#mistereffinapocalypse

[eleventhagent]

@mistereffinapocalypse

”Happy holidays, or whatever non-offensive thing you prefer. Care to buy a movie ticket? Turns out I can’t make it to the showing tonight and I’d like to get at least some of my money back.”

[michellemagemundane]

THERE is a word| Which bears a sword | Can pierce an armed man.

Write about Michelle trying to make a potion that explodes, but instead accidentally makes a love potion

“It doesn’t work!” The young man shouted angrily, the door slamming shut behind him with a clang of finality. Michelle looked up from her current task, hastily covering the child with her shawl, leaving the child to continue feeding noisily. The redhead at her counter slammed a heavy bottle down, the glass resounding with a hollow note. She glanced at it briefly then up at him. 

“I beg your pardon?” She asked, and watched as something shimmered at his back, curling around the young man’s shoulders like a scarf. It chittered at her sleepily before nuzzling the redhead’s chin in an affectionate manner. 

“The potion! It didn’t work!” The young man hissed, pushing the empty bottle towards her. “You said to pour it out into a dish and leave it where the spirit would find it! You said it would touch it and either dissolve or explode, depending on it’s nature! It. Didn’t. Work.” 

“Well, hold on a second here Mr-” 

“ Caolàn! Caolàn O'Malley! I was in here not two days ago, and you said-” The man’s voice hitched suddenly as the thing around his neck burrowed into the collar of his shirt. It- and Michelle focused on it to better see the form it was taking- Ah. A centipede, or rather the ancestor of centipedes, old and wise and about a hundreth of the size it ought to be. It chirped, pleased with whatever it found in the young man’s shirt. The young man-  Caolàn, let out an embarrassed, irritated noise before tugging at the spirit, almost throwing it across the room in his haste to get it out of his clothing. 

“It didn’t. Work.” Caolàn said again, voice a strange tinny modulation of his previous angry tone. The spirit curled and uncurled in the corner, imitating a pill bug before shaking itself off and giving a determined scuttle towards Caolàn again. Michelle sighed and held up a hand, letting a soft hum of magic fill the air as a shield surrounded the young man and herself. 

She was met with an irritated hiss from the spirit, and a sigh of relief from  Caolàn. She turned to look at the young man better, wracking her memory for his visit. 

Ah. Yes. 

“I remember now. You’re the boy that Seth recommended.” She said, recalling a selkie of the name whom she had helped not a couple of years ago. He was living quite comfortably up north if she remembered correctly. Adjusting to a life on land that he chose rather than let a soulmate slip away. A nice young man, very sweet and polite. 

Caolàn nodded, glancing at the spirit who was now testing every inch of the wall she had set up. Sparks of electricity spread over the area wherever its antennae touched. Angry hisses accompanied each spark. 

“Aye. I did as you said, but... He didn’ disappear. Just.. got...” He gestured uselessly at the spirit as his face on a heated hue.  “And he... He sort of... took another form.” 

Michelle raised her brows, prompting more of an explanation.  Caolàn seemed reluctant to share any further, but it wasn’t too much of a hindrance as a moment later there was a painful popping of eardrums as the shield shattered and the spirit hurtled towards Caolàn. The redheaded Irishman was lost for several moments in a swirl of white fabric, until it condensed into a seething spirit with Gold-within-gold eyes hidden by a rather large cloak of blinding white. The spirit continued to hiss aggressively at Michelle, placing himself in between the witch and the redhead. The spirit was practically wrapped about the man, clinging to him like a jealous lover. 

“Oh.” Was all Michelle had to say. The spirit’s new form was roughly the same age and height as  Caolàn, a clear attempt to be a form the other man was comfortable with. However, the spirit failed to take into account the fact that he still reeked of the otherworldly, something Caolàn was not comfortable with and had made very clear when he had first entered her shop. 

She had told him to return to her at a later time, when she called him. She was nonspecific as to how long that would be, seeing as she had to analyze what was left in the bottle to see what kind of potion she had given him. 

She wracked her brain, trying to figure out how a potion meant to explode could turn into one that elicited an almost violently protective streak in a spirit. A wasteland spirit, to be specific. Deserts and other hard to survive places were where spirits like this tended to dwell, and what with the desert next door, well. 

She sighed and swabbed the inside of the glass container, absentmindedly rocking the cradle with her foot. The last week and a half had been... chaotic to say the least. It was not unfeasible that she had made a mistake in the brewing of the potion. She was good, yes, but she was only human. 

When she returned upstairs, out of the dim dark of her workroom, newborn sleeping against her neck and the results of her testing scribbled on a sheet of paper she would look over again in the morning, she noticed a blinking red light. Her answering machine had a message for her. 

“Michelle. Please find a fix soon. He’s trying to cuddle me.” 

Was all the message said, and then cut off. 

She would be more worried if she wasn’t so damn tired. 

The second day she’s busy, juggling a menagerie of duties while sending out test results to all the potioneers she knows and waiting to hear back from them. She’s in the shop so long that she misses the phonecall from him, and it’s not so much alarming as it is amusing. 

“Michelle, he won’t stop following me around. He followed me to work today, and kept hissing at anyone who looked at me too long. Michelle, please, hurry up.” 

Day three continues much the same, no reply back from her contacts. Another message is left on her machine. 

“Michelle, he’s trying to sleep in my bed now. Fix this. Fix this now.”

“Michelle, it’s day four and I think he’s building a- I pray to god that isn’t what I think it is and  you better fix this, or so help me I’ll get Connie to pay you a visit.” 

“Michelle. It is what I think it is. Please. It’s day six. Please call me back. I didn’t mean what I said about Connie. You know I wouldn’t sic a dragon on you, right? Michelle, please. I’ll take anything, even a potion to revert him to how he once was. He doesn’t need to get banished, but please make him stop.” 

By the time she gets a message back from Painter and V’mer, she’s figured it out herself. They merely confirm what she had been dreading. 

“Caolàn , there.. well, there is no way to fix it.” She says into the phone, cringing as she hears a combination of anger and desperation on the other end. 

“What do you mean- ‘there’s no way to fix this.’ There has to be a way, just... what did you do? What is this?” 

She hears a soft clicking, chirping noise in the background, and a muttered swear and what sounds like someone trying to move as far away from someone as possible. 

“Well, it’s... it’s... Well I accidentally brewed you an affection spell, instead of an explosive spell.”

“Which means..? What, a love spell? Well undo it!” 

“It’s not like that.” Michelle says hurriedly, “It’s a nudge. Love spells are tricky, and you can’t ‘accidentally’ brew one. You can, however, accidentally brew something similar, what a lot of people like to think are love spells, but are much less potent and tend to wear off relatively quickly. In fact, it should wear off in the next day or two...if it hasn’t already.” 

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. 

“So it’ll wear off soon, then?” 

“If it hasn’t already.” Michelle repeats, and there’s another moment of silence. “How about this, call me in two days if there’s no change.” 

Two days pass and not only does Caolàn call, but he ends up in her shop again. The spirit is less affectionate and protective than the first day, but it’s clear he also has no intention of leaving  Caolàn now, gold eyes following the man as he approaches the witch. The spirit stays a good distance away, more out of respect, it seems, than any understanding of the distaste clearly evident in Caolàn’s eyes. Occasionally, she hears the spirit chirp at the redhead, watching expectantly as if he thinks  Caolàn will respond in kind. It’s sort of like watching a mated pair of  simurghs, who would call out to each other, keeping within earshot of each other at all times, or at least, until the young were raised and out of the nest. 

She cringed at the implications, not sure who she felt worse for; the uninterested man or the unrequited spirit. 

Still, she will do her best to resolve this, and on that thought, she asks to speak with them separately. 

She sees both of them again months later, and oddly  Caolàn seems to have adjusted quite well to their compromise. Resting in the hood of his sweatshirt is a small fennic fox, watching his back for any trouble. 

It’s not often that she works with this group of men and women, but they do good work and sometimes it’s nice to help with more mundane issues like minorly haunted houses and low-key curses. Things the mundanes wouldn’t know how to handle, but aren’t complicated enough to require a specialist. The usual problems you encounter with the supernatural. Not to say that Caolàn’s group weren’t needed. They were quite fantastic at what they did, like technical support and an electrician and an engineer all rolled into one. They handled problems that required a group approach, and occasionally would ask specialists, like Michelle, to help out on specific cases. 

It still warmed her heart to see that the spirit and the redhead had settle into a mutually beneficial arrangement. 

“He seems content.” Michelle commented, tipping her head at the fox. The spirit had consented to being shifted into a new form, one that wouldn’t cause  Caolàn so much distress when the spirit decided to express it’s affection. 

“Mowan is quite happy.”  Caolàn replied, setting up the camera’s and placing several sensors about the room. “We were here last month. If you talk to Conrad, he’ll catch you up on things, and Cat should be able to walk you through all the hotspots.” 

As if on cue, the aforementioned dragon appeared in the doorway and gestured for Michelle to follow him with a toss of his blond head. 

Michelle could understand now why they had decided to call a battlemage in to help them. This was not the usual haunting, she thought as debris flew through the air. The shield around her crackled as energies flung themselves against it. The dragon beside her growled out incantations of his own, the words ancient and heavy as the floor beneath them creaked. If Michelle had anything of value to bet at the moment, aside from her child, which was blessedly being watched by a friend, she would have bet that this was an unintentional rift. Probably into somewhere nasty, or, gods forbid, a timeslip. Wouldn’t that just tickle a friend of her’s pink. 

There was a shout from above, the ceiling finally giving was as one of Michelle’s wards cracked under the strain. It was supposed to keep that... thing contained to this room. 

Now it was seeping out into the rest of the house, and from the looks of it, it had gotten it’s metaphorical claws into  Caolàn. Well, semi-metaphorical. The walls around them were starting to grow actual claws, and those were very painfully dug into the meat of the redhead’s thigh. 

Conrad swore beside her, gesturing with one hand to the woman behind him. Quick signals, some sort of shorthand or code that the group had worked out that left Michelle questioning what he said to her, as there was a heavy scent of myrrh in the air immediately following. 

Before Cat could do anything, there was a yowl, morphing partway into a deep, chittering hiss. The fox that had been obscured by Caolàn was now snapping at the claws, fur rippling in a way that left dread sinking into Michelle’s stomach. She flung out an arm, catching the dragon’s shirt and shoving him back, aided with not a little bit of magic and stepping in front of the two, pulling the shield closer around them and strengthening it as much as she’s able to in the few seconds she has. 

There’s a deafening crack as the magic holding the fox to it’s smaller shape tears, forcing whatever energy that had been twisting the house itself back, turning wood back into wood and leaving a half-moon of destruction behind.  Caolàn is obscured from sight, and Michelle almost laughs at the sight before her, recalling a time months earlier that was so similar. A white cloak and enraged gold-within-gold eyes peers out, not at her, but at the tear in the fabric of space, a deep and threatening hiss raising in volume as the little wasteland spirit defends what he perceives as his mate. What a spirit like that could do is negotiable, at least against a force like what’s in front of them, but he is a significantly annoying creature, enough so that it gives the battlemage and the dragon the time they need to finish casting their own spells. 

The battle over, Michelle is escorted away with Conrad, to do a final sweep of the property while Seth tends to an injured Caolàn, a worried and slightly peevish wasteland spirit fluttering about the redhead. 

[michellemagemundane]

Unbind me~

Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]

“Little pup, youshould not be doing this.”

Valrun didn’t care, worrying at the chains. They weresilk-thin, as pale as starlight and smelled of honeysuckle and tin. Runesrippled beneath his teeth, the potion he stole from Michelle still thick on histongue, hot and on the edge of painful, like the spicy peppers she liked to putinto her stews.

“Little pup-“ Itsaid again, tone warningly low and a growl lisping the words so they sounded barelyhuman- more natural, more like its usual self. The fur beneath the chainsrippled, tugging and pulling as the muscles beneath bunched and coiled.

The first of the chains snapped, and the world shudderedbeneath them. Magic kicked up into the air, swirling around them like disturbeddust moats.

“Little pup- you willset off the end of the world if you keep this up.” The voice growled, andonly then did Valrun let go of the chains that held the old wolf, looking up athim, golden eyes bright and determined.

“I know, but I needyour help rescuing my parents.” He said, the words coming out as a whine,more of a wolf language than that of human. The giant one before him wassilent, ears twitching and rotating as the great beast thought. Finally, atongue lolled out, a palm-shaped scar on the flesh there, as faint as mist halfburned off by the sun, a reminder of what had happened to lock him in thesechains.

“Fordervelse wouldnot-“

Valrun let out a small growl and started tearing into theother chains- feeling them creak and groan in his mouth, the world starting toshake ever harder.

“You would give theapocalypse form again- he has not walked the earth in ages- and this time hewould bring with him a sister. You know what-“

There was a snarl from the wolf as he snapped more of thechains, even as the great wolf-god spoke, even as the great wolf god struggledto get to his feet, to help the pup break the chains.

“You might very wellkill the ones you call parents.”

“It’s better thanleaving them where they are now.” Valrun said softly, coming up to the lastchain, wrapped around Fenrir’s muzzle. He gave the large creature a tentativelick on his muzzle, one that the wolf returned, tongue nearly as big as Valrunwas. It smelled of elderberries and bacon.

“I am sure Pitchwould disagree, not to mention Michelle. This is exactly the type of thing those two were trying to prevent.”Fenrir said softly, the low rumblethat sounded like the world shaking beneath his feet actually coming from thelarge wolf, as if Fenrir were the source of all earthquakes. Perhaps Michelle’sstories were true, in a fashion. They were certainly true enough to let himfind the great wolf.

“It’s my fault theyended up fighting with Ford to begin with. I need to free them.”

[little-wxrrior-blog]

☁

send me a “☁” and i will put my itunes on shuffle, pick my favorite line from the first song that comes up and use it for a starter.

just keep breathing - we the kings

“When love is all too hard to hold, just take a breath and let it go.”

[shiningsilverarmor]

❣

Send a "❣" to interact with one of my muse's family members.

“Young Apocalypse, I thank you for watching over dear Sterling. He has come a long way before coming to this planet. Though..it’s a shame that the end will come.”  

[michellemagemundane]

Hugs

Send hugs  for a description of how my character hugs your character.  

She reaches over- a hand touching a shoulder first and then shifting to an open hug that wraps around their upper arms. She laughs when they accuse her of deliberately pinning their arms down, but she does it time after time anyway. It’s always tentative, like she’s afraid their going to snap or break, but it’s warm and affectionate and her hands always linger on their upper arms, then slide down to their forearms until finally she’s just lightly holding both their hands and chatting happily with them about kids and people and events that are going on and how good it is to see them even though they saw each other the other week at the supermarket. 

She tries not to let go of them while they’re talking, her hands on theirs or on their arm or shoulder or sometimes the middle of their back. Doesn’t matter which twin- she treats them with the same maternal fondness and fusses over their unkept hair or if they’re too skinny or have bags under their eyes or how their significant other(s) are doing, and how the horsemen are doing. No matter how rude they treat her, she’s always fussing and mothering over them. Much to their annoyance, and almost always with a hand resting on their arm, a reminder that it could at anytime become a hug, if they wish it. 

[michellemagemundane]

slurred words

Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.

“Okay.. so like... fuck... Listen... you are like.. my favorite horseman. You’re the fucking Calavera Catrina, like... La catrina del calavera maldita de mi infancia y como recuerdo haber pequeñas muñecas de usted y sólo .. que le dejaría en la tumba de mi abuelo porque él siempre bromeaba que eras una mujer picante y sólo .....

“But like.. yeah.. so.. Adam an’ eve.. like... Funniest fucking names for the end of the world, right? I mean... First man an’ woman bringin’ th’ end of th’ world? Like... Lost my shit when I first heard their names from mister feather-ears. “

“Like... I remember... seeing them.. and they’re so... young.. and they have two darlin’ kids and i jsut remember seeing them as young kids and like.. I met adam a few times.. a long time ago when he was friends wi’ my daughter... sorta. .. Not sure if they were friends or enemies, but like.. I was wary.. but he’s a good dude, most of th’ time.. and Eve... gods.. She’s pretty and there’s fire in her that could burn the world and i Just... I don’t even know how to talk to her man... Don’t know how t’ talk to either of them.. They seem okay, for like... immortal spirits who could probably end all that I love in like.. five minutes.. so like... fuck man... They seem a’ight...”  

[michellemagemundane]

Adam and Eve, but Chaos Verse

V’neer had seen planets being born- and it was eeriely similar to watching them die. He had seen that once before too. 

It was something V’neer regretted because it led to the biggest mistake of a rather insignificant life. 

You see, V’neer had probably stolen something from the two spirits that presided over this strange phenomena of a death of a planet. There were spirits associated with everything, now a days. A great green goddess for birth, with her consort of pale gold and ochre and fragile jade. There were gods for the creation of life, who grew the first creatures that walked on the planets, who in turn created the plants and the animals, the flora and fauna that led to the great houses of Hydra and Cygnus, of Canis Majora and House Draco. V’neer had watched as systems were born, but never had they seen a system die. 

It was beautiful. 

It was terrifying. 

                  But their gentle wrath was so much more pants-shitting frightning. 

They followed, tracked, and paced after V’neer, as the young magelet wandered across galaxies and solar systems, small item tucked into a waistcoat pocket. For such a small item, it grew heavier and heavier with each step, with each spell that was cast to hide a winding path through the cosmos. 

So far, the magelet had avoided the twins for a good couple of centuries. A new record for dodging people who had a grudge against them. At least, it was a new record. 

One that was about to end, for frost was slowly creeping into the cave and the ground beneath ash-darkened feet was beginning to moan and groan under the stress of new pressures. 

"You’re not very wise." The female said, her dark hair swinging down like a curtain as she leaned into the cave to look at the small, bespectacled magic user. Ears trembled as red eyes poured over travel-worn clothes and ragged gloves. 

"Nah, mum. M’ Ol’ teacher said as much." V’neer replied, voice cracking on the words as a nervous smile darted across the gloom at her. It was true- Missus M had told V'neer to never steal from something stronger than their own self. It was rule number one. Rule number two was never get caught- and then she smacked the magelet's arm when the bell on the jacket rung, signaling the failure of the exercise yet again. 

The black queen looked unimpressed as the curtain of hair obscured the stars that used to shine through the entrance. She was taller than last time- or at least closer. A pale, slender hand reached out. 

V’neer let out a pained, terrified whimper and reached into a bag, pulling out a small sculpture. At least, the magelet hoped it was a sculpture. A likeness of what looked like four malevolent beings and a dragon looked out at the viewer- and V’neer had a feeling that the statuette was quite sentient. It radiated too much… power, too much… awareness for it not to be. Not only that, but it was connected to something, to somewhere. 

                           Somewhere far, far away. 

"Mum, a favor?" V’neer murmured, handing the figurine to the woman. She looked unimpressed, but then again, her and her brother had chased a mere mortal across the universe for the better part of three centuries. She did, however, have a flicker of amusement in her eyes before it died down and she nodded her head, silently agreeing to at least hear the request. 

"Coul’ y’ tell me wha’…. who…. where this is?" A clawed finger pointed at the statuette, and the woman glanced down, a pale finger tracing over the spine of a dragon. 

"No." She replied, grinning at him. "For it’s only a memory now.                                                                              Just like you.”

There was a moment’s pause as the words sank in, then as the horror began to take root in the magelet’s mind. Frost had numbed any feeling in limbs, which had cleverly concealed the slow heat of the molten mantle bubbling up beneath the magelet’s perch on a small boulder. 

V’neer watched as the statue was given back to the brother, outside the cave, watching as the red-eyes, onyx-haired man stroked each of the fingers gently, as if doing a head count and then                    The cave was closed up with a sheet of thick ice,                                Stranding the magelet inside, their screams muffled                                           By the pale blue glass,                        and a volcano erupted,                                         Signaling the beginning                 Of the end                                               of another world.