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#fic: ancient names
bongo-clash · 1 year
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Even when you don't know what it is your job knows what it is
DP/DC week prompt: There was something off about them
'Danny Phantom, alleged several-thousand year old ghostly entity, has a feeling something’s not quite right with Captain Marvel, alleged several-thousand year old champion of magic. He reckons there's no time like the present to confront his hunch.'
-
Look, Danny’s been working with the Justice League for a while now, and he likes to think he knows them all pretty well. Some of them are more open about their civilian identities than others, but even if he doesn’t know who everyone is behind the cowls, he’s got their personalities down pat at least.
Everyone except, perhaps, Captain Marvel. 
Maybe that’s not fair to say. Captain’s a friendly enough guy- nobody’s ever had a bad conversation with him that Danny knows of- but he’s weirdly flaky. The longest he’s stuck around post-mission is probably about five minutes tops, and no one actually knows anything about the man; the League have a habit of hanging around after missions for drinks and talk, and the Captain’s been offered a place with them several times and not taken it once. In all fairness, neither has Danny, but he has an excuse. They think he’s about several thousand years older than he actually is and also a full ghost, so they’d probably expect him to drink and he doesn’t want to have to go through the awkward process of refusing and nor does he want Jazz to go ape on him for giving into peer pressure. 
…That’s another thing; Captain Marvel is allegedly several-thousand years old, but when Danny looks at him there’s a strange sense of camaraderie that makes him think maybe they’re both liars. 
The longer he’s spent thinking about it, the more sense it makes. Their behaviours probably have a lot in common from an outside perspective: coming across awkward around the other members of the team, passing on every event outside of work, sharing very little about their personal lives least of all a civilian identity- which neither of them are even suspected to have. After all, Phantom’s a ghost, and Captain Marvel’s the champion of magic, it seems reasonable to assume their have some other plane of existence they return to when they’re not in the Watchtower. But Danny just goes back home to Illinois and tells his parents he was at Tucker’s again, and he really doesn’t believe that the Captain just sets up shop by the ‘Rock of Eternity’ or whatever he’d mentioned it was called. 
He doesn’t know how to bring it up, though, because what if he’s wrong? There’s a non-zero chance that he’s just projecting his own issues on the man (and that sounds so much like something Jazz would say that it physically hurts), and if Danny tries to confront the man about a lie that isn’t there, then the Captain will know he’s lying, and he’ll totally get booted off the team or placed with Young Justice. There’s nothing wrong with YJ, but it’d just hurt to have worked side-by-side with them proving his reliability for so long only to get pushed away because of his age. 
So he doesn’t say anything, figuring there’s not much choice other than to wait for some kind of confirmation. Until, of course, the opportunity for confrontation arrives in the aftermath of one mandatory League check-point meeting. 
-
Check-point meeting with the Justice League are really just contractually obligated gossip sessions regarding their recent heroic endeavours that quickly descends into normal conversations. Contrary to the usual progression of these meetings, however, Green Lantern is prodding at Captain Marvel to tell him about what it was like visiting ancient civilisations before they fell. 
It’s one of those weeks where the other members are being a bit more insistent on finding out more about the Captain. They’ve made their peace with the fact that they’re not going to get much in terms of a civilian life out of him, but every single member of the League (with the exception of maybe Martian Manhunter) is invariably nosy, which obviously leads to their more mysterious members coming under scrutiny every now and again. This also includes Danny on occasion, but Phantom has a brilliant out for interrogations in the form of making people uncomfortable about the fact that, even if he’s an ancient entity, he clearly died young. All he has to do is pull out some wistful bullshit about wishing he’d lived long enough to experience mortal romance or something equally upsetting and he’s home-safe. 
The man across from him, however, taking the form of a very much full-grown adult, has no such excuse. 
“Come on, Captain, surely you can tell us something! I thought you were around for ancient Egypt?” Hal exclaims, leaning just slightly over the meeting table to scrutinise his colleague. The Captain is looking increasingly uncomfortable. 
“Of course I was!” Marvel agrees quickly, accompanied by a nod of the head that could almost be described as frantic. “Ancient Egypt was around for ages, probably couldn’t’ve missed all that if I tried! I wasn’t around for all that much of it though, I- uh, I caught the tail end of it- when Cleopatra was pharaoh, if I remember right- but I was… I was a little busy somewhere else during that, uh, era.”
Green Lantern raises an eyebrow behind the green domino mask. “Busy? Busy doing what?”
“Well-“
The Captain is making a very particular face, the kind that Danny imagines he himself makes when he’s scrambling for any reasonable excuse to get out of the hole he’s dug himself into by lying. And Danny looks at him from across the table, the man catching his eyes with a look he can only describe as odd and desperate, and he makes a decision. 
“That was around the time all those conferences were being held to sort out the mess between the newly-formed undead societies and the natural ghosts, right? There was some involvement with living mages, if I recall correctly; I’m sure I saw you at one of those.”
In terms of lies he could’ve told, he figures this one is pretty low-risk. There were a lot of diplomatic meetings held between natural ghosts and the ones existing post-mortem when proper civilisations first came about and people from them started dying, after all (though he knows for fact the living weren’t involved in any way), so it’s not like he’s pulling it out of his ass. If he’s wrong about the Captain and the man admits he doesn’t have a clue what Danny’s talking about, then he can just say it must have been a realms-exclusive thing- hard to remember the finer details when it was all so long ago- and they’ll be none the wiser. 
But if he’s right, and he’s really beginning to think he is, then-
Sure enough, the man across from him nods vigorously, clicking his fingers together as if his memory’s just been jogged. “Right!” He chirps, sending Danny a brazen smile. “I don’t know how I forgot about those! Man, those conferences dragged on, didn’t they?”
Bingo. 
“Don’t even worry about it- I honestly would’ve thought the first ones were around the revolution at the end of the Qin dynasty in China if you hadn’t reminded me- my memory was way off. Speaking of that though, have you spoken to Pandora since? I figured you two would get along pretty well, but I know there wasn’t much time for small talk and dimension hopping wasn’t half as easy as it is now.”
Captain Marvel shakes his head with pursed lips. “Can’t say I have; not a lot of free time between everything, like you said. Would love to be introduced properly though!”
“Well, I did say I would- couple thousand years later than I thought it’d be, but better late than never.”
The tension easing from Marvel’s shoulders is probably obvious to everyone in the room. Superman looks to the both of them curiously. “You never mentioned knowing each other?” The Kryptonian questions. Phantom laughs the way he sees his mom do during those weird adult get-togethers. 
“Oh, we’ve crossed paths a lot,” He declares with a wave of his hand, brushing the notion to the side, catching the gaze of the Captain in his peripheral even as he keeps his eyes on the other superhero. “Can’t say we had the opportunity to get to know each other properly between it all, though. Relations between the magic living and the restless dead have always been a little… fraught. I was just planning to keep things professional on my end unless the Captain wanted to seek a friendship outside of work since I wasn’t sure how appreciated it would be, especially given how much fuss ghosts have been giving the mortal plane recently.”
Marvel’s laugh mimics his own. “That’s what I was thinking! I guess no amount of time can time will change how weird it can be trying to made work friends.”
-
Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), Captain Marvel is waiting outside the hall for him when the meeting is adjourned and each member of the League goes their separate ways. Wordlessly, Danny follows him deeper into the Watchtower, floating behind before phasing them both into one of the locked rooms everyone knows there’s no cameras in, for the sake of being allowed confidential discussions in at least one area of the place- when approved, of course, but these walls don’t hold Phantom just yet, given that the ghost-proofing paint doesn’t quite stick over the lead-lining. 
“So.” Danny starts, when they’re both inside the office and the silence begins to creep thick into the air. 
Captain Marvel looks nervous. “So.”
“You weren’t at those conferences.”
“No, I wasn’t.” It seems almost painful for him to admit, hands flicking slightly like he wants to fidget with them but doesn’t want to be caught doing it. “I’m grateful you, uh, that you said I was there- thank you, Phantom- but why’d you cover for me?”
For the first time today, and maybe even the first time in the Watchtower, Danny levers himself down from the air, putting both feet on the ground. He hopes beyond hoping his face comes across sincere. “Because I wasn’t there either.” He admits gently, watching for a response. 
“I- what?” The man doesn’t appear to know what he’s meant to say. Well, time to rip the bandaid off. 
“Captain, you’ve not been around for six thousand, have you? I’m willing to bet you haven’t even been around for 18.” The reaction is immediate. Marvel’s eyes widen, pupils shrinking with alarm, arms coming up as if in defence as he splutters some kind of excuse, and Danny interrupts before he can spiral too hard. “Dude, don’t worry. I seriously won’t tell anyone if you are- I’m not a snitch.”
The Captain’s expression looks utterly lost. “Why?”
Danny thinks it’s probably best to just bite the bullet here. He stands still as the transformation washes over him, bright silver-blue rings parsing over his form, exchanging gravity-defying white hair for scraggly black, hazmat for jeans and a sweater, and Lazarus-green eyes for a gentler blue. When the light finally dissipates, he gives the Captain a second just to process, before sending him a wry grin.
“Hi, Captain Marvel, I’m Phantom- otherwise known as Danny Fenton- Ambassador for the Infinite Realms and sixteen year-old half-human-half-ghost boy.”
The other hero stands still for a long, long moment, mute with shock, before muttering a quiet ‘Shazam’ and allowing the room to fill with the sudden crackle of a lightning bolt. Where the hulking form of Captain Marvel once stood, a boy is left in his place- eyes and hair the same, if a little less put together- but only just coming up to Danny’s shoulder, wearing clothes that have clearly seen a few years go by. If Danny had to guess, he looks about eleven or twelve
“Hi, Phantom,” He says, a little quieter but with more confidence than he’d had before, staring him resolutely in the eyes. “I’m Captain Marvel- also Billy Batson- champion of magic and twelve year-old and world’s mightiest mortal.”
Danny cannot resist reaching over to ruffle the kid’s hair. “Amazing to meet you,” He beams. “And if anyone asks, we’ve known each other since the Early Dynastic period of Egypt and are in no way human or related to any living humans. You good with that?”
Billy looks up at him with a gap in his teeth and mischief in his eyes. 
“Phantom, I am more than okay with that.”
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airas-story · 9 months
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Consider It a Gift
The Ancient One paused at the sight in front of her as the door to the Sanctum shut behind her—when one could travel to anywhere in the world for lunch, she didn’t see why one would not; she certainly never preached asceticism, and pizza in New York truly was divine. That and she’d felt time’s pull moving her forward.
There were two men standing on the sidewalk just outside the door. Or rather, there was one man standing and one man kneeling.
That in and of itself was odd. That it was happening right outside the sanctum—which had subtle protections that normally ensured that passerby walked right past and didn’t linger—was even odder.
That it was none other than a man she recognized as Stephen Strange on his knees—a man she knew from all her dreams and glimpses into the future was a proud, stubborn man—well, to say it was strange was more than just a poorly thought out pun.
It would be more polite to step away…
No one would ever accuse her of prying, but that was more because most seemed to think she was incapable of such a ‘plebeian’ behavior, and less because of an analysis of her true nature. Of course, there were none who truly knew her, now.
It was the fault of Stephen and his friend that they’d decided to have this conversation in the middle of the sidewalk. They could hardly expect complete privacy.
And in truth, well, in truth, if this was what she thought it was, than the Ancient One wanted to see it. She had seen so much of Stephen’s grief, just once she wanted to see his happiness.
“Tony,” Stephen started. “You are the most infuriating, frustrating, irritating, ridiculous—“
The man—Tony—rolled his eyes. “I get the point, Stephen.”
“—impossible,” Stephen added, undeterred, “man I know.” She saw Stephen take a deep breath. “And I am hopelessly in love with you.”
Tony softened perceptibly. ”Stephen—“
“Marry me,” Stephen finished.
Tony ran a hand through his hair, laughing a little as he looked down at Stephen. The Ancient One could read the love in his eyes. She knew, just from the look in his eyes, that this man, Tony, adored Stephen, foibles and all. It lightened her heart to see it. “You know, that’s supposed to be a question. Not a demand, right?”
Stephen didn’t respond, just staring up at Tony, a glint of determination in his eyes that underlined just how important this moment was to him.
The Ancient One could feel time’s magic shifting around her, whispering in her ears of laughter and happiness and hope in the darkest of times.
He will still come, Time whispered, but he will not be broken and alone in the world.
Tony laughed, and there was a brightness to it that carried through the air and seemed to settle warmly in her own chest in a subtle joy. Yes, watching this moment had been a good choice. “Yes, Stephen. I’ll marry you.”
Stephen stood up, brushing at his knees absently. “I want a courthouse wedding. As soon as possible.”
Tony blinked in genuine surprise and then raised an eyebrow. “I won’t back out if we take our time, you know.”
Stephen took a step forward, cupping Tony’s cheek. “I want every day I can have with you, Tony.”
Tony shook his head, but it wasn’t in negation, more amusement. “You already have that. I’m yours, Stephen. Irrevocably so. A license and certificate doesn’t change anything.”
Stephen’s lip twitched up into a small, teasing smile. “Maybe it doesn’t. But I’ve always liked putting my name on things. You know that.”
Tony laughed again. “Is that your way of asking me to take your name?”
“I don’t really think I was asking,” Stephen admitted. “But Tony Strange,” Stephen said and the teasing tone was so different from the hopelessness and frustration she’d always seen in the ripples of time. “You have to admit it sounds good.”
Tony snorted. “You’re lucky I agree with that.”
“No, I’m lucky that you think taking my name is hilarious. That’s why DUM-E is DUM-E and U is U—“ and the Ancient One supposed that sentence made sense to someone, but it made no sense to her, ”—and why you once tried to name an element badassium.”
“You caught me,” Tony said, grin twitching at his lips. “I do name things in part for the amusement factor. Including, apparently, myself.”
“You know you want to be ‘the Strange couple’.”
Tony’s eyes brightened. “I hadn’t even thought about that yet, but you are absolutely right. I want that so much it’s not even funny. God, the introductions. We need to marry ASAP, because every moment we’re not married is a moment where we’re not the Strange couple.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “Well, if that’s what it takes to get you on board with marrying me as soon as physically possible, I’ll take it.”
Tony pressed forward and kissed Stephen, and for a moment the two seemed to meld into each other. The Ancient One took a step back, she had certainly seen everything that she could have hoped to see. Happiness. True, unfettered happiness. 
Time seemed to laugh in her ears. Consider it a gift.
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hollysoda · 8 months
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I kinda hope we get more info eventually on the Ancient Hero in botw because if they are actually some kind of Zonai Link I am 100% shoving them into a Linked Universe fanfiction. 9 Hylians and their tall cat friend
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raayllum · 3 months
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Chapter length: 8k Summary: Callum and Rayla finally talk. Ezran interrogates Viren, part one. a/n: tw for mental health related stuff in regards to rayla (implied depression, self loathing, and stuff that may veer into emotional self harm / passive suicidal ideation territory). i don't think any of it is super intense but i also don't know your circumstances, so please keep that in mind as you go forward. that said, it is discussed in a very hurt/comfort kind of way.
CHAPTER 7: At The End of the Tunnel
Callum led the way up and out of the tunnel, holding her wrist with one hand and his staff in front as a light source with the other. His hand was warm against Rayla’s skin, his gait steady over the rocky, uneven ground. 
There was so much she wanted to stay —about Claudia, and her potential plans—and even more she was curious about—had Callum eaten? Had he slept? And why had the Earthblood elf boy saved them, truly?—but she was so tired. 
Rayla hadn’t realized just how much adrenaline she’d been carrying in her body between worrying about Callum and constantly keeping her guard up around Claudia, with no sleep or food or hardly any water the past two days. But it hadn’t been for nothing, her free hand drifting to the hard lump in her pouch, five sun rubies in total crammed in next to the coins. All safe.
She squinted as a shaft of light appeared maybe ten feet ahead, the ground sloping upwards as they followed the phases of the moon back toward the surface. Relief washed over her in waves as the light grew brighter, bigger, haloing Callum’s silhouette of a windswept-haired head and broadened shoulders.
He picked up the pace, not looking back, as her muscles became mush. But they were almost there. She could keep going. Just a few more steps to the surface, and then—
Rayla’s foot caught on a rock. She stumbled. She slipped, both hands scraping against the ground.
Callum glanced back immediately, turning round and dropping to the ground in front of her, grasping at her arms, eyebrows knit with worry. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she croaked, holding still while he inspected the number of tiny scratches on her hands. The light of his staff illuminated the faint traces of blood.
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envosu · 1 year
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you know they're stepping on her feet every 5 seconds (she doesn't care)
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fauna-a · 17 days
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III The Hanged Man
¡Norse AU! Inspired by American Gods and also by Heroes of the Valley. Let’s say that I’ve interpreted this prompt quite literally.
Caith looked at him, upright and pliable like an ash branch, but in here eyes could be read the doubt. Fear, maybe.
Njall had never seen her frightened, not when their village was burning and they were just five or six years, not when the warrior chief had struck her with a backhanded slap because she had stolen a blade and not, when he, Njall, had shown her what he could do with a handful of signs scribbled in the dust. Caith had not been frightened even when the creatures had appeared the first time and had started to kill. She was never frightened.
«It’s madness» she pontificated, her knuckles holding on the rope. «You are not Odin. You’ll die».
«We are all going to die» Njall retorted tersely. «You know it. If we stay here and do nothing, they’ll kill us all. We don’t know what they are, your arrows don’t hurt them, nor the fire».
«And your suicide will solve this, oh sure!»
«I am not killing myself» Njall stressed those words with all the confidence he had. «It’s a ritual, and you know it very well. A way to gain knowledge. And I am not the first one: that ancient mage tried and-»
«And he died!»
«Not because of the ritual!» Njall exhaled. «Look, if you are here it means you want to help me. Don’t you?»
Caith stared at him harshly. Just above her eye there was a little scar that cut vertically her eyebrow; it came from a shove by Njall when they were children. Caith had fallen with her face on the ground and had hit a rock hidden in the grass. They both had cried, that time, Caith because of the pain and Njall because of the fear.
«Fine» Caith straightened her shoulders. «Take off the tunic and let’s start».
The worst part, Njall presumed, was the beginning, as it was for all the things: getting used to the position, the blood running to the head, the air coming more and more laboriously, the rope sawing his skin. Caith, of course, had made perfect knots and had not left him any escape. In that position, Njall could only see her legs, moving nervously back and forth. Then they stopped and suddenly Caith’s face appeared near to his.
«Well, hung you’re hung. I’ll come and check-»
«No! You can’t come here during the ritual, Caith! I must be alone».
Even upside down, Njall saw perfectly the terrible scowl appear on Caith’s forehead.
«And you’re asking me to leave you like this… and alone for nine days? Do you realize what you’re asking to me?»
«I do. It’s a necessary sacrifice to gain knowledge. And the gods’ grace». Njall hesitated. «If you are my friend… If you are my friend, you’ll understand».
Caith’s eyes tightened, then her face disappeared abruptly from Njall’s vision.
«Goodbye, then. I’ll be back in nine days».
During the following hours, Njall tried to focus on something else, for example all the spells and chants he knew, the runes, the symbols; then he tried to not take offense for Caith’s coldness and to not regret sending her away: she was like this, and the ritual had to be done like this too, there wasn’t much to do about it.
The tree Njall had chosen had grown under a cavern, all twisted up to find the few rays of sunlight that filtered from above; so, Njall was quite protected, but it was impossible to know how long had passed. Maybe he fell asleep (or better, lost consciousness) despite the pain, because at some point it was pitch black and cold. He felt like someone had set fire to every single tendon and he gasped like a fish outside water.
He tried to convince himself that this was the hardest part.
After immeasurable time spent trying to cut himself from his own body, wondering why he had decided to do it, Njall gave up: he started to think about Caith.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his village and the people; but he couldn’t deny that she was the first reason. Caith was a warrior: she had already fought with those creatures, using blade and arrows and it was just a matter of time before a night ended bad. They were monsters emerged by their nightmares, unstoppable. And hungry for human flesh.
He wondered if Caith knew.
He had his lips completely dry and split, and it seemed like he had no more blood in his veins. He wondered how he could still be lucid.
Any pain was gone, his body was in peace. Maybe he didn’t have a body anymore. It was a relief, anyway.
So Caith was right: he was dead.
«Well, I wouldn’t say» said a voice.
Njall said naked feet drawing near him. Funny, he didn’t feel his body anymore and yet his downturned vision was the same as before.
«You’re not dead at all» went on the voice. «But the nine days are gone, little mage».
«Who are you?» Njall was amazed to hear his voice firm: he would have expected it to be broken, weakened by pain, hunger, thirst.
«Who am I? Haven’t you sacrificed yourself for something? For the gods? I am here. I have seen your sacrifice and I’ve accepted it».
A face appeared above his: it was the same colour as terracotta, all resolute dark eyebrows and sharp features.
«Are you ready?»
Njall didn’t have time to ask for what: suddenly he was on the ground, free from the ropes, and it was as if every pain, every sorrow came back all together.
He started to shiver uncontrollably, coughed, tried to get up and collapsed again.
«Now stay calm» said the voice. «Your friend is coming».
Hesitant steps. «Njall? It’s not possible…»
In a moment, Caith was beside him, putting on his shoulder a cloak, wetting his lips, holding him to warm him. Njall tried to croak out something.
«Very sweet, nothing to say».
Caith turned suddenly, still holding Njall. He tried to figure out who the third person was. He saw that he was young, and grinning. Sunlight shone on the jewels his hair was braided with, tied at his ankles and wrists.
«It has been a long time since I saw someone so pig-headed, you know» his grin widened even more and Njall, even if he was exhausted, worn out, thirsty, felt a vague surge of danger.
«What did you do?» whispered Caith, and, addressing the naked-feet youth «Who are you?»
«The one who accepted his sacrifice» squatted down like this, he seemed a young wolf ready to attack. «I have many names. You call me Loki».
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i3utterflyeffect · 24 days
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btw does anyone have ideas for slugcat-style names for the color gang (e.g. The Rivulet, The Artificer, The Spearmaster, The Mechanic, The Hunter, etc.)
not for any particular reason /lie
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So, just to give actual like, stuff about my writing progress, both to motivate myself to continue writing this stuff and to let others know what I’m writing and what I have for it—
My Skyrim-DC crossover: I haven’t actually started writing chapter three, but I have an idea of what I wanna do for that. I will also be doing more art for it.
“Danny Becomes Ancient of the Speedforce” DPxDC: Chapter one has 1088 words so far. 3 out of 5 scenes are written. Scene 4 is in progress. A few scenes for chapter two are planned. After scenes 4 and 5 of chapter one are complete, I will be reading through and posting it. (I will be working on it after this btw-) I also have a few art pieces planned for Danny’s design that I will work on after I post chapter one, and I will likely be putting it on my other blog. (If anyone has a fic title idea, please send it. I really don’t wanna call it what I’m calling it right now-)
Those are the ones I actually have writing for. Once I finished Chapter 3 for fic 1 and Chapter 1 for fic 2, I will possibly work on these ideas below.
Idea One: Dead on Main. Sorta-Eldritch Danny and Sorta-Eldritch Jason (due to the weird reality fuckery with Danny’s portal death and a version of Jason’s revival {specifically the ‘Universe got punched’ one-}). Not exactly sure what else I want for that, but I really just wanna write a Dead on Main fic about these two coping with being embodiments of literal cracks in reality.
Idea Two: Danny is sorta Jason’s Pit Madness- an idea I’ve mentioned and talked a bit more on previously (I tried finding it, but it’s buried too deep. I’ll try again later-). Not likely to be Dead on Main btw, but like- mutual recovery fic? So, fun stuff?
ANYWAYS! Time to go turn on some violin music and write!
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anthropwashere · 7 months
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So it turns out I have a FanLore page and this is THE funniest editor's note in the world
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jgyapologism · 4 months
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I see u mxtx. I see u
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ayizan · 1 year
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Translated from the tomb of the Pharoh Tuk Ur
Praise Tuk Ur, son of Isis and Pharaoh Duul Aman, son of Ra and Anng Ela!
Praise the Pharaoh, who held Osiris’s ear in his hand!
Praise the Pharaoh, who captured Hapi, and bound her to his bidding. 
Praise the Pharaoh, may his journey to the afterlife be sweet and his life plentiful, as it was on his days here in Ma’at.
Praise to the Pharaoh! Praise to Tuk Ur!
To call the day hot would be an understatement. It was like Ra himself was having a bad day and was determined to spread that heat with the rest of the world. The air sweltered and shook, the flies crumpled, even the camels stamped their feet against the burning sand. Daa ni found himself struggling to keep up with the chores his father had assigned to him. He wished he could have joined his sister at the river to wash the ceremonial artifacts, but his parents had other plans. So here he was, standing in the sunniest corner of their courtyard, scratching into the dirt the long archaic glyphs needed for tonights ceremony. Sweat collected on his brow and slid down the curve of his nose, to collect under his nostrils, threatening to cut out his breathing. 
What a way that would be to go, Daa ni thought to himself. To drown in your own sweat. What would Sa’ma say if she heard that? She would probably kick her head back and laugh that deep belly laugh that got her into so much trouble in the Royal Halls. 
Daa ni chuckled at the thought. As much as she liked to complain, Daa ni thought Sa’ma’s life was heavenly compared to his. She didn’t have to deal with the constant chaos Daa ni’s parents brought to his life, the strange spells, the sleepless nights spent chanting under candle light, the endless endless endless washing of bloodied alters. If there was something Daa ni would happy to do without, it would be the blood and blood sacrifices. It made his stomach churn to think of all those poor beasts that had died in their halls, so Daa ni turned his thoughts away from and back to Sa’ma, to their plans tonight. The anniversary of the Pharaoh’s ascension to the throne was to be celebrated and the Nile would be full of boats and festivities. Sa’ma had sworn she found the perfect spot to view it all and even Tuk Ur had promised to come, though Daa ni thought that might be tricky considering how many of the festivals would need him. He was a prince after all. Nevertheless Daa ni was excited for the tonight, and was happily humming when his father came in behind him. 
“Finished yet with the glyphs?” his father, Ja ak Phe’en Ten, towered over the boy, looking down with a loose smile on his face. He was large and heavyset, his belly sagging over the girth of his robe, weighted down from years of grain wine and the sweet syrup of sugar cane. Those who met him once assumed he was simple. Those who knew him well thought he was crazy. On any given day, Daa ni felt both, but more than anything he felt embarrassed. If only his father wasn’t so obsessed with the dead, with uncovering their secrets and repelling them from this earth. If only his mother wasn’t such a skilled sorcerous that could make most of his father’s ideas succeed. Then maybe Daa ni could live a simple life, rather then days filled answering to his parents whims, and to the whims of the Pharaoh who fueled their strange rituals. Daa ni never met the Pharaoh but he often wonder what state of mind a man must be to depend on his parents for anything. It seemed more likely that his mother had a role to play.
“Almost,” Daa ni said, dusting off some dirt from the scroll he was transcribing. 
“Be careful there,” his father warned, “if what it says in there is correct, a scroll like that is worth twenty boys like you on the market.”
“And if its wrongs?” Daa ni asked, annoyed by the threat. His father liked making callous jokes like that. 
Ja ak shrugged. “Then you spent a whole afternoon writing gibberish in the dirt.” 
Daa ni fought the urge to smack his father. He was spending all these hours in the burning hot sun for nothing. Already he could see tomorrow, his painstaking efforts trampled by his carless parents. A whole afternoon wasted. Daa ni jammed the last glyph into the dirt and threw the scroll to his father.
“There! I’m done. Is there anything else you want? Or can I get out of this awful heat?” 
“Sure,” Ja ak said. He squinted up at the sun as Daa ni stomped back into the relieving shade. “Oh one more thing Daa ni.” 
“What?” Daa ni snapped.
“Be back here before the sixth bell. We will be needing you tonight.”
Right. Daa ni thought, as he walked away. Of course they do. It was looking like the festivities tonight would be short lived. 
Part 2
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demenior · 6 months
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Trick or treat
Ayy!
You get a sample of a Critical Role piece I started, inspired by a comment from Travis in which he claimed 'Fjord spent something like a week at sea after the sinking of his ship'. I think the implication is that Fjord lost a whole week thanks to magic, but I reimagined it as part of sealing his bargain with Uk'otoa.
So I trapped him in a sinking lifeboat with a dying crewmate, and no land in sight.
--
 “I never heard of someone just becoming magic,” Guthrie comments.
“You got any stories about people coming back from the dead?” Fjord says before it occurs to him what he’s saying. He puts a hand on the strange curved sword at his belt.
He was underwater for three days. He must have died.
“I’ve got lots of stories about things that come back,” Guthrie says, and he laughs darkly as he adds, “but none of them have happy endings.”
Fjord’s hunger rings through him like his body is a hollow cave. He licks his lips, casts his eyes out around them. Bodies. Debris. The fin of a shark. No food to be seen.
“This one does,” Fjord insists.
[long break of other scenes]
The launch rocks as something large bumps it from underneath. On his right Fjord sees the tall fin of a large shark sink back below the water. 
“They do that,” Guthrie comments, “I think they can smell me.”
He’s probably not wrong. But Fjord doesn’t want to have this argument. 
“What happens,” Fjord wonders, “in the stories where people come back? When the ocean doesn’t let them die?” 
“Sad endings. Things like that usually come back for unfinished business. Injustice.”
“Vengeance?” Fjord wonders. 
“Get the one that killed ‘em,” Guthrie says, “or to retrieve the ones that got away. That should have died in the first place.” 
Fjord looks around, at the open ocean around them. Not a ship to be seen. 
“Do you think Sabien survived?” Fjord asks. 
“Were you brought back to kill him?” Guthrie finishes.
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starchaserdreams · 1 year
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I am bonkers in love with Starchaser/jegulus but it bothers me a bit in fanfic when James keeps it a secret from Sirius because I feel like James would never do that to Sirius. Regulus totally would, but James couldn't.
So I'm writing a fic where in the interest of hijinks, James and Regulus both separately think they have told Sirius what is happening and more or less have his blessing......
But Sirius "I do not know how to process emotions and I hate talking to my brother specifically about emotions" Black hears something completely different.
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Because it's very important to me that James thinks he's doing right by Sirius, the best friend he's ever had. It is less important to me that things are communicated clearly. Just that JAMES thinks they are.
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Summary:
This... Yeah, no, this was definitely not in Sirius' plans when he decided to make sure his brother lived past 18. Like sure, he thought maybe some things would change — a lot of things changed and Sirius doesn't like to think about it because it's a massive headache and increases his anxiety — but this. THIS. He doesn't even know how this could be a possible outcome.
or
A time travel fic where Sirius has the fascinating task of dealing with the biggest butterfly effect of his life.
Once again my stress seems to have decided that sharing my current fanfic is a great idea, so here I am. I'm really having a lot of fun writing this and that's it, it's a story made to help me deal with my daily stress and therefore it's made to make me happy, so if it can make someone else happy too, I guess that would be nice.
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aturnoftheearth · 2 years
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anytime someone reads a turn of the earth
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whitesunlars · 2 years
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live picture of me only 204 words into a fic but trying desperately to find historically accurate names for all of the characters
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