#how to return black magic to the sender

[pittifullyyours]

Pink Doughnuts - Dr Jack Abbot x F!Doctor!Reader

Summary: You left Pittsburgh with a cavernous hole in your heart, and return to find pieces of it shattered across the floor years later. In fact, you ran far, far away. But will a honky tonk bar, Dana’s birthday and hazel eyes that make you feel like the world will collapse from under your feet somehow draw you back in?

Notes: So…this is my first time posting ANYTHING on any forums, let alone Tumblr or AO3, in about 9 years. Please forgive a starved wannabe-hobbyist writer for any mistakes.

This has not been beta’d. I’m honestly terrified to let another single person read it…so it only made sense to let it loose on the world at once right?

In saying that, please please please let me know if you are enjoying this little teaser of a chapter. I’ve got a whole lot more lined up, but am utterly terrified that I’ll do a disservice to my people.

The Pitt and Jack Abbott have sufficiently ruined my life. I cannot stop the mania. Hope you enjoy!

All my work is my own, yadda yadda. Reposting is not permitted on any other platforms without my express consent and appropriate credit.

AO3: Pittifully_Yours

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Your footsteps echo quietly into the night air as you slowly come to halt in front of the bar doors.

The thrum of the night coming alive in the city was normally electrifying - music spilling from bars as doors are pulled open and closed, laughing and love-sick couples walking arm-in-arm, cab horns piercing as they push along groups of young people making their way around, so engrossed in each other and oblivious to the world around them. You took a deep breath, feeling part of your chest rattle a little at the familiar sounds, smells…it felt like home.

And as soothing a thought as that was, you can’t wipe the furrowed brows from your face as you peer up at the huge, neon sign spelling out ‘THE TWO STEP’ in multicoloured lights. Of course the mandated cowboy hat dangled over the bright letters, almost like it was tipped in a nod of welcome.

And yet you continued to stare at the dark oak doors, adorned with brushed brass knobs, almost as if waiting for it to magically come to life and tell you to hurry up and come in from the cool Pittsburgh winds.

‘This is such a dumb idea,’ you mumble under your breath. But it’s not like you were here of your own volition - hell, you hadn’t even stepped foot in a Honky Tonk bar before. And never even realised this particular one existed in the countless years you resided in Pittsburgh.

But for Dana, you’d move mountains. Three weeks ago, your email tone had ‘bing’ed on your phone and you couldn’t stop the smile that had pulled softly at your mouth once you read the name of the sender.

‘Hey kid,

Would love it if you can make it, understand if you can’t though. Miss you.

Big hugs,

Dana’

The email attachment was clearly (and very cleverly) designed by one of her daughters, decorated in old school, Western movie-style fonts, outlines of cowboy boots, and spelling out the pertinent birthday party details. It stated that it was a big one for Dana, but didn’t specify an exact number. Not that it particularly mattered - no one would dare ask Dana anyway.

But that was how you found yourself on the sidewalk in front of the bar, decked out in an old band t-shirt, one of those little skirts with fringes dangling down the sides sitting just above your knees, and a pair of black heeled boots. Still, rooted in place, heart skipping in a way that you knew was anxiety and not something more concerning, and still frowning at the door to the damn place.

A little voice in your head just echoed the sentiments from before, about how stupid this was, how it could become a really awkward night, and how being gone for 3 years might make this more un-welcoming than you’d ever imagined.

But a more certain thought came to the forefront of your consciousness, with clarity and sincerity - ‘for Dana’.

And so you took a deep breath, a few steps towards the entrance and turned the door handle to the bar.

********************************************************************************************************

The inside of ‘The Two Step’ was dimly lit, but still emitted a warm glow. Various glowing beer brands, photos of famous country music legends and more neon letters spelling out cheesy phrases on across the walls. Fairy lights stream above the dance floor, and in front of the hardwood floors that are scuffed from years of stomping boots, is a live band covering what you recognise as a modern country song from the long drive that got you here.

And as you take in the faint smell of leather, sweet barbecue grease from the kitchen and stale beer, you hear your name shouted from further in and snap your head forward to see a huge, lopsided grin on the beautiful blonde walking your way, arms already outstretched.

You step into the hug that exuded warmth - maternal, loving and cherished in every sense of the word.

“It’s been too long, kid. We’ve seriously missed you.” Dana whispers to you.

“And I can’t believe you let them throw you a cowboy-themed 21st birthday again”, you reply, mirth dripping all over your words as Dana pulls away to scan your face. Her eyes bore into every part of you, ignoring your teasing and scanning, as if you needed medical clearance to stay at her birthday party.

“If I buy you enough tequila shots tonight, do we get to see you on the mechanical bull?” you continue, while she finishes appraising you, seeming to find some kind of answer in your face that she’s semi-content with in her evaluation and throws you a wry smile.

“Fuck no, ain’t enough tequila in the world for that shit.” she scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at the sight of the massive mechanical bull penned off in the corner of the bar.

“But I reckon if we team up and give Whiticker just enough,” she continues, pinching her fingers together to show the fine balance of her proposal, “he’ll have the ride of his life.”

You throw your head back as a wicked cackle escapes you and the glint in Dana’s eyes turn from scheming to warm concern in a matter of milliseconds. Her hands are on the top of your arms, almost as if she wants to keep you glued in place.

“Seriously though, you doin’ okay over in California, hon?”

“I’m okay, promise” you breathe, a light smile tugging at your lips at the sight of her worry. “Seriously, it’s not as bad as everyone makes it out to be. The sun’s always out, the food is amazing, and the hospital I’m at is great. But the charge nurse could probably use some of your pizzazz.”

You wink at her, but your attempt to appear blasé falls flat as the worry still reigns supreme over Dana.

“Okay,” she says with an almost sigh, “just don’t go turning into one of those assholes doing dog yoga on the beach with a kale smoothie. Then I’ll know I’ve lost ya forever.”

“Never”, you whisper in a hushed, solemn voice - nodding your head and making direct eye contact like it’s the most serious vow you’ve ever sworn.

She nods her head back at you, seeming to shake off the air of concern.

“Come on, kid, there’s a few people that have been itching to see you”, Dana says. She leads you by the hand further into the bar, and you look up to see a few familiar faces sprinkled throughout different sections of the venue.

You smile at the thought of all these people here to celebrate Dana; an ode to the woman she was and the way in which people gravitate around her.

You almost crash into her as she suddenly stops and spins towards you again, face pulled into a grimace and realisation suddenly dawning in those eyes.

“What now?” you joke, eyebrows pulled upwards in surprise - Dana was never caught off guard. Her face grimaced a little, looking like she was dreading whatever she was about to say. You stood there in silence with her for a second, face confused but waiting for her to spit whatever it was out.

“Jack’s here, y’know”, she mentions in a soft exhale. She almost cringing at having to tell you this piece of information - a heads up, word of warning, cautionary offering in whatever shape it took.

Not that it mattered, since you already knew.

Less so of a ‘knowing’ and more of a ‘sensing’.

The skin-prickling awareness, heavy and filled with something more than a cursory glance that you had felt as soon as the bell on the bar door had chimed the announcement of your entry. You knew the bell’s chime was too quiet to be heard against the strumming of the band and the voice crooning in the microphone, the laughter and sound of beer glasses clinking to rest on sticky tables around the bar.

But he heard it anyway. You felt those eyes tracking your every movement, head to toe, step by step as you moved through the space - and that felt familiar too.

Like pulling on an old sweater that lay discarded over summer and is picked up as the cooler months creep in. Well worn, sliding over your skin and giving you goosebumps of familiarity. The weight of his gaze from somewhere in this bar was a sensation you knew well.

Revelled and cherished in, once.

Sought out with hunger, even rage sometimes.

And a sensation you didn’t know what to do with anymore.

Your gaze pulls over Dana’s shoulder, sensing that his close proximity in this direction caused the crashing-to-a-halt-to-give-a-warning approach to this whole conversation.

And just as the motion of someone moving away from one of the wooden, circular tables on the opposite side of the bar catches your eye, there you see him.

Staring directly at you from across the room.

Sitting with a few others, cradling a beer glass in his hand and completing ignoring the conversations occurring around him.

Hazel eyes locked on you - pinning you in that spot, not daring to breathe while he holds onto your gaze with a powerful grip. You stare back, rising to the challenge and forcing yourself to suck in a breath.

Seconds that feel like a millennia pass. You’re struggling to gulp down air, and would be worried about the bar having a carbon monoxide poisoning issue with the accompanying head spins you were currently wading through…but you know it was just him. The effect he had on you - gripping, and unending, and unshakeable even with your mightiest efforts.

Those eyes, flecked with green and brown that you knew well, struck a magically fine balance of looking hard and broken at the same time.

The thumping of boots towards and on the dance floor as the band picked up the pace behind you now seemed like a distant echo.

And it isn’t until Dana softly grabs hold of your arm, gently saying your name in a tone that’s not unlike soothing a child, that you finally snap out of it.

You were prepared for this, this little voice echoes in your head. He’ll probably avoid you, and you stay as far away as possible, and it’ll all be fine.

You force your eyes to make contact with Dana’s, who has evidently returned to the state of worry and concern you had literally just appeased with your smiles and jokes earlier.

“It’s fine, Dana” you say, the most superficially composed smile growing on your face.

You berate yourself into projecting an easy calm in your voice, ignoring the twitching of your fingers and repressing the urge to cross your arms and curl into yourself. God, it was her birthday - she didn’t need to be fretting on you like this.

“We’re all big boys and girls here. It’s really not a problem!”

Fuck, if only your voice hadn’t squeaked at the end of that sentence and given away the cracks in your false confidence.

Dana’s eyebrow furrowed again, eyes squinting and seemingly assessing the bullshit you were pouring forth. Equally assessing whether now was a good time to call you on it.

“Listen, if-“

A squeal accompanied by arms wrapped around you quite literally yanked you from the conversation, spinning your around and finding the face of one Cassie McKay.

“I can’t believe you made it” she semi-squealed, pulling you into a fierce hug. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this face!”

You hear Dana sigh, followed by a familiar male voice as you’re pulled from Cassie’s arms.

“Hey! Stop hogging her!” Frank bellowed, only semi-joking. You are again torn from Cassie’s embrace into the quick but tight one from Langdon, smiling and winking over his shoulder at Mel.

“Jesus, can you stop pulling me around like a rag doll please? You’re gonna give a girl a complex!”, you chuckle.

Frank’s stint at rehab had left him angry at the world - torn between hating himself for every misstep that landed him there, and everyone else around him. As soon as you had heard about it all though (via your group chat with Princess and Perlah), you started messaging him across the platforms. Text, Instagram, Facebook, you name it. Initially, you were thoroughly iced out - 3.5 weeks of complete and utter silence on his end in response to your incessant, one-sided jabbering. It took an absolutely repugnant TikTok video link to a video comparing animals with their celebrity look-alikes that finally broke the ice.

“Are you sure you aren’t the one who should be monitored 24/7 and in a 12 step program right now?”, was all you got back from Frank. But you knew it was enough to remind him that the sibling-like bond you had forged in the trenches of the Pitt were not forgotten to time or distance. And so you kept it up, sending him inane videos and memes, knowing it would make him scoff a laugh and question your sanity - even after his time at the facility was done and he had returned to work.

“You look pretty good for someone who spent 6 months in a padded cell,” you joke, still holding onto his shoulders.

“It was rehab, you asshole, not a goddamn asylum from the 1950s.” He replies, shaking his head but still laughing quietly.

“Whatever. Just count yourself lucky Mel seems to like them a little bit coo-coo…”

You make circle motions on the side of your head in the universal sign for “crazy”, winking and laughing as you duck behind Frank to give Mel a warm hug (and sweep stealthily away from an arm gesture you knew meant he was coming to pull and / or mess up your hair).

Mel giggled into your shoulder as you said hello, and you fist-bumped a greeting to Whitaker who stood behind her shoulder.

You hear Dana’s name being called from a distance, and wave her off with a ‘go, go’ motion while you caught up with the rest of the group that had corralled around you, smiling in re-assurance to the charge nurse to take her leave comfortably.

Before you know it, a glass was dangling in front of your face, connected to a familiar arm stretched over your head. You reach the glass filled with what looks to be your standard drink order, and turn to find Robbie with a small, hesitant smile on his face.

“Hey there, stranger.” He quips, “Reckon it’s my turn for a hello hug?”

You could spot the awkwardness on him from a mile away. The drink was the alcoholic equivalent to an “I come in peace” sign to an alien - cautious, attempting to be friendly, but fully prepared to be rebuked.

A part of you that had hardened over the years cracked, seeping a slight warmth into your veins at the sight of him expecting to be shunned by association.

You pulled him into a death grip - eyes welling a bit, and a deep breath echoing through you at the friend, the mentor, the truest kind of family you used to know wrapping his arms around you.

“I tried to call,” he mumbled weakly into your shoulder, almost pathetically.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you whispered back.

“I thought you hated me.” He replies pathetically.

You pull away, connecting his slightly watery gaze to yours.

“Never.”

You quickly dab at your face, making sure mascara wasn’t leaking from the outpouring of love you never expected to be graced with in his bar, while Robbie makes quick work to do the same on his zip up jacket sleeve.

“Now,” you begin, “where is my ridiculously hot best friend who happens to be married and spawning offspring with you?”

“Putting said offspring turned hellion to bed before the babysitter arrives,” he chuckles.

You smack his arm and gasp, putting an exaggerated hand to your chest.

“Don’t you dare speak about my godson like that. He is a ray of sunshine and I’ll hear nothing else on the matter.” You defend, frowning at him with a threat in your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Robbie replies, shaking his head, “tell that to me when he’s standing over you, breathing heavily and whispering about chicken nuggets under his breath at 3am while you’re trying to sleep.”

You cackle at the vision of it all, laughing harder at the thought of Gray’s curly head of hair and deep chocolate eyes looming above Robbie every night like something that needed to be exorcised.

“Heaven help me when she gets here…” he begins rubbing a hand up and down his face, the picture of exhaustion at their years of antics together.

“Ahhh shut up, you’ve missed me,” you chide, softly elbowing his stomach after he turns to stand beside you and his arm wraps around your shoulder.

Robbie sighs deeply.

“We really have, Y/N. We really have.”

You smile quietly, before Robby continues.

“And not just the day shift…”

Your sharp intake of breath is enough for Robbie to know he’s said too much, or the wrong thing altogether. His eyes are tainted with an apology - but also a truthfulness that makes you clench your glass and take a deep sip of your drink through the straw.

His saviour comes in the form of an arm looped through yours, Cassie’s, as she drags you to the dancefloor. And as you pull away from Robbie, your bittersweet smile at him lets him know he’s off the hook.

He raises his own glass in a soft motion and nods, seemingly making his way to the back of the room before disappearing from view altogether.

You are spun in your boots on the sticky dancefloor, tassels on your skirt swaying as you join the group dancing to the band. Mel, Frank, Cassie, Dennis, Trinity, Samira, Javadi and Matteo clap, holler, stomp and step to the country jam being belted out on the guitars and drums in front of you all. You give the four you hadn’t seen yet a quick ‘hello’ and warm smile, turned quickly into a full on belly laugh and cackle as Whitaker whips out a quick country two-step and some moves that were evidently reminiscent of his farm boy youth. Jaws drop and suddenly he’s giving them all a crash course in Line Dancing 101, Frank surprisingly struggling the most.

And this right here, this sense of joy, wholehearted, unabashed, and enveloping, had been missing from your sunny, Californian existence.

You signal that you’re headed to the bar with your empty glass, and turn to make the short walk over. Stepping up to the bar top, you signal the barkeep in a Stetson who promises to head over to you next.

And then it hits you. The goosebumps and tingling - the sensing you had picked up on before. But this time stronger, more intense and evidently triggered by the final steps closer of a presence to your left that you’d be able to spot in the dark without any light.

The smell of him alone almost caused your knees to wobble, held up straight only by your nails that had seemed to embed themselves into the sticky wood of the bar top.

Looking straight ahead at the selection of top shelf spirits, your brain felt like it was misfiring a chant that wouldn’t manifest.

He’ll ignore you, you ignore him.

He’ll ignore you, you ignore him.

He’ll ignore you, you ignore him.

But there was no ignoring the warmth exuding from the body that was a whisper's distance from yours now, seemingly intent on causing your heart to palpate, almost to the point of medical intervention. Your hands were getting clammier by the second, knowing that the eyes boring into the side of your face had once been softened through gentle caresses and whispered confessions.

He says nothing, but from your peripheral you can see the sculpted frame leaning on the bar top, elbows on a sticky surface, fingers intertwined, solid forearms with a bulging vein as though it took physical might to restrain himself from touching you. And while every element of his body looked the picture perfect portrayal of composure, she knew that those hazel eyes wouldn’t be pointed with rage, or fury, or pleading at the same line of vodka and scotch on the bar wall that you would be. They would be squarely and firmly placed on you.

So in a move so wildly stupid, so incessantly moronic, and against every fibre in your being telling you to run from a world of pain in those hazel eyes, you turn your head so that you are face to face.

And the most juxtaposing cacophony of cold hard steel, pain and anger flares as he takes in your face from this distance.

“Hello, Jack.”

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

24 Vibrator

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Reader is Zhongli's coworker / Magic Dildo trope

You opened the package that had just arrived. It was in a sleek black box, no logos, sender address or indication of what was inside. The recipient named was clearly you, which removes all possibility that you had accidentally gotten someone else's package.

With a bit of hesitance, you finally unboxed the item, pulling it out of its meticulous packaging. A card with a few lines of text was all that accompanied it.

By the shape, you could immediately tell that what you were holding in your hand was a toy. The smooth surface felt luxurious against your skin. There was a bit of weight to it, as well as generous girth. Faint indentations ran along its sides, forming simple patterns. You couldn't tell what material your unexpected gift was made of, but it looked very expensive and high quality.

Was this some sort of trial item you had unknowingly opted in for? You had been subscribed to a sampling service that's been periodically sending you various skincare and household products to try out. This was the first time you had received anything of this particular flavor, but you weren't unhappy about it. With an amused smile on your lips, you set the toy down on its wireless charger and went off to take a shower.

While you were gone, the object abruptly gave off a pulse of invisible energy and the markings running along its sides lit up with a faint warm glow, as if indicating that it had connected to something remote. Once the obscure pairing was established, it dimmed again and reverted back to its inconspicuous state.

You dried your hair with a towel as you walked out, body enclosed in only a plush bathrobe. It was finally the weekend and you usually indulged yourself on a light novel while relaxing in bed. These sort of books often got ridiculously steamy and left you very frustrated. You had been entertaining the thought of getting a toy for some time but never quite gotten around to it. Now that you had been sent one for sampling, you no longer had to bother yourself with picking one out.

Glancing over at the vibrator sitting on its charger, you were excited to see that it was fully charged already. You reached for it, rolling to your side and running your thumb along its base, searching for the power button. It immediately emitted a gentle rhythm, perfect for starting out with. You drew in a breath and parted your thighs, holding the toy against your unclad heat, letting the unhurried vibrations gradually work you into arousal.

Across the city, Zhongli stood in front of his mirror, removing the layers of his meticulous suit after returning home from work. Suddenly, he furrowed his brows, body tensing abruptly. He let out an unsteady breath, which continued to grow shallow. His pants became tight, as did the tie around his neck, which he undid with more urgency than he could understand. Something was obviously happening to his body. An odd flush crept into his cheeks as he struggled to contain the unwarranted sensations that had come out of nowhere, sweeping through his body like an untimely typhoon.

Had he perhaps ingested something he shouldn't have? He raked his memories, finding nothing of the sort.

He had never been one to rush, but he couldn't help it. If he didn't get these layers off, he would lose his mind. Ever since that first time, every weekend, the exasperating ordeal would repeat itself like clockwork. He was still lost as to why it was happening and completely powerless to stop it. The only thing he could do was let it run its course. If he indulged it, it seemed to go by faster, he discovered. He began to anticipate the weekends. It was impulsive and unlike him, chasing that fleeting moment of unravel like a beast starved.

Zhongli stroked himself desperately as he sat at the edge of his bed, soft groans escaped his lips at every phantom clench he felt around his engorged cock. It was ridiculous how good it felt. The warmth and tightness was so palpable, it was almost like there really was someone wrapped around him, using his cock unapologetically, like he was merely an object. It didn't matter that he was confused, aroused, and very frustrated. It didn't matter that he could nearly feel the fluttering of gummy walls milking his spent cock as cum dripped messily down his trembling fingers.

He rolled onto his back as the remnant sensations rippled through his body. His chest heaved and a thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead. He only managed to get his coat off this time before the sweet torment began.

As random as it was, he recognized patterns that suggested these troubling recurrences were perhaps not a bizarre ailment of sorts. Sometimes they started later, sometimes earlier, but never on a weekday. What kind of illness would be so considerate of his work schedule? There were also times when he had been expecting it to happen, but he was graciously spared. Those times suspiciously happened on days when the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was overbooked and his boss had the entire staff put on extra hours, after which she would treat everyone to dinner at Wangshu Inn.

Today was not one of those days. It was a Friday, just like any other Friday.

"You're still here, Mister Zhongli." You stopped by his office on your way out of the funeral parlor, surprised to find it not empty. He was not one to idle around at the parlor when there was nothing to do, so usually his office would be empty before yours.

Zhongli's gaze lifted from the book he was reading to meet yours. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if a sudden thought had struck him.

A flush rose in your cheeks. You were used to being the one staring at your handsome coworker, never the other way around.

He finally snapped out of his untimely daze, clearing his throat. "I was engrossed in a memoir written by one of Wangsheng's past clients."

Zhongli closed the book, standing up and making his way towards you.

"Would you like to walk back together? I remember your home is not far from mine." He offered harmlessly.

Your eyes lit up at his invitation. Were your silent prayers finally getting answered? You had been crushing hopelessly over this oblivious man for far too long that you've settled for whatever gentlemanly courtesy he could spare. No way could you turn down a chance like this.

"I'd love that. How far have you gotten into that memoir?" You asked as Zhongli grabbed his coat from its rack.

You couldn't help your eyes from sweeping down his lithe form as he fastened the buttons on his suit, respectfully of course. He was always so well put together, you naturally wondered what Zhongli would look like in disarray, if that was even possible.

The walk to your home was predictably filled with leisurely chatter, mostly revolving around the client whose memoir Zhongli had been reading. He loved talking and you loved listening to him talk. His voice had an comforting quality to it, smooth and warm like a perfectly steeped cup of Pu'er. You wished the walk was longer. Rarely did you have him all to yourself like this.

"You've been doing a lot of talking, Mister Zhongli. How about coming inside for a cup of tea?" You offered, maybe a bit too earnestly.

As smitten as you were with this man, you really weren't looking to win him over or anything. Zhongli was like antique china in your eyes. You didn't have to hold it or use it to appreciate its charm. Just looking at him everyday at work was enough for you, as long as he doesn't find your occasional glances too bothersome, you were happy to admire him from a distance.

Zhongli smiled and nodded, stepping inside with you. While you busied yourself with boiling water for the tea, Zhongli took a seat on your couch. A barely noticeable furrow appeared between his brows. His eyes scanned your home, searching. Something was resonating with him from inside your home, but he couldn't fathom what. He had not experienced such a strong instance of it ever since he had retired and taken on this human vessel. This was odd and it was even more perplexing when he finally honed in on where it was coming from, your bedroom of all places.

He wanted nothing more than to get down to the bottom of this strange resonance, but there was no respectable way to investigate further. By the time you returned with the two cups of steaming tea, Zhongli had already discarded countless excuses he could use to gain access to your bedroom.

"Would you by any chance have—" He began as he reached out for the tea you held out to him.

Even though Zhongli was never a clumsy person, you'd never interpret his hand slipping and the tea landing on his thigh as anything but an honest accident. Nobody in their right might would suspect him of pulling such a dramatic performance for such a meager objective.

You yelped as if it were your own leg that had just gotten scalded, immediately scrambling to pat him dry with the tea towel you had on hand.

"Do you want to go to the bathroom to change into something dry? I'll see if I have anything that would fit you. Oh and burn ointment. That must've hurt..." Your voice drifted behind you as you disappeared into your bedroom.

Your bathroom was adjacent to your bedroom,  which you had left the door open to as you dug through your closet for a pair of drawstring pants. Zhongli peered in through the doorway, gaze quickly sweeping every corner of the room. The source of the resonance was faint, probably emitting from an object small enough to hold. When he finally found it, his eyes widened. He really shouldn't be this shocked, but the visual whiplash was simply too jarring. There, sitting proudly on your bedside cabinet, perched on its charger was your favorite toy.

Rex Lapis memorabilia and mini Geo Archon statues still make their rounds through the shops in Liyue. Although carved in his past likeness or sculpted based on the actual statues that his people used to pray at, they seldom resonated with him so strongly.

He should've been expecting it, given the vivid memories of what had been happening to him over the past few weeks. Was he not here precisely because he had suspicions? Why is it then that when finally confronted with the culprit that forces him to participate in your pleasurable rituals, he's suddenly reluctant to do anything about it? If he were to confront you about it, how would he even begin wording such an outrageous demand?

This knowledge was his alone, unless he shared it with you. Would you even be able to enjoy your guiltless pleasure sessions if you knew he could feel every flutter and clench of your gratuitous pussy as you shoved him deep inside you? Would you be able to cum knowing that he was cumming right along with you? Now he could put a face to his phantom tomenter, imagine a voice moaning his name as he's milked dry. He could imagine you in such obscene ways and you wouldn't have a clue, blissfully unaware that your little pleasure wand was connected to him in such an a shameless way.

Zhongli left shortly after, seemingly in a hurry. Ever since you returned with the pair of pants for him to change into, his mind had been preoccupied. You didn't ask, assuming he might have other things to keep him busy with on such a lovely weekend. Little did you know, he only rushed home to put some much needed distance between the two of you for fear of his mind dwelling on the thought of you using him as a toy. He wasn't about to admit to himself that he was actually looking forward to the next time you used it. It was the weekend afterall, so it'd only be a matter of time. Perhaps one day, he'd tell you, but for now, he was willing to be a silent participant.

---

This took way too long. I kept jumping back and forth between wanting to do a modern AU or not so I compromised and did canon universe with a twist. This prompt is way too silly to do anything serious or plot heavy so I just had fun. I hope nobody thought to hard about logistics lol because I didn't.

[harvestmoss]

⚔️💧 War Water

Already quickly back with another water post, I'm hoping to make a master post once I'm done with all these posts of magical waters I use.

What is War Water?

War Water, also known as Mars Water or Iron Water, is an aggressive magical water used for hexing, curses, offensive protection, warding, return to sender, and to restore peace.

War Water, whenever it is from Hoodoo or European-folk magic, shares these traits and the ingredient iron.

Iron, also known as the metal of Mars, is commonly used in witchcraft to repel, contain, or harm fae, ghosts, malevolant spirits, and others. Iron is considered a sacred element of the Earth and because of it's association with Earth, it has a grounding and balanced aura to it. Hence why War Water restores peace.

Let's not forget that weapons, like that of swords, is typically associated to be made of Iron and steel. which is also why War Water is aggressive and offensive as a sword weapon.

How do I make War Water?

There's a few different ways to make War Water, but all of them share at least one common ingredient, iron. You can use any iron object in your War Water, the most common form is nails. Here's my War Water recipe.

Place iron nails, either whole or cut, in a glass vessel with a tight lid, it does not matter if they're already rusty. Cover it up with water from a storm preferably. Otherwise Holy Water, rain water, or tap water will do. You may also add urine* to it depending on the use.

It will have to rest for about a week, So make this water on a Thursday corresponding to a waxing moon, and end it on a Thursday. Thursday is associated with Mars, the God of war.

Where do I use War Water?

War Water is a great hexing magical water and protective agent. It removes disruptive forces from your life and will restore relaxation and peace in your environment.

It is also used as an offensive protective ingredient. Think of making a spell and lighting a black candle dressed in this water for protection. The spirits will go to this candle and essentially be spiritually cut by the nails and rust away, at least, that's how I like to think so.

It is also used for curses for it's aggressive nature.

*Typically I make the War War with just the nails but during a spellwork session, I pour a bit on the side and add a bit of urine to it. That way my War Water stays clean for future use, and I can grab it whenever I want. I add urine to be extra offensive and add some aggressive potency to it. It is not a must, It's something I like to do for certain spells.

[esoteric-chaos]

What is Banishing? The How-Tos and Methods

Banishing is a direct form of expelling energy or spirit from your space. Used to get rid of a specific energy, spirit, or person. Can even be used to banish a bad habit if you really wanted to. It is a strong form of defensive magic versus cleansing which is more of a brush out the door. Banishing is you picking whatever up by the scruff like a wet cat and throwing it out the window.

This is not a gentle nudge. Banishing is firm, protective magic. It creates boundaries. It says “No. You’re not welcome here.” It's used when something or someone has crossed a line, overstayed their energetic welcome, or embedded itself in your field in a way that feels parasitic, toxic, or draining.

Unlike general purification rituals that remove stagnant or non-specific energies, banishing is targeted. You're naming the energy, be it a spirit, an obsessive thought pattern, a toxic relationship, a trauma loop, or a self-sabotaging behavior, and commanding it to leave. In this way, banishing can also be deeply psychological, working as a ritualized form of boundary setting and trauma recovery. You are reasserting sovereignty over your space, mind, and energy.

That said, banishing doesn't always have to be aggressive. It can be fiery or icy, wrathful or firm. The important thing is clarity, know what you're banishing, why you're banishing it, and what you'll do to keep it from returning.

You can absolutely combine cleansing and banishing into one ritual. Think of it as a one-two punch: banish the intruder, then cleanse the space to remove lingering residue and restore balance. Make it spicy. Salt and fire. Bells and smoke. Whatever gets the job done, thoroughly.

Here are some banishing methods drawn from my own grimoire. Use what resonates.

Spiritual

Smoke - Burning Dragons Blood, Hyssop, Rue, Cedar, Juniper, Blackberry Leaves and Pine are great herbs to burn for banishing and purification. You can also make a herbal spray as well.

Candles - Banish from your space using corresponding banishing candle colours like Black.

Herbs - Can be made into satchels, jars, sprays, spellwork and other items for banishing.

Sigils - Create a banishing sigil for your space, self or working.

Powders - Powders like GTFO powder are great examples for banishing's

Witches bells - Witches bells hang on your doorknob or on your door (inside the home) for protection and banishing. When someone comes into the home it rings, banishing negative energy.

Spells - Return to sender, uncrossings and freezer spells are good examples of banishings. Write the target's name on a black candle with intention, dress with corresponding oils, and write a petition to place under the candle to effectively banish them from your space/life.

Energy - Visualize a powerful bubble of protective light of any colour. Visualize it pushing out of your chest and visualize it burning up the energy and pushing it out of your space. Can be energy-taxing so please drink some water and eat a snack.

Black salt - Salt (I use sea) mixed with charcoal, eggshell powder and protective & purifying herbs. Used in warding, banishing and protection. Please be careful around pets with salt as they can get sick if eaten.

Physical

Baths/showers - Submerging yourself in water with banishing herbs and oils. You can also shower with banishing herbal soaps and hang a mesh satchel with purifying herbs over your shower head.

Physical - Literally taking pots and pans, screaming to get out of your house. Both annoying to the neighbors and effective for spirits.

Vocal - Prayer to deity/ancestors/guides/etc for assistance. Prayer from a holy book. Incantations are normally followed by another action like ringing bells.

Feel free to place your banishing methods below!

Looking for all of my posts in one place? Check out the Masterpost

Revamped on 5/4/25

[knaveumineko]

Umineko Episode 6 Blog: Without Love, It Cannot Be Seen

Important one today! Seeing characters who represent love itself is a big deal, and their trial tells us about Sayo as a person far more directly than anything before.

Apologies for the delay in getting this out. I completely blacked out for all of yesterday and, when I woke up, I discovered that my planned posts had been replaced by a series of mysterious forgeries. I was shocked, to say the least. The only place I ever wrote down my Tumblr password was in a notebook that I keep in a safe. The code to the safe is only written in a post that I keep in my drafts folder on my main Tumblr blog. Unless the culprit is a witch who could read my mind, I just don't see how it's possible to gain access to my account like that.

It's particularly unsettling because I got a letter today that was returned to sender, even though I don't remember sending any letter in the first place. All that was inside was the name of some bank in Japan and a list of numbers. I couldn't make sense of it, so I just threw it away, but it's pretty creepy.

There's a running gag in Umineko in which the magic side of the plot draws heavy inspiration from Otaku culture. There are a lot of superficial references to the occult, the Stakes are right in that grating, childish territory that manga writers seem to think it funny, and the bunny girls talk like they walked out of Nanoha. In keeping with this, the magic side of the plot is filled with yuribait, representing a diverse range across the "basically canon but they won't say it explicitly for some reason" to "if you ship this I assume you believe in chemtrails" spectrum. By juxtaposition with the heteronormative romances of the mundane side of the story, Umineko might accidentally imply that LGBT people are an aberration, enjoyable as a quick gag or piece of fanservice, but intolerable as soon as they become too real. Not really a good faith reading, but such is the kind of unintended side effect you might run into when you only explore queerness through the lens of non-human characters.

Or is it an unintended side effect at all? I'm still reeling from the fact that Battler trying to grope his cousin (I guess twice, if I'm right about Sayo's parentage) turned out to be important. I've been thinking of Kanon as more or less a disguise for Sayo, and maybe it even started out that way, but the entire conflict in the Love Trial is ultimately over which of the identities gets to become a real person. Kanon picks out a real name in this chapter (I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have one before, since he only exists when Sayo is on-duty) and it would seem as though his existence is linked to the question of whether Sayo would prefer to prioritise Jessica, in the same way that Shannon practically exists to be George's wife, and Beatrice is explicitly a coping mechanism for unfulfilled feelings toward Battler.

We shouldn't forget that the world of magic is one formed mostly from the mind of Sayo. To Sayo, marriage is when a man and a woman have a wedding, the man works and the woman stays home to look after their kids. To Sayo, the choice to commit to Jessica is synonymous with the choice to live as a man, and vice versa for George. To Sayo, a choice between the two is absolutely necessary for life to go on. Only one can survive the trial.

The characters ask over and over: why is a miracle necessary for two people who already love eachother? What can stand in their way at that point? It's not just that Shannon, Kanon and Beatrice are all the same person. Kyrie alludes to it with her comment about marriage being something very different from a childhood crush. George is very clear that he wants to have a lot of children. Natsuhi seems to be under the impression that the baby from 19 years ago was a man. The reason Sayo needs a miracle is because of her body.

Back in Episode 2, when Kanon fights the goat (I can't believe this ended up mattering) there's some phallic subtext being thrown around. I recognise "sword = phallus" is an uncouthly English Major thing to forward, but in this case I'm not just grasping at straws (another phallus! Freud was right!) I think Beatrice literally refers to Kanon conjuring his blade as "whipping it out." Kanon has a line about how he didn't want to show it to Jessica, and Beatrice mocks him for "exposing his subhumanity."

I've already said before that Shannon avoids being physically intimate with George, and goes as far as sleeping in a separate room when they vacation together. Again in Episode 2, we get some suggestive dialogue during Beato's crashout. She says that Shannon wanted George to "teach her the joy of womanhood," insists that their relationship is meaningless if they can't sleep together and tells her that their relationship will be over the moment George tries to sleep with her.

Zepar and Furfur are pretty one-note characters, but their existence itself is a huge hint: they look completely identical but are opposite genders. Pretty weird that Ryukishi didn't write anything else in their character bios.

I wonder if the backstory is going to be that Sayo was raised as a girl initially because she was supposed to be Kinzo's newest Beatrice. I feel like I broadly understand her background, but I don't really understand the specific sequence of events. I still can't decide if Sayo was ever actually at the orphanage or if she was just at Kuwadorian the entire time.

For now, I think I'll stick with she/her for Sayo, since the name was originally linked with Shannon, and it seems like the Shannon identity has been around continuously for much longer than Kanon, and has yet to be dropped in favour of it.

Through the lens of the meta plot, it seems the true purpose of the Love Trial was not to create a miracle for Shannon or Kanon, but to create a miracle for Battler by returning his lost love to him. The trial had to drag in Shannon and Kanon, because those identities are as much Beatrice as the witch of legend was, as much as Sayo presents them as separate (it's Kanon, after all, who teaches the new Beato how to be a witch). Way back in the 1st Episode, Kanon has his soliloquy about the big strong Battler coming along to save him from the work he's not strong enough to do himself. The scene ends by cutting him off as he says "even I..." This could be read as an indication of Kanon being insecure about his status as a man or as Kanon noticing that some residual attraction to Battler even exists in him, even though that's not meant to be part of his identity. It could also be both at once, with those feelings feeding into eachother. The same episode also features Shannon not caring at all about Battler making passes at her right in front of George. The implication here seems to be that Sayo's feelings toward Battler are the truest of them all, to the point where they seep into the other identities. It's interesting that Shannon "wins" the Love Trial, but Beatrice is clearly the victor regardless. Sayo's feelings toward Jessica were never all that developed, because she could not allow herself to accept them, but she was prepared to move on and marry George before Battler showed up out of nowhere. "Because of your sin, people die."

As for Beato's part in things, we're doubling down on the parallels between Kinzo and Battler to an unambiguously disquieting degree. Battler is constantly conflicted between his desire to get the original Beato back and whatever responsibilities he has toward her "daughter," and so he bets on the miracle of the new Beatrice becoming the old one. One might even speculate that the entire Logic Error was some kind of ploy on his part to make this happen. After all, the solution to the Logic Error requires you to understand who Beatrice is. He has some inner narration suggesting that he's genuinely stumped by the problem, but then again Beatrice was maintaining her "change of heart" act in Episode 3, even in scenes that Battler presumably couldn't observe.

After Episode 6's ending, I have no idea where Umineko is going to land on the question of magic. In Episode 4 we had a conflict between Ange and Maria over the latter's attempts to explain away her own abuse. It seems that this wedding is a more extreme example of the same tension. It is certainly wrongheaded to evaluate two people's "truths" with the goal of figuring out which one is "right," (those of you who found this blog through JADS might recall that infamous user who was asked to stop using a slur, and uttered the famous last words "define a slur") but at the same time the magic scenes are often used, not just to cover up or interpret, but to perpetuate a horrible reality. I was thinking that the story might conclude by arguing that the reader ought to accept the existence of magic, in a complete reversal from the beginning, when such a thing was unthinkable, but now I wonder if in the long run we're going to get some kind of synthesis of the two perspectives that I'm not expecting.

Beatrice has always been a composite being. I wondered if this nature of hers might be an allusion to the Holy Trinity: she does, after all have 3 major personalities who are sort of all her but also none of them are really her, and she's already an allusion to the Divine Comedy (I need to wrap this blog up soon, or else the next April Fools post is going to need a lot of background research). This is to say that it's reductive to simply say that Battler married his daughter, but at the same time that is literally what happened on-screen. The final scenes of Episode 6 are trying so hard to distract you with the flashy fight scene and the big romantic wedding applauded by everyone and Beato's aura farming, but the rot underneath it all goes unaddressed. Are we just commenting on Kinzo's attempts to beautify his actions, or are we also questioning the value of Sayo's "love" for a man who has never, and will never, do anything to save her no matter how long she waits? The same guy who, in her own story, tries to assault her the second he sees her after a lapse of six years? Battler is a member of the Ushiromiya family, in the end. Given what happened, it would seem that the real Battler, who we have yet to see, and may never see, was far from the miracle she was hoping for.

The unease that the ending leaves us with leads directly into the ??? scene. Battler tried as hard as he could to hide the truth of the Rokkenjima killings from the vultures who would revel in revealing all the sordid details. He tried to protect Beatrice out of love. Featherine and Bernkastel truly do not care. A miracle will certainly not occur on their stage.

[sanguinesorceress]

Your character receives an anonymous package. Within it is a seems to be a bag of extremely fine black and gold sand. A small handwritten card within reads: "Pour me out but don't worry, I'll always return to the bag when you're done." (The sand will magically create the image of a person's face or the entirety of their person as a perfect replica of how you remember them. This person though has to be deceased for it to work. Who does your character think of? Why them? Sending this to a bunch of folks for the holidays so they have a surprise IC gift that might also hit them in the feels! Happy Holidays!)

[ Music ]

Somewhere in the Ghostlands, where restless undead shamble tirelessly among the ruins of Quel’thalas, a derelict building hosts one of her many ‘lairs.’  On this particular Winter’s Veil evening, the Sorceress sat in a black-leather, wingback chair, thumbing through a hefty tome in search of a particular incantation—if for no reason other than to refresh her memory prior to its use.

Where a side table once housed a glass of Nightrose wine, a small box manifested seemingly out of nowhere.  Absently, Malakortana reached for the crystal glass, only to discover the small gift box in its place.  Long, spidery fingers brushed against the black bow, triggering the box to open.  Apathetic to the holidays, it came as an astonishing surprise to receive anything at all, for who in their right mind would send a gift to a creature of her nature?  Surely this was some sort of mistake, or a translocative accident at best.

Just how the parcel made its way into the Sorceress’ possession was a mystery— one that piqued her curiosity and raised her hackles at the same time.  How did the sender manage to circumvent her magical wards?  She would make a point of inspecting her perimeter later.

Sable lips twisted into a display of annoyance as she peered over at the now opened package.  If the act of accidentally touching it did not unleash any malevolent curse, what harm could come from inspecting it further?  Setting the tome on her lap, Malakortana hooked a single, ashen digit into the ties and lifted the hefty bag out of the box.

Eyes as black as a moonless midnight sky passed over the bag, and upon discovering the attached handwritten note, she read it. 

"Pour me out but don't worry, I'll always return to the bag when you're done."

An adept arcanist, Malakortana could sense its magical properties, despite not knowing the nature of its design—yet.  She poured the bag’s contents onto the floor… and waited.

The moment the sand touched the ground, it coalesced into a vortex of black and gold that swiftly took the shape of a masculine silhouette she would know anywhere…

Sable lips parted in astonishment, though no gasp departed from her open mouth.  A timeless creature, the Sorceress discarded the unnecessary need to breathe long ago. …Seldrin?!

She rose abruptly from her chair and the tome came crashing to the ground with a hollow ‘thud!’ as the scarlet wraith drifted across the room with a hand outstretched to touch him.

How!?  I searched every corner of the Shadowlands and could not find you… where are you?!

The instant her claws grasped at his silhouette, the sand magically returned to the bag— just as the instructions explained it would.

Long she stood there in the dark… a silent statue among the rows of leather-bound books.  And like the holy relics in stories of unexplained miracles, this one also cried tears of blood.

@dinthoqaf

[twstmagica]

Magical Girl Yuu's First Day pt 4

“Listen dude, I don't know what kind of cult thing you’ve got here and at this point I don't care. I just need to get back home before my mentor freaks out.”

This time it really isn't Yuu’s fault she got lost!

“Cult?! Night Raven College is the most prestigious school in all of Twisted Wonderland!”

“Cool story bro. You still kidnapped me.”

“The black carriage does not kidnap – !”

“The what?”

So according to Birdman all students are recruited via some spooky carriage and horse that Yuu does not remember seeing.

Actually she can't remember anything of how she got here. The day was Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday?  She had been getting ready for… something important. Something that had the adult magica gearing up. Yuu remembers a sense of urgency, this had been different from the usual fiend attacks. 

What happened? Did something go wrong? 

For the first time since waking up Yuu feels truly scared.

Panic rises as she tries to go over what enemies could have the power to transport someone while fogging their memories.

Meanwhile!

Totally oblivious to Yuu’s mental crisis, Birdman was reaching his own conclusions.

“... truly weren't meant to be here then that could explain why you couldn't be sorted. I suppose there's nothing for it. Step back in front of the mirror, young man.”

Finally Crowley looks back at the child, Yuu, and takes in his state.

One hand is tugging at his hair while the other grips his strange magic pen. The boy’s eyes are unfocused and he rocks his weight back and forth from one foot to the other.

Hmm.

Hmmmmmmm. 

That’s probably not good. If only Crewel were here to deal with this instead.

Remembering the damage from earlier, Crowley approaches cautiously. He keeps an eye on the hand holding the oversized pen and grasps Yuu’s shoulder in a clawed grip.

Yuu does a full body jolt but listens when Crowley tells him to approach the mirror again

*Return to sender!*

…

Nothing happens.

Yuu’s anxiety is getting out of control, so she tries channeling it towards something more productive. Specifically anger.

This mirror!

First he calls her a freak, now he's saying her home doesn't exist. 

“I cannot discern –”

“Well, is there anything you do know? Or should I do this place a favor and break you out of that frame!”

For the record, Yuu wasn't actually going to break the mirror. Squakface still wasn't willing to risk it as he dragged her out of the room.

Crowley guides Yuu to the library where they spend some time looking for references to her home city Duskfront.

Eventually Yuu asks what the books are referring to when they say Twisted Wonderland.

After some more back and forth Crowley concludes that Yuu must be from another world. 

Yuu is like okay bro, a likely story.

She’s still concerned this might be a plot, and thinks it's pretty convenient that they happen to be on an isolated island.

Crowley suggests that they shelve this for now and he offers to house Yuu in an unused dorm.

Yuu is not having it and tries to walk out, determined to swim back home if she must.

Crowley protests, despite the many complaints from both students and staff alike Crowley does in fact have a sense of responsibility. And while this particular student is, for whatever reason, unsortable, he cannot allow a student to just walk out. Not even one as unruly as Yuu.

Yuu really, really, doesn't want to be alone with her thoughts waste any time, but she understands this isn't the type of situation you can just bully your way out of. So with gritted teeth Yuu finally hisses out, “fine!”

Birdface is leading her far away from the main building.

Really far.

How big is this campus?

Finally they reach a derelict building that may at one point have been a dormitory.

“It's a little old, but a building with such character is suitable for such a rambunctious young man.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Calling you what? Rambunctious? I’d say it's rather accurate.”

“No. Young man. I'm not a guy.”

“What?”

Yuu loosens the sash holding her outfit and pulls back the outer robe to reveal modest, but still visible, breasts.

“WHAT!”

I was going to make it longer but I decided to split the final into two parts and give you this now. Sorry about the long wait (╥_╥). I'm kinda disappointed by how close to canon I've been but I know there will be big opportunity for change later. Specifically with the ghosts.

Ive been thinking about writing some drabbles or trying to draw out some scenes, turns out even making a short comic is hard. Im working on a short piece about the mine based more on the manga than the game. I'll focus on that after the last part of Yuu's first day, but might also do some smaller posts as well.

[magixfairyix]

Return to Sender (S.S.S.)

MAJOR SPOILER regarding a plot point of the third book of Snow, Shadow, and Storm. I am sharing it only because I don't know how long it will take me to get to it considering I am only halfway through book one.

I will share this on here but not on AO3, for spoilers sake.

TW: Violence, very bad gore, swearing

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda was on Ovrum, the dusty and decaying city just as she remembered it from all those years ago. The night before she had a dream, and the day before she got her last wings torn off and was possessed by Lilith's returned spirit; the only one out of the Ancestral Witches who survived.

The Council of Magix decreed that she either forcefully finish the class change from a fairy to a witch, getting her Cosmix and Inseimix wings torn off, or lose her magic and be exiled to Earth.

She chose the first and got possessed by the remains of Lilith that afternoon, her magic close enough to the spirit and mind hurt enough for the possession. Lilith almost controlled Iorda to jump into Rockeluche Ravine to destroy her, but at the last minute, she snapped out of it.

The night after that she had a dream.

Lilith threatened to control Iorda and make her kill Darcy, along with the rest of her friends. She threatened Iorda to do… horrible things. Gruesome thing that she didn’t even want to think of.

That’s why she was here. Iorda would get controlled by Lilith—who still wanted to take over the Magical Dimension—knowing she would lose. Inisemix was more powerful than the Ancestors, and the only thing that would stop her friends from killing her would be that it would be her body fighting them.

Iorda sent a message to Icy, Bloom, and Tecna before she cast a portal to Ovrum from Alfea: Kill me if you have to.

Now the girl stood, breathing in the dusty air. In the center of what would’ve been an arena centuries ago was the second tree of life, its bright green branches and buds reaching a height twice as tall as her. No pixies guarded it; it was a backup and its location had to remain hidden.

A slight breeze began to blow around the area, lifting up small clouds of sand. The wind was not reassuring, and Iorda could feel the darkness in it. She stopped herself from wrapping her arms around her midsection. A sense of dark magic could be felt behind her, and she turned around to see the spirit of Lilith several meters away from her.

“Lilith,” Iorda greeted diplomatically, glaring.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda walked through the main hall of the Council Building, fabric of the Inseimix form trailing behind her. Deep inside her body she could feel the need to run away, to stop this before it was too late, but all she could feel was a deep anger. Lilith was bringing all her resentment up from where it was buried to that nothing else could be thought of; no rational thought, only anger.

Anger became fuel for her magic, stirring a need for revenge.

At the end of the hallway two tall golden doors etched with gemstones flew open and several guards holding various phantom-weapons rushed out. A shrill ringing sounded out through the hallway, the warning light above the door flashing red desperately. Iorda focused on the one with short black hair, bringing her anger up to the surface as she flicked her wrist, snapping the specialist’s neck.

He fell. Not dead, but dying.

Iorda wasn’t going to give any of them a quick death.

The battle only went on for several minutes. Trained specialists rushed forwards after hesitating, swinging or firing their weapons. Iorda had more power, but less experience. At least she would have had less experience if she wasn’t being controlled by one of the Ancestors. 

She transported out of the way of attacks, creating shards of darkness at the same time that she fired. Specialists were pinned to walls from the force of it, either by their limbs, neck, or straight through their skulls. There was no mercy.

When all of them were restrained, screaming in pain on the ground, or even dead, Iorda brushed her hair out of her face. She both shuddered and relished the smell of the blood, but she didn’t care for the first. With a merciless expression she walked over the dead bodies, shoes coated in blood.

It was all Lilith controlling her, bringing up past anger and resentment that drove her to this. Or maybe it was the opposite. She’d been mind controlled before and this moment felt more peaceful. She didn’t know, all Iorda wanted to do was to make them suffer.

She rested a hand on the towering doors, and inside would be the council chamber. Orue and Ycrea would be in there; the two council leaders. A small smile played across Iorda’s face. She waved her glowing hand and the doors slowly swung open, creaking, slowly revealing the council chamber; a room with a long table spanning the length of it, Orue sitting at the two ends of it, running about the room.

“Fire!” Orue screamed, and Iorda felt content at the unease in his voice.

All the magea and specialists in the room turned towards Iorda and began firing spells and magic bullets, some transformed and levitating, some rushing forwards with blades. More magic was focused to Iorda’s mind than ever—Lilith—and she, deep down, felt fear before it was snuffed out. 

Her eyes glowed dark purple, focusing on her mind and everyone else's besides Orue’s, and heard a snapping sound that didn’t truly exist. Everyone fell to the ground, blood spilling out of their mouths and some their eyes. Psychic magea do not truly just control thoughts, but manipulate the brain and its areas. With enough power it is easy enough to make one’s brain snap and bleed.

“You’re alone now,” Iorda said cruelly, her voice her’s but the tone was Lilith’s.

“S-stay back, witch!” Orue yelled, backing up against the wall with an emergency phone in hand. There was no worry if he’d call the authorities or not, because they’d be killed if they ever decided to come. 

“Witch,” Iorda said, tasting the word on her tongue as she slowly walked closer, hands waving and bringing up shadows from the ground. “You said I wasn’t enough of a witch a few days ago. Ordered my last two wings to be torn off, or else I would lose my magic and be exiled to Earth.”

“Y-you—” Orue stuttered, firing a powerful sphere of magic that Iorda destroyed within seconds. “Your magic was unstable. You were a danger to us all—”

“Do you know what it's like?” Iorda asked darkly, stepping closer to him until she was only a meter away, wisps of shadows undulating and swirling around her. “To go through that kind of pain?” She pursed her lips. “But you’ll learn.”

“You—” Orue narrowed his eyes. “Fine you fiend, I apologize.”

“Apologies aren’t enough,” Iorda said darkly, eyes and hands glowing brighter. She wasted enough time talking, and deep inside she had to get revenge. That sensation itched deep within her soul, the need to see those who made her suffer go through it tenfold.

Shadows began to stir below her, the ground below undulating, and with her hands she guided the shadows around her. It was like a sort of serparted snake. Iorda knew what she would do to Orue, and as she flicked her hand forwards she did it.

The wisps of shadows flew out towards Orue that he failed to avoid, disturbingly going through his mouth and through his body, bringing agonizing pain as he gasped for air and for it to stop. Iorda felt a smirk that wasn’t her own come across her lips, and a feeling of satisfaction that was her own.

That is… until she felt familiar energies appear behind her.

“Iorda,” Icy said, hands out peacefully but her voice wavered. All the Winx as well as Darcy and Stormy were watching closely. “You have to calm down.”

“This isn’t you,” Bloom said slowly. “It’s Lilith.”

“Of course it’s me,” Iorda—Lilith—said while tilting her head, the shadows still mutilating Orue so much that his screams were silent. “Do you really think the girl would have enough strength to exact revenge herself?”

“Then she’s still in there,” Stella said quietly to the others.

“Leave. Now,” Iorda said with a half smirk, glaring. “The agreement was that you all would be left unharmed if the girl agreed to be possessed.” She paused, the darker and more solemn side of Iorda wanting to come out but failing. “Do you truly know how much your friend wants revenge?”

“Iorda wouldn’t kill people!” Musa snapped.

“That’s her main emotion she uses for her magic,” Iorda said while smiling, her expression struggling between a smile and an agonized frown as she glanced at the group. “Vengeance. You know that, don’t you? How deep the need inside the girl to get revenge goes?”

Aisha frowned before stepping forwards. “We know you want vengeance, but… Iorda you’ll hate yourself if you do this—”

“Oh right,” Iorda interrupted with a smirk, hand still glowing and Orua still in agony. “You went through something similar, didn’t you? When your precious Nabu died?”

Aisha bit back a glare, and Darcy rested their hand on her shoulder. “It’s Lilith.”

“Iorda is stronger than you,” Bloom said angrily, hand glowing orange. “She will get out of this and fight your control. You won’t win.”

“Oh I’m not an idiot,” Iorda said as she tilted her head. “I know the girl would get back control eventually and fight all these deaths she’s causing, but why do you think I’m saving the best for last?”

Darcy thought to themself. They knew that Iorda did have a lot of people she resented, and they knew for sure who she wanted revenge on the most. Ame was in Light Rock trying to be rehabilitated, and for all the scars—mental and physical—she left on Iorda during their brief relationship that was only a way for Ame to get rid of the 'threat' Iorda was; believing that she was the cause for the trouble the Magcail Dimension had faced.

Lilith could very easily tempt Iorda to get rid of her.

Darcy saw the brief look in Iorda’s eyes that was hers before Lilith smirked.

“Seems like my business is done here,” Iorda said with a chilling smile, snapping her fingers and… Orue fell to the ground, blood leaking out of his mouth. She shook her head, wincing slightly before smiling again. “You’d do well to stay out of my way.”

With a wave of her hand, Iorda transported away with black and purple light.

Darcy breathed out shakily, unable to move.

The rest of the group rushed over to the bleeding bodies, but Orua had no pulse.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda walked through the empty halls of Alfea. Her anger felt more prevalent than when she killed Orue, more her’s and easier to control. But Lilith was still there, locking away all of Iorda’s hesitation so all she could feel was the suggestion of the witch and her own need for revenge.

When Iorda entered the school Headmistress Faragonda had told all of the teachers and students to go into lockdown until either the Winx or Trix would get there. Iorda had Inseimix, and she could very easily kill who she wanted with her own power and Lilith’s. Steps echoing through the hall, Iorda walked towards a very specific classroom.

She reached the door, hearing very quiet voices from inside. With a slight smirk, she tried to open the door only to find that it was locked, and she rolled her eyes. With a wave of her hand, the edge of the door shattered and she slowly walked in to see transformed fairies and a transformed Dufour on the opposite side of the room. Her eyes locked on a specific target: Alyssa.

For a long time, Alyssa had been a pain to Iorda, calling her a witch while she still learned at Alfea, and saying that she didn't belong when she began to fully become a witch from a fairy; Lilith's magic within her finally becoming too much for her to remain a fairy.

Dufour waved her hand and a glowing white sphere shot out towards her, but Iorda scoffed and waved her hand, a small shield of darkness appearing in front of her that quickly snuffed out of the spell.

“Leave, Iorda,” Dufour glared, hands glowing again. “Lilith.”

“Lilith, Iorda…” Iorda mused in a playful tone, one that with most definitely Lilith’s, hand resting on a desk. “Who cares who it is? The only thing that matters is that I suggest that all of you try to make this easy on yourse—” 

Her eyes widened slightly when she saw the fear in Alyssa’s eyes that made her think of herself. Of all the fear Iorda felt during those weeks several months ago, being locked up in that cell while Ame slashed a knife over her face, calling her a monster. Her hand began glowing purple and she let out a cry as she tried to push back against Lilith’s magic.

“Stop!” Iorda screamed, stumbling back, before her head rolled as if stretching and she resumed a smirk. “Irritating. Now…” Her hand glowed brighter, and a small shard of darkness started forming in her hand. “I think you all know who—”

Within a quick and horrifying second, Iorda gripped the shard tight, half under her own control, and stabbed her own hand that was on the desk. She screamed shrilly, throwing her head back as tears fell down her face. She hated Alyssa with a burning passion, but she knew the fairy was just the result of a fucked up system full of prejudice. 

Towards witches, those who weren't 'good.'

She trembled, knowing that she deeply wanted to kill Ame next and that she would once Lilith encroached on her control again; on her thin restraint. Iorda focused her magic, shaking as she pulled her hand away from the shard stuck in the desk, tearing flesh but she didn’t trust herself enough to not throw the shard at Alyssa if she got it out of the desk.

She transported herself away again, to Ovrum.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The Winx and the Trix rushed into the classroom, eyes widening when they saw the shard of darkness stabbed into the desk, the blood on the ground, and Dufour comforting a shaking Alyssa at the back of the classroom.

“What the ome happened?” Stormy questioned, forcing himself to look away from the blood.

“S-she—” Alyssa stuttered, hunched over herself. Dufour rested a shaky hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “She stabbed… stabbed herself to… t-to stop herself from… k-killing me…”

Darcy’s eyes widened with worry. “What?”

“In… in the hand,” Dufour said, realizing that Darcy’s mind went straight to the worst case scenario. “She was going between herself and… Lilith. She had stabbed herself in the hand to get some control back, at least that is what I assume.”

“Where did she go?” Tecna asked immediately.

Darcy closed their eyes for a short moment, realizing that Iorda’s energy was no longer at Alfea. The two of them could feel each other's presence—being each other's magical balance—if they focused. After a few seconds with the group staring at them expectantly, Darcy opened their eyes.

“She’s on Ovrum.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Iorda was on her knees hunched over herself, hands digging into the brown stone of Ovrum. It was the only way she could keep herself controlled temporarily; staring at her mutilated hand that rested and bled on the stone, giving her fear and horrible memories, but it kept Lilith away for the time being.

She knew it wouldn’t last long.

For a brief second still in her consciousness she felt familiar energies transport onto Ovrum across the dusty plane. Iorda remembered in her last second of control that she asked Icy, Bloom, and Tecna to kill her if needed. She accepted that.

Her mutilated hand didn’t seem as bad, as startling, and she stood up slowly before turning around. Iorda could feel her bitterness at the interruption, her desire to kill Ame after this was done, and the only part that was Lilith was the lack of restraint Iorda had, of second-guessing.

“You’re here,” Iorda stated, a small calm frown that was her’s.

“Iorda, it is you…?” Flora asked slowly—all of them knew that the last event at Alfea meant that Lilith’s control was lessening and lessening. The group waited, not moving.

Iorda paused, glancing across the group before speaking. “More me than Lilith, if that’s what you’re asking, but…” She shrugged coolly. “You are all going to let me kill Ame. That’s the only person I want dead, and I will do it.”

Bloom and Icy shared a hesitant look, but it was Musa who spoke. “You killed Orue, remember..?”

“He deserved it,” Iorda said bluntly, and Musa jeered back. She crossed her arms in front of her calmly, hands only slightly glowing and barely noticable. “They both do.”

“I want Ame dead just as much as you, Iorda,” Darcy said slowly, trying to stay calm. Tecna raised a brow at them. “She does deserve it, but you’ll hate yourself if you do this.”

“I can deal with the hate,” Iorda said venomously, voice shaking with anger. She could feel her restraint lessening even further. “What I can’t deal with is that the only repercussion Ame got was Light Rock. For all the bullshit she put me through!”

She breathed shakily, tears burning in her eyes. All of her pain and agony from what happened was going through her, but above else, all the anger. Her hands glowed slightly brighter, and her arms were no longer calmly crossed; they were at her sides, hands clenched into firsts.

“She deserved worse, yes, but if you kill—” Tecna started.

“If she’s dead then at least I’m not staying up at night!” Iorda snapped, stepping forwards. “At least I can fucking rest knowing that she’s not still alive and that I don’t have to worry about her coming for me again!” She breathed out shakily, tears falling down her face as she chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face. “She’s alive. She’s alive and I—I have to go through what she did.”

There was dead silence, no one knowing how to stop this.

“You know what?” Iorda said after a pause, smirking, a horrible sight with her bleeding hand and the tears soaking her face. “I’m going to put her in the ground, and if you all want to stop me—NO!” She screamed, gripping her injured hand with the other tightly and she screamed before the dark smile returned. “Then I am not above fighting you all”

Iorda waved her hand and focused on her magic, hands glowing. The Winx and the Trix transformed in a second, all of them in the Inseimix transformation. They would win against Iorda, but the only question was at what cost they’d be able to stop this when she had Lilith’s magic along with her own.

While levitating around the battle—the group trying to fire spells to retrain her, Iorda simply transporting out of them—Iorda could only feel her rage towards Ame. Deep down she felt fear of hurting her friends, but Lilith would never let that feeling break through enough for her to stop.

Darcy, Musa, Aisha, and Icy flew back down to the ground, trying to catch their breaths. Icy was concerned that the only way to fix the situation was to do what Iorda requested, but Darcy breathed in shakily. 

They had another idea.

“I’m…” Darcy glanced at Musa, voice full of hesitance. That was a desperate situation and the witch knew it, even though they'd regret doing what they planned to Iorda. “I’m going to try to… mind control her.”

Musa paused before speaking. “Would… that work?”

“Even if it doesn’t it might lessen Lilith’s hold on her mind,” Tecna said, and the four of them shared a worried glance before nodding. Icy and Musa flew up to tell the other of the plan, and they all began fighting Iorda again with the new intent of letting Darcy get close enough.

It took a long time of tiring fighting, but eventually Iorda stumbled back with a tear-filled glare as a convergence spell between Bloom and Stella hit her shoulder, wincing in pain. She felt a hand on her shoulder as felt an influence that wasn’t Lilith’s, and before she knew it she had whipped around to face Darcy with another shard of darkness in her hand.

“Iorda, no!” Flora screamed from above.

At the last moment before she would stab Darcy, Iorda stepped to the right while in motion so the blade just barely missed the witch’s side. She couldn’t. She couldn’t do this. Iorda gripped the blade with her hand and stabbed it into her midsection, screeching out in pain as she fell to her knees. 

She sobbed, hunched over herself as she sobbed.

She had some control.

But when she felt the influence again as a trembling hand rested on her shoulder, she welcomed it immediately and let it take over her mind before her head dropped. Iorda’s eyes closed, falling forward before arms wrapped around her.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Note: Well guess I'll post one-shots here on Tumblr/story moments that are related to the S.S.S. storyline.

At this point of the story, Icy and Bloom are dating, Musa and Stormy are dating, though Iorda and Darcy are still platonic.

Buzzkills and Butterflies (B&B) is the tag for S.S.S. storyline moments cause likely there will be more XD

[donascozylivingroom]

There is no negative entity I have ever met worse than the effects of people doing black magic on you.

Actually, entities outside this 3D realm usually cannot attack you outside of your free will - giving them permission by believing that they can harm you.

As a good person you don't expect this, but there are actually more people doing black magic than u believe. If someone/people came to mind while u read this, it's possible those are the people that might be interfering with your vibration.

If when u think of someone it gives u a headache, chest anxiety or nausea, etc, they might have cursed u, or at least thought negatively about u, gossipped negatively, or have done some negative energy work. Trust who comes to mind.

I'm not here to scare you, I'm here to make you aware.

For those who follow me, y'all know I'm ur manifesting girlie so I'm here to tell u it's your reality and u can remove the effects right now by affirming u are safe, untouched and protected from black magic. No one has power over you unless u let it.

And protection is important, so prioritize it when necessary before other desires. You have time to achieve anything. Put your protection first.

Don't return back to sender and don't retaliate, as that might cause you bad karma, just imagine u are covered in mirrors facing them (or a ball of mirrors) and see how u start to feel slightly better. Then affirm anytime u have weird negative feelings and energy without a rational cause.

I've had to deal this especially regarding money, any time I was affirming for it I would get huge migraines and nausea and I'm telling u, from my negative experience, somewhere in ur mind u had the belief installed that this can affect u, again, whether it's black magic, evil eye or negative energetic work.

Stay safe out there babes.

[moonflowcr]

「 TUG 」 : for sender to tug on the receivers hair - aly & adam

subtle nsfw prompts.

When they couldn’t keep their hands to each other, they couldn’t really wait. Adam didn’t know what got into her to get her hornier than usual, but he couldn’t blame her. After all, they had worked a longer shift than usual to cover someone who couldn’t make it today, which would in return earn them an extra day off that week, and the only thing he could think about was about having sex with her, and apparently, Aly thought the same thing. They both were too turned on to not think about it, and their tight outfits—particularly that black dress she wore every night she was working—didn’t help to the point they didn’t even made it to his car. That’s how he ended up on his knees, his head between her legs and his hands on her thights to keep them open for him on the dirty back alley after both of them were done with their shifts, not even caring about the dirt on his trousers. It was hard to think of anything else when he was about to eat her out, her thong down her legs and her dress bunched up around her waist as she sat down in one of the crates, panting hard after their makeout session as Adam took his time to admire her very wet and glistening pussy in front of his eyes, which truly warranted a tug of his hair to catch his attention. “If you don’t eat me out right now, I’m going to scream.” You’re going to scream my name anyways, he thought to himself as he looked up at her, a smirk appearing on his lips before he close the distance and pressed a kiss against her pussy before he started working his magic with his tongue, which actually elicited his name in screams a couple of times.

[nicocoer]

[Black spiral gauge with abalone inlay mock up]

I'm writing a fan fic, and the scene where I describe the Sending earring and how it works doesn't fit stylistically with the rest of the fic, so I am popping it in here with the mock up I did of what it would look like. (I might eventually homebrew up some stuff so that I can make this object available in DnD sometime, who knows.)

Wyll/Astarion outtake, featuring Abdirak. Post game, Spawn Astarion, Duke Wyll

“Ah, dear ones. Can I perhaps butt in and offer a solution for our heroes?” A familiar silver haired Loviatian priest crossed the aisle with a smile. 

“Aren’t you the cleric who was handing out beatings at the goblin camp?” Wyll’s mind was still on the scrolls as he assessed the man. 

“Abdirak, correct? And how is the local temple of Loviatar in these trying times?” Astarion smiled a pleasant if slightly absent smile that works well enough in most social situations. The priest had been an entertaining part of their early adventures, but what he could offer here was yet to be determined. 

“Our more willing supplicants have other ways to spend their coin presently, but will return in due course as their boredom returns. But as with all the tragedies of mortals, the maiden is not wanting for offerings of a more raw sort in the meantime. And often, they drive new supplicants to our ranks to exercise their troubles. We will come out of this tragedy fairly well, particularly after our rectory is rebuilt. In any case, I do not interrupt for the purpose of social niceties. You were debating sending scrolls were you not?” Abdinrak ran his fingers down a shelf of scrolls, indulging in the texture. 

Wyll chucked. “If this is some sort of bid to bump repairs on your temple, I’m afraid you are out of luck.” 

“My dear arch duke presumptive, I would not dream of it. I assure you, I simply have a solution for your issue, and one that I believe would please both you and Loviatar to share. I have in my possession an object used for communication. It allows the sender unlimited castings of sending, so long as it pierces the caster’s flesh.”

“I’m afraid I’m not particularly seeking out a self harm routine. And this one doesn’t exactly relish my suffering.” 

“As much as that is a pity, I’m not suggesting anything that would cause you harm. It is worn in the ear.” From his pack, the priest revealed a dark stone spiral interspersed with lines of opalescence. Nestled in his large palm, it seemed both beautiful and harmless. The outer tip of the spiral was tapered to a point, the line of it thickening until it approximated the thickness of a pinky finger on the opposite side. From there it gracefully tapered down again into an elegant spiral. 

Wyll frowned. “How exactly is it worn? I do not see a stud or hook.” 

The priest smiled. “That’s the delight of it. It is used to stretch the lobe, and worn directly. There is the initial pain of the piercing, of course, and over the next several weeks the tip is moved slowly through the pierced lobe, gradually stretching it. Once you’ve reached the thickest portion, the process- the cost the maiden asks of you for this gift- is complete.”

Astarion picked the object up and turned it in his hands. “And it results in unlimited sendings?” 

“Only to the one person it has been keyed to. From there, rules of sending spells still apply- 25 words out, and the recipient may return 25 words. There is some… mild and pleasant torment to be had in only the wearer being able to initiate each exchange when it is used between lovers, of course.”  

Wyll gazed apprehensively at the earring.  “I’m afraid we only have until the end of this ten-day before Astarion leaves. The evening after my induction, in fact.” 

The priest hummed. “I am assuming Astarion will be the one wearing it, then? I think we can speed the process up enough that it can be worn using a stopper on the back end by then if we use a little magic. From there, though, it will be on the wearer to stretch the lobe.”

Astarion closed his hand around the earring. “Yes, fine. We will do it. I’ve been through worse pain for much less pleasant results.” “My heart, are you certain? We can still go with the scrolls.”

“And throw away a free and useful bauble? I think not. No, this will do just fine.” 

The priest smiled, and walked the men through the process. 

[inkisionary]

[ 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 ] : sender has gotten injured protecting the receiver.

@couturiere

From x

It all happened so fast…

Golden eyes peeked themselves through his fingers as his eyes landed on the wounds that covered the woman who was now on the ground. He half expected it to be a bloody mess, but was curiously surprised when practically nothing came from them. The way her ‘skin’, or whatever was her skin, tore open reminded him of how fabric ripped. Sinnew was replaced with iridescent strings keeping her limbs together as a mixture of a glowing blue substance came from her wounds. The way it seeped from the tears in her “skin” was like watching a fog roll itself out of tight confinement. A black sticky substance painted the floor and her body, reminding him of ink with the way it spattered. Ghouls which fell to her oversized scissors which now lay on the ground, melting themselves into the grass, returned to this ooze before evaporating as if they never existed to begin with.

This … was nothing like Hwei had experienced, although the fear quickly subsided as he moved himself over to her. Hands hovered over her as he studied her, unsure of what to do but also doing his best to ensure she was okay. Surprisingly, Hwei didn’t show any signs of distress, the colors in his eyes still reflecting that brilliant gold that seemed to never leave. Inspiration flooded the back of his mind as something blossomed, a sense of wonder and intrigue as he considered that his chance to encounter something not entirely human before him was a learning experience. His hand gently touched her arm, digits causing the flow of this fog like substance to roll over each bump that impeded its path. Eyes locked with the ‘string’ that held her together, the urge to pluck at them like an instrument entertained his mind briefly. He blinks, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I.. I’m sorry, I don't know how to help you. What should I do?” his tone completely mismatched with the intrusive thoughts which invaded his mind. His expertise wasn’t in healing magic, although he could provide them a brief moment's rest with effort. But the idea that the ghouls which she drove off coming back never left his mind as did his best to help her.

“-How do I help you?”

[mudcchi]

twst oc ramble #1

Alicia and Malleus' relationship is strictly platonic, though I like the idea of one-sided love but I think that'd be too cruel :)) Ever since they first met, the first thing that she noticed is his horn, so even though he refused to tell her his name, it doesn't take her long to ask around about "tall, black-haired and black-horned student with green armband" and found out it's the Malleus Draconia.

But the more she heard about his reputation, the more she could understand why he'd try to hide his identity, not that Alicia is scared of him though... So when they met again she still went ahead with Grim's suggested name but Alicia called Malleus with "Tsunotarou-senpai" instead (she's pretty insistent on calling everyone older than her with the appropriate honorifics), and played along with his farce, pretending that she still hadn't figured his real identity.

When Lilia came to deliver the Winter holiday card, Alicia had thought of sending a reply since she does know who this M.D. sender is, but unfortunately she 1) forgot, 2) is rather scared of going to Diasomnia alone as an outsider, so she put the matter aside until some time later...

When Malleus finally 'revealed' his identity at the end of Book 5, Alicia simply chuckled and casually revealed that she had known all along. He was rather irritated thinking that Alicia had been lying to him, but she explained that she thought long about why he didn't reveal his identity right away. She discovered that all other students seem to revere and/or scared shitless of him, and if he really didn't want to be seen as the Malleus Draconia then she's more than glad to play along, since she didn't mind either way. After all, Alicia simply saw him as that weird upperclassman who randomly came and stroll around Ramshackle Dorm. She has absolutely no reason to be scared of him.

Overall, Alicia is a lot like a nagging sister to Malleus. Despite his much older age, his childish side doesn't escape Alicia's observation, so she has no hesitation to remind or even reprimand him whenever he starts throwing tantrum, making no sense, or doing something that doesn't align with human common sense. If Malleus gets angry she'd just clap back at him, "If you're angry then you're admitting that you're in the wrong!". In a way they teach each other about each world's common sense as well--Alicia taught him about human's, and Malleus taught her about magic world and fae's.

More or less, Alicia and 🦁 are probably the only ones aside from Lilia who dared to be so casual towards Malleus... Often she had to be the one mediating the bickering between the two princes, or if she thought their problem is way too childish or stupid they'd just let them battle it out. Others are extremely confused about how is she able to stay around those scary third-years, but Alicia simply saw them as any regular high-school boys--quick to anger, quick to get worked up over the most trivial stuff, and extremely competitive.

Alicia always has a fascination on non-human features like beastmen's tails and ears, so naturally she's also fascinated by Malleus' horns. Luckily she has a decent self-control unlike a certain hunter... Though she does get the vibe that Malleus' horns are something 'different', something that cannot be treated lightly, so she never said a word about it (but Malleus always noticed that she often stares hard at his horns). After the event of Book 7, everyone is now educated of the true power of dragon's horns including Alicia, but this actually makes her even more intrigued by them. Finally, she mustered courage to ask him if she can touch his horns... and surprise, he actually allowed her to.

Malleus also noticed how she faintly emits the smell...? vibe...? aura...? of something 'dragon-like' and initially thought she's one of his kin. Later, after Alicia's memories returned, she told him the truth with an uncharacteristically solemn tone, that she once had a dragon* as a 'partner', or more accurately, they shared a soul. Though that pains her, she had to left them behind when she decided to came to this world.

"So I guess that's also why I'm not scared of you, Tsunotarou-senpai. Don't mean to brag, but this partner of mine was a pretty scary dragon, maybe even stronger and scarier than you are!"

---

*) well, appearance-wise it's actually closer to a 'centipede'...

[eliasmendoza]

I loved the way Anne was saved in Elias' story with his mother and him conducting an Filipino ritual to return the curse to it's sender, Rookwood. That was really cool how the ritual worked, where the curse took the form of a dog apparition and they were able to direct it back to Rookwood in the form of an infected dog bite. It's really poetic and takes on the themes of HL in a unique way I don't really see. I also loved that bit because it reminds me of an incident in Fallout 4 where a bandit leader's ability to run his gang and shake down victims was compromised also cause of an infected dog bite, making them a somewhat less and organized stronger target the player may face.

Thank you! I'm happy you liked that headcanon of mine. I have a whole-ass rationale under the cut if you wanna read about it.

To be honest, it was quite interesting to study the longevity of curses and whether or not some curses can be broken. At the same time, after watching Agatha All Along, when Agatha Harkness said "Once vengeance is loosed, you can’t reel it back in", I thought about Anne Sallow, my lore for Elias, and how this principle posed by Agatha Harkness could somehow work. In a way, in retrospect, I found this to be somewhat applicable since this looked like a curse that would at least be difficult to break. Also, perhaps it was also a curse even Rookwood cannot break, given how intense it is. (Sound off in the comments if y'all have a different take on this)

The whole ritual I referenced in Elias' story comes from the psychological horror film, Nocebo. The film involves a curse that took the form of ticks that were carried by a spectral dog. For this story, I researched on the history of local witchcraft and shamanism and found that this highly spiritual and natural magic complements the magic systems that exist in Hogwarts Legacy. Additionally, we're exploring ancient magic in the context and frame of the Western world in the game, so having some representation from the Philippines of what is considered ancient and ancestral magic could be a nice way to touch on Western and Eastern magic and spirituality.

The use of a dog in particular as the form is also referential to Nocebo, which references Philippine folklore and mythology as well. The dog is one of the forms the Aswang, a malevolent spirit that preys on humans at night, can shapeshift into. There's also the black dog in English folklore known to be an omen of death.

Enough nerding out from me haha! I'm just happy you enjoyed my ideas for my MC's lore and a headcanon for Anne (and by extension, Sebastian).

[chelsfischer]

Please note what works for me may not work for you! I am Pagan and practice Chaos magic. I started off with small stuff like Knott spells, paper spells, Bay leaf burning, baby witch things. I am now onto the path I want to be and that is Chaos Magic. It works best for me. Chaos Magic is Using Belief as a tool to create change. Chaos magic is also known as Baneful magic. I'm all about Karma, and bringing chaos to those who deserve it as well as Making others see themselves as the way they treated others.. You do me or someone I love wrong, guess what? Right back at you babe! (I don't believe in the rule of three) MAKE SURE TO PROTECT YOURSELF AND CAST YOUR CIRCLE!!! I have posts on how to do this.. 
••••Some of My favorite Spells I have done are An Instant Karma spell... to to this you need your everyday shoes, and a permanent marker. You have GOT to be sure this is what you want to do! (THIS IS ALSO A BABY WITCH SPELL)
First Name - Left Shoe
Last name- Right Shoe
" For everything You put me through, You will Walk a mile in my shoes, for every step I take, this cannot return to sender" (add your anger/frustration/sadness into your words) 
^ THIS is a strong one! Please be mindful when doing it!! My spell took one week and 3 days until the other persons world fell apart... it's been 3 weeks since I did it and their life still isn't sorted.
•••• Sour Jars (BABY WITCH SPELL AS WELL BUT DO YOUR RESEARCH FIRST!!!)
Sour jars are also my favorite. They are little Hexes in Jars 😂 You need: A picture of the person if you can't get hair or something OF them, (research what ingredients you may want to use such as vinegar, Pepper, Cayenne pepper etc), 3 black Candles a pen and paper: 
With your three black candles, light them.
Place your items into the jar, 
Write on paper with your pen this:
"This person (full name) time has come, and they will feel fear, confusion, and distaste in everything. Depression will consume and they will feel tired. Sadness will eat at their flesh. It shall happen at the end of the third day, and the cemetery will carry out the deed."
Place the paper in the jar. Close the jar, and chant over it. "(Name of the person) will suffer, and feel tormented." (x3)
At the end of the first day place the jar in an area that is dark and very covered,
away
from the sight of people. And at the end of the third day remove the jar and pour it into the dirt into the cemetery. Try finding the oldest plot.
•••••• A nightmare Hex (My FAVORITE!!!) (Baby Witch and advanced) 
You need A candle (white is a substitute for ANY color doesn't matter if its Tea light or the number 3 birthday candle!) a picture of the person, and an offering. 
Light the candle(if you don't have one just skip this step) then say this incantation 3x while looking at the person and think of them having horrible nightmares:
"Hypnos, god of dreams
Make(name of the person) dream of horrible things
For one week straight,
He/she shall sleep with a nightmare
For one week straight,
Sleep shall be something he/she cannot bear
After one week's end
Make(name of the person) well again
So mote it be."
When you are done saying the incantation 3x burn the picture or rip it up then extinguish the candle. Since this is somewhat like praying to the Greek god Hypnos,it might help if you sacrifice something to him like burning some of your food.
^ This can take anywhere from the day of to two weeks before it happens.. but trust me... it's fun to hear the stories 😂 BE MINDFUL!!!!


[evcryopeneye]

@byteing [ 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩 ] : receiver finds the sender trapped and unable to escape from them. + reverse [ the corinthian @ feng wu. you do not want to be a powerful being trapped around this fucking nightmare, feng wu, i am so sorry. ]

Anger flashes through her. 

Yet on the surface she stays calm, almost expressionless, standing as if she were a statue. Long robes cascaded off her frame, a halo of golden and red hair pins faintly jingle in the warm moving air kicked up from under her, as if it wishes to play a song in the tense atmosphere. 

Her eyes flicker down to the ground, the round circle inscribed into rock and she feels power stop at its edge. It was not often she found herself warded, for there were few people who knew of such magic let alone could practice it. Such skill had been rare when she was first mortal on this little rock, even more so now. 

Feng Wu chooses not to spend too long mulling that one over, instead she focuses on the situation at hand. She needed to get out of it, if only because she was not a fan of little magical tricks. 

Black irises focus on him, if he were not that he was a nightmare she would have burned the entire place to the ground already and then burnt its ashes. Though giving away how angry you were about something rarely did well, it played a hand too early that she wished to keep close to her chest. 

Instead she clung to neutrality, lifted her head and watched him, cold and dispassionate as the phoenix feather burned over her third eye. 

“If it were not for who your master is, you would be dead.” She meant it, whole heartedly, any other creature she would have vaporised them out of the cycle of reincarnation never to return, for as kind hearted and merciful as Feng Wu could be with mortals, she was petty when it came to the otherworldly. 

Mortals could be forgiven for being stupid or full of ego, they were the children of the universe who knew no better, most of them had not returned enough times to reach enlightenment and ascend. Sometimes Feng Wu thought that was when her job would be finished and her aspect would no longer be needed in the universe, when every mortal ascended. If they ever did. Maybe some would never learn.

Creatures like this one knew better. Knew beyond the veil. She could not excuse such recklessness as uneducatedness, merely it was deliberate on all levels - that angered her. 

“Release me.” The threat is implied in the tone of her voice.