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nejackdaw · 6 months

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I have, predictably, been thinking about Celann; been thinking about Bretons and their half elf blood, the magic in it, their innate magical skill. It manifests, in the player character, as higher magical bases and considerable magic resistance (not to mention the ability to absorb hostile magic.)

Celann doesn't seem like much of a spellcaster to me.

Schools of magic are called disciplines for a reason: they require work and dedication, even for the simplest spells (people aren't, for example, commonly seen wandering around casting candlelight.) Even with half elven blood, I can't imagine him being much of a caster.

However, there's still the secondary way magic manifests: as a repellant, a shield. Maybe he didn't grow up learning magic–which naturally, in such a mage-focused society (High Rock,) would be met with a variety of reactions–maybe his family realized he seemed to be missing what most people have and let it rest.

Maybe he never really thought about why his sister didn't just charm him during the attack in the woods until the Vigilant woman he'd met brought it up.

Celann may lack magical capabilities, but in return his mind is firmly walled off, untouchable by charms, fear spells, forced sleep. It's invaluable against the kinds of enemies he and his allies face, against mages and vampires and anything else that slings spells with ease–but it also turns away friendly charms. Courage, Rally, any variation of anything that's meant to bolster and assist results in as much a waste of magicka as a curse. Where others learn to shield themselves against mind altering magic, to close their consciousness to them, he, very slowly, had to learn how to create a window for friendly charms to take effect.

It's entirely unconscious; no effort goes into realizing that something is coming and shielding himself from it. The door is permanently shut, and it takes effort instead to crack it open when something friendly comes knocking. He's able to recognize hexes and charms and curses only because he realizes the harm they could do to his allies–if they're aimed at him, he pays them no mind, may not even realize it's being cast. It's a large part of his success as a vampire hunter: their charm, innate, instinctual, and one of their greatest defenses, is utterly useless when he's the one facing them down. (He's used this to his advantage before, on occasion, when goading his enemies is possible and he can get them to expend their magic on him before his allies reveal themselves, no longer at risk of being turned against one another or frozen still.)

Thinking about Celann, lacking any magical skill--potentially ostracizing, to a degree, in his old life--but with a mind like a fortress--useful and valuable in his new one, earning him an easy place.

#skyrim #celann #yes im still thinking about him #id been toying with basically the same idea when writing the backstory piece #but then i read a line in the fellowship abt elves having a greater power to resist him (sauron)#and i was like 'yeah okay its a sign anti magic celann'#anyway 'mind like a fortress' something something getting lost in the halls and isolation #can you imagine spending a ton of magicka to rally a follower and fucking nothing happens but the magicka is gone anyway #yeah #he has to be notified the buff is coming or the spell is wasted #anyway this also came from dnd elves having charm advantage + cant be magically put to sleep #all his skill points went into magic res there werent any left for actual magic #edited to add bc i thought it was funny #you know when you heal a follower and theyre like 'oh. was that a healing spell?'#except you just wasted a ton of magic on a buff and its 'oh... was that a helpful spell?'#also all bretons in game might be like that but i dont go digging around in files and stuff. thats an alien language #all i know is uesp and no ones ever started glowing blue when i throw magic at them

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whitephoenix81 · 2 years

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Okay guys, I have a theory/headcanon.

What if Harry's scar wasn't originally put there by Voldemort? What if it was Lily? Hear me out!

Imagine, Halloween, 1981. Lily had Harry up in his nursery. She prepared for this inevitable outcome. Being a prodigy in both Charms and Ancient Runes, she research a ritual that would protect Harry from the monster currectly climbing the stairs.

She doesn't have much time. Not having her wand on her, she finds the sharpest object she could find, and pricks her finger. Using her blood, she draws the Norse symbol for "Sun" for "Soul", upon Harry's brow.

Telling her baby boy to be strong and safe. That she and daddy loves him no matter what. And then kissing the crown of his head. For what she knows is the last time, is the most difficult thing she's ever had to do.

Standing between the monster and her innocent baby, she willing, gladly, takes the killing curse. If it means that her little Bambi was safe.

As the breath leaves Lily Potter's body, her willing sacrifice, combined with her love for her son. And her blood, marking Harry's brow, sealed the spell. And Voldemort's fate.

For when he turned his wand on the baby in the crib. A baby, who no longer had blood on his forehead. As the same killing curse, that took away his parents flew towards him, Lily's sacrifice powered spell came to life. Lily's love for her son, combined with her blood, Harry blood. And the ancient magic that Lily had invoked, meant that Voldemort and his magic, couldn't touch him.

The dark and evil curse rebounded off of Harry, and struck the one who cast it. Hitting him, ten-fold. Leaving nothing behind but his wand.

However, because the curse is meant to attack a person's very soul. And Voldemort's soul was already frayed as it was, a piece sheared off of what was left of it. And because it could not survive without a host, it search, and attached itself to closest, and most magically viable object in the room. Harry.

As Lily's spell had only just been activated, and was still fresh and new. It attached itself like a leach. Turning what was beautiful, and full of love and hope. A sacrifice that lived in Harry's very skin.

And twisting it. Corrupting it, into something dark. Full of pain and misery.

Turning it, into a scar.

#harry potter #headcanon #only way I will accept the little lightning emoge scar that Harry has #it's okay. Personally #I like what I had originally imagined for Harry’s scar #back when I first read the books. At least the physical look #physical look of it. That it looks like a literal bolt of lightning streaking across the sky. Framing his eyes. And when Harry get mad #truely PISSED OFF #his magic reacts to it creating an aura around him. And as his magic begins to affect the world around him where he stand #his eyes begin to glow. And his magical aura creates a mirage effect on his scar #making it look like it's moving. Like it's real lightning #crackling around his glowing eyes.Making his enemies. Piss. Their. Pants.#aesthetic #theory

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astraea-rn · 8 months

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Do you guys ever think how in other universes there are humans just like us but with cool features that we don't have? But to them it's nothing special and they think we are the weird ones instead?

#for example #'oooh what if these guys have glowing eyes. I'd love that.....' vs 'okay. imagine we had.. Colourful Fingertips!!!!!! *loud gasp*'

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lunamugetsu · 4 months

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Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom x dc #dpxdc #I'd think that Flash would be the one that Danny has tea/lunch with the most because that guy wouldn't turn down good food #And Danny is a really good cook #especially since the food doesn't come to life and try to stab him #Sam and Tucker be entering their home and then they see Captain Marvel there eating cookies because Danny offered them to him #dpxjustice league #dp x justice league #dp x dc prompt

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xbellaxcarolinax · 11 months

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Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete.

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors.

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips.

“I know.”

…

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes.

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog.

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch.

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated.

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big.

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length.

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter.

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock.

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find.

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment.

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on.

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you.

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy.

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you.

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair.

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you.

“Miguel?”

“Mm?”

“You better get me a suit like yours.”

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?”

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

#ask response #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv

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sunsetsimon · 5 months

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dizzy thinking about simon being obsessed with your swollen tummy, round and full with his baby. even if he’d only been gone for a shower, he’ll immediately stride up to you and kiss your forehead while giving your tum a rub, hoping to feel a little kick in response to his touch.

dropping to his knees, he’ll lift up your shirt to expose your skin, leaving a pattern of kisses in his wake. his brown eyes looking up at you through his lashes, your small smile that grows wider with each tickle of his lips.

“hungry, mama?” simon asks, rising back to his feet, pulling your shirt to its original position, the fabric stretching over your bump. you look so beautiful, a bright glow to your face, finally feeling more like yourself later into your pregnancy.

“always,” you nod, stomach immediately growling when you remember your craving from earlier. of course simon is an angel, going anywhere to satisfy your cravings, but you feel bad that he feels so obligated.

“what is it this time?” he can tell you’re hesitant to bring it up, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate saying something else.

but you’re already salivating, eyes watering at the thought of satisfying your intense craving, imagining how good it would taste. “okay, ill tell you… but you can say no.”

his blonde brows furrow, squinting his eyes at you with a face that reads ‘are you serious rn’, as if he would ever tell you no to something he know will make your entire day.

inhaling a deep breath and preparing for rejection, you shoot your offer, “i know it’s far but, can we go to that one pizza place with the unique flavors?”

“my love,” he cups your cheeks with a quiet chuckle, “of course. now go get your jacket so we can go, it’s a bit of a drive.”

#ghost x reader #.wbm #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #having baby fever can you tell #but only for si <3

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tacticalprincess · 9 days

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imagining blue collar könig nd im going a bit feral rn 🧑‍🦯 ijk that man will get you pregnant any chance he can get

tw heavy breeding kink, lactation kink, pregnant sex.

blue collar!könig who gets off on being the cause of your wide hips and full, heavy breasts. goes insane seeing you walk around the house barefoot and swollen with his offspring, your soft, plump body a telltale sign of how well taken care of you are by your husband. a sick, possessive side of him loves knowing that when you're out in public, it's apparent that you're taken and claimed by him in every way, that his children are growing inside you.

pregnancy has granted you an ethereal glow that makes it impossible to say no to you, his cock chubbing up at the sight of you so domesticated for him. it doesn't help that your pregnancy hormones have you sopping wet and ready for it all hours of the day, keen on spreading your legs for him as soon as be gets home from work, begging for him to stuff you and make your cramps go away. and who is he to deny the mother of his children in her time of need? it's his duty as his husband to take care of you.

he fucks you as much as he can, the positions getting more and more accommodating as your stomach grows, but no less filthy and desperate on both ends. he helps relieve the pain in your tender breasts by sucking at your sensitive, leaky nipples while his cock pistons inside you, pumping your full womb while he laps at your sweet milk.

he falls in love with your wailing, chubby baby the minute you give birth, and it gets harder to adhere to the doctors orders of abstinence the more he sees how well you take to motherhood. he settles for eating you out after he's put the baby to sleep, helping you relax in the best way after a long night of staying up and tending to them. if you're up for it, he'll have you push your soft tits together so he can rut his hard dick into them, his thick cum mixing with your pearly milk.

however, the moment you come home from your follow up appointment after being given the okay, he's bending you over the nearest surface, intent on knocking you up again. promises to dote and take care of you all over again, as long as you give him another baby (or two or three.) doesn't let you off his cock until he's sure it'll take, only satisfied when your womb is bloated with his seed and your pregnancy tests come back positive. <3

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