#casting evil spells and whatever the fuck

[mymreaderlibrary]

Do you think Durge likes gnolls because they too were made/ born from a corpse?

[relia-robot-writes]

I am the Princess in the Tower.

You know, people hear that, and they say, "Oh, that poor Princess, she must be so lonesome up there. Some cruel fate must have befallen her, to be trapped so."

It's true, to a certain extent. I am lonesome. There's no shortage of princes and princesses - I have to wonder where they all come from - who come to try to rescue me from my captivity. None of them ever get particularly close, of course. The Tower is surrounded by a dark and tangled wood, monsters of flesh and stone stalk the grounds, invisible barriers and devious traps block all entry, and even if they got to the base of the Tower, they'd have to figure out how to climb up a sheer, frictionless vertical surface while automatically triggered fireballs rained down upon them... it's pretty well defended, is what I'm trying to say. Every single one of them gets sent packing, cursing the wizard who built the Tower and imprisoned me.

Which is, you know, pretty funny, when you get right down to it.

I mean, it's only natural to assume that, right? Wizards are mysterious, they pop in and out all the time. If one decides to suddenly vanish one day, well, he's probably just off calculating the angles of reality, or whatever, he'll be back. And if a girl appears in his Tower, well, of course he kidnapped a Princess for his own unfathomable wizard purposes.

It hardly matters that there aren't any kingdoms missing a Princess.

I don't correct them, anyway. It's safer for me if nobody knows who I am, or how I've changed. Safety was, after all, why I built the Tower in the first place. You think wizards do this for fun? Out in the middle of nowhere, forced to conjure food and water? Having to walk up and down twenty flights of stairs if I feel like going outside?

Wizards build towers when they are scared shitless.

See, I cast this divination spell when I was an apprentice, and I fucked it up. It constantly shows me visions of my own doom...

Not buying it?

Well, there was this devil, see, and I tricked him into thinking I'd signed my soul away, so now he stalks me forever, seeking vengeance through the very shadows themselves...

No good?

Well, I was cursed as a wee babe, and now all the world is my enemy, from the mightiest warrior to the softest blade of grass, and each one thirsts for my blood!

...I would have died to that one, like, immediately, huh.

Okay. Fine. I'm just... a coward. I built my Tower as far away from everything and everyone that could possibly do me harm as I could. I studied magic because it felt like the best way to avoid any and all hard work, conflict, and danger. I held off on telling anyone anything about who I truly was or what I wanted until I felt I could be absolutely safe.

And still, with "rescuers" at my door just waiting for my hand, I can't bear to look at them. The idea of one even getting close enough to attempt to climb the Tower (it's happened more than once) is terrifying. I could ask them to stop, but who would believe me? "Yes, I, the Princess in the Tower, am totes fine, please go away forever thanks, I am not an evil wizard." That'd go over well.

There's another princess that just made her way through the Woods and slayed one of my constructs. She'll be at the Tower base soon. She's got really pretty hair

I wish

I hope that you

Please don't

I'm writing this down here, and then I'm gonna go hide. If you're reading this,

The blue-armored princess flipped the paper over to the other side. It was blank. Her hair smoldered from the fireball she'd almost dodged, and she drummed her fingers on the hilt of her blade as she reread the first side. Aside from the paper, the room - and, indeed, the entire interior of the Tower - seemed completely empty.

[hoshifighting]

        joshua + succubus

— where joshua mistakenly casts the wrong spell when he seeks to change his sin... or the church future.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, may be triggering because of; church setting/frequenters, blasphemy, spells, putting fire in a church, death of the priest, evoking... oral [f & m rec.], overstimulation, handjob, 69, voyeur?

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

everyone in town grew up hearing about joshua hong like he was a saint. some sort of small-town legend—always knew the way around a bible verse, a songbook, and even the church basement after hours, or so they’ve been told. he had a gift, they said, a pure voice.

but...

not even a choir robe could hide the sharp look in his eyes when he stepped up to the altar, like he had too many secrets crammed into the folds. sunday morning services turned into something else entirely the second he stepped up, like the stained glass started burning in place of the candles, bending light, and casting shadows that shouldn’t exist.

sitting in the pew, you’d see him up there, dressed in his sunday best — button-down, lips pressed together in a way that was almost humble. his head would tilt forward just enough to hide the smirk that played at the corner of his mouth as the old priest—grumbling, worn down, all fire and brimstone—launched into another lecture about the evils of the world. drinking, indulgence, lust—the usual list of sins. but every time that old man leaned into his condemnation, you could see joshua’s jaw clench, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the pew in front of him. it was like he wanted to swallow the whole world in a single bite.

“there’s nothin’ good for a soul in drink,” the priest would say, spitting the words like they burned his tongue. “and lust… that’s a sickness of the mind. devil creeps in, fills a man’s heart with filthy thoughts—turns him against god, the creator.” joshua’s stare never wavered, but you could feel the tension rolling off him, like he was daring the priest to say more, waiting for the words to hit him like stones.

he caught you looking one day, your gaze sliding over to him as he sat a few pews over. his fingers, idly drumming on the wood, froze, and for a second, you swear his eyes turned crimson under the dim light filtering in from the stained glass. he tilted his head, his lips quirking up into a smirk that made your pulse stutter, like it was haunted. your throat went dry. it was almost impossible to look away.

and you weren’t the only one. everyone saw him as the golden boy, the one who could’ve been a priest himself if he’d chosen the right path, but they were blind. they didn’t see the way he held onto that anger, that fire, waiting for a spark to set him off. and one sunday, he snapped.

it was after service, and the priest, tired and cranky, muttered something as joshua passed him on the way out—something cruel, harsh.

maybe about how joshua was nothing but a disappointment.

maybe about how the devil had gotten into him after all.

you saw the moment those words registered, saw joshua stop mid-step, his whole body going rigid. he turned, slowly, his eyes dark, and you swear, it was like he’d finally embraced whatever sin had been simmering beneath the surface all this time.

“you know, father,” he said, with a smile that sent a chill through you, “maybe you should take a look at your own fucking sins first.”

the priest’s face went pale, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say. joshua didn’t wait for an answer; he turned on his heel, leaving the church in stunned silence, a chill lingering in the air long after he’d gone.

it was no surprise to see him that night, later, drinking at the town’s only bar, his tie pulled loose, the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

you’d followed him in the shadows, watching him with all the patience of a vulture perched high on a branch. he had no idea you were there, tucked behind the columns, lingering just long enough to see him slip into the priest’s presbytery, his hands loaded with strange things. you counted—bottles, little glass jars, peppers, a bundle of herbs that smelled sharp even from a distance, and the oldest book you’d ever seen in his hand. the leather was cracked, practically crumbling, pages threatening to slip out like secrets waiting to spill.

he moved silently. you’d seen him look confident before, sure and smug, but tonight he was focused, his eyes darting between the shadows like he was hoping no one would see, yet craving an audience just the same.

inside his room, he crouched on the floor, that book already spread open to an ancient drawing. his hands were steady as he sprinkled salt, placing red candles at the points of a carefully drawn chalk circle. he leaned over the candles, muttering words you could barely hear but knew familiarly, words that were older than him, than the priest, than the church itself, than the floor he was kneeling on.

joshua’s breath hitched when he looked down, afraid, but shining bright enough to catch in the candlelight.

“if you’re listening…” he murmured. “if you’re… there… i’m ready.”

you were right there, watching the way his fingers lingered over the edge of the circle, his pupils blown wide, nervous. you’d waited so long for this, so long to hear that, to feel the pull of his words like an invitation. you stepped out of the shadows, letting yourself fall into the circle he’d made, knowing full well he wasn’t expecting you.

probably a red man with a long pointy tail and red short horns.

“finally,” you breathed, your voice curling around him, echoing against the walls. his head snapped up, and you let him drink you in, every inch of you framed in the candlelight, every detail in that sinful burgundy hue. your wings stretched out, soft and dark, each feather trailing a shadow across the floor. your hips were draped in a dark cloth, barely enough to cover you, hanging low like some kind of ancient offering. his eyes lingered on your bare chest for a long second, lips parting as if he were on the verge of saying something but couldn’t find the words.

he swallowed, throat bobbing as he finally met your eyes—fear. “who… who are you?” he asked, voice trembling just enough to give him away, his fingers gripping the edge of the book like it could save him.

you smirked, letting the tension stretch, savoring the way he looked at you. “you called me, didn’t you?” your voice was somehow mean, soft as silk. “shouldn’t you know?”

he faltered, eyes darting to the floor. “i… i was just—i wasn’t really… i didn’t mean—”

“liar.” you leaned in, stepping closer, feeling the power of the circle around you and knowing it did nothing to stop you from reaching him. “you knew exactly what you were doing. drawing symbols. lighting candles. whispering to the shadows.” you traced the lines of his circle with your finger, watching him shiver as you stepped even closer.

his gaze flickered, still trying to hold onto something, even as his eyes betrayed him, wide and unclear. “i… wanted to change things,” he admitted. “to be something… more. something… not this.”

“oh, i know, joshua,” you cooed, your fingers brushing his cheek, making him flinch just slightly before he leaned into your touch, he felt his cheek burn, but nothing that would make him flinch, he drawn in despite himself. “you don’t want to be caged under choir robes and commandments, do you? you don’t want a life spent in confession for sins you haven’t even enjoyed yet.”

his breath hitched, eyes flickering between your face and the empty space behind you, like he was scared to admit just how right you were. “no… i don’t.”

you smiled, letting your wings fan out, blocking the candles light, making the room feel smaller. “then why don’t you tell me what you do want? after all, you went through all this trouble just to bring me here. be honest, and i might just give it to you.”

he hesitated, but only for a second, the words slipping from his lips as if he couldn’t hold them back. “i want… freedom,” he breathed, eyes dropping to your bare skin. “i want to be more than they say i can be.”

you scoff, the sound sharp, almost mocking, and you lean in closer, fingers gripping his jaw, forcing him to look right into your eyes. “only that?” your voice carrying a note of amused disbelief, as if his words were too small, too insignificant, for the significance of what you knew boiled underneath his skin. you study him with a predator’s patience, your eyes gleaming with something he can’t name but can feel—an energy, ancient and alive, running over him like wildfire.

he tries to look away, but you hold him steady, your gaze locking him in place. “no, joshua. i know what you really want.” your tone is cool, as if the truth were something so obvious it barely needed mentioning, yet you keep pressing, your grip tightening just enough to make his pulse race. “so tell me,” you whisper, voice velvet-soft but rigid. “say it. all of it.”

his eyes dart back to yours, wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in something he barely understands. you peer deeper, pushing past the surface, into the mess of memories buried under layers of carefully guarded guilt and regret. images rush forth, spilling over his mind in a dizzying flash—the protests, the shame, the whispering voices that treated him like an abomination, an exile in his own church, those bruises that lined his skin when they dragged him into that freezing back room, candles burning low as they tried to “drive the devil out.” you see it all, his anger, his humiliation, his bruised skin, each memory stoking a spark of rage that had been smoldering inside him for years.

as the memories pulse within him, a sharp surge of anger claws its way to the surface, and when you finally release him, he’s left panting, breath shaky, but his gaze locked on you. his eyes now, raw, broken, and beautiful.

your eyes narrow, the challenge clear. “tell me,” you say, voice soft as a lover’s but hard as steel, “what do you really want?”

“revenge.” the word leaves his lips like a curse, his voice steady, eyes blazing, as if he’d finally named the thing that had been haunting him all along.

your smile is slow, almost indulgent, and you spread your wings wide, casting shadows across the room, a gust of wind kicks up, but the candles don’t go out; the flames only leap higher, twisting and dancing, casting strange shadows across his face.

you rise, hovering just above him, looking down, every inch of you framed in crimson candlelight. “then i will give you what you seek, joshua,” you murmur, your voice echoing like a promise woven in silk and smoke. “but remember, nothing comes free. once this is done, your soul is bound to me, by your own hand.” your wings flare, feathers dark as midnight, and the gusts around him grow wilder. “take your revenge, claim your freedom… but know, when it’s over, you will belong to me.”

and before he can protest, before he can speak another word, you’re gone, the candles flickering wildly before settling, leaving him alone, the silence as heavy as your words.

[...]

the next day, he moves through it like a ghost, his mind still trapped in the events of the night before. he’s haunted, every detail replaying in his mind over and over, the way your gaze had burned through him, the way his own anger had finally tasted like liberation on his tongue. he drifts through work, the town, barely noticing the world around him, his thoughts thick with questions he doesn’t dare to speak aloud. even as the day fades to night, the feeling only grows stronger, a dark anticipation coiled in his chest.

[...]

and then, as he finally makes his way home, the darkness settling over the quiet neighborhood, a strange glow catches his eye—a fierce, unnatural brightness in the distance, stretching across the night sky. his pulse quickens, an inexplicable dread settling in his stomach.

he turns the corner, his steps slowing as he sees it—flames, consuming the church, roaring high and wide, a blazing inferno lighting up the neighborhood in a hellish glow. smoke billows up in thick, dark clouds, the spire silhouetted against the blaze, cracked and crumbling.

people are shouting, gathering around in shock and horror, but joshua stands frozen, his gaze fixed on the church, heart pounding, as the full weight of it crashes over him. the fire devours the building, the windows shattering, flames licking higher, stretching like fingers into the night. he doesn’t need to ask whose hand is behind it. he knows, deep down, who’s responsible, and that knowledge settles over him like a dark, terrible satisfaction.

the flames roar, a searing nightmare set against the quiet night, and joshua stands alone, watching it burn—a vision of destruction, liberation, and a hellish beauty he’ll carry with him forever.

the whispers ripple through the crowd like a dark prayer, people scrambling in horror, voices trembling. “the priest,” someone gasps, “he was inside— hey saw him doing some ritual.”

and there, almost tangible against the hellish glow, a shadow moves—dark wings, massive and stretching wide, the shadow of something that shouldn’t exist. he inhales sharply, the cigarette flaring as he sucks in a long drag, the smoke curling in his lungs before he exhales it with a steady calm. the scene is chaotic, unreal.

he flicks the cigarette aside, watching the ashes scatter, and turns on his heel, making his way back home with each step feeling heavier, a pull calling him to do the thing he’d barely dared to think of all day.

his room is cold when he gets there, shadows draping every corner. the books are still scattered from last night, red candle wax hardening into crimson pools against the floor. he traces the chalk lines he’d drawn on the floorboards, his fingers ghosting over the symbol, all again.

he lights each candle, the flames flickering to life as though eager to obey, casting an ominous glow around the room. he steps into the center of the circle, letting his breaths steady, closing his eyes as he speaks the incantation from memory, each syllable like a stone sinking into dark waters.

“come to me,” he murmurs. “come back to me.”

the flames stretch higher, bending, flickering wildly as if caught in an unseen wind, and a warm gust of air fills the room, carrying a scent of musk and wine, like a forbidden feast laid bare.

and then she appears—you, draped in shadows, eyes sharp and gleaming, lips curved in that knowing smile. your wings stretch behind you, rich, deep wine-colored feathers unfurling like a promise of something darkly seductive. you step into the light, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off your skin, the thin fabric wrapped around your hips swaying, your chest bare, unapologetically bare.

“couldn’t stay away?” your voice is a purr, you tilt your head, watching him, a smirk tugging at the edge of your lips. “miss me already?”

he swallows, throat tight. “yeah,” he breathes, voice barely a rasp. “guess you could say that. i just…” he stammers, but you don’t let him finish.

“you want me?” you whisper, your voice like silk wrapping around him, pulling him in. “you want to feel what it’s like to be consumed. to give yourself over completely, to let go of all that shame, all that guilt.” your hand finds his jaw, tilting his head up so he has no choice but to meet your gaze, your eyes dark and blazing, pulling him in like a spell. “wnat me to take it all off hm? say it.”

“yes,” he breathes, the words escape, feeling your energy pulling the words from the center of his belly, to the throat to leave his lips. “yes, i want you.”

your smile widens, predatory, victorious. “good boy,” you murmur, pressing closer until he can feel every curve, every inch of you. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

and with that, you close the distance, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s hot, literally, his mind shining red in alert, when your feverish lips touches his. he melts into it, his hands finding your waist, fingers curling into the soft, warm flesh.

you break away, lips a hair’s breadth from his, “you know,” you murmur, “i’ll need you to feed me…” your hand slides lower, teasing the waistband of his pants, fingers brushing skin. “…regularly.”

“feed you?” he breathes, almost dazed.

“oh, yes,” you purr, hand tracing circles against his skin, watching as his breath quickens. “you think you can handle that? keeping me satisfied, keeping me fed?” your wings stretch wide behind you, the room seeming smaller. “because once you start, there’s no going back. im asking you.”

he nods, “yes… yes, anything.”

“good,” you murmur, trailing a finger along his jaw, the faintest hint of claws grazing his skin. “then let’s begin.”

you smirked, eyes flickering over him as you let him sink back onto the sheets, his body folding into your grip, already trembling. you settle between his legs, is delicious—he’s yours, and every inch of him knows it. he’s breathless already, eyes wide, that flush creeping up his neck, his chest, as he watches you, his lips part like he’s going to say something, but no words come out; only the sharp intake of breath when you lick a slow, lazy line along his length, tasting him, testing him—he didn't even noticed when he got naked.

“fuck—” he chokes out, voice breaking a little as you close your mouth around him, pulling him deep, deeper, feeling his thighs tense as he fights to keep his cool.

you start slow, drawing him out inch by inch, taking your time , your tongue tracing along every ridge, every sensitive spot. his hands find the sheets, fingers curling into the fabric, gripping like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered.

“shit, you’re—hmpf!—” his head falls back, a hand flying to cover his mouth, but it only muffles the noise, that groan that you feel all the way down your spine.

you pull back slightly, your lips leaving his length with a soft pop, looking up at him through dark, hooded eyes, letting him feel every bit of your gaze. “you’re not holding back on me now, are you?” you taunt, dragging a nail along his thigh, feeling the shiver it sends up his body. “you moan like that, and then want to go quiet on me?” you arch a brow, leaning back in to kiss along his length, your mouth hot and wet against him.

“n-no,” he stammers, voice strained, raw, his hips lifting almost instinctively, chasing the heat of your mouth. “just—fuck—‘s just, good, you’re…” he trails off, words lost as he watches you, mesmerized by the way your lips slide over him, taking him deeper, the wet heat of your mouth surrounding him, making his eyes roll back, half-lidded in bliss.

and then you pull him even deeper, not stopping until he’s hitting the back of your throat, and his grip on the sheets tightens, a strangled noise escaping his throat as he’s overcome. you barely pull back, your throat working around him, swallowing, keeping that pressure right where he’s most sensitive. you let the sound of his moans fill the room, rough and needy, giving into every filthy urge he’s been fighting, every ounce of resistance leaving his body in broken gasps.

“goddamn—oh, shit—fuck,” he moans, and his hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, his breathing ragged as he struggles to keep from losing it entirely. “you’re—fuck, you’re perfect—”

you hum around him, sending vibrations up his length that make his hips buck, and it’s like he’s completely losing control, lost in the heat of you, in the way you take him so well, so completely, each moan and broken word only pushing him further over the edge. he’s watching you, lips parted, eyes darkening with every second as you pick up the pace, sucking him down with a hunger that feels almost endless.

“please, don’t stop—please don’t fucking stop,” he gasps, voice strained, so close to unraveling, to giving himself over completely. you feel the way he twitches, his body tightening, every muscle straining as he comes under you, every noise he makes only pushing you to take him deeper, to give him exactly what he wants, and then some.

as he watches you, the cloth around your hips slips as you wiggle your hips behind you, arched enough for him to see it, falling away, and his eyes widen, the sight of you bare, only fueling the heat that’s been burning in him since the second he called you here. the sight of you, perfect and sinful, is the last thing he needs—he can’t hold back any longer, his body surrendering, his moans filling the room as you take everything from him, leaving him a shaking, gasping mess, and every bit of him completely, irrevocably yours.

you straighten up, hands wrapping tight around his cock, and he’s instantly a mess. the second you touch him, he’s damn near choking on air, chest heaving, already so wrecked he can’t do a thing but let his head fall back, mouth open, that desperate look on his face as you work him over. your grip’s relentless, unforgiving, just the way he secretly craves, even if he’d never admit it. his cock's turning red, sensitive as hell, veins pulsing with every slick, rough twist of your hand.

“been watching you, you know,” you murmur. “always been mine, haven’t you? my boy.”

“shit—fuck—oh god,” he whimpers, his voice cracking as he chokes out a moan, hands gripping the sheets like it’s all too much.

you don’t stop, fingers curling tighter, dragging along his length, making sure he feels every word you’re spitting. “they didn’t deserve you,” you hiss, watching the way his eyes squeeze shut. “had to get rid of them, had to burn it all down.”

he’s reacting to your words—his back’s arching, muscles in his neck strained, veins popping, and it’s like every filthy thing you say just hits him right where he’s weakest. it goes straight to his cock, and he’s bucking up into your hand, practically crying from the overstimulation, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he gasps for breath.

“you’re—fuck, i can’t—please,” he’s barely coherent, voice high and desperate, choking out those pleas as he’s pushed to the limit, and you just grin, leaning down to watch his face, relishing every twitch, every gasp, every broken noise he makes.

“aw, poor baby,” you taunt, “thought you could handle this? thought you wanted it rough?”

you smirk, and he’s too far gone to even notice—he’s never let himself get like this, not for anyone else. but the way you’ve got him, held tight in your grip, overstimulated? yeah, he’s losing it, every single sound bouncing back at him in the room, practically echoing in his ears.

“keep it down, baby,” you whisper, running a finger along his cheek, and he nods weakly, but the second you twist your wrist, another choked moan rips out of him, even louder than before. you just shake your head, letting out a low chuckle. “can’t, huh? can’t even stay quiet for me?”

he’s a mess, squirming beneath you, eyes rolling back, face flushed, every inch of him screaming for you. it’s like he’s breaking apart under your touch, and you’ve barely even started. letting your hands leave his cock, you slide up his body, giving him just enough time to catch his breath as you settle above him, letting him take in the view. you straddle his chest, guiding his hands to your hips with a smirk that’s anything but innocent.

“ready for me?” you murmur, watching him nod, his face shifting into something else entirely, his lips parting as you lift your hips just enough to hover over his mouth. “then don’t waste a second.”

you lower yourself down, letting him feel every bit of that heat, that wetness, and he immediately loses himself, his mouth working against you like he’s starved, tongue diving in with a kind of hunger that’s absolutely wild. he’s not holding back in the slightest, he’s good—like he’s been waiting for this, like every touch, every noise he’s making, is just for you.

he’s moaning again, hands clutching at your hips, pulling you down closer, practically burying his face in you—it’s like he can’t get enough. his tongue slides up, swirling around your clit, making your breath hitch, your thighs trembling as you let out a gasp. and the taste of you? it’s got him hooked, that sweetness lingering on his tongue, almost unreal, like nothing he’s ever tasted before.

“you’re…fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbles between sucks, his voice muffled, needy. and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate—just dives back in, sucking and licking like his life depends on it, hands squeezing your hips to keep you steady as he works his tongue over you, slow and then fast, like he’s learning exactly how to push you higher.

“yeah? you like it?” you taunt, breathless, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, that delicious sound sending a pulse straight to your core. you can feel yourself getting closer, that tension building in your stomach with every pass of his tongue, every desperate pull of his lips.

he’s got his eyes closed now, completely lost, his whole world narrowed down to the taste of you, the heat of you pressed against his mouth. he’s moving almost frantically, mouth working over you like he’s drinking you down, your hips grinding against him as you ride that perfect rhythm. it’s like he’s matching your pace, following every gasp, every moan, his mouth locked onto your clit, sucking just right, and you can’t hold back, the pleasure building, coiling tight in your stomach.

you gasp, hands fisting in the sheets as you let go, your back arching, thighs clenching around his head as he keeps going, milking every last drop of pleasure out of you. you can feel him groaning beneath you, desperate, like the taste of you is driving him insane. and as you come down, catching your breath, you finally look down at him—completely wrecked, lips swollen, face flushed, and those eyes, dark and hungry, locked onto you like he’s still starving, like he’d give anything to keep you there.

“oh, we have a visitor?” you mumble, a smirk creeping onto your lips as you glance back at joshua, who’s gone pale in an instant.

joshua looks behind you, eyes wide as he spots the priest’s soul lurking in the corner of the room, a dark shadow flickering against the walls. the atmosphere shifts, heavy with tension, and you can practically feel joshua’s heart pounding in his chest.

“what the hell, no—get out of here!” joshua stammers, scrambling to cover himself, but you just chuckle.

you laugh lightly, the sound almost musical, and the priest's essence flickers violently, unable to withstand the force of your magic. the priest’s soul wavers, he starts to fade, his form growing dimmer.

with one final flick of your wrist, you send the priest’s soul spiraling into nothingness, the air around you stilling as silence falls. you turn back to joshua.

“i’m gonna be haunted for days, aren’t i?” joshua mutters, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances at the spot where the priest’s soul had been.

you can’t help but laugh. “don’t worry about it. you can be the small spoon.”

he shoots you a side-eye, clearly not convinced.

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

"It's so unfair to the Rat Grinders that they are killed instantly and the Bad Kids get to roll death saves." SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUP

THIS IS LONG, AND HONESTLY FOR MYSELF, SO YEAH READ IF YOU WANT

I swear to god, this discourse is going to fucking be the end of me. Idk what kind of mind boggling spell Brennan Lee Mulligan wove into the fabric of the universe that spread through the data center of Dropout in order to absolutely hijack y'all's brains when it comes to Cocklord Assgape and her ragtag of character foils but whatever it was has made you Rat Grinder stans INSUFFERABLE in this site.

The levels of treating fictional characters as if they were real people have reached a level I honestly have never anticipated, to the point of y'all actually being mad AT THE CAST for "mistreating" them and ACTUALLY QUESTION BRENNAN'S CAPACITY TO DM. Do you not get how fucking insane that is?

We can't make fun of Copperkettle, one of the most pathetic, petty and incompetent villains in D20 history anymore (even though she is masterfully written and developed to generate this reaction from us) anymore because it's bullying apparently. I saw an account flip the fuck out because someone compared her rivalry with Kristen to Drake and Kendrick's beef. KIPPERLILY IS NOT A REAL GIRL. SHE IS A MAKE BELIEVE CHARACTER IN AN IMPROV SHOW SPAWNED FROM THE BRAIN OF A 36 YEAR OLD MAN

And then what truly pissed me off the MOST about this whole hell is the fact that, being chronically online avid consumers of this goddamn show, I would think you would have but a grasp of the main cast of characters' characterization.

Why the uproar about Riz saying they should chop Oisin's head off? The same Riz who tortured that pixie from Freshman year by shooting off their finger one by one? The same Riz who murked a disarmed and unconscious Coach Daybreak without battin an eye? The same Riz who ATE THE CORPSE OF KALVAXUS?

And the whole Fabian vs Ivy debacle MY GOD, THE GIRL WAS RACIST TO HIS GIRLFRIEND AND USED HER LAST BREATH TO CALL MAZEY "OBJECTIVELY UGLY". And the funniest thing is that is not even the most unhinged shit he has ever said.

And finally, Death Save Gate: THE RAT GRINDERS ARE NOT PLAYER CHARACTERS. THEY ARE NPCS! THE RULES FOR EACH WORK DIFFERENTLY, ESPECIALLY THEM BEING BOSS ENCOUNTERS. Imagine having to still hit Ivy or Oisin 2 more times to kill them when there is 14 foot tall Porter throwing legendary actions left and right, with Jace, and other 3 spell casters + Mary Ann and KLCK up and running. It's called balancing the fucking game. Also, game masters are entitled to break, mold and make up any rules they want if they find necessary in order to service themselves and their players. IF YOU PLAY WITH ALL THESE RULES AS THEY COME, GOOD FOR YOU AND YOUR TABLE. THIS IS NOT YOUR TABLE.

Not only is Brennan DMing for his CLOSEST FRIENDS EVER, he is also shooting and producing an ENTIRE TV SHOW. So yeah, i think he knows wtf he is doing.

"But the Ratgrinders had no real development": True. But it wasn't for lack of trying from the players. Everytime they tried to know more, the dice didn't let them, so they decided to focus on the mystery. It simply do be like that sometimes.

"But they are just kids!": And so were Penelope, Dayne, Ragh, Zayn, the Bloodrush Players, Aelwyn and Biz. Why wasn't it a problem then? Because most of them were evil to some extent and were about to bring the fucking apocalypse to the world? Yeah, sounds familiar right? And the ones who were manipulated or had any sort of redemption worked their way into earning it, right? Yeah.

In conclusion, I fucking love the Rat Grinders, I truly do, and not unlike 90% of this website, i'm still holding on to hope that they have any sort of development and redemption in the last episode, because I agree, they ARE children and they WERE manipulated by Porter and Jace, but like, can we also agree that they are fucking assholes and had it fucking coming? Also, the BKs are children too y'know. SO STOP BEING FUCKING ANNOYING.

[mommybard]

Happy Halloween~

TW: Identity Erasure a bit, gaslighting, kinda drugging adjacent, bit of breathplay mentioned at the end. As always if these are triggering for you, please avoid <3 Oh sweet dear, you can’t trick or treat in that. You’ll freeze to death with this chill in the air! Why don’t you come in and warm up? I have some treats I made you can help yourself to.

There we go. Isn’t that better? Go on, drink up. I have plenty more tea where that comes from. 

I’ll admit, I’m kind of surprised you came up this way. Most people avoid this old house, with all the rumors. About it being haunted. About it being cursed. About the ‘spooky witch’ who lives here. Don’t act so surprised, I know what they say. But really, do I seem like a witch to you? 

Of course not. Afterall, if I was a mean ol’ witch, wouldn’t you expect me to chase you off while shouting about cursing you? Give you the evil eye while pointing a finger menacingly at you. Or just start throwing potions or whatever's in my cauldron brewing in your direction. 

I would never do any of that, don’t you worry none. No, if I was a witch I’d invite you in to warm up. Get you a nice hot drink. Feed you some snacks. Let you relax and feel comfortable…not even realizing that I slipped a curse into your tea.

But of course that’s not happening right now. You’re not feeling a tingling sensation in your lips. Feeling your thoughts slipping out of your head like sand falling between your fingers. Definitely not finding it harder to think. To remember why you came here. To remember who you are. 

Go, take another sip. Doesn’t that taste good? And that feeling. Nothing really like it is there? Having something warm pressed against your lips. Feeling flavors dance on your tongue. That sensation of the hot liquid pouring down your throat and filling you with that heat.

Now, about that spell you wanted me to cast. Hmm? Poor thing, you don’t remember. See, you came up to visit me again, wanting something special. Life can be difficult. Hard. Stressful. Lots of big brain thinking out there. And you…well, sweetie, you’re a bit of an airhead. I swear half the time there’s nothing between your ears except maybe some bubbles. 

You were very specific. You wanted something to help you relax. Unwind. Not have to deal with all that nonsense out there. And, well, who am I to turn you down? Hmm? A curse? No no, I’d never do that. You can trust me. Why don’t you take another sip and I’ll help you remember. 

So I made a very special one, just for you. Something to take advantage of your oral fixation. Oh now don’t blush like that. You can be open with me. I know all about it darling. Don’t you remember? You told me all about it. All the times you accidentally caught yourself daydreaming about sucking someone off and drooled all over your top. The moments when you’d catch sight of someone’s camel toe or girl bulge and have to rush to the bathroom to touch yourself thinking about servicing them. The hours spent edging yourself stupid as you let a machine fuck your throat relentlessly as you dreamed of working up the courage to handle a gloryhole. 

There there sweetie. That warmth in your head is just the memories coming back to you, that’s all. They might have to push out some of those weird thoughts you had about me cursing you, but really that’s for the best, don’t you think? 

With your fixation…no. Not strong enough. Obsession? Yes, with your obsession in mind, I made a very special spell for you. To enhance your lips. Your tongue. Give your taste buds a boost. Although it does have some side effects. Your toys and fantasies just won’t be enough to satisfy you I’m afraid. You can certainly try, but you’ll end up playing with yourself for hours unable to cum. You’ll have to get more from another person. 

So, I suppose, if you really wanted to, you could leave. Go back out there and have to deal with all that scary big brain stuff. Have to worry about people taking advantage of your new sensitivities. Pulling you into bathrooms and making the suck slut drain their balls. Sneaking you under the desk and making you eat them out over and over again until you can’t get the taste of fresh pussy off your tongue. Humiliating you in public by letting everyone see how drooly you get just from them finger fucking your mouth. 

Or, you could stay here I suppose. I could use a good little cum hungry oral toy to help me out around the house. A good pet who’s throat I can core out and reshape to fit me. Trained to take down every last drop and beg for more. An oral addict who can only get off when they’re on the cusp of passing out because they value my cock more than their ability to breathe. Don’t you think that’s a good idea~?

[thelikesoffinn]

Honestly, Solomon is the type of guy that makes me wanna go full social worker on is arse. Like, what the ever shitting fuck is his damage.

Why the fuck does he hate his nephew this much? Sebastian is trying everything to save his sister and all Solomon does is swoop in and go "ROOOAAAARRR! NOOOOO!" *angrily destroys whatever cure the boy has found*.

Like.

Why.

Just let the kid try, for fucks sake. It's how he copes. It's part of the grieving process. The boy is fifteen and may be about to lose his sister after he already lost his parents. Give him a break.

And also, Anne was clearly excited about that cure. So why bother with throwing a fit? What could possibly go wrong? She's in debilitating pain already, it's hardly going to get worse.

And, on top of that: Mr. Super-Auror is awfully quick to abandon Sebastian the second it gets convenient. I'm not sure about you, but, as a caregiver, when I see my charge drift, I try to intervene. Try to catch him and find a reason why this is happening.

Because we are well aware that Sebastian isn't evil. He's desperate. That's a difference. And anyone with more than three braincells should be able to notice that. So when Solomon sees him cast that damn spell, he should have grabbed that boy, given him a stern shake - maybe a good slap to shock that old system - and a fucking hug to try and reel him back into the light. He needed fucking real talk and stability. Stability! But he just throws him away, which leaves Sebastain homeless and quasi orphaned. Wtf.

And then in that final show down he gets hit by one fucking basic cast that he literally provoked out of that desperate fifteen year old nephew of his and he thinks the logical next step is "fire tornado". On both Sebastian AND MC. For some reason.

And while literally trying to fry those two fifteen year old dumbarses alive, he yells shit like "You're no friend of my nephew!" and "It's your fault he went down that path!" to MC which is like bitch wtf. He was like that when we got here, we just didn't toss him aside like apparently everyone else did.

And that bastard is one to talk, pointing fingers while actively trying to turn his nephew and his nephews pal into two piles of Ash.

That guy is so deranged, it's not even funny.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 12

Welcome back to another addition of Dustin being absolutely chaotic as fuck and Robin inserts herself into a dangerous situation because she has to out sass an eighth grader.

This story really is nearing in the end of season 3, and I don't think this story will go for much longer than that. So it will probably be the next story I finish.

What this means is that soon I'll be starting up "The Hellfire Erotic Club" as I am already two chapters into sugar baby!Steve and sugar daddy!Eddie so that one is next on the docket. And as it sounds, it absolutely will be mature. It might even be my first explicit story I've written. So let me know if you want to be kept off the list for that one.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

~

Things mellowed out with Robin at work. She still had the YOU RULE/YOU SUCK board, but at least wasn’t throwing out snide comments and sneering glances every two seconds so Steve absolutely counted that as a win.

And he continued to flirt badly. The worst was when Eddie and Jeff had stopped by after touring the music store.

“It’s the hat,” Steve said with moue. “It’s ruining my best feature.”

Robin snorted. “Your best feature? You don’t have one.”

Steve rolled his eyes and took off the hat. “My hair is my best feature, of course. I was the Hair in school, after all.” He threw it off the side and did a mocking shimmy with his shoulders before heading to register to greet a group of giggling girls.

“Hello, ladies,” he said smoothly. “My name is Steve and I’ll be your captain on this journey on the ocean of flavor. What can I get you today?” And then to really sell it. He winked.

The girls as he expected were completely turned off and hurried to get away as soon as possible. But hey at least Jeff got the number of one of the girls. So yay, gay wingman for the win! Or whatever.

Eddie came loping up to the counter, Jeff close on his heels. “That has got to be the most depressing thing I have ever had the misfortune to witness.”

“Seriously dude,” Jeff said with a wince. “Your mojo must have got up and went. Holy shit.”

Steve just pursed his lips and waved vaguely in Eddie’s direction. Eddie and Jeff giggled, but Robin frowned in confusion.

“Why does Munson being here affect your flirting?” she asked. “Because from what I’ve seen it doesn’t matter if he’s here or not, your flirting is always bad.”

He just shrugged. “Maybe the PTA is right and Eddie can cast evil spells and cursed me.”

Eddie wiggled his fingers at her, but she just rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. If he could cast spells Mrs. O’Donnell would be dead by now.”

The three boys cackled.

“Or maybe,” Jeff said seriously, “the girls remember Stevie here hanging out with us freaks and geeks last year and think he’s suddenly beneath him. You know, now that he’s not King Steve anymore?”

Robin’s mouth open and closed like a fish before she snapped it shut with an audible click. She blushed a dark red and was grateful that a mother with her two young sons came in just then so she could avoid the awkwardness that followed.

“I’m off in five minutes,” Steve said, “if you two want to wait around?”

Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and then Eddie nodded. “Sure, we could hang out for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said with a half shrug. “I don’t have anything to do today.”

Steve moved off to the side to start scooping the lady’s order. He gave each of the kids a cone and the sundae to the mom. Then he tossed the scooper into the warm water they kept nearby to keep the scooper clean. He walked to the back and returned within seconds.

Just then the power went out. Steve sighed and went over to the light switch. He flipped it up and down.

“That didn’t work two days ago,” Robin hissed. “And it’s not going to work now.”

Eddie peered at Steve through the dark. “This happened a couple of days ago, too?”

“It’s because of how hot it is outside,” Steve said. “Which makes the AC run overtime and it blows the breaker.” He sounded like he was repeating something someone else said as he continued to flip the switch and then the lights came back on. Just as Steve was about to leave again, Dustin came running up to Steve, skidding to a stop when he saw Robin, Eddie, and Jeff standing there.

“Hey, guys,” he said with a strained smile on his face. “Can I talk to Steve for a moment? I won’t take up much of his time. I promise.”

That got Steve’s hackles up. He turned to Eddie and begged him with his eyes to understand what this meant. Eddie tilted his head to the side for a moment, before his mouth formed an ‘O’.

“Jeff and I will be at Suncoast Video,” he said, “we’ll be there when you’re done.”

Jeff blinked at him for a moment trying to decide if it was the worth the fight. Then he shrugged and followed Eddie away from the strange tableau behind them.

Robin eyed them suspiciously as the two boys went to go sit down.

“What’s up, bud?” Steve asked, a nervous chill sliding down his spine. Please don’t be the Upside Down. Please don’t be the Upside Down. Please don’t be the Upside Down.

“So because my ma doesn’t want me racking up her phone bill calling Suzie,” he said, “I put up, with a little help from Lucas, Will, and Mike, a communications tower so we could talk.”

Because of course they did. They were geniuses when it came to building that kind of shit, but not so much in why they shouldn’t.

“And there was this weird Russian transmission,” Dustin explained hurriedly. “I don’t want to show you the recording yet, not with so many people around. But I can I meet up at your place later tonight?”

Steve was about to turn the kid down. After all, he had tried the hero racket and it blew. All he got for his troubles was ringing in his ears and the biggest break up of his life.

“Just think, if we solve this then we can be celebrated for exposing a Communist plot!” he exclaimed. “We could be American heroes, Steve!”

Oh. That did sound nice. There was no chance of him putting his body on the line for a recording in Russia after all. “Sure thing, bud.”

~

There was no keeping the stupid little transmission from Eddie or Robin. The first one wasn’t a surprise, really. Eddie was attached to Steve’s hip like he’d always been right there. Robin was more of a shock, to be honest. She just inserted herself where she didn’t belong on sheer sass alone.

Because Dustin had all the tact of a bull in a china shop, he had been whining about not being able to translate the message. When suddenly the window to the back slid open with a slam.

“You do know you’re in public, right?” she huffed. “If you’re trying to being sneaky about it, you’re failing miserably.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Like you’re so smart.”

Robin raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “And how many languages do you speak, dork?”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance, then tried to stifle a laugh, Steve by biting his lip and Eddie by shoving his hair in front of his face.

“Two!” Dustin huffed, puffing out his chest. “Binary and English.”

“Binary doesn’t count,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. “You can’t ‘speak’ it. I speak French, Spanish, and Italian. That’s four.”

Dustin crossed his arms. “Does to and besides I didn’t hear Russian on that list.”

She tilted her head and smirked. “And how do you even know it’s Russian?”

Dustin’s jaw dropped to the floor and his eyes bulged out of his head.

“Just because it sounds ‘Russian’,” Robin said, using air quotes around the word Russian, “doesn’t mean it’s not some other Slavic language.”

Dustin’s bottom lip quivered. “And how many Slavic languages are there?”

Her grin turned feral and she leaned on the counter, looking him dead in the eye. “Eighteen if you don’t count the different dialects for each region, then you’re looking at something closer to twenty-five.”

“There’s no way there’s that many!” Dustin cried.

Steve bumped his shoulder into his. “Why don’t you let her hear it? What’s the worst thing that could happen? That she doesn’t recognize the language? It’d be no different from where we are now.”

“Come on, Dusty,” Eddie implored. “Or do I have to tell Suzie that you think girls aren’t as smart as boys?”

Dustin turned to glare at the older teen. “That’s a low blow, man.”

He looked over at Robin who was eyeing him expectantly and sighed. “Fine, here.” He handed her the portable tape deck and sat back to watch.

The message came through the small device and Robin listened to the whole thing, before rewinding it and playing it again.

“So what do you think?” Dustin asked after her third listen through. “Is it Russian?”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a smirk. “And probably in code.”

But before Dustin could answer, Eddie leaned on the front counter. He had been watching Steve the whole time Robin had been listening to the recording. When she got to the end, Steve would frown. Even with half of a banana stuffed in his cheeks like a chipmunk.

“What’s on your mind, Stevie?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“There’s something about the music,” he muttered, tapping his fingers and humming the tune.

Dustin huffed. “Can you please pay attention to the important part, Steve? The apparently secret coded message in Russian?”

Steve shoved the rest of the banana in his mouth and chewed silently. He swallowed roughly and asked Robin to play the music again.

“Steve!” Dustin snapped. “What did I just say?”

Eddie glared at him. “Shut it, kid.” And Eddie began to listen to the music, too. Then Steve and Eddie made eye contact as they both got it at the same time.

Steve grabbed Dustin’s wrist and dragged him out of the ice cream shop, Eddie fast on their heels. They reached the Merry-Go-Round and Steve tried to pull out a couple of quarters but they fell to the ground. He bent to pick them up, but Eddie shoved a couple of quarters from his pocket into Steve’s hands.

Steve put the quarters into the Merry-Go-Round, while Eddie and Dustin stood by. Eddie smiled, smug and Dustin stood there, glowering at Steve, arms crossed.

The carousel roared to life. And then music started.

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?”

Steve and Eddie shared a grin.

“That’s the music from the recording!” he continued. “How did you recognize it?”

Eddie laughed.

“Because I hear it at least two or three times a shift,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. “It’s hard to miss because it’s so loud and so close to Scoops Ahoy.”

Dustin frowned and pouted because he had thought that Steve was just being his usual spacy self. But he actually figured it out.

As the three of them walked back to the ice cream shop, he said, “All that tells us is that Russians like carousels.”

Steve and Eddie shared a glance over his head.

“That’s an Indiana Flyer carousel,” Steve said slowly. “As in they only make them in Indiana.”

Dustin stopped short and his eyes widened in fear. “Does that mean they’re here in the state?”

Eddie shook his head. “Worse than that, Dusty. I’m pretty sure they’re here in the mall.”

Steve’s heart sank. He had been hoping that they would be able to solve this without getting directly involved, but that had just flown away like a startled butterfly.

Now all he had to do was convince himself that the Russians weren’t in Hawkins for the gateways to the Upside Down.

It was going to be a tough sell and he knew deep down it was never going to stick.

There were Russians in Hawkins and they were most likely here for Hell.

~

Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING!

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

[aesethewitch]

Personal Protection: Surviving the Holidays

I'm of the opinion that far too many people around this time of year are fucking around, and it's high time they get to the finding out part. With major holidays right around the corner, many of us will be facing relatives we'd rather not see, parties we'd rather not go to, and conversations we'd rather avoid or exit as soon as possible. Political spats, unwanted opinions, snide remarks -- I believe that what you give out, you ought to receive back.

So, obviously, let's do some magic about it.

There are three main components to my method:

The Bubble;

The Quills; and

The Shake

The Bubble

Exactly what it sounds like, "the bubble" is the outermost layer of protection around you. It's the barrier between you and the unpleasantness you're trying to keep out.

The bubble can be one item carried or worn (such as a hat, crystal, or charm), or it can be multiple. I usually spring for two items, one to absorb/recycle and one to bounce/return to sender.

Absorb:

I've got a relative who is, at their essence, a fucking downer. That would be fine if not for the fact that if they're having a bad time or are mildly uncomfortable, it's about to be everyone's problem. This kind of negativity is something to absorb, not bounce. Sending it back would only double their misery, and that's no good for anyone.

So, instead, I have a special charm that I make for occasions when I know they're going to be around. It consists of a little piece of sponge that's sat in salt for a while atop a transformative sigil. The sponge, once fully charged and ready, will absorb the negative energy and recycle it into more positive feelings.

This means that their negativity won't impact me at all, and I actively improve the atmosphere. Their bad attitude can't do anything if everyone around us is only getting good vibes. The charm is powered by the exchange of negative to positive energy, so it requires no charging. However, it's smart to discard the sponge once it's done its job.

Bounce:

But sometimes, somebody's got to face real consequences. There are some things I don't want to deal with at all. Like gross political opinions from my conservative, religious family members. Or questions about having children.

The idea of the bounce is to reflect things before they reach me. It's a sort of glamor spell that projects an aura of "don't bother." It essentially lets me be passed over for conversations I want to leave or avoid entirely by bouncing attention away from me.

Negative energy, bad vibes, whatever you want to call it -- the goal is to return it to where it's coming from. Someone who's being an asshole will feel like an asshole. If it works right, they'll stop talking altogether because they're so irritated with what they're saying. I've had aggressive, vocal relatives go completely silent because they were receiving their own rancid energy back to themselves instead of the attention they were hoping for.

For me, this spell takes the form of a charm on my keys. It's a form of an evil eye charm -- not the blue-eyed stare you most likely think of, but another symbol meant to distract attention from me to it. It's a little pewter casting of the fig sign, an old and obscene gesture. It works on malevolent spirits best, but it does a great job of repelling unfortunate people, too. It bounces their nonsense back to themselves, often causing confusion, which forces them to reconsider what they're saying.

Again, this lives on my keys, which live in a key bowl when they're not clipped to my pocket or belt loop. The key bowl has a multi-purpose charging setup for the keys, my wallet, and other assorted charms I might wear when I go out.

The Quills

Sometimes, things get past our main line of defenses. That's fine, it happens. But under these circumstances, it happens because someone has deliberately crossed a line. So now, they get the quills.

When I say "the quills," you should be picturing something like a porcupine. Adorable, yes, but fuck with it at your own risk. Those quills aren't just for show, and neither should yours be. This is your second line of defense, and it's where we turn to offense.

Accordingly, the quills aren't passive spells like the bubble. These require conscious activation and direction to give you maximum control over their output. You can make your quills passive, but I often find that baneful workings work best when you're specifically choosing to use them.

Yes, baneful, and let me be perfectly clear: The goal is to harm whoever's crossed the line. You're not just returning to sender. You're catching what they've thrown at you, lighting it on fire, and pitching it back at full force.

To that end, there are two approaches I typically take (and are you sensing a pattern? I like to do things in twos). One spell to sharpen the tongue and give as good as I've gotten, and one to induce the smallest of lingering curses on the target.

Sharpen

The whole point of the quills is to make yourself an inconvenient, difficult target. Part of being difficult to swallow is not going down easily. Often, the answer is to avoid the conversation or problem altogether, but it isn't always possible. Or satisfying.

Sometimes, you gotta take a bitch down.

For me, this charm needs to do two things. It should boost my confidence in standing my ground and add some oomph to my argument. I have a pin with a particular design on it charmed for this purpose. The needle operates as the quill for stabbing (the oomph), and the design provides the confidence. Anointed with my Fuck Off Oil and laid in a dish of salt, garlic, and red chili flakes, the pin becomes extra spicy and effective.

This one has to be recharged each time it's used. It always lives on the same jacket, but I'll anoint it regularly to keep it fresh. If I use the charm on someone, I'll take the pin off at the end of the night and set it in the spicy salt mixture.

Linger

By far one of the most effective methods for reducing nonsense from unpleasant people I interact with regularly is lingering consequences. When someone associates bad luck with interacting with you, even on a subconscious level, they tend to avoid you.

Consider this the "slow poison" on the quills. The goal isn't to ruin their life by any means (although, I suppose you could...). It's just to make yourself unpalatable on an instinctive level. Think of how poisonous frogs are brightly colored to display that they're, you know, deadly. That's what we're doing here.

I prefer to use something kind of dangerous. Something you can hold onto and point with is best, in my experience. I've used a broken piece of glass, a rusty nail or screw, and various thorns. Right now, I'm using one half of a rusty pair of old cooking shears. The handle broke, but the blades are still sharp as hell. Waste not, and all that.

Anoint whatever the sharp, dangerous thing is in an oil infused with herbs and spices of your choice (again, the Fuck Off Oil is a good example). Or, if you prefer, coat it in something like hot sauce, urine, rust, or other corrosive and unpleasant things. Once prepared, stow it in your bag. Or your glove box, if you drive, since this makes a nice on-the-go curse to cast at shitty drivers.

You don't need to pull it out for it to work, but if you can get to a safe, secluded space (like a bathroom), it can help you focus. When you're creating it, you should set up an activation word, phrase, or motion. I prefer a motion -- something like tapping wherever the object is, a swirling movement with my hand, and then pointing at the target.

The curse you place is up to you. I tend to go for something like feeling nauseous or getting a headache. The spell should draw a connection between them being nasty to you and the unpleasant feeling, whether overt or subconscious. They'll be more cautious and reluctant to be a dick to you afterwards.

The Shake

Like a dog. Get that shit off of yourself.

No matter how thorough you are, there are always gaps and particularly stubborn people getting into them. Something they say just sticks to you like a burr, sharp and irritating. Or depressing, maybe.

The idea behind the shake is literal. You're forcibly removing the heavy weight or annoying itch someone else has placed on you. The shake isn't necessarily an item like with the bubble and quills. It can be, but it doesn't have to be.

Essentially, the steps to the shake are:

Identify what feels bad

Shake that shit

Resume normal activities

Maybe it's the neurodivergent in me, but physical movement is incredibly soothing. Self-regulation tactics are essential for survival. Transforming that into a little spell ritual at the same time is just two birds with one stone.

When things get overwhelming or I can feel my bubble failing to keep everything out at once (such as if a fight breaks out or someone decides to go in depth about one of my triggers), I remove myself from the situation. That's the first step. Retreat to a safe place, whether that's outside, in my car, in the bathroom, or elsewhere that's quiet. The second step is to figure out where in my body the anxiety or bad feeling is sitting. Often, it's in my shoulders and hands, but sometimes it's elsewhere.

Step three is to fucking shake. Shake those hands, roll my shoulders, jump up and down. Whatever it takes. As I do, I'm forcibly dislodging everything unpleasant out of myself and into the open air. And because I've got the negativity-absorbing bubble, it'll take the bad feeling and repurpose it into something more positive. Then, once I'm better, I can go back.

Again, you don't need an object for this, but you can certainly create one. Options would be comforting items, fidget toys, or even something like a joint. Sometimes, you just gotta blow smoke about it. You know?

Fun fact, though: You could also carry a vessel to contain the Bad Feelings for later use instead of letting your bubble absorb them. This comes in handy for people who are particularly abusive... as an example of what you want them to experience under the force of a more involved cursing.

If you like my work, consider throwing a tip my way! Supporters get early, exclusive, and extended access to my work for as low as $3.

[mlb-a-rewrite]

Miraculous Make No Sense

so I changed how they work.

I love me a well-thought-out and deliberate magic system. I love seeing the different rules and properties of how magic works and I love seeing how the author expands and works around those rules. Limitations are placed, followed, and then explored.

Miraculous Ladybug doesn't do this.

The powers are unbalanced and unrestrained. Miraculous can do whatever the writers want them to whenever they need it to happen. There are no limitations to the powers and the powers don't balance one another out.

This was the first issue I tackled in my rewrite.

Miraculous Overview

I decided that there are two "categories" for miraculous. They are either first or second-ring miraculous. (This is taking inspiration from the miracle box featured in the show and how the miraculous are organized into different rings).

What ring a miraculous belongs to determines how "powerful" it is. All miraculous, regardless of what ring or miracle box they belong to, have the following features:

It is a piece of jewelry

It is connected to and contain imagery of an animal

When a miraculous is worn by a person, the person will be granted, regardless of what ring or miracle box the miraculous belongs to, the following items:

They will now be able to see all Kwamis (regardless of miracle box or ring affiliation)

A unique phrase that will allow them to transform between civilian attire and hero attire

If a person is transformed, they will:

Get a magic girl costume and a magical girl transformation! The costume combines elements of the wearer's personal tastes and the animal associated with the miraculous

Have general enhancements (i.e. they are faster, stronger, have quicker reflexes, etc. but mental capabilities remain unchanged; if they’re dumb as fuck they stay dumb as fuck)

Have a magic weapon/object unique to the miraculous that serves at the housing unit of their special ability

One power unique to their miraculous

All miraculous have the attributes featured above, however, a first-ring miraculous grants the wearer 2 additional special abilities that a second-ring miraculous doesn't.

Special Abilities

In the rewrite, the special ability unique to the miraculous is how I am classifying the powers of each character. Cataclysm, Lucky Charm, Mirage, Venom, etc. are all the special abilities of each miraculous.

Second-ring miraculous have temporary special abilities. If the fox miraculous wearer casts Mirage and then detransforms, Mirage deactivates the illusion dissipates. However, first-ring special abilities are permanent (with one exception, more on that later). So when a ladybug wearer uses Restoration ("Restoration" being the new name for the "Miraculous Ladybug" power seen in the show) and then detransforms, all the damage they just repaired stays repaired.

Powers are also draining to the wearer. The bigger or more precise the use of the power is, the more physically draining it is. It takes a lot of strength, both physically and mentally, as well as a deep connection with the miraculous/kwami to use it for a wider range of uses. It is pretty easy for a black cat wearer to activate cataclysm and let it do whatever it wants, but it is more difficult to control that damage to a certain area or to destroy tougher materials. This adds more restrictions to the powers and gives the characters something to work on.

First-Ring vs. Second-Ring

For second-ring miraculous, there is only one special ability, hence why the fox miraculous only has mirage, but first-ring miraculous have multiple (why the ladybug miraculous has lucky charm and miraculous ladybug and de-evilize/deakumatization and-). This is because first-ring miraculous are more powerful.

I think of each miraculous wearer as having spell slots. For second-ring wearers, they only have 1 spell slot and 1 spell in that slot they can use. For first-ring wearers, they have 3 spell slots with 2 spells that are permanently stuck there.

To use an example from the show:

Any wearer of the ladybug miraculous, regardless of any differentiating factors, will always be able to use "Lucky Charm" and "Restoration". However, that third spell slot can be switched out to fit the situation. This third slot is there to be able to counteract and balance out other miraculous. So if a wearer of the ladybug miraculous thinks the wearer of the butterfly miraculous is using akumatization for nefarious reasons, that third "slot" would acquire a "spell" that directly combats akumatization, which is where the de-evilize ability in the show comes in.

This third ability only exists to combat other miraculous. If, for instance, a ladybug wearer is fighting in a war, the third ability won't make them bullet proof or something because guns are not a product or feature of a miraculous. The third ability only develops to counteract other miraculous.

In addition to that, this third ability only develops as a result of intense emotion. If a ladybug wearer just dislikes another wearer, the third ability isn't going to manifest, but if the ladybug wearer truly believes with every fiber of their being that another miraculous is being used for evil, then the ability will form.

So in the show, Marinette doesn't gain the ability to de-evilize right away. Only when she gets deeply and emotionally invested in the battle does that third ability form.

The final bit about the third power is that you can only use one third power at at a time. Going back to the spell slot analogy, you can have multiple spells you know how to use, but because there is only one slot available, you can only "equip" one spell at a time. When a spell is replaced with another, its effects disappear. Since two of the spell slots are permanently taken up, there is only one "customizable" spell slot.

Final Notes

Miraculous are all about balance. All miracle boxes have 2 rings, and the first ring only ever have 2 miraculous. These miraculous are always opposites and balance each other.

Which is why it makes no sense that Ladybug has so many fancy ass powers and Chat Noir only has cataclysm. Like what??????? So I ended up severely limiting Ladybug's powers and adding more restrictions and clarification. I also wrote in a new power for Chat Noir but this is already long enough so I'll save those details for a different post. :)

[princessbrunette]

alright. i know. i literally gave you an anakin prompt already. but☝️ ..i’m here with another one.

modern!anakin running one of those tumblr porn blogs to talk about his nasty little fantasies. (not sure you remember this, but i wrote him posting “i like doing evil things to pretty girls.” while ago as an example of that behavior) and you happen to follow him. maybe you interact with him because you’re intrigued by his gross language and you reach out (maybe you swap some pics, and agree to meet). not sure how you’d wanna play it but ! i thought you’d wanna know about it

i think what’s so sexy about him doing this is he’s like… oddly nonchalant about it? he’ll mutual you, but never come onto you in a sexual or creepy way bc he’s a people pleaser and cares too much about people thinking he’s a weirdo. instead he just sends you memes relating to something you posted about one time just to show he listens, you know?

and like duh, he wants to fuck you, he’s a guy with a dick. but it’s better just to befriend you first, right? doesn’t wanna be a douche about it.

but then the two of you start talking properly outside of just memes, and calling, and flirting, and oh god — you’re one of those people. falling for someone online. someone who wouldn’t care that much to fly out to see you right? right?

he ends up in your city, and suddenly you’re picking him up from the airport ?? and you’re thinking jesus christ, yeah i’ve seen pictures of him and he’s very good looking but that’s gotta be… altered in some way right? there’s no way someone that fine runs a tumblr blog that depraved… and soon all 6ft- what, 4? of him is walking towards you in the airport, smiling so friendly and opening his sculpted arms for a hug and you’re just ????? fuck my life ??????

so the two of you go out to a bar, and literally one glass of wine in each and you’re giving him the big doe fuck me eyes, talking so much you don’t even think to get a second drink, the chemistry buzzing through your bones and up your skirt. he didn’t think he’d be getting lucky this fast, jesus — he booked to be here for like 2 weeks so he can really milk it out of you. poor thing was just too needy for it.

you’re blabbering how you’ve never done this before, having some guy fly out and fucking him on the first night when you leave the bar arm in arm, headed straight for his hotel. you think he might crumble under the pressure, again — who runs a blog that depraved and actually knows how to do all the stuff they talk about? but he’s so calm, collected, chuckling at your eagerness, reiterating one million times that there doesn’t ’have to’ be anything. not to feel pressured to do anything just because he flew out. great, so he’s a good guy too. you’re surprised your arousal wasn’t running down your legs like a faucet.

he knows his stuff, and it shows back in the hotel room, bringing you a glass of water even though you had one glass, telling you to drink it, forcing every form of consent out of you because he needs to know you want this like he does. even so, so much kissing once you start — giving you time to back out, giving you time to get so drooly and desperate you’re humping his lap and nearly crying.

anakin soothes you. “what do you want baby? flew out here just to see this pretty face, lemme give you what you want sweet girl just gotta tell me.” muttering it against your lips like he’s casting a spell.

“wanna — wanna do all the stuff you wrote about. thought about it every night.” you mewl, your tits heaving against his strong chest. there’s that low chuckle again, pretty smile lines on his cheeks you can’t help but kiss.

“mm, i remember a few you liked a lot. what was that one about having you on my lap, dick all in your guts, just rubbing that pretty clit ‘til you cream all over it. something like that, right baby?” his hands are massaging your hips and god — yes, yes yes whatever you say, nodding so hard your head might come off.

safe to say he keeps his word, showing you everything he knows.

[shutupineedtothink]

Post Ep 6 Theory: Billy Is Casting Agatha as the Villain

Well I really have no business writing theories at this point since I’ve been wrong multiple times but like maybe I really got something this time, you know? Isn’t that the point? Can’t I be right one time?? My Capricorn stellium is raging at having all these theories disproved. And I love it at the same time. 😅

Whatever. Potential spoilers under the cut.

So I’m fully on the “Billy magicked the Road” theory, he is Wanda’s son after all and tbh there’s just too much evidence to ignore it at this point. I won’t go into all of it, House of R pod does a great breakdown in their episode 6 review, check that out if you’re interested. The basic points are: Billy created the Road probably subconsciously, Agatha knows it, she’s trying to figure out how he did it and what his goal is, and also get her power back and not die from the Seven. Cool.

My theory is an offshoot of the Billy theory, and speaks to where he and Agatha are going to end this season (aka coven two). Ready? Ok.

Soooo if we take as fact that Billy conjured the Road, because he can’t control his magick and more broadly because he has some shit to work through (again, same as Wanda) then how do we explain Agatha’s trial within that framework.

Why was the trial to “punish Agatha?” If Billy, subconsciously or not, is in control of everything that happens on the Road, why do that?

Well, subconsciously, he’s angry at Agatha. Whether he’s actually angry at her specifically or just angry about what happened with the hex, it doesn’t really matter. He has a lot of suppressed anger that needs somewhere to go. And who’s the closest available probably evil witch? Ya girl, Agatha Harkness.

Someone he saw as his friend, possibly, in the hex. Someone who fought his mom and tried to take her power. And someone who ultimately, by disrupting the status quo, led to his literal world being destroyed. By that logic, I’d want to punish her too.

Billy, in his (probably subconscious) magic-fueled rage, grief, and sadness over what happened to him, his family, and his life, took all of that and blamed it on Agatha. In his fantasy of his own hero’s journey on the Road to find his brother, to get his family back, he has (spell)casted Agatha as the villain.

So when Agatha “can’t control” her power in episode 5, siphoning Alice, it’s not because she has issues with her own control of her powers. It’s because Billy was making her do it (again, probably subconsciously). She essentially blacked out at that moment, and turned into the evil witch Agatha Harkness. And when she comes to, she seemingly has no idea what she’s done.

So when she says she couldn’t control it, she’s not lying. But it’s not because she’s never been able to control her powers. She’s probably had control of them for centuries. It’s because in that moment, Billy was writing the narrative, not her. And then he confirms it to her face — you’re lying, you want power, that’s all you’ve ever wanted. Essentially saying, you’re the villain here not me not my mom.

And then it clicks for her, what he’s doing, subconsciously or not. And she turns on the evil villain persona herself to take back the narrative from him. And we get, you’re so much like your mother. Creating the Road, creating this whole story to serve yourself and the narrative you want to believe. Making me the bad guy. Undertones of fuck you.

Okay great, so where does this leave us now and how does this play into the show as a whole? I think the question the show is asking, as it relates to Agatha’s character, is who really is Agatha Harkness? Is she the villain? Is she the hero? Is she both, or neither? Is she her reputation, as Lilia reads in ep 2, or is she more than that? Can she be more than that? Can she be good?

Now here’s where it gets real juicy y’all, because as much as Billy has made Agatha the villain in his hero's journey, he's also made her the Guide.

He goes to her to lead him down the Road. He's constantly asking her questions and trying to learn from her. On some level, maybe a more conscious level, he does idolize her. He wants to see her as a witch to look up to. He even wants her love. Just look at his crestfallen face when she says she didn't put the sigil on him in ep 4.

She's the Yoda to his Luke, the Dumbledore to his Harry, the Moiraine to his Rand. And once again, subconsciously he knows it. And he wants it.

He says in ep 6, I don't know if I ever needed you (a mouthy teen if I ever heard one), but then his power immediately fizzles out. She calls him out on it, all that power and no access without a temper tantrum. He needs her. He needs to learn. Again, in this version, she has control over her powers normally, just not in her trial. So she can provide that knowledge.

He went to her to lead him down the Road. And she's been subtly teaching him this whole time. (Once vengeance is unleashed, you can't reel it back in. It's about selflessness, Teen.)

Now for her part, I don't know if she realizes she's mentoring him. But she definitely cares about him, as we saw at the end of ep 4. Again, partly a reaction fueled by Nicky, but I think she's been at least 80% sure it was Billy this whole time. So she genuinely cares for him too.

If I had to bet, I'd say Agatha very much knows the different parts she's playing, the villain evil witch, the guide, and somewhere under even that, the real Agatha.

She's just playing along, some times more willingly than others, because she needs to see where this goes. And she doesn't necessarily want to break his baby brain in the process.

It's almost the more subtle version of her leading Wanda through her memories in WandaVision. She's guiding him along the Road, partly to see what he can do and get her powers back if possible, but also for his own good.

So prediction time, where does this leave us in the finale.

I won't speak to the remaining trials, but I'm thinking there has to be a big showdown between Agatha, Billy, and Rio.

If we're going for Agatha becoming her most true self, and Billy seeing her for who she actually is, my money is on a reversal of the Agatha stealing Alice's power scene.

Rio's going go to after Billy, and Agatha, to save him, is going to start siphoning his power. It's going to look like she's killing him, being the evil witch of her reputation. But then she's going to stop (because she's been capable of control this whole time), taking just enough power to get her purple back. He has more than enough to spare.

Also fun fact, Wanda's power (red) -> Billy's power (blue) -> Agatha's power (purple). Do I want this to happen just because the colors make sense... maybe.

Ultimately, Agatha and Billy become a team, a coven two, a master and apprentice. They both see each other for who they are, imperfect, powerful, but capable of good. Rio is fended off/bargained with somehow. Maybe Agatha offers up her own soul in his place but Rio can't do it. Idk that's all wild speculation.

Point being, this is all about self-discovery, self-actualization, and deconstructing false narratives you have around others, and in Billy's case, around his own life. Dealing with your trauma to become a more whole version of yourself.

And as with WandaVision, dealing with grief and loss, but in this case, also finding a companion, a familiar, a family you never expected beside you All Along. 👀

What do you think? Can you believe I wrote this the day before ep 7 drops?? 😂

[inbarfink]

Okay, the thing is that I’ve seen some people speculate about the Winter King’s backstory and past assuming, like, that he’s always kinda been Like That. Like, that this version of Simon Petrikov has always been an evil heartless bastard or at least just a little less caring and loving than Mainworld Simon and that’s what led him down the path of the Winter King. 

But speaking personally… I think this is a less compelling story as it relates to Simon’s character arc. I think it’s a lot more interesting if the Winter King was indeed ‘once just like’ Mainverse Simon.

That he used to be that selfless, dedicated and loving man - and he still managed to stoop this low. I mean, well, Simon seems to have come to the conclusion that this version of him was just ‘messed up’

and that was mostly part of a trend of him in these last two episodes just kinda going

You know, like, I don’t think that the lesson he should’ve learned from his adventures in Winterworld is just “wow, that one specific alternative version of me sure does suck!”. Farmworld, via its version of Finn, was a reminder for Simon of just how much of a traumatic experience the Curse of the Magic Crown is. Winterworld should’ve reminded him of the torment and indignity he was trapped in and how often he was a danger to himself and others 

And of the truly fucked-up and terrible things he was capable of doing due to that torment and desperation of the Curse.

The Winter King is like a Whole New Exciting Way for Simon to lose his identity due to the Magic Crown, preserving his mind and memory by destroying the love and dedication and care that the Magic Crown never quite managed to fully burn away - his actual ‘immutable essence’. And this doesn’t work if the Winter King was always just Intrinsically a significantly different and worse person than Mainworld Simon, y’know?

And remember, we know the Winter King was in full on Ice King mode when he ‘conquered the crown’ (AKA cast that terrible spell to condemn Princess Bubblegum to the same terrible fate he’s been suffering). 

And Mainverse Ice King was absolutely capable of trying to perform some fucked-up mind-altering spells of his own. 

The only thing is that he was never quite that successful.

The main thing I am still unsure of with my favored reading/interpretation of how Winterworld Simon became the Winter King is…. There’s like, two different mutually-exclusive readings of what happened after the Curse was cast on Peebles and Simon regained his lucidity that are both very appealing to me from a thematic perspective. And I’m really not sure which one I like best.

Because the real issue was never ‘would Ice King be willing to cast such a horrible immoral spell?’, especially as one could easily imagine that whatever lucidity would allow Ice King to understand how his Crown is harming him and devise such a complicated spell would not necessarily extend to enough lucidity to fully understand the consequences of his actions. The issue is Winterworld Simon Petrikov, having regained his clarity of mind, choosing to maintain this spell for a hundred years. There's a reason why that's the thing Mainverse Simon fixated on when he figured out what's going on.

My first thought (and that’s something I went into more detail in a previous post) was this: Ice King’s madness was never wholly separated from Simon’s personality. Like, yeah, it was the Crown’s Magic that drove him so Mad and Sad - but it was also the trauma of losing Betty and surviving through the Mushroom War and feeling forced to abandon his beloved Marceline. 

And that Madness was based on Simon’s psyche. Ice King’s loneliness and romantic obsession and Princess-nappings are all based on how much he loves and misses Betty

And now, Princess Bubblegum has been forced into a mirrored recreation of them. 

The Candy Queen isn’t suffering from just the Magic Crown’s madness in general - but specifically from how it was shaped by Simon’s heart. And since you can’t actually separate this manifestation of Ice King’s Madness from Simon’s love for Betty - the Winter King ridding himself of one also rid himself of the other. 

And since so much of Ice King’s Madness was interwoven into Simon’s psyche and especially his love and his kindness - throwing away all of this Madness into someone else also decimated these aspects of his personality. Princess Bubblegum already paid the ultimate price for Winterworld Simon’s sanity - but in a way he also paid a grave cost as well; becoming an unrecognizably different person he would previously find morally disgusting - even morso than Ice King.

Because the lines between Simon Petrikov and Ice King are always going to be a bit blurry and messy, and because Simon can’t probably live a life totally free of his Madness and Sadness but he’s gonna have to accept it for an actual mostly happy and sane life as someone who is recognizably Simon Petrikov. 

Buuuut… that still basically means that casting of that Curse just kinda irrevocably transformed him into a Heartless Bastard. And that’s maybe not as compelling as if this change from kind and dorky Simon Petrikov into Evil Brian David Gilbert was done of his own free will

Hundreds of years of the Magic Crown eating away at his sanity and memories couldn’t truly destroy Simon Petrikov’s ‘immutable essence’. He still missed Betty more than anything even as this longing was twisted into something horrible, and still loved Marceline like a daughter even if he didn’t understand it. The one thing that could truly destroy this love that is so core to Simon’s being is him choosing to become selfish and cruel and uncaring. 

And since he was in Full Ice King Mode when he cast the spell… I dunno if I can actually call it a fully-conscious act of cruelty. Deeply fucked up? Yes. But it’s hard to say how much Winterworld Ice King actually understood what he was doing. And while I think it’s much more emotionally compelling if the Winter King started from the same place as our beloved Mainworld Simon. The only difference can’t just be the pure luck that Mainworld Ice King was just never lucid or focused enough to successfully cast a spell that would transform him into an equally terrible person. 

For this angle to work, this decision to continue doing the bad thing has to come from a lucid Simon who is still kinda recognizably Simon and still chose to continue perpetuating the Curse Ice King cast on Princess Bubblegum.

This might seem unthinkable, especially considering how obviously disgusted Mainworld Simon was at the Winter King’s actions. But you have to consider just how much Winterworld Simon would be desperate to not be Ice King again, Mainworld Simon was once willing to die then live the rest of eternity as IK. The fact that he’s so willing to throw away his sanity again now is so worrying because it shows just how badly he’s being doing - because at first, Simon was fighting so badly to avoid diving back into this pit of madness. And that Spell must've seen like the only chance he was gonna get.

And, yes, Simon Petrikov is a character full of kindness and love and selflessness - but that never meant he was the sort of Cinnamon Roll incapable of ever hurting anymore and especially not when he’s desperate or lashing out. That’s kinda the fallacy Simon himself fell into when he had that total identity crisis in the second episode. He just couldn’t find a way to join his previous identity as the patient and fatherly man who took care of Marceline 

With the fact he made a little girl cry. 

But yes, both we the audience and Simon himself have to face the fact that despite possessing such strong fatherly instinct and a desire to help children - Simon can also lash out in his trauma in a very cruel manner that goes against all of his own values.

And by the end of the fourth episode, he was tempted to let himself die - even though that will also utterly destroy a whole universe of sapient beings living in his head. It was brief thanks to Fionna knocking some sense into him and obviously the Literal Suicidal Depression involved was also seriously clouding his judgement. But that is still Simon nearly dooming a whole realm of other people  because he was feeling absolutely desperate.

Not to mention him kidnapping someone and forcing him into a terrible experiment for the sake of trying to summon GOLBetty.

A desperate attempt to reconnect with his lost love (and in a way, a missing part of his identity as Betty Grof’s other half). Which I mean, yeah, ‘it’s just Choose Goose’, but also last time GOLB was summoned it nearly fucked up all of Ooo and the only thing GOLBetty could do about that is get herself as far away from Simon as she can. And now Simon is gonna try and summon his Eldritch GF again in the middle of a major population center.  

And of course, Winterworld Simon and Mainworld Simon are never going to be fully exactly the same person because ‘Simon Petrikov’ is not some immutable unchanging concept and we know that they’ve had different experiences. It was really so sweet to see Mainverse Simon pay forwards the kindness he’s gotten from his loved ones when he was stuck as the Ice King towards the Candy Queen

But it also reminded me that the Winter King himself never got that sort of kindness and grace in the first place. The Curse was cast one hundred years ago. Back then, Marceline was still avoiding him because she couldn’t stand to see what he had become, Finn and Jake were not his friends on account of neither of them being born yet and… they also directly or indirectly helped him get his entire rest circle of friends.

So Mainworld Simon emerged from an Ice King who was not absolutely free from misery and loneliness… but has also experienced happiness and friends both from people who just loved him for who he was at the moment 

And grace and kindness from those concerned for his condition and honestly doing their best to make sure he’s doing his best in his current state and trying to bring out whatever of Simon was left in him. 

While Winterworld Simon emerged from Ice King at his worst and his most miserable. 

And while the Winter King’s callousness about Betty would kinda always be a worrying testament to how much Simonness he has lost - it is extra disturbing for the viewers and Mainworld Simon because they have seen Betty sacrifice her entire being for his sake. That would just reinforce his own love and dedication to her in his mind… not always in the healthiest of ways.

But the Winter King has experienced nothing of that sort. He was not freed in a self-sacrifice fueled by love that literally defied time itself. Wintdrworld Simon only regained his lucidity because of a deeply fucked up and selfish action he has taken as the Ice King. And as far as he knew, that was his only choice except death or the eternal despair of being the Ice King.

And so maybe Winterworld Simon managed to convince himself that he can stay like this for just one day. Just one day of enjoying both lucidity and Magic and then he’s going to undo it because obviously he knows that it’s terrible what the Ice King did! I mean, yeah, Princess Bubblegum and the rest of the Candy Kingdom are suffering but they’re also going to suffer when the Ice King comes back so it’s really a lateral move for them. For just one day!

And then by the next day, Winterworld Simon finds one more excuse why he can wait until tomorrow to bring everything back to normal. And day by day it becomes just a little bit easier to justify perpetuating something so terrible. Day by day he gives up a little bit more of his morals and his selflessness and his love. Until he finally finds out that he just doesn’t care anymore about being a selfish heartless bastard.

The same way the Magic Crown took his sanity and identity gradually - he’s now so desperate to cling to them that he chose to tear away at what was once the core most parts of himself

Until he became just as unrecognizable.

Both of these ideas are really compelling to me but they’re also kinda opposite. Maybe there’s a way to balance them both in a way that preserves what makes them so interesting for Simon’s character in the first place??

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: "Julith et Jahash" - Part 2

Ohhh this will take me 20 years to get through due to me not knowing French. Pain.

He doesn't want to go...

There is a test called Kramdam. People, — young huppermages, — are selected randomly for it, and it is an honor, seemingly. But I do wonder what it entails.

(I also wonder if,,, if Joris, perhaps, had to go through whatever it is. God I can't wait to know more.)

He can hardly cast a single spell...? I love you, Jahash. I love you a lot.

"I'M A HUPPERNOBODY" and i'm going to die. If I write more fics about Joris's hupperangst, I am going to make him huppersay that.

The Jurgens have had 3-4 silly, silly generations of hupperangst.

I don't believe you. #BontaHatersGang #TheirUn-BeautifulNation

All guards are bastards btw. Including Keke, considering he used to be one.

:(

THEY SEND HUPPERMAGE KIDS TO DIE AND ADVISE THEM TO TELL GOODBYE TO THEIR LOVED ONES?!?!?!??!?!

Imagine Kerubim and Joris in this situation. Haha. Haha. Haha. Haha. :))))))

ha.

"I fucking hate Bonta AND I hate the huppermage academy and temple AND I hate——" (c) things both me, and 15-16yo Joris Jurgen would say.

This comic is making me so emotional and by that I mean I would [DATA EXPUNGED] the castle of Bonta with explosive devices.

"Your father was a [ableist slur ableist slur] and you look like an [ableist slur ableist slur] and I hate you both. Especially you, even though I've known you for 3 minutes. But you CAN'T return home. We are sending you to huppermage hunger games and I really hope you die there. KILL YOURSELF."

I am never going to take the huppermage academy seriously again after this. They're genuinely so fucking unspeakably cringe and evil.

For all the "I am going to commit vehicular manslaughter on everyone in the huppermage academy (to avenge the babygirls (the entire Jurgen family))", I do wanna point out that it's cool, how the comic transitions from full colour style to manga, after Jahash drinks the recall potion.

[artistshadow]

POSSIBLE - Spoiler warning for Descendants: The Rise of Red

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.

Ok I’m starting to get pissed off.

I I don’t wanna start nothing, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. Because some of you on this god forsaken app are really showing why some people probably need to go to college, or at least need to pay attention in high school, because some of y’all are lacking in critical thinking.

And unfortunately, I’m talking about some of you in the descendants fandom. It’s like…how about you not watch it if you’re not gonna enjoy it? Because right now all you’re doing is ruining the excitement and fun for those of us who are looking forward to the film. Like I get it you don’t understand what’s going on, there’s possible retcon, you think it’s destroying whatever film came before, blah blah, blah blah blah. Simple answer: Don’t watch it then. Jesus fucking Christ. 🙄🙄

Like before we start jumping down the rabbit hole, pun intended, of conspiracy theories on what is going to happen in this movie, particularly on what we think is the reason why Bridget becomes evil, let’s wait and see. And let’s not trust things we find on Reddit or wherever the hell it is that y’all found that post saying that the reason why Bridget becomes evil is because Fairy Godmother cast a spell that makes charming fall in love with Cinderella, not Bridget.

Like be so fucking for real. While this might be true, I feel like it might not be. Because so far everyone, including the actors from the original Brandy Cinderella film seem to have a lot of faith in this film and have trust that the writers know what they’re doing. I feel like they wouldn’t have come back for this let alone be excited to do it if they felt like it was gonna be done dirty.

So how about we all calm down and think with our brains for a second? But then again most of you who are hating on this film have been hating on this series since like what, Descendants 2? I really don’t take ya’lls opinion for anything other than jack shit at this point so I’m not even gonna humor you.

Is this rude? Most likely. Do I care that this point? No. Also even if you just watch it to bash it you’re still watching it. Way to really stick to Disney!

[deconstructthesoup]

Analyzing "The Web I Spin For You"

Okay, so... THIS FUCKING SONG is one of the most interesting and compelling songs in the Nightmare Time saga, and nobody ever talks about it---unless they're praising Mariah's voice, which is something you should be doing regardless. Outside of "The Summoning," this is the only song sung by one of the gods of the Black & White, and unlike "The Summoning," which is just vibes, villain chaos, and dealing out some Faustian bargains with the NPMD gang, this song actually provides lore. It shows us a deeper look into Webby's psyche and motivations, something that the Lords in Black have yet to be gifted. It gives us a hint as to how brothers and sister split apart... and I think it might be our very first---and so far, only---look into the parent of these eldritch beings.

Okay, let's start.

"Why do you haunt me like a ghost? / You're supposed to love me the most"

Right off the bat, we have emotional depth. Webby is singing about someone who has hurt her, someone who was supposed to love her but instead used her and continues to haunt her life. Who is this person, and what did they do?

"Got me in the spell you cast / The iris of your eye is black / Weren't you the one to watch my back / Unlike the witches you summon?"

This is where it ties into the episode, with "witches you summon." You get the clear sense that Webby is talking about a family member---maybe her brothers, but it has to be one in particular, and it doesn't really feel like she's talking about Wiggly... if nothing more than the fact that his irises are very clearly not black, at least if the doll is anything to go by.

"Have you noticed that my trust has turned / You may have taught me, but now I've learned / Gotta catch you before I'm burned / In the web I spin for you"

Now, here is where it starts to make sense. I think this song is about the father of the Lords in Black and Webby---someone who taught them how to be gods of chaos. Maybe once upon a time, Webby believed in what her father was teaching her, maybe he even kept the truth secret from her, but she grew up, saw through it, decided that she didn't want to participate in the evil, and left.

At this point in the song, the phrase "the web I spin for you" seems to refer to something Webby made for her family's benefit, and based on the lyrics, it eventually became a curse for her. I saw someone mention the theory that Webby created the split timeline... and you know what? Maybe that is the web she made. A blessing, because nothing is ever permanent and nobody ever truly dies, but a curse, because she watches her brothers succeed again and again, and even when she wins, there's no guarantee that the people she helped will be happy. In fact, the episode this comes from has the only ending in the Hatchetfield universe---nobody dies, Hannah makes it out with Miss Holloway's help, Lex and Ethan get out of jail. And honestly... it hits harder that way, because I think there's enough evidence to suggest that The Witch In The Web is in the same timeline as Nightmare Time 2. And we all know how that ended.

"You used to keep me at your side / (Have you given that up? Have you given that up? Have you given that up?) / I suppose you'd have me empathize"

The way I'm interpreting it now, this could add fuel to the fire as to why the LiB resent Webby. Maybe back when she still believed in her family, she was her father's favorite. But something happened---maybe nothing more than the fact that she was kind---that changed all that. In the very next line, she says that the person she's singing about stabbed her in the back. Maybe she was lied to, maybe she was betrayed---whatever the reason, this could be why she left.

"Have you noticed that my trust has turned / You may have taught me, but now I've learned / I'll enjoy it as I watch you squirm / In the web I spin for you"

Here is where "the web I spin for you" shifts from being something Webby made to help to something she made to trap. The web she made---maybe it's the timeline, maybe it's something else---benefits nobody, but especially not the people who hurt her. She doesn't trust them anymore, so she's turned her web into something that can hurt them back.

"What's the point of giving love and trust for / I thought it something that was worth the fight for / And now I wonder what I worked so hard for / I even thought that I could give my life for you"

God. Damn. There's so much I can say, but the first thing that comes to mind is... poor Webby. Based on these lyrics alone, she has been hurt, she's been betrayed, she's likely been lied to or mislead about the purpose of what she was doing, and it's a miracle that she's still her loving and caring self. And speaking of which...

"I was the only one that loved and cared for / Have you noticed that I have it in for / As I grew older that I have no need for / The web I spin for you"

This one is actually pretty straightforward, and it lends credence to the theory that Webby truly is the only Queen in White---the only good entity in her family. The next line could either indicate that she's grown to the point where she's too powerful for the web she made, or she's outright rejecting her family and the purpose they gave her---either way, it's still cool.

"If I'm-a trust, I'm gonna trust in me / You may have taught me, but I'm now learning / All this time, I've been untangling / The web I spin for you"

And THIS RIGHT HERE is where the "gotta take it back, take it back" refrain all throughout the song makes sense. Webby is now attempting to undo her actions, now that she knows that she can't trust her family and that she's learning on her own. She's untangling the web she made, and in doing so, turning the tide.

"No doubt that if I drop dead / You'll find me tangled up / In the web I spin for you"

Full disclosure---I always have to look up those last two lyrics to know what they are, and they're very bone-chilling. My only thought to what this might mean is that... Webby's saying that the web she made might kill her. And she's either trying to guilt the person she's singing to, or she's furious at the fact that they made her create such a thing, and... yeah. I don't know what's more hard-hitting.

ANYWAYS, this song is supremely underrated

[anonymous-dentist]

about the cellwithc au; could u pls describe more or less the vibe of the world theyre living in? like is it very realistic modern with some magic flares around and almost everyone is a witch, or is it like "wizards r very rare/kind of hidden" kind of thing? and also. may i ask for some demon roier details pls just anything u think is essential for his design or just him in general

So everybody’s born with a little magic, that’s just what happens. But some people choose to deliberately train their magic up and become proper witches, and they do… witch things tbh, lots of magical realism here. But they work as teachers or doctors or librarians or whatever because being a witch is just being someone who’s put a lot of effort into their own magical abilities. Some use their witch stuff as a side hustle, and some do witch stuff like potions and charms and harmless little spells as a main gig in little shops.

The Federation monitors all the magic and makes sure no one’s doing anything crazy like, say, summoning a demon. They’re super controlling and evil, don’t worry, fuck them.

Let’s use Cellbit as an example:

Cellbit doesn’t remember his childhood, but he remembers ‘waking up’ in the “War” (aka an underground illegal magic fighting ring) already able to do proper spell casting, meaning he was already on his way to becoming a proper witch. His time in the “War” led to him harnessing his magic in a more violent way than most witches do, but he kept trying to get stronger and stronger just to survive. Eventually, he ended up in prison for some magic-related murders, but he escaped with Pac and Mike and did some soul searching while in hiding, and now here he is as a librarian in a town far from home trying to get rid of his magic and stop being a witch because his witchy magic is only good for killing.

He thinks.

As for Demonoier:

When he’s in his more demony form, he’s got the six red eyes thing going on that a lot of fanart has. He likes to consider himself a spider demon even though that really isn’t a thing at all, he’s just Quirky. He has horns, too, and a tail, and fangs and a forked tongue, but he can magic them all away if he has to.

When in his human form, Roier just looks like a Guy, but he does have a small little magical tattoo of a spider on his chest to signify that he is, in fact, a “spider demon”. (Aka it’s the seal keeping his demon traits hidden, it’s gone when he’s in demon form)