#spellbook saturday

[nailsofvecna]

Someone really ought to teach those vampires a lesson. Eating people without asking is so rude!

[fattocatto-wizard]

I have 46 spells in my spellbook.

How many do y’all have?

Have a Magical Spellbook Saturday!

[nailsofvecna]

Wizard Council awfully silent about these...

Gratuitously evil spells for villains to learn

Mordenkainen's Highly Problematic Political Opinions

Spell that causes someone to experience the entirety of The Big Bang Theory in 6 seconds

Spell that causes a needlessly painful death. It figures out the maximum amount of pain it's ethically permissible to inflict based on context and inflicts twice that much on purpose

Fireball but it expands the area of effect to specifically hit all your teammates.

Mildly Upset Person.

Disintegrate but it bestows any object it hits with full human sapience just before the ray hits.

Locate Object but every time you cast it, it kicks a random guy in the nuts for no good reason.

Hellish Rebuke but it hits anyone who isn't attacking you.

Ray of Deforestation

Transmute Food To Food That's Produced Unsustainably And Using Unethical Labor Practices

Nullify Union

[spicyspiders]

before you know it, it's done

Ghost x male reader smut. AU where Ghost is a demon and the reader summons him because the spell said he would get three wishes. Warnings for smut and unprotected sex. I wanted to have this posted on my birthday on Saturday, but I was too busy.

It was surprisingly easy to find the spellbook you needed. The hardest part was picking out the chalk color you required. It didn’t say on the page so you wondered what color to pick. Would the demon want a neutral white color, or would it appreciate something more colorful?

“I’ve never seen that color before,” the demon says when it first appears. The color of his magic matched the color of the chalk you chose to use, a vibrant red color that stood out against the hardwood flooring of your bedroom. 

“It was one of the cheapest I could find,” you said in awe, looking up at the demon that stood before you. It stood tall on long legs that led up to a broad chest. On both sides of its chest were two muscular arms that led up to two broad shoulders. On its head was a mask that covered the entirety of its face, and on top was the face of a human skull. 

“It’s not real,” the demon said. 

You rose slowly onto your feet from where you had kneeled to cast the spell, “party city?”

“Excuse me?” The demon asked back. 

You shook your head, “nothing. So,” you said after a moment of staring at him, “do I get-”

“Your wishes?” The demon asked cutting you off, “you humans are so predictable,” the demon waved a hand dismissively in your direction. To your surprise, he stepped over the circle of chalk, past the runes you spent nearly an hour perfecting.

“How did-” you started to ask, but the demon cut you off again.

“Not bad for a beginner, but there are gaps in the binding circle,” the demon responded. It stepped past you and went for your bed and sat down. “I’ll give you your wishes, but there are rules.”

“Rules?”

“First: no wishing for more wishes,” the demon said angrily, “I fucking hate it when you try to do that. Second: I’m not raising the dead, nor am I killing anyone. Third-”

This time, you were the one to cut him off, “I just need my car fixed.”

This made the demon pause before busting out laughing, “your car, that’s it?” It asked after wiping a tear from its eye. 

“Yes? I mean, if I only get one wish, I’ll just wish for more money to fix my car and for the future if it breaks down again.”

“I’ll give you three.”

“Three?” You asked in disbelief, “is that the normal number you give people?”

“No, but you made a good first impression,” the demon looked over at the circle, “I like the color, it has me feeling,” he looked off, searching for the word, “generous.”

“Will my wishes be a trick? Like I’ll ask for something and end up getting something completely unrelated?”

The demon rolled its eyes, “that’s just a dumb stereotype you humans made up. If I wanted to trick you, I already would have. Plus, I can’t stand hearing you all bitch. You just need to be specific.”

You nodded, “how will I know if I’m being specific enough?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” the demon smirked. It pushed off your bed and stepped up into your personal space, “I could help make sure, you just have to let me in,” it said, face hovering close to yours. 

“How?” You whispered. 

“Just think of what you want,” the demon raised a hand and placed it on your temple. “There we go,” it said softly. Through the mask, its eyes flashed a bright color, nearly as bright as the chalk on your floor. 

The demon’s fingers were hot on your face, making it hard to keep your thoughts focused on what you wanted. A thud in the direction of your dresser pulled your attention away, and the demon chuckled lightly as you jumped at the noise. 

“But,” you stepped up to the pile of cash neatly stacked up, “I needed my car fixed,” you turned to face the demon. 

“It is fixed.”

“I used two wishes?” You asked in a disappointed voice. 

The demon waved a hand through the air, “two for one special.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “why?”

The demon ignored your question, instead, a slow smile stretched across its mouth, pulling at the fabric on top. It made you feel uneasy, “you had a hard time controlling your thoughts just now.”

“Sorry I’m having a hard time keeping my thoughts straight,” you grumbled, “this is all pretty new to me.”

The demon raised its hands out in surrender, “I’m not complaining. I was a man like you once, you know. I had my urges,” he finished in a low voice. 

You ignored the hot wave that ran through your body at the last word, “how long have you been in this… profession?”

He let out a laugh, “a long time now.”

“What’s your name?”

He rolled his eyes, “going to try and look me up on one of those apps you humans use?”

“No,” you answered too quickly to be convincing. 

He let out another chuckle and sat back down on your bed, “my name is Simon, though I do like the name Ghost.” He pulled your wallet out from seemingly nowhere, “and yours is,” he filled open the leather to fish out your license. 

“Hey! How’d you get that?” 

“It was right there,” Simon said, tossing your wallet back onto your bedside table. 

“Do I have to use my other wishes now?”

“No. All you have to do is call on me.”

“You have a cell phone?” You asked in disbelief. 

Simon let out another laugh. You liked his laugh and how smoky it sounded, “like with your first wish, you just have to think about me and I’ll show up,” he stood up and gave a dramatic bow and with that, he was gone in a bright glimmer of magic. 

-

The next time you called on Simon was an accident. He didn’t pop in with a flash of magic like how he had left, so it was dark in your room. The darkness was the perfect opportunity to catch you off guard. 

Your eyes had long adjusted to the dark of your room, so it was easy to pick up Simon’s. Simon’s eyes were reflective in the darkness, like an animal. 

You gave an upstroke to your hard cock, your eyes opening slowly as warm pleasure spread through your body. You jumped when you noticed his presence and quickly moved to cover yourself up. 

“You don’t have to stop on my account,” Simon purred. “Did you call me here because you need lube? Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.”

“No,” you whispered. Your heart hammered in your chest, ringing loudly in your ears. 

“No?” Simon parroted, “you were just thinking about me?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you wished that the covers you pulled over your body would swallow you whole. Maybe that would be your next wish. You tried ignoring the way that your still-hard cock twitched when Simon stepped up to your bed. 

“I’m not angry,” Simon got on top of your body, his legs spreading to accommodate the space that your legs took up. He grabbed one of your trembling hands that rested on your chest and brought it down to his groin, “does that feel like I’m angry?”

The bulge under your fingers felt warm and heavy through the fabric of the pants Simon wore. “Oh,” you breathed and ran your hands across the fabric. 

“What were you thinking about?” Simon asked, he leaned down to bring his face close to yours, close enough to feel the puffs of his breath, but far enough to where your lips weren’t pressed together. 

You tried to lean up and close the distance, but Ghost pulled away, but he did lean down so he could press his lips to your cheek and then leaned over so he could whisper in your ear, “won’t you tell me? Please?”

“You. And what you look like under these clothes,” you managed to get out. Your fingers tightened by a small measure, feeling how his bulge continued to grow under them. 

“Good boy,” Simon responded. The second his words were out, you suddenly felt cold. Your clothes were gone and it only took a few seconds for your nipples to harden to match the state of your cock.

“Where did my clothes go?” And my blanket-” Simon stops your questions by swooping down and finally bringing your lips together. 

“That is really what you are worried about now?” Simon asked after he pulled away. 

“That comforter was expensive,” you responded with a pout. 

Simon leaned back down to kiss you until your pout was nothing but a memory. He nipped at your bottom lip, taking the flesh with him when he pulled back. 

Your eyes opened when he freed your lip from his teeth and like you, Simon was now naked. Clothes, balaclava, and all.

“I’ll give you whatever you desire after I fuck you,” Simon said, his words full of promise. The area of your room where you had drawn the runes to summon him glowed, its light spreading throughout your room and allowing you to see Simon in all his naked glory. 

Your attention was soon taken away when his hand made its way between your legs, his fingers going past your hard cock to go lower. You did, however, watch as his pec flexed as his hand moved. It finally ended up at your hole, his fingers already wet. 

“You already had lube?”

Simon smirked and ran a slick finger around your hole, “not exactly,” he answered. When you tried to open your mouth to question him, he pressed his lips to yours. He swallowed the noises you made when his tongue pressed inside your mouth, and like his slick tongue, his slick finger was making its way inside. 

He wouldn’t let you focus on trying to question him, his movements were deliberate in getting you ready. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders after running your hands up his big chest. Your hands squeeze at the hot skin as you try your best to quickly get used to the burn of his second finger making its way in.  

Simon’s fingers get wetter inside your body as he watches your face closely. It’s a new sensation, one that makes your cock twitch and let out a glob of precome. 

“You’re getting so wet for me,” Simon observes in a low voice. “Down here,” he holds himself up on his knees so he can use his other hand to skim his fingers over the head of your cock, “and down here.” He emphasizes his point by coating the inside of your hole with his fingers. A third joins the second, and they make fast work in pressing against your prostate. 

You’re hit with spikes of pleasure as his fingers press over the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please,” you moan, not even sure what you’re asking for. You must send flashes of your thoughts of what you want to Simon because his fingers pull out and are replaced by the thick head of his cock. The head of it is wet, and you guess he used whatever he did on his fingers. You both groan as he teases you by rubbing the head against your entrance, smearing the wetness around. 

“I know, darling,” Simon whispers. He presses soft kisses to the heated, sweaty skin of your face as he slowly thrusts his cock inside. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, making it all the easier for his cock to find its way inside. You both let out a breath for he finally bottoms out, his balls pressing against your ass. 

Simon holds himself up on his strong arms when he pulls out after you’ve adjusted. He pulls out just as slow as he had initially gone in only to go right back in when the head presses against your hole. 

Like his fingers, his cock makes quick work of finding the bundle of nerves Simon’s fingers were just against. His cock is like a hot brand, carving out space every time he thrusts in. The feeling of it burns. One that burned with pain when it initially began, but soon was overtaken by pleasure. 

His cock makes you feel like you’re burning from the inside out. A feeling that begins in your groin as his cock finds your prostate over and over only to spread through the rest of your body. The heat makes your body sweat, making it difficult to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“I’ve got you,” Simon murmurs before wrapping both hands around your waist. You let your legs relax, but still, keep them around his hips. The angle Simon holds your hips up at makes his cock go deeper, making you feel full. 

Simon brings his chest to yours so he can get his face close enough to kiss you. It’s wet and messy with a mash of lips, teeth, and tongue. Simon doesn’t go far when it’s over as he presses his face into the side of your neck. You hold his head in place by burying a hand in his hair as he begins to nip and kiss your neck.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, accompanied by the prickle of pain caused by his teeth on your neck. You let out moans that bounce off the walls of your bedroom, filling up the space. Filling up the space is also the glow of the runes, burning bright as Simon chases after his orgasm. 

You watch with half-lidded eyes as Simon comes with a long groan. The runes blaze as he comes deep inside you. The color casts a halo around Simon’s body, nearly silhouetting him. He looks like an angel, a thought that nearly pulls a hysterical laugh from your chest. 

The colors grow dimmer when Simon quiets down as he comes down from his orgasm. Your legs fall from his hips and as they come down, so does Simon. He wraps his arms around you and encases your body in his sweaty weight. 

Exhaustion hits you soon after and your eyes grow heavy. Your thoughts go to Simon right before you fall asleep, wondering if he’ll still be on top of you when you wake up. You fall asleep to the feeling of his arms tightening around your body and a pair of lips pressing a kiss to your neck.   

[brokehorrorfan]

Elvira: Mistress of the Dark will be released on 4K Ultra HD on November 12 via Arrow Video. Sara Deck designed the cover art for the 1988 horror-comedy; the original poster is on the reverse side.

Cassandra Peterson stars as her horror hostess alter ego and co-wrote the script with Sam Egan (The Outer Limits) and John Paragon (Pee-wee’s Playhouse). James Signorelli (Saturday Night Live) directs. W. Morgan Sheppard, Daniel Greene, Jeff Conaway, Susan Kellermann, and Edie McClurg round out the cast.

Elvira: Mistress of the Dark has been newly restored in 4K with Dolby Vision and uncompressed stereo 2.0 audio. Special features are listed below, where you can also see more of the packaging.

Special features:

Introduction by director James Signorelli

Audio commentary with actors Cassandra Peterson and Edie McClurg and writer John Paragon

Audio commentary with director James Signorelli, moderated by horror journalist Tony Timpone

Audio commentary with Elvira webmaster Patterson Lundquist

Too Macabre: The Making of Elvira: Mistress of the Dark – Feature-length making-of documentary with cast and crew

Recipe for Terror: The Creation of the Pot Monster

Original storyboards

Image galleries 

Theatrical trailer

Teaser trailer

Booklet with writing on the film by Sam Irving, Kat Ellinger, and Patterson Lundquist

Having just quit her job as a Los Angeles TV horror hostess, Elvira receives the unexpected news that she’s set to inherit part of her great aunt Morgana’s estate. Arriving in the small town of Fallwell, Massachusetts to claim her inheritance, Elvira receives a less than enthusiastic reception from the conservative locals – amongst them, her sinister uncle Vincent, who, unbeknownst to Elvira, is in fact an evil warlock secretly scheming to steal the old family spellbook for his own nefarious ends…

Pre-order Elvira: Mistress of the Dark.

[nonotnolan]

Rookie Mistake

“Yeah, I realized the other day that, like... I’ve spent the last five Sunday afternoons, like, completely blacked out,” he said, rubbing his hands as he spoke.  Dave, our next door neighbor, was telling my mother why he didn’t host his normal Saturday night party yesterday.  I had to admit I was not expecting that answer.  “I didn’t even think I had been drinking that much, but like... why else would that happen, y’know?"

Well, I knew exactly why he had been blacked out the past five Sundays-- I’d been using the spellbook I found in the attic to slip into his smoking hot body.  Look at his chest, can you blame me?  Dude has shoulders for days.  I’d hop into his body when my mom and her husband went out on their date night, and then I would download Grindr to score a few casual hookups with some eager twinks.  Being home from college over the summer sucked, and Dave’s body helped make it suck less.  It was a victimless crime-- or so I had thought.  

Honestly, I hadn’t even thought about what Dave would remember whenever I hopped into his body.  Total rookie mistake, but it could have been a lot worse.  As long as I stayed out of his body, his blackouts would stop, and no one would be any the wiser.  Dave excused himself and went back inside his house, while Mom and I finished up bringing the groceries inside.  Hopefully I didn’t look too guilty.

I took the spellbook down off my shelf, and pulled up Google translate again-- the damn thing was written in Latin.  The good news is that all of the spells were illustrated, so it was usually pretty clear what each spell would do.  The bad news is that a lot of the rules were written in small, cursive handwriting that the computer couldn’t read when photographed.  I was making decent headway translating word by word, but it was... tedious, to say the least.  Can you blame me for getting impatient?

The astral form spell I’d been using to possess Dave hadn’t said anything about memory loss, but I had also stopped translating after three paragraphs.  I’d already learned the important pieces, or so I had thought.  You can’t travel more than a quarter mile away from your body without risking permanent separation, your astral form could be blocked by wards or captured by soul snares, whatever the hell those were... and then the spell started talking about how it was really good for spying on your enemies.  Wouldn’t something like target memory loss be important enough to mention earlier?  I was livid, but it was ultimately my mistake for using a spell that I hadn’t fully translated.

I’d only made it through another half-paragraph before I got interrupted by a knock on my door.  “Sweetie, I just wanted to let you know that it’s just me going out tonight,” Mom said.  “Henry isn’t feeling well, so he’s going to stay behind and rest up, okay?  I know I don’t have to worry about you staying quiet for him while he sleeps.  See you tonight!”

I could scarcely maintain my excitement as I waited for the sound of my mother locking the front door.  Henry, my step-father, was a delicious otter of a man.  I hadn’t even considered the thought of taking over his body, but how could I resist an opportunity handed to me on such a silver platter?  And if he was planning on sleeping anyway, the memory loss issue didn’t matter!  Translating the rest of the spell could wait, I needed to seize this opportunity before it slipped away.  I made sure to clear off my bed, and position myself in a neutral posture before casting the spell-- the first time I used the spell and returned to my body, the crick in my neck took three days to fully heal.  Once my astral form had separated itself from my body, I flew as fast as I could to Henry’s sleeping form.

After all... just look at this man.  Henry is... he’s like gay candy.  Any time the three of us go out together, I don’t think he realizes how many skinny dudes can’t look away from him.  And for the next few hours, that would be me.  God, it was such a rush to think about that.  Can you blame me for getting excited?  Aside from the occasional dress pant, Henry never really wore anything that would display his bulge, so I wasn’t sure what sort of equipment I would be working with, but... now that it was in my hands, I was not disappointed.  So that was a ten minute detour.  I’m only human, after all.

My next order of business was to take some raunchy selfies and send them to my phone for some, uhh... future me time.  The problem was that the only rooms in the house with good lighting were also the rooms where Mom had already redecorated Henry’s house with floral wallpaper.  Seeing that in the background was just a total boner kill.  I’d have to use my room for photos.  I try to avoid seeing my lifeless body whenever I can-- it’s kind of unsettling-- but in this case, it was worth the discomfort.

I figured Henry’s strength would be more than enough to carry my body down to the living room couch, only... when I opened my door, the bed was empty.  The pit of my stomach sank to the floor as I stared at the impression in my bed sheets, the only remaining sign that my body had previously been resting there.  I started taking deep breaths, running my hands across my new chest fur as I tried to calm down.  If the astral form spell was going to cause my body to disappear, it would have happened before today.  The first step was probably to search the rest of the house, just in case anything else had been displaced.

I found my body outside, shirtless, smoking a cigarette on the patio.  He had to have heard me-- I certainly wasn’t quiet as I flung upon the back door-- but he didn’t even bother to look up at me.

“Who are you, and what are you doing in my body?” I said, trying to puff out Henry’s chest for maximum intimidation.

My body responded by blowing a cloud of smoke into my face.  “Get over yourself,” he said, taking another long drag.  “You grabbed my spellbook out of my attic, turned the next door neighbor into a meat suit, and now you have the gall to pretend that you’re the victim here?”

I tried to think of some sort of witty comeback, but my brain had completely frozen up.  “I... Henry?  Is that you in there?  What are you doing?”

“Watching you fall for the world’s most obvious trap,” he said, lording over me with a smug grin on his face.  He had me dead to rights, and we both knew it.  “Your mother hadn’t even finished pulling out of the driveway, and your horny ass was already trying to take over my body.  Good thing I had already started my own astral form before she left.  Mind you, I have ways of keeping unwanted spirits out of my body... but then we wouldn’t be having this delightful conversation, would we?

“Consider yourself busted,” he said, snuffing out the cigarette on the patio table.  “You’re going to spend the night here, pretending to be me while keeping to yourself under the guise of feeling sick.  I’m going to take your body out for a joyride tonight, same as you did to Dave.  We’ll switch back in the morning.  No funny business, or you’ll learn first hand why I no longer need to use a spellbook to cast magic.”

“Y-yes, sir,” I said, nodding my head.  Seeing Henry inside of my lanky body with his arms crossed, it looked catty rather than intimidating.  All the same, I was not about to try and mess with him any further.  Better to take the L here.  “Hey, uhh... after tonight’s punishment... do you... do you think you could teach me how to use that spellbook?”

Henry paused, sizing me up and down with his eyes before speaking.  “Me, teaching you?  After a rookie mistake like this?  Not on your life.”

[xx-completely-in-ur-car-xx-blog]

Benny Week Day 1: Spells

I wanted to explore some of the spell mishaps that are alluded to but not seen in the show, but ended up focusing on one. This is the story of the inside-out goldfish, as remembered by Benny during the opening sequence to Independence Daze, of all places.

(Fic under the cut)

DON'T MAKE ME SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU

Despite his outward deflection of Ethan’s mocking, Benny had to admit, if only to himself, that conjuring a toll booth wasn’t exactly his best work. Still, when was it ever? Even if he were to concede that, ok, maybe he wasn’t always as awesome at magic as he had a tendency to make out— which he wasn’t, he was still a rockstar… Even then, he didn’t know how his so-called friends justified their relentless criticism of his talents. Grandma, at least, he could understand… But even then: was a little respect so much to ask for?

He sighed internally, forcibly maintaining his strained expression as Sarah lowered her head to respond to him, comically exaggerating each and every syllable of her scathing response in just the right way to make Benny’s teeth grind a little harder against each other, holding back bitter words that he was too mature to stoop to… and too immature to improve upon. In spite of their sizeable height difference, Sarah managed to somehow talk down to him, leveraging both the height of the kitchen stools and Benny’s own misfortune to deliver the words as if to a child. Every new jab left his mouth burning from the acid rising on his tongue.

The Cyberdontist comment was just enough to tip him over the edge— quite literally, as he found himself leaning over the side of the counter to defend his ‘stupid’ childhood nightmare. “Hey,” he defended, “Cyberdontist came to this planet to fill our cavities with pain.” It wasn’t his fault if she didn’t understand the source material well enough to be as scared as the film warranted.

His dignity defended, Benny sat back upright, closing his mouth once again; content to let the argument slide.

Content until he caught another glimpse of Ethan’s non-committal disinterest. At which point, he could feel a twinge in his lip again, calling him to speak out against the unfairness. Once again, everyone was teamed up against him… and why? It was hypocrisy! Everything Ethan and Sarah did was golden, and yet everything he did was insufficient. Damn the fact that he was the one actually learning and trying out new things— let’s all focus on the things he did badly. And, sure, maybe he’d made a few mistakes. Maybe more than a few… But he was embracing magic. He was getting better! “And at least I’m not hiding from myself,” He spat back.

It was a petty retort, and the fall in Sarah’s expression told him it had hit as below the belt as he’d intended it to, even if her feigned misunderstanding suggested otherwise. Petty or not, he’d won the argument.

It was something.

Even in the moment, he could tell he was getting too defensive, but he found himself past the point of caring, deafening himself to the remainder of the spite-filled conversation as he pretended to be engaged with his phone. He was really starting to get sick of everyone’s constant digs at his magic.

More than anything, he was sick of people asking for things that they didn’t understand: ‘zap him,’ ‘cover me,’ ‘magic us a way out of this…’  Everyone was fine with pushing him to do more, but no one really wanted to face the realities of what 'more' looked like. That was a lesson he’d learned early on.

He remembered it vividly— sprawled out on the lawn next to Ethan on a warm Saturday afternoon in mid-September, spellbook in hand and the world at his feet. He’d barely discovered the supernatural, and yet they’d already gone toe-to-toe with both ancient vampires, and the cast of Pet Semetary— another one of his less proud moments. Still, he remembered it being, in part, the searing guilt that followed the incident that pushed him towards learning some combat-capable spells. It had also inspired his unconventional choice of test victim. After all, he’d only recently experienced how little threat the goldfish in the garden pond really posed to them.

He remembered talking Ethan into watching him try it too— the slightly bemused look that told Benny he was willing to let everything play out, even if he was skeptical. Still, Benny had guaranteed him as assuredly as Kirk would his crew, that everything was going to work out just fine. Misplaced confidence in his novice Latin would set him up to fail like this more than once. In this particular instance, it had convinced him that he was set out to immobilize a fish… Only, the goldfish ended up a little more than immobilized.

That was the part he remembered most— one hand on the book and one extended, fingers splayed so far he could feel the tension in the base of his fingers. He remembered the semi-familiar words leaving his lips, curling around the ancient syllables in an alien way— kinda like Klingon, with a sort-of Romulan twang, and just a hint of Cylon— then the resulting spark of energy, pulsing under the skin before crackling through the tension, bursting into a beam of unnaturally purple light as it sought out its intended target... then promptly tore the poor goldfish’s organs out through its mouth.

He remembered the painful moments before the creature finally stopped its frantic writhing— watching, immobilized as the fish’s insides continued to pulsate weakly in a futile attempt to keep it alive. Did it know it was going to die? Benny wasn’t sure if he took a single breath as he observed. Did it know he’d killed it? Absently, he could recall Ethan dry-heaving next to him, horrified by the effect, but he didn’t have it in him to break his concentration from the pond. Was all life this fragile?

After the goldfish, Ethan didn’t want to watch untested spells with him anymore. Worse, his skepticism towards Benny had moved towards concern. This, he had found worrying in and of itself— in part, because Ethan didn’t have the whole picture. Sure, it had been an accident— and Benny was terrified that he didn’t know how to fix it— but, even still, Benny knew Ethan wouldn’t understand what it felt like to end a life with only a word. It was horrifying. It was unthinkably cruel, and unimaginably easy, and it left that pulsing feeling under his skin— the surge of power— along with a sick twinge of satisfaction. That was worse than the fear— the guilt. Benny, of course, had tried to laugh the incident off, but even his humour failed to take the edge off the situation straight away. He wasn’t sure if he’d failed to convince Ethan, or himself.

It was at times like this, when he was enduring yet another criticism, that he was convinced of the latter.

Because, at times like this, when everyone was yelling at him about not doing enough with magic, he could feel that pulsing stronger than ever— a constant buzzing in his ears, and a tightness in his fingertips. Would they be happy if he burned everything down? His fingers sped up on the keyboard of his phone. Would they admit they were wrong if he tore their enemies inside-out? He swallowed down a wave of emotion. Would Ethan still look at him the same?

Pulling himself from the thoughts just in time to tune back in to the end of his grandma’s seemingly ongoing speech, he could’ve laughed at the irony: “You have to work together.”

Instead, his response was defeated, “…Yeah.”

They were asking for things that they didn’t understand.

[arzuera]

Who Wrote That?!

Hello! This is a Host and Player's guide on how to play 'Who Wrote That?!', a writing game for all ages! What is 'Who Wrote That?'? It's a game played with a minimum of 4 players or more. The players submit excerpts based on a prompt to the host and then have to guess who wrote what when the host releases them later. Whoever has the most points at the end is the winner!

Rules for Players

If there is one, please read the 'Do Not' list that any host gives you. This ensures that everyone has fun and no one is secluded because someone wrote something that triggered them.

2. Write an excerpt based on the prompt in the given timeframe. If you need an extension, ask the Host! More than likely, they will work with you. After all, the more the merrier.

3. Try to keep to the word limit, if there is one. Writing too much could out you just as much as writing too little. If you feel that your excerpt may be too long or too short, ask the Host if you may need to edit.

4. HAVE FUN! You can keep any writing that is too long and post it later or even continue the story if you wish! Odds are the plotbunnies will have made themselves home anyway :D

How to Host

Hosting is just as fun as playing! You get to read all the lovely juicy fun words and then see everyone gush and lament on the excerpts and their choices between submissions! The Host is the person/people who organize the rounds and keep track of the points. They also are the ones who post the excerpts for the players to read during guessing time and post the reveals round by round after voting is closed. It can seem daunting but it's a lot of fun!

There are two ways to play: A long game and a short game.

On average, a long game is considered a word limit of 1k or higher with a short game being about one paragraph or 300-400 words. Your game length will vary on the number of players and how long the excerpts are.

First, as the Host, pick or come up with a prompt. Try and find one or make it, open-ended so that the authors can really make the prompt their own! For example:

Danny gets trapped in a spellbook. He binds himself to whoever touches him next. The only way to release the bind is by either freeing Danny or doing so many things the book says (which the book is blank and Danny can control what is in it). Shenanigans

Also here is the Tumblr post source: Prompt Source

This is the first game we played! Its short but vague enough for the players to go off on their own interpretations.

Second, figure out the timeframe that works as best for you as it does with everyone else. Unfortunately due to timezones, you may not be able to have everyone online for the live voting or reveals. But that can be remedied a bit by giving time for people to be there.

A long game normally goes Tuesday-Friday for prompt submissions, Saturday is dedicated to voting, and Sunday will be the reveal!

Short games can do the same as above but maybe at hour intervals instead. 2-3 hours for submissions, an hour for voting, then reveal! Third, once you have your prompt and time frame, now it's time to let players know! Make a post or @ your friends so that they can play!

Fourth, collect all of the submissions in a Google doc and then organize the submissions by round order. That way you aren't digging for a prompt through Discord messages or google docs. It's all ready to go!

Fifth, when you have all of your submissions, it's time to make a Google form! Make an assessment and create as many questions as there are rounds with the players' names as the answers. Make sure to turn off 'shuffle option order'

Because this will move all the answers around and that is unnecessarily confusing.

Next go to settings and make it a quiz! But turn the other options off

Turning off missed questions, correct answers and point values makes it so the players don't see what they got after they submit their answers. They won't know until you reveal it all at the end! Now all you have to do is wait for voting time!

Sixth, Now it's time for the players to vote and they get to gush over what they are reading while chaos begins. Post the excerpts at hour intervals to give the players a chance to discuss among themselves. This is where they will try to throw the other off the scent of their work or try sus out the author. It's a lot of fun to watch :3

Lastly, reveals. Once voting is done, you can go into the Google form and see how everyone did! Calculate the points and figure out if you have a winner! When you have the points calculated, release the results of Who Wrote That one round at a time. Reveal who the author of that excerpt was along with who all got it right! Continue this by giving some time between results so the players can tease each other until all of the reveals are done and you announce the winner!

Congrats! You just hosted a game of Who Wrote That?! ! :3

Disclaimer: Google docs is mainly mentioned because most of the games have been running via co-hosting. With google docs, we can share the excerpts that both of us have gotten easily to one another. However, if you are hosting on your own, then any doc program should work just fine.

[shewolfofvilnius]

New Tav/Rolan Fic

Finding Each Other. Finding Themselves.

(edit: Chapter 3 now up!. Planned update schedule is Wednesday/Saturday. A Lia/Gale fic set in the same world state updates Tuesday/Friday. I have a lot of time to write right now).

I will likely not be plugging EVERY chapter on Tumblr this time around, but FYI the first two chapters of my Tav/Rolan fic are now up

In Chapters One and Two, we flashback to Elturel ca. 1781, where a then-thirteeen year old Tav's family - traveling bards - are nearing the end of their residency in Elturel. Cal and Lia are the closest things Tav have known to friends, and when Tav notices Lia about to take on bullies 4 to 1, decides to even the odds slightly without her friend knowing.

Together they return two of the most important things in Rolan's life, his spellbook and an heirloom belonging to his mother, and Tav says goodbye to Rolan in the most memorable way possible - a first kiss.

The third chapter of the fic will cover the years of Tav's life between Elturel and the Nautiloid, with life being particularly unkind, at times due to Tav's own fault. Chapter four picking up game events somewhat loosely and sees her finding the trio and starting her road to resurrection. The last third of the story will be events before and up to the epilogue.

This is set in the same universe as my OTHER fic, Wild Magic (a Lia/Gale adventure) with the same Tav (Tav[aria]) and same hard-headed Rolan. It was actually supposed to be a spinoff of the Tav/Rolan fic but I liked the idea so much I started writing it first. I MAY plant a few breadcrumns regarding Gale and Lia but am largely leaving them in the future (and WILL sprinkle in a detail or two about the Cal/Lae'zel stuff in Act 3 I allude to in the other fic)

I'll post links to new chapters on AO3 when major plot beats happen. This is mainly a somewhat romantic story fic (I'm not really good at writing smut) but this isn't Disney either, there WILL be a rekindled romance later.

[sidhewrites]

It's Storyteller Saturday! Could you tell me a little about the early drafts of I Met a Girl in the Graveyard?

Heyo! I met a girl in the graveyard was called Graveyard Lesbians until @shannonsketches helped me with a title (and will be making the cover art i am so hype)

The biggest change from beginning to now has been Renfield actually. He was always an old rescue Persian, but he belonged to Josie and was named Lord Ruthven. The name changed based on vibes, but it didn't feel as clean to have Renfield living at someone else's house with how contained the plot already was location-wise. I don't think we ever actually go to Josie's house in this draft?

Here's some early concept art. Very important.

Magnus' ending also shifted, since I didn't have a solid third act in mind, just the very end, where he remained in Renfield's body and enjoyed life as a quiet spoiled housecat. In the previous draft, he was trapped in a poppet then thrown into the bottom of the mines like he actually wanted which also felt really unsatisfying. Since then I've been able to tie things up more cleanly, and with far better planting and payoff. Don't worry though, there will still be a haunted doll in draft 2 yet to come.

I also had renfield become a kind of all powerful necromancer thing which felt really cool in my head, but ultimately served no purpose to the story since the emotional climax in the mines mattered more than a big explosive actiony climax. But also please imagine a tiny cat with his floating evil spellbook raising the dead. It brings me joy.

Tag list:

@feather-dancer @junos-office-drama @leahnardo-da-veggie @olliexwrites @shannonosketches

[kaidynsarell]

🌹💙Sanguinis et Omnium Fractorum💙🌹

Chapter 4- Of Crimson and Cracked Blue

🌹💙🌹💙🌹💙🌹💙🌹💙🌹💙🌹💙🌹💙🌹

Pairings-Sebastian Sallow x Female OC

Rating-This story is rated overall 🔞 (Ch 4 is SFW)

Tags- Blood, Descriptions of Terminal Illness

The full chapter can be found below the cut (3.6k words)

Ongoing Fic

Chapters 1-6 can be found on WP and AO3

Saturday, 3rd September 1892,

Feldcroft had only ever been an imitation of home for Anne, and it had been even less than that for Sebastian.  Home, for the twins, was a cobble-stoned house several miles north of Hogwarts with an overgrown garden and a front door of midnight blue.  It was three bedrooms and a kitchen with mismatched cupboard handles their mother had bought on a whim one afternoon from a traveling vendor.  Home was a library that was bigger on the inside, with a crimson settee covered in cushions and a stained glass window that looked out onto the highlands.  Home held echoes of their childhood when the world had been giggles and music and sunshine over bare feet in the garden.  When the only monsters they knew stayed hidden between the pages of the books their father would read them.

But not all monsters had a face, and not all lingered between the pages of books or hid in the shadowy places below their beds.  Some disguised their intentions within the innocence of light and warmth, and in the end, it made them all the more cruel.

Home had been left behind when the twins had watched four become two in the cellar study, and life had traded their mum and dad for the ability to see winged skeletal horses in front of carriages that had previously pulled themselves.

October of Sixth year had brought the twins' seventeenth birthday and the inheritance of the cobble-stoned home left to them by Alastair and Catrìona Sallow.  With Solomon cold beneath the earth and Sebastian nowhere to be found, Anne had left behind the small London Flat Ominis had surreptitiously rented using 'Gaunt Funds' —the small cottage in Feldcroft having been carefully avoided since the events in the catacomb— and found home once again in the place of her childhood.  So, it was to that cobble-stoned house with the blue door that Clara and Ominis had traveled to nearly every Saturday since.

The curse left Anne weak and sickly, even on the best of days, and the use of magic exacerbated her condition.  The more complex and powerful the spell, the more her body suffered.  Much like it had in the days following Solomon's death when the force of the magic she had used to dispatch the army of inferi, destroy Slytherin's spellbook, and apparate home had set off repeated flares of excruciating pain that had left her bedridden for days.

The knowledge of it had seen Sebastian distraught.

Clara had never known him to regulate his emotions well, and she remembered that night in the Undercroft with startling clarity.  The exact shade of red that had splotched beneath his freckles and the salted drops of candle-lit gold that had glittered over his cheeks and clung to his lashes while they'd stood together and he'd screamed and sobbed and begged Ominis to take him to his sister.  But Anne had been adamant in her decision to cut him off.  As the letter had stated, she needed time, and true to her wishes, Ominis had refused to tell the freckled boy where the other half of his soul had disappeared.

Sebastian had cried, and so had Ominis.  In the end, the only solace the blond could offer was that Anne had refused to turn Sebastian over to the DMLE for Solomon's murder.

Anne, at the very least, had not wanted her brother to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban.

The knowledge hadn't seemed to comfort him much, and Sebastian had vanished only a few weeks later.

Clara's resulting friendship with Anne had come as a somewhat unexpected silver lining in what had otherwise been two years of consistent nightmares.  There had been a time— shortly after Solomon's death— when Clara had questioned if Anne had blamed her for Sebastian's downfall.  If she felt her brother's foray into the dark arts had been no more than a passing curiosity until Clara had walked beside him and stoked the wildfire that was Sebastian Sallow.  But from brief conversations on the matter, it seemed Anne felt her brother's actions had been no more than a sort of desperation that had left him blind to the depth of destruction in which he'd been dipping his toes.

Still, Anne was not wholly aware of the entirety of Clara's own actions, and if Sebastian had been dipping his toes, then Clara had jumped in and splashed around in the decimation.  He may have taught her the unforgivables, but Clara still wasn't confident which of them had actually played the role of the serpent.

With Solomon dead and Anne refusing to speak to Sebastian—even if he had been around—Anne's care had fallen to Ominis and, by extension, to Clara, and weekly dinner had become the norm.

The idea had been Ominis', and dinner had quickly become a thinly veiled excuse for something more.  They all knew it, though none of them spoke of it.  Nothing was said when Ominis and Clara began to show up at the Sallow home far earlier than expected, arms laden with a week's worth of groceries.   Nobody mentioned when one of them would begin to prepare ingredients for the week, and the other would set about completing any household chores or additional maintenance Anne had been unable to accomplish on her own.

Even more than an excuse for Clara and Ominis to help, dinner gave Anne an excuse to cook.  It was a love she'd inherited from her father, and almost nothing could brighten her face more than taking the ingredients she'd grown in the small garden behind her house and scurrying around the kitchen amid a collection of pots and pans.  Though Anne's wand often lay unused, Clara could have been convinced magic had been sprinkled within the herbs and curled within the masterful blend of flavors, textures, and aromas.

Anne always cooked, and nobody mentioned if Clara or Ominis' hands did most of the work while Anne delegated from the couch because she'd grown too tired to continue and needed to lie down part way through.  Nothing was said if Anne became so exhausted she fell asleep, and Clara and Ominis ate dinner alone.

Nobody mentioned that it was happening more often than not nowadays.

The facade was so fragile a strong wind might have shattered it, yet they worked tirelessly to maintain the thinning fabric.

<><><><><><><><><>

This Saturday had been one of the good ones, and Anne had not been too exhausted to join them as they ate.  Though the knowledge did little to soften the tension, Clara could see twitching at the corner of Ominis' jaw or the sharp rapping of his fingers over the woodgrain.

"Exactly how often are you expected to travel to Hogwarts to conduct these tests?  Do they not have the decency to come here?" The blond stabbed through a roast potato as though it had personally affronted him, and the metal of his fork clinked against his plate.

He'd been in one of his irritable moods all day.  Since that morning, when Anne had confessed her visit to the Hogwarts Hospital wing and explained her agreement with Healer Fawley and the Experimental Research Department.  If Clara hadn't already known Anne had kept the information from him, the blond's reaction would have been evidence enough.  He'd been—if only temporarily— kept in the dark, and Ominis's bite too often sheltered his hurt or masked his concern.

Still, Clara credited herself with not kicking him under the table.  Hurt or not, the blond's ill-tempered jabs were starting to draw her already fragile patience to the breaking point.  Then again, these days, most things had the unfortunate habit of shredding her patience.

Anne shrugged and took another swig of her pumpkin juice.  "Around once a month or so, according to Healer Fawley."

If Clara could pride Anne on one thing, it would be her ability to be completely unperturbed by the snip of Ominis' tongue.  Perhaps that was why they worked so well together.  Anne's sweet could always temper his sour.

The skewered potato hung on the end of his fork, uneaten.  "I still fail to see why they can not come here.  Surely, any assistance you give them should not come at the expense of exhausting yourself with travel.  Especially when it may not be to your benefit.   I do not want to see y–"

Clara did not miss the thin hand that settled on the blond's leg under the table or how his lips snapped shut at the little squeeze it offered.

"It is only to Hogwarts, and Noreen has been kind enough to allow me to connect our fireplaces via the Floo Network for any dates I'm needed there.  I'm sure I can manage that much."

Ominis did not speak and bit down on the now thoroughly cooled spud.  No doubt to stifle his retort.

Anne sighed and leaned forward onto hands tucked beneath the overlong sleeves of a cable-knit sweater she'd borrowed from Ominis. "Healer Fawley is one of the first who's not spoken to me as though I'm some poor soul on death's door.  I appreciate that he's been reserved with his expectations, and if allowing him and the rest of his department to conduct a few simple tests and study a few vials of my blood could help someone in the future, then who am I to deny that?" She shrugged, and the sweater shifted around her thin shoulders.  "Who knows, maybe....maybe they will find something that can help me–"

Solomon had heard Anne's prognosis and leaped to bruise his fists at the doors of acceptance.  Sebastian had planted his feet firmly in denial and grown roots too deep, even while his fingers burned and blackened with the destruction of the hope he clung to.  Anne, it seemed, had found the balance between the two.  She sat with her back against the doors and turned her face to the flickers of golden warmth behind stormy grey clouds.

Acceptance did not mean she'd given up entirely.

"—Besides, if I grow tired of it, I'll just tell them to sod off."

Clara snorted into her pumpkin juice, and Ominis tipped his head down.

It was a moment before she could collect herself enough to notice the pressure of the question against her conscience.  A needle of thought too thin to have been acknowledged the day before amidst her mind's wash of nightmarish images now resonated with a sharp sting that would not be ignored.  "Why is it that Healer Fawley has only now reached out?"

The question knit between Anne's brow, and she tilted her head.  "What?"

"You've dealt with this curse since the Fourth year.  Why wait all this time?"

The bend of Ominis' neck straightened, and the crease that had furrowed Anne's brow twitched the blond's together even as her own deepened.  His head turned toward her, nose tipped toward the beat of his heart beside him.

Anne's lip tugged down at the corners and tightened.  "Healer Fawley did reach out when it first happened.  At least, that's what he told me when I questioned him on it.  I don't remember it; everything was so hazy and painful in those first weeks before they got my regimen of potions set.  I hardly remember anything.  But as I was underage at the time, the decision wasn't mine to make and—"

Her voice faltered, though Clara hardly needed to hear the rest.  Ever the pessimist Solomon Sallow had given up before a Healer ever looked at his niece, and "Experimental" may as well have been synonymous with the dark arts.  Clara only wondered if Sebastian had known.  Had the knowledge only furthered the wedge already driven between Uncle and Nephew and fueled the maelstrom of emotions that had come to a catalyst and exploded within the catacomb?

"--well... when I received correspondence from Healer Fawley a few weeks ago, I supposed it couldn't hurt to assist them." A small laugh shook from her nose and unfolded the frown that had pulled at her lips.  "Besides, I know Sebbie...Sebastian would want me to keep trying... No matter how minuscule the odds."

Her voice faltered only slightly at Sebastian's name.  Anne had not mentioned her brother in weeks, and she rarely talked about him.  Sebastian had become a near-forbidden topic that hid in the darkened corners alongside Solomon or any mention of catacombs.  Though, from the brief conversations she had allowed on the subject, Clara had surmised that the grief and anger within her feelings on her twin were so tangled and woven together that she'd had a difficult time separating them from one another.  Lately, however, Anne's anger had begun to taste more like sorrow or maybe regret, and she had begun to wonder how furious Anne still was.

Clara's fingers found the rough edges of the Protean Charmed Parchment within the pocket of her trousers.  She'd taken to carrying it with her, and not for the first time that day; she wondered if she should mention her recent communication with the other Sallow.  Still, threads of hesitation bound her tongue, and the words crumpled against her teeth.

Had Sebastian left Anne a Protean Charmed Parchement as he'd left Clara?  She supposed he must have.  Anne was the most important person in his life.

Had she secretly been in contact with Sebastian this whole time?

Had she shredded the yellowed page in a flurry of tears?

Or had Anne seen the parchment and left it unused?  Too hurt and angry to make contact with the shared part of her soul.

"Well, enough of that." The flicker of a familiar mischievousness glinted behind her eyes, and the brunette stood and pushed herself away from the table toward the counter, where sat a sizeable wooden pie box.  She fumbled a moment with the lid and pulled out a small tray piled with twisted pastries, smothered in gobs of caramel and topped with a sprinkling of nuts and cinnamon.

She grinned and gripped the tray in front of her.  "I've made sticky buns while you two were out weeding my vegetable patch this morning."  

Ominis sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.  "Anne dear, you were meant to be resting while Clara and I were in the garden.  Not baking."

Anne giggled, and there was a moment.  Just a moment, where Ominis turned his lips down to hide the smile they all knew tugged the corners of his mouth.  A moment, Anne clutched the plate of sticky buns and beamed below the lamplight.  A moment, the air breathed with the essence of Anne Sallow: Caramel and vanilla and baker's sugar.

Just a moment when they tricked themselves into believing the lie that was fine.

Then Anne whimpered.

A sound so soft shouldn't have rung in Clara's ears like cannon fire or seen Ominis leap to his feet with such uncharacteristic force the chair toppled behind him.

The sticky buns fell next.  One after another.  Summersaulted and tumbled to the ground alongside the clatter of the tray.

Then her pain rent the serenity of the quiet evening, and the young woman fell to the ground, jarring bones in a torrent of crimson and strangled cries.  Skeletal fingers clenched to white over her abdomen as waves of blood spilled from between open lips to pool over the worn floorboards.

Ominis reached Anne first, fell to his knees, and pulled her shaking body against his as she screamed and convulsed.  He rocked her slowly back and forth, head tucked into the junction of her neck and shoulder, and muttered something Clara couldn't make out beyond the sound of her own breathing.

The pools of crimson met Clara's knees above the wood that dug into her bones.  She paid it no mind.  The complex network of motions and delicate syllables of the soothing spell had taken Clara weeks of practice with Nurse Blainey in Sixth year.  A treatment for the effects of the cruciatus curse, it had proved the best method to calming the waves of pain that racked the frail woman's body.  Slowly, an intricate latticework of soft golden light settled over her before it sank into her skin, and Anne slumped against the blond with a trembled exhale.  Ominis pressed his lips to her shoulder and traced soothing circles along her arms.

Still knelt beside the two cradled together, Clara began rummaging through a box of potions– hastily retrieved from a nearby cupboard.  The glass cylinders clinked together as she pulled vial after vial: Blood replenishing, Wiggenwelds, Calming draughts, and various other analgesics.  Each pressed into the hand of the blond and coaxed between Anne's lips with haunting routine.

If cruelty held up a mirror, it would see the image of a slender blond sitting in a pool of blood, holding a pallid girl with scarlet-tinged lips and sweat-soaked hair, trembling with the remnants of pain that had fractured her body.  And cruelty would number the days between them.

Less than a year.

That was the latest estimation they'd been given before there would be one less seat at the table.

Before, one boy would have his soul torn apart and the other his heart.

Before, Clara would lose the closest thing she'd ever had to a sister.

Cruelty would count Anne lucky if she saw summer.

<><><><><><><><><>

Thin cracks had spiderwebbed through the indigo paint that adorned the door to the Sallow home.  Beyond, the heat of the late summer day had reached sticky fingers into the star-strewn night and drawn away any chill that might have suggested Autumn waited in the wings for her yearly debut.

With the worst of Anne's pain settled, Ominis had carried her to the first bedroom off the hall.  With the door left slightly ajar, Clara could see as he tucked the blankets around her and lay beside her to trace gentle fingers over her cheeks and along her jaw.  The home that had welcomed three with the sunrise suddenly felt overcrowded, and Clara had taken her leave.

Her boots crunched footsteps over the dirt, and aching bones sagged her body to the carpet of softly waving green beneath the branches of the tree that marked the edge of the property.  Slowly, she pulled the thick waves of white blonde hair around her shoulder to find the ends clumped together with dried crimson.  A quick cleansing charm banished the remaining blood, and Clara worked her fingers through to twist the unruly mass into a loose braid.

She couldn't say how long she waited before the door creaked open, and Ominis stepped into the summer night.  He remained standing near the house, nose tipped to the sky and breaths too shallow to be steady.  Clara said nothing about the quick brush of his sleeve over his eyes as she approached him, and he didn't protest when she reached over to squeeze his fingers.

Irritable mood or not, he was the closest thing she'd had to a brother.  She didn't relish in his pain.

"Omi-"

"I know, Professor Weasley will have our heads if we're not back by curfew–" He worked his jaw a moment– "Kipley."

The house elf appeared with a sharp crack that shattered the otherwise quiet evening.  "Yes, Master Gaunt?"

He exhaled through his teeth, a low, sharp huff that sounded so much like a hiss Clara might have thought he'd resorted to parseltongue had she not known his reluctance to use it.  "Just Ominis, please, Kipley.  Are Father and Mother out?

The little elf shifted, hands clasped behind her back.  "Oh, yes, they is both being at the Estate in Toulouse, Master Gau– Master Ominis."

Ominis pursed his lips at the use of the title but seemed resigned to it.  "And what of Marvolo?"

"Yes, he is out as well." The little elf glanced around, green eyes darting up to Clara and back to Ominis before she tilted forward on her feet and cupped a hand to the side of her lips.  "Kipley should not be saying so, but Kipley believes they should not be returning for a few days if Master Ominis should need Kipley's help.

The twitch of a smile seemed all he could muster.  "I should like you to stay with Miss Sallow for the night and tomorrow if you are not otherwise needed."

The elf beamed and nodded vigorously; a little pouf of white curls bounced with the motion.  "Oh yes, Master Ominis, Kipley will see to Miss Sallow."

"Thank You, Kipley.  You must please come find me immediately if her illness worsens again."

The elf nodded, bowed, and bounded away up the grass and through the door.

His throat bobbed once, and pale, redrimmed eyes turned Clara with uncanny accuracy. "Anne's asleep.  We need to get back before we get detention.  Kipley can stay with her until I can send for Nurse Shaw in the morning to check in and replenish the potions."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "You know, Anne will be furious at you for sending the nurse twice in one week.  She barely tolerates once."

He exhaled a sharp sort of half-hearted laugh through his nose.  "I am quite aware."

Clara squeezed his slender fingers beneath her own.  Ominis glanced back at the house for a moment, nodded once, and together, they turned on the spot and vanished with a small 'pop' that echoed through the otherwise quiet night.

The snap of apparition did not see the small barn owl alight on Anne's bedroom window ledge.

:

:

It didn't see the tightly wound scroll bound to its leg.

:

:

And it didn't see the messy scrawl of words inked within.

[nailsofvecna]

Never piss off an archdruid, lest they decide to rewild your house.

[average-void-wizard]

I mean the void is endless and is nothing and everything at the same time so-

I have 46 spells in my spellbook.

How many do y’all have?

Have a Magical Spellbook Saturday!

[traderdales]

you did a good one for this last time so... evocation!!

evocation - class swap! change all (or some) of the pcs classes around to something else. explain your reasoning.

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡

A good old fashioned class swap for my good old fashioned audience. Easy enough, but I'll try to think up some extra wacky combinations this time. Actually, let's go one step further and think up some new subclasses too!

Eiwn I'm thinking that some of her affinity for special plants and summoning her animal steed might mean she could fit well as a Druid. On top of that, she is named after a mushroom... How about we give her some fun flavor with the Circle of Spores Druid? She'll get some fun necrotic abilities and have a sort of undead vibe going for her, and I feel like she'd lean into that HARD.

Ma'el Guys, I swear I'm really funny for this right... no but hear me out: Blood Hunter Order of the Lycan... EVERYONE STOP I HEAR YOU ALL SAYING LESTER is he not enough of a DOG for you already. Well point number one: him being an actual werewolf would be really funny for the bit. Point number two: I looked into it and there's technically nothing stopping you from using Shifter features and Lycan features at the same time. That means not only can you be a werewolf, you can be an even beastlier fucking werewolf so I am begging you all to hear me out.

RD The Adversary, Destroyer of Everyone, Angel of the Endless Night, Great Beast That is Called Dragon, Prince of Another World, Father of Claws, Spawn of Metrilun, and Lord of the Moon... RD [Neil Gaiman, what are you doing in my post?]. I'm actually being very silly with this and going in an entirely different direction for Red. Imagine her as an Armorer Artificer. Their metallic body could become something that they're able to control and give cool abilities to, adaptable to killing but also being sneaky. It'd be really different to what he does now while still building off of their pre-existing flavour.

Miym Had a harder time thinking of something for her at first, but something ended up being a perfect fit in my opinion: Order of Scribes Wizard! Wizards carry around spellbooks all the time, and the Order of Scribes lets you add a smidge of sentience to that book. Miym is always using her notebook to communicate with other, so leveling it up sounds like something really cool! (Plus she gets to fling a shit ton of spells because she deserves it).

Pall'or Everybody's favourite doctor (if you don't ask for Lily's opinion). So doctor's swear an oath right? I'm not going to google that, but I'm pretty sure they do. Whatever the oath is, I don't think this mfer is following it, Oathbreaker Paladin baby. He'd still have access to some healing abilities as a paladin, even immunity to disease! However he gets to add on a little bit of freakness which I think he deserves!

Alastrelle Last but not least, purple elf. Given recent events that have altered their powers in unexpected ways, I think a fun new thing for Alastrelle would be Shadow Magic Sorcerer. They've already flavoured most of their starry powers to have a shadowy vibe instead, so imagine it as a new fate. Also dogs. You can summon dogs. Dogs are cool.

TDLR; Eiwn - Circle of Spores Druid Ma'el - Order of the Lycan Blood Hunter RD - Armorer Artificer Miym - Order of Scribes Wizard Pall'or - Oathbreaker Paladin Alastrelle - Shadow Magic Sorcerer

I hope you all enjoyed my take on the class swap! Feel free to send anymore asks, but I'll be signing off for tonight (off to the mansions of rest). I hope we'll all be tuned in this Saturday for a fun new session.

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[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

LJBSACIPIHXSBNK

Y'all.

Be me suffering from random tummy ick since Saturday. You're up cause you have a teeth cleaning appt that you have now cancelled. Turn on Defunctland in a rare choice because they did something on your favorite childhood show (besides Blue's Clues), The Big Comfy Couch, and you might as well have it playing in the bg while you journal and do your nebs. It ends, and you also see they did something on Legends of the Hidden Temple, another show you really liked.

You click and they start talking, eventually playing clips of different items the rock dude tells the contestants to get, when all of a sudden you hear,

"The mystical spellbook of the imperial wizard!"

I'm sorry.

The

WHAT????????????

[crulixto]

DANCE PARTNER

| Solomon (Obey me!) x FemReader

WARNINGS: mild cursing , NOT PROOFREAD shit writing obvi haha , im not fluent in english pls tell if i have grammatical mistakes

A/N: enjoy this one while i try to make a master list

Also if some of you find these fics familiar, i deleted that book, it was on wattpad and i physically cringed at the fics so i figured fixing it now after 1-2 years :)

It was a normal Saturday for you in the Devildom, and on Saturdays you always come over to Purgatory Hall. But today had Solomon asked you for help with some spells and you the bored person you are, you agreed.

"Can you pass me the newt legs MC?" Solomon asked with his hand out waiting for you to give it to him.

"Oh uh- okay" You shrugged, grabbing the legs out it’s jar— slime following it out and giving it to him. 'Why were the legs so slimy..' You shivered in disgust as he casually holds the newt legs into his concoctions.

After some time went by, it kind of got more boring. Solomon saw you looking around and decided to turn on the record player by the side of his room.

Fly me to the moon..

Let me play among the stars..

"Ooh this is one of my favorite songs.." I grinned and crossed my arms while smiling.

Solomon went back to doing some spells. "Really MC?" He glanced at me.

"Yep, my parents would play this everyday and dance together" I smiled at the memory, i was there truly mesmerized at our parents— and remembered how i would find the one, one day.

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars..

"Oh, are your parents married?" He asked, i was a bit taken aback by the question because it is obvious that they are. Well not all but you get what i mean.

" ’Course they are," I laughed, his face looked like he was thinking of something— his eyebrows curve downwards into making him looked confused. His white hair waving from the wind that was entering by the window and his golden eyes so fixated on the floor.

In other words, hold my hand~

In other words, baby, kiss me..

"Tell me MC.." he cooed as he was looking at a spellbook, "Yeah, What is it?" i asked looking at him. While eating the cookies Luke gave to us earlier.

Solomon stands up and holds both of my hands "May i have this dance?" He asked me with a smile.

Then suddenly my face felt red. "Yes you may." I replied with a grin.

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more..

His other hand trailed to my waist and the other still holding my hand.

We started to walts around the room as nervousness filled me. "Solomon, i really can't dance." I admitted, i was embarrassed and on timing he laughs and accidentally stepped on my foot. "Don't worry i am too." I laughed at his reply and continued to sway to the music.

You are all i long for

All i worship and adore

I smiled as we danced for i don't know how long, but i want to stay like this forever.

I blush as MC puts their head on my shoulder. As we dance away.

The song kept on turning on the record player as it finally finishes.

In other words, please be true

In other words, i love you~

As their head moved off my shoulder, and to be faced with me.

We both smile as our faces grew inches closer.

Few seconds that felt like decades, i closed the gap between us and we share a long awaited kiss. MC’s hands trailed up my chest to face. And my arms slowly wrapped around their waist.

Their hands went down to my chest as we part to get some air. We both looked at each other again and i laugh as i use my arms that were wrapped around their waist to pull them closer.

"MC, Would you allow me to be yours?" I asked them, taking a lost strand of their hair behind their ear as i smiled.

their smile grew wider and hugged me and their body vibrates from chuckling when they say

"Yes."