#Hexes and Homicide

[dibator]

Welcome to magical mystery writer Lacey Flax!

Lacey Flax has been an avid reader since elementary school when she could often be found with a Goosebumps or Animorphs book in hand. Now, she mainly reads mysteries, historical fiction and fantasy books. Her debut series, Hexes and Homicide combines her love of mysteries, historical time periods and magic. Lacey lives in North Carolina and enjoys taking her dog to the beach. Links: Facebook…

[morvantmortuary]

me, noodling around playing pokemon violet in bed because I hurt my back walking up some stairs. somehow.: aww, my egg hatched and it’s a fuecoco from my skeledirge named Maxi! I’m gonna name it Maxi Jr. uwu

me realizing that real Maxi has never once let himself even consider thinking of names for potential children, because he was terrified of condemning them to a life under They Who Provide and secretly scared he’d end up being awful like his own father:

[ghostzzy]

this sucks

[hex12345678910]

Introduction

[Introduction]

(Hard to read text under the cut. Trigger warnings also under the cut)

Welcome to my online den!

Warnings:

[Warnings:]

Mentions of intrusive thoughts, anxiety, paranoia, anger issues, homicidal and suicidal thoughts.

Capital letters.

An image of a skull.

How to refer to me:

[How to refer to me:]

Note: I will occasionally refer to myself with ze/zi/zy pronouns instead of me/I/my.

Names: I have so many, there's no way im listing them all. My main one is Hex, but I also appreciate Dee and Raph (and other nicknames for Donatello and Raphael from TMNT).

Pronouns: Again, too many to list. My main ones are he/him/his/himself, they/them/their/theirs/themself, it/its/itself, and xe/xir/xirs/xirself.

Current prefered name(s) and pronouns: Star, Cipher, or Hunter, he/him.

My identity:

[My identity:]

Genders: I hoard xenogenders but, put simply, my gender is masc and connected to angels, cats, demons, blood, gore, water, the ocean, space and stars.

Attraction/orientations: Demiromantic, asexual, panromantic, and omniplatonic.

Other labels I use to describe my attraction (I'd list labels for my gender but I have waaaaay too many to list):

Biromantic

Neuroqueer

Arospec

Aspec

Ideromantic

Anthromantic

Medusan

Autiqueer

Fox pan

Alloromantic

Alloplatonic

Amid

Autiromantic

Encephaloromantic

Variorientated

Multiromantic

Psycheromantic

Sapioromantic

Bipan

NarcRomantic

Kitony

Narcplatonia

Hyperplatonic

If you want to know what any of these terms mean, ask me or look at the lgbtqia wiki.

I'm a therian (black house cat) and otherkin (winged cat-human hybrid, the stars, Donatello from ROTTMNT 2018, Raphael from TMNT 2012, Hunter from TOH, and light). I am feline cladolink (like cladotherian but otherlink) and funlink (fox). I'm also wolfkith and fictionkith (Leo from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles). I am a fictionflicker (my connections with Leo, Don, and Raph aren't related) and tale-hearted (The Owl House, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012), Rise Of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (the show and the movie), and Gravity Falls).

Current fictionflicker related identities: Eda and Harpy Eda from The Owl House

Other labels I use to describe my alterhumanity:

Alterhuman/alterbeing

Aldernic

Otherfix

Otherspin

Polykin

Fictionfolk

Nonhuman

Glitchkin

Divinekin

Angelkin

Paroulink

Godkin

Otherkith/otherhearted

Conceptkin

Starkin

Celestialkin

Spacekin

If you want to find definitions for any of these terms, look here. If you can't find a definition for any of them, ask me.

Some phrases I agree with:

[Some phrases I agree with:]

"My body, my choice"

"No one's free until we're all free"

"Fight the fascists"

"Love is love"

"Black lives matter"

Other information about me:

[Other information about me:]

I am a singlet (as in not plural) and a minor.

I am agnostic and an atheist.

I experience gender dysphoria and euphoria, species dysphoria and euphoria, phantom limb shifts, cameo shifts, sensory shifts (but not very strongly or often), and mental shifts (but only with fictionflicker related identities). My shifts are both involuntary and voluntary but mainly involuntary and my involuntary shifts are typically much stronger.

I'm autistic and have ADHD (combined type), and likely NPD (overt type). I have severe social anxiety. Due to my neurodivergence, I often misphrase things and can act inappropriately unintentionally. Please keep let me know if I have.

I am learning how to deal with anger issues in a healthy way.

I struggle with intrusive thoughts often.

Some of my special interests are:

Psychology

Autism

Narcissistic personality disorder

Queerness

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (specifically Leonardo)

Gravity Falls

The Owl House

My current hyperfixation(s) are/is: Gravity Falls and Bill Cipher

Some of my other interests are:

Psychology

ADHD

Other personality disorders

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012)

Lego

Animation

Drawing

I'm here to support the lgbtqia+ community, the alter/nonhuman community, discuss neurodiversity, disabilities, and disorders, share any xenogenders I coin and suggest neopronouns/xenopronouns to anyone who requests them! (If you want suggestions please ask)

If you want to vent, rant, ask anything, complain, if you need supply/compliments, etc just press the 'ask me anything' button <3

Tags:

[Tags:]

:3da-cat-speaks:3 (me talking)

:3da-cat-asks:3 (me asking questions for you, the folks of tumblr, to answer)

:3pronouns-of-the-day:3 (pronouns of the day) (I haven't used this for a while)

DNI (do not interact) if you:

[DNI (do not interact) if you:]

Are a queerphobe

Identify with transIDs*

Believe in thought crimes

Are radqueer

Are racist

Are ableist

Are sexist

Are fatphobic

Are anti non-traditional pronouns (e.g. text only, neos, etc)

Are anti alterhuman

Are anti age/pet/whatever regression

Are anti furry

Are a TERF

Are radfem

Are a fake claimer

Are an exclusionist

Are pro contact for harmful paraphilias

Are fascist

Are transmed

Use slurs you can't reclaim

Reality check other folks without their permission

Refuse to use other folks pronouns

Intentionally and willingly hurt and/or harass other folks

I'm aware DNIs don't work but please, if you're included in the above list, this blog isn't for you.

Paraphiles are ok if they're anti contact. Proshippers are ok if they're not hurting anyone in real life.

Other information about interacting with me (mostly about how I communicate):

[Other information about interacting with me (mostly about how I communicate):]

SFW (safe for work) interaction only! (Swearing is alright though)

I swear a lot (I am trying to swear less. I will try to replace swear words with words such as "frigging").

I tag trigger warnings for things like caps, swearing, etc.

Instead of using "people" I use "folk" because some folks (including myself) dislike being referred to as a "person". For me this is because, by definition, "person" refers to humans and I am not human.

I use caps to signify strong emotions, not to signify anger towards the reader.

I have heard that some folks use ":3" to mean a kissy face? So just to be clear, when I use ":3" this is to represent a cats smile. So it's me smiling. Not a kissy face.

Oh and I'll make this clear: I fully support physical alterhumans, lesbians with masculine or masculine-aligned gender(s) and gays with feminine or feminine-aligned gender(s) (and other contradictory labels), and systems of all origins.

Important links:

What are ABLE accounts

Clarifications:

[Clarifications:]

*this excludes transgender, transsexual, transspecies and the proper use of transracial (folks who are of a different race and/or ethnicity to their adoptive parents), and transage (an alter in a system who is of a different age to their body, or someone who is mentally a different age to their body due to neurodivergency or trauma) {please note that I am not transracial or transage and these definitions may not be accurate. I apologise if they are not}. This also excludes the reclamation of other transIDs to mean one is [thing] and also transgender, for example: one identifying as transautistic to mean they're autistic and transgender.

Also: I apologise for the mass of userboxes. I can't help myself :3

Technically this last one's false (I am both an angel and a god) but I really love the song.

[eldritch-nightmare]

what do you think each creep’s fav colour is?

- 🌙

pulled out some hex codes for this one gamers.

okay okay uh.

slender - gainsboro (#DADADA)

jeff the killer - silver foil (#AFAFAF)

laughing jack - dark gunmetal (#202826)

jane the killer - vampire black (#090909)

eyeless jack - dark imperial blue (#091074)

x virus - dark moss green (#495D19)

nina the killer - deep fuchsia (#CE5BBC)

the bloody painter - blood red (#650000)

homicidal liu - vivid malachite (#00C312)

sully - moonstone blue (#67C1BA)

sally - fuzzy wuzzy (#C1676E)

ben - electric green (#10DA00)

lazari - pastel yellow (#FCFF92)

jason the toymaker - rose red (#C11259)

toby - mughal green (#375D2B)

clockwork - royal brown (#5D2D34)

laughing jill - jacarta (#45325D)

candy pop - vivid cerulean (#00A9DA)

the doll maker - eminence (#6C2189)

dr smiley - rosso corsa (#D30000) or bright grey (#ECECEC)

nurse ann - rose taupe (#895D5D)

the puppeteer - outer space (#494949)

emra - sky magenta (#C174AD)

nathan - pistachio (#97C15F)

zalgo - crimson red (#950000)

hobo heart - zomp (#429595)

zero - dark charcoal (#2F2F2F)

kagekao - black (#000000) or white (#FFFFFF)

marble hornets characters.

jay - seal brown (#622700)

tim - dark goldenrod (#B77F00)

jessica - medium sea green (#43B770)

alex - rosy brown (#B79191)

brian - maximum green yellow (#E5E458)

and fuck it the operator - eucalyptus (#3CE59B)

i think that's everyone??

[drarryglobesficrecs]

Accident Bonding/Bonding - drarry fic recs

Lift Your Open Hand by firethesound(18k)

With Draco Malfoy as his assigned partner for the next six weeks of Auror training, Harry had been prepared for things to go poorly. But getting themselves accidentally bonded to each other in the first twenty minutes of their very first assignment seemed going above and beyond, even for them.

In Evidence of Magical Theory by bixgirl1(43k)

When a hex meant for Draco accidentally catches Harry as well, they're forced to learn to understand each other in ways they previously might have thought impossible.

In which Harry and Draco can't fight, so they fall in love instead.

Beacon by Amelior8or, Andithiel, gameofdrarrymod, Kristinabird(7k)

Every year around Valentine's day Professor Potter is flooded with questions from love struck young girls about soulmates and soulmate bond lore, and every year, he gets through it as quickly as he can so he can return to his lessons. This year, however, his life is turned upside down when he encounters a mysterious object that lands him in St. Mungos, under the care of Draco Malfoy.

Celestial Bodies by shiftylinguini(20k)

“An astrological anomaly induced bond,” Harry repeats, deadpan, as the Head Healer of the Magical Malfunctions ward finishes announcing his prognosis.

“Space magic,” says Draco, tapping long fingers irritably against the arm of his chair. “You’re saying we’ve been zapped by space magic.”

The Healer huffs. “That’s rather simplifying things, gentlemen.”

If It Takes All Night by tackytiger(10k)

It's not the first time Harry's been the victim of a botched curse (that's one of the reasons he doesn't like crowds), but he feels bad that Malfoy had to get caught up in it too.

So they're bonded. That's ok, they just have to make sure to be touching at all time. No problem. Because Malfoy smells so nice, and has such lovely shiny hair, and his skin is so very warm.

But this isn't going to be a problem for their friendship at all.

Is it, Harry?

Drop Everything Now by parkkate(21k)

After accidentally bonding himself to Malfoy, Harry finds himself in an utterly precarious situation...

Chain Me Up or Set Me Free by alpha_exodus(12k)

This horrid bonding thing is all Potter’s fault, obviously. As for what comes after that? Draco’s not quite sure.

Harmonised Consciousness by Talizora(12k)

This time it's a spell gone wrong in Charms that will bring our two favourite boys together. Expect Mind-Magic Classic HD Clichés & Soul Mates

---

"Potter's spell is still active, but I can shield my thoughts from him. I've been stirring him up all afternoon! It's hysterical!"

Blaise gasped, "It's still active! But it's… Dinner time!"

"Yes, so?"

"S-so? That spell is supposed to cancel itself after an hour! It's been, almost four hours!"

Draco shrugged, "I'm not worried. It's probably due to Potters magic. I'm sure it'll time-out eventually."

Blaise frowned, "Draco I don't think this is a good idea. Maybe you should end the spell?"

"No way! Blaise! I can hear everything! Before, in Runes, Potter was ranting about how he wanted to kill Weasel and Trelawney! He's all over the place! I had no idea he had such homicidal tendencies!" Draco giggled.

One of Blaise's eyebrows rose, "…Draco? Did you just giggle?"

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

Twice as Much as an Earthquake by firethesound(12k)

Accidental bonding. Breaking and entering. Conspiring, however unwillingly, in the strange one-man war Malfoy's waging against detention. This isn't the normal school year Harry anticipated having, but at least it's not boring.

Tug-O-Want by dysonrules(16k)

Harry is back at Hogwarts minding his own business when he finds himself magically drawn to Draco Malfoy. Over and over again.

Hungry by birdsofshore(24k)

The first thing Harry knew about it was when he woke up lying on a bed in the hospital wing, with his arm firmly stuck to the scrawny, milk-white arm of Draco bloody Malfoy.

The Sleeping Beauty Curse by who_la_hoop(152k)

When Draco Malfoy falls into a cursed sleep and can only be woken – at least, according to the Daily Prophet, that impeccable source of truth – by ‘true love’s kiss’, Harry Potter knows there’s no way on earth he’s the answer to this particular riddle. Is he . . .?

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre(122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

The Destiny You Sold by tryslora(58k)

In which Draco knits, Harry makes wands, and things get very tangled up between them.

Mental by sara_holmes(186k)

Harry has had quite enough of sharing his mind with someone else, thankyouverymuch. A miscast Legilimecy spell says otherwise.

[hxuse-xf-black]

Slytherin House has many questions regarding Snape, but the chief among them is how this asshole managed to piss off every last Black around. It’s not just a matter of Sirius hating him and the others hating him because Sirius does, it’s crossed over into personal hatred for all of them by now, and nobody can figure out how. Snape tries to speak and Regulus is hexing him into silence without ever looking up from his textbook, Bella is actively homicidal towards him and literally the only thing Narcissa says about that is that their family will be rather annoyed to have to deal with the Wizengamot if Bella murders him in front of witnesses, Andromeda cursed his knees backwards once because she disliked how he was looking at her, and Sirius will curse him without ever stopping his conversation with Evan (who is tragically related to the Blacks via Druella Black née Rosier and keeps getting dragged into their nonsense as a result, someone please save him)

Evan is Tired™

[quotedfictions]

Black Dahlia

Synopsis: You and Wednesday grew up together, and although you two seemed similar, you couldn't be quite different. One night, you sneak into Wednesday and Enid's room for a fascinating conversation about you and Wednesday's favorite mystery. When it leads to light night discoveries.

Themes: Male Wednesday Addams, Goth, Morbid/Dark humor, witch's, vampire's, werewolf's, Fantasy beings, fluff and Romance

Warnings: Morbid/Dark humor, Mentions of Homicide, descriptions of gore

Word count: 1,484

Edit: I forgot the word count (:

It was late, nearing 11:30; something had kept you awake, staring at your dark, gray wall. It wasn't a full moon, so it wasn't simply you forgetting to do a cleansing ritual on your hexing stones. Whatever kept you up, you had to figure it out, especially with how you've been strangely recently around your best friend. Your chest would feel warm, with an ugly capacity of feeling like butterflies in your stomach; you would fumble to find the correct words in the most cliche and predictable way. It was horrible. Then a thought pops into your head; although he was the cause, he would surely understand your woes, being tortured by unwelcomed wholesome feelings.

You rise from your bed, careful not to wake your roommate. As laughable as it would be, you'd not get caught going to Wednesday's room instead. Your roommate was a snitch. You open the window after quickly changing into something more appropriate for a late-night visit to your equal, he was just terrible, and you immensely enjoyed his torture methods. Grabbing your broom, you quietly float off to the balcony of the spider web window with rainbow vomit on Enid's half. Landing softly, you tap the end of your broom against the colorless half, grabbing the attention of a colorless boy who was reading on his bed, one arm holding his book up and the other behind his head.

"Wednesday, as intriguing as I hope your book is, I would like to enter the room" unlike the boy, your voice was never monotonous; in fact, it was gentle and soft, especially when you whispered, this is unless, someone manages to piss you off, but that wasn't important at the moment. Enid was on her laptop typing away on her vlog, but you couldn't care less; you and Wednesday preferred not to be slaves to technology. The slender pale boy opens the window for you, and you slide in, leaning your broom against the window quietly. "Why are you here, Y/n? Hexing not going well?" his voice was monotonous, gravely but alluring and deep; your chest started feeling that horrendous warmth, and the ugly fluttering in your stomach returned as you sat on the edge of his bed. "Unfortunately, my hexing is doing terribly well." you fall on your back as Wednesday walks over and sits down, peering at you from his side. "Then whatever is plaguing your malicious thoughts?" you sigh.

"Oh dear, Wednesday, I've been having these woeful nightmares about romance and happiness. It's been horrible." Wednesday lays flat on his back and places his hand on your forehead "it sounds like torture. Do you enjoy it?" You sit up in disgust and look down at his face making eye contact. "It makes me feel nauseated, and not in a good way." Wednesday's arm had fallen back to his side when you had sat up. Shortly after, he sat back up to look you in the eyes, making the ugly warmth and stomach swirling worse. "how about we talk about the black dahlia murders?" Wednesday's eyes lit up slightly in excitement. "That sounds like a truly horrid idea; where shall we begin?" you smile softly, laying down again but laying your head in his lap, hands resting on your stomach. "My favorite part about the case is when they talk about her mutilated body, cleaved perfectly in half, quite an exciting MO, you think?" Wednesday nods "over 150 suspects and no arrests; the killer even gave her a freshly cut Glasgow smile, clean slashes."

As the conversation continues, you are distracted by the growing warm feeling and butterflies in your stomach. Growing tired, you start to feel your eyes grow heavy, but Wednesday sits you up gently and pats your cheek "mmmm, I'm getting that dreadful warmth again, and here I thought it had dissipated; at least you were so terribly helpful" Wednesday pats your head, his firm hand waking you from your half-slumber just a tad. "I wonder what's causing these dreadful and distasteful feelings you're having, Y/n." your breath stopped for a moment before getting off the bed and distancing herself from her lifelong friend. "Oh, Wednesday, I'd hope you'd be able to figure that out for me, but it seems your dreadful thoughts are keeping you preoccupied as well; I may be tired, but that does not mean I haven't noticed you are acting unusually as of late," you speak softly, as to not disturb the now slumbering Enid.

"Wednesday, please, what seems to be troubling your deliciously homicidal brain?" Wednesday looks off to the side, no longer looking at you. To a normie, it would seem that he wouldn't be blinking at all, no emotion found on his expressionless face. " I, too, have had dreadful nightmares about cliche adolescent romance and emotion. Although, unlike you, I have detected the peculiar creature behind these horrifying depictions of love." you sit down next to Wednesday once more. "Tell me, Wednesday, who might be your perpetrator? I may be close to finding mine, but who might be causing you're horrors and woes?" You glanced over the desk, and a soft thudding noise came from Thing as he communicated with Wednesday. "Thing, you seem eager for Wednesday to share this information with me. Is there something I'm not aware of?" Wednesday glares at Thing with vigor and rage.

"Wednesday?" you ask gently, now extremely confused in his sudden anger towards the small hand-shaped creature. To change the subject, you quickly stand up and start putting some unused crystals on the ground; this catches Wednesday's attention. "Why don't I show you my options for the Rave'n? I need an opinion and what color black I should wear." black glitter forms around your hands as every time you change the dress, you've thrown glitter to the ground, and when you get to the last dress, the pale boy's eye's widened, standing up quicker than he wished to. He slowly walked up to you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into his chest. "You look absolutely horrendous, Y/n," you smiled softly. "Thank you for your kind words, Wednesday."

Wednesday stares into your eyes, his dark iris' focusing on your lips for a millisecond before letting go of your wrist. "No need to thank me, it is the unequivocal truth after all," you smiled slyly "you know, Addams, it almost seems like those horrendous nightmares about adolescent emotion and romance are caused by an attraction to me, don't they?" Walking closer to Wednesday, you had changed your back into your comfortable hoodie and sweatpants with just a flick of your wrist and a deep connection to magic. Wednesday looks at you once more, impressed by how fast you figured out the root of all his dreadful woes, and in the impression, the male figures out precisely what was causing yours. "I could say the same to you, Y/n; you've always been one to figure me out before yourself." You're eyes widen, his words striking a cord as the unpleasant, dreadful warmth return to your chest, color threatening to paint your pale cheeks.

Wednesday grabs your arm, pulling you into his chest. "Y/n, you think my highly trained olfactory senses wouldn't notice the slight change in what shampoo you used, the scent of your hand lotion slowing starting to fit my tastes? The faint whiff of death, the subtle hint of freshly burnt flesh. You were obvious and weren't very good at hiding it." You huff in frustration, usually being called out was something you enjoyed, but when done by Wednesday, you felt full of disgust, rage, and embarrassment, but those moods quickly halted when a pair of cold lips gently pressed against yours. You melted in his arms, kissing back gently. When you pull away to breathe, Wednesday buries his face into your neck as your rub his back.

He mumbles softly, his hands resting on the small of your back. "Mi corazón~." you giggle softly, petting his hair "you sound like your father, Wednesday" He scoffs and pulls back from you, and you smile softly "what? It is the undeniable truth, Wednesday; I thought you liked the truth." He huffs, holding you closer, and you hug back, placing your hands on his back, smiling gently. "Thank you, Wednesday, you've been terrible to me~" Wednesday's lips quirked up slightly as he made eye contact. "My pleasure Mi amor~." He kisses you softly before brushing your bangs off your face and kissing your forehead. "Would you like to sleep here tonight, love?" You nod gently, accepting Wednesday's offer while yawning quietly. You yelp in surprise when he picks you up and carries you over to his bed, and during the trip, you drift off to sleep, Wednesday not far behind, as he lays you down before laying him down himself and falling asleep with you in his arms.

Fin.

[star-on-a-beach]

….

*takes out the “reasons why Hexe sucks” board and adds “would enjoy forcing a kid to commit homicide”*

Yeah no

I wonder if I'm making her too hateable

[bythepen98]

Based on a short scene from chapter 1 of Handling a Dark-Lord Wannabe by cleighc

Rated: E

Tags: BAMF Hermione, Time Travel, Psychopaths in Love,..etc

Chapters: 13/?

Summary:

Hermione was not amused. Not. At. All. They had defeated Lord Voldemort after years of struggle. Witnessed the end. She had thought, with relief and without an ounce of charity, that she never had to deal with that pretentious, presumptuous, melodramatic, homicidal son of a bitch ever again. Apparently the castle had other ideas.

Excerpt:

......They were decent, she could admit. And so enthusiastic. But she was no slouch, and she had an impressive arsenal of spells lodged inside her brain. It didn’t take long until they were all on the ground, although she did appreciate the opportunity to try out her new hexes and curses. It made for an entertaining duel.

Barely fifteen seconds passed after the last one fell before Tom strode in, fury in his wake. Hermione couldn’t resist.

His scowl was one of anger and frustration. “What?”

Hermione continued, smirking. “I thought we could make this exercise educational. Otherwise it would just be pathetic.”

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Lmao. A Hermione who just doesn't care about preserving the timeline and is not afraid of dealing with Tom or his "friends" bs while also being slightly unhinged herself to match his energy is great. Makes the whole dynamic better imo. The whole Psychopaths in Love bit or any other indication where they're both batsht and mutually /unhealthily/ obsessive of each other is a personal guilty pleasure read.

I'm having fun, so I'll try and find time to draw more scenes from the fic. It might not end up as clean as this one though and wont be for awhile considering my other responsibilities :'< /N

[battampria]

haii.. (🤍) for ask game

HIHIIII!!! I was originally gonna rant about hex haywire but ain't no one gonna read that.. so take him instead!

nny aka johnny the homicidal maniac!! :3 pronounced as "knee" !! *airen goes rambling under the cut*

I found him randomly on my pinterest and went "omg he looks so cool" and searched him up and I think its pretty sad on how much I've read his wiki in the span of a month (this is the 4th or 5th time now but it's mainly his quotes) he's just.. SO COOL BRO.... he's also from those medias that, at max, only like 5 people know and I am proudly one of those 5 people!! but some of his quotes hit me hard.. 3 are serious and 1 is just silly LOL heres sum of em ;P

" I wish... I wish someone would just switch me off and... fix me. "

" Just because we've similar interests does not guarantee you're going to like me! My foot in your ass is a good example of that. My delusionary hell does not agree with yours!! "

" I can't let you go. We've begun something lovely, and, as with all things that start, it, inevitably, ends! The beginning is always so fine!! But decay soon follows. A degeneration into the tired old situation. The rot sets in. This way, there is only the beauty of the start! "

" —In these moments, you can tell they're not regretting having hurt you. They regret doing it to your face. They get so loud. They make so much noise. I try to wait until I'm off of the room before I start laughing... A blur... of... sweating... screaming... human... drama... but, every once in a while, they say things that sound like words. They make me think about what I'm doing. The noises make me uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that... sometimes... I wonder... why I don't just get myself a pair of earplugs. "

hes genuinely a nice character i like reading upon once in a while.. I rlly want the comic of it, but idk where 2 get it.. and I don't have money... I could ask my mum or dad to buy it for me on amazon but like I dont wanna hear their annoying yaps. SPEAKING OF, SORRY FOR YAPPING I JUST REALLY LIKE HIS CHARACTER..... EUEUEUGHH..

[panda-is-pan]

My period just started and I’m feeling homicidal. Doesn’t usually happen so I suggest u all look over ur shoulders, I’m throwing hexes like money at strippers.

[alphashley14]

One Of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

<Prev Next>

Chapter One

Magic

The ultimate power chord. 

That’s what they needed to break Rude Boy’s spell. 

“Like, Scoob old buddy, old friend, old pal… after everything we’ve been through, is this it? Like, through all the scary monsters and the homicidal parrot, are our friends really going to dance themselves to death?” 

“No way!” Scooby growled. Still ever determined and faithful, the dog looked around, his mind scrambling for some sort of answer. But his eyes fell upon Fred, Daphne, and Velma dancing uncontrollably with the rest of the Crystalcovians below, and then he looked over at Shaggy, trying to rouse Luna, Thorn, and Dusk from where they’d been knocked unconscious, and a knot of despair settled in the back of his throat. 

It was right at that moment, when it seemed all hope might be lost, that a pink light appeared from below. 

And suddenly, the sound of the synth and the strum of an electric guitar drowned out the cursed melody of ska. 

In an instant, Shaggy and Scooby rushed over to the edge of the rooftop, looking down in the direction of the sound until their gazes landed upon a cloud of pink smoke. Light within it showed the silhouettes of a very familiarly shaped van, and four figures that came into clarity as the vapor cleared, their bodies bobbing in sync with the tempo of the beat.

The first member of the band that came into view was a girl wielding a blue electric guitar, dressed entirely in blue save her pink glasses, right down to the azure hue of her hair. The second was a scrawny young man on the synthesizer. He had yellow-orange hair, and he wore a white t-shirt, an orange vest, and pants that matched his locks. A small white dog stood just in front of him, looking up at the Ska-tastics with a challenge in his eyes. And finally, at the front center of the band, his bow running across the strings of his pink violin, appeared a handsome young man with magenta hair and a matching suit. The rhythm of the song picked up, and he began to sing. 

“The spell you’ve got on me - it’s like magic! 

His bow ran across the strings twice. 

“Got me feelin’ like falling in love, 

From behind the truck suddenly appeared a bizarre spectacle of special effects - 

“Got me feelin’ like I’ll never give up on-

Got me feelin’ like I’ll never give up on you!”

- A small orchestra of pink ghosts with little violins, bobbing their bodies in sync with the music in the same manner as the musicians, strumming their strings right along with the lead violinist.

“It’s like magic!”

That was when the song really picked up - Shaggy and Scooby had no ear for music, but the Hex girls knew what they were hearing as they awoke from where they’d fallen: a unique blend of electra and disco with violins and a progressive thrust. 

“Like, zoinks! Like, who’re they?” Shaggy asked. 

“I don’t know, but they’ve got some killer sounds!” Said Dusk as the Hex Girls came up behind them to look. 

“It’s not the same as ours, but that’s the ultimate power chord!” Luna exclaimed. 

The Hex Girls weren’t the only ones who thought so either. The band’s pink blasts of music were canceling out the ska, illuminations shaped like those same pink ghosts blasting the Ska-tastics skulls away, and the tired townsfolk below had stopped dancing and were coming to. 

“I got you feelin’ like you’re falling in love!

I got you feelin’ like you’ll never give up on,

I got you feelin’ like you’ll never give up on!”

And the lead vocalist sang, with the synth player, the guitarist, and the pink ghosts singing too in a call-and-response verse - 

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic, Magic, Magic!”

“Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic, Magic, Magic!”

“Oooh!”

Right as the townspeople began to cheer for the band, the Ska-tastics began to play their ska with even more fervor, entrapping them once again in their spell. 

“Yer dead right, mate!

Dead right, mate!

Left right, mate! 

That’s right, mate!

Yer dead right, mate!

Yer dead right, mate!

Top mate, mate! 

Yer dead right, mate!”

But the newcomers weren’t finished weaving their own magic just yet, and the Ska-tastics would prove to be no match for the strong bond between the instrumentalists, or the love with which their song had been written. The lead singer and the violinist came together, still playing their parts - and as the two started to dance, eyes shining with joy, he began to sing at her with all the guile and passion of a young man in love. 

“It's not the way you wear your hair,

Or you just crept out of bed.

Oh no.

It's not the way you move your eyes,

So it took me by surprise.

Oh no.

Before this night is over, I pull your body closer!

I'mma give it to ya,

I wanna get back!

Before this night is over,

I pull your body closer!”

The blue girl spun back to her place and the singer resumed his strings right as the violins returned, bringing back the people of Crystal Cove with the power of the chorus. 

“The spell you got on me - it's like magic!

Got me feeling like falling in love,

Got me feeling like I'll never give up on-

Got me feeling like I'll never give up on you!

It's like magic!

I got you feeling like you're falling in love,

I got you feeling like you'll never give up on-

I got you feeling like you'll never give up on!”

The violins arose in a grand crescendo, building up to the next verse, and that was when Scooby noticed the group’s name printed proudly on the side of their van: 

Mystery Skulls. 

But the great dane had not even a moment to register it, before the group finally dropped the beat. 

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic, Magic, Magic!”

“Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic, Magic, Magic!”

“Oooh!”

That was when from above the Mystery Skulls’ van, arose a great red shape of light. 

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic, Magic, Magic!”

“Oooh!”

The shape took the form of an absolutely gigantic fox-like beast, its eyes glowing and sharp teeth bared at Rude Boy, its seven magnificent tails swaying to and fro. The white dog on the street down below smiled at it with a smug sense of pride. 

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic!” “Oooh!”

“Magic, Magic, Magic, Magic!”

“Oooh!”

In two great bounds, the beast leapt through the air, above the people of Crystal Cove, and crashed into Rude Boy and the ska-tastics with such force that their equipment exploded. 

The Mystery Skulls smiled at the sight of their defeated opponent, and then went on to have fun finishing their song, basking in the glow of the applause from their liberated audience. As the lead vocalist reached his last verse and the violins brought the ballad to a peaceful finish, there was a moment of silence from the audience for a few moments before the people of Crystal Cove exploded into applause. 

Once everything finally settled and died down, Sheriff Stone arrested Rude Boy and the Ska-tastics, and Fred did the honors of unmasking them to reveal their true identities: 

Rude Boy and the Ska-tastics. 

It was just as Velma had suspected: the band had faked their own deaths. 

As Rude Boy would go on to explain, the band had intended to make a surprise comeback a year after their supposed deaths with a new hit. But, writing the perfect song had taken so much longer than they’d expected that by the time it was ready, the popularity of ska music had died out. So (because obviously that was the “reasonable” and “logical” thing to do), they had come to the decision that they would make their reappearance as zombies and use an enharmonic chord with special frequencies in the music to force their audience to dance. 

As the sheriff loaded the fake ghost band into the back of his car and drove off, Mystery Incorporated finally broke away and went over to meet the group they owed their victory to. 

The crowd had peacefully departed, townsfolk headed home to rest after their ordeal. The fellow with the orange hair in the vest was loading his synth into the back of the van, and the blue guitarist and the magenta violinist/lead singer were wrapping up their conversation with Thorn, Dusk, and Luna. 

Their girl who’d played the guitar was holding the dog - He was mostly white, with black paws, a black spot on his back, and a mane of black and red fur on his head. A gold and red pendant in the shape of a question mark hung from the crimson collar around his neck, and a tiny pair of gold tinted glasses rested on his snout. It was almost unsettling, how human the animal seemed. The way he looked between the five humans as they spoke was almost as though he understood them. Like Scooby… or like Professor Pericles. 

Velma hummed thoughtfully, observing with the rest of the gang from afar. “Is it me, or does that band look… familiar?” Velma asked. 

“Jeepers. You might be right, Velma.” Daphne exclaimed. 

“Like, yeah. Like, they kinda look like… us.” Said Shaggy. 

“That’s what I thought, too. They’re short a teammate. But if I didn’t know any better, they almost look like another Mystery Incorporated!” Velma said.

“Reah! Right down to the van.” Scooby agreed. 

“That’s true, gang. The past two generations of Mystery Incorporated have driven a similar one. But we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions so soon.” Fred said. 

“Fred’s right.” Velma agreed. “Every Mystery Incorporated has stuck to a very specific formula: four kids and a talking animal. There’s only three of them, and I haven’t seen or heard a peep out of the dog.” 

“That’s true… but the original Mystery Incorporated is down to three members now.” Daphne said sadly. The entire gang nodded solemnly, and there was a brief moment of silence at the mention of Cassidy Williams. 

“I still think Fred’s right.” Velma said. “And besides: they’re a band. It would make sense for them to have a group van… and the fact that Mystery is in the name doesn’t prove anything!” She said stubbornly. And then she was marching forward, leading the way as the gang went to introduce themselves. 

“Hey, Daphne! You guys totally need to meet these guys.” Said Thorn as they approached. They said goodbye to the Hex Girls, who agreed to meet back up with Mystery Incorporated at Shaggy’s House later. Once they were gone, the gang struck up conversation with the Mystery Skulls.

“Well, hey.” Fred said. “Thanks a lot for the help back there.” 

“Like yeah man, your song was like, totally groovy dudes!” said Shaggy.

“We’re-” 

“Mystery Incorporated! It’s great to meet you. Your friends the Hex Girls were just telling us about you all. That, and ‘The Mystery Machine’ is painted on the side of your van. ” The singer said, pointing at where the Mystery Machine was parked. 

“Yep! It’s nice to see that we’re not the only ones in town with an appreciation for a themed, uniquely decorated van. Though, you were definitely much more ambitious than we were. I love the colors! Especially the blue, but you probably could have guessed that.” Said the guitarist, gesturing to the color of her hair, outfit, and guitar. 

“Really? You like it? Thanks! I designed the paint job myself!” Fred said excitedly. “I’m Fred, by the way - Fred Jones. This is Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby.” 

“It’s great to meet you.” Said Velma. “And might I say I approve of the color you decided to paint your van.” She added, comparing the orange and red to her signature sweater and skirt.

“Technically, it’s Arthur’s van. So I guess it only makes sense that it’s orange. Speaking of which: Hey, Arthur! Come over here and meet these guys!” Called the singer.

The pianist with the spiky orange hair, Arthur, stumbled out from behind the van. “Oh! Hello there… everyone.” He said shyly with a sheepish wave. “I’m Arthur Kingsmen. It’s nice to meet you.” 

As nice as Arthur seemed, the gang was stunned into silence after he waved. Arthur’s entire left arm was made of metal - a complex artificial limb. 

“Y-yeah. I uh… lost my arm a few years ago.” Arthur chuckled uncomfortably, clutching it nervously with his other arm. 

“Oh! Like, sorry man.” Shaggy apologized. 

“We didn’t mean to stare.” Said Daphne.

“It was just like, kinda surprising.” 

“It’s cool, really.” Arthur said. “Not everyone notices at first, then when they do they’re like: Ahh!” 

“I can see why people don’t notice at first. That’s an incredible prosthetic!” Velma gushed, adjusting her glasses and looking at it more closely. 

“R-really? You think so?” 

“Of course! I’ve never seen a prosthetic that moves so organically! The movements of the fingers are extremely complex - You must have worked really hard to be able to use it with that much fluidity. The prosthetic’s integration with the rest of your body looks flawless! You make it look effortless!”

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” Arthur blushed. “And besides, Vivi helped me out a lot in the early days. I owe her a lot.” 

“Aww, thanks Arthur. That’s me by the way - I’m Vivi Yukino.” 

“And I’m Lewis Pepper.” 

“Nice to meet you!” Scooby said. 

“Oh, cool. So, is it not that unusual around here for animals to talk? Great! I’m Mystery!” Said the dog. 

Mystery Incorporated stared at the little dog in shock, then they turned to look at each other. 

A talking animal. 

With that single look, the gang all knew what the others were thinking, and they all came to the silent and unanimous decision that they would discuss the implications of this later, either in the van after this conversation was over or after the Hex Girls left Shaggy’s house later. And with that, they returned to the conversation and gave their best effort to appear as though they weren’t hiding anything. 

“Pretty weird how that band was pretending to be themselves… only ghosts. Huh?” Said Vivi. 

“And with those words, you’ve just proved that this is your first time in Crystal Cove.” Said Velma.

“Happens a lot more often around here than you would think.” Daphne added. 

“Yeah, you would know, wouldn’t you?” Lewis said. “We haven’t been here long, but from what we’ve heard, you guys are quite the team. You solve mysteries, right? And you’ve proved a lot of this town’s tourist attractions to be fakes?” 

“Like, yeah.” Shaggy laughed. “That’s us.” 

“Thanks a lot for stepping in when you did, by the way.” Daphne thanked them. 

“Yeah, the monsters don’t catch us off guard like that very often. Without your band’s help Fred, Daphne, and I might have danced ourselves to death!” Velma exclaimed.

“Oh, it was nothing!” Lewis blushed. 

“Believe it or not, that wasn’t even our first rodeo against a large-scale case of musical hypnosis.” Mystery said. 

“Us mystery solvers and paranormal investigators have to stick together and help each other out, right?” Said Vivi. 

There was an audible record scratch inside the heads of all five members of Mystery Incorporated. 

“Uh, like, say that again?” Shaggy asked shakily. 

“Oh, music isn’t our main gig. It’s more of a hobby.” Lewis explained. 

“Yeah, that’s right. We’re mystery solvers - kind of like you, but when we investigate stuff… it usually turns out to be real.” Arthur said, rubbing his arm again and giving Lewis and Mystery very pointed looks. 

“Cults, curses, demons, ghosts, witches, magical creatures, the Weird Tree Lady… we’ve seen most of it at this point.” Vivi said, counting them off on her fingers. 

“Can we not discuss the ‘Weird Tree Lady’?” Mystery winced.

“Don’t get us wrong: we are a band. But mysteries have always had this weird way of finding us, so we’re more paranormal investigators than musicians at this point.” Arthur said dryly. 

But Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby were hardly listening at that point, their minds reeling at the implications. 

Three kids and a talking animal that formed a gang of mystery solvers. It was too close to the pattern to be a coincidence. A third living, active Mystery Incorporated group had just appeared in Crystal Cove. Where one Mystery had just come to a close, another had just gotten much more complicated. 

This story was vastly inspired by 'The Mirror's Gaze' by Eternal_Phantom on AO3. You might not see the resemblance now, but just wait until later chapters and then you'll be like: "Oooohhhhh..." Headcanons and other bits of inspiration used in this story were also taken from various other SDMI fics I've read, including one that's rather popular here on Tumblr - 'Purposefully Silent' by OritheReticent. If you've never read either of those fics, let me tell you: you are missing OUT.

Also, miniscule population of fans who are as obsessed with Mr. E and the Ricky/Cassidy ship as I am: wait for chapter two. His role is HUGE in this story.

Chapters 1 through 10 of One of Us are currently posted on Archive of Our Own.

[skylar102]

NLBF - Chapter Nine

Magnus is going to kill him. If Asher thinks his first death was painful, he has another thing coming. The man was supposed to just go to Ragnor’s house and find any evidence as to where they might have taken Ragnor, not follow them back to their hideout.

Not that Magnus isn’t appreciative of his efforts. Jocelyn was of no help and Magnus was getting antsy in that tiny bedroom. He would have preferred at least getting a text of what the man was doing before he did it so that Asher wouldn’t be alone on a ship that is filled with a homicidal maniac, Circle members, and potentially brainwashed Downworlders.

After the phone call, Izzy, Jace, and Clary all but demanded that they come with, much to Maryse’s disapproval. She wanted to wait for the Gard, but Jace was able to convince her that time is of the essence and the longer they wait the more likely the chance that they lose Valentine. Though, with the Gard already on their way for Jocelyn, Mayrse would only be able to hold them off for a bit before they made their way to the ship.

Magnus quickly shot a text to Asher that his siblings were tagging along and he hoped the man got it. This is not the way to have a family reunion, especially when Asher wants nothing to do with his past life. He made that very clear when they spoke at the farmhouse. From Asher’s perspective, it makes sense, but after everything he’s witnessed, he knows that he’s wrong about his siblings. Izzy and Jace miss him so much that the pain is still here four years later.

Their love for him is so strong they’re willing to go against their parents to do what is right. Asher would be proud of them.

The shipyard is dead at this time of night. All the workers have gone home save for a few stragglers and security. None of them are any the wiser to the three Shadowhunters and warlock walking through the area. 

“There’s the ship,” Jace says, pointing to a cargo ship at the far end of the dock.

Asher gave Magnus a few details to go off of when looking for the ship that he had relayed to the others. The ship definitely looks like it has seen better days. The bow looks like it's about to fall off and there’s a suspicious burnt hole on the side of the ship. Probably from a warlock trying to escape. 

“The ship must have docked recently,” Isabelle says. “This area is a known patrol spot for Kappa demons and there is no way we would have missed that.”

“Maybe the hole in the ship forced them to return,” Clary suggests, also pointing out the damage. “It could be recent.”

“If it’s recent then I don’t doubt my dear Cabbage was the one to do it. He was never one to go quietly.” 

He hopes that doesn’t mean that Ragnor is dead. Valentine is crazy enough to kill powerful assets if they make him angry enough. He tried to kill his own parabatai, for Lilith’s sake. It doesn’t get more narcissistic than that. 

“Well then let’s get moving. Mom only gave us a few hours to stop Valentine and save the Downworlders before the Gard shows up. Everyone remember the plan?” Isabelle asks.

“Shadowhunters go after Valentine, Downworlder goes to save Downworlders,” Jace states in the most caveman-like way. “Though are you sure you want to go alone, Magnus?”

Magnus blinks twice at Jace. Not once in the few weeks they’ve worked together has he asked if Magnus needs help. It was either Jace doing whatever he wanted to do or Magnus telling him to back off or he’ll get hexed. Seems that Clary has been good to him, cracking that hardened shell around his heart since Alec died.

Speaking of Asher, Magnus hopes he’s safe. Magnus texted the man their plans so that he could avoid the awkward family reunion. Last thing he needs is for Jace and Isabelle to go off-script and potentially make this rescue mission a failure. It’s not Magnus’ place to do that anyway. Asher told him he didn’t want his family to know he was alive and he will respect that.

“Hide!” Jace whispers, pulling Magnus by the arm behind some crates. 

Magnus makes a small magic window to show them two people who look like guards doing rounds around the dock in front of the ship. Easy enough to take out and not get noticed. There are more crates off to their right that they could use as a distraction.

He nudges Jace and gestures over to the spot. The Shadowhunter seems to pick up on what he’s not saying and nudges his sister. The two share a look before shuffling their way over.

“I wish I could do that,” Clary sighs. “They’re just so in sync with each other. One time they made me train in a warehouse with the rule to not speak and I failed seven times.”

“It’s okay, Biscuit. I’m sure you’ll get there eventually,” Magnus sympathizes. “You have to realize that Jace and Isabelle have been training since they were kids on how to be a proper Shadowhunter. You’ve had about what? A month?”

“I know but just the way they talk about their childhood. About Alec and how he always made sure they knew that failure was okay as long as you learned and improved from it.” Clary had a wistful look in her eyes. Magnus knows what it’s like being an only child and not growing up with siblings. He’s happy that no one else had to go through what he did, but there are moments when he wishes he had a brother or sister to be there with him.

“Do they talk about Alec a lot?” Magnus asks. He watches Jace boost Isabelle up to a higher ground leading to a catwalk.

“Jace won’t stop talking about him,” Clary chuckles. She straightens up and puts on a serious face. “Alec was the best archer of our time, no one could do what he did with a bow, not even our ancestors. If you want to be a good Shadowhunter, you have to be how Alec was. Did you know Alec was the person who designed our training? He has a book written about the proper ways to handle and take down violent criminals.”

She sounds so much like Blondie, that Magnus can practically hear Jace’s voice. With the few times he caught Jace talking about Alec, Clary is about as accurate as she can get. 

“I wish I met him,” Clary says. “He sounds like he was a pretty great guy. I know Jace would do anything to go back and change how he treated Alec.”

Magnus looks over to Jace who is playing bait while Isabelle gets the drop on the men. I guess layers are just a Lightwood trait. He can see why Asher and Jace were parabatai even if Asher felt like he wasn’t appreciated in the relationship. 

“I’m glad Jace is talking about him with you. He almost killed me when I asked.” He subconsciously rubs a hand against his throat. “Granted,I was asking about him only a year after the tragedy happened and the wound was clearly still fresh.”

Their small conversation was interrupted by the sound of a shout and two bodies falling to the ground. Magnus winces as he watches Isabelle and Jace drag the hopefully unconscious men to a dark corner of the dock. He doesn’t think they would kill them, but he also knows that the Lightwood siblings have had enough of Valentine and his men. 

Clary and Magnus come out from hiding and meet the two at the walkway to the boat.

“Ready or not, here we go,” Magnus says.

Asher leans in the shadows, bow tight in his hand,  as another Circle member walks by, not noticing him. He knows he’s been out of the game for years now, but it’s hilarious how even dangerous minions such as these haven’t noticed him. When Asher saw the men leave Ragnor’s house after their stakeout, he trailed behind. They finally realized that Magnus was not stupid enough to come back to the place Magnus and Ragnor were attacked. 

He sent a silent apology to Magnus after he told the man that he wasn’t going to get himself into danger because here he is. On a rusty ship, hiding from men who are more powerful than him. Then again, his parents were always hard on him about training. He made the most of it and practiced everything he could. Even sneaking through the Institute without the help of runes. Who knew that silly challenge would come in handy?

He slinks his way down the hallway. So far, no sign of the missing Downworlders or Ragnor. If he has to guess, they are probably in the hull away from easy exits. If Valentine didn’t want his prisoners to escape easily, he would surround them with walls of water. Make it harder to leave if a person tries to destroy the wall and water comes rushing in.

“How much longer are we going to be stuck in this decrepit ship?” A Circle member grumbles. 

Asher darts behind some old hanging fishnet as two men walk by, engaged in conversation.

“Until Valentine gives us the green light to attack,” the other man answers.

“It’s been years, Emil,” he whines. “At this point I am going to get scurvy. Valentine has been biding his time on this for no reason. We could easily take over the New York Institute and the City of Bones in a matter of seconds.”

“Bite your tongue, Jeremy,” Emil warns. “If Valentine or his guards hear that kind of talk he’ll feed you to that vampire we have downstairs.”

Confirmation of the Downworlders’ whereabouts. Asher will have to start looking for a way down once these two pass.

“Come on Emil, we have that warlock now!” Jeremy exclaims. “We have everything we need to break those wards and take what we want. Valentine needs to get over his wife and just take what he rightfully deserves!”

Emil smacks Jeremy on the back of the head. “Silence! You may be a Circle member now but you are still naive to Valentine’s plan! It’s not about power but showing those dumb shadowhunters who the true leader of the Nephilim is. Valentine could easily take down the Institute. Hodge practically told Valentine that Isabelle Lightwood is an easy target. The woman doesn’t know how to run that place and with a blade to the throat she’s done for.” 

The man lets out a sinister chuckle that turns Asher’s blood to ice.

“Though I would mind a taste of that body before-”

Rage blinds him and the next thing he knows he’s standing over two bloody and bruised men. One with their throat slashed and the other with an arrow through the eye. Asher’s heart practically leaps out of his chest as he catches his breath. He looks at his hand and sees a seraph blade faintly glow in his grip. He drops the sword like it burned him. He hasn’t touched one in years and the hum is still there. The siren’s call of his angelic blood sings to him to return. 

Asher has tried to shake off the feeling.

He hurries to hide the bodies in the musty fishnet. He curses himself for letting his emotion for his sister take over. He hopes that no one will notice the two men missing before Magnus and the others show up. Once the bodies are not visible from the path, he pulls out his phone to see if Magnus sent him an update. The screen of his phone glitches and shuts off. He lets out a sigh as he fails to turn the phone back on. 

So much for that backup.

Asher continues his way through the ship and finds his first set of stairs down. The magic that surrounds the ship vibrates against his skin the lower he goes. Valentine must have a powerful ward locking the Downworlders in. It’s not like he has an Institute with an angelic core in his arsenal. 

The lower levels are not as lit as above. Asher wishes he had brought a flashlight with him. A tiny part of his brain is saying he could use a witchlight off one of the bodies upstairs. He navigates his way through the narrow passages, every now and then bumping into the metal framework.

He pauses, tilting his head to get a better ear to the floor above. Shouts and feet stomp above him. He hopes that means that Magnus has arrived and not that they found those men's bodies. He makes haste to find the missing Downworlders. 

The hairs on his arm start to rise as he gets to the last door he hasn’t checked. The light is dim but he makes out faint runes on the door, some he’s never seen. He wonders if Valentine was able to create new runes but upon closer inspection, he realizes that it's warlock runes. He doesn’t recognize the signature but it looks like it was forcefully drawn. Whatever Valentine is doing to these Downworlders, it is not of free will. 

He tries to touch the door and an invisible shield sends him backward. His head slams against the metal floor and pain laces up his spine. He lies on the floor staring at the ceiling wondering where he went wrong in the last four years that he finds himself on a ship run by shadowhunters that were meant to be disbanded over twenty years ago. 

He lets out a groan as he gets up from the floor. Okay, so the door is sealed with magic. Surely he can figure out a way around it. He is a shadowhunter in his prime years by Nephilim standards. He looks around the surrounding area to see if there is anything he can use. 

He lets out a snort as he spots a harpoon leaning against the wall. He wonders if they actually did fish on this boat or if they stole the boat and never got rid of the junk lying around it. The device is old, rusting around the steel tip, but it will have to do. 

The noise from above is getting louder which means his window to save his friend is getting smaller and smaller. He grips the harpoon in both hands and prepares to strike it at the runed door. If he can scratch just one sigil the whole spell will break. He hopes his back will survive another hit. 

Just as he prepares to strike, feet shuffle behind him. With quick movements, he ducks and swipes a leg backward causing whoever it is to stumble. Asher doesn’t hesitate as he comes up and grabs the person’s arm and flings them over his shoulder. The man lets out a wheeze as air leaves his lungs and Asher looms over the man, knee to the neck.

“If I wasn’t in so much pain I would find that move incredibly attractive,” Magnus chokes below him. 

“Magnus?” Asher squeaks out and immediately gets off the warlock. Guilt washes over him as he helps the man to sit up, his arm coming around Magnus’ back to support him while he gets air back into his lungs. “I’m so sorry.”

“No no, that’s on me. I shouldn’t have snuck up on a Shadowhunter.”

“Not a Shadowhunter.” The words fall from his mouth faster than his brain catches up. He had to say that a lot in the first months after he went to Ireland. 

Ragnor would complain about having to do labor while Asher was fine to do it all himself. Ragnor would grumble that it's because of his Shadowhunter strength and Asher would have to constantly remind him that he wasn’t one anymore. 

“Right, sorry,” Magnus says and Asher feels even more guilty for making Magnus feel he did something wrong. “So, something wrong with the door?”

“Yeah.” Asher stands up and pulls Magnus up with ease.

“Well, you may not be a Shadowhunter anymore but that angelic blood in you is still as strong as ever,” Magnus comments. “You lifted me like I was a bag of feathers.”

“I work on a farm, lifting heavy things comes with the territory,” Asher scoffs.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Magnus pats his shoulder and makes his way to the door.

Asher glares at the back of Magnus’ head as he heads over to look over the runes. He doesn’t let the jab dig at him too much as he watches Magnus destroy the sigil with ease. The metal door creaks and groans loudly as Magnus opens it. 

Magnus looks back at Asher with a cheshire grin and gestures for him to enter. Asher mumbles a thanks as he passes the warlock. 

“Are the others going after Valentine?” Asher asks.

“They should be. Blondie made quite the commotion when he was spotted on board. Hopefully, that means the men on this boat will be distracted for a while,” Magnus answers. He summons a small ball of light to illuminate the stairs in front of them.

“That’s good.”

“Indeed, now let us find our friend and the others.”

Asher doesn’t know why dread fills his stomach the lower they go. That humming from before is gone since Magnus removed the wards on the door. He takes his bow into his hand and the other rests above the quiver on his hip. He knows that these Downworlders are probably terrified and scared but that doesn’t mean they won’t see him as a threat. 

He glances over at Magnus and sees the same feeling in the warlock’s eyes. There’s a faint shimmer of hope but, at the same time, Magnus is aware of what Valentine is capable of. Asher has the sudden urge to hold the man’s hand and reassure him that it will be okay. That he’ll help in any way that he can to save these Downworlders.

“Wait,” Magnus says, putting a hand on Asher’s chest. Asher ignores the way the hand roams for a fraction of a second. 

Magnus pushes the orb of light forward and waves his hand. The ball grows in size and illuminates the room, and Asher feels sick.

There have to be about half a dozen cages in the room. The shadows from the cages highlight a person in each cage. They look sickly, black oozes dripping from their body like a bucket of tar was tossed over them. They have no reaction to the light; they just sit facing forward like awaiting a command.

“Dammit,” Magnus says, waving his hand to send a fire message to someone. “This is bad. Isabelle warned me that this might be the case.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Asher slowly approaches the cage of a Downworlder that looks to be a werewolf. Their eyes flash every so often and a deep low rumble resonates from their form. Asher waves a hand at the werewolf, but there’s no reaction.

“Some sort of twisted experiment that Valentine cooked up. He may hate us but he also finds us useful for things.” Magnus gets to unlocking the cages but not entering in case one decides to attack. 

Asher leaves Magnus to that and checks on the other downworlders in the room. Each is the same until he gets to the last one. 

“Ragnor,” Asher breathes out. 

His friend is on the floor, looking to be passed out. Just outside his cage is a destroyed ceiling, probably the same damage he saw from outside. Asher can’t help but smile knowing that Ragnor fought to the very end of his capture. From this angle, he can’t see if Ragnor has the same ooze as the others.

He gets to work on the cage, breaking the lock with an arrow. It falls to the ground loudly and Asher winces. He looks around and no one seems to notice but Magnus, who only raises an eyebrow at him before getting back to work.

Asher flings open the door and rushes to his friend.

“Ragnor,” he says, kneeling next to him. 

He rolls the man on his back and lets out a sigh of relief that he doesn’t seem to have been infected. The warlock’s chest rises and falls as he lies unconscious.

“Come on Ragnor, wake up.” Asher cradles the man’s face in his hands, gently moving his head in hopes of gently waking him up. Last thing he wants is to injure his back more by waking Ragnor up abruptly and being attacked by a man who is only defending himself from what he thinks is a threat. 

The sound of a portal opening behind him has him turning. A woman dressed in hospital scrubs comes through. Seems that whatever was on the door also got rid of the wards on the ship. 

“Take them to a safe house and start working on curing them,” Magnus tells the woman.

“What about Valentine?”

“The Shadowhunters will take care of him soon, but we need to get them out of here before the Gard finds them. Who knows what they’ll do if they find out about them.”

“Okay, help me get them through,” the woman says as she enters a cage to usher them out. Thankfully, it seems the Downworlders are okay with moving. That distant look in their eyes doesn’t go away as they go through the portal. 

“Thank you, Cat,” Magnus says.

“Just come to me when you’re done here,” Cat says before looking over at Asher. Asher sits up straighter as she gives him a once over. “And tell me about him as well.”

“Cat!” Magnus chastizes, but can’t reply as the portal closes.

Asher doesn’t know what to make of that and puts his attention back on waking up Ragnor. But when he turns to look at his friend, his eyes are open. Asher lets out a relieved laugh.

“About time you woke up,” Asher jokes. He hears Magnus approaching the cage as he helps Ragnor up into a sitting position.

“Yes, it really is,” Ragnor says, his voice sounding different. 

Before Asher can ask what he means by that. Magic finds its way around his neck. The smell of a damp forest fills his senses as Ragnor’s magic tries to kill him.

“Ragnor!” Magnus shouts but stops his approach as Asher gets slammed into the metal bars. His injured back cries out in pain as it makes contact with the hard wall.

“Do you think I'm a fool?” Ragnor growls. “First you take the form of Magnus and now you have one of your goons to look like Asher?”

“I-”

“Ragnor, you old fool, that is Asher!” Magnus explains, trying to approach, but he’s stopped when Ragnor seals the door shut. Asher hears Magnus curse, trying to open the door.

“Shut up!” Ragnor says. “Asher knows better than to come here, not when Valentine knows about him. Is this your plan? Pretend to be my friend to get me to believe they would be dumb enough to rescue me?”

“Yes,” Asher says. The fight to stay conscious is beginning to become a losing battle. “I am that stupid because I care about you.”

“Then tell me something only he would know,” Ragnor demands. “Something only he and I would know.”

Asher racks his brain trying to come up with something as he tries to stay awake. This is not the first time a warlock has tried to suffocate him but he has to remain calm, the more he struggles the tighter it will go. It’s hard to find purchase on vertical bars while your friend is trying to kill what he thinks is an imposter.

“Ragnor, please stop, you are going to kill him!” Magnus begs. Asher doesn’t think he’s ever seen Magnus look as scared as he does right now which means he probably isn’t looking good. 

Then it hits him, the only thing that he and Ragnor would know about.

“You cheated at that card game,” Asher gasps. “You didn’t even want the farmhouse but you were annoyed that the vampire wouldn’t stop talking so you used magic to win.”

Immediately the magic around his neck disappears and he falls to the ground gasping for air. Ragnor catches him before his face gets acquainted with the metal floor again. Magnus rushes into the cage, magic at the ready, and begins to heal his neck which has already started to bruise.

“Bloody hell, I could have killed you!” Ragnor scolds, helping him sit up. “What the hell are you doing here!”

“Saving you!” Asher wheezes out. “You literally threw your best friend into my living room making me assume you were dead only to find out that you were kidnapped by a maniac. Of course, I was going to help!”

“Asher, stop talking,” Magnus scolds as he continues to heal his neck. 

“Thought I taught you better than this,” Ragnor rants. 

“Says the man who didn’t go through the portal with his friend and instead decided to get kidnapped,” Asher bites back. 

“I had to make sure that Valentine didn’t get the Book of White,” Ragnor defends. “It was the only way to make sure it was safe.”

“Even I know that’s a weak excuse,” Magnus mumbles, looking at Asher with concern. The healing magic makes its way down Asher’s back. The ache from his mishap slowly ebbs away. He sends Magnus a silent thank you and Magnus smiles back.

“Magnus, do shut up,” Ragnor snarks. “Can you stand, Asher?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Could have done without you attacking me but can’t win them all.” The joke seems to fall flat as Ragnor looks seconds away from crying, something he rarely does. He lets the two warlocks pull him up, he stumbles for a moment before regaining his balance. He feels Ragnor snake an arm around his back and he gladly takes the support.

“Is everyone okay?” Asher asks Magnus as they make their way to the exit.

“My friend Cat is one of the best healing warlocks in the city, even the world if I had a say. An old acquaintance of mine made a cure so she and Cat are going to make sure everyone is no longer dripping in that nasty stuff, whatever it is.” 

The way Magnus looks at the remaining gunk on the floor gets a small laugh out of him. Asher watches how Magnus’ face lights up at the response and flashes his smile. He feels his body flush at the sight of it again. If he thought he had it bad after Magnus crashed into his living room, he’s a goner now. Granted he’s been this way since he almost shot the man when he first came to the farmhouse. 

He was terrified when Magnus passed out. So many thoughts had been racing in his head. The way Magnus had called out for Ragnor to the poison that he saw infecting Magnus’ body, it didn’t leave much time to process anything. He never told Magnus that he was in a delirious state as he was applying the cure to him. After carrying Magnus to the guest room and rushing to find the antidote in the medicine closet, he came back to an awakened Magnus whom he thought was somewhat okay— and then Magnus started talking.

The compliments that poured out of that man’s mouth were something Asher had never experienced before. He didn’t even realize hands could be attractive until Magnus wouldn’t stop talking about his hands. It’s really hard to dress a wound when the injured party keeps trying to take his hand to kiss it. 

Asher had stared at his hands for a long time after Magnus finally fell asleep before thoughts of Ragnor took over. He then spent the last two hours before Magnus woke up spiraling into ‘what ifs’ to the point where he went to grab one of Ragnor’s ascots and tried to track him, desperate to try anything that would work. He ended up just fiddling with the cloth until Magnus almost launched himself out of the bed.

From then on, Asher looked at Magnus differently. Not that man seemed to notice even with Asher making them dinner and discussing their plan to return to New York. Besides, it’s too dangerous for them to even know each other. Not with Magnus’ relationship with his siblings, it would be a recipe for disaster.  

“You would try to make light of a serious situation,” Ragnor grumbles.

“Can you blame me? You’re lucky I got here before they did anything to you,” Magnus teases. “It would have gotten all over your vintage clothes.”

“Do you see that burnt hole in the wall?” Ragnor says, pointing back at the cage he was in. “They tried to inject me with those gross chemicals and failed to realize I was no young warlock.”

“So you almost sank the ship?” Asher laughs, though it sounds more on the manic side. “You could have killed everyone!”

“I fixed it!” Ragnor exclaims. “Honestly, you two think I can’t handle myself? Surely you’ve seen-”

“Magnus!” An unfamiliar voice shouts from the top of the stairs. Asher freezes, as does she, when they make eye contact. Orange hair past her shoulders, twin blades in her hands. Her eyes widen at the sight of him as they flicker with recognition, but that’s not possible as he’s never met her before. 

“By the Angel, you’re-.” She doesn’t finish her sentence as the smell of firewood consumes the air around him and blue magic strikes the young woman. She doesn’t have time to counter, the magic freezing her as she raises her arms to block the spell.

“Magnus! What did you do?” Ragnor asks.

“She knows who Alec is!” Magnus defends. A chill goes down Asher’s spine at that statement. “Jace hasn’t stopped talking to her about him and I am pretty sure he’s shown her pictures of you. So you two need to leave now!”

“Magnus, will she-” Asher shakily starts but his heart is beating out of his chest. He can’t take his eyes off of her.

That woman saw him, if she gets back to Jace she’s going to tell him that his dead parabatai is actually alive. He wouldn’t put it past Jace to start a manhunt around the globe to find him. He would do anything to get to Asher, even if it meant hurting those that Asher cared about.

A hand laces his and he looks over to see Magnus staring at him with worry. 

“I’ll make sure that she thinks she saw something wrong, she doesn’t even know she’s frozen right now,” Magnus reassures, squeezing his hand. “You two should get out of here, I don’t doubt that Jace would be far behind if Clary went off on her own.”

“But what about-.”

“You heard the man, Asher.” Ragnor starts pulling him away, the arm around his waist is firm. “Let the High Warlock do what he does best: charming Shadowhunters.”

Asher can’t tell if that’s a dig at him or not. Judging by the smirk on his face, that’s exactly what he meant. A portal opens behind them and Ragnor ushers him through, but not before he turns around.

“Magnus!” The warlock turns at the call of his name. “Stop by the farm once you’re done with everything. I’d love to have you over for dinner.”

[aspelladay]

Death Spells: Death, Ghosts, Necromancy, and Vampires

Death spells are not hexes nor are they meant to cause death. There are no “killing curses” here. Instead, “death spells” as a category revolves around the topic of death, death’s aftermath, and death’s magical effect on both the departed and the living left behind. Although magical practitioners may be buried with their ritual tools, for a variety of reasons, most typically death spells are spells for the living. Ghosts, vampires, and other denizens of the next-world will have to discover their own new repertoire of enchantment in the Summerlands.

This was not always the case: ancient traditions from Egypt and Tibet for instance required that spells and rituals be learned in life so that they could be performed after death. The books, known in English as The Tibetan Book of the Dead (The Book of the Great Liberation) and the Egyptian Book of the Dead: The Book of Going Forth by Day, record these traditions. Spiritual adepts trained for years, so that they would be prepared and show no fear when they finally faced their after-life examinations, sort of like the application process to a university with extremely tough admissions standards. (Although eventually in Egypt this practice degenerated into merely being able to present the appropriate spell or sacred text. Thus the wealthy were buried with Books of the Dead as amulets—or glorified hall passes!)

This is another of those spell categories that fall along the razor’s edge between religion, spirituality, and magic. Cast these spells (or adapt them) as they correspond to your personal spiritual realities.

Death spells tend to fall into a few categories:

Spells to prepare and propitiate the dead so that they will not bother the living. Ritually correct* respectful funeral rites are crucial so that the dead will pass on peacefully to their next existence. Incorrect or absent rites may produce ghosts, demons, vampires, or just general trouble

Spells to protect the living from the dead

Spells that permit the living to avail themselves of the dead’s special powers, with or without the dead person’s co-operation, including necromancy

Many of these spells are extremely ancient, so many presume that preparations for the dead person will be conducted at home, typically by someone who is either familiar with the deceased or familiar with correct magical procedure. However, for modern people in industrialized nations, death is primarily a topic to be avoided at all costs. Death has become a mystery, tended to by professionals. People no longer die at home: they die in hospitals or hospices. Families and loved ones no longer prepare the body: professionals whisk away the corpse and perform all functions discreetly away from the eyes of loved ones left behind. It is perhaps the area where magical cultures diverge most strongly from surrounding conventional ones. Magical cultures are concerned deeply with preparation of the body and the funeral rites. This is an extremely important threshold; if errors are made, there are potentially disastrous consequences for both living and dead:

Incorrect or absent funeral ritual leaves the soul of the deceased vulnerable to capture by a sorcerer who may use the soul as a tool for nefarious ends or as a work-slave. This belief dates back at least to ancient Babylon and survives in the duppies of the West Indies

The spirit of the deceased who cannot transition properly to the next realm has nothing better to do than hang around this realm and, depending upon their frustration level, make life miserable for the living. This applies particularly to unidentified homicide victims

In many cultures, the “next life” means becoming an ancestor and serving and protecting descendants. If proper burial rites as well as later propitiatory offerings aren’t available, neither is the potential power of an ancestor, leaving the dead angry and frustrated and the living vulnerable and unprotected

Death spells also incorporate spells involving those who may be dead: ghosts or vampires. There’s overlap between spell categories; it can be difficult to distinguish between a “ghost spell” and a “death spell.”

*Where there is ambiguity as to what is “ritually correct,” the expectations of the dead person set the standard.

(from The Element Encyclopedia of 5,000 Spells by Judika Illes)

[emylilas]

dun dun dun... it's me! I'm back again, your HEX gifter!

😈

Thank you for your previous answers, especially your detailed response on Luna! By the way, I have also watched Wheel of Time and absolutely understand your devotion to Kate Fleetwood and her complex characters.

A couple of follow up questions, as I continue to pull together your gift -

Do you have any specific songs you associate with Luna, Farah, Saul and Andreas?

Please rank the following in terms of preference of holiday fic tropes:

Snowed in together and only one bed

2. Reluctantly avoiding crowds at a holiday party but while doing so, accidentally getting stuck under mistletoe with their love interest

3. A competitive snowball fight that turns into flirting and / or steamy times.

and that's it... chat later!

Hello! 

So sorry for the delay, I had quite the crazy week and it’s actually the first day this week I’m not feeling like going to bed at 4pm would sound like a real blessing! 

To answer your question about the holiday fic tropes, funny enough, you suggested them the way I would have ranked them. 

Snowed in together and only one bed

Reluctantly avoiding crowds at a holiday party but while doing so, accidentally getting stuck under mistletoe with their love interest

A competitive snowball fight that turns into flirting and / or steamy times

I really am a sucker for cute Christmas movies (I do have standards though) and in case you haven’t watched it yet, and would like to watch a Christmas movie some time, Single all the way truly was the cutest of them all! Do YOU love Christmas movies? 🎄

As for the songs, that’s a bit harder. I did try to think about it all week but for some reason my mind seems to be fairly blank in this regard.

For Luna and Farah, there’s The winner takes it all by ABBA, Romantic homicide by D4vd, War of hearts by Ruelle and Hurts like hell by Fleurie (all very happy stuff as you may see)

I think the song So far by Ólafur Arnalds fits both Luna and Andreas quite well, and probably Farah in post Aster Dell recovery.

Definitely Fleurie’s Soldier for Saul

Leah Nobel’s Not ready to say goodbye works well for both ships in my mind

Sorry, I’m not very good at this. Sadly, when I listen to songs that make me think of a specific character, I tend to forget about it if I don’t add it to the “make gifs or video edits with it” list.

I’ll keep thinking about it just in case something else suddenly comes back to mind! I promise I’ll answer sooner next time if you send something else! 

I hope you’ll have a nice weekend! Em