#there now the summoning spell is cast and people will be forced to look at this garbage nyeheheh

[hballegro]

babygorl

[a2remedy]

DPXDC Prompt# 3- It’s on Fright

Summoning has never been off the table. In fact Danny welcomes it.

At least after the first 50 he did.

Now it’s just getting repetitive. Destroy the world, end this specific race, person, sexuality. He’s really heard it all and it honestly sucks. He’s a protective spirit damn it!

Look at all the high and mighty people and cultists that would call on him for their mortal issues? It's even more annoying to listen to the whiney people who think they're entitled to his power or his time.

So he did what he should've done this whole time. If ghosts are strong enough emotional echoes, why shouldn't it be the same way? He establishes a connection between his summoning circle. If the caster's intent when casting the spell is for anything other than protecting life, its free game. Que the registration of numerous ghost to send an echo of themself to fuck with the people who thought they could fuck with the king. Of course, there are rules. You're only there for a short window. No killing is permitted unless a caster is hostile and a threat to ghosts. Ensure the safety and good health of human sacrifices. Blah,blah, blah. But most importantly, make them regret ever casting the spell in the first place. Upon numerous heroes failing to stop the summoning in time, there's a vast amount of random shit that happens further proves to not fuck with the realms. Batman can only hear the nostalgic music before witnessing the lead cultist that nabbed Jason get hit by an ice cream truck driven by a muscular man and little girl in uniforms. Tim and could agree that their soft serve was the best they ever had. Hal comes onto the cultists being forced into a tea party and learning their table manners from a blue dragon in a gorgeous dress and tiara. Flash comes up to Shazam and a lanky grey figure with glasses discussing Justice League fanfiction while the cultists have to cosplay the members and live out their found family dreams. Spectra is having the time of her life honestly. Talking things out with depressed kids to work through those feelings or being allowed to pay a certain clown a visit time and time again for her good work along with, spooking frats and sororities.

Superman has been quick to react to cultists after a little demon of a girl promised to return if he wasn't treating his clone better to not repeat the beatdown that was personally recorded and handed to Lex to make if he agreed to make merch from it. Most summon sites are Jumpscare Central or a straight up scrap. It's also a wonderful chance for Spectra to give the bats what they fear most. THERAPY!!! Under Jasmine's supervision, of course. JLD has heard the outcries of the JL and still keeps their good standing with the king to themselves. Especially that said king is over every Friday with treats and gifts from throughout the ages. He's fallen for the blonde warlock that has always been able to reliably call on him because he only does it when ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY! Danny found it odd that the only person who could call him now was a sad Brit in a trenchcoat but a conversation or two had them see that they were more often than not on the same wavelength. Sick of their duty, in need of a drink, and helping the world to the best of their ability. John is just so human and reminds him of how he is too. That soon applies to Zatanna too, who's distraught from leading. Besides, what happens in the House of Mysteries stays in the House of Mysteries.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Time for today's silly Merlin au! This time featuring himbo Arthur!

I think that the show should have leaned into the whole "Merlin's technically a creature of magic" aspect, both in terms of being magic incarnate and kin to the dragons, and I think Arthur should have also been forced to come to terms with it as well. However, this is Arthur we're talking about, so of course he wouldn't come to the right conclusions right away.

In this scenario, around season 5-ish, there's an evil sorcerer seeking revenge against Camelot for the purge who puts a spell on all of the humans in Camelot, one that would weaken them and cause such fatigue that no one would be able to even stand up after a while. But it's a powerful and taxing spell to cast, so the sorcerer can only afford to target the humans in Camelot to keep the number of targets as low as possible. Besides, what could the livestock in Camelot do to stop him anyways?

So everyone in Camelot is falling under this spell, and Arthur and the knights are rushing to prepare for battle against the sorcerer to make him lift the spell. However, with each hour that passes, everyone grows weaker and weaker.

Merlin does, of course, know that this spell has been cast and what it does, but he doesn't feel its affects and assumes that his magic is protecting him. He acts like he's growing weaker so he doesn't fall under anyone's suspicions for the wrong reasons. However, after Merlin summons and talks to Kilgarrah for advice on how to break the spell, Kilgarrah informs him that Merlin wasn't protected by his magic, but rather by the fact that he isn't truly human.

And Merlin decides to unpack the implications of that some other time, because he's got a kingdom and a prat to save.

Fast forwards to the knights getting their asses kicked by the sorcerer and the evil sorcerer preparing to kill Arthur, who's lying on the ground with his eyes closed. All the other knights were knocked out by a blast from the sorcerer, but Arthur's still barely clinging to consciousness, yet he's too weak to even open his eyes. All he can do is listen helplessly as the sorcerer prepares to kill them all.

But then the sorcerer yelps, as if he were hit by something. Arthur's hope skyrockets as the sorcerer yells "You! How are you even still awake?! Every single human in Camelot should be feeling the full effects of the spell by now!" Arthur thinks for a moment that one of his knights has found enough strength to overcome the spell and fight back, but that hope is quickly dashed when he hears Merlin's voice responding like he isn't tired in the slightest, saying, "Well it's a good thing I was never really human then."

Merlin decided to say that to throw the sorcerer off-kilter enough to distract him and give Merlin an advantage in the fight. Besides, Merlin can see that all of the knights, including Arthur, are knocked out on the ground, so there's no harm in admitting it to this sorcerer who he's definitely going to have to kill.

Arthur, meanwhile, is still conscious and completely reeling from Merlin's words. What the hell did he mean he wasn't human?! Has some vile magical creature taken Merlin's place?

After the battle (which sounded to Arthur like a bunch of grunts, pained yelps, and a final, wet gurgle), Arthur could feel the effects of the spell lifting, letting him open his eyes with a gasp. He frantically looks around to make sure Merlin's ok, but Merlin's only a few steps away from him, while the sorcerer lies dead on the ground with a sword buried in his chest.

Hearing Arthur's gasp, Merlin turns to him with a relieved smile and helps pulls Arthur to his feet. Arthur, meanwhile, is too stunned to even ask how Merlin of all people managed to kill a powerful sorcerer by himself, but Merlin's giving some unbelievable explanation that involves distracting the sorcerer and then getting a miraculous opening and stabbing the sorcerer. Arthur's nodding along, but inside, he's really searching man who might be Merlin or might be some magical imposter posing as Merlin, as awful as that is for Arthur to consider, for any signs that he's truly Merlin.

If he's an imposter, Arthur has to give him credit, he plays his part well. The man in front of him looks exactly like Merlin, talks like Merlin, walks with Merlin's lanky gait, and seems to know everything Merlin knows, even their inside jokes. Still, Arthur needs to be sure, so after they get back to the castle, Arthur goes down to the vaults and grabs a secret object that Uther used in the purge that could detect illusions and glamor magics. It was a simple clear crystal in the shape of a sphere and small enough to fit in the palm of a person's hand, but if someone or something that was using magic to alter their appearance came into contact with it, the crystal would glow with a bright light.

Arthur plants the sphere in his chambers and disguises it as a new paperweight. The next day, Arthur pretends to accidentally knock it off his desk, sending it rolling across the floor, and orders the maybe-Merlin to pick it up and bring it back to his desk. Maybe-Merlin rolls his eyes in a perfect imitation of Merlin and walks over to the crystal. To Arthur's shock and relief, the crystal doesn't glow when Merlin picks it up, so he definitely is the true Merlin.

But then that leads Arthur to a horrible conclusion: the Merlin he knew wasn't a human, and never was. And the only creatures with the ability to look convincingly human were creatures of magic.

Oh god, Merlin was a creature of magic.

Arthur decides that, in order for him to plot an appropriate course of action, he needs more information. Namely, he needs to know what exactly Merlin is.

So, Arthur sneaks into the library and secretly takes some of the bestiaries, searching for what manner of creature Merlin truly is. Arthur tries not to jump to the worst possible conclusions, but all of the creatures of magic that can take human form that Arthur knows of are horrible monsters that prey on humans. Take the sidhe and the lamia for examples!

But people don't randomly go missing or turn up dead from monster attacks very frequently in Camelot, and Merlin cries when Arthur so much as shoots a bunny, so if Merlin's some sort of monster that kills and eats humans, he's doing a piss poor job at being one. So, Merlin must be some sort of creature that doesn't hurt humans, which certainly narrows down the list.

Arthur eventually finds a list of peaceful, human-like creatures of magic, and he starts trying to narrow down what Merlin is. He couldn't be an elf, since his ears were huge and round, not pointed. He couldn't be a gnome, he was too tall and gangly. He couldn't be a nymph, he spent too much time indoors to be a nature spirit. He couldn't be a leprechaun, he didn't have a beard or an affinity towards gold. He couldn't be a fae or a sidhe, he doesn't make deals with anyone (besides when he goes gambling at the tavern). And he certainly couldn't be a dragonlord, they were all dead!

Arthur was just about to give up when he finally found what he was looking for! The book's passage on fairies described them as benevolent relatives to the fae who would often disguise themselves as humans and would bring good luck and fortune to whoever befriended them, while sometimes engaging in some fun mischief! That must be Merlin!

Come to think of it, Arthur did have some great moments of luck, some of them almost miraculous! Morgana's magic failing her the day of a battle, defeating a dragon single-handedly, surviving the questing beast's bite, and of course defeating monsters that were said to only be killed through magic. And Merlin had been there for all of those events!

The book also describes fairies as creatures that love all living beings and are closely connected with nature, which makes perfect sense considering how much Merlin hates hunting! And fairies could see into the true hearts of people, which was how Merlin always knew if a person was untrustworthy!

It all made so much sense! This even explained Merlin's random "visits to the tavern", when Arthur knew that Merlin rarely ever drank. According to the book, fairies could only maintain their human forms for so long before they needed to spend some time in their smaller winged forms.

The book even addressed how fairies could be born from a union between a particularly powerful fairy and a human, which even explained why Merlin never knew his father and how Merlin could be a creature of magic while having a human mother!

Now that he knew the truth, Arthur felt so much relief! His best friend wasn't some diabolical monster, he was just a playful and friendly fairy trying to live as a human! It made so much sense!

And now all Arthur had to do was prove it. All evidence pointed to Merlin being a fairy, but he needed concrete proof before he could take any action. According to the book, the blood of a fairy in a human disguise sparkled under the light of a full moon. So, Arthur devised a plan to take Merlin out on an overnight hunting trip the day before the next full moon and "accidentally" cut Merlin's arm with one of the crossbow bolts. Arthur would then bandage the cut for Merlin and, after a couple hours, insist on changing the bandages, and pocket the first bloodied bandage.

Sure, Arthur felt guilty about purposely cutting his friend, but this was Merlin's fault for keeping the fact that he wasn't human a secret over their ten years of friendship! So, Arthur goes through with his plan, and when he held the used bandage up to the moonlight after Merlin had fallen asleep, he has to hold back a gasp as the red blood on the cloth shimmers and turns a bright golden color. Well, the book was right, the blood certainly sparkled!

(It was a shame that Arthur never read into warlocks, and how the magic in a warlock's blood made their blood turn gold under the light of a full moon.)

Arthur then turned to look at his peacefully sleeping friend, and swore that he would do everything he could to help his friendly little fairy.

Shortly after that revelation, Arthur starts actively noticing all of the strokes of luck he has. Bandits can never land a hit on him because they're too busy getting knocked out by tree branches or tripping over roots, his baths and meals are always the perfect temperature no matter how long he waits, and his injuries all heal at near-impossible rates. Hell, Arthur couldn't even recall the last time he got sick with something as small as a cold!

So Arthur tries to do little things for Merlin to show him his appreciation, like giving Merlin flower crowns (which fairies are said to like and Merlin absolutely adores), giving him a shiny silver mirror (fairies are supposed to like shiny things, and Merlin's never had a proper mirror before), and giving Merlin parts of his own meals as a food offering (which Merlin of course isn't about to turn down).

(Arthur's also kinda frustrated at the lack of information about fairy courting rituals lol!)

But Arthur isn't the best at keeping secrets, so the knights of the round table eventually catch him trying to set up a nice little fairy ring for Merlin in the garden, and they also "figure out" that Merlin is a fairy, and it all spirals from there until the entire castle is trying to show their appreciation for their fairy friend.

Merlin's very confused by all of this (since Arthur's terrible at actually communicating, Merlin doesn't know that Arthur thinks he's a fairy), but he's not about to turn down all of these lovely gifts!

And there's lots of different directions the story could go from there! A pretty funny scenario would be some rival king catching wind of how Camelot's great victories are all because of their king befriending a kind fairy, so he kidnaps Merlin in an attempt to make Merlin grant him such great luck and victory in battle. However, all they do to imprison Merlin is pour a circle of salt around him (since they firmly believe that fairies cannot cross a barrier of salt).

Merlin's just kinda raises an eyebrow and thinks that this is the weirdest kidnapping ever, steps over the salt, and escapes back to Camelot.

Thank you for reading through my rambling! :D

[yanderes-galore]

I have Baldur's Gate 3 brainrot and I will make it YOUR problem. Here's HCs of you having Raphael as your patron when being a fiendish warlock.

Yandere! Patron! Raphael with Warlock! Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior Occult themes, Violence, Murder, Blood, Mature themes (I elude to, well, sex but it's nothing graphic), Stalking, Kidnapping, Coercion, Haarlep is involved occasionally, Biting/Marking, Branding, Mind control via charm, Forced relationship.

Normally people avoid making deals with devils, cambions, fiends...

However, some are pushed into such an option, specifically if there's nothing else to turn to.

Perhaps you are such a case... Forced to deal with a devil in order or to keep your life.

Raphael isn't picky... He loves to charm mortals into deals.

So... It's expected he comes to you when you're at your worst, right?

Perhaps you were cast out of your home... ostracized for following dark paths... or perhaps you were on the brink of death from an attack?

Maybe you were originally a mage who was punished for being too ambitious.

Or maybe... Well, there's a whole list of reasons why warlocks make pacts, yeah?

Anything from curing a curse to wanting enough power to save yourself or those you love....

Raphael doesn't care for the reason.

When he encountered you, he saw you as another soul he can toy with.

Devils do love their toys.

You looked like a kicked puppy when he found you, such a weak frail thing.

Helpless souls like you are so delectable.

He had originally decided to interact with you in his human guise, to play the part of your savior.

"What a predicament you're in~" He coos, piercing eyes gleaming over your vulnerable form. "Would you like my help?"

Raphael is careful to pick the desperate ones.

Said souls have a harder time refusing his charms.

"I can help you be stronger... Think of me as a friend. I'm sure we can help each other out."

With no other place to go, what else could you do?

Imagine Raphael forcing you into a deal once you're at your worst.

With him, he promises you power, all in exchange for being his servant.

At first it's your typical devil deal.

The fiend allows you to use fiendish magic in exchange for your servitude.

It's mostly simple... a fair price for where you were at before.

Sometimes it's seeking items, other times you serve as a debt collector towards those who are indebted to your cambion master.

You grow used to being at your master's beck and call for years.

You've done horrible things to keep the power you were given.

Yet you've accepted the fact you're not a good person a long time ago.

You stopped being a good person when you met Raphael, practically begging for power to survive.

So, if it comes to killing a few folk and sending them to the Hells for your patron, you'll accept the task.

You're meant to be a plaything, a puppet to do your master's bidding.

Your agreement is simple for a few years.

You think it's what most warlocks deal with when it comes to their patrons.

However... Imagine Yandere! Raphael playing favorites, seeing you as his favorite debt collector.

His favors become more... personal.

You end up being summoned to the House of Hope more often than you'd think.

It's always an unnerving experience to you.

You'll be focused on learning a new spell or tracking down a target, only to feel a chill run down your spine.

It isn't long after an infernal transportation gate opens, making you come face to face with your patron.

He's always charming with his appearances, being theatrical as he tells you he has a new job for you.

You're used to this by now... He invites you to his House of Hope, he tells you of a new debtor, and you're sent off to hunt like a loyal hound.

Yet... Imagine if Raphael simply invites you over to chat?

There's no debtor to be hunted... Your job is just to entertain him with chat.

It's a new yet easier task... One where Raphael promises to teach you a new spell if you indulge.

As time goes along, you'll soon realize these moments you share with your patron are attempts at control.

Raphael, as a narcissistic cambion, enjoys control over you as his warlock.

He chats you up, trying to encourage you to do certain things for him.

Chatting is enough to show Raphael's interest, the devil often asking how your training and jobs are going.

That or asking if you miss him, your dramatic patron.

You can tolerate this for the most part... But devils always seem to surprise you.

Imagine if Raphael adds onto what he likes for favors.

Your patron has been watching you closely lately, call it 'admiring from afar'.

Raphael voices his needs in a way you aren't expecting, mostly because it's out of the blue.

"Little mouse, I desire something new. Perhaps I should give Haarlep a break and have you entertain me instead for a night or two. You'd do it if I ordered right, pet?"

Yes, Raphael seems like a devil who would use intimacy to control his warlock.

Of course, the devil has an incubus who normally keeps him company... but what better way to keep your pact than making you worship him?

At first it disturbs you.

Raphael has never said this was part of your contract.

You could do errands for the infernal beast, but now he's suggesting you bed him?

An unfortunate thing when it comes to devils... is their charm often gets to mortal minds.

He may be no incubus, but he has a certain seduction to him.

If he feels like it, he may allow Haarlep to make you comfortable, using 'Charm' to keep you a compliant little pet.

Raphael is an exploitative beast.

He'll use any means necessary to show you that you're his.

You should feel lucky... normally he isn't a patron for many warlocks.

Plus it's a small price compared to what his eternal debtors go through.

Let him have his fun... Let him leave his mark to keep you as his perfect little mouse.

Then you can go back to wrangling debts, being his enforcer by using his power.

Raphael is sure you reek of him.

His power rolls off you in waves, weaker creatures shuddering due to sensing his presence.

Other fiends can practically smell him on you, quickly making them realize your soul is tainted.

Raphael plans to trap you in his pact, giving you temptation and power, all while having you charmed.

Even the spell 'Protect From Good And Evil' won't help you evade his charm.

Raphael can sense it cast on you, causing the devil frustration.

Even Haarlep finds it amusing, you're clever...

But master has other ways of making his warlock comply.

Raphael covers you in bites, maybe he'll even brand you with a fire spell.

His entire obsession revolves around ways to control you.

He wants your eyes only on him, even when he allows Haarlep to share... You're only allowed to look at your patron.

Raphael plans to train you to crave him, all so can ensure you're loyal to him.

He wants you to need his touch, words, power... Everything.

He wants your worship.

In return, he'll let you channel his power, he'll let you be powerful... As long as you're his.

Raphael feeds you, your stomach and needs for temptation.

To him, it's like luring a mouse.

He'll put out some cheese... he'll make you come out of your mouse hole...

Then, as the cat, he'll pounce.

Even if you try to run, to find a way to remove the contract branded on your soul...

He won't let you.

You think Raphael will ever let you out of debt? Nonsense!

You belong to him.

Even if you tried to run or hide... He'll find you.

You'll be dragged back to the House of Hope like a misbehaving child.

You'll stay in his room until you can behave, Haarlep watching you like a hawk when your patron is gone.

There's no way Raphael is going to allow you to leave.

Ever since you pledged servitude to him... You became his to use as he wishes.

Soon you'll get used to it, soon you'll need him.

He just needs to break his mouse down with some more temptation and punishment...

Then you can be his perfect little plaything... His warlock who listens to his every word like it's law.

[wheeniemyloove]

shadows and sparks (clarisse la rue x fem! daughter of hekate!reader)

summary!: during a night patrol, Clarisse and Y/N face danger that forces them to work together, uncovering an unexpected connection.

contains!: mild violence, injuries, mild language, vulnerability, mentions of y/n

notes!: i need this woman religiously + i never really see people puting the reader as a daughter of hekate so I just really wanted to do something different and thinking about writing more daughter of hekate!reader, so lmk if u like it or not!

The forest was unusually quiet. Even the rustling of leaves seemed to hold its breath, making the tension in the air unbearable for Clarisse La Rue. She gripped her spear tightly, her knuckles white around the polished wood.

“Do you ever stop glowing?” Clarisse muttered, glancing sideways at Y/N, her patrol partner for the evening. The soft glow of magic trailed behind the daughter of Hecate like fireflies, illuminating their path despite the deep darkness around them.

Y/N gave her a lazy grin, her fingers casually twirling a faint orb of light. “You could just admit you’re jealous. I could teach you a spell or two if you ask nicely.”

Clarisse snorted. “As if I’d rely on your magic tricks. Real warriors fight with strength, not illusions.”

“Real warriors also keep quiet during patrols,” Y/N quipped, her smirk widening.

Clarisse bristled, biting back a retort. She hated how Y/N always seemed so relaxed, so smug. It was infuriating, especially when Clarisse was on edge, her instincts screaming that something was watching them.

“Stay close,” she said sharply, quickening her pace.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Y/N said, her voice dripping with amusement.

Clarisse didn’t dignify that with a response.

---

The silence grew heavier as they ventured deeper into the woods, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. Clarisse’s sharp eyes scanned the shadows, her muscles coiled and ready for a fight. Beside her, Y/N strolled as if she were on a leisurely walk, her magic casting soft, shifting patterns on the ground.

“Do you ever take anything seriously?” Clarisse asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice.

Y/N shrugged. “I take plenty of things seriously. Just not you yelling at me every five minutes.”

Clarisse opened her mouth to snap back, but a low growl cut through the air, freezing both of them in place.

“Did you hear that?” Clarisse whispered, her spear coming up instinctively.

Y/N tilted her head, her expression suddenly focused. “Yeah. Something big.”

The growl came again, louder this time, and a pair of molten gold eyes appeared in the shadows ahead. Clarisse didn’t wait. She charged, her spear aimed at the creature’s throat as it stepped into the moonlight—a massive drakon, its scales shimmering like molten metal.

The drakon lashed out with its tail, knocking Clarisse’s spear aside and sending her flying into a tree. She hit the ground with a grunt, her vision swimming.

“Clarisse!” Y/N shouted, her hands glowing as she summoned a spell. Shadows coiled around her fingers, forming the shape of a pack of wolves that darted toward the drakon, their howls echoing through the forest.

The drakon hesitated, snapping at the illusions, and Y/N ran to Clarisse’s side.

“Are you okay?” she asked, crouching beside her.

“I’m fine,” Clarisse said through gritted teeth, shoving Y/N away. “I don’t need your help.”

“Really? Because it looks like you just got thrown like a rag doll,” Y/N said, her tone annoyingly calm.

Clarisse pushed herself to her feet, gripping her spear. The drakon had already realized the wolves weren’t real and was turning back toward them, its eyes narrowing.

“Stay behind me,” Clarisse ordered.

But Y/N didn’t listen. She stepped forward, her hands glowing brighter as she chanted under her breath. The shadows around her thickened, forming a dome of darkness that enveloped the drakon. For a moment, the creature thrashed, confused and blind.

“Now!” Y/N shouted.

Clarisse didn’t hesitate. She charged into the darkness, her spear aimed at where she knew the drakon’s heart would be. The tip found its mark, piercing through scales and flesh. The drakon let out a deafening roar before collapsing, its massive body hitting the ground with a thud.

The shadows dissipated, revealing Clarisse standing over the drakon’s corpse, her chest heaving. She turned to Y/N, who was leaning against a tree, looking a little pale from the effort of her spell.

“Next time, leave the fighting to me,” Clarisse said, her voice sharp.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Next time, try not to get thrown into a tree.”

Clarisse glared at her, but there was no heat in it. She was too tired to argue.

“Thanks,” she muttered after a moment.

Y/N blinked, then grinned. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Clarisse rolled her eyes. “Don’t push it.”

---

They made their way back to camp in silence, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving them both exhausted. The faint glow of the campfire came into view, and Clarisse sighed in relief.

“Hey,” Y/N said suddenly, stopping in her tracks.

Clarisse turned to her, frowning. “What?”

Y/N hesitated, her usual smirk replaced with something softer. “You’re always so hard on yourself. You know you don’t have to prove anything to anyone, right?”

Clarisse stiffened, caught off guard by the sincerity in Y/N’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

Y/N shrugged, her hands glowing faintly as she created a small orb of light. “You act like you have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. But you’re more than just a fighter, Clarisse. You don’t have to face everything alone.”

Clarisse stared at her, unsure how to respond. No one had ever said something like that to her before. She looked away, her grip tightening on her spear.

“Thanks,” she said again, quieter this time.

Y/N smiled. “Anytime.”

They continued toward the campfire, the tension between them replaced by a newfound understanding. For the first time, Clarisse didn’t mind the soft glow of Y/N’s magic lighting their way.

[lightningant]

“harry has nothing to tie him to tom/voldemort if you strip him of the horcrux”

uh…. what about his magical power? his intuitive understanding of magic and spells (he gets them right on the first try even if he’s seen them performed once, maybe months or years ago)? the fact that, despite not having time to properly study, he gets really decent grades (harry is smart, stop making him into this dumb jock that doesn’t even know how to open books)? his mean streak? the fact that he can be downright vindictive? what about the time — since people like to paint this as an indicator of hermione’s callousness and cruelty, and tally the points for tomione — when he was the only one to instantly see the benefits of hermione trapping rita in a jar (he wasn’t even phased by that fact, unlike ron, for example, who was horrified)? or his strong will? his ability to plan and plot and strategise and then lead a group of teenagers into infiltrating the ministry?

i could go on and on, but i’ll just harp on his intuition for just a second more. while he’s intuitive both magically and simply in day to day life, i believe tom/voldemort would be reluctantly fascinated by his grasp on magic. like, yes, voldemort is a creative genius, but ultimately he wants to understand and pick apart the mechanisms behind every magical concept (or just concepts in general), while harry’s philosophy is more towards “well if it works it works” and just rolls with it. and specifically because harry’s mind is not structured to be as analytical as voldemort’s, for him magic is magic. if you want something to happen, then magic just works because — in his mind — that’s what it’s supposed to do. and voldemort would undoubtedly froth at the mouth to get a better understanding of this different perspective.

sorry for this rant, but “there’s nothing more to harry”?

like, honestly people, did we even read the same damn books???

See this is why I'm in my little hole in fandom because after all that I have said, this is objectively not true and I have absolutely no idea how you read the books and come away thinking Harry's relationship with spellcasting is somehow unique. Harry has a very ordinary relationship with magic. How could you force me to raise my hand against my boy like this by glazing him for things he didn't do

Observe:

“Expecto patronum,” Harry repeated under his breath, “Expecto patronum.” “Concentrating hard on your happy memory?” “Oh — yeah —” said Harry, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom ride. “Expecto patrono — no, patronum — sorry —expecto patronum, expecto patronum—” Something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas.

^ It is a major plot point that Harry fucking sucks at casting this spell when not in crisis mode. Because he is 13 years old. Almost every time he casts it, he does so by nervously spamming it.

Hermione had been right; Professor Flitwick did indeed test them on Cheering Charms. Harry slightly overdid his out of nerves and Ron, who was partnering him, ended up in fits of hysterical laughter and had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour before he was ready to perform the charm himself.

Meanwhile there was no reply from Sirius, Hedwig was refusing to come anywhere near him, Professor Trelawney was predicting his death with even more certainty than usual, and he did so badly at Summoning Charms in Professor Flitwick’s class that he was given extra homework — the only person to get any, apart from Neville.

“That’s better, Harry, that’s loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased. “Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t manage a spell,” Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, “threaten me with a dragon. Right ...” He raised his wand once more. “Accio Dictionary!”

Harry turned over his paper, his heart thumping hard – three rows to his right and four seats ahead Hermione was already scribbling – and lowered his eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly. Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll … smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write.

^ He almost fucking forgot Wingardium Leviosa. This was something he had to reach back to remember.

On the whole, Harry thought it went rather well. His Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy’s had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat he was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before Harry could rectify his mistake.

Harry only uses a pool of spells so limited they're considered his trademarks for a reason; he is not good at handling magic he's not used to. Magic doesn't come naturally to him, that's the problem. Literally every time we see him learning a new spell, he does so in a very ordinary way one might expect from any student.

And Harry is not tactical, he's actually quite impulsive and is often criticized for not thinking his plans through. It causes problems for him constantly. But he is clever. His infiltration of the ministry works because when sufficiently motivated, he picks up and applies information extremely quickly. His brain moves faster in danger, where Ron and Hermione stutter. Harry is a terrible liar (famously nicknamed Roonil Wazlib and Neville Longbottom), but note how fast he jumps to these terrible lies; he commits very quickly and very firmly. Which is how he handles magic, too. The issue with sectumsempra was that it's dark magic. It worked first try because he viewed Draco as his enemy.

Harry loves honing and mastering 1 thing that works. He is not creative and does not enjoy branching out and will only master spells if they seem useful to have in what I can only describe as his cantrips, and he masters them through a perfectly normal amount of effort for a boy his age.

????????????????????????

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello!! I hope your feeling better and are recovering! Drinking water and resting is important. I am rooting for your recovery!!!

This is my first time requesting anything from a writer. But you are really talented at what you do!! I love your writings for the Jofoes.

I was wondering if you could do the Jofoes meeting and being curious about a witch reader. The reader can cast spells, use their magic to move objects/people, summon creatures and create objects using their magic, and also use simple herbs and remedies for healing rituals. (If possible to include Santana and PB dio as well, I love the way you write for them as well!!)

hiii, thank you, yeah i’m almost feeling totally better! thank you so much!! im so happy you think im talented 😭 <33 i can def do that for u, i hope you enjoy and ty for requesting!! ty again for the kind words :3

Dio Brando (PB)

Initially thinks you’re just another charlatan trying to impress him.

“Magic, you say? A trick of the light, nothing more.”

But when you actually lift him off the ground with a flick of your wrist, his smug expression vanishes.

The moment you summon a creature out of thin air, he steps back- only slightly, but enough for you to notice.

“...Interesting.” His tone is unreadable, but you know that in his mind, he’s already plotting.

He wants your power. Badly. And if that means seducing you or convincing you to work under him? He’ll do it.

Dio (Part 3)

Oh, now this Dio is genuinely intrigued.

“Witchcraft? Hmph. Foolish humans once feared such things… but I see no reason to fear.”

Watches closely as you perform a ritual with herbs and soft chanting.

Does not flinch when you summon something from the shadows or create an object from nothing- he has seen far too many unnatural things in his time.

He actually respects you for wielding such power without a Stand.

"Tell me, witch. Do you curse your enemies?" He’s got a few names he’d love for you to deal with.

Would absolutely try to make you his ally.

Santana

Blinks slowly at you, his head tilting like a curious animal.

He is trying so hard to figure you out. How does your power work? Where does it come from?

Pokes at your magic mid-spell. If you make something float? He swipes at it like a cat. If you create something? He picks it up and examines it from every angle.

When you heal him with an herb remedy, he looks at you with mild amusement.

“Not necessary. My body regenerates.”

But still, there’s something fascinating about you… enough for him to stick around.

Kars

Ah… another god in the making.

“You’ve evolved past the limitations of mere mortals. How… admirable.”

He watches your magic with an analytical eye, trying to understand the science behind it.

“Summoning” intrigues him the most. You brought forth a creature from nothing- was it stored elsewhere? Was it created on the spot?

He isn’t afraid, but he is impressed.

Offers you a place at his side, though it’s clear he sees you as a stepping stone.

Wamuu

“...You wield the elements. Like the wind, but with a different force.”

Unlike the others, he respects you without skepticism.

Watches in fascination when you use magic to move objects, your power reminding him of natural forces at work.

He admires your ability to heal, finding it noble. “A warrior would benefit from such gifts.”

If you fight using magic, he considers you a worthy opponent and would challenge you, not out of hostility, but out of respect.

Esidisi

Overly dramatic about it.

“Ah, the gods have blessed me with an opportunity to witness true magic”

Gets way too into watching your spells, clapping and gasping like an audience member.

“OH, SUMMON A BEAST NEXT! SOMETHING WITH FANGS, PERHAPS?!”

The moment you heal him with a ritual, he pretends to swoon.

Will 100% pester you for flashy magic tricks like a kid asking for a bedtime story.

Yoshikage Kira

NOPE. NOPE. NOPE.

“...This is unnatural.”

He does not like you. At all. You are an unpredictable variable in his otherwise controlled, normal life.

The moment you make something move without touching it, he physically recoils.

When you jokingly pretend to curse him, he leaves immediately.

If he has to deal with you, he will be as polite as possible while trying to get away from you at all costs.

Diavolo

Does not like the fact that you can manipulate things without him seeing it coming.

The way your power works makes him deeply uneasy.

“This is a power that should not exist.”

If you’re a threat to his empire, he will eliminate you. If not… he will simply keep his distance.

Doppio, on the other hand, is fascinated.

“Whoa, Boss! Did you see that?! She just made a whole thing appear out of nowhere!”

Enrico Pucci

Very, very cautious at first.

“...Do your powers come from the Devil?”

You explain that your magic is neutral- it is a force of nature, neither good nor evil.

Once he realizes you’re not some hellspawn, he actually listens to your wisdom, especially regarding healing remedies.

That being said, if you ever interfere with his plans, he will not hesitate to remove you.

Funny Valentine

“A woman of mystery….”

Watches you with politician levels of charm and calculation.

Does not fear your magic, but is highly interested in how it works.

“Could you, perhaps, use your power to benefit this great nation?”

You’re not sure if he sees you as a person or as a tool for his country.

Diego Brando

His curiosity is off the charts.

“Tch. And here I thought Stands were the only phenomenon worth studying.”

Watches you closely, taking mental notes of every spell you cast.

Very, very interested in summoning magic. He has a thing for creatures, after all.

“If you can call forth beasts at will, you’d make quite the ally.”

Tooru

Pretends to be chill about it, but you freak him out.

“... so you’re telling me you can just… levitate things? No strings attached?”

He does not trust something he can’t fully manipulate.

Tries to gaslight you into thinking your magic is fake.

“Come on, you probably just trained your brain or something… right?”

[makomoogle7]

Cloud/Roche fic: "The World Seems Full of Good Men—Even If There Are Monsters in It"

- Excerpt from a work in progress -

(For @ffviirarepairweek 2025, Day 5: Free Day.)

Excerpt rating: Teen (for language and blood)

Setting: AU - Vampires and vampire hunters

Premise of WIP: Cloud is a SOLDIER, one of Shinra’s elite vampire hunters. Roche, a fellow SOLDIER, is Cloud’s infuriatingly brash hunting partner. But when Cloud and Roche are both mortally wounded, the legendary vampire Sephiroth offers Cloud a choice: become a vampire or die. Cloud would rather die—but if Cloud becomes a vampire, he will regain enough strength to cast a healing spell and save Roche’s life.

So Cloud makes a choice... and lives(?) with the consequences.

(Also features some vampiric Sephiroth/Cloud messiness.)

Excerpt (1,075 words):

A dark, grimy back alley in Wall Market is a helluva place to die.

The pain from the wound to Cloud’s abdomen is overwhelming, but he can’t risk screaming. The main street is visible from here, lit up with neon and full of people laughing and yelling and staggering around drunk. They pass the entrance of the alley, none of them bothering to look in Cloud’s direction. If Cloud cries out in pain—if Cloud accidentally catches someone’s attention—then more people will die.

So Cloud just summons what’s left of his energy and turns his head to look in Roche’s direction.

Cloud’s lungs seize up.

Roche is lying a few feet away, eyes closed, blood soaking through his uniform. He’s either unconscious or—

“Would you like to save him?” Sephiroth asks, voice disturbingly close to Cloud’s ear.

“Go to hell,” Cloud says, not taking his eyes off of Roche. Now that Cloud’s looking, he can see the unsteady rise and fall of Roche’s chest.

A gloved hand grips Cloud’s chin, forcibly turning his head until he’s facing Sephiroth, who is crouched next to Cloud.

“He doesn’t have to die like this,” Sephiroth says. “You could still save him.”

Cloud spits in Sephiroth’s face. The spit is blood red against Sephiroth’s pale skin.

Damn. Cloud really is dying.

“I can smell your blood, Cloud,” Sephiroth says, running his thumb over Cloud’s lower lip. “I can smell your fear. But it’s not fear for yourself, is it? It’s fear for him. You impress me. Most people reek of ego. Of self-centered desire. But not you. You’d die for those you love. And you love him, don’t you?”

The humor of the suggestion is almost enough to distract Cloud from the horrific pain of his wound. Cloud can’t stand Roche. He’s easily the best and worst hunting partner Cloud’s ever had. The best because, well, the results speak for themselves. Roche is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to killing vampires. But Roche is also the worst because he’s a complete and utter jackass. He’s always trying to compete with Cloud, always trying to rile Cloud up. He’s the most obnoxious man Cloud’s ever met.

“If only you had the strength to cast a healing spell on him,” Sephiroth says. “You’ve got enough mana to heal a wound like that. But you’ve lost too much blood. You’re too close to death to use such powerful magic now.”

Sephiroth smiles, revealing sharp fangs. “Let me turn you. It would grant you the strength to save the man you love. All you have to do”—he pulls out a dagger and cuts a clean line into the side of his own neck—“is drink my blood.”

Cloud stares at the blood trickling down Sephiroth’s neck.

Vampires are monsters. Why would Cloud ever—?

There’s a wet, gasping sound. Roche. He’s dying.

(“You’ve ruined me for other dance partners, my friend,” Roche said after their last sparring session. Cloud won, as always. Roche was on the ground, panting and red-faced, and his eyes were so alive. Cloud had wanted to punch him. Or maybe kiss him. Or maybe just hold him down until he stopped acting like such an ass all the time and started acting like the honorable man Cloud knows Roche can be.)

To Cloud, Roche has always been a brilliant flame, burning his way through life.

But now that flame is about to be extinguished forever.

Cloud stares at the wound in Sephiroth’s neck.

“I'll do it,” Cloud says.

Sephiroth’s smile widens. He wraps his arms around Cloud and brings Cloud’s face close to Sephiroth’s own.

The slitted pupils of Sephiroth’s eyes dilate. “You’re going to make an excellent vampire.”

Then he turns his head, baring his neck to Cloud.

Cloud takes a shaky breath.

And then he drinks.

The taste is bitter, and Cloud gags, but Sephiroth holds Cloud’s head in place.

“Keep going,” Sephiroth says. “Don’t you want to save him?”

Cloud screws his eyes shut and drinks, choking down the corrupted blood. He sucks and licks at Sephiroth’s neck, and Sephiroth holds him tightly.

There’s a strange, burning sort of sensation in Cloud’s chest. It starts to spread through him until his entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“You’re so close, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispers. “You’re nearly there.”

Cloud drinks and drinks and then—

His heart stops.

And his eyes snap open.

“Very good,” Sephiroth says.

Sephiroth stands up and backs away from Cloud.

“Get up,” Sephiroth says, looking down at Cloud with those cruel, inhuman eyes. “You must be hungry.”

A scent slams into Cloud, making him gasp. It’s a deep, heady aroma.

It’s coming from Roche.

All at once, Cloud finds himself crouched over Roche, tilting Roche’s head to the side, and bringing his mouth to Roche’s neck.

Roche’s pulse flutters weakly against Cloud’s lips.

Oh, this man is going to taste so—

Stop.

Cloud freezes. What is he doing? He was supposed to heal Roche, not—

“Go on,” Sephiroth says. “You’ve earned your reward. Take what you deserve.”

Cloud can’t move. His lips are pressed to Roche’s neck, and he aches to open his mouth and sink his teeth into Roche’s warm flesh.

“Cloud?” a weak, raspy voice says.

It’s Roche.

“You’re alive,” Roche murmurs. “I’m glad. The world is a better place as long as you’re—”

Cloud shoves himself away from Roche and casts the most powerful healing spell he’s ever cast in his life.

A brilliant green light surrounds Roche.

“You’re only delaying the inevitable,” Sephiroth says from behind Cloud. “The first living thing that a new vampire smells is special. You’re never going to forget that scent. You’re going to spend your days in agony, wishing you could taste his blood. You won’t ever know peace. You’ll give in eventually. And when you do, I promise you’ll know pleasure unlike any other.”

“Shut up,” Cloud snarls, finishing his healing spell and turning around sharply, fully intending to rip Sephiroth to shreds.

But Sephiroth is gone.

“Cloud,” Roche says.

Cloud’s posture stiffens. He can’t turn and face Roche. Not now.

“What did you just do?” Roche says, voice low.

“I saved your life,” Cloud says, still facing away from Roche.

“You— For me, you—?” Roche cuts himself off. He’s breathing shallowly. Cloud can hear his heartbeat. It��s fast and so, so seductive.

Cloud doesn’t run like his life depends on it.

He runs like Roche’s life depends on it.

[fandom-susceptible]

Ghosting

So I've been thinking about the lore of Ghosting in The Dragon Prince a lot, and so here's what we know from canon:

Ghosting is the ultimate punishment in Moonshadow elf society, worse even than death, and is taken very, very seriously

Moonshadow elves who abandon their own or shirk their duty are candidates to be Ghosted

The Ghost Spell is cast at a place called the Well of the Forgotten by a Keeper, but the entire village that was wronged by the ghost must democratically cast a vote. Only if the vote is a unanimous yes is the candidate actually ghosted. (source: https://creators.spotify.com/pod/show/hot-brown-morning-potion/episodes/Episode-5---The-Deluxe-Elf-Interview-with-Devon-Giehl-and-Iain-Hendry-e9nllr)

Ghosts can enter the Silvergrove and presumably other Moonshadow settlements as well, but are invisible without use of some sort of aid (the reflection in a blade made by a moon mage, a moon pool, another spell). People in their village will appear faceless to them. They cannot hear their people's voices nor can they be heard. They are effectively banished. (Season 3, Episode 3, "Ghost)

There aren't many Ghosts, but enough have been Ghosted in the past 15 years to have crossed paths with each other and have noted trends amongst them. once Ghosted, the trend is the Ghost also considers their Moonshadow life to be dead, and takes a new name as a result. (Chasing Shadows - Part 1)

Even one voice gone unheard is enough to justify revisiting the decision to Ghost someone. The Moonshadow connection to death itself plays a role in this, in summoning the spirit of those that may have died as a result of the actions of the Ghost, for them to decide if the Ghost is worthy of forgiveness. The trick of it is that once again, even one dissenting voice from those directly wronged is enough to make certain the Ghost - and whoever vouched for them - is banished forever (Season 7, episode 4, "Unfinished Business").

So . . . from this and some of the other details we have about Moonshadow elves, we can extrapolate some pretty interesting things about their culture.

Zubeia notes in the short story "All Storms End" that Moonshadow elves live in tribes in the forest. Bloodmoon Huntress informs us that the stories humans tell about elves being bloodthirsty monsters that eat people are stories that are also told in Xadia, about Moonshadow elves in general. The same stories are told by Moonshadow elves about a specific elf - the Bloodmoon Huntress. All of these impressions coming with the grain of truth; the huntress was real and once led a cult of Moonshadow elves that drank blood and ate people during the reign of Luna Tenebris as Queen of the Dragons. This cult persisted for perhaps centuries before drawing the attention of Avizandum and Queen Aditi, who set about eradicating it.

Now, given that other elves tell the story as though all moonshadow elves are guilty of the Cult's crimes into the modern day, it seems unlikely that the stereotype wasn't in effect when the Cult was actually active. Which means the Sunfire soldiers who burnt through the Moonshadow Forest looking for the Cult probably weren't making much of a distinction between what Moonshadow elves they found, because they would have believed them all guilty.

So after their forced emigration from their homeland in what is now Katolis, the Moonshadow elves have now undergone not one, not two, but potentially three genocides; their cultural genocide, which likely resulted in a lot of physical deaths in the Mage Wars; the potential genocide of the Cult of the Blood Moon, which most likely preyed primarily on other Moonshadow elves given their base of operations in the Moonshadow Forest; the Sunfire Empire and dragons' war on the Cult, which was likely directed at them all, until Kim'dael surrendered herself to Aditi and confirmed the rest of her Cult had been eliminated.

I have a pet theory that the Cult is why Moonshadow Elves have assassins, too. They could not defeat the Cult's supernatural powers with mere guards, and their numbers had dwindled so far that outright battle was unwise, so they resorted to, as Runaan calls it, precision violence. It's all that's left to them as a viable battle strategy against the much more powerful forces that surround them on all sides.

This explains why there's only a handful of Moonshadow villages, all living in the same forest, while the Earthblood elves have at least three major societies (Drakewood, other forests, mountains), the Tidebound have several cities and a thriving maritime civilization, the Skywing have at least two separate subcultures (nomads and Celestials) and some of the greatest feats of engineering in Xadia (the Celestial Spire, the city of Innea), and the Sunfire have a proud and powerful Empire.

And with that history, it's no real wonder that they consider betrayal or abandonment the ultimate taboo, worse even than an individual death. Betrayal or abandonment that results in more deaths than the individual would be unacceptable to a race that's dying out.

But here's where I think it's even worse than that. The Ritual of the New Moon calls upon the spirits of those who died as a result of the actions of the Ghost. The magic of the Moonhenge, at the Moon Nexus, the former center of their civilization, could be harnessed to open a portal into the realm of death. Rayla and Callum do this in the book "Through the Moon" and also in the final episode of season 6, attempting to help Rayla find her parents and make peace with their deaths (and in the latter case, bring one of them back with her).

My hunch is that the waters of the Moon Nexus used to be used for a lot more things like that, the same things as the Well of the Forgotten and the Moonpool in Moonshadow Forest. Also, it's telling that the Moonshadow elves leave a guardian at the Nexus even though its power was, theoretically, largely destroyed.

What if the Ghost Spell is . . . worse than we even think?

If most Moonshadow elves' spirits can be contacted through their sacred waters, what if Ghosts who died in shame can't be? What if that's why that's a worse fate than simply death? Because what is there to fear, if you're a Moonshadow elf, comfortable with the idea that life and death are a cycle and death is simply the next phase your soul will experience? Unless - you don't know what happens anymore, because you've been rejected, you are no longer Moonshadow. It's not just a horrible fate for you, who will have your own afterlife to worry about, it's a punishment for your descendants, too, who will never be able to call on your spirit like they should have been able to do.

This also fits with how insistent Rayla was that she had to make up for her parents' mistake. Why Runaan brought her on the assassination despite the fact that he knew she was too young and not ready. Tiadrin and Lain had been Ghosted, and Rayla, as their daughter, who was expected to have learned from them, was suffering the shame of their banishment. So he brought her into his home to protect her from that shame, brought her to Katolis to try and give her some measure of redemption - and we all know how that turned out. Still, this makes Rayla's outburst to Callum about how she HAS to stay and die for Zubeia make sense - because to her, what's happened to her truly is worse than death, and the only thing she can culturally do at this point to redeem herself in any way is to die in the line of duty. And her spirit STILL won't be welcomed home.

Now imagine her, or Runaan, facing Hendyr, the Skywing Dragonguard who knew Tiadrin and Lain stood to protect the egg, and finding out that he knew, but never said anything. Figured they were dead either way, so what's the difference between them being dead and their people calling them ghosts?

A big difference, when your arcanum is so tightly connected to life and death.

The one hitch in this thought is that Tiadrin and Lain are found in a spell in the Moon Nexus, but they pass on to somewhere else after being found. Also, it doesn't necessarily have to be true; the living elves simply have to believe that being a Ghost bars you from their contact, which would be reinforced by the fact that they don't speak the names of Ghosts. They don't even try with the living ones, and they would have no way of knowing when a Ghost actually died, even if they cared.

[neeksparksg]

HAPPIEST MEMORY

Fifth year at Hogwarts had been a test of patience. Dolores Umbridge was the single most irritating thing to ever step foot in the castle, and Y/N had long since lost any respect for the Ministry. A woman who believed defensive spells weren’t necessary in a world as dangerous as theirs was not someone Y/N would ever follow.

That was why, when Harry Potter pulled her aside one evening and told her about Dumbledore’s Army, she accepted almost immediately. He looked happy at that, after all Y/n had helped him, Hermione and Ron so many times that he had came to consider her a friend.

Still, Y/N had one condition.

"I'm bringing Pansy."

Harry’s lips parted slightly, but she cut off whatever protest was forming. "I don’t keep secrets from her, and I won’t start now. If you trust me, you trust her too."

To his credit, Harry hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Fine. But she’d better not—"

"She won’t."

Her girlfriend however had been skeptical about the offer. “Potter’s little army? Really?” she had scoffed. “Next thing you’ll tell me is you’ve taken up knitting with Weasley’s mum.”

"Please... it will be nice" and that was enought for Pansy to agree, well mostly agree as it was a way to spend time with her girlfriend and avoid umbridge stupid rules

It was an understatement to say that their presence caused a stir. The moment they stepped in, conversations halted, eyes turned, and whispers spread. Some students just stared, uncertain. Others looked downright furious. And while a few students had reluctantly agreed that Y/N’s skill made her valuable, Pansy had been another story.

Cho Chang was the first to voice what many were thinking. "This is supposed to be for people who actually want to fight Umbridge, not spies." She had declared the first night they arrived. “It’s one thing to have her”—she gestured toward Y/N—"but Parkinson? She’s a menace.”

Before Pansy could snap back, Y/N had silenced the entire room with a single, unimpressed look and a flick of her wand. “Pansy is with me. I don’t care what you think, have the same enemy Umbridge. If you can’t put your petty grievances aside, then maybe you don’t belong here." Y/n said Challenging Cho or anyone who was complaining "so, let's proceed we don't have all day, and if any of you waste my time with petty grievances again, you’ll regret it.”

No one had argued after that.

Pansy had leaned into her, lips twitching. “I love it when you’re menacing.” she kissed her girlfriend before stepping away

Days passed and the DA improved rapidly the students were eager to learn to cast a patronus, and while it was one of the hardest defensive spells they would learn. Sonner rather than alter the translucif creatures began to emerge from the wands of their peers—Hermione’s otter, Ron’s dog, even Lovegood’s Hare—Y/N found herself standing there, wand in hand, with nothing to show for it.

What made it worse was that this was not the first time she had tried, she had been trying since third year. When she first discovered Harry sneaking off with Professor Lupin, she had demanded to be included. And she had trained. Hard. She could summon the mist-like version of a Patronus with some dificult, but never a corporeal form. Not once.

Y/N clenched her jaw, forcing her grip on her wand to remain steady.

It didn’t make sense. She had practiced more than any of them. She had poured herself into the spell, And yet, nothing.

It was humiliating. She prided herself on strength, on mastery, on being the best. She could cast spells most of these people had never even read about, and yet here she was, failing while everyone else had already figure it out.

Pansy however had noticed, Pansy was watching Y/N struggle with an expression that hovered between amusement and sympathy. She leaned lazily against a nearby bookshelf, twirling her wand between her fingers. They were alone in the room, Y/n had told Harry she wanted more practice and he understood

“Darling,” she drawled, “I know you’re trying very hard to keep that calm, stoic thing going on, but I can see you vibrating with rage.”

“I am not vibrating with rage,” Y/N said Calmly

Pansy hummed, unconvinced. “You know, my Patronus is a beautiful Panther.” she said full with pride that her patronus had taken such imposing form

Y/N’s eye twitched. “I am aware.”

“And Potter’s is a stag.”

“Yes, Pansy.”

“And The know it all mudblood has an Otter”

"She has a name Pansy"

"I know" pansy said with a smile "oh and don forget Weasly and Lovegood"

“Don’t...”

Pansy grinned. “You hate that they managed a corporeal Patronus before you.”

Y/N inhaled deeply. Exhaled.

Pansy tilted her head. “But why are you struggling with it? You're usually so good with magic.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. She knew why.

Because the Patronus Charm was fueled by happiness.

And while Y/N had always been driven, always determined, happiness had never been her strongest emotion.

She had never needed it.

Until now.

Pansy sighed dramatically. “I could offer words of comfort and encouragement, but I’d rather watch you fume a bit longer.”

Y/N shot her a flat look.

Pansy beamed at her. “Oh, you love me.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, a smirk on her face as she rolled her eyes. “Regrettably.”

Y/N shook her head, but the corner of her lips twitched. Pansy was right, infuriatingly so—Y/n had to focus on what made her happy, and it was what she did, she focus on her dream to become the strongest wich, she imagined herself in a cozy room where she could train, she even imagine herself casting the killing curse on umbridge, all thigs that should make her happy

And yet, here she was. Failing.

She exhaled slowly and raised her wand once more.

She will not be bested by anyone.

“Expecto Patronum.”

The mist was stronger this time, brighter, but still formless, Y/N let out a sharp breath.

Pansy watched her carefully. “You’re overthinking it.”

Y/N frowned. “I do not overthink.”

Pansy arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because right now, you’re spiraling so hard I can see the existential crisis forming.”

Y/N shot her a look.

Pansy smirked. “What are you using?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“For your happy memory,” Pansy said. “What are you using?”

Y/N hesitated. None of the memories she had tried worked—her first successful spell, receiving the Book of ancestor Merlin, her first duel victory—but none of them had worked.

Pansy studied her for a moment, then stepped forward and grabbed her hand. “Try this one,” she murmured before pulling Y/N into a kiss.

Y/N froze for half a second before melting into it, the frustration, the irritation, the sheer humiliation of being unable to cast a corporeal Patronus fading into the background. Pansy was warm, familiar, hers, and for the first time that night, Y/N felt a flicker of something new.

Something lighter.

Pansy pulled away, smirking. “Try now.”

Y/N, slightly dazed, lifted her wand.

“Expecto Patronum.” this time she focus on something different, she thoughts of the times she had taken care of her grandfather's beast, of the day she met Pansy, on the times she had spend with Harry, Hermione and Ron, of the Yule Ball when she and Pansy finally starting dating, of their fist Kiss and of their most recent one

This time, the silver mist exploded from her wand, twisting and coiling into a shape_ Finally her patronus had taken shape,

Pansy grinned. “That’s my girl.”

[toytoriyadorm]

CHAPTER 29: Burn, Baby, Burn!

Lotsie stood near the door of the dorm’s main building, his phantom sat next to him as if it were a real toy. He comforted the thing as if it were real, and he was not a student on the verge of madness and death. “Don’t cry, we’re not going anywhere.” His breath wavered. 

A set of footsteps could be heard behind him, forcing the leader to pause. Despite exhaustion threatening to devour him, Lotsie picked himself up. Winston and Yuukei stood in front of him, wand raised and bag open.

“You again… always trying to make a mess of my nostalgic memories.” He lightly laughed, “You even got my star student to follow your every word.” 

He tapped his cane twice, the phantom monster rising up with a groan. “But I won’t need to worry about that soon, because you’ll all join the loop too.”

Time shifted once more, and the blotting dolls that had come from the mirror reappeared at the two first years’ feets. They crawled and sunk their melted hands into their shoes, as if begging them to stay too. The two chipped away at them, Winston with his wand’s spells and Yuukei with whatever items he could find in his bag. Yet, the dolls kept multiplying unceasingly. 

But Yuukei remained unfazed, looking towards the images of students fading in and out of time. Hundreds of people would remain trapped if they didn’t defeat Lotsie as soon as possible. 

Yuukei stares down the maddened dorm leader, “Whatever spells you cast aren’t going to stop any of us anymore, we’re ending this loop here and now. 

Lotsie giggles, coughs bleeding into his fit of laughter. “Sure, like how you said you’d tell every one of what I’ve apparently done. Now look where it got you, alone with only a student with a few tricks up his sleeve.” 

“Who the heck said it's just those two here?!”

Flames burst from what can only be described as a flamethrower on wheels. Yuukei and Winston leap out of the way, the fire burning the remaining monsters to a crisp. 

“Now fiendish king! Meet the fires of our magnum opus! A weapon of destruction crafted by the world’s greatest villain and inspired by NRC’s greatest mage!” Zackery calls. 

“Yeah, whatever he said!” Grim added on with a sly grin. 

Lotsie stood silently at the sight, his heart pounding far faster than should be possible. With a quiet tremble, he pointed a finger towards his once-loved classmates. 

“Move.”

The phantom moved on all fours, charging towards the students like an actual animal. Winston pushed Yuukei out of the way, a cloud of smoke trailing as he flew and slammed into the floor.

Zackery directed his gun towards the monster, only for ice to block its muzzle. A pair of jingling shoes trip him, Lotsie’s cane ramming right into his gut. He fell to the ground in pain as Grim jumped onto the dorm leader’s face. He scowled and scratched at the man before finally summoning a ball of fire from his jaws. Lotsie’s hair singed as he yanked Grim’s collar and threw the magical beast to the ground. 

A giant paw smashed Grim onto the floor before he could recover as Lotsie backed away. A recovering Yuukei watched as his legs were shaking, and he looked to be leaning heavily onto his cane. 

He’s being drained. 

With his head pounding, Yuukei pushed himself off the ground and ran towards the dorm leader. He tackled the man and grabbed onto his cane, narrowly avoiding ice spells aimed for his head. 

“Zackery!” He screamed. “Light ‘em up!” 

The purple teen grabs the heavy gun and points it to the monster. Without its other half to defend it, Zackery pushes on the trigger as hard as he can, the magic gem on top of the weapon beginning to shake as mana was pulled from it. A loud wail could be heard as the creature fell back, its fur torched and blot bubbling from the heat. 

Lotsie screamed with it, kicking Yuukei in the gut before shooting him with a spell. Staggered, the dorm leader begins to phase in and out, blot leaking from his forehead. Yuukei coughed as he tried to get up, far too late from stopping the dorm leader from casting his unique magic once more. 

Suddenly, a cloud of pink and yellow exploded beneath Lotsie. With a closed fist, Winston jumped towards his idol and socked him in the skull. 

Lotsie stumbled for a second, dropping his cane in the process. It's far too much for him at this point, the loop, the fight, the blot, the pain. He falls onto the dorm’s wooden floor and gazes at the blurry image of the phantom burning away. 

Everything he’s built falls apart, and he reminisces of that cheerless night.

CHAPTER 30: Goodbye, Lovely Adolescence

A camera lies on a table, and a blonde child picks it up like usual. He stares into the lens, finding a story taken from a memory.

“William, it's time to get rid of these childish ideas.” A stern male voice called from above.

The fireplace crackled oh so quietly. But for William, it felt like an eternity of watching the poor toys he adored since toddlerhood melting into plastic sludge, not even the toxic fumes staying as it flew out of the house’s chimney. His mother’s hardened grip on his arm finally loosened as he wailed. The cold eyes of his father looked down on him without pity nor concern. 

I hated you.

And I hated all of those god awful, miserable adults.

“You…want to open a show studio?” A childhood friend laughs in his face. “God, did you waste your time at that fancy school dreaming? Just work at the factory, my dad said he can get a better job than whatever nonsense that is.”

The scene shifts, and mocking, complaints, and critiques fill the dark silence. William runs through the cold night and back to the train, leaving not even a note for his parents to explain his disappearance. He despises them, he despises his rainy little town, he despises this feeling. 

He rides the train into sunrise and towards the mirror portal where Night Raven College calls him. Backwards, backwards, backwards, to where that place loved him for who he was. It didn’t matter if the whole dorm was empty, as long as he could remain in there forever. But with his family still around, forever was just a mere wish. 

The idea of growing up was sickening 

I refused to become some awful person like them,

betraying childhood promises and tossing their dreams away

So I didn’t.

The Unique Magic he birthed was still a secret, not even the teachers were informed. A spell based on creating a looping dimension might as well be something more dangerous than encountering a fae prince. He didn’t even tell his parents, who he’d never see again.

In that loop, in that time where he thought a simple 24 hours had passed, a loneliness like no other was born. However, he pretended he was unaffected once he left, simply believing he was finally free. At least that belief of his, as fickle as it was, stopped him from losing his mind on that sunny day.

He did ponder though, on a bench rotting and old until a white-haired teen walked up to him. With his tired eyes and annoyed talk about being lost, he befriended William quickly. They laughed until the sun set, and Lotsie swore to himself to never return to that loop of doom.

Then there was the dyed-blonde delinquent, who was far more shy than he let anyone let on. He would find his way onto the right path with William's help, and became a wonderful student in his own way. The fireworks he made always delighted the leader. 

And finally. those wonderfully nonsensical first years who were always arguing and making up. Their time together may be short lived, but William always loved listening to their ideas, even when he was most tired.

Pat, Saturn, Zackery, Winston. 

And everyone else

I love them, even now.

They embody my dreams, my ideals, and my perfect world

And they would have continued to, if not for time catching up to me once again.

A moonless night in the summer sets the scene with the storm coming not from the sky, but the words of his closest friend.

“I’m scared. My dad’s been fired from his movie-making job thanks to some new tech stuff replacing him. My family already struggled trying to get me everything for NRC, and I don’t know if another year is possible if my family needs help trying to keep up with costs.”

He sighs. “If nothing changes in the foreseeable future, this year is probably going to be my last.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll all be all right!” Lotsie said with a smile, the words acting as a sad attempt to comfort both of them.

But I can fix it.

I always do.

I just need to give everyone a little more time.

To recover, to breathe, to stay here

To stay with me. 

Lotsie fiddled with the silver watch in bed. The thing had been with him during his first time loop, and was the only thing that got him to leave the loop before even more time passed by. It recorded the true time, and reminded Lotsie of the days when he was lost in the loop. Leaving it was hellish, sure, but sometimes, he would dream of the days he spent inside here.

He recalled Pat’s confession. It would be difficult with that many people, yes, but wouldn’t it be worth it?

And just like that, the promise he told himself was broken, as he sat at his desk and began to rework his spell. In that long, impossible night, he spelled out the curse that would doom him. 

Why… 

Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhyhywhywhywhy–

I’ve sacrificed everything, I’ve given them my everything! So why are they still leaving?!

Why aren’t you staying with me?! Is what I’ve made still not enough?

Can’t you see everything I’ve built for you?!

You’re all so– so ungrateful!

A bunch of miserable brats who don’t listen!

Who doesn’t care!

You’re all so childish–!

Outside of the memory stands Lotsie, his jester attire torn and specks of ashes covering his face paint. He returns to that burning fire, and pulls away the logs. He digs through the still-hot embers, his scarred hands refusing to stop. Lotsie clutches the remains of those toys he adored, and his loved relationships that now fall apart quickly. No amount of stitching, glue, or apologies could fix the gruesome damage. 

I destroyed it, didn’t I?

Everything I could have ever wanted, friendships, family, a bond.

I destroyed it all for nothing.

His friends’ kind faces dissipate, like the life he chose to throw away. A laugh filled with hiccups and tears rips through the air.

I see, so I’ve become a miserable adult too.

CHAPTER 31: Hello, My Bittersweet Adulthood.

Lotsie’s vision clears as his ears fill with the familiar screams of an adoring crowd. In front of him is a sea of people, clapping and looking at him with excitement in their eyes. He looks at his silver watch, remnants of something having damaged it on its shiny shell.

It’s Sunday night and a mere hour after Lotsie’s wish was supposed to come true. 

He returns to the crowd, who all stare at him in anticipation. He feels sluggish, as if he could pass out, even. But the chance to start the loop again is here, and maybe he could make it work perfectly this time.

A classmate stands below him, reminding Lotsie with the shake of the large cue cards they hold. He puts on a sheepish smile, “Aha, where was I again? Ah, yes—“

“Before I go announcing the leader to head this dorm’s future, I’d like to share a speech with you all! So please, listen closely to me.” He leans on his cane far more than he should be, his body still injured from abusing his magic.

“See, I’ve considered NRC–Toytoriya, rather, to be a home away from home—“

Lotsie’s heart almost stops by a group moving in the corner of his eye. Pat signals towards Saturn and Zackery, as they begin packing up their stuff to leave the coliseum. 

Where are you going? He thinks, but remembers the act he must perform, “…The plays, the people, the fun. I-I really love every single bit of it.”

He and Pat lock eyes, and his pleading face is only met with a glare of disgust and rage from his best friend. They’re going to leave him, and not just physically. He glimpses Zackery beckoning a familiar white hat and panics. He cannot lose this, not them. 

“With—With that said! I’d like to announce Winston Herdsmen as your new dorm leader of Toytoriya!” 

What am I doing? Lotsie shouts in his head as the light beams onto the country boy, the beam ironically avoiding the purple-haired’s reaching grasp. Winston’s confusion from being called turns into apprehension as he sees Lotsie’s hand beckoning him over. With hesitance, he drags his feet to the stage and up its stairs, the eyes of over a hundred students looking at him in awe.

Lotsie hesitantly presents the cane in his hands to the brunette, holding his grip tight on it. Winston will grab onto it, accepting this apology gift his dear dorm leader has given him, and eventually call everyone back. That’s how Lotsie knows it will go. 

Yet, when Winston sheepishly walks up to him— something far out of character for the brave first year— he touches the cane as if it were a curse, unable to meet the other student’s eyes. 

“Thank you.” He says with coldness in his voice, not giving Lotsie the chance to get a word in before he bows to the crowd and quietly leaves the stage. The crowd cheers as he departs, not realizing what had transpired. Lotsie, meanwhile, looks on in disbelief as Winston takes Zackery’s hand and leaves with the rest of the group.  

Nonetheless, he doesn’t move. The stage-light feels so isolating despite its warm hue. He faces the crowd once more, still unknown to the anguish in his heart. He wants to yell at him, tell Winston to turn around and look him in the eye. He wants to force all of them to get back here so he can start this loop properly and without anyone remembering whatever terrible stuff he’s said and done. 

But… was it not those terrible actions that are driving them away now? Even if he could try again, restart anew, it would not remove the feeling of betrayal seizing their hearts. And it is only through this frustration that the leader finally realizes what he’s done. He stares in yearning as his only friends leave through the colosseum's arches.

Alone on the stage and with tears threatening to trail down his face, Lotsie gives a smile–one bittersweet yet genuine– and yells to all of Night Raven College. 

“Thank you all for coming to my final Festival of Memories, and my birthday party for that matter! Here’s to the future awaiting us, and the memories we will always cherish. May you recall these days with a wonderful smile!” 

Fireworks, cheers, and confetti all explode around the arena, painting a delightful scene for the miserable leader. Lotsie performs his final bow, and disappears behind the curtain, leaving his dream behind for good. 

———

“Herdsmen… was acting oddly for his energetic self, no?” A former delinquent’s voice broke through the distant fireworks. The Heartslabyul duo had run into Ramshackle, who chose to leave a little earlier in hopes of missing the large crowd of attendees leaving for their dorms. 

“The guy probably just got nervous after his name was called.” Ace replied to Deuce. “I know you would be stuttering like crazy if Riddle suddenly crowned you as dorm leader out of nowhere.”

Deuce frowned at the remark, giving the ginger a playful punch on the arm. 

“Eh?! Where did you get a blot stone?!” Ace suddenly exclaimed at the black gem in between Grim’s paws. The beast sputtered in response.

Yuukei chimed in. “Oh! Grim found a first year selling some candy that looked crazy similar to one, so I ended up buying it for him. Graham was the name, I think.”

“That snotty guy? I didn’t know he had the ability to cook.” Ace snarked. “Whatever, I’ll go ahead and pester him to see if he has anymore.”

Ace walked towards the Hall of Mirrors at a faster pace, followed by Deuce after waving the two Ramshackle students goodbye.

Grim let out a sigh of relief once the two were far enough. “Thanks for that, henchman.” 

“No problem, but why didn’t you just eat it before those two found us? You do that with every gross gem you find.” Yuukei asked, checking both his camera and photos for damage from the battle with Lotsie. 

“It's just– Something feels wrong.” Grim muttered as he played with the stone. “I didn’t know Lotsie would just get left in the dust like that. Most of the overblots we handled always ended happier if ya don’t count the crying.”

“So you feel bad?” 

“I guess. Don’t you?”

“Not really. If anything, I think this is better for those 5, Lotsie included.” He looked to the night sky, which was filled with bright lights and loud booms. “In my opinion, life is meant to be filled with ups and downs so people can change. Toytoriya’s leader just went down a huge slope, so now all he can do is start walking back up.” 

Grim still looked conflicted, prompting Yuukei to speak further. “I think they’ll make up one day anyhow, they all just need time.” 

“I guess you’re right.” Grim agreed, finally popping the stone in his mouth “When did you get so mature or whatever?”

“The same time you started turning all soppy, maybe?” Yuukei cracked a grin. “Now let's head home, I want to go to bed knowing I’ll actually wake up in the next day.”

The two walked down the path to their old yet loved dorm, hoping that the future will be just a bit nicer to their new friends.

[feyhunter78]

Among the Sun Ch 6

Description: You must find a way out of the palace, but can you truly escape Miguel? Ch 7

Your head is heavy, full of waterlogged cotton, and your eyelids fight against you as you try to open them. A door swings shut, the heavy clunk of a lock, and panic surges through you. You cannot die here; you will not die here.

You don’t understand how or why, but each time Miguel has bid you to sleep, weaving that horrid spell that robs you of consciousness, it has worn off quicker and quicker than the time before. You’ve become skilled at feigning sleep, and tonight is no different from the night before.

Summoning your strength, you start by wriggling your fingers, then you curl your hand, from there you free your arms, your legs, and finally your eyelids admit defeat, allowing you to force them open. A candlelit room fills your vision, you are alone. The room is beautiful, and peaceful, your possessions stored properly or laid out where you can reach them once you find the strength to stand, or once Miguel decides to allow you to remain awake.

You push yourself off the bed, legs wobbling, but soon you find your balance and begin to search the room, running your hands over the walls. Every well-built castle is designed with an escape tunnel, you merely have to find it.

You’re running your hand along the frame of an ornate painting when you feel the gold inlay give. You press harder and harder until you hear a soft click. Then you’re through, tumbling into a darkened hallway, clad only in a nightshift, your feet bare.

Following the sound of muffled voices, you begin to make your way through the tunnel. Slits in the stone reveal small slivers of light, you pass the kitchen, the wine cellar, the apothecary’s receiving room, and then you smell it—fresh air, and the scent of flowers. The exit requires you to crawl up and out of a busted open trapdoor overgrown with strands of ivy. Dirt stains your clothing, leaves collect in your hair, and you sigh in relief when you emerge into an empty garden, the palace walls within sight, the sound of guards at the gate reaching your ears.

“Thank the gods.” You whisper into the open air, breathing in the intoxicating feeling of being almost free.

Clouds drift over the moon, casting the world into shadow, and you wrap your arms around yourself. Where would you go now? You are in a strange land, with no friends, no family, and the people of Nueva York worship Miguel, you fear few would turn against him to aid you.

You scream when a strong hand grabs you, pulling you until your back is pressing against the tree, the rough bark scraping your skin.

Miguel stands before you, the light of the moon a halo around his form, but his face is drenched in shadow only his eyes, glowing strangely in the dark, are fully visible.

“Yo—Your Grace, I—this is not what it appears to be.” You stutter, frantically searching your mind for an excuse to give him.

“Is that so?” Miguel asks, one huge hand encircling your wrists, binding your hands together with a simple hold.

“I woke up and was frightened, I was looking for you.” You swallow hard, unable to meet Miguel’s eyes.

“And you believed I would be here, in the gardens closet to the main gate?”

This was the main gate? What an absolute fool you were, of course you got caught.

Miguel pushes your arms up and over your head, pressing them against the tree, then he releases them.

You try to bring them down, but they hold fast. Brief memories of your torrid dreams flash through your mind, a sliver of heat running through you before your common sense banishes it.

Miguel raises an eyebrow. “I have heard you speak before; will you not do it now?”

“I do not know where the gates are, I do not even know where we are.”

Miguel trails a clawed finger down the curve of your cheek, dipping his head until his lips were all but pressed against your ear. “¿Quieres que te persiga como un perro, solo para que niegues que estás tratando de escapar? Qué cruel.” Trsl: You would have me chase you like a dog, only for you to deny that you are trying to escape? How cruel.

“I—I do not understand.” You tell him, both frightened and aroused by the change in his voice, it’s lower, fuller, and sends a shiver down your spine.

“¿Cómo pudiste ser tan cruel? Mi vida, ¿deseas que yo también sea cruel? No quiero lastimarte.”  Trsl: How could you be so cruel? My life, do you wish for me to be cruel as well? I do not want to hurt you.

“Please, Miguel, I did not mean to make you angry.” You promise, looking up at him with tears in your eyes.

Miguel’s expression shifts, softens, and he cups your face, his hands gentle now. “No, no, I was merely worried, cariño, it’s dangerous out at night. I did not mean to scare you.”

His expression shifts once more, his eyes flitting down to your lips.

“Dangerous?” You ask, your heart banging like a war drum in your chest.

He hums in response, trailing his fingers down your side, ever so slowly.

Your breath hitches. “Dangerous how?”

“There are bad men that roam the streets' querida, I try to stop them, but there will always be evil that slips through my fingers, I am only one man.”

“But you are the great conqueror?” You say, your face warming, as his hands drift lower and lower.

“I am but one man.” He repeats, bunching his hands in your nightshift. “I cannot guarantee that there will be no foolish men who try their luck within my empire.”

“I am not so much a fool to believe such words.” You say softly. “I have heard tales of the consequences for disobeying, smelled smoke upon the air, seen great pillars of flame born of neighboring cities.”

He smiles, fangs exposed ever so slightly. “A desperate man does not fear consequences. And to look upon you and not grow desperate is an impossible feat.”

“I can assure you I have never driven a man to desperation.” You tell him, your stomach churning with a mix of arousal, flattery, and fear.

“Perhaps you were simply not aware? I cannot imagine the noblemen of your court did not feel a sense of desperation upon the sight of your every move.” Miguel muses, beginning that slow drag of his fingertips up and down your sides once more.

“I am their princess, they looked upon me with respect.” You argue, brow furrowing in anger.

“You do not think they wished to bed you? To slide their cock between your folds and take their pleasures? To have their princess sink to her knees and wrap her perfect lips around them?”

Miguel’s heated tone makes you shiver, but you raise your chin in defiance, truly unsure of where this confidence has come from as you stand before the very man who ravaged the continent. “They would be fools to think I would ever kneel before them, for any purpose.”

Miguel hums in satisfaction, his eyes burning into yours as he cups your cheek, resting his thumb on the center of your lips. “Only a fool would waste his time in such a way. Do you wish to know what I would do, if I were a desperate nobleman in your court?”

You feel as if you should say no, but your curiosity wins out. “Something vile?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, his thumb stroking the soft flesh of your bottom lip. “No, I would fall to my knees before you and feast, until the whole of the kingdom could hear you begging for me. Then I would ravish you upon that pretty balcony of yours so that all others could see how well I pleasure you, how you belong to me and I to you.”

You’re taken aback, his words sending lewd images to your mind, ones you know will torment you as you sleep.

“But I am not such a man, and we no longer reside within your kingdom.” Miguel says, stepping away from you.

The heat he radiates has disappeared, leaving you shivering in the cool night air.

He takes your hands, gently pulling them from the tree before pressing his lips to the sore skin. “My apologies, the hour grows late, and the air will grow far chiller. Come, I will ask the servants to draw you a bath.”

You follow after him, head spinning as you attempt to piece together the events of the night, of the way Miguel seemed to shift in his emotions so quickly. You risk a look back at the garden’s exit with a sinking feeling that this will be the last time you’ll ever be allowed near it again.

Tag list: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22, @ray-rook, @lollipopin

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

infodumps abt a new au idea (the demon-familiars au, or the un-familiars au)

TL,DR: Reader is a witch/wizard hired by a town to handle a poltergeist/demon problem (Vanny has a cult and is trying to summon demons lol), but they aren't very good at being a witch/wizard and after a bunch of 'throwing things at the wall to see if anything sticks' and absolutely nothing working, they, in a panic, kind of accidentally summon Sun and Moon, who are equally shocked to see them and after a bunch of staring at each other like ?????????? reader ropes Sun and Moon into helping them and hides them in plain sight as their 'familiars' until they've taken care of the demonic cult problem, promising to send them home as soon as things are ok again. PLOT TWIST THEY GET ATTACHED TO EACH OTHER AND KISS PROBABLY HAHAHAAAAAA

(the long initial ramblings/brainstorming i did w the space aces in discord is copy-pasted below, if anyone wants only vaguely coherent ideas n concepts abt this au and ur willing to torture urself, go nuts w it ig lol)

taken directly from the space aces discord, i present: the reason all of my aus are barely coherent and somehow overly thought through and barebones all at once, as shown by the following example (unfamiliars au edition)

weird silly demons/familiars Sun Moon au where Reader is a (less than talented) amateur witch/wizard trying to lie themselves into a position of relative security (bc theyve had to move three different times bc towns shun n drive away witches/wizards that proves to be unhelpful) and they werent actually trying to summon sun n moon so they end up getting them involved in their scheme but oops there is some kind of other demonic threat that is actually a big problem and oops oops now we have to seriously work together to not get killed by the other eviller demon or the cult summoning it while also fooling the townsfolk into thinking that u r competent and have everything under control

Sun and Moon, a couple of demons just chilling when suddenly summoned to the material world: what in the heck Reader, having just performed a spell/ritual they've never read the instructions for backwards and facing the wrong cardinal direction: SHUT UP AND PRETEND TO BE MY FAMILIAR FOR A MINUTE OR WE ARE BOTH GONNA GET KILLED, BURNING-ON-A-CROSS STYLE

hhhgj i just had. a rlly sappy idea for the 'familiars' part

basically like. witches n wizards naturally end up casting their own 'summoning' spell for their familiar at some point, most of th time when they are really starting to understand and control their magic? so to see a witch or wizard without one it's like 'wow they're a beginner' or 'something is wrong with them, why dont they have a familiar??'

so Reader asks Sun n Moon to pretend to be their familiars partly bc 'uh oh i summoned two whole entire demons without even meaning to i have to make this look intentional' and 'if i have a familiar the people will assume im a Real Witch/Wizard and respect me more'

and at one point when they r getting to be like, actual friends instead of 'weird roommates', Sun gets curious bc ofc he does

Sun: Soooo,, we're your pretend-familiars? Reader: Yea Sun: Sooooooooo,, do u not have a familiar? I've never heard of a wizard with no familiar Reader, visibly upset/disappointed (in themselves): Yeah, well, it turns out it's only the witches and wizards with actual skills that can summon familiars. So. Couldn't tell you if I've got one or not, I've never managed a proper summoning spell. Sun, foot in his mouth: oh,, Reader: Yep.

and then later. It turns out. There are ways to make a demon into a familiar! Turns out in the distant past some wizards used to make demons they frequently summoned for spell/magic services into familiars bc it was way easier than just doing the entire summoning ritual every single time

but at this point, Reader and Sun n Moon are close enough to be good friends, and Reader doesnt want to force that kind of permanent connection on them, they probably just want to go home, theyre probably sick of being here and being around u, and,,, u get the idea

and Sun n Moon dont wanna force that kind of permanent connection on YOU bc what if ur sick of them, or ur tired of feeding and housing them or putting up with their jokes n bickering, or maybe after everything u really dont want anything to do with demons!!!

so there's a lot of sad pining that none of them know abt

bc ofc they r all idiots in this au sorry thems the rules

and then at some point there is some big threat/place they have to go to, or maybe Reader gets injured in a fight, idk take ur pick, anyway in a heat of the moment panic Moon is like 'HEY U WANT US TO BE UR FAMILIARS RIGHT??' and reader like barely conscious is like 'w??? yea??????' thinkin he means the pretend thing theyve had going on

anyway spur of the moment/'im doing this to save ur life bc i love u' familiar binding spell/ritual performed BAM now ur stuck together

and when everything is calm again n the fighting is over reader looks at Moon and is like 'so ur like,, my actual familiar now,,' and Moon, sweating bullets, unsure if this is rlly what u wanted or if u went with it out of fear of dying, is like 'yyyyyyyyyes?'

and reader starts bawling their eyes out and kisses him bc this is like. th dream scenario to u

anyway reader n sun n moon are th worlds least likely wizard/familiars combo but somehow they r absolutely unstoppable together thank u for coming to my tedtalk

[voidtouched-blue]

starter for @forgotten-contract

Bustling cities had a kind of charm about them that just drew people in. Merchants bringing wares to sell, adventurers seeking their next job, the impoverished looking for a new start, and of course knowledge seekers pulled in by the wealth of information and skills the guilds provided. Ul'Dah was the jewel of the desert. It's streets gilded by the sun, and its people the heart of its illuminating glimmer. Yet, in all the excitements and pleasures the glittering gem provided, what interested Cyra more were the secrets that laid in the dark.

It had been six months with no answer to her summons, and she grew tired of waiting. The wound still fresh in her heart had been her driving force for the last year, and now her curiosity and thirst had brough her to the Thaumaturges' guild once more. The brothers that commanded their charge of the tomb their order operated out of were no strangers to her. The healer had made generous donations of both monetary and service-related origin in the past. Even her interest in the arts of Thaumaturgy had captured their interest enough to allow her nearly free roam of the sanctuary. What interested her more than their method of manipulating aether was the carefully kept tomes secreted in their collection.

The art of Thaumaturgy was deeply rooted in an understanding of the Voidsent, and the natural charge of a Black Mage was the power of destructive magics at their fingertips. The techniques had been passed down from mages who had learned to wield and control the secrets given to them by the denizens of the Void, and Cyra's desire for those secrets carried an unnatural thirst for the forbidden knowledge stored within the sanctum. While she had the support of the guardians of the tomb, none of them were willing to grant her permission to access those materials.

Perhaps there is aught I can glean from their available texts. In the very least I can try to keep track of constant themes between tomes. Her thoughts danced around the idea of sneaking in after hours, even casting a simple sleeping spell on the brothers on watch just to get a glance. Initially, she only wanted to ask permission to simply see the secrets they kept locked away, but even her display of mastery over the destructive magicks wasn't enough to convince them that she could keep her wits about her.

They had the right of it.

Cyra's want for their information was borne entirely out of her craving for power. Were she a little more lost to her madness, she would have considered taking it by force, but her principles kept her from acting on impulse. She would not take a life so needlessly. Not unless her well-being had been threatened first.

The hours she had spent in one day alone was more than most of their students would spend practicing their craft. So driven was she by her desires that she neglected any attempts at getting her attention throughout the days she had spent perusing their collection. She would find the answers she was looking for, and if she had to, Cyra was prepared to even commit crimes to fulfill her wish. "Gods-damnit!" She cursed in a sharp whisper. "This would be so much easier if they would just let me have a peek." It took a significant amount of restraint to keep her from slamming her fists onto the table in frustration. Several stacks of tomes covered the surface within her reach, with a rather large and delicately decorated one opened in front of her. She tapped her dry quill on the page, rereading her notes as she compared copied passages from multiple books with one another. The mentions were too vague to have any immediate connections to the titles she had heard Cocobuki mention in passing to one of his brothers.

She leaned back in her seat, setting the quill down in the ink well and letting out a frustrated sigh. The Miqo'te rubbed her face with her free hand, her gaze shifted distantly to the candle that sat just out of reach on the other end of the table. The playful dance of the flame held her focus for a moment. It was curious how something so small had the power to cause catastrophic destruction. She knew what she asked of the brothers. She knew what the consequences would be should she lose control over the magick she sought to control. Cyra was sure that her determination and desire were strong enough to overcome any perceived failure they may have had nestled among their doubts.

"Aghk!" Something in the light felt like it burned a hole into her mind. She winced, hunching over slightly in the chair as she cradled her face delicately with her clawed hands. She had felt headaches before, but this was different. The sharp pain behind her eye moved to her forehead. Her vast knowledge of the body, and its innumerable ails didn't provide her with any immediate answers.

"Perhaps..." She grunted, rubbing her temples. "Perhaps it's time for a small respite from throwing my head at the wall." The healer pinched the bridge of her nose and pushed her seat away from the table. As she moved, the headache seemed to pulse. The way it ached had her nearly incapacitated. But as suddenly as the pain appeared, it had subsided to a dull throb. I should return home. I doubt they will grant me access, and I have much to go over. I would also prefer to suffer through this fatigue in the comfort of privacy.

As she stood up from her seat, spots obscured her vision. She wobbled, only catching herself at the last moment on the surface of the table before she had completely toppled over herself. In her brief episode, she had knocked over the chair. The sound of the wood clattering onto the stone floor had silenced any conversation happening throughout the sanctuary, and yet she couldn't be bothered to even pay attention to it. All she wanted was to regain control of herself. But something felt like it was wriggling around in her head, sending her vision into a spin and losing focus on the task at hand.

The flame on the candle flickered towards her curiously.

[that-one-thespian]

My dnd group had a Secret Strahd swap, and this is my gift for @whumpr! Promise is my character, and Fion is his!

Promise sits on her bedroll next to the spectral, glowing figure of Saint Markovia, the guardian she summoned to watch over them. She hopes it’s enough to shield them from all that hunts them in the night.

Her eyes keep drifting to Fion. She knows there are fangs now beneath the mask that he so rarely takes off. Distantly, she wonders if he is having nightmares. She resolves to wake him if that is the case.

Her companion deserves better. He doesn’t know who he is, despite her best efforts. Rictavio, Rudolph, whatever his name is, Fion’s former mentor hasn’t been helpful. 

She tried so many times over the last several days. Detect Thoughts wasn’t made to be used in this way. It was meant to probe, to question, not to excavate. Not to retrieve, not to steal. She could only cast it so many times in a day, but it felt so important. It is so important.

Fion is like her, in a way. They’re both outsiders, going through life amidst a chorus of whispers and stares, or, more often, silence and solitude. But Fion is a stranger to himself. His solitude extends inward.

She understands why he so staunchly holds firm to his pacifism, now. If she didn’t know who she was, she would cling to any semblance of a tenet she could claw from the fog. 

It was two days ago when she nearly died, when Ismark saved her life. And even in that fight, Fion held tight to his morals. She remembers Garret wielding his weapon, looking near feral as he swiped at Volenta, at the spiders. She remembers her vision blurring as Volenta’s teeth sank into her neck. She remembers Fion doing anything he could other than harming another being. She remembers his guilt, after. His profession that he would never have forgiven himself. And yet, when she thinks back, all she can focus on is Fion commanding the beast of fire and magma that had looked so dangerous, and how he single-handedly saved Davian Martikov from certain death. 

It was yesterday when she cast Detect Thoughts for the eighth time and finally, finally got through. It was yesterday when she warped a spell meant to read thoughts and used it to delve deep into her companion’s psyche and search for pieces of himself that were snatched away.

No, not pieces. Pieces are what were left behind. Her companion that she’s come to know, respect, and care for is cobbled together from fragments that were left behind when he was hollowed out and scraped clean.

It was yesterday when she was finally able to pierce through the fog and snatch a stolen memory. It was yesterday when she saw what had happened to Fion, the ritual that had stripped him of himself. 

She will never forget how small he was, after that. 

It was today when Fion was killed, when she was forbidden to heal him. She should have healed him anyway, Strahd be damned. As she looks over at her companion, she can’t stop guilt from coiling low in the pit of her stomach.

It was today when Fion was forced to betray his values, forced to kill. Forced to feed. 

Her purpose is to prevent people from dying before their time. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to Fion, not to Viktor. 

A clawed purple hand drifts to the pouch of diamonds at her side, no longer stored in her bag. She won’t chance the precious gems being stolen again. These diamonds are the most important items she’s ever had in her possession. These diamonds are her only chance to reverse the most horrific thing that has ever happened to her companion. To her friend, she amends to herself. She can allow herself to call him that privately.

She has to hope that Luvash will get her more diamonds.

Promise takes a deep breath, looking out into the woods where Rudolph van Richten disappeared, where a celestial, powerful being searches the woods for them. In the gentle golden light cast from Saint Markovia’s shield, her hand wraps around the amulet that they had stolen from the Abbey. It feels like sunshine. It’s… strange.

They stole that amulet because of what it could do to Fion in the wrong hands. Even with an unhinged deva scouring the forest, she can’t regret it. 

Slowly, silently, she leans over and pulls Fion’s blanket further up to cover his shoulders. He doesn’t stir. She’s not surprised. 

Promise sits back down and begins to attune to the Holy Symbol of Ravenloft. Warmth fills her chest as she slips it over her head and settles the pendent against her holy symbol. She can’t help Fion now, not like this.

More power, more diamonds, more time, and then she can help her friend.

Until then, she can only prepare for tomorrow.

[grailfinders]

Grailfinders #338: Taisui Xingjun

if I can say one nice thing about taisui xingjun, it’s that lasengle went out of their way to make him feel very cursed. sometimes waiting for a servant to pop up in their event gives you cool new abilities to work with that aren’t part of their in-game kit, and sometimes they show up at the last second, throw out a vague party buff on for the last fight, and then fall asleep immediately. this time’s the second one.

thankfully, taisui’s not all that difficult a build, at least on the surface. he’s a Divine Soul Sorcerer, and that’s it! though to be fair, that class alone is really kind of mashing together two classes as-is, so he’s still not that simple.

check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

next up: make sure to like, comment, subscribe, and turn on notifications to see this build first!

Ancestry & Background

if we were being more objective taisui’d probably be a custom lineage, but it’s our build and I want him to be able to turn into his big form at will, so he’s a Changeling. with that, he gets proficiency in performance and persuasion, and his plastic presentation makes him a Shapechanger as well, so he can turn into any small or medium race as long as they have the same number of limbs, and you can’t turn into anyone specific without having seen them first. on top of all that, you get bonuses of +2 Charisma and +1 Dexterity.

finally, your background. you literally just sit there the whole event until like three deus ex machinas pile on top of each other to summon you into a vaguely human body, so that sounds like the Book of Many Things’ new background, the Rewarded, to me. that nets you proficiency in Insight and Animal Handling, as well as the Lucky feat for literally free. why anyone would ever pick a different background ever again, I don’t know, but now you get three luck points a day, and you can spend them forcing a reroll on any d20 roll directly affecting you and pick the better option of the two. whomst’d’ve the fuck thought putting that on a background was balanced.

Ability Scores

your highest score is your Charisma, because you’re basically skating by on your good looks and hoping that’s enough to make people farm the ungodly number of Cons needed for all your ascensions and NP levels. it is, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. second highest is your CON. yep, there’s a buncha them in there. third is Dexterity, because you don’t wear armor. like, at all. honestly this should probably be lower considering how easily you get eaten, but I’m trying to make a build that’ll survive level 1. after that comes your Intelligence, because the Con are quick studies at least when it comes to construction and video games, so they’re at least a little above average. that means your Strength is nothing to write home about- you’re a god, but you’re a kid, and your arms are kind of noodly. finally, we’re dumping Wisdom. as the Con you’re easily swayed, and as a god your tired ass isn’t helping anyone on watch duty.

Class Levels

1. as mentioned before, you’re a Divine Soul Sorcerer, which gives you Spells you cast using your Charisma. before we go into those, you also get Divine Magic, letting you pick spells from the cleric spell list as well as the sorcerer’s. you also get Inflict Wounds for free for your spooky shadow hands. I know taisui is technically true neutral, but his god form’s a god of curses and retribution, so I’m saying at the very least his powers are evil-leaning. speaking of, you’re Favored by the Gods, so if you fail a save or attack, you can add 2d4 to it once a short rest. whether being favored by this god is a good thing or not is anyone’s guess.

so then, spells! for cantrips, Blade Ward will keep your body in once piece for now, Morgan worked hard on that, while Chill Touch is another kind of spooky hand that prevents people from healing, which is pretty cursed in my book. you can also whip out your bell and Toll the Dead, dealing extra damage to injured targets, your you can curse someone with an Infestation, forcing them to move in a random direction if they fail a constitution save.

for leveled spells, Bane is a light cursing for a first level spell, forcing up to three creatures to make a charisma save. if they fail, every attack or save made for up to a minute gets a d4 taken away from it. we’re also giving you Mage Armor for +3 AC because we’re not that sadistic. even if taisui is.

oh, speaking of saves, you have proficiency in Constitution and Charisma saves, as well as Arcana and Religion. you kind of are a god, after all.

2. second level sorcerers become a font of magic! rn that just means u can cast another first level spell every day, like your new one, earth tremor! most of you is still down there, after all, just twitch a lil.

3. congrats! you survived long enough to get second level spells! now you can feed your party parts of yourself to aid them, giving them a bigger hp bar for the day! you also learn metamagic this level, so now your font of magic actually does stuff that’s important! you can spend your sorcery points to make a spell heightened, giving your target disadvantage to their save, or careful, automatically making the save for some of your friends! taisui’s got kind of a yin-yang thing going on between his feeding and his cursing, so this is the best of both worlds!

4. since ur kind of a nega-jupiter, you’re now a scion of the outer planes! yaaaay! since your god’s evil, you get resistance to necrotic damage, and you get chill touch again!

you can also cast mold earth to cover yourself up again, and you can cast wither and bloom! with this spell, every creature you choose takes necrotic damage, and one creature you choose can roll a hit die and gain hp back! it’s literally everything you do in a single spell!

5. fifth level, you have magical guidance, spend sorcery points to reroll checks, whatever! the important thing is now you can bestow curses! the phb gives some suggestions, but really you can do anything your dm lets you get away with!

6. sixth level divine souls have empowered healing, so whenever you or someone next to you heals someone, you can spend a sorcery point to reroll some of those dice, once a turn! i’m not sure if that works for life transference or not, but either way this spell makes feeding yourself to someone a lot more visceral. you take damage, and then someone else gets healed for twice the amount of damage you took!

7. you can now give urself an aura of purity, making friendly creatures in it immune to disease, resistant to poison damage, and they get advantage on saves against a buncha common status effects too!

8. at eighth level you get another ASI, so now you’re a Baleful Scion. that rounds up your Charisma and lets you pull people into the Grasp of Avarice- once a turn, you can add some necrotic damage to the damage you deal, which also heals you for that amount. your best healing spell so far uses your HP, so you need to fill that back up somehow.

you can also summon a Spirit of Death for an hour, making a floaty medium boy you can ride around on! you don’t even need to spend any actions commanding it or nothin’. it can only attack one creature at a time, but it’ll lock on to them and let you know where they are the whole time!

9. you can now make an insect plague! don’t misspell that, trust me. now you can make a 20’ radius sphere of locusts that obscure the whole place, and everything inside it has to make a constitution save or get piercing damage!

10. tenth level sorcerers have another kind of metamagic like extended, doubling the length of a spell you cast, up to an hour. you can also cast resistance to protect someone from a saving throw-related dangers.

speaking of saves, you can cast the most messed-up spell in the game, Contagion! if you hit your target, they have to make a constitution save at the end of each turn, working like death saves. after three successes, the spell ends. after three failures, you can curse them with a terrible disease for seven days.

11. at eleventh level, you can cast sixth level spells like Heroes’ Feast! after casting this, you can feed yourself to up to twelve creatures, curing them of all diseases and poisons, immunity to poison and being frightened, and they had advantage on all wisdom saves! on top of that, they gain extra HP, and all for a full day! just… maybe don’t tell them what the feast’s made of.

12. twelfth level, another ASI! bump up that Con for more Cons! it’s health, you’ll get more health. this is retroactive, remember, so you get an extra 12 HP this level.

13. thirteenth level sorcerers get seventh level spells, and its time to get real curses! with Divine Word you can hit any number of creatures within 30’ of you, forcing a charisma save on all of them. depending on how many HP they have, they’ll become deafened, blinded, stunned, or even straight up dead if they fail a charisma save. this also banishes any celestial, fey, or fiend if they’re not from around here, so that would make Dagon a real cakewalk. also, on the “instantly killing people” front, this gives you more than enough room to take out some poor bastard’s whole extended family.

14. your Angelic Form is a lot different than most people would expect, but you can still use your bonus action to fly around on your curse lump, with no limit on flight time!

15. eighth level spells! you can now Regenerate your allies by forcefeeding them a whole Con, giving them a healthy amount of HP immediately, with a trailing 1 HP per turn for an hour afterwards. two minutes into the spell any missing limbs grow back, though they can also instantly be reattached by just slappin ‘em back on if you got ‘em.

16. another ASI, another Con for more HP.

17. you can now use twinned metamagic, turning a single-target spell into one that hits two creatures!

speaking of single target spells, Power Word Kill’s a hell of one, ain’t it? if the chosen target has 100 HP or less, they die instantly! no saves, no nothin’.

18. you spent so much time putting Cons into other people, we almost forgot to get some Cons into you! with Unearthly Recovery, letting you spend a bonus action to regain half your HP once a day! big heal energy.

19. one last ASI before the build finishes! with the Tough feat, it’s like you ate two Cons at once, giving you an extra 38 HP now, plus another two next level.

20. at level twenty you get the sorcerer’s capstone, Sorcerous Restoration! every short rest, you get four extra sorcery point!

…yeah there’s a reason we usually multiclass.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

you have an amazing Con-stitution for a caster, giving you way more HP than most would expect of you. having a healer that doesn’t die easy is super helpful. this also means you have great con-centration. your more powerful spells don’t need it, but dropping a spell always hurts.

not only are you a great healer, you’re great at making other people heal too! you also have access to some strong defensive buffs like heroes’ feast, aura of purity, and resistance. also, being able to grow back limbs can be pretty useful!

you also dish out devastating debuffs, destroying enemy defenses with divine words, curses, and disease.

Cons:

yep, there’s a lotta them in there.

(but seriously, a lack of direct attacks drags fights out, the sorcerer capstone sucks)