#otherworld dagger

[zortartrix]

More ocs

[starsisstars]

It'ssss Faefrin!

@technofantasia peeled (aka drew the anatomy, hair, dagger, and face for) a cute little traumatized Siffy for me to dress up! We decided it was time for Siffrin to become fae, with a little bit of very loose lore attached (e.x. the memory curse coming because they wandered out of the fae otherworld too long and couldn't find their way home).

[rockongolddustw]

The Black Sisters Fic - Complete

(Andromeda x Ted, Narcissa x Lucius, Bellatrix x Voldemort)

Canonish compliant fic set around the rise of Voldemort. Enemies to Lovers, Fish out of Water Slow Burn, Villain Origin Story, with lots of Slytherin politics, cliffhangers and witchcraft lore

Complete, 150k words, find it on A03

Cover art by @guine_evere on IG

‘Beware all ye who enter’ read the dusty old sign hanging over the doorway of the ratty old tent. The Black Sisters stood before it, contemplating the cavernous lair of the Seer Narcissa insisted on seeing.

The sign should have made them pause, but then again, the sisters were hardly likely to be threatened by idle threats meant to scare the masses. No one would accuse Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa of being ordinary. The Black sisters rose above it all.

‘Come on, Bella,’ Narcissa implored, pulling her eldest sister through the entrance and into the blackness beyond, ignoring her sighs and eyes rolling in exasperation.

Bella had no patience with Divination or Narcissa’s girlish obsession with it. All she saw in her teacups were so-called Grims.

‘They say she only comes out during Solstice once every five years; we cannot miss her,’ Narcissa insisted, determined that her sisters listen to her for once and take their futures seriously. How were they to make a dent in the world if they were not prepared for what was coming?

Andromeda fell behind, as she so often did, uninterested in her sister's plans, plots, and schemes, getting lost in the much richer world playing out in her head.

She bathed her senses in the dark atmosphere of the Seer’s lair. The tent held an intoxicating musky sandalwood smell, the rich velvet drapes brushing against her fingertips as she gazed at the twinkling sprites dancing brightly in their midst. It felt unreal. As much as she was used to the eccentricities of the Wizarding World, this place was more dreamlike than anywhere she’d ever visited.

Only the sharp eyes of the famed Seer could pull Andromeda out of her trance. The Witch they’d heard so much about from Narcissa held court in the centre of this otherworld. She sat in stillness before a fire, deep hooded eyes trained on the sisters. They could barely breathe at the intensity of her gaze.

Andromeda and Narcissa felt ill at unease. The sisters were no strangers to ancient magic, but this place felt drenched in an unknown power.

Bella remained unmoved; it took much more than some parlour tricks to make her believe in such nonsense. The eldest of the Black sisters huffed as she reluctantly took a seat, waving her hand to encourage her sisters to follow.

The Seer merely raised a brow and handed Bella a gleaming silver dagger. She wasted no time grasping it, a look of disdain etched on her strikingly beautiful face.

All the Black Sisters were well-versed in blood magic, and the ritual did not need to be spelt out. Bella quickly sliced open her palm and let her blood drip into the flame, then grabbed her sister's hands to do the same, all in an impatient flurry. Andromeda complied quickly, watching the thick, crimson blood fall from her hands in fascination. At the same time, Narcissa grimaced, wincing delicately, and snatching her hand back, swishing her wand to stem the flow of blood as soon as she could and checking her dress carefully for any spots of blood that might have fallen onto it.

They watched carefully as the Seer cast her wand over the flickering flames, guiding them in their path. She then cast her intense gaze into the depths of the fire and searched furiously for the answers she sought.

Finally, the Seer took a deep breath, her eyes gleaming and a small, wry smile etched on her face.

‘The last of the House of Black,’ the Seer whispered as she watched the dancing flames, unknown futures springing to life in its depths. It was both a promise and a threat.

‘Our line is strong,’ Bella scoffed, clearly unimpressed with the theatrics and ominous prediction.

‘None will survive you,’ the Seer smiled. ‘The only question is, will you endure?’

‘What is our fate?’ Narcissa whispered gently, enraptured by the low baritone voice of the Witch in front of them.

The Seer contemplated them one by one. Her words were a low, deep hum, powerfully vibrating as they spilled from her mouth.

‘Love,’ she said, pointing her long finger to Andromeda;

‘Influence,’ pointing to Narcissa;

‘Power,’ pointing to Bellatrix.

‘Do not be fooled when you are banished, imprisoned, and crowned. There is more to come; you must look to these forces to see it. They will drive you, they will shape you, and if you are not careful, they will devour you.’

The Prophecy hung in the air for a spellbinding moment. Then, slowly, the Seer's words turned into smoke, curling around and dancing lightly in the air before they descended, compelled towards the orb below them, swallowing the smoke in one gulp. Another promise captured for the Hall of Prophecies.

Bellatrix jumped to her feet in outrage. ‘There is no one who can devour us,’ she hissed, furious at the implication.

She jumped from her seat, grabbed her sister's hands, and pulled them quickly out of the oppressive tent into the fresh air outside.

The Seer cackled loudly.

In her long years of prophesying, she had found few could accept their fate. It didn’t matter. The Black Sisters would find it came to them just the same.

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day, Day 39: London Calling by The Clash

So I used to scorekeep hockey games a lot. Like a lot a lot. There was a period of time where I could make about 400 bucks a week scorekeeping games on the weekends. I ran the scoreboard, the reporting to Gamesheet (A scorekeeping app), kept a paper scoresheet, and did the music. It was a lot of work to run all 4 of those things at once! Especially if a game got busy.

I've done house level, Travel level, AA and AAA, Really everything. At a certain point you learn the scoreboard machine. You learn when to click what buttons when which whistles blow and you start to get almost mechanical. Like an automaton that reacts to specific noises. And the thing is that no matter how great or badly I did at scorekeeping, no one ever mentioned it after. I could royally fuck up putting the score on the board and I would still get called back the next week to do the clock. Parents notoriously hate working the scoreboard- they just want to watch their kid and get in fights with the refs. Easy money. I charged 60 bucks a game and they forked it over gladly (Hockey parents don't care man. They're paying 8k for the season anyways sometimes. House is like 2k, travel can be way more with hotels, airfare, etc. It's an expensive sport. What's an extra 60 bucks a season to not have to sit in the box and freeze while missing Timmy score a goal.)

What I CONSISTENTLY got praise for was the music I played.

Now I think I have good taste, but I'm not like. Special. Most people have similar tastes, everyone's on the bell curve of "can tell a song is good" vs. "Carrying tunes in tin buckets". It's helped by the fact that some things are kind of obliged- certain songs are, for lack of a better word, required (For instance, Chelsea Dagger by The Fratellis is a Chicago Goal song. So if you are doing hockey music in Chicago, you ARE including that song no matter what. Period). So building a good playlist isn't that hard. A little The Alan Parson's Project to kick the games off. Some Chumbawumba for after a tough hit. The Hockey Song because this is Youth Hockey.

The mainstay of the list, for better or worse, is a classic rock/arena rock/current pop mix. It's what people expect, it's what I mostly have to deliver. Pearl Jam, Dave Matthews Band, Huey Lewis and the News, Duran Duran, One Republic, that kind of thing. It's consistently a crowd pleasing list, and it's gotta have energy, be recognizable, and be something that people will want to hear possibly twice over a hockey game. The original playlist was something like 50-60 songs. I thought that would be enough, because I am stupid. Turns out hockey games have 30-50% of their game time with the clock stopped- as in, the times when someone would typically play music to fill dead air. So I added more songs. Put on some Rush because I'm catering to the Dad demo. Putting Imagine Dragons and Boss Beat music in its natural habitat (Don't look at me like that, I've been to sporting events, these songs are made for this). Some pop girlies because I like sports, but I'm still gay. Kesha. Lady Gaga's Bad Romance (permissible due to it surviving in the zeitgeist, etc.).

And then I got... weird with it. One of the first goal songs I ever used was Otherworld. As in, the boss music for when you fight Jecht in Final Fantasy X. VGR's Electronic Amp-Up of Mii Channel features prominently and is a huge crowdpleaser with the 25-45 crowd. Baby Shark exists for when I want to annoy people. Megolovania is on it for god's sake. If it sounds good and is a little Easter egg for someone listening, trust and believe that I put that song on the list.

People loved it. Every game, without fail, between 1 and 3 people would find me after to compliment the music. The playlist was good! I named it "18U no vursing" and have used it for about 6-7 years now.

The problem with making a good playlist is that you have to constantly top yourself. I wanted to make the list better. Have more fun with it, include more jokes, more clever remixes and mashes. Things that people would like.

What made that easy was something so simple I almost overlooked it. People already told me what they would like. There's a reason arena rock, classic rock, and pop music are the bog standard. It's what works for the medium and what people like to listen to.

There's such a thing as getting too in the weeds, too obscure. You gotta remember your audience, your goals, and your scope. I wasn't debuting hot new artists (ok I was sometimes). I was playing music for people during their kid's sport. And so I readjusted my scope. The playlist grew. A few indie picks, the gags that worked (Mii Channel, Baby Shark, Electronic music with a hidden secret, etc.), but mostly pop and rock and that's all.

I'll let you in on the secret for why my hockey playlist got so good and why people started to love it so much. I'll tell you the secret to making any list popular. I started getting suggestions.

And I listened to them.

The first song I added to the playlist due to a suggestion was London Calling. I like The Clash, but there's billions of songs out there, I hadn't thought to put them on yet. But a ref skated up to me during stoppage of play and said "Hey do you have The Clash on there?" and I realized I didn't. I added it mid-game and played it between the 2nd and 3rd periods.

He thanked me after the game.

A couple weeks later I was asked if I had the soundtrack for Slap Shot on there. I started playing Maxine Nightingale, Leo Sayer, the works. The guys had a hoot and were laughing and smiling between periods.

I noticed that refs were a little nicer when I flubbed the scoreboard if I was playing songs they requested.

I asked one of my teams if they had a specific warmup song they wanted me to play. They were delighted to tell me it was Levels by Avicii. I played it every game to kick things off. Another team told me it was Welcome to DC by Mambo Sauce. A third said Welcome to the Jungle.

The playlist grew. It's 400 songs long now. Like a full 24 hours straight.

I don't scorekeep as much now. But I think I'll keep building the playlist, thanks.

~~~~~~~~

Scorekeeping was nice, but playing the music was the part that made it fun. It's made me realize one thing about myself- If Radio DJ was still a job in a way that was meaningful or mattered, I would want that job. I would probably kill for that job, actually. Listening to callers tell me they missed Chappell Roan could I please play Good Luck Babe. Or telling me that their dad's favorite song was Mr. Blue Sky so thank you so much for playing it. Girls having me play Before He Cheats for their dick ex-boyfriend. Wishing people Happy Pride with an hour mix of queer artitst. Having call in time so people could just chat.

I kind of am doing that here, and now, but in slow, painstakingly written, long-form music recommendations. I like making playlists. I love getting music dialogue going with my followers. I like discovering new music, and talking about it with people here. I am slowly, surely, working the same muscles I would need to do exactly that job, just quietly and in my own personal little corner of the world.

You know I have a discord server I made? I haven't added anyone to it, and I probably won't do anything with it. Yet. It's called Radio Waystation. Let me just link the only post I've made in there so far:

"This is for playing your music and sharing it- I might set up a radio rotation but. Essentially I want to use voicechat to let us showcase our music to each other when we want to. Dynamically- You can run a prepared playlist for your radio time, you can do a Q&A or ~Call In~ time. You can actively Disc Jockey. You just have to share your sounds to other people. Your radio time, your rules- you can acquiesce to people's tastes, you can troll people, you can play the sound of silence. You can play the same song over and over. You can express yourself. And sometimes people will say THAT SUCKS and not enjoy your presentation, but ultimately your time is yours alone. (no tolerance of intolerance loophole bullshit- you know what kind of shit will get you pulled off the air, don't be a dirtbag). Workshop a song, get help putting ikea together. But I hope you play some music."

Hey I'm nothing if not consistent.

I now know that's a lot more complicated due to how Spotify and Discord interact, and whether it's strictly speaking legal (I am intimately familiar with music licensing requirements due to my past job, thanks). But I think it's something worth figuring out someday. Someday soon, I think. I want to make my radio station.

Not a lot of today's writeup was about the song, unfortunately. And that's a bit of a shame, because again- I like The Clash. 1970's English Punk Rock had some bangers, babes, and London Calling is like. one of the greats. A recognizeable guitar part, a truly bangin bassline leading in, and just the most moshable, jumpable lyric delivery. You need to be standing pressed against the stage screaming this stuff out with Joe Strummer.

Listen I don't need to defend The Clash bigger nerds than I have done so for far longer than I've been alive. But hey. It's music I love. And as always- You could be dead right now. Go listen to something that you love.

[gladstones-corner]

On the Ritual Dagger and Other Tools

Originally this was a very targeted, well-researched post. However, as I started writing, I realized the real point of this article: my difficulty using iron in magic, and what that means for my selection of tools as a general rule. And in all honesty, that's probably more interesting than a scholarly history of the athame. 

The magical community at large tends to accept the position that iron is disruptive to entities of the Otherworld, though the reasons why have been debated for centuries. Theories range from "ferrous metal disrupts subtle bodies" to "iron is symbolic of human industrialization". 

I'm less interested in a mystical reason than a practical one—in other words, I accept that iron disrupts Otherworld denizens, but am more concerned with why it disrupts me. I find it very difficult to channel energy through iron tools of any kind. 

The good news is that I'm not alone. Some practitioners work closely with the Otherworld, and iron tools hinder their work. Others prefer to use more natural material to reflect their connection with the web of life. Still others are just like me—they just find iron hard to use. 

Are these alternatives standard to the Western Esoteric Tradition? No, absolutely not. There are reasons why iron is used for the athame—not the least of which is because of the disruption towards unwanted spirits. Of course, wanted spirits also experience the disruption, so there is that to consider. 

Of these alternatives, bone and stone are the most common materials. Wood is much less common, as the material tends to be associated with Fire more than with Air (the standard elemental correspondence for the ritual dagger). But, if your tradition swaps the elemental correspondence so that the Wand is for Air and the Dagger is for Fire, there's nothing stopping you from obtaining a wooden ritual dagger. 

Other materials that are nonmetallic, like resin, should be avoided on environmental and practical principles. Not only are many synthetics bad for the environment—which can hinder your connection with the living universe—they are usually very poor conductors of energy. That isn't to say you can't use them—I've seen plenty of people use resin wands—but I really don't recommend it. 

So, what did I choose? I'll be honest, I didn't go out of my way to purchase new tools; I examined what I had on hand. And thankfully, what I found were two obsidian knives from a family trip to Cancun years ago. 

Before I could use them, I had to cleanse and bless them. To do so, I decided to use the Druid method of Land, Sea, Sky. So I started by letting them sit in the sunlight for a few hours to cleanse and bless them by the Sky. After that, I waited for a storm and set them outside to be cleansed and blessed by the "Sea" (water). Finally, I wiped them clean and drove them into the soil to cleanse and bless them by the Land. Finally, they were ready for use. 

First thing I did was cast alchemical glyphs in the air before me: invoking pentacle, banishing pentacle, fire, water, air, earth, spirit, etc.  

My initial thought: the knives are very well balanced. One is about 7", the other about 4". I prefer the larger, if only because the smaller one is more fragile. However, they both have solid heft without being unwieldy. They're great for flourishing with. 

My second thought was that the knives hold and channel energy with ease. That was a pleasant surprise—now I know it's the iron in the dagger, not the dagger itself, that gives me trouble (though to really confirm, I'd need to try other iron athames). 

But here's the thing: these obsidian ritual daggers are not athames. Athames are specifically the black-handled, usually double-edged blade. So that raises a new question: where do we draw the line on swapping out tools? 

Let's examine that in some detail. If we are to believe the four tools of the Western Esoteric Tradition are based in ancient sources, then what are those sources and how did they evolve into their current forms? 

In the broadest strokes, the elemental tools of the Western Esoteric Tradition are the Wand, Dagger, Cup, and Disk. 

Some sources speculate they originate from the Four Treasures of the Tuatha de Danaan: the Spear of Lugh, Sword of Nuada, Cauldron of The Dagda, and Stone of Fal. But if that were wholly the case, we would still be left with questions around how the Spear and Stone became Wand and Disk. 

Let's keep digging and examine each tool individually, rather than as a set: 

Wand: traced back to prehistory, but came into the forefront with Egyptian, Zoroastrian, and Greek priests. 

Dagger: traced back to the Key of Solomon as one of several goetic tools. 

Cup: traced back to prehistory as a tool for holding sacred and mundane liquids. 

Pentacle: traced back to the Key of Solomon as a method of summoning entities. 

Okay, so we can now see that these tools came from a few different places and have slowly grown together. Let me fill in some gaps: the wand is relatively the same as it was in ancient times; the dagger used to be several daggers but has since been standardized; the cup is still widely variable and can be a chalice, cauldron, or any other vessel; the pentacle is still widely variable based on tradition. 

So that brings us back to our question: when do we substitute tools out? The "real" answer is whatever your tradition requires. But for those of us without a set tradition, the question becomes more complicated. 

I've implied throughout this article that the tools are directly correlated to the four lower elements. So, it stands to reason that you would have a representation of each element on the altar. 

Let's take the case of the Four Treasures of the Tuatha de Danaan: 

Sword: Fire 

Spear: Air 

Cauldron: Water 

Stone: Earth 

For a more eclectic take, we can try: 

Sage Bundle: Fire 

Large Feather: Air 

Bowl: Water 

Plate: Earth 

You're also not limited to "tools", either. In my Druidic practice, I place four vessels on the altar that contain: 

Fire: Candle 

Air: Incense 

Water: Water 

Earth: Soil 

So really, the answer to the question "when do we substitute" is really "whenever feels most appropriate to you". The important things are that the items on the altar represent the four lower elements, and can be used for energy channeling. That's what makes it a tool, that you can use it to channel energy, not the fact that it's inherently a tool of some kind. 

Thank you for reading. As always, stay safe and stay tuned. 

Blessed be~ 

[thelivingautomaton]

hello time of wheelies, i am still livetweeting the books but i am now done with book 2 and figured you all might want an update, the most important being: y'all were right about the religious freaks with coffee, good god

yeah so let's start there with the seanchan because hooooooooly fuck

literally every time any of the seanchan are on the page i just sat there open-mouthed going "oh my god these guys are such FREAKS". but it's also so galaxy brained of robert jordan to introduce another antagonistic faction but have them be completely unconnected to the ongoing battle of dark vs light + unrelated to all the other factions in the setting?

and all the insane details about their culture. the nails! the blood! the insect-like armor! THE GROLM? (they're dimension-hopping colonizers????) also i only picked up on it b/c i was on the lookout but when lord turak is talking about "caf" and saying that the aroma is almost better than the taste, i literally sat up and yelled THOSE FUCKS HAVE COFFEE

for real though it is so unbelievably funny/based for rj to be like, okay, the prophesied last battle between the forces of good and evil is about to take place, world-shattering apocalypse, make or break. meanwhile, some guys from across the ocean are gonna invade and Do A Colonialism.

also, the damane? UNBELIEVABLY fucked on every conceptual level. special shoutout to renna's cloyingly patronizing treatment of egwene though, that shit actually made my stomach churn. (also also, shoutout to nynaeve for immediately seeing the damane/sul'dam/a'dam for what they are and reacting with the extremest revulsion when she has to put the bracelet on, love u bb girl <3)

kinda wanted at least one comedic interaction in the battle of falme where a bunch of seanchan soldiers run into The Actual Ghost Of Artur Hawkwing and lose their shit though. actually i thought it was soooooo funny as a narrative choice to have the horn blown but you barely see what happens in the big clash on the ground cos you're in rand's pov and he's too busy fighting ba'alzamon in a giant laser light show in the sky

(i still. don't really understand how that worked exactly but WHATEVER, it's fine. sad about the heron blade though ;-; but at least rand got to "prove" he has/had the right to it beforehand when he defeated turak. without channeling, even! which makes it 5x more badass)

also i thought it was interesting that by around the midway point of the book you have the pov characters dealing with three different factions whose way of doing things seems strange and alien: the seanchan, the aiel, and the cairhien nobles with the great game. just thought it was an interesting parallel

also, rand trying his best to Not Participate in the great game and just getting pulled in deeper was never not funny, sorry not sorry. rand and co infiltrating barthanes's mansion to try and grab the horn and the dagger was Peak D&D Heist energy and i loved it

the other big thing that had me losing my shit was surprise! parallel dimensions

LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK. the moment that the realization hit that the washed-out otherworld that rand/hurin/loial found themselves in was an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE where artur hawkwing didn't defeat the trollocs, i fucking went crazy. and then loial talking about the excerpt from "mirrors of the wheel" and going on about worlds that are shadows of the real world! i was hooting and hollering and going "this is just like chronicles of amber" (which i highly recommend for y'all, VERY different vibe compared to wheel of time but they're super fun and you'll love them if you like the whack-ass stealthy sci-fi/genre blends in WOT)

and then the escalation to rand actively trying to use the stone and flickering through countless permutations of his own life? utterly fucking bananas. also: unbearably tragic! literally what if you lived out hundreds of versions of your life but despite the seemingly-infinite choices open to you, they all really boil down to one choice: play the role that's meant for you and be doomed by the narrative, or don't play and be doomed anyways. like. FUCK

robert jordan i am begging you to give me more insane alternate realities for your made up fantasy universe, i am begging you for more insane creepy shit like the otherworld being devoid of people and all the color washed out since it's a "weak reflection", it is SO GOOD

this is tangentially related but: i knew who """selene""" really was going in, but i did NOT know her introduction in the books was this fucking batshit, and also that she comes across as literally the shadiest motherfucker alive. "oooh, here i am in my pretty white dress being attacked by a beast, come save me! no i don't know how i got here, i was just riding! don't mind how i know a surprisingly specific amount about the portal stones! you're my hero! you can blow the horn and be a great man!" unironically i love her so much for this scheme, and how it plays off so well vs rand's insistence that he's just a shepherd + his starting to settle into the position of "lord" and/or "dragon"

but fr though i think this conflict is sooooo interesting as a central narrative theme, i.e. the choice to seek out glory and heroism for its own sake vs taking it upon yourself as your duty because there's no one else who can vs running away from that duty and responsibility. "We may be a poor pair of heroes, but we are what there is." "It was not what I was made for, but all was breaking apart, and they were alone, and I was all they had." everything with rand feeling the "threads" of his duties and "death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain" and the idea of choosing to sheathe the blade in yourself when the moment comes. and how that ties in with ingtar's final choice and his sacrifice!

it's all about the CHOICE!!! this is literally me irl rn:

oh my god what else. i loved getting so much more detail on the aes sedai (who are basically underfunded academics constantly squabbling among their respective departments, i have decided) and how channeling works/feels. (the parallel between the girls imagining saidar as a flower vs rand feeling saidin as the flame and void with a sickly light in it. chef's kiss!!! but also, rand simultaneously craving saidin and being sickened by it? chewing glass about it, nbd) verin mathwin aka The Aes Sedai Ever is unbelievably great. a lot of this book felt like buildup so i'm hype for things to start popping off, especially now that rand has apparently accepted the mantle of dragon. these books are crazy and i love them

[echionx]

@pelcrus location: echion's place notes: pelly-chan im sad

Cthonius' body had burned but Echion felt like he was still there, still standing in the Otherworld waiting for the ashes to cool. Stood there as they divided the remains into four and went their separate ways to scatter them. Echion should have been thinking about Pluto and how to kill him, or the pact he'd made with the now former King of the elves. Titania was dead, the monarchy was gone, and for all he cared whatever debt Echion had imagined was as dead as Cthonius. What was left now?

A dagger made of bone in hand, he flung it towards a poster on the wall and watched as it was embedded with accuracy. Another one drawn from his wrist and laid across his palm, then flung again. "He always knew what to do." Echion admitted, "What to say, how to say it." Cthonius had been the glue that held them together, the thing that tethered them in times of strife. Echion didn't know where to go from here.

[dr-lizortecho]

A five sentence fic:

"I don't think we're close enough to be having this conversation."

It’s very in character for me to get carried away and write a lot- but ideas started happening once I selected the cast <3

"I don't think we're close enough to be having this conversation.” Sky’s face is drawn into weary lines, lips thinned out and brows furrowed as he turns the hilt of the dagger over in his hands. Taking his time examining the way it glinted in the harsh natural light of the realm.

Sebastian snorts, adding another log to the measly fire the blond prick had lit for them. “Close enough for you to break me out of stasis,” the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smirk, “close enough for you to wield my blade.”

Sky scowls, something dark glinting in his eyes as he flares Sebastian down, storm clouds shifting in the blue of the ocean. “This blade was fashioned for the king of Erakylon.”

“By a blood witch,” Sebastian says, arching a brow in a mock challenge. “I’m just asking if you’re prepared to use it my Prince.” It comes out slick and smooth as honey, the same tone he’d used on the red head months back- or years. Sky seemed older now- shoulders more filled out, eyes haunted.

Sky narrows his eyes, “only if we have to severe her from the Dragon Flame.”

“Oh, we will,” Sebastian says low and dark. “If not for her own sanity, for leaving this cursed place, for getting her back to the Otherworld. For getting me my end of this deal.”

send me a sentence and I’ll write a short fic <3

[melxmneme]

To Celebrate with Song Location: Sky Home Notes: Mel & Mneme chat

"Why do you get the daggers?" Her tone was lilted, Melpomene's presence always a bit more forward than Mneme's. Their minds were one at times, but could be siloed when one goddess decided she wanted to be alone. Mneme stayed where she was, surrounded by familiar fluffy clouds, a memory of Elysia where their sisters remained. She wished to join them, to be there once more, but there was too much at stake.

"They know you are brash. You've burned a lot of bridges. Maybe it's better that they don't give you what you want." Mneme's tone was quieter, her dark hair shining under the moonlight of Sky Home. Already they'd shared between them the grief of this place, Melpomene's visions of tragedy never to be ignored or stopped. But sometimes, Mneme simply wished to not see it.

Melpomene sat down now, across from her twin who still refused to look at her. "You're still upset about that? We saved them. The fey that would've been taken over by the mindflayers. We've met many – you know they cannot be saved because there is nothing left of them." She sighed now, leaning forward, "And now we are back in the Otherworld. A lot further away from where we started."

Mneme could only look up at the moon, her gaze finally flickering towards her sister, "You saved Aurora and what has she done? What have any of them done?"

"It's not our place to interfere with this," Melpomene waved her hand, an old argument that she always won by ignoring it. She knew of the grief they carried, of the fact that they were always one – but without Melpomene, Mneme would die.

They had endlessly searched the Otherworld for answers, ones that would give Mneme her powers back – her life. Melpomene felt like they were in the right direction, while Mneme wished for peace.

Mneme took a breath, "These worlds belong to Titania's people, as much as they belong to us, to the Soratami – this realm is stagnant. All the realms were taken by the rot just shows that perhaps the stolen power of the gods can fix these things. Titania doesn't need to hold on any longer." Melpomene stood up, appearing in front of her sister now. Identical pairs of eyes met, but Mneme did not falter. "Melpomene, this has gone too far. You should have let me go a long time ago. Perhaps I could've given my life for–"

"No." Melpomene cut her sister off immediately, the idea not one she could stomach. Her hands went to her sister's shoulders, "You will not throw it away. Not after all of this. Don't you understand? I see tragedy everywhere. I can't – I don't want to see it when I look at you. When we have come so far. Done so much –"

"We will not be one forever. Our sisters would always have you." Mneme had thought about this, had written down story after story within Elysia, had continued to do so in the realm of the mortals. She'd saved some for the Pilgrim, the one who liked to flaunt all his travels, but she'd seen his memories. Ones that were similar to hers. They'd traversed the Otherworld for centuries. Realms that remained hidden to many would continue to do so, but she'd shared some with Laer. If only to humble him.

"Shut up, Mneme. Your endless prattling is exhausting." There was a dead beat of silence, both the sisters managing a smile because – well, all Melpomene did was talk.

"You asked if these tears would work on me," Mneme could see it, the way Melpomene clutched Akadi's Tears to her chest. "Save it. For the seraphim you love." They never spoke on love, could hardly manage it when Melpomene was the only one who'd felt such a thing before. Mneme felt too old for it, but she cared for Cloud. They seemed to enjoy her company, and while the aspect was certain nothing more would come from it, there was a nervousness that she couldn't explain.

"Fine. But only if I get to borrow the daggers eventually."

[crcssrcads]

who? @xliilith​

where? wherever the fuck lilith is creeping after her plowing of the farmer: the reckoning

notes: stab stab stabbity stab

Enraged is the best way to describe Josephine once her blood had been taken, but time had turned that anger calculating. There is no use in attempting to kill another Aspect, not when they are all immortal beyond full destruction, and there is nothing she can do to make Lilith feel the same sort of betrayal she is currently feeling. All Josie can do is hurt her and make it last long enough to serve as a lesson, but not long enough that the First Demon’s revenge will contain collateral damage. The idea comes to her in a flash, and the desire to implement it with it. Acquiring a hollow iron dagger with iron powder within is an easy matter, finding Lilith’s location and the time to strike not as much. A vision is the last piece to fall in place, allowing her to determine when to open the world from the Otherworld and step through just in time jab Lilith and bury the dagger on her gut and twisting for the hollow blade to break inside the other and allow for the iron powder to enter his bloodstream. Once that is done, she steps back and bows mockingly at the demon.

“I call that a quid pro quo. After all, I don’t think you would react any other way if someone betrayed you.”

[sanctumsevienti]

Excerpt from Otherworlde: Trial by Fire (Book 1)

Chapter 16

[Arden]

"I sat before the fiending flora, deep breaths preparing my departure from my body. Gradually I slipped away, stepping into a vacant void. I could barely see my body in the distance and slowly approached the plant, aware that I could be ambushed at any moment. My ears swiveled in every direction, scanning the area for sudden movement. Sounds of serpents lurking in the darkness tested my resolve, but I remained resolute with a swift kick to the first demon who lunged at me, the blackened blood that trickled from their mouth a tantalizing snack for the agitated Tongue. As the plant devoured the wounded dragon, I snuck around to its backside, almost certain it wasn't controlled by the demons. A dagger lodged deep inside the stem oozed a toxic air, a mockery of the treasured Tongue's ability. I pinched my nose and quickly pulled the dagger out, showing it to the Tongue as I illuminated the space with the light from my horn. The vexing veil was instantly lifted from the dagger and the Tongue began to salivate, an offering to the surrounding verdure. I returned to my body with a gasp and Felix asked, 'Are you alright?'"

[zortartrix]

Ocs that need to be draw /redesigned

Miss Silver

Ripred

Diesel Wallow

Veir

Dracon Egentin

Sky Spider

Zortartrix Vortex

Dekka

Fiera Fiersworn

Connie Fiersworn

Garrozaun Fiersworn

Moony Moon

Flashy Strize

Eracrai Chase

Oraldus Chase

Onnor Ecitslogard

Trezelda Ecitslogard

Philosophy Moon

Otherworld Dagger

[muunsick]

Desperation is a name many men find themselves learning, often without choice. It moves more oceans than the storm and razes more ground than wildfire. It forces hands to commit sin previously thought impossible, and tears apart sanity like a cleaver through vein. And now, here, standing on the precipice of some dank and dismal rotten mouth, an iron ladder sinking into the nauseating underbelly of this coastal city, Eden recalls the name of the very thing that led them here.

"This is so stupid," They hiss between locked teeth, hugging themselves into a tight coil, the end of their hooked tail flicking restlessly above the pavement. "It smells so bad. Oh, my gods, it's poop down there. It's poop." The tiefling paces in circles, wound up and horrified and forcing every muscle in their throat to suppress the bile tickling their mouth. They've rewound this scenario many times over many moons. Conceptualized infinite paths that might lead them to some profound answer, a solution to the chill that forever coats their neck. In all their travels, they have little to show but calloused feet and littered corpses. Through towns and villages and remote temples, running and running and leading this thing around on a strained leash.

But someone, somewhere, must know the truth, and if not, someone, somewhere, must be capable of killing it. Of facing it and wiping this realm of any trace it ever existed.

This is their last resort. The final stop before they throw down their white flag and shackle themselves to some abandoned pit deep in the unknown wilderness. It's a place they know little of, a fabled otherworld that knew neither day nor night, sun nor moon; The Underdark.

It is rumored to house horrors beyond comprehension. It is the very hellpit that darkness is born from. Surely, someone would know of a way to help them. And if not, then, it might be the tomb that Eden chooses to rest in for good, sequestered from the world, so far low that not even god need look at their face. Yes, an excellent decision.

Now if only they could know where to start. It's not as if there's a book on where to locate such a place. Volo's Roadmap to Your Worst Nightmare! That's a publication that would come in handy. But they lack such knowledge, and so they are forced to start simple. If it lies underground, one must go beneath the ground. And, you see, the easiest way to go below ground…

"Just do it. You're being ridiculous." Eden hops lightly, revving up their engine, attempting to inject pep in their step. All they need is a leap of faith. Dive into the poop hole and brave whatever may come. Breathe in, breathe out. And—

"I can't do it." They turn abruptly away from the manhole, rejecting its existence. Gods. It might just be time to call it quits. Pack up, go home, that's it, you're stalked by a monster for all eternity. They shimmy their shoulders, their spine groaning under the weight of their rucksack. Weary eyes lift to the sky, gazing fearfully at the sliver of white looming overhead. The hooked claw of a waxing moon. Only a matter of time before the circle fills itself out entirely.

Burdened with a desolate hopelessness, they backtrack out of the murky alley, winding back towards the central street. They nearly miss it. They nearly miss him. The ghosting silhouette of a sleek figure, rooted against the jagged corner of a stone building, cloaked in inky black, not even an inch of his body exposed to the moonlight. Even with their infernal darkvision, he feels almost invisible.

He looks seedy and untrustworthy. The hunch of a man who probably eats orphaned children for his midnight snack. A villain who wears blood like a second skin and wields daggers like his own body parts. Absolutely perfect.

If anyone would know how to get to the Underdark, it would be a person like him.

"Sir! Sir, you—" Eden nearly trips over their own boots, stumbling towards him with the shaky legs of a newborn fawn. "Your help. I need your help. I need directions to a…" The stakes feel too high to just come right out with it. Stealth would be necessary. Best to speak in vague terms, just in case.

"Do you know how to get below the city? As in, very below. Like very far down." To visualize their point, their hands gesture towards the ground, fingers pointing hellward.

@estarion

[hidinghesperia]

Date: January, some time Location: The Labyrinth Characters: @ariadnesenatus & @hidinghesperia Notes: cousin :)

Not by blood, but Ariadne would have been a cousin to Hesperia if time and Fate had been kinder to them both. Hesperos, Hesperia's father, had told her older siblings so many stories of the divine nymphs that had adopted and raised him. They, in turn, had told their youngest sister where her name had come from when their fathers were gone. Hesperia had grown up loved and surrounded by so many siblings, no matter the fact that their parents had passed the fey family had never been alone in Eden. Ariadne had not known the same comfort and love as far as Hesperia knew. A divine-blooded princess born after Hesperia's time who had been made to grow up under cruel parents. The elf knew the princess was here now, she knew why she had arrived from all the rumours and gossip. While she didn't imagine that Ariadne might have any magic or knowledge to help The Tranquil with, this time Hesperia ventured out to find someone simply out of the sheer and selfish desire to know them. The Hesperides had rescued her late father, raised him as one of their own and then taught him the love of family that got passed down onto her. Her entire family owed them and, thus, Hesperia owed it to Ariadne to love and support her. To know her... at the very least. She wasn't sure if a divine princess would want anything at all to do with a common dusk elf that never even knew the nymphs she was named for. But she had hope regardless.

Wearing a scarf made of Amphisbaena that protected her pointed ears and made her feel more secure in the Otherworld, the scarf's cloaking magic and Hesperia's own penchant for moving in such a silent manner made many jump. She might've considered that more carefully before accidentally scaring the guards at the entrance of The Labyrinth, earning a scolding that put her on edge. Out of sheer defensive habit, she'd quickly taken out a dagger when one of the angry guards took out what looked like a weapon to her. She'd later find out it was just what mortals called a 'walkie talkie.' So the elf found herself in an office, awaiting someone to talk to her about this misunderstanding and let her go when a woman walked in. The magic that emanated from her was potent; Hesperia silently assumed it must have been Ariadne. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to frighten your guards... or to threaten them."

[magicveiled]

Morgan had gone off to do her own thing off somewhere else while the party still raged on. He still wasn't sure how she managed to invite so many people. She rarefy had anyone over at the house, and for good reason. But when she did, Rascal was always on high alert. Especially when it came to other men coming into the building. Call it his inherent protective nature as her charge. For giving him a roof over his head, clothes on his back (sometimes), and food on the table (or in his bowl), it's the least the faerie could do for her.

Rascal noticed the usual suspects amongst the crowd as he observed the room from a dimly lit corner; Michael was off flirting with some poor bird who was even drunker than he was, Ciara was playing a boardgame with some other younger looking guys and gals in the living room, and Carter...well Carter was the bar tender and designated sober friend. He was in charge of making everyone's drinks and making sure everyone's drinks were safeguarded as well. He would call someone a cab if they needed it or have them lie down in one of the spare rooms in the back if they ended up becoming ill.

One individual in particular caught Rascal's attention the moment he came into the room. His breath caught and he froze, piercing black glaring daggers into the back of the individual's skull. There had been a faint buzz of magic in the room before, for obvious reasons, but now unbeknownst to anyone else the magic resonating off the strange man was like a gut punch to Rascal. Without thinking twice, Rascal pushed himself up off of the wall and took long strides as he walked across the room, slithering and sliding trough the crowd of people like a shadow on the hunt.

The moment Rascal laid hands on the man's arm, with a firm grip, he began to drag the man out onto the empty terrace of the apartment and tossed him to the stone floor. Everyone was too preoccupied with the party to notice the brief scuffle, but Rascal guarded the entrance back in with his hands clenched into tight fists at his side.

"Alright mate, I'm only gonna bloody ask you this once," Rascal's black eyes began to shimmer a golden yellow, "Who the hell are you? And what's a faerie doing outside of the Otherworld? Sneaking around a witch's flat no less."

@sgarrigh halloween starter call.

[fatummortem]

Welp, that was a waste of time. The top two Omega mutant's on their list killed by

Otherworld... i think bobby was. i'm unsure... liquid something??? and Jean is otherworlded... It looked like otherworld??? Which makes no sense bcuz he has a comic starting soon so welp guess that's curable now. soooo many killed by otherworld. it's like gee let's take the one thing and make it a dagger. it's killfest mutant on mutant