#going through heaps and heaps of spell books

[freowyn]

- “Oh! Caleb, look at this one! We could try this! Looks like all we need is-.....”

- :’) ♥

#I FINISHED IT #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #cr #critical role #cr2 #cr fanart #critical role fanart #I FINISHED IT FINALLY it only took me 7 years #they deserve to sit on the floor #in a cozy little library #going through heaps and heaps of spell books #just for fun #okay tumblr always ruins quality pls click on it!! ;-; #mine #my art

[tragedybunny]

Astarion head cannon! If your tav has any artistic ability (or none and is learning) imagine if he found you drawing his face a bunch to try get a good image of him to share. Pre act 2 where he believes you actually love him and he loves you. Just seeing this person doing something purely for him confusing and scaring hin but feeling too nice to want to run from.

So I had to turn this into a little story, it was too good.

What The Heart Sees - Astarion x F!Reader

You've been acting suspicious and Astarion is going to get to the bottom of it.

You'd been acting ever so slightly strange around him. He hasn't put the pieces together yet, but Astarion knows something is going on with you. The thought fills him with a little dread, he's worked so hard to get you on his side, to have someone to keep the others from turning on him. Now it might all be slipping through his fingers. 

Whatever was happening, he needed to bring it to a halt and get you back to your regular sweet devotion to him. The first step was interrogating your companions. Lae'zel and Shadowheart of course saw nothing wrong with your behavior. "Maybe she just needs a rest from your fangs at her neck," Shadowheart snipped and Astarion considered giving her neck a try one night before stomping away. 

Gale and Karlach at least confirmed his suspicions. As usual Gale was too worried about exploding to be much help, but Karlach, dear Karlach tried to be helpful. "We're all going through a lot. Maybe she's just tired Fangs." So, there was something going on with you, but no one seemed to have any clue. Maybe the Mind Flayer transformation was actually happening just very slowly, he shuddered at the thought. 

This situation clearly called for some less wholesome tactics. Stealth and spying on you, for now, maybe violating your trust and rummaging through your stuff as well. That night he crept to your tent after everyone had retired, there was still the faint glow of a light spell illuminating it. His intent had been to stop and listen, see if could find an angle to glance in that wouldn’t expose himself. Quietly, he made it near the entrance, perfect, you were unawares. There was a book cradled in your lap. Perhaps you’d found some arcane knowledge you were unwilling to share. He hadn’t thought you were power hungry, but maybe he’d misjudged. Reaching over, you picked up a piece of charcoal. Interesting, he leaned forward. “Woof.” Scratch was on top of him, wagging his tail, and he was laying the dirt outside your tent. 

You jump up, clearly startled, and he wanted to gut the stupid beast. But he saw where you tucked that precious book as you leapt up. “Astarion!” You were standing at the opening of the tent, looking down at him with concern. 

“Hello my Sweet,” he tries his best to still somehow be charming while pushing Scratch off him. “I uh, saw you were up and wanted to check on you but Scratch is apparently in a playful mood.” 

“Oh Scratch! You haven’t had enough attention huh?’ You reach out to pet the mongrel and talk softly to him as Asatrion pushes himself out of the dirt. “I was just reading, sorry to disturb you.” 

“No worries Darling,” he gives you a perfunctory peck on the cheek before heading back to his tent. It was all working out anyway. 

The next night comes and he’s ready, Scratch has given him quite a bit of inspiration. Discreetly Astarion leads the heap of fur to the edge of the camp, the ball he had dragged in from somewhere tucked in a pocket. “Come here Scratch,” he hisses, waving it around, getting his attention before chucking it off into the woods. The animal follows excitedly. Astarion isn’t sure where it went and he doesn’t care. Scratch is more a rival for your attention than anything else anyway. 

After a couple of minutes he finds you at the campfire, blissfully unaware. “Has anyone seen Scratch,” he asks, as innocently as he can manage. 

“Oh no,” your eyes quickly scan the campsite, “he must have wandered off.” You seem so distressed, he almost feels guilty. But this is his survival on the line. “Maybe I should go look for him.” 

“Do take Halsin my Dear, he’ll have the best chance at tracking,” and one less person around camp to watch. 

“Right,” you nod, standing and trodding off to the Druid. 

No sooner are you gone then Astarion is creeping into your tent when no one is looking. No light needed, he sees everything perfectly, including the little pack you shoved your book in last night. Victory. He wrests it from the spot under your pillow and plops down on your blankets to study it. What forbidden knowledge rests inside. The worn cover flips open to…

Sketches, sketches of him specifically. Not that he remembers what he looks like, but the clothes give it away, along with the poses, moments he remembers. Him, you’ve been drawing him. He continues to flip through the book, more bits of him, frozen in time, and the technique improves. Why are you doing this? The mirror, he remembers, being upset about not seeing his reflection. 

Sitting there in stunned silence, he feels an unpleasant weight in his chest. No one has ever done anything like this for him before. It’s…kind. Not that you’ve ever been any other way to him ever. Gods, what is he even doing, maybe he should just…

“Astarion!” Slamming the book shut, he jumps up. “Hello Darling, I-”

“You ruined the surprise,” you scold, looking so dejected he somehow feels worse than he did a moment ago. 

“I’m sorry, I was curious. I saw you with it the other night. It’s amazing though,” he tries to placate, guilt an emotion he’s buried for so long, but fear is there as well. Fear he’s crossed a line you won’t tolerate. 

Bending down, you retrieve the book from where it landed. “I was hoping to get something I was pleased with to show you, but I suppose it will have to do for now.” 

“Really, you shouldn’t bother so much with it,” you look up at him so sadly he quickly adds, “you do too much for me already. But I do appreciate this gift.” Impulsively he pulls you close and kisses you quickly before letting you go. “Is this really what you see? 

“That and so much more.” The way you stare at him with adoration, the way you always treat him so sweetly, the way he suddenly wants nothing more than to stand here in this tent forever, basking in you, it’s all becoming too much, he could almost swear he had a pulse to hammer in his veins. Hells, what has he gotten himself into with you? 

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #my fanfic #my writing #asks

[natalievoncatte]

This was a rare novelty: Lena was not the most famous person in a pubic place. In fact, dressed down in jeans, a tank top, and a ball cap, Lena was downright unremarkable. Or at least, it seemed that way.

All of the attention was heaped on Kara. Or rather-

“Supergirl!”

A gaggle of girls of versions ages charged over to them in a virtual mob, and Lena felt almost snubbed. Kara, herself in shorts and a Sentinels jersey, briefly seemed confused at the attention, even though she’d been out as Supergirl for almost six months now.

She quickly settled into meeting and greeting, asking the girls their names and signing various bits and bobs for them while the rest of the group, Alex and Kelly and Nia and Brainy, hung back, just behind Lena.

Finally, Kara managed to disentangle herself when security started breathing down their necks.

Lena had gotten everyone box seats directly behind the home dugout, and the group made their way down.

“This is pretty far from the rent-controlled section,” Kara said, grinning as she gestured at the nosebleed seats, a high above them on the top deck.

Brainy immediately settled in to study the game program and books on baseball he’d brought with him, amiably explaining (mansplaining? Coulansplaining?) baseball to Nia. For her part, his girlfriend seemed content to listen to his excited chatter, so Lena wasn’t bothered.

Alex had apparently appointed herself to keep Kara fed, and had already acquired enough snacks for a small army, and Kara was happy to dig in and take a chili dog in either hand.

Lena didn’t much care for the game, so she was pleased when Alex handed her a beer with a sardonic “things we do for love” look. Kelly was apparently more the fan of the two, and the Sentinels were playing the Metropolis Knights in this game, prompting an intra-Superfriend rivalry.

As for Lena? She was there for Kara.

The afternoon light seemed to caress her features, bringing out the soft glow in her honeyed skin and golden hair, and there were depths in her eyes that no one in the world could ever equal. Lena could stare at her forever and never get bored.

The spell wasn’t even broken when she polished off the first two hot dogs and let out a wild, rumbling belch that made her giggle and Alex roll her eyes.

She already knew that she was in love with Kara, but every time it seemed like her heart was full to bursting, it grew even fuller.

Lena has meant this for them. Lena had offered her the seats, hoping to feel out Kara about the potential for a date-date, to finally get an answer about the maddening tension between them over the last two months. Kara spent more time at Lena’s new house over the last two months than she had in her own apartment, and yet that line had never been crossed.

The line remained unbroken, but they were right up against it. Kara gave Lena’s thigh a squeeze without seeming to realize what she was doing, then yanked her hand back as if she’d touched something hot, and just played it off when Lena looked at her, and kept looking at her.

The start of the game spared her from the awkward conversation.

Kara was eager to explain to her, leaning over to over-explain the nuances of every move and play.

Exactly like Brainy and Kelly were doing with their girlfriends.

Lena paid her more attention than the game, so Lena didn’t even notice when one of the Knights hit the ball oddly and, instead of flying out over the field, rocketed almost straight up. Lena was, in fact, so focused on Kara that she didn’t realize where the ball was going until it was cutting lazily through the air and headed straight at her head.

A yelp jumped from her throat and she jerked back, but of course there was nothing to fear. A moment later there was a hearty slap of cowhide on skin. Kara plucked the ball from the air two inches from Lena’s nose, dramatically holding it in place for a moment.

When she moved her hand, and the ball, Lena followed Alex’s eye-line. Kara’s sister was groaning.

They were all on the Jumbotron, the huge screen over the left field stands, and the crowd was pointing and cheering as the announcer’s voices boomed out about the great catch by Supergirl.

Lena wanted to sink through her seat.

Then Kara said, “Here.”

She held out the ball in both hands, turning in her seat. The way she held it, cupped gently in her palms with great reverence, giving Lena a weird and silky flash of her doing the same thing with a velvet box. Lena took it, grinning like an idiot in spite of herself and clutching it to her chest.

Lena pointed at the giant screen, and Kara looked, waving to the crowd as if she’d suddenly remembered that they were there. Lena gave a half-hearted wave, then turned back to Kara to say something.

Whatever it was, it was utterly scrubbed from Lena’s brain by impossibly soft lips gently brushing her own, then locking with them. Some distant part of Lena’s brain tried to explain, to rationalize. It was a mistake. Kara would get flustered and play it off with something about what friends are for and the moment would slide away, a taste of a dream that would leave Lena starving for another morsel.

No. Kara was full on kissing her. The heat that surged through Lena’s body was all consuming, and she barely registered the thunderous cheers from the crowd. She let herself fall into Kara, hiding against her shoulder as Kara wrapped an arm around her and settled them both lower in their seats, tugging her ball cap down.

The camera finally turned its attention elsewhere.

Alex turned to Kelly and said, “fucking finally.”

“Hey,” said Kara, her voice soft and only for her. “Want to head home after the stretch?”

Home. Not your house. Home.

“I’m not totally sure what that means, but yes,” Lena whispered back, then popped a bit of popcorn in Kara’s mouth.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #Jumbotron kiss #idiots in love #fluff #total fluff #there is no plot here only warm fuzzies

[inkrabbit]

Spending the night with Mary was always a tossup. Sometimes you would wake up, cuddled close to the punk. Other times you would wake up to see them laying in a heap on the floor, having slipped off in the middle of the night but too exhausted from working a double at the bar to wake up.

Tonight was different. When you came to the apartment, you could already feel something was off. Mary’s jaw and chin was covered in stubble from neglecting to shave. That was your first sign. The second sign was how tired they looked, even though it had been their day off and they had went to bed extremely early the previous night. It was subtle things people would write off, but you knew.

So you picked up his apartment, told him to not worry about it. You picked up the dirty clothes from the floor, tossed them into the hamper and started to pick up their bedroom. You slipped books into their proper places, picked up the old, chewed-up notebook from the floor and set it on the desk. You set the spell book beside it, not bothering to open either.

When you left the bedroom, Mary was standing right there, the tired look still evident in his green eyes. You just gave him a small, knowing smile.

“I’ll make dinner.”

“‘m not hungry.”

Still, you lead them to the kitchen, sitting them down in one of the chairs at the table. You remind him that he has to eat something, even if it’s small. Knowing him, you were certain this would’ve been their first meal of the day.

You use the remainder of the noodles and meat sauce to make him some quick spaghetti, and you don’t put too much on the plate. You knew he wouldn’t want to eat much and you weren’t going to force him. Just enough to get something into their stomach.

You returned the smile Mary gave you, sitting across from them and eating slowly. You exchanged bits of conversation here and there but overall, you let them focus on eating.

You didn’t bother with a shower tonight. He didn’t smell too bad and the drooping eyes showed you he was just ready for bed. So you set the dirty dishes in the sink and led him to the bedroom. You got comfortable in your night clothes as Mary slipped under the covers, curling up. You followed soon after, laying close to them. You bring a hand up, gently running your thumb across their jaw, feeling the thick hairs brush against your skin.

“We can take care of this tomorrow,” you tell him softly. You’re given a small nod.

“Thank you. Really.” The hint of a smile is enough of a response for you. You cuddle up to them, running your hand through their messy hair. It’s not greasy so you’re assuming thus bout of depression just came on. You take solace in knowing you caught the signs early.

Mary buries his face in your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. Normally you two would’ve laughed about it. You would’ve tried to pull away as they would attempt to rub their stubble against you. But tonight, you can tell he’s even too exhausted for jokes. So you just hold him close and continue to stroke his hair until his breathing slows to a steady rhythm. You only fall asleep when you’re certain they’ve fallen asleep first.

#mary goore #gn!reader #i dunno #something I did quick on my phone

[thebest-medicine]

Impractical Jokers

[read on ao3]

A/N: Had some Thoughts about Tasha’s Hideous Laughter / Hideous Laughter spell. Mainly. That Nott knows it [C2E28]. I would love to see Caleb experience it. (Caleb x Laughter OTP) And, also featuring a great joke Nott tells Caleb [C2E55]. (This is the first two chapters from ao3 put together.)

Summary: Nott is actually quite hilarious, thank you very much Caleb.

Words: 1285

…

“Hey Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“How many Zemnians does it take to light a lantern?”

Caleb turns from his book and raises an eyebrow at her. His lips turn down slightly in a frown.

“One! Because they’re efficient and humorless!”

“That’s not a very good punch li-” He starts to say, watching as Nott smirks and whispers something he can’t quite hear but recognizes as arcane; she waves the small feather she usually keeps on her for feather fall pointedly at Caleb.

And then he finds he can’t say anything at all as he folds to the ground, cackling with laughter. “W- IHI- NAHAHAHA-” Caleb laughs as he wraps his arms around his middle, and some sliver of his brain notes with hilarity that he’s slipped out of his chair and is now rolling on the floor.

“Oh, I guess it just took you a second to get the joke!” Nott laughs along and winks at him. Not that Caleb picks up on it, as he’s currently too busy cackling his head off. “I’ve never …seen you laugh like this.” She considers the giggling heap of wizard for a moment, looking down at him for a change. “Feels good to finally get a rise out of you!”

Every word she says, every sound he hears, every sensation he feels and conscious thought he has is currently the funniest Caleb has ever experienced (at least, that he can remember right now). He’s jumped past snickers and giggles straight into wild, unending cackles. Giddiness flitters through his chest as he shakes his head, trying to breathe through the laughter.

Nott scampers a bit closer, trying to get a good look at Caleb’s smile. “I didn’t know you thought I was this funny. I’m honored, truly.” She teases. And, well, she can’t help but reach out to Caleb, ruffling his hair a bit as he squirms, arms wrapped around his middle.

A long few seconds later, the buzzing, tingling, silly feeling of unbridled hilarity subsides, pulling back like the tides. Caleb coughs a little as he catches his breath, laying back against the floor. “That was-”

“Adorable?” Nott cuts in.

Caleb makes a sound of protest as the redness on his cheeks seems to grow a bit even though he’s stopped laughing. “You are not so funny.” He rolls his eyes and gives her a wary look, trying to fight the lingering smile off of his face.

“You’re right.” She chuckles. “I am Nott, SO FUNNY!”

Caleb rolls his eyes again and starts to push himself up by his elbows from where he had collapsed in laughter on the floor. “It won’t always work. You caught me off guard, but I can resist your tricks.” As he stands, he finally succeeds in making a face that isn’t a big stupid grin.

Well, Nott thinks, that won’t do.

“Either you’re going to have to start laughing more, or I’m going to have to get more feathers.”

Caleb freezes, eyes wide like a spooked animal. “What?” He manages, it’s almost a gasp. His face approaches the color of his hair.

Hmmm, he’s definitely blushing. Interesting. Nott starts to explain, her voice slow, as she studies his expression. “I need feathers…to cast Tasha’s hideous laughter.”

Caleb’s face seems to cool down a few degrees as he blinks. “Oh, ah-”

“But.” She continues, pulling another feather from somewhere inside her cloak. “I can also think of something else that I could use them for.”

Caleb’s eyes snap to hers. The seeds of a new smile, remnant of his earlier grin, are starting to sow despite his attempts to look stern. “Nott.”

She hums, giving him a smirk and wiggling the feather a little his way.

“Do not.” He takes a step back.

They stare at each other for a long moment before Caleb turns to bolt. As he turns away, Nott catches the growing smile on his face. A beat later, she pounces after him.

“Get back here!” Nott cries, a few steps behind Caleb.

“Nein!” Caleb nearly squeals as he dodges a hand going for his ankle.

Nott recognizes the finger movements ahead of her as the start of somatics. No, she scolds in her head, he won’t be getting away so easily. She’s already got the feather in hand as she shouts the incantation quickly.

Caleb’s next step forward crumbles as he folds in on himself laughing. “NEIHIHIHIN- HAHA AH I- NAHAHA!” So much for being able to resist it next time. The warm sparks of his magic fizzle away as he falls to the floor, wriggling about like a worm.

Nott plops down on her knees next to him, avoiding any flailing limbs. Caleb, it seems - to Nott’s delight, is quite malleable when he’s laughing his head off. When she reaches out to poke at his sides and stomach a few times, he wiggles slightly away. She scoots up near his head, smiling down at his wide grin, and uses another feather to start toying with his ears and neck.

It’s hard to tell if he’s reacting more than a few wiggles away from the pokes and swipes of the feather. The spell does a pretty good job of making the victim laugh as hard as they can, so he’s stayed pretty consistent in volume.

Nott gets one of Caleb’s wrists in her hand and pulls the arm away from his side. It goes quite easily. It’s strange seeing the normally stubborn wizard acting this way, a freshly made dough to be tossed and kneaded any which way without so much as a protest.

Nott can sense the spell ending as Caleb’s laughter peters off into a much lighter, sillier giggle. She moves into the space between his side and his arm, sets the feather next to her, and blocks Caleb from bringing his arm back down in one quick motion. And then, she pokes her fingers into his armpit.

Caleb squeals, his elbow coming down into Nott’s back. His other hand flies up and Nott braces for a shove, but Caleb just slams the free hand over his reddening face.

“Aww. Don’t do that!” Nott complains, reaching up to tickle under the front of his neck with one hand. His chin comes down with a snort, and the hand on his face moves to bat weakly at her arm. “Your smile is the whole point!”

Caleb whines between his laughter at the affection and teasing.

“And see, I don’t even have to use the feather. I can just get you any time. My hands are my greatest weapon!” Nott monologues triumphantly. “Though, maybe I could enlist some help.”

“Nein!” Caleb manages to squeak out as he laughs.

“Exactly. I’m sure rest of the Nein would love to help.” Nott says as she pokes a bit lower, just above where his leather holster lays. Caleb shouts, his body attempting to curl away from her. He’s shaking his head, giggling loudly. She pauses, leaving her fingers just touching the spot. “Well then.” She squeezes once more. “Looks like you’d better start laughing at my jokes.”

“Ja, ja. Haha- fine. Alright - hehe- you little menace.” Caleb giggles. Nott lets him up, for now, moving a bit out of his space. He pulls his arms into his chest, rubbing against the phantom feeling on his rib cage, then he reaches out and pulls the goblin in.

There’s a brief second where she panics, assuming he is eager to get revenge. But, Caleb just hugs her close, still giggling as they lay together on the floor. It’s a place they have been in more times than she can count, but this time, the warm feeling that envelopes them isn’t just coming from body heat.

#tickle fic #ticklish!caleb #critickle role #critical role tickling #laughter spell #Tasha’s hideous laughter #hideous laughter #dnd spells #magic #critical role #fluff #nott the brave #veth brenatto #Caleb widogast #tickling #mine #nott #impractical jokers #silly wizard and rogue bffs #I love them #can be platonic or shippy however u wanna read it lol #Caleb after this experience: how can I tweak hideous laughter to also tickle (for revenge) (butalso to use on himself)

[alicepen]

[E-18]

Kaidan x AFAB db WARM oneshot

Kaidan mod belongs to livtempleton on nexus

Will involve spoilers of the kaidan mod

mention of Inigo, Auri, and Lucien who belong

to SMARTBLUECAT, Waribiki, & JosephRussell

I had only just defeated alduin on the throat of the world- but it wasn’t enough. What I need is a plan- and the context of Alduin going to Sovngarde after cowering off in the heap of battle surly made a mess of things.

I needed a drink.

I thank my companions who had followed me through this unfortunate incident- one of them being Kaidan. He and I had known each other longest; with finding him in an abandoned prison, going through an old cave from his childhood, unmasking his past and heritage, and an ex lover.

This ex lover of his was a powerful destruction and conjuration mage, whom had a disturbed body due to her own mutilation for spells. Kaidan, in response, said that when she threatened my life, he lost any sympathy towards her. Thus, he killed her, and I suspected it took a toll on him mentally.

A couple weeks or so after the incident, Kaidan was clearing his mind still. What helped distract him was the fight on the throat of the world. It exhausted all of us, but it helped Kaidan move on from his past. He was still his broody, serious self, but he seemed more…distracted as of late.

We spent an entire day and a half in solitude. Inigo and Lucien had went off to the Bards College- Lucien wanted to look at some books, and Inigo had to tune his lute. Auri had kept a distance from the market and went to the inn for some jagga- she’ll be disappointed. Kaidan followed me to the blacksmith as I needed a tune up on my bow, and it was an awkward silence between us. Kaidan would eye me from to time to time, and I, of course, noticed but kept it to myself. His mood today seemed strange, and I could tell he was anxious about something due to his boots shuffling against the floor from time to time.

“This is a dwarven bow, pulls back perfectly twelve inches, and the quiver can hold up to eighty arrows.” Fihada, the owner of the flecher, spoke. He showed a case with a amber metal crafted bow, carved with dwarven material and a thick string.

“Looks great. How much for it?” I asked, tilting down to the bow with a gleam. Amazing how a weapon from an extinct race was still crafted after all this time.

“Well, I have a couple. Enchanted, sharpened, both or none. Which would you like?”

“Both.”

Fihada pulled out a dwarven bow, pulsing a red glow. “Fire enchantment, can pierce through heavy armor, around 1400 septims.”

I pulled my coin purse, the jingle caused the shop owner to grin.

Kaidan quickly put his hand on my arm, lightly touching to my hand with his other. I looked up, he furrowed his brows.

“Hey, I can get it if you want. I owe you this.” He mumbled, his voice was a crackle, like a fire in a cold home.

“I suppose.” I shrugged, he gave a soft hum and pulled out his own coin purse. In the heat of the moment, back when we faced a troll, Kaidan had his bow disarmed in battle, causing him to grab mine. Mine was not a war bow, it was made for less strong pulls and more quicker tactics- and in the heat of the moment, forgetting it was not his bow’s strength, completely snapped the string.

“Thanks for the business!”

The sky was a golden tropic, shining down on solitude and her lovely stones. Lucien and Inigo had already gotten back to the inn to rest, while Kaidan and I were alone. The silence came back, to us sitting in silence and only merely glancing at each other when the said other was looking away. I didn’t have the courage to speak, I still don’t, not with this gauge of a thick layer called “tension.” We decided to head back to the inn, where the group was rested.

“No Jagga? What type of inn is this?” I heard Auri complain to the keeper of the winking skeever.

“I.. I’m sorry we only sell Nord, Imperial, and Breton drinks here.” Corpulus Vinius sighed, he was rubbing the counter with a wet rag, cleaning up stains.

“Besides alcohol,” Lucien interrupted, “do you have any rooms for five?”

“Five?” Corpulus itched his neck, thinking for a second. “I’m sorry I only can give four for tonight…”

“One of us needs to share a room with each other. Is one of the rooms with two beds at least?” Inigo asked, bringing his tankard to the counter.

“No, but we have a one queen sized bed that can fit two.”

“Oh boy.” Auri tapped her fingers against the wall, very much keeping her hands away from wood.

“Hm.. is any of us alright with sharing a bed with anyone?”

“I erm..” Lucien’s awkward voice chimed, “I rather sleep alone in one room… if that is alright…”

“That’s fine, Lucien.” I nodded, and he was already leaving for the night. Poor chap was exhausted.

“Why don’t you and Kaidan share the room?“ Auri proposed, smiling slyly towards me. I fumbled, twisting my hand behind my back to grip my fist.

Kaidan cleared his throat, “would it be more appropriate if you two shared?”

“Why is it not appropriate for you two to share? You two are close friends, besides one can sleep on the floor if it’s that bad.”

“You just want a room by yourself too.” Inigo glanced to Auri, who giggled.

“Fine,” I sighed, touching my temples with my fingers. “We can work something out.”

“Aye. I’ll stand uh, guard if need be. I don’t need rest.” Kaidan tried to comfort the situation, leading me to run my hand through my bag to pay for the rooms.

“You do, but sharing a bed isn’t the worst since it’s just one night.” I paid for the rooms, and immediately Auri and Inigo went upstairs.

“Have a nice night!” Auri chirped, mostly looking at me and having a mischievous grin.

I faltered my footing slightly.

I would assume it was around eleven in the night, and the group was asleep as I sat at a table upstairs near the bedrooms while I drank. My armor was in the room, in the corner by the bed and I was in more comfortable clothing, a brown shirt with black trousers. I couldn’t sleep due to pondering over what transpired for the past month. Alduin, Sovngarde, Kaidan…

A door quietly creaked open, and I turned in my seat. Kaidan-who was out of his bulky armor and in a soft, low cut rugged shirt with loose pants-was gazing at me through the door.

“Y’alright?” He asked, opening the door fully and leaning against the frame.

“M’fine, just having something to drink before I sleep. What about you? Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“I can’t sleep.” Kaidan mumbled lightly, his voice was forced but still gentle, a breeze tickled my earlobes.

“Hm?” I got up from my seat quietly, keeping a hand on the table, “What’s wrong, then?”

“I...” The tall man stuttered, pinching his eyes shut as he gulped down what I could tell to be his strained words, “Skyrim is cold, a very chilly province- you would be freezing once the weather hits. It will be freezing soon.. and I’d like to… help you stay warm…”

“What do you mean?” I asked, raising my brow as to egg him on more.

“Haven’t you figured it out?” He looked me in the eyes, standing up straight, his hands fidgeted by running through his messy hair. “Me… stealing glances of you… any moment I’m with you... I can only think of being closer… physically.. mentally..” his breath hitched as he saw how far he was going to his words. My chest was pattering.

“Come to bed with me, you know I’ll still be there in the morning..”

I flushed- he was suggesting.. oh gods. My whole body warmed, my arms crushing to my chest as to feel if my heart was still beating like a hummingbird.

“I-I.. uhm.. yes.. maybe..? Uhm..” I couldn’t speak, this felt embarrassing. I was independent, strong, free willed... but this moment made me feel so bashful. I didn’t know how to understand this.

“Are you blushin,’ dragonborn..?” Kaidan chuckled under his breath as he walked to me, taking my hand into his. His lovely shade of red eyes were codling down into my weakest conscious. “Let’s see how long that’ll last..?”

I obligated, giving a soft nod as we entered his room together, letting the door slowly close and letting a soft click play.

Kaidan kept his hands on mine the entire time, letting them run up my shoulders and to my cheek. His hands were large, as any Akivirian, and Kaidan used them so gently. His fingertips running across my skin, leaving gentle flutter kisses with the feeling of his freshly shaved face on my neck- it’s almost as if he prepared. He smelled so nice, and his hair was washed and still cold. Oh yes, he definitely prepped for this moment.

“You freshened up, didn’t you?” I spoke under my breath, causing Kaidan to leave a hum on my neck.

“It’s a coincidence, I assure you..” he gave a breathy chuckle, letting his hands slowly trail to my torso- he was hesitant, moving his head for his eyes and mine to be in contact as we exchanged consenting glances. He knew what he was doing, I wonder if he at least knew how he makes me so weak...

We haven’t touched our lips yet, though instinctively I felt hot under the collar. Kaidan was only touching to my cheek, staring me down with his gentle eyes. The moment was long and quiet, so far only eye contact was the most intimate moment. My hand gently rose, cupping to Kaidan’s cheek all the same as he did mine, but I tilted him down to me- the man was a towering sweetheart.

Kaidan accepted the tilt, leaning down to put his nose against mine. The hold of our breaths kept us on edge, through the mental contact of souls: our eyes. My entire body flared up as I contracted our lips together- finally. It was slow, and mostly breaths touching each other’s skin as we awkwardly sealed our lips. This kiss was what you would expect for a first time. Of course, Kaidan felt aback- as if it was his first. I knew it wasn’t, and that kind of got me a bit relentless. But his surprise and shock as to the kiss made me wonder if he accepted this more than the ones before.

Our lips touching for the first time felt electrified, for how small the connection was.

“You..” I breathed, once we got our space, “you’re okay with this.?”

The man smiled lightly to me, giving almost a soft chuckle, “Thought maybe I should be asking you that? Yes, I’m fine.”

“How should we..?” I asked, looking to the side as to distract me from staring too deep into his eyes. gods, those eyes..

Kaidan gave my cheek a gentle caress as to calm both of our nerves. “We’ll improvise.” Kaidan gave a soft twitch at his lips, like a smile, to me which was chasing butterflies around my stomach. I sighed and gave him a kiss to the chin.

“That works.”

Kaidan had gotten my lips again for another longing kiss, putting his hands on the bed as to coax me down to it. The tips of his fingers were leaving nerves working on my skin, as his fingertips connected to the nape of my neck, caressing down to my collarbone. The feeling was so gentle, and careful: complete opposite of how I knew Kaidan to be in battle. He was aggressive, rough, a tank in a fight. But now, he was so gentle and loving- it made my heart swell.

His hands rested on my shirt, and gave me his longing eyes to ask for the removal of the damned clothing- which I immediately acted on. I took the cloth off and even went as far as to tease my undergarment strap to fall off my shoulder.

As his cheeks went to match the color of his tattoo, he eyed my face and kept his hands on my shoulders, lightly using his thumbs to circle my skin.

“Can I take the rest off..?” He asked, so gently it was almost a whisper.

I smiled warmly to him and gave a soft nod, “yes.”

He took a gentle inhale as his fingers found the hooks to my undergarment, and lightly undid them. The straps gave into gravity as my garments fell off my body. I tossed them to the side as they were no longer wanted. I could almost hear Kaidan’s heart beat like a hummingbird. An adorable display, even so when he went to give a kiss to my chin for light measure.

Kaidan’s lips caressed down my neck and to my collarbone. His nose tickled my skin, along with his feather-like kisses. My body tingled and shivers were up my spine, which caused my back to curl towards him slightly. He was intrigued by this, continuing his lips to my abdomen as he ignored my breasts. The feeling had my heart sink a bit, but was reversed as his hands went to cup them, gently. Kaidan’s palms were warm and big, and they’re enough to be a bra themself.

Kaidan was not a talker, that was obvious. But it was curious to see his eyes speak for him. The way he looked at me, I could hear him say the most heart melting things- his actions spoke for him.

As a Hand stayed on my chest, with gentle fondles and playful squeezes, the other went to hook a finger onto my last undergarment. His lips were right under my stomach, and I could feel my entire body shake with anticipation. Kaidan gave me his longing stare, practically begging me to let him continue. I nodded quickly, and tried to lift my hips to help remove them faster.

Once removed, Kaidan silently gazed, plotting out his next move. Embarrassed, my legs hesitatingly went to close, but Kaidan put his palm on one of my knees in a light touch. He looked up to me, and gave me a small quirk of a smile. His fingers of his free hand laid against my inner thigh as a tease.

“Would you like to… prepare…?” He asked, removing his hand on my knee but keeping his other dangerously close to my abdomen, as he scooted his body up to nearly lay next to me. I bit my lip and raised a brow.

“How much do you think I need preparation?” I hummed. He shrugged playfully.

“I don’t mean to brag, but…” he snickered, which caused a humored huff of from me.

“Oh, fine then. Let’s sate your ego…” I replied and he gently kissed my cheek as a response.

His hand went to lovingly crawl down to my folds, eagerly awaiting my plea. This tease…

“Please.” I muttered, and he obliged. Two of his fingers dipped gently around my labia, feeling around. I inhaled at the sudden feeling, and silently watched his face as he did mine- most likely scanning for discomfort.

I can hear my arousal, and it made me shiver with embarrassing thoughts. Lip biting was my last resort to keeping my cool.

Once he got his fingers… wet… enough, he dipped in and I inhaled slowly. The impending ring of fire was more light and gentle than I would have expected. Nonetheless, it felt discomforting but not painful.

“You alright? It will pass… but tell me when it’s too much and I’ll stop…” he spoke, the second half being more clear and stern than his gentle ask. I gave him a nod.

“‘M fine… just gotta get past the…” I huffed and he nodded in an understanding. He curved his palm in a way that had the carpal of his hand rub against my clit. I whimpered slightly at the feeling and Kaidan took it as a good sign. He pushed his fingers in deeper, and started to make a more curving motion.

The ring felt less hot and more comforting. It slowly began to undo me into a mess. I relaxed my muscles and limbed gently against the bed. My mouth was slightly ajar, feeling so relaxed of just feeling his fingers. Hearing the sounds of his fingers thrusting in a quicker manner, even adding a third that I barely noticed, I felt my body go hot, mind numbingly hot.

Even as he stopped, I could feel my mouth water from the pleasure.

“Do you think you’re ready?”

“Huh?” I asked, just coming out of my dazed thoughts. Kaidan chuckled.

“I asked if you think you’re ready..”

I cleared my throat and hummed, lifting my torso up with my elbows balancing me.

“Yes.”

Kaidan’s swift movement of removing his clothes was short lived, and rather a blur. Though, I was in awe that he was, in fact, valid to brag. He moved his hand back down to me and gave a firm wipe, and lubricated his shaft. I let my legs fall in a opening display as I waited eagerly.

A hand on my knee, and with an aim, he slipped in. The ring of fire was hotter and brighter, a far harsher reaction than his tough fingers.

“Gods- I…” I impulsively whimpered, clasping my fingers over my lips. He gently went to hold a hand, which was basically now pinned to the bed, as his other pressed against the bed too, but left my other hand free. He looked down at me, dazed as I, as he waited for me to relax my nerves. Once I was in a less uncomfortable situation, he thrusted out and pushed back in gently, going farther in.

The process repeated till he hit my cervix. Kaidan sat in a patient demeanor, kissing my neck as I adjusted to him fairly quickly. I wrapped my legs around him, loosely, and asked for a continuation. He obliged.

Kaidan kept his eyes on me, and I felt a surge of flush fill my face as I awkwardly tried to keep the eye contact. I could tell he was amused at this. Considering he was closer and closer to just fucking me silly.

With hips hitting mine, I felt the edge gently grow closer. But it always felt far. Kaidan went to gently sit up, and placed his hands against my hip as he dug me closer. My hands wrapped around the sheets of the bed as I felt my body go limp. My skin felt hot, my brain was fuzzy with warmth, and my mouth let out sounds of pleasure. I did my best to see that I was never loud to wake the damn inn, especially my companions. But Kaidan made this oh so difficult.

The edge drew near, and I could hear Kaidan growing to the end as well. Oh, if the world ended I would be content to die on the spot.

“Ka-Kai..dan.” I stuttered, whining out his name as I felt my release on the tip. My breathing became vocal, and my legs squeezed him tight. My entire abdomen burned.

He predicted my edge, as a hand went to my clit and gently rubbed in a slow motion. That was the line, and my run came to an end. My breath became hitched as I felt it so hard to keep my voice contained. Kaidan went to kiss me to help, and I moaned into his mouth without shame. My hands twirling in his hair.

The hair gripping probably helped him release, because I couldn’t feel him anymore after my high. Just a very warm and wet sensation on my belly. His voice echoing my name in our kiss was sensational.

Taking all our energy to catch our breath and mind, we both slumped over on the bed. Heavily gasping.

Though, Kaidan snapped out of it quicker than me, and went to grab a rag to clean me and him up. He went to lay back down next to me, and we quietly went into each others arms, no words were needed.

As Masser and Secunda filled the night, Kaidan and I exchanged a voiceless cuddle, holding each other in a warm embrace as we let the night take us.

#kaidan romance #skyrim kaidan #Skyrim #kaidan x Reader #kaidan tes #kaidan 2 #x Reader

[cringemesstickles]

A Little Magic

TickleTober Day 18: Magic

Summary: Rowena is helping the Winchesters and Sam is not having fun

Pairing: None

Word Count: 943

A/N: this is so bad, but I couldn’t NOT write a fic with Rowena for this. It was too good of an opportunity 😭

———————————————————

It was just one of those cases where they needed magic help; and who better to call than the not-so-trusted witch, Rowena.

The brothers sorted through books of spells and incantations, while Rowena set up a makeshift altar to perform her spell, seemingly taking her time.

“Mind going a little faster, Rowena?” Sam jabbed, annoyance in his voice.

Rowena, ever the elegant woman, froze dramatically, side eying the younger Winchester.

“Everything must be perfect in order for this spell to work, Samuel. Unless you want to cause grave destruction, I suggest you be patient.” Responded the witch, returning to her task.

Dean complained just as much as Sam, but preferred to keep it vague and snarky, leaning over to mumble something to his brother every now and then.

“Yeah, Samuel. Let the lady do her work!” He said sarcastically, imitating the witch’s Scottish accent.

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle, appreciating his the elders ability to bring light into an otherwise frustrating situation.

Looking up from her station, Rowena made a face of mock surprise, eying the younger hunter.

“Why, I don’t believe it… The stoic Sam Winchester, showing signs of joy.”

Sam glared at the redhead.

“Yeah, it always seems to show when you’re not around.” Sneered Sam, avoiding eye contact.

Rowena had personally had enough of Sam’s uptight demeanor. At least Dean had some character when he degraded her… Sam was far too passive aggressive for her taste.

Luckily, as a witch, she has her own way of spicing things up.

Safely, of course.

Rolling her eyes and looking back to her spells, she nonchalantly muttered some incantations and carried on as if she hadn’t.

Suddenly, Sam felt a tingly sensation all over his body.

Strange… must just be an itch.

An itch that just so happened to course through his feet, legs, tummy, ribs… everywhere.

The hunter felt a strong urge to giggle, but tried everything in his power to restrain it, frozen in his place.

Dean looked over to his brother, noticing his reddening cheeks and stiff demeanor.

“Hello? Earth to Sam! You good?” Asked Dean with furrowed brows, mildly concerned.

The tingly feeling seemed to all combine and migrate to Sam’s tummy, causing him to collapse in a heap of laughter, curling into a protective ball.

“DEHEHEAN! SOMETHING IS T-TICKLING MEHEHE!”

The elder simply stood there, mouth agape, taking in the bizarre sight in front of him.

After a moment, the pieces seemed to fall into place, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Seriously, Rowena? A tickle spell? Why is that even a thing?”

The witch in question smirked and turned to face the duo, proud of her work.

“There’s a spell for near everything, dear. Besides, I think this one works quite well for Sam.” She said smugly, grinning deviously.

Dean, the big brother that he is, would not have this!

…

He simply had to get in on this action.

“You know… for once, Rowena, you and I are on the same page.”

A look of terror had overtaken Sam’s expression as Dean kneeled beside him and began wiggling his fingers above his tickle spots.

Dean would normally go for Sam’s belly, as that was the sweet spot. But since the spot was protected in his curled position, he’d have to go for a spot that he knew Sam loved just as much.

“WAIT, WHAT ARE YOU- EEK-”

The elder Winchester began to spider his fingers all over Sam’s sensitive kneecaps, eliciting a shrill shriek. The magic tingling on his tummy, combined with the unbearable fluttering on his knees created a deadly combination; a combination so deadly, that it evoked bright boyish laughter from a usually civilized man.

The mood shift was a drastic change from the earlier tension, creating a lighter atmosphere that everyone seemed to prefer.

“ROWENA, PLEHEHEASE!! T-TICKLES TOO MUHUHUCH!”

Just as Rowena was about to respond, Dean made a dramatic gesture, looking quite offended.

“She’s doing too much?! Sam, I think you’ve forgotten who you should REALLY be pleading with… let me remind you~”

Taking advantage of the sensitivity of Sam’s knees, he tickled hard enough for him to kick them out and keep them there as a means of escape. Once they were out of the way, he took his shot and pinned Sam’s arms to the side, leaning down and blowing a big wet raspberry on the exposed tummy, the fabric having ridden up during the squirming.

“DEHEHEHEE!! STAHAHA- PLEHEHEASE! CAN’T BREHEHEATHE!!”

Tears of mirth streamed down Sam’s rosy cheeks that were starting to ache from how wide he was smiling. His nose was scrunched up and his dimples were on full display.

It was truly a sight for sore eyes.

Dean and Rowena finally relented, the witch muttering a reversal to the spell and finally relieving Sam of the relentless ghost tickles.

Sam lay a giggly mess on the floor, still tingling from the attack.

“Well, Rowena, I may not be a fan of you, but I’d say we make a pretty good team when it comes to torturing Sam!” Dean teased, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Sam recover.

“Yes, it would appear that our collaborative efforts have left dear Samuel, well… tickled.”

The word alone was enough to embarrass the younger hunter, and he groaned.

“That was cohohompletely unnecessary…”

Dean helped his little brother off the floor and pat him on the back.

“Maybe, but it was fun. Don’t you dare deny it!”

Sam didn’t respond, but merely rolled his eyes with an exasperated smile.

Sam Winchester learned a rather valuable lesson that day…

Sometimes, all you needed to turn your day around is a little magic.

#mess writes #tickletober2023 #tickletober #augtickletober2023 #tktober #tktober2023 #lee!sam #lee!sammy #ticklish!sam #ticklish!sammy #ler!dean #ler!rowena #supernatural tickle fic #supernatural tickling #spn tickling #spn tickles #spn tickle fic #tickle community #tword content #sfw tickling #tickles #tickle fic

[sidhewrites]

22! Someone else write this for me i'm just throwing things at the wall and seeing what sticks. We got the end of the renfield arc and setting up for the climax of the book, but god knows if any of it makes any sense.

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"Right," I say. "Cool." We're fucked. "What's next on the list?" When Josie doesn't answer, I look over to see her wide-eyed, mouth agape. "Josie?"

"I don't know. This is..."

"We've got to convince him to trade his body for this one," Lucy butts in. She's flickering in and out of visibility. Magnus' magic ghost power shit is messing with her own tether to this world as she stares down the ghosts around us, daring them to come closer. "It's a banishing ritual, right? So we've got to drag him out of there quickly."

[They go up, and have to basically distract him while the world is being sucked into the grave, while Lucy and Josie say a spell. Rocks are floating, bits of the church are starting to crumble.]

I feel a piece of my heart break off with every brick that starts to crumble. The church hasn't been used in decades, but it's part of the graveyard. My graveyard. And I won't let some old fart with a noise complaint ruin it.

So I renew my efforts to get his attention. I jump around and wave my hands. "Hey! Mags! Over here, asshole!" He spares me a single glance, but it doesn't work for long. I throw a rock, but it misses him entirely and falls into the grave with the rest of the rubble. I try again, but my aim really is shit, so I resort to something else.

"Behold the power of..." I pull my phone out and search for the most annoying song I can think of. It blares out of the tinny speakers, pathetically quiet all things considered, but it's enough.

Magnus whirls on me, eyes glowing. "Turn that off."

"Welcome to the 21st century, Maggie! We got music everywhere!"

He lashes out, throwing a wave of ectoplasm at me. I dodge, barely managing to keep a hold on my phone as I circle him as fast as I can. "Any time now would be good!" I shout. I don't know where Josie and Lucy are anymore, but it doesn't matter. I just have to keep him distracted long enough for them to finish the invocation.

The song ends, and I press play again, ready to loop it for as long as necessary. My heart's hammering, and my lungs burn, but I don't have time to waver. Instead, I push through, drawing on as much strength as I can to keep circling Magnus, staying just out of reach and just ahead of his poorly-aimed attacks.

He scolds me and monologues as we go, telling me I'm stupid and useless and kids these days, but it doesn't matter.  I can outlast him. I have to.

And, sure enough, a few minutes later, his rambling stops. I let myself slow to a walk, ready to sprint away again in a second if I have to, but there's no need. He's bent double, apparently having the world's worst stomach ache as the ghostly body around his bones starts to waver and deform. Blobs of light pull away and break off, pieces of him coming apart one by one, until there's nothing left but bones.

With the glowing power gone, there's nothing left to hold Magnus' corporeal body together. The skeleton falls apart piece by piece, nothing but a crumpled heap on the ground. What I can only describe as ghost goo remains floating above the pile, waiting a moment before flying at me.

"Run!" I shout, but we don't have a chance. It hits me in the chest, leaving me feeling sick and dizzy for a second, but it fails to do anything more. Instead, the ball of goo simply goes right through me, towards where Josie and Lucy have hidden. Josie's still got Renfield in her arms when the lights hit him and begin to melt into his fur. He wakes up with a start, yowling and hissing -- and then heaving. For a second, I'm terrified Magnus is possessing Renfield again, but it doesn't last long.

The light centers into a single point in Renfield's chest, and he hops down from my arms. Slowly, it rises up his throat, and with the familiar hacking that comes with a hairball-prone cat, he vomits up what looks like a glowing glob of goop that slithers over, slug-like, to the urn.

I feel my mouth twist into a scowl of disgust. "Is that...?"

Lucy nods. "That's Sunthorpe's soul. Or, rather...what's left of him."

"Do we banish him? Sweep it up?"

She shakes her head, and looks to Josie. "You're the expert on this sort of thing."

We watch for a second, scowling in disgust as Magnus' soul slorps into the urn. It takes all my will not to go kick the damn thing, if only because I'm afraid that touching it might fuck something up.It doesn't make me feel less angry, but I'm doing better at the whole thinking-before-I act thing.

Plus I'm exhausted, so. "Now what?" I want to go to bed, but I don't think that's going to be in my immediate future.

"We should get Renfield checked out again," Josie says. "Just in case."

"Poor thing," Lucy agrees. "He's been through a lot in so short a time."

I sigh. He didn't deserve to get mixed up in all of this. He was just a frightened old man with kitty Alzheimer's and kitty arthritis and kitty asthma and... well, now, he deserved a trip to a kitty spa, or something. But I can't just leave. One look at the mess around us makes it clear that won't be happening any time soon. I don't have solid proof that Mr. Ngo would blame me for whatever is happening here, but I don't want to risk it after my behavior the past few days.

Helplessly, I turn to Josie. "I'm sorry, but..."

"I got it." She puts a hand on my arm. "Am I still your emergency contact at the vet?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

She nods, and squeezes my arm. "You both owe me an interview later." She points first at me, then at Lucy -- who starts. "I can see you now, Mrs. Blue, and I intend to make the most of it." Before heading off into the night, Josie whispers a quick, "She's really hot," into my ear. I don't get a chance to respond before she slips away. I don't let myself dwell on it for long before getting to work. There's a lot that needs cleaning up before Mr. Ngo shows up today, and I don't want to risk being caught out here in the rubble.

My first target is Magnus's skeleton, gathering his bones and funeral suit up in a sloppy pile and dumping it into the coffin lying in pieces at the bottom of the hole. As soon as they land, a twinge of regret has me thinking I should have been a bit more ceremonious about the whole thing. But what's done is done, and I tell myself I did more than enough by not spitting on him again, especially now that my lip isn't bleeding. Fucker.

I'm nicer to the urn, at least. I don't want to risk it breaking and releasing him back into the world.

Lucy waits at the grave while I sprint to retrieve a shovel and work gloves from the shed. When I return, she says "I feel it would be appropriate to say a few words." Before I can blanch in terror, she rushes to add, "I'll take care of it. You take care of him."

I nod, and begin to fill the grave as she gives her eulogy.

"Here we lay to rest Magnus Sunthorpe -- again -- and, hopefully, this time for good. In life, he was a steadfast man who knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to get it. He was much the same in death. [She gives a two-sided pointed eulogy.]"

"Good?"

"Good."

She stays off to the side, watching as I move the dirt. I even catch her ogling a few times, gaze shamelessly trailing down my gross, sweaty bare arms and my sexy muscles.

I totally don't flex. But, if I had, it would have been extremely subtle and suave and not obvious at all.

"You okay?" Lucy says, in the minutes before dawn.

I hesitate. Then, "I will be. I think. Things will be better after this."

"Come back at sunset, all right? Let me know how the little boy is doing."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Okay." She gives me a weary smile, and wanders off into the shadows to fade into nonexistence until night. Now all that's left is to review the work. It's not exactly pretty. Even if I've done what I can, it's all too clear that the dirt's been freshly dug. My job is in enough jeopardy as it is, and I don't want Mr. Ngo thinking I was one who dug it up and destroyed the coffin and skeleton, even if the dead guy totally deserved it.

So instead, I don my thickest gloves, and wander around the overgrowth. There are hundreds of people here, names lost to time, with nobody left to mourn. I spend the day at war with the wildflowers. By noon, I'm covered in sweat, and I've scraped both my knees and tried not to think about any potential consequences that might arise from accidental blood sacrifices to the dead. But the scrapes, the blisters, and the aching back are worth it. I've made a rudimentary walking path to each grave and cut roses to lay at the head of each grave.

"I know it's not much," I say each time, "but I hope it helps you have a nice day."

Next, I retrieve Ruby's spell book and find one of the tour guides -- Aiden, a young kid who still doesn't know what he wants to do with his life. I ask him to see if he can find a list of everyone who's been buried here. I promise to pay him under the table, since anything on the books would be wildly expensive with overtime.

"It'll likely be in basement level two at the library. If the librarian's there, don't make any Star Wars puns or anything. Just ask her for what you need. Oh-- and give her this." I hand over the spell book. "Don't open it. Just tell her Kaz says thank you for the help, and that I owe her my life. Literally." I hope that mentioning my name doesn't put him on Ruby's bad side immediately. For a moment, I think she might like me after yesterday, but I don't want to push my luck with someone like her.

Aiden gives me a salute and heads off to his secret mission. I look and feel half dead, but dutifully take his place as a tour guide to a group of costumed visitors, talking them through the history of Sutton Cemetery and its purported ghosts.

I'm standing by the old tree -- by Lucy's grave, I now realize, and pause for a moment, my face growing warm. I know she can't manifest during the day, but it's hard not to almost expect her to leap out from behind the tree in an attempt to spook me.

And then something rustles.

I frown, and turn back to the group. "One second, please." Abandoning them on the walking path, I step carefully over to the tree. Footprints lead around the grave, crushed leaves and flattened grass painting a clear picture of someone's trail through the graveyard.

A low groan emanates from the other side of the trunk.

Jesus fuck, I think. If zombies are real, I'm going to sacrifice to the horde just to get it over with.

It gets louder as I approach the tree, and more frenzied. More hungry.

"Hello...?" I say.

The zombie leaps out at me with a snarl -- and comes up short as I fall back, cursing and swearing. It's silhouette looms over me, blotting out the sun, viscera dripping from its limbs.

It bends low over me, and tilts its head. "Kaz," Mr. Ngo says. "I'm very disappointed in you for stealing my costume idea."

I have no words.

Mr. Ngo helps me up, giving me a long and disapproving once over. He's clearly spent hours on his costume, with fake wounds, an eye bulging from the socket, green and grey mottled skin visible through bloody, tattered clothes.

It's a fair assessment on his end. I'm covered in dirt, sweat, and band-aids, and my clothes are only mildly less disgusting. With a heroic amount of restraint, I avoid going into detail, and answer,  "I had a personal project to take care of."

He looks distinctly unimpressed.

"In the historical quarter. Wanna me to show you?" I think I'd rather melt into my shoes.

Still, he raises a brow, and nods. "Excuse me," he says over my shoulder. The crowd of tour-guests aren't quite sure what to make of the zombie currently talking to them as if he was in charge here. "I'm afraid the tour has to be cancelled for now. See the front desk for refunds."

When they disperse, I look at him helplessly. "Mr. Ngo, I--"

"I don't want to hear it, Kaz. You've been causing trouble for weeks now. Is something going on outside of work I should know about? Is something wrong?"

"No -- well. It..." I fumble. "No, not anymore."

His look doesn't waver. I know I've fucked up royally from the first time I called the Haunted Archivists begging them to come back. I guess I should be more grateful he isn't firing me on  the spot, when showing up to work the way I do would count as a serious warning to anyone else.

"Let me...just show you." I gesture vaguely, and take him out towards the oldest part of the graveyard, shadowed by old growth trees and, until recently, overrun with tall grass and weeds. But now, you can see each headstone, scraped of all moss and lichen, weeds removed from the immediate area. I've got weeks worth of work left to make the whole area presentable, but it's easy to see how much work I've done in just one day.

Mr. Ngo doesn't want to look impressed, but I can see the corner of his mouth twitch under the latex and costume makeup. He has every right to be angry with me, but I know that, were the circumstances better, he'd be over the moon. In the end, however, he holds back from saying anything about it at all. "Go home, Kaz. I'll see you tomorrow."

I let out a breath. I still have my job. And, now that Magnus is dealt with, I won't be doing anything to put it in jeopardy ever again.

"Can I get you lunch or anything?" I ask. "The flesh of the living? Brains, maybe?"

"Don't forget to shower."

I don't have to be told a third time.

Tag List

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #mystuff #my writing #graveyard lesbians #wlw #wlw fiction #supernatural fiction #original fiction

[melanieathene]

Suptober 2023 Day 14 - Fever

The fever hit without warning. One moment, Dean was perspiring lightly from the exertion of pursuing the witch. In the next, beads of sweat dotted his brow and he began to shiver uncontrollably. His steps slowed, and he stumbled to a complete stop: hands braced on knees, head hanging low. He sensed more than he saw his brother run past him, machete in one hand, gun in the other.

“Way to go, Sam,” he wheezed, the breath leaving his lungs in one long, shaky exhale. Replacing the lost air proved to be quite the challenge. He coughed, coughed again, and finally managed to inhale. Dizzy and decidedly weak in the knees, Dean decided the ground was a prudent place to be. He sank to a kneeling position, wavered there a second, then toppled over to land in a crumpled heap.

He lay there, gasping like a fish too long out of water, his face flushed an alarming shade of red.

And that was how Castiel found him.

“Dean!” he cried, dropping to one knee and placing a hand on Dean's forehead. “You're burning up!” he declared, worry evident in his voice. “But there's no trace of a virus... Was it something you ate?”

“Don't think so.” Dean moaned, and pushed his face further into the deliciously cool hand. “Sam had the same thing for lunch, and he's okay.”

Castiel's free hand travelled slowly across Dean's chest, trailed lower to his rib cage, down to his stomach, and lingered there. “It's not your appendix,” the angel murmured. “I can't find any root cause for a fever.”

“I feel better when you touch me,” Dean said, surprise evident in his voice.

“Touch you where?”

“Here.” Dean tapped his head. “And here.” He pointed to his chest.

Castiel felt the pit-pat of the hunter's heart increase in tempo when he laid a hand over it.

“Lower,” Dean moaned.

Castiel moved his hand down to Dean's belly.

“Lower.” Dean clasped the angel's hand in his both of his own and dragged it towards his crotch.

“Uh, Dean...” “Lower,” Dean begged. “Please, Cas? Please...”

“Dean!” Castiel pulled free and backed away. Instantly, Dean curled into the fetal position and emitted a wail of sheer misery.

“Dean!” Sam echoed, arriving just in time to witness this odd exchange. He rested a hand on Dean's shoulder. “You okay, man?” he asked.

Dean reacted as if he'd been poked with a firebrand. “Don't touch me!” he screamed. “It burns! It burns!”

“What the hell?” Sam sputtered, watching in amazement as Castiel rested a hand on the same shoulder and Dean quieted immediately.

“I believe he is suffering from a spell,” Castiel said, allowing Dean to link their fingers together. “Before she fled, did the witch have time to say anything, Sam?”

“Not a word.” Sam frowned, thinking. “There was a dusting of grey powder on the table. It swirled into the air when we burst through the door. Dean ran through it, chasing after the witch. The wind was behind me, it blew the dust away before I entered the room... Didn't Dean bump into you as he followed her out the back door? Maybe that's why he's so fixated on you.”

“That's very possible, Sam.” Castiel cast a bemused look at Dean. “No nibbling on my fingers, Dean.”

Sam snorted a laugh, quickly turning it into a cough as Castiel turned a disapproving stare his way.

“Sorry,” Sam offered. “I know it's not funny, but you have to admit it's pretty weird. Who leaves sex pollen lying around the house? And leave it to Dean to stumble into it.” He shook his head. “Well, we'll just have to muddle though somehow, and hope the effects wear off. The witch is dead, so she's can't revoke the spell. Maybe Rowena can offer some advice? I'll look into that... do a little research. In the meantime, let's get you two back to the motel. Maybe a warm bath – or a cold shower – will make Dean feel better. I'll book another room so I don't accidentally bump into him.”

“And what am I supposed to do?” Castiel said, more than a trace of desperation in his voice.

“Whatever you feel comfortable doing.” Sam grinned.

Sam was seated in the diner located across the road from their motel when the bell over the door jingled and Dean appeared.

“Morning, Sam,” Dean chirped, slapping his brother on the back. Easing himself into a chair, he picked up a menu and studied it.” “Mmmm, pancakes,” he murmured. “Or bacon, sausage and eggs with home fries and baked beans? Why not both? Ooh! They have pie!”

“I see you're back to normal,” Sam said wryly.

“Never felt better, Sammy. The spell ended shortly after midnight.”

“And you waited until now to tell me?”

“”Uh, sorry. It kinda slipped my mind. I was – We were – ”

The bell over the door sounded again, and a distinctly rumpled-looking angel entered. His coat hung off one shoulder; his tie was missing, his dark hair a tousled mess. A pink blush tinged his cheeks, and a purple bruise peeked out from under the collar of his crookedly buttoned shirt. A satisfied smile graced his lips; a matching smile lit Dean's face as Castiel seated himself beside him.

“Never mind, I get the picture,” Sam said, and hid his own smile in his coffee.

#suptober #suptober23 #suptober23 day 14 #destiel #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester

[saphirered]

For the winter prompts: Essek Theyless with # 16.

And that’s the last of the Winter Prompt Requests! I've not written for Essek in a hot minute and damn did I miss hot boi! It's a whole bunch of tooth rotting fluff of pining mages and good dreams only. 😘

It is an unnecessary luxury for elves to have a bed to sleep in. They don’t sleep like other beings of Exandria. Instead they enter a trance for a mere four hours to rest up from the day’s events. Sometimes Essek wishes he could sleep like that. To be in oblivion for hours on, off in the world of dreams to wander beyond what he is capable of. It’s not that he is incapable of dreams. It’s just different. He wishes he could be floating among the winged creatures of the skies while they speak their wonders, where the colours of the world are warped and the bounds of reality are nonexistent. He wishes to experience the magic that is the subconscious of the dreaming lives. There are potions and substances and even spells that can mimic the effects, but it’s never the same. It’s different when you’re living through it first hand and cannot compare properly with someone else who experiences things wholly different. For the sake of the illusion Essek lays in his bed. He stares at the ceiling; one of constellations drawn beautifully but that’s the only expanse he finds when his mind slips from the waking world and into that trance. His eyes close and so comes the vastness, or so he expects but instead he finds a world of wonder. Is he dreaming? Yes. 

Essek finds himself at the balcony of a tower on a cliffside overlooking the sunset. He raises his hand to shield his eyes from the bright light as a force of habit, but finds instead the rays do not bother him as they normally would. He hears the sounds of songbirds and the crashing of waves against the rock below. The wind blows gently batting at his heavy cloak. That cloak seems all too much for the tropical weather but he’s not bothered by it. The temperature is warm but not bothersome. His feet are firmly on the ground too, he realises. There’s no need for pretence. It feels homey here, like he can let go of his burdens and worries for once in his extended life. He takes a breath of fresh air and just watches the sunset. 

He knows where he is. He knows he’s safe. He’s been here before, this tower, he knows it well. He knows of the teleportation circle on the third floor hidden under the finely crafted carpet. He recalls each line like second nature. He knows of the study the floor above with the comfortable couches and the precious collections of latest research in mid progress. Never less than twelve books at once, and always heaps of disorganised notes; on the low table, high table, cabinets, shelves and stacked on top of books. Writing utensils, just as much. Any available surface has to have at least one within arm’s reach. He’d found the disarray maddening in opposition to his clear and tidy structure but Essek won’t deny his own tendency to get a little messy when he’s caught up in work. He also remembers the laboratory with all its ongoing projects and experiments and of course the selection of materials of all kinds and rarities is certainly more extensive than his own. He doesn’t find himself in either of these rooms nor does he wander there. He knows they’re there as if it’s a fact because it is. 

Overlooking this beautiful site from this balcony, he knows where he is. He knows what’s behind him through the stained glass doors; where the pillars make bookcases, and the hearth is always alight. Where a variety of crystal decanters sit unused but filled among the few perpetually almost empty ones, with the carved glasses next to them. Through those glass doors lie couches with comfortable pillows one could philosophise the matters of the world all day and night, or perhaps fall asleep on if one’s not careful. The table between these couches always has some form of snacks available; a scholar’s brain food as some might claim. Simple sustenance he’d say. Regardless of chamber, one thing is always certain. When Essek is here he is never alone. That proves right when a presence walks up next to him. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice he could pick out of thousands speaks to him and carries him through the worlds like a tether. He doesn’t have to look to his side to know it’s you in all your magnificence. Still he does though. He looks away from that sunset to take in another view perhaps unrivalled by anything or anyone else in this world and beyond, though Essek would deem his opinion severely biased. “You think I got it right?” 

“You see this sight more often than I do.” He states as a matter of fact but with a hint of humour as you know him to do. You laugh softly and smile. He finds himself smiling. 

“Every day is different. No two sunsets are the same.” You try to use the same tone but pour in just a little too much jest. 

“It’s the last sunset I was here. You insisted we watch it. We did.” He looks past you to see the same set up of table and bench you’d sat together at some weeks ago. You’d dragged some of the pillows from inside to make it more comfortable. Together you used Essek’s cloak as a blanket and watched until the final rays settled beyond the horizon and the stars came out. Only then you’d sprawled across that bench and watched the constellations pass you by. It was strangely intimate for his standards and perhaps even yours. Anyone might have deemed the big bad shadowhand insane should they have seen him so relaxed, so mundane. Only here, only with you. 

“You remember.” You smile as your heart flutters a bit and you feel cold skin press against your fingers, tenderly lacing together. 

“Is this what it feels like to be dreaming?” Essek wonders out loud. You squeeze his hand and guide him along to the bench. Before you sit down you unclasp his heavy mantle and take it from his shoulders, exposing the Xhorhasian attire underneath. You allow your fingers to run over the structured designs of silver thread stitched on the deep navy, purples and greys. You take the cloak onto your lap as you sit down, pulling your legs under yourself. Essek follows suit but holds a more proper posture. Together you keep watching the sunset. 

“I better hope so. It took me three weeks to not only learn how to cast this spell but also modify it actually work on elves. Do you know how hard it is to cast any sleep related spells on elves? Near impossible that’s right.” Essek laughs and shakes his head. 

“Laugh, of course you do. You do not want to know how many quills I had to pluck from sleeping birds!” You cannot hide your own amusement. and when you subconsciously brush over your lower arm, Essek catches the markings still somewhat midway through healing. Looks like the birds got you good and were not so happy with you stealing their feathers. He takes your hand in his once more and offers a comforting squeeze. 

“I appreciate your efforts.” He speaks earnestly. 

“It was worth it.” You admit easily and a flush spreads across your cheeks. Essek raises an eyebrow and you bit the inside of your cheek raising an eyebrow back. No more than a questioning ‘hm’ sound leaves your throat as you play innocent or oblivious to the fact he noticed. 

“Do you have something to say?” You might as well have been a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. A light smirk pulls at his lips and he does not fight it despite putting on his shadowhand visage that compels answers from those who face him. You offer a silent ‘really?’ and he insists. It’s not long before you break You play with a seam in his cloak still bundled on your lap. It seems to have gained your attention. This is the gaze of avoidance not because a harrowing subject or the need for secrecy, but simple avoidance in something you both dance around plenty of times; feelings. 

“Fine. I was just thinking, that maybe we could do this more often and we won’t have to go weeks without seeing each other or sneaking around as much.” You huff as if the weight behind that statement isn’t what it is. As if your heart has not stopped and frozen in your chest. As if you do not feel Essek’s eyes on you and know that his lips have parted upon the breath that catches. You dare not look at him until you feel that cool touch under your chin where it lifts and turns your gaze to his until you look into those violet eyes that shine so bright with the mind of someone far beyond his years, with wisdoms and secrets that could topple empires and rise new ones. You look at him not as all those things, not as the prodigy or the shadowhand or the powerful mage. You look at him as your friend and confidant, your colleague and enabler of all the crazy things you do, your research mate but most of all, you see him as your heart. 

“I’d want nothing more.” Essek sees right through you, through the layers that paint you to the outside world as a mage of repute, a bright mind and a dangerous one, one of many secrets and sometimes questionable morale, one of an adventurer with a good heart, one who favours a reclusive life over the business of sprawling cities, one that threw away a chance of a life of influences and riches in favour of some abandoned tower overlooking the most beautiful sunsets and rises. Essek sees you the way he knows you; as his friend and fellow bookworm, as a scholar and mage of high repute, but beyond that he also sees the passion in everything you do, your stubbornness and determination to do better, to be better. You’re his moral compass. When he goes wandering too far you are the one to pull him back. You are… He’s afraid to admit it because such a thing is frightening to someone who has some comprehension of what the true meaning of matter and existence is. You are his everything and he doesn’t know what he’d do without you. 

The lives you both live are ones on thin ice. You have your own banes and confide in him as he does you with his. It’s not just mutual understanding but the knowledge that no one should bear these burdens alone and a willingness to share them and remind each other that this is real and you are not turning into the monsters some others might want you to become, for their own gain. You remind each other of the sacrifices you might make and the risks beyond every decision. Essek wishes he had found you in his life earlier because if he had you, if you had know you might have threatened to counter spell his ability to glide and float only to drop him into the waves below for his stupidity. He sees that now and you make him feel remorse for his actions. He’d thought he’d hate the feeling but when he’s with you he doesn’t. There’s more than just kinship here. He has bared his heart to you over time and you had allowed him a glimpse beyond that curtain. You’d grown closer and closer and became something more. This, this is real. These feelings are real and he does not want to run away from them. You don’t want to run away from them. He sees right through you as you see right through him and that tether grows more taut. 

“May I kiss you?” You ask. The world might as well have burst because Essek never expected this kind of warmth to fill his body, to- to make him feel so happy. He’d thought it something from a childish past but not meant for the life he lives now, he thought it the path of the naive and oblivious and if that’s true he’s okay with that. He realises he must have missed a beat as you aways an answer in suspense. 

“Yes. Yes, I’d like that.” He chuckles and softly you place your lips on his, right as the final rays of the sun pass beyond the horizon and the stars shine brightest above. All is well. 

This is a dream but it is real in every way possible and Essek never wants to wake up. He could stay here with you forever in this land of dreams. 

#essek thelyss x reader #essek x reader #critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #critical role #essek #essek thelyss #mighty nein #the mighty nein #critical role fanfic #critical role fanfiction

[pastel-mask]

~Divine Kids HCs (+ WizBat)~ (Fluff/Domestic)

I needed to get these written down because I have the memory capacity of a floppy disk and I didn’t wanna lose them because THERE’S SO MANY

Also I am so sorry if some of these aren’t worded properly, I’m not good at words and stuff and I’ve never done headcanons before

Pls remember that none of these are canon, they’re just summaries of what I would think would happen based on in-game behavior and what-not =============================================================

-Bat is naturally very curious, like a 7ft-8ft tall floppy-eared information sponge

-Mellori is two parts irritating sister and 4 parts true bestfriend with a heaped teaspoon of sass and “Take no shit”

-Bat pays full attention when the Wizard is talking about Earth, asks a lot of questions once the Wizard is done talking. Will wait to ask questions even if the Wizard has a habit of rambling and going on twenty different tangents and topics

-If the Wizard is reading a non-fiction book they’ve teleported into the Spiral from Earth (courtesy of a spell from Merle, used to teleport small-medium objects from other worlds), Bat has a habit of sneakily trying to read it over their shoulders, occasionally spooking the absolute hell out of the Wizard because they were also immersed in reading the book and didn’t notice him standing there

-Bat is cathemeral, but because the Wizard and Mellori aren’t (I like to think all three live together in the Wizard’s house), he generally tends to follow a diurnal sleep schedule because he’d feel bad if he woke anyone up at an unholy hour because he decided to make dinner at 12am

-He tries to downplay it when Mellori asks about it, but Bat frets over the Wizard if they’re a workaholic or if they often forget to take care of themselves (eating, sleeping, etc.), ESPECIALLY if he learns just how much crap they’ve been through both on Earth and in the Spiral

-Very rarely does Bat get truly mad over Mellori’s teasing him of his crush on the Wizard, UNLESS the Wizard is around and then he gets panicky and snappy because he’s afraid Mellori might alert the Wizard to his feelings for them if they aren’t already aware

-After being in complete and utter isolation for so long (with probably only his brothers for company), Bat gets overwhelmed by busy areas and much prefers being away from city-type places. If possible, he prefers to be either underground or in nature

-Bat would wear a flower crown made by the Wizard but would be reluctant to wear it around anyone else other than the Wizard out of fear of his feelings for them being found out

-If the Wizard is very short, Bat would 100% make jokes about them having to keep up with him and/or Mellori when walking, but would also scoop them up and put them on his shoulder so that they didn’t have to run to keep pace

-Gives a lil’ Bat smile if one of his jokes lands and makes the Wizard laugh

-Mellori would definitely try to take both Bat and the Wizard to Polaris (or just anywhere where there’s things to do) regularly to do fun stuff, like Ice Skating and Snowman making, especially if the Wizard has depressive episodes (she doesn’t want them to be stuck inside all day because it’s not good for them) or hasn’t really had the opportunity to do many recreational activities

-Divine Kids Slumber Parties at the Wizard’s House? All the time. Animated movies from Earth, snacks, pajamas, spa stuff, etc. included

=============================================================

#I HAVE NO IDEA IF THESE ARE GOOD I JUST THOUGHT THEY WERE NEAT #I HAVE MORE #THERE'S JUST A DUMPTRUCK FULL OF HCs IN MY HEAD #wizard101 #wizzy fandom #wizzy101 #wizard101 headcanons #bat w101 #mellori w101 #divine kids w101 #w101 headcanons #wizbat #w101

[mejomonster]

I used a grammar checker yesterday and i'm still frustrated. Like the new Microsoft Word, it underlined like 77 words as grammar or spelling errors which weren't. Things like expecting me to remove a period (sentences and paragraphs can't end on empty space... they need periods), correcting words like space to spae (the word space was indeed correctly spelled as space...), just in general having no idea how punctuation works (a good reason to reference punctuation with a guide as a writer... because automated grammar checkers make frequent mistakes checking punctuation and aren't reliable). And while i expected those sucky mistakes from a grammar checker (but i'm still frustrated as like... in 2010 at least if i ran spell check on it's own i'd get 90-99% correct replacements and only occasional incorrect spelling suggestions... now spell check is more like 20% accurate so i am better off proofreading for spelling errors myself the slow way). I was ultimately using it just to check my writing tenses. Because switching from past to present tense sometimes happens in stories with flashbacks, and people thinking back to older moments and thoughts, so I wanted to quickly machine check if I'd been inconsistent with my tenses and used the wrong one somewhere. Not a single tense error was flagged by the grammar checker. Maybe i got lucky and didn't make any. But i think it's more likely the grammar checker was just completely incapable of checking for tense, let alone accurately (since it gave 80% false errors for spelling then i imagine it'd flag a lot of correct tense usage as incorrect anyway if it could). I picked a grammar checker FOR it's inclusion of checking for tenses. And it didn't even do that.

It's just fruatrating because like. When i was a kid and a teen, you could run a grammar check and mostly get some quick useful spelling corrections (unless you wrote a name) and it only flagged grammar it was usually correctly identifying (such as changing a comma to a ; or an uncapitalized first letter of a sentence to a capital letter, or replacing a misused word like too with two). You'd get maybe 10 flagged errors in a 2 page essay, at least 8 were usually real errors in spelling or grammar (with maybe 1 being an incorrect suggestion to switch ; with , or to spell a name differently). It was fairly useful, took 2 minutes or less to go through. Now in 2020s if i run a 2 page piece of writing into a grammar checker, i get 77 errors flagged and only 3 are real errors (a missing letter in spelling for 3 words, and a missing comma in a long sentence). It takes longer to manually check all 77 errors and notice why they're actually suggesting i make my writing worse... compared to just rereading with a critical eye. But the grammar checkers WOULD BE FASTER AND EFFICIENT if they just quickly flagged real spelling errors like they used to! I know i may always need to check grammar errors myself, technology has always been fairly bad at something that complex to identify. But spelling? Really? Why is machine spell checking so fucking bad now? Why is it flagging so many correctly spelled words now? It's brutal.

I edited a 600 page book a year back with modern word. The book was already edited, publish worthy, i just was formatting it for print and running spell check in case i backspaced and messed up a word here or there when editing the format for print. The Word grammar check flagged 800 errors. At least 95% were not real errors. The last 5% were mostly names getting incorrectly (but understandable from a machine) flagged as spelled wrong. And maybe 5 errors in the entire 800 error heap were actual missing periods I had messed up in formatting and needed to add back. It took like 10 hours to go through those 800 flagged errors and manually check. Whereas years ago, if only actual spelling errors got flagged, i could've probably gone through those 5 errors and maybe 50 incorrectly flagged names in 10 minutes.

#rant

[sl-newsie]

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter)- Ch. 11: Chemistry in Chemistry

Later on I go back to my locker to get my chemistry book, and am visited by Tiffany, who’s carrying a platter of lemon tarts.

“Oh, sugar! You have got to try these! Mom sent me the recipe, and I swear it’s like tasting Heaven!” She beams and pops a tart in my mouth before I can respond.

She’s right- they’re delicious! 

“Golly, Tiffany. These are wonderful! They melt in your mouth, they’re the perfect blend of tart and sweet! It’s like you’re baking with magic!”

She shakes her head with a distant smile. “Oh, no. I leave all that magic stuff to you witches and sorceress gals. The only magic I use is a dash of chemistry, a hint of nostalgia, and a good heaping of love!”

I close my locker and give a nod. “Speaking of chemistry, I’ve gotta get going to class. Wonderful treats as usual! Keep up the good work!” We both wave goodbye and I start to walk off to class-

“Those kids are trouble,” Chad points to Evie and Mal as they chat by their lockers.

Him, Audrey, and Ben are standing a few feet away from the new students, and it makes me upset to see them already gossiping about them.

“C’mon Chad, give them a chance.” Ben attempts to act positive.

“No offense Bennie Boo, but you’re just too trusting!” Audrey remarks with a laugh.

“Shut up, princess entitled,” I say smugly as I head off for chemistry. I drag myself into the classroom like a depressed zombie and flop down next to Doug, who (no surprise) is reading.

“Doug, why must we torture ourselves through this dull class?”

He doesn’t even look up from his textbook. “What’s the difference between this and your potions class?”

I groan. “Because that class actually involves stuff I’m going to use in life! Stuff I’m actually good at! This? This is all about atoms and equations I will never think twice of after this class.”

“All knowledge is useful at some point,” Doug says in an unamused tone.

I roll my eyes. “Easy for you to say! You’ve never gotten anything below a B+ in your life!”

“Hey, um could you maybe sit across from me today?” Doug asks with a hopeful voice as he puts down his book.

“Why?” I ask as I move to sit down on the opposite side.

He looks around, then says: “I don’t think there are any other open seats, and Evie’s new to class-”

“So you want me to move so Evie can sit next to you?” I finish with a smirk.

Doug gives me a begging look. “Please! I might have a chance with her if I play my cards right.”

“I donno, Doug. Last I heard she was dead-set on finding a prince. Just wait until she meets Chad.” I gag.

Just then, the prince of egos himself strides into the room and sits at his spot up front. Teacher’s pet. Soon after Evie comes in, looks around, and walks over to sit at our table. Doug gives me a thumbs up and a giddy smile. Oh brother.

Sadly though his attempts to make conversation are interrupted by Evie’s new obsession with Chad.

“Any chance he’s in line for a throne?” Evie asks as she dreamily stares at the blonde royal pain.

I shoot Doug an ‘I told you so’ look.

“Chad Prince Charming Jr, Cinderella’s son?” Chad clarifies, which makes Evie’s eyes go wider.

“Not the shiniest crown in the chest, if you get my drift,” I mutter.

Evie goes on to ramble about Chad, but is interrupted by the teacher.

“So, what is the atomic weight of silver?”

“Um… I mean not very much, it’s an atom, right?” She tries to joke, but the teacher motions for her to step up to the chalkboard.

See, Evie? Life isn’t all about crushes and heartthrobs.

“How do I find the atomic weight of silver?” Evie asks openly as she picks up a chalk piece. Out of the corner of my eye I see a faint glare, and then spot a small hand mirror in Evie’s hand- the same enchanted one she was using last night!

Evie starts writing the answer, and across the desk I can see Doug doing the math in his head with an impressed look. Can’t anyone see she’s cheating?

I guess the teacher doesn’t, because he’s got a surprised look on his face and is all flustered when Evie finishes the equation.

“I forgot, always a mistake to underestimate-”

“A villain?” Evie smiles gleefully. “Don’t make it again.”

While I must applaud her moxy, cheating is never the best way! If there’s one thing I agree with Aunt Winnie it’s that true power and brains will always conquer liars and cheats.

I see Chad exchange a note with Evie, who looks at him with even more hearts in her eyes. Doug and I try to look at each other without smirking. Oh Evie, you’re in for a big surprise.

The rest of the class goes slower than molasses, and when class is dismissed Evie jumps up and follows Chad out the door. I see Doug’s shoulders slump, so I try to cheer him up.

I push Doug’s shoulder. “Gee, Doug. Guess the atomic weight lesson wasn’t the only chemistry going on today.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. She just wants Prince Chad,” he says in a mocking preppy tone.

“Doug, Evie just wants a prince to impress her mother. She thinks that finding a prince is the only way to get what she wants in life. Just give her some time to see how big of a jerk Chad is and she’ll wake up and see just how much she’s missing out on.”

Doug attempts to smile. “You think so? Or did you just cast a positivity spell?”

I hold my head back and laugh. “Gosh, no! I’m just speaking the truth!”

We both gather our school supplies and head out into the hallway.

“Enough with the love talk. I’m gonna go meet up with Ben for Carlos’ tourney training.”

Doug frowns. “I thought you hated sports. Remember, we talked about starting a sports haters club?”

I try to shrug it off. “Yeah, but… Carlos needs all the help he can get and-”

“Oh! I see how it is!” Doug smirks. “You just wanna spend time with Carlos.”

“No, no! I do not. I’m just trying to help the VKs fit in.” I deny as I put my books back in my locker.

“Uh-huh.” Doug gives me a teasing look. “Seems you got a special soft spot for a certain VK with freckles.”

“No, I do not! Now if you’ll excuse me I gotta go-”

“Oh! Did I hear that right? Magica likes someone?” I hear Rosaline gush behind me.

“Who is it?” Fiona asks excitedly.

I give them a stern look. “I do not ‘like’ anyone, so just drop it. I will not belittle myself even further by allowing my personal life to become your entertainment.”

“Oh, please! You gotta tell us!” Tiffany begs. “I’ll make you some cherry-chocolate muffins?”

Grr. As much as I love her muffins, I must put my foot down.

“No!”

“What’s going on?”

No. No. NO!

“Not a good time, Audrey,” I try to say politely, but now the drama queen herself has zoned in on me.

“I hear you’ve got a crush. Spill it, freak.”

I squint and give her a warning glare. “And why should I tell you anything, Audrey?”

She gets a wicked smirk on her face. “Because if you don’t I’ll tell Fairy Godmother you’ve been keeping secrets.”

Wait- no. No, no! Why is this happening to me? I’ve become the victim of gossip!

Suddenly I point down the hall. “Look! There’s a sign for a shoe boutique sale!”

While they go scurrying off to find nothing, I escape the crowd of giggling girls by turning a corner and slipping into the bathroom. I lock the door to make sure no one comes in, and walk over to the sinks just as my head starts spinning.

“Mirror mirror, I need help. Please now show me my true self.” I sprinkle some pixie powder mixed with moondust specs. My happy reflection melts away, and when I see myself in the mirror again it’s a face that shows all-out fear with pink flames engulfing everything. God, why am I getting so wrapped around this whole love thing? I’m letting everyone’s teasing send me into overthinking, and that only makes me dangerous.

I poke my head out the door to make sure no one’s around, and think I’m in the clear-

“Hey, Magica!”

I give a silent prayer for more patience.

“Perfect timing, Ben. You have no idea-”

“Sparks! I need you to write down some ideas for the next family day.” Ben smiles.

Is he joking?

I gape at him. “You think you’re stressed out? My emotions are dialed to 100 and I feel like I’m going to set my textbooks on fire! Sometimes I feel like I want to melt into the background and be a nobody again! People keep talking about my hair, asking for favors, and teasing my feelings- which are confused and unstable enough as it is!”

 At this point I’ve cornered Ben against the wall, and I’m surprised he doesn’t look scared. Just pitiful. Which makes me even more mad.

“I’m sorry, Magica. But this is what happens when you don’t go by normal standards. Pink hair’s definitely a giveaway, and, um…”

I sneer at him. “What?”

“Your, um, your temper doesn’t really help either,” Ben says with a cautious voice.

“Temper? Temper? I can’t help it that I inherited my aunt’s temper, and I can’t help it that nearly every whiny stuck-up here is driving me up the wall!”

Ben tries to talk back. “Not everyone’s that bad, Sparks. Just take a bit to calm down, and then… maybe write-?” He starts to ask hopefully.

I wave my hand. “I know, I know. Write up some family day ideas. Blah blah blah.” Starting to get a handle on my emotions, I give Ben a scared expression. “I’m serious, Ben. When I get like this things never go right, and I don’t want to hurt someone. Just let me cool off and I’ll get you your list.”

“Or, better yet, you can still come with me to help Carlos with tourney training. Might help take your mind off of it.”

Believe me, Ben, seeing Carlos definitely will not get my mind off of it!

“Fine. But don’t expect me to be all smiley sunshine and rainbows,” I say in a dull voice as I let Ben move away from the wall.

Then again… Carlos always seems to cheer me up.

“Alright! Let’s go see what this kid can do,” Ben rubs his hands together and starts walking towards the tourney field. “Standing by for any positivity spells, right?”

“Um, yeah.”

Is that why I’m going, or is it just an excuse to see Carlos?

#descendants carlos #evie descendants #mal descendants #jay descendants #disney descendants #descendants #disney #ben descendants #audrey descendants #uma descendants #harry hook descendants #doug descendants #binx hocus pocus #hocus pocus #sarah sanderson #winifred sanderson #mary sanderson

[maisaelim]

Open Starter • Mai Saelim

Setting: Coffee Spells Bookstore & Café, Tuesday midday

Mai had spent the better half of the morning searching through the store for books. She wanted to learn everything there was to know about the history of the city and had heard there was no greater place to gain that knowledge than right here in this humble little bookstore. Of course, the city had a lot of history. More than she truly realised and soon enough she had a dozen books she was trying to hold onto. A lot of the books she'd chosen were on the older side and were going to run the price way up, but sometimes you simply had to suffer for knowledge. Mai would just have to be more sparing with the rest of her month's pay. She managed to make it three steps before she was barrelling into someone, books falling in a heap on the floor. She rushed to ensure that the oldest tomes were intact, but not without babbling apologies, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?" She looked up at them from her spot crouched on the floor with her books, "Let me buy you a coffee or something. I'll feel guilty if I don't."

#astoriastarter #threads: open #the resident clutz has arrived

[novankenn]

"Ozpin's Fault AU"

Mistakes were Made... (740 Words)

As Glynda escorted her wayward students back to beacon, Ozpin was sweating up a storm as he tried his best to reverse engineer the spells he had used. After he had read through the spell book, cover to cover, after Glynda's threa... warning, he discovered he had somehow in his drunken state targeted the only son of the Arc family with a combination of two spells. On a gender-swap, the other a species-swap, but something else was tickling the back of his mind, and a sense of dread about it invaded his heart. There was something he wasn't remembering, something important, that even if he didn't want to own up to his actions, Glynda should at least be made aware of. But for the life of him he couldn't remember, what it was.

Standing up, he moved from behind his desk, and to his cherished drip coffee maker. There were many like it in the world, but this one was his. It was a bare-bones model, no clock, no auto brew, the most advanced tech in it was the on switch and the drip stop. It was just how he wanted it. Pouring himself a cup, and then adding creamer and a couple spoons of sugar, he returned to his desk, to once again attempt to puzzle out a solution to the situation he found himself in.

"Maybe I can just wait it out?" Ozpin told himself as he sipped his coffee, and flipped the page over. His eyes glided along the elegant and cryptically written script. There were only two people in all Remnant who could read this ancient language. He and his ex. He shivered slightly, thinking what Salem could do if she had access to these ancient tomes. Turning another page, he took another sip as he continued to read.

He inhaled sharply, breathing in some of his coffee, which send his lungs to spasming. As he hacked and coughed, trying to clear his lungs of the hot fluid, his eyes reread the sentence that had set off his current problem.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he swore in a raspy voice as he read the warning a third time. "Fucking hell! I'm dead... so dead... deader than dead."

Ozpin barely was able to set his cherished mug on his desk, before he passed out. His entire body going limp, and sliding from his chair to land on the floor in an undignified heap. Prominently displayed near the bottom of the page, in bold blood coloured script...

Warning : Effects of this spell become permanent and irreversible after the passage of four moons.

Several hours later, as the moon began to rise into the night sky, Ozpin stirred. He groaned as he used his desk and chair to assist himself back to his feet. Instinctively, he grabbed his mug and took a large swig, only to grimace as he forced himself to swallow the now cold beverage. Supressing the urge to retch, he set his cup back down on his desk.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself. He couldn't perfectly recall caused him to collapse, but he was certain that it had something to do with the spell book he was reading. Opening his eyes, he turned his attention to the open book, and upon reading the page before him, his shoulders drooped, and he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Glynda is so going to yeet me towards Mount Glen." Ozpin groaned, as he collapsed into his chair. "I wonder if Salem would offer me asylum?"

Ozpin shook that thought out of his mind. He seriously doubted that even Salem could protect him from Glynda and her sisters once the nature of Jaune's condition became common knowledge. The set of Goodwitch triplets did not get the nickname "the Harpies of Haven" for nothing.

"Okay, focus. You did this, you can undo it." Ozpin told himself, trying to psyche himself up. "You have three more days. So what if you haven't used magic regularly for the last four decades. It's like riding a bicycle."

Flipping the pages back, he returned to the start of the spell, and buckled down. This mistake, his mistake, even though he'd never admit it needed to fixed, and he'd be damned if he gave Glynda or her sisters any further reasons to test how far they could yeet him off the top of Beacon Tower.

"You got this, Oz."

#ozpin's fault au #rwby #jaune arc #team jnpr #team rwby #headmaster ozpin #female!jaune #foxfaunus!jaune #vixen!jaune #glynda is a triplet #the Harpies of Haven

[fridaythe13ththeseries]

Reflecting - Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Rafael stood in his large bedroom, looking towards the antique mirror. From his position, he couldn’t see Catherine inside it, laying on the bed. The bed that was an exact copy of his, in a room that was an exact duplicate of his, but without him. The irony of their sharing the same bedroom but on opposite sides of the mirror wasn‘t lost on him. Having her so close, yet so inaccessible was maddening. It wasn’t fair. He had paid the price, more than once. Yet she was still there, locked away in that damned place.

He turned away, looking out the window towards his grounds. He had so much - land, buildings, cars, boats, money. So much money. Yet the one thing he truly wanted, the one thing he desired more than anything, was out of his reach. And it was almost a full moon, which meant the horrible price had to be paid, again. His hands had become fists by his side. He wanted to smash the mirror to pieces and free her. But he knew that wouldn’t work. The mirror was indestructible.

A knock at the door brought him out of his rage, his fists slowly unclenching. “Enter.” he said in response to a second knock.

Carlos entered, carrying a large, black duffel bag. He stopped half-way across the room, waiting for his master to give him permission to proceed.

“Well?” Rafael said, turning from the window to face Carlos. “What did you find?”

“May I?” Carlos said, gesturing with his free hand towards the huge bed. With a nod from his boss, Carlos placed the bag on the bed and unzipped it. He pulled out a large, old, black book and placed it gently on the brocade bedspread. He then removed several other smaller books, placing them carefully on the bed, as well. Lastly, a bundle of papers he placed in one haphazard heap. He picked the bag up and stepped back.

Rafael walked over to the foot of the bed and looked down at the strange collection his employee had presented him with. “This is everything?” he asked, his eyes falling on the biggest book of the lot.

“Yes, sir.” Carlos answered. “Everything that seemed like it could be of use to you. I had a short window of opportunity, but I managed to get in and out without being seen. The big book seems to be a log or inventory of some sort, but the markings on the cover are very strange. The other books and letters were scattered around the same desk, so I took them, as well.”

Rafael placed his right hand on the cover of the black book, feeling the markings embossed into the cover. Strange. Looking at some of the smaller books, he realized one was an old book on alchemy. Another was a book on potions, a third dealing with magical spells. He looked up at the old mirror. If he hadn’t learned about it, about what it could do, he would have laughed at books of spells and such. But he knew the dark side of this world too well now.

Remembering Carlos was still in the room, he turned to face him. “Thank you, Carlos. Good work.” he said.

Carlos turned to leave, but stopped and faced his master once more. “Sir?” he said, hesitantly.

Rafael was still watching him. “Yes? What is it?”

Carlos seemed nervous, which was unlike him. He rubbed his bald head. “Sir, what if… What if there is no answer in the books?”

Rafael stared at Carlos, his hands slowly clenching into fists. “There has to be an answer. This,” and he gestured towards the antique mirror, “Cannot go on.”

Carlos looked towards the mirror then and his eyes widened. “Yes, sir.” he said, and quickly left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Rafael turned to look at the mirror, to see what had spooked his intimidating lackey.

Catherine stood on the opposite side of the looking glass, gazing back at him. She was breathtaking, as always, her chestnut hair brushing her shoulders. He walked around the bed and came close to the glass. He smiled, trying his best to seem comforting to her.

“Soon.” he said, still unsure if his words actually made it through to her. “Soon, I will have the answer to free you from this prison. And then we can be together, at last.” He reached up and placed his hand palm down on the cool glass of the mirror. He hoped she would do the same.

Catherine looked at him and slowly crossed her arms over her chest, as if she had felt a terrible chill. She turned away and walked back to the bed on her side of the glass and laid down, her back to him.

He pulled his hand off and walked away from the mirror, back to the bed. Picking up the biggest book, he took it to his writing desk and sat down.

His hand slid over the cover once more. He traced his finger over the word “Vendredi”. Everything he had done to get her for himself was in vain if he couldn’t get her out of that damn mirror. Opening the book, he began his search for a way to free them both from this damned curse.

#friday the 13th: the series #80s tv #beauty and the beast #catherine chandler #reflecting #fanfic