#which is as good as magically binding
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Even with TBOB and thisisnotawebsite.com there's... Still so much we don't know about Bill. Like ok yeah he's given a tragic background, we know a bit more about his henchmaniacs, but we really don't know a lot. Like, what happened directly after he accidentally destroyed his dimension? It isn't said. Sure time baby KNOWS about Bill's destruction of his dimension, but it seems like he didn't show up after Bill's dimension was destroyed to apprehend him because he only knows about Bill after Bill tries to make a deal with him, causing Bill's wanted poster. And how did Bill become basically the overlord of the nightmare realm, and gather all his henchmaniacs? Like there's a good period where we just don't know. And it's implied he's shocked and horrified (likely even dissociates, since he does that) after he destroys his dimension. But his characterization doesn't seem by that point to be one that immediately goes into a self-destructive, violent god-becoming maniacal spiral of self hatred; it's more one to be overwhelmed with grief and spend a good long time in the midst of his grief, then necessarily he's about to DO anything. And generally speaking trope wise, there's steps missing; typically in this sort of scenario, the usual progression is this:
characterized as monster due to being different in some way
tries to prove their not
ends up hurting someone anyways
gets further villainized, and antagonized by others
Acceptance of being a monster, and goes okay? You wanted a monster? I'll be a monster.
Now this fits Bill's early life, up to number 4, but we don't know what happens immediately after. It's possible he just went into his spiral immediately after, but it feels wrong, because it is missing the part of someone further villainizing him beyond himself which causes him to lash out due to the expectation (and internalized) idea that he would cause harm. I'd assume maybe some kind of interdimensional authority showed up and accused him of purposely trying to kill his dimension, which triggered his "okay, then I'll be a monster", or even a situation where his 'monstrosity' through the badge of killing his dimension is garners him respect. Considering that his henchmaniacs are chosen out of monstrosity and violence as a badge of honor, it feels very much like this would make sense, except none of them really know about Bill's dimension. He doesn't brag about the violence of it; he only calls it a liberation, contrary to the idea that Bill ever used it to gain clout. Instead, it's more likely that an interdimensional authority showed up and accused Bill, except from circumstances, it doesn't seem like it was Time Baby, so not sure who it would be... but at the same time, that expectation is often required for the character to truly embrace their 'monstrosity' and become truly violent. Or perhaps it was delayed after the destruction of his dimension, later when he begins to run with his henchmaniacs and disregards the law, but that also doesn't feel satisfactory for character development. Or perhaps I'm just overthinking this trope...
Also, how did he have his powers? Some is clearly stuff he's always had; pyrokinesis from that one rhyme, the ability to see into 3d, and he was somehow able to destroy his dimension by whatever he did to let Euclydians see the stars (telekinesis?), but beyond that? Was he always all-seeing? How did he become a 'dream demon'? Are his deals actually binding or does he lie? Are these things that he acquired later, because Euclydians seem to be written about as if they usually don't have any of these abilities, nor the abilities Bill is known to have when young, nor did Bill seem to be able to be all seeing when he was younger. Plus, how was Bill able to survive the destruction of his dimension, if he's technically made of the same stuff as everyone else, who all seems to have a physical form? Why then does he seems to be characterized as a being made of pure energy and thought; is that just in Earth's dimension, or does he have a physical form within the nightmare realm? There's multiple things that are contradictory about his body (mouth-eye, yet talked about removing his exoskeleton to feed--not sure exactly when this was mentioned--plus his mouth located under his bricks and bowtie in his exoskeleton in journal 3). But he seems so thrilled by his physical form though on earth, and we know that physical forms exist within the Nightmare realm as Ford was in it... yet it seems like hes characterized to have no physical form, so did he perhaps lose his physical form when his dimension died? Did he technically die with them too, but with his powers was able to survive essentially as a ghost like he tells Dipper you become without a body?
#hugin rambles#hugin rambles gf#bill cipher#the book of bill#tbob spoilers#thisisnotawebsitedotcom#gravity falls#gravity falls meta#bill ci the triangle guy#theres so many questions and i get part of it is just not explained and likelye never will be and thats also FUN to play with#but its also super curious because there is a v large time where you DONT know a pivotal part of Bill's existence. like he presumably also#dated a howling void? when does that fit in or is it another bit?#but like... the implications about his power and his form and euclydia burning. like fuck#also putting my chips on he was accused directly after and escaped the authorities. and has been chased since and he was like well okay ill#be fucking monster then actively#although it is an interesting thought experiment if it was slowly over time it snowballed into him having a god-complex#also like LOVE getting into how magic works. like okay tell me the technical details. fanfics which go into this i devour with delight#is he an actual demon or it is it just classed as he makes deals? are these deals binding? is it also something that then peovides hik with#power in that sense? oughhh so many good questions.#trying not to feel like Ford excitedly pulling out a clipboard to record all my theories and failing whoops#also like im aware parts of this will be not accurate and perfectly smooth for Bill's powers and char development because its always been#predicated on whats funnier rather then it being a self-formed idea fully fleshed at the beginning of the series
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You already have a place with us if you need one
HOLY SHITF??>@?!?!?!?@!
#Beau already sees you as his son#which is as good as magically binding#though I’m not sure how well magical law would hold up in like normal courts#whispers#evandalist#lyra siblings#dia#magically binding as in like the term legally binding no one has bound beau magically#(sorry if that was confusing I just woke up)
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🐑 Alternate Universe- Magic, Mutual Pining, Demonic possession, Furbies
Oh dear...
Alex is attending one of the most prestigious magic academies in the country, on the orders of his parents of course. Even though Laiz Fier Academy reviles even the name of the only type of magic he's ever been good at. His parents swore he'd find another specialty here, and he'd let himself believe them, like the idiot he is. He's scraping by in classes. Barely. At least he's managed to make a couple of friends and figure out how to sneak into the library stacks to find books that will actually help him hone his skills.
However, Alex realizes now there's a reason why it's not recommended to do your first summoning alone. Because, while he does manage to summon a demon, it doesn't exactly end up in the silvery urn he'd laid in the center of the pentagram.
So now he has a talking, demonic Furby to hide. One that, despite its too-wide eyes and disconcertingly smooth voice, Alex thinks he might be developing feelings for.
(Fake fic ask game!)
#legolas tag#legolas ask#julie and the phantoms#willex#so okay in my head#Alex is super good at a specific branch of magic#which usually would be awesome since he was born into a high power magical family#unfortunately the thing he's good at is demonic magic#which is.... unpopular to put it lightly#his parents send him away to school in the hopes that he'll latch onto something else with so many options to explore#that doesn't happen#he meets Luke and Julie (both music magic) and Reggie (animal magic)#and they all become friends#and they all figure out how to sneak into the stacks together#where Alex finds all the hidden away books on demonic magic#cause it's not actually Evil like people think#just... darker in source than most#Alex may fall down a bit of a spiral about his abilities and worth though#and ends up attempting to summon an actual demon to help him learn magic#but... well he must have messed up the binding part of the ceremony?#Cause he does get a demonic magic coach#but said coach (Willie) goes into the Furby Reggie got him as a prank birthday present#and well... Alex knows he should figure out how to undo it and send Willie back to Hell or wherever#but then he has to rush to hide him first before he gets caught#and then they end up chatting a fair amount over the next few days#because Alex is a world class insomniac and Willie just doesn't sleep#but Alex is kept too busy with classes and stuff to go back to the library to find the stuff to sort out the mess he's made#and if Willie knows how to do it he isn't sharing#(he totally knows but it's his first time in the human world in ages and Alex is nice and kinda cute tbh so...)#and...they become friends? And also develop massive crushes on each other?
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Sort of bums me out that so many people didn't seem to Get the Cat King so here are my thoughts:
So let's start with Edwin's crime. He uses something the cat desires (a sardine) to lure the cat to him and then uses an enchanted string to trap the cat with magic. He demands the answer to a question in exchange for its release. Edwin knows it is dangerous to use magic on a cat, that it violates Rules but he does it anyway.
Binding a creature and agreeing to set them free under a certain condition is very Classic Fairytale. its also a favourite trope of Neil Gaiman's (he did not write this show but his influence is there). In both the Sandman and his novel Stardust (and the film adaptation) trapping a creature with magic and demanding a task/favour in exchange for their freedom is an extremely important plot point. Edwin binding a cat and demanding an answer in exchange is exactly in line with this Fairytale trope
And so is the Cat Kings response. The Cat King is a trickster. What he does to Edwin is exactly what Edwin did to one of his subjects. He entices Edwin, he binds him with magic and when Edwin demands to be free he turns his own words against him "why all the fuss for one little spell?" Edwin did something wrong. He imposed his will/magic on another creature and the Cat King is punishing him for it in a way that is poetic. Its fairytale. its trickster. its classic.
I've also seen people complain that the task Edwin was given 'count all the cats' is 'impossible'...except its fucking not. Edwin does it. He does it so well he actually BEATS the Cat King ("you didn't count yourself" Are.You.Kidding.Me. Classic!Fairytale!Vibes!)
The Cat Kings choice to bind Edwin to Port Townsend is good on so many levels. From a storytelling perspective it forces characters who can travel anywhere in the world to stay in one place, and increases the stakes for these characters who are supposed to be on the run. From a genre perspective...its an excellent use of fairytale tropes using both Rules of magic, a protagonist who is unkind to a seemingly weak creature who is punished by a more powerful law, a binding, a task to complete, etc
Which just leaves the character perspective which it ALSO does really fucking well and introduces the final aspect to the Cat Kings character. He's seductive. He is responsible for Edwin, 100 years old ghost boy, finally unpacking his internalized homophpbia. he is the catalyst (cat pun not intended)
He pushes Edwin, challenges him, at times literally forces the truth out of Edwin, but he really never does violate his consent. Significantly Edwin is attracted to him, like its an important part of his character that he is. He may not like the Cat King but he is attracted to him!
The Cat King is such a great example of a trickster, a morally grey character who imposes a sense of justice on Edwin after he crosses a line, but also has his own selfish interests and meddles. Hes so important to the plot of the show, to Edwin's character arc, to the genre.
And he's just fun. Unapologetically queer, powerful, complicated. Silly little outfits. Petty cat behavior. Deep heart.
Some of you just didn't get it. And I'm sorry for you. because the Cat King is Excellent actually.
#dead boy detectives#dbd#edwin payne#the cat king#thomas the cat king#charles rowland#dead boy detectives meta#1k#2k#3k#5k#7k
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DRAMIONE FIC RECS + WHY YOU SHOULD READ THEM — 100k+ words edition
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hogwarts: a home by coralcollective — reimagined horcrux hunt. draco is so down bad for hermione and the smut is crazyyy. theo/hermione friendship. pansy is the breakout character and you'll love her. there's nsfw art and inappropriate use of the malfoy signet ring. please check the tags! (it says incomplete on ao3, but it's only missing epilogues so don't be afraid of starting it)
word count: 372,978
chapters: 67/70
the commoner's guide to bedding a royal by olivieblake — god, this fic!!!! it's a modern royal au and the ensemble of characters make this whole world feel so alive. it's inspired by will/kate and harry/meghan and it's sooo cute. theo and daphne were the breakout characters and i love them dearly. if you're looking for a lighthearted romcom-esque, occasionally angsty (because duh!) fic, this is it!!! i probably read this in two days which is insane considering the word count, but that should just tell you how lovely this whole fic was. there's a second part to this if you're itching for more afterwards (and it's just as good!)
word count: 503,570
chapters: 45/45
draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare — honestly if you haven't read this yet..... this is god tier. a CLASSIC. this should be taught in the schools. hermione's a magical researcher / healer and draco's one of the best aurors out there. he's assigned to protect hermione because she's in the midst of a big discovery. hermione's not happy about it and draco isn't either. slow burn!! idiots in LOVE!! forced proximity!!!!! EMBEDDED ART!!! honestly this is the fic that made me want to learn how to bind which is so serious and if you haven't read this yet you need to.
word count: 199,548
chapters: 36/36
the disappearances of draco malfoy by speechwriter — this is my new canon. it's a deathly hallows rewrite where draco accepts dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the order. enemies to friends to lovers. i honestly can't even remember what happened in canon because this is IT for me.
word count: 289,780
chapters: 33/33
this world or any other series by olivieblake — includes clean (book one) and marked (book two). anything by olivieblake should be a must-read, i swear to god. this one starts as a year 6 slow burn. draco and hermione are assigned partners for potions and it all snowballs from there. olivie writes so beautifully and her characterizations for hermione / draco are so good. slight warning for marked: this destroyed me and i pretend it doesn't exist, but it's still a must-read.
word count: 118,892 & 178,268
chapters: 31/31 & 39/39
rights and wrongs series by lovesbitca8 — you want fluffy dramione? read the first two parts of the rights and wrongs series. you want dark and heavy dramione? read the auction, an alternate universe of the fluffy dramione, where voldemort wins and they all get auctioned off to death eaters. please check the tags for the voldy wins au! all three were chef's kiss and coming from someone who isn't a fan of dark aus, reading the first two helped me get through the auction because you know where draco's coming from / what's in his head. you can just read the auction without reading the first two parts unless you like catching parallels and having more depth / context (which i very much love).
word count: 174,911 & 160,297 & 325,876
chapters: 36/36 & 24/24 & 41/41
#we can also call this my dramione reading log honestly#dramione#draco x hermione#dramione fic recs#draco malfoy#hermione granger#draco malfoy x hermione granger#dramione recs#talk to me about dramione because i have more recs and i will take recs i never tire of reading about them
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I don't even tend to like breakup and makeup stuff I think esp in modern AUs they tend to be overly dramatic in cheap ways that aren't satisfying or coherent wrt the characters or the narrative, but there ARE ways to play them esp pre and post-BM if you write them getting together and suddenly post-BM wwx is all cold and distant from lwj and then they work back to being friends again but wwx can't be honest w lwj in the way he used to and he fears that lwj wouldn't feel the same if he knew the truth and lwj is confused and upset and wants to help but can't communicate that without sounding like a judgy asshole/all his methods don't really help anyway and despite how they used to be together the distance between them keeps widening in insurmountable ways and lwj just keeps failing to take the steps that wwx is taking and fails to stand beside him until wwx is dangling off a cliff in nightless city and lwj is like 'please come back' and wwx is like 'let me go' and they KNOW how they feel about each other concretely bc they literally were together before everything went to shit but it wasn't enough and now it's too late and wwx is dead.
but then they get another chance and despite how badly it went last time due to the situation and their relative powerlessness and inexperience and despite wwx's wariness and uncertainly abt lwj they fall back into their rhythm since they've already experienced and worked through the fighting and the pained confusion and now lwj's addressing his failures from the past they come to a point where they can get back together as adults who really and fully do understand each other, and understand each other better for having been together once before in the past. I can see it
if there's a tag that's 'past lwj/wwx' and the other tags aren't 'breakup and make-up' or something to that effect I swear to god...
#I actually was reading a fic like this by the author of tether but it was discontinued 😭#I think JUST before BM is where something would have happened which is what makes it all the more tragic#but it's close enough that if you nudge the timeline a bit it could work#and instead of wwx devastated that he'll never be able to be w lwj it's wwx devastated that he'll lose something he already has#honestly a lot of their ss and post-ss and even postres dynamic feels like an awkward breakup or post-breakup scene#but it's even more painful bc they technically weren't together so there's no actual ties binding them#wwx was always the one reaching out and now he's withdrawing#but why are you upset lan wangji? this isn't any business of yours?#OH and I did read a breakup/makeup set in a modern AU I do recall it#it was really good. modern w magic. except xxc and sl are cops :/#ficblogging
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When I was a child, I was often left in the care of my Nanna. It is from her that I learnt many of the pieces of what she would call "little magic".
At her side, I learned how to sew and make little finger puppets and 'dollies'. We walked through the park, and she pointed out the plants and trees and their properties. With her, I made my first lavender filled bag to help me sleep. She would spoil me with peanut butter and butter sandwiches (which my mother was staunchly against), and then showed me how to feed the house spirit (a bowl filled with crusts of bread and milk poured over the top with a bit of honey drizzled over it).
She also told me stories - so many fairytales and folktales that would horrify parents if told to their children nowadays. But it was only when I was older and in school that I realised the stories she told me were different from the ones my friends had been told... mine were darker and full of old truths and lessons I still remember to this day.
-
One of my favourite tales was of a little girl with honey blond hair and blue eyes whose name started with a V (I can't for the life of me remember her name). Her father was a merchant, and her mother was kind. Their little family of three were quite happy until the little girl's mother got sick. The merchant hired healers and priests to help his wife, but all failed to help the little girl's mother, her sickness worsening with each passing day. Soon, it was clear that her mother was dying, and the little girl's father refused to leave his wife's bedside, leaving the little girl to fetch water from the well, light the fires, cook meals for her family and care for the home.
One day, her mother called the little girl to her bedside and asked her husband to step outside of the room for a moment. The little girl approached her mother's bedside with trepedation. Reaching under the bed, the mother pulled out a strange little cloth doll with no face. The doll was made from a scrap of her mother's favourite dress, with her mother's hair ribbons binding it into the shape of a doll.
"Here, my child. She will protect you when I am gone. All you must do is feed the doll a drop of your blood and tell it your problem, and it will be fixed."
The little girl did not understand but took the doll from her mother. "But how will I feed her a drop of my blood if she has no mouth?"
The little girl's mother smiled, and for a moment, she didn't look sick anymore.
"Promise me, my beautiful daughter, that you will keep her with you, for she will act in my stead once I am gone."
The little girl did not understand her mother's words but promised again to keep the doll with her at all times.
The mother suddenly surged forward and tightly clasped her daughter’s hands in her own. "No one can know you have her, not even your father. Let no one see her. Keep her hidden on your person at all times unless you have need of her."
The little girl, now afraid at her mother's vehement pleas, nodded frantically to show she acquiesced and would do as she was bid.
Her mother, seeing the little girl's compliance, collapsed back into her bed and dismissed the little girl, bidding she tell her father he could return.
Her mother died that night; her father distraught at the loss of his beloved wife.
Though it was not long after the little girl's mother was buried, that her father remarried once more.
The little girl's new mother was a widow with no children of her own, and the little girl's father told her "She will make a good mother for you, my child" But she was not a good mother.
For you see, any time the little girl's father was home, the woman would treat the little girl kindly, but as soon as her father was gone, her stepmother would turn cruel and demand the little girl do all of the housework and chores. If little girl refused, her stepmother threatened to beat her, and told the little girl she would go to bed without supper if the work was not done. Since her father was away, and there was nothing the little girl could do, she did as she was bid; completing the work until her hands were cracked and bleeding with sores. However, despite the little girl's efforts, her stepmother was still unsatisfied with the little girl's work, locking her outside the house overnight.
Cold and exhausted, the little girl crept into the storeroom and laid down on the floor.
It was then that the little girl remembered her promise and the little doll she had kept secret in a pocket inside her dress. Carefully, pulling out the strange little doll, the little girl remembered her mother's words.
"Though you have no face, I will feed you a drop of my blood." And so the little girl dabbed one of her bleeding fingers against where the dolls mouth would be if it had one. "Please help me, little doll, for my stepmother is a cruel woman, and I can not possibly do all that she has bid of me."
It was then the little girl heard a voice inside her head, "Sleep, my child, and I will complete all that has been asked of you."
With a small smile of relief, the little girl went to sleep, and when she awoke, it was to find all of the chores her stepmother had requested, completed.
Surely, with all of the work done, her stepmother would let the little girl inside. So she tucked the doll back into the inner pocket of her dress and left the storeroom. But upon seeing the jobs miraculously done overnight, the stepmother's face turned ugly.
"I suppose since you've done all that was asked, you can come inside to break your fast."
The little girl meekly entered the home and ate the cold porridge she was given without comment. But as soon as she was done eating, her stepmother gave her another list of jobs to do, even more than the day before.
And so the little girl worked all day until her feet were sore and her hands were cracked and bleeding. But her stepmother remained unsatisfied, as all of the chores were not completed. Resigned, the little girl crept back into the storeroom for the night.
With bloodied hands, the little girl pulled out the doll from her hiding place and dabbed a drop of her blood where the doll's mouth would be.
"Please, little doll, I need your help once more. I can not do all that is asked of me, and my hands are blistered and sore."
Again, the little girl heard the doll's voice inside her head, "Sleep little one and all will be well, I will show you where the healing herbs dwell."
With a smile, the little girl went to sleep on the storeroom floor, and when she awoke, she found that once again, all of the jobs her stepmother had told her to complete were done.
Again, when the little girl went up to the house and knocked on the door, her stepmother seemed furious the jobs were done. With gritted teeth, she bid, "I suppose since you've done all that was asked, you can come inside to break your fast."
And so the little girl ate the cold porridge placed afore her as her stepmother once more listed more outlandish jobs for the young girl to complete.
And so the years went by, the little girl growing into a beautiful and capable young woman. Her hands and body were strong from all of the work she would complete each day, and thanks to her mother's blessing, she knew and harvested all manner of healing herbs and edible plants from the nearby forest.
But every time her father was home from his business trips, he would always comment "You are becoming so beautiful my darling daughter, just like your mother" These comments would make her stepmother scowl and her face turn ugly with rage. So, as each year passed, V became more beautiful, and her stepmother became more hideous in her hatred.
In her hatred, V's stepmother began sending her into the forest for ridiculous errands. V knew that her stepmother probably intended for her to get eaten by wolves, or worse, by the witch that supposedly lived in the wood. But thanks to her mother's blessing and a sharp thorn kept in the pocket of her dress, V was always able to fetch whatever her stepmother requested from the wood and return home safely.
One night, V's stepmother came to the storeroom door where V was sleeping on the floor. "Get up at once. Your lazyness has allowed the hearth to go out, and not even coals remain to light a fire. You must go to the witch of the wood and ask her for a coal"
"But stepmother," V cried out in vain. "The witch if the wood eats people! Surely she will not give me a coal!"
V's stepmother sneared down her long nose at her. "Go afore it is too dark to see the way."
And so V set off into the forest until not even the light of the moon could guide her steps. It was then that the quiet whispers of her mother's doll began to give directions through the dark wood.
Soon, V emerged into a strange clearing. In its centre, a wooden hut sat on top of tall wooden posts that looked almost like chickens feet. At the base of the hut was a small garden with all manner of plants growing. And surrounding the garden was a fence that seemed to be made of bones. Thankfully, as V approached the hut, she could see a warm light coming from within. This must be the home of the witch of the wood.
Following the fence of bone, V reached the garden gate. On either side of the gate were skulls set atop large bones. Small candles inside the skulls seemed to light as if by magic as soon as V touched the gate.
"Why are you here, child?" A voice called out from the hut. There in the doorway stood an old woman, her back bent from many years of hard work and her long grey hair gleaming in the moonlight.
V plucked up her courage and called out, "My stepmother sent me to find the witch of the wood to ask for a coal."
At her response, the old woman barked out a laugh that sounded more like the cawing of a crow than a human laugh. "And what will I get in return? I will not give you a coal for free."
Again, V plucked up her courage and responded, "I will work for it. I promise I'm a hard worker, you can see from my hands." At this V raised her hands for the old woman to inspect.
Seeing the calloses from many years of hard work, the old woman nodded. "Very well, you will work for me for a day and a night, and you will receive a coal from my hearth that will never go out."
With that, the old woman turned around and began to walk up to the hut. As she walked, she began to list the chores she wanted V to perform. "You will clean the house and yard, wash the laundry, and cook us two meals; breakfast and supper. You will go into the storeroom and separate rotten grains from sound grains and gather and store seeds from the garden."
After years of dealing with her stepmother's ever expanding list of demands, this old woman's jobs seemed almost easy by comparison.
"First, let's see your skills as a cook. Go to the garden and fetch us something for supper"
And so into the witch's garden, V went, gathering edible and medicinal plants until she had enough to make a hearty soup, which would helpfully ease some of the old woman's pain.
The old woman nodded at V's selection and led her up the ladder into the hut. On one side of the hut was a large stone hearth, and at its heart, five large coals gleamed as they cradled the base of a large iron pot.
"Take the pot to the stream and fill it halfway with water. Then return to make your soup." The old woman bid.
It took all of V's strength to lift the large iron pot from the hearth and carry it carefully down the ladder so as not to scorch the wood. Down the garden path, V carried the pot past the bone gate and back into the forest. Thankfully, her mother's blessing whispered directions, and V was able to quickly locate the nearby stream and fill the pot halfway.
Returning to the hut, V began chopping herbs and vegetables and throwing them in the pot. Soon the hearty supper was bubbling away in the pot and ready to be served.
The old woman passed V two wooden bowls and a large wooden ladle.
"You want two bowls of soup?" V asked the old woman.
"No, the other is for you, child." The old woman barked before hitting V with the large spoon. Doing quickly as she was bid, V ladled out two portions of the soup; one for her and one for the old witch.
With the soup placed in front of her, the old woman quickly ate her supper seemingly ravenous. V ate her portion much slower, not used to having supper anymore, though she was happy to refill the old woman's bowl with more soup when she was bid to.
With supper eaten, V gathered their bowls, spoons, and knife into the now empty iron pot and carried it down the ladder, through the garden gate and down to the stream to wash.
Upon her return, she found a pallet bed had been made up.
"That is for you," the old woman muttered as she walked over to her own bed tucked into the wall of the hut.
"But how will I get all of the jobs done if I sleep here?" V asked.
The old woman turned back to her with a strange smile on her face. "I'm sure a hard-working young woman such as yourself can find a way."
With that, the old woman climbed into bed, leaving V to climb into the pallet bed. When she heard the snores of the old woman, V pulled out her mother's doll from the secret pocket of her dress. "Please, little doll, I need your help once more. I can not do all that is asked of me, and my hands are blistered and sore."
Again, the little girl heard the doll's voice inside her head, "Sleep little one, the jobs will be done upon the rising of the sun."
With a smile on her face, V fell asleep, assured that her mother's blessing would help her once more.
When she awoke, V saw that the old woman was already awake and was staring into the hearth as she sipped on a strong smelling tea. "I see you were quite busy while you slept." The old woman said with a crooked smile and a gesture to the iron pot full of hot porrige.
"Are there other jobs you need me to complete?"
"You will eat this porridge and carry one of these coals to your stepmother's house. Then you will return here."
Once more, V did as she was bid.
Upon finishing her porridge, the old woman gave V a fox skull. Using large iron tongs, the old woman reached into the hearth and removed one of the hold glowing coals and placed it in the jaws of the fox.
"Take this to your stepmother's house to light her hearth and then return here."
And so V carried the skull, down the ladder, through the garden, out the gate and through the forest until she reached the edge where her father's house stood.
V knocked on the door, and her stepmother quickly opened the door, a look of shock and horror gracing her features.
No sooner had her stepmother opened the door, and then the coal had begun to glow brighter and brighter. Within moments, her stepmother's dress and the doorframe of the house began to smoke, and soon, both were burning merrily until naught but ashes remained.
Once more, V did as she was bid.
She returned to the witch in the wood and learned all that she could.
-
As a kid, I loved this version of the Baba Yaga tale, and now as an adult I love how these stories were the avenues for or my Nanna to pass on examples of small magic and witchcraft.
This is also probably why I've never had an issue with blood based magic when so many other witches do have an issue with it.
#stormbornwitch#marci talks about stuff#witchcraft#witch#traditional witchcraft#baba yaga#blood magic#poppet#motanka#fairy tail#folklore
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let the beltane fires burn
The Halliwells are descended from Melinda Warren, are the branch in which the greatest power resides, the line that would birth the most powerful witches to walk the earth.
It's not the only line.
Deanna knows about hunters, knows what they don’t know and don’t understand and that they killed her family. But Samuel didn’t kill her family. Samuel’s a good man who saves innocents, the same way she was raised to, if not how she was raised to do it.
She’s all alone. It’s not safe to be a witch.
The day before her wedding, she binds her powers.
When Mary is a year and a day, she does the same to her. It’s safer this way. Better. The world is so unkind to witches, even ones like them, born into it, with their power baked into their blood. Better to fight evil with bullets and knives than the strange terrible thing she’s destined to give her daughter, that her daughter is destined to pass along to her own daughters.
She never tells Samuel. There’s no reason to.
When Mary is old enough, when she’s talking of running and rebelling and all those things Samuel thinks will never come to pass and Deanna knows almost certainly will – running and rebelling is in her blood as surely as the magic, but there’s no binding potion for that – she tells her daughter what they are. What she’ll have to do to keep her future daughters safe, if she has them. It’s the only potion she ever teaches Mary how to brew, the only one she’ll ever need.
The day after Dean’s first birthday, Marry brews the potion and feeds it to him. He cries more after, doesn’t settle as quickly, and John worries and Mary reassures him and tells herself she’s done the right thing. Whatever it is that Dean feels he’s lost, he’s better off without it. She’s going to be normal. Her children are going to be normal.
She intends to do the same for Sammy, but she burns above his crib when he’s six months old.
~
John sees Sammy levitate a toy towards him when he’s two years old and shouts so loudly that he drops it, tears running down his face and wailing in the face of his father’s anger. Dean comes running from the other room and reaches for Sammy, letting his brother’s chubby fingers tangle in his shirt. “What’s wrong?” he asks, eyes wide.
He doesn’t answer, rubbing his hand over his face and heart pounding in his chest.
What did that demon do to his son?
What did it turn him into?
Is Sammy even human anymore?
He doesn’t react to salt, to holy water, to silver. John loses his temper every time something moves inexplicably and eventually it stops, by the time Sam’s in kindergarten he’s just like all the other kids.
John watches, fear and suspicion and something uglier caught up inside of him.
What is his son?
~
Sam figures out young that he’s a freak.
Dad and Dean just think he’s weak, just think he has nightmares, and he lets them. He only practices the telekinesis when he’s alone and every time he almost gathers the courage to tell his brother or father about it, to finally come clean, he’s viciously reminded how much they hate the things they hunt, how they’d never accept it, accept him, and as soon as he tells them what he is, he’ll lose them.
He doesn’t know what he is, really. Only that he’s not normal.
Eventually he stops seeing things in his sleep, instead getting them when he’s awake, more vivid and real than the monsters that plague his dreams. He sees people being hurt, people who need help, and it goes against everything he’s been taught to leave them to their fate.
But how can he explain it to his family? He can’t.
He’s thirteen the first time he sneaks out and saves a woman from one of his visions, finding her in the dark alley he’d seen her die in. He puts a bullet in the man’s chest, but it barely stops him, and then she and him both are getting a fireball thrown at them.
Sam shoves his hand in front of him, pushing back against the heat, refusing to die the same way his mother died.
The fireball returns to the man, catching him in the chest and he screams, disappearing into the fire until he’s nothing more than a smudge on the ground.
“Wow,” the woman breathes. Sam turns to her, trying to come up with some sort of explanation, when she continues, “I’ve never met a witch with active powers before.”
“I’m not a witch,” he says automatically, thinking of bargains made with demons, of hex bags and rotting meat and blood sacrificed.
She looks between him and the smudge on the ground incredulously. “Are you sure about that?”
Yes. No.
He doesn’t know what he is.
She leads him back to her apartment, stacks books into hix arms, and then makes him a sandwich when his stomach rumbles. His age worries her, his ignorance worries her even more, and everything she’s saying sounds like kooky new age bullshit except for the way that it explains everything he’s never been able to.
There are witches and demons and monsters nothing like anything his father’s ever talked about.
~
It’s easy to research, at least, because his dad thinks there’s a kernel of truth in every piece of supernatural bullshit. Dean makes fun of him for digging into girly, feel-good crap rather than the harder stuff, but his dad just seems relieved he’s taking an interest all. Sam starts taking notes, keeps them all in a folder until Dad buys him a journal, patting his back when he hands it over like it’s a rite of passage.
To Dad, it’s his first hunting journal.
Sam runs his hand down the soft leather spine and knows he’s starting his book of shadows.
The visions don’t stop. He saves more innocents, some witches and some mortal, and keeps the record of all the creatures he’s killed in Latin to discourage Dad and Dean from snooping. He uses his telekinesis on hunts only when there’s no other option, only when there’s someone’s life on the line, and he’s as careful as he can be not to get caught.
It should be a relief, to find out there are other people like him, to know that he’s a force for good in the world.
There’s no way he can explain the existence of a different type of witches to his father without putting a target on their backs.
Some witches have been targeted by hunters, ones who were trying to help but got caught in the crossfire, ones that had turned evil and needed to be stopped, but it’s not often he finds a witch that regards hunters with anything but fear. At least when his family are the ones sniffing around, he can give them a heads up, can tell them how to avoid their attention.
He’s had a lot of practice, after all.
~
Sam is sixteen when he’s a little too slow.
The innocent is safe and the demon is killed, but his chest is torn open and he’s bleeding out on the pavement.
“Oh no, oh no,” the woman he’d saved chants, pressing her hands against him, even though it’s pointless, even though it just sends a bolt of pain through him. Fuck. He doesn’t want to die. Dean is going to devastated. “Paige! Help me! Paige!”
There’s a bright light in the corner of his eyes and an woman around his dad’s age with bright hair red hair is leaning over him.
Then she touches him, but her touch doesn’t hurt.
He looks down and the wound on his chest closes, skin clear and unharmed, pain retreating to only a memory.
“He saved me,” the woman says. “He can move things!”
The redhead’s eyebrows rise. “You have active powers?”
They’re always so surprised by that. Sam’s more impressed with the fact that she just healed him. “I get premonitions too. What are you?”
“You get,” she starts then cuts herself off. “Where’s your whitelighter?”
He stares. “My what?”
She raises a hand to her head and groans. “Oh, someone’s really messed up somewhere. Leo!”
~
Guardian angels are real, called whitelighters, and apparently witches with active powers who go around saving innocents are supposed to have them to help keep them from getting themselves killed in the process.
Leo, who’s something called an elder with a kind face, says an unconventional witch deserves an unconventional whitelighter.
Chris Halliwell is his age, half witch, and also has telekinesis.
Oh, and he’s apparently his cousin. His very, very, very distant cousin.
“Are all witches related?” he asks incredulously.
“No,” Chris says, long dark hair and hazel eyes doing more to aid his claim of family than the spell his mother had cast. He and Chris look more related than him and Dean do. “We’d thought all the other branches of the Warren line had died out. You’re a surprise.”
Great. He’s a freak even among witches.
~
It’s so much easier now that he’s not desperately trying to piece together everything on his own, with only the occasional help from the innocents he saves. Chris is sarcastic and annoying and funny and more than having a guardian angel, Sam’s relieved to just have a friend he doesn’t have to lie to for once.
The Halliwell house, with its potion ingredients and powerful witches and home cooking, is only an orb away. He mostly hangs out with Chris, of course, but Piper always invites him to stay for dinner and Paige checks in on him, feeling somewhat responsible for him since she met him first, and Wyatt’s friendly enough but Chris sends him packing whenever Sam’s there.
He’s pulling doubletime when it comes to saving innocents, doing it as a witch and as a hunter, and he’s still maintaining straight As on top of it all while lying about half his life to his father and brother. It’s a stack of cards that’s bound to fall apart.
Going to Stanford is about more than just escaping his father.
It gets him close enough to San Francisco that he won’t need to be orbed to the Halliwells. It’s supposed to give him some breathing room, to let him focus on being a witch, to let him get his education. He does more good as a witch than as a hunter, but it’s not like that’s something he can explain to his family.
He’d wanted out, needed out, before he gets himself or someone else killed trying to balance it all. But he hadn’t thought his father would kick him out. He hadn’t thought Dean would let him.
He goes to the bus station but doesn’t buy a ticket. He calls Chris and spends the rest of the summer at Halliwell manor, burying all his hurt under training with Chris and saving people and getting ready to start college in September.
~
Jess wears a pentacle around her neck and keeps salt in small bowls in each of the cardinal directions and Sam doesn’t intend to tell her that he’s a witch, but when he ends up saving her from a darklighter attack, that decision is taken out of his hands. Coming clean about the hunter part takes longer, but it’s a bit of an easier sell once the knowledge of the supernatural is already out there. The thing that surprised her most of all is that things like bullets and steel can be used successfully against monsters, rather than the existence of monsters themselves.
Three years later when Dean shows up at their door, Sam can’t bring himself to deny him. It’s one weekend. He’d never wanted to lose his family in the first place.
When he returns home to Jessica pinned to the ceiling, he doesn’t even have to think.
He yanks her down, catching her in his arms just as fire effulges the place she’d been. He pushes the fire away from them, but it fights him harder than demonic fire usually does and leaves his hands burned and blistering. He doesn’t care. Jess is bleeding and in shock but still alive, breath rattling against him. “CHRIS!”
Dean’s yelling for him, but Sam can’t let him in. He throws his hand out, keeping his bedroom door closed even as his brother throws his body against it, still screaming his name.
Chris orbs in, eyes going huge. “Sam, what-”
“Heal her then go,” he snaps, the smoke already hurting his throat. “I’ll explain later.”
He puts his glowing hands over her bleeding stomach and the wound closes, her body going slack and her breathing easing even as her eyes roll back.
Sam tenses. “Is she-”
“Fine, let’s go, your hands,” Chris says, hands already glowing as he reaches for him.
“SAM!” Dean shouts, sounding like he’s about two seconds away from trying to shoot through the door.
“You can heal me later,” he says. “Thank you. Go.”
Chris shoots him a bitchy look that Paige says they share and then he orbs away. The fire’s covered almost the entire room now and Sam finally lets go of the door.
Dean stumbles in, pale, already reaching for him.
Sam stands and finds his knees buckling, gritting his teeth to keep himself upright. “Take her,” he says urgently, pressing Jess into his brother’s arms. “We have to go.”
“You think?” he snaps, but he’s gentle with Jess. Sam shoves him towards the door, slamming it behind him just as it surges after them. Keeping the flames from killing them is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. No wonder he’s exhausted.
They stumble downstairs, away from the fire, and someone’s already called the ambulance.
The story’s an easy sell because it’s not like anyone would believe the truth. They say Jess took sleeping pills and Sam came home to flames. He pulled Jess out and has the burns to prove it. Dean saw the flames in the window and went up, helping to get them both out.
It’s almost true.
“He had yellow eyes,” Jess tells him after. “He was – Sam, I’ve seen demons, I’ve fought demons. He’s something else.”
“Different kind of demons,” Sam says. There’s the underworld, and there’s hell. Underworld demons go after witches mostly. Hell demons go after mortals and are a lot harder to kill, ironically. “It’s the same demon that killed my mother, Jess, and now it’s after you. I have to take care of this.”
Dean’s too relieved about Sam’s determination to rejoin the hunt to question him too closely about all this. He knows better than to think that will last for very long.
Chris agrees to watch over Jess for him even though she’s not technically one of his charges. They layer protection spells on her, including one cast by the power of three, and even this yellow eyed demon will be hard pressed to break through that.
Hell demons are tricky. They’re not as susceptible to witch magic. But Sam’s not just a witch.
He’s a hunter too.
#well this got away from me#i'm sure you're all shocked#dean gets electrocuted and is like well guess i'm going to die#sam is like uh huh yeah sure and just straight up tells dean to close his eyes and trust him and has chris heal him#chris thinks the whole charade is stupid when dean's a witch too#sam's like dean's a WHAT?#and then has to be like is it unethical to not tell dean we come from a line of a powerful witches and his powers have been bound#the halliwells are like ?? yes???#sam tries to broach the subject with dean but it goes so poorly that he gives up#dean's powers are empathy and explosions#the day his powers are unbound is the worst and best day of sam's life#supernatural#charmed#also yes the timelines don't make sense together but whatever time is fake
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my piece for the Hemisphere: a Witch Hat Atelier seasons themed zine! thank you for having me! they're having a leftovers sale until stock runs out 🖋🍀🌷🍁❄🌧 WIPs + inspiration board + symbolism under the cut! got some requests to put this on my inprnt! the site has sales very often & you can grab it as a small or big size print.
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I had a pretty good idea of the composition from the get-go. I took inspiration from art nouveau (primarily Alphonse Mucha), German fairy tales, and some 1920s perfume ads. I wanted the girls to look like fairies, akin to The Root Children by Sibylle von Olfers.
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Olly just didn't work out in this drawing due to time restraints. I do love him very much though.
I actually kinda stopped making illustrations like these (including the TGAA/DGS tarot card + TGAA/DGS zine pieces a while back) because they were starting to get very hard on my arm, as I had an RSI (repetitive strain injury) a few years back during school. (Not putting the onus on the zines at all ofc! I genuinely love working with zine projects! it's def a me thing WAHAHAHA. my style was getting too anime and too detailed for my liking and everything was just taking forever to finish ngl. but I didn't have time to experiment with a more simple style outside of all of my deadlines)
I think that realizing you need to stop is okay. It's something that Shirahama teaches us in her story and I want to learn to take it to heart.
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MILD SPOILERS AHEAD (for those who havent read the story I guess)
each character's symbolism:
- Coco - spring, clovers - Coco is the quintessential spring girl, and I wanted her to symbolize new beginnings, and oh boy did Coco bring a big one. The four leaf clover in particular symbolizes luck and good fortune - to some characters, Coco may have brought fortune, to others her presence brings misfortune, take that as you will.
- Tetia - summer, gladiolus - the name "gladiolus" comes from the Latin word "gladius", meaning "sword", based on the shape of the flower. you can interpret it as "you pierce my heart", perfect for a girl like Tetia, who has a contagious energy, with a romantic and grandiose nature.
- Agott - autumn, marigold - I read somewhere marigolds symbolize strength and power, perfect for our little magical powerhouse Agott. They can also symbolize jealousy (yellow flowers in particular have this association), which reflects on her rivalry with Coco in the beginning.
- Riche - winter, snowdrop - The white color of snowdrops has a strong connotation to innocence, which reflects on Riche's wish to stay a child forever. It can also symbolize rebirth and new beginnings (like Coco's clovers), as the snowdrop is the first flower to bloom in the spring, when the snow has not yet melted. I wanted the concept of "rebirth" to associate with Riche's friendship with Euini, and of his sort of "rebirth" into a new being.
- Qifrey - he does not have a flower per se, but as the caregiver and educator of the four girls, he represents the rainy season - precipitation being the one thing that binds all of these seasons together. (Note some areas of the world do not have a rainy season like where I live). I think somewhere along the line I wanted to put hydrangeas behind him, to really bring out the "rainy" theme, but the thought probably got lost somewhere in translation...
- bg flowers - honestly I just picked whatever. white lily, daffodil, hydrangea, zinnia, tulip
#witch hat atelier#tongari boushi no atelier#Δ帽子#coco (witch hat atelier)#agott arkrome#agathe arkrome#agott (witch hat atelier)#tetia (witch hat atelier)#riche (witch hat atelier)#richeh#qifrey#agott#tetia#riche#my art#i truly do not know how many tags show up in search anymore LEAVE ME ALONE#thank you for reading if you do - from the bottom of my heart#i am editing this post half asleep bc the full artwork refused to upload for like 2 days#and it finally worked now .#despite my struggles im very satisfied with how this one turned out#one thing that bothers me is qifrey's robe.. i wanted it to be like hes sitting on a flower#but i think the angle of the flower didnt work out LOL so it looks weird#*nitpicks my own art to hell as per usual. you know. the usual midnight thots*
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Summoning the Summoner
Another summoning/long lost family au but with twist!
So Damian and his class are at Gotham museum for a small field trip for a school project. Thing is none of them knew until it was too late that the new museum curator was part of a cult that had plans to kidnap and sacrifice this class of kids for some ancient god/deity/spirit.
Damian barely manages to send a message to one of his brothers and to the cave before being knocked out when he sees his classmates dropping from knocknout gas.
When he wakes up the preparations for the sacrifice are almost ready. Damian being the most prominent person in the class is going to be the one chosen first. He is then taken to the alter and it begins after the whole villain speech. Damian does manage to get out of his bindings and tries to fight back, does lead them on a merry little chase to get more time for his family to come, nothing to Robiny though, but is forcibly restrained again.
Just as they bring Damian back to the alter none of them notice, or rather, care that Damian was bleeding from getting hit when they recaptured him. None of them notice when the blood dropped from his chin onto the summoning circle because the Batclan (any) just dropped into the room.
They did notice however when the summoning circle started glowing beneath them however.
And none of the cultists had time to finish the summoning chant.
Meaning the summoning circle was not under their control.
And before any of them could do anything, they are all ripped away from the Mortal Realm and everyone, Damian, his class, the cultists, and the Batfam in the room are pulled into the Infinite Realms.
They are no longer in the warehouse they were about to be sacrificed in but in a throne room. Surrounded by glowing floating people and some don't even look human.
And sitting on the throne was a teenager with a shoulder wrapped cape made of stars and galaxies, a crown of ice, stars, and aurora borealis lights shifting in between them, about Damian's age, with white hair and glowing green eyes who looked rather shocked.
The reason? Both him and Damian shared the same face.
-x-x-
Danny was annoyed as heck.
Ever since his crowning it was like every magic user from legendary to mediocre got a notice that a new Infinite Realms King had been crowned and that gave them the go ahead and try to freaking Summon him!
Luckily refusing a summons was well within Danny's Ghost King rights, he's King now he does what he wants (Sam's wise words), and the only summonings Danny answered were his friends and family (Dani is such a troll with it though, butttttt it does get him out of those annoying meetings sometimes and they get to hang out wherever she decided to stop at), sometimes he'd answer the odd teenage morons just to scare them (it's always fun)
Although there were a few summonings outside of that, that he had answered. Thankfully he could sense what kind of summoner was summoning him and intent was always a huge thing. And those that didn't feel like insane fruitloops well... Danny's curiosity often took over.
So imagine his annoyance when he felt another summon happening in the middle of a meeting with his council. But also imagine his surprise when the normally tight demands on the summoning wasn't there...
That meant...
Oh Danny was going to have a lot of fun with this.
This meant they summoning but don't have control on which way the summoning was going to go. Meaning, Danny could reverse summon them to him instead.
With a wide grin he instantly waved his hand and the meeting room shifted to his throne room, might as well pull out all the stops and play the "Big Bag Ghost King"
He could see his council (and good friends and allies) raise their eyebrows at him or tilt their heads but could also sense the attempted summonings power of him and knew he had something planned.
With a short laugh, Danny raised his hand, grasped on the invisible summoning line, and pulled.
Now he was expecting a good amount of people, the summoning felt large so that normally meant cultists but he was expecting so many! Heck some looked to be teenagers his age, and a few oddly dressed people besides the cultists! Oh boy did that mean sacrifices?! Well he'll be happy to put those cultists in their place if that was the case.
But first, find the summoner. Separate them from the group and -
Oh... why... why does he have Danny's face?!
Danny took a quick look at the normally invisible to everyone but him Summoning line and almost choked when he saw it was a sibling line, a blood sibling line.
#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc#crossover#blue rambles#writing ideas#random idea#danny phantom dc#dpxdc#danny and damian or siblings#maybe twins?#or one is a year older or younger?#idk pick#basicly Danny knows hes adopted and has known for a while#good fentons btw#Damian doesnt know though#Talia never mentioned the 'failed' child she tried creating before or after him#either she tried dunking him in the pits that spirited him away or gave him up to adoption like in Damian's OG story idk#everyone can see the resemblance between the two#cue so many questions
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What do people romanticize about you? What do people villainize you for? Find out in this pick a card about your wicked truth 🫧🧹
Paid Readings | Botanica | Tip Jar
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Pile One
What do people romanticize about you?
The way that you look reigns a binding effect. Your body, facial features, or even your energetic presence creates the assumption in a person’s mind that you can heal them. Your physical features could emanate an image of luxuriance that makes people want to acquire you in order to gain something more in their life. It’s prepossessing in a way that replenishes people on a berserk level of favorableness. The way that they see good in you is the same way that you are able to see the good in people, even when they don’t deserve it. When you are open to others and are at your happiest, it can be intoxicating to the people around you. The abundance around you reflects in the way that you are giving to others, so the people who feel a sense of envy over what you were born with and how you carry yourself, they mistake your generosity for something that is entirely theirs and what they’re entitled to. People romanticize you in a way where they see you as an extension of themselves. I’m picking up that this can be through your beauty and body, the resources that you have, the support or popularity that you gain, and in your ability to comfort and provide for others.
What do people villainize about you?
I feel like people in this pile are aware of how damaging this kind of romanticization is, even if people feel like you should be flattered. People villainize you for acknowledging it for what it is. Objectification. What comes to my mind when describing this energy as is a “prude’s worst nightmare” and the character “Eve” from the movie “Igor”. When you step out of this role of being polished and when you use your abilities for your own reasons instead of being under someone else’s terms, intent, and timing, you become terrifying. People will villainize you because of the suspense they feel over what you will do next. A sexual person isn’t deemed a “whore” until they consider their pleasure and wants. A person that doesn’t know any better is beneficial to another individual until they do know better and go towards it. Youth becomes bastardized when the future doesn’t turn out like what our elders intended. A magician becomes a witch when their spirituality doesn’t liken to smoke and mirrors. All of these examples share something in common in what makes someone a threat, which is being a person who knows and understands that they are free. The true villain here is perception and your capability of continuing to walk away from situations that keep you stuck from making use of what was given to you for a reason. Embrace your seductive prowess. If you’re the generational curse breaker in your family, don’t allow the people before you to hijack what you’ve been guided to do with your life because it doesn’t embody “the struggle” or what greatness looks like. Your personal connection to a higher power will always threaten a person who believes that they’re the center of the universe and that is why expansion in your life from the magic that surrounds you will be seen as a loss for them.
What is your wicked truth?
The energy that people sense from you is maternal but is viewed and approached in a skewed manner because most people underestimate it as something that is one-dimensional. Maternal energy is only seen as something meant to be given to others when it’s actually about affluence. People will try to position you into the role of a caretaker, parent, leader, spouse, but the truth is that your power to create, is in whatever path that you have decided for yourself. If it does look like becoming a parent and raising children, then that’s absolutely fine, but don’t succumb to the narrative that creation or fertility is limited to only one thing or under someone else’s vision. Assume a role because you want to, not because of what’s pressured onto you. Especially when you decide to break free from being someone who is always thinking about everyone else but yourself. It’s going to piss people off, but it isn’t your responsibility to mother their anger or what they’re searching for within them. What people are really seeking from your energy is your intensity. When you come from a place of love or carry a lot of it in you and around you, it attracts people who desire unconditional love from the wrong places. When your knowledge and talent is incredible, it attracts people who lack it but swear up and down that they’ll know how to work your own potential better than you do. When you constantly generate unorthodox ideas, the people shunning you for it are secretly planning on how they can capitalize off of the voguish complexity that you exude naturally. Allow the abundance that you create to be for yourself, instead of letting people weaponize you to suit their apprehension to evolving from places that they’re not in anymore. Your wicked truth is that you decide the person that you want to be and that you need to be more picky with how and who you choose to expend your energy on. You have to be stronger than what people say about you when you start to advocate for yourself and the main thing that I want people in the pile to take from this message, is to not let people placate you by thinking that they can take credit for the person that you are and what you’re capable of doing. Your identity is only perversed when you live outside of your self concept trying to fit in other people’s lives. Be the main character in yours.
Pile Two
What do people romanticize about you?
People romanticize your chaos. They seek the things you wish to not have and the unwanted attention that you get. I’m picking up themes around money, gifts, masculine figures with influence, and lust being drawn towards you. When those who can’t relate to you see this, they view it as something enviable because you appear to be well taken care of, but you actually see this as a nuisance. You trigger obsession in your close or intimate relationships and in strangers. I’m seeing a lot from people who know you but you have no idea who they are or if you can recall even interacting with them. I’m sorry, but I keep interpreting this energy from those that romanticize you, as people who are not used to anything, so they want everything. If you’ve experienced a person or multiple people having a fatal like attraction towards you, especially with the lingering theme of obsession, they see it as something cool, and as a scenario that “isn’t all bad” because they focus too much on what they think you’re benefiting from it, such as being “desired”, money, “protection”, or being in a position of not having to worry about material lack. If you come from some form of generational wealth, or have a parent that appears to have a lot of money, people could romanticize it, instead of paying attention to how that inherited wealth comes with another price that you have to pay, such as your freedom or mental peace. Some people in this pile may have an experience with their haters cyberstalking them. I’m sensing through anonymous accounts or accounts from people who were supposed to be your friends or supporters who are secretly judging you and waiting for their moment to pick you apart directly. Overall, this pile is dealing with some sort of situation that puts you in distress, but other people are seeing it as a blessing. They have delusions over the toxicity that you face in your life.
What do people villainize about you?
People villainize your reluctance to see things the way that others do. They view this indifference as ungratefulness, which triggers this venomous vitriol that they have against you. I just got a headache which confirms how unpleasant these people are around you. They want to drill into your head to change your mind about things and you just will not conform to that and they resent you for it. People could view you as someone sick or in need of help because they think that you don’t see things for what they really are. I’m getting so annoyed by this, because it’s mainly situations where they’re speaking on what they see, instead of everything that you’re feeling, seeing, and actually receiving. When you’re not silent about your discomfort or when you unveil illusions, that is when you’re villainized the most. I’m hearing this viral audio clip “He’s a good man Savannah”. I see that your discernment in relationships and in your career is sharp. You’re phenomenal at detecting and protecting yourself from controlling individuals, but people could think that you’re being paranoid and that you’re somehow sabotaging yourself. The people who tend to make you the villain, are complicating their lives because they’re too busy wanting yours. They’re free to go after what it is that you don’t want, but they’d rather bully you into choices that they can’t fathom themselves rejecting.
What is your wicked truth?
Your wicked truth is that you do not have to accept things because they are valued by another person. You do not have to jump at every opportunity that calls for you nor do you have to answer it. There are lessons that you can learn from the people who villainize you. They are trying to sway you into a scarce mindset, because they live their lives thinking that the only way to get justice is by taking what you can get from this world instead of chasing bigger. And honestly, “bigger” is really the bare minimum. Don’t let people bully you into staying with abusive people or situations that don’t make you happy and respected. There is negativity that comes with being ungrateful, but there is also negativity that comes with support. It’s not always promising to depend on someone for something, especially a controlling person. I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you deserve a love that doesn’t wane and isn’t confusing. You deserve safety without having to owe someone something. Another lesson to learn from the people who villainize you, is that at some point, you do need to detract from your fear of being seen. Not in a way that feeds into the drama, but in a way that makes you stop being avoidant of being as you are. Transmute a hater’s energy into your favor. Envision those eyes as motivation to keep strutting your stuff to really give them something to watch, which is a person who isn’t afraid to not settle for crumbs because it shows up at their doorstep. Walk over those bitches. You don’t need anyone’s attention, because you are attention. Remember that.
Pile Three
What do people romanticize about you?
I’m getting that people romanticize your “childlike wonder”. Your ability to be eternal. I’m actually hearing that people actually romanticize the way that YOU romanticize life. You guys could be very holistic and spiritual. Very in tune with the esoteric view of the world and how we operate in society. People love your wisdom, could even be addicted to it, because it’s cogent. It calms the mind, it makes them open their eyes to see what’s actually there in front of them and how they can build from situations that initially look like there's nothing to gain from it. Your energy is whimsical. People romanticize it, because it’s like “Hakuna Matata”, “Fuck it, We Ball”, or in other words “no worries”. You’re psychic, whimsical, and also indulgent. You guys are like pile one, but the aura from this pile seems more boundless. People around you could see you as either a good influence or a bad influence because of this. The degree to which you show your optimism could make people feel like you’re bragging, but somehow, it stuns people, because it appears like you’re never checked for it. There’s like a force or a circumstance that backs up exactly what you’re confident about. A LOT of jupiter and neptune energy here. People are drawn to you because of the way you gamble with your life (I know that sounds scary, but that’s exactly what I mean when I say that y’all are risk takers). Your influence is either just very loved or despised because what I really get here is that people love the way that you romanticize them, because being around you makes them feel like they don’t have to be accountable. There’s no strict authority to tell them “no”. Your influence if people don’t place boundaries, could make people fall into psychosis, debt, or some form of imprisonment. You guys remind me of Gojo from Jujutsu Kaisen.
What do people villainze about you?
I actually want to bring clarity about what I was interpreting in the first part of this reading. I get that a lot of you aren’t really telling these people to do things to hurt them. It’s just that people have so much trust in what you say or the person that you are, but will distort and take in too much of the examples that you make in life or the insight that you give. What makes people upset over you, is your popularity. How you can say something, and people will run with whatever narrative. People villainize you because they feel you’re a person who has too much power, even when you’re just breathing. People could want to silent you because of how much magnetism is in your words or how you challenge beliefs. I also see that people can villainize you for not enacting a role of the pedestal that they placed you on. Let’s say that you withdraw yourself socially, because you don’t want people analyzing every single thing that you say or do, and you don't want to be in the spotlight or in a leadership position because you don’t want to be responsible for everyone and blamed for what goes wrong. This could anger people because they see this as cowardice when they perceive you as someone who’s confident or someone who inspires them to rebel against something or they want to hear more of your thoughts. It’s like a damn if you do, damn if you don’t kind of situation. People villainize you when they feel like you’ve let them down in some way.
What is your wicked truth?
Your wicked truth is that you need to release guilt from mistakes that you have made. You’ve done the work, you’ve analyzed more than enough what went wrong and how you could change while backing it up with action. It’s time to move on and continue being happy, not because it makes other people happy and inspired, but because you deserve to experience your joy and tap into your inner child again. To imagine and have fun instead of feeling like you’re responsible for everyone. This could look like codependency. You have to lean into individualism more. You need to place more boundaries with people who deify you so that you can relax and no longer immobilize yourself because you feel like you only bring destruction. You don’t destroy things or people and you’re not a nuisance. You’re not anyone’s enemy, even to the people who villainize you. Their perception of you is their problem and something that they need to work on, because 9/10, they don’t know you well enough to speak on what your intentions are. You mean well, and that is why the love will always outweigh the hate. You’re appreciated and listened to for a reason but always remember that you’re still human. You don’t have to be perfect because people want to see you as perfect. And just because you’re not perfect doesn’t mean that you aren’t qualified to help and lead others. Awareness and treating others with care is always a must, but the point of this pile is for you and the others around you to learn balance. Too much positivity is just as bad as too much negativity.
#pick a card#pick a card reading#tarot#tarotblr#spirituality#divination#wicked#glinda#elphaba#psychic#intuitive#intuitive readings#free readings#tarot card reading
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on the topic of how infuriating it is to read 300 pages of percy calling himself stupid, of other characters calling him stupid, of even the creatures/animals implying that he's stupid, a scene that really bugged me was when hecate checked in on percy while he was on the train, and it was such an effort for him to remind himself that he can’t lie, and he can’t tell her the truth, ie: he has to trick her and talk his way out of this situation.
(this is certainly not the most egregious example of percy's apparent stupidity in this book, but it allows me to talk about one of the ways in which percy IS, in fact, very smart!)
throughout the books, one of percy’s strongest traits is how clever he is! he is extremely good at manipulation (and he’s a bit ruthless in his manipulation too). he's an excellent swordsman and he's almost better at talking through a situation in such a way that he can exploit his enemies weaknesses.
example: at age 12, still very new to the mythological world, he manipulated procrustes into climbing into one of his own enchanted beds, used his own magical bonds to keep him there, and then cut off his head (while saying “i think i'll start with the top." he's so iconic for that). procrustes unwittingly handed 12-year-old percy everything he needed to turn the trick around on crusty. percy observed how he tricked grover and annabeth to getting close to the beds, listened for the magic word (ergo) he used to bind them there, and in the very short amount of time they spent around him, percy was able to get a feel for crusty's personality/ego well enough to know exactly what to say to trick him into getting into one of the beds so he could kill him.
there are SO many more examples of percy using tricks and manipulations to defeat his enemies. but all this to say: percy is clever and smart and thinks quick on his feet and he’s damn manipulative (the trickery is such a hermes trait, too, which makes for SUCH a nice foil to luke in the og series).
so for him to be breaking such a sweat trying to make sure he doesn’t spill the beans to hecate just rubs me the wrong way.
which! this could have been used to say something about percy’s newfound anxiety post-hoo. this could have been used to say something about his trauma from all those events and how maybe, right now, he’s not quite himself and so he’s not as quick on the draw as before. but rick absolutely did not put that much thought into it. It’s not about any of that, it’s just another moment played for laughs about how dumb and stupid percy is, and how he suddenly can’t handle himself in front of a god, even though he’s been getting in their faces since the day he learned he was a demigod.
#there's more i could say on this. an added lay would be him not knowing any mythology apparently. despite the fact that#a) he knew mythology from the beginning. he knew a good amount of stuff in tlt! and b) he's been in the mythological world for#many years of his life now. he knows what he's doing and what's talking about. but that's a whole other thing#pjo#wottg spoilers#wottg#percy jackson
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Coach's Special Massage
Getting your big, beefy pecs groped by your coach was not how you imagined your Tuesday night.
You were the star player of your team. You were a natural born athlete and you had the body to match it. Every muscle in your body was huge; balloons of cements that were hard as steel and looked ready to burst. It was all thanks to your dedicated exercise routine that you followed religiously for years on end.
But one day, your coach approached you and insisted that you needed a massage therapy session. Something about trying to alleviate your stress after the scandal that came to light. Something about cheating on your girlfriend with other girls. No clue which ones they were talking about. The number ‘three’ kept coming up but your team and coach must have known it was way more than that.
To be honest, you weren’t stressed one bit, but you weren’t going to turn down a massage, that is, until you found out that it was your coach giving you the massage and not some hot masseuse. Of course, he didn’t tell you that until you were already lying down on the massage table fully naked except for a small towel that barely covered your large package. You protested but your coach was stern, he was, after all, the only person you ever listened to (and that was only some of the time). His deep voice was commanding yet calming, just the right combination to be able to get you to give up the argument. You supposed your muscles needed a good cooldown after your killer workout that day anyway.
You had never met anyone as strong as yourself, and were certain you never would. However, coach was actually quite strong too, and it was perhaps why you showed at least a little bit of respect towards him. However, having your chest fondled by his large, calloused hands was quite the role reversal for you. He pressed deep into your muscle tissue with his thick fingers, uncovering all sorts of knots in your expansive chest. It hurt but it felt amazing.
After coach had given your pecs a thorough rub down, he moved onto your giant tree-trunk legs. It was when he was massaging your inner thigh that coach pressed down on a particularly sensitive spot in your muscles that made you wince in pain. For the first time during the session you opened your eyes and you met coach’s firm gaze by accident. Sweat dripped from his prominent brow and he was panting from exertion. You never realised how big he was. Those veiny arms, those meaty pecs, those sculpted abs, he was just a coach but he could have passed as an olympian. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that someone as strong as coach was needed to give someone as big as you a proper massage.
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Coach continued to knead your thighs like dough. He was able to make your hard muscles soft, as if he was unlocking some hidden strength inside of them that made them expand. Like a loaf of bread rising in an oven, your muscles were becoming large and fluffy in response to coach’s special massage.
He continued working his magic on your body, as he did his hands made their way further up your inner thigh. Coach’s intensity never waned and his forceful and methodical strokes continued to cause you pain. It was a beautiful, deep, healing pain that exposed a feeling of vulnerableness that was buried within you. It was uncomfortable to feel that vulnerability yet as soon as his fingers released their tight bind a reassuring warmth flooded in to replace it. That cycle of comfort and discomfort, it was overwhelming and at the same time made you completely content.
By this point, coach was completely in control of you. You anxiously anticipated his every touch, your entire being yearning for his return whenever his hands left your body. Your emotions were connected to his fingers, as if he were a puppet master, and he graciously continued to pull your strings instead of leaving you hanging.
As coach’s hands made their way up even further up your thigh, they reached parts of your muscles that were unbearably tender. Having those spots massaged, it made your skin glisten with sweat and it laboured your breath. You felt like you were burning; you were hot, coach was hot, it was all hot. It wasn’t just hot, it was sensual.
You hadn’t realised, but the towel that was covering your crotch was ever so slowly being lifted up by some great force underneath. It was only when it slid down and landed on your impeccably toned lower abdomen that it dawned on you the effect that coach’s massage was having.
“It’s only natural.” Coach said to you in a hushed tone. “Nothing to be ashamed of.” It was all the reassurance you needed at that moment. Coach’s hands were so far up your thighs that they were almost brushing against your heavy balls. His massage was reaching a new level of pain, and to accompany it was an equal level of pleasure.
When coach’s knuckle grazed the underside of one of your nuts, it was as if a circuit had been completed. You were electrified. The feeling of pressure on your deep muscle tissue, the feeling of the humid air blowing across your nipples, the feeling of coach’s sweat falling from his face onto your sculpted abs; it was all too much. Your manhood pointed directly to the ceiling, now displaying the full extent of its impressive length and girth.
Coach grabbed it.
His hand, a man’s hand, grasped firmly onto the base of your shaft. It was heaven. Heaven for a sinner. That’s what made it so great. The fact that it was wrong, all wrong, but right, undoubtedly right. Boiling hot skin against boiling hot skin. The fires of hell met the fires of hell, and it was heaven.
He was so slow at first. He wanted you to feel every crease and callus on his hand. Enough time for you to understand the anatomy of his hand; understand the size, power and function of each muscle in it. You learnt how each tiny pore on his palm absorbed sweat and the amazing texture it created. You might have failed biology in the past but at this moment you understood it all.
Then it got faster. It started at the head, the head that was sensitive, swollen, and begging for release. Then down every countless inch, tracking along the thick, serpentine vein that ran its length. Finally, it slammed into the base, pummelling into the spongy balls below and sprang all the way back up. It was one step performed one after the other, and it was also all at once.
Then it got even faster. It was a whole body experience. All the training, all those years in the gym, it led up to that moment. Every muscle working in unison to stop you from exploding. Your breath stopped. Your thoughts stopped. Coach stopped.
The massage resumed. It was his other hand now, and it was your balls. Your balls that were completely filled to the brim, so much so that the skin had no ability to stretch any further. Yet, coach still massaged. He pressed, he squeezed. His thumb glided to one side and the mass displaced into the other side. He was an expert.
“Your past.” His voice. Deep, calming, instructive. His words were all you needed. “Can’t be forgiven, but we can move on from that.” He tightened his grip on your balls. “You are far too good to give up on.” He started stroking the length of your shaft again. “So let’s just put all this girl stuff behind us.” He started slowly. “Instead, focus on your team. Your team of men.” Then he picked up his pace. “Men. Strong men, like me and you.” It became faster. “Men who will support you, fill all your needs.” And faster. “All your desires.” You couldn’t hold it in much longer. “Men.” You were on the very edge of your climax. “Just men.”
For the first time in your life you moaned. You moaned loud and shamelessly. It was completely contrary to the person you were before. Luckily, the person you were before is gone. When you erupted like a volcano, like a burst pipe, like a fire hydrant; nothing was left behind. Your brain had melted into a white, creamy liquid and it was shot out of you. Then it rained back down on you like a tropical shower; hot, humid, and sticky.
You were on a better path now. A path towards becoming a bigger person, both morally and physically. It was all thanks to him. Coach. He showed you the power of men that you foolishly thought you already had. You learnt that night the power of men coming together, and what a wonderful feeling it is.
#straight to gay#muscle worship#muscle fiction#reality change#muscle#muscle god#thick pecs#hot pecs#mental tf#sweaty muscle#muscle massage#gay fiction#gay story
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I've been thinking a little bit about how the Cat King expresses his affection, and specifically, how the fandom interprets it.
There's some people who see how he interacts with Edwin and think "oh my god, he's such a simp, Edwin really has this sexy catboy wrapped around his little finger," and there's some people who see how he interacts with Edwin and think "yowza, learn to take a hint, he's not interested in you and your fuckboy fur coat," which, y'know, are both valid. I love the Cat King, but he's clearly not a fan of boundaries---outside of his own, of course.
Which... is the point, isn't it? Because here's the thing---we all like to analyze the Cat King as if he's human, but... he's not.
He's a cat. And that's how cats are.
Let's look back at his first interaction with Edwin. Our sassy Edwardian boy has used magic on one of his cats, and he's pissed, because cats are protective over what they consider "theirs---" and seeing as he's the Cat King, all of the cats in Port Townsend are his. He's bitchy and rude, cutting Edwin off when he tries to explain himself, and doesn't exactly seem like he's a merciful guy.
Then comes the moment where he whisks Edwin away, and he gets a closer look. The Cat King realizes that he's handsome, he's clearly queer, and that there is something fascinating about him. So he gets closer, he gets intimate, and it's working. Even in the throes of internalized homophobia, Edwin's getting into it, and... the Cat King self-sabotages, slapping a binding spell onto him.
A cat hisses at you when you attempt to reach out your hand and reason with it. It changes its mind, and it comes up to you, purring. And just when you're about to scratch it behind its ears, it freaks out, scratching you on the hand.
Sure, right after that, the Cat King lays out the terms---the binding spell (which, honestly, is actually a pretty fitting punishment given that Edwin used a binding spell on that cat) can be taken off, "and I'm sure we can work something out." That's a line that's probably worked before, and that's a line that probably could've worked, but the damage is done. So the Cat King gets irritated, sneering at Edwin's "old-fashioned sensibilities," and gives him your classic trickster seems-easy-but-is-a-lot-harder-than-it-looks deal. And we don't see him again for a couple episodes... at least, not until Edwin gets that little cat-scratch at the lighthouse.
When a cat scratches your hand, you give it a wide berth. Even if it immediately changes its mind and meows for attention, you don't trust it anymore. So it gets pissy, getting more and more annoyed the more you ignore it, until it gives up and bites you when you won't give it pets.
Now, the Cat King has realized that Edwin's getting close. He's counted almost all the cats, and it won't be long before he completes the task and books it out of town. So, the Cat King starts flirting even more, even going so far as to mimic Monty and Charles if that's what it'll take. When that fails, and when getting Edwin to open up fails, the Cat King lets out a nervous little laugh and tells Edwin that he's way off, when in fact he couldn't be closer.
Once a cat realizes that it likes you, it becomes incredibly needy. It trots along after you, it begs for attention and love, it sits on your laptop and jumps up on the kitchen counter and will attempt to insert itself into any and all activities you might be doing. And while that may be the cat's way of expressing love, there's no denying that it is ignoring all of your personal boundaries and generally getting in the way of you doing anything---other than, of course, paying attention to it.
And then comes the moment in the forest. The Cat King shows up with a fancy chandelier to blow Monty's cover---why now? Because Monty isn't just a romantic threat, he's trying to do something that'll take away Edwin for good. Once the cover's blown, and once Monty storms off, the Cat King uses this as an opportunity---I just saved his life, maybe he'll notice me now---and Edwin snaps, dropping one of the best lines in the whole series.
This is the first time, mind you, that Edwin has really pushed back. He's been resistant before, sure, but he's never said or done anything that indicates that he really wanted this dance to end. And I don't even think the Cat King realized that he was crossing a line, had been crossing a line since he slapped that bracelet on. But when Edwin says that he's not the Cat King's toy to yank around, that he's nothing more than an inconvenience, that's a big old wake-up call for our boy---and of course, he takes it horribly, snarling after Edwin that he'll be stuck in this town if he walks away, that he'll stop playing nice, just fucking NOTICE me already why don't you?
There always comes a time when you're fed up with how invasive your cat's being. Maybe you've just had a bad day, maybe it's genuinely messing up something important that you're doing, but you break out the spray bottle. And how does it respond? With a hiss, with a scamper away, and with a baleful glare over its shoulder. It knows it's done something wrong, but it doesn't fully understand, and it's mad at you.
Afterwards, Edwin gets dragged into hell, and that breaks the charm on the bracelet. And the Cat King's left to think.
There's some conflicting emotions there, of course. He's moodily playing with the bracelet when Esther shows up, showing that he probably does care, but there's still something to be said about how he immediately calls Edwin a "tease" and hates himself for being willing to wait for him if and when he ever returns from Hell (which is very noble of you, Thomas, totally way more of a meaningful gesture than actually going down there to get him back---which, as a self-described eternal being, would probably be easier for you to do than Charles. Just sayin'). But as much as I love to clown on that, the Cat King does die in that scene, and it's only after that that he spills to Esther.
This, I think, is where the Cat King stops acting like a cat, and starts acting human. Because he doesn't go and see Edwin when he gets back---he's realized that he kind of was in the wrong, and he's giving him space. And I'm sure it can't have been fun knowing that Edwin and Charles only got kidnapped by Esther because of information that he let slip.
But when the boys and Crystal (and maybe Jenny) are about to leave, the Cat King visits Edwin to pay his respects to Niko. He gives Edwin a lily, which several people have pointed out is fatal to cats. He's still flirty, sure, but he's more understated now. No more tricks, no more spells. Just him. And that's the version of him that gets that little cheek kiss goodbye.
Because even cats can learn that there's a better way to love.
#dead boy detectives#the cat king#thomas the cat king#edwin payne#catwin#y'know... catwin's only a casual/crack ship for me compared to the beauty that is payneland...#but i think i might've convinced myself?#wow#analysis
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Gooner!Belphegor magic pocket pussy Drabble
Cw: masturbation, dubcon.
Gn!reader (Even if you don't have the parts the reader can still feel it ✨magically✨
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His pupils dilated holding the toy in his hand. It wasn't just an ordinary toy. He had waited months for this magical toy from Tartaros.
A pocket pussy that syncs It's opening to match any person he chooses. With manual excruciatingly using the little bits DNA from strands of hair that fell from your pretty little head the last time you slept in his bed and other bothersome labor setting the damn thing up so it binds to you, It's finally ready.
"This toy better be far worth the hassle I had to endure," Belphegor mutter does he pressed his finger against the slit of the toy. He truly hopes You could feel his fingers working you open from wherever you are. He licks his lips His eyes fluttering clothes as he runs his tongue across the silicone lips.
Meanwhile, You were tagging along with not only Satan but the rest of the kings for a meeting.
"So sad that Belphegor can't attended today..." Asmodeus smirks giving Satan a wink who's flipping him off in response.
"Good riddance I say, if I had to hear One more meeting of snoring I would have closed off his throat." Leviathan mumbled.
You smile as you sit in your usual seat kicking your feet, Even though you had nothing to do with these meetings The Kings were still nice enough to have you join each one.
It was a day like any other.
Until...
A wet warm feeling caresses your core. You gasp as you swallow a moan. Lucifer's sharp eyes catches your sharp noise "Everything all right?"
" Y-yeah." Was all you could muster.
feeling that's sweet familiar taste of human arousal on his tongue he shutters "Haaa-haha This thing can even replicate your taste. Now I know it's working..."
"fuck... No more waiting... I need it!"
Lazily pushing his robes off on revealing his hard cock He strokes his shaft with one hand maneuvering his tip till it pushes against the opening as he works it open. "Fuck! Replicating your tightness too... This might be my new favorite toy." Belphegor mumbles forcing his cock deeper inside the toy.
You felt something hard and warm fill somewhere between your legs You didn't even have time to process where and how before this mysterious feeling begin to move in and out.
There was no mistaking what this feeling was. Which was deeply confusing since you were in the middle of a meeting and not being fucked by any of the kings present. The size, girth, and even the speed of the thrusts were familiar, but you couldn't place your finger on where you had felt this before. Given how fast thrusting motions began to speed up, it was so hard to think. Before you knew it, you clenched your teeth, trying so hard not to scream out in the middle of the six other kings in the room.
Your hand balling your twitching fingers into a fist trying to stop yourself from going underneath your pants.
His breath shook as he finally took his cock out of the toy His tip rubbing circles around The stretched silicone slit. "Hehehe, rest up while you can ma sweet lil' toy cuz I'm not done with you yet~"
He wonders what you're doing. He knows that there's a meeting going on right now. He wonders if you're there.
"I wonder... I wonder you like getting fucked by me in front of all the other demons that want you."
Belphegor cummed his messy hair falling in front of his eyes as he grinded his shaft against the lips of the toy. "betcha do horny slut!"
Even though you weren't there to write him or suck him off till his balls burst, The idea of fucking you anywhere he wished made his cock twitch and drool with precum.
Belphegor hummed getting his other hand to swipe at the precum drooling from his head. He takes his two fingers and slides them inside. "Ya feel that? That's what you do to me."
You finally mustered all your strength when the thrusts start to slow You slammed your fist down on the table catching everyone's attention their eyes wide at the sudden outburst "I'M GOING TO THE BATHROOM!"
Shit, you did not need to yell that loud... Now, everyone looked worried, But you didn't care because if you had stayed a second longer, you would have come right then and there in your pants. While, everyone was watching. You've never run so fast out of the meeting room.
Slamming and locking your door to your bedroom Your nails dig into the sheets trying so hard to hold back any noise as you brace yourself as the thrusting begin again.
Belphegor His eyes will back as he pounds it over and over into the flashlight as fast as he could go. He could feel the toy work it's magic tightening and pulsating just like how a cunt would; now your cunt. He could feel you cum with every tight squeeeeze.
If he thought fucking you was addicting then treating you like a fleshlight was like drugs.
As much as he wanted to use this toy for hours and hours on end. Which believe him he would.
Use it and overfill your new cunt, make feels so full when you're in fact empty. Maybe he would even fill it up to the brim and make sure it holds It aaall in So you could feel full all day.
As a demon known for breaking his toys He had to hold back. Which realization made him click his tongue. But it was true, He didn't know how much a human could take this toy was made intended for devils after all. So might as well finish inside it and store it away for later.
As much as he wanted to keeps stroking his hand was getting tired. In a last ditch effort to cum He shuffled in his bed his hair silk robes and sheet sticking to a sweaty body. He put the pocket pussy in between two pillows. As much as he hated the hassle of actually doing sex. He needed to have you feel him fuck you.
His unrestrained moans feel his bedroom as he drills his cock deeper with each thrust into the toy. Making sure he stoled his hips as deep as he could before exploding. Making sure He failed the toy to the brim.
He was nowhere near satisfied, And he knew he'll be returning to the toy again for right now, exhaustion hit him all at once. He placed his toy upright on the nightstand. He smiled, knowing that you'll feel all his cum deep inside for a while before drifting off to sleep.
#whb belphegor#whb x reader#whb#what in hell is bad#wihib#whb x mc#immmm baaaaaackkk#smut#what in “hell” is bad?
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Magic in Ancient Greece: An Introduction
I have seen some people claim that magic or witchcraft did not exist in Ancient Greece. This is not the case. So, I thought I'd take the opportunity to introduce you all to the strange and wonderful world of Ancient Greek magic!
First, what do we mean by "magic"? Radcliffe Edmonds, one of the leading scholars on Ancient Greek magic, defines "magic" as "non-normative ritual behavior." In short, what makes something magic, and not just normal religion, is that people in a given culture think it's weird. The word "magic" itself refers to the magi, Zoroastrian priests — the Ancient Greeks thought they did magic because to them, Zoroastrianism was foreign and weird. They also thought that Ancient Egyptians could do magic for the same reason — what the Greeks thought was spooky magic was just normal religion in Egypt. Within their own culture, magic was basically heteropraxic religion. Magic was not considered hubristic, at least not inherently.
There are multiple Ancient Greek words that refer to magic. The word μάγος, magos, itself means "magician" or "charlatan." There's also γοητεία, goetia, usually translated as "sorcery." The word most often translated as "witchcraft" is φαρμακεία, pharmakeia, the use of drugs or herbs to transform or influence people. This is what Medea and Circe do.
One of our best sources on Ancient Greek magic is the Greek Magical Papyri, or PGM, a set of magical texts from Hellenistic Egypt. When I first learned about it, I thought it was too good to be true, but here it is: uncorrupted ancient pagan magic! Essentially, the PGM is one of the oldest known grimoires, and the ancestor of the entire Western magical tradition. The papyri contain spells and rituals for almost every purpose: curses, love spells, divination, dream oracles, summoning daimones, necromancy, even full mystical rites. Most of them include invocations to various gods, which are heavily syncretic. Helios/Apollo (treated interchangeably) is invoked the most often. Aphrodite appears pretty often, too. Hekate-Artemis-Selene-Persephone (conflated with a whole bunch of other chthonic goddesses, including Ereshkigal) has her own set of spells. You'll even find the names of Egyptian gods and Hebrew angels in there.
One of the most common features in PGM spells is voces magicae or barbarous names, nonsense words that are supposed to be the secret names of the gods, which give you the authority to call them up. They act almost like a written form of glossolalia. Most are supposed to be spoken or chanted aloud. Some sound like actual names, or are well-known magical epithets like ABRASAX. Some are just strings of Greek vowels. Some of them are palindromic; there's lots of spells that use the "abracadabra" disappearing-letter-triangle format. There's also charakteres, apparently-meaningless magical symbols, the distant ancestor of modern sigils.
Another major source for Ancient Greek magic are defixiones or katadesmoi, curse tablets. They're little lead leafs called lamellae, which are inscribed with curses and then deposited in wells, graves, and other chthonic places. Thousands of them have been found.
Here's the text of a curse tablet that invokes Hekate and Hermes Kthonios (copied from Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World by John G. Gager):
Hermes Khthonios and Hekate Khthonia Let Pherenikos be bound before Hermes Khthonios and Hekate Khthonia. I bind Pherenikos’ [girl] Galene to Hermes Khthonios and to Hekate Khthonia I bind [her]. And just as this lead is worthless and cold, so let that man and his property be worthless and cold, and those who are with him who have spoken and counseled concerning me. Let Thersilochos, Oinophilos, Philotios, and any other supporter of Pherenikos be bound before Hermes Khthonios and Hekate Khthonia. Also Pherenikos’ soul and mind and tongue and plans and the things that he is doing and the things that he is planning concerning me. May everything be contrary for him and for those counseling and acting with…
Another curse tablet, which invokes Hekate to punish thieves, includes a drawing of her and charakteres. This is how she's depicted:
From Curse Tablets and Binding Spells in the Ancient World by John G. Gager
It's supposed to be a woman with three heads and six raised arms, but to me it looks like Cthulhu, which is honestly appropriate.
There was a very fine line between love spells and curses in Ancient Greece. Some love spells in the PGM call upon the spirits of the dead and chthonic gods to torture a poor girl until she submits to the magician. Just as many defixiones attempt to forcefully bind a lover. But there's another, gentler kind of love spell described by Theocritus in Idylls, in which a witch named Simaetha invokes the Moon and Hekate and uses an iynx wheel to make a man love her.
If you want to know how to apply all of this in modern practice, I'm still working that one out. I've found the PGM very hard to adapt, because a lot of its requirements are dangerous or impractical. Many of its spells require gross ingredients worthy of the Scottish play, or plants that scholars can't identify, or procedures that I don't plan on attempting. And if you haven't noticed by now, most of them fly in the face of modern magical ethics. (Don't let anyone tell you that the gods will punish you for doing baneful magic, because that's clearly bullshit.) On the other hand, Crowley adapted his Bornless Ritual almost word-for-word from PGM V. 96—172. So far, the best resource I've found on modernizing Ancient Greek magic is The Hekataeon by Jack Grayle. Its material is clearly historically-inspired, but still doable, and spiritually relevant. I really recommend getting it if you have the means, especially if you have an interest in Hekate specifically. I'm happy to have it as a model for how to adapt ancient magic for myself in the future. To me, it strikes the perfect balance between historically-informed and witchy, which is right where I want to be.
If you can't access that one, here's some other books I recommend:
Drawing Down the Moon: Magic in the Ancient Greco-Roman World by Radcliffe G. Edmonds III: An introduction to Ancient Greek magic, both scholarly and accessible. It covers the definitions and contexts of magic, curses, love spells, divination, theurgy, philosophy, basically everything you need to know.
The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation by Hans Dieter Betz: The definitive English edition of the PGM. A must if you plan to study ancient magic in-depth, especially as a practitioner.
Curse Tablets and Binding Spells in the Ancient World by John G. Gager: An English edition of the texts of many curse tablets.
Magic, Witchcraft, and Ghosts in the Greek and Roman Worlds by Daniel Ogden: a sourcebook of ancient literature concerning magic.
The Golden Ass by Apuleius: A Roman novel about a man who is turned into a donkey by a witch. A very entertaining story, also our source for "Cupid and Psyche" and one of the best sources on the Mysteries of Isis that we have.
Ancient Magic: A Practitioners Guide to the Supernatural in Ancient Greece and Rome by Philip Matyszak: A simple and straightforward introduction to Ancient Greek magic, less scholarly but very easy to follow and directed at practitioners.
#occultism#occult#ancient greece#ancient magic#folk magic#pgm#greek magical papyri#curse tablets#helpol#hellenic polytheism#hellenic paganism#hellenism#magic#occult history#history#ancient greek history#book recommendations#hecate#hekate
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