#spatium

[masquerade-v]

What if Lucia didn't turn out like her parents and was treated like Tomás?

Someone's salty lmao

[arogustus]

Fictober 2024: Spatium Via

Original - No Warnings

21. We've done worse

“I feel like there are better options than this.” Raymond deadpanned, currently in line as two drunk humans on stage sang karaoke and butchered another beloved song of his. 

“Oh, there aren’t.” Ava said far too cheerfully, currently styling her antennae as she waited. “Besides, we’ve done worse! Remember Cabo?”

“Don’t remind me of Cabo.” He shot out. He couldn’t remember that day, having erased that memory for very good reason. He did not need any reminder to suddenly bring it back. “What if we just get someone to shoot him? That seems way easier for some reason.”

Ava tsked as she hugged his head, petting it lightly while speaking with undisguised smugness. “Oh, I know what’s going on. You’re scared.”

“I’m not, I’m a cold, unfeelingly attractive machine, you know this.” He shot back in a matter very much unlike a cold, unfeelingly attractive machine. She’d struck a nerve.

“Suuuure, and you’re also the biggest karaoke fan I know. Belting out masterpieces every sunday night and bringing machines to simulated tears.” She pointed out, breaking through the lie he was building. She knew it well, after all, she was his singing partner for 52% of those performances. “You're just scared because these folks are judgemental asses and won’t be impressed by your incredible song work.”

Raymond grumbled, but did not rebuke the fact. “They have no taste is the problem!”

“Yes! They think we can’t “sing from the heart” like they can. Everyone knows you don’t sing from your internal organs! You sing from the soul.” 

He nodded sagely in agreement. “And they say we have none to speak of, the fools.”

Ava smiled, “so, what should we do, boss?”

Raymond steeled his resolve. “We’re gonna give these losers a performance to remember, and by the time it's over they’re gonna believe a robot can have a soul. You know the song.”

The two smiled dangerously at each other. It was time to blow some minds.

[psikonauti]

Maksymilian Novak-Zempliński (Polish, b. 1974)

Spatium (series), 2005

Oil on panel

[narcissistcookbook]

the only thing i care about in this world today is Maksymilian Novák-Zempliński's Spatium series

[frozenbassist]

So I finished building my new PC last weekend but never got around to sharing pics - so here they are in all their glory.

Specs / parts

Case: Fractal Design Define 7

PSU: MSI MAG A850 GL

CPU: AMD Ryzen 7 7800X3D

GPU: Nvidia RTX 4070 Ti Super (Gainward Panther)

Motherboard: MSI X670E Plus WiFi

RAM: Patriot 64Gb DDR5 6400 Mhz

SSDs: MSI Spatium 4Tb, Crucial P3 2Tb

Optical Drive: LG Blu-ray

HDD: 4Tb (Not pictured since its behind the PSU shroud)

OS: Pop!_OS (Ubuntu-based Linux distro)

All parts are new except the SSDs, ODD, and HDD which I re-used from my old build.

Overall, I decided to go for an RGB-free aesthetic since I have mostly grown out of them and non-RGB parts are usually a bit cheaper. The case overall has this minimal design aesthetic that I love.

[neurodivergent-fox-demon]

Day 2 - Ghost hunting

Eli chanted as he waved the incense around the room. “Praecipio omnem negativitatem, quamlibet energiam vibrationalem humilem, ac non benevolum intra hoc spatium excedere et ad lucem ire. Non hic es gratissimus. Praecipio tibi ut per fenestram apertam (seu ianuam) exeas et redeas unde ad industriam lucis transfiguratus es.” He turned toward the door as he heard someone cough behind him. “Oh, papa.”

“You never could get those shark Ks quite right.” Stiles chuckled as he stepped into the room, smelling the overly floral scent. “God, are you using lavender for cleansing? I’ve told you a hundred times to use dragon’s blood.” He smiled at his son.

Eli shrugged, putting the lavender back into the bowl. “I ran out of dragon’s blood and I really did not feel like going out for more.” He looked into Stiles’s eyes and sighed. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be halfway to DC by now. You left the party pretty early last night.”

“I’d never leave without telling you goodbye, Eli.” He shrugged, running his fingers through his unruly locks. “It was just…”

“Save it, papa.” Eli huffed. “You couldn’t even be bothered to stick it out for one night. Why do you even bother coming back?”

Stiles groaned, wiping at his face. “Eli, what you have to understand…”

Eli shook his head. “I’m not some stupid kid anymore, Stiles. You did not just leave dad behind. You left me too, and you keep leaving me behind every time you run away.”

“Eli, I begged your father to leave this fucking town but he wanted to stay. Then he almost got you killed.” He pulled at his hair and let out a long breath. “And he went and died on us, leaving you with Scott. This town does nothing but destroy everything.”

“Then why did you leave me here?!” Eli screamed. “You were so concerned about me being with Scott but as soon as you got me back you took off. Why?”

“Because your father refused to come with me!” Stiles screamed back. “And the bureau is no place for a kid. You needed some sort of stability and I could not give that to you without Derek. And as much as it hurt, I knew you were better in Derek’s care.”

Eli shook his head. “You didn’t even try to fight for us, papa.”

“Because I refuse to stay in this town. Leaving you here was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” Stiles sighed, hanging his head. “And I hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

Eli sighed. “I hope so too, papa, but chasing you would be as useful as catching a ghost.”

Stiles chuckled, wiping at his eyes. “When I was 16, I went searching for a dead body on the preserve. Did your dad ever tell you this story?”

“Yeah… it was aunt Laura. And while you were out there uncle Peter bit Scott. What is your point?” Eli sat on his, bed kicking a chair out for Stiles. It seemed that they were done arguing for the moment.

Stiles sat in front of his son, taking his hand. “I’ve never been good at making the best decisions, Eli. I’ve made one truly great decision in 30 years, and that was adopting you.” He gulped, shaking his head. “I know I’ve screwed up too much, but I’ll always come back for you.”

Eli shook his head. “I don’t want you to come back for me. I want you to stay.” He got up and stormed out of his room.

Stiles got up to follow him and ran into Derek. “Um, hi.” He tried looking anywhere but in his eyes. “I’ll just be going then.”

“No, I think we need to talk.” Derek sighed, gesturing toward the den. “It’s long overdue Stiles.”

Stiles cursed and nodded; knowing that Derek was correct. He stomped toward the den, trying to ignore all the pictures of him, Derek, and Eli throughout the happier years. “Talk, Derek.”

“Three years ago…I did something monumentally stupid.” Derek groaned, grabbing a soda.

“Yes, I know. I’m still trying to understand your thinking. How could you sacrifice yourself to the nogitsune?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I should never have let you leave.” Derek sighed, drinking down the coke. “I went to the Hoover FBI offices, about a week after you left.” He laughed bitterly. “I snuck in and made my way all the way to your floor. I watched you in your office, laughing with some intern.”

Stiles stared at him, unsure of what to say. “Why?”

“Because I love you. Because I wanted you to come home.” He tossed his soda in the trash. “But you were so happy.”

“I was dying Derek!” Stiles yelled. “Every moment I’ve been away from you and Eli I died a little more.” He shook his head pacing up and down the bar. “You took him away from me.” He walked over and poured himself a glass of scotch. “No one even saw fit to tell me you had died! Scott just took Eli to LA, and you know who finally called me? Peter! Peter fucking called me to tell me my husband was dead and my son was taken 60 miles away from his family.”

Derek nodded. “What can I say? I’m an emotional dumb ass. I made a split moment decision to make Scott his alpha. I did not know he would take him away from the area.”

Stiles scoffed. “Scott never thinks with his brain, Derek. He makes all of his decisions based on his emotions.” He downed the liquor, wincing a bit. “God, that's vile. Peter’s?” He nodded when Derek shrugged. “I’m lucky that Lydia was around to help me break the illusion because my dumbass best friend did not stop to think about how a trickster demon could have created one.”

Derek watched him pace. “You’re right.”

Stiles chuckled. “What is there to do at this point?”

“Please, come home.”

Tears filled his eyes as he shook his head. “Do you think I sat around waiting for you for three years, Derek?”

Derek chuckled. “No, I know you and Isaac have been sleeping with each other, on and off.” He shrugged. “He told me and I don’t care. I just want you to come home.”

Stiles looked into his empty scotch glass for a moment. He could feel the anger boiling up in him again. “This is not my home anymore, Derek.” He growled, throwing the glass across the den. It made a satisfying sound as it shattered against the wall. “We went through all of this three years ago.”

“Yeah, you want me to move to Washington D.C.” Derek sighed. He ignored the broken glass for the moment. “Away from my family’s land.”

“Away from the blood and horror soaked into the land.” Stiles shook his head. “Aren’t you tired of fighting witches, vampires, werewolves, and anything else that might come along?”

“As posed to the ghosts you are fighting in D.C.?” Derek raised a brow at him. “There are nemeton and monsters everywhere.” He stood, placing his hands on Stiles’s shoulders. “Stop hunting ghosts and come home.”

Stiles shook his head as he turned and ran out of the house he had once shared with Derek and Eli.

🐺

Chris sat beside Stiles, looking over the quiet pond. “18 years, Stiles.”

Stiles turned to him, raising a brow. “What?”

“I’ve known you for 18 years, just shy of two decades.” Chris smiled at him. “Almost twenty years ago I met this obnoxious kid who wasn’t afraid of anything and would run head first into any situation to save his family. What happened that that kid?”

Stiles chuckled, shaking his head. “He got tired of fighting.”

“Bullshit.” Chis sighed, handing him a cigarette. “All of us are tired of fighting, but we keep doing what we need to do. You abandoned the fight, Stiles.”

“I would not say it like that. I mean you ran all the way to Paris.” Stiles frowned, lighting his cigarette.

“Temporarily.” Chris shrugged. “I came back a few months later. You’ve been gone 3 years. And if I had not taken these out of your car you’d be gone already.” Chris smirked, placing the spark plugs between them on the bench.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. You and Peter are a couple of old biddies who can’t stay out of other people’s business.”

“My husband and I mean well.” He leaned back against the seat, letting out a sigh. “After fighting Monroe for 5 years…”

“I don’t want to talk about that!” Stiles growled.

Chris nodded as he continued his train of thought. “We lost a lot of great people, and I came to realize what was important in life. As you know, Peter and I had been denying how we felt since high school. We wasted over 20 years. I know I got Allison out of it, but don’t make my mistakes, Stiles. Don’t wait 20 years to tell Derek you love him again.”

Stiles groaned letting his head fall back. “You and Peter are still weird.”

“Yeah… yeah. He tapped his hand and got up to leave. “You should really have your spark plugs looked out. A car cannot run without them. Luckily I know a great auto shop. They unfortunately are all closed up for the holidays. They should open tomorrow.”

Stiles raised a brow , picking up one of the spark plugs. They had been mangled beyond repair. “Damn werewolves.” He rolled his eyes and began walking towards his father’s house. He most likely still at the dead of day mass but at least Stiles knew where he kept the spare key.

🐺

Eli leaned against the side of the house, smoking a cigarette. Malia stood next to him and stole the cigarette, taking a drag. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Mental health day. I went long enough for them to take attendance and then came home.” Eli sighed, taking his cigarette back. “What do you want, cousin?”

She shrugged. “Just checking in on my favorite cousin.”

“I’m your only cousin.” Eli chuckled. “I mean until aunt Cora decides to have a kid of her own.” He stomped out his cigarette. “So why are you really here?”

“Stiles is still in town. Chris advised me to close the auto shop down. So I’m just hiding out. Don’t really want to see the ex.” Malia grinned at him. “Since we’re both playing hooky, let’s do something fun or we can talk about why you’re taking a mental health day.”

“I almost forgot you dated my dad. God is there a Hale he hasn’t fucked, besides me?” Eli growled.

Malia laughed. “I don’t think he’s been with Cora.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me what’s really wrong.”

Eli gaped at her. “Are you saying that Stiles had sex with uncle Peter?” his eyes glowed gold as he started to partially shift. “I was joking.”

Malia shrugged. “Calm down pup. It was once and they were both really pissed at the time. Angry people, having hate sex, you know. I don’t like thinking about it. Tell me about why you’re really upset.”

Eli let out a breath, trying to get his claws to retract. “They were fighting. I just want Stiles and my dad to work this out. Hell, I’d be willing to move to D.C., if I could just get them to…why did he have to go?”

“You’re papa has been fighting a war since he was 16 years old, Eli. You’ve heard all the stories.” She pushed his hair out of his eyes. “He thought he was finally able to relax when he found out about you. But then he almost lost you, and your father. It broke him.”

Eli shook his head, trying not to cry. “So he, what? Took himself out of the equation?” He wiped at his eyes, smudging his eyeliner. “I don’t understand how he could leave so easily.”

“Oh, it was not easy, Eli.” Malia sighed. “He’s still fighting himself over it.” She cupped his cheek. “We will get him back. He’s just… a ghost of himself.”

Eli chuckled. “I told him that this morning.”

“Yeah, Derek told me.” She laughed.

🐺

The sheriff walked into the house and stared at his son, watching television. “You know breaking an entry is illegal.”

Stiles glared over at his father. “A hunter and a werewolf sabotaged my vehicle. Can I press charges?”

Noah laughed as he put his coat away. “Do you really want to? I could call Jordan, but I am retired. Remember?” He kicked Stiles' feet off the coffee table. “What’s going on?”

Stiles groaned. “Everyone is trying to talk me into staying in this god forsaken town. Derek, Peter, Chris, and of course Eli all tried to ask me to stay this morning. Eli is the only one I really care about. He is so hurt, and I did that.”

His father nodded, letting out a long breath. “You won’t get any sympathy from there, Bud.” He chuckled, shrugging. “What is so wrong with coming home? We have an FBI office just an hour from here.”

“Do you realize how many times this town has tried to kill us in the last 18 years? So many of us have lost their lives; Corey, Gwen, Theo, Derek! The list goes on and on. Nolan and Brett! I offered to take Eli and Derek with me, and Derek refused.”

“You ran away from your problems, Stiles. Death is what happens in a war and you know that.” Noah sighed.

“The war was supposed to be over!” Stiles cried. “The war was supposed to be over and he still died. I could not protect him and my son had to watch his father die, all because of a monster I could not kill the first time.”

Noah pulled his sobbing son into a hug. “You have got to stop blaming yourself, Stiles.” He ran his hand through his hair and kissed the top of his head. “No one can protect everyone. You were on assignment and we made the decision not to call you.”

Stiles nodded as he pulled back and wiped his eyes. “It’s been three years. What if I can’t fix this?”

“You’ll figure it out.” Noah laughed softly. “I would suggest putting in a request to be transferred back to the LA FBI office.”

Stiles nodded, biting his lip. “I hate it here, but I love Derek and my son.”

Noah shrugged. “We make sacrifices for the ones we love.”

Stiles sighed. “Can I stay here tonight? I’ll have to call the D.C office and let them know what’s going on, and I’ll have to talk to Derek and Eli again tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Of course, but your room is full of boxes. Your step mom and I are redecorating.” Noah shrugged.

“You and Natalie are using my room for storage?!”

The sheriff shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting my adult son to stop by.” He smirked. “The couch pulls out.”

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I can use the sleeper sofa. Worst day of the dead ever. Did you light a candle for mom?”

Noah smiled sadly. “Don’t I always?”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 4 - Magic Flower

The little, ugly devil remembers the day when he defended his benefactor and he ended up in jail, beaten and abused as he got interrogated, only to be rescued by some man calling himself a warlock. He was brought to this magic school to learn how to control his powers, and he smiled, thinking of his beloved angel. Was he making progress, catching up to her wonderous presence? Will he be able to impress her with his powers, the same as she always did for him? Oh, how he misses her so dearly.

To this day, he recalls the assessment test he took, to be assigned a level of competence, after a single month of studying. First, was Scrying, the ability of seeing things in a reflective surface - Messages, visions, prophecies. He was told to divine where a book was hidden, but he could see even the title and its author, and even the edition! He looked deep into the mirror, and his hand reached inside it, going as far as to fetch the book itself. All but one of the teachers was impressed. Next was Salire per spatium, or teleportation, and he remembered his sweet angel playing tag with him and appearing and disappearing here and there at will, her lovely giggles echoing from every corners and behind every tree. The teacher, as 'motivation', threw a book and a knife at him - And he simply played around, teleporting casually on the ceiling, where he called out to them.

The last test was Stricidium - He had to make it snow inside the room by turning the water molecules in the environment, frozen.  He made it snow to gently, like pure and beautiful Spring snow where the lambs play - He remembered his dear fairy, making flower petals fall around him and dance in the breeze, all to make him happy. But he was different. He turned the snow into a blizzard, and the warmth of the room turned into the freezing Siberian cold, to the point that the teachers couldn't breath. He had no idea how strong his powers were, and they took over, to the point of getting a nosebleed.

He was the most powerful warlock that ever lived. When the Witch council came over, as the warlocks wanted him to become their Alpha, he was denied - But he perfectly sketched the name of the hotel where the Supreme's greatest failure took place. The Voodoo witch, Queenie, who was trapped with James Patrick March in Hotel Cortez, was now able to freely walk the earth once more, to her leisure. He did the impossible, and he was going to do it again, twice more. 

First, he was going to save Madison Montgomery from hell - Her hell, being a retail employer for eternity, what a shame. He didn't care for her, but he had to prove his worth to the Supreme Witch Bitch who dared deny him even a chance. She flirted so shamelessly with him that he almost felt like puking - She even dared touch him. He should have skinned her alive. Only his Princess was allowed to touch him. 

Last, but not least, he entered the personal hell of his most beloved angel, his sweet, sweet girl, trapped in a shed and forced to watch animals being tortured to death, times and times again, on repeat, over and over - Their squeals and shrieks and cries will forever be embedded into her brain, forever to torment her every moment awake or sleeping. His heart broke, watching her groveling to the ground, screaming loud, and raw, hoping that her own sounds would drown out the torturous wails of the poor souls.

With a flick of his hand, the sounds stopped, save for the sobs coming from the girl. He stepped in front of her and knelt to the ground, though he was afraid of touching her. "My sweet angel, your torment is over. You are free to leave this awful place." she seemed to not have heard him. "My love. My love, look at me. I'm here. Your darling devil is here to rescue you." he placed his hand on top of her head - Her hair was as velvety soft as always, he noticed. "Look at me, honey." his other hand reached through the scarlet curtain to touch her face, tilting her head upwards to see him. "It is me. Can you see me? " "... You're not real." her voice was broken and he needed to strain his ears to hear her. "You can't be. He can't be in this awful place, he should be happy at home, away from this God Forsaken place!" she stumbled pitifully over her words. "It is my, my darling. I'm here to get you out of here." once the girl peered into his eyes, he realised that she knew it was him. She knew.  "D-Devil...?" she was breathless, she felt like death was finally taking over her, claiming her forever. "No way..." she tackled him to the ground, crying in his chest so desperately, yet so relieved and happy. "I missed you so much, my sweet devil! I can't believe I have the luck of seeing you one more time before death claims my very soul." "I wouldn't let death claim you, my love. We're leaving." and instead of being trapped by that bloody shed anymore, they were sitting on soft green grass, surrounded by a myriad of flowers of every flower and kind. Her eyes went wide with wonder, and she looked around, like a blind woman gaining her sight for the first time in the world. She rolled to the ground, feeling the blades, before turning on her back and watching the cloudless sky. She was laughing and crying, like a mad woman runaway from the mental hospital. "The sky - It is the same colour of yours eyes." she said, creating even more flowers all around the whole field. "I never thought I would see you again." after she's regained a little of her strength, she dragged herself back to him and pulled him into a deep kiss, grabbing his hands and squeezing them so tightly. "You're my saviour. My guardian. My King." she made a beautiful flower crown made of glowing baby blue flowers, and she put it on his head. "I owe you my life, sweet Devil." "You owe me nothing, my beloved angel. There is no life without you in it. I will protect you even when the end of the world comes and takes us all." he caressed her face dearly, looking into her eyes as though she was the whole universe - And she was. With the way she was embracing and leaning her weight over him, he found himself toppled to the ground, with her over him. The beautiful ribbons of scarlet locks were hanging over him, tickling at his face and making him giggle like a little  boy kissed by his crush. Even so, he couldn't ignore the sudden and unfamiliar heat that engulfed his body from the proximity he felt with her, her bosom glued to his own chest, her thigh perfectly placed over his nether regions, as though she knew how she was teasing him, and her delicate hands placed over his own, fingers intertwined. He could feel his cheeks redden, and his lungs were suffocated. He had no clue what this foreign emotion was, but he loved the feeling of it. He wanted more. He wanted to explore more and find more. With her in his arms, and a bed of flowers, none more beautiful than her

He remembers now too, the beautiful black dress that she wore when he confronted Cordelia, along with the other two that he saved - She looked absolutely stunning, with the way the dress hugged her silhouette and all the gracious curves of her body - Though, to this day, he still believes that white suits her best, a pure and innocent power, for an angel such as her, but witches want their own to wear only black, though they claim to draw their powers from the light. No matter, he can see her wearing any colour of the rainbow, on any other day, and when he becomes the next Supreme, the Alpha, he will do as he pleases without anyone hindering him.

When the two other witches went to embrace their Supreme, he didn't let go of his own angel. He didn't care whether the warlock teachers thought of him fraternising with the enemy witch-kind. Why should he care, when he was above all, not only in magical skill and talent, but everything else too. And thus, he was acknowledged by the Supreme Bitch, and on the night of the Blood Moon, he was to take the Seven Wonders test. No man has ever taken such a test, and should he succeed, he shall become the next Supreme, and in turn, radically change the course of the world and its flow.

The warlocks were incapable and weak, they were pathetic. To think mankind would relay on him, for they were too stupid to do anything for themselves. Still, he couldn't deny, not all witches were all that great either - His angel told him of the new comer, and her special power. She was a gluten and calorie detector - How could that even be considered a power? How pathetic - Was the Coven so desperate, that they would accept anything? Ridiculous.

His congratulation ceremony was so amusing, even more so when he gave off a little scare to that one teacher who so rightfully suspected him of being the man of Cordelia's prophecy, the white-faced demon. How hilarious, he thought, though he was mildly impressed that he was suspected to begin with. No matter, his dear Miss Mead was all but ready to get rid of any kind of evidence. That night, he snuck out of the school to embrace his benefactor - More, she was able to convince one of the teachers to aid his cause, though he was unaware of his... Lineage. It was pathetic, to think all his ambitions revolved around his wish to step out of a woman's shadow. He was a pathetic weakling who needed to cling onto another with a higher power to be brought up - But the Devil couldn't care less about this battle of sexes, it mattered little to him. It was a woman who took care of him and protected him for so long, and it was a woman, an angel, a witch no less, who loved him genuinely, so selflessly, and did everything in her power to make him happy. How could he wish the demise and oppression of all women, when it was women who saved and cared for him?

No. The Devil didn't care for such superficial, petty ambitions, borne of inferiority, weakness, jealousy and lack of any kind of self-esteem. He was going to bring forth the end of the world, and he didn't differentiate between woman or man, elderly or youth - He was going to bring the demise of humankind.

Guided by ancient tradition, witches survive only if united under a strong, singular authority. Every generation needs its leader, The Supreme. No simple test could EVER determine the sovereign among us, thus, we rely upon seven. The 'Seven Wonders' - Seven acts of magic, so advanced, each pushes the boundaries of craft into art. 

The little Devil was brought to a barn - The first Wonder he performed, with ease and lightness, was Telekinesis - And he called into his hand, a riding crop. The three warlocks loudly cheered and applauded for him, whilst the four witches looked desolated by his success. The sweet Angel was looking at him with pride and tenderness. Control of the mind, also known as Concilium, made his sweet Angel dance for him, a pretty dance, with the long skirt flowing around her ankles and shins so gracefully - She was truly a work of art, and though he smiled sweetly at her, he wished he could dance with her now. Next came Transmutation, and the little Devil was hidden behind a long stack of hay, stifling a boyish giggle, looking at his amused Angel. Once he felt a tap on his shoulder, he teleported behind one of the witches, and tapped her back. The Supreme looked at her right hand, and already fear tainted her heart. Divination was performed so facile, as the witches hid a pendant. The eldest witch threw some stones to the ground, and the Devil crouched down to look upon them. He smiled, and got up, quickly burying his hand inside a hay stack and walking behind his sweet Angel. With his hand extended in front of her face, he released the pendant, dangling by the chain, and he put it around her neck. She giggled at him so cutely, that he couldn't help himself and kissed her cheek. Pyrokinesis was, by far, his favourite wonder to perform, for he loved both fire and blood, though his darling Angel never could stand seeing him cut his palm and draw his own blood. It took a single drop of his magical blood to make the candle fire into a complete hazard. The Angel rushed to grab at his hand, and kissed his wound, healing it as if it never was.

Vitalum Vitalis, the balancing of scales between one life force and another - That one, he knew best, was his Angel's favourite test, for in his palm he cradled a small dead mouse, only for it later so step around his hands, curious and wishing to explore. Whilst the Supreme and her right hand shared concerned looks, the ugly Devil and the beautiful Angel played around with the adorable little critter that nuzzled into her cheeks, as though it was kissing her.

And thus, they arrived at the final test, a perilous descent into the nether worlds of after life, Descensum, the most dreadful of the wonders, and the one that brought the greatest torment imaginable to his beloved Angel. He already went twice in hell to rescue the two witches, what was another more? After all, it was a trip home, nothing that could bother him. He felt best. Though he wasn't asked to perform, but to outright conquer it. To retrieve the Supreme's dear friend, Misty Day, the same he did with her other two students.  Funny enough, one of the warlocks protested, saying those who failed Descensum were gone forever, property of the underworld - But were the witch and angel returned not proof enough of his ability to conquer everything that stood in his way to glory? Whilst the Supreme and the Grand Chancellor of the Warlocks were arguing, the Devil went to stop this silly charade. He laid his head down on his beautiful Angel's lap, who looked down at him with such worry that she was battling tears falling in cascades. He smiled at her, reassuringly, and held her hand, as he recited the incantation.

Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi. Deduce me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi. Descensum.

He felt himself descending into the ground, dematerialising, shadows and dark smoke engulfing his very being and his vision - His gaze, glued to the gorgeous, sparkling emeralds of her eyes, until he allowed himself to lose himself in the hazy feeling of vertigo. He found himself walking casually down the black corridors of hell, the heels of his shoes clicking with every step, until he found the exact door of Misty Day's torment. It was a biology laboratory, filled with live frogs, ready to be dissected. The teacher was forcing her hand to scalpel the live frog brutally, only for her to bring it back to life, and the cycle repeats endlessly. Her shrieks of agony went on and on, reminding the Devil of his sweet Angel and her own anguish. 

The Devil made Misty Day watch as he dissected the teacher, the same as he did with the frog, eviscerating him. He took a deep breath as he was brought back to reality, and he felt strong, slender arms brought him into a tight embrace, and he felt a myriad of kisses and sweet words whispered into his ear, as the other witches and warlocks gathered around them. Everyone thought that he had been defeated, that hell was able to reject its conquest - Only for a grey smoke to materialise in the shape of a woman, and Misty Day breathed into the human world once more. The Supreme fell to her knees, her hands on the witch's face, calling out her name again and again, whilst the Angel helped the Devil stand up to his feet, though she looked territorial, holding him in her arms, not allowing the warlocks to step in between them, nor tear them apart. He loved how clingy she was.

He felt weak, and he leaned his weight on her, but she didn't mind. She watched as the Supreme cradled her friend's face and cried. It almost reminded him of his sweet reunion with his beloved Angel. She was in complete disbelief that she was able to escape that awful suffering. Back from perdition, she was truly back, and safe.

With the Supreme bleeding from her nose, and a short amount of quarreling, she declared the Devil as the Supreme Leader, before falling faint. He grinned, smug, victorious, as his Angel threw her arms around his neck and brought him into a passionate kiss. She didn't care about the witches or warlocks, nor of anything else - She only cared about him and her own self, and their own happiness.

But Cordelia knew there was something dark and dangerous about him, and Misty Day sniffed the perfume of death - He brought all the witches back to her, and her army was armed and ready to fight him. Misty was too weak to fight however, and she was told to rest and heal - And as a reward for surviving and living, Cordelia brought Stevie Nicks, her favourite person alive, to sing for her - The great witch herself, as one of the warlocks played the piano to accompany her. The Devil and the Angel looked down, from the balcony, and they danced together to the melody sung. Though her voice was nowhere as lovely as the Angel's, it was fine enough to swing together, and sway, their hearts beating together as one, their souls bound to one another.

That was not the beginning of their story however, and Katrina knew it. She asked him to remind her of the time spent together as children, before she was sent away to become a proper witch. Back then, when fate brought them together, when the Angel and the Devil first embraced one another, and Hell and Heaven became one single realm.

Born in the Murder House, to dead father and a mother destined to die in childbirth - A family dead before he was born into a House of a thousand corpses and spirits, a jail for the dead and the tormented souls that shalt never escape - He was a child unwanted, born out of wedlock, to a mother unwilling and a father unknown to her, wearing a leather suit that veiled him whole. It was the dead nurses and doctors that helped with the delivery, and it was then that the mother's husband had to see her fade away into nothingness.

When his mother died, pushing him out into the world, another, a foster mother, gladly assumed the burden of raising him - Her, a childless mother, for she had to bury all of her own, four times over. Why would she assume such a burden? Perhaps because she felt responsibility over the orphan child who also happened to be her own grandson. There were plenty of mistakes, raising her son Tate, the handsome young man who thought it appropriate to spread his seed and impregnate his lover's own mother, though Constance now knew better, and the little Devil was going to be her sweet, sweet bundle of love. He was going to be different.

Michael Langdon was such a perfect little angel of light. She thought that he would be her own chance at redemption, to prove that she was worthy of her title of mother. She was born to be a mother, and to raise a great young man was the most admirable and selfless act a woman could aspire to. He was her destiny, her beautiful child, with such a cheerful disposition... Even when he was committing unspeakable acts... Trivial at first, of course, some dead flies in the crib with their wings shorn off, and small rodents as he got older. Just like Bundy and Dahmer, and many others who started with small animals, only to graduate, and their perversions escalate to grander things. If only his darling Angel had known him during his infancy days, she would be terrified of him and his cruelty towards inoffensive animals - But that was only as a child, of course, it wasn't as though he was doing it on purpose! He'd much rather dismember humans, than bring harm to those sweet animals that his beloved is so fond of.

He called them a present for his mother, the same way a cat gifts its dead prey to their owner, and O, his love did flow, and enjoyable as it was to have a child so committed to expressing his love for his mother... She did try to encourage him to find another avenue of expression... Still, nothing she said was capable of making him cease his deranged acts. Each time, she would dutifully bury one of those gifts, along with a little piece of her soul, and planted a bush of roses over them. She did try to find a silver lining and make lemonade out of the lemons she was handed - And thus, her garden flourished with beautiful flowers. From death springs life eternal.

It was the little angel of light, turned ugly devil of darkness, that made her realise, the reason for her existing in this world was to raise the monsters. 

She never thought she would tire of the smell of roses, nor did she ever think she would get used to seeing skinned and eviscerated critters hanging by their neck, all over the house. Roses had always been her favourite flowers... Alas, not anymore, and they soon made her only retch.   And then, the little devil became stronger, when he killed his baby-sitter... He couldn't have been older than two or three years old at most, and he was swinging in his small rocking chair, white and painted crimson with the young lady's blood. She was able to convince the authorities that she had taken her own life by slitting her throat - After all, how could a child of three, so giggly and happy, be capable of such a heinous sin?

But this little devil somehow aged a whole decade overnight - How, she would never be able to tell, after all, it was as nonsensical as everything surrounding this devil spawn. That was possibly the most outlandish thing, far outside the natural realm. He almost felt as though he was in a hurry to get somewhere, age-wise. And it was that night that she found him over her, strangling her to death. His beautiful blue eyes were glaring at her murderously... Only to immediately turn to realisation of his deeds, and he started crying pitifully. She was so terrified, but so was he. His own mind and body were acting in discordance. When you look at men of significance, such as artists or world leaders, or inventors - They all had their particular peccadilloes on their road to the top, haven't they? But growing ten years overnight... That called for sacred intervention.

From that night forwards, Constance Langdon's relationship with her beautiful grandson deteriorated, and the little devil knew that. He was desperately seeking some kind of redemption, some honeyed ailment to sooth his woes, and wipe his tears the way his caretaker refused to anymore. He ran into the forest to weep his heart away. He looked pathetic, wearing only a dirty Tshirt and a pair of shorts, and sitting by the foot of a large wisteria tree, looking like a hot mess. Even his beautiful golden locks were tangled and ugly, just like him. An ugly little demon castaway.

"What do we have here? A little weeping devil?" a delicate voice called out, as soft footsteps crunching over the fallen leaves alerted him of a girl's presence, though he daren't raise his head and look at her. He was far too ashamed of the way he looked, and of what his heart felt. "Why is it that you're weeping so, little devil?" she asked, but his sobs were the only reply. The girl looked around, analysing the decay. Everything surrounding the young man was dying and wilting gradually, as if proportional with the misery of his own heart. "Poor little devil and his poor broken heart. Will you allow me to mend it for you?" the little devil felt her kneeling in front of him, her hands so gentle over his own. He wanted to jump and spring away, he wanted to push her away from him, he wanted to be left alone - But somehow, the tenderness of her voice, and her warm touch, made him melt. He shily looked at her, his eyes pink and puffy from all the crying. "C-Can you really... Do that?" she was so beautiful, his heart stop. A gorgeous smile on her face, and her green eyes were sparkling with kindness. She was wearing a pretty, white summer dress, and her scarlet hair fell over her shoulders and chest in cascades of soft velvet. She looked innocent, and her soul was bright and benevolent. She was glowing with purity and innocence. She was an angel. How could he stay around her, when he was nothing but an ugly devil? He wasn't worthy of her - He was beneath her in every way. Worthless, useless, a killer, with a malevolent heart and soul, incapable of controlling his inner power and strength, and especially his dreadful emotions. "I can try." her smile widened, and she helped him stand up. She was so small compared to him... So precious... He wanted to protect her and that beautiful smile of hers, and yet, it seemed as though it was her trying to protect him and his heart. "Let's see... Hmm... You've made quite the mess, haven't you? You must be really upset." he hung his head in shame, only to feel her hand on his face, raising it back. His eyes were wide with shock and he could only stare at the way she twirled so cutesy, and all around her, the once ashened nature was brought back to life, a vibrant green, with so many strong colours. "How... How did you do that...?! Everything was dead! Everything was -- Everything was wilted!" her sweet giggle made his head spin.

"Well, if you must know, I suppose I can tell you. Ah, but of course, this must be our little secret, alright?" he nodded vigorously. "You're so lovely." his eyes widened so much, and his cheeks were as red as her hair. It only seemed to amuse her more, as she stepped in front of him and held his hands in her own, approaching his palms together. "You've got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, little devil." she told him. "Even the skies are jealous on them." his bottom lip was quivering, feeling himself ready to cry once again. In his hands, a flower bloomed, light blue, and glowing. It was the most beautiful flower he's ever seen in his... Rather short life. "A beautiful flower for a beautiful man." she said, placing the flower behind his ear. "It suits you. Highlights your eyes." "Are you an angel?!" he found himself blurting out. "An angel?" she mused. "No, I don't think so. Rather, I am a witch." she grinned. "I can do many things already... But I never show my friends. They'd freak out." "But your magic is so... Beautiful... And innocent. Why would they freak out?" the boy frowned. "People fear what they don't understand." she explained. "But you're special. I can sense it - You have magical blood too." she said, placing her hand over his heart, feeling the anxiously rapid beating. "Aww, forgive me, have I made you nervous?" "Will you be my friend?" he asked, desperately. "I can be anything you want me to be." she smiled at the beautiful young man who looked at her with confusion. "You don't know what I mean, do you?" he shook his head. "I can show you. I can take your pain away. If you want me to." "Yes." he exhaled breathlessly. "Yes, I do. Please, show me." he eagerly asked her, earning another sweet smile from her. "Close your eyes." he did as instructed. "And now... Lose yourself in the feeling." he felt a pressure over his lips. He couldn't comprehend the complexity of her charm, but his body acted all on his own. One of his arms was wrapped around her body, pulling her closer, whilst the other was buried in her hair, holding her dearly. His lips were moving all on their own, to the rhythm dictated by her own soft, sweet ones. She tasted like caramel. He loved caramel. He wanted to kiss her every day and every night, without stop. Even when his lungs were failing from the lack of air, he still didn't want to let go of the pleasure he felt, and the sensation of his head going hazy and getting transported into another universe, safe and sound. "Did I succeed?" she whispered against his lips. "Can we do that again?" she let out an amused exhale. "Any time you wish." and she kissed him again.

From then one, every day without fail, they would meet by the purple tree, and he would lay his head on her lap, letting her play with his soft locks of hair whilst she read him whatever story she was feeling like at the time - Or sometimes, she would sing for him, or simply, they would chat about whatever things they felt like. He felt safe in her presence. He felt... Good, as though there was no more evil attempting to take over his body and mind anymore. He wanted nothing more but to succumb to her ocean of love and let fate guide them on.

He told her of the day his grandma abandoned him, killing herself in the Murder House, never wanting to see him again, and she kissed him, making it fall with pink flower petals over him, and dancing with him, as the petals in the breeze. He told her how he found her, how he wept her, how he embraced her... Only for a man to tell her that she became a spirit, but didn't want him to see her. The man wanted to counsel him, help him, and he agreed. He became the father he never had. He was brilliant, and his mind was always at least five steps ahead of the average man. Everything in that house was dead... With the exception of him - The only light that came out of all that mess. He solved a rubik's cube in a matter of seconds, and beat his ghost father at chess and checkers, they'd play catch with a baseball glove...

And then, he told her of the time he met his real father, another ghost that looked perfectly his age, blond hair like his own, and dark eyes. He was so hostile and aggressive with him. He denied him, saying he was fucked up. He cried, and cried in her embrace, and he felt himself turning to the dark side, all because of this rejection. The man who tried to save him was losing him... And the house got sold. The two women didn't even have the time to settle in. They stepped just a few feet, and he, dressed in the leather suit of his own father, stabbed them to death. Their ghosts rose up, looking confused, but in his rage, he burnt them. Burnt their souls, turning them to ashes, denying them any rest... And he fell to his knees. The man who tried to save him realised he could never be saved, and the little Devil wept again.

Everyone he ever loved, everyone he thought loved him, every bit of connection he had with any living being - They all left him. All, but one - His sweet, beloved little angel, who made him feel the snow on his face for the first time, and showed him the beauty of a smile, and the tenderness of love. He destroyed everything he touched, but with her, he was capable of gentleness and vulnerability. It felt... Right. It felt natural.

'Then I saw a beast with ten horns and seven heads rising out of the sea and all who dwell on the Earth will worship Him.' he made a murder of crows encircle the house every day... And then they came, the worshippers of Satan. 'And the son became black as sackcloth with hair, and the whole moon became as blood, and the stars fell from the Heaven to the Earth, for the great day of wrath is come.' the worshippers bowed to a drowsy little devil, who was sleeping in a scorching hot room.

And then the Black Mass happened... These worshippers drugged and kidnapped an innocent girl, garbing her in a white dress and laying her on a sacrificial table. The little Devil stared at her, his heart aching - His mind imagined not the blonde girl, but his sweet angel, with the red hair draped all over the table, and her green eyes wet with tears, looking confused all around, like an innocent lamb. He heard 'HAIL SATAN' being shouted, and a dagger was brought down on the girl's chest with such force, that he jumped in fright. The girl was shrieking with such agony as the Black Pope shoved his hand inside the wound, ripping her heart out. But his vision cleared, and his fright wiped away. That wasn't his beloved angel, just some girl. He took the heart in his own hand, and bit into it as though it was a ripe, sweet apple. 'Ave Satanas' he heard, and from his shadow formed a demonic silhouette. "Father. I'm with you now." he felt the darkest presence embracing him.

The next day, he went to his sweet Angel to tell her the good news - Finally, someone was accepting him for who he was, and they were believing in him. He found a new family... For once, it wasn't him crying anymore, but her. Why was his most beloved person in the world crying? Who did he have to burn alive and torture for eternity? "My Devil... My dear little Devil... They are taking me away. They're taking me away!" she wept into his arms. "They say I need to learn how to control my powers, and they're taking me to New Orleans, to learn from a Coven of Witches." she said. His grip on her tightened, and he, too, teared up. "But... But I haven't learnt how to make a flower for you... Or... Or... How to make it rain petals on you... Or make it snow for you! You can't go yet, I... What-- What will I do without you?" he asked in disbelief, unable to breathe properly anymore. "I don't know... I don't know... I don't know..." she cried and cried.  "I will miss you... I can't live without you! My sweet Angel, what will I do without you? How will we ever meet again?" he asked, more afraid now than he's ever been. "We can... Text each other? Or send mail? I don't ever want to lose you from my life." the way she looked up at him, so sincerely, so dearly... The Devil kissed his dear Angel goodbye. "And we will speak every day - No, every hour, okay? You can't leave me alone! You and I - We will be together forever, okay?" The Angel gave him a nostalgic, melancholic smile. "Yes, my love. Together, forever. Just the two of us - You and I."

Whilst the sweet Angel was being sent to the Witch school to learn her craft, the little Devil's own mother tried to kill him that night, with a knife, in the bed where he lay asleep... Or so she thought. She was set aflame. His father saved the mother, and he fled. Whilst he was on the run with his new caretaker, a woman who truly believed in him, who truly cared about him, his sweet Angel was in mortal danger every day, all because of the careless actions of the Coven and their sick Supreme. Whilst he was being revered and worshipped, she was forced to take the Seven Wonders test... And after that day, the little Devil never heard from his sweet Angel again... And he knew... He even warned her not to take the test! He knew, a pure soul like her would never be able to escape the clutches of hell... But she was not allowed to back down. She was forced to take all the tests.

'When I was a child, I spoke like a child. I understood like a child, I thought like a child. But when I became a woman, I put aside childish things.' Childhood was over, and they had to put aside any petty fear or reservation.

First, the five witches were tasked to perform the Telekinesis wonder. One by one, they all succeeded in bringing the lit candle into their grasp, and blow into the fire. The Concilium test, otherwise known as Mind Control, was next, and Misty made Queenie slap herself thrice, whilst she reversed by making Misty grab her hair roughly. Katrina made Myrtle dance around the room; Madison made Kyle walk over and kiss her, whilst also making Zoe slap herself; whilst Zoe stopped him from kissing her, and made him kiss her back... Only to end up chocking her. Cordelia had to swat him away.

The third test was Transmutation, and the girls played a game of tag all around the academy and the gardens. They were really having fun, for once, all together. They truly needed a god damn break... And it was all great, until Zoe ended up impaled on the spikes of the gate and needed to be rescued. It was Katrina who hugged her body and whispered 'Vitalum vitalis' over and over again, her hand over her wound - And she was in perfect condition, and though nothing happened. Queenie was unable to do it. Madison refused, though she demonstrated the wonder on a fly she killed. Misty, too, with tears in her eyes saved a fallen critter she found.

Next, they lit up fires, but Cordelia was now in the game too - All of them were able to light fires, and during the Divination test, Cordelia and Katrina were able to find the objects, but Madison failed. The lovely red haired witch was never thought as a candidate, but Zoe, whose life she had saved, and Queenie were cheering for her, Misty or Cordelia. 

In the end, all of them took to the last test - Descensum - The worst of them all. Cordelia was the first to awaken, who saw herself trying to get Fiona's approval, only to get bitch-slapped for it. Next came Madison, who was stuck in a musical network, Queenie who was selling fried chicken, and Zoe, who saw herself breaking up with Kyle over and over again. The hourglass sand was already done falling, yet Katrina and Misty never woke up. They were stuck in hell, with the other witches mourning them. Cordelia tried, and tried to call to them, to help them, to guide them back to the real life... But it failed. They were forever trapped in hell.

And Michael new. The moment his darling flower stopped answering, he swore revenge on the witches who dared force her hand and threw her in hell. She was an Angel, no way should she have gone to hell, willingly or otherwise! Who knew what suffering she was facing, or the woes that were braking her heart and sanity. The worst of the worst. The witches were going to pay for this.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Katrina remembered all this. She knew all this, and now, her past self was beginning to regain a sense of truth. Everything Michael was telling her, was true. It was then that she told him that, although he never wanted to tell her about being the Antichrist, she knew. Though she wasn't a traitor for the Coven like Dinah was, she knew. From Cordelia, and the warlock aiding their cause, and the stories from the Murder House - But she wasn't scared of him. She knew he would protect her - After all, why bring her back from Hell, if that was where he was going to throw her, anyway? She now remembered bringing back the warlock that Miss Mead burnt to ashes, and how the Grand Chancellor, and the other warlock teacher, along with Miss Mead were burnt at the stake, whilst the one she resurrected lit the fire.

He remembers Cordelia taunting him after realising he cannot bring back his caretaker... But she also told him there is humanity in him... And she can see it. His sweet Angel told him that too, long ago, when they met. No matter how much he tried to find his evil-doing from her, she knew. It was as though she could read him to perfection - Perhaps she could read him, after all. She could read his soul and his agony, which she turned to euphoric bliss with a single caress. She could read his mind whenever he was too hesitant to tell him what worried or ailed him, and though she never commented on it, she reassured him just as well. She was always there for him, his beloved.  The Supreme extended her hand for him to take, and bring him on the path of redemption. For a second there, he was tempted into agreeing - He wanted to stay with his sweet Kat and never let her go... But then, he recalled every single person who messed with him, and betrayed him. He recalled the burning of his caretaker, and he saw red. He threatened each and every one of them. He will kill them all - Oh, he will.

For four days, he wept in the forest, all alone, with no water and no food, and no sleep. He was desperate, and his father wasn't answering. He stumbled upon some supposedly Satanic service, which only made him want to smash his head against the wall and end himself. He wanted his Angel. He needed his Angel. He was hallucinating and going crazy, but she wasn't there - How could she? He ran away, aimlessly into the forest... And he was nicely brought in by an old lady who was fine with feeding him some warm food. She kept speaking ridiculously, and at first, he thought she was senile. 'Satan is carnal pleasure' he told her, as he remembers the heat scorching him every time his darling touched him. The believer tried to kill him for daring to speak ill of her faith... Only to see the mark of the Antichirst behind his ear, and she fell into worship.

'Semper crescis, Aut decrescis, Vita, Detestabilis. Nunc obdurat et tunc curat. Ludo mentis aciem!' they all chanted for him. 'Sors salutis et virtutis michi nunc contraria!' he felt stronger. 'Quod per sortem sternit fortem mecum omnes plangite!' what gorgeous hymn, all for him.

They brought forth two sacrifices for the Black Mass. One was Letitia, a social worker... An innocent soul who dedicated her life to aiding others who were suffering. The man was a lifelong member of Doctors without borders. Both of them were innocent and pure. Good people. There was something satisfying about tainting and corrupting innocent, pure souls, making them grow ink black, from their glowing white. But in every single innocent soul, he could see the beautiful Angel, and for a single second, he flinched, as the little Devil was killing the beautiful Angel.

They all fell to their knees before him, chanting 'Hail Satan' and singing for him. 'O Fortuna Velut luna Statu Variabilis' Michael slashed their throats at once, at the same time, letting the blood fall like ribbons. He felt empowered, as though finally, he had his father blessing him.  The worshippers brought him with him to dinner, and they wouldn't stop towering over him, watching him like a specimen. He felt angry. He couldn't stand these people, and all their continuous questions, never letting him forget he was the Antichrist - He had no idea what he was supposed to do - He never received an instruction manual on how to bring the end of the world! This woman brought him to this robotics corporation, where Miss Venable was HR. Kat scowled, hearing about the bitch who tortured her and tried to kill her. He met two ridiculous men who didn't believe him, and to prove he was truly the spawn of Satan, he made a woman spontaneously combust, and turned off the lights. They brought him to eat... Sushi, and they kept talking and talking - Idiots. That's what they were - Complete idiots... Who supposedly sold their souls to Satan and now are billionaires and all that. They were tasked with making an android in Miss Mead's figure, and personality also, based on everything he described her as. And they perfectly created her - Michael had his caretaker back.

The Supreme was continuing to train all the witches, the Academy being protected by Cordelia's power, and everyone else's. But they were betrayed. The witches were betrayed by one they considered maybe not an ally, but at least neutral. The new Voodoo Queen, Dinah, sabotaged them, destroying their barrier and allowing Michael and Miss Mead to intrude inside the school. Zoe used the cutlery to attack Michael, but he diverted it, and he killed them all. Miss Mead and her robotic weapons killed Zoe and Queenie, and everyone else. Satan greenlit Dinah's talk show for 13 episodes, she should be feeling proud for betraying the whole lot of humanity.

Cordelia and Myrtle saved Kat and Mallory, and not only was he pissed off that he couldn't save his Angel, but he couldn't kill all witches. He returned to the Cooperative, and though he couldn't stand those two cocked-up nerds, they were part of the Illuminati. He needn't magic, but science and nuclear weapons to bring about the end of the world. He just needed three people in the right places, and Armageddon was assured.

The witches hid in Misty's cabin in the swamp... All the few that remained of them. Cordelia, in her dream state, could see Zoe and Queenie dead, as well as all the others. She was convulsing in her comatose state. She couldn't feel their souls... They were erased. They could never be brought back to life. Katrina was shuddering, thinking about everything going on. How could such a catastrophe happen? Her dear little Devil, doing so much evil... She was so confused, so afraid... What was she supposed to do? She didn't want the end of the world, but she didn't want Michael to die either. She loved him too much to allow him to die. Was there nothing she could do? She might not be the Supreme, but was she truly powerless? Was she truly so dumb that she couldn't cook up a plan that would save everything she held dear to he heart?

She watched Mallory getting inside the bathtub and going to save the Romanovs from their demise, but she wasn't yet strong enough to succeed. Returning a hundred years into the past and alerting their fate was too great, even for her... Not yet. She was crying blood, and she was disoriented and frightened. Michael barged in the Illuminati meeting of the world leaders, and brought forth the Apocalypse - And they couldn't decline, for they sold their souls to his Father. On their lands, they'll make Outposts, with the admission price of $100 million. Only the worthy will be allowed permission.

Myrtle infiltrated the Cooperative and she found out that Outpost 3 will be in the place of the Warlock academy, at Hawthorne. She made those two dunderheads make sure her witches had their spots sure there, no matter what. Coco's father was rich, he was going to buy four tickets for the family - Coco, Mallory, Katrina... They were going to be fine there, together, while the others lay in rest, until their powers manifest, and they awaken. It was the only chance to attempt Tempus Infinituum. The three were going to be placed under an identity spell - They will forget everything and gain new personalities. Coco was going to be the supreme bitch, with Madison's personality as her own, and she was going to emotionally torture Mallory and Katrina, so their powers won't be detected. It was a huge risk, knowing Katrina's involvement with Michael, and his own obsession with her, but if his mind is occupied with her, perhaps they can attempt everything, right under his nose. It was a painful goodbye, not only to their own selves, but to their witch family - All for the Coven to live on. For the World to live on. Tears were shed, and regrets and confesses were spoken... If the world was going to end, at least they'll be together.

Everything they every knew completely disappeared, and this was the point where Katrina forgot all about Michael Langdon and his love for him. Coco was going to Mr. Gallant for a hair styling, whilst Mallory and Kat were there as assistants... Or slaves rather. Mallory stuck by her side even during the Outpost, whilst Katrina was diverted to other jobs, some personal to other Purples, some that instilled cleaning around and such. No wonder she became such a crybaby, being tormented like that. But it was fine, he was going to make everyone pay for what they've done to her. They were all going to pay so dearly.

Nobody was going to take away the beautiful Angel from the ugly Devil's arms ever again.

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[pylonangel]

princeps spatium

[eldritchlibertine]

Threshold of Darkness 

Ever since I started rewatching Apocalypse, my fic-writer brain seems to have woken up from it's very long coma and now I have the urge to write all the things. And I want to. So I did. But I'm also nervous, because I haven't written for pleasure in 15 years. So I'm posting this before I get cold feet. So #yolo I guess.

Pairing: Michael Langdon/Reader | Michael Langdon & Cordelia Goode

Summary: One month into his tenure at the Hawthorne School for Exceptional Young Men, Michael Langdon's extraordinary powers capture the attention of John Henry Moore, who senses a disturbing depth to Michael's abilities that goes beyond normal warlock prowess. Concerned, John Henry reaches out to Cordelia, before Ariel can push for Michael to undertake the test of the Seven Wonders. In response, Cordelia brings Michael to Miss Robichaux's Academy, aiming to better understand and guide his potent abilities. Under her watchful eye, Michael begins to explore the extents of his powers, but as they dig deeper, the line between control and chaos blurs.

John Henry Moore was chilled.

It wasn’t a physical chill - not with the fire that was currently blazing behind the blonde boy currently seated in front of them. No, it was a chill in his bones. An overwhelming sense of wrongness - of danger.

He’d been chilled since he’d seen that video more than a month ago - heard the snapping of that man’s bones, his stark plea of "help me" before his head exploded. He suppressed a shudder. No, it wasn’t a physical chill. Ariel believed that the boy, Michael Langdon, was a warlock - a powerful one. John Henry wasn’t so sure. He’d never seen power like that in a warlock.

And now, Michael sat before them, ready to be evaluated. John Henry thought it was a mistake, and had said as much, but he might as well have been talking to a wall.

“Now that you've had time to settle,” Ariel said to his right, “and you've immersed yourself in the study of magic here at the coven, it's time to evaluate and see where you stand.”

Though his pleas for prudence - a little circumspection - had gone unheeded so far, he gave it one last shot. “Normally,” he said pointedly, “this would happen at the end of the first year.”

Michael’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’ve only been here a month.” As he had since he arrived, in every interaction John Henry had had with him, he spoke softly - calmly. No indication of the raw, dark power that had been so evident in that cell.

It was Behold who answered him, obviously just as keen as Ariel was for this boy to help them take their rightful place. “Well, seeing your progress, we feel justified in accelerating the process.”

He suppressed a scoff, and as Ariel explained the test, and his ridiculous theory about the Alpha warlock, he mulled over his own concerns, and the deep sense of foreboding that had settled over him. Though he knew the boy had power, he wasn’t convinced that it was anything like the powers they knew. Maybe he wouldn’t even be able to pass these tests. He hoped he couldn’t.

Scrying was first, and his hope sputtered out almost instantly as Michael not only pulled the name of the book he was looking for directly from Baldwin’s mind, but pulled it just as easily from the mirror itself. Disturbing.

Behold called it impressive, but he called it what it was. “Troubling.” At this, the smile dropped from Michael’s face.

Next was transmutation - salire per spatium - and again, Michael seemed to have no trouble. John Henry’s unease ratcheted up another notch as Michael’s voice drifted down from where he was clinging to the ceiling like something out of a horror movie. “You want me to dust up here.”

When Ariel had first shown him that horrible video of Michael’s powers, he’d said “demonic possession” and the others had scoffed, desperate for their Alpha warlock who would help them to supplant the Supreme and take their rightful place. Maybe now they would see that something was very, very wrong here.

But no.

Last was stiricidium -  the ability to manipulate the weather through water molecules present in the atmosphere. As he explained the concept, John Henry couldn’t help but notice the first traces of uncertainty on the boys face. Slowly, he moved to stand, deep in thought, his fingers going to his mouth in a nervous gesture. After a moments thought, he raised one hand, fingers moving fluidly and gracefully despite his obvious nerves.

And then the first flakes of snow began to form. He raised his other arm then, calling the snow to fall and a boyish, exultant smile to break over his face.

The others began to chuckle next to him, exclaiming their wonder, but all John Henry could feel was unease. They didn’t notice the boy go rigid - his eyes roll back into his head leaving only the whites exposed. But John Henry did, only a moment before Michael flung his arms to the side and sapped every ounce of heat from the room, killing the fire instantly. The room had gone dark, and their breath billowed in white clouds in front of them. Michael seemed to be in a trance - rigid, arms outstretched, trembling.

Ariel’s sudden cry of “ENOUGH!” seemed to shatter the hold of whatever was happening, and Michael’s eyes snapped open, blood pouring from his nose. He didn’t drop his arms.

No one spoke. No one moved. No one breathed.

Until Michael brought his fingers to his face, gingerly feeling the blood there as it dripped over his lips. He looked shaken. Distraught.

His voice cracked and wavered as he spoke then, brow furrowed and eyes shining - “I’m sorry.” It came out almost like a gasp. “I didn’t know that was inside me.” He doubled over slightly, breathing deeply and still trembling.

Ariel, blind to whatever distress the boy was feeling, just walked over and placed a hand on his cheek, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

“You're testing your wings. Once you're fully in control of your powers you'll have the confidence to soar.”

Michael still hadn’t dropped his hand from his where it had touched at the blood at his nose, and Ariel’s words didn’t seem to comfort him at all. Briefly, he locked eyes with John Henry, and whatever he saw there must have given him pause, because he gave himself a little shake and re-focused on Ariel as he said, “Thank you for your spirited participation Michael. You’ve given us a lot to consider.”

The other warlocks swiftly left the room, leaving Michael there, still trembling and looking for all the world like a lost and frightened little boy - not someone who, mere moments ago, had nearly killed them.

Ariel was right. This had given them a lot to consider. John Henry considered leaving the warlocks to their delusion that Michael was the Alpha warlock - considered letting things play out as Ariel saw fit. But no. He’d been correct in his initial assessment.- Michael’s power, as great as it may be, was too dark and volatile. He was dangerous, and the other warlocks were too blinded by their own ambitions to see it. Too eager to take what they thought was their rightful place. Too eager to usurp the Supreme.

No. He couldn’t leave Michael in the care of these power-hungry idiots. There was something more at play here - Michael was more than just a powerful warlock.

As he strode purposefully towards his office, he thought back to the way Michael’s eyes had rolled backwards in his head, how his body had gone stiff. Maybe demonic possession wasn’t that outlandish of a theory. When had come back to himself, he had looked genuinely afraid.

Either way, the warlocks were not capable of handling this correctly. Before he could second-guess himself, he fired off an email to the only person who could.

The Supreme.

[loneberry]

“The BwO [body without organs] is the egg. But the egg is not regressive; on the contrary, it is perfectly contemporary, you always carry it with you as your own milieu of experimentation, your associated milieu. The egg is the milieu of pure intensity, spatium not extension, Zero intensity as principle of production. There is a fundamental convergence between science and myth, embryology and mythology, the biological egg and the psychic or cosmic egg: the egg always designates this intensive reality, which is not undifferentiated, but is where things and organs are distinguished solely by gradients, migrations, zones of proximity. The egg is the BwO. The BwO is not "before" the organism; it is adjacent to it and is continually in the process of constructing itself.”

—Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus

Some egg theory for all u deleuzeheads out there itching for an omelette without organs, an omelette of pure potential…

The pythagoreans didn’t eat beans bc they were…like the universe? It seems somehow related. The bean is the OG BwO

[masquerade-v]

How Universes Work

[Hey everyone! So this is just a basic rundown of how universes and alternate universes work in Blood Moon Lagoon and SDA. Hope you find this entertaining!]

There are alternate universes that coexist with each other, but how does it work?

Three entities upkeep these universes, with each having its purpose and are named after it. They are as follows:

Spatium: He monitors, controls, and creates the space in which time and matter exist. He knows where everything is and what is happening in it currently.

Tempus: She controls and monitors time and keeps track of the past, present, and future. She knows everything that happened, is happening, and will happen.

Materia: They control and monitor all matter (yes, all matter), and they can manipulate and create any physical object,  structure, etc. They can change any person or object physically, whether it's for better or for worse.

They can travel to any universe as a result and do what they please. However, they chose to stay on the sidelines, for the most part, to not make people aware of their existence. However, when you're running multiple universes, you will look for a better way to do it, without the threat of your creation trying to get rid of you. As such, they created beings known as their delegates.

These entities have these delegates in every universe. They possess some of the abilities of their corresponding delegator. Their existence is enough to support their universe, but if they feel inclined to, they can try to run it themselves (they all have to agree to do so). The only way for them to achieve these abilities, however, is to die.  When they do, they are revived with these powers and become immortal. The reason for this is that, according to the trio, "These abilities are much too strong to be born with, so once they are older, their bodies can withstand it without major injuries," "Them dying is to rid their body of their mortality," and "Maybe they could see it as what death feels like or some other philosophical reason they want to see it as. I don't know, it was Spatium's idea." They also gain the ability to recover from their injuries faster than normal humans or other organisms due to these powers. These beings are:

Tomás: delegate to Spatium

Kathrine: delegate to Tempus

Nyx: delegate to Materia

They typically have some physical resemblance to their delegators no matter what form they take. But they still have their unique traits; for example, they could be different species, some have different physical traits, some can talk while some can't, etc. Some may share similar personality traits or be very different from them.

These individuals inevitably meet each other in every universe, no matter the circumstances or locations. Their powers can not be passed down in any process and are special only to them.

They are all on equal footing and none of them are above each other when it comes to their powers. They will have to negotiate with each other when conflict arises. In other words, they can be throwing hands at each other and none of them will win.

[dungeonofthedragon]

Tales of Xadia: Startouch

Been messing around with this system a lot lately (converting one of my D&D settings into Cortex for a one-shot, and potentially an entire campaign.) It got me thinking about how when Tales of Xadia was first announced, all I wanted was to play a startouch elf. So sparkly!

I would still like to play a half-startouch if my group ever got a game going that wasn't run by me. Thus, while working on creating Kindred distinctions for my own setting, I mucked around with startouch elves too to create a vocation and specialty (no community since I imagine my hypothetical half-startouch would have been raised in one of the Xadian elf societies.)

Details below the cut.

Star (Mage)

(Magical vocation)

Value: Truth

Divination. When you use your Star Magic speciality in a test, contest or challenge, you may step up or double the Star Magic die.

Star Magic

(Specialty)

Star Magic (Spells): You’re trained in the magic of the Star primal- divination, cosmic vision, and seeing into the “beyond”.

Spells

Iter per Spatium (Travel through Space): This spell creates a portal linking the mage and a familiar location.

Futurum Aspectum (Future Sight): This spell conjures visual representations of events yet to come.

[arogustus]

Fictober 2024: Spatium Via Edition

Original - No Warnings

14. "did you stick to the plan?"

A little robot picked from behind a building, zooming down to the entrance to Buffer and Shine’s Robot Washer. She could see Raymond standing in front of it, debating the available options at 1% processing speed like the nerd that he was. Ripe for the pranking.

“Did you stick to the plan?” She spoke, not turning to the walking fuel canister who yelped in surprise. 

“Doh- dangit App, don’t spook me like that. And yeah.” Rhonda tapped herself, the fuel bar on her body showing empty. “Replaced all the polishing agents with 2% DrillCo Oil. Cost me a pretty penny bribing the guy to do it.”

“Peeeerfect.” App grumbled. Finally, it was all coming together. “He needs to pay for what he did to me. The old fart should know when to shut his mouth.”

“Ya mean the time he said that a ball was rounder than you?” Rhonda deadpanned, the little All-Purpose Bot turning to give her a dangerous look. 

“Nobody insults my roundness and lives, Rhonda. Besides, you’re helping me because he scratched your new paint job by accident last week. You can’t hold yourself above me with that double standard.”

“Yeaaah, we’re both petty bastards.”

The two sat there and waited, peeking out once they knew Raymond went inside. Now it was time to wait for the magic to happen.

For a few minutes, there was nothing. Then, a scream of terror, followed by a robot drenched entirely in 2% Oil rushing out of the washer in hysterics. The two vengeful robots fell into an uproar, Raymond down below noticing and quickly shouting with a fist to the ear.

“I HATE THE BOTH OF YOU!!!”

[psikonauti]

Maksymilian Novak-Zempliński (Polish, b. 1974)

Spatium (series), 2011

Oil on panel

[annashaberdashery]

"Ut spatium" by Anna Tuomisalo

[glaufxgarland]

Spatium Saevus Sonitus | Glaufx Garland at Cold Meat Industry Festival ...