#this is all from the magickal record

[themagickalrecord]

Day 30: Something New.

for @carryon-countdown 🎄 by @martsonmars and @onepintobean

play along here! and bonus pic under the cut

[ebbpettier]

i know i tend to think of malcolm as the calm one because natasha self-immolated to kill a bunch of vampires (and likely to avenge what she thought was her newly murdered son) but i do think that he has the capacity to go truly scorched-earch for baz if he had to. in his own way.

[astra-ravana]

Dealing With Hostile Christians

Walking an alternative spiritual path—whether as a Satanist, pagan, witch, or something in between—can sometimes lead to uncomfortable encounters with aggressive or judgmental Christians. While some Christians are kind and respectful, some others may feel entitled to challenge or even attack your beliefs. So, here's some advice on handling these situations with confidence, humor, and self-respect.

Know Your Rights

First and foremost, you have the legal right to practice your beliefs. In most countries, including the U.S., freedom of religion is protected. That means:

• You don’t have to engage in religious discussions if you don’t want to.

• You don’t have to justify or defend your spiritual path.

• You do have the right to privacy, including not disclosing your beliefs in workplaces, schools, or public spaces.

If someone is harassing you at work or in a public setting, calmly remind them, “I respect your beliefs, and I expect the same in return.” If necessary, escalate to HR or local authorities.

The Art of Non-Engagement

Sometimes, the best response is no response at all. If someone is pushing their religious views aggressively, consider:

• The Blank Stare: Look at them silently until they become uncomfortable.

• The Polite Walk-Away: Say, “I’m not interested in this conversation,” and leave.

• The ‘Bless Your Heart’ Method: A classic Southern deflection. When they say, “You’re going to hell,” just smile and say, “Bless your heart.”

You don’t owe anyone your energy. Preserve it for more meaningful interactions.

Humor as a Shield

Humor can defuse tension and keep you from getting emotionally drained. Some examples:

• Christian: “I’ll pray for you.”

You: “Thanks! I’ll light a black candle for you!”

• Christian: “You worship the devil!”

You: “I can barely keep up with my video-game addiction. Worshipping a deity full-time? Too much work.”

A lighthearted response can keep the situation from escalating while making it clear that you’re unbothered.

Setting Boundaries Like a Pro

Not everyone deserves access to your personal beliefs. If someone is intrusive, you can:

• Use the Broken Record Technique: “I’m not discussing my religion/beliefs.” (Repeat as needed.)

• Redirect: “Let’s talk about something we both enjoy—seen any good memes lately?”

• Be Firm: “I respect your beliefs. Please respect mine.”

If they persist, cut the conversation short and disengage.

Dealing with Family Pressure

Family gatherings can be tricky when you’re the token “black sheep.” To manage the drama:

• Set expectations beforehand. “I’d love to visit, but I won’t be discussing religion.”

• Use humor to deflect. “Grandma, if I summon demons at the dinner table, I promise they’ll be well-mannered.”

• Keep it simple. If asked about your beliefs, say, “I follow my own spiritual path.” If they push, change the subject.

Your family’s love shouldn’t be conditional on their approval of your beliefs. If they become toxic, setting stronger boundaries (or limiting contact) may be necessary.

Handling Public Confrontations

If a stranger starts preaching at you:

• Stay calm. They want a reaction—don’t give them one.

• Give a neutral response. “I respect your beliefs, but I’m not interested.”

• Walk away. You don’t have to engage just because someone demands your attention.

If the situation escalates into harassment, remove yourself and seek help if needed.

Finding Your Support System

Being surrounded by like-minded people can make all the difference. Look for:

• Local pagan, Satanist, or witchcraft groups.

• Online communities where you can vent and get advice.

• Friends and family (even non-magickal ones) who respect your beliefs.

Having a support system reminds you that you’re not alone—and that there’s nothing wrong with being different.

Remember: Their Fear Is Not Your Problem

Many people react with hostility because they don’t understand what you believe. Some are genuinely afraid due to misinformation. That’s their issue, not yours.

You don’t need to educate or debate unless you want to. You are not a walking religious FAQ. Live your truth unapologetically.

Being a Satanist, pagan, witch, or any other alternative spiritual practitioner in a predominantly Christian society comes with its  challenges, but you are not obligated to shrink yourself to make others comfortable. Use humor, set firm boundaries, find your community, and remember: your spiritual path is yours alone.

And if all else fails—light a candle, take a deep breath, and let their judgment roll off like water on a well-worn stone.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: you hadn't been sure what to feel after demanding Ajay bring the others. bring everyone. it'd been reckless, stupid. Wally you had figured had been fine, perhaps even Ajay too, but everyone? it had either been the dumbest thing you'd ever done or the smartest. thankfully, you'd learned enough about the others to know what topics to avoid and which to use to your advantage...

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.22

You sat in the dining room, the French doors closed for privacy. Your family was in various positions around you as they helped you study the pile of file folders your mother had exhumed from the enormous wooden chest in the basement.

The dining room itself was large yet cozy, eclectic, lived in; it was where your mother brought her clients for readings and spiritual counsel. A round table took up the middle of the room; a tea tray and plates of finger foods were placed in the center where a hokey crystal ball normally sat. Shelves along the back wall were stuffed with books from the Barnes & Noble witchcraft section, boasting titles like, A Witch's Guide to Garden Magick and, Spells & Incantations for a Better Life.

The plum-colored ceiling was decorated in constellations that Andrew had painted the week before your mother began marketing herself, and the wood floor was covered in a layer of Persian rugs thrown here and there that had absorbed the heavy musk of the incense your mother burned during sessions.

It was a beautiful room, to be sure, and you hated every inch of it. All the frivolous bits and bobs that encouraged people to believe a lie mocking you from their perches. Portraits of people who meant nothing to your family; taxidermized crows and owls and foxes. A mounted stag's head, because why not? It added to the rustic, sorcerous atmosphere.

"What about Rhonda Rosen?" Ginny inquired around the stem of her cigarette holder. She was done up in a silk kimono, purple hair peeking out from beneath a bronze turban. An homage to Old Hollywood starlets who'd aged into roles they'd rather die than assume. Her thin fingers and wrists were bedazzled with chunky costume jewelry, but her neck remained bare. Apart, of course, from the delicate silver pendant she rarely removed.

You couldn't help smiling at her. She was absolutely marvelous.

"Rhonda..." You began, trying not to peer down at the notes. "Died April 1963. Murdered by Alfons Manfredo, the guidance counselor. She was really into Beatnik Culture and was going to study Music at UC Berkeley." You wilted, looking down at the yearbook photo paperclipped to Rhonda Rosen's dossier. Rhonda stared up at you, the hint of a smile on her lips, clever eyes bright beneath layers of eyeliner and mascara. Your heart lurched.

"I used to watch her and her younger sister, Daria, when she was a child. Her father worked with ours. They lived in Cedar Bank." Ginny divulged, using her cigarette holder to point out the window as if to indicate the exact house. "Her older sister, Yetta, was a pain. Refused to babysit; too busy husband-hunting, but Rhonda was a hoot. Questioned everything." Ginny chuckled, rolling her eyes, "Pecked at me all day, asking this and that. Couldn't shut her up unless I put on a record and let her dance out all that energy." Her eyes went distant, a fond expression settling into her features. "Precocious. Would've changed the world if she'd been given the chance."

Your mother huffed, hovering over you as she rifled through the mound of documentation. "You skipped Janet Hamilton."

"Ooh, that idiot," Ginny slumped forward dramatically, an impression of being utterly disgusted by something. Your mother cleared her throat with intention, eyes narrowed in distaste. Ginny sighed and rolled her hand regally in your direction, "Alright, chicken, tell us what you know about her."

You stifled a giggle into the back of your hand, sharing a fond look with Andrew at Ginny's antics. "Okay, Janet. She died in 1960, but...I didn't see how...did I miss that?" You asked, scanning the sheet of paper you'd pulled from the dossier.

"No, sweetpea," Nanna assured, "There's no record of it that I ever found. Of course, by the time I started gathering information, a lot of time had passed." You could tell she was trying very hard to search her memory. Unfortunately, however, it seemed she kept finding only blank spaces.

"It was an accident of some sort," Ginny piped up. "Broke her neck somehow. Falling down the stairs, I think."

Nanna frowned, shaking her head at herself, "I vaguely recall some mention of it...honestly, you'd think I'd remember." The laugh that bubbled out of her was strained, tinged with disbelief. "She was my math tutor." A glance at Ginny to confirm, "I could've sworn it happened right before I started middle school."

"Don't look at me," Ginny scoffed, "Maybe you should scribble it down before you forget to again." She looked at Andrew, roping him into the joke, "You need to get your mother checked out, Drew, before she starts forgetting your birthday."

Positioning her reading glasses just above the tip of her nose, Nanna plucked the paper from your hand, adding, in beautiful cursive, a note about Janet's death. "You did forget his birthday last year..."

Ginny took a quick sip of her sherry, rushing to defend, "Oh pish, I did not. I told you, the gift was delayed." And then, as a side note, "Poor Reggie really is losing his mind," though she didn't sound worried about her old friend cum antique dealer. Rather, it was a pitying statement of fact, said in the manner most elderly people use when discussing each other's senility. She put her sifter down and whipped a taunting stare at Nanna, "You know, Babbigail, had either of you listened when I suggested you try the Sudoku, you wouldn't be losing your marbles quite so early."

"Oh, baldercrap," Nanna retaliated, "I'm just as sharp as I've always been!" She narrowed her eyes, mock-accusing, and presented to the room, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were cheating."

"Cheating?"

"I wouldn't put it past you to use spells all willy-nilly for your benefit."

Nanna winked at you when Ginny scoffed, outraged, straightening her spine and puffing out her chest, "Oh, how very dare you! My own sister!? Implying I would ever turn my back on the Circle!" She lifted the back of her bejeweled wrist to her brow, "Judas!"

You and Andrew dissolved into fits of laughter at the theatrics. Ginny and Nanna bickered often, always making a show of it for everyone's entertainment. It was one of many reasons that you were glad you were all under the same roof, even when it got crowded sometimes.

Behind you, your mother wasn't as amused by the performance, scoffing as she patted your head, reminding you to, "Focus, pumpkin, you only have two days to memorize all of this." She flashed an annoyed look between Nanna and Ginny, "If you're finished, maybe we could get back to it?"

Ginny sagged sideways against the back of the chaise longue, waving dismissively with her cigarette holder, "No need to get worked up, Alice. The girl has plenty of time to sort all this out." Still, she gestured for you to move on to the next student.

Bernadette King, died in 1968 after tragically falling off the spectator balcony at a dance in the gymnasium. Then Dawn Burton, died in 1972 by accidental electrocution. Next was Yuri Vyarheychyk, a transplanted Belarussian boy who'd succumbed to a fatal asthma attack in 1977.

"Are you guys sure I should go there?" You asked, face twisted in concern as you absorbed the seemingly endless pile of information on the table, evidence that too many awful things had transpired at Split River High before now. "It sounds kinda dangerous."

"You'll be fine," Ginny said, "You're too important. The Awen won't let anything happen to you." It sounded like something a great-aunt was obligated to say; that you were the 'most specialist of special children.' In a world where you'd witnessed something profoundly horrific take someone you'd considered more special than yourself, Ginny's statement was of little comfort.

Nanna reached across the table and petted your hand affectionately, tacking on, "You have nothing to worry about. We've all attended and we're just fine. Your sister actually really enjoyed herself."

You gave her a tight smile, "If you say so," then accepted the next dossier Andrew pulled out of the pile.

"We're getting into the '80s, now." He informed, eyes twinkling as he stared over your head at your mother. "Starting with the totally hunky football star—"

"Don't start," Your mother warned. You could feel the look on her face, something eye-twitchy and vexed.

Andrew snickered, rising to the challenge, and tapped his finger on the photo clipped to the front of the folder. It drew your attention down to a face that—your breath caught, an unusual warmth blossoming within you as you took in the young man grinning up at you from the photo. The print in the top right corner said his name was 'Walter James Clark'. He was...hot. Like center-of-the-sun hot. Soulful, brown eyes, kissable lips, hair swept back in a perfect 80s coif.

So strange, how you felt like you'd seen his face before. Heard his voice. Felt his touch. And where had those thoughts come from? You tensed in your seat, hoping no one noticed you couldn't peel your eyes away from Walter's face.

You weren't that lucky. Not in this family.

Andrew whistled, long and punctuating, forcing your blush to worsen. "I think girly's got a crush," He ruffled your hair obnoxiously, "Aurora had the same reaction when we put her through the paces. 'He's so hot, oh my god'," He mimicked in a high falsetto, "'If I could see ghosts, I'd literally ask him out, I don't care.'"

"Rory had to do this too?" You wondered, eyes never wavering from the photo in front of you.

"Of course she did, chicken. Everyone has to. Even your grandmother had to and she can't see ghosts." Ginny explained.

"But why? If Nanna and Rory can't see ghosts, what does it matter?"

Nanna smiled sweetly at you, "Understand, dear, connectedness doesn't always manifest fully at an early age like yours did. Before Aurora entered high school, her empathy was very subtle. Then, in her junior year, out of the blue, she could identify each ghost without batting an eye. If our Circle allowed it, I bet she would've had whole conversations with them without needing to see or hear them."

You knew Aurora's empathy was acute, how she could wield it like a weapon or a gift depending on her mood. You'd never tell her, but you found it pretty remarkable. Almost envied her for it. Your life would be much easier if you couldn't see the dead.

"That's why we do this, chicken. It's a contingency, just in case our powers manifest late or they mature faster than we have time to do something about it." Ginny elaborated and it made sense. Similar to Aurora and Nanna, Andrew hadn't had any indication that he would develop connectedness until much later, but now he gleaned incredible things from objects on command.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at Walter's photo the whole time, not once looking up to acknowledge those around you, until Nanna leaned over and voiced, "He was very handsome, wasn't he," obviously having been observing you, "And so respectful. His mother and I were in a book club together with some of the other moms from the school." Suddenly, her tone shifted, turning solemn, "Bea was hard on him, though. Drove him to be the best." She sighed, "I really felt for him."

You listened with half an ear, more interested in pondering what Walter had felt about the pressure his mother had supposedly put on him. Had he been equally as motivated? Or had he buckled under the weight of expectation?

A tiny sliver of your soul yearned to have the chance to ask him, ignoring for the moment the Golden Rule that your whole family lived by.

"Come on, pumpkin," Your mother's voice interrupted your thoughts, "we have a lot to go through and 2004 is going to be a doozy." She flipped open Walter's folder, thus forcefully removing his face from your line of sight, doing for you what you hadn't been able to do for yourself. You exhaled a shivery breath, swallowing thickly as you accepted the first of three typewriter-typed pages. Your mother pointed to the third line of the second paragraph, "Alright, let's start here..."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally took a deep breath and held his head up.

Rhonda looked pissed. Charley, less so, and Maddie just looked stunned. Behind all of them, Ajay appeared haggard, eye twitching, as if he'd been attacked by a million questions the entire journey from the library to the rooftop.

Slowly, carefully, Wally helped you to your feet, tucked you into his side and bit his lip. He didn't know what to say to the others, how to apologize. Remembering the bus stop and Rhonda's anger, he was ready to be pushed off the roof.

Instead, you stepped forward and declared, "I made him promise." Staring Rhonda dead in the eye, giving her no ground; your chin up and shoulders squared. "You wanna get mad, get mad at me." You shot Wally a small smile, turned back to Rhonda and added, "It's only been a day, anyway. Hardly anything worth having a fit over."

Everyone went fucking still. Including Maddie, who was only recently getting to know Rhonda better. Charley put a few inches between himself and Rhonda, Ajay pinched his brow, and Maddie just watched. Waited to see if she'd have to intervene or not.

She didn't. Because Rhonda snuffed a dry, intrigued-sounding chuckle, stuck her lollipop in her mouth and said, "No need to get your panties in a twist, kittyclaws, I was just making an observation." She visibly relaxed. Well, as much as Rhonda ever relaxed. More that her standoffish demeanor lessened by a degree.

Okay. Things weren't totally FUBAR.

That was good. Right?

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally and Ajay had successfully smuggled you into the school and up to the roof, managing to keep you from being caught. There had been one close call when Barry had treaded around a corner, flashlight up, demanding to know if anyone was there when your sneaker had squeaked against the linoleum.

You'd watched in fascination as Ajay had manipulated his ghostliness to his advantage. He'd marched right up to Barry who, as a living person, had been unconsciously driven to avoid the invisible obstacle, his brain having fed him some rationalization or excuse that had sent him on his way. Piece of cake.

The air was colder on the roof, but Wally kept you close, his warmth seeping into your skin. Something that shouldn't have been possible given how he was a ghost, yet Wally felt as solid and alive as you did. You took advantage of how impossibly present he was as you confessed what'd happened to your little brother—Aiden. Died in 2017 at the age of six. Let Wally comfort and soothe you. Lapped up his kindness and affection, and fortified yourself with it.

And then: "Wow. You weren't kidding. They really can't keep their hands off each other."

Ah, shit.

You sniffed, patted your cheeks dry, gave Wally a nod of assurance, and proceeded to get to your feet. I hope this is worth it, you thought, scanning the faces of two more ghosts you weren't supposed to talk to yet had invited to meet you in the middle of the night. Clandestine and awkward.

Rhonda Rosen was exactly how Ginny had described. Caustic, cold; all clever eyes and fuck-the-world stances as she stripped back your layers and found your weak spots without even trying. Beside her, Charley Morino. Frosted tips and Canadian tuxedo. Shier, kinder, yet cautious, his gaze burning a hole through your skull as he studied you.

You noticed Rhonda seemed to be gearing up to yell, to chew Wally out, to do something, so you immediately stepped in. Told her where to direct her anger.

You were pleasantly surprised when she didn't charge at you like a battering ram or start shouting. It made it easier to bring the focus back to why you wanted to meet everyone. Sort of. Because now you were just being stared at by Rhonda and Charley as if you were part of a circus act.

"How can he touch you?" Rhonda broke the silence, "We usually repel the living like a bad smell," and her eyes were glued to where Wally's hand returned to your hip.

"Uh, I don't know." You admitted. "I think it's because I can astral project, but that's just an assumption." You gave her a sheepish smile, bit your lip and glanced up at Wally just to remind yourself that he was there.

"You can what?" Both Charley and Ajay gawked, but Rhonda was already asking another question. Actually, demanding information might've been a better way to describe it.

First, she shot an unimpressed glance between Ajay and Charley, muttering, "Seriously, guys, we're ghosts haunting a high school. You don't think other things can be real, too?" And then she accused rather abrasively, "You said it's been a day and you guys are already running to third base?"

Wally coughed. You dropped your gaze to the ground and felt your face heat.

Stepping into the space beside Rhonda, Ajay said, "Don't blame them. It's this mYsTeRiOuS cOnNeCtIoN they have." Off-put and parental, obviously not trying to salvage anyone's dignity. "I dare you to try and separate them without it being their choice." You didn't realize that Wally also sent Ajay a scowl until Ajay rolled his eyes and told Wally, "Bro, tell me I'm wrong."

Directed to you, "So, you're not like Simon. You can see every ghost that's around?" Charley wondered.

You began to feel overwhelmed. Squirming under their attention, your eyes flicked up to their faces and then back down to your shoes as you tried to put your thoughts in order. Although you understood their curiosity, you really just wanted to get back to helping Simon and, by extension, Maddie.

Wally seemed to sense the change in you. From confident to wanting to bury your head in the sand. His hand rubbed your side and he pressed a sweet kiss into your hair, trying to convey that everything was alright, that he had your back.

That's when you noticed everyone's attention turned to something you couldn't see. There was a flicker. A shadow. There and gone. Right at the end of the line Ajay, Rhonda, and Charley stood in. Fuck...shit...how had you missed it? It had to be Maddie.

You didn't have a chance to ask because, suddenly, everyone looked startled, their gazes shooting after that invisible something, and then Wally's free hand shot out, held in midair for a moment.

"Whoa, hey, wait a second," He said, bringing you that much tighter against his body as if protecting you from an attack.

You saw that same shadow, another flicker, only this time there was an arc of energy that came with it. Close and pushing against you. You heard a voice so faint it could've been nothing. The impression of pleading, yearning, hurt, desperation sliced the air as that energy spiked against you. It felt like the sharp ends of a sea urchin's spines poking into your skin.

Wally placed his hand right on the edge of the shadow and suddenly—

You gasped, going very, very still as your mouth fell open and your eyes bulged. Your heart ached, stomach clenched, tears sprung to your eyes, and you stammered a blunt, emotional, "Sh-shit."

Everyone, including Wally, watched you in wonder, completely oblivious to the miracle that had just occurred when Wally had touched the shadow. Everyone including a perfectly solid and intact—

"Maddie?"

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally took back his hand as if burned, gaping at you as you stared at Maddie. He'd felt it. The difference you'd suggested there was between him and Maddie. She'd felt just that little bit other when he'd touched her. Thinner somehow. Set apart.

Aside from Simon being able to see her, that further proved your theory about Maddie being trapped in an In Between. Which meant that, holy shit, she really wasn't dead. And Wally had believed you, had no reason not to; but it was finally sinking in that Maddie had a chance to live again. Her body was out there somewhere, waiting for her to return to it.

As soon as he removed his hand from Maddie's shoulder, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged, "No, do it again!"

Wally had no idea why until he saw your eyes scanning the spot Maddie stood as if she wasn't there.

Tentatively, giving Maddie a soft look, he returned his hand to her shoulder. For her part, Maddie was visibly shaken, seemed like she wanted to step back, away from you and Wally, confused about what was going on.

She'd rushed forward too fast that Wally had reacted to her as if she'd been about to tackle you. He should've known Maddie wouldn't hurt you, not just because you and she were friends, but because he couldn't imagine Maddie intentionally hurting anyone. It'd been instinct, the connection overpowering logic, driving him to protect you.

Apologizing, "I'm sorry, Mads. I know you weren't gonna do anything bad," He squeezed her shoulder before checking back with you.

Sure enough, you were still as a statue. Simply stared in shock at Maddie like it was the first time you'd ever seen her. Then, in a flurry of motion, you surged forward and hugged her tight.

"Oh my God, Maddie, I can see you!" You choked, sinking into her as she hugged you back just as tight.

Maddie was shaking, you were crying, and Wally stood there awkwardly with one hand on Maddie's shoulder and the other loosely on your waist.

Ajay, Rhonda, and Charley observed the proceedings in various states of disbelief and uncertainty. Rhonda was outwardly cynical, though Wally could tell she was unnerved by the whole situation. Questions crowded her eyes; she wanted to analyze, to get answers, to understand and pass judgement.

Charley seemed sweetly confused and looked to Ajay for answers he didn't have, while Ajay's eyebrows shot up and his head tilted like a lost puppy. You'd briefly explained to Ajay that you couldn't see Maddie, so he had some idea of what was transpiring, but he obviously hadn't expected to be so...anticlimactic, Wally guessed. Similar to how Wally was feeling.

Was this it? Was this all it took for Maddie to exist in your cosmic circle? Wally's interference?

"What's happening?" Charley finally asked when no one else appeared to want to say anything, "What's wrong with Maddie?"

Wally breathed in and out, said, "She couldn't see Maddie...until I touched her." He patted your side to get your attention, "Baby, what changed?" Though he felt like he already knew. He was the bridge. A connection between you and the parts of the metaphysical world you weren't privy to. You and he shared a soul-tie.

God.

Rhonda didn't let you speak, barreled ahead with her own question, "Why couldn't she see Maddie?"

You released Maddie slowly, addressing her rather than Rhonda when you responded, "You're in an In Between."

Maddie frowned, gaze shifting between you and Wally, "An In Between?"

Instead of going into detail, you offered her your hand, smiled softly, and stated, "Maddie...you're alive."

💀___________________________

PART TWENTY-ONE - PART TWENTY-THREE

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[snackodev]

Snacko's Mines & Magicks update is now live✨

Celebrate the launch of 1.0 with a 25% discount on Steam this week!

📌 Over 200 quests to enjoy 🪴 Flexible build system & tons of furniture 🌨️ Explore the new mines utilizing spells, a drill, and your hovering Kart 🎵 ...and do it all while enjoying a beautiful soundtrack composed by Dale North and Camellia

All packed up and ready to go

Explore the island and its four distinct biomes

Customize your journey by combining different gems for different tool effects - each tool and gem has a unique combination, allowing you to tailor your upgrades to your playstyle

Easily manage your goodies and stamina by utilizing an array of tools and features, from auto-deposit to the Lunchbox for auto stamina restore

Never worry about the size of your rucksack when you're out! Craft from storage and the Overflow Storage lets you keep just the essentials on you

Explore the island and its four distinct biomes

Customize your journey by combining different gems for different tool effects - each tool and gem has a unique combination, allowing you to tailor your upgrades to your playstyle

Easily manage your goodies and stamina by utilizing an array of tools and features, from auto-deposit to the Lunchbox for auto stamina restore

Never worry about the size of your rucksack when you're out! Craft from storage and the Overflow Storage lets you keep just the essentials on you

Meet someone new

Invite shopkeepers and villagers based on personality, or work hard and build housing for everyone! With 26 characters of varying personalities (and species) to get to know, you're bound to find someone who clicks with you

Experience romance with 21 characters with no restrictions

Learn more about each character through quests, dialogue, and cutscenes

Get comfortable with these quality-of-life features

Running out of time? After a long day out, simply use the Go Home button or camp outside with a Sleeping Box

You can purchase items from shops when the shopkeeper is off duty - they trust you!

Pick between built in World Themes such as low contrast or dark mode, complete with a dark mode UI and a slider to change the strength

Build up your dream life

A flexible build mode means you get to decorate how you like

Snap to grid, free rotate, undo and redo, float items, dye objects, no building restrictions, and a search box in your catalog for over 300 items to place

Utilize Screenshot Mode and undo/redo to record your own build timelapses

Nudging objects while in Lock mode gives you finer control for decorating your surfaces with clutter... Or get creative and combine objects together

Expand your house, change the wallpaper and floors, and dye each wall a different color!

[ashes-and-oils]

The Akashic Records aren’t real.

This one might definitely get me into some trouble, but I think it’s time we be mature about this. The Akashic Records stem from the cult of Theosophical theology, which has its roots in the early 20th century among some of the most deplorable people the spiritualist community had to offer. It’s where we get the terms like “black and white” magic, it’s where we get magic spelled like “magick” for no good reason, and was home to the likes of Aleister Crowley. These people were incredibly racist, groomed children, and were a literal cult.

If that wasn’t enough of a yikes for you, the fact of the matter is, is that I have never seen cohesive information about the Records. I looked, years and years ago. Because of course I did. Everyone was talking about it back then. Some sources would say that you had to get permission from this angel, and this guardian. Some said you had to have a special key to get in. Some said you needed to enter a special state of being to gain access (whatever that meant). Many people on the internet disregarded all that and said that it was freely accessible to anyone. All that inconsistency is questionable as is, but consider this:

If the Akashic Records were real, and held all the information of the universe that had been, is, and will be, why didn’t anyone use it for more than just past life stuff or whatever folks were doing? If I had access to that kind of information, I would spend a crazy amount of time there. I would gather as much information as I could. Study hard and apply it to every inch of my life. I could see how each route of my life would play out and I would choose the best one. I would manipulate things to work out in my favor. With that kind of information, all spellwork, divination, divine relationships, etc. would become OBSOLETE. Why bother using divination if I can just look in the records for what I need? Why make petitions to the gods when I know how to make it work myself? Why would I even need witchcraft to make things work in my favor when I just know how to make it happen anyway? It would take away all meaning of life, all purpose and drive would be lost, the inherent power of uncertainty that is intrinsic in nature would be removed. The very concept of the Akashic Records goes against nature.

[k-hotchoisan]

🔮 Divination with the Demon 🔮

Behemoth demon!San x fem witch! Reader

Synopsis: outcasted by your previous coven due to your overly sharp and dangerously specific divination readings of the fall of your coven, you were exiled to being alone for the next 562 years. Sick being in solitude and missing your deck, you summon a behemoth demon to make a new one.

Word count: 6K

Genre warnings: general Smut, San is an eldritch being so he has like a demon sized dick, ritualistic things (magic talk and lingo), demonic contract with San through unprotected sex, riding, multiple orgasms, creaming & cream pies, oral sex (f receiving) cum drinking (not a lot), bulge kink, finger pricks (only once), dry humping(?), biting and bleeding, San is a really sweet behemoth—just like the one in the game!❤️

A/n: loosely based off this wonderful game—The Cosmic Wheel, Sisterhood🔮 (please go ahead and support indie creators! ❤️). I was so inspired bc the behemoth in game is such a flirt hehehehe no please I’m down bad for enough people already. 😐

Enjoy!

“So you were exiled here due to treason within the coven, and concern of spreading panic via divination readings by the supreme”, the witch arbitrator announces as she reads out from the book. “You’ve been here for 289 years already?”

“Concerned is an overstatement”, you reply through gritted teeth. “She cursed me, banished me here for the next 562 years, and burned my deck. That’s pretty fucked up.”

The arbitrator raises an eyebrow as her gaze returns to the book. “Well I suppose I could grant you visitation at least because by the records here so far, you’ve been pretty-behaved.” Your temper cools off a little—just a little. It was a step forward, albeit a fucking tiny one. “Yes. I think that would be fine, Arbitrator. Thank you.”

She nods at you. “Behave well and I’m sure she can’t implicate anything else on you. Please take care”, she says before leaving the window on her flying stick. You stare as her figure quickly disappears into the starless night sky.

You sigh in annoyance. It was ridiculous how the supreme deemed your divination readings a threat, then subsequently accused you of treason and causing unrest within the coven, just because the other sisters had started leaning onto you for your accurate readings. Was she afraid of your prophesized dissolving of the coven, or was she simply scared of being overthrown? Whatever it was, being stuck here in solitude for 562 years, and your deck burned at the stake was not on your bingo list.

You nibble on your thumb nail, thinking of what to do. 289 years had passed since then, and all you had been doing was meditate and reflect on your actions. You had an itching to get your deck back—or least have a temporary deck or something. Your eyes flicker to your grimore lying at the bottom of your bookshelf and a lightbulb goes off in your head.

If you couldn’t get your deck back, why not make a new one? However the only issue is that a contract had to be made in order to breathe magick into the deck. You’ve never tried this ritual before but desperate times called for desperate measures—you really needed to do a reading.

You circle the wooden floor with your fingers, feeling the bumpy texture—each crease and indent. Retrieving your matchbox, you pull out the deep purple matchstick from the bundle, and began lighting the dark-coloured candles formed in a circle, and finally the incense sticks that were lodged in a miniature caldron, used for holding said sticks for your rituals.

Dabbing your your index finger with a black inky substance, you draw out a summoning rune onto the wooden surface, chants leaving your lips as you do so. It was a perfect full moon that night, just what you needed. You sit at edge of the summoning circle, with your grimore open at the side, carefully reading the spell.

Taking out a small silver needle, you prick your middle finger, letting the blood pool the size of a pinprick before letting the drop of blood splatter onto the middle of the black rune, reciting your final chant.

For a moment, the room is dead silent. Then the wind picks up, howling into the dead of the night, the flames on the candles dancing to keep burning, then being quickly extinguished one by one. Your curtains flutter violently, as you notice the full moon turning into a crimson colour. You stay seated as the wind whirls around you and the grimore’s pages flipping non stop. The rune activates, along with your blood which sinks into the black ink, and something slithers up to your window.

“Come in,” you invite, your gaze never breaking from the entity. It hisses at first before turning into a more human-sized creature as it enters your room, its feet gingerly touching the wooden floor.

The candles’ flames flicker back on, you look up at the entity standing before you. He barely looked like a behemoth demon—not like the one described in the book at all. Instead, he looked pretty fucking young—he has an appearance of a younger male actually. His eyes were silts as black and red markings smudged at the ends of his eyes. Speaking of his eyes—they were a glowing red, almost enchanting. Incantation runes were littered all over his arms and limbs, all visible since he was wearing a black vest. A third eye was present right smack in the middle of where his cleavage dived into, it’s iris a deep red as well. His hair is jet black with cream streaks and slicked back, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and facial features. His lips are stretched slightly wider than a human’s, and seemingly torn black wings extended out from his back.

He tilts his head at you in curiosity. “A witch summoned me?” he asks as he inches closer to you.

You nod, still seated. “I’ve summoned you to make a blood bind with you. I need a new deck.”

“Well, you’ve definitely summoned the right behemoth, that’s for sure. What happened to the deck you’ve been using?” he prods, his jet black fingers tapping on his chin.

“It was burned by my coven’s supreme. She banished me here because she was scared that the coven would dissolve because of my divinations”, you reply.

“Quite a bitch isn’t she?” the behemoth replies. You nod. At least someone fucking agrees.

He cracks his knuckles. “Well, you’ve definitely came to the right behemoth. They call me San”, he introduces as a smile spreads over his pretty face.

You smile. “You don’t look how what I expected you to look actually.”

And that cracks San up, his sharp fangs all visible. “I get that a lot. It’s just my secondary form I prefer to take on since the first usually can’t fit through windows.”

You surprise your laughter, amused at how casual this behemoth is being. “You’re pretty casual for a behemoth actually,” you point out.

San nods. “Well, I am an eldritch nonetheless, and I’ve been here since these universes were born—I’ve watched them be born and destroyed countless of times. I don’t really feel the need to be intimidating since I’ve been around for too long. You’re the first to have summoned me since the past 3 centuries.”

You nod in interest. “Must have been pretty fucking boring out there, huh?” San only smiles, and that slightly gets you. You look away and shut the grimore before turning back to him.

“So walk me through the process, San” you request. San moves forward and he sits across you, his boney wings tapping against the window panes at how wide they were.

“Well, you know the basics, but we’ll go through it together—the elements—fire, air, earth and water are always the building foundations of any deck. You get that, right?”

You nod.

He continues, “then we go onto the elements of each card—the Arcana—which will determine how you read and interpret the cards.”

Pretty basic deck stuff, but it was great that he was taking the time to refresh your memory since it had been way too long.

“I will go through each element with you per day—you’re basically going back to magick school again. Then once the final element is sealed, that’s when I’ll bind myself to you, through another ritual”, he concludes. “Any questions?”

“What’s the other ritual? Do I need to prepare anything?” You ask. San shakes his head. “The only thing you need to prepare is your consent.”

“Yeah, sure of course.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Get some rest y/n.”

Day one: Air

Sure enough, at the same timing as the previous night, San slithers into your open window, his serpent-like tail splitting into two, long legs as he climbs into your room.

“Good evening to the lovely behemoth”, you greet. San exposes his fanged grin. “I see you’re already prepared for the first lesson.” He glances at the empty deck of cards piled up on the small wooden table. Scattered around are more candles, another stick of incense, crystals and a bowl of ink for rune casting, and finally, a small crystal sword right by the plate.

He begins. “The element air represents the ability to reflect, communicate, to be aware and to perceive. Let that flow through your veins as you charge the card.”

You gingerly placed an empty card onto the selenite plate, and San sits across you, as usual as his fingertips touch yours, where he ends up linking his fingers with yours.

“It’s time to seal the card. Tell me,” San asks, “what do you crave for the most? Power? Love? Knowledge of the universe?”

You pause to think about your answer. And you tell him once you’re ready. He nods in agreement. “You seem like the type.” You roll your eyes.

“We literally just met yesterday, San” you joke. He shrugs, “feels like I’ve known you for an eternity.”

“Lying ass,” you poke. “But you did mention that the last time you did this was, what, three centuries ago?”

San nods. “It definitely has been awhile. To be fairly honest, I had an inkling we would meet soon, just not this soon.”

“And the universe brought you to me”, you hum. “Okay. Back to the Air ritual.”

He gestures you to shut your eyes and you do, so he follows shortly after.

It doesn’t take long for the magick to activate. You feel your energy getting sucked off by San and it feels though as if your body was about to be ripped into a million pieces. San throws his head back in pleasure as a low, manic cackle rumbles through his vocal chords.

“Yes, that’s lovely. Pour in all that energy into me, master”, he sings. He soon lets go of you, and you gasp for air, beads of perspiration clinging onto your forehead and temples. Your hands had slipped out his and you clutch your chest, taking slow breaths.

“Fuck, San, is it supposed to hurt so much?” You heave, eyebrows furrowed. How in Astaroth’s name will you be able to pull through the next three elements if Air is already leaving you clutching for your fucking life? Granted, witches are immortal, they cannot die, but they can still be gravely wounded.

San turns to you and pats your back gently. “I’m sorry my master, it is part of the blood contract. If it makes you feel better, you only have to go through this once per element.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unsure if you should be concerned or relieved. San materialises a silk handkerchief and dabs the sweat off your skin, and your heart flutters slightly at the gesture. Also, since when did he start calling you ‘Master’?

“Your first air card is ready”, he reminds you. “Now you can create more air elemental cards. Be proud of yourself, my master.” He points to the glowing card on the selenite plate. You reach over and flip the card, and sure enough—what you had envisioned on the card was imprinted onto the once empty card. It glimmers a gorgeous white at its accents. You feel the light and airy feeling surging through your hands as you touch the card, and your heart is racing at how many air cards you can begin creating.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, to steady yourself, and you notice that the third eye on his chest was white now. Your breathing has stabled now and you lie onto your bed where San hums you to sleep, telling you to get some rest.

Day 2: Water

“Are you feeling better?” San asks as he hops into your room. You nod, feeling a strange surge of energy after a night’s rest. The sky was always the same—dark and starless.

“We can start with today’s element”, you say, prepared for the class.

San smiles and nods, as always, he takes a seat across you, and you can’t help but get lost in his crimson eyes.

“Water is all about flow, dealing with emotions, fluidity, spirituality. It is a passive element, often linked with healing and love. However, most witches tend to forget that the calmest elements can be the most deadly when used right.”

Undoubtedly, water was always of both opposite spectrums—extremely calm or extremely malevolent if it wanted to be. Today, you had a small chalice decorated in jewels on the body, filled with moon-charged water. You take another empty card, and begin sketching out the rune you want, with your first water card in your head, clear as day before settling it onto the plate. Once you were done, San’s fingers snake in between yours, and you’re starting to get used to this feeling already.

“Now, the Water seal. Tell me; who or what do you hold closest to your heart? You family? Your intelligence? The coven?

It takes you awhile to think of an answer but then you’re confident when it comes to you. San nods as he lets the answer sink in. “I was kind of hoping you’d stray and say my name, yknow,” he teases. You laugh and slap his palm lightly. “It very well could be. It’s kind of hard to pick though honestly. Maybe I just want to feel something again.”

San cocks an eyebrow, quite touched by your passion. “May this lift any heaviness you feel then”, he says, drawing circles into your palm. Your heart only flutters even more.

“Take a deep breath, master. The element will be sealed soon.”

Just like the previous time, the magick activates, and again, you feel a sharp pain, as if struggling against rough tides of water, your breath sucked out of you. San, humming as he absorbs your energy again, his eyes glowing a pale shade of blue this time. You exhale to get a hold of yourself as the feeling washes over as quickly as it came, clutching the edge of your table. You take deep breaths, your vision focusing on the blue glowing card on the selenite plate. You flip the card over, the serotonin boost seeing how gorgeous the water card was—metallic blue covering the borders of the card and the elements within the card at perfect places.

“I should give you a reading for fun”, you suggest, your fingertips tracing the edges of the card. San’s eyes light up at the idea. “We should do one when you’ve got all four elements. I’d love that.”

You slip the card above the Air element card, clearing out the table, preparing to get some rest as San accompanies you through the night.

Day three: Earth

“Now, Earth is known to be an element of grounding, practically, foundation and stability. It reminds you of who you are at the present moment and gives you a place to stand on”, San explains, flicking the coins on the table. “Just like the ground, it is reliable because it is strong enough to hold you up. The only thing is that it’s hard on you as you are hard on yourself.”

“Tell me; what do you tend to harbour the most? Grudges? The past? Emotions?” He asks again. You tap against your lips, wondering about the answer, and then you tell him once you were ready. He nods in acknowledgement. “Interesting answer, as always from you. You’d probably have a lot you held in, especially in the past hundreds years in solitude.”

“Meditation can only get you so far, when you remember that you were exiled for telling the truth”, you say quietly, staring at the moon, which had turned into a shade of ivory. “My sisters were everything to me.”

San knew that very well. Witches treated each other closer than what a conventional family did. A coven was supposed to protect and bond the sisters, not outcast them.

“But do you still have sisters that you want to see?”

You nod, your eyes twinkling at the thought of two precious sisters who had been there through everything. And you yearned to see them again, now even possible that the arbitrator had granted visitation rights. Maybe you’d send a falcon to them once you were done with your deck creation.

“Now, shall we begin? You’d best prepare yourself, master,” San says as he takes your hand in his. You feel your hands moulding into his automatically, nothing but comfort being offered.

Again, San begins extracting your energy and this time was no different from the previous—it stung, it hurt and a wave of nausea hits you this time. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear San’s laughter as the magick seems to tickle him if anything. And then, it was over.

You tilt your head backwards, trying to get some cool air, trying to let the nausea leave your system.

You feel a warm hand pat your back, then rubbing circles.

“You know, most witches would immediately throw up after this round. You’re holding up really well.”

“Guess I’m one of the best witches then?” You find the strength to joke a little. San laughs and replies, “one of my favourites too.”

The nausea soon goes away and colour starts returning to your cheeks. By then, you were already holding the Earth element card up against the moonlight, admiring the sand-coloured decals lined across the card, as well as the border.

Day four: Fire

San looks rather chirpy tonight, there was a bounce in his steps as he settles himself onto the lavender carpet. “Someone’s excited,” you smirk, putting one of your spell books away.

“Of course! Fire’s my favourite element”, he exclaims, playing around with your unfinished deck. You’ve had created a handful of elemental cards already, 12 of each element, while San was both in and out of your room. All there was left was the Fire element and the deck could almost be complete—you could already taste it. You already did a couple of readings as a warm up with San and you found out a couple of things through the divination readings.

One, his true purpose—other than aiding in the creation of divination decks—was to destroy other universes and guide the dead stars to the recreation of a new one.

Two, despite his chirpy demeanour, the cards revealed that there was some kind of loneliness he harbours, being detached and left to watch over the cosmos for millenniums.

Three, you sort of deduce that he was summoned also to seduce you in some sort of way—and he finds that amusing, and he doesn’t deny it.

Needless to say, San is greatly impressed by your divination skills and offhandedly mentions that he’s in love with the cosmos for bringing him to someone like you.

Soon enough, the both of you were back to business—sitting across each other, a wooden wand splayed across the table this time round.

He begins.

“Fire—the element of willpower, ambition and energy. Those who are able to wield this, wield it well, those who can’t—it takes them awhile. Fire is for inspiration, drive, passion. One of the most beautiful yet difficult elements to control. In the beginning, mankind was the first and the only mammals to be able to manipulate fire.”

“No wonder you like this element so much”, you point out as you scribble the rune onto the empty card.

“If you’re able to handle earth, fire might be a level up in intensity. Don’t push yourself if you can alright?” San reminds you, and you could spot the excitement glinting in his eyes. “Now for the seal; who would you sacrifice to the cosomos for your divination deck? Your immortality? Your coven? Or your family?”

That question weighs heavily in your mind and San gives you the time to answer as he plays with your fingers. You finally give him your answer, and he nods in understanding. “You’re willing to let that go?” You nod.

He smiles, “as long as you know it’s the right choice for you. Let’s begin.”

The ritual starts as usual—the swirl of flames from the candles, the howl of the winds. You prep yourself for the burn and it comes—albeit painfully. San’s eyes are fully engulfed in crimson red now, glowing as he feeds into your energy.

“Beautiful! Your essence is beautiful master! I’ve never felt such extraordinary energy from a witch!” He cries out as red fluid leaks down from his eyes. The runes and symbols on his limbs start glowing and his wings expand, filtering the moonlight. That is all you could remember before your mind buzzes, your ears ring and your head pounds as you black out.

Day ??

Your eyes flutter open, and something is different—you feel it. All the pain you’ve felt has faded, as if it never happened. In fact, energy was surging through you—so much energy. You slowly sit up as you look around the room. Everything looks the same as when you finished the fourth ritual. Perfectly at that moment, San emerges from the darkness and appears slightly different—his hair was slightly longer, his eyes had red smudges, which for some reason made him look even more attractive, and the third eye on his chest was a bright red.

“Hey, you’re awake”, he exclaims as he levitates over to you.

“Was it successful?” You ask. San furrows his eyebrows.

“My master, you were out cold for a couple of days, and the only thing you’re worried about is if the Fire ritual was successful? Care for yourself a little more would you?” San pouts as he pulls a cup of cold water into your arms with his magic.

You thank him softly as you take small sips.

“I was out for a few days from the ritual?” You ask again. San nods. Apparently you blacked out just right after San had finished feeding you, and he had caught you in time before you hit the floor.

“How are you feeling though? Any pain?” He asks, concerned as he brushes his fingers across your forehead. You shake your head and tell him you feel a little more different—more powerful or something. San pulls out the beautiful Fire card, reminding you of your craft. You break into a smile as you take the card off his hands and embrace him into a hug.

Now there was only one ritual left—whatever it was. San hasn’t told you yet and you were too engrossed with creating your cards that it slipped your mind.

“The last ritual,” you say, and you notice slight red tinting his cheeks and your curiosity peaks.

“The last ritual, is to bind us together”, he pauses, “through sex.”

Your jaw drops. “Holy fucking shit. Are you serious?”

San nods. “Yeah I am a behemoth in contract after all. That’s why I uh, said the only thing you needed to prepare for for the final ritual was your consent.”

It wasn’t about that. It was about you being fucked by a demon. You haven’t had physical contact with a human for years, let alone a whole ass demon.

“It might hurt compared to a mortal’s but I’ll try my best to be gentle”, he continues. But you see his confidence slowly dwindle the more you stay silent. “I need to consume your blood through biting as well in order for the pact to be bonded by blood.”

You never thought this would be how the contract would finish. Butterflies filled your stomach as you realise how attracted you were to this behemoth who, despite existing since the birth of the cosmos, was gentle and a soft, even a flirt. If anything, it was almost an honour to be one with him.

“Please, San. We can start the ritual. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to do it with,” you confess as you leave yourself vulnerable for him. That sealed your consent, and the markings on his limbs start glowing again. San held an expression of relief and affection. He reaches out to you and traps you on the bed, in between his arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy to hear that”, San confesses next, and his eyes glow a soft, dark red hue. You could see he was trying to hold back.

He leans in slowly and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He is lips are soft and there was a slight burn as you kissed him, but it only drives you to want to indulge in him even more. Only behemoth demons could taste this good. Maybe only San.

You feel his appendage hardening above you and your heart races. He wasn’t kidding—he was way bigger than any of your previous mortal partners. No way was he gonna fit in you. But at the same time, the challenge of trying to take him was exhilarating to think about.

As the kiss continues to deepen, San pulls off his vest, revealing it bare, and you realise that only his limbs were covered in symbols. He peels off your top and tosses it onto the floor as he continues to kiss down to your chin then to your neck. You exhale in pleasure as your fingers find locks of his hair. His tongue licks your neck and it drives you crazy from the slight pricks.

Your bare tits are out for him to gawk at and he dives into them, licking and squeezing them, only pooling the arousal in between your legs.

Your grip on his hair tightens as your soft moans increase in pitch.

“Does that feel good, master?” San asks as he shifts forward to give you a kiss.

You trace some of the runes on his muscled arm, recognising a few of it. “You’ll look even prettier when my rune is engraved onto you, San”, you flirt, and you feel his cock harden even more, pressing against your cunt. “Of course, only for you, master,” he hums as he rubs you against him, and your mind starts getting lost in the pleasure. He peppers kisses down from your nipples, to your abdomen, then your pelvis and finally to your pulsating pussy.

He spreads your legs, glancing up at you before licking your clitoris, the small barbed edges of his tongue causing your hips to jerk upwards. He dives in deeper, wanting to turn you into a mess.

San slowly plunges two fingers into your wet cunt, swallowing hard at how tight your pussy was, imagining how his cock would definitely fucking stretch you out perfectly. He glances up again, looking at you for a reaction before continuing to pump his fingers. Your moans fill the room as he finger fucks you in bliss, hitting the perfect spot. He adds another and your hips lift from the pleasure. It takes a while for you to adjust, and he pulls out his fingers, soaked in your essence. He gives his fingers a good suck.

“Witches tend to have good tasting essences, and yours just happens to taste the best.” Red creeps across your cheeks.

He removes his pants and underwear, revealing a girthy cock, red and angry, spilling with precum. You had to touch the sides of your lips to make sure you weren’t drooling too much. Fuck, how are you gonna take that in you?

“You’re gonna be fine”, San assures. “Tell me if it’s too much for you okay?”

You nod and San presses his tip at your entrance, and pushes in. Your eyes roll back as he pushes another inch in. Fuck, even the heavens could never compete with this feeling of pleasure. San pauses for second and your eyes flicker to his face, which is contorted in pleasure. He seemed like he was about to explode—and he wasn’t even fully in you yet.

“Y/n, you’re so tight. Gods, you’re squeezing me so good”, he pants, his grip tightening against the sheets beside you.

You decide to be a tease, and you shift your cunt deeper into your cock, and San fucking loses it. His eyes were flickering from crimson red to a lighter shade of red. “My master,” he pants in between. “If you’re gonna do it like that, the heavens won’t know what I’d do if I lost control.”

And that provokes you to tease him even more as you push yourself deeper, at the same time bringing your pleasure to almost a fever pitch. San groans as he pushes the rest of him into you.

“Fuck, San, you feel so amazing. If I knew you’d feel this good, I would have summoned you way earlier”, you cry out as he barely pulls out fully before rutting back into you.

San doesn’t forget to pamper you with kisses. It stings, definitely, but the pleasure is definitely overriding the pain. In fact, the pain was probably egging the pleasure even more.

His fingers trace the bulge at where his cock lies in you. “We fit so well, Master. Don’t you think so?”

You were starting to feel to fucked out to form any rational thought, but you nod, staring at him through hooded lids. He fucks into you a couple more times before you stop him. San’s face switches to an expression of concern immediately.

“I want to ride you. I want to feel your cock fully in me, San”, you barely say, rubbing his face gently with your thumb. He sighs in relief as he pulls out of you, causing you to cry in pleasure again, a string of precum connecting his cock to your pussy.

He takes your hand and guides you to his lap as the both of you get comfortable on his lap.

You adjust yourself to sit on his cock and you start grinding against him, the mix of his and your precum reducing the friction and enhancing the pleasure. You made sure you move forwards to reach the tip of his cock and grind backwards. San throws his head back, crying from pleasure as more precum leaks from his sensitive tip. Grinding up on his cock was making you even more soaking wet, sparking even more pleasure as your clit rubs against his wet cock. You continue to swerve your hips on his cock, loving the slight friction that tingles your core. It builds up from the previous time he ate you out, and when he fucked you in missionary.

“How does that feel, Master?” San asks, half lidded. He was starting to get lost in the pleasure every time you grind up to his tip.

“It feels amazing. I think I’m gonna cum-“ you fight to finish the sentence as you speed up, feeling your orgasm approaching sooner than you expected. You cry out in bliss, your orgasm flooding you as your pussy pulses against San’s twitching cock. San is doing everything in his power not to just lift you and fuck you like this, seeing how soaked you were in pleasure with him.

You feel his hands trail up to your ass as he lifts you up gently, angling his cock at your entrance, and slowly lets you go. Your hands press hard against his naked chest as tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes, while drool starts pooling at the corners of your lips as you sink onto his cock.

“You can take me, Master. I know you can”, he whispers into your ears. You sink in deeper to his length and your fingers dig into San’s broad shoulders. His hands snake to your thighs and he cheekily pushes you down and you scream from the fullness of his cock.

“There you go. There’s my good Master. I love how your pussy feels around my cock”, San encourages. He lifts your ass and drops you back into his cock. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

You nod. “So good it’s almost sinful”, you mange out. San snickers. “Nothing too sinful if a behemoth is fucking you so well.”

You lean in for a kiss, and this surprises San but he immediately reciprocates, deepening the kiss quickly.

Soon enough, you are just mindlessly bouncing in his cock, every thrust sending you closer to the edge. San struggles to keep it together as well, as you feel him rutting his hips up.

“Master, I’m gonna cum”, San says, with an expression of desperation and desire.

“Go ahead. You’ve been doing so well”, you reply as you comb his hair back. He leans in, lips attached to your neck as he continues to fuck into you desperately. He bares his fangs and bites into you as his cock spurts into your cunt, filling you up to the brim. Blood pools at the base of your neck, and you cry from the simultaneous pain and pleasure, your second orgasm hitting you right at that point as you cream all over San’s cock.

San licks up the blood on your neck, and the skin heals almost as quickly as it broke just mere seconds ago, and he’s still fucking cumming in your pussy, his lower abdomen twitching.

He removes his lips from your neck and blood stains pool at the corner of his lips. You lift yourself off his cock, his cum just dripping out of your pussy. San holds you gently as he uses his free hand to collect the mixture of fluids on his fingers. He pushes his cum-covered fingers to you and you take it eagerly, savouring the taste albeit it being salty. He takes his turn to lick his hands.

“The contract has been sealed, master”, San confirms, and his eyes glow a bright red.

“That’s lovely. I wouldn’t ask for anyone else, San”, you smile as you plant a kiss on his lips, which takes him by surprise, but he seems nothing less of satisfied.

As the planet begins to shift from the blood pact being created, it shakes the universe. You don’t know what’s about to happen, nor do you care. A burst of energy enters you as you levitate into the air, feeling the energy of the cosmos, as well as elements of the deck. Your cards shuffle, and float around you, and you see all of your creations in its glory. Your own divination deck, bonded to you by blood.

You take a deep breath in, as you settle back onto the bed, your cards shuffling back into its deck, onto the selenite plate. Something catches your attention, and you walk over to the full length mirror leaning against the wall. Something is glowing. You gasp, looking at the behemoth’s rune engraved into your skin, a beautiful crimson red as the glow fades. San, right behind you, tracing over your rune fondly. You look up to him and you notice he has the same rune engraved into this skin—and the only rune around his chest.

“Now we’re official bonded. You did so well, my master,” he compliments, stroking your hair gently, understanding how taxing the rituals must have been, still admiring the shared runes you both had on your bodies. “I will make you happy, I promise.” Your heart skips at beat at his words.

“San”, you call out, even though he’s standing right by you. He hums in attention, his eyes now on you.

“Do you think we could do this more often? Like the fucking?”

San is stunned for a moment as he processes the question. No one had asked him that before. Usually the binding rituals were solely to bind the energies of the witch and behemoth, and it is never done again. He’s confused but he agrees, seemingly happy that you enjoyed the ritual with him.

And that’s what you drown yourself in—doing divination readings for others and San as well, and taking his cock whenever you felt like it. It was too good to pass on. Not to mention he was so good at aftercare—making sure you were alright after every session. Undoubtedly, San, himself, was really starting to enjoy having sex with you as well.

You couldn’t think of wanting anything else.

[dilly-dahlia]

I am absolutely loving all the lore for your rewrite so far, I am absolutely eating this up! But I just had to ask:

What about Dante?

You've done analysis on how you are rewriting Laurance and Garroth, that's 2/3 of the main guards. But I haven't seen anything about Dante (or most other characters for that matter but I'm speaking PD guards here (also I have a current Dante hyperfixation so the boyo is corrupting my brain))

If you don't have anything right now then that's fine, I was just curious about our beloved blue haired guard

listen. first of all shhh about the fact that i haven’t analyzed/rewritten a lot of characters because let me tell you. originally i had a hierarchy of the order i was gonna do these characters in and it looked something like this

and then it started getting confusing when I got to Gene and Sasha so I did in fact give up with the hierarchy and started freeballing. but that’s irrelevant ANYWAYS-

DANTE ACCARDI!! that’s the last name I gave them. i don’t have a lot for him yet tbh :( but here’s what I have so far!!

so he’s like, seven years younger than Gene (his mom had Gene young, and soon after having Gene his father died in this timeline so Dante is only Gene’s half-brother). and when Dante was younger (I mean like 4/5 young) he and Gene were super duper close. like Gene loved that kid with all his heart and actually ended up wanting to become a guard to protect the little guy

and another reason Gene wanted to protect Dante initially is because most of the population in Borobos is a magicks user or witch or warlock or mage or something divine. everyone has some form of something and a very very small percentage don’t. Dante is part of that small percentage, and because of that he got bullied A LOT. Gene would help by erasing/changing Dante’s memory of it, but obviously when he went to the guard academy he couldn’t do that

not to say that Dante’s parents were neglectful but uh… they did focus a little more on Gene because not only did he actually possess magic but he was a brilliant fighter (like he was head guard of Borobos after graduating the academy in no time). I feel like there’s a specific phrase or word for kids in Dante’s position but the only thing coming to mind is glass child but I know that’s not it anyways

so because Dante was sort of like unintentionally pushed to the side and bullied, he spent a lot of time by himself once Gene had gone off to the guard academy (in my rewrite children typically go just before they turn 13 and stay until they graduate at 18/19. they will come home maybe once a year. there are a few cases in which teenagers (14/15) are accepted, and their graduation is based on how they do) and to sort of occupy his time and distract from the loneliness, Dante poured his entire self into school and reading and became very book smart in an attempt to garner his parents attention

(side note but his parents are the married couple that should have been divorced.)

at some point Dante started learning a couple tricks to stun anyone that tried to jump him, so he was always covered in bruises. and when Gene came back, Dante had that extra layer of protection again. Dante was like 10 when his brother came back

I’ve kept the backstory regarding their falling out mostly the same from what I remember (I haven’t reached that part in my rewatch quite yet), but I did change a couple things

so let’s talk about Gene for a second. Gene is very headstrong and passionate and very one track mind. like once he gets an idea in his head, he does whatever it takes to get what he wants. (he’s also like, misogynistic but that has nothing to do with the incident with girl he fell in love with, noooo (sarcastic)) so like at first it was protecting his little brother, and then he put his heart and soul into the guard academy and becoming head guard of Borobos, which happened when he was about to turn 20 (he IS the youngest head guard in recorded history). so when he came back, Gene put his entire heart and soul into dedicating himself to his village, and Dante looked up to that, and decided he wanted to become a guard as well

now, remember when I said Gene does whatever it takes to get what he wants? so basically when he falls in love with the lord’s daughter, he starts telling Dante all about it. like she could literally just pass by them in the plaza and Gene goes

“That’s my future wife. Perfect as always. Irene, she’ll be the perfect mother and wife, don’t you think, Dante?”

and like Dante’s always been weirded out by these comments because like… it’s weird to him, especially with the possessive tone Gene takes on when talking about her. think like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast

and like two years go by, Dante is 12 and about to enroll into the guard academy, and then it all goes to shit

so I haven’t really touched the stuff where Gene went to change the girl’s memory and i don’t really plan to? because I kind of want Dante to like idolize his brother and then Gene goes and does that and Dante’s world comes like crashing down

but anyways Gene dies :) Dante is devastated for a little bit because Gene was actually like, one of the only people that ever really paid attention to him so now Dante feels like he’s ALONE alone, but it’s okay. because Dante’s going to go to the guard academy soon and then he’ll be a fantastic guard like his brother right?

WRONG! basically what happens is Gene comes back. same shit happens. Gene erases and changes everyone’s memory of Dante, and Dante is forced to run off to his uncle. he spends longer in the woods than he intended because he forgot the way there, and he finds himself in a different village where he catches a ride in a caravan to his uncle’s village (when he’s older, Dante realizes how lucky he was to have come across good people)

and remember how he was about to go to the guard academy? yeah, he doesn’t end up going. he’s so distraught over everything he goes into a dark pit of depression for a while, and it isn’t until he has a nightmare about Gene that he decides to enroll again

Dante is a very rare case for the guard academy. he started attending when he was almost sixteen years old and graduated on the Jury List only three years later just before he turned nineteen. initially, the academy was very hesitant to accept him because he was older than most new students, but also because he had no record of a life before he was thirteen. so they wondered if this kid just appeared out of thin air? what’s his deal?

but they decided to take him in. Dante already knew a couple combat techniques because Gene had taught him, and that definitely helped boost him higher in the program. not only that, but Dante also just had incredible intelligence for the written exams and passed nearly all of them with a perfect score. he was a quick learner and able to easily and quickly adapt to the changes around him, and soon enough Dante was the quickest graduate the academy had ever seen

(another side note, but Dante always had the ability to be stronger than Laurance and Garroth before the 15 year skip, the only thing holding him back was inexperience. when he shows up in my rewrite, Dante is 20 whereas Garroth is almost 29 and Laurance is 28, so they both have nearly a decade of experience over him. not to mention they both actually followed the normal schedule for guard academy graduates)

that’s all I have for his backstory right now. i’m also still coming up with his hairstyles throughout the series (hair symbolism is a very big part of my rewrite in letting the reader know where the characters are at mentally) but I do have a couple just stray headcanons and things i’m changing so here they are:

Dante develops a fear of passing time after Aphmau and them disappear into the Irene dimension. he’s scared that he’ll die before knowing what happened to Aphmau, who he came to consider a sister, and everyone else that went with her. he stayed in Phoenix Drop all those years but it was a very big debate with himself about whether or not he should leave just so he can let go. and after Aphmau comes back, Dante still has a fear of time and hates being late to anything—he’s always early

he and Nicole actually did get married. the two made a short trip to Meteli and got married under Cadenza’s ministry (many lords, head guards, and second in commands hold the power to officiate marriage, especially if the village is small). they were only married for a short time, though, before Nicole received notice of her father’s death. it was after she found out that she had to go back to Scaleswind to inherit the city, but Dante just couldn’t go. the two never officially divorced, but they don’t consider themselves to be married after Nicole leaves

okay thats fr all i got now i hope you enjoy this and eat it up as much as you did my analyses of Garroth and Laurance 🫡

and if y’all want more on specific characters just drop an ask i will gladly answer because it forces me to think about it

[breakfastteatime]

Cal wakes up from a nap. Oops, fell asleep on the couch again. He's so dozy, so comfy, maybe he'll drift off again and...

Wait.

Something feels different about his head. He stirs, brushing the blanket pulled up to his chin.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep." It's Merrin. She must be sitting next to his head. "I am not finished yet."

Her fingers are in his hair, brushing through and separating small handfuls into trios. The feeling is familiar, a distant memory from so long ago. He feels himself relaxing. "Why're you braiding my hair?" he asks, although it sounds more like "whyybraidnmuhheyh?"

Somehow, Merrin interprets his mushy words. "It is shiny. And pretty."

"S'not."

"Oh, yes, it is." There's a gentle tug as she deftly braids. "Fiery. Like my magicks."

"S'green."

"Hush, Cal. Let me finish."

Cal zones out, drifting into memories of Master Tapal patiently plaiting his braid, tying it off with the finest of thread. It never seemed possible for someone with such huge hands, and yet Master Tapal managed it every time. Sometimes he would tug on it to get Cal's attention. Other times, if he couldn't grab the hood of Cal's robes fast enough, he'd grab Cal's braid instead, and that never failed to bring Cal to a sudden and complete halt - usually before he wandered into traffic in the Brave's landing bay. He smiles at the memories, at the warmth, the tradition, the simplicity.

Merrin probably isn't going in for simplicity. Maybe he'll look like Cere did in that echo he picked up from Trilla's lightsaber. She looked so awesome with her hair like that. Could he grow his hair out that long? His pictures it - autumn reds, oranges and golds trailing all the way down his back, tied in intricate braids...

...who is he kidding? He'd sling it back in a ponytail and be done with it.

He giggles to himself.

"You are strange, Cal," Merrin tells him.

She has no idea.

A few minutes later, Merrin's fingers pull away. "Done. You may wake up. BD? You can come and look now."

Familiar feet tippy-tappy their way over. BD gives a long, slow beep of awe, and then the light of his scanner shines through Cal's eyelids.

Pretty, BD declares.

"I am not pretty," Cal grumbles.

"You are. You are a pretty princess," Merrin says. "BD, quick, make a recording."

"Excuse you, I'm no princess, I am a queen," Cal corrects.

"Forgive us, Your Majesty," Merrin says.

Curiosity wins and he opens his eyes, sits, frees his hands from the blanket, and explores his head. What he finds is a series of small, tight braids encircling his head - much like a crown. He leans forward and catches a glimpse of his reflection on the table. "Huh."

"You like it?" Merrin asks. "Cere explained to me how to do it, but it is easier to practice on somebody else."

"I do like it," Cal says. "It's really practical. Keeps it out of my eyes, too."

The hatch opens. Cere and Greez board the ship, both carrying several grocery bags. Cere clocks Cal first, nodding in approval. Greez does a double-take, puts down his bags, and moves in for a closer inspection.

"Well?" Cal asks, moving his head to really show it off.

"I love it!" Greez gushes. "I mean I really love it. I want it. I want that style right now."

"When you have more hair, I will teach you how," Merrin says.

He grins. "It's a deal. You heard it here, folks, Greezy is officially growing his hair out."

[jadoue1999]

Agatha all along Week

Day 1: Jealousy

@agathaallalongweek

Words: 1795

Summary:

Rio had not paid attention to the boy in the closet when she had confronted Agatha.

But now that she's on a Road that should not exist, where said boy seems to be pulling all the string unknowingly, she decides to try to understand who he is; why he feels so wrong.

And most importantly, why he's attempting to crave himself a place in Agatha's heart.

Or: Rio's POV of the Road up until the end of Agatha's trial.

Rio hadn’t paid much attention to the boy in the closet when she had broken in to find Agatha. 

He was a witch, sure, he’d even broken the spell she had been trying to chip at for years, but she had not spared him much more than an intrigued glance. But then she had been summoned to The Witches’ Road to escort the soul of an old lady who had died before her time. Once her job was done, she was then pulled onto said Road. The spell was bogus, and yet somehow, it had worked.

How exactly did she get pulled into Agatha’s most famous con?

The Road didn’t exist, never had, and yet, here it was, in all its mysterious glory. And Agatha was right there along with her unknowingly doomed coven. She flirted with her, bloomed a flower and delighted in the woman’s frustration. 

She did not know how any of this was possible, however—

“Agatha, wait!”

The boy from before.

There was something about him that was… wrong somehow, but she couldn’t see what. Still, Rio decided to play along and see where this Road would lead. And what it led to did not disappoint. Glamorous costumes and sets, all theatrical and yet real all the same. 

“I mean… we’re an album cover waiting to happen,” said the boy just as the Road vibrated with his words.

That was when she realized.

It was all him.

Who was this boy who was brimming with magick that hadn’t even manifested itself yet? She could feel it, bubbling under the surface, just enough to manifest this pocket dimension and yet not enough to break through whatever was keeping it locked. She wondered if she could guide this boy into giving her more bodies, like he had gifted her the old lady.

“What happens next?” She asked, giving him a side glance subtle enough that no one picked up on it.

Later, in the soundbooth, she asked Agatha about him and noticed her immediate change of subject. Interesting. Still, she was more than happy to focus on her estranged wife and reminisce about better times. But then the record spun backward, and everything started. The protection witch broke down, talking about a family curse but that was not what Rio was focused on.

It was Agatha putting a protective hand in front of the teen. 

There seemed to be a sort of… fondness between the two, like the bond a mother and child shared. Except Teen was not her child. And yet he seemed more than content to assume this role, constantly turning to Agatha for advice and reassurance. 

Rio sent him flying into the glass to test her wife. 

It angered her to see how quickly she came to his aid, that streak of jealousy stirring at the sight of Agatha fretting over a child that wasn’t hers. As the boy had suggested in the beginning, they had to play another version of the Witches’ Road. It was a challenge, but Rio mostly focused on the feeling of the boy slowly bleeding out. It seemed he was a self sacrificing fool.

Good.

Fools did not live long.

She watched him collapse, stayed behind as they exited the trial to find a conveniently placed flat rock where the teen was laid on. She could feel his life quickly draining and she observed him eagerly. 

But then Agatha started begging.

This boy with no name, who had somehow wormed her way into her heart, did she think he was Nicky? Rio remembered the way Agatha had begged her to spare their son, so similar to how she was pleading with her now. She was not going to stop herself from claiming him, but she wouldn’t expedite his death either. 

Unfortunately, the boy survived.

Agatha insisted on guarding him as he rested and healed; however, she knew she had to warn her and make sure she did not lose herself to her delusion.

“That boy isn’t yours.”

Agatha’s disappointment and heartbreak were evident, but she knew it was for the better. Even as her wife walked away, she did not regret her actions. She would not let this impostor of a boy take Nicky’s place.

At some point in the night, the teen joined them, and she did not miss that his improvised blanket was none other than Agatha’s coat. She kept an eye on him. He woke by himself, barely minutes before the Salem Seven joined the Road. Rio knew the danger had only happened now because the boy was awake to manipulate his Road. They conversed about Agatha’s past, a flawed and cruel version but there was no time to argue, they had to run. The boy decided that brooms were the best escape route.

She did not mind, this was a thrilling escape.

As they flew high in the sky, she could feel Agatha’s eyes on her and she drank in the feeling of being admired.

“Why haven’t we been doing this all along?”

Only seconds after, they were falling.

“It’s the Road! It’s pulling us down!”

Rio enjoyed the fall, the others did not.

Agatha’s trial involved ghosts, and a Ouija board. This was a ridiculous idea of spiritualism pulled from the overactive imagination of a teenager with too much power. She enjoyed the chaos, and the banter, she laughed when the board mentioned her, or well Death. She delighted in the boy’s fear of breaking a rule. When everyone turned on Agatha, Rio decided to join along, this was close enough to their flirting. Teen did not join in, trying his best to defend the spirit witch. How ironic, considering he was the cause of all this.

“We were clicking, there was unity!”

“Familiars don’t get a vote.”

Then, something shifted after that. 

The boy was angry, and the trial truly began. Agatha disappeared, the lights went out, and a heavy feeling settled into her guts. Still, she found amusement in the way a possessed Agatha contorted herself towards the teen, seemingly about to attack him. Agatha’s attention was then turned to the potion’s witch, and she started choking her. It went on long enough that Rio briefly wondered if she would be offered another body. 

But then the lights turned on, and her wife was gone.

“Where is she?! Agatha!”

If the boy had done anything to her, she would gut him, regardless of whether it would hurt his precious Road. 

Instead, what happened was much worse.  The boy summoned a ghost, and not any ghost, Evanora Harkness. Agatha’s mother, who opted to kill her without pause the moment her own daughter showed potential that she did not understand. Rio had been more than happy to collect the woman’s soul. Yet, here she was, against all the rules of nature, all because the boy thought that Agatha needed to face her past. She would claim him right here had he not been so obviously frightened and had there not been so many witnesses. 

Rio watched instead as the coven attempted to reason with the ghost, not knowing how impossibly cruel of a woman Evanora Harkness was. 

“You were born evil. I should have killed you the moment you left my body.”

It should not have hurt as much as it did. Agatha had, after all, told her all about her mother’s abuse, verbal and physical, over the years. Hearing it right out of the woman’s mouth somehow made it all too real. Then the coven seemed to finally understand what had shaped Agatha, why she was the way she was.

A second too late.

Alice, brave Alice, who had her very own reasons to relate to Agatha’s motherly troubles, was all too quick to jump to the witch’s defence once Evanora possessed her daughter again. Rio could count on the palm of her hand the few deaths she regretted witnessing, and Alice, being drained of her magick as the rest of the coven was frozen in terror, certainly was one of them. 

Her regrets had never changed the outcome.

There would be no saving the witch, Agatha had always been greedy, had never been able to help the way she took and took and took without mercy. She had been starved of powers for 3 years, there would be no way to stop—

“Nicholas Scratch!”

Rio had not noticed the teenager sneaking away to the Ouija board as the chaos unfolded. She hadn’t noticed the way his magick had bent more rules in an attempt to change the inevitable.

“Mama! Stop!”

The voice made her blood run cold.

This was not possible, Nicky was safely home, waiting for Agatha to join them eventually, he could not be here!

And yet he was, perhaps not in the same way Evanora was, but his soul had been summoned here just the same. The heartbreak in Agatha’s face as her real son spoke while the boy turned to the now deceased protection witch felt all too familiar to that day when Nicky had been born. She wished to help her wife, to comfort her and make her understand that this boy was never on her side, but then—

“Don’t touch her! She was protecting you, but you don’t deserve it.”

Words.

Cutting, cruel words spoken out of anger in grief that shifted the blame to the one person who had no way of controlling herself.

Silent rage boiled in her veins as she watched Agatha leave, her heart bleeding from hearing her real son’s voice for the first time in centuries. Rio wanted nothing more than to sink her knife into the child that unknowingly held all the cards, but her life had been so conveniently turned into a harmless hairbrush.

Instead, she kept to the shadows, itching to do something but being forbidden to as she waited for the coven to file out and let her do her job. It let her wonder on who he was and how powerful this boy might be. His magick was still buried, sealed tightly under a sigil but it neared the surface now, like a pressure cooker being stuffed too full. 

His magick was restrained and yet he had bent rules to summon ghosts. To summon Nicky because he thought he could fix Agatha.

How dare he?

This boy who acted so innocent, who didn’t even seem to realize that he was the one causing all this. The boy who so easily took away every armour Agatha had put in place over the years, only to spit at her attempts to fix her mistakes. This boy who seemed to want to fill the place Nicky once occupied. 

He was no boy, he was a place stealer, an abomination.

She would have his soul for it.

[seastarblue]

Training

Trying my hand at whump bless ft Kaiden and Sir Santhuff

and now the TWs: exhaustion whump, sleep deprivation, paranoia, poison (delivered via arrow), chasing? whump idk man she’s getting chased, ankle injury, suicidal ideation/thoughts, whumper trying to make whumpee “perfect”, training whump, fantasy whump, mentions of setting a bone back into place, beating, hair pulling, using whumpee as a punching bag, uh yea 👍

———

The knight collapsed onto the damp earth, tremors causing her whole form to quiver. Her runeswords—a pair of them, specially designed for her—slipped from her grasp. She tasted metal; from what, she did not know. Her quick, frantic breaths mixed with the crisp night air. A creek babbled nearby, mingling with her buzzing thoughts. It was nearly pitch black, and the dark spots now cluttering the edge of her vision didn’t help in any way.

‘That can’t be good,’ she thought, her mind feeling sluggish and slow.

That was even worse. She needed to stay alert, no matter the exhaustion deadening her senses, no matter the chill that seeped into her bones from the wet night, no matter how much she wanted to lay down and sleep right there in the mud.

He was going to find her, sprawled out on the floor, panting, pathetic, and she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him see her like this. Not after he had gotten so close to catching her just now: she remembered the sting in her leg from the arrow he’d shot at her.

‘Get up,’ she told herself. ‘Get up and prove yourself. Prove him wrong. Make him proud.’

Staggering to her feet, she gripped a nearby  fallen tree to heave herself up. She wavered in place, dizzy, then steadily moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, making her way to the creek. Water would assist the wound, her sluggishness, and provide her a good way of making it back to the starting point—the goal of this gruesome training session. She needed to make it back before Santhuff ensnared her in one of his many,  many traps. He’d almost gotten her twice on the first day, and the number kept increasing as fatigue and hunger set in. She couldn’t hunt for food; he was hunting her. She couldn’t rest for longer than a few hours before his arrows whizzed past her head and into the bark behind her. She even tried to sleep nestled in a tree, but the lack of suitable escape routes made her already frayed nerves go haywire.

He might actually kill her at this point.

‘Though,’ she realized with chagrin, ‘that would just prove him right, wouldn’t it?’

She couldn’t have that. Santhuff had already been reluctant on letting her join the Azari in the first place. She would never had guessed it, given his previous enthusiasm on the night of the Ball, unless she hadn’t been eavesdropping on him while recording an entry for his diary.

So, pride and ego giving her strength, she started cleaning the possible poison out of her leg wound, and replenished her thirst with the river water. She looked up into the sky above, the twinkling stars winking at her, as if to say, ‘You can do it, just a little further, see, past the little berry bush, then you’re free.’

The knight got up again, feeling a little better at least, and started moving towards the goal point, moving quietly to avoid snapping twigs and the like.

Maybe she’d actually make it. Maybe she could prove Santhuff wrong. Maybe the self-deprecating part of her would see that she could do it, she could be just as good as the other Azari, then it would quiet itself forever. All she needed to do was make it to the goal.

She told herself that again and again, until the small yellow flag, magicked to glow gently for visibility, came into view, just a few dozen paces ahead. There wasn’t a need for the glow now—the sun had started rising, bathing the forest in gentle pinks and purples.

Lowering her guard—a bad idea, in theory, but she didn’t care—the knight stumbled towards the flag. The thought of a warm bed, a nice meal, and most of all, the boost of confidence, almost made her sob with relief.

She’d won! Against the First Justice! No one had ever bested him before—much less a new recruit—and here she was, outlasting him at his own game. Not outwitting—she was too frazzled for that—but she decided outlasting should be good enough tonight.

Just as the thought passed, an arrow flew by, nicking her face. A trickle of gold blood followed, and then the knight-turned-target was sprinting in another direction, away from the flag, her saving grace.

She’d been noticed. Damn it. She should have waited till she was certain Santhuff had moved on, till the wound on her leg had healed completely. Now she ran, branches whipping at her face, snagging her muddy clothes, and puddles splashing as her boots landed on them. Regret trailed near behind her, but the First Justice was nearer yet.

Despite her greatest efforts, the target’s injured leg caught onto a root, and she fell on hard earth. Her ankle twinged, and she was fairly certain it had twisted, if not worse. She’d have to fix that somehow before her curse healed it wrong.

“…you’ve lost.” the First Justice said, striding over to his target. He returned his bow to his back, the quiver still half full of arrows, some of which she knew were tipped with narcotics. “You know what that means, Kaiden.” He sounded dissatisfied, and that drained Kaiden of any pride she had.

She turned to get a better look at him. That was all she could do, after all, the fatigue—or perhaps the poison—had gotten to her. Once she was prone, she couldn’t find the strength to right herself and run again.

His eyes, normally blue, were stark yellow against the dark night, and Kaiden knew: he wasn’t simply displeased. He was furious. Dread filled her as he continued speaking.

“I am greatly disappointed. You have spent three days in pursuit of the flag, and what do you have to show for it? Nothing. Nothing but a muddy face and shame.”

He was now right next to her, looking down as if she was nothing.

‘I might as well be,’ she thought. Kaiden stared at his shoe, not wanting to make eye contact or even look upwards. She stayed like that for a while, panic slowly setting in.

Then, a rough hand pulled her hair, forcing her to look Santhuff in the eye. “Well?” he spat, teeth bared in a snarl. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Kaiden simply stared. She could have died if his aim was just a little off earlier, and Lloyd Santhuff never missed. He could have killed her just like that, left her body out to rot with the wolves and vermin, truly killed her by cutting her head off—but he didn’t. She needed to keep it that way. If she said anything, it could—would—get worse.

The forest was silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the crickets, the swooshing of the branches, and Kaiden’s wildly beating heart.

Then he let her hair go and she crumpled to the ground in relief.

Santhuff turned to leave, and Kaiden made to follow—as best she could—but he stopped her with a swift kick to the ankle. The twisted one. She bit her tongue, drawing more gold blood, and braced herself for more blows.

One on her back, another at her gut, two more on her other leg, and a final one to the gut. Kaiden tried her best to stay silent, but she let out sob after sob.

A kick. Then another sob. Then another kick, and another, and another.

Then, finally, he stopped the assault, and stepped away.

“Come to the clearing a league north,” he said, voice devoid of any of the rage from mere moments ago. “In 3 hours. Don’t be late.”

And then he was gone, leaving the knight with the twinkling stars above. They didn’t seem so helpful now. In fact, they seemed to call to her now, mockingly:

‘Come join us, foolish girl, you will never succeed. The only certainty you have is death, so for once, do the useful thing and join us!’

~~~

It took Kaiden a couple of hours to make it to the rendezvous point. She was worried that she was late, but if Santhuff’s silence was anything to go by, she wasn’t. ‘Thank the stars,’ she sighed with relief.

Back to Vespar they went, a teacher and his student, a hunter and his quarry, the First Justice and the rookie Azari he’d sworn to mold to perfection. No matter what.

———

and then they lived happily ever after n Lloyd got yeeted off a cliff <3

finally trying my hand at whump lemme know what yall thinkkkkk plzzzz

I had fun!!!! this was fun :3

nyeh heh heh heh @bamber344 @aalinaaaaaa @abiteofhoney @cc-writes-stuff

[scholarlycoffee]

WIP INTRO: NEON VIOLET

The light-leaks and scratches on the old film flicker over her face, masking her reflective white eyes. The video kicks back and loops. “My name is Nettie Schultz and I have died three times,” she repeats. 

Blurb: On the island of Tombedel, no one dies. At least, no one stays dead.

After separating from his wife of over twenty years, London-based private investigator Abe Tannen visits the exclusive medieval island of Tombedel during their Saint Martin’s Day celebrations, but his much-needed vacation takes an unexpected turn when a man is murdered in his hotel: the first person to actually die on the island in over 1,000 years.

With the local law enforcement unprepared to handle a real murder, the investigation falls to Abe, who enlists the help of an eclectic group of ghosts.

When the investigation leads them to begin uncovering the island’s long-buried secrets, Abe and his team find themselves in far more danger than they could have anticipated. After all, there are far worse fates than death.

Setting: Tombedel, a mysterious medieval island off the coast of England. November of 2025, but also 1983 and 1934 and 802 AD and 509 AD.

Genre: Adult, sci-fi mystery

Series: 1 of 2

POV: 3rd person present tense, multi-pov

Vibes: glitter-smudged faces, foggy coasts, chainmail under t-shirts, crystal balls, ancient church towers, neon lights, dimly lit labs, tape recorders, ren faires, crumbling castles, rundown pubs, cable-knit sweaters, old magicks.

Soundtrack: Seventeen Going Under - Sam Fender / I'm Set Free - The Velvet Underground / Night Shift - Lucy Dacus / The Body Electric - Hurray for the Riff Raff / Yuri-G - PJ Harvey / My Darling Faye - Songs for Moms / Vampire Empire - Big Thief / The Killing Moon - Echo & the Bunnymen

Word Count: Planning

[dark-corner-cunning]

Poppet Retribution Magick: Unleashing A Bellyful of Misfortune To Bring Financial Ruin

Update 5/7/24: My friend contacted me last night to let me know that Father has reached out and told them they could feel their pain and it has been weighing on him. 😁 He also wants to reconcile! This is exciting news for them and a new opportunity for them to build a relationship and heal together. Once I get the "Ok" from my friend I will release Father from his poppet.

Reader’s Notes: This working was originally constructed for a friend who wanted retribution against their father who abandoned and neglected them during childhood. They opted to hit their father where it would hurt him the most... his pockets... by any means necessary! We decided to go with a less intense sickness working and a working that reflected the weight of my friend's pain and sadness they have carried over the years. Also, if baneful, retribution or justice magick isn’t your jam…just quietly scroll on!! As always, feel free to take what resonates and leave the rest!

I did this working in alignment with the Solar Eclipse for more energy.

Please use safety as always with any working. This working uses fire, a sharp knife, and spicy pepper flakes.

Lastly, I am a "Words" witch... I love words of power (Mercury in my 10th house). You can always opt for no-words or you can record the sayings beforehand and play them on repeat at that step that requires that saying so that you can focus on the actions and energy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

When a father walks out on his family, it can feel like the ultimate betrayal. The pain and trauma caused by his abandonment can have lasting effects on everyone involved. But for those who believe in the powers of witchcraft, there may be a way to not only cope with the misfortune of a father's abandonment but also to seek justice for his greed and neglect. This is where witchcraft comes in.

Ingredients:

Mix all the ingredients from the 1st group in a bowl (except the roaches, snakeskin, and thorns) before stuffing. Be aware that the pepper flakes can and will burn your eyes, possibly your skin, and make your nose run.

Thorns – cursing & hexing, pain, discomfort

Stones – pain & discomfort.. I went with 9

Spiderwebs – ensnaring, halting, binding

Ash – suffocation

Wormwood – strife & misfortune

Stagnant Water – rut, stagnate, failed plans

Snakeskin – inhibits growth

Helter Skelter/Cursing Oil – destruction

Dead/Rotting Roaches – causes hardship, strife, infestation of sickness

Poppy Seed – confusion

Mustard Seed -disruption, prevent help

Hot Pepper/Red Pepper Flakes – accelerates, burns

Boneset – cursing

Apple of Peru/Shoo-Fly Plant – Reversing Wealth & Money

1 Poppet - I sewed a picture of "Father's" face to it... thanks FB! When making your poppet, make sure you place a piece of paper with the target's name and DOB inside beforehand.

1 Red Candle

1 Craft knife

1 Needle with Red String

Poppet Stuffing - In folk magick stuffing was quite literally anything that could be used. I choose polyfill... however, feel free to use whatever you like.

Black Cord or String - Binding

Optional: 1 Plant or Something "Alive" to Tether To

Optional: Pictures, Taglocks, Sigils, Petitions - You need at least a full name and date of birth.

Optional: Orange Candles and Road-Opener Oil - To be done beforehand to remove any protections and help with the working hitting harder.

Steps:

Activate the Poppet: “Poppet, I name you _. Your limbs are their limbs. Your flesh is their flesh. Your life is their life. As you suffer, so shall they suffer.”

Then thinking about the life force within... take a deep breath and blow life into the poppet. Think breathing for CPR.

The next step I did was a road opener & path-clearing. I used 5 candles to represent the elements, roads, and planes. Each candle had "Father's" name written on it and then anointed with a road opener oil. You can use whatever method of road opener you want here.

Once the road opener finished I then tethered the poppet to a plant. I did this by tying a vine from the plant to the poppet's arm and energetically tethered them together. Just remember to choose a plant or something that is easily taken care of after.

Tethered to this plant, my work shall be

Bound by nature's energy, I decree

All blow back shall fall upon the tether

For this spell, my power shall weather

With hands held high, I cast my charm

As the plant's roots dig deep, my magic is armed

From earth to sky, the tether extends

My working and this plant, now forever blend

The energy flows, from me to thee

As this plant, my spell's vessel be

Each leaf, each stem, a conduit of power

Growing stronger with each passing hour

No force of nature can break this bond

For my magic and this plant, forever correspond

Together they thrive, in harmony

Tethered as one, for all eternity

So let the winds howl and the storms rage

My spell shall stand strong, in this earthly cage

For all the energy of this spell

Is now tethered to this plant, with magic compel

So mote it be, this working is done

Tethered to this plant, this working is one

Then taking the craft knife cut the poppet's belly open. You will have to more than likely remove some stuffing to make some room for your stuffing. Stuff the poppet with your bowl mixture, stones, dead roaches, snakeskin, thorns, sigils, and what-not.

Swallow your greed with a belly full of stones

For it will bring you nothing but a life full of moans

Chasing after wealth, blind to the harm

Leaves you with a bitter taste, like a snake's charm

Choke on the lies you told yourself

That money and power were the only true wealth

But as you suffocate, reality sets in

Your failure and greed, now it's time to begin

Financial ruin, your once thriving business now failed

Your ego and pride, too great to be bailed

You mistreated your (daughter/son/Pronoun), a soul so pure

Abandoning & neglecting (pronoun), now it's your time to endure

So, Swallow your greed, let it be consumed With each stone, let your finances be doomed.

Then take the needle and thread and sew the belly closed. Once finished, take a red candle and seal the stitches.

Then take your black cord and bind the poppet. I chose to bind "Father" in a pentagram/elemental binding. The binding is started by being tied off at the neck, then the cord is wrapped around the left leg, then the right arm, then the left arm, then the right leg, and then back up to the neck. You can wrap this as many times as you like and you can certainly just bind your poppet however you like.

In the midst of chaos, in the midst of strife,

There lies a number, 5, that brings unexpected life.

It holds the power to shake things up, to make you lose control,

And in its grip, you are left to pay the ultimate toll.

Earth, air, fire, water, and the spirit within,

These 5 elements, a force to reckon and herein.

They bind you to this spell, a spell you cannot break,

And with each passing moment, your foundations start to shake.

The earth beneath your feet, solid and strong,

Yet when it quakes, you realize you were wrong.

The air you breathe, so vital to your existence,

But in a chaotic storm, it shows its true persistence.

Fire, the element of passion and desire,

But when it rages, it leaves you in dire.

Water, so calm and serene in its flow,

But in a flood, it can cause you to let go.

The spirit, the 5th element, unseen yet ever-present,

It binds you to this spell, a force so incessant.

It connects you all in ways you cannot comprehend,

And in its grasp, you are unable to defend.

And as these 5 elements collide and intertwine,

Your finances, too, fall victim to this bind.

For in the midst of chaos, your finances are unable to thrive,

And as your finances crumble, you are left with nothing to revive.

So by the power of 5, you descend,

For it holds a chaotic force that has no end.

And by the elements I bind you to this spell,

Remember, it is not a fight you can ever win or quell.

Once bound, then I untethered the plant and placed "Father" in a bucket of stagnant stormwater to drown in (this is symbolic of all the tears my friend has cried over the years) at the height of totality during the eclipse. I placed a cover over "Father" and there he will stay until the night of the full moon. Then I will take him out and bury him deep in the woods off my property to slowly rot.

[astra-ravana]

The Dimensional Layers

The universe is believed to consist of multiple spiritual dimensions, each vibrating at different frequencies. These realms house various beings, from divine entities to restless spirits. While interpretations differ among mystics, shamans, and occultists, here’s an overview of commonly recognized dimensions and their inhabitants.

The Physical Realm

What It Is: The material world where humans, animals, and nature exist. This is the realm of tangible matter and linear time.

Beings Here: Humans, animals, plants, minerals.

The Ethereal Layer

What It Is: The subtle energy field that surrounds all physical beings, often associated with auras and chi. It’s where elemental consciousness begins to take shape.

Beings Here:

• Elementals – Nature spirits like fae, gnomes, and sylphs.

• Thought-Forms – Manifestations of collective consciousness.

The Astral Plane (Lower & Higher Astral)

What It Is: The dimension where thoughts, emotions, and spiritual energies take shape. Often visited in dreams, astral projection, and deep meditative states.

Beings Here:

• Ghosts & Spirits of the Dead – Earthbound spirits or those visiting the living.

• Lower Astral Entities – Shadow beings, trickster spirits, or negative thought-forms.

• Guides & Light Beings – Benevolent spirits that help seekers.

The Realm of Time & Thought

What It Is: A fluid, transitional space where time is nonlinear, and consciousness expands. Many spirit portals lead here.

Beings Here:

• Interdimensional Travelers – Spirits, ancestors, or astral projectors.

• Djinn & Trickster Spirits – Beings that influence reality and perception.

The Realm of Higher Consciousness

What It Is: The plane of enlightenment, where beings operate outside of material duality. It is associated with divine wisdom and unity consciousness.

Beings Here:

• Ascended Masters – Souls that have evolved beyond physical reincarnation

• Celestial Beings – Divine forces or deities

The Divine Blueprint (Akashic Realm)

What It Is: The plane of cosmic records and divine architecture. Here, reality is designed before manifesting in lower realms.

Beings Here:

• Keepers of the Akashic Records – Beings who maintain the history of all souls.

• Gods & Archetypal Forces – Higher aspects of deities and universal energies.

The Realm of Pure Light

What It Is: The domain of unity and divine love, where individuality dissolves into collective consciousness. This is often seen as the bridge between form and formlessness.

Beings Here:

• Seraphim & Divine Guardians – Pure light entities.

• High Cosmic Beings – Creators of universal structures.

The Unknowable Realms

What It Is: Dimensions that transcend human comprehension, where the universe’s fundamental forces originate.

Beings Here:

• The Source – The ultimate divine consciousness.

• Abstract Energy Beings – Forces that shape galaxies, reality, and existence itself.

Each dimension serves a different function in the grand design of existence. While some beings interact with the physical world, others remain in higher realms, guiding, protecting, or shaping reality. Mystics, witches, and spiritual seekers often attempt to access these dimensions through meditation, astral travel, or deep trance work. Understanding these realms can help in spiritual evolution, magick, and personal transformation.

[theforestwitch7]

Hello everyone!

Today, we’re diving into the concept of local magick, what it is, how to start practising it, and why it’s such an essential part of a grounded and sustainable magical practice. ​​✩ ₊‧✩‧₊˚༺☆༻˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺✩☆✩༻‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ✩ ✩

We’re lucky to live in an age where magickal knowledge is just a few clicks away. With the internet, we can learn about Norse runes, Irish folklore, Appalachian magic, or Hellenistic practises, no matter where we live.

This access is beautiful and necessary, especially for those whose ancestral or cultural traditions were lost or stolen. But it’s also created a subtle shift: more and more practitioners are reaching for herbs, tools, deities, and rituals that are far removed from their physical environment. We have people learning such a standardised form of witchcraft. 

Many of us can name the “staple” magickal herbs like rosemary, mugwort, lavender, and sage, but how many of us know what wild plants grow in our backyard, park, or nearest forest? Do you know what flowers the bees near you rely on? What spirits live in your city or town? These are what the magickal energy around you is formed on. If you live in Florida, you can’t expect Irish spirits and magickal creatures to be living there. You need to learn about the creatures, energies, and spirits that reside around you. This can greatly strengthen your magick since you’ll be using it in a way that makes sense to what’s around you. Using the wrong magick for your region can cause things just not to be very useful. The magick follows the same rules as actual physical tools. If you read that in Northern areas, lots of clothing is used to protect against the weather, then you use a winter coat to protect from the harsh heat it won’t be useful at all. The same goes for using sunscreen as protection against the cold. ✩ ₊‧✩‧₊˚༺☆༻˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺✩☆✩༻‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ✩ ✩

Connecting with local magick deepens your connection with the land. When you learn the names and properties of local plants you’ll begin to feel the natural rhythms of your specific seasons. You’ll start to notice changes in the weather, the wildlife, and signs from local spirits and ancestors. This awareness grounds your practise and will give it a deeper meaning. It will also help teach you what are actual signs and what are mundane. If you know about the local wildlife’s habits, you will know what’s supposed to be there and what is unusual. If you know that a specific species of bird Always migrates through your town in October, then you’ll know it’s mundane. If you didn’t know this, you might think it’s a sign when it isn’t, just because you don’t often see these birds. ✩ ₊‧✩‧₊˚༺☆༻˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺✩☆✩༻‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ✩ ✩

Local magick also supports sustainability. Importing herbs and tools from across the world can damage ecosystems and exploit workers. Locally sourcing your herbs and tools keeps your money from going to major corporations, supports local witches and business, and prevents the overharvesting of sacred plants. As well as local plants and tools, working with local spirits can be very helpful as well. There is a unique energy, consciousness, spirit, or whatever you want to call it that belongs to every place. Get acquainted with this. Learn about the energy of the local places themselves as well as the spirits that abide in them. This can open new doors in your craft. Local spirits appreciate offerings, attention, and care. They are watching and can become powerful allies. ✩ ₊‧✩‧₊˚༺☆༻˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺✩☆✩༻‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ✩ ✩

**How to begin practising local magick**

Take walks in your local nature.

Begin learning the names of plants and animals in your area. See how many you can identify on each walk.

Keep a seasonal journal. Record how your area changes throughout the year: what flowers bloom when, how the light shifts, what animals come and go.

Look into your region’s history and folklore. Research Indigenous beliefs if you can do so respectfully, and learn about past settlers, urban legends, and local superstitions.

Connect with local spirits. Leave offerings at old trees, springs, crossroads, or natural spots that feel “charged.” Introduce yourself. Ask permission to gather.

Use local materials in your spells. Wild herbs, stones, shells, stormwater, dirt from your yard. These are potent, personal, and often more powerful than imported tools.

Talk to elders or locals. Folk knowledge often lives in small stories, gardening tips, or offhand comments about the weather. Pay attention.

Meditate in nature. Spend your time in it and learn the energy of your space.

Recognise that there are many different areas within larger spaces all with different energies and spirits. The park, a nature preserve, the river, downtown, all of these will have different magickal feelings and spirits. Learn to tune into them and work with them. ✩ ₊‧✩‧₊˚༺☆༻˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺✩☆✩༻‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ✩ ✩

**Important Things To Be Aware Of**:

Make sure to be respectful of nature. Do not take anything that would not be respectful or necessary to take. Learn about what is endangered, what is in abundance, what is protected, and what is invasive.

Do not leave anything behind. Do not put salt in the soil, do not leave trash, and research what can be put in the soil and what can not.

There may be local practises that are not open to you. Be very aware and respectful of this. *However* there is a lot of nuance in closed practises, this nuance is not often recognised in online spaces. For example, if you live in an area with a lot of indigenous people such as Mexico who have local practises, they may be closed, but they also may happily invite you into it. You do not need to refuse this just because people online tell you that you cannot join if you’re not indigenous. Listen to the people who are in the practise, not the people online.

✩ ₊‧✩‧₊˚༺☆༻˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺✩☆✩༻‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ✩ ✩

Local magick isn’t about limiting yourself, it’s about deepening your roots. You can still work with other traditions respectfully, especially ones that are part of your heritage or calling. But grounding your craft in the land around you gives you a steady foundation. It makes your magick personal, sustainable, and powerful

- Forest

[tagamantra]

The Heaven-Earth Megadeath

“Revolution is, by its nature, inherently revolting. For it to succeed, it requires Death of the Other. For it to be permanent and good, it requires Death of the Ego. The ultimate sacrifice for the final battle. In the words of the Screaming Wind Buddha: it is the Turning of the Wheel of History, which has no predetermined fate but the Effects of its Causes. That is to say, the Hand of Humanity.”

The Ultimate Nondual Thesis of the Great Black Specter Wellavaisnawa

Written by: Scholar-Saint Amiru Kinayumisatt

Hidden from all of you is the little known fact that the decimation of total Human Emancipation continued ruthlessly following the crushing defeat of the Second World Revolution, wherein the United Union of Peace (UUP) which was headed by the High Bourgeoisie and the Trillionaires of the Trichiliocosm, who ruled and pulled the strings from Soreh, Raten, Ressen-Nalenji, Shen, Selorong, and Amatsu. It did not end with the Ultima Bomb.

The colonies that bargained for their liberation were all still penetrated through by the ideals and contracts of the UUP. As Shen and Selorong attempted to revitalize Communist efforts, the Plutocrats engendered the greatest propaganda effort known to Mankind, branding the revolutionaries are terrorists and upstarts threatening the Universal Peace of Hingsajagra. This led to the leaders of the established, newly liberated nations (closer to neocolonies) to enact pogroms across the Utter islands to expunge Communist thought from its politics, and to push them to the margins, the mountains, the rivers.

Let it not be a hidden fact from you that all of this has thusly been scrubbed out or branded as “necessary” for the modicum of “peace” we now live through, which is indistinguishable in truth from apocalypse. The Capitalists, the Liberals, and the Fascists enacted the greatest ideological genocide of all, for they knew one last uprising by the wretched of the earth will lead into the final battle between Emancipation and Oppression. Following the records—which now have become obscured from public viewing, of course—there is an estimated 3 Billion lives lost to this great alignment purge.

Due to its sheer atrocious nature, it has been given a proper name by us still living Communists and followers of Masangwan Thought: The Heaven-Earth Megadeath…

…and it continues to this day.

The slaughters are recent. Thus placed here in the interest of preserving the sensibilities of those that have yet survived such massacres.

Altan Commune Destruction of 11610. Considered by many to be the largest loss—a few years after the crushing defeat of the Second World Revolution, the Altan Commune (situated at the heart of the Soreh Republic) which won its place just 10 years earlier, was devastatingly crushed by join Mun, Ratenese, Sorehnese Royalist, Amatsunese, and Colonized forces, all banded under the UUP. The Altan Commune managed to put out a large number of writings and advanced communist thought, leading to a large number of Communist Wizards, Mystics, and Martial Artists all following the steps of Kafeng Masangwa and (later) Dattreya Wairini. Unfortunately the united counter-revolutionary forces of the UUP proved too strong for the time, especially with the dark magicks and unethical usage of Karma Engines (it is long said that the main reason why the Communists lost was because they refused to sacrifice people, spirits, and gods to their Karma Engines, while the UUP decided that it was a “necessary evil”). Crushed, many leaders of the commune, including Ultramaterialist Mystic Seten Jaro, traveling mendicant Asatalila, Razrunan freedom fighter Keramusa, Political Mystic Vanantan Lagang, and Sorehnese Communist-Gunsmith Rissen Vezzan, fled to various different parts of the Utter Islands to continue the fight. Many of them would be crushed in later Massacres, assassinated by reactionary elements building within the Communist spaces (in response to the mounting victory of the Reactionaries), and taken prisoner by the worldwide empire of Capital (which would manifest as the International Amalgam of Free Nations or the IAFN).

The Jemushi Massacre of 11614. The Jemushi are the indigenous people of the western Jade Forests of the Wadzaran Earthsea region. Achieving national consciousness, they dared to fight back against the Amatsunese expansion during the 11600s. The Empire of Amatsu had strengthened its ties with the burgeoning republic superpower of Ressen-Nalenji, to the point that Ressen-Nalenji has multiple military temples within Amatsu in exchange for Ressen-Nalenjese hildemej magitek. The Jemushi, in an attempt to free itself, supported by the Selorongian Commune and the still self-establishing Celestial Shennin Society, struck at the joint Ressen-Nalenjese-Amatsunese military complex on Himazo Prefecture. The Amatsunese forces, with its newfound hildemej magiteks, managed to mount a counteroffensive in time and decimated the rebellion forces, forcing Jemushi back into their town. This occurred at Rat Month of 11614. Five months later, on the 26th day of the Snake Month, the Amatsunese massacred the hometown of the Jemushi, leading to their nigh cleansing save for those that were working abroad or those that managed to escape through the help of their spiritseers, wizards, and gods. Only 20 Jemushi families still live.

The Ganatipan Massacres of 11635. The Charnel Isles, The Pearlescences, and the Blasted Isles were once all part of the Mahabidaran Mandala, a network of free-trading polities, kedatuans, kerajaans, sultanates, and kingdoms. One of the colonies of the Central Yavinian Trading Guild, the Krasnan East Vatuan, which encompassed the largest collection of islands in the Mahabidaran Island Continuum, began a protracted independence war with the Krasnan Empire (which at this point had begun to be subsumed under the Ressen-Nalenjese Merchant Empire). Due once again to a mix of liberal and communist forces, the Krasnan East Azrans freed themselves and took upon the endonym Vatuan to refer to their erstwhile country. Unfortunately, the second president of the Vatuan Republic, Ultranationalist Josar Magat Wedajoyo, successfully aligned with the Ressen-Nalenjese to accrue greater capital power and to “secure” the safety of the Vatuan Republic (in exchange for becoming one of the political allies against the burgeoning Shennin Communism). The Ultranationalist Policies eventually led to the Communist Moksa of 11635, where the Vatuan Commune of Ganatipan in the western island of Irrajada was violently invaded, conquered, and destroyed by the greater Vatuan Military Forces. 1 million people were killed—not just communists, but communist “sympathizers” as well, which was majority not even communist. The majority of the killings even happened outside of the city centers, in an effort to cow and ultimately scare any communist uprising within the Vatuan Republic.

The Re-Enlightenment League Massacre of 11637. In the contested area of Kamguk to the east of Shennin territory, Eastern Kamguk fought for liberal democracy against Shennin-backed Western Kamguk, which sought to forward a socialist state. The Ressen-Nalenjese worked with the Amatsunese, who had at this point in history colonized that area of Shen during the Decades of Carnage and around the end of the Second World Revolution. The lingering Amatsunese colonial government ceded the territories to Ressen-Nalenji (through the Yavinian Trading Guild/YTG) after the Dragon and Bear Accords. However, part of what was once historically Kamguk had been “infilitrated” with Communist ideals, causing the split. East Kamguk became Ressen-Nalenji’s bulwark against socialist spreading. This led to the bloody Kamguk Civil War, which began when the First President of the East Kamguk Republic (Acham Kuhai, who studied in Soreh and was an ardent firebrand Pro-YTG statesman) enacted the Massacre of the Re-Enlightenment League (a League he adopted from the Amatsunese Colonial Re-Education project and turned into an Anti-Communist re-education project). An estimated 10,000 Communists and 20,000 Communist “Sympathizers” (often were not at all communists nor sympathizers) were murdered. At the end of the Civil War (which would reach a stalemate), during the Battle of Jokumugbuki (Little Dragon Turtle) River, another 7,000 more were massacred under the fears that they were West Kamguk sympathizers.

The Crushing of the Razrunan Commune in 11640. In the Tiger Cities of Razru, the Communist Political Thinker Surdhujangga and the Anarchist Mystic-Warrior Garuppusuran banded together to establish a powerful revolutionary commune in the heart of the Yaga River, where the remains of the Dead God Nuro was turned into the city Nurotayam (lit. Heart of Nuro) where he was kept alive through worship. It was the last vestige of the ancient World-Spanning Razrunan Empire. The God was killed by the Ratenese Colonialists. Here, the Revolutionaries established their final stand. Rutraic Apostate Wellavaisnawa (who, at 23, was executed by the burgeoning Razrunan State after it had been given to them by the Ratenese) created a synthesis of Communistic and Anarchistic praxis and theory, retrofitted into the contexts of Razrunan material life. The commune amassed great amounts of worker-power but was ultimately demolished when the Amatsu arrived to help the Ratenese quell the revolutions through the use of superior war-magicks.

The Eradication of the Selorongian Commune. By 11643, the Selorongian Commune (established by Masangwans 50 years prior, during the Decades of Carnage) had become the final bastion of Communism, Anarchism, and Socialist thought. The people within were mostly refugees, deserters, apostates, and unwantables of the other states. It was the final bastion of humanity. Here, the final revolution happened: war-magick catastrophe beaten back by forces of the Termagant Buddha and the Collective of Workers. In the final days of the Selorongian Commune, Dattreya Wairini, the Second Buddha of the Utter Islands, paved the way for a pyrrhic victory, at the end of which she attained Ultimate Awakening—that is to say, Revolution. Unfortunately, she left the world, now knowing of greater knowledge than the others, and Selorong became a lawless city that was not beholden to any of the republics nor to the Celestial Shennin Society. It had achieved final freedom, but the war-magicks deployed and the abominable Karmic Destruction wrought by the IAFN had almost completely eradicated the worker population of Selorong. Those that came to repopulate the liberated City knew that if a Third Revolution were to happen, it will happen from Selorong, but it must decide its fate. All Alignments and Political Ideologies have now staked their claim in Selorong, knowing its ultimate utility in the far edge of fate.

Inspirations

Bodo League Massacre

Indonesian mass killings of 1965-66