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odetolove95 · 3 years

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In a pulse of light, Steve found himself standing in an alley in London. One he knew all too well since he had a penchant for picking fights in alleys. His time travel suit dematerialized and he was left in his usual uniform, which seemed a little too much for the timeline he came back to. The real mission was to return the Infinity Stones and get back to 2019, but he figured his Bucky wouldn’t mind if he took a little detour. He wouldn’t be here long anyway.

The back door of the Whip and Fiddle pub to his right was proof that he landed in the right timeline—somewhere in the 40s. He remembered that the Howling Commandos were in there. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea going in there dressed like this.

Not to mention the absolute bizarreness if he met his past self.

But there was no turning back now. He opened the door slightly and peeked inside. The pub was more crowded than he expected. He felt completely out of place. And his new-found confidence fizzled out sooner than it came. Across the hall, he spotted his past self and a young Bucky seated near the bar, busy in drink and conversation.

Steve smiled at the sight of that bright-eyed, innocent Bucky who was willing to fight by his side till the end. This was the Bucky who didn’t know what was about to happen to him. And that was the Cap next to him who failed to protect him.

A pang of pain gripped Steve’s heart. But he brushed those thoughts aside and focused on what he came for. The future, seventy years from here, eventually turned out good, so he drew some reassurance from that.

He wondered if it was simply easier to just barge in there and talk to Barnes himself, but he didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. He had little time too.

Closing the door, he paced back and forth restlessly outside, trying to form a plan. A whole minute passed in that. The thought of his past self struck him. He didn’t stop to think how Bucky would be able to slip out without being noticed. Not to mention the fact that he would be subjected to two Steves.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Abort mission?

No. He came this far and wasn’t about to give up easily. He smoothed his hair, straightened his uniform, as though trying to impress a date. Steeling himself, he walked to the door and opened it.

And came face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

Both froze, staring at each other for a moment. Bucky scanned him from head to toe, shooting a glance at the bar then back at him. “How...?”

Catching his arm, Steve pulled him into the alley and shut the door.

“How did you get out here so fast?” Bucky’s eyes darted to his uniform and his brows rose. “Am I missing something here? Did you change your hair?”

He couldn’t tell if it was his alcohol-addled brain playing tricks on him or Captain America’s uniform suddenly got an upgrade.

Steve couldn’t lie to him. He had to provide an explanation. Besides, he remembered Bucky’s fascination with the future. He remembered the sparkle in his eyes and his awe-struck face during their so-called date at the Stark Expo. At least, that was how Rogers saw it.

“Yeah, well... I’m not really Steve,” he stuttered. “I mean, I am, but not your Steve.”

Your Steve.

Sweet Jesus.

“I’m from the future,” he added.

An awkward silence followed. So much so that he could imagine crickets chirping nearby.

Bucky gave him a blank stare. “Did you smoke something? Or did I drink too much?”

“No, it’s true. I—” Rogers was about to point to his to the time GPS when he realized it was better not to. “You know what, never mind. I came here because I wanted to tell you something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

Bucky’s mind still struggled to grasp what was going on. Because a few minutes ago, he was sitting next to his best friend, who was in his military uniform, and who then headed to the loo shortly after.

“O-kay?” he said.

This is it. Steve couldn’t afford to mess this up. His stomach fluttered and his heart thudded in his chest. With a deep breath, he mustered every ounce of courage he had. He’d said these words before, in another time, and yet, it still managed to make him nervous.

“For as long as I remember,” he said. “You were all I had. You were there when I picked fights and when I got hurt.” He swallowed. “When my parents died. You were always there. When I had nothing, I had you.”

Bucky's heart melted. But he wouldn’t show it, so he merely smiled. “It’s no big deal, Stevie.”

“It is for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I wish I had told you sooner.”

The smile on Bucky’s face reduced when Steve came close. Too close. That golden hair swept back in a smooth quiff really did it for him. He sucked in a breath. His gaze involuntarily darted to his pink lips. Something about this Rogers was different. His fresh sky-blue eyes had the same glimmer and warmth that Barnes knew well, but something had changed in them. He couldn’t place a finger on what. Either way, they always seemed to stare right into his soul. Put him in a spell he couldn’t get out of.

He cleared his throat. “T-tell me what?”

He didn’t know his bright eyes cast the same magic on Steve.

“I love you, Buck. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

Those words had been weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now that he finally got it out, he felt exposed.

Bucky’s brows eased, “What?”

“You heard me. You used to--I mean--you were jealous whenever you saw a woman too close to me and I never understood why, because I never felt anything for them. Not the way I do for you. It’s always been you.”

Bucky didn’t respond. His brain stopped functioning a long time ago, and he wasn’t sure if his heart was still beating. He simply stood there, gawking like an idiot. His best friend was in love with him. All this time, he thought his feelings were unrequited.

He didn’t realize how long he remained frozen like that until Steve’s voice snapped him out of the trance.

“Will you say something, please?”

“Huh?” he blurted.

Steve huffed. “Oh, for God’s sake—”

Holding Bucky’s face, he closed the gap between them. Bucky gasped as Cap’s lips crushed his with fervor, tasting his whiskey-tinged lips, and setting his soul on fire. He pushed back instinctively, tugging at Steve’s lips with his teeth. Grabbing the straps on his uniform, he pulled him closer. Their surroundings were a blur, like nothing mattered except them. Every other sound—people and vehicles, all drowned in the background.

Steve would’ve stood there, kissing him for hours, if only he had the time. Slowly and unwillingly, he pulled away.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open as he exhaled a short breath. He might’ve forgotten to breathe the entire time. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. He took one look at the alley, checking to see if anyone was looking. “So sorry about this but um, I have to go now.”

“What? Where?”

“It’s complicated. But don’t worry, you’ll get there.” In about seventy years, give or take. “I have to go. Maybe you need to ask that jackass what he feels? The other jackass who’s technically me...”

“O-okay.”

Happiness filled Steve’s heart, like the warmth of the sun on a cold day. “See you around, jerk.”

In the end, this detour was well worth it. He tapped his band and the time travel suit materialized before Bucky’s widening eyes. The latter stared, slack-jawed, at the magical transformation. And in a pulse of light, Rogers disappeared.

Barnes stood there for a moment, staring at the space where the man stood a millisecond earlier, trying to comprehend if all that was real. He cautiously reached a hand out, thinking he’d feel something, anything, but his hand simply waved in the air.

The guy literally just vanished.

“What the fuck...” Bucky breathed. What just happened?

He could still feel Steve’s lips on his. Like a damp, invisible imprint left behind. Dazed, he went back into the pub.

His Steve stood near the bar, raising his arms outwards. “Where did you go off to?”

I met your future self. Or at least, I think I did. “Just went out for some fresh air.” Bucky shrugged, trying to be as casual as he could.

“Well, come on, we’re gonna be late for the briefing. The team’s waiting outside.”

Bucky needed to convince himself that whatever happened in the alley was not some bizarre manifestation of his mind. “Wait. I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Do you... you know...” Come on, Barnes. Get it together.

“Do I what?”

He bobbed on his feet. “... L-love me?”

Steve stared at him for a moment, mouth parting slowly. Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. The last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship. It was the one precious thing he had.

But he had to know.

A smile crept onto Steve’s face. He blushed as he scratched his head. “I guess. Yeah.”

The relief Bucky felt was palpable. He shook his head, laughing a little under his breath. His heart did the Jitterbug in his chest. A part of him wanted to smack the blond idiot at the back of his head for not telling the truth sooner.

“Stupid punk,” he said.

“Yeah, I guess I deserve that,” Rogers replied. “How did you find out anyway?”

“Well, you keep giving me these googly eyes all the time! I didn’t know if you really... felt that.”

“Of course I do. You are my whole life.”

Bucky scoffed and looked away, hiding the surging happiness inside. The volcanic eruption in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” said Steve. “I should’ve told you. I was waiting for the right time.”

“Yeah? When exactly is that? Your retirement party?”

Steve tilted his head, looking at his friend with those big, blue puppy eyes and a smile that said ‘please don’t be mad’. Bucky absolutely hated it because he could never resist that face.

“Fine, never mind it,” he said. “You wanna... have dinner or something?”

“I know the perfect place. We could go tonight. Eight o’clock.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of them left the pub, walking so close beside each other that their fingers brushed. Good thing the rest of the Howling Commandos were too drunk out of their wits to notice the love in the air.

-- The Words That Should’ve Been Said. (Read full on AO3)

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modern-inheritance · 3 years

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Modern Inheritance, Fill #1: Eragon Being a Dumbass

Prompt: I want Eragon being a dumbass when Murtagh is the only one to look after him, or the aftermath when Brom finds out about the dumbass thing.

(Note: This may conflict with the timeline of Eragon’s first seizures set by ‘Fatherhood.’ I’m keeping it as is though, as it fits with some characterizations. Arya’s laid out because she pushed herself past the breaking point to watch over Eragon while he was comatose and all that beforehand, Brom and Saphira are left to do the emergency work that requires heavy lifting and magic while they all use kid gloves for Eragon following his injuries, and Murtagh is...well, he’s Murtagh. So yeah, timeline is sketch and always will be.)

“You wanted to look…at a greenhouse?” Murtagh stared down the long rows of planters, dumbstruck. “Why?”

“Are you kidding me?” Eragon spun around and threw out his arms. “This place is amazing! Do you understand just what they’re doing here?”

The giddy smile plastered on Eragon’s face was a welcome sight. It had only been around twenty four hours since the Rider had been released from his room in Tronjheim’s hospital. With Saphira and Brom doing their best to help the dwarves stabilize damaged tunnels and Arya practically asleep on her feet between meals, Eragon had expected to be cooped up in the Elves old embassy. Murtagh had been his rescuer.

The two youths had spent the day walking around the dwarves city mountain, following sights, sounds and smells that struck their fancy.

A fountain gurgling hot water into a stone tub down an alley had occupied their attention for well over an hour as residents of the nearby living quarters happily cooked food in the steaming basin. Both Eragon and Murtagh had been urged to share in the simple feast, and left with full bellies.

Down one hall, Murtagh discovered that the massive hexagonal garnets, square pyrite and triangular topaz plates that mosaiced the wall played musical notes when pressed. At Eragon’s behest, he had lifted the Rider up on his shoulders to hit the high notes and wobbly played the bass end of their favorite songs.

Not long after, Eragon had suddenly perked up and pulled Murtagh after him into a bright room that smelled of composted, moist earth and hummed with UV lighting.

Murtagh crossed his arms, a little amused at Eragon’s enthusiasm. “They’re growing food. In a cave.”

Eragon’s smile, if even possible, grew wider. “They’re growing wildly different plants in the same spot. Look, look!” He again grabbed Murtagh by the wrist and pulled him to the closest raised bed, pointing to a short plant with ragged edged leaves. “Look, this is strawberry. But other there, on that corner, that’s a blueberry bush. Blueberries need acidic soil but strawberries prefer neutral. These two shouldn’t be growing so well in the same bed!”

Eragon dashed off again, pointing out the plants he knew and chattering excitedly about their proper growth conditions and how the climate for some of them shouldn’t be attainable underground but somehow the dwarves had to be using magic to alter spaces around specific plants to allow them to flourish. Murtagh followed a bit more slowly, taking in the smell of pungent herbs as they wandered into an area apparently dedicated to their growth. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but it was nice to just take a moment and appreciate the simple lives of plants.

“No way!” Murtagh jerked, startled by Eragon’s raised voice. He realized then that the young Rider had disappeared from his sight, and with a sudden pang of anxiety he bolted down the green corridor.

Brom always said Eragon was a magnet for trouble, and Murtagh believed him. ‘I can’t leave him alone for two bloody minutes!’

The young man skidded to a stop, heart pounding…to see Eragon happily cramming a handful of leaves into his mouth.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Murtagh rushed forward, grabbing the younger boy by the cheeks. “Spit it out! You don’t know what that is! I swear you’re worse than a bloody puppy!”

Eragon grinned and pushed Murtagh back, swallowing his newfound treat as he did. “I know exactly what it is!” He plucked another leaf from the bushy plant that practically spilled over the edges of the raised bed in front of him and held it out. “This is Virestalk. It grows all over Palancar Valley. It helps you get back on your feet after being sick.” He offered the leaf to Murtagh. “Want some? It’ll probably help you get over that concussion.”

“…I think I’ll pass on the magically grown plant in the magical garden with apparent energy restoring properties.” Eragon shrugged and popped the leaf into his mouth before grabbing two handfuls off the bed and shoving them into his pockets. “Come on. It’s almost dinner time. Arya’s probably awake by now and losing her mind over where you are.”

“Can we stop at that little place we passed earlier with the chicken kebabs? I’m getting hungry again….”

~~~

Murtagh paused, flattening himself against the wall to allow a group of dust coated dwarves past as he looked around. Eragon had fallen behind again, and, with a few choice swears, Murtagh followed behind the grimy workers and retrace his steps.

He found the young Rider staring into the window of an empty shop.

“Hey. That’s not the chicken stall you know. They’re going to run out by the time we get there if you don’t hurry up.”

Eragon slowly turned his head to stare at his friend. He blinked twice, eyelids moving almost comically slowly before he slurred out, “Murtagh…there’s so many colors.”

Murtagh stared back. “…What?”

“The parrot. It’s got…so many colors. Where’d you find it?” He raised an arm and pointed towards Murtagh’s shoulder. “Where’d you come from, bird?”

‘…Oh. Oh this is not going to go over well.’

~~~

“Why do you smell like…oooooh like cotton candy?” Murtagh did his best to resist the urge to just drop Eragon down the short flight of steps leading up to the embassy door as the boy nuzzled his face against his sleeve.

Instead he grit his teeth. “Because I was born in a cotton candy factory.” Really, it would be so easy. Just…sling him over his head from where he was draped across Murtagh’s shoulders and dump him down like a sack of unruly potatoes.

Eragon let out an impressed gasp as his human transport kicked the embassy door, yelling for Arya to open it. “Woooooow! Are you made of cotton candy?”

“Don’t you DARE–”

Both stopped dead, Eragon with his teeth halfway to Murtagh’s arm and Murtagh flexing in preparation to throw him, as the door swung open to reveal not a very groggy elf, but instead a rock dust sprinkled Brom.

He took in the scene with a deadpan expression before asking, in an equally deadpan voice, “What the hell is this?”

“Just let us in and let me put him down, will you? He’s heavier than he looks.”

By the time Murtagh had deposited Eragon on the couch, Arya had dragged herself out of her room to see what was happening. She took a cursory glance at her charge where he lay ‘catching butterflies’ that floated around his head, sniffed the air twice, gave an amused snort, and settled into an open armchair to sleep again. “I smell Divining Sage. Nice going, Murtagh.”

Brom rounded on the young man. “You let him eat Divining Sage?! Do you have any idea what the hell–”

There was a crash from the direction of the embassy’s warehouse where Saphira usually settled down.

“S’all right. I’ll get it.” Arya waved Brom off and pulled herself out of the chair. “Keep tearing into him.”

Murtagh felt his face going red.

What the hell? What the hell. So they all foist Eragon off onto him and when something, because it’s ALWAYS something with Eragon, happens because the boy’s a complete idiot when it comes to self preservation, they all blame him?

“Divining Sage is a fucking hallucinogen, why– how did you even find–” Brom threw up his arms, a flabbergasted mix of angry and confused as to how the situation even came to be. “Are you THAT DENSE?!”

“I don’t see you looking after him!” Murtagh angrily pointed to the Rider currently petting an invisible cat and cooing nonsensical praise to it. “You left him here alone with a practically anesthetized bodyguard and said ‘Yeah, sure Murtagh, keep him busy for a few hours!’”

“I didn’t tell you to get him high, you idiot welp! Where did you even–”

“Oh don’t you blame that on me!” Murtagh jabbed a finger in Brom’s direction. Even as angry as he was at becoming the scapegoat for Eragon’s own idiocy, he knew better than to try and throw hands with the old man. “If I was going to get him high it wouldn’t be off some backwater psychedelics, it’d be off some proper Urû’baen kush and plenty of stout! He ate that crap himself!”

That finally gave Brom pause. “…He what?”

“He stuffed his face with it! I tried to stop him, but he said it was Vire-vine or something.”

Brom slowly turned to stare at Eragon. Eragon smiled widely back before pointing and laughing at Brom’s face.

Then the old Rider sat down and began to laugh as well.

“Virestalk. He thought…it was Virestalk.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Of course he did. They look almost identical. Damn fool probably wanted to give some to all of us to recover after the fight.”

Murtagh approached slowly. Now that Brom was no longer yelling, his own anger began to fade. He puzzled over what it was being replaced with before asking tentatively, “He’s…going to be okay, right?”

Brom sighed and nodded. “Yes. He’ll be fine. The effects wear off within a few hours. We’ll just have to watch him and Saphira till they do.” There was another crash of falling boxes in the warehouse, followed by faint Common Elvish swearing. “Hallucinations affect both partners so….” He gestured down the hall as Eragon took another swipe at a nonexistent Urgal. The sound of the boy’s war cry was mimicked by a loud growl from an apparently hallucinating Saphira.

“Oh.” Murtagh paused. “We have a hallucinating dragon in the building.”

“Yes. And it’s going to be a very long night.”

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #modern inheritance asks #modern inheritance fills #murtagh #saphira #brom #arya #farm boy!Eragon canonically loves plants and still does in MIC #and yes i got eragon high #i feel like he needed it after all that #murtagh is trying to figure out wtf life is going to be like now that he has this weird family #brom is trying but doesn't know 100% how to react or parent #he's still everyone's dad tho ofc

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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First Time in the Shrieking Shack

Excerpt from my Marauders prequal; We Were- Chapter 3: Brothers

"You know, I'm starting to think Remus was right," James sighed as he shuffled through his own stack of notes that were the size of the book he finally declared he'd finished.

"I do that from time to time, you lot always seem so surprised," Remus agreed, not looking up from his chess game with Peter.

James ignored the ingrate and resisted chucking the book at him. "I've read this thing cover to cover, I've looked up everything I can think of, but the only passing mention is that a werewolf bite wouldn't affect animals. How is that helpful, we already know werewolf bites don't ruddy hurt werewolves! You can't be a were-werewolf."

"Might be kind of cool though," Sirius said as he continued trying to stack a deck of exploding snap cards on his head, despite the fact the last two had nearly blown his face off. "Think you would change even more frequently, or be like some giant sized werewolf!"

James couldn't fight the impulse that time and actually threw it at him, causing a miniature explosion as he fell off the bed and nearly set his sheets on fire. Considering it had taken until just this month for him to stop avoiding the common room, James considered it a successful rehabilitation he flipped him off while doing it rather than looking likely to pass out.

"I'm glad you lot think this is so funny, really I do," Remus was biting his lip to stop himself laughing.

Peter was doing no such thing and fell off Remus' bed doing so.

"Guess we will have to try something else though, I'll just return it Monday," James grumbled, flopping down in bed and ignoring Sirius' cussing as he stamped out the fire. "Found anything in all those potions books Pete?"

"A gruesome thing here and there about body transformation," Peter agreed as he finally made his next move. "Nothing Remus would want to go through that even resembles a cure. There was this one kind of promising one that would give him a brand new body."

"Sounds kind of cool," Sirius grinned. "Make yourself look like someone other James' ugly mug."

"Sure," Peter's face crinkled in disgust as he recalled, "all you had to do was submerge yourself in this diamond encrusted cauldron on the 24th of June, but the ingredients are insane. Blood of the enemy, bone of the father, and you don't want to know the last one."

"Yeah, no, I'm good," Remus chuckled.

"Well at least we have Hogsmeade tomorrow!" Sirius reminded eagerly. "It's the weekend before Halloween, and nobody's going to be miserable about it if I have to curse you all!"

"We're so scared," James snorted. He'd been as good as his word, Sirius had shown him a copy from the only letter he had from his dad, a very cold and impartial statement to a Quidditch Little League coach from a long ago summer camp about the ineptitude of the man not putting his son in the Seeker position.

"The only time he's tried to vouch for me, and I don't even like that spot," he'd rolled his eyes as he showed it to James, but he'd still seen red as he mocked the jagged letters. McGonagall at least didn't bat an eye as she took it along with the rest of third years the previous class.

Sirius had been doing a very good job of not acknowledging Regulus since the start of term feast, and nobody had brought him up since then thankfully. It was easier than ever to keep him from his mind without glimpsing him around every corner as they passed Filch, and finally walked right past Hogsmeade station into the village proper.

The four were still arguing about which place to visit first as they passed the little sign declaring it was founded by Hengist of Woodcroft in 1714 right before the first few houses, they'd all heard so many mentions from older students it seemed impossible they'd see everything by seventh year, let alone in just one day!

Wide streets, worn dirt road, and shops all had a different, homey feel than Diagon Alley, and they were still bickering which to enter first when they'd finally traversed far enough to scent the air of the best place in the village regardless, and not another protest was heard when the door to Honeydukes was nudged open.

It had to be, rather than slammed by the enthusiastic boys, because the place was crowded wall to wall with not just students but people from all over traveling here for some of the unique sweets.

Mrs. Flume stood at the counter, all fingers as she constantly dealt out transactions from the never ending line, while her husband Ambrosius Flume was practically running a marathon dipping below for more boxes and resupplying the shelves, his thin brown hair plastered to his scalp with sweat. The four were shuffled this way and that, drooling a bit as they couldn't stop eyeing one thing for long.

James and Sirius finally forced their way through, and by the time they left practically had their own year's supply of everything, their bags literally overflowing with zero regrets.

"Merlin I could die happy in there," Sirius moaned as he tried to shove yet another everlasting gobstopper into his mouth, he was going for a dozen and had only gotten to eight.

"I'd give anything to transform in there once a month," Remus agreed as he chose carefully before selecting a different part of his chocolate skeleton. He was devouring it from the toe-phalanges up, and every new bone was a different flavor. He hadn't even known caramel chocolate was a thing, but he was salivating at the chance to get to the femur and find out and pacing himself. The skull promised to be a mixture of the entire thing!

"I can imagine," James said delicately, "but I'll bet anything's better than a hole under a tree. I still want to ask Madam Pomfrey about that, it sounds cruel."

Remus coughed and nearly dropped his sweet in surprise, Peter only just catching it before the skull cracked open.

"Wha, wha id e 'ay," Sirius disjointedly demanded, he was up to ten.

"Well, erm, it's not a hole in the ground," he said distractedly, eyes now on the horizon. "It's, you know, a building. I have a little room to stretch, I even went in there my first night here to see it," he stopped, but sucked in a breath and forced himself to say, "but I kind of regret knowing what it really looks like, keep having nightmares of the place and you lot."

"Ah, Remus," Peter rubbed at his back with a sorrowful face mirrored in the others, and Remus' twisted stomach eased slightly at finally admitting that aloud.

"I ant elev rs a ol ildin r aree?" Sirius slurred, but he was forced to stop his attempt as he lost a gobstopper in his efforts to speak and it landed in the dirt, the drool leaking out of his mouth was taking more effort to wipe away constantly than enjoying himself anyways and he began swallowing them.

"Care to repeat that?" Remus smiled.

"He said what kind of building, or where's this building, one of those," Peter rolled his eyes.

"I said," Sirius huffed, still smacking his lips, "I can't believe there's a whole building under that tree! That's kind of cool, like a reverse Hogwarts!"

"Oh no," Remus corrected, "it's a tunnel, and the building's at the end. Above ground, I imagine, but it was too dark to see outside the window, and it's all boarded up anyways. Magically too, of course, so I can't get out from there. I supposed it's somewhere in the Forbidden Forest and we just haven't found it yet, or maybe it's invisible."

"Maybe you could show us sometime," James grinned at the new idea.

Remus shivered, and it had nothing to do with the chilly breeze. It was over a year since they'd figured out his secret, and he still couldn't believe how casually they all were chatting about this.

"Not during a full moon, obviously," James corrected with an eye roll. "But like, tonight. I'll bet if we bring some of these snacks and spend the night even, it would start feeling like the dorm, maybe get rid of those stupid nightmares." He finished with complete confidence, like Remus would ever hurt them no matter what body he was in.

Sirius and Peter at once agreed enthusiastically. Remus didn't exactly agree, but he couldn't think up a reason to talk them out of it either, and the subject was changed anyways as they came across yet another brilliant shop, Zonko's. James and Sirius' money bags seemed to have no limit, and they came away with yet another treasure trove of things, still laughing hysterically the rest of the day as they finally followed a popular throng to a place called The Three Broomsticks, and were all treated to a Halloween tale by a local man who regaled them with stories of the Shrieking Shack. Ever since its resurrection a few years back strange noises had been echoing from the place, people were already calling it haunted and nobody seemed quite sure why it had been built at all, or even who had, seemingly popping up one night with the screams of its victims echoing in the village ever since.

Nobody exactly led the way confidently that night, even as they all ducked low under the cloak without protest. Every time one of them hesitated too long the others just kept moving, and the four continued this odd shuffling pace until they stood just out of reach of the tree once more. James and Sirius' heritage was starting to rear up despite themselves as they eyed the hole they'd seen Madam Pomfrey once emerge from with an almost dead looking body, and Peter was instinctively shying away as well, but right into Remus without even thinking about it.

Remus did not want to be the one to raise his wand and still the tree, berating himself with mutters under his breath for encouraging them even this far, but it was this familiar habit of his talking to himself that finally kicked Sirius into squaring his shoulders and proving him wrong that they knew exactly what they were getting themselves into that had him mimicking what the school nurse once had, "Wingardium Leviosa," and watching carefully as the little branch rose a few feet, and at the flick of his wand, flew too fast for any of its alive brethren to stop it.

James easily crawled in first, Peter right behind him. "Get on then, my arm's getting tired," Sirius flashed him a smile, barely visible in the thick cloudy night and absent moonlight, so Remus forced himself to swallow and go through once more.

His nose dilated upon the familiar puff of dirt as Sirius plopped in behind him. His eyes adjusted the quickest and traced easily the uneven floor. His body ached oddly, as if it was already trying to tense up for a transformation to come, his fingers even twitched as if he should be removing his clothes from habit.

"Well, this isn't getting any less fun," James still had the gall to say cheerfully as he went off, his hair barely scraped the low ceiling. Sirius had to prod him in the back to get him moving.

After a few moments James began humming to himself out of boredom, and Sirius quickly caught on with the tune and sang some nonsense words off the top of his head, a game they'd been doing since their very first night. The familiarity of it caused Remus and Peter to start chuckling in surprise and even applauding the two, the trek that usually felt like hours were gone by the time they'd wrapped up and James stopped with a curse as his head smacked against something.

The hatch swung up easily, he nearly kicked Peter in the face as he hauled himself up before offering a hand down, but Remus still hesitated taking the now two offerings. Them being in there would only give the nightmares validity surely...

He made a squealing noise of surprise when Sirius grabbed him from behind, actually holding his waist and trying to force him up while saying, "get on then, I don't want to stare at your ass all night!"

Remus had no choice but to grab ahold of James and Peter and look around once more.

It was even worse than he could have imagined. His face quickly flushed with shame, he usually didn't give himself time to really see it, keeping his eyes closed as long as possible until the pain became unbearable and he knew no more. Now he was forced to see years of his handiwork, the torn furniture, gouges and straight chunks missing from the walls, the pitiful shack looked exactly like a wild animal had attacked it, because he did. Only the lack of excrement held him back from bursting into tears, and he vowed he'd have to go up and thank Madam Pomfrey, or Dumbledore, or somebody for clearly having a foresight he'd always lacked in at least semi cleaning this place up.

James whistled as he turned slowly on the spot and took it all in, while Sirius peered around in the gloom with a very curious look in place.

"Damn Remus," Peter said in close to awe, "how big do you get?" He had to crane his neck up to see the ceiling where the chandelier was twisted and torn, all candles long absent, only hanging on by one lone, rusted bracket. Who had even put that in here?!

"I, err," Remus couldn't answer, his chest swelling painfully, he just wanted to crawl back in that hole and die now.

Sirius suddenly took off, and the other two followed, Remus still dragging his feet as he spotted the staircase and slumped up it. There were three doors, James found the one on the left to be a bathroom, Peter's was a broom closet completely bare and empty, and the one directly in front of them on the tiny landing Sirius shoved open looked like a palace in comparison to the rest of the place.

Remus had only been in here the one time, that first time, but he couldn't help but appreciate all over again the forethought Dumbledore seemed to have put into this as a king size four poster bed sat proudly intact against one wall, but it was dusty with disuse, and the lone window was indeed still boarded up and ruined the kind décor.

"You've been plaguing us with your snores when you had a whole house to yourself!" Sirius accused as he made a running jump before bouncing on it, causing even himself to cough and sneeze as much as them but refusing to stop.

"Couldn't say why, can't be the company," Remus finally said, his chest starting to hurt just a little less.

"Flatterer," James scolded as he went to peek out of what little space was available, but still coming up empty. It was just too dark to get a proper sight of anything beyond.

"Didn't Flitwick say something about Undetectable Extension Charms in our seventh year last class?" Sirius suddenly said as he did a belly flop onto the bed. "Maybe we could give this place a little more room."

"This place is weirdly small," Peter agreed, waving his hand in front of his nose still. "Better than the hollow I was picturing before, but no offense Remus, I've seen animals at zoos get more space than this."

"None taken," Remus shrugged, it's not like he was going to disagree. "I don't think it would make a difference though if they'd made it the size of Hogwarts, I'd still take it out on myself all night."

"I've never been to a zoo," James suddenly pouted, "but I'd come see you Remus," he quickly added on. The two started laughing in surprise, and that was all it took. They just hung around talking endlessly about anything that came to mind the rest of the night, tromping up and down the stairs at their pleasure without having other students poke their head out and yelling at the restless bunch to get to bed. This was their place now, and nobody was going to bother them here.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #Marauders #shreicking shack #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew

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weirdponytail · 4 years

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Modern Inheritance, Fill #1: Eragon being a Dumbass

Prompt: I want Eragon being a dumbass when Murtagh is the only one to look after him, or the aftermath when Brom finds out about the dumbass thing.

“You wanted to look...at a greenhouse?” Murtagh stared down the long rows of planters, dumbstruck. “Why?”

“Are you kidding me?” Eragon spun around and threw out his arms. “This place is amazing! Do you understand just what they're doing here?”

The giddy smile plastered on Eragon’s face was a welcome sight. It had only been twenty four hours since the Rider had been released from his room in Tronjheim’s hospital. With Saphira and Brom doing their best to help the dwarves stabilize damaged tunnels and Arya practically asleep on her feet between meals, Eragon had expected to be cooped up in the Elves old embassy. Murtagh had been his rescuer.

The two youths had spent the day walking around the dwarves city mountain, following sights, sounds and smells that struck their fancy.

Not long after, Eragon had suddenly perked up and pulled Murtagh after him into a bright room that smelled of composted, moist earth and hummed with UV lighting.

Murtagh crossed his arms, a little amused at Eragon’s enthusiasm. “They’re growing food. In a cave.”

Brom always said Eragon was a magnet for trouble, and Murtagh believed him. ‘I can’t leave him alone for two bloody minutes!’

The young man skidded to a stop, heart pounding...to see Eragon happily cramming a handful of leaves into his mouth.

“...I think I’ll pass on the magically grown plant in the magical garden with apparent energy restoring properties.” Eragon shrugged and popped the leaf into his mouth before grabbing two handfuls off the bed and shoving them into his pockets. “Come on. It’s almost dinner time. Arya’s probably awake by now and losing her mind over where you are.”

“Can we stop at that little place we passed earlier with the chicken kebabs? I’m getting hungry again….”

~~~

He found the young Rider staring into the window of an empty shop.

“Hey. That’s not the chicken stall you know. They’re going to run out by the time we get there if you don’t hurry up.”

Eragon slowly turned his head to stare at his friend. He blinked twice, eyelids moving almost comically slowly before he slurred out, “Murtagh...there’s so many colors.”

Murtagh stared back. “...What?”

“The parrot. It’s got...so many colors. Where’d you find it?” He raised an arm and pointed towards Murtagh’s shoulder. “Where’d you come from, bird?”

‘...Oh. Oh this is not going to go over well.’

~~~

“Why do you smell like...oooooh like cotton candy?” Murtagh did his best to resist the urge to just drop Eragon down the short flight of steps leading up to the embassy door as the boy nuzzled his face against his sleeve.

Instead he grit his teeth. “Because I was born in a cotton candy factory.” Really, it would be so easy. Just...sling him over his head from where he was draped across Murtagh’s shoulders and dump him down like a sack of unruly potatoes.

Eragon let out an impressed gasp as his human transport kicked the embassy door, yelling for Arya to open it. “Woooooow! Are you made of cotton candy?”

“Don’t you DARE–”

He took in the scene with a deadpan expression before asking, in an equally deadpan voice, “What the hell is this?”

“Just let us in and let me put him down, will you? He’s heavier than he looks.”

Brom rounded on the young man. “You let him eat Divining Sage?! Do you have any idea what the hell–”

There was a crash from the direction of the embassy’s warehouse where Saphira usually settled down.

“S’all right. I’ll get it.” Arya waved Brom off and pulled herself out of the chair. “Keep tearing into him.”

Murtagh felt his face going red.

“I didn’t tell you to get him high, you idiot welp! Where did you even–”

That finally gave Brom pause. “...He what?”

“He stuffed his face with it! I tried to stop him, but he said it was Vire-vine or something.”

Brom slowly turned to stare at Eragon. Eragon smiled widely back before pointing and laughing at Brom’s face.

Then the old Rider sat down and began to laugh as well.

“Virestalk. He thought...it was Virestalk.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Of course he did. They look almost identical. Damn fool probably wanted to give some to all of us to recover after the fight.”

Murtagh approached slowly. Now that Brom was no longer yelling, his own anger began to fade. He puzzled over what it was being replaced with before asking tentatively, “He’s...going to be okay, right?”

“Oh.” Murtagh paused. “We have a hallucinating dragon in the building.”

“Yes. And it’s going to be a very long night.”

#modern inheritance #eragon #modern inheritance cycle #mic fills #modern inheritance story #mic asks #mic stories #mic story #murtagh #saphira #brom #eragon was a farm boy and canonically loves plants so why not #also yes i got eragon high after farthen dur #i feel like he needs it #murtagh is trying to figure out wtf life is going to be like now #brom just doesn't know how to react or parent

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jokerownsmysoul · 4 years

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the brightest sun in the golden hour

Summary: the city is rarely invaded by such a blinding sun but when it happens sprinkle everything with magic, marking the rhythm of your day and mirroring a sun, even brighter, that has always lived right next to you.

Pairings: Arthur x Reader Content: soft, fluff

Warnings: nothing. only pure fluff

Word count: 5174

If you want for a better atmosphere I was listening to this playlist while writing.

A/N: so. I really don’t know why this piece took so long, I’ve been writing it for weeks by now and I’m not even completely proud of this. Also it’s very clear that my ability to make summaries is broken today, I hope this piece isn’t as bad as this summary lmaoo

Tag list: @arthurflecksgirl , @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile

A/N: english is not my first language so I apologize for any typos, I’m still learning.

The scorching sun warming your day had surprised all the citizens of Gotham. Gotham was famous for many things, and among them was certainly not the sun. It was the dark nights, those alleys that instilled fear and beyond which no one knew what kind of crimes took shapes to be stained with blood; it was the riots, the resignation to live an unhappy life and not be able to change the fate of an entire existence, it was the destruction in a city that sucked up anyone who moved there in search of a dream that very soon would have proved impossible to achieve in a city like this.

This morning you woke up surrounded by freshly laundered white sheets with the welcome of a sun that lit up the room through the shining curtains, like the white light of a lighthouse overlooking a midnight sea. Your face was turned toward a lightened ajar window from where filtered a dazzling light wedged between your eyelashes, blinding your eyes and forcing you to turn to the other side of the bedroom to protect your eyes as much as possible, in the hope that your eyes would find comfort in a more shaded area.

But when you turned to the other side of the bed your face was blinded by an even bigger sun; Arthur. The sun of your life, the sun of your solar system around which your entire existence and all the lives you would have lived revolved, again and again holding him by hand. Yet Arthur always shines with a different light; he’s always been the only light that could never blind your eyes causing you pain and forcing you to close them like the sunlight had just done; his was a rare kind of light that blinded you by bringing to your eyes not pain, but only relief; his light made them thirsty of its beauty and stroked them through its light beams. Arthur was the kind of light that the more you looked at it, the more you wanted to look at it and the more the desire to disappear under its mantle enveloped you entirely.

He was sleeping on the right side with his face toward you, his undressed torso was kept warm by the sheets. On his sleeping face were readable all the stories of his past and his present, converged into his relaxed expression wrinkles that into sleep seemed to have been smoothed and more bearable than when he was awake and his wrinkles rippled out and weigh him down with all the pain that Arthur had gone through and his body could never release. It was as if during sleep his pain was not visible on his face, but only in his mind.

The skin on his face enlightened by the sunlight looked like an amber and crystalline sand of a distant land, one of those surreal fairy-tale lands dotted with diamonds and so magical and unearthly that we wonder if they really exist even while looking at them. On his cheeks the sun immortalized every pore and wrinkle his skin was made of, stretched in a serene expression and amalgamated with the rest of his skin without creating more steep frustrated layers of wrinkles.

His never ending eyelashes were floating subtly as his eyelids were moving in his sleep, casting little strands of shadow upon the bags under his eyes; the sun by catching his eyelashes made them bead of white and red translucent spots that its light poured on their dark-midnight length as liquid colors that like water in a crystal glass took the shape of what containing them.

His chestnut hair was intertwined with crimson and golden reflections that stood out on his chestnut locks as if they were threads of sunshine that an otherworldly celestial spirit had sewn on his soft curls, which scattered here and there and on his pillow like the mantle of a werewolf who wants to be set free were falling on his forehead in invisible caresses.

The corner of his mouth was vaguely curled in a vague smile and the natural folds formed on his lips, deepened by the interplay of light and shadow created by the sun on his face, looked even more delicious and seemed to call you by name, inviting you to enter the charming slot formed by his slightly parted lips.

You stared at him, breathing in all his incomparable beauty brighter than any sunlight that could ever blind your face this morning. You felt the sunshine Arthur was made of absorbing your entire existence and make it shine bright, filling you as if you were a vessel and its light a liquid that filled every part of your wholeness and gushed out of it, letting your body swim into its existence as aqueous as water. You kept watching its existence inhabiting the world until your self-control shattered like glass and you could no longer resist his mouth on which shadow and light were embracing each other, making this game of color reflect on the tip of his tongue, slightly visible from his parted lips like a appetizing call.

You brought your face toward him, just a few inches since your faces were already close, but enough to quietly lay your lips on his own; you savored the taste of his sleep on his lips without even moving yours, you only wanted to enjoy the heat of his lips mixed with the one of the sunlight that had warmed them further, drinking him in. Soon after did his lips began to move instinctively awakened by yours and Arthur began to deepen the kiss without ever opening his eyes, still closed in his sleep from the night before.

The sunlight had entered between your lips in a large lumpy bubble which through a lens flare gushed out of your profiles that were delighting each other kissed by the sun. Arthur was - is - so bright that even the sun itself wanted to kneel before him with reverence, wishing to be kissed by him and share his own light and to rise at the right middle of your kiss glittered by the beauty of you both.

The sun was rising between your mouths and his lips during this kiss while the golden hour was envying you for being so close to the sun and being able to even kiss it without burning down as a mortal human being would.

In your mouths the last traces of your sleep were dissipating as you deepened the kiss and your tongues were listening and telling each other the dreams you had had during the night; a secret that no one else could have hear but the sun which was framing you beyond the window and yet it was totally forgotten by another sun more marvellous, more imposing, all encompassing and brighter; Arthur.

Waking up between the sun and a kiss had never been so fulfilling as this morning. Arthur had got up from the bed excited to see the room full of sunshine and had immediately turned toward the bedroom window to open it further, letting a wave of sun to expand within the bedroom walls and coloring it with a ripe apricot color.

He had looked out the window and had laid each hand on each of its side; his arms wide open welcomed this golden hour being born before your eyes on a day when, for once, the love that was inside your apartment matched flawlessly even outside.

The courtains slid in the air moved by a light breeze, which allowed them to create white fabric pirouettes around Arthur’s silhouette by touching his hips mildly and tickling his skin through a confusing trajectory.

You were lying on your bed watching the love of your life observing the world thinking that it must be thankful and flattered to contain a wonderful creature like Arthur since he deserved nothing less than to live in a place as ethereal as his existence.

And in fact, the curtains moving casually around him in fabric waves seemed to realize the dream of the wind to caress his form; they looked like one of those huge palm leaf fans used by Egyptians to wave fresh air over their kings in their homes, and you would have sworn that at this moment the world was waving its breeze reverently over Arthur with the same amount of worship, looking at him like a sovereign covered by the kind of beauty more natural and genuine of all kinds: the unfeigned and candid morning beauty following a long sleep.

He kept his eyes closed letting the heat of the sunlight kiss his skin like you had just done before wondering when it would happen again to wake up under such a infrequent sun. The golden hour exalted the beauty on his body which, lit up by the sun, had taken on iridescent shades alternated with black lines right where the shadows of his muscles and his protruding bones were formed, drawing shady veins on his skin.

The sun was projecting a ray of light on the room through which you could see the dust in the atmosphere floating around the figure of Arthur, caressing his body imperceptibly and cradling it in what people would call dust particles but that for you were instead life particles, which were flattering Arthur and his transcendental beauty through every element that nature held in its invisible hands.

Everything in your room, in fact, at that very moment was staring at Arthur as the only sun actually existing in the universe despite a real, bodily and physical sun was right in front of him. It cleared up in your mind revealed by the morning, when Arthur turned to you shortly after smiling with a glimmer of sun in his eyes, the realization that your eyes could never look at another sun that could blind you without bringing pain to your eyes, but relief, other than the sun that was Arthur.

You smiled at Arthur with the same intensity looking forward to the day ahead and to the prospect of enjoying a sun you’ve always longed to see in a city as gloomy as Gotham.

***

It's been hours now since you woke up but the sun was still warming the apartment with its light spread from the wide open windows, letting in the apartment the invisible smell of the sun and the air of Gotham which took you by surprise.

You were making the bed as you wondered how a filthy city full of smog and garbage like Gotham could actually smell like trees, sun and peace. Probably, you thought as you grabbed the sheet to place it over the bed, the smell coming from the window was not Gotham’s smell but the one of a very far away place, a dreamy and unrealistic place that had originated from your love, the same place from which your souls had originated and that belonged to the same corner of a street in a city buried in the mystery of a planet never known, except by your love which like a sentient spirit already knew the place it belonged to.

A slice of magnificent heaven mirrored the small world formed within the walls of your apartment and had taken the ephemeral consistency of the earthly sun that on this day seemed to shine only to simulate a sun, more powerful and worldwide, that had always been in the center of your apartment. It felt like in your apartment there was a specific solar system composed only of the two of you and a loving sun which, by the union of your bodies and souls, came out of your lives and condensed itself into the center of your home like a star that shone only for you.

When you raised the sheet energetically to lie it over the mattress it soared in the air like a wild eagle which finally had took flight after being caged for too long. You saw it rising in an enchanted pearl color mantle on which the sun made reflect its light that struck your eyes before meandering carelessly into the room for a few seconds, smearing itself in the thin air and sprinkling it like a flood river that takes the form of an embroidered weft carrying both of your scent. You watched the sheet fall on the mattress in white fabric waves that traveled along the walls of your bedroom with such a grace that reminded you of the peculiar grace Arthur always brought within him. Their uncoordinated silk dance was so bewitching that its magnetic dance revealed itself before your eyes like a slow motion movie.

You had witnessed the most domestic form of poetry when the sheet, rubbing and waving in the air moved by your arms, moved an army of dust that had spread along its entire trajectory and around the bed as had happened that same morning when the curtains moved by the morning breeze had pushed the dust along the bare forms of Arthur.

You always adored to make your bed for this very reason; because it was in the secret intimacy of these small moments where it was hidden the homely poetry of nature sneaking into the walls of an apartment inhabited only by love. You always adored it because repeated and familiar gestures such as making the bed were the embodiment of the bound you had with Arthur and they gave you the same safety that he gave you every day; they had the taste of the daily life you experienced with Arthur, of the certainty of your love that would never end because, from the beginning, you both had understood that you had always belonged to each other. In the intimate silence produced when one of you was making the bed there was the kind of magic that enters people’s lives by hiding itself on the surface among the furniture of the house, making itself identifiable but remaining secluded between their cracks so that only those who really love can notice it. And you, of course, noticed it.

Nature had crept into those walls through a sun hotter than ever, through the atmospheric dust that wanted to caress both your shapes and furniture and through the smell of clean holed up between the blankets. While you held in your hands a sheet that still bore the memory of all the times when, held in each other’s arms, you had loved one another by letting yourselves be stuffed in the embroidery of its fabric, you could hear from the open window the sound of Gotham playing like a radio left on in the background; birds chirping in the distance hidden by trees that occupied your view but you could imagine them like a daydream crouching on thin branches while watching you as shy spectators laying the sheet on the mattress, removing the folds created carelessly on it and placing the blankets along the sides of the bed in neat and automatic gestures you knew by heart.

The freshly laundered pearl color sheets had left in the air the smell of fabric softener and detergent, a scent smelled like home and you, which brought to your mind every moment spent together with the love of your life.

You wondered how the smell of a fabric softener bought in any store by millions of people could hide within itself a fragrance that, in every home and in different people's hands turns into a different scent, acquiring a memory that carries a distinctive fragrance as if it were the imprint of the family using it. It felt like it was the identity card of a house and, through its smell, you could even learn about those people inhabiting Gotham and their home.

Your scent was the one of your lives mixed together in a single fragrance, so pleasantly yet pungent, sweet yet strong that was totally enveloping you and filling your nostrils and, although Arthur was in the other room doing other chores, through the smell of your love that was not only hidden among the embroidery of the fabric but remained palpable behind everything that apartment was made of, surprisingly did you found out that actually you missed him as if you had not seen him for a lifetime and your body, missing its other half, was glimpsing it in every inch of the room, in every particle of your intrinsic smell, on your pillows neatly resting on the mattress and on the blankets now positioned on the bed flawlessly, on which you could see his features as if you had just embroidered his face on it with a wool of Arthur's colors.

You were lining up the pillows by laying them perfectly parallel to each other, just as your lives which meant to follow each other throughout your life had walked side by side until you met, when all of a sudden did you felt Arthur’s arms encircling your waist and his body pressing on your back bent toward the bed to wrap you from behind in a hug. A soft chuckle of amazement came out of your mouth by feeling his body unexpectedly on you and catching you by surprise just when you needed him the most, before his lips began to kiss your cheek and every point of your neck they could reach with the heat of who had missed you and couldn’t contain the adrenaline he had in his body to feel his skin in contact with yours.

You didn’t need words to understand that you had missed each other; you understood it by the heat with which he was peppering you with kisses, and he understood it from your arms that moving away from the pillows, now perfectly aligned and in order, they had rested instinctively on his arms still surrounding your waist as if your bodies were driven by a magnet that always brought you back to each other.

“Arthur!" Was what came out in a playful laugh from your lips when Arthur, pressing his body toward yours further as he kissed you more urgently and his starving lips sought your skin, he began to keep you both off balance by swinging your bodies that wrapped in this turbulent embrace were following by now a confused dance in which the only right steps were the loud pops of his kisses. “What you are doing?” You mumbled while with his arms he kept you from leaving. You were only amused by this exhibition of passionate love.

Your embrace soon turned into a vivacious challenge in which you couldn’t tell whether it would overcome the gravity force or the playful attitude with which Arthur was laying love on you throught all the energy he could. "I missed you." He whispered on your cheek, his voice was heated and hoarse with desire, his lips as warm as his breath brushed against your cheek in a smile while he spoke holding them over you so as not to deprive himself of your contact even for a second, before continuing to throw his body and lips on your skin feverishly, kissing you with fury and giving relief to the pleasant thirst he had for you, his lips numb with love carried the after-taste of your skin.

He gracefully turned you on yourself by slipping your waist into his arms so he could look you in the eyes. Your chests touched each other now while Arthur held you in a firm but gentle grip as he continued to sow kisses everywhere on you. On your face, on your neck, right on the soft spot behind your ears and on your collarbone with the same heat and energy as before. At every kiss of his you’d laugh and every time Arthur put even more pressure on you your bodies would lose balance, moved by the frenzy of your love that had taken over. The more pressure he put on your body to dive into everything you were and kiss you as inhumanly as possible, the more you moved away from him by teasing him and bending your back backwards. In the bedroom resonated the lovely popping noises of his boisterous kisses and your laughter when he couldn’t reach your skin so every kiss he wanted to give you remained suspended in the air. Your laughters were the only thing passing between your neighboring bodies that like an echo in the mountains were spreading throughout the apartment. Your embrace had become a confused, messy, indefinite grip as you tried to hold your feet steady on the ground and sustain the attack of kisses and cuddles that had driven Arthur to sneak into the bedroom, assaulting you with all the reverence and love his body could hold, and much more.

Until this challenge was overcome by the force of gravity and as Arthur approached you further for yet another kiss did you clumsily fell on your bed one over the other.

It had won the feverish hurricane that had enveloped both of you when a loud laugh came out of your mouths as soon as your bodies touched the mattress. You looked each other in the eye with complicity for a second before bursting out laughing with a spark of childlike innocence in your eyes, realizing that falling was inevitable, but also premeditated. Arthur’s body was laying completely on yours, his muscles were smeared on your own warming you with his heat and his weight pressed on you in a pleasant physical sensation made you more eager of him and revealed how much you wanted to feel his weight on you all your life. "We fell." You said pointing out the obvious, your laughter was smoothed in a childish giggle.

His eyes were staring at you intensely and full of adoration as if looking down at you while the sun was making your face shine brighter you looked different. Your face at that moment was to him like a landscape that changes its beauty depending on the seasons and Arthur, looking at you under the dazzling and rare sun of Gotham, wanted to remember this new beauty of yours forever. "Yeah… we fell." A grin was drew on Arthur’s lips erasing his previous laugh as the thought of what it meant crept into his mind. "You can’t elude me anymore." The swollen vein in the middle of his forehead, illuminated by the sun, looked like a streak of light beaded of sweat droplets shining like little emeralds on the hairline, his dimples deepened over you as his grin grew further and Arthur traveled your arms with his hands in smooth movements.

Once his hands reached your wrists he grabbed them delicately and dragged your arms over your head, continuing to grab your wrists steady in his hands. You couldn’t rebel from his grip and you actually didn’t mind being unable to move under him either, because a second later Arthur was peppering kisses and raspberries all over your body, making you laugh and preventing you from talking. Your body struggled underneath him with sweet tickles and soft lips, the popping noises of raspberries alternated with the smack ones of his open mouthed kisses and the sheets were unraveling through your bodies chasing each other and through your attempts to grab his lips with yours in the hope that he kissed them; it looked like Arthur wanted to kiss every part of your body except this one, increasing your cravings.

When you managed to dampen your laughter and speak the veil of a giggle was still pressed on your words. "I just made the bed!" You screamed, the bed completely wrecked had the memory of your bodies racing together in a carefree race between prey and victim; the more you tried to free yourself from his grip to kiss him and the more he didn’t want to let you go and not to kiss you, yet. Arthur chuckled, bringing his lips close to yours so that they could rub one another, but not enough to give you the relief of a kiss you were desperately begging for.

His heated breath smelling like him enveloped you and his lips slightly tickled your lips, his languorous eyes stared at you. "I'll make it up later, I just want to kiss you now." He said in an unconcerned but at the same time thoughtful tone of voice. It looked like it was impossible for Arthur to stop laughing even for a second once he'd enjoy his lost innocence. He’s so neat and yet, in front of you, everything pales into insignificance and he was more than happy to see on these sheets the marks of what he was doing to you.

He kissed the corner of your mouth with a sly and cheerful smile still on his lips, your body was melting underneath him because of these ghostly, unsatisfying touches that made you even more needy. "Besides," he continued, another kiss on the corner of your mouth, "last night you didn’t mind to unmade the bed."

You swallowed while the memory of the feeling of his naked weight pressing on your body made room in your mind, so alike to the feeling of his now dressed weight that, instead, was now pressing on your body. "You’re unfair!" You kept screaming in a laugh matching his, pretending to be annoyed; actually never as in that moment his barefaced attitude was making you fall on your knees even though you were literally lying on your bed. "I know." A proud smirk pierced his lips before continuing to sprinkle kisses and raspberries on any part of your body unveiling before his eyes. By now your body was giving itself completely to his attentions and you had stopped tinkering with your arms to escape from his grip in the attempt to finally kiss him on his lips.

A cloud moved into the sky giving the sun the chance to shine even more, spraying a ray of sunshine that from the window lit up the bedroom even further and further, just when Arthur formed a streak of kisses from your chest up to the corner of your mouth and, after having locked his eyes of a blinding green on yours, sealed the bright light entering from the window upon your lips by finally kissing you while the sun, more dazzling than ever, it was shining between both of your lips and gushing out of them looking like a lens flare just as it had happened that morning.

Your apartment was so bright it felt like it was swimming into the core of the sun, dragging you both with it. Your bodies had resumed playing with each other innocently in a incandescent yellow sea which was framing your silhouette, made even hotter than this unnatural sun enveloping the entire city as you rolled on the bed childlike not taking your hands off each other for even a second.

Your apartment had always been a second indistinct world, totally dissociated from the real world in which you lived, and every day was lit up by the sun of your love from within. Even on the more icy night, the coldest winter and the darkest, gloomy day, your apartment always contained a boiling sun that warmed up every piece of furniture on which your fingerprints were visible.

And truthfully you were both embroidered in that apartment for real. Your love filled everything like a material impossible to remove, a fabric sewn with the most powerful needle even in the hardest surfaces that in other times, with another needle, would be difficult to pierce with an object as small as this one. And in every area of the floor, in every dusty corner, in every utensil and in every room, you could smell the fragrance of two souls living in the happiest period of their lives because they finally found themselves after years spent looking for each other.

The separate world you lived in your apartment was a sun-drenched paradise, it was in this earthly paradise that two lovers were playing like two children in the enchanted innocence of two people who, despite being adults, they have never ceased to preserve within their souls the innocence and the ability to be always astonished of life, enjoying their love as if it were the first sip of water of the day: a simple but indispensable thing without which you cannot live.

By loving him, you had allowed Arthur to live the magic of a childhood that had been stolen from him and for that he had never been able to have but of which he had always kept the seed. He knew that one day it would flourish in the hands of his one and only person that, once met, they would have watered by making him understand that he still deserved to be a happy child even in his later years and allowing him to experience a childhood that no one had ever allowed him to live before he was an adult. You brought to the surface the carefree child he never could have been.

By loving you, he had given you the heart of a man who never made you ashamed for having kept the child you had been, he actually had helped you to let this inner child be your strength. He gave you the young love you always dreamed of; a love made of kisses as sweet as candies, of laughter ringing in your lips like comforting lullabies and the spontaneity of a love you knew would never end just like one of those fairy-tale books ready telling never ending stories to be read again and again, night after night, asking to be told to your parents before sleep.

The blankets were totally messy, the unmade bed had erased the perfection with which you had arranged the blankets almost obsessively until a few minutes earlier and the numerous pillows, which Arthur loved to keep tidy and composed on the headboard of the bed, were completely scattered around your figures. From the bedroom window it seemed, in fact, that your bed had never been made and still bore the marks of the previous night.

You smiled at each other with complicity between the mountain of pillows woven between your bodies and the broken sheets. Not because there was a summer sun all over the city that day, although it was a surprise to both of you and you adored it.

No. You both smiled at each other because, for once, finally, the heat of the summer sun spread on the outisde over the whole city corresponded perfectly to the solar heat on the inside that every day had always illuminated your apartment from within. It was your heavenly Eden springing into a dark and hellish city like Gotham, which seldom was illuminated by a sun as bright as the one of your loving souls.

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #arthur x y/n #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck x you #joker x reader #joker 2019 #joker x y/n #joker imagine #joker x you #joaquin phoenix x reader #joaquin phoenix x you #joaquin phoenix x y/n #joaquin phoenix #joker #joker fan fiction #la mia scrittura #arthur fluff #joker fandom

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teaplease1717 · 4 years

Text

Ashes of Love and War

Commission by: Honwaka (Link) - please do not steal or repost.

Title: Ashes of Love and War

Couple: TodoMomo

Rating: Mature (for violence)

Betas: @flourchildwrites (Link) , C’s Melody (Link) , Estelle and my friend Katherine

Art that will appear later on is by: @evieebun125 (Check out their work!)

Notes: This is dedicated to my awesome beta reader @emberstork who has helped me with ‘Cost of Freedom,’ ‘Gosling,’ and ‘Waking the Fallen’.

Story is posted to the @bokunoaubang collection

Chapter 1: We Can (Not) Be Saved

The world was ending.

That’s how the Trojans probably felt, at least, as chilling screams echoed throughout the city.

Shouto stood on top of Troy’s inner wall, watching as blistering, blue flames licked through the stone streets in the distance, setting houses ablaze and trapping those inside. He could already smell the burning bodies in the night air as a warm gust swirled through the carnage carrying the ashes of war.

It fell around him like black snow — dirty, suffocating. Everywhere.

Shouto opened his hand and caught a piece.

A cold hollowness reverberated through his chest. It was like an eagle’s talons: digging into his flesh, puncturing holes in his skin, but instead of blood, his soul was seeping out. He pushed the sensation to the back of his mind.

He needed to sleep. Perhaps when the war was over, he’d finally be able to rest properly.

Shouto clenched his fist shut, smearing the ash in his palm. He turned away from the view, flicking the blood from the tip of his sword, Endeavor, as he stepped over severed limbs and mangled corpses and climbed back down the stone steps to the battle below.

It was like being whisked into a different dimension.

The air vibrated as swords clashed, and the smell of smoldering fire was replaced with the thick stench of blood.

Troy had nothing left but old men and children. And they fought desperately.

An old Trojan warrior spotted him as he stepped down onto the street. Underneath his helmet, the man’s beard was speckled gray and lines had begun to carve into the sides of his eyes. The Trojan raised his weapon and launched himself at him.

Shouto’s fingers twitched and he tightened them around the red hilt of Endeavor. The strong live, the weak die. He was strong, so he would live, Shouto reminded himself.

He blocked the man’s strike.

Metal rung as steel collided. The man lost his balance.

Shouto didn’t.

He stepped forward, his sword sliding through armor and flesh. He twisted and pulled the blade out. The man dropped to the ground with a scream, holding his stomach as his entrails poured out.

Shouto stepped over him.

Two more men charged forward.

Shouto didn’t think as his right side unleashed his ice magic.

There was a pained shriek as cold spikes jutted up from the ground, impaling the first attacker.

Shouto pivoted and dodged the second man’s blow. Spinning, he slammed the base of his sword into the man’s skull. A loud crack echoed, and the warrior crumpled to the ground.

Shouto paused. He took a slow, deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He could feel the blood from the dead wet his feet between his sandals.

He looked down at the man he had just killed.

Three golden bangles glistened around his upper arm. Shouto hesitated before bending down and pulling them off.

Rocking back onto his feet, he pushed his red cloak aside to slide the bracelets up his own arm. And turned to watch his fellow Spartans push the remaining Trojans back. Their bronze shields overlapped to create an impenetrable wall as Prince Midoriya had once taught them to do.

He could see the whites of the Trojans’ eyes. Their pupils were dilated in fear. They didn’t stand a chance and they knew it. They were just stalling the inevitable.

A flicker of white in the black sky danced in his periphery and Shouto looked up.

Hovering above the masses, Kaminari Denki – the Erotes of Lust – paused to watch the fight. His figure shimmered slightly, indicating he was invisible to most mortals.

Shouto's eyes narrowed. He could make out Kaminari's yellow gaze sweeping over the street. The God’s normally relaxed face was tense. He was looking for someone.

Shouto’s lips thinned as he watched Kaminari turn from the fighting.

‘Aphrodite,’ Shouto thought.

The gods were interfering again. One of Aphrodite’s favorite warriors was in trouble, and she had sent Kaminari to whisk him away to safety.

Anger pulsed under his skin. Shouto rolled his jaw.

Let the gods play their games.

It was over now, not even they could change that.

Screams snapped Shouto’s attention away from the God of Lust’s retreating figure and back to the fighting.

A Trojan had broken through the Spartan’s defense.

A small-framed boy with wide glassy eyes had slid under the soldiers’ shields. His body was too skinny, denoting the harsh conditions the war had inflicted on the civilians. Even if he did survive the night, the boy’s sunken eyes were evidence that he wouldn’t live for much longer. He had gone too long without enough food.

A coldness bled through Shouto's veins. ‘The strong live,’ he reminded himself.

He stepped forward.

The boy snarled and lunged at him.

He parried the boy’s strike, sliding his sword effortlessly across the Trojan's throat in a quick, horizontal motion. A red line appeared, and the boy’s head rolled off from his shoulders. Blood spurted into Shouto’s face.

He staggered back.

“Todoroki!” someone yelled.

He stumbled and leaned his arm against the wall of a side alley, spitting. The blood had gotten into his eyes and stung like a dull bee’s sting. He cracked an eye open and watched through blurry vision as Sero Hanata rushed up beside him.

“Todoroki, you okay?” Sero asked. He reached out and took Shouto’s sword from his fingers.

Shouto took a moment and wiped the blood from his face with the back of his arm. "Yeah, I'm fine,” he said, spitting into the dirt.

Sero grimaced and nodded in understanding. He was about Shouto’s own age. Tall and lean, with straight, chin-length black hair. He was a good soldier and dependable, although rather plain-looking.

“Sorry about letting that one through,” Sero said. He paused for a moment and then lowered his voice. “You can go rest if you want. We’re almost done. I know you haven’t been sleeping much lately.” He flashed Shouto a small smile that showed too much teeth.

Shouto didn’t smile back. He was tired, and his mouth tasted of salt and copper. He spat again, to get rid of the taste, but it didn’t disappear. Sighing, he pushed off from the stone wall, instinctively reaching back for Endeavor. The sword was an unbreakable blade that was magicked to never dull or rust. It was the only gift he allowed himself to keep from his father. “No. I can still fight.”

Sero opened his mouth to say more, but desperate cries coming from the adjacent street made both men look up.

Women and children raced down the opposite street towards the inner city and the Trojans’ last line of defense. On their heels were a group of Theban soldiers, their white armor splotched with blood as they grabbed the escaping civilians and killed any that resisted.

Sero tsked under his breath. “No discipline at all. They act like wild animals now that we’ve won.” He sighed and turned back to Shouto. He clasped his shoulder. “Nothing we can do about it,” he said, his voice soft, almost apologetic. “They lost. The best they can hope for is to be sold into slavery. It’s the fate of the weak.”

Shouto didn’t respond as he watched one soldier break off from the group, dragging a woman by her long hair down the stone alleyway.

She screamed in anger, kicking out to gain leverage and pull out of his grasp, but the ground was covered with too much blood for her feet to find purchase.

The soldier pulled her past a fallen warrior and further into the alley.

Shouto's eyes narrowed at the same time the woman’s hands skimmed over the silver handle of a knife lying next to one of the corpses. She picked it up.

The soldier hadn’t noticed.

She swung the blade up, cutting through her long hair.

The warrior stumbled as the weight he had been pulling went slack. His eyes widened, and he hesitated, clearly confused.

The woman didn't wait for him to regain his bearings. She swung the knife around and buried it into his unprotected thigh.

The soldier screamed.

She jerked back, scrambling away, but she wasn't fast enough. The soldier swung his shield around and slammed the metal into her head. Her body hit against the alley wall, and she crumpled to the ground.

The man howled and lunged for her.

"Leave her."

The soldier paused. Blood ran down his leg in rivulets. The hard lines of his face tightened as he put pressure on the wounded limb. His eyes flashed dangerously. "Fuck you! The bitch stabbed me!" he swore, turning to look at the two Spartans.

Shouto stepped forward, sheathing his sword. “It’s war. And it's your own fault for not paying attention.”

The man's gaze burned. “What the fuck! Just because you’re a Spartan, doesn’t mean you can--” His eyes widened as Shouto bent down next to the woman, and the moon shone overhead to illuminate his red and white hair. The man took a stumbling step back. “You’re –You’re Shouto Todoroki. The God of War’s son.” His voice had become low. Reverent.

Shouto didn't respond. He reached out to the woman. Blood matted her now shoulder-length brown hair. He placed a hand in front of her mouth, checking to see if she was breathing. Light puffs of air warmed his palm. He exhaled silently and gathered her in his arms. Slinging her over his shoulder, he stood back up.

“You better get going,” Sero said, flashing the soldier his strange smile as he took a step forward. “Unless you want to test your luck against me. I may be no Shouto Todoroki, but I’m pretty confident in my abilities." He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The man didn’t answer and stared wide-eyed at the demigod.

Shouto turned and walked past them dismissively.

“Wait! Todoroki!”

He didn’t pause as hasty footsteps sounded behind him, catching up. "Where are you taking her? To Prince Bakugou?"

Shouto hummed in acknowledgment, adjusting the woman on his shoulder as he followed the alleyways back towards the city’s outer walls.

"He's not going to be happy that you’re bringing him another one."

"He's never happy unless he's fighting."

Sero chuckled. "You mean unless he's beating up Prince Midoriya?"

Shouto snorted but didn't respond. It was no secret that the two princes didn't get along. It was partly why Midoriya had stayed behind during the war while Bakugou led the Spartan army to the northern nation. He had asked Shouto to stay behind with him, but he had ignored the Prince’s request.

“You know?” Sero said, leaning in closer. “She's quite pretty actually. Too bad she went and cut her hair off."

Shouto shifted the woman on his shoulder as he maneuvered around the increasing number of soldiers. If he hadn’t checked that she was breathing earlier, he would have thought she was dead. "It was to get away. He had her hair wrapped around his fist. If she had stabbed him first, there was no guarantee that he would've loosened his hold on her. It was her best option for escaping."

"Oh! That's pretty smart," Sero said, seeming genuinely surprised.

Shouto silently agreed. It was rare to find a woman with a fighter's spirit and the courage to act on it outside of Sparta. Other city-states didn't encourage those traits. Maybe they had been away from home for too long.

"You don’t have to give her to Bakugou. You could keep her as a hetaera, I mean. I don’t know why you haven't taken any hetaeras or helots for yourself anyways.”

“I don’t want any slaves.”

“But when we get back to Sparta we’ll be old enough to receive our own land,” Sero said, making the sign for money. “And I’m sure Prince Midoriya and Prince Bakugou will reward you too; it’s not every war we get a demigod to help us fight.”

“It’s not like we won because of me.”

“That’s true, but you still were undefeated, and if it wasn’t for Apollo and your father, Ares, protecting the city, your ice could have easily brought down the wall.”

Shouto scowled and threw Sero a dark look at the mention of his father.

Sero cringed and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, sorry. I know you don’t like talking about him. But it’s the truth. You were just as powerful and scary as Achilles on the battlefield. Especially that time when you burned all those soldiers with that blue fire.”

Shouto tensed, his throat tightened at the memory. He could still taste the blood and soot in his mouth and he pushed the memory away.

“Why do you keep bringing them to him anyway?" Sero continued. "You'd get good money if you sold them."

Shouto's eyes narrowed, and he waited several moments before responding. “He’s the only one who won’t let them be hurt or raped,” he said finally, his voice low.

Sero blinked, and stared at him, then he made a small noise in the back of his throat and dropped his gaze. “Oh, I see." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Who would have guessed that the famed Shouto Todoroki would have a soft spot for women and children?” he asked under his breath.

Shouto rolled his jaw. Familiar anger rushed through him, and he welcomed it. “It’s not like they asked for this war any more than we did. The gods just play with us mortals like we're pawns.”

His voice grew thinner with every word until he was hissing through his teeth. “This all could have been avoided if not for their selfishness. If Zeus hadn’t made the Trojan prince choose which goddess was the most beautiful, Aphrodite would never have made Helen fall in love and elope with him. And this war wouldn’t have happened. We wouldn’t have been here for ten years if not for them.”

“I suppose that’s true, but you shouldn’t disrespect the gods so much,” Sero said. He quickly glanced around as if he were afraid they were going to be struck down by one of Zeus’ lightning bolts.

Shouto didn't answer.

The smell of burning flesh was growing stronger the closer they got to the outer walls. The abrasive scent stung his eyes and nose. Shouto’s fingers twitched, and he gripped the woman over his shoulder tighter as they passed a pyre of burning corpses.

They came to the city’s main square. The buildings here, once immaculate and opulent, had all been broken into and looted. The street was littered with shattered vases and anything not worth stealing. The broken shards crunched under Shouto’s feet as he navigated his way forward and through the throngs of soldiers.

In the center of the square sat the Trojan horse, now empty but still standing proudly as a symbol of victory. Exuberant soldiers from every region crowded around the wooden behemoth, erecting tents and packing carts full of slaves and anything else valuable to take back to their city-states.

As he walked through the tents and men, Shouto could see the green capes of Athens, the white tunics of Thebes and the blue cloaks of Mycenae. There were other colors from smaller city-states that Shouto didn't recognize.

On the far side of the square, a group of red-cloaked Spartans were busy loading carts with valuables.

“Oi, Todoroki!” A man with spiky red hair jogged up to them and stopped to salute. Eijiro Kirishima was one of Sparta’s top defenders and known as Prince Bakugou's right hand.

“Kirishima,” Shouto said in greeting.

"Thought you were at the front?" Kirishima said, pausing to cock his head and look closer at the woman he was carrying. “You looking for Prince Bakugou again?” he asked, glancing at Shouto.

Shouto nodded.

Kirishima smiled, filed pointy teeth sticking out of his mouth. “He’s over there," he said, pointing over his shoulder. “But be careful, he’s been in a bad mood since earlier. He didn't find anyone worth fighting. He was hoping to bring down some great warrior, but all we’ve found in this section of the city were women and children.” He sighed dramatically.

It was as Kirishima had said -- Shouto found Katsuki Bakugou sitting in the back of an empty wagon watching the Spartan soldiers pile the other carts full of treasure. His red eyes narrowed on Shouto as he approached. “Fuck, half and half! Are you going to bring me every woman and small child in this city?”

Shouto laid the woman down next to him. She whimpered slightly and then fell quiet.

Bakugou huffed. “I don't need any more slaves,” he threw the woman a quick glance before looking back across the street at his men loading the wagons. "You take her.”

“I have no use for slaves."

Bakugou swiveled around to glare at Shouto. "Fuck you! And you think I need another one! It’s difficult enough to find enough food for all my men." Bakugou growled low, in the back of his throat. "Besides, what the fuck did you do to round face's hair? She looks like a boy now.”

“She cut it off herself. A Theban soldier had captured her, and she cut it to get away.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly and he looked back down at the woman. Something indecipherable flickered behind his red eyes. He flipped a coin between his fingers before returning his gaze to Shouto. “Tsk. Fine. Leave her here, but this is the fucking last one,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“Fine.”

"Now get out of here. Your fucking face is pissing me off. You look like one of the dead."

"You're always pissed off," Shouto retorted, turning on his heels.

Shouto walked back alone towards the inner city walls, taking a different route to avoid the slave wagons and burning corpses. A soft light was beginning to appear in the east, signaling daybreak.

Shouto rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. A headache was building in his temples.

Gods, he was tired.

If only he could rest. Really rest. Without worrying about the war and the nightmares.

Shouto ran a hand through his hair. At least it would all be over soon. That he knew for sure.

Then he was going to feast, take a bath and sleep for days. And maybe not in that order.

Pounding footsteps drew Shouto's attention to a group of twenty or so Athenians rushing down the street. Their eyes were bright with excitement.

Shouto's gaze narrowed as he watched them rush by. They were headed towards the city’s main temple. He hesitated before curiosity overcame him. He followed after them at a slower pace.

There was shouting in the distance that increased in volume as he got closer. He rounded a corner and came to a halt.

A large limestone temple was on fire. Even as it burned, the structure was impressive. Its large white pillars stood as tall as eight grown men standing on top of one another’s shoulders. At the top pediment, gods and heroes had been sculpted into great scenes of battle.

Shouto watched as bright red flames danced off of the roof, and a thick cloud of smoke lifted into the air and breathed out of the temple doors.

The Athenians that he had been following gathered around the front of the burning building. They were eager, like wolves on the trail of a hurt animal.

Shouto stepped on top of a fallen stone statue to see over their bronze helmets.

His eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply.

A Trojan priestess was standing in front of Apollo’s temple wielding a spear. Her purple chiton was ripped up to her thighs and soaked with blood; long black hair lay plastered to her face with sweat and soot.

Nevertheless, she was stunning. With full lips and cat-shaped eyes, she had an earthy, natural beauty. If he didn’t know better, he’d call her Helen or Cassandra, but both women had already been captured.

Shouto shifted to watch her strike at an Athenian, and he couldn't help but admire her skill. She fought better than most men, handling her spear with grace and speed. He hadn’t heard of any women fighters in the Trojan army but, then again, he didn’t pay attention to the soldiers' talk.

One of the warriors circling her lunged, and she sidestepped, swinging her spear down to split the man's heel. He went down with a sharp cry.

She pivoted and blocked another warrior's blow. Her breathing was labored; she was getting tired. The soldiers’ attacks were increasing in frequency, and the circle around her tightened. She wouldn’t last much longer.

A warrior lunged at her blind spot.

Shouto’s heartbeat quickened. He wouldn't be fast enough to save her, and she hadn’t seen the soldier attack.

Black shadows shot out from the temple’s doorway behind her and blocked the soldier’s strike. Dissipating into smoky vapors as they parried the blade.

Shouto’s eyes widened. He stared in horror. Laying on the ground behind the priestess was a creature with the body of a man but head of a raven. He hadn’t noticed the beast earlier as its body was the same black color as the smoke leaking out of the temple.

The priestess spun around and slashed at the soldier’s stomach. He sidestepped and danced back to the safety of the crowd.

Shouto exhaled a slow breath and tried to right his thoughts. It was one thing for him to step in and save the priestess but an entirely different matter now that the creature was involved. It was no wonder the soldiers had been excited. Killing a monster akin to the minotaur would gain them fame and glory back home. They would think of the priestess as just part of their prize.

A white, hot pain slammed into Shouto’s chest. He jerked and stumbled forward, catching himself before falling.

His lungs burned. It felt as if he had been punched in between the ribs by one of his father's fists.

Shouto's gaze darted down.

A gold-tipped arrow was protruding from the center of his chest. It had sliced perfectly through him without bending his armor.

Shouto’s eyes widened. He had fought hundreds of battles over the last ten years and had never once been hurt.

He brought a shaking hand up to touch the arrow tip, but before his fingers could skim the head, the arrow began to glow and then dissolved into brightly colored lights. It was as if the arrow had become a swarm of multicolored fireflies that floated up towards the morning sky and disappeared.

Shouto stared. His breath felt like lead in his throat. He was shaking and simultaneously felt hot and cold as he looked at his chest and touched the area the arrow had protruded from. He brought his hand up to inspect his fingers, but his skin was dry.

It had been a god's arrow. One of Aphrodite's Erotes.

Shouto looked up sharply, expecting to find Kaminari floating in the sky. Instead, his gaze landed on the priestess, still fighting off the Athenian soldiers and the world stopped.

Shouto could hear his own heartbeat thumping in his ears. He could barely breathe. It was like he was drowning in a sea of tar. And he stared in cold fury as the warriors moved in on the priestess.

XXXXXX

More Notes:

1. Erotes - Aphrodite supposedly had multiple servants called Erotes, each representing a different form of love. In later stories these were combined and became her son, Eros. For this story, however, I'm keeping them separate.

2. Hetaeras - mistresses

3. Helots - slaves

4. Cassandra of Troy - one of Apollo's priestesses. She was considered a beauty and even Apollo fell for her, but when she refused the God's advancements he cursed her to foresee the future but have no one believe her.

#todoroki shouto #todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #Yaoyorozu Momo #bnha #boku no hero academia #bokunoaubang #my writing #ashes of love and war #bokunoaubigbang

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lostfoxerin-chaosgod · 3 years

Text

Deadlands lore

The cold wind blows past me, causing the tents to shudder and rustle. These poor things that are barely holding together. We are running low on cloth to fix these tattered tents. Most of my fabric had gone to creating his new fixations. Honestly pointless, but I don’t have the heart to tell him this info; even if I did, I know it would end poorly for me. No matter which way I lean, it leads to a less than favorable outcome. We are going to have to hope we start getting more people drawn out here, or we might have to start heading to one of the small towns to supply us. I adjust my sitting position, hearing the dead grass crunch underneath. This place has really become dilapidated in the five years since we got out here. The light ghostly covers the ground, like a mist or fog. Almost like the light from the Lady Blue Moon is too scared to touch this cursed ground. Not that I would blame her, the history here is so dark that it taints the souls of every creature that touches it. Not that it excuses the actions that we have done here. If anything, it has further damned us, hasn’t it? Staring down at my amulet, I wonder if he would be proud of me, my lord, my savor, and creator. Or, would he be ashamed of the being I have become, judging me for all the manslaughter I have caused? Curse me for all the lives I have ruined or damaged beyond repair, would he cast me away and strip me of everything that he gave me? Would he hunt me down, like a wild animal ready to strip me of the humanity that I barely have? Maybe gun me down with his powerful spells, shooting me with the bright and deadly lasers, disintegrating me to dust and proving that I have failed him with no hope of redemption. I gripped the amulet hard, wishing I could feel anything in my hands, but knowing I will never again feel anything. They are far too gone, cold with my sins, ruined from all the actions that I have caused. Never to feel the warmth of love or kindness, the invisible puppet strings keeping me here till either he dies, or he finally destroys what’s left of my soul. I pray, my lord, you would send something or someone to free me from this curse… I wish to know if you truly are still listening. Or, if you are listening, if you are doing this to punish me for my actions I have committed before this, I wish you could give me a sign. Please, my lord, I beg of you - I need your help. The loud crashing sounds and screams fill the air around me as I feel the magic in the air grow stronger and the light grow darker. The strings growing tighter around me reminded me of my place. I am a servant, and I am needed. I look up to the sky one more time, seeing the small glint of green in the distant sky. The solstice is here, and the ritual has been completed. The magic will keep us stable, at least until the winter solstice comes. I can hear the cheers and celebration from the flow of power filling their bodies, giving them the energy they will need. I know I need to clean up and get the meals around for those wretched beasts. These creatures that have long lost their humanity. Not that they could recognize it if they were told straight to their faces. The wind blows, carrying eerie feelings across the area and making the tents shake, as if calling me to my job. I know he wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t get moving soon, he was relentless and determined. I gather what little strength I can muster to pull myself off the dead and cursed ground. I head inside the tent, standing at the entrance, waiting for my eyes to adjust. The low lantern light barely lighting the inside, almost hiding the horror that lay within, waiting to be seen by any poor soul that happened to wander inside. Unfortunately, it was me who walked in - not that I was surprised by the results. I knew it would look like this. Blood dripping from the table that lay in the center of the room. His curled up form in the corner of the tent giggling into a mad laughter. Do you know what you have become? This abomination, this damned elven creature, whose obsessed with an idea that may never be granted. Whatever happened to that small elven boy I once knew? Are you still inside that shambling thing that calls itself a man, or are you still in the past? Back in that town where we played games? I miss that pure soul that once had big dreams, and an aura that was brighter than the red moon. Thinking of the past sometimes hurts, thinking about what you have become. If only I could have protected you better, if only I could have stopped this sickness of the mind before you got it. Or, could I just be a fool? You could have already had this sickness before you found me in that alley. Me, sitting here, wishing for a chance to change my fate, yet I could never break the promise we made back when you were young. Maybe I am the one that is sick. I move slow, as not to startle him, heading to the table to start my job. The mangled body of the young girl that we had caught last year. The last of our supplies and the last of those creatures’ food. Her chest already ripped open with a strength he could not possess. Meaning I would have to clean one of your toys later as well. You could have been nice and made things easy for me, but that is not who you are. Picking up the tool book, I start cutting into her shoulder. The scraping against bone making the only sound that seemed louder than his mad laughs. As I saw, my eyes began to wander up to the girl’s eyes. They are such bright blue eyes, it would be a shame to waste them. As the arm is finally freed from the corpse, I drop it into the box and grab my spoon. If I move quickly, I can save these eyes and start the process, so they don’t grow cloudy. I dig my spoon in, feeling the struggle the tendons make against my spoon and resisting the smooth glide I am used to with these spoons. I will have to warm them up and sharpen them again. I continue to dig into the socket of this girl’s face, making the slurping or squashing noises as I continue to feel the muscles and tendons tear and rip, yet still causing me to struggle to pull it out. After a bit of effort, the eye manages to pop free and I drop it in the jar and begin to do the next. When I felt hands slither across my back, it is now that I notice that the room has gotten quiet. His breath close to my ear as I hear him giggle, “My friend, you always are such a hard worker. I don’t know what I would do without you.” I flinch in response, as I was not prepared for him to get this close to me. That flinch caused him to tighten his grip on me. “What’s wrong my friend, why are you being so cold to me?” Knowing I was about to waste these eyes and all the effort I put into getting that one out, I breathe in a bit before answering, “I wouldn’t be so cold if you took a shower, Chip. Do you realize how bad you smell right now?” I can feel him pause in his actions, knowing I had given him an answer he was not expecting before feeling him pull away. I put my tools down to turn towards this man. This elven man, his hair a mess and coated with dirt, blood, and who knows what else, stares at himself as if this was the first time he’s ever truly looked at himself. For a moment, that small elf I met back in the village was there on his face. The small innocent boy who laughed with me as we played pranks on the other kids. “Do I smell that bad, Tattle?” Looking at me with pure concern in his eyes. “Yes, Chip, you smell. Your beloved would not be pleased if she knew you could not take care of yourself. Come now, let’s go bathe, you must always look your best. You never know when she will come strolling into the tent.” I gently touch him and start to usher him out the tent towards the bathing pit. The look of concern turning into shock before morphing into a determined and strict face. “You’re right, my friend, how could I ever let myself go like this. I don’t know what I would do without you, we must fix this mess and make myself look presentable for my love.” I am thankful for his accepting attitude as I feel the eyes of those creatures on me, upset that they will have to wait longer for their food. They can wait, I have my own self to preserve. “You would truly be a mess without me, Chip. Come now, I must get you clean and then prepare dinner for the rest of the crew.”

#dnd #oc #campaign #astrala #spoon #idiot #champions #tattle #circus #chip

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memoirsverse · 4 years

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Dresden Files/The Authors of Paradise: Dark Days, Chapter 3

This is a crossover fan novel featuring my own characters and world of The Authors of Paradise, blended with those of Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files. This derivative crossover work is being written for the sheer fun of it, with no financial gain. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files, and all associated characters. I own Evelyn Alvar, Arabella Thorne, Thornebridge Manor, The Authors of Paradise, and all associated characters. I’ve taken the two worlds, mashed them together, and whipped up this meandering thingamabob. Mmm, tasty.

This novel is rated M for Mature, because it’ll get bloody.

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

iii. Evelyn

I had looked into the swirling, prismatic abyss, and had Seen what was emerging from it. I had heard the jarring discordance of its song taking shape. Its energy had blossomed inside my mind like rotting flesh melting aside to reveal the gore held within.

That was why I was ready this time when the creature hurled a wave of suffocating dread in my general direction. The whole world is made of song, if you know how to hear it. When you know the resonance of something, you can counteract it with your own tone.

I drew in a deep breath, opened my mouth, and sang out a long, loud, crystalline note that rang throughout the alley like a giant tuning fork. That single, protracted note I formed into a word, no word in any human tongue but simply a collection of syllables that danced along the threads of my intent and coalesced into pure Will.

The note reached out to the dark, pulsing energy rushing along the channel of the creature’s screech and diverted it away from myself and the man standing beside me, splitting it apart and scattering it to be carried away on the wind. Peripherally, I could see the man lifting his staff, holding it across himself with one hand, and could feel him gathering energy.

I ran out of breath and my voice dipped to silence as I frantically reached into my bag to retrieve one of the little spherical glass containers I had carefully packed in an interior pocket with plenty of padding. The creature slapped the air with its wings and dove forward, but the man stepped forward, his booming voice echoing throughout the alley. “Forzare!”

An invisible wrecking ball slammed into the creature and sent it tumbling backwards towards the portal. Catching itself mid-trajectory with a billow of its wings, it flipped itself in midair, braced its feet on the brick facade of a building, and lunged forward again. The man moved forward, stepping between the monster and me as he hefted his staff. “Get out of here, lady!”

Instead of responding, I darted around the man and hurled the glass sphere at the creature with a murmured word. It shattered, releasing the coiled energy that had been contained within, a paralysis enchantment that immediately began to twine around the creature, immobilizing it. It struggled for a few seconds, its wings beating the air, then fell to the pavement and was still.

I glowered at the man. “You were saying?”

“Don’t get too comfy, toots,” he replied, gesturing at the creature with his free hand. He still held the staff at the ready, and had a wild, almost feral look in his eyes, his body coiled taut as if readying himself to spring into action again. Despite this, he was breathing steadily, in through his nostrils and out through his mouth. This certainly wasn’t the mage’s first battle. “It’s not over.”

“Call me ‘toots’ again and I’ll shove that staff exactly where you don’t want it,” I growled, but I followed his line of sight. The creature was shuddering in its invisible restraints, and something scarlet flickered along the surface of its leathery hide. A spiderweb of red lightning rushed to spread over its skin, and it began to stand, flexing its wings and limbs. I could feel the binding enchantment popping and breaking like so many snapped threads.

“Oh, crap,” I said, and thrust my hand into my bag again, frantically casting around for another glass sphere.

I’m not very good at direct psychokinetic battle magic, what I’ve heard referred to as evocation in some circles. Give me time to prepare, give me time to carefully and meticulously and mathematically construct enchantments set to go off at a certain trigger, or to build a thaumaturgical link and manipulate with ritual, and I can manage. It’s usually by the skin of my teeth, but I’m still alive, so that must count for something.

But sometimes my gadgets, baubles, and carefully laid plans fail me. Darn it all to fucking heck, as Arabella would say. But Arabella wasn’t here, and the only backup I had right now was this smart-mouthed human skyscraper wielding an oversized phallic symbol and Big Thug Energy. Gods grant me patience.

The livid energy crackling over the creature’s body intensified and multiplied, and I felt the last of the binding enchantment fray and snap apart. The creature rolled its neck and stretched its wings as if it had merely woken from a pleasant nap, then lurched itself at us with a shriek.

The man, evidently still suffering from an acute case of misplaced chivalry, again moved so he was between the creature and me, staff raised as he eyed the creature and the dizzying, psychedelic whirlpool of a portal behind it. With a snarled word, he hurled another kinetic blast at the creature, this time successfully sending it tumbling backwards into the Rift. Then, striding forward a step with his long legs, he lifted his staff again and shouted, “Instaurabos!”

“That’s not going to work!” I tried to warn him, assuming he was trying to close what he likely thought was a portal to the Nevernever.

A second later, the creature came barreling through the whirling lights which had, of course, failed to collapse in on themselves because they were something entirely different than a portal to the Nevernever. It hit the man like a missile and rode him to the ground. I heard him grunt with the impact, his staff clattering to the pavement and rolling away, and he twisted and bucked beneath the creature as it hissed and seized him by the throat, shoving him back down.

Seemingly heedless of the sudden death-grip on his throat, the man snarled, his teeth bared and his eyes glittering with feral rage, and somehow twisted his body so his left arm and leg were leveraging to the left side of the beast. Then, in one swift, terrifyingly graceful motion, he shoved the creature so it went tumbling off him and rolled to his feet, dropping down into a crouch. My eyes widened as I felt a surge of cold, wild energy, and as I watched, ice began to rapidly crystallize around his fingertips, forming razor-sharp claws.

The man’s lips peeled back into a savage grin, and I found myself wondering which of the two of them was really more dangerous.

The creature started to lunge at the man, and he met it with his own attack, darting forward and raking his ice claws at its throat. The creature whirled out of the way, threw itself into the air, and dove at the man, its own claws flexed. The man caught it in some kind of judo throw, slamming the monster to the ground with enough force to crack the pavement.

His lips still curled in a snarl, the man raised his right hand and plunged it towards the creature’s chest, claws first. The monster caught his wrist, surged up, and went for the man’s throat. He canted sideways at the last second, taking its teeth just above his left collarbone instead. With a violent wrench and a spray of blood, he jerked free of the bite. He barely even seemed to notice, and the alley echoed with his furious scream as a jagged, deadly-sharp icicle extended from the palm of his right hand. With a flip of his wrist, still held in the creature’s grasp, he took the makeshift blade in his hand and drove it downward. It tightened its grip on his wrist and resisted, and then there was a flurry of violent movement and furious growling from both fighters, and the monster gave a powerful lurch and threw the man flat on his back.

It followed with blinding speed, leaping on him and driving a bony knee into the man’s chest. It grabbed a fistful of his dark hair, dashing his head once, twice, three times into the ground. Stunned, the man slowed his struggles, though he didn’t entirely stop them. The creature’s hand clamped around his throat again and began to squeeze.

A grating, raspy cough began to emit from the creature as it leaned in close to the man, the sound like broken glass crunching over stone. It took a few seconds for me to realize it was laughing.

“The Winter Knight and the One Who Forgot,” it cackled, tightening its grip on the man’s throat even as it twisted its head to look at me. Wheezing, the man clawed ineffectually at the creature’s iron grip, and I am ashamed to say I stood frozen. The creature had effectively taken a hostage, and it would only take a small jerk of its hand to snap the man’s neck like a twig. Its black lips peeled back from huge, gleaming canines in what could have equally been a sneer or a snarl. “What a fortuitous chance of a meeting.”

The man tried to speak, but it came out as a strangled gurgle. The creature leaned down over him, a hair’s breadth from his face, and took a long whiff through its nostrils. Its eyelids fluttered and it made a rolling, guttural sound of pure pleasure. “So much fear tearing through your veins even as you fight to the end. And yet you are ignorant of the true nature of things. Blind little sheep. Lambs to the slaughter. The both of you know so little, and understand even less. Events have been orchestrated that you cannot even begin to fathom. You play your parts well, as ever you have.”

Swallowing back my fear, I lowered my bag to the ground, lifted my hands and stepped forward. “If we’ve got parts to play for you, we’re no good to you dead.”

It grinned at me, giving me another good look at its teeth. “Dead. Alive. Alive and dead. The cat’s ever in the box, little taistealaiche.” It looked down at the man, tilting its head and crooning wordlessly, and I saw that the wizard’s face was taking a purple cast, his lips turning blue. But I also saw what the creature didn’t appear to see: his hand sliding into the right pocket of his leather Inverness coat.

“But not for either of you,” the creature purred, and the man pulled his hand from his pocket, swung the revolver around, and shot the monster point blank in the face. It fell back and flopped around blindly, wings beating, an unearthly shriek emanating from the gaping, sludge-dripping hole that had been its muzzle.

The man stood up, his breath rattling in his throat, aimed the weapon, and shot the creature in the face again. “Well, I think that cat just climbed out of its box and fucked you right up, oh Melodramatic One,” he rasped. He glanced over at me. “Guess it’s not immune to bullets. Let’s see how it likes a little bit of ice.”

He retrieved his staff, raised it in front of him, and growled, “Infriga.” An arctic wave of energy swept forward with a crackling, gleaming sheet of ice rushing into being in its wake along the pavement, and both overtook the creature, rising around it and encasing it like a crystalline monolith.

A beat passed, and the scarlet lightning flickered into visibility as it began to spiderweb beneath the surface of the creature’s temporary prison. The ice groaned and crackled, and a pattern of branching fissures began to appear in its surface.

The man looked at me. His breath seethed through his teeth, and he still had a wild look in his eyes that made me want to edge away from him. “I’m gonna take a wild stab in the dark and say you probably know how to send this thing back and close the portal.”

“Yes.” I was already digging the needed implements out of my bag. There was more to it than what he had said, but one thing at a time.

“Well, let’s get a move on already. What do we need to do?”

I pushed aside another spike of irritation at his words. He had, after all, successfully and competently helped to contain the creature. As much as I hated accepting assistance from strangers, I had to admit that this one would have been too much for me to handle alone.

That didn’t mean I had to trust him, of course.

I removed a sketch pad, a stick of sharpened charcoal, and a kneaded eraser from my bag and settled cross-legged on the ground, as close to the creature as I dared. “Keep it contained for me. Can you build a circle around us? The creature and me, I mean.”

He peered at the sketch pad, an eyebrow rising on his angular, scarred face. It wasn’t a particularly unattractive face, I thought, even if he made me want to throw something at him every time he opened his mouth. “Your master plan is to Bob Ross it to death?”

I sighed and mumbled something distinctly unladylike under my breath. As the man used a stub of chalk to create the circle around the creature and I, I took a deep, cleansing breath, then opened my all my senses to gaze into the abyss again.

#Dresden Files #fic #not roleplay #ok to reblog but don't continue it like a thread please!#Dark Days

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friendshipcampaign · 4 years

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Session Recap 11/3/19: Who Ghost There?

Before getting into too many details with Nilo, Ditto sent him a Message suggesting that, if he wanted the party to all be willing to join the expedition, he might want to de-emphasize the more criminal side of what they’d be doing. He assured her he could practice the necessary discretion. She also cautiously asked him how into the tinctures Clarity was, and he expressed that while she seemed to like them, they didn’t really sit right with him either. She warned that after snooping into them herself she thought his instincts might be right.

After their more private conversation, Ditto waved the others over. Amaranth bid goodbye to Sparrow, who seemed amused when she mentioned having “business” that evening. She did another round of introductions for her friends, telling Nilo and Clarity that Kriv could “make you stronger just by standing next to him because of his god,” that Erwyn was “real smart and knew lots of things,” and that Amaranth was really fast and had snuck up on a beholder.

“I am pretty great,” Amaranth agreed.

Ditto went on to round out the intros by adding that Voski had a lot of magic and once insulted somebody so badly they died. Nilo joked that he hoped she had control over it. She told him he would likely be fine, seeing as the damage to the listener was usually an effect of shame. She also commented that some of his good luck charms were from opposing pantheons and pointed out that his Io symbol was upside-down, but Nilo assured her he still felt like they helped with his lucky streak -- which Ditto knew, from reputation, was almost supernaturally strong even for a halfling.

Once introductions were done, Ditto gently warned Nilo that the buyers he had mentioned might not be the safest to sell any of the goods they found to. He said he was worried there wouldn’t be many others that could afford to pay him the proper amount for arcane-grade gems, but Voski added he might try seeing if Caritas had any opportunities, as the city had a reputation for charity and would likely be willing to take stragglers from Veritas. He said he would consider the idea.

Voski also told Clarity that the group had looked into a tincture sample that might have been from a bad batch, and warned her that they might not all be of the best quality. When Clarity expressed cautious skepticism, Voski asked to see one of the samples she had, saying they could reassure her if it was from a similarly cheaply-made run. She made quite a show of examining the sample the kobold gave her, turning to Kriv and asking his opinion as well. They discussed various “flaws” in the packaging, expressed concern about the quality of the product her landlord had re-sold her, and said they could take one to an acquaintance to examine it and be sure. Clarity was still dubious, but told them they were welcome to get the one she’d given them tested.

Ditto filled Nilo in on what Tiktik had seen when she’d sent her familiar to fly over the exclusion zone. The group then agreed they would part briefly before meeting up at an area Nilo designated to enter the exclusion zone together. When the party left the Pig’s Eye, they headed to Inner Truths to drop off the tincture sample. They were greeted by Palette, tress’ dog construct, who was staring intently outside and seemed to be on alert. Tress warned them that another customer had let a quasit in, and things were a little more disordered than usual as a result.

Tress asked if they wanted another full analysis or had a different blood type they wanted to test. This time Amaranth volunteered, to see if her planetouched nature meant her sample would react similarly to Tress’ blood, and Erwyn said he would once again serve as a control and also provided a blood sample. Tress suggested they set up a time to meet to discuss the results, and the group agreed they would come by again in the morning. Voski also purchased another two poison-filtering masks for Nilo and Clarity to use. Before they left, Erwyn asked Tress if anything was wrong, as Palette seemed very on alert, but she assured him the demon that had gotten in before had been removed.

Once everyone was outside the shop, Voski made a motion implying she had forgotten something and stepped back inside herself. She told Tress that she was looking tired, and suggested that it might help if she stepped away from her work for a bit. Tress got a bit defensive at this. Voski pressed on that if the party didn’t stop by before the midday hour of Verity tomorrow, she would encourage Tress to take a few days for herself out of the city. Tress was resistant, saying she was working on duties related to the upcoming Gala and didn’t want to abandon them. Seeming frustrated, Voski conceded Tress could do what she wanted, but still advised that she thought she was working too hard. She turned and headed for the door.

“Your makeup looks good,” Tress said in parting.

“I learned from the best,” Voski replied.

When Voski returned to the others, Kriv quickly tried to look like he hadn’t been leaning up against the door to try to listen in to the conversation she’d been having.

“You’re a paladin,” Voski said to him.

“That has nothing to do with this,” he said.

The party met Nilo and Clarity in an abandoned building to the side of a tucked-away alley. Nilo explained that they knew of a gap in the fencing surrounding the exclusion zone that would get them into a part of it that avoided the worst of the standing water. He passed out waxed cloth to wrap around their feet and legs as protection all the same, since others had reported that it was bad to touch the water.

After discussing their plans somewhat, the party quietly made their way from the meeting place in the alley to the entry point. As they went, Erwyn very briefly spotted one of the demonic pigeons now common to the city swooping at what looked like an invisible patch of air before an imp very briefly materialized in its grip, struggling. It then disappeared again.

With Voski and Kriv donning their usual magic items to see in the dark and Clarity, who had darkvision herself, holding Nilo’s hand to lead him through the darkened city streets, the group was able to make it to the loose panel in the fence surrounding the exclusion zone with relative stealth. Clarity pulled back the fencing, revealing a narrow corner they could squeeze through to get inside.

As the group squeezed inside the exclusion zone, an almost immediate feeling of wrongness descended upon them. On the other side of the fence, even the dry ground -- a mess of jumbled cobblestones at this point -- was starting to exhibit a dark mold, with even higher tide lines on the walls of tilting buildings marking the extent the water had once risen to. Strange, swiveling “buds” in the water seemed almost to be watching them.

When the group started to make their way through the empty streets, both Amaranth and Erwyn lost their footing and had to be caught by Kriv and Voski respectively. As they made their way further in, an Abyssal whispering began to creep at the edge of everyone’s senses -- particularly Erwyn’s.

The next street had settled deeper, with standing water that reached up to Clarity’s waist. The group began to slog through the muck (though Ditto at least was able to hover slightly over it thanks to her shoes), but were staggered apart from each other due to the slow going -- meaning that when Clarity, at the front with Nilo, was suddenly pulled under the surface of the water by an unseen force, most of the group was not near her. Something quickly latched onto Amaranth and pulled her under in the same manner. Kriv and Erwyn both felt tendrils moving around their own legs, but stood their ground, though Kriv wobbled some in the process.

Erwyn noticed one of the strange floating eye “buds” swerving towards him at the same time the tendrils tried to pull him under and assumed they were likely connected. He fired an arrow into it and felt the grip around his legs loosen slightly, then fired one into a bud nearer Clarity. Soon after, she emerged, gasping, having pulled free. Amaranth managed to free herself as well, and pulled out Quest’s ice dagger in order to attack the strange plant creature as she hauled herself above the surface of the water. Voski cast Dancing Lights and positioned one ball of light in front of each of the four eye buds, hoping to serve as an annoyance.

“Okay!” she shouted to Kriv to inspire him. “I think they’re distracted. Try hitting them.”

Clarity slashed at a vine near her, not doing much damage but still making contact. Nilo pushed forward through the mucky water, wrapping an arm protectively around her when he reached her. Kriv pulled out his greatsword and began slashing through the vines near Amaranth, causing one of the four floating eye buds to roll upwards and go still. Some of the vines slackened. Ditto followed him by sending three Magic Missiles into the remaining eyes.

One of the vines nearest Erwyn lashed out and wrapped itself around him, squeezing him tightly enough to cause injury. He tried to wriggle out of its grasp, but failed. Amaranth did the same

Suddenly, something under the surface chomped down on Amaranth’s leg. While she was able to dodge enough to escape some of the damage, the bite was followed by the same creature clawing into her as well. The creature looked to be a long, dark shape with a fish-like tail and a gaping ring of teeth for a mouth, like a lamprey’s. It stayed latched onto her. Voski cast Freedom of Movement on herself and moved the Dancing Light she’d had in front of the now-dead eye over to Nilo, the one member of the party with no natural or magically-enhanced ability to see in the dark. He thanked her.

Clarity started pressing forward to the other side of the stagnant water, making it nearly all the way. At the same time, Nilo slashed at the vines nearest him. Kriv touched his sword and cast Magic Weapon on it before using it to attack the creature that had grabbed onto Amaranth. It let go of her and focused its attention on Kriv, and he slashed into it a second time in response. Ditto, in the meantime, noting that Erwyn was also ensnared by vines and had been unable to make any real progress crossing the water, sent several Magic Missiles into the ones with a grip on him, causing several of them to shrivel and pull away.

Erwyn took the chance to free himself from the vines, though he slipped and fell prone in the process. Righting himself, he tried to fire more arrows into the remaining eye buds, but only made one of his shots. He then moved forward as much as he could after slipping and falling. Amaranth tried to free herself similarly, but had no luck. The strange fish-monster went after Kriv next, enraged by his magic sword, but was unable to make any successful hits on him. Voski, seeing Clarity flagging somewhat, scooped her up and placed her on her shoulder, carrying them both safely to the other side.

“You’re almost out!” she called to Amaranth to inspire her. “Try hitting the parts under the water.”

Kriv attacked the vines holding Amaranth and freed her successfully. He then moved to the other bank, though the monster in the water was able to get an attack in on him. Ditto Levitated Amaranth out of the water (Amaranth high-fived her once they were up in the air) and started to move them both in the direction of Erwyn, who hadn’t been able to get very far at all yet and who she was worried about leaving alone. However, he protested that they should keep moving and he would catch up. After his remarks she kept moving, but made sure not too get too far away from him. He then started doing his best to slog forwards as well.

Amaranth asked Ditto to let her down, as she couldn’t attack anything effectively from the air, and once she was back in the water she went after the strange fish-monster with her blades, landing a couple incredibly successful attacks with the ice dagger. Voski, watching the scene, placed Clarity on Kriv’s shoulder and waded back into the water. She drew her own sword and stabbed the severely wounded creature, skewering it into the ground and killing it.

She turned to face the rest of the group, as well as the remaining vines, and said, “Well, if we’re quite finished with all that.”

As Amaranth, Erwyn, and Voski waded to the other bank, Kriv put Clarity down on the ground. Once he made it over, Erwyn looked down at her and spoke.

“It’s okay, they do that to me all the time, too,�� he said.

Voski cast a Cure Wounds on Erwyn, healing him up a bit. Clarity pulled out a flask and offered the rest of the group some agoglovra, a kobold alcohol made from fermented mushrooms. Amaranth took her up on it and, while for most people it was an acquired taste, she seemed to appreciate it. Erwyn offered to heal Clarity and Kriv said he could instead, with his larger pool of Lay on Hands to offer. A little awed, Clarity looked around at the group and asked how many of them could heal. When Kriv said it was about half of them, she seemed very impressed, though Voski brushed it off somewhat saying it was a useful skill to learn.

“They’re humble but they’re super cool,” Ditto whisper to Clarity.

“I can tell,” the kobold replied.

After a little more walking, the party arrived at their destination, a building now slightly sunken into the street at an angle. An ornate knocker in the shape of a fish’s head was placed in the center of the door. There were, additionally, two destroyed Obsidian Shard messenger spiders outside, one looking as though it may have been hit by an acid attack and the other looking like it had been hit by fire. Little claw marks in the door seemed to imply they had been trying to get inside when they were destroyed. Nilo stepped up to the door and spoke the password he’d gotten from Polly, Mystic Maggie’s former assistant: “Cuttlebone.”

The fish’s mouth opened, revealing a keyhole, but when Amaranth tried to pick it, the fish’s mouth snapped shut on it. She was at least able to tug the pick out, but the fish’s mouth was closed once more. After Amaranth suggested using something to keep it pried open, Ditto conjured a little wooden block and spoke the password again, wedging it inside once the mouth was open. With the obstacle to the mouth closing firmly in place, Amaranth was able to sneak her pick in and get the lock open. With the others focused on the door, Voski casually pocketed the less-damaged of the two spiders.

As the group opened the door, there was an overwhelming smell of damp and mold, accumulated in the weeks since the disaster. Inside, a magical globe of some kind on the ceiling flickered, as if working improperly. Moldering bouquets of magical herbs and a clear, high water line on the wall marked evidence of serious flooding inside, though the water had since receded. Nilo was the first to step over the threshold -- and as he did so, there was a shimmer in the air, followed by the appearance of a silvery, transparent elderly tortle woman. She greeted the party as if they were customers, then looked at Ditto and asked “Polly” why she had been late to work.

Kriv tried using Divine Sense and received confirmation that the ghostly form of Maggie herself was undead -- in addition to quite a lot of feedback from the Abyssal energy in the area. Meanwhile, the elderly ghost started tutting at “Polly,” asking to help her clean up. She seemed to notice that the shop was a mess, without acknowledging how or why it had happened.

“You neglected to mention that the shopkeep may not have made it out at all,” Voski Messaged Nilo.

“I told Ditto!” he protested.

“Hm,” she said. “Maybe she put a happy spin on things.”

Nilo insisted that he hadn’t been expecting a ghost, and Voski asked him if he knew anything about Maggie’s personality. He mostly seemed frozen. Amaranth went to help Ditto with “tidying” things up, but Maggie insisted that customers didn’t need to help her with cleaning. Seeing an avenue of conversation to pursue, Amaranth asked the shopkeeper’s ghost if she would show her around, claiming she was a magic student who wanted to learn more.

“You know, hoping to go to…. school,” she said. “Learn that magic!”

As Amaranth kept the ghost occupied, Voski acted like she was browsing the shop, while also looking around for any obvious remaining dangers that might have lead to Maggie’s death. All she noted was the serious damage to the place, suggesting that the immediate impact of the breach had probably been responsible. Much of the stock in the front seemed to be fairly accessible, tourist-y “magical” paraphernalia. She took some pamphlets.

Maggie told Amaranth she wished her luck with her studies and asked “Polly” if she would keep an eye on things in the front. She then phased through a curtain in the back of the store and Amaranth did her best to follow, as Maggie kept remarking that she wasn’t sure how she’d ever let the place get so dusty.

Once she was gone, Ditto rushed over to Kriv and asked him what you were supposed to do with a ghost. He insisted he didn’t know, just that the situation was “kind of freaky and sad at the same time.” She asked him if there was any religious thing you were supposed to do and he insisted he didn’t know, seeming pretty unnerved by the situation and musing aloud with some distress that her body was probably somewhere in the shop. Voski suggested they not shock her by telling her the truth until they had what they came there for.

In the back, Maggie showed Amaranth some of the more complex magical merchandise she sold -- scrolls, wands, and the like. When she mentioned arcane-grade gems, Amaranth spoke up, saying she was interested in learning about those. Maggie showed her a chest that had a variety of different types -- including, in the center, the single biggest uncut diamond Amaranth had ever seen, or for that matter ever heard tell of, even in her pirate days. When she commented on it, Maggie said that it was from a promising new mine that was producing gems of a quality that hadn’t been seen since maybe the Third Era. Amaranth asked how much that sort of thing cost. Maggie explained she didn’t even technically own it, but rather had it on commission from the mine that produced them.

“You know, it’s really a steal that they’re asking only 10,000 gold for it,” Maggie said.

“Yeah... a steal,” Amaranth said, nervously.

She told the ghost that some of her friends were further along in their arcane pursuits and might also be interested in learning about this stuff. As the two of them went to leave, Maggie tried to close the lid of the chest and her hand passed through it. She tried a few more times, and when she grew angry with it and glared, it slammed shut. When they appeared back in the other room, Amaranth commented to the others that there was some really interesting stuff back there, particularly the diamond, which she shared the price for. Nilo made a strangled sound.

Voski asked Maggie if she was a practitioner of the magical arts herself. Maggie said she was, adding that she scribed her own scrolls up to a certain level before creating a little illusion of a planar system model. The ghost asked Voski if she was magically inclined herself, per Amaranth’s comment about some of the others, and Voski said she was. She then asked a bit more about this massive diamond, wondering what sort of supplier had produced it. Maggie said that it had come from a place called the Onenda mine, up in the mountains -- but that the distributor drumming up business for them in Veritas was a group called the Raliv Mercantile Company.

#session recap

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moonlightreal · 4 years

Text

Winx Club season 8/22

In which we get the best harp music.

22 The Secret of Harmony

Musa’s ‘holiday home.’ So Hoe-bo has to have some money to have two houses!

Musa invites the enchanted Riven in. She gets that he’s not quite himself but doesn’t seem to suspect that an invisible Darcy is telling him to attack! Poor Riven, this is the how-manyth time he’s been enchanted?

He cannot resist! He attacks!

Bloom vs Icy dance! Galatea is having so much fun, it’s so cute.

Tecna repeats the star case’s poem… but I can’t understand the words!

Riven tries to fight off the mind control spell! Darcy invisibly suggests more violence! Riven attacks Musa again! Musa tries to reason with him! She figures out Riven’s under a spell and does the ‘it’s me!” thing. Riven manages to tell darcy he’ll never do anything to hurt Musa, so Darcy appears and orders Riven to attack. She says, ‘it’s not like this is the first time.’

Riven makes lots of lightning come from his suit like Sky did and shakes off the spell. Go Riven! His true feelings came through!

They have a romantic hug. Aww.

Darcy: “What a nice scene. I want to defeat you all even more.”

Your line last episode was better, Darcy!

Also: ok, these suits, what are they? What all can they do? If they can work on willpower that’;s the same as magic, magic is just taking your feelings and will and putting them out on the world magically instead of by your words and actions. They give the boys basically all the powers of a fairy, which I’m not sure is a good direction for the plot. If everybody has powers then nobody’s special and this show is very keen on the Winx being special.

Darcy appears and summons some blobby creatures that are not staryums from a portal. She calls them “shadow bugbears.’ Riven is ready to fight! Musa tells her dad to get to safety.

Bloom vs Icy dance! Icy loses and the stage catapults her to land on Stormy. Icy gets mad and tries magic and it doesn’t work. Galatea prissily reminds her that magic is not allowed.

Bugbears menace Riven and Musa! Musa Cosmixes-up. They fight bugbears and have fun. Darcy retreats.

Bloom vs. Stormy dance! Stormy mocks, but Bloom is confidant. Tie! Rematch! Bloom can do this all day!

Stormy says, “After I win, Galatea will pay for this.” Pay for what, Stormy? She’s being super friendly!

More dancing, this time with zaps of electricity they have to avoid while they dance! Bloom loses!

Tec is thinking. Harmony means collaboration, but the dance contest is one on one so you can’t really have harmony with another person.

Back at home all three of them eat ice cream. Riven and Musa just told the story of how they met, which we don’t get to hear. Or see, since I think they already knew each other when Stella first brings the boys over in season one. Then they start arguing over what day of the week they met on and Hoe-bo starts to laugh.

Riven says the thing they have in common is arguing. Musa says, ‘that’s not true” and they both laugh. Riven says being with Musa makes him feel “at peace, in harmony” which, what?? you feel peaceful when you argue? I don’t understaaaaaand!

But the magic of the show is here with music to make me happy. Musa and Riven play the sofa harp together! The music is really pretty. They have found harmony! Only… when did Riven learn to play? One of Darcy’s bugbears is outside watching.

Aisha made it to the dance final! Aisha vs. Stormy with zappy electricity! (Galatea just said, ‘avoid the beams of light’ but it looks like zappy electricity to me.) Aisha is a good dancer but after a round or two Stormy says, “Hey Aisha, don’t you want to know where Darcy is? Poor Musa, all alone and helpless...” it jolts Aisha out of her rhythm, she loses.

Galatea cheerfully presents the crown to stormy and congratulates her. Stormy grabs the crown and celebrates. Icy’s right there to grab the prime star but Stormy’s not giving it up. Then the prime star poofs away!

Tec repeats the star case’s riddle, it said something about “rough and soothing together’ for harmony, and they know who that sounds like. Aisha comes and tells them Musa’s in danger. Hmm, but if that’s the riddle then was it possible for anyone else to solve it? Could Darcy and Stormy have gotten the star by finding harmony with each other?

Musa says the harmony harp can only be played by two people whose hearts beat in unison. The star appears for Musa! Riven gapes. Darcy’s critter sees and runs off to get the Trix.

Musa and Riven have a romantic moment. Their feelings were so strong they brought the star here! Now that’s true love… or true… argument? Thankfully there won’t be any more Musa/Riven stuff this season so I won’t have to chew on how to make this ship work much longer.

The Trix meet up in an alley and Darcy’s bugbear reports in. Stormy tosses the crown away and the bugbear puts it on and runs off to a new life as a dance queen.

Trix attack Musa’s house to get Stormy’s prize! Riven jumps in front of an ice blast and gets frozen! The rest of the Winx arrive. Flora uses her petal thing to blast Darcy into a tree. Go Flora! They battle a bit.

Icy stops Stormy from attacking. Hmm. Is that a hint? I keep expecting to see moments of thoughtfulness or hesitation from Icy as hints of the prize we’re getting in a few episodes, but so far this is the only time I’ve noticed a serious expression on her face. How late WAS this prize added in? Or are the writers just bad at foreshadowing? I mean, no judgment, I’M bad at foreshadowing, but with a visual medium you have the chance to put an uncertain expression on someone’s face while other characters are turned away, that’s just so basic…

But Icy just says, ‘our advantage is lost.” and “it’s too risky. let’s get out of here.”

The Trix flee.

Poor Riven doesn’t look so good, but Bloom uses Dragonfire to heal him. And she SAYS Dragonfire, in both Italian and English, so that’s still a thing!

Tec explains how she figured out the riddle and they all came rushing to help.

And then, what else, a concert! It’s in a big square, or maybe outside the palace on Melody, a big cool fake-Asian building. Musa and Riven play the sofa harp and the others play their usual instruments. Galatea, Musa’s dad, and the punk kids watch. It’s about like all the other songs, but the harp music does add something. I want to think that’s a real harp, and Rainbow hired a real harpist to play it. Either way, I really really like that harp tune.

Then we have another romantic moment with Musa and Riven. Riven says they do need to actually talk, and Musa says they can do that tomorrow, and hugs him. The other girls go “aww.”

Next time: beach! Tec and Aisha fighting!

#winx club season 8 #winx club

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gillyweedsley · 5 years

Text

a story about Draco’s change

how he would quietly shelter students of all houses from the Carrow's regime, how he saw the resistance forming and aided it from the sidelines, passing Ginny the rotation schedules, casting invisibility charms in dark corners where DA students hid from death eaters, whispered words of information to Neville as they passed in the Great Hall, because no one would ever expect anyone to help right out in the open.

And maybe they don't believe him at first, they turn up their noses and call him names, but then they realize the information is true, and they never let him into their lairs, but they notice when he casually steps in front of them to lead another informant astray, they notice when he gives false information to the Carrows and when he leaves classrooms or storage closets unlocked for them.

And eventually it gets back to the Trio, and they're incredulous, and maybe Hermione sends him a letter (through Aberforth, who hand delivers it to Neville to pass on) filled with skeptical thanks and threats, and questions about the dark side that need answers, and he answers what he can, promises answers for what he can't, and passes on intel on troop movements and planned attacks, and they manage to save so many people.

And then the final battle comes, and Draco doesn't go to his parents when they call him, he stands with the rest of Hogwarts, including other Slytherins that didn't agree with Voldemort's ideals, and he's side-by-side with the Order and the DA, and the Trio, and when Harry wins he takes Draco aside and thanks him, genuinely, and passes his thanks on to the rest of Slytherin, and promises to do what he can to make sure people know what side he was on. And maybe he talks to Hermione, civilly, in person, about all sorts of things as they recover. He listens as she tells him about growing up Muggle, with no idea that magic wasn't just dreams and imagination, and he told her was it was like growing up under magic's thumb, without being able to do anything with his hands without scorn from his father.

They talk for days and days, and Hermione forgives him for not stopping Bellatrix, and thanks him for not ratting Harry out, and it's like a weight lifted off his shoulders and he tells her how it ate at him, and how he almost couldn't handle being on the Inquisitorial Squad but know he needed to play his part to help the resistance. They talk through the summer, they meet when the entire group of kids involved is honored by the ministry, they meet when they have reunions that cover the fact that they are a support group for kids who had to fight a war and grow up too fast.

And they continue to talk and confide in each other, and eventually they get dinner, just the two of them, and it's good, and then they go to Diagon Alley together, then Hogsmeade, then they visit Dumbledore's tomb on the five year anniversary of his death, and they both cry for different reasons. Maybe they date for five years, they visit Muggle London and Muggle York and Wizarding Dublin and they join Harry and Ron and Ginny and Bill and Fleur on a trip to visit her family in France, and then to visit Krum in Bulgaria, and Hermione and Fleur watch as they all play a pick up game of Quidditch.

And maybe he proposes then, on the grassy field they used as a pitch, or maybe he waits until they get back to Hermione's flat and they're tired and quiet and curled up on the couch together. She says yes and they set a date seven years after the battle of Hogwarts, and it's held in the Hall, and it's one of the most talked about weddings of the century, followed only by Harry and Ginny's and Ron and Lavender's. They honeymoon across the world, apparating from country to country to see the sights and visit their friends that had spread out across the globe. And they're happy and she meets his friends and he meets hers and they still have to go to therapy but it's okay because they go together and they go alone, but they talk, and that's the important thing.

And when they lie in bed, sometimes Hermione just tells him what she loves about him, and thanks him for taking a stand against what he was raised with, and he rolls her over and presses his ear to her chest and listens to her heart beat and breathes his love against her skin and vows to be his best for her, and she believes him.

#dramione #harry potter #hp #harry potter au #long post #text post #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco malfoy deserved better #fic #ficlet #hp fic

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vannahfanfics · 5 years

Text

When It Counts

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Lucy Heartfilia

Requested by: Anonymous User

Lucy couldn’t help but smile elatedly as she stepped off the train, stretching her arms above her head and working out the stiffness in her legs before exhaling deeply.

“Ahhhh~ We’re finally home!” she exclaimed. All she got from Natsu and Wendy were a pair of identical labored groans, while Gray was indifferently staring off into space. Erza, at least, came up behind her to clap her in the back with an affirmative nod, but the woman’s absurd strength caused Lucy to lose her balance and stumble forward with arms pin-wheeling. “Ack! Ow! That hurt, Erza…” she pouted as she looked over her shoulder at the red-haired warrior woman. Erza had already turned her attention on Natsu and Gray, who were bickering like usual, but a pair of whacks over their heads shut them right up. Lucy tried to ignore the burning between her shoulder blades as she absentmindedly picked up her bag and began walking toward the station exit; as she was, she accidentally walked too close to someone and bumped them in the arm. “Oh, please exc- Huh?” There was no one there, at least not anyone close enough to have bumped into— only a man further down the line walking briskly toward the platform. “How odd…”

“I’m hungry!” Natsu suddenly roared so intensely that a small bit of fire burst from his mouth, catching the end of poor Wendy’s pigtail on fire. She wailed in fright and ran around in circles with tears streaming down her cheeks until Gray caught the flaming hair between his hands and instantly quelled the small fire with his ice magic, leaving the wind dragon-slayer whimpering and lamenting the burned ends of her pretty, dark hair.

“Cut it out! You’re making a racket!” the ice wizard scolded Natsu, who puffed out his cheeks defiantly.

“Nuh-uh! You’re making a racket, so shut the hell up!”

“You tell him, Natsu!” Happy quipped thinking he was being supportive. Charlie rolled her eyes and shook her head at the hopelessly optimistic cat. Gray and Natsu began bickering again, pressing their foreheads together as they ground their teeth until Erza once again knocked them upside their seemingly empty heads.

“Both of you are making a racket and can shut the hell up!”

“Sorry, Erza,” they chimed begrudgingly in sync as they placed a large amount of distance between themselves and the woman, and rubbed the growing lumps on their heads.

“Now, then, I suppose we are all hungry and should therefore find someplace to eat,” Erza smiled magnanimously and put her hands on her hips, now that her scolding was finished.

“Oh! I know! Let’s eat at Lucy’s house!” Happy offered, and before Lucy could argue, they all chimed in agreement that Lucy’s home cooking was exactly what they needed. Lucy remained in the station with her head hung and her mood somber as they strutted off to break into her house while she ran to the store to buy enough food to satiate the overpowered mages— all by their decision, of course. Oh, man… There goes all my reward money, she lamented miserably and began shuffling off towards the market district, practically watching the money fly right out of her pockets.

It was a short walk to the local grocery store, and as the train station, the streets were quite empty. Normally it didn’t bother Lucy, but for some reason during that evening in particular, she was feeling watched; all throughout her walk and her shopping she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see someone standing behind her, but just like at the train station she was greeted with only empty air. As she walked down the road alongside the harbor towards her home, carrying two shopping bags full of food for the waiting mages, she could not keep the shivers from traveling up her spine.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I so paranoid right now? Their mission hadn’t even been particularly dangerous or involved renegade guilds, so it wasn’t like she was expecting to be targeted for any reason. Biting down on her lip nervously, she again cast a glance over her shoulder towards the end of the street expecting to again be met with only shadows; except, this time she wasn’t. There was someone behind her— and not far behind her, either. Lucy screamed in fright as a cloak-clad man seemingly emerged from the night to grab her by her arms, and she dropped the grocery bags and sent various meats and vegetables scattering into the street.

Before she could scream again, another pair of individuals, apparently his comrades, sprang from an alley to subdue her, one of them pressing a rag over her mouth to silence her screams. A sickly-sweet smell wafted up her nose, one she supposed to be that of a sedative, and she tried her hardest to resist breathing in the fumes. However, with her struggling movements and agitated state, her breathing rate was far higher than normal, and she could not break free of their grasps long enough to escape the noxious odors. Over several minutes, Lucy’s jerky movements transitioned into weak, languid ones, and her mind muddled as her vision began to fog up as she suffocated under the liquid-soaked rag. The last thing she could remember thinking of was that she wasn’t going to make it to dinner before it all faded into darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lucy’s transition into consciousness was slow. Her eyelashes fluttered as her vision refocused in the dark, gloomy atmosphere around her. Gradually, her body stopped feeling numb and her senses returned, and she found with alarm that her arms were tied above her head and her precious Celestial keys were not hanging at her waist. Even worse, she realized that her clothes had been changed; her typical attire had been replaced with a very revealing outfit, a band around her bust and a slitted skirt decorated with plastic jewels and dangling decorations. Her shoes were gone, too, replaced with a pair of gold ankle bracelets, and glittering jewel earrings hung from her ears. It was oddly reminiscent of the attire she had worn during their operation concerning the Dragon Cry when she had danced in a bar.

Her face instantly flushed like Natsu’s fiery breath when she came to the conclusion that someone had changed her clothes.

As she looked around wildly, rapidly descending into a mixture of fury and fear, she found that presumed someone sitting in a chair at the other end of the room. He was shrouded in the gloom. Lucy instantly shut her eyes when he reached up to flip on the lights, blinded by its intensity until they adjusted enough for her to crack one open and glare at him.

“I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“Who are you, you creep? What have you done with my keys?” she demanded, her anger taking over for a moment. She gritted her teeth as he swung them nonchalantly around his fingers, their jingling filling the small, plain room. “Stop that! They’re not a musical instrument, you know!” He just laughed and caught them in his hand, tucking them into his pocket before standing up. He was a handsome man; Lucy could even see that in her dire situation, with luscious brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and chiseled features, dressed in a suit. Well, a handsome creep is still a creep! “Where's your two lackeys?”

“Oh, they’re nothing to worry about. Their job was finished, so I sent them on their way,” he answered vaguely.

“Who are you? What do you want from me? Are you a part of a dark guild? I’m warning you, Fairy Tail won’t take this lightly!”

“Oh, no. I’m not associated with any guild, and Fairy Tail means nothing to me.” As he said that, he vanished from Lucy’s sight, and she recoiled in bewilderment as she looked around the now empty room. What? Where did he go?

She gasped as he abruptly appeared right before her eyes, lightly putting a finger beneath her chin. “I’m still a mage, though. I get offers all the time, as you can imagine; invisibility magic is highly useful for things like assassinations and kidnappings. I did mess up at the train station, though. I was just so flustered by you touching me like that.” Lucy’s red face instantly paled to the color of snow, not ignorant to the insinuations behind his remark. She swallowed slightly, trying to keep her composure. Showing weakness in front of him would mean he had already won.

“Some mage you are, then. If you’re not with a dark guild and aren’t after Fairy Tail, then what do you want?” She wasn’t even sure why she asked the question, because she just knew she wouldn’t like the answer. He chuckled softly, and under normal circumstances, she might have thought that he had a very nice laugh.

“Oh, Lucy, dear, isn’t it obvious? I want you.” Though she was beginning to panic on the inside, lacking her keys and no idea where she was or if her friends were going to be able to find her, she remained composed enough to glare acidly up at him. “Oh, my. What an ugly expression on such a pretty face,” he tutted and patted her cheek. When she whipped her head in an attempt to bite him, he hastily pulled back his hand and laughed heartily. “Such a spirited one!”

“Take these ropes off me and I’ll show you how spirited I am, mister.”

“I think not,” he mused and vanished again, only to reappear across the room. She narrowed her eyes as he pulled out her keys again, and then they widened as he gripped Leo’s key tightly between his two hands, in the position to snap it right in half. “Oh, yes, you realize what a position you’re in now, don’t you? You keep acting like that, and I’ll have to punish you.” Losing one of her keys, especially Loki, with whom she had been through so much, was more than she could bear, and her tough persona instantly shattered.

“No! Please! I’ll do whatever you want! Don’t break my keys!” Loki had the ability to make his own gate, so she expected him to appear at that moment, but he didn’t. Tears stung her eyes as she strained against the ropes tied around her wrists. “I’m begging you!”

“That’s more like it,” he smirked at her but relaxed his grip on the key a little. “Your little Celestial friends can’t save you. I have a special spell in place that suppresses Celestial power, so that’s why your little lion friend can’t come through the gate.” How the hell did he know about that? “I know a lot about you, Lucy.” She recoiled, pressing back against the wall. It was almost like he read her mind, though it was probably just that her face was showing all her emotions right now. “I’m so in love with you, you see, that I just have to know everything about you.”

“I’ve never even met you!” she growled. There was more tremor in her voice than she would have liked.

“I saw you dance in Stella.”

What? That’s what this is all about? This creep wants to see me belly-dance again? she thought incredulously. As she debated struggling, her eyes landed on Leo’s key clutched in his hands, and all thoughts of defiance vanished completely. Her shoulders sagged as she hung her head, not wanting him to see her bottom lip wobbling as the tears flooded her eyes. What do I do? This situation is hopeless… Even if he takes the ropes off, I can’t risk him breaking the key… I can’t lose another one of them again… Losing Aquarius nearly broke her; she couldn’t imagine having to part with another one of her spirits. My only hope… is Natsu and the others… Surely, they had realized that something had happened when she hadn’t turned up, and Natsu and Wendy’s acute senses of smell would hopefully lead them to her. However, she had no idea how long she had been unconscious or how far away from home she was. She raised her head miserably, wearied by the hopelessness of it all.

“What do you want?” she asked again, feebly, fearfully.

“I just want to see you dance again, my dear Lucy.”

I can’t fight him, not when he’s holding my keys hostage. I just have to do what he says, and hope they’re coming for me… She nodded obediently, and he procured a small dagger to walk over and slice the ropes around her wrists. While her arms dropped and she rubbed the red, scraped areas of her wrists where the ropes had chafed her, he plopped down in the chair again with a darkly eager expression, the golden key still trapped in his fingers as a reminder for her to stay docile. She had no music, but Lucy still fell into the dancing pose anyway; thankfully, it hadn’t been that long since Stella, and she remembered the steps.

The plastic jewels and gold, dangling accents on her outfit jingled faintly as she glided in her bare feet across the dirty brick floor, and she felt sickened, reminded of the way he so carelessly jangled her beloved keys. She fought the nausea, sensually moving around the small room, moving her arms here and swinging her arms there, with the occasional seductive swish of her hips or dramatic toss of her head. All the while, she could feel his eyes boring into her and exploring every part of her body. It made her even sicker to her stomach, and she tried to keep the expression of acute disgust from forming on her face, for fear of retaliation against her spirits. Just focus on what you’re doing, Lucy.

“Won’t you come a bit closer?”

Lucy’s step faltered, and her arms hung in the air for a brief moment as her heart rate skyrocketed. She didn’t want to go anywhere near him.

He smiled thinly, tapping his finger against the end of the key, and so she smiled serenely back at him before dancing across the room to stand in front of him. Now, she danced slowly in a circle around the chair and was even more aware of his pervasive staring. As she came around the side of him, his arm shot out to encircle her bare waist and stop her in her tracks. “Magnificent. You dance like the stars are at your feet, Lucy.” As he pulled her closer to the chair, the key shifting in his hand in such a way that the low light flashed across its golden surface, Lucy’s anxiety threatened to boil over. Oh my God, what is he going to do to me?

He must have felt her fear mounting, because he reached around with his other hand to hold the key in a breaking position again, leaving Lucy trapped in the circle that was his arms. “Careful, now.” His voice was breathy, full of threat and desire. “Come, Lucy. Show me what it’s like to be among the stars.”

That’s when Natsu came crashing through the brick wall.

“I’ll show you the stars, asshole!” he howled as he drop-kicked Lucy’s aggressor in the side of the head. As he lost his grip on the keys and they went sailing through the air, jingling wildly, Lucy jumped up to catch them. As her hand wrapped around Leo’s key, she could feel the power humming within it, and it began to glow. Without her even reciting the invocation, Loki appeared in front of her, his hands in his suit pants pockets and a vicious scowl on his face. Apparently, Natsu landing such a blow on the man had deactivated his preventative magic.

“I’m gonna kick your ass for touching Lucy like that, you scumbag!” he shouted, then shot a grin at her. “By the way, you look lovely~” Hearts were practically beating in his eyes.

“Who cares? Get to kicking his ass already!” she demanded angrily and pointed at the creep, who was picking himself up out of the rubble of the other wall, which Natsu had sent him crashing through. As he struggled to get to his feet, Gray appeared through the dust and jerked him up by the back of his jacket.

“You messed with the wrong people,” he frowned.

“How are you already shirtless?!” Lucy cried and face-palmed, while Gray cried out in shock and looked down at himself. With the momentary distraction, his captive was able to use his vanishing magic.

“What the hell? Where did he go?” Gray cried as his jacket appeared in his hands. Apparently, the magic only pertained to things directly touching him.

“He uses invisibility magic!” she answered, and Loki stepped back to shield her with his arm, anticipating that he would target her first. Wendy had also clambered over the half-collapsed wall to run to her side and stood behind her with her arms spread on either side of her to likewise shield Lucy with her body. She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes.

“Natsu—!”

“Yeah, I know! Vanish all you like, asshole, I can still smell you!” With that exclamation, Natsu sprang at thin air, but rather than land on the ground he remained hanging in the air with his arms and legs wrapped around what she figured must be the mage, cloaked in his invisibility. After a second, he dropped the spell and angrily tugged at Natsu, who was clinging to him like some sort of monkey on his back.

“Get off me!” he demanded and managed to grab ahold of the back of Natsu’s shirt and fling him into the wall. Natsu’s curses were buried under the pile of bricks that came crashing down on top of him. However, this provided enough time for Erza to step onto the scene.

“That’s quite enough, you villain!” Though she whacked him over the back of his head with the blunt side of her sword, Lucy still knew that there was enough power behind the attack to be immensely effective— and painful. He crumpled like a rag doll at the knight’s feet, moaning in pain even though he was completely unconscious. “There. That takes care of that.” As she primly put her hands on her hips, Natsu’s head popped out of the rubble, coated in brick dust.

“No fair! I wanted to sock him!” he whined loudly.

“That’s beside the point, Natsu!” Wendy cried and whipped around to face Lucy. “Are you okay, Lucy? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she shook her head, but her expression was sad as she held her keys against her chest. “I couldn’t do anything… He held my keys hostage…” Lucy was just now beginning to realize how completely powerless she had been. I relied completely on these guys to come and save me… After all this time and everything that’s happened, I still depend on them so much… Tears crept back into her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.

“Eh? Natsu, you made her cry!” Gray accused.

“What? How? Why? What did I say?” he stammered quickly in confusion and wriggled out of the pile of rubble to scramble over to her and grab her hands, bringing his face close as he looked down at her with a serious expression. “Don’t cry, Lucy! I didn’t mean it!... Whatever I said,” he said as his expression morphed into a perplexed frown.

“No, it’s not that… It’s just how powerless I was,” she sighed, shoulders sagging. “I should have put up a better fight.”

“Nah, you did your best!” he grinned brightly at her, making her look up with wide eyes. “It’s okay! Sometimes you just can’t win, and that’s what we’re here for, right guys?”

“That’s right! We’ll always come for you when you need help! Isn’t that right, Carla?” Wendy giggled, her pigtails swishing as she looked to her beloved partner for agreement. The pretty flying cat nodded, to which Happy chirped, “Aye!”

“Yeah. We know how important your keys are to you. It was a jerk move, playing like he was going to break them like that,” Gray agreed, then looked at Loki. “Also, thanks for your help— oh, wait, you didn’t do anything.”

“Shut up! I came to my lovely Lucy’s aid!” Loki pouted while wrapping an arm around her shoulders, which made her sigh deeply and sag her shoulders out of weariness, not in the mood to deal with his flirtatiousness.

“Thanks, Loki, but you can go home now.”

“Aw, Lucy! You’re so cold!” he whined but obediently let her go. He then flashed her a wink. “If it hadn’t been for that magic barrier, I would’ve been here in an instant! I’ll always protect you, Lucy, no matter what!” he snickered before returning through his gate. It did bring a smile to Lucy’s face.

“Yes. We are all here to support you when you need it,” Erza nodded, but it was hard to take her seriously when she was sadistically stepping on the unconscious man’s back, making him continuously squeak in pain. Lucy chuckled and shook her head at the antics of the dysfunctional but fun group. In their weird way, they did make her feel better.

“Thank you, everyone.” It’s okay to rely on them sometimes. After all, there are times that they’ll have to rely on my power, too. That’s what friends do.

“By the way, are you still making dinner?” Natsu asked hopefully. Lucy’s mood did a one-eighty.

“This time you’ll be the one seeing stars, Natsu!”

Lucy had found the most destructive, crazy, dysfunctional, altogether outrageous family ever— but no matter how much they got on her nerves (particularly a certain pink-haired dragon-slayer) and how much they bickered, she knew they would always come together to protect each other when it counted. Lucy was proud to be a part of it, and couldn’t think of a better family to be a part of.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#fairy tail #friendship #lucy #dragon cry #natsu #erza #gray #wendy #happy #charlie #drama #happy ending

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umbraastaff · 5 years

Text

I Saw Seven Bounties: Chapter 9.5 - Fantasy Starbucks

A non-canon short chapter for ISSB (no, you don’t have to have read the rest of the fic to read this!)

--> if you’ve been following this blog the past week or two, you know Exactly What This Is.

“Give it up, Barry,” Kravitz calls down the alleyway.

Barry’s shake palm comes to rest on the wall behind him, fingertips grazing the hardened paste between bricks. He shouldn’t be feeling anything at all, but the spell Kravitz cast over the street stops him from passing through.

Kravitz advances. Barry knows he’s cornered. He could try teleporting, or any other amount of magical resistance, but anything that got through the nullification spell might create an explosive reaction with it. It’d hurt both of them.

“Don’t,” Barry says as Kravitz reaches him, his tone a warning. It transparently lacks any real leverage.

Kravitz raises his scythe, and Barry dives forward before he can swing. Kravitz’s chest feels ice cold. He’s suddenly so woozy, like his mind is being tucked under a fleece blanket and the static electricity whenever he moves is enough to make him numb--

And then he’s confused, glancing about the alleyway. Where’s Barry? Where’s… Kravitz? The plan was just for Barry to possess him briefly and then escape, nothing fancy.

“Are you possessing me?” He asks, but the only answer is his own echo. “Am I possessing you?”

“No,” he answers himself decisively. He’s alone. But that doesn’t make sense, because Barry didn’t escape, and Kravitz didn’t leave, he’s sure. So then…

He looks down at his hands. His viewpoint is too far from the ground, but he’s not floating. And his hands are… there are four of them. Okay.

“Ohh,” he says faintly, “Oh, the possession did work, I think? This doesn’t make any sense!” He begins to pace back and forth, agitated. He’s Barry, but he’s not. He’s Kravitz, but he’s not. Barry possessed Kravitz, or tried to, and then this happened. Whatever this is. Whatever he is.

“I’m both of us,” he says quietly to a dumpster, and it’s the first thing he’s said that feels right. But as soon as he voices the thought, everything feels terribly wrong.

He leaves the alley, keeping just enough presence of mind to cast Disguise Self. It hides his lower pair of arms and creates an opaque shadow in his hood, hiding his skull face. He gets some weird looks, but at least he looks like a suspicious goliath instead of a weird monster.

“The Raven Queen could fix this,” he mumbles to himself, arms crossed and back hunched as though trying to reattain a normal human height. “But then--no, I-I’d die. Or Barry would? But Barry’s a part of whatever I… we… are, right now, so that’s a big part of me that’d get killed.

“Seems bad to get so attached to my own existence w-when I shouldn’t exist,” he adds with a grim hint of a laugh. His pace speeds up, and people jump out of his way even as he does his best to maneuver around everyone he overtakes on the sidewalk.

He catches sight of a cafe across the street and decides to duck in. Good place to think, maybe.

He says, “I’d like to order a coffee,” and the barista says, “What kind,” and the next three minutes are an excruciatingly awkward standoff where he politely asks about every item on the menu before settling on a small black coffee.

“And what’s your name?” asks the barista with a pained smile, as though she expects him to struggle with this too.

Terrified of taking any longer than he already has, he lets the first sounds on his mind tumble out of his mouth. “Bar… itz.”

She puts a marker to the cup. “B-A-R-I-T...S?”

“Uh, Z.”

“Okay,” she says sweetly. “I’ll call your name when it’s ready, Baritz.”

“Thank you,” he says, extremely glad for the illusory shadow hiding his face. He squeezes himself into a seat in the corner, ignoring the many glances from other patrons in favor of staring down at the center of the square table he’s sitting at.

His lower pair of hands, still invisible, grip the edge of the table. He drums his fingers against the underside of the table and plants his upper hands on the sides of his face, elbows on the table. The wavy patterns in the wood take all his focus, as the least difficult thing to think about at the moment.

“Some upsides,” he whispers, carefully quiet enough to keep anyone else from overhearing, “This is… groundbreaking magic, absolutely unheard of. Could be revolutionary. An interplanar mashup of undead arcana--who could have guessed it would mix so perfectly into… well, me?”

He blinks and turns his gaze to the window. “Interplanar…?”

Something about the word hurts his head. Something he doesn’t want to think about, something he shouldn’t know. His hands clasp together and shake.

“Black coffee for Baritz,” says a voice that’s too nearby to still be behind the counter. He looks up the see the barista setting the cup directly down on his table. “You just seem like you’re having a… day. And it’s not too busy right now, so I figured I’d just make this easier for you.”

“Th-Thanks--Thank you,” he says unsteadily as she returns to the counter. He stares at the cup. Black coffee… he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t even like this.

He doesn’t like any of this. He shouldn’t be one person. He shouldn’t even… they shouldn’t…

“What if I succeeded?” The cup dents in his grip. “What would you do?”

As he stares at the cup, waiting for an answer he doesn’t have, the conversations of other patrons slowly filter into his hearing.

“That’s illegal, dude.”

“Seats are so easy to get, though.”

“That’s not the only--how are you even gonna get there?”

“What? There’s a train line that runs right through there. It’s a big station.”

“Yeah, and all the tickets are gonna be overpriced, with crowded trains. Tons of people go to Goldcliff, and they don’t exactly draw the most savory crowd…”

Baritz frowns. “Goldcliff…?”

Coffee leaks onto his hand from the top of the crushed cup, and the lid pops off the top. He can tell that the liquid is hot, but it doesn’t actually hurt his semi-corporeal hand.

He wipes it all up using napkins from the table’s dispenser, and then quickly stands up and walks out the door, dropping the still-mostly-full coffee cup and wad of wet napkins in the trash on his way out.

Goldcliff. He walks briskly down the street, paying slightly less attention to the people he’s nearly barrelling over. He shouldn’t go to Goldcliff. Barry had meant to go there, there’s something there, someone--no, no, no, he shouldn’t think about it, he can’t think about it.

His legs take him all the way out to the edge of town as his thoughts conflict with one another. He can’t go there; he doesn’t even know if his magic will work like normal, and trying to teleport would be dangerous. And he just--he shouldn’t. No matter how much he wants to know, how much he feels like the answers to all of his questions are just on the tip of his--

“I don’t want to fight!” he shouts into the open air. His disguise dissipates with it. He’s already walked far past the edge of town, beyond where anyone will notice him.

“Please,” he says, and knocks his head against a tree. Then he sits down against the trunk, lower arms crossed and upper hands clasped together. “Let’s just--I don’t want this any more than you.”

He shakes his head and stares at the sky. “How are we gonna get out of this one?” The clouds just drift lazily. He sighs. He has to stop being, so that Barry and Kravitz can keep going.

But what are they even going to do? The same thing as always? The same stupid, silly game. They both know it, and they both keep playing.

“It’s nothing against you personally,” he says. “I know you know that. I… I can’t apologize.” He leans back against the tree. “I have to do this, you know? It’s everything to me. I don’t think you’d understand.”

He closes his eyes. “Or maybe I do.”

Something feels nauseating, and he just shuts his eyes tighter. It feels like his heart dropping through his stomach, leaving an empty space in his chest, hollow and painful. He feels like so much less, now. Small, but not so small that the hole in his chest completely disappears.

His hands--just two-- drag their fingers through the grass and dirt. He opens his eyes.

Next to him, draped in a familiar bright red, a figure sits just shy of leaning on his shoulder, hands covering his face. Kravitz blanks. “Barry…?”

Barry lowers his hands, trembling. There are tears in his eyes when he turns to face Kravitz. “W-Well, that was…”

“Yeah.”

“F-Forget about everything I--We thought a-about,” Barry says, “T-Towards the end, th-there. Just s-some nonsense anxiety. D-Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t have any bounties recently sighted near Goldcliff,” Kravitz shrugs. “Just get out of here before it’s been too long to justify not getting out my scythe.”

“R-Right, yeah,” Barry says quickly. He stands up and reaches behind his shoulder, snapping his fingers. A portal manifests behind him and he hesitates briefly. Then he gives Kravitz a tiny smile and says, “W-Well, nice to meet us.”

He steps back through the portal, and he’s gone.

#baritz #issb #the adventure zone #writes #my writing #this is an au to normal baritz canon #the first time he fuses is the lyric comic #but i thought itd be neat to see if they fused while they were still. uh. enemies #mine

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tsunnychan · 6 years

Text

Time Pieced: Again?

as I chip away at this outline... med school chips away at my sanity :’).

anyhoo, here’s ch 2 of Time Pieced, the fic that was meant for @petalsandfishes birthday and turned into a much bigger monster as my outline both simultaneously got away from me and went according to plan.

enjoy!

ao3

ii. Again?

4 September 1975

The first thing James noticed was the steady rhythm of rain hitting the window, an occasional rumble of thunder shaking the room. Lightning flashed behind his closed lids and he inhaled deeply. Groaning at the movement of his ribcage, James flipped onto his side and buried his face into the pillow. He was sore, and not the good Quidditch-owns-my-arse kind of sore. Not only did his muscles ache, but there was a sort of heaviness in his bones he couldn’t remember having before.

Merlin, what happened yesterday?

Frustrated, James kicked one leg out of his blankets and huffed. His memory wasn’t the best, but it’d never been foggy before. It was either a clear recollection, or it was a blank slate. Not the vague half-formed ideas that filled his mind now.

The last things he could really recall… He and Sirius just got back to Hogwarts after a rough summer.

Sirius had shown up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, fists clenched and jaw tight. He stood shivering in the brisk summer night with new bruises blossoming along his back, keeping his face hidden with his hair. Before he could say a word, James pulled him inside and steered him into the kitchen, wrapping him in a blanket on the way. James had been rummaging around the cabinets for Pepper Up potion when his mother shuffled in. He tried to ignore the reflexive wince from Sirius when his mother’s hand brushed the hair away from his face. James’ father appeared behind him and soundlessly summoned the ingredients for Pepper Up. As his father began brewing in the corner, the knot in his chest loosened when his mother quietly declared that Sirius was going to stay in the Potter Manor from now on.

The first few days with Sirius were tough. Sirius had both simultaneously accepted and resisted his newfound residence. The Potters had welcomed Sirius into their family without hesitation, having been a brother to James in everything but blood. In reality, Euphemia Potter had already been keeping the room next to James’ prepared ever since they met Sirius on the platform after first year when they went to pick up James. He had been willingly dragged by her own son and gave her the stiffest bow she’d ever seen from a Pureblood. She’d pinched his cheeks and told him to visit soon. And he did, almost every other week since then, his eyes sparking with more life and mischief with each subsequent visit.

This summer, Sirius stayed mostly to himself. He wouldn’t leave his room for days at a time, opening the door occasionally for James. Mostly for Fleamont for Wizard’s Chess. Always for Euphemia.

Often, James would hear low muttering on the other side of the door, quickly followed by rapid cursing and eventually, a muffled slam. He suspected Sirius still tried to reach Regulus, but the two had strayed farther and farther with the growing blood supremacy climate. James had tried asking about it in the past, but he was met with deflection and ire. Instead, he left it alone. Sirius would talk when he wanted to.

James had also gotten notice he was made Quidditch captain over the summer. He tried coaxing Sirius out again to visit Diagon Alley, but to no avail. So, he went alone.

September had crept up faster than anticipated and Sirius’s mood stayed low, albeit improved from when he first showed up at the Potter’s. They journey to the castle was, thankfully, uneventful. Remus and Peter had raised their eyebrows at the sullen mood surrounding Sirius, but James shook his head.

Then they saw Regulus with the wrong crowd at the welcoming feast.

James remembered hastily whispering for Remus and Peter to hold down the fort before chasing after Sirius as he stormed out of the Great Hall. When he finally caught up right outside the Gryffindor Tower, James also remembered suggesting they go for a run outside. Just the two of them.

Soon enough, Prongs and Padfoot sat in companionable silence in one of the Forbidden Forest clearings until midnight.

James and Sirius stumbled back under the Invisibility cloak into the dormitories, narrowly missing a run-in with Filch.

After collapsing in bed, muscles tingling from the adrenaline, James remembered having the strangest dream.

He was… a girl? With the palest skin and scattered freckles. He had deep red hair that fell around the shoulders and piercing green eyes. He was shamelessly studying her— er, his?— reflection in the mirror when someone busted down his door. He stared blankly at her and asked who she was, and then promptly received the scolding of his life.

He was never going to forget the name Petunia, not to mention the voice that accompanied it.

There was apparently so much to do in the morning, and he was already running late? James was frazzled before he even made it to breakfast. He had to do his hair (which he was already shite at with his own hair, how was he supposed to manage a girl’s hair? What was that thing his mother used to make… a braid?), he had to go through the mortifying experience of figuring out the bathroom, and on top of all of that? He didn’t even have a wand to cheat his way through the morning.

Petunia had shrieked at him from downstairs, something about school and James had no idea what was going on. He literally just got to school in his real life. Now he had another one to go to in his dreams?

The walk there was dreadful. The town was gray, dusty, and all around a bit depressing. All the buildings looked the same, there was hardly any greenery, and the sun was beating down on them the entire time. Petunia had been nagging him constantly about the state of his hair, telling him to braid it.

To keep his hearing intact, James nodded and allowed Petunia to pull his red hair into a tight plait. When she split off to her own school, James immediately pulled it out. Better a sweaty neck than the intense headache he was going to get with a hairstyle like that. Besides, wild hair wasn’t so out of the ordinary for him.

He saw another building in the distance with students milling about. He figured that was where he was supposed to go.

His friends—Mary and Benjy, Mary and Benjy—had greeted him at the entrance, greeted Lily, apologizing for not waiting this morning. He’d gotten a few raised eyebrows at his wild hair, but that was routine for him. He was more concerned about the classes he was supposed to be getting to, especially when he didn’t have access to magic. He asked Mary and Benjy about the schedule… listing off his usual courses: Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy… he trailed off after seeing the looks on their faces.

They had quickly herded him to a classroom, throwing furtive glances at the other students in the hall. The two of them seemed sufficiently concerned, so much so, they walked him into his classroom and pulled out a bound book and some thin tubes. They flipped to a blank page and looked at him expectantly. He looked at the two of them and hesitantly picked up a tube. Was this their version of a wand?

No sooner than picking it up, Mary snatched it out of his hands, and corrected his grip.

“A pen, Lily. This is a pen. Alright? You take notes with it. Start here.”

He could hear Benjy stifling his snickers behind him and bit back his own smirk when Mary swatted him.

Eventually, they shuffled out of the room quietly, giving him a few more worried looks. James waved them off. This was just a dream, a very realistic one…

James sat through the entire day of classes, haphazardly taking notes in the book Mary pulled out for him. He started off interested in each class. This was nothing like what they taught at Hogwarts, but his mind began to wander. He jotted down the names he’d learned this morning. He made notes on what he saw in the town. He was also incredibly fascinated with this pen. It was smaller and lighter than quill. He didn’t have to constantly dip it into an inkwell. The grip was a little strange, but he got the hang of it.

Mary and Benjy reappeared and, thankfully, escorted him back to his house. Lily’s house. They lingered by him. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You didn’t hit your head anywhere, did you?”

James smiled fondly. “You really are stand-up people, aren’t you? It’s nice to know that I’ll have the best of friends, even in my dreams.”

“Lily—”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to sleep, and I’m going to wake up in my own bed soon enough. Cheers.”

James shut the door in their astonished faces and started up the stairs. A full day without magic wasn’t so bad. It’s really just a bit of an itch. He let the bookbag slump onto the desk in his room and he shrugged off the sweater he pulled on that morning.

As he settled back in the bed he woke up in, James determined that this was a very long, realistic dream.

Sure enough, the next day, he woke up in the Gryffindor dormitories with Sirius and Remus snoring in unison, and Peter’s snores joining in on the offbeat. Later, during breakfast, he found it strange that his friends were suddenly all addressing each other with eerily familiar flower names…

“What, no Lily today? After all that work I put in as Saffron? Unbelievable, Prongs.”

“Lay off Sirius, Rose needed a break. As a matter of fact, I need a break.”

“You needed a break? Apparently, I wasn’t a good enough Petunia. How am I supposed to assume the role of a sister that I didn’t even know I had?”

That, and the fact he couldn’t remember yesterday…

James sprang up from his pillow. He couldn’t remember yesterday.

He looked down at his pillow. This was not his pillow.

His head snapped up and surveyed his surroundings. This was not his room.

He scrambled out of bed and ran over to the mirror, freezing at the sight. This was most definitely not his body.

Again.

“Fuck!”

His door banged open, but there was no one on the other side. James furrowed his brow and glanced at his hands. Was that accidental magic?

Moments later, he heard rapid footsteps coming up the stairs and a red-faced Petunia appeared in the doorway. She hissed at him, “What are you doing up here, Lily? We have company over!”

He smiled sheepishly at her. “Sorry, Petunia. Got startled by, uh, a bug on the ceiling.”

Petunia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him and sniffed. “Get cleaned up. It’s noon.”

She glanced at him up and down and muttered, “You’d think you’d check the time more often since you started wearing dad’s watch.”

She shut the door behind her with a huff and James turned back to the mirror. He was either having recurrent, lucid dreams… or he was the subject of a very complex switching spell.

Sighing, James slumped to the floor, studying Lily’s features. She really was quite pretty, despite some of the exhaustion across her face. Never in his wildest dreams would he be able to dream up someone like Lily… right? She had to be real, right?

As James scanned across the reflection, he noticed the puffiness in his eyes—er, Lily’s eyes. Grimacing, he reached up to touch his cheeks. Had she cried herself to sleep?

He looked around his room and found the watch Petunia mentioned. James got up from the floor and picked up the watch. It was a golden face with a matching golden strap. The face looked like it’d been fitted with a new relatively new glass covering. Come to think of it, it looked a lot like the one he has—

The watch gleamed suddenly, and James stared at it dumbfounded.

Did the watch… just wink at him? Or was that more accidental magic?

James blew out a long breath and shook his head. If this really wasn’t a dream… he was going to have a long talk with Professor McGonagall about switching spells…

Idly, he rifled through the bookbag and pulled out the notebook he used last time. He flipped to the last page and found new notes.

Lily’s notes.

He found her regular class notes, but he also found her scribbles in the margins of the notes he took. He smiled at the crosses and circles that littered his poor handwriting, along with her own translation of some of the more illegible bits. A few more flips later, Lily’s notes ended and he reached a blank page. James paused, biting his lip.

Before he could regret it, he grabbed a pen off Lily’s desk and began writing.

Dear Evans,

I’m James Potter, which I’m sure you’ve found out by now.

Pleasantries aside, I have a few questions for you…

#my writing #jily #james potter #lily evans #lily evans potter #im alive i swear #for now #harry potter #hp #jily fic #kimi no na wa au #jily au

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thatboomerkid · 6 years

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The Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres

The Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres (a CR 7+ Pathfinder Modern / Urban Fantasy Encounter for Bloodlines & Black Magic)

There are small towns where the Blooded dare not tread.

Little burgs and hamlets, out-of-the-way places like Hobb’s Hollow up in Utah or the quiet city of Rowe over in northwestern Massachusetts. There are thirteen of them in all, and any competent magician of the modern era could probably list at least three off the top of their head: lessons drilled-in by a paranoid mentor during their apprenticeship or else picked-up from idle sessions of rumor, gossip & laughs over drinks with the fellow initiated.

Ask around in any major city and you could probably get a comprehensive list of all thirteen of these infamous scary-spots in a couple of hours. Along with a half-dozen false positives, crackpot theories and bald-faced lies, of course.

These aren’t the sort of towns that you just stumble across, thankfully. Most of ‘em are half-abandoned and far off the beaten path: you’d have to go looking for trouble to wind up there ... or, perhaps, find yourself hopelessly lost following a bad trail of horror about to get a whole lot worse.

Nothing particularly weird can be found-out about these places online, in case you were wondering; the Archons have seen to that, scrubbing the web until it glistens like a raw wound. Feel free to Google them if you don’t mind falling onto a watch-list maintained by the dark heart of the Internet Herself: you’ll find nary a whisper about what happens to those Blooded who set foot in town.

Uncovering the true histories would require access to old & forbidden books, kept by possessive antiquarians in basement vaults under lock & key, salt & spell: held against a purge ordained by the Seven of Secret Names.

These towns? Those of us in the know, we avoid them for fear of the Reverend.

Brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

original image from here

Every few years you’ll hear a tale about some brave occultist or another setting up shop in one of these villages: daring the fates, establishing a witch’s circle or a midnight reading-room right there in the shadowy maw of the beast.

Maybe some of these stories are just that: stories. Maybe nobody’s really that stupid. But if you’ve met some of our contemporaries, you know that there’s always someone -- a magus one High Priestess short of a full Tarot deck, if you take my meaning -- dumb enough to try just about any fool errand.

And everything, according to the old legends, seems to go just dandy for a few weeks. Maybe even a few months. On a single occasion, almost a year.

And then one day ... nothing. Not a peep. Every last member of a Bloodline in that town vanishes overnight. Never to be seen or heard-from again.

And life in that quiet little back-country town rolls on, perhaps just a little bit quieter than before. Local police wash out the dead-end alleys; public works officials clear the storm drains. There are bonfires held on the Sabbath, and whispered prayers before bedtime, and everyone pretends they can’t smell the rust on the wind or hear those sharp clicks rattling out of the woods at night.

The Revered walks his appointed rounds slowly ... but he keeps them all the same, with precise & religious care.

NOTE: So, precisely which towns out there exist under the dreadful watch of the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres? Well ... that’s been left intentionally vague, allowing for greater flexibility on the part of an individual GM.

Of course, it’s possible that some of these towns are used by cabals loyal to the Archons: a village under the gaze of the Reverend is a safe haven where no servant of the Goetic Spirits might ever dare to meddle or intrude.

They say that in life, long ago, the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres -- whatever his name was, it’s been lost to the machinations of our starry masters for many decades -- served the Archons with unparalleled zeal and efficiency: tempering the roaring blaze of his utter hatred with ruthless & icy professionalism.

By the standards of modern psychoanalysis, we would likely term the Reverend a particularly high-functioning sadist & serial killer: he went to elaborate lengths to understand his targets fully before striking, taking great pains to break each of his victims completely -- mind, body and soul -- before performing a uniquely grisly public execution. His life’s work had genuine artistic merit, from a certain point of view, full of profound allegory & subtle poetry.

He worked for the church, and he hunted witches.

At this task, he was without equal; by his deeds, the Veil was maintained & made strong. No one can say precisely how many servants, sycophants & supporters the Goetic Spirits lost to his blades ... but his victims numbered in the dozens if not in the hundreds, and each of his many obscene “performance pieces” surely terrified another dozen or more would-be-arcanists into hiding.

image from here; the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres in better days.

In death, the Reverend was rewarded dearly for his strict devotion to the will of the High Seven by no less august a figure than Yasazziel, Grand Archon of Glittering Things and Earthly Delights: he was gifted an Abhorrent Heaven of his very own, a sprawling realm of dark woodlands & villages full of fearful sinners upon which to vent his most grotesque lusts for all eternity.

To this end, his soul was reforged into a new and brutal shape: an Advanced Barbed Devil with the Implacable Stalker template; in this flesh, the Reverend was loaned-out by his mistress to the aid of her sisters on many occasions, rapidly becoming one of the top-tier problem-solvers for the Archons. The Reverend was frequently unleashed to wipe-out entire Lineages that had finally crossed some invisible line or another and drawn the apocalyptic ire of the Masters of Heaven: cities & fortresses alike burned when the Grand Archons took the honorable Reverend out of his toy-box & set him loose in the real world to “make the wicked suffer, as pleases you”.

And then, one day? Something happened. Nobody knows how, precisely, but one group of magicians or another cobbled themselves together a desperate silver bullet, took a long-shot risk ... and it worked. By unknown means -- most-likely an Incantation of incredible power, although nobody’s talking -- the Half-Summoned Creature template (see Bloodlines & Black Magic, pg. 223) was successfully applied to the Reverend.

And it stuck.

He’s slow and confused, these days. Wandering, alone and lost. Can’t tell where he is; can’t get his bearings nor keep his thoughts straight. He wanders between a few familiar cities that remind him of home: stepping casually across the world via greater teleport according to a half-remembered schedule. About once a month, on average -- usually on some high church holiday or the anniversary of an important event in his mortal life -- he’ll experience a full night of clarity.

During these times, he keeps to the code of the Veil: hunting only the Blooded.

He has been killed a few times, since the curse took effect.

It never sticks for long.

Using the Reverend:

If a character’s Threshold increases to an odd number from direct exposure to the presence (or the power) of the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres, she may gain one of the following Oddities (roll 1d8):

Your eyes glow like lit cigarettes; this is visible only in the dark. You add produce flame as a 1st level spell to any one spell-list you possess.

You feel heat on the back of your neck and upon your heels whenever you are within 50 feet of a Lawful-aligned non-mundane creature allied to the Archons such as a devil, kyton, angel or inevitable. Note that not all Lawful outsiders are servants of the Archons, and that some Chaotic outsiders are also under their thrall. The range of this ability is halved (to 25 ft.) for mortal Blooded creatures who fit the criteria above, such as Lawful oracles and slayers loyal to the Archons.

You gain an overwhelming scent of brimstone, ash and smoke, and may be freely detected by all opponents within 30 feet purely by sense of smell. If you are upwind, the range increases to 60 feet; if downwind, it drops to 15 feet. Your exact location is not revealed, only your presence within range and the general direction toward you. When you are within 5 feet of any creature, however, that creature automatically pinpoints your location even if otherwise blinded to you. Upon whispering a prayer, your stench is suppressed for a number of minutes equal to your level.

You are always treated as if you had directly witnessed the death of the Reverend and are thus susceptible to his Nightmare Resurrection ability. While he is alive, this ability has no effect ... although you often see him in your dreams, calmly watching you.

You develop a severe allergy to silver. If you touch, are touched by or are otherwise exposed to silver or alchemical silver – such as by taking damage from a silver weapon or because you are wearing or carrying silver items – you immediately suffer a –2 penalty to Dexterity and Charisma for 1d4 hours (no save). Multiple separate events of exposure stack, but none of your ability scores can be reduced to zero in this way. In addition, you must stay at least 5 feet away from silver, holy symbols and holy water; you may not choose to move closer to such an object or substance if it is within 20 ft. You also gain immunity to fire.

You gain full knowledge of either the Celestial language or the Infernal tongue (your choice).

You gain vulnerability to fire. If you ever possess less than half of your maximum hit points, you lose this vulnerability and instead gain fire resistance equal to twice your level. You likewise gain this benefit if at least half your body is covered in blood from another source.

Roll 1d6+1 twice, keeping both results. If you gain the same result for both rolls, re-roll one of the dice.

#pathfinder #modern #Monster #bloodlines and black magic #devil #angel #witch hunter #cr 9

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