eyes’ eyes once belonged to their victims. Eyes took the victims’ eyes and adds them in themselves as their own until they reached their maximum number of eyes.

Eyes’ aura turns into a dark red when distressed.

Eyes likes flowers, they rlly give a calming vibe to Eyes so that’s why their in the greenhouse.

Eyes is like a perfectionist and stylist. They almost gave most of the entities’ clothes a few redesigns.

Eyes’ effect doesn’t work on the entities, tho its is still disorienting. Even Eyes can’t look at themselves.

Halt literally owns a stop sign but doesn’t show it always.

If Halt stays in a dark room for too long, they will leave a blue hue to the room until the lights are on. Halt glows a big blue but faint light

Halt likes wearing hats, cloaks, scarves, and mostly warm clothes. Temperature doesn’t affect Halt at all.

Inside of Halt’s obscuring head cover (not the hat) is like some aura of shadow, but anyone who saw that got their head bitten off and that’s what mostly happened to them during that.

Glitch in its history is like Guiding Light, but got corrupted and unstable.

Guiding Light was unaware how Glitch was bringing lost players to their group and sometimes hurt them (Before the update). Guiding Light CAN’T see what Glitch is doing in the Hotel at all and Glitch does that at will. (in GL’s pov, Glitch is just invisible or smth)

Glitch can go to Guiding Light’s personal dream realm whenever it wants to regardless. (about the realm is in Guiding Light hcs)

Guiding Light doesn’t have any association nor interacts a lot with the killing entities (except friendly ones), but it was never cruel to the entities. Guiding Light can appear physically to the entities to give them comfort if they ever had a problem in mind. Even tho it did hurt the entities by its crucifix power (by players’ choice, no GL’s), they are still passive to them.

Is Guiding Light always nice to players? It tries to, if someone is actually an asshole and would intentionally want someone dead, then they’re a goner.

Guiding Light always keeps the Hotel in check to prevent other entities from escaping and help players get out of there safely, so that is probably why they are here (?) but there are more reasons than that.

Guiding Light has it’s own personal realm, kinda like a dreamspace or some sort, where only when you dream of it, die or get crucifixed (for entities), you can enter it. Guiding Light’s realm is a blueish vast emptiness and ur vision starts having a static view.

Not only Dupe tricks players by its fake doors, it also messes up with the entities (especially Rush)

Dupe once or sometimes got run over by Rush or Ambush. It didn’t like Rush run to the correct door but rather accepts that than being run over again.

No matter how hard Dupe tries to keep its door shut, Rush and Ambush always run into it

Jeff’s rlly nice ofc. Just don’t steal from him. Just don’t.

Jeff got most of its items from looting rooms and dead players, the crucifixes were either obtained from the same thing or were offered by Guiding Light. The Skeleton Key was crafted by Jeff and Bob (alive)

Jeff likes to learn about the knowledge of humans and the outside world, he wished one day he’ll experience college (which he never will :( ).

Jeff and El Goblino are like the punching bags to torment to the entities (basically bullying).

El Goblino has no idea how it got here but was trying to get used in living

El Goblino is scared of Figure

El Goblino got it’s belt bag from Jeff, and got that bandanna from already ripped off blankets

El Goblino misses his amor

El Goblino pretty much refuses to believe Bob is dead. El Goblino coped on it by talking to Bob like he’s still alive (bros already a skeleton 💀).

El Goblino and Jeff rlly needs something to eat to live longer, so El Goblino hunts for either edible plants, bugs, and sometimes but not always, a human corpse, while Jeff after it loots the dead players, he either eats them or saves them for later, hopefully they stay fresh.

Shadow is Sally’s parental figure. Sally is also close to Rush and Ambush.

Screech and Sally are besties but sometimes bicker with each other.

Sally would come and show its face in Jeff’s shop sometimes, it thought it would be funny.

The rain doesn’t bother Sally, it likes the rain but it did soaked up its clothes

I didn’t draw Bob bcuz I can’t draw skeletons, but that’s okay cuz he’s dead anyways.

Bob is infamous to the entities around the hotel. Once alive, he could literally strategize on how to straight up beat the living hell out of the entities (cough* Eyes. He also rekt Figure too). Even Guiding Light is shocked.

Sadly, Bob died from starvation and illnesses.

One more post to go and the gang’s all here :)

#roblox doors #doors roblox #doors eyes #doors halt #doors glitch #doors guiding light #doors dupe #doors jeff #doors el goblino #doors window

[lovebillyhargrove]

Harringrove seasons AU

***

August is running out. It is the time when nights have already started getting perceptibly colder, but days are still so heartbreakingly warm, you don't wanna let go.

Like Steve, who doesn't want to let go of Billy.

Or Billy, who wants to hold on to Steve.

Who desperately wishes to add just a couple of more days to August. Make it thirty-three. Or thirty-five.

At least.

***

One evening Steve sets off to look for Billy, because he hasn't seen him in the last three days. When he asks the magpies if they know where the summer is, they tell him he's wandering around the woods with a big basket searching for something and talking to himself like a madman.

"The summer's gone cuckoo!" - they burst out into chatter and laughter, but Steve isn't up for having fun.

Only close to midnight does he finally find Billy.

The warm simmering light and the sweet smell of burning pine wood have led him on the right path.

Steve sees Billy in the thick of the forest, on a small clearing, surrounded by tall mighty oak trees, so tall that their tops get lost in the dark starry sky above. Stars in August are witchy, it is common knowledge. They are so distant, so sparkly and cold, and they are watching you.

August stars are enchanted just like everything else around. The night is cool and damp, and there is dense fog laying heavy in milky swirls above and around the swamp nearby. Under every leaf there lives a mystery, a story, a creature. Behind one single cloud hides the silver moon, waiting to flood all with its crisp eerie shine.

The stars are twinkling bright, so magically bright, and the chilly, hocus scented air fills the head of a midnight wanderer with clarity and vigor, and anticipation of a miracle.

Steve is trying to be as quiet as possible, not to disturb.

Everything around is immersed in sleepy calm, and only the frogs' drowsy ribbit-ribbitting and distant hooting of a night bird fill the deep silence. The usual night orchestra.

As he is making his way towards Billy, there's a falling star, shooting right above the clearing, and Steve makes a wish - to always find summer.

Billy is busy.

Steve sees a big fire, sparks flying up towards the invisible tree crowns, and Billy's focused face lightened by the glow.

He is constantly stirring something gurgling and boiling in a huge cauldron, muttering under his breath

"Seven red fly agarics, nine orange ones .. three yellow .. thirteen russules, each a different colour .. eight orange chanterelle mushrooms of different sizes .."

With one hand he stirs whatever is brewing in the cauldron, and in the other he holds a thread with dry and semi-dry mushrooms strung on it. From time to time, he stops stirring and plucks the mushrooms from the thread, counting.

"Eleven brown hay mushrooms, one birch chaga, the size of a palm .. where the hell is this chaga .. ??" - he stops stirring and pokes around in the basket standing nearby. - "Alright. Found it. Come here, don't fight it .. seventeen honey fungi .. three aspen mushrooms .. ugh, you are such beauties .. All of you."

Billy looks like a witch. Too bad he's not wearing a spiked black hat and a black cloak

Stirring, mixing that magic

"Wait a second, did I put twelve ink mushrooms .. ? Yes, yes, I did. Ten violet webcaps .. and one whole circle of fairy-ring mushrooms."

"Oh, I forgot you buddy .. one grey spotted amantia, here you go .."

"Okay now for the more serious stuff."

Billy grunts and goes digging in the basket again.

"One satan's bolete .. A set of devil's fingers .. spooky .. And, finally, one pale grebe."

Steve steps out into the clearing

"Oh, do you mean a death angel?"

Billy stops mixing whatever there is in the cauldron and looks up.

"You startled me, pretty boy. And yes, it's the same one, different names."

Steve is still watching Billy in bewilderment

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm making a potion. Can't you see?" He answers seriously.

"A potion?" Steve is amused.

"An old owl told me. Who lives in the hollow of a hundred-year-old elm tree, down by the river."

"What is the potion for?"

"For .. making it last a little longer. Stalling the time. See, I don't want to go yet. I want to stay, just a bit more .. It's going to give me the power to do that."

"Oh. But .. Billy, this old owl is so old, she has dementia. I wouldn't trust her on anything she says."

"Well, I've got no other choice."

Steve is amused but he also knows that he has to soothe Billy's unnecessary wilful wanting, once again.

"When will it be ready?"

"In the morning. I should drink it when the first sun ray breaks the sky."

Steve sits near the fire and Billy joins him after some time. The fire is getting duller, the potion stops gurgling and is beginning to settle.

Billy is the first to slide into sleep near the dying flames, and Steve is gazing at the bright live coals, listening to night sounds and Billy's even breath, until his own eyelids become heavy and eventually fall.

In the morning, Steve is woken up by Billy's upset voice:

"No, no! I'm two hours late! .. The sun is already high in the sky."

He is pacing around the grey ashes, looking at the sky and fiddling with his necklace

"No, oh no ..! That's all your fault, autumn. I always sleep longer when I'm with you. I can't drink it now. Do you know how long I've searched for these?? How many woods I have wandered through?"

In a swift fit of anger Billy kicks the cauldron. It falls and tips over. Steve's still on the ground, watching the thick substance pour out of it on a patch of green moss.

"I am sorry, Billy, truly. But .. I am of the opinion that you shouldn't have drunk it anyways."

Billy's looking at the spilled potion.

"Baby. You are such a baby sometimes, Billy."

"I'm just sad. So much work for nothing." - Billy sighs and pouts a little.

"It is only .. really, it is only less than half a year. We will meet so soon, in the northern hemisphere. Aren't you excited?"

Billy is shaking his head, slowly and gloomily.

"I don't wanna leave."

Steve gets up, comes close and gently traces his fingers down Billy's arm.

"You are not leaving just yet. We still have time. We have all the time in the world. But when you do go, think of the moment we will meet again. Because it will happen, it is the way the world works."

They are standing amidst the ever-living nature.

"I need to bring back the pot and the basket. I borrowed them from a barn in the village."

"I will help you."

***

A couple of days later, on the very last August day, Steve takes Billy to the same clearing and shows him the prettiest gemstone of the most amazing colour, sparkling under the rays of soft morning sunshine, crystallized in the shape of a heart. There's moss and some beautiful exotic flowers growing around it.

"It is so pretty, but I am glad you didn't drink the potion."

"I wonder if it's going to stay here till next season."

"Let's hide it."

Steve takes the gemstone, it's rather big and heavy, and carries it to a hollowed out log near the swamp.

"We can come back next year and see if it is still here. It will be our secret."

August and September are my absolute favourite months, and I'm also stuck on the idea of summer and autumn not wanting to part. Billy especially is having a hard time.

Thank you @akioukun ✨💖 for the 💫 magical au

#harringrove #harringrove seasons au #billy x steve #summer billy x autumn steve #harringrove fic

[defira85]

Hey! For the 2nd Edition Dark Urge asks:

4 & 5 for Kassara <3

Ask meme here!

4. Durge has an inherent skill for anything medicine; what was their greatest skill? Sewing, caring for wounds, brewing potions or concocting poisons?

Oh I loved this question on the list, I'm so glad it got asked hah :D my work is in healthcare, and my greatest struggle with disbelief in fantasy settings is always healing potions and healing magic. I love the moral quandaries it establishes a la who is deserving of healthcare (an issue we're all too familiar with in our world of course but amplified tenfold when you can just take a magic potion and be changed immediately), as well as the philosophical questions it raises about what must it do to a body to bring it to the brink of death regularly and then just... vanish it away with the flick of a wrist. What does it say about disability, how do we address disability in the setting, what does it do to the mind and the soul to be driven to soul-rending agony again and again only for the injuries to whisper away as if they'd never existed? The potential is immense and it fucks with my head constantly and I have a million questions about healthcare in a fantasy setting at any given moment

That said, I sent Kass to medical school. She was already carving up bodies quite expertly on her own, but I gave her the impetus in that she didn't know precisely what was required of her to help bring Bhaal back to life, so learning medicine in a scholarly setting made sense to her. I invented a college of physicians in Baldur's Gate, and she got herself enrolled in her early twenties, so her skillset is probably equivalent to a mid 1800s surgeon or general physician. She's very good at wound care, and her specific interest was in infection and disease control, because she had thoughts on how to dominate a population in a city like Baldur's Gate with disease or plague

5. The Deathstalker cloak is part of their inheritance, but did they really use it or did it bide its time wasting away in a wardrobe?

Kass looks SO GOOD in red, she always defaulted to red when she wasn't wearing black, so of course she wore it everywhere. Fun game, if she kills one of Gortash's staff at the foot of the stairs, can she get up to his room and into his bed before the invisibility wears off or w-

#Kassara Bhaal #OC: Kassara #ty so much for the ask! <3 #flamemittens

[nena-96]

Change

Hp Cruel Summer Fic Fest

Song: Change

Paring: Romione

Era: Fearless

Summary: This is a few moments through the years in which Ron and Hermione realize that there are changes in their growing relationship together.

And it’s a sad picture, the final blow hits you

Somebody else gets what you wanted again and

You know it’s all the same, another time and place

December 25th, 1994

Ron bursts through the doors in frustration as he enters his dorm, all he can think about is the way Hermione looked tonight at the ball. Pacing back and forth as he racks his hands through his red locks. He stops only to kick his trunk before sitting down in front of it as his thoughts bring him back to the way she looked tonight. 

The moment when he saw her enter the room, Ron didn’t know how to feel. At first he was confused because of the way his heart started to beat madly within his chest at the sight of Hermione. The dress that she was wearing was… it was different. Yes, different, in all the years he knew her he never imagined how she’d look all dressed up. Her usual bushy hair, that she always fussed with while pushing it away from her face when they would study in the library, is now in perfect curly tendrils. Ron almost didn’t recognize her, that was until he looked closely at the way she  scanned the room a bit nervously. Almost as if she was seeking him? This thought made him pull the collar of his old dress robes as he tried to rub the heat away from his neck. 

Would she even want to talk to him after the way he jokingly asked her to the dance? It wasn’t that he didn’t know she was a girl. It's just that he could never imagine that she’d want to go to the ball, for Merlin's sake Hermione never wears makeup. She’d always say that it's too time consuming and that she’d rather use the time to study. 

Yet, there she was standing next to that Bulgarian git, VIktor Krum. After weeks of asking her who she was going to the ball with, the answer was clear as day. Of course she’d choose Vicky, but why did she have to fraternize with the enemy.

Because these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

March 1, 1997

Hermione snuck her hand from underneath the invisibility cloak as she placed her palm onto Ron’s freckled cheek. It’s way past curfew, yet Hermione wouldn’t be anywhere else, even if she misses a bit of sleep. Then again, she wasn’t able to keep her eyes closed, her mind kept spinning with the image of losing Ron. 

Hermione looked around, making sure that Madam Pomfrey wasn't nearby. It’s quiet, except for Ron’s light snores, this soothes her nerves for a moment. As she  shrugs off the invisibility cloak and tosses it onto the floor. Hermione moves quietly as she pulls a chair and sits besides Ron without disturbing his sleep. As she sits down, Hermione brings her hand and places it over Ron’s freckled and scarred hand. He’s so cold and his pale skin lacks the color that he normally has. This brings another wave of tears to Hermione as she gives his hand a small squeeze as she tries to focus on the way the covers rise and fall against Ron’s chest. 

It feels strange being so close to him, yet it never felt more real. The past few months of not speaking to Ron was torturous, and seeing him tangled up with someone else felt like a herd of hippogriffs stomping all over her heart. From the moment she found out that Ron was poisoned, Hermione  made a vow to herself that no matter what happens she will do her best to knock down the walls she put up. It's horrible to think that Ron could’ve died and she was too busy being jealous that he chose another girl. Hermione will do anything to make amends with Ron and if seeing him happy with Lavender then she’ll have to keep her feelings at bay. Even if the thought kills her, hopefully things will change and maybe one day the pain in her heart will heal. Until then, she’ll do her best to get her bestfriend back, nobody will come between that again.

So we've been outnumbered

Raided and now cornered

It's hard to fight when the fight ain't fair

August 1, 1997 

Spells were flying everywhere, what once was a beautiful wedding reception is now a battlefield of good versus evil. The ministry has fallen and the war has officially begun in the wizarding war. It wasn’t fair that instead of everyone celebrating Bill and Fluer’s wedding, the guests are either fighting against Death Eaters or trying their best to escape as everything around them comes 

Hermione clutches the beaded bag close to her as she shoves past a group of frantic women trying to dodge blue and green spells.

Looking towards the refreshments table in hopes that Ron is there, but he wasn’t there, and neither were the drinks. The table was flipped over and the drinks were spilled all over the ground. Where is he? Hermione wondered as she turned in search for a glimpse of red hair. The beautiful soft red hair that she managed to tangle her fingers through when they danced together. Before everything went to complete shit.

scene

" Ron' Hermione cried. 'Ron where are you?' The beating of her heart is threatening to burst out of her chest. Where is he? There’s no way she’ll leave without Ron, that’s not possible, that’s not even a choice. 

“Ron! Ron!' She called, half sobbing as she was buffered by terrified guest. It’s all her fault, if she hadn’t told Ron that she was tired from their dancing then he wouldn’t have gone to get butterbeer for them. Ron would be standing next to her, holding her small hand in his big freckled hand. Her heart wouldn’t beat in agony like it was right now. She wouldn’t-

“And then Ron was there.”  Hermione stifles a sob of relief as she sees Ron’s blue eyes gazing into her brown eyes. An unspoken promise of talking later passed through them as they looked at one another. As they quickly grab onto Harry’s hand and disapparated from their spot.

You can walk away, say we don't need this

But there's something in your eyes

Says we can beat this

October 14th or 21st, during the Horcrux Hunt

The rain was coming down fast, within seconds of running outside of the tent, Hermione became completely drenched. Yet, it didn’t matter to her at all. “Ron, wait… please,” Hermione cried out as she tried to catch up to him. Slipping on the muddy ground beneath her, as she calls to him again. “Ron, come back! I need you, please”, Hermione cried out in despair as she saw him stop a few feet away from her. She watches as he brings his hands to his face and lets out a scream. He clenched his fists as he stood by the edge of the invisible wards.

Ron slowly turns around and sees Hermione getting up from the ground, her jeans soaked in mud.  “I can’t do this…. I’m sorry”, Ron choked out as tears fell down his face. “We promised each other we’d fight together with Harry, please Ron don’t go”, Hermione said as she tried to walk closer to him. “I need you”, she says, hopeful that her words can break through the anger that's clouding his mind. 

Shaking his head, Ron glared at the ground beneath him as he tried to fight the lingering anger that the locket had left in his mind. It’s never been him and Hermione. He was a fool to even entertain that foolish thought, why would she want him when she can have the-boy-who-lived.

“Please, Ron… look at me we can beat this both of us together, with Harry. That's the plan, remember?’ Hermione said as she walked closer to him in hopes to reel him back to her. As the rain continues to soak them to the bone, she tries to reach for him but he jumps back almost as if he doesn't want to be near her.

Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, Ron squeezed his wand in a deathgrip, he wanted to believe that she wanted him to stay. Yet, it's proving to be difficult, she made her choice in the tent. Rubbing the tears from his eyes Ron looks up and sees the pan in Hermione’s brown eyes, “I’m sorry, so sorry Hermione Hopefully one day you’ll forgive me”, he chokes out as he walks closer to the wards. Her tear soaked face was the last image he saw before he waved his wand and disapparated from the spot.

“Ron! Ron!” Hermione cried as she fell to her knees, not caring that her jeans were being soaked in the mud as she watched the spot where Ron was once standing. 

Because these things will change

Can you feel it now?

These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down

It's a revolution, the time will come

For us to finally win

Shell Cottage

Ron licked his chapped lips as he brought the spoon to his lips and blew on the soup before giving it to Hermione. She tries not to whimper when the warm liquid touches her tongue. “Careful, would you like for me to bring you something cold instead?’, Ron asked with worry as she swallowed the warm broth. Closing her eyes briefly before responding,  “No, i-it’s fine, thank you”. He nods his head and prepares to give her another spoonful of chicken broth, but stops when Hermione shakes her head. “I don’t want anymore….. I just need”, Hermione whispers to him. “What do you need?”, Ron says as he places the bowl of soup on the bedside dresser as he leans closer to the bushy-haired witch. “I-I just need you”, Hermione winces in pain as she moves on the bed, leaving a space beside her for him.

 “Are you sure you need to recover”.

“I’ll r-recover better with you by my side, please”.

“Alright, just tell me if you need me to bugger off and I will.”

“I w-won’t, I promise. Get on the bed.”

“Always so bossy”

As Ron gets on the bed carefully, Hermione surprises him by bringing him closer to her and making him wrap her arms around her tiny waist. “I’m not going to break, please just hold me”, Hermione whispered as she tried to focus on the beating of Ron’s heart against her. 

Tonight we'll stand, get off our knees

Fight for what we've worked for all these years

And the battle was long, it's the fight of our lives

But we'll stand up champions tonight

May 2, 1998

The battle was waging on all around them, yet the kiss that he shared with Hermione was the only thing pushing him to continue. She was the only reason that he didn’t go after the Death Eaters after what they did to Fred. Ron will do anything and everything to make it out alive from this battle. After all these years of pining for a girl he finally realizes that they share the same feelings for each other. He’ll be damned if he doesn't make it, because the moment when Hermione’s lips were on his, he knew that the war was already won. 

That tonight the war will end. 

It was the night things changed

Can you see it now?

Can you see it now?

#romione #ron x hermione #cruel summer fic fest #missing moments #ronmione #hp fanfic #ron weasley #hermione granger x ron weasley

[illuminationofstars]

harry potter x female reader

summary : you become injured during the battle of hogwarts and your boyfriend thinks you’ve died.

warning: injuries, idea of death, grief

A fiery blast erupted from your lower rib cage, traveling up your arms and body, red hot pain blinding your eyes. Your body was flung against the brick wall behind you, the impact rendering you unconscious and unresponsive. Sweat coated your skin in fine layers of pale sheen, your mind foggy and disorientated.

The wound in your side was breathtakingly painful, dark crimson blood seeping through the white shirt you were wearing. Screams and cries of agony engulfed your ringing ears, the explosions destroying the castle erupting in frenzied bursts of flames and smoke.

Muffled voices brought you out of consciousness, your eyes too tired to open, body too limp to move. Arms wrapped around your legs and shoulders, supporting your head that lay against the shoulder of a stranger. A searing pain caressed your stomach, sobs leaving your mouth in a plea of desperation.

You felt the ground rock beneath your feet, the persons footsteps increasing in speed. After what felt like hours, your body was gently placed onto a hard surface, your arms going limp between your sides.

The smell of antibiotics greeted your nose and tears left your eyes as your wound was addressed with a bandage and alcohol swabs. Your eyes began to drift closed, and you allowed your body to drift into a dreamless sleep away from the pain and carnage that lay outside of the hospital wing.

-

Harry was frantic.

The war had ended moments prior and although he would usually bask in the glory of attention, Harry was searching for his girlfriend. The ruins of tower turrets lay scattered across the castle grounds, blood seeping into the soil, staining the ground a ruby red. His hands were pushing past people, no respect for the celebrating witches and wizards as his eyes scanned the gathering crowds.

His hair lay matted to his forehead, circle glasses slipping down his nose in frustrated panic. Harry’s footsteps ceased into a quiet shuffle as he entered the hospital wing, breath hitching in his chest at the sight before him.

You lay peacefully on one of the hospital beds close to the entrance to the hospital wing, hair sprawled out across the pillow your head rested on. Your skin was pale and slick with sweat, eyes closed in contentment.

A thick bandage covered the lower half of your stomach, the white compress dirtied with blood and dust from the ceilings.

You weren’t moving.

Harry rushed forward, knees painfully hitting the concrete floor as he grabbed your hand, thumb gently stroking your knuckles in an attempt to wake you up. His eyes filled with unshed tears as he watched your chest stay still, no movement being detected.

Harry’s head fell forward, resting on your shoulder, hand clasped in yours as he wept silently.

Harry’s mind swam with images of you laughing and joking around, memories of you dancing across the common room, swimming in the lake, fighting with Ron over the last brownie. He remembers the sound of your voice, deeper in the mornings and higher after you drink some firewhiskey. He remembers how full his heart had felt when he kissed your lips, the feel of your skin beneath his own.

Harry’s tears became sobs, his grief overwhelming him in a tidal wave of sadness. This was the end for him. The war had ended but this was the price. Was this all worth it?

-

The sound of crying brought you around to consciousness, and you immediately recognized the noise as your boyfriends. You had spent many nights comforting him in his dormitory, rubbing his back soothingly beneath his invisibility cloak, when Harry had let loose and expressed his worries.

You tried to move, but couldn’t. The drugs you were given weighed down your body, restricting your movement. A dull ache in your lower rib cage reminded you about what had happened, the memories resurfacing to your brain in flurries of bright light.

Your eyes slowly opened with great difficulty and you were met with the bright light of the ceiling. Fans beside you whirred and groaned in exasperation but you’re attention was turned to the noise on your left. Although you couldn’t move you head, your eyes could see the outline of Harrys body, bent over the side of the bed, hand clasped in your own.

The feeling of guilt and sadness washed over you as you watched your boyfriend break down into hysterics.

With all your might, you forced your fingers to move, slowly. One by one, the muscles in your hands began to awaken, and you squeezed Harrys hand in reassurance.

His head shot up from where he was sat, tears staining his cheeks. He moved at lightning speed, hands cupping your face as he brought your lips to his own, sobbing into the kiss.

Shakily, you brought you hands up to cup his own, a grin blessing your face as Harry peppered your face with joyous kisses.

“I thought you had died,” he whispered, green eyes staring intently into your own.

Your hands pulled Harrys face closer to your own so your foreheads touched delicately, “You really think you could get rid of me that easily Potter?”

#harry potter #harry james potter #hogwarts #voldemort #death mention #ron weasley #harry potter imagine #hermione granger #stages of grief #female reader #harry potter x female reader #harry potter x fem!reader #cute romance #romance #fanfic #send requests #thank you

[liquidluckandstuff]

Harry, Ron, blanket

Drabble Prompt

Harry knew Ron hated his hand-me-downs. He never really said it, but he was embarrassed whenever he had to wear something that seemed old or hand made. Harry knew that he wished that he could have newer things, but was never able to afford it. He often made excuses to trade his newer clothes with Ron so that he wouldn’t feel so bad. Harry didn’t mind, he liked knowing his things had a story behind them. 

He had so few things in his life that were made with love. 

So when he went to his friend's house for the first time, and saw a torn up blanket that was far more torn and old looking than anything else he owned, Harry seemed surprised. Especially when Ron kept it safe on his bed and seemed extremely attached to it. 

“Oh,” Ron blushed when Harry finally asked about it. “It’s uh, my baby blanket. My mom made it for me when I was little.”

Harry nodded as if he understood. “Oh, but why do you still have it?” 

“Well, it’s special. Some people have teddy bears, some people have blankets. It’s something special you usually keep from when you were little,” Ron explained. 

Harry felt a strong feeling in his chest like someone jumping up and down. “Oh, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Really? Why not?” 

Harry stared at his best friend like he had grown two heads. “Ron, my parents are dead.”

“Well yeah, but they must have already had something for you. A blanket or a toy or something.”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t even know where I used to live, and it’s not like my aunt would tell me anything. I guess the closest thing I have is my invisibility cloak but I’m not about to sleep with it,” Harry shrugged and turned away. 

Ron rarely cried, but something in Harry’s words hurt him. He had to turn away to wipe his tears before he turned back to his best friend with a strained smile. “Come on, let’s go outside.” 

Hours later, after everyone else had gone to bed, Ron was laying down with his precious blanket wide awake. What Harry said was bothering him. Ron knew he took his family for granted sometimes, but at the moment he felt grateful for every moment he got to spend with them. 

He knew Harry would give anything to have what he had, and he knew there was something he could do to help him. 

Ron waited until he was certain Harry was asleep before he snuck out of his room to find his parents. Thankfully, they were both still awake though they looked ready to head up the stairs to their own bed. 

His mother looked at him with wide eyes and before she could get a chance to barrate him about being awake, Ron told his parents what Harry had told him. 

They listened to their son’s concern for his best friend with intent once they realized what he had to say. “I know it’s silly, but can’t you do something? Maybe you can make him a blanket or something mom. He doesn’t have anything.”

Molly already had tears in her eyes and moved to hug her youngest son. “Oh Ron, I’m so proud of the man you are growing up to be. We will see what we can do. Now off to bed.”

Nothing more was said for several more days, and Ron thought his parents forgot about it. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting to happen, but when a small package was handed to Harry at dinner one evening he already had a smile on his face. 

“Happy late birthday,” Mr. Weasley told Harry with a grin. “We had to go through a lot of trouble to get that but… well…”

“It was Ron’s idea,” Mrs. Weasley added. “We just went a step further.”

Harry looked confused at them, but carefully opened the package. Inside was a small red blanket with tiny snitches that flew around in patterns. “Why?” But Harry’s answer came when he brought the blanket closer to him and was able to smell it. He couldn’t remember anything besides an overpowering feeling of love. “Mum?”

“We were able to get it from your old home. Where you lived with your mum and dad. There isn’t much left of it, but -”

“Thank you,” Harry said with tears in his eyes. He raced over to hug each of them in turn, knowing his gratitude could never be expressed properly. 

When he reached Ron, Harry gave him the biggest hug of them all. 

#harry potter #ron weasley #Drabble #one shot #fanfiction #prompt #angst with a happy ending

[thecreaturecodex]

Lucien, the Mithril Prince

“White One” © ArtStation user “mucuzi”, accessed at their gallery here

[I had initially hoped that this wave of big bad blocks would have more demigods. But demigods take a long time, and I’m very tired. So I’m going to showcase a few unique NPCs, similar to Kojark or Warduke.This is a character I’ve never used, but have had rattling around in my head for a while. The genesis was “Mithril Prince would be a good title for an eldritch knight”, but I decided to make the actual stat block a magus, because magus is a cool class I haven’t used much.]

Lucien, the Mithril Prince CR 15 CE Monstrous Humanoid This handsome human man has red hair and pale skin. He wears a white tunic and red cloak over his gleaming silvery armor.

A doppelganger named Chut had a propensity for violence, so joined up with an army to indulge it. His ruthlessness got him promoted to the rank of sergeant, but his callous disregard for life got his squad overwhelmed and nearly wiped out. One of the few survivors on the battlefield, he had a vision of a beautiful winged woman with empty, bleeding eyes, exulting over the slaughter. And so Chut saw Szuriel, the Horseman of War, for the first time. And fell in love.

Chut has devoted the rest of his life to waging war. His current alter ego in that capacity is Lucien, the Mithril Prince. The Mithril Prince is the leader of a mercenary army, willing to fight for any country, cause or creed for very reasonable prices. The highest ranking members of his army are just as depraved as he is, but many of the rank and file do not know that their general’s ultimate goal is to kill for the sake of killing. Lucien is skilled in finding and exacerbating tensions between rival powers. If he cannot do so subtly, he does so through false flag operations, committing assassinations and atrocities in one country while disguised as a member of the other’s forces.

Although Lucien is a commander of battalions, he does not hesitate to get his own hands and blade dirty. Continuing the doppelganger tradition of flexibility in tactics, he has trained as a magus, blending sword and spell with deadly efficacy. He usually prefers to open combat with an area of effect spell, like cloudkill, cone of cold or fireball, both as a show of force and to exult in any collateral damage. When fighting as Lucien, he keeps his mithril armor gleaming and pristine, but he can change its appearance and design at will, the better for posing as a terrorist.

Lucien, the Mithril Prince             CR 15 XP 38,400 Doppelganger magus 14 CE Medium monstrous humanoid (shapechanger) Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +15 Defense AC 25, touch 11, flat-footed 24 (+1 Dex, +4 natural, +10 armor) hp 156 (18d8+72) Fort +15, Ref +11, Will +18 Immune charm, sleep Offense Speed 20 ft. Melee +1 bastard sword +23/+18/+13 (1d10+9/17-20) or 2 claws +22 (1d8+8) Ranged longbow +15/+10/+5 (1d8/x3) Special Attacks greater spell combat, magus arcana (13 points, accurate strike, arcane edge, devoted blade, pool strike +5d6, spell shield), spellstrike Spell-like Abilities CL 18th, concentration +20 (+24 casting defensively) At will—detect thoughts (DC 14) Spells CL 14th, concentration +18 (+22 casting defensively) 5th—acidic spray (DC 19), cloudkill (DC 19), cone of cold (DC 19) 4th—dimension door, fire shield, greater invisibility, illusion of treachery (DC 18), wall of fire 3rd—displacement, fireball (x2, DC 17), fly, vampiric touch 2nd—bear’s endurance, cat’s grace, frigid touch (x2), mirror image, scorching ray 1st—expeditious retreat, magic missile, ray of enfeeblement (DC 15, x2), shocking grasp (x2) 0th—dancing lights, detect magic, ghost sound (DC 14), ray of frost, read magic Statistics Str 26, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 19, Wis 12, Cha 14 Base Atk +14; CMB +22; CMD 32 Feats Combat Casting, Deceitful, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (bastard sword), Extra Arcana, Extra Arcane Pool, Improved Critical (bastard sword), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Persuasive, Power Attack, Toughness Skills Bluff +24, Diplomacy +20, Disguise +24 (+44 using change shape), Intimidate +23, Knowledge (arcana) +14, Knowledge (religion) +22, Linguistics +11, Perception +15, Sense Motive +12, Spellcraft +14; Racial Modifiers +4 Bluff, +4 Disguise Languages Abyssal, Common, Daemonic, Elven, Orc, 7 others SQ change shape (humanoid, alter self), fighter training, improved spell recall, knowledge pool, mimicry, perfect copy Gear belt of giant strength +2, headband of intellect +2 (Knowledge [religion]), ring of mind shielding, +1 glamered mithril full plate, +1 bastard sword, cloak of resistance +2, pearl of power (1st level), wand of cure light wounds (50 charges), potion of lesser restoration (x2), longbow with 40 arrows, 438 gp Special Abilities Mimicry (Ex) A doppelganger is proficient in all weapons, armor, and shields. In addition, a doppelganger can use any spell trigger or spell completion item as if the spells were on its spell list. Its caster level is equal to its racial Hit Dice. Perfect Copy (Su) When a doppelganger uses change shape, it can assume the appearance of specific individuals.

#npc #lucien the mithril prince #chut #doppelganger #pathfinder 1e #daemon #szuriel #four horsemen of the apocalypse

[tulip-simp-artist]

Kyrell: *drinking more than they probably should because it has the reaction of making them laugh each time a Durge thought crosses their mind 😅*

Gale: Alright, where did that cloak come from?

Astarion: Gale, I thought we agreed we wouldn't be so... forthcoming with questioning them?

Shadowheart: I recall the same... but either way works.

Gale: Or we can just get straight to the point?

Kyrell: *mind empty and too drunk to think clearly* *mumbling* Sorry, what cloak are we talking about?

Karlach: Okay, after this, we are putting you to bed. *takes the bottle of alcohol a way from them*

Kyrell: What no, I'm fine– *tries to reach for the bottle but Wyll sits them back down because they were either going to fall into the fire pit or burn themself on Karlach's overheated skin*

Wyll: I don't think you want burn scars, so you're going to just sit here for now.

Kyrell: I don't mind scars... I think scars are sexy.

Astarion: Well, aren't you daring tonight; and a lot less uptight. How much have they had to drink to get this result?

Gale: We are getting off topic here!

Lae'zel: Yes, and I, too, would like answers to the mystery cloak.

Kyrell: ...still can't recall what cloak you're talking about... damn my already fucked up memory is shitty when I drink.

Gale: It appears so... we are talking about the red cloak you wear every day now. You showed up wearing it one morning, and no one knows where you got it from. The one that turns you invisible after you kill someone?

Kyrell: Oh! That cloak! It's such a pretty color–

Shadowheart: Wow, Gale, I'm impressed... by how terrible you are at integration.

Lae'zel: I think I'd have better luck holding a knife to their throat for answers.

Kyrell: Kinky *followed by a giggle*

Astarion: I'm saving that for later.

Gale: The cloak. Where. Did. You. Get. It?

Kyrell: Hmm? Oh, funny looking short guy, like this tall, he had a hat too, showed up one night and gave it to me. Said he was my butler... can't recall when I got a butler..?

Wyll: While I don't completely doubt their answer... maybe we should ask again when they are less intoxicated.

Karlach: Alright, bedtime, Kyrell. You too, Scratch! You can watch over our drunk paladin, right boy?

Scratch ever the good boy agrees.

Kyrell: I'm not a child– that being said, I love cuddling with the dog. So I'll go to bed.

#bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 oc #bg3 durge #bg3 dark urge #bg3 karlach #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 shitpost #baldurs gate 3