#i should. work on astral charm again.

[magicalgirlartist]

[ID: digital drawing of two young women, Jen and Lucy. Jen, on the left, has long brown hair in a braid, a long grey cardigan, purple shirt, and jeans, Lucy, on the right, has pink hair in a high pony, a black cowl-neck dress, and pink leggings. Both are holding coffee cups. Jen, looking at Lucy and gesturing towards her, asks "I've always wondered, why did you pick 'Lucy' when you changed your name?" Lucy, holding a hand out and looking away from Jen while blushing, says "Look, Jen, not every trans person's name has to have some deeper meaning, okay?" while a helpful textbox arrow pointing to her says "(named herself after Wyldstyle from the Lego Movie.)" The background is a stock photo of a mall. End ID.]

(Background photo)

OC-tober day 5: Show some pride

This dumb joke has existed in my head about my magical girl OC Lucy for basically as long as she's been trans (so about 6-7 years now). Local dumbass named herself after a cartoon character and immediately got embarrassed about it

[Commissions open!]

#oc tober #oc tober 2023 #art #original art #digital art #astral charm #jen and lucy are both magical girls!! and also best friends #honestly everyone in that group is queer. mindy is an agender lesbian jen is bi ariel is gay and lucy is trans #celeste really went 'i gotta find the queerest friend group in toronto to hand off my power to' #i should. work on astral charm again.

[pix3lplays]

May I request her men (especially Luocha) reacting to their 5 year old kid dying and having to console the reader over it as well??

And before you ask, yes. I am clinically insane and love angst alot

If you're ok with writing it that is..

Oh my GOSH I’m obsessed with this prompt, let’s do it!

Cw! Child death

-Honkai star rail men comforting reader after losing a child-

Dan Heng: Dan Heng is completely silent while you grieve. His head is bowed, and he places a hand on your shoulder, and when you look up, you see the stoic Dan Heng is actually…crying. You place your hand over his, squeeze it tight. Dan Heng…crying…you never expected to see it…but he’s hurting too, he misses his child, so, so much and he can’t help but grieve in front of you, even though he thinks he should be strong for you. He just can’t help it. His own child…gone…he doesn’t know what to do…he’s completely lost. He does his best to be strong for you, but it doesn’t make the pain go away. The whole astral express crew can see right through him, even though he’s doing his best to act tough.

Jing Yuan: Jing Yuan is so heartbroken. His own child…and of course there’s you, you must be suffering too. The two of you grieve together, this is his way of comforting you, by grieving beside you. He holds your hand, presses his forehead to your shoulder. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him cry. The General of the Luofu, grieving his child…it hurts to see. He takes about a month off work to spend grieving with you, but eventually he does have to return to his duties, which actually helps him take his mind off of it, but anyone can tell the once laid back and charming General will never be the same again. There’s a suffering in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

Luocha: Luocha is very concerned for you. He’s never experienced loss quite like this. It hurts, it really does. But he’s mostly worried for you. You must be suffering much more than him. He tries to talk you through your grief. Address what you’re feeling, that sort of thing. But he knows it’s too early to tell you that you need to accept what happened. He knows that would be a much too harsh reality to thrust onto you so soon. So he lets you grieve, and he remains by your side while you grieve, letting you lean on his shoulder while you cry. He lets you know that it’s OK to mourn, it’s normal and necessary, and you should take the time you need to grieve properly.

Gepard Landau: There are no words for this kind of loss. At least, none that Gepard can think of. He’s so quiet, much quieter than usual. And he knows, he KNOWS you’re suffering too and he should be comforting you but he just doesn’t know what to do. The two of you just…sit in silence in the living room, toys littering the floor that that neither of you can bear to clean up. You both miss your child. So much. He holds your hand, traces his thumb over your knuckles. It’s the only thing he can think to do. There’s no point in saying it’s going to be okay, because it’s not. Your child is dead, and there’s no going back to the way things were.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #my writing #Dan Heng #Dan Heng x reader #Hsr Dan Heng x reader #honkai star rail Dan Heng x reader #Jing Yuan #Jing Yuan x reader #Hsr Jing Yuan x reader #honkai star rail Jing Yuan x reader #Luocha #Luocha x reader #Hsr Luocha x reader #honkai star rail Luocha x reader #Gepard Landau #Gepard Landau x reader #Hsr Gepard Landau x reader #honkai star rail Gepard x reader

[canenotabeltofunction]

My Charmed (1998) Hot Takes

*Spoilers* (Even Though It’s Been 25 Years- Just Saying)

1. Prue was overpowered

I know that Prue is the oldest and the oldest sister is supposed to be the most powerful, but the development of their powers was just very all over the place with how fast they learned to use them. Prue seemed to master her powers exponentially faster than the other sisters.

For example in the very first episode Prue moves cream from a cup into her coffee. This is moments after she finds out about her powers- yet it takes Paige an extended amount of time before she is able to orb liquids even though she and Prue have basically the same power (and due to the yelling and orbing aspect of Paige’s power it seems like it should have been easier).

There’s also the episode of ‘Secrets and Guys’ in the FIRST SEASON where we see Prue cleaning with her powers and controlling multiple different tools at one time without difficulty- she is literally talking to Phoebe and Piper and is preoccupied and is still able to do this.

Before we even reach the end of the first season Prue has already discovered her ability to control her powers through her hands as well as her eyes. And by the 9th episode of the second season she discovers she can astral project. Which she is already capable of doing intentionally within a few episodes- even though she can’t do it while awake (until episode 5 of season 3).

While the sisters did all develop their powers well I feel like in terms of weaknesses they did not really give Prue that many. There was the whole thing with her being prideful but as a whole her powers didn’t seem to have any bounds after a certain point.

The only time we really see her powers not working well is when there is something blocking their powers all together. Vs with Piper things don’t stay frozen forever, she can only freeze inside a certain range, her freezes can be fought through, etc.

And obviously Phoebe didn’t have an active power until she developed the ability to levitate.

Idk feel free to disagree but I feel that Prue was a little overpowered

2. Cole Deserved a Redemption Arc

Don’t get me wrong I’m not excusing Cole’s behavior in the later seasons. However I do wish that the Cole storyline had gone slightly different and that Phoebe and Cole ended up together.

I personally never was able to get into the Coop storyline- it felt very unemotional to me. And it may have been because Cole was around much longer.

“But Cole was evil! He never changed!”

I beg to differ, up until around the last season he was on the show almost everything that kept Cole evil was out of his control.

He tried to give up his powers originally but was tricked into killing a witch (or he was possessed, I don’t remember). He never wanted to become the source, he was manipulated by The Seer. And even after the source took over we still see Cole inside fighting to be good like when he saves Paige.

And he even tried AGAIN to give up the powers of The Source but Phoebe was manipulated into stopping him.

He genuinely was trying to be good so often and I feel like a lot of it was just that he was dealt a shitty hand.

I think that up until the point where he clearly stopped caring about Phoebe’s wellbeing (like when he is willing to let Paige die and keep Phoebe mummified) he deserved a redemption arc and I wish he had gotten one,

However I think the storyline was ended due to Julian wanting to leave the show and not because of the writers.

(Also I just loved Cole as a character and I cry every time they vanquish him in the apartment)

3. I Didn’t Like Dan

This one is short and sweet

I didn’t like Dan

He’s not an asshole, He was super good to Piper

I just didn’t like him 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. Leo and Piper Shouldn’t Have Gotten Back Together

This one is going to sound kind of hypocritical after the Cole take but I feel like after Leo left to become an elder he and Piper shouldn’t have gotten back together.

Like you’re telling me after all the shit you two went through to be together you’re going to just fuck off to become an elder????

And this is never fully explained honestly; it’s just that “oh it’s not that simple it’s not my choice.” But they never really explained WHY it just seemed like a stupid excuse.

And honestly after all of that shit I know they wouldn’t have had time to give Piper another love interest (which she deserved) and I loved Chris but idk I feel like Piper and Leo shouldn’t have gotten back together-

They can keep Leo around but I don’t think after all of that shit that they should have ended up together

5. Billie and Christy Should Have Had a Different Ending

This is a one or the other kind of thing.

I think Christy should have gotten a redemption arc OR they should have given Billie a bigger corruption arc and killed them both.

I don’t think the ending was BAD I think it was tragic that Billie lost her sister after trying so hard to find her and finding out that she wasn’t who she used to be which made for a good plot point-

But I feel like if they had had more time and things were written a little differently I would have liked to see Christy eventually get redeemed (I mean the girl was brainwashed by the Triad from the time she was a kid cut her some slack). But I know there wasn’t really enough time for that.

However the other option is I think to stick with the strong sisterly love thing that Billie should have had a bigger corruption arc and went down with her sister- or at the very least accidentally died with her or refused to leave her or something.

I will definitely be posting more Charmed content

#prue halliwell #charmed original #charmed #hot take #hot takes #90s nostalgia #witches #witch #halliwell sisters #cole turner #phoebe halliwell #redemption arc #phole #dan Gordon #piper halliwell #leo wyatt #chris halliwell #christy Jenkins #billie jenkins

[noodyl-blasstal]

The Dog House

Day 15 of @taznovembercelebration and I got "playlist"

Read below or on Ao3. Missed yesterday? Catch up here.

-

"Taako?"

Music thuds out of the kitchen, loud, bouncy, and accompanied by the sweet scent of vanilla and spices wafting in the air.

"Taako?" Kravitz tried a bit louder.

Nothing.

There is absolutely no way for Kravitz to compete with ‘Bake, bake, bake, bake, ba, bake it’ and be heard. He knows, he’s tried before. The volume is an important part of the process.

Although... Maybe that will actually work in his favour. Kravitz pulls out his phone, juggling the warm lump in his arms to do it. It’s worth a try, if nothing else, Taako would see the funny side.

He hits record and smiles lovingly into the camera. "Hello love, I'm just here at the house and I have something big to ask you." There's no reply from Taako.

"If you don't reply, I'll assume it's okay, but can we get a dog?" The music thumps away in the kitchen.

"Specifically this dog?" Kravitz readjusts slightly to get the pomeranian into view. "He's very fluffy."

"Okay, well, as I haven't heard anything from you, I'm assuming this means Fluffums can stay."

Fluffums' tongue pokes out adorably and he flops his sweet head to the side. Kravitz can't resist planting a little kiss on it.

"That's the name he came with by the way. Magnus… well, you know. Anyway... I'm glad you..."

"Magnus did this?" Taako says from behind his right shoulder.

Fuck.

Kravitz should have known better than to assume he'd get away with this, Taako always knows somehow, but also, he'll kill or die for this dog… Well, be sulky about it if Taako says definitely not because obviously two yesses is important, but maybe he can live in the Astral Plane part time again, Taako’s really into this sleeping stuff. Fluffums licks his hand reassuringly.

Kravitz smiles as innocently as he can and stops the recording… Maybe if he edits it down Taako’ll forget that he heard the last bit? He didn’t say anything when Kravitz said to anyway - you couldn’t object to a wedding three months later could you? Probably not. He’d have to look it up before he used that as a defence, but it sounded solid.

“Magnus didn’t do anything. He just showed me Flu…”

“No. We’re changing his name.”

“But what if he…”

“He doesn’t. He’s not attached to it. Taako is not calling anyone Fluffums.”

“Even m…”

“Especially not you… Unless you ask nicely.” Taako breaks his serious face to smirk at Kravitz and goddess damn it all if that doesn’t still make him want to kiss Taako stupid.

He has to concentrate though, he can win this. He just needs a compelling argument.

“Look at his little face.” Kravitz elevates The Dog Formerly Known As Fluffums to eye level with Taako. “See.”

“Yip!” Says No Longer Fluffums in the most charming tone (even if Kravitz does say so himself.)

And, it’s only a split second, the smallest of glimpses, but he sees the softness in Taako’s eyes.

“He needs a home, somewhere safe.” Says Kravitz.

That argument’s how Taako got all the cats here.

“And what about the ca…”

“He loves cats.”

“But couldn’t eat a whole one?” Taako tries to look stern, he almost manages it.

“Taako! He would never.”

“Mr Mittens is going to fight him.”

“Mr Mittens fights everyone.”

“Not me.”

“Well of course not, you’re perfect, Mr Mittens fights everyone else.”

There’s a long pause, then Taako stares intently at The Dog Who Couldn’t Be Fluffums, the dog stares right back, pink tongue poking daintily out of his mouth. Kravitz wants to snap a picture, but he really shouldn’t ruin the moment and he’s already taken so many…

Taako wrinkles his nose. “He’s not sleeping on the bed.”

Kravitz can sleep on the sofa once Taako is asleep and sneak back to bed before he wakes up, that’s completely fine.

Kravitz nods seriously.

“He can’t climb on the furniture.”

Kravitz isn’t furniture. Ergo, if he was sitting on the chair then anything sitting on him wasn’t on the chair. That was just science.

“That seems fair.”

“You need to do all the research on how to look after him.”

Taako says that like he thinks there’s a chance Kravitz hasn’t already done an intense Googling session at Magnus’. Like he didn’t stop at the pet store on the way home. Like he hasn’t already rifted everything they could need and more into his closet.

“Of course I can do that.” He pauses, waits for any other conditions, but none come, Taako must love him. “Does that mean we ca…”

“Yep.” Taako tries to look ambivalent, he fails.

It’s not that Kravitz ever really thought Taako would say no, but it’s nice to have official confirmation.

“What do you think of Fluffernutter?” Taako asks suddenly.

“Conceptually, or?”

“For him.” He nods towards Kravitz’s armfull of dog.

Kravitz considers it for a moment, he’s definitely fluffy and sweet, peanut butter is nice, he’s nice. Kravitz likes fluffernutter, he likes the dog. “Yes. I think that’s right, love.”

Fluffernutter nuzzles happily at the crook of Kravitz’s arm as Kravitz draws Taako into his free arm. “I promise to still love you just as much.” He says, grinning over Taako’s head.

“You’d better. Cha’boy refuses to lose out to anyone.” Taako’s hand strokes idly at Fluffernutter, the dog nuzzles his hand and wiggles towards him.

Kravitz gives it a week before Taako’s the favourite. It’s okay, he’s Kravitz’s favourite too.

-

I hope you enjoyed! Wanna see the next prompt? Find it here.

#taz november celebration #taz nc #The Adventure Zone #Noodyl Writes #TAZ fic #Taakitz #Taako #Kravitz

[transsoftwaredev]

so i need to scream about baldur's gate 3 and my partner doesn't know shit about it so i'm gonna yell into the void

i'm only halfway thru act 2 so spoilers for the first 30ish hours of the game (probably 20 if you don't suck as much as me)

so i'm romancing gale, right? my beloved wizard boy. he has basically the same sense of humor as my irl partner so it just works. anyway oldballs mcwizard shows up saying that gale's ex goddess girlfriend needs him to explode himself and i am not having it. two long rests later and we fuck in the astral plane (i joke but that whole scene was adorable and gave me the warm fuzzies) and now he doesn't want to explode himself. very good, but now we gotta figure out how to stop the absolute motherfucker.

next up was a whole lot of save scumming because very important people kept dying. halsin, my deer, im sorry i let the portal die twice. third times the charm tho, right? i also let isobel get kidnapped and spent like an hour trying to get into the shadowcurse before realizing that i probably should just go back and try again.

oh also karlach is gonna explode. i would appreciate if my companions stopped exploding.

next i would like to apologize to all the shadowheart fans out there. she wouldn't listen. i thought if i used non-lethal attacks, then we could take her back to camp after freeing the nightsong and talk it out and i would probably get punched and maybe deserve it. yeah, that's not what happened. i'm so sorry.

finally, i understand why people say act 2 feel rushed. like the urgency makes sense in the story, but like omg i can't do all those fights without like 3 long rests. i've gotten to the mindflayer nest and i just keep dying T-T also i don't have shadowheart anymore and that's causing some balance problems for my party, but i guess that's my own fault.

anyway i played this game literally all weekend and am fucking obsessed. sorry shadowheart, i tried.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #this is my new favorite game ever #i feel like i did as a teen playing skyrim for the first time

[necromancy-enthusiast]

Restarted Fire Emblem Fates Revelation because I never quite finished it and am suddenly remembering how I unintentionally made Kaze have a particularly shitty time in all three of my previous playthroughs. In Birthright, *for some reason*, there's this thing where if you don't get his A suppprt by a certain chapter (17, I wanna say????) he dies in the story, and I only got his B support. So there's that. In Conquest he married Azura, which is nice because they have a good dynamic, but the thing with her is that she dies at the end of Conquest and from everyone else's POV it looks like she just vanishes into thin air, so he probably thinks his wife just up and abandoned him. And oh sure they had kids, but thanks to Time Shenanigans with the dumb astral realms or whatever they're called both of them are almost grown up anyway and he hardly got to know them. And on top of all of that he betrayed his homeland to follow me so even though they tried to say 'see everything isn't TOTALLY ruined between the opposing sides!' at the end, somehow I feel like he wouldn't be very warmly received. Especially since iirc his brother always dies in Conquest, sooooo that's awkward.

And then I had a male avatar in Revelation at first and I was going to marry Kaze because I had the gay hack installed but then Nintendo patched out the method I used to access the hack and I couldn't really get another one to work so yeah that was a bust. So basically he either ends up dead, totally miserable, or stood up when I'm in charge.

But hey, fourth time's the charm! Like... I won't be marrying him because I have a female avatar from a previous playthrough that I got more attached to than my other avatars, and I'm just going to have her marry Benny again because it feels wrong to have her marry anyone else, but it's an improvement anyway. It should be easier to install the gay hack and keep it running now that Nintendo no longer gives a shit about the 3ds and sent out what will *probably* be their final 'fuck you modders' patch a few months ago not longer after the 3ds eshop closed down.

Also at this point having a female avatar marry Kaze feels weird. Like it doesn't feel weird to pair him with other women, just her. Probably because Kaze/m!Avatar has so thoroughly lodged itself in my head.

#necro plays fire emblem

[thessalian]

Faerun!Alisaie vs The Hunt for Minsc

But first, Volo has something sensible to say ... maybe...

Volo: A champion has fought the Chosen of Bhaal before and a champion must fight the Chosen of Bhaal again--

Alisaie: ...Now, see, if you hadn't run off to get yourself exploded by tapoled cultists, you'd know that that was entirely the idea all along!

Volo: ...this book might help?

Alisaie: *flips through the book* Historical reference is all very well, but I kicked Myrkul's ass and I can do this. Seriously, if you hadn't buggered off, you'd know all this already!

Volo: Well, you yourself are a bard, and--

Alisaie: ...Y'know what? No. No, I do not have time for this and no, you do not deserve to hear this told in all of its bardic splendour. No, you can hear it from Gale. Gale will pedant at you if you try to do your usual Volo Things to the story while I take Jaheira and go find this Minsc person.

Astarion: I'm sorry, but ... an avatar of murder has admitted to taking Lae'zel and you're going to look for a replacement? I'm almost proud.

Alisaie: Oh, we're getting her back. But Gale's right when he says that we need all the martial help we can get. Besides, it should be easy to confirm or deny this guy's alive. I figure if he's alive, he's making too much noise for people to have not heard about it. Anyway, Nine-Fingers Keene has her hideout in the underground. She might like the heads up that they probably don't want to ask the neighbours for a cup of sugar because the neighbours are a fucking murder-cult.

And, awhile later, in Nine-Fingers' little hideout

Jaheira: You handled that extremely well ... for all the good it did.

Alisaie: Hey, we know he's out there. That's a start. I mean, the fact that he's calling himself the Stone Lord and poaching Nine-Fingers' turf is ... a thing, but...

Jaheira: Mm. I admit to being a bit concerned about that. Could he really be working with the Absolute?

Alisaie: Not everybody has Astral Prism protection, Jaheira.

Jaheira: Still. I mean, Minsc of all people... He has little enough mind to flay.

Alisaie: Well, first thing to do is try to find that clue we're supposed to be looking for... Aha. Perfect. *leans over to drunken gnome* Hi there.

Drunken Gnome: Hiiiii! I was just saying how the Stone Lord's gonna hit the Counting House and we're gonna get him!

Alisaie: Oh, really. Sounds like a phenomenal plan! I'd love to hear all about it!

Less Drunk Gnome: We weren't talking to you--

Alisaie: You're interrupting a good story, sir. For shame.

Drunken Gnome: See, I like this one! Sheeeeee's got respect! Now, get a load of this plan--

Jaheira: ...She ... talked her way in here without my having to leverage the whole thing. Then she got Nine-Fingers to be even remotely helpful. Now there's this. I mean ... what ... how...?

Shadowheart: You recall how she drank your truth serum and still managed to talk around your question?

Jaheira: Yeeeeeeeeees...

Shadowheart: She's had a fair bit of practice since then.

Wyll: She got this hat at Sorcerous Sundries, too. She doesn't really need the boost, but it never hurts, I suppose.

Jaheira: ...Good to know.

A little later, in the Counting House

Jaheira: Thank you for actually letting me do my job back there.

Alisaie: I should probably thank you for letting me do mine by charming that story out of that gnome. Sorry, but ... while Harpers are supposed to be versatile, you're ... erm...

Jaheira: Old and crotchety?

Alisaie: I was going for "more authoritative than charming", honestly, but you do you.

Jaheira: Apologies. I'm getting a little too used to the "old woman" jokes.

Alisaie: And I take it that's why that Scroll of Archdruid Slowdown-Of-Ageing?

Jaheira: And I suppose you would age gracefully.

Alisaie: Probably. I don't have the Archdruid ritual option, don't really see the benefits in going Astarion's route, and Aylin and Isobel would both beat the shit out of me if I followed Ketherick and Lorroakan's lead. Thus, no real option. Anyway, I don't mind the idea of a whole lot of laugh lines. Who's going to care?

Shadowheart: Honestly, I'm hoping mine match, when the time comes.

Wyll: Awwwwwwwwww.

Alisaie: So you really do read smut as much for the romance as the other thing, don't you?

Wyll: At least, yes--

Jaheira: Shush. Look.

Glitterbeard: Right. We got that stony fuck stashed right here in this mimic--

Minsc: *rips his way out of mimic*

Alisaie: *quietly* Now there's an entrance...

Minsc: You promised me there was gold in there!

Alisaie: *quietly* ...You weren't kidding about 'not enough mind to flay', were you?

Minsc: I kill you for lying!

Jaheira: I really should step in here--

Alisaie: Hold up. You said he's a great friend of yours and mostly only really listens to you, and we've got a city full of doppelgangers!

Jaheria: What are you getting at?

Fake Jaheira: Let the minions kill him, Minsc. We've got all the gold we could want.

Minsc: ...Ah, fine. *stomps off*

Invisible Bhaalite Assholes: *attack*

Jaheira: ...It was ... it looked like...

Alisaie: We're fighting for our lives here, Jaheira! You can have a nervous breakdown later!

Jaheira: ...Yes. Right. Of course.

Stabnation: *ensues*

Once the stabnation is pretty much concluded...

Jaheira: Your ability to see the invisible is truly useful. At least it gives us a place to aim spells that need no targets to wound.

Alisaie: Yeah, well, getting that particular skill set wasn't exactly fun, but at least it's been useful.

Jaheira: How did you--? Wait. No. Never mind. I have no wish to know. Hrm. A little tricky to track given all the blood, but ... these footprints are of sewer muck.

Alisaie: Of course. Where else would pieces of shit end up?

Jaheira: Misled as he may be right now, he is my friend--

Alisaie: I meant your impersonator, actually.

Jaheira: Ah. Apologies, again.

Alisaie: No big. Anyway. It does all make sense on the whole; everything Bhaalite seems to be nesting down there. We're going to have to find him and pry him out of that particular mess, but I'm probably going to need Astarion, at least for part of it.

Wyll: What? Why?

Alisaie: One - more of his spawn-siblings are probably down there and he might want to have a word. Two... *gestures at vaults* Tell me he wouldn't have a field day.

Jaheira: You would say this in front of the staff?!?

Glitterbeard: Look, your big lunk of a friend over there got everything anyway. If you can find anything worth anything in here, more power to you.

Jaheira: ...Right. Not Harpers. As much as at least two of you act like them.

Alisaie: The lute is more my instrument, true.

#Faerun!Alisaie #Thess liveblogs Baldur's Gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers

[mareastrorum]

WIP Wednesday: TF&TS (The Pattern)

Here is a scene from chapter 2 of a longfic I am working on.

Fanfic Summary: Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the encounter with the Iron Shepherds, but a short time later, a spirit had begun hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

This fanfic will be posted on AO3 starting in June or July.

The Somnovem had forsaken their old names and identities. Individuals mattered little in the Pattern. However, the nine leaders of Cognouza, the saviors of the Planes, should be remembered for their accomplishments.

They inherited the minds of their people and brought that power into themselves. They were nine, and within them were nine others, and within them were many. Once they reached the Astral Sea, the nine within were sorted between them so that they became paragons of Cognouza. Thus, they adopted new names to reflect their freshly distilled identities: Culpasi, Elatis, Fastidan, Gaudius, Ira, Luctus, Mirumus, Timorei, and Vigilan.

The Dream took its toll, but soon the Somnovem awakened. While they did not revert to their discarded names or selves, they remembered the nine they had been.

Elatis was not the loudest, no. Other Somnovem screeched and raged and howled and gasped, their voices overpowering and demanding. Not Elatis. Such uncouth behavior was beneath her. She was not a siren, belting out temptation indiscriminately across land and sea.

Elatis spoke apace in the faintest of whispers, crooning beguiling melodies. Her words dripped and melded together—like fresh honey—the meanings dissipating into formless praise if they could not be caught as they fell. The words she emphasized lingered, cordial and delectable, intoxicating and sweet. None but her fellow Somnovem could even detect the arcane echoes underlying each breath. Only they could escape her charms.

Unity in purpose was an essential virtue. Elatis was the mastermind behind the Pattern, the waking dream that connected the minds of Cognouza and the Somnovem. She had balanced peace and ambition among the most advanced minds in Exandria, a phenomenal feat in the Age of Arcanum, the era of pride and power. Eventually, her Pattern became the method of recruiting the Somnovem’s herald: the Nonagon.

Elatis did her work well, and she was entitled to be praised for it. 

When Elatis first brought the Pattern into existence, the people of Cognouza were enraptured, regardless of their protections against such magic. Once the people joined, none could resist Elatis’s honeyed song. When she bid them to support her plan (the Somnovem’s plan, of course) to betray Aeor, they rallied and cheered. The people lauded her name (and the Somnovem, of course) as they prepared the ward for travel to the Astral Plane. They loved her, they adored her, they exalted her.

The people would do anything for Elatis, anything to hear her luscious voice. Anyone would. Anything to hear her speak, laugh, sing, whisper. Anything to make her proud.

Anything for Elatis.

For Elatis was the Voice of the Dream, the Mistress of Enchantment. 

Once Cognouza brought her Pattern to the Material Plane, all would surrender and serve.

* * *

Lucien gradually came to consciousness again. He still had no form, but he felt more like himself than he had at any other point during this perilous journey to the city of Cognouza in the Astral Sea. Scattered, now collected.

Almost.

Wasn’t there something missing?

Regardless, the Somnovem had said that Lucien could soon return to the Material Plane; he could go back to Cree and the Tombtakers. Rather, the Somnovem had communicated telepathically, as they had no mouths, and Lucien could not hear them if they had spoken, as he had no ears. Without a body to perceive anything, he could only rely on senses they and the rest of Cognouza shared through the Pattern. An ephemeral, second-hand existence that faded in and out. It had been so long since he had actually heard anything that the Somnovem’s thoughts and emotions seemed like voices now.

At least this was better than the shattering.

As the Nonagon, Lucien had needed to undergo a ritual to travel to the city via an astral projection spell. It was powerful necromantic magic, far beyond the Tombtakers’ capabilities. The only spellslinger he knew capable of such a feat had been Archmage Vess DeRogna of the Cerberus Assembly, who had hired them for the trek to Eiselcross where he discovered the ritual tome. He offered a trade: she would conduct the ritual, and then she could keep the book for her own studies. She had been cross, arguing that the book was hers under the terms of their contract anyway, but the Somnovem gifted him with the power to render her magic useless in a confrontation. So they had an accord. She performed the ritual.

And DeRogna murdered Lucien by shattering his soul, scattering the pieces across the Astral Sea.

Caillech.

He did not know how long it had taken to understand anything again. An unknown amount of time drifting as fragments with only enough in each for nightmarish, bleeding thoughts of shredded identity trying to grasp who they were, where they were, what anything was. It should not have hurt, but even so, pain was the only word that came to mind to describe it.

No, it had not hurt. That had only been a fractured mind attempting to understand and deciding that it must be in pain because nothing else made sense. It was not real.

The Somnovem did not abandon him. Instead, they collected the fragments in Cognouza as it traveled the Astral Sea. They separated him from the minds of the city, keeping him isolated in the Aether Crux until they were certain he would not be overwhelmed.

Self had not come back in a single moment. The lost pieces had taken memory with them, only recalling and filling the gaps of missed misery once joined with enough of the others. It was nigh-indescribable to suddenly remember and experience the harm done to another fragment once it had been reunited. All that time had condensed into an instant, but he was dragged through it from beginning to end regardless. It happened again and again and again and again and again. Each subsequent remembrance was worse than the prior because the new pieces brought more understanding with them, adding to the horror of what had been done. Many times, it all just bled together, an ongoing sense of destruction despite that it was the opposite occurring.

At some point, he had been Lucien again. At some point, able to understand what was happening and that the healing was not yet done. But none of that occurred only once. The last few remnants were the most devastating, an overwhelming storm of agony that left memory reeling. The Somnovem had to pause until his soul had healed enough to withstand the next, until he remembered again, lest he be lost or warped in the recoil. How long had each of those taken? He could not know.

The Somnovem had provided their individual types of “assistance,” but Elatis was the most adept at it. The problem with her was that everything she did worked, even when her target knew exactly what she was up to. She did not demand; she prodded in such a way that others would do as she expected willingly, without the need for a request.

“Isthisyour end? Ismere pain enoughtostopyou?”

It was not pain, though a crumbling mind yet again suffering the memory of a shattering soul could not retain that. Elatis was clever enough to parse that out. Her bliss was fragile. Pride was far more difficult to break.

Bloody wagon, she was.

But that part was over. The worst was done. It did not matter anymore.

Once Lucien had recovered enough to start asking questions and recall the answers, the philosophers taught him while he healed. First, of course, how to retain self in the Pattern, so that he would not be lost among the multitudes. It was easier than expected, though that might have been because Lucien had relived so many things with each reconnection, engraving a sense of identity that could not be undone by the torrent of others.

Then, when the barrier between Lucien and the city was done away with, the Somnovem taught with dreams, visions, and memories—and not only their own, but from the people of Cognouza as well. Thousands of lives filtered and distilled into teachings for the Nonagon, the herald that would bring them to Exandria and beyond, a king to lead them. All welcome distractions and novelties.

Even if Lucien had some way to perceive the world individually, time had little meaning in this plane. There were no rhythms of life to measure. Nothing aged. No growth, no change, no decay. Years seemed to go by for some lessons and merely seconds for others. The quantity of information had little to do with it. He felt as though he had learned lifetimes’ worth of study from the Somnovem, but there was no method of comparison to confirm.

The history and structure of the Material Plane and of the Astral Sea, to understand the flaws and potential of each. Logic to maintain calm and to understand reason. Epistemology to remain focused and to understand knowledge. Metaphysics to think clearly and to understand reality. Structuralism to harness control and to understand the mind. Arcane sciences to bend the aether and to make dreams real. So much more, but of all the lessons, those were the most useful for the Nonagon—each necessary to invoke his will through the essence of the Astral Sea.

Yet it was all useless without action. Lucien could not enact any of those teachings as a formless soul trapped in the Aether Crux, still too fragile to be loosed without a tether to his body. He needed to do something. Anything. Dreaming was useless if it could not be made real.

And while reflecting on those teachings during his convalescence, Lucien realized the flaws of the Somnovem as well. When he had first gained his eyes, he thought they were gods, so far beyond his understanding.

No.

Much of that had been the devious design of the Pattern, their tool for recruitment and control. It was like a river current, driving all thought and emotion along a single path, and the further into the current anyone went, the more difficult it was to escape. It was overwhelmingly onerous to resist if it caught Lucien unaware, even after the Somnovem’s lessons on retaining individual thought. He suspected that the only reason he could oppose it at all was that he had also learned enough to discern which ideas and emotions it had sunk its teeth into. It reflected the whims of the Somnovem, encompassing their essence one at a time, ever cycling between the nine and their domains.

Once Lucien had the chance to think without the Pattern’s overpowering sway and had built some understanding of what the Somnovem had created, he also saw their hypocrisy, their madness, their stagnation. A small amount would have been tolerable, even expected, but the nine reveled in each like pigs in mud. They acted as if merely existing as part of the city was victory. As if it was already perfect. All this power and possibility at their disposal, and they had done nothing but sit in the Astral Sea. Every bit of growth was endless recursion without anything new.

That was not quite it either. It was not even growth, as that implied some sort of natural process. It was assimilation and transmutation into what already was there. No improvement. Only mimicry.

It was when Lucien finally tapped into more recent memories that he saw Cognouza for what it was, without the Somnovem’s illusions and lies.

A city, alive but not living—suspended in time. Corrupted and aberrant, so much like Molaesmyr. An amalgamation of the flesh and materials of the people and Aeor united in a single body hosting thousands upon thousands of souls and minds. Blood flowed through monstrous arteries and veins because the people remembered that it must, because they remembered blood had a purpose, even if it was useless now. Cognouza did not need blood, it only remembered that something within it had once. And so it was with every aspect of the city. It did not need to breathe, but it did. It did not need eyes to see, but it sprouted them to look anyway. Pieces pretending to be water, pretending to be streets, pretending to be plants, pretending to be people, pretending to talk, pretending to walk, pretending, pretending, pretending.

It had to be a mistake. While the Somnovem had the power to shape it however they pleased, Cognouza’s memory had been warped by a psychic storm that had ravaged the city when it arrived in the Astral Sea. When they had shared dreams with Lucien, they had only shown him the version in their minds and assured him that they merely needed direction and guidance. It must have been the madness that had prevented them from correcting this. If not for his resilience, surely he would have succumbed to the same fate when he shattered.

Lucien could not fix this for the Somnovem, not yet. He was trapped within the city as well, unable to do anything until he was resurrected. They were all adrift and useless. How could the city dream of change when it remembered neither what it was nor what it could be?

But no. It had not been a mistake.

Even if the Somnovem had any intent to implement change, they would never reach a consensus on it. The batty philosophers formed cliques against each other, and they shifted allegiances over time as well. Lucien had to constantly deflect their requests that he pick a side. Surely, they would have turned against him when their fickle alliances diverged yet again. Nevertheless, they dragged him into their squabbles against each other. There was nowhere he could go and nothing he could do to escape it.

All Lucien could do was play the diplomat, soothing their concerns with whatever assurances they wanted to hear, sweet platitudes that left a sour aftertaste for having made them. Stupid games that had to be played over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over. Only one of the Somnovem had been insane enough not to bother with the rivalries, instead devolving into paranoid fits and seeking solace in solitude. Hardly an improvement.

Their petty nonsense lifted the veil. After all, how could they possibly be genuine about unity and transcendence when they were little more than bickering toddlers? The Somnovem had only achieved power. Not enlightenment. They weren’t gods. They were spoiled children, raised on the best of everything, believing themselves to be paragons of mortality and able to replace divinity on Exandria because they had once been clever enough to avoid being destroyed by actual gods when they escaped to another plane.

Lucien had died for them. He had been scattered for them. He was stuck in the center of an abomination pretending it was still people and the city they lived in—for them.

For the Somnovem that did not even care for him. That saw him as a living tool to be used. He had a greater purpose than the others in Cognouza, but he was still only valued for that purpose. Not Lucien, only the Nonagon. A king, a conqueror, a leader, a herald, a soldier, a page, a student, a servant.

A slave.

What the fuck was this bullshit?

People had called Lucien arrogant for working to be more than an orphan from Shadycreek Run, but this was beyond the pale. Nine of the most learned wizards from the most advanced city of the greatest age in the history of reality, here, having unlocked secrets and power that could change all the Planes, and they wouldn’t do a damn thing with it. They wanted him to lead the way to new conquests, not decide what should be done. The Somnovem sat at a feast of every magical resource they would ever need—knowledge, power, imagination, will—and ate for the sake of eating, with no grand plans and no desire to do anything other than devour all they could reach. As if they deserved to do so, as if anyone actually deserved anything, as if someone could be entitled to anything by merely existing or by having a certain name or heritage or connection.

They expected Lucien to do the work of bringing them all to the Material Plane and spreading the city’s influence to Exandria. And for what?

Nothing.

When they called themselves the Somnovem, Lucien had not expected the meaning to be so literal. Hundreds upon hundreds of years spent sleeping and dreaming had turned the lot of them into self-indulgent deadbeats. He had risked and lost his life—at their direction—then finally regained his sense of self and had learned so much, but only to discover along the way how pointless it all had been.

Lucien could do so much better, and he had not had even a fraction of the opportunity they had. Hells, that was probably even the reason for it. What the fuck would any of the Somnovem, spoiled brats bred and raised to their station by those already in power, know about the horrors inflicted on the “lesser” people?

Nothing.

Lucien had to fight his way to everything he had ever had because his heritage and origins had rendered him unacceptable to the common folk and the ruling classes. So many horrible things in the world that needed to be fixed, and even if he had been struggling to sort out how to do anything substantive about them before—after all, what he was seemed so bloody important to everyone else that everything he ever did or said was questioned, if not disregarded outright—he could do nothing about them now.

Nothing.

No, instead his soul had been stuck here, in the plane of dreams and imagination, waiting for nine insane wizards to piece him back together because they wanted him to bring them to another table to gorge themselves on.

Lucien could do so much more with this than the Somnovem ever had, than they ever would, if he only had the chance.

Why not, then?

He did not need an opportunity to present itself. He could carve one. He had done that before, dozens—no, hundreds of times. He could do it. He would. The fact that no one else had taken the time to try was evidence of how much was wrong with the damned world. Fine. Lucien would fix it.

If the Somnovem had not wanted him to set his sights on their seat of power, then they should have known better than to choose him as the Nonagon. They knew him, they said. He was what they needed, they said. Sure. He would be exactly what they needed.

Punishment for having wasted all this time and power when it could have been used to implement change. Discipline for having no self-control or purpose. A parent to teach them what they clearly could not figure out on their own. And if they knew Lucien so damn well, then they should have known what he would wrought.

They brought it on themselves.

So Lucien schemed against the Somnovem, even as he learned from them, even as they rejected Vess DeRogna as his replacement. Gratitude and disdain were not mutually exclusive, after all. They would benefit from his plans, too. Better for them to be tools at his disposal than wasting away.

Of course, they were still demi-god wizards, and Lucien was still only a healing soul. He had to be clever if he was going to usurp them. Any individual Somnovem had more than enough power to destroy him utterly, or to twist him into something useless, or to scatter him anew. The Pattern was also an obstacle because he could not resist it completely. Thankfully, they actually wanted him to be clever, so while they would use the Pattern to nudge him along, they were not going to rob him of individuality or control of his own mind. That was probably their long-term goal, but not yet.

Lucien anticipated that he would be able to resist the Pattern more strongly once he regained his body. It could plant thoughts and emotions, but the Somnovem had also taught that physical sensations could interfere with it. It was their justification for Cognouza’s unity as a single mass; the Pattern did not need to compete with the individual experiences of the thousands within if they all felt the same thing. So if he was in his own body, he could use that to contradict whatever the Pattern was doing. It might not hold it off completely, but it would combat total control.

Until the moment they were all indisposed, Lucien needed to play along. That would ensure the Pattern was only involved sparingly, and they would not have reason to suspect his motives. He would do it. He should be able to keep it at bay more strongly once he was restored to life. And once he was in control, he would change the Pattern to suit his needs. As long as Lucien kept his traitorous thoughts inside his own head, the defenses he had learned from Timorei would safeguard him. No one knew his thoughts unless he wanted them to. Granting him access to memories about such protections was their biggest mistake.

Lucien had already worked out how he could debilitate the nine at once using some weapons abandoned in Aeor. After all, he’d had plenty of time to think it over. Intuit charges could simulate another psychic storm, which had been the initial reason for the city’s insanity. Thanks to the Somnovem’s delusion that the city was already perfect, none of them had even considered rectifying that gap in defenses either. Gobshites. The eyes would protect him against such effects, so the charges were perfect for this use.

During their initial trek to Eiselcross, the Tombtakers had sighted intuit charges scattered throughout the ruins without realizing what they were until much later. Lucien would need to pick up as many as he could find while collecting the threshold crests necessary to bring the city to the Material Plane, then bring both to the Astral Sea through the interplanar gate at Aeor’s heart. It would not take much to prepare the trap or a distraction, and then it would all be over in an instant, before the Somnovem had any chance to use their magic, the aether, or the Pattern against him. Once they were brought low, he could seize control and bring the city back under his command.

The Tombtakers would certainly help Lucien with each of those steps, though he doubted he would have a safe way to warn them of his true motives without risking the Somnovem’s discovery of the plot. Maybe some opportunity would arise. Nevertheless, Cree, Zoran, Tyffial, Jurrell, and Otis trusted his judgment. Lucien would have to rely on that heavily or control them outright, though he would rather the former. Neither was optimal, but, well, whatever. Besides, even if they were misfits, they were every bit as ruthless as Lucien. They would do what must be done, he could depend on that much.

Assuming they were still alive. Lucien had told the Tombtakers to scatter if something went wrong, just in case DeRogna turned on them—and she had, the witch—but he had no idea if they had been able to or what might have happened since. The Somnovem could not reach out to them without the Nonagon to establish the connection.

How long had it been? Months? Years? Decades? More? How much longer would this take? 

At this rate, Lucien would lose his damn mind too, reviewing everything for the hundredth time to check whether the Somnovem had pulled some stunt to fuck with him before he could be resurrected.

Where were the Somnovem anyway?

Lucien shifted his attention to the Pattern and the minds of Cognouza, the unified hive of thought that ever persisted in the background. It used to seem only like screaming and fractal shapes and half-remembered sensations, but there was so much more to it, so much information and memory and emotion. While he could not precisely perceive places or distance in this state, he could vaguely determine whether the Somnovem were nearby or further afield.

All nine had gathered somewhere other than the Aether Crux. Strange. Why would they meet in such a way when their consciousness was separated rather than melded into the Somnovem Omega at the Crux? So many of them detested each other.

And as though that idea had called them, Lucien sensed several minds of the Somnovem approach only a moment before Elatis began, her euphoria manifesting like a song reverberating through and around him.

Knowthis: we are proud of you. Youareour herald, Nonagon, nowhealingand returned tous. Youhavebeen strong, and we shall make you yet stronger.

The words flowed so quickly that Lucien could barely follow Elatis as she whispered. He had only just grasped the meaning of her first words before the Pattern ebbed down and smothered him with more, a deluge of sensation overriding everything else.

What had he been thinking about just now? Damnit. Wait—

Theeyesthatwere gifted toyouare waiting foryourreturn. Youmust take thembackfroma thief. You mustbetheoneto kill thisinterlopersothatyoumaybe restored. Weshallhelpyou, uplift you, empower you.

The Pattern infected every perception, the taste of power and pride permeating all thought.

Lucien only perceived what Elatis wanted him to, and the very idea that there had been anything more faded from memory. There were no others, only her. His own thoughts dwindled, slowly sinking down to his subconscious, bringing her enchantment-laced nectar down with them. 

Youshallbea spirit withoutformuntilyou reclaim yourown, the Vessel blessed with our eyes. Youshallnot live, butyoushalltravelamonghosts. Inthebodiesofothers, your vengeance willplayout. Youshall horrify yourenemies, andyoushall possess allthatthey hope todenyyou. Allshall wither beforeyou.

The Somnovem had been scheming since their last meeting, but Lucien did not mind anymore. He had felt so empty, and Elatis’s voice was saccharine ecstasy. Every lift and drop, every trill and stop. All he could do was drink it down as she drowned him in it. 

There was nothing to forgive. Elatis could do no wrong. Only the Pattern mattered. 

Youshallnotlastwithouta host, butbenotafraid, forour gift toyouisthat you cannot die. Wehave tethered youtoourhome, our beloved city. Shouldany strike youdown, youshall return again, andyoushallbe more thanyouwerebefore. Youare unstoppable, relentless, and shining.

Somewhere, lingering just beyond conscious awareness, Lucien knew that Gaudius, Fastidan, Mirumus, and Vigilan had each provided some blessing, they must have said something (but he did not remember, and it did not matter, Elatis imparted all that he needed to know), they must have done something, and he was certain he could tap into those gifts if he chose, but not now. 

Youmust reclaim yourself, our champion. Andwhenyouarewhole, Nonagon, youshall continue yourmission. Only you can do what must be done. You shall be our salvation.

There was more, Lucien knew that, he had to be ready for rebellion, the Somnovem could not be trusted (but everything was alright here, it was warm and safe and comfortable atop this pedestal, Elatis made it so), they were using him, there must be some cost, he had to act.

But not now. 

Sleep. Whenyou awaken, youshallbereadyto take whatisyours. Weshallwaitforyou, Nonagon. Dream.

In this dream—now—only Elatis, her perfect voice, and the Pattern echoing through Lucien’s healing soul.

#wip wednesday #critical role fanfiction #TF&TS #Somnovem #Elatis #lucien nonagon #The Pattern

[awritingcaitlin]

🔍Find the Word Tag Game👀

Tagged once again by @mjjune on the dash with the words pill, slip, fabric, mist, necklace

Snippets are from Cure for the Queen! (Book 3).

Tagging @mjjune, @mr-writes, @saphoblin, and anyone else who wants to do this!

💃🏻SLIP💃🏻

“A round of Schmiedish Army Number Three for all the musicians!” Rinnie shouted. “My treat!” She turned to Zeh’ave. “Let me go settle that at the bar.”

Zeh’ave’s gaze followed Rinnie as she glided across the floor, slipping through patrons both dancing and not to get up to the bar. Zeh’ave herself went back to their table.

“Can she afford to just treat them like that?” Zeh’ave asked Rinnie’s uncle.

“Technically, she could afford to treat the whole tavern,” he answered. “But I’m guessing she remembered that it’s a bank holiday and that she doesn’t have that much cash on hand.”

“Oh,” Zeh’ave said.

🍻FABRIC🍻

The lone bartender, an old woman probably past a hundred, smiled at her over gold-rimmed glasses. She was stooped, but probably taller than Lily if she stood up straight. She wore layered skirts and a blouse, with a thick belt around her waist. Every bit of fabric was colorful.

Lily approached the bar, sliding past a table where an obvious astral of Rial sat. The man had glowing golden eyes, and an actual halo. Rial was a god of justice and purity. His astrals would think similarly. Lily pulled her hood closer and slowly let out a deep breath. She got to the bar and leaned against it.

The bartender came over. “What can I get you?” she asked.

“Um,” Lily paused. She thought about the note, but also knew how thirsty she was. And her stomach growled. She opened her mouth to speak just as the bartender said:  

“A rum and cola it is!”

💧MIST💧

Screeeeeech.

Horns blared. The car swerved. Aravae had enough presence of self to shove all of her notes back into her bag. She dropped the pen though. No matter…

The car came to a shuddering halt. Aravae looked out the window, but didn’t see anything beyond lights and the misting of a scheduled rain.

“What an asshole!” her driver grunted. “They’ll give anyone a license these days!”

“Is the car all right?” Aravae asked. Her heart was pounding in her ears. It took all her effort to keep the tremors in her voice down.

“Yes,” the driver agreed.

“Good,” Aravae said. “Then if there is no reason to linger, we should keep going.”

“Agreed.”

📿NECKLACE📿

“Now let’s go get a chain and some metal to set it in,” Rinnie said. “I’m assuming you want a necklace? Though if you want something else, now’s the time to say.”

“Necklace is fine,” Riela said. She hadn’t thought much about what kind of jewelry the charm would be. “You’re gonna do that?”

Rinnie didn’t strike her as the type to know how to make jewelry.

“Yeah, of course.” Rinnie rolled her eyes. As if she’d read Riela’s mind, she replied, “Jewelry’s not my strong suit, but I have surgeon’s hands.”

💊PILL💊 - CW Drug Usage

Rin carefully reached to the center of the table where the water jug was and poured herself a glass. Then she pulled two pills out of her pocket and downed them. “What are those?” Adler asked.

“A mixture of methadone and clonidine,” Rin replied flatly. “Because withdrawals are a bitch.”

“And you’re just saying that for the world to hear?” Riela said. She looked a little green still, but whatever concoction Mica had given her was working.

“I’ve had a ward up since we sat down at this table,” Rin replied as if she were informing everyone what she had for breakfast. “Anyone around will assume we’re talking about the weather, though I’ll have to feed the spell with new ideas soon, otherwise it’s going to start sounding repetitive.”

“On the bright side, there’s a lot of weather to talk about,” Skythorn pointed out.

#tag game #find the word #my writing #cure for the queen #rinnie #zeh'ave #kanjo #lily #mama cass #aravae #riela #nathaniel

[ceilingfan5]

"25. sharing an umbrella" has so much potential for both comedy and angst if the setting is close to canon...

Taako’s sworn Avi to secrecy and fucked off to Neverwinter for the day. Listen--he’s sick of training. The other two dinguses can get sweaty without him. It’ll be fine. They’re not going to find a relic today, probably, considering it’s been ages since the last one. And you know what? If they do, they do. They can wait for him to have a coffee with a pretty guy. It’s not like he’s fully gone on vacation.

Not that he hasn’t considered it.

He needs some Taako time, is the thing. And after a few close encounters and a business-date that went swimmingly, in Taako’s opinion, it was time to get a cuppa and talk about things that weren’t death bounties. You know. Important date questions. Figuring out if he’s the kind of guy to leave the cap off the toothpaste, or if he heavily invests in ketchup stocks, or if he’s a little bit insane in a way that isn’t hot.

But he’s cool and casual. He hasn’t got a list in his pocket. He left that on his dresser.

He’s lookin’ mighty fancy and watching passers-by do their thing, waiting five minutes, fifteen, and really, Taako’s not exactly the punctuality guy, but fuck, after about thirty, Taako goes in and sits down. The sky is looking mighty purple, and these boots are made for lookin’ and pretty much nothing else. He orders something warm with a hint of cinnamon, and he waits.

Kravitz hurries in after far too long, looking frantic, and Taako waves him over.

“Hey, bone-boy. Over here.”

“Taako! Taako, I’m so sorry, time works different in the Astral plane and-”

“Water under the bridge, my guy.” Taako waves his hand, forgiving him. “Go get something nice to drink.”

“Right,” Kravitz says, and hesitates, and then kisses Taako’s cheek before hustling over to the counter. Taako blushes and kicks his feet and tries not to make a teakettle noise about it. Success: medium.

He comes back with a tall coffee, and the anxiety slowly melts off of him as they talk, about somethings and nothings and a few probing questions on Taako’s part. Like how married he is to his job (very) and how much he makes (it doesn’t work that way, Taako,) and whether he wants kids (at this point he spit out his coffee and Taako had to prestidigitate it off of his suit, which answered the question effectively).

But they also just chat, and enjoy each other’s presence, and when they finish their coffees, they just sort of smile at each other, and it makes Taako feel like champagne and sugared flowers.

“Do you maybe want to...take a walk with me?” Kravitz asks, reaching across the table and holding Taako’s hands, and who the fuck is Taako to say no?

So they step out under the dark green awning and realize that it’s coming down hard, as in, full on passed cats and dogs to like, bears and pythons, (honestly, can you imagine?) and Kravitz frowns, and Taako elbows him in the side and winks.

“I got this,” he says, and he pops his umbrastaff open. It’s certainly not the intended use, but it’s a beautiful umbrella, and as they link elbows and walk down the street, not only does it protect them from the rain, it almost seems to emit a fond and gentle warmth, and Taako just can’t stop looking at Kravitz to the point where he almost walks straight into the street. Kravitz steers him away, moving his arm around his waist, and it feels so fucking good, Taako can taste his own heart.

“So you asked me a few hard questions,” Kravitz says, leading them down a street embroidered with beautiful flowers just dancing in the rain. “Can I ask you to expand on what you said on our first date?”

“What?” Taako knows, though. And he sweats.

“That no one else would have you. I- Taako, I have a hard time understanding that. You’re the most beautiful, charming, clever, funny man I’ve ever met, and I- not to make myself sound like a bit of a harlot, but I’ve met a lot of guys in my time.”

“Ah, well. Um.” Taako swallows his heart and tells it to do its fucking job. He bumps his shoulder against Kravitz’s for support. “Listen, I mean, listen. It’s- It’s always been just me. I’ve been alone as long as I can remember. There were a few times, I- I mean, just a few, but those never ended well. And it’s just been Taako against the world.”

The warmth of the umbrella seems to heat up, for some reason. Taako stares at the wet pavement.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Taako.”

“It’s whatever,” Taako says, but his voice cracks, and he winces. “I don’t need anybody, and nobody needs me.” The umbrella handle heats up too, and it starts to rattle menacingly. Taako stares with his mouth open, until it starts to burn, and he drops it. “What the fuck?”

Kravitz gasps as cold rain spatters him, and he looks down at the umbrastaff.

“What in the world-”

Taako hesitantly grabs it again, and the rattling seems to have stopped, but he still holds it tentatively.

“It almost felt-” Taako bites his lip, knowing he’s going to sound stupid. “Upset.”

“I think you should have an artificer take a second look at that thing,” Kravitz whispers, almost like the umbrella will hear him.

“Yeah,” Taako looks it over uneasily. “I’ll put that on my list.”

#taakitz #taakitz fic #taz #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #i hope this leans the way you wanted?

[sindulgence666]

MC is a modern witch [2]

Summary: Unlike Solomon or the witches that the brother have interacted with, in the human realm MC is much like the modern witches we nowadays know: bottle spells, deity work, divination… just plain energy work with the help from the universe. However, since their arrival to the Devildom MC notices how their magickal abilities are stronger and the brothers seem to notice it too.

⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁

This is basically what happens in the first Lesson; MC arriving to the Devildom and meeting the brothers. Mild modifications are made to fit this timeline 💕

Warnings: none

Characters: Diavolo, Lucifer, Barbatos, Mammon, Asmodeus, Satan

Genre: Slice of life

⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁

You’re in a place that looks like a courtroom. Several men were looking your way. The man in the seat of the chief judge starts speaking.

— Welcome to the Devildom, MC. —Welcome to the… what?— …Oh, pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked, are we?

The tall, red-haired man before you spoke calmly, always having a smile on his face.

— Well, that’s understandable. You’ve only just arrived, after all. As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom.

— The Devildom…? —now you were pretty sure you weren’t dreaming or in an astral travel.

You silently prayed to your two demon guides in hopes of being helped. The tanned man before you spoke again, introducing himself. Now, his face had a name and things started to get clear.

— I am the ruler of all demons, and all here know of me. […]

His words echoed in your mind as you tried to process everything. Before you could think about it twice, a sudden question exited your lips. “Why am I here?”. You were expecting Diavolo to answer you, but a familiar voice made you immediately turn your head; you knew that voice all too well.

— Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome, MC.

Words suddenly were clogging up your throat, but nothing came out. It was him; you were finally meeting him physically. How did that even happen? Your brain still seemed to be slowly processing everything, as you only nodded at everything the demon before you said, and carefully grabbing the D.D.D you were given. Their voices were more of a background noise, until a new one rang in your ears.

— Oh, come now. Really? You should be honored that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!

Lucifer introduced him as Asmodeus, and soon another man joined the conversation. You parted your lips open, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing came out.

— During your stay in the Devildom, the seven brothers will lend you their strenght. To keep you safe, you are to stay with them at the House of Lamentation.

Keep you safe?… Just as if he could read your mind, Lucifer went ahead and answered your mentally made question.

— Most agree with Diavolo, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t vulgar demons out there who wouldn’t harm you. If anything were to happen to you, it would be our responsibility. And I won’t betray Diavolo’s expectations, so I will do everything in my power to make sure you survive your stay down here in the Devildom. Although we will all be living together, you should still have the means to reach us at any given time.

Diavolo helped you understand how your D.D.D’s messaging app worked, and after finishing this, suddenly a tanned white-haired demon barged into the room.

— Just who do you think you are, human?

He continued his speech, until Lucifer warned him to stop and hit him. The brothers started talking again, and you couldn’t help but listen and stare. You felt a bucket of cold water pouring over you when hearing your most trusted guide tell you that you didn’t have any magic in you unlike the other exchange student from the human world.

— You really don’t recognize me…? —you whispered, heartbroken. However, he seemed to ignore this and proceeded to continue talking about your stay at RAD, the HoL and the Devildom.

Making yourself go on automatic mode, suddenly you were at the House of Lamentation, walking behind the demon who was supposed to take care of you. You’ve had studied about Mammon before, but having him babysit you was… something you weren’t expecting. You werent really listening to what he was saying, until another familiar voice made you snap out of your automatic pilot state.

— Leviathan…?

The two brothers started to argue, and your just limited yourself to watch and wait, and suddenly… Mammon ran away, leaving only you and your second most trusted guide.

— Do you realize what just happened? Mammon used you as a distraction to get away from me. …Or maybe I should say he used you as a sacrifice.

Without really asking, soon Levi (as apparently Mammon told you to call him) dragged you into his room, and you just stared in awe at everything around you. You definitely had been there before in dreams.

— … What’s that now? You want to know why I looked around to see if anyone was watching before I closed the door?… Hey, why are you looking at me like that, normie!?

— Lord Leviathan, do you really not recognize me?…

— Lord? What are you talking about? Why should I recognize a human? This is why I hate normies, they’re always up with weird stuff…

— Leviathan… it’s me, MN. We’ve been working together for more than four years now…

You saw his lips part open and his eyes starting to carefully study you, squinting them for a few seconds before…

— WOOOAAAH!

His sudden outburst made you yelp and jump in your place. And suddenly, the avatar of envy had his hands on your shoulders, grasping them tightly.

— What are you doing here!? You were chosen for this program!? This is unbelievable! It’s like that anime I was chosen for an exchange program in hell but nobody knows I’m a witch!

You blinked repeatedly, nodding slowly to try and calm yourself. So, they hadn’t recognized you. Surely Lucifer too was unaware of who you were, then.

[…]

— So… do I not have to call you “Lord” while staying here?

— No! I’ve told you several times that I hate it, MN-… er… MC.

You nodded and crossed your arms, tilting your head to the side. Unlike with Mammon, being with Leviathan actually soothed you. It was nice being close to someone you already knew.

— Listen, MC, I need you to help me get revenge against that scumbag.

How could you say no to him?

#Obey me #obey me! #om! Lucifer #om! Mammon #om! Leviathan #om! Satan #om! Asmodeus #om! Beelzebub #om! Belphegor #om! Diavolo #om! Barbatos #om! Simeon #om! Solomon #om! Luke #Om! Fanfic #om! Mc #obey me! Mc #witch #witchcraft #witchy #fluff #angst #om! Swd

[alegzandryan]

Prepping for a Ritual

So since I am doing these things as we speak I thought I would go through some ritual things that I find useful, for anyone that feels overwhelmed or unprepared for ritual work. I know tumblr and tiktok have pushed a lot of easy jar spells on us, but there really is something more to a ritual setting, even a simple one. And as it goes without saying, this is my personal idea of a guide and everyone is entitled to their own opinion and practice.

Get your supplies ready the day before the ritual. ESPECIALLY if you are going outside/somewhere outside your home. Collect all the things you will need and put them together. This will give you a day to remember all the things you forgot before it's time, instead of in the middle of your ritual

Choose what you are going to wear the day before, too. Some people take aesthetic very seriously but others dont. Either way, give some thought to what you are wearing. Is that crystal necklace good for what you are doing? Are those pants comfortable enough to sit for 30 minutes in? Comfortability is just as important as presentation for ritual, so dont wear that corset that hurts you after 15 minutes. You will need to focus on more important things.

Foot wear is also super underrated. Are you hiking 10 minutes into the forest to find a ritual spot? Wear boots. Are you in your house and want to go barefoot? Make absolutely sure you are not going to step on a ritual tool and make yourself bleed, or curse to some gods about the existence of legos in the middle of your ritual

Make some stuff for a cleansing/power bath. I usually assemble ingredients and things day before, then go to bed, and do a quick ritual bath before the actual ritual. Steep a hair rinse or charm a fancy body wash before hand so you dont have to focus on that spell, too.

Do a tarot reading/your preferred divination, before bed the day before you do a ritual. It can be quick or extensive, it doesnt matter. But it can be good to get some guidance before you are gearing up for a spell or ritual, and have some time to think about it before you are minutes away from it.

Prepare food and water, once again especially if you are going outside. Rituals can take a lot out of you depending on what you are doing, and food and drink are very easy and quick ways to help ground yourself if you are shaky or need help coming back to a relaxed state. If you are struggling, boiling pasta or microwaving stuff is the last thing on your mind, or maybe even your ability. So have some fruit snacks or granola bars or cookies or something-- easy to take and easy to eat-- with you. Trust me, this is more important than a lot of people realize. It's a good after-ritual practice and one you should be ready for

Think about your intent and purpose. Set aside some time day-before to do this, maybe 30 min to 1 hr I would say. Maybe make an entry in your BOS if you are the journaling type. This serves 2 functions: one is to charge your intent before the spell. It will give you more oomph and precision in your spell casting, or more prepared behavior if you are speaking to gods. Think about what you want to ask them, what you want them to know, how much respect you should give them, or what they may ask of you. What are you willing to do for them, and what are you not?

The second function is that it gives you time to back out of something. Not all spells are meant to be cast, and especially not if you are in a high emotion before it. Give yourself a day to prepare, an hour to think over, why am I doing this? SHOULD I be doing this even? There is nothing wrong with changing your mind. Doing things impulsively in magic isn't typically beneficial to the caster most of the time. Think through potential consequences, too. How could it back fire? How could it go right but in the wrong way? Is there a better way to get what you want? Can you add a caveat, or a time limit on the spell? Are you using parts of a closed practice and not really thought about it before now?

If you are doing spell work in the out-of-your-house-space-land, even if it is just like, in your appartment parking lot, the park down the street or even your own backyard, make sure someone somewhere knows about it. I know not everyone is out of the broom closet, but even if you just have to tell your friends you are stargazing or something, make sure SOMEONE knows and has a check in time for you. There are creeps and terrible people everywhere, and not to spook anybody, but doing magic can often attract animals or any assortment of beings who want to watch/investigate you. I have been given a heart attack by a baby antelope at dawn before. I have also been given a heart attack by a forest spirit asking wtf I was doing there. I know it doesnt exactly feel witchy to have your cellphone crammed in your waistband, but trust me, better safe than sorry. Be it humans or otherwise, doing magic in the dark in total secret is just not realistic to your safety. Take someone with you and have them wait in the car or around the corner if you can. Once again, make sure someone, somewhere, has a set time to call or come get you in, incase you get kidnapped or fae-napped. Your wellbeing is a much higher priority than any magic spell.

Also familiarize yourself with nearby wildlife. Even if you are in the city, check out what raccoon eyes look like in flashlight, or maybe if your suburb is prone to stray cats or dogs. Check out a rabies registry as well, so you know what kind of risk you are looking at around such animals. Rabid animals are actually more prone to being unafraid of human contact and will readily let a person touch them. Do NOT interact with wild animals. No, they are not a sign or a gift from your god. Most animals are curious about magic in general, but that doesnt make them not wild. Do not interact. If you are in a less populated space, you should also check out what kind of wild life is native to your area and how dangerous they are. Deer will startle themselves into you like getting hit by a BMW and bears and cougars can be active day or night, as well as Bobcats, snakes, or coyotes. Check out your local wildlife center for advice on how to handle what lives in your area

(Last outdoors advice, I promise) also check out what kind of myths and legends existed on the land you are on, ESPECIALLY if you live in north america. Knowing who's land you are on should be important to your practice anyway, and knowing what kind of creatures may be out there may save you some distress later. Indigenous cultures should be respected, and their tales can tell you what's around your area. And I dont care where the hell you live, if you hear whistling in the darkness/forests, it is one of several things coming to get you and none of them are good. Get gone and DONT whistle back. Or at all. No whistling guys. Bad.

For indoor rituals, make sure you wont be disturbed. Much like meditation, rituals are very dependent on focus and intent. Interruptions can mess with your outcome.

More indoor advice, checkout your lighting and ventilation well before you do your ritual. For instance, my altar is in a walk in closet-- there is no way in hell I am burning 4 candles and an incense in that room. I would have to do it in my living room or bedroom where there are windows, or find a way to eliminate the candles. Is the room dark enough to fit your ritual? Is it light enough that you can read your notes? (also make notes/write up a copy of the spell, it helps so much) Make sure you have enough light to see what you are doing properly.

I am a big advocate of "do not over cleanse your life, stop over cleansing" however, if that is something you do a lot of, make sure all your tools and whatnot are cleansed and prepared day before. You can shave a 2hr ritual down to 30 min if you get all of your prep work done day before, which is nice. And it once again gives you time to say "shit I forgot that one thing I need to cleanse" an hour later and still not interrupt your ritual because it is day before.

If you are an of-legal-age type person and doing some drug/alcohol part of your magic, make double sure you have food, water, and a buddy system. You may not need a designated driver if you aren't going out of your house, but you still need a designated sober person to make sure you dont like, astral travel out of your body and get replaced with a pod person, or get hurt trying to cast a circle with a ritual knife while high. Know your limits well before you use them in ritual and, I cannot emphasize this enough, have a friend to keep you under scrutiny incase something goes wrong and you need help.

If you are having the OTHER kind of must-be-of-age type of ritual, be sure your partner is well informed. Maybe have a dress rehearsal so you are both on the same page about mechanics and consent. Speed run through the general timing and motions, and talk about what each of you expect to get out of the ritual. Is it for bonding? Or are you using the energy to try to charge something? Is it for fertility? Are you both good to have ritualized sex (I know that seems like an obvious question, but you would be surprised by how many partners clam up about sexual things to try to not disappoint their partner). If you are a witch and your partner is not, be sure they know what to expect, and that they 100% want to do it even though it's not necessarily their practice and not just to be a people pleaser. If you havent done anything like this before either, tell them that, too. Honestly is 100% required here

And lastly, keep your cool. It's easy to get over excited or over anxious about this kind of thing, but honestly with a little prep time you have a high change of doing awesome. And even if you dont? That's okay too. Everyone makes mistakes, we all learn from those mistakes, and every single experience you acquire will level you up until you are the best at being you. Do what feels right, trust your gut, do some reading, and keep calm and witchy on.

#witchblr #ritual #ritual work #spell #spell work #witch tips #ritual prep #witch advice #chaos witch #eclectic paganism #wicca #diety work #diety ritual #witchcraft #chaos witchcraft #solitary witch #solitary witchcraft

[sindulgence66]

MC is a modern witch [2]

Summary: Unlike Solomon or the witches that the brother have interacted with, in the human realm MC is much like the modern witches we nowadays know: bottle spells, deity work, divination… just plain energy work with the help from the universe. However, since their arrival to the Devildom MC notices how their magickal abilities are stronger and the brothers seem to notice it too.

⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁

This is basically what happens in the first Lesson; MC arriving to the Devildom and meeting the brothers. Mild modifications are made to fit this timeline 💕

Warnings: none

Characters: Diavolo, Lucifer, Barbatos, Mammon, Asmodeus, Satan

Genre: slice of life

⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁ ⁎ ⋆ ❃ ⋆ ⁎ ❁

You’re in a place that looks like a courtroom. Several men were looking your way. The man in the seat of the chief judge starts speaking.

— Welcome to the Devildom, MC. —Welcome to the… what?— …Oh, pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked, are we?

The tall, red-haired man before you spoke calmly, always having a smile on his face.

— Well, that’s understandable. You’ve only just arrived, after all. As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom.

— The Devildom…? —now you were pretty sure you weren’t dreaming or in an astral travel.

You silently prayed to your two demon guides in hopes of being helped. The tanned man before you spoke again, introducing himself. Now, his face had a name and things started to get clear.

— I am the ruler of all demons, and all here know of me. […]

His words echoed in your mind as you tried to process everything. Before you could think about it twice, a sudden question exited your lips. “Why am I here?”. You were expecting Diavolo to answer you, but a familiar voice made you immediately turn your head; you knew that voice all too well.

— Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome, MC.

Words suddenly were clogging up your throat, but nothing came out. It was him; you were finally meeting him physically. How did that even happen? Your brain still seemed to be slowly processing everything, as you only nodded at everything the demon before you said, and carefully grabbing the D.D.D you were given. Their voices were more of a background noise, until a new one rang in your ears.

— Oh, come now. Really? You should be honored that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!

Lucifer introduced him as Asmodeus, and soon another man joined the conversation. You parted your lips open, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing came out.

— During your stay in the Devildom, the seven brothers will lend you their strenght. To keep you safe, you are to stay with them at the House of Lamentation.

Keep you safe?… Just as if he could read your mind, Lucifer went ahead and answered your mentally made question.

— Most agree with Diavolo, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t vulgar demons out there who wouldn’t harm you. If anything were to happen to you, it would be our responsibility. And I won’t betray Diavolo’s expectations, so I will do everything in my power to make sure you survive your stay down here in the Devildom. Although we will all be living together, you should still have the means to reach us at any given time.

Diavolo helped you understand how your D.D.D’s messaging app worked, and after finishing this, suddenly a tanned white-haired demon barged into the room.

— Just who do you think you are, human?

He continued his speech, until Lucifer warned him to stop and hit him. The brothers started talking again, and you couldn’t help but listen and stare. You felt a bucket of cold water pouring over you when hearing your most trusted guide tell you that you didn’t have any magic in you unlike the other exchange student from the human world.

— You really don’t recognize me…? —you whispered, heartbroken. However, he seemed to ignore this and proceeded to continue talking about your stay at RAD, the HoL and the Devildom.

Making yourself go on automatic mode, suddenly you were at the House of Lamentation, walking behind the demon who was supposed to take care of you. You’ve had studied about Mammon before, but having him babysit you was… something you weren’t expecting. You werent really listening to what he was saying, until another familiar voice made you snap out of your automatic pilot state.

— Leviathan…?

The two brothers started to argue, and your just limited yourself to watch and wait, and suddenly… Mammon ran away, leaving only you and your second most trusted guide.

— Do you realize what just happened? Mammon used you as a distraction to get away from me. …Or maybe I should say he used you as a sacrifice.

Without really asking, soon Levi (as apparently Mammon told you to call him) dragged you into his room, and you just stared in awe at everything around you. You definitely had been there before in dreams.

— … What’s that now? You want to know why I looked around to see if anyone was watching before I closed the door?… Hey, why are you looking at me like that, normie!?

— Lord Leviathan, do you really not recognize me?…

— Lord? What are you talking about? Why should I recognize a human? This is why I hate normies, they’re always up with weird stuff…

— Leviathan… it’s me, MN. We’ve been working together for more than four years now…

You saw his lips part open and his eyes starting to carefully study you, squinting them for a few seconds before…

— WOOOAAAH!

His sudden outburst made you yelp and jump in your place. And suddenly, the avatar of envy had his hands on your shoulders, grasping them tightly.

— What are you doing here!? You were chosen for this program!? This is unbelievable! It’s like that anime I was chosen for an exchange program in hell but nobody knows I’m a witch!

You blinked repeatedly, nodding slowly to try and calm yourself. So, they hadn’t recognized you. Surely Lucifer too was unaware of who you were, then.

[…]

— So… do I not have to call you “Lord” while staying here?

— No! I’ve told you several times that I hate it, MN-… er… MC.

You nodded and crossed your arms, tilting your head to the side. Unlike with Mammon, being with Leviathan actually soothed you. It was nice being close to someone you already knew.

— Listen, MC, I need you to help me get revenge against that scumbag.

How could you say no to him?

#obey me #obey me! #om! lucifer #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #leviathan #lucifer #mammon #satan #obey me! shall we date? #obey me! fanfic #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor #om! fanfic #om! mc #obey me! mc #witch #witchcraft #witchy #fanart #fluff #angst #om! swd #om! diavolo

[lorei-writes]

Impression of Infinity

Vincent x Reader Fluff (?) Fantasy AU

Word Estimate: 1.5k

I blame @cheese-ception​ for this. Also, excuse typos, I literally wrote the last parts with closed eyes, because I can’t see anything just regardless - it’s all blur.

Content Warnings: none Disclaimer: Reader & Vincent are of the same age, Vincent just found himself in a very peculiar situation

Vincent’s finger twitches – and green grows between the rows of students, translucent, reaching up to the very ceiling. His wrist twists the brush by what could be an error margin, the swing of his arm summons purples, invites them alongside violets, to rest between the stars – and you watch very carefully, although you know you should observe his work, not him, that you should listen to his words, not the thumping filling your head… Yet how could you, if he has you charmed, if you cannot turn your eyes away? Vincent nearly dances, his cheeks growing redder from exercise, the canvas he chose being much greater than the body he inhabits. To paint it must be tiresome, you reckon, although your concerns vanish, the spark in his eyes causing something inside of you to sting. Clearly, he is not the same boy you used to know, not the one sentenced to the fate of failure due to his inability to enchant with his voice alone. Yet… Is there anything wrong with that? After all, his greatest flaw turned into what made him a prodigy, as you always claimed.

The heat does not hold against the chilly air of the corridor, you think, the soles of your shoes clacking against the granite floor. The air vibrates outside, kept ablaze by merciless sun, the dreaded celestial body refusing to set even at night, its halo extending from one end of the horizon to the other – and even as your eyebrows furrow, you cannot stop and stare through the tinted-glass windows for even a moment, a steady stream of humans behind your back pushing you forward. In this world of yours, rather secluded from the outside realm, it is another sort of movement that agitates the air, lively chatter lifting in clouds, further replenished by curious students.

The lecture theatre is a marvel in its own right, rows of wooden benches and bookrests refusing to fall apart despite all the centuries passed. You take your seat, in the very front row – and although you try to, you cannot help wondering who sat there before you. Have… Have they discovered anything? Gained some fame? You cannot tell for sure, that much is certain, yet… It would not be unthinkable, it would not be impossible in any way. The Seventh Century University have had quite a number of excellent graduates.

Your hands beginning to hurt, you forcibly unclench your fists, your gaze lifting up from the floor. Right in time, as the chatter stops abruptly, killed by the shriek of the walnut door. A man, no taller than average, steps inside – and something perhaps stings inside your chest, just a little bit. His robe is somewhat crooked, just the way you remembered it to be, the traditional pointy hat (much dreaded by any student, in all fairness) seemingly glaring at him from its place in his arms. He looks around, as if lost, mildly dishevelled blonde hair appearing not to have grown any more obedient the past year. Your throat tightens. He is already at the lectern. “Good evening,” he laughs awkwardly. “My name is Vincent van Gogh and I will be your Practical Astronomy professor.”

The room grows dark, obsidian seemingly crawling over all stone spaces and consuming them whole. Your jaw tightens. Was it truly just a year? To think, so much would have changed… For you both to start at the same time, and then…

It happens as if a sea of fireflies was released into the room, a single twitch of the brush in his hand colouring the nothingness anew. “As we all know, Tralangea is located within the Galatos triad, in the galaxy of Saana. Little is known about the outside universes, however, the most recent findings indicate the remaining splatter points present different variants of the reality known to us. As you should already known after going through Analytical Divination, it would align well within the still-standing model of inter-crossings. In this moment, I want you to imagine the infinite number of elements, circulating through space and interacting with one another. I will give you a second.” The light dies down again, the previously invoked golden specks splashing against the ground. “How does it look?”

No one dares disrupt the silence. How can he ask? It is impossible to answer, of course – and you are very well aware of that. How to picture an infinity? Is it… A trick question, perhaps? You go over the possibilities in your thoughts. A void? The light? You do not know. Something completely abstract, the end of all times? For all you know, it may be just that, and your fellow students seem to agree, confused whispers beginning to hum behind your back. The hushed voices growl, a sea of flies united in mere human distrust. “Professor?” some brave soul asks. “Yes? Do you have an answer?” “I… I think this is impossible.” “Oh? Why so? I might have given you too tough a question at the start,” Vincent laughs, seemingly mildly unease. “It is infinity, professor.” The room quiets down, the concern of all having been spoken out loud. “It is impossible to picture infinity with a finite mind. It would fry it up!” A smack, a couple steps. “I see, you are not aware,” Vincent muses, something swishing in the air. “Your life already is an infinity, in this very moment.”

The room begins to glow, the brush in Vincent’s hand seemingly coming to life with a mind of its own, streaks of navy blue and petrol painting below the dome, swirling and tying with shades of orange, lined with golden dust. “We do not need perfection. We need a model,” he explains softly, almost tenderly, his gaze focused.

Vincent’s finger twitches – and green grows between the rows of students, translucent, reaching up to the very ceiling. His wrist twists the brush by what could be an error margin, the swing of his arm summons purples, invites them alongside violets, to rest between the stars – and you watch very carefully, although you know you should observe his work, not him, that you should listen to his words, not the thumping filling your head… Yet how could you, if he has you charmed, if you cannot turn your eyes away? Vincent nearly dances, his cheeks growing redder from exercise, the canvas he chose being much greater than the body he inhabits. To paint it must be tiresome, you reckon, although your concerns vanish, the spark in his eyes causing something inside of you to sting. Clearly, he is not the same boy you used to know, not the one sentenced to the fate of failure due to his inability to enchant with his voice alone. Yet… Is there anything wrong with that? After all, his greatest flaw turned into what made him a prodigy, as you always claimed. You were right. You were right in not telling him not to…

Vincent lifts his arm over his head, a halo emerging above him. His lips move, a barely audible charm seeping out of his lungs and pulling his creation into a newly created sphere. The room lights up again, granite having conquered the walls. You blink fast. Is it over already? “We have a little more time, so allow me to repeat myself. It is not about creating perfection, but much rather… An impression,” Vincent laughs, perhaps a little shy of what they have just witnessed. “The universes are infinite and so are their interpretations. With our current state of understanding, we cannot provide an accurate depiction. However, different stances on them can be beneficial in certain contexts. Do you know what my model could be used for?” “Map of the stars!” somebody shouts in the back. “Exactly,” he agrees, nodding happily, his lips curled into a smile. “It is what I focused on. By the end of the year, I want you to be able to process an infinite amount of information and take only a fraction of this information. Starting next week, we will be deconstructing our universe. Any questions?” Silence. “You’re free then, thank you.”

The seats around you empty at a gradual pace, some pooling around the lectern (it appears the shyness is quite infectious, you note) while others speed out of the hall, seemingly terrified of classes which are yet to come. You, however, you stay still, as if unable to move, although there is nothing holding you back. Is it you? Is it a mean spell somebody has cast? You do not know, although it seems it is not your day for knowing anything, Vincent, the very Vincent you knew so well, emerging right before you, from who knows where. He graces you with the brightest smile you have seen in a year. “Hello. I didn’t know you were taking my class,” he says, a trace of laughter in his voice. “I saw you listed as the professor and could not believe it, so of course, I had to see it for myself,” you reply, shaking your head, perhaps mildly amused. “Congrats! That internship must have been so hard, you skipped so many years! I hope they didn’t torture knowledge into you there, professor Van Go –” you stop before you finish the word, Vincent scratching his head, his eyes drifting way from you. “Vincent?” “Well, emm… I didn’t skip any years,” he laughs. “It is just those models. The rest, well…” “You still need to pass them?” “Please, tell me you have not chosen my subject over Astral Projection this year,” he forces out of himself – although you barely hear it, laughter shaking your arms violently. “I haven’t. How does this even work?” “I don’t know. I don’t think they know either.” “Oh, Vincent. Well, professor van Gogh, get ready for failing Astral Projection, Miss Szajna took over it this semester and I do not see anything painting in bright colours, unlike your models.”

You get up, the both of you walking to well, the next class. How does it all work? You have no clue. However, it does not matter in the slightest, a weight having been lifted off your heart. You can still tell him those three words. You have not lost your chance.

Tag List: @cheese-ception​​​​, @kisara-16​​, @nad-zeta​, @rikumorimachisgirl​ @bestbryn​​ If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, do remember to specify fandoms (and characters, if you are interested only in some) :D If it ever happens that you wish to be removed from my taglist, for any reason, do let me know. I will not ask why, it’s all fine ^^

#vincent van gogh #ikevamp vincent #ikevam vincent #ikevamp #ikevam #ikemen vampire #ikemen series #my ff #my writing

[midnighter13]

the world in mutable delight

Y'all I'm so full of feelings. So many of them. Anyway I've been shouting about Caleb using his Transmuter's Stone on Molly to anyone who will listen for actual years so now, please have more soft pre-widomauk feelings about it.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31672169

The process of recovery, Caleb knows, can be a strange one. Of course, there is hardly anyone stranger than the singular Mollymauk Tealeaf, to begin with. Between the circumstances of his deaths, his lives, and all the magic that brought him back to them, it is hardly a surprise that he needs some time to gather up all the patchwork pieces of himself again. Caleb has no doubt that he will reclaim everything he wishes to, in time; after all, he has never known anyone better at creating beauty from shattered glass. The massive stained-glass tribute within his tower is as close as Caleb could come to capturing the artistry with which Molly created his style and his life and his whole self, and seeing him in vivid, vibrant life again has reminded Caleb that even his best effort could never possibly do him justice.

It is best that way, though. Mollymauk Tealeaf should never be captured in something so still as glass, so static as paint. A whirling dervish of color and laughter and terrible ideas and sheer wonder needs a living canvas to flourish, and thanks to a miracle, he has that chance again.

 One day soon perhaps, Caleb would like to ask Molly about the decor of the tower. He is still fond of his best effort, the beauty that Molly’s memory lends to his library, but it needn’t be the same forever. It would be equally wonderful to listen to Mollymauk create something new, to see if Caleb can create with magic what Molly’s endless font of color and bullshit can imagine.

… Of course, that would require Caleb to overcome the way his mind goes blank every time he thinks about approaching Molly. There are so many things he wants to say, needs to say where Molly can hear him this time, but he doesn’t seem to have the language to express the maelstrom of emotions trapped inside his chest. There is so much happiness and relief and affection and amusement and delight and and and— 

And it is all stopped at the back of his throat by the sharp point of the memory that springs up every time, the fact that the manifestation of all of Caleb’s magic, all of his drive and talent and hope and hunger, failed when Molly needed him. Again. Nine months ago, on Glory Run Road, Caleb’s magic was not enough to keep him alive. And two days ago, in the crumbling city in the Astral Sea, Caleb’s magic was not enough to bring him back.

So. There are a few things he must grapple with himself, before he can indulge in everything he wants to say to Molly.

It has been fairly easy to hang back, so far. He has managed to distance himself enough from the celebrations to keep from spilling his heart across the ground at Mollymauk’s feet. Simply looking at him, vibrant and energetic again, is enough to sustain him—simply hearing his voice, the handful of words he speaks with endless inflections, is a feast when he has been starving. So Caleb stands a handful of feet away at all times, and watches the rest of his family hug and touch and reconnect until his eyes go dry.

The first night of their return to the Material Plane would have been no good, anyway. With how tired they all are, how nearly broken and still very bruised each and every body among them is, it is not the time to show Molly around the whole tower. There will be time for that later, always time for that later, to his greatest elation—later, he will take Molly by the hand and show him everything that he built, every piece of his heart that he conjures to house his friends, his family. He will show him that no matter the time that passed, he kept Molly safe in his mind and gave him a place here, always waiting for him to come home. 

But that will have to wait until Caleb’s hands no longer shake with the phantom weight of his Transmuter’s Stone; and besides, he would have to wait anyway until Molly and Yasha willingly part from each other, and those two certainly have shown no signs of budging from each other’s sides, not through the exhausted pile the (whole, finally whole) Mighty Nein slept in that first night, nor at meals with the welcoming Clay family the next day, nor the hours full of odd conversation and new acquainting and re-familiarizing that followed. There has been plenty to occupy Molly upon his return, more than enough to let Caleb sit outside of arm’s reach and drink in everyone else’s stories, and pretend that his heart has not leapt every time Molly’s bright, lively eyes have turned to him and lingered in return.

Now, basking in the afternoon sun on the second bright day since their family saved the world and was made whole, Caleb knows that he should be taking more action to recover his arcane stores. But each time he tells himself that he will get up and look for a suitable stone, his throat becomes tight again. He makes excuses to Essek, to Veth, when they ask: they are safe here in the Grove so he does not need the protection it grants him; they are among a family that seems very partial to glowing crystals as light sources, so he is in no rush to regain the darkvision he lost with the Eyes; why bother to make himself quicker to move, when they are all enjoying a well-earned rest? Neither of them question him further on it, though there is deep understanding in Essek’s eyes and a shrewd worry in Veth’s. They let him lie back and look up at the endlessly-shifting canopy of green, and try to reorganize his thoughts in peace.

Someone, however, does not abide by that peace. Only a half-hour into his meditation, and having made very little progress in unsnarling his tangled heart, Caleb hears the soft sound of bare feet on moss approach, and stop beside him. When he turns his head, there, of course, is Mollymauk.

“Magician,” Molly says firmly, and plunks himself down on the ground beside Caleb’s head. He settles in, wiggling his toes in the moss. One foot has nails freshly painted in bright teall, the other in charming pink. Both colors, of course, suit him perfectly. Then he says, “Mister Caleb,” with a widening grin, and Caleb’s breath catches once more in his throat.

“Hallo, Mister Mollymauk,” he says in return, the smallest greeting that settles sweetly on his tongue. He pushes himself upright, and turns to face Molly in kind. “Your words are returning to you, it seems.”

“Some,” Molly says, and the word that is not empty is accompanied by a decisive little nod. It takes effort, it seems, but Mollymauk has always been an obstinate individual. Regaining all his words may be like trying to pick up pieces of confetti one at a time, but if Mollymauk wants them back he will have the time to do so now. And hopefully, his friends can continue to help.

“That is very good to hear,” Caleb replies, and he cannot stop the smile that spreads across his face at Molly’s pleased expression.

“Magician,” Molly repeats, and holds out a closed fist between them. Caleb hesitates, unsure if this is a greeting or a request—then Molly shakes his hand a little, impatiently, and Caleb obligingly holds out his own open palm beneath it. Mollymauk’s tail swishes in broad strokes behind him, and he opens his hand to drop something into Caleb’s palm.

A blue-grey stone the size of a hen’s egg hits his palm with a soft sound. There is no ring around this one like his first, but when it catches the light it sparkles with countless tiny deposits of mica, glittering like stars. Caleb blinks at it, then up at Mollymauk. “Ah… thank you?”

“Magician,” Molly insists; then, after a pause, “lucky,” accompanied by that little flicker of his fingers that he used many times before, whenever he mentioned how little he understood about magic or asked Caleb if he could cast a spell. And perhaps it is not elegant, no kind of official communication that even a Comprehend Language could parse, but Caleb understands him perfectly, and his throat stings as though he might cry.

“Oh,” he says, and stares down at the stone in his hand. “Th-thank you, Molly. How did you know…?”

“Joy—” Molly clears his throat, a quick little cough and a wrinkle of his nose that spells frustration with his voice. “Jester,” he says carefully, clearly, “told me. What—hmm. Happened. Empty—”

He takes a deep breath, seems to gather his thoughts. He reaches out and closes Caleb’s fingers around the rock in his palm. “Empty,” he says again, softer now. Then he says, “Caleb,” and brings his hand up and presses his lips to Caleb’s fingers.

Caleb’s heart is nearly tripping with how quickly it hums. His ears are hot, and he knows that the afternoon sun cannot be to blame in the pleasant shade of the Grove. “Molly,” he says, helplessly. “Molly, I—I’m sor—”

Molly’s tail smacks gently into his knee. His eyes narrow as he looks up at Caleb, somewhere between playful and warning. Caleb swallows hard. He takes in the sight of Mollymauk’s face before him, and memorizes the new weight of the stone in his hand.

“Ja, okay,” he manages. “I can use this, Molly. Thank you.”

“Ja, ja,” Molly says, grinning wide and cheeky once again, and the laugh that bursts from Caleb feels like lightness, like relief, like forgiveness.

Molly is still smiling at him, his tail tapping softly against the moss. He releases Caleb’s hand from his grasp, the stone safely inside. Then he puts one hand up and crooks his finger at Caleb, in a universal gesture of come here.

Obligingly, Caleb leans forward, narrowing the space between them and trying very hard not to blush all the way to the roots of his hair. Molly puts his hand on the side of Caleb’s face—warm, his touch is so warm and firm and real again. It’s almost enough to distract him, enough that it takes him by surprise when Molly leans forward and kisses him firmly on the forehead. Then he lingers there, and Caleb lets his eyes close just for the moment as he memorizes the feeling of being here, with Mollymauk Tealeaf, safe and happy once more.

When Molly sits back, he folds his hands in his lap, contentment written so plainly across his face that he hardly needs the words to say it. Caleb thinks of five things he could say, a dozen, a hundred possibilities like fragments of fate. But Molly only has so many words to give, and it is better, for right now, that Caleb can speak his language in return.

He holds up his free hand and crooks his finger at Mollymauk in the same gesture of come here. Molly’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and his tail patters rapidly against his shin—but he leans forward, a smile lurking at the corners of his lips, just enough to show the dimples in his cheeks and the light dancing in his eyes. Caleb puts his hand to Molly’s cheek, and gives in to the temptation to run his thumb gently along the vibrant peacock feather there. Molly’s smile grows wide, showing teeth and crinkling the corners of his eyes, as Caleb leans forward and presses his lips gently to Molly’s forehead. He holds him there for a long moment, savoring the warmth of his skin and the once-again inescapable whiff of sandalwood and incense.

Words are few and far between, right now, but words are not the only thing they need. For now there is touch, and there is warmth, and there is magic, and there is Molly. And for anything else, there will be time for that later. 

#Mollymauk Tealeaf #Caleb Widogast #widomauk #critical role #critical role spoilers #c2ep140 spoilers #critfic #fanfiction #my writing #Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast #I'M FULL OF FEELINGS ABOUT THAT TRANSMUTER'S STONE FOLKS #FULL OF FEELINGS ABOUT WIDOMAUK AGAIN #HAVE A WEE BIT OF ANGST WITH MORE JOY ANF FLUFF

[janegon-forever]

Sweet Coffee (2nd Edition)

Summary:

A one-shot. Set right after the events of IDW Ghostbusters Comics Vol. 2 Issue 6.

After feeling such a rollercoaster of emotions, Egon figured he definitely needs to get himself tested.

Note:

Have you ever wrote and posted a fanfiction that you wished you've done differently? Well, this is one of them.

I've posted the first edition of this fanfiction in my AO3 account. After two years since I posted it, I read it again and thought of adding and changing some details. But I realized I've done a ton of re-writing on it. I thought of doing a new post of this re-written fic, but I'm not quite sure if it will be proper to do so.

So I decided to post it here instead. Please let me know what you think.

Egon just finished checking the Containment Unit. And as expected, the voice-activated trap Ray installed in the lab worked like a charm. All of the Viking ghosts that tormented Janine were all caught and contained. Egon made a mental note to thank Ray for that.

Satisfied with the Containment Unit’s performance, Egon slowly climbed up the stairs from the basement to his lab. As he did so, he contemplated getting himself tested to see if he received any adverse effects from his travel through Janine's mental plane. Egon never experienced being inside a human mind through astral projection before, and it could happen again. So gathering more data could prove beneficial for future reference.

He was thinking of getting Janine tested as well to see if their intrusion into her mind caused any alterations to her psyche. Having two human consciousnesses and a handful of vengeful ghosts inside her head could be very overwhelming. But it is possible for more than one spiritual being to infest a body. Throughout history, instances of spiritual infestation, be it pure or malevolent spirits, were recorded. There was an instance recorded in the Bible where a man suffered infestation by a legion of demons. Fortunately, Jesus Christ exorcised the man, and his normal mental state returned. But not all of the exorcised people had mentally recovered. They either become stark raving mad or worse, the evil qualities of the spirits would impart on the host. And the thought troubled Egon. He suddenly felt the need to get Janine examined as soon as possible. He sprinted up the stairs to get to his lab immediately.

However, his excitement was cut short and stopped on the first floor when he realized that Janine and that incompetent Professor Roger Baugh had already left the Firehouse. With a sigh, Egon resumed claiming up the stairs slowly to the third floor. He’ll just have to ask Janine when she comes back to work.

Egon got to his lab. He was about to conduct some tests on himself, but he decided to take a break first. He opened a drawer from his desk and took out a packet of Twinkies. He tore it open and started munching on the cream-filled cake. He wanted a change of scenery, so he sauntered towards one of the windows that faced the morning sun. He watched the golden orb rise from behind the New York skyline, changing the color of the seemingly cloudless sky from orange to blue.

Egon sighed again. It was the second time he did that today, he noticed. He felt a bit exhausted and, perhaps, melancholic, and he wasn’t sure why. He thought their experience the night before took a toll on him. Maybe he should get some sleep first before beginning the test.

“Would you like some coffee, Egon?”

Egon jumped a bit, almost choked on the twinkie he was eating, and spun around. To his surprise, right in front of him was Janine, clad in his blue lab coat, and holding two mugs of coffee in each hand. Due to her small frame, the fringes of the coat almost touched the floor. The sleeves were too long for her short arms so she had to fold them up to her elbows so she can use her hands. She also wore a utility belt wrapped around her waist to close the front of the coat like a rob. And finally, she wore Ray's bunny slippers which she found under his work desk in the lab.

“I, ah, had to wear your lab coat. It’s getting a bit chilly here. I hope you don't mind.”, Janine explained.

Egon remembered she was only wearing her nighties when he and Roger brought her to the Firehouse.

He cleared his throat and nodded, “It's alright, you may use it.” Egon noticed something else and quickly looked around, “Where is the professor?"

Janine sighed as she gave the other mug to Egon, “He needed to leave. He's very freaked out with what just happened.”

Egon’s eyebrows shot up and gave Janine a puzzled look, “He - he just left you here? He didn't even think of taking you back to your apartment?”

"Well, as I said, Roger got really freaked out." Janine said sadly, "And unlike us, he's not used to dealing with this sort of weirdness. He needs some time to process things.”

Egon took a sip of coffee Janine made for him. Black with three sugars and a dash of milk, just the way he liked it. While sipping his coffee and realizing what Roger did, a hint of anger brewed inside him. He couldn't believe that coward left Janine by herself, in her nighties, after all that just happened to her. Egon agreed the experience was a lot to take in for a normal individual, but at least Roger could have pulled himself together and get Janine home or even called her a cab. Egon knew Janine was a strong-willed and independent woman, but still, his chivalry dictated that the Professor disregarded her wellbeing. Which infuriated Egon as he started clenching his jaw. If he ever sees Roger again . . .

Janine seemed to notice his reaction, “Egon, are you okay?”, her concerned voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Egon looked at Janine with stony eyes, “Hmm? Ah yes, I'm perfectly fine.”

Janine gave him a slight side glance. In her observation, Egon seemed angry at Roger for leaving her. She felt flattered to know that Egon was genuinely concerned for her. However, she didn't want to keep her heart hoping for it. Knowing Egon, this could be just another fleeting moment of emotion for him, and he’ll be back to his old stoic self.

“It’s okay, Egon. I can take care of myself.” she assured him, “I’ve already called a cab to pick me up any time now.”

Egon just nodded, still internally fuming.

“And besides,” Janine continued, “Sulking about it won’t do me any good. I really should be getting home before the guys come in for work. They might, you know, get the wrong idea about my wardrobe," she said while pointing at the lab coat wrapped around her almost naked form.

Egon blushed and cleared his throat, “Oh. Ah . . . yes, of course! We definitely shouldn’t give them the wrong impression.” He said, awkwardly looking away while sipping his coffee. He was sure Peter's going to have a field day teasing him if Peter saw Janine in her current state.

Before the awkwardness gets too much, Egon spoke, “And Janine, when you come back, I would like to give you an examination to make sure the infestation didn't have any adverse effects on you. If that’s alright.”

Janine smiled, “Sure Egon. Let's do that when I get back. Oh, and by the way, before I forget,” she reached inside the pocket of the lab coat and took out a small red pouch with a heart-shaped charm. “I don't know what it is. I just found this on the floor and picked it up.”

"Ah yes, a voodoo charm. An old voodoo priestess gave it to me in New Orleans during our trips across the US years ago. I used it to see if it would get a reaction to whatever was taking hold of you." Egon wasn't sure why he was telling Janine about the gris-gris since he kept it a secret from the other guys.

"So did it work?", she asked.

His face winced while remembering how the big Viking ghost manhandled him, "One of the ghosts did react to it, yes."

"Well, I think you better keep it in case something like this ever happens again," Janine said as she was handing the gris-gris to Egon.

As Egon reached out to take the gris-gris from Janine, their hands touched. And Egon felt a jolt, like being stunned by a proton stream. Egon dumbfoundedly looked at Janine, and her eyes met his. Somehow, Egon felt an urge to act, but he was rooted in place. Eventually, Janine moved first. While their hands were still touching and enveloping the gris-gris in between their palms, Janine slowly came closer to him and tiptoed herself up to his face. He didn't know why he automatically reacted, but Egon slowly was leaning down so his face would reach hers.

As this was happening, there was a moment when their hands disconnected. Egon and Janine stopped edging closer, their faces inches away from each other. They looked at each other with wide eyes, realizing what was happening. But then, Janine smiled sweetly, sweet as the coffee she made for him. She drew herself closer and kissed Egon on his cheek.

“Thanks for saving me, Egon.”, She whispered in his ear.

As she pulled back, Egon straightened up, and their hands disconnected. The gris-gris resting on his palm. His eyes were still on her face as if he was in a trance and anticipating something more. But he quickly shook himself and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He instead gave Janine a slight smile, “You're welcome.”

The sudden sound of a taxi's horn caught their attention.

“That must be my cab, I gotta go. I'll be seeing you later, Dr. Spengler.”

Egon nodded, “See you later, Ms. Melnitz.”

Janine rushed down the stairs leaving Egon holding the gris-gris. He turned the poach in his hand until the heart-shaped charm is in view. Looking at it for a moment, he wondered if this little thing had influenced their behavior. But it could be anything else. Sighing, he tucked the gris-gris inside his trouser pocket. He once again faced the window to admire the sunrise while munching the rest of his twinkie and sipping the sweet coffee Janine made for him.

After feeling such a rollercoaster of emotions, Egon figured he definitely needs to get himself tested.

#idw ghostbusters #fanfic #fanfiction #egon x janine #egon spengler #janine melnitz #janegon #ghostbusters #gris-gris