#I will never forget you and the real world magic you brought into my life

[ikkyfics]

Ask me to stay

Peter Maximoff x fem!mutant!reader 

Summary: Peter stays by your side, bringing comfort, teasing, and a love that feels like home 

Warnings: fluffy, light teasing, emotional comfort, mild suggestive language, established relationship, hurt&comfort 

A/N: This was my first request and I was so excited! I hope you like it (and damn, I'm head over heels in love with it) 

Masterlist

It was hard to explain how someone like Peter had become the most important person in your life. He was a force of nature: fast, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. From the day you met, he had never seemed afraid of you. 

No, in fact, he found your power fascinating. It was strange, honestly, especially after spending years surrounded by people who feared to hear your voice. Your parents always suspected, but it wasn’t until your ninth birthday, when you showed up with a brand-new BMW in front of the house – just a simple request and the salesman himself drove the car over – that they knew their little girl was not like the other kids. 

“You have a voice that can make anyone do whatever you want? What kind of comic book villain are you?” he teased at your first meeting, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer, his dark eyes shining with curiosity. 

“I’m not a villain, Peter,” you replied, crossing your arms in mock indignation. 

“Oh, sure, Miss ‘do as I say.’ And I’m Captain America.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If it were me, I’d make people bring me food all the time. Or let me win at Pong.” 

“You don’t even need help with that, cheater.” 

He laughed, tilting his head to the side as if about to respond, but instead, just looked at you for a few seconds. “I think that’s what I like about you,” he said suddenly, the tone surprisingly serious. “You stand up to me. It’s cool.” 

You tried to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, but something in that moment stayed with you. Peter never looked at you like someone dangerous or different. To him, you were just… you. 

And he never changed. 

The years passed, and Peter continued to be the same boy who was impossible to keep up with. He spoke too fast, thoughts racing faster than his words, and loved to tease you. 

“Are you really going to pretend you didn’t hear me?” he said, leaning against the doorframe, holding a Twinkie like it was a prize. “I know you’re in there. I’m going to count to three… One… Two—” 

“Peter, if you annoy me, I swear I’ll make you leave here singing Abba in the square.” You hoped your voice sounded like a real threat, even though a smile fought to spread across your face. 

“Oh, the power of the magic voice.” He rolled his eyes, taking an exaggerated bite of the sweet, cream smearing across his lips. “I knew I should’ve brought earplugs. What an amateur I am.” 

And you just laughed, shaking your head as he kept talking, always jumping from one thought to the next without pause. 

Your friendship was like that: full of teasing, laughter, and an intimacy that felt natural. It was easy to be with Peter, easy to forget the complicated world outside when he was by your side. 

On that particular night, in the basement of his mother’s house, you realized just how much he meant to you. You had spent hours together, surrounded by old pillows and wrapped in the soundtrack Peter insisted was “essential to understand the decade.” 

“You have to admit, Bowie is a genius,” he said, pointing at the tape player like it was a work of art. 

“I admit he’s good,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “But not as good as Queen.” 

“What?” Peter placed a hand on his heart, pretending to be offended. “Take that back now, or I’ll be forced to challenge you to a Pong duel!” 

“You always want Pong,” you muttered, but the challenge in his eyes made you laugh. 

You spent what felt like hours playing and arguing about bands while sharing the almost endless supply of sweets he always hid. After a lot of laughter and sugar, you both fell asleep side by side in the middle of the mess. 

You woke up first, senses still numb. It took a moment to realize where you were, who you were with. Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to his chest. His breath tickled the top of your head, and you could feel each rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled. It was a feeling... good. Being held so tightly by him. You sighed, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. There was something there, a scent mixed with the warmth of his skin, that made your heart race. 

Without realizing it, you gently pressed your nose to the soft flesh, letting his scent fill your lungs. The skin felt so soft, so smooth. What would it feel like to slide your lips across it? The thought triggered an alert in your mind. Friends didn’t think these things. 

“Hmm… you’re smelling my neck now?” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep sending shivers down your spine, making you feel even guiltier. 

You pulled back as if you’d been shocked. “I… No!” 

He opened one eye, the familiar glint of teasing starting to show. “Of course not. Didn’t notice a thing.” 

You huffed, pushing his shoulder, determined to put some distance between you. “Stop, Peter.” 

He laughed, but you felt the heat in your face as you looked away. Because, at that moment, you realized something you had been trying to ignore: you were in love with your best friend. Was there a greater tragedy? 

And that thought stayed with you ever since, buried too deep for him to notice. Because, deep down, you knew Peter had always been the kind of person who could pull a smile out of you, even on your worst days.    (...) 

The week had been a real nightmare. 

Since Monday, obligations seemed to pile up like an avalanche. Exhausting training sessions with the team, a particularly complicated mission involving a hostage rescue at an enemy base, and the weight of final college exams. Even your powers weren’t much help—quite the opposite. Convincing someone to cooperate with your siren voice required extreme mental control, and using it during the mission only added to the emotional exhaustion you were already carrying. 

“You’ve got this, Siren’s Tear,” Kurt joked, trying to lighten the mood as he adjusted the communicator. 

You smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Siren’s Tear. It was a nickname Peter had made up, a mix of joke and admiration that had spread among the X-Men. Normally, it made you smile. But this week, it felt like an extra weight. 

The mission had been chaos. Explosions, confrontations, and life-or-death decisions in a matter of seconds. Even with Kurt’s teleportation and Ororo’s storm control, the enemies were better prepared than expected. You found yourself cornered more than once, forcing your voice to a dangerous limit to make guards lower their weapons. When it was all over, you could barely stand. 

And yet, there was the rest of the week waiting for you: piled-up studying, reports for Professor Xavier, and a persistent feeling of inadequacy that whispered you never did enough. 

When Saturday finally arrived, your body and mind were at their breaking point. All you wanted was a moment of peace, a break from missions, responsibilities, and any reminder of how difficult it was to balance the two lives you led. 

It was in this state that Peter showed up. 

You barely had time to process his entrance, as he appeared the way he always did—unannounced, without ceremony, with that playful smile plastered across his face. He held a bag of Twinkies in his right hand and a copy of Space Invaders in the left, as if there was no chance in the world you wouldn’t want to spend the next few hours with him. 

“Hey, Siren’s Tear, missed you,” he said, completely ignoring the pitiful state you were in. He threw the bag of snacks on the sofa and started rummaging through the stuff on the table, talking so fast you could barely keep up. “I thought maybe we could relax a bit. I know you’ve had a crazy week, but guess who got the highest score at the arcade? Me. Of course, it was me. And I thought—” 

“Peter…” you started, your voice hoarse from the repeated use of your power over the past few days. The pressure in your head was so intense you could almost imagine it exploding. 

“—that maybe you could try to beat my record. But good luck, because I’m unstoppable. Seriously, they should rename the game ‘Peter’s Challenge’. What do you think?” 

“Peter, stop.” You looked at him with no trace of humor. 

He finally looked at you, confused, but with that smile still there, as if he couldn’t imagine that you weren’t on the same wavelength as him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head, his dark eyes like coal examining you from head to toe. “You look like you could use a Twinkie. Or two.” 

You closed your eyes, trying to take a deep breath, but fatigue and irritation finally broke through your self-control. 

“I don’t need Twinkies, Peter!” you exploded, your voice louder than ever. “I need a minute of peace! Just one minute, without you talking nonstop, without you messing everything up, without you… Without you annoying me! Can you just disappear for a while?!” 

The room fell into absolute silence. Both surprised, not knowing how to react. You had never shouted at him, not really. The weight of your words made your shoulders sink, a bitter taste in your mouth. 

His eyes were wide, surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Peter Maximoff, the boy who never stopped talking, was speechless. 

You realized the gravity of what you’d said in the same instant, but before you could try to fix it, he took a step back, the usual smile replaced by something much sadder and more vulnerable. You had never seen him look so sad. Regret made your stomach burn. 

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant, fingers fidgeting nervously. “I… didn’t know you could be influential without your powers.” He commented, his voice dry and brittle. 

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he raised a hand, as if asking you to stop. 

“It's okay,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

“Peter, don’t—” He disappeared long before you could finish your sentence. 

The characteristic sound of his speed faded as quickly as he did, leaving only a heavy silence behind. 

You stood there, frozen in the middle of the room, your hand still extended in the air, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over you, along with the emptiness left by him. Tears came before you could stop them, flowing hot and silent as you collapsed onto the bed. 

Why did you have to explode at him? Why did you have to hurt the one person who always made a point of being by your side, even when you didn’t want to be? 

You knew Peter had good intentions. He always had. He just didn’t know how to show them the right way. 

But now, he was hurt. 

And for the first time, you felt completely alone. 

(...) 

Three days. 

Three days without a sign of Peter. 

The Xavier mansion, always so full of life, felt suffocating now. You could barely look at the familiar faces around you without feeling a tightness in your chest. Everything seemed darker, slower, as if the world were mirroring the whirlwind inside you. 

The others noticed, of course. 

“Are you okay?” Jean asked, her voice soft as she touched your shoulder. You just shook your head, unable to respond. There were no words for the weight of regret you felt. 

Even Logan, always so distant, paused as he walked past you in the hallway and gave you a concerned look. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” he said, his voice low and serious. 

But nothing helped. 

You barely ate, barely slept. When you closed your eyes, all you saw was Peter’s face, the sad smile he tried to hide before disappearing. 

“I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

His words echoed in your mind like a curse, a constant reminder that you had done what you never thought was possible: pushed Peter Maximoff away. 

He had always been there. From the first moment, when you arrived at the mansion nervous and lost, he was the first to break the ice. You were startled by his repeated closeness. One moment you were alone, and the next he was right in front of you, all silver hair and easy smiles. 

“So, what’s your power?” He leaned in, eyes narrowed as he looked at you with interest. “Can you make people give you free pizza? Because that would be impressive.” 

It was a silly question, of course, but the way he said it—with that crooked smile and energy that was impossible to ignore—made you laugh for the first time in weeks. 

And from then on, he had been a constant in your life. 

You played Space Invaders until your hands hurt, stole treats from the kitchen on midnight missions, and spent hours in his basement (his mother’s) listening to records of bands he insisted were the best in the world. You knew he had tough moments, but he never let it show. He masked the pain with jokes and speed, and you loved him for it—the lightness he brought to your chaotic world. 

Now, his absence felt like a hole in your chest. 

On the third day, you were sitting on the living room sofa, staring at a book you hadn’t managed to get past the first paragraph, when you heard Kurt and Ororo talking in the distance. A draft of air carried his words to you. 

“Peter didn’t show up for training again today,” Kurt said, his voice full of concern. “This isn’t like him.” 

“He didn’t come to breakfast either,” Ororo replied. “Do you think he’s okay?” 

Your heart sank the moment their words reached you. It was as if the world had stopped, leaving only the deafening sound of guilt pounding in your ears. 

Peter wasn’t okay. 

You knew that. 

Rising, you left the room without saying a word, ignoring the curious looks from the others. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you knew what you needed to do. 

Deep down, you already knew where to find him. 

The Maximoff house had a peculiar charm that always made you smile. A mix of the '70s, nostalgia, and controlled chaos that perfectly suited Peter. But today, as you climbed the steps to the porch, your heart was too heavy to be swayed by the usual sense of comfort. 

At the door, holding the stack of sweets and the pizza box—the favorite of both of you, with extra pepperoni and that crispy crust Peter always called “a gift from the gods”—you took a deep breath before knocking. 

Mrs. Maximoff opened the door almost immediately, with her warm smile and curious eyes. “Oh, dear! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. 

She stepped back, holding your face for a moment. “You look... tired. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine. Actually, I came to see Peter.” 

Her expression softened, but her eyes shone with a touch of concern. “He’s in the basement. He spends most of his time down there lately.” She hesitated before adding, “He misses you, you know? And so do I. You bring good energy to this house.” 

Her words were simple, but they hit hard. You gave a small, shy smile and a “Thank you,” before heading down to the basement, your heart pounding too fast in your chest. 

As you descended the steps, a familiar soundtrack began to fill the space: the sound of an intense pinball game, interspersed with muffled music from a nearby radio. 

Peter was in his element. 

The first thing you noticed was the speed. He darted back and forth across the basement in a typical frenzy, alternating between playing the arcade game, taking bites of a Twinkie, and making quick adjustments to the stack of vinyl records by the old record player. 

For a moment, he passed by too quickly, the movement so fast it looked like a silver blur. But even so, he paused long enough to take a good look at you. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the tired expression, and, most of all, the look of regret that seemed to weigh on you like a second skin. And, of course, you still looked beautiful as always, in one of those summer dresses that left your shoulders and collarbone on full display. God, he loved those dresses, and loved seeing you wearing them even more. 

Peter went back to the arcade as if nothing had happened, but his game slowed down a bit, the movements less precise. It was enough for you to catch up. 

He looked the same as always, but completely different. There was a crease between his eyebrows, his hair was tousled, and he looked disheveled. 

You set the pizza and sweets on a makeshift table full of empty wrappers and called out, your voice wavering, “Peter, can we talk?” 

He stopped pressing the buttons but didn’t turn around right away. For a moment, he stood there, his shoulders rigid, before straightening and turning to face you. “Sure. I’m all ears.” You felt small under his gaze. 

The attempt to look nonchalant fooled no one. The tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows, and the arms crossed over his chest told another story. 

You stepped forward, hesitating, really trying to find the right words. “I came to apologize. I was wrong, Peter. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse for yelling at you. I... I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and... I really want things to go back to normal. For us to go back to how we were before.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head, letting out a long, heavy sigh. The gesture made your heart drop, as if you were falling off an endless cliff. 

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. A punch to the stomach wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

“No?” you repeated, unable to hide the confusion and tightness that overtook you. Your heart sank in your chest, the feeling like falling. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his legs. “I don’t want things to go back to normal,” he explained, his voice even lower, almost a whisper. 

You blinked, completely bewildered. “What does that mean?” 

He took a step toward you but stopped, maintaining a small distance. His eyes met yours, and the intensity in his gaze made you hold your breath. 

“It means that I’m sorry too,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “I shouldn’t have provoked you like that, especially when you were already exhausted. But... I do it because...” He stopped, clearly struggling to find the right words. 

“Because what?” you urged, feeling your palms begin to sweat. 

This was it—Peter was a tiny step away from ruining everything again. But damn it, he had to risk it. He couldn’t just pretend he wanted to be just friends. How could he? It was painful to be so close and so far away at the same time. He needed more; he wanted more. 

“Because I like your attention, okay?” he finally blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. “I like when you look at me, even if it’s to tell me to shut up or roll your eyes. I like when you smile at my stupid jokes, even if you pretend you don’t find them funny. And, damn, I like being near you.” 

“Peter…” you began, but he raised a hand to interrupt you. 

“I know, I know,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m terrible at this. That’s why I always hide everything behind jokes and teasing. But... it’s true. I like you. I really do. And I don’t want things to go back to normal, because, to be honest, ‘normal’ was never enough for me.” 

You stood still, each of his words piercing deep into your chest, but in a sweet, almost painful way. He was there, completely vulnerable, and you didn’t know if it was possible to love him more than you did at that moment. Your heart slammed against your ribs with each painful beat. 

He felt the same. Peter felt the same. 

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you kept your gaze locked on him, taking in every word. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you finally said, your voice heavy with emotion. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s annoying,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But it’s also… everything I needed to hear.” 

His eyes widened slightly, shocked by your confession. “Really?” 

You shrugged, feigning casualness, but your smile gave you away. “So, are you going to kiss me or keep stalling?” 

The surprise on his face turned into a mischievous grin. “Oh, so now it’s me who’s stalling?” 

“Peter,” you warned, but he was already closer, so fast that you barely noticed the movement. 

His hands cupped your face, purposefully slow, still with a small smile curled on his lips as he moved closer and closer. Your eyes closed as you felt his breath intertwine with yours, his sweet breath making you imagine that his mouth must be even sweeter. Gently, his lips molded to yours, remaining that way for a moment before he pulled back. You felt his chest rise and fall unevenly, as if he had run around the planet. Peter murmured something, too fast for your ears to understand. 

The next second his lips pressed against yours again, hungry. His hand went down your spine, firming on your waist to pull you closer, crushing you against his chest as his lips explored your mouth. You sighed as you felt his tongue, soft and warm, slide across yours, kissing you deeply. He kissed you for what could have been an eternity, stealing the air from your lungs, turning you into a fragile creature dependent on the caresses of that wicked mouth. 

When you separated, he refused to stop kissing you, rubbing his lips along your jaw, leaving love bites on the side of your neck, adoring every part of you, as if to make up for all the lost time. Small noises of pleasure escaped your mouth, your knees barely seemed capable of keeping you upright, so your hands quickly found support on his broad shoulders. “Peter.” You sighed weakly, feeling your face heat as he straightened, leveling your faces. His mouth was red and swollen, with a crooked smile, his eyes darker than ever. 

“I should do this more often,” he teased, his voice low and husky, his fingers still kneading the soft flesh of your waist. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. “Maybe.” 

He chuckled, gently brushing your hair away from your face, looking at you more closely. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone more serious now. 

“A little,” you admitted, shrugging, afraid of ruining the moment. 

“Then I think it’s time for you to rest.” 

“But—” He didn’t allow any objections, guiding you to the bed nearby, wide enough for both of you. He settled down beside you, pulling you to lie against him. His fingers traced calming circles on your back. “You can’t send me away anymore, got it?” 

You nodded, your face pressed against the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that dulled your senses. The accumulated exhaustion finally began to ease. “But I can still make you dance to ABBA in the street.” You joked, smiling as he shuddered dramatically. 

“Do your worst, you little troublemaker.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, and countless others until he reached your ear. “Ask me to stay,” he whispered, and just because he could, he nipped the sensitive skin just below. 

You shivered, holding him tighter in your arms, feeling his chest vibrate with a silent laugh. Raising your face, you used your siren voice. “Stay with me, Peter.” 

His eyes widened in surprise, staring at you for long seconds before his lips curled into a devilish grin. “Fuck, can you do that again? Please, we need to test your powers when—” 

“Peter.” You cut him off with a laugh, burying your face back against his chest, feeling your cheeks burn at the direction the conversation had taken. “Later, okay? Can we just rest now?” 

“You don’t have to ask twice, love.” 

The familiar sense of security you always felt around him returned in full force, but this time there was something more. Something deeper, more intimate. 

With your face pressed to his neck, you hesitated for a moment before placing a soft kiss there, a silent thank-you for everything he was. 

Peter tightened his embrace, and for the first time in days, you felt whole. 

[windvexer]

How do you feel about using multiple spells for a single goal? Doing wealth spells one after another until you're out of difficulties, for example, versus doing the one and letting it be?

I've got a chapter in a book I'm probably never going to publish about this. It's long. tl;dr: hell yeah cast a lot of spells for one thing, that's a great idea. Upg alert, etc.

Compound Magic: Many Hands Make Light Work

Compound magic is the phrase I’m using to discuss two similar ideas.

The idea is that if working one act of magic can affect our physical world to any degree, then working multiple acts of magic on the same subject can affect it to a greater degree.

This works at both the macro and micro levels.

By “macro,” I mean casting entire spells to influence various situations.

If you’re casting a home prosperity spell, casting multiple prosperity spells tends to be more beneficial than casting only one. Following our Witch-as-Monarch metaphor, you can cast spells that are like geologists seeking resources, like road-builders to strengthen trade routes, or like festival celebrations to revitalize your citizens.

More literally, if there is a situation that is resistant to change or in need of serious transformation, you can build a spellcasting altar dedicated to that single issue.

Spellcasting altars are useful in the practical sense that if you’ve got a whole altar for it, you might not forget that it’s something you wanted to work on.

They’re also very useful in the magical sense that as you dedicate a new “counsel room” to this topic and begin filling it with advisors, knights, heroes, spies, managers, and agents, and then continuously empower your Allies to work on your behalf through dedicated spellwork, all of these powers begin to compound and support each other.

In other words: the action of casting multiple spells can have additive or supportive effect which helps all the spells work better.

Not only this, but spells can begin to file away the rust on a situation and get the gears working - but run out of energy before the mechanism is truly brought to life.

If a single spell didn’t appear to manifest as desired, that doesn’t mean it didn’t do anything. It could mean that the situation was improved behind the scenes, laying a better foundation for success for your next spell.

Therefore, compound magic also means cleverly assigning spells to loosen up a situation and prepare it for change, to banish potential roadblocks, to protect the desired outcome, to empower the desired aspects of the situation, to bind the unwanted aspects, and so forth. In this manner, casting compound magic doesn’t necessarily mean to cast prosperity-generating spells over and over – it can also mean to cast banishings, protections, cleansings, and so forth, in the pursuit of prosperity.

This may all sound like a lot of work, but recall that we’re talking about very resistant situations, or situations in need of a lot of transformation before they suit your tastes. However, I hope you’ll agree with me that this concept in general actually really helps take a load off, because:

If your strategy is to work multiple acts of magic, then no single act of magic you work ever has to be perfect, or even exceptional.

Spellcasting anxiety is very real, and in my opinion boils down to the worry not only that unless everything is perfect then everything is ruined, but furthermore, that if any single spell doesn’t work it means the practitioner is a fraud.

If you instead adopt the mindset that it’s quite alright to need to work three or four acts of magic to influence a sticky situation, each spell feels less like you’re an actor making your debut performance in front of a judgmental audience, and much more like you’re going to try and treat the problem with a vinegar spray first, but if that doesn’t lift the bonds that’s quite alright because you’ve got a baking soda scrub to try next.

This isn’t to say that I think every single situation is going to require multiple spells to make the magic “work.” Far from it. But I don’t find there to be any utility at all in assuming every situation should be fixable by only one spell, and if that spell fails then there’s something wrong.

Overall, I find that the witch who often engages in acts of magic to keep the home safe and prosperous will find that this compound effect begins to work organically, and that over time all acts of magic eventually lead to an enchanted life, to greater or lesser degrees.

On the “micro” side of this concept we can examine the enchantment of a single object or formula.

Instead of considering that we can use multiple spells to influence a situation, we can see that we can work many smaller acts of magic over time to produce a single powerful spell.

Think about woodburning a very hard, difficult piece of wood. During the first session you may only get an outline of the design before you’re exhausted and in need of a break. The wood is still imprinted upon, but it’s far from the completed project you envisioned.

During the next woodburning session, and the next, the design is slowly filled in until it meets your standards of satisfaction.

This is conceptually very similar to re-casting the same enchantment over and over on a single object until desired results are obtained.

This is extremely useful for the pragmatic witch who may not have the ability to plan out spells on specific times and days, or who must act now without every ideal ingredient on hand.

And not only that, but it’s also useful for the witch who would just like to have some fun with magic and doesn’t want to twiddle their thumbs waiting for the most ideal possible moment to act.

If a witch would like to work up a pot of Noontide Shield Oil (pg. 34), but the working felt less than lustrous, the formula can simply be re-enchanted again next Sunday to deepen and solidify the enchantment. Or, suppose the original oil had to be worked in less than ideal conditions, or perhaps even with entire ingredients missing: the missing ingredients can be added later on, the spell re-cast over the same vessel in more ideal conditions, and so forth.

The same goes for any spell vessel, formula, charmed ingredient, or enchanted object.

These things can be fully re-enchanted by performing the original spell over again, switching focus from adding ingredients to empowering and instructing ingredients already added.

But they can also be encouraged in more minor ways, especially through regular feeding (pg. 9).

I think it’s important to note here that we’re basically talking about cooking. A chicken soup where you have to omit the chicken, and then shred up rotisserie leftovers and just add it to the broth when having leftovers, is not going to produce identical results as if you had been able to cook the chicken in the soup.

Either way, you’ve still got chicken soup - it's just that an enchantment made in the most ideal conditions is not going to be identical to an enchantment made in non-ideal conditions and later fortified.

So I don’t believe that it’s correct to say that ideal conditions don’t matter. I think they do matter, and that practitioners will notice an appreciable improvement if they are able to work with ideal circumstances.

But I also believe it’s correct to say that if you continuously re-cast enchantments towards the same objects and formulas over and over again, while supplementing missing or lacking factors, over time that enchantment deepens and becomes more permanent and more powerful.

Just like macro compound magic, I think that this helps reduce the difficulty in working powerful enchantments. You don’t have to work yourself up to exhaustion casting a single powerful enchantment that wipes out your ability to work magic for three days. You can meter your energy and pour out small amounts of your power, when needed or as desired, and slowly build up powerful magics around you.

Then, when an important “macro” situation arises, consider how it would feel to be able to reach for a variety spell vessels and formulas you’ve already been empowering for months, keeping them fresh and alive through periodic attention and feeding. Things begin to feel much less like a witch alone in a room, and much more like an empowered monarch surrounded by Allies.

[sgiandubh]

This is a thank you, not an ask. I guess I would be classified as a lurker in the Tumbler world since I primarily only read what others write.  But I did make a comment to you once and you responded so you made me feel comfortable enough that I could send this to you.  Shippers have unknowingly been helping me stay sane these past few years.  My husband has Alzheimer’s with Aphasia and I have been his sole caretaker for a long time.  Having this responsibility is not for the faint of heart. One day in early 2019 I stumbled across Outlander and like a lot of others, was in, hook, line and sinker and Jamie & Claire and Sam & Cait became part of my daily life.  Last week I had to place my husband in a memory care facility.  It was an agonizing decision and I prayed for a sign that this was the right move.  As stupid as this may sound, I think my prayer was answered.  On the second day he made a friend.  His name is Jamie.  Only in the Outlander world would this have any meaning, but we've now got a sweet Jamie in our lives.  You may officially call me crazy.  Thank you to you and all the other shippers for all the smiles and happiness you've brought to me and many others. It kept me going.

Dear @jovialchaoslover,

By all means, do not thank me, even if I felt incredibly moved and honored by your submission, on behalf of the entire OL Shipper community. In fact, I should thank you, because for all those name calling and finger pointing Anons, you get to read something as genuine, moving and personal. These moments are rare and precious (and should remain so). They make you feel useful, in a very unexpected way.

You are one of those daily life unsung heroes and I want you to know that you are probably way stronger than you would ever think. I can only imagine the kind of experience you are now going through, even if I am (like many daughters, all around the world) only too aware of the cruelty with which old age sometimes disfigures beloved family members. I have only a remote idea of my own grandmother's quick descent into dementia and death, but I do have a very direct experience of the grueling toll it took on our family. Especially on my own mother, who let everything go and cared for her until the very last moment.

With the proper care solution in place, you will find yourself with a lot of time on your hands. A spare time you perhaps forgot existed. Please (I urge you) use it wisely and never forget this is all about you. You more than deserve it and the moment is now. I may know a thing or two about emptiness and void. They are incredibly enticing and treacherous. Please try and do something for you every single day. It does not matter if it is important or completely futile: it is about YOU and changing the angle will change everything. Remember the wonderful woman I am sure you are and try to reconnect with her. I can promise you she is not very far and I bet she misses you, too.

Last but not least, let me tell you that I will never call you crazy for having shared that Jamie story with us. I think it was very brave of you and I can confidently tell you it even has a name. What you experienced is called synchronicity and it is part of the tiny and personal magic of daily life. People as serious as Carl Gustav Jung dedicated their life to try and make some sense of this. And it all started with one of his patients (he was a shrink) describing a very vivid, recurrent dream of hers, that featured a scarab beetle. At the very same time, they both saw a scarab beetle (uncharacteristically) tapping on the window. The woman was not instantly cured (psychoanalysis does not exactly work like this), but it helped both of them overcome a very frustrating communication barrier.

That Jamie story is a real synchronicity, too, because it is meaningful for you and nobody else. It happened for a reason you are the only one to understand, in time. I could talk about it for hours and link it (as Jung did) with my beloved I Ching or with a couple of dead(ly) serious German philosophers, for some extra gravitas. But I am not going to over-complicate things. You got this. You are strong and brave and believe it or not, I am sure you are also loved by many.

I also think Caitriona Mary Balfe and Sam Roland Heughan should read your ask, finally understand their magic brought solace to many, many people around the world and get their damn act together for Season 8. But that is a different story altogether.

For the rest, if you want, we will be here for you. Me and probably other kind people on this side of the fence. Anytime you want, here or in DM. It may not be much, but it is something.

PS: that may or may not have brought a #silly tear, you know.

[writingadvicethatsavedmylife]

Why this blog? Writing, that's why.

The subtitle of this blog is a bit misleading, in that I never “became” a writer - I just always was one.

I firmly believe that if you write, think about writing, feel called to write, or even if you haven’t written in a long time…? You’re ‘a writer.’ You just are.

And if you don’t yet feel that you can claim that title for yourself, just try it. The next time someone asks you, “What do you do?” you can feel free to ignore the implied, “for a living” and answer with your whole heart, “I’m a writer!”

Don’t worry too much if they follow up with, “What have you written? Have you published anything? Where can I read your writing?” Those questions come from a place of ignorance. Well-meaning, kind, and very curious, but not fully informed.

Writers write. That’s all - you aren’t required to share your writing, publish your writing, or sell your writing to be a ‘real’ writer. You just write.

And what happens when you can’t even do that much? Well… that’s what the rest of this blog is about.

I hope you find something here that will help you, inspire you, amuse you, or even just let you know you’re not alone. Writing is such a solitary vocation that we often feel isolated, and we forget that we’re not required to DIY the entire journey - there are millions of writers out there who feel just as lost and as isolated as you (and I) sometimes feel.

We’re in this alone, together. (That made more sense in my head, but it’s written now and I can’t take it back, so just chew on it until it makes some kind of weird sense to you.)

And while the first five words of the blog's subtitle are misleading, the main title of this blog is not hyperbole: writing literally saved my life at a time when I desperately needed it. The art and craft of writing, the sacred act of creating, and the joy of reading have often appeared in my life at various points, exactly when I needed them the most.

When I heeded the most recent call and began writing again in 2021, the writing practice I built (and rebuilt, and re-rebuilt several times) began to reward me with things that I could never have imagined: it brought me friends from all over the world, it nourished me when I was too weak to accomplish other self-care tasks, it grew and changed me from the inside out, and it remained a steady, solid presence when everything else in my life seemed to be falling apart.

Writing is magic, I’m sure of it. And if you’re reading these words, chances are you think so, too. If you’re a writer you’ll understand me when I say, “My characters woke me up at five this morning, just chattering away, talking to me.”

If you’re a writer, you won’t think I’m crazy when I tell you that I had an outline, but when I began writing a scene one of the characters did something totally unexpected.

If you’re a writer, you won’t call it exaggerating when I say that having a four-month-long bout of writer’s block felt like I had lost the use of an appendage or an organ. A part of me was missing and I was fearful that it would never return. I thought I would never write again! It was hell. (Spoiler alert: writing blocks always resolve! Trust me on this.)

And if you’re a writer, you’ll be very happy to learn that you’re surrounded by other writers, a huge community of people just like you, who want to support you and see you accomplish your own specific writing dreams… you just maybe haven’t met them yet. Other writers, your people, they’re out there. And they’re here, too, asking the very same questions that you’ve probably asked yourself or the Universe many times over.

There’s enough room in the world for everyone’s writing, and that includes yours! Make more of it, feed your artist’s heart, and write like your life depends on it… mine did.

[puppetsoftomorrow]

⭐️ the phoebmonster fanfiction masterpost ⭐️

🌟 💛 all complete, but series may be ongoing

multichapter

all these roads lead back to you - 11k

🩷 set around s3, an artefact gives sara and ava the ability to read eachothers minds and force them to stay close. it goes about as well as you'd expect

the day before you came - 13k

❤️ ava hates going home for christmas, so she hires sara to come with her to annoy her family - but will something real come of their fake relationship?

heart of gold - 13k

🧡 sara is a lighthouse keeper and ava is from another world, washed up, all alone, unable to speak and far from home

wild wild whisper - 15k

💛 ava is a lawyer, back in town after fifteen years, sara is a cowboy who never left - will their past drive them apart, or is it not to late to begin again?

for reasons wretched and divine - 20k

💚 fantasy au - ava is a princess on the run, and sara is a bandit with something to hide. loosk like its time for an adventure!!

heaven sent - 12k

🩵 a captain marvel au. sara has no memories of ava, but finds her way back to her. can it work with a lifetime of memories behind them?

flip a coin, decide your fate - 9.2k

💙 the legends all have soul coins, and astra has a hold of them, and gives them a chance to pick them up. written with ginger-canary :)

the girl in the movies - 20k

💜 highschool au - ava is the lead actress in sara's favourite tv show, and transfers to sara's school, but she's not who sara imagined at all

after midnight, the golden hour comes - 35k

💕 college sports / olympics au - sara and ava are in college, rivals in their sport, and something more beyond that

oneshots

the problem with portals - 1.9k

🩷 set in s4 - the five times the legends portal to fetch sara from ava's house, and what they find when they do

in another life (you would be my girl) - 3k

❤️ set after 4x08, where ava remembers the timeline in which sara was killed by the unicorn

half the world away - 3.6k

🧡 what if in 4x12, instead of sending ava to purgatory, neron gives her what she's always wanted?

if only, if only (you were mine) - 10k

💛 high school au - ava and sara are paired together to look after a robot baby for their social studies class - the trouble is, they hate eachother

for science! - 3.7k

💚 based on the brooklyn nine nine drunk scale - charlie and z1 get ava increasingly drunk to see what happens. zarlie!!

vienna waits for you - 4.2k

🩵 ava is a fire warden, alone and in 1989, and her radio connects to the waverider, with sara on the other end of the line

star child, are you out there? - 5.8k

💙 set in season 4a - ava temporaily adopts a baby who's also a magical creature. but what if it's not so temporary?

series

twelve and thirteen - a second ava becomes a part of the legends

now the day bleeds (into nightfall) - 4.7k

🖤 post 4x09 - a new clone is brought in to replace ava as director, and they get to know eachother as ava deals with her breakup with sara

you can see the difference - 6.4k

🩶 ava 13 returns to the waverider to go on holiday with the legends, and lots of introspection for ava

halley and the comet - snippets of avalance family life, with their children halley and grayson

i've been waiting for you - 3.5k

🤍 how the legends escaped from the time prison, as told in a bedtime story

now i stand here looking at the sky - 1.9k

🩶 the legends come around for dinner, as sara is carrying a pretty big secret

my love, my life - 1.2k

🖤 sara and ava's second child is born, and halley meets her brother

tumblr oneshots

these were all orginally posted to tumblr, and were then cross-posted to ao3

you've got a hold on this heart of mine - 1.5k

🩷 post 4x05 - ava comes home from thanksgiving to find sara, and domestic fluff ensues

if you could bring her back to me (or take her from my memory) - 1.1k

❤️ ava's angsty introspection, post the break up in 4x09

you're too much to forget - 0.4k

🧡a series of voicemails from sara to ava, set between the break up in 4x09 and when sara finds ava again in 4x12

no matter what, just be my girl - 1.6k

💛 what happened between sara and ava after ava gets home from purgatory

i'll trade all of my tomorrows (for one single yesterday) - 0.7k

💚 an alternative version of the break up scene in 4x09 - still angst though

got leavin' on her mind - 1.6k

🩵 sara can't brush off atropos' attack so easily - Major Angst!!

(i'm so) afraid of losing you again - 1.1k

💙 an alternative take on the opening for 6x01, written before s6 aired

i thought i'd been kissed and i thought i'd been loved (but that was before i met you) - 1k

💜 an au where sara doesn’t get kidnapped by aliens … or the one where ava gets tucked into bed

i'm just me - 1.2k

🩷 an alternative scene for sara telling ava that she's now an alien-clone. hurt / comfort

it's the happiness of having you (that makes my world a place worth living in) - 2.1k

❤️ my take on the avalance wedding! absolutly nothing like the wedding we got aha

hoping just by chance that i'll get a glimpse of you - 1k

🧡 written based on the 7x05 promo that something goes wrong and maybe ava gets erased for a bit when gwyn's time machine is on the fritz

heaven watches over fools like me - 0.8k

💛 ava and sara play gay chicken - originially from a tumblr prompt

the green green grass of home - 1k

💚 a potential s8 where sara and her baby escape from the time jail

[ezziefox]

Just reblogged a post, but wanted to make a separate post of my own sharing my thoughts and feelings on this topic; verbatim

I love posts that share writing resources and help. I'm talking the posts that help you think about where to go next, what questions to ask, or what you might've missed while plotting your plot. I'm talking posts that are like "guide to worldbuilding", "guide to magic"; posts that detail what certain themes/topics in writing encompass, among many more.

So, as the title says, I'd just recently shared the thoughts below, verbatim, in a reblog, but I wanted to make it into a separate post in which I can see if others agree with me, since interactions with a reblog will be associated with the original post (which isn't a problem, but I just wanted to see who was with me).

Here's what I shared:

A lot of times, I write and I don't know where to begin with certain things. And I love writing high fantasy, in which I make up countries and species and continents and states, and I especially love thinking about their unique cultures and what exactly makes them unique.

But because I have to use my brain and imagination for all of this, sometimes I get stumped. Sometimes I fill out one area, but leave out the rest/another, or I can't figure out the rest/another. For example, I might be able to come up with something of a culture, but I've completely forgotten about the country's history. What brought it to where it is today?

So, it's little things like these that I forget or can't get right or immediately sometimes. It's why I appreciate posts like these that are kind of a directory for where to look next; for what holes you still have to fill; and what links you still have hanging that you need to connect.

I love worldbuilding.

Like genuinely, just reading the words in these posts is inspiring my mind to imagine things I realize I've never truly looked into before. And it's through these little things that I also get my writing inspiration. Writing inspiration doesn't only have to come from your head or from prompts or from Pinterest or real life. They can come from posts like these that truly put your brain to work; to answering questions you might've never thought before. And then you begin imagining putting this world together, and your characters manifest, and then the storyline; or whichever way it goes for you.

➶ ｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°｡˚ 　　°

[beyourownanchor6]

fic stats meme!

Rules: Give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.

tagged by my beloveds: @loserdiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @hippolotamus @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @buddierights

most hits:

if i lay here, would you lie with me (forget the world)

“Does this story have a point?” Eddie questioned, Lena narrowing her eyes at him. “This guy, my sort of friend—what if he could watch Chris for you?” Eddie furrowed his brows together.

“You want me to leave my kid who’s halfway across the country with some—stranger?”

It beats having him sent home to your parents, right?”Well, she had a point there.

Eddie shook his head, overwhelmed with his thoughts.

“Look, I appreciate it Bosko, but I just—I don’t know. This is my kid we’re talking about.”

“I know that, and I know how much you love him. Hell, you’ve sent me ten plus emails when I was watching him for you.”

Eddie looked to where there was a line coming out of their commanders office. He turned to Lena, giving his full attention.

“Alright, tell me about this friend of yours.”

—or—

The one where Eddie’s in the army, Shannon gives up her rights to Chris, and Eddie needs a babysitter. Good thing Lena knows Buck, the guy having nothing better to do than help babysit until Eddie gets back. Eddie would come home, and he would leave; it wasn’t like they were going to build some lifetime friendship or anything.

second third most kudos:

five + one (i did 3rd most kudos, bc army!eddie won this as well) also wtf allowed me to name a fic this 💀

Five times Eddie calls Buck by his real name and one time Buck calls Eddie by his or Five times Eddie drives Buck crazy with his real name, and one time Buck gets revenge

third most comments:

coastlines

-He’d surfed many seas, rode an infinite amount of waves, though none of them quite felt like home, like he’d surfaced. It wasn’t until he met the guy with eyes as deep as the ocean that he let himself drift to shore, sinking right into them. Everything about him was like being right on the edge, like you could travel for miles and still never quite reach his depths, like a wave that couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be brought down. Sometimes, you couldn’t stop the wave, but you could learn to surf it. Eddie had spent his entire life riding the waves, but nothing could prepare him for the depths of Evan Buckley. – —or— the buddie surfing au

fourth third most bookmarks:

I want to love you (but I don't know how) (i did 3rd most since 5+1 won this as well)

“Say we want to, I don’t know…maybe you…or I, will want to let the other know that I’m safe at work, like if there’s a bad call or something.” Eddie nodded for him to go on, Buck already reaching to tap the correct buttons. “How about two taps means: ‘I’m safe’.” Buck tapped his bracelet twice, the two of them watching in awe as Eddie’s lit up, vibrating where it lay over his wrist. He watched as Eddie visibly shivered; he couldn’t be sure if it was due to the magic of the bracelets, or Eddie’s fear of technology—maybe a little of both. Buck cleared his throat, ducking his head a little as he continued. “And maybe, we could use—4 taps to say: ‘I’m hurt, but ok’.” Eddie looked up to him then, raising a brow. “How many taps do we need for, ‘my best friend is a dumbass and did something stupid again, and I’m not there to have his back’?” Buck deadpanned. “Well, that would be nineteen, to be exact.” -or- Buck buys him and Eddie touch bracelets, not wanting either of them to feel disconnected after Eddie leaves. They help, but the real thing is still better.

fifth most words:

when i lose my grip, you pull me back (you're my universe)

Buck only nuzzled closer, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s lips, begging Eddie to take that last step. “Ev, please don’t make this harder than it already is.” Buck’s lips were all but touching his, their noses pressed together. Buck was all around him, voice pleading. “Just one Eds, please.” That was the problem. It was never just one; once they dove into the world of each other, it was almost impossible to stop—they could never get enough. Not enough kisses, touches, or sweet sounds made between them would ever be enough; if there was one thing they never tired of, it was each other. —or— A collection of firsts in Buck and Eddie’s relationship, from when they met as teenagers, to now. Aka the teen buddie au.

fic with least words:

mornings with you

A soft morning between our soft boys

tagging: @redlightsandicedtea @justsmilestuffhappens @onward--upward @honestlydarkprincess @swiftiebuckleyhan @barbiediaz @djdangerlove @cowboydiazes @alyxmastershipper @ronordmann @wh0re-behavi0r @spaceprincessem @giddyupbuck @transbuck

[lumilamp]

umm i'm unsure what question to ask, but feel free to yap about ocs in response to this ask! maybe uhh if you have a song you like that describes them? idk, feel free to do whatever!

Ok so yapping time >:3

There are a couple songs I have paired up with ocs and there's 2 characters (mostly 1) that the song Twig by parsley onuma fits nicely with

Im going to put a read more bc I am going to be yapping but here's 2 drawings of the characters (Left: Aren Monitwa | Right: Yuro Sumoke)

Just a warning, I am absolute shit at analyzing lyrics and stuff

So twig is about kind of waking up with new emotions, experiences, etc, and that matches pretty well with one of my ocs, Yuro Sumoke, who died and was brought back to life through a deal his best friend made with the God of life and death, Nienqhii. Rather than Yuro being brought back in his body, where he died, he gets brought back on the other side of the world in the body of someone who was in a coma. There's a whole reason why he couldn't be brought back in his body, but I don't feel like talking about that.

So, Yuro wakes up in a new body, in a completely different country with a completely different culture and is lead to believe that he is this person (I'm just realizing I never came up with a name for that person). He thinks that his memories are just something he made up in a coma, but he does begin to paint things that he remembers to try to keep those memories because they feel too real.

Also, the world they live in is divided into 2 parts: magic and non-magic, and neither side knows that the other exists

The chorus also fits very well with Yuro,

"What happened yesterday, what will happen today,

everything, everything, everything

has been important, and will be important to me.

I don't understand the reason why, but

I shouldn't forget"

It lines up with how Yuro feels he should remember these things that he's told are just his imagination because they feel much more important to him.

Also there's bubbling noises in it and uhhh he died from drowning and yeah.

And fun little thing: I have another character named Stik or Adet (the word for stick in Arijhaniis) that Aren thinks is Yuro at first bc Stik has amnesia and Nienqhii is a dick who would probably bring someone back but get rid of their memories. And stik, twig yknow yeah

This was probably so impossible to read

[nahatnei]

¹ Corinthians 13:6

My Dearest Syv,

I can’t believe it’s already been a month since you first messaged me. Time really does fly when something feels this real. It’s crazy how much can change in just 31 days, but looking back, I can see how much my life has transformed since you came into it. From the very first moment you reached out, it was like the world shifted. Everything started feeling different—lighter, warmer, and so much better.

Your eyes, baby, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over them. There’s a sparkle in them that makes me feel seen, heard, and loved. And that smile of yours? It’s honestly my favorite thing in the whole world. It’s like it lights up the entire universe, and suddenly, all the heaviness from the day is gone. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you have no idea how much it brightens my days.

You showed up in my life at a time I didn’t know I needed you. Losing Kuya was like having the ground pulled out from under me. He wasn’t just my brother; he was my rock, my protector, the person who always knew how to make me feel better, even on my darkest days. When he passed, a huge part of me was ripped away. The grief was suffocating, and I was left in a world that felt cold and empty. There were days I didn’t know how to breathe, how to move forward without him. It felt like I was stuck, like a part of me was lost forever.

But then there you were. In the midst of that storm, you appeared—like a gentle wave that calmed the chaos in my heart. You didn’t even have to try. Just the way you listen to me, the way you care for me, the way you make me laugh when I thought I couldn’t anymore—it’s like you brought back something I thought I’d never have again. You remind me of the warmth and love Kuya always gave, and through you, I feel like a piece of him has found its way back to me. It’s like a part of my heart is finally healing, and it’s because of you.

These past 31 days have been nothing short of magical. You've shown me so much love and care in such a short time. Every word you say, every little thing you do—it’s like you’re piecing together the parts of me that were broken. I want you to know that I see it all. Every moment, every gesture, every sacrifice you make to show me that I matter to you, I appreciate it more than I could ever put into words. You’ve become such an important part of my life, and I don’t take any of it for granted.

I want to promise you this, baby: I will always be your number one fan. Through every success, every struggle, and everything in between, I’ll be right here, cheering for you. You’ve already made my life so much brighter; I can’t wait to spend every day reminding you of how amazing you are. I will support your dreams, I will believe in you, and I’ll never let you forget how much you mean to me. You’ve already made my life so much brighter; the least I can do is spend every day trying to do the same for you.

And soon—very soon—I’ll finally meet you. The thought of that moment honestly fills my heart with so much excitement. I can’t wait to see your beautiful smile in person, to hold your hand and tell you all the things I can’t put into words. The moment I meet you, I know I’ll feel like the luckiest person in the world. I’ve been waiting for this for what feels like forever, and I know it will be worth every second of the wait. Distance may separate us now, but I promise you, it won’t matter in the end. The love we share is so much stronger than any distance, and nothing can stand in the way of what we have. I just want to remind you how much you mean to me, face-to-face, with all my love and all my heart.

Thank you for being you—the most loving, genuine, and beautiful soul. I am beyond lucky to have you in my life. There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side. Thank you for being the one to heal my heart, for bringing me joy when I thought I had forgotten what it felt like, and for reminding me that love is still real and beautiful.

Thank you, Mi Amor. Here's to everything we’ve built in just a month, to the memories we’re going to make, and to the love that I know will only grow stronger with time.

I love you endlessly, with all that I am and all that I will ever be. Always. My Palangga 💝

hugs & kisses,

your russian mango 🫦

[ctewrites]

This work of fiction will try to stick to the genre of fantasy. All the subgenres of portal, magical realism, grimdark, paranormal, romantasy, sci-fi fantasy... toss these scribbles into a blender and hit the smoothie setting.

The writer will try to see if Oakley is available to guide you to the mead hall in the lands ruled by Raedwald to meet Wulflaed - a witch who has the power to move between alternate worlds - or is it one of many worlds? Could it be in a bubble reality? Oakley doesn't know, and she cannot explain how she can take you to meet the völva who, from all measurable estimates, lives in 7th century East England during the time of the Anglo-Saxons.

Oakley is a scientist - or at least she would be if her life hadn't gone horribly wrong in the summer of 1993.

At least, she thinks it was 1993. In her timeline back on Earth. Or here on Earth, in the place she believes circles the star she learned was called the Sun.

~ 1 ~

You see, as someone trying to interview Oakley for my podcast, she's a little hard to pin down. When I moved here to Ogdensburg, New York, I never thought I'd meet a teenager quite like Oakley. I've taken to write these posts when I meet her to see if she'll tell me a bit more about her travels. I'd really like to see if I could meet Wulflaed the völva as she sounds fascinating.

Oakley doesn't seem to think so. I've suggested she may have encountered what we here in 2024 might interpret to be a witch, or known then as a völva in 7th century England. After all - this young mother of seventeen is known for being adept with the practice of Nigon Wyrta Galdor (Nine Herbs Charm). Oakley is currently adapting to 21st century technology, and loving how quickly she can research and record her observations of Wulflaed. According to Oakley, Wulflaed can wipe away skin ailments, and provide powerful elixirs and other ingestibles that could compete with the best modern pharmaceuticals. Wulflaed may have more powers that Oakley either refuses to acknowledge, or simply cannot articulate into a decipherable interpretation.

Oakley isn't convinced that völva - witches - exist, whereas I like to hand judgement over to preoccupy those who can't think of anything better to do. I like the idea of witches, and Wulflaed seems to fit the description nicely. Oakley doesn't seem to take me seriously on my request to join her at the next meeting with the witch, but has deputized me to become her journalist.

I've always wanted to time travel and space travel. Oakley appears to be irritated by this ability, as if this wonderful gift is a vexing inconvenience. I think it would be fascinating to experience the times Wulflaed lives in, and learn if she has real magic or just really excellent tools for advanced science. I want to see if Wulflaed may have a deeper understanding of how the Universe -or universes? - might work using the web of Wyrd. It's possible that she would never call herself a völva, but she apparently uses a staff that would hint she is wand-wed. Either that or it hides precision tools... sort of like a Swiss army staff for as yet to be labeled witches or scientists.

At some point I will have to tell you how I met this girl, but first I must convince her to take me along. Right now I'm hinting that Wulflaed should be brought onto my podcast. Oakley ignores these suggestions and seems to forget why she shares with me this magnetic tale. I would dismiss her as foolish had I not seen her appear in a blink before my eyes walking my dog along the Oswegatchie river the other night. In truth, Oakley has appeared and disappeared several times over, all within eyeshot of my house. Once right in my living room. I jump out of my skin, catatonic with a heart that might explode every time. Oakley seems only mildly irritated.

I've decided it's better to find a way to start with the first memory Oakley shared with me, and get as linear as possible with her experience. I only get snippets of Oakley's recollections using what she hands to me. I can only describe it as a virtual reality headset that might come straight out of a Steampunk cosplay convention - a vintage aviator hat with welding goggles with a full face snorkel underlay. When I first put it on, I was in a cinematic experience that engaged my full senses....

~ 2 ~

Oakley stormed out the back of her grandmother's kitchen, snagging her jeans on the jagged edge of the broken screen door that clung to rusty hinges.

Words from her mothers mouth swarmed in her head, stinging her eyes that sprung wet tears she scraped away with the back of her hand. "Spend the summer here". "Try it out". "I just can't with you anymore!"

Tripping down the bent and uneven three steps of the makeshift back porch, Oakley couldn't feel her feet on the gravel, but the heat of the late afternoon sun warmed her exposed skin instantly; a stark contrast from the chill of the AC from the disheveled bungalow discarded behind her.

This was Ogdensburg? Ugh. No thanks. Why wasn't she touring colleges for science programs like her mother promised? No. Instead she was dumped here, like forgotten cargo that would tip into the St. Lawrence and wash her downstream.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE. THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR.

[ultrainfinitepit]

For your spider-sona, what do you think their canon event looks like? Or who is their uncle Ben figure?

That's a good question Anon! I've been thinking about this a little. My first Spidersona was Spider Knight, so in my head Spiderphim is the same character continuing on their character arc.

Spider Knight never knew their parents, all they knew was the knight who took them in and trained them to be his squire. This knight was Sir Benegar, whose pennant bore a spider that Spider Knight would ultimately take as their symbol. Sir Benegar served Lady Maybelle, who Spider Knight became close with and saw as their own mother just as Benegar was like a father.

Spider Knight lives in a medieval world where magic is real, demons plague humanity, and angels fight them but are rarely seen.

When Spider Knight was only sixteen, Benegar was killed in a battle with a formidable evil, a fly demon named Beelzebub. After that Spider Knight took up his shield and title. To protect themself against demons, who can consume the true names of mortals to gain control over them, Spider Knight hid their name and true identity, and went only as "Spider Knight."

For a while Spider Knight dealt with other threats: demons are far too powerful for a single knight to handle, especially one so inexperienced. They battled a fellow knight who had turned to evil, the Green Goblin Knight; a sinister Plague Doctor Oc; and even crossed paths with a mischievous swordsman named Deadpoole. Eventually Spider Knight grew strong enough to try and take revenge on the demon Beelzebub. They tracked him down, armed with a sword blazing with holy fire - and they failed catastrophically and died.

As Spider Knight stepped into the river of death, ready to drink the waters and forget their life, an angel appeared to them as a reflection in the water. Somehow Spider Knight knew this reflection was who they always were, who they were going to be, and yet someone else entirely. The angel asked for another chance, and Spider Knight agreed to give it. But a toll had to be paid first. Spider Knight sank into the water, whispered their true name and removed their mask. Their shield and broken sword disappeared into the depths. Everything went dark as they drowned.

When Spiderphim awoke on the funeral pyre, she brought the sunrise with her. Her new form was strange yet exciting, and very warm. By this time Beelzebub was long gone, but Spiderphim didn't mind too much, the chase would mean she could see the world through her new eyes, which were plentiful. And she could help so many people along the way!

So to answer your question Anon, it is Sir Benegar who is Spiderphim's Uncle Ben, and Spider Knight's own death is their canon event.

While I consider Spider Knight and Spiderphim to be the same person, it is less clear to Spiderphim who will surely go through some angst about if they are the same; or possessed by an angel who ate their name; or that same angel, who just has the memories of a person who burned away on the funeral pyre. I also envision some plot point where other angels show up because I like angels, and I think Spiderphim is very annoying and would like to see her annoy them.

[elzphine]

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ About me! ⭑.ᐟ

This post IS LONGGGG Hi I'm Ella, this page is mainly for me to rant and talk about things I like. Below is more about me as a person and my interests, I do like talking about my personal life to a degree without giving much information out just so you know. Ella isn't my real name either it's a nickname I go by on some of my socials.

Name: Ella

Age: I don't like going into specifics, but I do follow dnf's that restrict certain ages according to my actual age, just keep creepy things to yourself! <3

Just so you know I do tend to overshare on my posts, I try keeping an open mind most times, due to my personality and the way I was brought up I am relatively mean when talking about others even if I don't exactly mean to be. I don't necessarily trash talk people in specific but I tend to be overly honest with people which causes feelings to get hurt etc, etc. I speak what I perceive to be the truth so I lack friends irl..

Personality: It's changed almost every time I took the MBTI test, probably because I took it on 16p.. But I also self typed too and looked into how people who actually are the MBTI I call myself act and respond as a person and compared it with myself I so I guess it's self typing? I don't know. But INTJ is what I find most relatable to myself and how I perceive the world and interact with people. Not too sure of an enneagram I haven't found a free test for that yet.

Interests: Ani-manga, Horror genre things, JJK, PMM, Death note, tbhk, danganronpa. Drawing, Character design, Fanfic reading or writing, world building, character writing, Reality shifting, japanese folklore, I love using folklore when creating characters it is so much fun to interpret and create a design incorporating elements from history, or just irl things in general. I like hazbin hotel, don't come for me I hate the humor in it but I love the idea of the show being an interpretation of heaven and hell and the society in it. Harry potter kind of not really.. Never was much into it. give anime reccomendations pls I need more things to watch!!

Music taste: ANYTHING LITERALLY ANYTHING IM IN THE MOOD FOR I WAS ABLE TO LISTEN TO A 6 MINUTE SONG ABOUT CORNDOGS PERFECTLY FINE IDK HOW. I have bad hyperfixations when I comes to music genres so these are my tops, Emo claimed bands, female manipulator music, pop punk and some hardcore bands, I don't have any at the top of my head, but I was able to listen to black metal, death metal, parody songs the electro swing remix was fire! I can get down to taylor swift and baby shark, I can listen to drill, rap, phonk, songs in spanish or even swedish. country, folk idc. My playlists due to my recent revamp, Are more fixated on ariana grande, sabrina carpenter, mitski, lana, and very few taylor swift, I like alternative music too, I know I'm forgetting so many different genres but those were what I could list off best so keep that in mind. early 2000s-2016 music is top tier fyi. though frank Sinatra is a G oms.

Other random things: I'm all for self improvement and learning more about myself and other topics if I ever magically start liking something you know about by all means info dump, My fav seasons are fall and winter. I'm a winter baby <3 I prefer "cunty" music made by women rather than gay men or trans women (Love y'all too dw.) It just feels more authentic to me if you know what I mean, I can't properly like describe it for some reason but just trust me it's not because I hate that group of people. (I hate everyone equally !!!) I'm a medical NERD, my favorite medical dramas are HOUSE!!! HOUSE I LOVE YOU HOUSE PLS ADOPT ME AND TEACH ME EVERYTHING HE'S THE ICON PLEASE PLEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE. He's funny and I love his way of thinking. (I just realized we have the same personality type live laugh love that!!) My personality does kind of differ online due to the character limits on tumblr, because if it were up to me every one of these sections would have 5 different paragraphs per thing thank you. I'm an honors student idk if thats shocking to anyone but yea. This also probably will be more shitposting based just random takes from my perspective like reviews on starbucks drinks and just random events. the format is probably going to be more like, diary like idk? its just me posting my thoughts and leaving it out for you all more anonymously if ykwim? I was bullied all of my elementary years over a single unsanitary habit I had. (Picking my nose, like everyone made a point to leave me out due to this. EVERYONE collectively even when i stopped it still happened.) I'm insanely delusional not in a cute or quirky way like "omg he likes me guys" like no, I convinced myself for a month that I had schizophrenia even though I had 0 symptoms or auditory hallucinations or visual hallucinations. I did constant research and found myself on schizophrenia tiktok. Like dawg is trippin fr fr, overthinking and analyzing every little thing is my favorite hobby, so is daydreaming!! One time during a finance class I had I daydreamed that I was a single mom who lived a walking distance from the beach and I had the job i'm going for in the medical field. I loved that daydream so much, would've preferred to have a partner ngl.

Thanks so much for reading, apologies for it being so long my mind is so rampant and i have so much to say and so much input to give that it kind of gets hard to put it in simple sentences. If you're similar to me please follow and moot me or wtv yall do on tumblr I love people with similar mindsets and aspirations it makes me wanna do better in order to keep up.

[avocado-frog]

Anyways ghosts in my wip since I'm thinkin about them (@steh-lar-uh-nuhs since you asked to be tagged lol)

ghost post time:

(cw for a lot of death mention. parent death)

Dylan's magic was kinda vague in forget me not (book one not series) but the general gist was something along the lines of they can control dreams to a certain extent and can sense when somebody is going to die (foreshadowed elliot) (and leo apparently???) but also when I reread it, Dylan is actually BARELY in any of the chapters at all. They don't have a line until well after halfway through even though they showed up in like chapter six

SO dahlia (book two) has a lot more Dylan in it which is great stunning showstopping i love them. Unrelated but looking back the lack of Dylan was definitely why I didn't know what I was doing with characterizing them. <3 DYLAN <3

Before this becomes a dylan appreciation post, the stuff Dylan can do is more expanded on in Dahlia, and includes: -A sort of healing magic that Cass can't do, which is why Elliot is okay even without Cass -That healing magic is that they can handle more advanced injuries (elliot's stab wound, life threatening injuries) while Cass can only do sprains and cuts and bruises -Possession -Necromancy apparently -Possession is what Dylan says is why they could hypothetically raise the dead, if they could wake up Elliot. A post for another time

I've said that Elliot's dream world thing is based on Omori, and in Omori, Mari is like. may or may not be a ghost who is real but you'll never know because Sunny hallucinates often. Same thing for Elliot. Same mechanics

In forget me not Elliot claims to see his mother in the graveyard, right by where her grave would be. There's no realistic way for him to KNOW where that was, unless he is aware that that is where dead people go. So like Mari omori it's ambiguous whether Elliot was actually seeing her or if he was just hallucinating. And in the dream world, Olivia is noted by Dylan to have a scar across her neck, even though Elliot would not want any reminders of her death in what is supposed to be a safe area, hence why the reminders of his two Big Traumas are upstairs in separate rooms. And Olivia is the most sentient of the dream world characters aside from Lucas (who is btw dream world Leo) and Cass. Everyone else is scripted by Elliot. Olivia seems to be knowing what's going on

So what I'm saying is that dream world Olivia like headspace Mari MIGHT just be a ghost. hypothetically

Also in forget me not, I think that at one point Leo claims to feel a hand on her shoulder

ALSO ABOUT LEO: she gets her own little dream section in rosemary where she sees Olivia, despite having not known her

It's still left pretty ambiguous in what I have of rosemary so far. But Jaxon witnesses several deaths, Leo's, who isn't really dead, but he doesn't know that, Maria's, a woman who he accidentally got killed in chapter four and a boy who he sees the execution of. He sees all of them, as well as a boy who he doesn't know but who IS in fact his brother. Again, whether or not they're real is vague because Leo is not dead, but he does see one that he doesn't know

My OTHER dead character is Jasmine, Logan's sister who has Not made an appearance yet but she should be allowed to. She haunts Logan's character arc at the very least. Also maybe Dylan's

tldr if ghosts were real and canon, they are in people's dreams. Dylan and Elliot might be able to raise the dead but I'm not going to dwell on that because that is a whole other plot

This post was brought to you by me wondering how Olivia would interact with the other kids, and me being sad about her death again

[stained-glass-cicada]

Here have like 400 words of unresolved Taagnus angst that I found in my docs that made me so upset I finished writing it

Fair warning Taakitz mention

Pulling Teeth

---

The only thing Taako trusted was Lup. She was gravity. She was a fact. 

When Davenport had brought them in for an interview it was hardly a question. Bond that strong could damn near jumpstart the engine on it's on. The only tough part of it was connecting to the others. It came to Lup naturally, she was like that.

Taako wasn't withholding on purpose it was just… when one person is your Always in a bunch of messy Yes-then-No's then the Always sorta becomes everything.

Point being that those five friendships were things Taako fought tooth and nail for against every bone deep instinct and well-rooted fear embroidered into the edges of his magic. 

He peeled open his sorry skin for these people and gotten his heart carved out for it. Without so much as a thought his past had been pried open and stripped of all but misery. All for some goal of-

It- 

It wasn't just about losing Lup.

That alone would be enough though. Enough for him to never bother sawing open his ribs for anyone else if he could help it.

But then there was Magnus.

“Taako,” Magnus tried when he finally managed to catch Taako alone.

“Mm? If you need help trying you shoes I'm a little busy right now pumpkin,” the condescension in his tone would have been enough to make anyone else back off with a flinch that Taako would try to forget before he next saw them.

Magnus didn't flinch, “I'm sorry.”

Taako ignored him.

“Ko, she meant the world to me,” he explained, twisting the ring on his finger that was scratched to high hell after years of adventuring. Taako never would have made him worry about losing a ring.

Taako set his jaw.

This finally started to crack at Magnus's kindness, “Dont just fucking- I'm trying here Taako, don't just ignore me.”

“I'm being a patient listener,” Taako shot back, “I'm waiting for you to get to your point.”

Magnus snapped, “I wasn't the only one who Had Someone. How's the grim reaper by the way? It's a damn shame he and I didn't get to catch up after he tried to murder us.”

“Oh he's real good, Maggie. And how’s the perfect goddamn life in Raven's Roost? How's the missus?”

Taako knew it was too far before he said it but for a sadistic split second he wanted to see Magnus's face fall.

It was a crap victory.

Magnus turned and walked out.

They didn't see each other for five months after that. And when they did they pretended nothing happened.

That's what Lucretia took from him.

[yuu-kumeii]

˚₊‧꒰ა Let's Cherish Every Moment We Spend Together ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

┈ ⋞ 〈 FIRST OF ALL . . . 〉 ⋟ ┈

ೃ⁀➷ I'D LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE ᰔᩚ

╰┈➤ For reading my works and following me ❣ Honestly, I never thought I'd get this many followers ❀(*´▽`*)❀ Definitely thought I'd be screaming my headcanons and ideas into the void... But ever since I wrote those first 3 pieces, the amount of attention they got was way bigger than I thought it'd be Σ(゜゜) and while I know that ideas like my kiss-o-meter fic were one in a million, I hope you guys can stick around for the other 19237 ideas I have ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

ೃ⁀➷ THANKS ESPECIALLY TO MY MUTUALS 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

╰┈➤ Even if I don't say it often (or at all for that matter) I hope you know that I genuinely appreciate you guys for being my friend on this little app I downloaded on a whim (* ´ω` *) I'll try my best to interact with you guys more and send random asks just to have a chat if you'd have me ❣ Love you guys and I hope we can get to know each other a little more each day ♡

┈ ⋞ 〈 NOW THE REAL SHOW STARTS . . .〉 ⋟ ┈

ೃ⁀➷ WELCOME ONE AND ALL, TO A PLACE WHERE NO SCENARIO IS MERE FANTASY

╰┈➤ In this realm, you will be able to live out the moments you've always dreamed of! Loving a prince? Sharing stories over an enchanted tea party? Whatever you imagine, it will play out right here with you as the protagonist ᰔᩚ

╰┈➤ THE RULES OF THIS REALM ARE LAID OUT AS FOLLOWS...

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❥ THIS EVENT WILL LAST UNTIL DECEMBER 25TH, ANY REQUESTS MADE AFTER THE END DATE WILL NOT BE WRITTEN!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❥ Finding the magic in the mundane is our theme this time, though this may change the next time the realm opens up ❣

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❥ Feel free to pick out any combination of prompts from the lists provided!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❥ Don't forget to state which character you'd like to be your male lead ♡

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❥ If you can, please be more descriptive in your request to make things easier for our playwright

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❥ Although my usual rules apply, they might be a little more lenient for this event

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❥ Not all scenarios will be available on the lists so if you have an idea that is similar to the theme, feel free to add them in your request to see if it's acceptable!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❥ Example of a request, "Hi there! Can I request Kenma + 3 for prompt + 17 for au with fem reader?"

┈ ⋞ 〈 TAKE YOUR PICK . . .〉 ⋟ ┈

ೃ⁀➷ AU LIST

╰┈➤ Pick and choose the world around you! What jobs would you have? What relationships do you foster? Where do you find one another? So many questions...!

ೃ⁀➷ PROMPT LIST (QUOTES AND IDEAS)

╰┈➤ Get as crafty as you'd like dear audience, there's so many ways you can turn your relationship upside down! Or would you rather it be on the right side up? Your choice!

ೃ⁀➷ A SPECIAL TREAT (SIMPLE DRAWING REQUESTS)

╰┈➤ Your creations are your greatest treasures and they are all your own! Any original characters you have could be brought to life, if you'd let this humble costume designer do so...

Again, thank you so much to everyone for helping me reach this 300 follower milestone! This one's for all of you, so please enjoy!

[medium-bloodcrafter-scion]

"Bright, Golden Eyes" - A short Natasia Kane fanfic

This is my first fanfic ever, and I decided to be really really brave and share it with you all. I was just gripped suddenly by how flippin' sad Natasia's story is, and while in that headspace decided to write this down. My repetition of the phrase "bright golden eyes" is meant to evoke that feeling of a memory that you desperately want to hold onto, but it fades over time leaving only a strong imprint. Please be nice, I'm a novice writer and shy ☺️.

--—-------------------------------

Bright golden eyes that mirrored my own gazed up at me. Clever eyes. Perceptive eyes. Eyes that bore into my soul and seemed to know me more than I knew myself.

I knew I was pregnant well before the obvious signs showed up. I felt it in the aether, almost like magic was calling him when he was barely a bunch of cells.

I tried to keep him away from this world, even though he was made for it. Tried to capture those short years of innocence in a bottle and keep them safe.

But he was a precocious and curious baby. Even crawling, he found his way straight to my pile of grimoires, chubby fingers exploring the worn leather, bright golden eyes filled with wonder.

He found me at my altar during meditations. Climbed into my lap as I chanted, gazed up at me with bright golden eyes, willing me to take him on my astral journeys.

He wasn't a smiley child. Almost like he understood his mission. Understood the world of rules and rank, deprivation and darkness that he was made for.

He spoke early, wore me out with questions upon questions. So I gave him books - not "first words" books, no - real books, with big words and adult stories. I taught him everything I knew, answered all his questions.

His busy mind craved more, so I gave him music. I'll never forget the joy in those bright golden eyes when I gave him his violin. I ran my fingers through his blackest black curls as he gazed down at the instrument in its case. He looked up at me with a happy little grin, the most precious gift.

Seven years elapsed just like that. He sat in the grass on a sunny June afternoon, bright golden eyes focused on the whirlpools of aether that danced in his palms. Easy as pie, far better than some twice his age.

I went into the house, closed myself in a cupboard and broke into a billion pieces.

"Mom, why were you crying?" he asked, concern in his bright golden eyes. I wept harder - his Merlin ears had heard me from outside, and Merlin speed had brought him to me in seconds.

I was bitter. They had won.

I'd given them what they wanted - the "progeny of my carefully crafted line" - and now they would discard me. I wondered, what lie will they tell about me this time?

And so he was taken from me, not a day late.

...

Now he's been brought back.

But gone are the bright golden eyes. The curious, playful eyes.

Oh no no. These eyes are the colour of blood upon blood, hungry for misery and pain and grief. Mercurial, sly, and ever perceptive.

My most cherished dream, now my worst nightmare come to life.

Once again, I'm broken in a billion pieces. How will I piece myself together enough to bring back my boy with the bright golden eyes?