#how to return black magic to the sender

[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.

You can incorporate cleansing and banishing methods together. Make it spicy, get the job done in one go.

Here are some banishing methods that are within my grimoire.

Spiritual

Smoke - Burning Dragons Blood, Frankincense, 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

[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.

[bargain-bin-ask-memes]

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙Magic Potion Ask Meme! ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

An ask meme where the sender can give the receiver’s muse a magic potion! These can stack if the receiver chooses to do so! If the blog is multimuse, please specify the character! NSFW ahead so viewer discretion advised!!

Red Potion- Makes my muse horny!

Pink Potion- Makes my muse shorter!

Orange Potion- Makes my muse’s cock grow! If they don’t have one, this gives them one!

Yellow Potion- Makes my muse’s ass bigger!

Lime Potion- Makes my muse taller

Green Potion- Makes my muse’s pussy more sensitive! If they don’t have one, this gives them one!

Teal Potion- Makes my muse into a slime person!

Blue Potion- Fills my muse’s stomach with water!

Indigo Potion- Makes my muse’s breasts bigger!

Purple Potion- Fills my muse’s ass/pussy with enough cum to look pregnant!

Violet Potion- My muse orgasms!

Black Potion- Fills my muse’s stomach with slime!

White Potion- Fills my muse’s stomach with air!

Grey Potion- Makes my muse pregnant with a child!

Brown Potion- Makes my muse cock/pussy hungry!

Rainbow Potion- Makes my muse’s ass, breasts, and stomach bigger!

Gold Potion- Makes my muse into a bimbo!

Silver Potion- Makes my muse into a hucow!

Copper Potion- Makes it so your muse can control how my muse’s body changes!

Clear Potion- Returns my muse to normal!

[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

[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. 

[aho-dapa]

🌤️ 🌧️ 🌩️ ☔

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

(The lore is deep for this Harry Potter fic, but Lucius Malfoy is basically teaching Draco about the name their ancestor was granted by the first Norman King of England, since I went down the JKR lore hole that is pureblood families)

“What did it mean to be bestowed the name Malfoy–with both English and Norman aristocrats breathing down his neck, knowing of the magic that was hidden in our ancestor’s veins? Who did he have to betray to get such a name?”

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

Trans Elain in my rewrite having to deal with the Cauldron changing her body post being dunked like food in sauce

TW: body dysphoria

(Tbh this less of a snippet and more of a word vomit but here ya go):

After Luci goes shopping, he buys something for Elain, a dress that flows and puffs and nearly overwhelms her frame, only her shoulders are exposed and there is a necklace of thin lace that crosses over the protrusion of her neck. Somehow, looking in the mirror, despite the lean muscles of her arms, she feels delicate. Somehow, in this body, she feels like herself. More than she has in months.

The visage of herself in the mirror gasps and Elain falls to the floor in a heap of fabric. The tears are silent and joyous as she covers her complete expression of awe with her hands covered in black gloves.

The fabric of the tips is made to be pointed and although her hands had gained a sort of thickness to them, the gloves make her feel dainty. Soft and feminine.

She searches her face, over the tiredness and weary of it, over the harsh lines of exhaustion, and in it she sees herself.

She sobs. What surprises her even more in the bubble of laughter that rises out of her chest. She tries to stifle them both, the smile still overcoming her face.

The sudden impulse to run out of her room and hug Nesta, Feyre, anyone–claws at her heart. This is a great gift. One she did not know how to repay. Or who she could even repay.

She scrambles back to the bed where she left the note. The neat handwriting is not familiar and it left no clue to the sender's identity.

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

Uhhh, this is an old one for a webtoon called Return of the Mad Demon (the joke here is that they're undercover as a couple and don't have any children):

Seongtae watches as Jaha obliterates everything in his path with a single strike. Honestly, he should stop being surprised at this point. 

"I don't know how to even begin cleaning up after this mess. Next thing you know, you'll have descended from being a demon to a fucking evil god. How the hell am I supposed to keep up, my oh-so-enlightened master?" 

Jaha merely turns around to stare unimpressed at Seongtae until a mischievous shit-eating grin breaks out across his greasy ass face. As if Jaha could achieve godhood if he really wanted to. 

"Shut up…" 

"But I haven't even said anything… Yeobo~"

"Die." 

"But who will look after the children?" 

"I will, you asshat!" 

Seongtae stomps away, nearly tripping over an unconscious body, and hisses over his shoulder, "With complete fucking custody!"

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Tbh I have plans to write nearly all of the ideas that stick with me. But since I'm currently playing through Dragon Age: Inquisition (uh spoilers) and since I'm still dealing with the ending of Trespasser after romancing Solas, I wanted to write a time loop fic that was both the Inquisitor messing with time and the Fade to literally put a leash on Solas. A lot of people say that that Solavellan is unhealthy and I counter with let Lavellan be completely unhinged after finding out her boyfriend is basically a god. Anyway, the vibes are that Lavellan promises to be the Hunter of the Dread Wolf.

[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?”

[thedarkgracesblog]

Using Magick for Revenge

Witchcraft revenge is a powerful thing, and one should not take it lightly. Whether you are the victim of a hex or the perpetrator of one, there can be serious consequences to this type of magical attack. It’s important to understand that while witchcraft revenge may seem like an easy way out in some cases, it rarely ends well for either party involved.

The most common form of witchcraft revenge is known as “return to sender” or “hexing back” which involves sending any negative energy sent your way right back at its source. This type of spell usually requires special ingredients such as herbs and oils along with words spoken aloud in order for it to work properly - so if you decide on taking this route make sure you know exactly what you're doing! While return-to-sender spells can certainly help protect yourself from harm they also come with their own set risks; namely that whatever energy was sent your way will now be reflected back onto whoever casted it – making them suffer twice over!

Finally, no matter how tempted we might feel at times when faced with adversity - let's remember that two wrongs never make a right and retaliation through black magic isn't always the best answer! Witchcraft vengeance has been around since ancient times but nowadays there are much better ways for us all to handle our conflicts without resorting violence (magical or otherwise). So next time someone casts a hex upon us let's try our best not stoop down low enough into their level by retaliating against them using similar tactics – because ultimately nobody wins when these kinds forces collide head on

[witchofduskstore]

Available on Etsy! Link in bio ✨ Black Salt: Witch's Black Salt is a must-have staple for the witch’s altar or supply cabinet. Can be used in many spells and rituals for protection, keeping away evil, banishing negativity or evil influences, uncrossing, returning back to sender and more. Important for all categories of magic practice. This cannot control people around you. This handcrafted salt contains a mixture of sea salt, ritual ashes, ritual gravel, and rose flakes. Money Attraction Spell: This manifestation test tube is for bringing in wealth, money, or prosperity into your life. New opportunities may arise that you must act on. This cannot control people around you. This handcrafted salt contains a mixture of sea salt, ritual ashes, bay leaves, ritual gravel, clear quartz and cinnamon. Love Attraction Spell: This manifestation test tube is for bringing in love, self-love, or bountiful relationships into your life. New opportunities may arise that you must act on. This cannot control people around you. This handcrafted salt contains a mixture of sea salt, ritual ashes, ritual gravel, rose petals, clear quartz, lavender, and other flower petals. How to use: Perfect addition to any altar, collection, shelf, décor, gift, meditation, and ritual / spell work. Place on your altar, in your ritual space, in a window or in another private place. The Black Salt can be stored and used as needed in ritual work. https://www.instagram.com/p/CoYCGNCOGdf/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ghostintheclawmachine]

Through luck of the draw and prompt order, I ended up with a bunch of Marauders Whumptober stories in a giant block at the beginning. Other fandoms will show up to the party later in the month, but for day 5, have some angsty, canon compliant Jegulus.

Day 05 Prompts have been swapped for the alternate prompt Finding Old Messages.

Return to Sender [AO3]

Marauders | James Potter x Regulus Black | 3,167 words | CW for referenced character death

James read the letter in its entirety, then a second time, and then a third. Over and over he drank his fill of the words, waiting for them to transform into something that didn’t turn his stomach. He wanted to write it off as a fake or some fanciful hallucination, but he couldn’t. It was Regulus’s painstakingly neat handwriting, and traces of his magic poured from the parchment like blood from a wound.

James finds an undelivered letter written by Regulus before his death. Its contents change everything he thought he knew about how his first love came crashing to an end.

[recitedemise]

(piece of me)

Royal, Fantasy Romance, and Spice: still accepting. / (piece of me): sender ties a piece of cloth on receiver’s hand to wrap around a wound.

The world certainly finds this game of theirs refreshing. It's the only reason, Gale concludes, that would have it rearing its head at least thrice in a tenday. In fact, any more of this, and he might come to believe he'd start stirring in a castle, a sword by his hip and his body with mail. Soon, the humble fire of their campsite would turn into a hearth, and there'd be banners where their tents are with a steed for his knighting, and Wish, sweet Wish, would watch him with his smiles. And when he leaves for duty, would see him off.

Gale could see it now, and because of the pain, perhaps with a worrying clarity. He grimaces, Wish fashioning a torn piece of his shirt to wrap about his arm. It bleeds ink-black, the pale quality of his skin illustrating his rot. Knight in magic armor, Gale had said all those midnights ago... And magic armor, indeed. He had saved him from that blow.

"Decorum tells me that I've ought to return this to you once I'm able," Gale laughs, trying for casual, their company trudging on through Moonrise prison, "but that would be a grave affront to both your pride and honor. Truth be told, I've no intention of doing either such things this 'invigorating' evening. I'm sworn to an oath, and your honor concerns me." Oh! How right of him! This is reminiscent, quite like the maidens liked to do with men of honor. Offering silken things as a token of their interest... It's both young and soppy as though sprung from out a book. Still, Gale's heart tweets a song, and the smile he finds pales the burn in his arm, and he eyes dear Wish, lowering his head like some knightly bowing. He's more a king than a suitor. And what's a king if not a god?

"I've pledged myself most thoroughly to you, my liege." The jester! "Consider all that you'd entrust to me most eagerly guarded--and, likewise, enthusiastically returned."

[arjaandsimoni]

The Dusty Man

The Wulfshead Club, the Day After the Fight in Cincinnati

The group had not slept well. Tex and Stephy had spent most of the night awake, only going to bed as the sun crept over the horizon. Sammi had gone to bed early, his hollow already protected from unwanted entry (most vampires wouldn’t even be able to find the door) but once he had rested he had called in several favors to ensure that the Smith residence was being guarded as well. Any undead who drew close would find several very nasty surprises waiting for them.

Currently however the trio was seated across a table from someone they knew very well, as they worked out what they were going to do to address this situation.

“So. Lemme get this straight. You kids fought two rogue vampires, heard a rumor from one of them that someone staked the leader of Cincinnati’s vampires, and rather than call me you went to investigate it on your own and had to use the Wulfshead door to escape a mob of angry undead.” sighed an older man as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He wore a black teeshirt, bluejeans, and a ballcap on his head, his face covered by a beard that was starting to show some grey mixed in with the black, the palms of his hands showing a strange scar in the shape of a sigil.

Stephy shrugged, “I mean… I wanted to be sure that the rumor was true. That vampire wasn’t exactly a reliable person.” he replied. The changeling princess was wearing a loose white silken tunic and a long blue skirt with slip on shoes, favoring whatever would let him transform easily given the current situation.

“Yeah, bonkers incel who apparently read Twilight too much and thought that being a vampire would get women fawning over him by default who you threw into the Hedge, you said.” nodded the man in response.

“Dang right Nelen!” interjected Tex, the young man wearing a white teeshirt and bluejeans himself, along with sturdy construction boots, a winter coat draped over the back of his chair. “We can’t just keep comin’ to ya whenever shit happens. I mean, ya’ll got enough to deal with after all that mess in Sri Lanka...” he sighed, blowing his lips out.

Nelen shrugged, leaning back in his own chair. “Eh, can’t pretend you’re not right Tex… Arja is still getting weird shit in the mail every week or so…” he sighed, “I swear you think cursing a few of those nutjobs would make the others hesitate, but man those lunatics are persistent.”

After all the photos that had appeared online following their battle with the manticore and all those who had managed pictures during the chaos in Thalassery and Sri Lanka some of their group had wound up with some internet fame. Arja had been amused at first… until the fan mail turned creepy, then downright disturbing and explicit. At first she’d wanted to use the Wulfshead to travel to the return addresses on several and go fire monkey on the senders, but Nelen and Rajesh had convinced her to let him handle it in a more indirect way (or at least a way that was less likely to cause legal consequences.)

Nelen had learned quite a few nasty tricks since his teenage years and given what some of the more disturbed fans had sent… well… they were practically begging to get a nasty hex and had even supplied what Nelen needed for a sympathetic connection for the magic. Nelen didn’t know if they were aware of how those things could be used for that, but after waking up to some rather severe boils in some rather uncomfortable places spelling out the words ‘FUCK OFF’ they letters had noticeably decreased… but still not enough to satisfy them all.

The email ones had more or less ceased since he employed his hacker friend Dev/Null, a rather talented computer jockey and vampire, to doxx several of them to their employers and family. It wasn’t very nice, but Nelen was getting fed up with the whole situation.

Nelen sat back up and drained half his drink, rum straight up this time. He normally didn’t drink much these days, but it had been a rather irritating week. “Yeah… I can’t really leave yet. We’ve actually caught a few of these guys sneaking around the house lately and Rajesh needs me there to back up his security team.” he nodded.

Stephy whined a bit, “They’re that dangerous?” asked the effeminate boy.

Nelen shook his head, “No, Arja is. She’s more pissed off about this than I am, and he needs me and Simoni to hold her back while his security team detains them for arrest. Creepers or not, murder is still illegal.”

Tex snorted a bit, “Yeah, that sounds like her.” he chuckled.

Nelen nodded, “Mmhmm…” he frowned, “I can’t leave Jaipur yet… but… I might be able to at least help you kids confirm who is behind all this shit so we know where to aim when I can.” he nodded, “I know a guy back home who might be able to help out.” he clarified, looking up as the song ended and the singer dismounted the stage, waving to everyone as the next person took her place for karaoke night.

The singer slid into the chair next to Nelen, then grinned widely at him as her yellow eyes sparkled with mischief. “I know that look… whats the plan big man?” asked Dawn, her tail swishing behind her.

“Dawn, I need you to take these two and Sam to meet Dusty.” he nodded.

Dawn’s grin, if anything, widened. “HAH! Dusty?! Oh man I haven’t seen him in ages! Oh this’ll be FUN!”

Stephy and Tex shared a look, then Stephy cocked his head, “Sorry… Dusty?”

Edgewood Kentucky, Later that Afternoon

The city of Edgewood (which was a bit overblown, it was actually quite small for a ‘city’) was often believed to be a pretty well off neighborhood by outsiders to the area, but the truth was a bit different. The parts of the city to the south were indeed pretty upper middle class yes, but the other end of town was anything but… and that’s where ‘Dusty’ lived.

“So… he’s sort of like a hedge mage?” asked Stephy as Dawn trudged through the snow from the bus stop with him, Tex, and Sammi following behind.

“Eh kinda.” replied Dawn, the cheshire cat in her human disguise, wearing a jacket over her teeshirt, a pair of baggy jeans that she could tuck her tail into, a sock hat to hide her feline ears, and a pair of aviator sunglasses to shade her clearly inhuman eyes. “More a crazy hillbilly druid, but basically a hedge mage.”

Sammi frowned, “… and just how exactly is some random mundane who learned a couple magical tricks going to help us unmask the culprit behind whats going on in Cincinnati?” he asked suspiciously.

Dawn grinned, “Oh he’s more than just that fancypants.” she replied, “But you’ll see when we get there.” she nodded as she turned down a street past a row of houses that looked like they might have been nice once before urban decay started to set in. They were still decent enough but looked like they had gone from 1980s sitcom white suburbia to Simpsons-esque parody of suburbia at some point. Clear spots where repair was needed but couldn’t be afforded, gardens full of weeds, and the like…

She came to one house and walked around back, down between the houses and out into the woods behind it as the others followed as close as they could.

“Alright, last time Nelen and I saw him he had his stuff set up right around…” she nodded, then suddenly there was a shriek and a whizzing sound. Tex and Stephy stumbled to a halt and looked up to see Sammi dangling upside down by a rope around his ankle hanging from a tree branch, having clearly set off a snare trap.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY DAMN PAWPAW TREES YA FUCKERS!” came a shout from the woods as a man limped into view. A shock of messy grey-white hair sticking out at all angles on his head and a scraggly beard half-covering his face as he hobbled into view, one hand holding him up with a cane, the other holding a handgun. “Huh? Oh… hey Dawn… where’s Nelen?” he asked, recognizing the feline as he holstered the gun.

Closer inspection showed a man with a teeshirt reading ‘Fuck your laws, I have a gun,’ a pair of much patched and worn jeans, thick snowboots, and a heavy jacket over a rather thin hunched frame. A grin from him showed that the majority of his teeth were gone too, leaving only a small group on his lower jaw.

“Dusty!” grinned the Cheshire, “How ya been man? Sorry we ain’t been around, shit’s been wiiiiiiiiiild!”

The older human nodded, chuckling, “Yep, saw on the news...” he replied, looking to the other three. “Who’re they?” he asked, nodding to them.

Dawn smirked, “Oh, these are Nelen’s cousin and their buddies. That’s Stephy Fullmoon.” she jerked her head towards Stephy, who waved awkwardly, “… that’s Stephy’s boyfriend, Tex…” she added as Tex nodded to him, his hands deep in his pockets, “… and the one hanging upside down and cursing in French is…” she started, but then Sammi cut her off.

“STOP PISSING ABOUT AND GET ME DOWN!”  he demanded, trying to slash the rope with his rapier, but the rope was too thick for the thin-bladed dueling sword.

A bit later, inside Dusty’s house

The house was actually a fairly decent two story house that they’d passed on the way into the woods, Dusty having inherited it when his mother retired from her career and moved south for the warm weather.

The interior wasn’t what they’d expected a hedge mage’s home to look like. Mostly it was just pictures of family, a slightly worn but still usable TV set, and the like. “So, this is ‘bout those vampires up in Cincy huh?” he asked as he sat on a large L shaped couch with the others, a coffee table infront of them holding several empty beer bottles, a bag of some sort of herb, a lighter and a pipe, and several other things, though nothing more unusual than a back issue of some old video game magazine.

Stephy nodded, “Yeah, we tried to look into it ourselves but… didn’t go so great.” he replied, his cheeks flushing a bit as Dusty took the pipe, lit it, breathed in, then coughed loudly and punched his chest a few times. Under his jacket he was almost skeletal thin with long gangly arms, his back clearly in bad shape as well.

Dusty nodded, “Yeah, squirrels told me ‘bout that. Said that someone kicked up the hornet’s nest up there.” he replied, taking another pull on the pipe.

Tex watched the pipe curiously, then asked, “Sorry, whats that? Is it supposed to be some sort o’ magical stuff that’ll let ya use your powers?” he asked.

Dusty smirked and chuckled, his shoulders shaking as Dawn grinned at that. “Well... ya’ll could call it magic…” replied the older man with a twinkle in his eye.

Dawn grinned, “Its weed. Dusty has been smoking since he and Nelen were in high school together.” she explained.

The three of them looked to her, then Stephy and Tex stared at him as Sammi smirked, leaning back in his chair.

“Wait… what?! Nelen isn't even thirty yet!” exclaimed Stephy, “Is… um… is it a side effect of your magic? The back, the hair, the teeth?” he asked.

Dusty shook his head, “Nah, just genetics. My pappy was the same way.” he replied, knocking his pipe out over the ashtray, then getting up and picking up his cane. “Shitty genes, shitty back.” he shrugged, “… ‘n the pipe. Fucked up my teeth. Anyhoo, I know what ya’ll need… be right back.” he nodded, hobbling into the kitchen.

Stephy blushed, looking down at his lap and feeling rather awkward. That was embarrassing, probably something he had to deal with a lot. If they had to guess they would have assumed he was at least in his late fifties.

Dawn shrugged, “Dusty had a pretty crazy life for a mundane after he and Nelen stopped hanging out. He had to help take care of his dad, Nelen had to run like all hell away from his granddad, yanno.” she explained, “Aged him bad from what Nelen said.”

Dusty nodded and hobbled back in, carrying a large bowl with a knife, a bag of something, and a cutting board in it. “Ayup. Shit happened.” he nodded, sitting back down. He picked up a stick out of a box next to the couch and emptied the bowl, then broke it over the bowl and let the twigs fall into it. It wasn’t a special bowl, it wasn’t covered in magic runes or made from some unusual metal… just an ordinary ceramic bowl like you’d find in any kitchen. The cutting board was likely bought at Walmart, and the knife was the same mass-produced kind you’d see in any store.

Stephy was getting more confused, Nelen wouldn’t send them on a wild goose chase, would he? “Um… what are those for?” he asked.

“The thingy.” replied Dusty as he opened the bag and fished out a large red pepper, just big enough to sit in his hand. It was dried, likely a while ago, but still very useable and full of seeds.

“The thingy?” asked Tex as he looked at the pepper, then leaned forward, “Hey, I recognize that! My mom grew some of those. ‘s a Tailed Beast I think. We made some chili out of ‘em, knocked my dang socks off!”

Dusty grinned toothlessly, “Oh? Yeah I grow ‘em ‘n sell ‘em.” he nodded, laying it on the cutting table and cutting it open, then snapping his fingers. “Ah shit, forgot. Hang on.” he got up and hobbled his way back to the kitchen, then came back with two unopened beers from the fridge, sitting them on the endtable away from the bowl.

“What are the beers for?” asked Stephy.

“For after the thingy.” he replied, cutting several seeds out of the pepper. “Yanno how they tell ya to not eat the seeds?” he asked, holding them in his hand.

The group nodded at him, sharing a look.

“This is why.” he grinned, then stuffed them all in his mouth in one go and chewed as best as he could with his remaining teeth!

Tex grimaced at that, Stephy staring at him, though Sammi felt more confused. “That… seems quite unwise.” he commented.

Dawn just grinned, ducking back quickly. “You miiiiiiiiiight wanna get back a bit further guys.” she pointed out.

“Uh… why?” asked Stephy as they immediately began backing away, then they smelled it.

Capsaicin. The chemical in peppers that gave them their spiciness. Originally peppers likely developed it for self-defense against predators, if a rodent took a bite of a pepper it wouldn’t likely take another as it ran screaming in pain.

But evolution is funny, and it eventually created a species of rather clever apes… who apparently had some serious masochistic tendencies.

The Tailed Beast wasn’t any ordinary pepper. Dusty's own special creation, the raw seeds could burn holes in walls if you prepared them right! This one was special even by their standards. In this case… they could burn holes through time and space itself!

Sweat was pouring down Dusty’s face, which was now even redder than the pepper. He looked to be in severe distress, but he shook his head frantically if the group looked like they were moving to help him.

Finally, after what felt like FAR too long he leaned quickly forward, gripped the bowl, and opened his mouth wide as a wave of fire blasted out of it onto the sticks, igniting them into a miniature bonfire on the table!

The flames rose high above the table, almost licking the ceiling, and in the flames they saw a scene…

Sometime ago, in Cincinnati…

A gathering of the undead had come to this theater. Several of the cities more prominent and powerful figures and their lackeys, their ghouls, and whoever else they felt worth bringing.

This wasn’t a movie theater though, it was the old kind of stage where plays were held… a long forgotten one in a building that was never getting torn down as it was labeled as a historical building, but one that nobody really knew what to do with so it mostly stood empty.

Onto the stage walked a young looking man in a rather impressive suit. Pants, jacket, and tie black as night, but the shirt red as blood. He wore several rings on his fingers as well… but he moved oddly, like someone who didn’t really know how to wear a suit. The suit was impressive, he gave the impression of a kid playing dress up.

He got to the podium on the stage, then grinned and showed his fangs before he said, “LISTEN UP EVERYONE! Archibald is dead! I fucking killed and ate him! As of right fucking now I’m the boss of Cincinnati’s vampires!” he said into the microphone, and off stage someone groaned audibly.

“Starting tonight, the old rules ‘bout hiding from humans and pretending we’re not vampires are OVER!” he slammed his fist down on the podium, then winced and shook his hand before continuing, “Anyone who doesn’t like it, get the fuck outta Cincinnati or my boys will stake your ass. Anyone who wants in, its fucking OPEN SEASON boys! You see a human that looks tasty? Rip them open like a bag of chips!” he laughed.

There were a couple chuckles from the audience, but by and large none of them seemed amused. Some of them looked shocked, a couple looked downright furious… but nobody stood against him. They had all heard of what had happened to the Prince, and if he was making a claim without any real backing he’d be dust by next week.

“Any questions?” he asked, giving it a moment’s wait, “No? Good, then I’m outta here.” he nodded, heading away from the podium as the eyes of the audience watched him go.

As he got backstage two people were waiting for him.

“I told you not to go off script…” sighed a vampire in a dress shirt, suspenders with pinstripe trousers, shiny leather shoes, and a blood red tie with a strange pendant hanging down over it around his neck.

“Oh shut your fuckin’ mouth Astaroth. Like I was gonna use that speech, I couldn’t even understand most of that shit you wrote!” he snapped.

“Don’t listen to him Boss, you did great…” grinned another, this one wearing the kind of suit that went out of style about the time Michael Jackson was becoming famous. “Rattled their cages that’s for sure! They won’t know what to do!” he nodded.

He grinned back, “Fuck yeah I did Tom. What about the other two?” he asked.

Astaroth shrugged, “Walter is out with his faction ensuring that everyone understands the new situation, if nothing else enough to not interfere with it… and as for… well… him…” he frowned.

He and Tom shared a look, nobody liked talking about him.

“Well, he’s doing his part.” nodded Astaroth. “That’s what counts.”

Boss nodded, “Good, that’s good.” he replied, heading off past them back to his new quarters at the building. Archibald’s former apartment infact, but now they’d cleaned up what was left of the very late prince and repaired the window.

The other two smiled as they watched him go, then frowned and glanced at each other. “Walter knows what to really tell ‘em, right?” asked Tom.

Astaroth nodded, “Go wild enough to satisfy the buffoon on old Archie’s throne, but mostly just stay out of our way.”

“Do you think anyone out there really believes this moron offed Archibald?” asked Tom, “I mean this joker acts like some punk teenager even in a suit.”

Astaroth shrugged, “The elders can sense the power of Archie’s blood in him, they know that he…” he paused to make finger quotes, “… ‘killed’ him. Whether or not someone helped, they can only suspect… and they won’t act on suspicions in case they’re wrong."

“How about the Rat? Can we really trust that… thing?” he asked, shuddering a bit.

Astaroth gently ran his fingers over the rim of his pendant. “… he… is tired of hiding and wishes to indulge his bloodlust as he did in his mortal days before he became one of us. If we give him outlet for this, he will work with us… but… yes. I understand exactly where you’re coming from Thomas.”

Tom nodded, “I mean… I grew up hearing stories about the Mill Creek Monster… but… fucking hell finding out what he actually was damn near killed me all over again.”

Astaroth chuckled, showing his fangs, “You and me both old boy…” he replied, “Still, this gives us all what we want. Walter gets to indulge his own fondness for power over others, the Rat will deal with anyone who gets too close in a way that will confuse and terrify the mortal populace, I will have all I need for my research, and you can…” he glanced at Tom, he knew why he was doing this and in his living days may have been sympathetic, but after being undead for the better part of a century it all seemed so… trivial. “… well, you can make your attempt to fix yourself up.” he smiled, nodding.

“Speakin’ of, watching that debacle made me thirsty. I’m gonna go have myself a hot blonde. Later ‘Roth.” he nodded, walking to the door as he waved goodbye.

“Good evening to you too Thomas.” he chuckled, heading off to his own haven.

Dusty’s House

The hedge mage had the caps off both beer bottles and was pouring them into his mouth together as he swallowed frantically, they could swear they saw steam rising as it hit his tongue.

“HAH! That NEVER gets old!” laughed Dawn, “You need another?” she asked.

Dusty leaned forward, gasping, then nodded and held up two fingers as the Cheshire teleported to the kitchen, then reappeared with two fresh bottles which he quickly drained as well, finally sitting back and letting out a loud woosh of breath.

Stephy and Tex were practically flat against the sofa, staring at him as the flames in the bowl died down to embers, Sammi hiding behind it as the sudden pyrotechnic display had been rather alarming to the Prince of the Icebound Heart.

“Those peppers can do THAT? I mean… they made a great chili but…” stammered Tex.

Dusty shook his head, “Nope, get maybe one or two a harvest that can burn that hard… the rest is just good food.” he added.

“So… those guys we saw in the flames…” nodded Stephy, still staring at the bowl.

Dusty waved at his mouth, taking several big gulps of air as he tried to kill the last few stings of spice in it, nodding, “Ayup. I saw it before I spit it, but I gotta see the whole thing before I can show it… ‘swhy I held it in so long.”

Dawn nodded, “Yeah… and that thing they mentioned… the Mill Creek Monster. I know I heard Nelen mention that before. I should probably ask him about it.” she mrowled, her tail swishing behind her.

“Well, whatever that is… the situation is not good. The vampires’ new Prince is a puppet.” observed Sammi as he stood up from behind the couch, dusting himself off. “An old trick used the world over. The king is a fool, his advisors have the real power. They just whisper in his ear and stroke his ego and they can get away with anything, and if it all goes wrong they throw him to the wolves and run.”

“Yeah…” frowned Stephy, “But it sounded like they weren’t happy with him. I think they might not really want to let things go as crazy as Malik and the other ones were saying, like they still get that there could be consequences if they push the mortals too far… I really wish we could call for help, but I know Clan Fullmoon is scrambling to keep things under control already…”

“Quite so brother dear, and House Roche is likely the same given the rumblings I’ve been hearing when I pop back home.” replied Sammi, “With our usual allies dealing with their own problems… we may well be on our own for the present.” he sighed.

Dawn grinned at that. “Don’t say that so soon frostytits.” she nodded, “I’m gonna tell Nelen everything we just found out. He may not come personally for this one, but he won’t just leave you three up Mill Creek without a paddle.” she replied.

“… ain’t that ‘up shit creek?’” asked Tex.

Dawn laughed, “Around here that is Mill Creek. I mean, there’s a reason it has monsters.”

Mill Creek, Cincinnati Ohio

It was once a paper mill, one of the reasons that Mill Creek had its name. The river carried the runoff for the heavy industry of the city for the entirety of Cincinnati’s history and was once described as ‘the most endangered urban river in America’ by some and less charitably ‘a great open city sewer’ by others.

The paper mill’s old runoff tunnel led into the interior of the abandoned factory, long since left to rot when it shut down during the depression plagued 1970s. Since then it had made for a convenient lair for… something.

A would be journalist was laying on the floor of the mill, his wrists tied with zip straps as he whimpered and tried again to free himself, the sun slowly dipping down under the horizon. He had seen what had caught him, though he struggled to believe it. Even with all that had been on the news and internet lately… Cincinnati had vampires!

But some vampires were more monstrous than others, and this one was going to really give him a scare.

He heard something moving as the room grew dark, then a single light came on over him.

“Hmmm… someone brought ol’ Clarence a treat?” came a low gurgling voice.

He heard something sniffing nearby, a shape moving in the shadows. “They remembered poor ol’ Clarence?” the voice chuckled, “Poor ol’ misbegotten Clarence… the Rat of Cincinnati’s vampires…”

The man’s eyes widened, trying to see into the gloom, but it was pitch black compared to the light on him.

“You must have really upset them little human… nobody ever gives Clarence treats…” it chuckled again, and he could hear it’s footsteps moving closer, “… you’re a pretty skinny treat… but… I just woke up so…” and then it leaned into the light.

The man screamed in horror. Its eyes, its face, its teeth, they shouldn’t… they couldn’t… he had no idea what he was looking at but the mere sight of it made his heart leap into his throat!

“… you’ll do.” grinned Clarence the Mill Creek Monster as he opened his jaw wide and lunged, the man’s scream suddenly cutting off.

Next Story

Previous Story

[angsttank-moved]

What's your battle advantage being a summon? (That post you reblogged a moment ago)

*i dont usually discuss my abilities publicly, but ill answer a little of it i guess

*im entirely and completely immune to all forms of magic or non-physical types of powers, full return-to-sender style. it all rockets off of me back where it came from. this doesnt end at my universe's magic type, either, ive tested it with people like Gray and Sukuna, none of their shit works against me

*the only actual way to fight against me is throwing hands or using weapons, which a surprising amount of people dont know how to actually do. people get cocky in fist fights forgetting that i also hit back

*i cant actually die. i can be beheaded or shot through the skull to take me out but its temporary for a minute until i reset. resetting me puts me in my best condition before i died as well, which sucks for anyone who managed to seriously harm me beforehand

*my key "power set" is universal forces. gravity, strong force, weak force, electromagnetism. even the most powerful person alive is still susceptible to being torn apart by a black hole

*if all else fails option b is always there, but allowing myself to turn into a walking feral kaiju monster isnt safe for my friends, either

*option c is also there, but i dont like touching my godhood if i dont have to

[sistazai]

In Love Letters To Life, I celebrate the joy, love and magic of life without bypassing the fuckshit. This Women’s Futures Month, I’m getting curious about how capitalism creates this class called “women” to exploit (all of us). This exploration is open to all and Bl@ck AF because it’s important to centre collective solutions offered by folks who experience the most oppression under the same gendered system of extraction, exploitation and marginalisation. I call this system “fuckshit” for short. Sometimes I’ll say racial c@pitalism. In any case, I highlight instances when Black folks’ choices are comparatively more limited or stolen and society normalises this theft of joy, ease, leisure, pleasure. bell hooks named all the fuckshit wh*te imperialist colonial c@pitalist patriarchy. Or domination for short. It is the absence of love - real love, a radical love (like the kind we began to explore during the “Speak Love Be Love” series in Black Futures Month and the Month Of Love). bell hooks also encouraged us to get curious about all the ways we might willingly, unwillingly, consciously and unconsciously conform to and uphold fuckshit. When you’re swimming in it, you do get it on you and in you. So how do we get free to experience joy, love and magic all while living in and trying to survive fuckshit? That’s the question. Maybe, as I learned in #spellofcapitalism, it starts with curiosity about your relationship to it all. I’ve labelled my relationship to fuckshit #BlackBougieAndQuestioningCapitalism You? I deeply desire to know what exists beyond my social, political and economic conditioning into accepting unlove/fuckshit/domination as the norm. I love to imagine what might happen if I returned all of that colonial baggage back to sender and made room in my imagination to get on with the radical love dreaming. . . If you’re also curious and committed to moving beyond pain to power, you may enjoy my paid monthly offering, “Love Letters To Life”. More details from the link in my bio @sistazai or linktr.ee/sistazai There’s a waitlist but doors opened and everyone waitlisted still receives a monthly love note. Create a beautiful day, my Loves. https://www.instagram.com/p/CplQ-FRBLw_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hymnal-lips]

An unexpected Letter.

Alyriel was amidst writing a letter of her own when she heard a knock rapping on her door. "Come in!" Her head did not lift yet to see who it was, but her quill had stopped moving as her hand stilled.

"You were out quite late last night," the gentle voice of an old woman teased. "Surely for a pleasant reason?"

Aly mustered a tempered smile before she turned in her chair to look at her head maid.

"It was alright. One of the souls I met was pleasant, as you say, the other interesting I suppose."

The elderly matron smirked and nodded, as she held up a letter. "This arrived this morning."

Alyriel shot up from her chair with a surge of both expectation and anxiety, racing across the room. "Is it... Is it from Aurinise?" Her voice was incredulous and cautious. She was afraid to be too hopeful.

Morithea slowly shook her head, an expression of sympathy on her face. She peered at the shorter woman with a silent apology. The maid extended the letter in offering. "No my dear. No news yet from Miss Sharphade. But I hope this will contain words to cheer you up?" The maid's other hand moved from her back and revealed a black rose. "This came with it too," she gave an encouraging nod.

Alyriel felt a pang of terrible disappointment, but curiosity soothed her as best as it could. "From who...?" She reached for the small rectangle envelope, turning it about to see a return address or the name of the sender.

"Whoever this polite individual is, you seem to perhaps have made a good impression?" Morithea offered the rose as well.

The priestess seemed perplexed, unsure of what to think. "Thank you... I'd like to read it alone."

"Of course Lady Duskborne. Call if you need me." With that, the head maid left the chambers, closing the heavy doors behind her with a soft thump. She was glad the doors to her chamber were thick and heavy... insular. It shut her off from the world in comfortable isolation. Even the ongoings in the manor were closed off to her, not much sound penetrating.

Alyriel returned to her desk, pushing away the parchment she had been scratching on. As she sat, the rose was twirled between her fingers, in inspection. She felt no magics from it, no trap, no harm. It seemed like a perfectly ordinary flower. Beautiful. The rose was set down on her desk, atop a stack of papers. Her thumb then brushed along the smooth surface of the letter, pausing to press along the seal. "Hmm..." Carefully, she cracked the wax apart and pulled a letter from it. Something in her made her nervous... sent her into a brief jitter. What could it be about?

Lady Duskborne,

I hope this letter finds you well. I was careful to spell your name as best I could, though I have no address to label this letter to, so we ought to both hope that the mail system is enchanted enough to see my message safely to you.

For the sake of not alienating our Dracthyr friend, I'd not allowed myself to express how much I look forward to meeting you again. You are quite interesting, and I hope to speak with you without intrusion soon enough.

Regards,

Syn'daria Vilesun.

She read it not only once, but twice. This was entirely unexpected, but it brought a small smile to her lips. She hummed a melodic tune, pondering, reminiscing. She brushed the tips of her fingers across the page before she set it down. The cushion tailored onto the back of the chair welcomed her as she leaned back. Her hands reached to caress the pair of earrings she never took off. There had been no connection flowing through it as of late, whereas prior it would have been an open connection to her friend. There was a deep sadness and longing that had settled into her very bones. Her arms felt heavy and they dropped into her lap. The inky rose on her desk caught her eyes, however. Such a dark color rarely made it into her space. She mustered the strength to pick it up and clutch it to her chest. Perhaps too tightly, the petals squished into her bosom.

"It will work out," she murmured, as she mentally dove back into the memory of the conversations she had the night prior. Of how the whispers had tickled her ears. Her lips pulled into the beginnings of a mournful smile. Her eyes closed and she faded from the world into a lucid dream.

[rviner]

Odessa returns the smile that she catches over Nina's expression, a slight relief that the atmosphere to the room is something she finds more relaxing. There's no mark of a man anywhere near them, for that matter. A sensation that already eases Odessa's shoulders as she shifts more comfortably in the seat. "He is fine. And love Russia more than me..." she laughs about Felix, shrugging. "I know he only visit Moscow, hm? No story of lady catching fish with teeth." she chuckles to herself, an airy sigh leaving her next as if she's amused by a story she won't recount. Possibly ever. "You and Felix..." Odessa nods to show her appreciation for their ways. "We will get along." Oskar not included, for reasons she doesn't need to mention. He didn't stand a chance, anyways. Odessa deciding from the moment she saw the older witch that...she just didn't like the energy.

When it comes to the topic of her magic, however, Odessa's smile wanes. There's a sense of vulnerability whenever she speaks about her powers, or lack of them. A possibility of exposing a life she left behind, and then a life she couldn't leave no matter how hard she tried. "I know basic, but the men did not listen when I say this. I know how to ward. I know how to..." she waves a hand to the floor. "To sense when someone comes. And..." the same hand lifts, twirling through the air. "To listen and make myself quiet." she adds, and still isn't quite finished. "I know magic to make crop grow faster, and to freeze meat. And make myself warm." she realizes as she speaks, her certain knowledge of magic are all for particular situations. Some of her childhood. Some not quite as nostalgic. Odessa gently pries a ring from her finger, lifting it. "Here. I do not like black so it is small." she mentions about the little obsidian stone sitting within gold, slipping the ring back over her finger. "I want to learn how to send it back to sender. Like you say. Now, if we can do that."

Nina's gaze follows Odessa's gesture, everything implied that doesn't need to be said, causing a small grin over her lips. She has already done the calculations in her life. It takes Nina two minutes upon meeting somebody to decide if she can tolerate them for any minutes more. However, Odessa is a refreshing anomaly as the quick wit makes...Nina checks her watch, one minute and twenty seconds to already have her conclusion. "Quick and to the point. My style, too." she muses at the dark humor, her grin remaining which turns into a chuckle at Odessa's entanglement with Felix. "Oh, well. My apologies for that too. But yes, that's us. We're not often here, but I have a feeling I'll quite enjoy my time now." she offers a genuine smile with her statement, resting elbows to her desk so she can lean closer.

"I've never met a witch before that has limited knowledge or experience at your age. It says here, beyond the basics, you're essentially a novice." she glances to the paperwork and back to Odessa, a curious expression over her features. "It makes me wonder how you can be sure that you're calling is with black magic, I'll be honest." Nina adds, moving to her feet in the next second. "Are you wearing any obsidian?" she asks, studying the witch closer for any hint of the shining black. "Let's start with a basic warding spell, hm? Just so I can see where we're starting from. If successful, you'll be able to feel a slight dispel of any negative energy. It's my favorite, really. When you progress you can then ensure any bad intentions are sent back to the sender instead." a must have in business, too.