#?? how is his name spelled both of those were recommended tags

[igot-sarang-ggg]

Hey there :) please could I request a one shot of Bruno bucciarati saving the reader from an enemy mafioso or her family and inducting her into his gang (before the events of golden wind) and what would the other guys reactions to her be. Could there be hints of romance please 💙💙💙

Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took me so long post. Hope you enjoy the story

The Bakers Daughter (Bruno Bucciarati x Reader)

Masterlist

Small Summary: You work as a baker at a company owned by your father. when your father doesn't pay what he owes the boss hes given some time to round enough money to pay but instead he runs away and leaves you to clean up his mess

Small mentions: SPOILERS, near-death f!reader, blood, getting tortured, mention of la squadra spell check is out the window..

I never thought today would be my last day on this earth. Life's so cruel...

My eyes began to blur as I took my last breath. An image of Bucciarati came to mind, why am I thinking of him at a time like this? It seemed like he was swimming towards me, "Bru-no." How did this have to happen to me?

It was a day like any other, opening the bakery, helping customers, and what I loved the most baking! The bell on the door rang, "Welcome what can I get for you today?" I greeted a young man that walked in, he had a bowl cut for his hairstyle but it suited him nicely. He's been coming here every Saturday for the past few months. "Good morning Y/n, I'll have the usual."

"Ah yes, we'll have that out for you in a bit. Would you like anything else, sir?" I started to write down his total, "What would you recommend?" I pointed to the display of cookies and cakes, "We do have other sweet options like Frutta Martorana, Zeppole, and many others to name a few." he scanned the deserts in front of him. "Do you have strawberry shortcake?"

"Yes, we do, how many slices would you like on the cake?" I walked over to the dessert display and took out the cake he requested. "Twelve slices if that's alright." I smiled at him, "Sure thing." After cutting the cake I around up his total, "Okay that will be thirty dollars with seventy-three cents." He handed me two bills, "You can keep the change."

"Okay, thank you. Your sweets will be out in a few minutes mister..." I wanted to say his name but forgot we never exchanged our names, he knew my name cause I wore a name tag. "Bruno Bucciarati." I've heard that name before, most of the people in town talk about a guy named Bruno and how he always tries to help people in any way he can even though he's a Mafioso. "If you don't mind me asking what brings you to this part of town?"

"I had some business to attend to. Plus you guys do make some delicious desserts. I enjoy supporting companies such as yours."

"I see. Well, thank you for liking our deserts." As I packed up the deserts Bruno requested, the bell rang again, "Hi welcome what can I get..." When I looked up there were these two men, they'd been coming here for the past few months to speak with my father. They gave me a look, and I already knew what it meant. "He's in the back." The silver hair man walked in first and then the blonde guy followed. I continued packing the deserts and handed them to Bruno. "Here you go."

"Thank you. By safe Y/n... I'll come to visit the shop in a few days. My friends really enjoy your deserts." He took the box of deserts and left. We hadn't been getting a lot of business lately ever since those men started showing up. "This is a warning you better have it all by Thursday or else we're coming for you." They both left the bakery. I went to check up on my father he was on the ground crying. I knew that he was running his business with the Mafia but now it seems he's gotten himself into some serious issues. That's why mom left him when I was younger he's gotten into some sort of debt and now he has to pay the conscious.

Thursday came but those men didn't show, instead, Bucciarati came to the bakery. "Bucciarati it's nice to see you again. Do you want the usual?" I started to pull out some cookies. "Yes, thank you. How's business going?" He handed me the money, "Quite slow. Not a lot of people have been coming here lately." I handed him his change "I see."

"So what made you stop by, you usually come in on Saturdays." I started preparing the box and filling them with his order, "I like visiting you... Plus my friends and I wanted some sweets." He wanted to visit me? "Well, I'm glad you're here to visit and that you and your friends enjoy our deserts." I handed him the box he reached out for it and our hands touched slightly. "I'll come by another day. Hopefully, my friends can come with me so you can meet them." He smiled at me and then left.

 A few days passed and those men showed up again, this time they had five other men with them. "Hey beautiful, where's your father? We have some business to handle with him." The man with the red leather coat spoke. That morning my father had left with a suitcase and said he would be back in a few days. "I'm sorry boys but he's not here. He went out early this morning." I took out some fresh baked goods handing them to the group, "Would you like some sweets or would you like to order something?" The man with blue hair and red glasses slapped the tray of sweets from my hand, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt.

"What do you take us for some idiots? Did you seriously just offer us some sweets? Your father owes us money and if he isn't going to pay us then we-" The blonde hair man pushed him away from me and covered the man's mouth, "You'll have to excuse him, he's a bit... Crazy and hot-headed." He faced the group of men with him. "Y/n here works for her father but doesn't know about him working for us."

"I see... She'll be perfect for baby face though. Her eyes, lips, her features would be a perfect fit." The one with purple hair spoke he grabbed my face I could see a glow in his eyes, something wasn't right. "Melone stand down... We can use this to our advantage." The silver-haired man spoke, pushing Melone away from me. "Formaggio use Little feet. Illuso knock her out." Before I could even say anything I was now small, the size of what felt like a Barbie doll. I was standing on top of the counter. I quickly jumped off and tried making a run for the door. As I ran to the door I could hear the men laughing, someone picked me up by my shirt "WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE PLEASE LET ME GO!" Tears began to fall as I realized that today might be my final day, the one they called Illuso hit me and everything was now dark.

The sound of water splashing echoed in my ear along with people talking from a distance. 

"Wake up sweetheart." My head hurt, and there was a sharp pain in my throat; as if someone was holding a knife to it from the inside of my body. I tried moving but couldn't, my arms and legs were tied up to a chair. We were at a lake from what I could gather. "You're probably wondering what's going on or who we are... We're La Squadra, I'm Risotto. Your father owes us money, the boss isn't too pleased with him since he hasn't paid his dues. We warned him on our last visit that if he doesn't pay up then we'll kill him... But seeing as he's a no-show we'll have to kill you instead." I tried struggling against the ropes but it was no use, "Fight all you want, you won't make it out alive."

Looking at the group of men standing in front of me the blue hair man was holding a camera. "Your fathers next after you die. It seems your father took what little money he could and made a run for it; leaving you to clean up the mess he made." Why would he do this to me? "Once we get him we'll make him watch this video that records your very last moments here on earth. Being tortured by us and then drowning to death."

Tears slid down as they began to hit me. My screams were muffled due to the gag in my mouth, the pain was too much. I began coughing and felt something burst out of my throat. 'How am I still alive? How am I still breathing?!' I thought to myself. "Dump her in" Risotto gave the order and they pushed me into the water behind. I sank quickly; I kept trying to break free from the rope I wasn't gonna die down here not like this.

I was running out of oxygen. I looked up from where I fell seeing a dim light shine from the surface above. I'll just have to accept the fact that this is the end for me. "Y/n!" An image of Bruno came to mind, 'Why am I thinking of him at a time like this?' My head was now cloudy, my eyes blurry, and I couldn't move any part of my body. The last thing I remember seeing was a silhouette swimming toward me.

Where am I? My eyesight was still blurry I could only see a figure standing in front of me. Their mouth was moving but I couldn't hear a thing.

"Y/-"

"Y/n..."

"Y/N please wake up!"

I stood up coughing, "Y/n you're awake! I'm so glad!" The man hugged me. "Bruno?" He pulled away from the hug, it was Bruno. "Yes, it's me. I'm gonna take you somewhere safe... Stay with me okay!" He picked me up and started running, "Why did they do this to you?!"

"My father... The mafia... Money..." I couldn't formulate the words that I needed. I felt tired to speak. "Y/n please stay with me. I'll get you to a doctor but I need you to stay awake." He looked down at me and kept running the sounds of his footsteps began to fade.

When I came to I was in the hospital, Bruno was sitting in a chair sleeping next to the bed. How long has he been here?

"Bruno..." I whispered his name lightly shaking his arm. He opens his eyes, "Good you're awake. How are you feeling? Do you remember anything?"

"I'm okay. The last thing I remember was drowning... How did you find me?" He stood up walked toward the window looked outside and then walked back to me. He spoke in a hushed tone, "I've been keeping an eye on the bakery. Your father requested that I watched in case something were to happen to you. When you were thrown into the water I used my stand to rescue you." Stand? "What's a stand?" I asked him. "I'll explain later. The doctor will be coming here in a bit, when they ask you if you remember anything about the situation you were just in say that you don't remember, and if they ask where you used to work or how you know me tell them that you worked at Libeccio as a waiter." The door then opened a doctor and nurse walked in, Bruno excuse himself and left. They had asked me the same questions Bruno told me to answer, "Seems you may have some sort of amnesia, but it doesn't seem to serve. We'll be discharging you today. Bucciarati Said he'll take you in his care for a bit until you're able to recover." The doctor walked to the door, "We'll run some tests before you go and get the paperwork ready for you."

When they handed me the paperwork I noticed the name on it was wrong, I was gonna say something about it but I guess Bruno noticed and stopped me. We walked out of the hospital and towards his car, "I had to give you a fake name in case they worked for those men." I chuckled, "I get that but," I looked at the name that was written, "Why name me Uovo Sodo (Boiled Egg)?" He smiled and then chuckled, "I'm not so good at naming things, let's just leave it at that."

I started living with Bruno for a bit since I couldn't go home. He asked me if I wanted to join him and become a mafioso and join his team. He explained to me that he wanted to get rid of the mafia, drugs, and bad people like those men who tried to kill me. I agreed to join his team. He set a meeting with Polpo and soon after I joined Bruno's team.

We entered Libeccio I felt a bit nervous. Bruno placed his hand on my shoulder, "They're over there, in the back." I was still hesitant to walk over, "Don't be scared. Trust me they'll like you just as much as I do." He kissed my cheek and took my hand leading me to the group of men, he then let go. "Guys I want you to meet Y/n. She'll be joining our team from now on. Y/n this is Leone Abbacchio, Guido Mista, Fugo Pannacotta, and Narancia Ghirga."

"Woah a girl is joining!?" Narancia spoke. "She's kinda cute. This could be fun." Mista stated... I'll make a mental note to not get so close to him. Fugo stood up taking out his hand, "It's nice to meet you Y/n." I shook his hand, "Likewise."

Abbacchio removed his headphones and crossed his arms, "So this is Y/n, the girl that was legally declared dead not too long ago, huh? How'd you cheat death?" The others seemed confused, I guess Bruno only told Abbacchio what had happened... or he was properly assigned to confirm my death. "Yes, that's me. If it weren't for Bruno I wouldn't be here. I almost drowned to death." I stood in front of the group seeing them look at me with pure amazement.

"Really how? Grab a seat tell us." Narancia Seemed excited to hear about my near-death experience and the other seemed interested as well. I told them everything that had happened. "All I want is to get rid of people like those men and help in any way I can to accomplish that."

After a month I became close friends with Mista, Narancia, and Fugo, they started calling me big sis. However, it did take some time to gain the trust of Abbacchio. Every so often he invites me to drink wine with him and Bruno. And as for Bruno, he and I have become close. Mista has teased me about how Bruno stares at me when I speak or when I'm helping Fugo torture Narancia. I've noticed too.

"I just got a call Leaky-eye Luca was found dead near the airport. I have to get going, I'll be back in a bit." Bruno singled me over to him; we both walked out of Libeccio.

"What is it, Bruno?" I asked him. "We both know time is short for the both of us. After I come back from investigating Luca's death, would you like to go on a date with me?" I smiled so brightly, "Yes, I would." I hugged him feeling so happy and like the luckiest girl alive he hugged me back. "Wonderful, I'll be back shortly okay." We pulled away from the hug a bit and that was when he kissed me for the first time. My heart raced as it felt like time had stopped for us two. "See you soon." He smiled, "Good luck Bruno." We said our goodbyes and he left.

Soon after Giorno Giovanna joined our group, nothing went as planned once he joined.

Request for One-shot are open!

[timewechangetoo]

actual footage of mysterio in spiderman: far from home

[drawlfoy]

snake for a badger

masterlist requests are closed, but read this before you click away! message me/send an ask to be tagged :)

pairing: hufflepuff!reader x draco

request? nope this was something that i came up with myself but low key i had quite a few hufflepuff requests that i never attended to and i wanted to give the hufflepuffs some love (my longest fics have had either ravenclaw or gryffindor readers, so this is your moment y’all...if you’re a slytherin then i’ll have something coming up for you soon ;))

summary: 6th year hufflepuff y/n y/l/n doesn’t know if she be afraid of draco malfoy after her friends warn her about his potential status as a death eater...and the fact that he keeps showing up to save her isn’t helping. THIS IS A TEASER!!!! for a much longer oneshot that’s currently in progress!!

warnings: teen drinking, secondhand embarrassment, swearing

a/n: important note that THIS IS A TEASER. i honestly have no idea how the entire oneshot is going to look (even though i assume that this isn’t exactly a one shot if there’s this added onto it). i’m not even sure if this is going to be a scene--it’s just the very first thing i wrote for it, and i liked it. i feel like draco’s character in this is really tricky because i haven’t yet decided how “ooc” i want him to be. i just really liked this idea and i’ve always had the image of y/n saving draco in this particular movie scene. let me know your thoughts!

no music recs, this is just a teaser

tags tags tags @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

word count: 2.5k

Her shoes dug into the back of her heels as she tried to keep up with Ginny around the corner. 

“I don’t understand why you insist on wearing those...torture devices,” the red-haired witch said without adjusting her stride in the slightest. Y/N was tempted to just rip them off then and there and attend Slughorn’s party barefoot and carefree, but she knew better. It was in her best interest to try and get on the good side of the professors. Even though she had no intention of holding an office in the Ministry or becoming an Auror, she still wanted a good scroll of recommendation from her Potions professor. Especially considering his connections.

“Why don’t you just spell the back of them soft?” asked Ginny. “That’s what Parvati does. At least, I think that’s what she does. I don’t know how else she’s able to wear them with her uniform every day.”

“She doesn’t know the first thing about shoes.” Y/N winced the tip of her heel wobbled for a moment in between the cobblestones. “Once you spell a shoe soft, they’re never the same again. They’re ruined. At least, that’s what my mother has always told me--she swears by that balm stuff I keep on my nightstand.”

“Ah, Mrs. Y/L/N. I’m glad she’s not here to see me. I think she would demand that I pay with my life for my outfit today.”

Y/N managed a smile. “Hey. You know she likes you. I think so, at least.”

They rounded the corner, and this time Ginny was kind enough to steady Y/N as they made their way up the final flight of stairs. “I don’t know how you’re going to make it through the whole night, Y/N. I bet you wish you’d taken up Nott’s offer to be your date this time, huh? Now that you don’t have anyone to lean on if your feet get too tired?”

“There’s something called taking my shoes off if they hurt too much,” she responded. “And I could never regret that--I know he only did it because his mother told him to. Something about a favor for my mother after we saved her at a gala, I’m sure.”

“Also the fact that Millie would crucify you if she saw you with him.”

Y/N laughed. “That too. Imagine being a Hufflepuff who accidentally put a target on her back…”

“You’d be dead.”

“But very, very stylish. And if I died, my feet wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Ginny tutted at her. “So morbid.”

The staircase had finally turned to their stop, and before the two girls had a chance to get off, Y/N heard a voice call out for her companion.

“Ginny! Hey, Ginny!”

“Harry!” 

She pulled Y/N up the last few steps and deposited her safely on the corridor platform before bounding off towards Harry and Luna at the opposite end of the hall. They must’ve come from a different direction. “I’ll catch up with you at the party, ok?”

Y/N just beamed at her friend as she closed the difference between her and Harry, pulling both him and Luna around the corner towards the music and sound of the party. If it was anyone else, she might’ve been offended, but she knew how much Harry meant to her. Even if Ginny didn’t know it yet. And Y/N would not, under any circumstance, slow her friend down because of her poor footwear choices.

She dusted her dress off before making her way further down the hall. It was slower going without the prospect of a steadying hand next to her, but it was getting easier. Maybe the balm she’d used on the leather really was softening with each step she took like it said on the box. 

Before she lifted the curtain to walk into the jovial evening, a flash of blond hair caught her eye. Platinum blond hair--the type that only belonged to one person she knew. 

“Malfoy?” 

His head snapped up from its previous spot on his knees that were folded up on the floor. The Slytherin was obscured by the darkness and the dividing wall that had been erected in the corridor, but Y/N was completely sure of what she was seeing.

She crept closer, inwardly cringing at the sound her heels made as they clacked across the stones. 

“Need anything, Y/L/N?” he drawled. Once she was close enough to see his face clearly, his expression made it clear that he was not in a good mood. Not like he ever was, though. 

“Why are you...er...just sitting here?” Fuck. She sounded so ditzy.

“Enjoying my Friday night.”

“Oh...ok.” Y/N swallowed. “You were invited to Slughorn’s party?” 

He shrugged. 

Her mouth felt dry. Obviously, he hadn’t been invited. Slughorn was notorious for wanting to keep a squeaky clean image, and entertaining the idea of inviting a Death Eater’s son was...out of question. And he never tried in his class anymore.

She dared another look down at him and nearly squeaked when she saw him staring directly back at her. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve at least told him goodbye or goodnight, but her words completely failed her. Instead, she just stared back, completely frozen. 

She couldn’t help it. Ever since last fall, she couldn’t act normal around him to save her life. Not after...that. 

A cat meowed in the distance, breaking whatever was paralyzing her. 

“I...I have to go. I think that’s Filch.” 

He said nothing--just tilted his head and raised an eyebrow like he was expecting something from her. She spun and walked as quickly as she could manage without breaking an ankle.

“What took you so long, Y/N?” Ginny asked the moment the curtain fell behind her, closing her back into the party. The tent that was magically set up was much more spacious than she was expecting, and the lime and peach coloring was surprisingly bright and cheery.

“I...uh…”

Her explanation was cut short by the sound of the entrance curtain being shoved aside with so much force that the nearest tables shook, the fine china clattering. 

Filch stood in front of them, holding a very peeved looking Draco Malfoy by the scruff of his neck. “Found this boy loitering around outside. I don’t imagine that he’s been invited to your party here.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Professor Snape appeared to her left, his robes billowing black behind him as he made his way towards the pair.

“Ok, ok, I admit it, I wasn’t--”

“Draco! Where have you been?” 

The words were out of her mouth before she even had the chance to think of the heavy, heavy regret that weighed down at her the moment they were spoken--not to mention the foreign feeling of the name “Draco” instead of Malfoy on her tongue. The tension in the room was tangible as Y/N took a few tentative steps forward. Snape whipped around to glare at her with a look that contained so much venom that it nearly stunned her.

“Miss Y/L/N? What’s going on?” Her sweet Potions professor materialized behind her. Y/N felt a twinge in her gut at what she was about to say--if she followed through, he probably wouldn’t ever give her the scroll of recommendation she wanted. “Did you invite him?”

Oh well. Here goes.

She drew in a shaky breath. “Yes. He’s my...uh...date tonight.”

Ginny spun around and sent her a death glare that said oh you are so telling me about this right now. 

Filch released his grip on Malfoy’s neck, shoving him forward into the crowd. Y/N met his eyes for a brief second, and the only emotion she could register was shock. And anger.

“Fine. Dumbledore will be hearing about this, though. And tell your date to stop breaking curfew in restricted areas.” 

With that, the curtain fell back and Filch was gone, leaving Y/N in the throes of her own despair. Malfoy was just a few feet away from her now, standing in all his gloomy glory. And she’d just told everyone that he was her date.

The music started up again, the strings echoing around the still room. A few couples hesitantly started dancing again, and the roar of conversation slowly picked back up to where it left off. Y/N and Malfoy were the only ones not doing something...coupley. 

“So,” said Malfoy. The sigh that followed was completely unreasonable. “I think you’re supposed to tell me to stop breaking curfew in restricted areas sometime soon.”

She gulped. “Yeah. That.”

He held out his hand, slow and gingerly like he was about to touch a hot stove. Y/N just gawked at it.

“We should probably dance. Or something. I don’t think you’re being a very believable date right now.” 

Y/N grabbed his hand and let him pull her into the mess of couples. It felt like her mind had taken a complete vacation. What had happened? How had this night ended up this way? “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she started.

“Yeah, well, me neither.” He was practiced and comfortable as he guided her through the steps of whatever waltz was playing. Y/N never paid much attention when she was young to the dance lessons that her parents painstakingly put her through--and it was clear from how much she needed to depend on him. Her shoes didn’t help, 

“Ginny is going to fucking kill me,” she said suddenly. 

“You think?” he said, his tone flat. “Why’d you say I was your date? Were you that desperate for someone?”

“I…” The words died on her tongue as she tried to get them out. Malfoy spun her as she clung to the silk lapel of his suit, hanging on for dear life as her heels teetered. “You know why.” 

If he had any strong thoughts on the matter, he didn’t let it show on his face. He simply let his gaze flicker down at her for a second before he dipped her. “You know, in my world we don’t really return favors. If I were you, I would stop trying to repay me. There’s no point.”

“There doesn’t need to be one. I just…”

“Just worry about yourself, okay? I don’t need you to be stirring up your own drama with fruitless attempts to pay me back. I’m perfectly capable on my own.”

“I’m not doubting how capable you are! I’m just being a fair person!”

“Nothing about any of this is fair,” he snipped. “It doesn’t matter what you do. You’re not going to set anything right. You should know better, anyways. You shouldn’t be trying to help me. I’m surprised Potter isn’t teaching you this.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew hot while the song slowly creaked to the end. “Malfoy--” 

“I’m going to get us drinks.” He dropped her hand and was gone before another word could leave her lips.

It took Ginny no more than a minute to have her friend cornered in a quiet spot of the tent, her eyes glittering. “When were you going to tell me that you were going to ask Malfoy to be your date?”

“I didn’t,” Y/N told her. She decided that she might as well be truthful. “I just felt bad for him. Snape seemed like he was in a bad mood, and I don’t want to put him through that. I don’t want to put anyone through that.”

“Ugh, you are such a Hufflepuff,” her friend groaned. “I can’t believe you. You’re kind to a fault sometimes, you know.”

“What’s the harm, Gin?” asked Y/N. “He can’t hurt me. He’s not all that bad. He’s just a prat sometimes.”

“Can’t hurt you--oh, dear.” Ginny let out a shaky breath and ran her fingers through her hair, messing up the pinned portions. Y/N resisted the urge to cringe at the sight. “Hasn’t Harry told you? You need to stay away from Malfoy. He’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” increduled Y/N. “No way. He’s all bark, no bite. The worst thing he’s going to do is tell me that Hufflepuffs are stupid or something.”

“Y/N.” The intensity of Ginny’s voice made her snap to attention. “You really don’t know, do you? I can’t tell you now. But I’m sure Harry will later. Just...promise me you won’t let him get you alone? Ok? And please don’t do any other favors for him. You’ll understand later.”

They both turned at the sound of a male clearing his throat. Malfoy stood, uncomfortable and broody, carrying two goblets. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, not at all!” said Ginny, weirdly cheery. She leaned in, feigning to kiss Y/N’s cheek goodbye, but instead she whispered, “Don’t drink that.” And then she was gone.

“Trouble in paradise with Weaselette?” he asked.  

She took the goblet and faked taking a sip. “Er, no. Why do you ask?”

“You look awfully pale, my dear.” 

“It’s just the draft,” she told him, but in truth she knew that her face was suddenly flaming red again. 

“Hm.” He, on the contrary, took a real, genuine sip out of his goblet. “Want to sit down somewhere? I’m thinking I probably going to want to get out of here soon.”

“To each their own,” responded Y/N. She was slowly becoming warier after Ginny’s speech. There’s no way he would...no...not after what he did for her. “I’m staying around until I get Slughorn to talk to me, personally. I want him to really like me.”

“That old bat? I’m sure he already likes you, if he’s inviting you here and all.”

“I don’t think he likes me, per se. I think he just likes who my family rubs elbows with.”

A rare smile stretched across Malfoy’s face, but it didn’t seem sweet. “Ah, I remember your family now. If I recall correctly, your mother used to come do fittings for my mother?”

“Um, yeah. I believe so.” Y/N attempted to smile back, but something in her felt...off. What didn’t she know about Malfoy? Was he actually capable of hurting her? Did he want to hurt her?

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Malfoy said after a few beats of silence. “Unless you’d like to join my thrilling pursuits with breaking curfew in restricted areas, I’d better be off.”

“Malfoy…” Y/N started. She had no idea what else to tell him. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, sending her another one of those sly smiles that made her stomach turn. “Enjoy the rest of your night, alright?”

She made a sorry attempt to smile back. He kept looking down at her, so intently that it made her uncomfortable. He was thinking--about what, she couldn’t determine. But clearly it was something, and the gears were turning.

“May I suggest something?” His eyes glinted in the dim party lighting. Malfoy seemed to take her silence and wide-eyed stare as a yes, leaning in closer so quickly that she didn’t even have a chance to spring away.

“You’re supposed to swallow when you fake drinking something.”

He plucked the goblet out of her hand and took a sip, raising an eyebrow at her as if to say see? 

Even long after he was gone, she could still feel his hot breath on her neck and hear the way his whispered voice sounded in her ear. 

final a/n: hehe here i am 1 minute late!! probably later once i get all my links set up/copy paste all my tags but here it is! this is a TEASER! so remember that! i hope to get the real oneshot out sometime after i get wonders of ohio p 10 out. let me know if this is something you guys want to read/if you like this version of draco. i rlly want to write a flirtier draco because i think we could all use that right now

[merlinfic]

group ask for lost fics #31

Hi y’all! Below are a few lost fics that us mods just can’t seem to find. That being said, we’re hoping that you lovely followers are able to help! If anyone knows any of the fics below please reply below or send in an ask with which anon/user and group ask that the fic corresponds when the ask is back open!

Note: previous group asks and all lost fics!

Anon 1 asked:

Hello! I’m looking for a fic i read a long time ago but the details are a bit fuzzy. It was a reincarnation fic where Gwen was Arthur’s PA and she was trying to keep Arthur and Merlin apart because she remembered their past and she wanted him to choose her. I remember her yelling that Arthur always chose Merlin in the end and it wasn’t fair or something along those lines?

Anon 2 asked:

hi guys! thank you for all your help and support to this community :) anyhooo could you find me a fic?

i remember it was 14 chapters long, ao3, and an arthur returns fic. the twist was that albion’s greatest need was merlin turning dark after being alone and tainted for so long (without an anchor). gwen’s reincarnation brought back arthur from the lake and freya put a barrier on him so merlin couldn’t see him. arthur stayed with gwen (who used to be merlin’s student and is again later). arthur moves in with merlin and so does gwen later on. merlin’s getting corrupted by his ‘darkness’ that is obsessed with serving arthur and only listens to him. i know the magical council tried to execute merlin but he transported them to australia or something. they find leon later on in the fic and morgana bonds with him as well. merlin blows arthur in the kitchen in one scene i think?? and they become guardians of earth at the end or something with this tattoo bonding ritual. thank you!!

Anon 3 asked:

Hi i was looking for this merlin fanfic based on the wild hunt i remember that merlin got possessed after touching something meant from arthur left by morgana after she was defeated. i also remember the arthur hot possessed by a goddess to “defeat” merlin.

Anon 4 asked:

Hi! I was hoping you guys could help me find a fic. I don't remember much of the setup, but Merlin ends up being kidnapped by an assassin/serial killer? Merlin couldn't defend himself because he kept seeing the future instead of the present? The killers son ends up helping the knights find Merlin. There was also a tree that he'd hang people from. Canon era, very dark. I'm almost certain I found it from this blog, but I haven't seen it in the tags and stuff I've looked through. Thank you so much

Thanks to @vaksurik-ozhika for suggesting Overheard by hujwernoo!

Anon 5 asked:

Hey guys, hope you're all okay, I wonder if you guys could help me find a fic that I've lost?

I don't remember much, but here we go:

Merthur and the knights were traveling to another kingdom or in a quest of some sorts, Merlin and Arthur were bickering like the old married couple that they've always been and the knights point out to them that they behave like that, they just dismiss it. They stop by a village and are welcomed by an actual old married couple, seeing how their behavior was similar to his and Arthur's merlin freaks out, try to call Arthur out for it, but Arthur simply kisses him. One of the knights, probably Gwaine, finds them and says something around the lines "it's about time", hope you can help me, kisses <3

Thank you @annielisiel-w-l for sending in Like an Old Married Couple by PJOfanatix!

@the-tortoise-lady asked:

Hi :) I hope you're all well!

I love your blog, it has guided me to most of my favourite fics ever!! And for that I will be forever grateful!

I remember reading a fic (a year ago?) Which was in a modern setting where Merlin and Arthur worked together and merlin still kind of had magic (which Arthur doesn't know) and tried to protect arthur by giving him lots of little charms like enchanted stones or sth, I think it was a magic reveal in the end

It was really cute, but I don't remember the name of the author sadly, maybe you can help?

Thanks to @kardolsher for suggesting Get Sick Soon by Polomonkey!

Anon 6 asked:

Hi! There was this one fic I read that I can’t find, it had merlin sitting on arthur’s lap and they were fucking a leon walked in and they didn’t stop. Do you guys know what it is? Thank you so much!

Thanks to @thelady-mary for suggesting A partner for life by ohmerthurcharm!

Anon 7 asked:

heeey you! I am searching for a fic and who else could I ask for help? It was something along the lines of Arthur being in a relationship but growing to slowly realize he was in love with Merlin. Arthur had this dream of eloping with Merlin so the knights along with Gwen (I believe Morgana also) made a plan so they would go on a quest and Arthur would “die” there, leaving Gwen to rule alone. Also, Morgana and Gwen were secretly together.

Anon 8 asked:

I’m looking for this story where it’s a modern au and Arthur thinks Merlin and Gwaine are dating but Gwaine is just a really bad boyfriend, but it turns out they were never dating. Does that sound familiar? I think it was on Ao3. Thanks in advance.

Thanks to @take-me-to-a-time-of-magic for sending in Getting It Right by SPowell!

Anon 9 asked:

Hello darlings! I wanted to know if any of you could help me find this fanfic. It was set on Canon Era and Arthur was split into three versions of himself, I remember one Merlin called Prat, and another he called Hero but Arthur called that one Coward. I don't remember much, but could you please help me?

Thanks to @dracopottermalfoy for suggesting Split by TheAsexualofSpades!

@alsomabs asked:

Hi there! I remember a fic — but only by this one segment of a battle, and have been desperately searching for it.

In this battle, Mordred is on Camelot’s side. An angry Wyvern is involved, who if I’m not wrong! Was spelled by Morgana? Merlin then falls off a turret because of the wyvern, but is protected by both his and mordred’s magic. Leon or someone afterwards is secretly feeding the wyvern I think. I’ve been going through so many tags but I can’t find it 😭

Part 2 of my ask is — how in the world do you remember fics (that you recommend!)? Do you catalogue them when you come across them, and store that to recc/help other’s find?

Thank you for the work you do!

To answer the second part of your question: personally, I don’t catalogue anything other than what gets posted here lmao. Finding fics, for me, just comes down to knowing how to search for things if I’m honest (I say as I’m making a massive post about fics we can’t find lmaooo). ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Glad you found it! For those interested it’s so close and I'm halfway to it by ariadne_odair, which you need an ao3 account to view!

@graceworm asked:

Hi! I'm looking for a fic I read a while ago. It's a modern au in which Arthur + knights are frat boys, and Arthur has to have sex with Merlin in front of everyone (maybe as hazing? not sure), and in the end we learn that they're together and I think Merlin planned it. I looked through AO3 and the tags but I couldn't find it. Thank you!!

Glad you found it! For those interested it’s the lure would prove too much by minor_hue!

Anon 10 asked:

Hi! I was wondering if you could find a very specific fic for me. So Arthur Merlin and the knights get kidnapped by like 6 mages and they force Merlin and Arthur to have sex to get Merlin pregnant (there's a ritual involving potions and runes) and then after they are free to go with one mage (who they don't know is a mage) and they live in the castle until Merlin is going to give birth then the mage that come with them tries to kill Merlin and the baby cause she doesn't want to die, because the mages linked their life to the ritual to ensure that Merlin could get pregnant as one can't create a life without sacrificing another. I can't remember much else but I really hope you can find it for me! as I've been looking for years.

And as always this post will be updated if any fics are found!

[carewyncromwell]

The next Cinderella AU part is here...and I am so thrilled about this part, because not only do we get a new character (who I’m quite sure you can identify from the sketch above -- only my second time drawing him ever, and I’m actually pretty happy with it!), but we’ll also get a nice serving of drama! Goodie!!

Robin Hood as a legendary figure first originated through the oral tradition, so its history is a little hard to plot out, but his first reference in writing is a ballad from the 15th century. Although our modern image of Robin Hood is that of a chaotic good heroic figure, his original incarnation was decidedly less saintly -- he was a bandit, and although he did refrain from stealing from women, he was rather violent, reckless, and hot-tempered, as well as flagrantly against both clerics and all nobility. Robin Hood’s backstory of being a disgraced nobleman who turned outlaw after losing his title and land and who remains loyal to the “good king” Richard while opposing the unlawful regent Prince John was added later, presumably to make him a bit more “approachable” to an Elizabethan audience who was more accustomed to hearing tales about nobility (just look at a lot of Shakespeare’s plays from that period -- many of them center around royalty or the upper class). Plays about or referencing Robin Hood then increased in popularity on the British Isles throughout the 16th and early 17th century, until the rise of Puritanism in the 1640′s put a halt to theatrical productions. (Bloody kill-joys.) For more information on the history of Robin Hood’s development, I strongly recommend this analysis done by Overly Sarcastic Productions (...actually, just watch everything on their channel, it’s all great XD).

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn had a lot of trouble returning to her daily routine at the palace the following morning. Getting so close to the border with Orion and hearing about how much scarier it was likely to get on the battlefield made her all the more worried for Jacob’s well-being. Even if the spell Charles Cromwell had paid for nine years ago made it so that Jacob would stay alive as long as he willed it, Carewyn dreaded the thought of what harm, physical and emotional, that Jacob might face. If she only had some idea which battalion he was a part of and where on the front he’d be, then she could always just try to send a letter his way...maybe even ask Orion to drop it off to the camp for her, since his father was an officer. But Carewyn had combed every military roster she could get her hands on, but hadn’t been able to find a single record of Jacob anywhere.

‘He must be under another name,’ Carewyn told herself. 

It wouldn’t be too unreasonable that Charles wouldn’t want Jacob to advance in the ranks on the back of their family name. And really, Carewyn knew full well how displeased her grandfather would be if he found out she was trying to reach out to her brother without his approval -- he could’ve even forced Jacob to take on another name, just to try to make it that bit harder for Carewyn to contact him without his approval...

Carewyn’s friends noticed a rather abrupt shift in her mood. She was singing as always, but her choices were a bit less upbeat and her voice sounded oddly distracted and nostalgic. At one point, Andre mentioned offhandedly that he’d been designing themed outfits for his friends to wear to his mother’s New Year Eve’s Masque Ball, but Carewyn had trouble putting much attention on it.

“I’ve already finished some ‘owl wings’ on a cape for KC and a fur-trimmed wolf mask and gown for Erika...I was thinking perhaps a stag for Bill, a dragon for Charlie, and a lioness for Ginny? I considered a horse at first, but I think a pale gold would make her just glow, don’t you think? Yours I’m most excited for, though...I’m hoping to actually make your newest pair of shoes with fabric on the inside for comfort and diamond on the outside for sturdiness, if I can manage it!”

“Mm...that sounds great,” said Carewyn absently.

Her gaze was drawn out the nearest window, as far out as she could.

“...Andre,” she said slowly, “I realize this is very last minute, but...may I have this afternoon off, to go see my family?”

Andre blinked. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh no, no,” Carewyn lied with as pretty and reassuring of a smile as she could. “It’s just...well, it’s nearly Tristan’s birthday. My uncle keeps him very close to home, compared to my other cousins...I merely thought I might stop by and bake him a little something, as a surprise.”

Andre frowned slightly. “You...get along better with your uncle and his son than with Iris, then?”

“No, but Tristan is only a boy. It’s hard to hold any bad behavior against him. And well, maybe if he and the others don’t know I made it, he’ll enjoy it better.”

Carewyn could see Andre still looked confused and a little dismayed, so she quickly added, “I’ll be back by tomorrow morning, in time for my rounds. I won’t allow it to interrupt my duties.”

Andre offered a hesitant smile. “Well, all right...if it really means that much to you.”

Carewyn’s eyes softened. “Thank you, Andre -- I really appreciate it.”

Fortunately for Carewyn, Andre wasn’t the best at picking up on other people’s pretenses. Unfortunately for Carewyn, two of his most regular confidantes were his cousin KC and fencing instructor Erika, and they did pick up on Carewyn’s odd behavior.

“She said she wanted to surprise her cousin with something for his birthday?” asked KC, frowning deeply. 

“Well, yeah,” said Andre. “I admit, it seemed a little weird to do something so nice without even wanting credit, but Carewyn is an awfully selfless sort. From the way she made it sound, she just wanted to do something nice for him.”

“And you believed her?” said Erika rather coldly. 

She whacked Andre’s practice sword out of his hand with her own, making the Crown Prince hiss in pain. 

“I’ve told you before, Prince Henri -- you all may think Carewyn Cromwell’s nothing like her family, but that’s absolute bunk. She might be more pleasant than them, but she’s not stupid and she’s not honest. Or did you not notice that that weird guy she hangs out with keeps calling her ‘his lady,’ as if she weren’t the penniless orphan of a deadbeat merchant?”

Erika picked up Andre’s sword and tossed it back to him with ease. 

“Then of course that guy himself is shady as all get out.”

Andre frowned. “You mean Orion? Come on, Erika, he isn’t that bad -- I thought he seemed quite amiable, myself. Don’t you agree, KC?”

“He is,” said KC fairly. “But Erika isn’t completely off-base. There is a lot about Orion that we don’t know -- that even Carewyn herself doesn’t know. She admitted as much to me, after I first met him. That being said,” she raised her own sword and got into position to attack Andre, “I don’t think Orion’s a threat. You would think anyone with the ability to sneak over the palace walls not once but twice would’ve tried to make some move to attack you by now, but he’s only ever come looking for Carewyn. And although I don’t completely understand the reason behind why she’s acting like a lady around him,” she shot Erika a faintly reproachful look as she and Andre traded blows, “I’m pretty sure it has more to do with her own insecurities than because she’s a terrible person -- ow! Damn it!”

Andre had successfully disarmed KC. 

“Insecurities?” he said, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What is there for her to be insecure about? I mean, yes, she has no dowry, and taking Orion’s wardrobe into account, I’d suppose he has to come from a family with modest wealth -- but Orion seemed to enjoy the Weasleys’ company quite well, and their family is poor. I think they’d make a lovely match, really,” he added with a rather smug grin. “They even matched at the Festival, without realizing it.”

KC massaged her wrist, frowning a bit sourly. “Yes...but Carewyn is solely under Lord Cromwell’s charge. He’s the one who sent her here. He’s the only guardian she really has. And I think it’s quite clear how much influence he has over his family -- even his daughters who married into other esteemed families still live at his estate with their husbands and children, rather than moving out onto their own estates. And in Carewyn’s case, she doesn’t even have a parent to help shield her from Lord Cromwell’s will. She doesn’t have a penny to her name. So that means, in effect, she’s chained to him, and in those circumstances...well...”

She hesitated. 

"Well what?” Andre prompted her. 

KC looked incredibly uncomfortable. 

“I didn’t want to say anything before without knowing for sure...but I think someone’s been looking at our military ledgers, documenting troop placements. Everything’s neatly put away the way they should be, but there are more fingerprints on them than before. And usually I’m the only one who has much use to look those up, whenever I’m ready to suggest a new war strategy...”

Erika’s eyes narrowed very sharply and she got right up into KC’s space. “And you’re only just saying this now?! That information could be critical to Royaume’s enemies! What if that guy Orion sneaked in not just to see Cromwell, but to get his hands on those? Or what if it was Cromwell herself, working in collusion with him?”

“Impossible,” Andre said forcefully. “Carewyn would never be a spy for the enemy -- it’s not in her character.”

“And I don’t think Orion would know where those documents would be, even if he did sneak in,” said KC. 

Erika, however, looked unconvinced as she made for the door. “You can coddle those two all you want, but I plan to tell the King and Queen -- they’ll want to interrogate Cromwell and this ‘Orion Freeman’...”

“Erika, belay that!” Andre said in a suddenly much sharper and more authoritative voice. “That’s an order.”

Once Erika had stopped walking and turned back around, the Crown Prince exhaled heavily and crossed his arms in a business-like manner. 

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said firmly. “If Carewyn is heading to the Cromwell estate, she’ll have to take the road through town, correct? I’ll simply take a horse and follow the road after her.”

Erika and KC looked startled. 

“Uh, Andre,” said KC, “you haven’t forgotten that you’re not allowed to leave the palace, have you?”

Andre smirked. “No. I’m just sneaking out.”

Before Erika and KC could articulate an argument, he added in a much sassier voice, “Look, I’m doing it whether you come with me or not. I’d appreciate the company if you want to come along -- all I expect is that you’ll dress appropriately. I hear linens and cottons are fashionable for those who don’t wish to attract attention.”

And so Andre, KC, and Erika made preparations to follow Carewyn...completely unaware that a half-hour earlier, Bill and Charlie Weasley had -- after having a similar, but much more concerned conversation with Badeea Ali about Carewyn clearly lying to Andre’s face -- decided to take their horses and tail their friend themselves. And sure enough, the two eldest Weasleys soon enough found themselves following Carewyn on the road heading northeast, avoiding the Cromwell estate all together.

At the very same time, in Florence, Orion had finalized his plan. Today was the day he was going to request a formal audience with Prince Henri, as Prince Cosimo VII. As Carewyn had said, he’d need to act fast if he was going to stop his father from finding a way to complete his own ruthless strategy -- the battlefield itself would be a difficult place for Orion to make his case, with so many distractions, but he knew a more balanced, peaceful setting wouldn’t be. And so he wrote a long letter to the King, explaining everything that he had learned from Royaume and its people as well as Florence’s own, so as to make a case for peace. He then had the court magician Severus Snape deliver it to the Florentine camp in his stead, while he dressed in his finest and prepared to leave for Royaume. 

When he made as if to take his own horse, however, Orion found Skye and McNully waiting for him, a black coach already prepared. 

“If you’re planning on going to meet Prince Henri, you really should arrive in style,” said McNully with a wry smile. “A good first impression to the King and Queen would help your case by a good 45%.”

“And you have to know there’s no way in Hell we’re going to let you go out and expose your true identity to the enemy without back-up,” Skye added, her arms crossed over her chest. “

Orion’s black eyes softened. “...Thank you.”

As he climbed into the carriage, both McNully and Skye’s faces nonetheless betrayed some hesitation. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” McNully asked. “There’s a 74% chance they’ll respond badly to it -- I reckon there’s a 39.5% chance they’ll try to arrest you on the spot and hold you as a prisoner of war...”

“I carry no weapons with me, and I come with the explicit purpose of diplomacy,” said Orion levelly. “Therefore I’m not an enemy combatant. As long as I follow their direction while under their roof, then any harm they might do me would be violating the conventions of war...and the Royaumanians, for all of their flaws, do have honor.”

“One could make a case for you having been involved in espionage, though,” McNully pointed out, but Orion ignored him and settled down in the carriage, crossing his legs offhandedly. 

“What about Lady Cromwell?” said Skye, her voice a bit lower and more concerned. “She’ll find out you’re a Florentine. And not just any Florentine, the Prince of Florence.”

Something sad flickered through Orion’s confident, unflappable expression.

“She was going to learn the truth sooner or later,” he murmured. “If our time together has come to an end...then at least I may have the memories to hold onto...and the knowledge that by ending this War peacefully, I may have spared her of more heartache.”

He closed his eyes and began to meditate, clearly having said his piece on the matter. Skye and McNully, however, couldn’t help but exchange a look that was both anxious and very sad. 

As long as they’d known Orion, he’d always been a little reckless, but he was also passive and avoided direct confrontation. This plan to directly appeal to Royaume’s royal family, however, required a lot of guts  -- far more than either of them had thought Orion possessed. And they knew such courage could only have been encouraged by one person...the very same person who Orion loved so much that he would choose to follow her example and protect what she loved, even if it meant destroying their relationship forever. 

Orion meditated during most of the journey to the Royaumanian palace. It was merely fortunate that, as they approached, McNully broke him out of his trance by tapping him on the shoulder and pointing out the window. If he hadn’t, then Orion would not have seen a rather familiar trio of riders on horseback, riding through town past them -- a short, stocky lady with dark red hair and freckles; a very tall blonde with a square jaw and sharp eyes; and a very handsome dark-skinned man dressed in a purple tunic, emerald green pants, and gold-buckled black boots. 

“Stop the carriage!” said Orion, his soft, level voice nonetheless very firm despite not rising in volume. 

He barely waited for the carriage to completely stop before slamming the door open and jumping out.

“Andre! KC!”

Andre, KC, and Erika all stopped their horses in an abrupt halt and turned around as Orion dashed up to them.

“Orion?” said Andre, startled. 

KC looked from the rather finely dressed Orion to the expensive-looking black coach behind him and back. Erika’s eyes narrowed critically upon Orion as he came to a stop in front of them, his hands clasping in front of him. 

“I...had not expected to see you out and about,” said Orion, trying to put on his most pleasant, calm expression. 

Andre glanced over his shoulder up the road, frowning deeply. “Yes, well...some business has come up.”

“Orion, have you seen Carewyn?” KC asked him, her face very serious. 

Orion blinked. 

“Not since last night,” he said. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Never you mind,” barked Erika, as she turned back to the road. “Come on, we don’t want to lose the trail -- ”

“Erika,” reproached Andre, before he turned back to Orion, his face visibly concerned. “...Carewyn asked for the afternoon off to go see her family, but it was very last minute, which isn’t like her. And according to what we’ve heard in town, there’s been no traffic down the road toward the Cromwell estate in the last four hours...”

“So Carewyn had to have been lying about where she was going,” finished KC, her face much more stoic but her voice no less tense. “We need to find her and figure out why.”

Orion’s eyebrows had furrowed over his widening black eyes. His heartbeat was slamming in his ears as the memory of Carewyn in the woods returned to him -- looking northward, toward the army camps, as if longing to run toward them --

“I know where she’s gone,” he said at once. 

He rushed back to the coach, grabbing onto the window frame and standing on the boot of the carriage. 

“To the northern border,” he urged Skye, who sat in the driver’s seat. “Quickly!”

“The border?” repeated Skye as a sharp whisper. “But Orion, your meeting with the Prince -- ”

“Can come later,” Orion told her very firmly under his breath. “Both he and I must get to the war front.”

He shot a significant look over his shoulder in Andre’s direction. McNully, putting two-and-two together, nodded and inched himself up to the window of the carriage. 

“If you tie one or more of your horses to the carriage, we should decrease our travel time by a good 21% per horse,” he told Erika, KC, and Andre. “If Carewyn left an hour ago, then with one horse, we should be able to overtake her within an half-hour -- two, within twenty minutes, and three, within ten. Though with Orion on the boot, there’s a 12% chance he’ll fall off if we ride at full speed, so we might have to go at 95% instead -- ”

KC fixed the blond-haired man with an incredulous look as she leapt off her horse. 

“Are you really calculating all that on the fly,” she asked, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or amused, “or are you just pulling those numbers out of fat air?”

McNully couldn’t help but grin. “Excellent! Now I can officially say that I’ve been asked that question over a hundred times before.” 

Still looking faintly bewildered, KC moved to help Andre, who’d quickly started attaching his, Erika’s, and her horse’s to the front of the carriage with the two black ones already pulling it, ignoring Erika’s incredibly sour and distrustful expression. There was no time to lose. 

From the boot of the carriage, Orion directed Skye down the same road he’d taken with Carewyn the previous night, Andre, Erika, and KC riding with McNully inside the coach. Once they’d reached the forest, Orion caught sight of a familiar-looking golden eagle with a bandaged wing -- at the sight of the Florentine prince, the eagle gave a loud shriek and flew down into the trees, and Orion urged Skye to pursue him into the woods. The road took them deep into the trees, until at last the eagle landed on a branch over the heads of two familiar-looking ginger-haired men, who were bound with thick rope to a tree. 

Bill and Charlie were stunned at the sight of such an elegant coach, but were absolutely beside themselves with relief at the sight of Andre, KC, and Erika. Erika immediately yanked a knife out of her ankle boot and set about sawing off their bindings -- once she’d cut Charlie free, he immediately rushed forward and grabbed Andre’s shoulders. 

“We’ve got to hurry!” he said anxiously. “They’ve got Carey!”

“‘They?’” said Andre, very startled. “They who?”

“This band of Florentine bandits,” said Bill, his voice very low and urgent. He kept maneuvering his bindings as Erika cut them to try to sever them faster. “They cornered us so they could try to rob us -- they were willing to let Carey go since she was a lady, but she bartered with the leader, saying that they could take her so long as they left us alone. Claimed that they could probably get more money from holding her hostage than us, given her family...”

Both Skye and McNully glanced at Orion. The Prince’s face had lost most of its color -- he’d turned his face away and closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly as he tried to stabilize his emotions. 

“The bandits in these woods are Florentines, so I doubt they will harm you,” Baroness McGonagall’s words returned to his mind, “but I cannot be sure how they would respond to a Royaumanian, especially one related to one of their wealthiest noblemen.”

“They took all three of our horses and tied us to the tree so that we wouldn’t follow them,” growled Charlie. “They left us a knife so that we’d be able to cut ourselves free, but it’s so dull I reckon it would’ve taken us hours to do it ourselves...”

Bill succeeded in snapping the weakened ropes in half and leapt back to his feet, massaging his wrists. 

“They must have taken her to a camp of theirs,” said KC, her dark blue eyes narrowing. “Even bandits need some base of operation.”

McNully nodded, resting his arms on the edge of the coach’s window. “The lady is right. Given where we are, I’d say the odds are fairer that it’s southeast of here.”

“Closer to the Florentine side of the border, you mean,” presumed KC, and McNully nodded again. 

“They were heading south through the woods,” said Bill. “But we won’t want to bring the coach. They stopped us because they wanted money -- if they have any reason to think any of you have it, they’ll no doubt want to imprison you too...”

“On the contrary,” said Orion in a very low voice, “this carriage may be just the thing we need, to ensure that they don’t imprison us.”

Everyone looked at Orion, their faces all a mixture of incredulity and revulsion, but he seemed disinterested in explaining himself. 

“We must be quick, McNully,” said Orion, and although his voice and face were as level and unreadable as ever, they both betrayed a slight edge. “Time is not on our side.”

With Bill now sitting with the driver’s seat next to Skye and Charlie hanging off the boot with Orion, the black coach set off again. Overhead Orion caught sight of the wounded eagle again, which shrieked at them warningly -- the Prince thought it must mean they were close, but did not respond fast enough to the trap set out in front of them. 

The coach rode right through a certain cluster of vines, and within seconds, they had magically sprung to life, lashing themselves around the limbs of the five horses pulling the coach. The steeds reared back, panicked -- Skye immediately yanked out a sword from her belt and began hacking away at them, and Erika and Andre both leapt from the carriage with their own swords to help, but it was no use. The vines only lashed onto them, binding all three of them fast and making it impossible for them to move. And when things seemed like they couldn’t be any worse, without warning, a group of green-dressed men and women had swung down from more vines attached to the nearby trees, surrounding them in a tight noose-like circle and pointing their arrow-decked bows at them. 

They were trapped. 

“Well, well,” said a voice from the trees above, “we don’t often see coaches that ritzy out here.”

The voice’s owner leapt down to the ground. Unlike his companions, his hooded tunic was yellow instead of green. When he lifted his head enough that they could see his face, it was the host of a mischievous smirk. 

“Especially ones crafted in Florence,” the dark-haired and eyed bandit said breezily. 

Andre, KC, Erika, and the Weasleys all stiffened. 

“Florence?” breathed Bill. 

They all as a unit whirled on Orion. His face was remarkably calm and solemn as he stepped off the coach and in front of the others and faced the bandits’ leader, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“We do not come seeking trouble,” he said. “We merely come to retrieve a lady who surrendered herself to you. Frame like a robin’s. Hair the color of a red sunset. Eyes the color of the sky.”

The bandit’s leader raised his eyebrows curiously. “The maid called Cromwell?”

“That is her.”

“And what reason would you desire her in your custody?” challenged one of the green-dressed bandits with a cocked eyebrow, a dashing man with tanned skin and dark brown hair. 

“Wants to ransom her off himself, no doubt,” sneered another woman with messy brown hair and cold magenta eyes. “He probably works for Lord Malfoy -- we all know he’s the sort to make money off illicit enterprises and keep it all to himself, rather than give it to anyone who actually needs it...”

Two of the other bandits -- a pair of women with long red and short pink hair, respectively -- exchanged a sour look. 

“We have nothing to do with Lord Malfoy,” spat Skye, vainly tugging against the vines binding her. “We wouldn’t collaborate with that rat if you paid us -- !”

“Skye,” said Orion in a quelling voice. 

The last bandit, a very strong-looking man with dark red hair and emerald green eyes, frowned deeply at the leader, who considered Orion carefully. 

“I know your face,” he murmured. 

Orion inclined his head, his black eyes boring into the other man’s face. “I’m sure you do.”

The leader’s thin-lidded eyes narrowed critically -- then they widened, realizing. 

“Bring out Lady Cromwell at once,” he said abruptly. 

The others all whirled on him. 

“What?!” cried all three women and the dashing man. 

“Jae, are you mad?!” said the woman with the magenta eyes. 

“Do it,” said the leader called Jae firmly, without flinching. 

The strong bandit -- the only one who hadn’t questioned the leader’s direction -- grabbed a vine, which immediately retracted back up above them. 

Jae glanced at the magenta-eyed woman. “Merula, have the vines set them loose.”

Merula looked rather scandalized. “What? Oh come on, you know how much of a pain it is, to have to recast a spell after it’s broken -- ”

“Better that we do it now than wait around for the spell to expire on its own,” Jae said dryly. 

Still looking very reluctant, Merula nonetheless did as she was told, holding up her hand, which glowed with light green. 

“The terms are now invalid,” she muttered sourly at the plants. 

The plants sparkled with a similar green flare before falling limply off of the horses, Andre, Erika, and Skye. KC and Bill moved to detangle the now harmless plants from their companions and around the horses’ legs, and Charlie moved to soothe the frightened steeds. 

Within a minute, the strong bandit was back, holding onto the vine easily with one hand and holding Carewyn under his opposite arm. She had her ginger hair tied back in a loose bun and was dressed in the green peasant dress she’d worn to the Festival and her slightly oversized brown shoes -- no doubt because it was the most comfortable dress for travel she had. Orion was also beyond relieved to see that she was perfectly unharmed -- not a single cut or bruise. 

“CAREWYN!” cried KC, Andre, Bill and Charlie in relief. 

All three of the men immediately dashed right over to her and threw their arms around her in a group hug. 

“It’s all right,” Carewyn reassured them with a small smile. “I’m all right.”

“They didn’t hurt you?” Bill interrogated her. 

“You must have been terrified -- ” said Andre. 

“Where are the horses?” asked Charlie. 

“Tied up in a makeshift stable over there,” said the pink-haired bandit with a wry grin and a vague hand gesture. 

“A bit tricky to lug them up into treehouses,” added the red-haired one cheekily. “And no, for the record, we did not hurt Carewyn Cromwell. She may be a stick in the mud, but she’s a decent sort.”

“And brave too!” said the muscled man, beaming. “She wasn’t scared at all, not even when Merula stuck a knife in her face!”

“I was only getting fed up with her smart remarks,” huffed the magenta-eyed bandit called Merula. “You’d think she was the Queen of Sheba, with how she acts...”

“She is a proper lady, to be sure,” said the dashing bandit, shooting Carewyn a rather Casanova-like smile. 

Carewyn tried to stifle a snort of laughter behind her hand as Jae approached her. 

“Seems you’ll have an escort after all, Carewyn,” he said, lowering his bow with a slightly more serious look. “I don’t think I can convince you to reconsider, but under the circumstances...well, just make sure you’re careful. I’d hate to hear of Royaume losing one of its only honorable citizens due to their own stupidity.”

Carewyn inclined her head to him, her blue eyes very solemn. “I’m far from Royaume’s most honorable citizen, Jae, nor from any other country, I daresay. But thank you.”

Jae nodded. He then looked up at Orion. 

“By your leave then, your Highness,” he said with an abbreviated bow. 

He then nodded to the other bandits, and one by one, they all disappeared back up into the trees. 

None of the people on the ground, however, gave them much mind. All of them had turned back around to face Orion -- Carewyn felt like her heart had stopped still as she stared, taking in his neat ponytail and finely tailored black doublet and hose and boots. 

“...‘Your Highness?’ ” repeated Charlie, shocked. 

Andre’s eyes widened. “Then...then you’re...?”

Orion swallowed, but somehow managed to keep his composure as he nodded. His eyes were locked on Carewyn’s face, never shifting and as turbulent as a black ocean. 

“King Cosimo’s new heir,” KC breathed, her face flooding with fresh understanding around her amazement. “Cosimo VII.”

[gumnut-logic]

Dear John

@purfectpurple asked for question number 8.

(why won’t Tumblr tag you????? Aaargh! Stupid program!)

Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it. 

I have written far too much fic. It took me a while to work out which fic to choose, but then I remembered this one.

This is built almost entirely out of text messages so it is almost all dialogue. The back story is that Virg was seriously injured and due to reasons, he can’t see his brother John without a serious negative emotional reaction to his presence. But Virgil loves his brother and tries to reach out and talk to him anyway, even if it is only through text messages. And John loves his brother too.

This one was both painful and hilarious to write. It is one of my very early fics and part of a series that is kinda special to me. I’m particularly happy with this one because, honestly, for what it was, I think it works really well.

I’ve posted the whole thing rather than a snippet because I think it needs to be read as a whole to get the effect.

It should also be noted that at the time I was still terrified of writing John :D

-o-o-o-

Title: Dear John

Tales of Sotto Voce

Author: Gumnut

9-10 Sep 2018

-o-o-o-

Message from OntheVirg.

Dear John.

I don’t really know where to start other than to say that I am so sorry. This is not your fault and I know I’m hurting you. If I could stop I would.

I miss you, little brother, please don’t doubt that ever. This thing that bastard has done to me has come between us, but I still love you (yes, I said it, you can now poke fun) and we will get through it. Somehow.

I’m having a hell of a time talking at the moment, so even if I could bear to be in the same room with you, having a conversation would be difficult. Would you mind if we swapped words using the message system? A little odd to be pen pals when we are only a couple of rooms away, but I’m hoping it will help. And I miss you.

Your brother, Virgil.

John stared at the message and something inside him broke. He knew the state his brother was in. He was still confined to the infirmary, could barely walk due to dizzy spells, could barely speak, and was wracked with emotional instability, his brain struggling to right itself after the attack.

Yet, he had managed to write this?

Message from GuyintheSky.

Certainly, Virgil.

I think it is a good idea. It is likely to help us regain our relationship.

It is also great to see you able to write so well, considering your condition. I am very happy to hear from you.

And yes, I love you, too. No poking required.

I am also so sorry this has happened to you. I would offer some regrets, but I cannot see any way that we could have honestly prevented it. Looking back reveals so many opportunities, yet given the same situations with the same information at the time, we would have acted in exactly the same manner. It appears the Hood planned well for once in his life and he almost succeeded.

The only element that he didn’t plan for was you. It is you we have to thank for his failure. I have never been more thankful for your stubborn streak in my life.

I’m am so proud to have such a strong big brother.

John.

He hit send and bit his lip. He wouldn’t list personal relations in his list of best skills, but Virgil knew that. He just hoped he was good enough.

Several hours later, John was startled out of the sub-function he was writing by a chime from his tablet.

Message from OntheVirg.

John.

Thank you for your vote of confidence. To be honest all I could think of at the time was that I couldn’t let you have my ship. You yelled and screamed, but no, you couldn’t have her. Then you hurt me, tried to force me, but no

Sorry, wasn’t you.

V

It was to be expected. John was surprised the message had even been sent and not deleted. Perhaps Virgil had hit the wrong button. Or perhaps he was trying to explain.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Virgil.

There are no words for the extent of the anger I feel for the violation made against you. There is no need to apologise. I understand, big brother.

Please if you need to talk. I am here.

John

He swallowed and hit send.

Message from OntheVirg.

Do you remember that deer Dad found on the side of the road that had been hit by a car? How it looked up at us desperate for help, but somehow knew it wasn’t going to come?

It felt like that.

It hurt so much. I couldn’t do what he asked, so he just hurt me more. And then I think he just hurt me because he could. There wasn’t any way out.

And he looked just like you. I think that hurt the most.

V

He had to resist the urge to run down the hallway and hug his brother. He rubbed his eyes instead.

Message from GuyintheSky.

I really wish I could hug you right now. Tell Scott to give you a hug from me.

Do you know why he looked like me?

John

Message from TheFlyingScottsman.

Hug delivered.

You okay?

S

Message from GuyintheSky.

As well as I could be considering the circumstances. How is he?

John.

Message from TheFlyingScottsman.

Struggling to type. We’re going to have to call it quits soon. It is taking everything he has to hit those keys. But I think he needs this.

Thank you for being there.

How goes the programming?

S

Message from GuyintheSky.

Don’t let him overtax himself.

Where else would I be? He is my big brother.

Slowly. Whoever did this really knew what they were doing. It is cutting edge work. I can guarantee that the Hood outsourced it. Far too smart for him. I recommend we set Penelope and Kayo on their tail. I dread to think what else this person could be capable of doing. Brains has already started the groundwork to protect our systems. We have a long road ahead to get our equipment up to a level I will be happy to let out on the field without fear of compromise.

I’m afraid International Rescue is down for the count for the foreseeable future.

John.

Message from TheFlyingScottsman.

Damn. I still had hope for a magic wand. Do your best. I know you will.

Oh, and if you need to talk, let me know. Virgil isn’t the only victim here.

S

Message from OntheVirg

Gonna have to stop soon. Tired.

I have thought about that and I’m not sure. Have you ever met the Hood? I don’t think you have. So I’m wondering how on Earth he knew what you looked like.

But then perhaps he didn’t have to know. Perhaps the program just needed to source the most likely person in my head it could use. You are unique, little brother. Because you spend so much time on TB5, I mostly see you as a hologram. That would be extremely convenient for a mole.

In any case, I fell for it.

V

Message from TheFlyingScottsman.

He’s asleep.

You know, watching him, I can see why the Hood didn’t win. He won’t give up. By the end of his last message his hands were shaking so badly, I had to help him tap the right keys. Wouldn’t let me do it for him, no, he had to do it himself.

We are so damn lucky to have him for a brother.

S

Message from GuyintheSky.

I know.

J

Message from TheFlyingScottsman.

Johnny?

He was still sitting, staring down at his tablet when Scott entered the room behind him. He continued to stare as his brother’s hands took away the tablet and placed on the shelf beside him. When a hand was placed gently on his shoulder he finally looked up into those caring blue eyes.

It was enough to break him again.

For the first time in many years, his biggest brother drew him gently into a hug. John let his forehead drop to the soft material of Scott’s shirt and simply clung.

-o-o-o-

Message from OntheVirg.

Roses are red We wear blue I look groovy And so do you.

Message from OntheVirg.

There once was a flyboy named Scott Who used to fly around a lot He flew so fast He kissed his own ass And completely lost the plot.

Message from OntheVirg.

And then there was one named John Whose appendages were quite long In space he was ace Full of delicate grace But in gravity everything went wrong.

Message from GuyintheSky.

GORDON, GET OFF VIRGIL’S TABLET!

-o-o-o-

Message from GuyintheSky.

You there, Virgil?

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Yeah.

Message from GuyintheSky.

How are you?

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Been better.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Scott with you?

Message from LikeaVirgil.

No. I sent him to bed. He looked awful. Please make sure he looks after himself. You know what he is like when one of us is injured.

Message from GuyintheSky.

I’ve been trying, but he is slippery. Any tips?

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Don’t take no for an answer and, if necessary, manhandle.

Message from GuyintheSky.

I don’t exactly have your physique, Virgil.

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Out logic him then. He does see sense occasionally.

Message from GuyintheSky.

I’ll try.

Virgil, I had an idea about how we could see each other. Do you remember my prom?

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Really?!! You’d try that again?

Message from GuyintheSky.

Do you think it would help?

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Honestly, John, I don’t know. Maybe. It is certainly a fond memory, for me, if not for you. Would you really do that for me?

Message from GuyintheSky.

Of course. It will grow back and maybe that could help you ease back into seeing me?

Message from LikeaVirgil.

You would really go that far?

Message from GuyintheSky.

Wouldn’t you?

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Maybe.

Message from GuyintheSky.

I know you better than that.

Message from LikeaVirgil.

It is asking a lot. Are you sure?

Message from LittleSpaceballs

John.

Can you please give Gordon access to his tablet. He is driving me insane.

A

Message from GuyintheSky.

Yes, Virgil. Give me a moment. Alan is throwing a hissy.

Message from GuyintheSky.

No, Alan.

Message from LittleSpaceballs.

Then at least change my username for me. He’s locked me out of my settings and his sense of humour leaves much to be desired.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Sure.

Message from TheShortestOne.

Thanks, John. Yours isn’t much better.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Now you lack the balls.

Message from TheShortestOne.

You’re not safe on your little satellite at the moment, John. Remember that.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Go and see Virgil. He needs the company.

Message from TheShortestOne.

How is he doing?

Message from GuyintheSky.

Go and ask him. I’m sure he would love to see you.

Message from TheShortestOne.

I guess.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Have you gone to see him at all?

Message from TheShortestOne.

I’ve been busy.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Alan.

Message from TheShortestOne.

Okay.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Alan.

Message from TheShortestOne.

I hate seeing him like that.

Message from GuyintheSky.

We all hate seeing him like that. This isn’t about us, it is about him. He sacrificed so much to protect us, the least you can do is visit him while he is recovering. He’ll be missing you. You know what he is like.

Message from TheShortestOne.

I know.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Get Gordon to go with you if it will help.

Message from TheShortestOne.

Maybe.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Alan, do you have any idea how much I would like to walk in and see Virgil right now? But I can’t. Move your ass and go see him.

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Everything okay?

Message from GuyintheSky.

Yeah, Alan is just being Alan.

Message from LikeaVirgil.

He tends to do that. Being Alan and all.

Message from GuyintheSky.

Ha ha.

Message from LikeaVirgil.

So you are going to try it?

Message from GuyintheSky.

Yeah.

Message from LikeaVirgil.

I’ll owe you big time, Johnny.

Message from GuyintheSky.

No, you won’t.

Message from LikeaVirgil.

Do I get to keep proof?

Message from GuyintheSky.

I’m sure Gordon will oblige - at a factor of approximately one thousand.

Message from LikeaVirgil.

It will be painful. You have my sympathies. Speak of the devil, the terrible two are here. Speak to you later?

Message from GuyintheSky.

Of course. And you have my sympathies too. Yell if it becomes unbearable.

-o-o-o-

Message from EatYourVirgetables.

Fgxzs

Message from GuyintheSky

Virgil?

When his brother didn’t answer, John pulled up the video feed from his room. Virgil was not in his bed, the covers ruffled and discarded.

Frowning John scanned the room. For a moment he thought it was empty, but no. Right on the very edge of the camera field, a hand lay across a discarded tablet on the floor.

He hit his comm. “Scott, get to the infirmary, now!” And he was moving.

He didn’t know exactly where in the building Scott was, but John was close. He dashed down the corridor, tore around the corner...and Scott had beat him to it.

Virgil was on the floor, distressed and disoriented, struggling to get up. Scott knelt beside him, his hands on his brother’s shoulders muttering reassurances.

John slipped back into the shadows. He could not be seen. Certainly not when Virgil was in this state.

“It was a nightmare. Only a dream.”

“It h-rts. G-d, it h-rts.” There were unshed tears in his brother’s voice, a shaking hand fumbling at his temple. “Mk it g ‘way.”

“I-I can’t, Virg. I’m so sorry.”

Virgil let out a sob. “Why? Why d-s he w-nt to h-rt m?

“Because he was a self-serving bastard who would do anything to get what he wants.” The venom in Scott’s tone startled Virgil.

“J-hn?”

Oh, god.

“No! John would never-“

“H-rts.”

Scott drew his brother close, rocking him gently, desperately trying to calm him down.

John slipped back into the corridor and headed back to his room, heart in pieces.

-o-o-o-

Message from TheMightyFish.

John?

Message from TheMightyFish.

Johnny?

Message from TheMightyFish.

Jooooooooohhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyy.

Message from TheMightyFish.

I really don’t like being ignored. You haven’t answered your comms and your door is locked. C’mon, John. We’re worried about you.

Message from TheMightyFish.

John. John. John. John. John.

Message from TheMightyFish.

Please John. I really don’t want to have to deploy Scott, he looks like shit.

Message from GuyintheSky.

What do you want, Gordon?

Message from TheMightyFish.

You okay?

Message from GuyintheSky.

I’m fine.

Message from TheMightyFish.

Don’t believe you. This all sucks big time. Let me in, pleeease.

Message from TheMightyFish

C’mon, John. We need each other in this.

John sighed and walking out of his bathroom, opened the door. Sure enough, Gordon was standing outside, tablet in hand, worry on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that question, bro. You look almost as bad as Scott.”

“Well, plenty of reason.” He sighed. “Is he okay?”

“Who?”

“Scott. Virgil. Pick a brother. Everyone is hurting.”

Gordon looked at him for a moment as if he was going to say something, but then decided against. Instead he took the opportunity to push past John and into his room. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

“Gordon-“

“What?! You’re going to dye your hair???” His little brother let out a laugh. “This will be good.” He grabbed the packet. “Blond? Do anything to be me, huh?” The humour in his brother’s eyes was definitely infectious.

“I’m hoping it will help.”

Gordon immediately sobered. He looked down at the packet. “Prom?”

“Yeah.”

“That sucked.”

“Yes, it did.”

Gordon reached up and patted his shoulder. “Hope it works better than it did last time.”

John looked down a moment. “Hey, Gordon. Do me a favour?”

“Anything, bro.”

“Can I borrow one of your shirts?”

Gordon cracked up. “Anything to be me.”

-o-o-o-

Message from EverVirgilant.

You ready?

Message from LongJohnBlondie.

Are you?

Message from EverVirgilant.

Scott’s here, and Gordon. Dunno where Alan is. We have enough troops should I lose it.

Message from LongJohnBlondie.

You are not going to lose it. Do me a favour and cuff Gordon about the ears for me. I don’t know how he has changed my username this time, but even I’m locked out now.

Message from EverVirgilant.

Cuff deployed. Consider yourself scowled at. I’ll speak to Brains later. See if I can get his font to appear pink with flowers and fairies.

Message from LongJohnBlondie.

Sounds great.

Message from EverVirgilant.

Now get your ass in here.

-o-o-o-

Scott was tired. But that seemed to be the permanent state of affairs since his brother had been injured. He was wary of this experiment, but agreed that it was worth the try. Virgil missed John, and John was going through his own version of hell in this, so if it helped just a little, it would help a lot.

Gordon dashed back into the room, a grin on his face. “Awesome. Totally awesome.”

Scott glared at him, but his grin would not be subdued.

He reached for Virgil’s hand. Simple reassurance.

Virgil’s voice was hesitant. “C-m in, J-hn.”

The middle brother edged around the doorway, and Scott felt Virgil tense.

Oh my god.

His tall lanky brother had cut his hair short and dyed blond. He had obviously shoved a pile of product into it and it stood up in messy spikes. On top of that he was sporting a pair of John Lennon sunglasses, conveniently hiding his eyes.

One of Gordon’s just a little too small, blindingly colourful shirts hung from his shoulders, leaving just a hint of bare skin at his waistline. Low hung burgundy linen pants and leather sandals finished off the ensemble.

So far from their John that a new man stood in the room.

“J-hn?” Virgil’s voice cracked.

John attempted a grin.

Virgil succeeded. “Yu l-k gr-t.” Scott started as Virgil suddenly pushed aside his covers and clambered out of bed. He steadied him as he wavered predictably, but let him go as he hesitantly approached his little brother.

His shoulders were tense, but he reached out and laid a hand on John’s chest. “H-w r yu?”

Quiet and still tentative. “Getting better by the minute.”

Virgil looked up at him, a mess of emotion on his face.

“How are you, Virgil?”

Whispered. “G-ttig b-tter b the m-nut.” He swallowed, then leaping in, closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his little brother. “M-ssed yu.”

John gently returned the embrace. “Missed you, too.”

Scott swallowed as something caught in his throat.

They stood there for a moment before Virgil broke it off, stumbling a little and backing off. Gordon caught him and led him back to the bed.

John stayed where he was standing as his big brother sat back down on the bed. Scott grabbed a hand. “You okay?”

Virgil smiled up at him. “Ye, I th-k I am.”

The biggest brother in the room broke into a grin and tightened his grip. He looked up at John and finally saw a hesitant smile on the man’s face.

They had made a beginning.

-o-o-o-

Message from ScottyWantaCracker.

GORDON!

Message from TheVirgilQueen

What has he done now?

Message from HeWhoLooksUpSkirtsBecauseHeisTooShorttoLookDownShirts

What the hell?!

Message from BlondHippyandLippy

He’s in the pool.

Message from ScottyWantaCracker.

I’m going to drain the damn thing!

Message from SleekSilverandFoxy.

I’ll take care of it.

 #Username reset

ScottTracy

VirgilTracy

JohnTracy

AlanTracy

GroovyGrandma

GordonisGrovelling.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

The rest of the series can be found here.

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

Sacrifice Chapter 1

So I'm trying to edit chapter 1 of Sacrifice because I really don't like it and even I can tell how much my writing style has changed in three ish months but I can't figure out exactly whats wrong with it and since I've never shared anything on here ever thats this long and also I need want someone's opinion on this (Please & thank you very much), here's the first chapter of Sacrifice. I already know a bunch of stuff I'm cutting out the awkward romance part specifically i really should not even attempt to write stuff like that its just awkward but I can't figure out exactly what else is wrong with it so this is my solution instead. You sincerely truly don't have to read it if you don't want to I just thought this might be a good idea. And also its something to do if you're bored.

It's below the cut.

Taglist: @golden-eyed-writer

I grinned. Anne and Enna were arguing over the rules of Gin, while Anne, she was Enna’s twin, anyway, while Anne’s kids played tag with my nephew, Zane. Jen and Zebra collided in the middle of the room, and Zane didn’t stop in time, so they ended up in a pile of tangled limbs. My sister emerged from the other room and sighed, then burst into laughter, her wavy, silver tipped, black hair bouncing up and down. We were nearly identical, same silver blue eyes, silver tipped black hair, and dark skin. Our scales were different though. Ana’s smooth, tear drop shaped, silver scales covered her collarbone and wound down one arm; mine encircled my torso. Mine were easier to hide, but more people knew about them. I cast a lot of wind spells.

Ana only showed her scales to people she trusted, so walking in the room in a black tank top was a statement. Anne and Enna were identical, and their names mirrored each other. Blue black hair, Anne’s in twin buns and Enna’s in a half ponytail. Alabaster skin tinged with blue, and blue eyes. They had wings, but Enna was grounded. There was a knock on the door of Lei’s apartment. Lei, a blond Demonsblood, was standing closest to the door and pulled it open, sticking her head out. Two seconds later a boy dressed in the Barony’s colors entered.

“Uh, is there any person named,” He checked the sheet of paper clutched in his hands, “Anne Jones & Enna Helder-Kromlin here?” The twins stood up from the corner and scowled briefly, then Enna darted across the room, grabbed the paper, read it, and swore in Dragon.

“You can go now.” Said Faith, Lei’s redheaded younger cousin.

“Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled, then scampered away. “What is it? Dennis explode something again?” Asked Anne, striding over.

“There’s a gnome, blond, asking to see us. The note says she’s carrying the seal of the last baron.” Her twin answered in a shocked voice.

“Mae?”

“Maybe.” While they conversed, and Ana shrugged her jacket off after yanking it on when the door was opened, there was a second knock. Emily, a gnome alchemist and a friend of ours, answered this time, and her lavender eyes stared unseeing into the face of a second messenger. This one had a message for Ana. After reading it, my twin turned to me and grinned. Ana’s smile sometimes scared people. We both had pointed, sharp canine teeth, courtesy of our draconic ancestry. And that had the side effect of looking like you were about to murder someone when you smiled.

“Cerea’s alive. She’s here, with the gnome En mentioned. Joshua recognized the name.” A rush of emotions went through me. Two hundred and seventy four years ago mine and Ana’s home had been burned to the ground by Dizerdrat, an ancient red dragon. Cerea had been the name of a half elf with impressive innate primal magic, who had left when she was twenty, three months befor A'sshyse burned, leaving us the only survivors. The name was a bit ironic actually, A'sshyse sounded like Ashes if pronounced correctly, and that’s all it was now. Ashes and memories.

We didn’t bother to say anything, no one did. Two sets of twins walked out the door, leaving confusion, five friends, and three ten year olds behind. Enna twisted around before leaving, threatening, “If anyone touches those cards I will kill you.” Then she ran, and the second she and Anne were outside they broke out into a full out sprint, matching each other pace for pace. When we got to the main hall area, which had a bunch of alcoves off it that served as slightly more private spaces for meetings and the like, Anne and Enna had already tackle hugged a gnome with curly blond hair, and a black haired half elf stood nearby, awkwardly. Enna was whispering,

"Thirty five years Mae. Thirty five goddamn years. Where were you?"

“I was- Thirty five years?!”

“Yes.” Answered Anne. Mae rounded on the half elf, who put her hands up in a sign of surrender. Before the gnome could get a word out Cerea spoke.

“I didn’t know alright? I’m bad with time.”

“Still. You should have told me!”

“I know. I should have done a lot of things.” It was at that moment she looked in our direction, and saw us. Ana didn’t hesitate, rushing in to embrace a woman she hadn’t seen in nearly three hundred years. I hung back a bit. Not because of my sister, but because me and Cerea hadn’t exactly parted on… civil terms. Half a minute later Ana grabbed my arm, muttering Draconic into my ear.

“I don’t care what happened last time. You never got over it, I doubt she did.”

“Erm, okay-”

Cerea interrupted. “You survived?! What in the nine hells happened to A’sshyse?!”

“Dragonfire.” Ana answered. Then I blurted out, in Dragon, before I had to wait another three centuries to apologize.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was stupid, and, and an idiot-” Cerea intterupted in the same language.

“Yes, you were sometimes. But I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said what I said. We were both wrong about the other.” She hugged me tightly, but quickly. As Cerea stepped away I noticed how much toll the last three hundred years had taken on her. She still had raven hair and coffee colored skin, but the freckles that once covered her face were gone. Her eyes still had the same twinkle, but the green was darker, closer to emerald than I’d ever seen them and older than they should be.

“So where were you?” Asked Enna, directing the question at Mae.

“I was petrified. I left right after you guys killed Shallodet, and then it’s a blur until waking up to find my very surprised teacher.”

Enna shuddered at the mention of the name. Shallodet was not a pleasant memory for her.

“Teacher?”

“Yeah. Anne & Enna, this is Cerea Roven. Cerea, these are my sisters. Anne and Enna Helder.”

“Helder-Kromlin. Claimed Mom’s name properly. But I’m not forgetting Helder. It’s hyphenated now. Drove the official crazy.” Corrected Enna. Anne followed with,

“Erm, it’s actually Anne Jones. I might have gotten married.”

“Sorry, what?!”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Hi?” Cerea grinned awkwardly, raising one hand in a half wave for a brief second. “Who’s the Gnome?” Asked Ana.

“I’m Mae Helder. Who are you?”

“Anastasia. Call me Ana. He’s Dash.”

“Hey. So you’re their sister?” I asked, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

“Uh huh. How’d you meet these two?”

“The War.” Answered Ana.

“War? What War?”

“Little sister, you’ve missed a lot. About a decade ago there was a War. Norfolk is gone.”

“Wow. Anything else I need to know?”

“Well, here’s the slight matter of there being a different Baron.”

“What?!”

“His name is Fredrick Falk.”

“Wait. Does that mean?”

“Yeah. He’s gone. Died about two years after you left.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s okay.” The previous Baron had been the first person who had believed in Enna for a long time. When he died she had taken it hard. He had been the latest in a long line of parental figures; and each one had died.

Pike, her adopted mother, had died when she was 10. Her older brother, Zibra, had died when she was nineteen, and everyone thought it was her fault. Everyone except Anne. Her mentor, a half-dragon named Sasha, had died when she was twenty eight. When she was 40 she came back to the capital, only to find Anne missing. She thought it was her fault. Anne had nearly died. Then her Uncle, her mother’s twin, had turned out be her mother’s murder, confessed to killing Zibra and framing her, then he tried to kill both the twins, leaving Enna with thin scars that covered her arms, shoulders, back & torso.

“Anyway, why are you here?”

“Well,” Said Cerea nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic. “Gray has heard some things, concerning things. They’re actually what led to me finding Mae.”

“What things?” I asked.

“The forges, the ones under the mountain, are waking up again.”

“I still don’t understand why he would put forges there, of all locations.” Muttered Anne.

“You need to tell someone.”

“That’s why we came here. Under the Code, you need two high ranking Druids to request a meeting with a ruler.”

“That’s surprisingly smart for a twenty five year old.” Said Enna, perhaps the third time in her life she had judged someone because of their apparent age. Cerea, unsurprisingly, burst out laughing.

“I’m two hundred and ninety ish. Can’t remember the exact number. Not 25.”

“Two hundred and ninety four.” I muttered quietly.

“Two hundred and ninety four, then. Either way, I’m not twenty five.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Twenty five is the oldest anyone’s ever thought I looked. I had a couple friends, a few years ago, they thought I was nineteen. Never got around to correcting them.”

“Uh-huh.” I muttered. Cerea had always looked young for her age, and it, plus her innate and extremely powerful primordial magic and wildshaping powers, had allowed her to get away with more things than the average kid would. Most of these exploits were related to stealing jelly tarts, which Ana stole from her and I then stole some of them from Ana. Yeah, fourteen year old me probably had better things to do than steal pastries from a 7 year old prankster, but it was either that or get possessed again, which is not an experience I’d recommend to anyone.

Yes, you read that correctly. Possessed. It’s a very long story that will probably come to light in time. Probably. Either way, we were interrupted by Joshua, the Baron’s 19 year old half-dragon grandson materializing from out of nowhere. His brown curls were more rumpled than usual, and his blue eyes shown with exhaustion. Joshua’s robes, the outfit commonly worn by wizards-in-training, were rumpled, like he had slept in them. He wasn’t strictly half dragon, closer to a quarter dragon. His dad’s dad had been a black dragon. His Mum, the Baron’s youngest daughter, had eloped with his dad and Joshua had only been raised in the court after his parents died in an Orc raid when he was seven. Before you ask, yes most of us had/have sob stories for backgrounds. Happy people who are mentaly stable don’t go out and hunt literal dragons.

Either way, the top half of his face, on a diagonal from right to left, was covered in smooth, black scales. They continued down his neck, and onto one arm. Joshua asked, “So you guys do know each other. I mean, I didn’t think there were a lot of black haired and crazy powerful half elven druids, but hey. There could’ve been more than one. Anyway, Grandpa’s ready to talk to you two. You know how to get there?”

“Yep.” Confirmed Mae, leading Cerea down the hallway. Joshua stayed, leaning against the stone wall.

“Hey.” Anne raised one hand half heartedly, in a sort of wave.

“Hi.”

“So I know how Ana & Dash know the mildly terrifying druid lady, but how do you two know the Gnome?”

“She’s our sister.”

“But neither of you are two Gnomes in a trench coat. So how?”

“I don’t even own a trenchcoat.” Muttered Enna.

“Exactly.”

“She’s our adopted sister, our foster mother fostered her too, though we didn’t know that then.”

“You had a foster mother?”

Anne sighed. “Yes. Pike Helder. Why do you think we speak Gnome?”

“I don’t know. Figured you just knew a lot of Gnomes.”

“I mean, we do, but that’s not the point.”

“Also, I think we would know if you guys were just Gnomes in trenchcoats.” I remarked.

“Yeah, I think you would.” Said Anne.

“You okay?” Ana asked Joshua, probably in response to his disheveled appearance.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m fine. Just stressed.” Ana scoffed, but didn’t say anything more. Enna turned to me. Her arms were crossed.

“Spill.”

“What?” I asked cluelessly. Anne added, “You and Cerea have history. What is it?,” she asked, her body language the same as her twin.

“Nothing, we just knew each other as kids.” “Uh huh.” “So that’s all?” “Yes,” I lied. Anne laughed.

“It’s almost like he thinks we don’t know that he’s lying.” “Yeah.” I looked anywhere except at the twins.

“It wasn’t anything!” I said, coming way closer to yelling than I should.

“You apologized to each other in Dragon when you saw each other.” I swore under my breath. I had forgotten Enna knew Dragon. I tended to forget she knew a lot of languages, Elven not among them in spite of her heritage.

“That was nothing.” I mumbled.

“It was not nothing. I saw Ana’s expression when she saw Cerea. She looked like her best friend had just come back to life.”

“She has.”

“Please. We all know you’re Ana’s best friend. If it’s not you, it’s Zane. Anyway, Ana looked like her best friend had just come back to life. But you, you looked like, I don’t even know how to describe it. You looked a lot like Anne when she got married to Jones. You looked like you were in love.”

“No-o. Not in love with her. Dated her once, sure, maybe we kissed a couple times, but I’m not in love with her,” I protested, turning redder than Faith’s hair, which was very, very red. “Dash, either I tell them or you do.” Threatened Ana, switching into rapid Demonic. Demonic was the one language we both knew that the twins didn’t speak.

“Can we not do this now?!” I replied, in the same language.

“What, you don’t want all our friends to know that you and Cerea were etinye aka?” She asked, using an Elven word.

“No, I would prefer not. And I really think that Cerea wouldn’t either.” “You’d be surprised. She’s changed a lot in 300 years.”

“And how would you know? You’ve seen her about as much as I have.”

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip and thinking. “I knew she was alive.”

--------End Chapter 1---------

If you've read this far THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[akimmito]

Road to Home #11

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

Master List

----

Marie devoted herself to observing her classmates, being the only place she could choose, although she was also observing in her only class outside of school where she shared with other people, which is swordplay, however, she did n't see anyone worthy.

However, as the school year progresses, she begins to befriend two girls: Alix Kubdel and Rose Lavillant (in addition to a relationship I hate you today, but maybe not tomorrow with Chloe. A weird thing, she doesn't even want to think much about that).

And since Master Fu repeats to her every day to trust her instincts, well, she has invited the three girls to join her Judo classes (which is the most normal thing, she would not know how to explain to them why she's learning a technique of Combat designed by a specialized military team, yes, she's not having that conversation... until the time comes.)

With the end of their second year living with Master Fu, the four girls become friends. Of course, with the peculiarities that the clash of personalities entails because: how have a light person, a daughter of the night, a queen bee and an antisystem have been coupled without diverging? Miraculous, Fu would say.

This is how she has come to the exact situation where she must reveal the greatest secret of her life... no, not as dramatic as that. Her biggest secret is Tim, sweet Tim, who is sure he's getting into trouble somewhere other than Gotham because, surely, HE'S TRAINING TO BE A ROBIN. When she sees him, she's going to hit him, not for being Robin but for putting himself in danger. It's funny how she became so attached to a child with whom he only had a relationship for a month and a half.

But that is not the issue there, the issue is that she has brought them together so they can start training with prodigies. She chose her allies and must prepare them. That is her first mission as a future guardian, really, after two years, the imminent death of Master Fu feels painful, hopefully he will see her graduate from school... although she doubts it.

"So, Todd, why so much secrecy? Where we are? "Chloe grimaces as they walk through the building where she lives, which is only inhabited by them.

"My home."

"So many laps around town to come to your house, Marie?" Alix asks incredulously. Well, she hasn't shared much about her life, other than mentioning that she was adopted in Germany by her grandfather.

"I have my reasons." She says cryptically when they reach the door, she opens it immediately and is greeted by the empty place. Better this way, she will be able to talk to them under her own rules.

The girls come in and watch the decor, the Chinese influence is clear all over the place. Marie invites them to sit down while she goes to get some cookies and tea, she has the selected boxes ready and will put them on the table too. Doing it in those moments will allow the training sessions to be more varied, she will not launch anyone into any battle just knowing Judo, they need to develop combat styles in conjunction with the weapons of each Miraculous, especially those less orthodox like yo-yo or the spinning top, who came up with it?

"I have gathered you here to discuss something important."

"Will you enroll us in a sect? I knew you were part of a sect! "Alix cheers and giggles, Rose just hides a giggle and Chloe looks at her unimpressed.

“Todd. I'm not missing my afternoon spa just for tea and cookies. "

"Sure…" Marie just sighs and settles, again, how did she come to a cordial relationship with Chloe Bourgeois when the first few months narrowly didn't punch each other? Well, it only remains to go with the flow and when everything ends up going into Arkham because she went crazy. "What do you think of being heroes?"

"Heroes? Something like Superman? "Alix questions intrigued.

"That would be incredible! Can you imagine the attention we would receive? ”Chloe seems to have stars in her eyes at the idea, Marie winces.

"She was talking more about fighting and saving people."

"Why, Marie?" Rose speaks for the first time, curious about the direction of the conversation.

"At some point in the next few years, a villain will appear in Paris and heroes will be needed to fight him. A special type of hero, in the best Maho Shoujo style.

"The anime genre?" Alix seems doubtful, so Marie takes out the boxes and opens them one by one revealing the chosen Kwami.

Tikki, Pollen and Trixx appear in front of the three girls.

"Oh God!" Alix jumps back at the sight of the three creatures and is more exalted when she sees a fourth emerge from Marie's jacket. "What are they?"

"Kwami, do you want to hear a story?"

And so she begins to explain about the Kwami, about the lost prodigies and about their future role, if they accept, of course. The four girls remain silent, Marie waits patiently for them to decide, if they refuse, she begins to review the different spells that she can use to erase their memory and pretend that the meeting never happened.

"Is that why you invited us to Judo, Todd?"

"Yes."

"Amazing, but we are children. "

"I am aware, but I do not trust adults and that is why I tell them in time. We will prepare, we will be as amazing as Wonder Woman."

"You talked me into Wonder Woman, Marie." Alix smirks, Marie has never done anything she didn't plan to, so she will trust her and help her. The other option is for the girl to do it all by herself and she would be a very bad friend if she allowed it, total, they just have to fight a villain at some point in the future and they will be ready.

"I don't like violence, but if someone wants to hurt people, count on me." Rose murmurs with some doubt, but with clear intentions.

"Todd, you've earned a new level of respect. Do I have to save my identity?

"Yes, no one should know who we are. Start thinking of names. ”Marie smiles and proceeds to give the respective jewels. "Rose Lavillant, I give you the Miraculous of the Ladybug, it gives you the power of creation and to purify evil. "

Rose takes the box that she offers and smiles at the stained Kwami, who spins around her and greets with joy for the choice of Marie, a pure and innocent soul with a lot of creative potential, she just needs to teach him to exploit him to better synchronize with his powers . Since Marie was a soul of creation born in a bad luck well, she can no longer synchronize with the powers of the ladybug and became a perfect pair for Plagg, the other side of the coin.

"Alix Kubdel, I grant you the Miraculous of the Fox, he gives you the power of illusion."

The girl looks curiously at the little fox, who analyzes her head-on and soon the two of them are colliding the five as if they had read the mind. They both thought the same thing: it will be fun.

“Chloe Bourgeois, as a worthy queen, I grant you the Miraculous of the Bee, she grants you the power of subjection. "

Chloe marvels when the little bee bows to her, much to her ego? Well, Marie will have to get used to it.

"I'm the bearer of the Miraculous of the Black Cat, grant the power of destruction."

"A cat? Lovely. "

"I'm not adorable, girl, I'm a god."

"Plagg." Tikki says.

"What? It's the true. "The black Kwami goes to the kitchen leaving them in the living room.

"Well, Pollen likes honey." Chloe nods, agreeing to let Pollen lie on her head, already thinking about how she will use the comb to include it in her style. "Trixx loves carrots. ”Alix nods, picking up the necklace and putting it on, thinking it's too flashy to just  wearing it on her clothes. "Tikki is a fan of sweets, especially cookies, he really liked those at the Dupain-Cheng bakery near the school. "

"I love those cookies, too!" Rose shines for having an excuse to buy daily, she will be able to share a lot with her new friend.

So they spend the whole afternoon refining the details and agreeing on what they will do to improve in combat, leaving them to decide the style they want to follow. In addition to explaining the weapons and her recommendations.

-----

Well, here it's after so long. I have actually momentarily paused the writing of this fic, but I intend to follow it soon.

Tag list: @tori-mmm

[stillness-in-green]

MLA Week, Day 2: Judge/Shackles/Freedom

A threefer!  Spinner and his brand new lieutenants.  (Look, until Horikoshi starts deigning to give these guys names, they are free real estate.)

I was originally going to use this day to write about one of the more thuggy or delinquent-looking lieutenants, spin out an ex-con not being able to get his feet back under him and so sliding into the MLA’s sphere, but then I remembered this three foot tall goblin in a drugstore Halloween costume and decided to go with him instead.

Also included is Spinner’s number 1, this gal: 

Content Notes: Discussions of disability, portrayal of the marginalized having become the radicalized.  The Liberation Army’s really fascinating, y’all. 

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

«I think you’ll like this one,» Nimble announces, the rainbow-colored letters of her quirk dancing in the air.  

“You thought I’d like the first two, too,” Spinner replies skeptically, looking away from the floating words to focus on his brand new number one, a woman with a face like a doll whose sculptor had gotten as far as the eyes—huge and green—before giving up on the rest, little things like a nose and a mouth.  She breathes by absorbing air through her skin like a frog, apparently, which is why she dresses the way she does, a distractingly low-cut tank top and a sweater jacket that he has never once seen covering her shoulders.  

She shrugs, expressive eyes briefly fluttering closed, and movement in the air draws Spinner’s attention back over to where her quirk—Sky Write—has spelled out her response.  

«I thought you’d like them too.  Can I call him in?»

“Yeah, go ahead.”  Just as long as he’s not a not surly bastard like the last two.  They’d had good quirks, the last two, but damned if Spinner’s going to work with people who can’t even manage to keep resentment out of their eyes for the length of a job interview, or whatever this process of picking subordinates out of an army full of people that were trying to kill him less than two weeks ago is called.  

Nimble’s letters dissolve into a shapeless blur as she looks over to the door, eyebrows briefly lowering in concentration.  A few seconds later, the door to Spinner’s makeshift office opens. Spinner’s eyes drop almost half-a-person’s length in height and he tries to keep the surprise off his face.  

“A kid?”

«He’s twenty-one, actually.»  

“What she said.”  The voice comes out a bit muffled through the black hood covering the kid’s—okay, the twenty-one-year old’s face.  But if he’s the same age as Spinner, he sure as hell doesn’t look it.  He can’t be over a meter tall, with the skinniest legs Spinner’s ever seen sticking out from under the hem of the black robe he wears like a kid running around the house beneath a sheet.  A big feathery ruff sits around his neck like a dried-out wreath.  

“Scarecrow, reporting in.” The weird little gremlin settles into a military rest in front of the desk, far enough back that it’s not too obvious that he has to tilt his head to look over it.  “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”  

Spinner stares at him, trying to suppress a grimace.  Scarecrow stares back through little eyeholes cut in the hood, but without being able to see more of his face, it’s impossible to tell if he’s glaring or just has really piercing eyes.  

“Right.”  Spinner glances over at Nimble, who nods.  Her response scrawls itself in the air between them, facing first him, then angling to face the gremlin.  

«Show him your meta-ability, Scarecrow.  Catch!»  

She pulls out a 100 yen coin and deftly balances it on her thumb before flicking it out into the air over the desk.

Spinner bites back a yelp as bug legs unfold from beneath Scarecrow’s ruff, long, segmented things that narrow down to sharp points at the tips.  Two thin lines of silk jet out from the knobby second joints, catching on the spinning coin, and the legs reel it back in, bouncing it in the air, spinning it like a weight on a string, then cocooning it up with quick efficiency.  It falls neatly into his hand—not a normal human hand, Spinner notices belatedly, but a prosthetic, hard plastic and super articulated, with cables visible beneath the individual parts.

“I can fully cocoon up to twelve adult men a day,” Scarecrow rattles out.  “I can also pull myself up the sides of walls and move between buildings, if they’re close enough together.  I was inducted into the Meta Liberation Army on my sixteenth birthday; my parents have been members for ten years.  I know we’re a relatively new family, but—”

“I don’t—”  Spinner stops himself from finishing that sentence with care about that stuff, amending to, “I’m not worried about your—generation or whatever.”  Is that better?  Neither Scarecrow or Nimble react to it with narrowed eyes or a snarl, anyway. Promising?  “Why’d you join up?”  

Jumping on a bandwagon is one thing, but at least that takes a running start and a leap.  Not like joining a cult because it’s just the family business, Spinner thinks viciously at his memory of that greasy asshole Trumpet’s plated mask.

Scarecrow stares at him for a long second.  Spinner does his best to look serious, like he’s actually got a whole prepared list of questions or whatever.  Like he knows what he’s doing.  

Finally, Scarecrow holds up his hands, both spread wide, both obvious prosthetics.  His bug legs twitch and probe at the air.  

“I was born with no arms,” he says.  “Just my forelegs.  It’s not the same as having opposable thumbs, obviously, but it’s better than you’d think. But my teachers used to scold me for raising a foreleg instead of a hand to answer a question or carry things.  The kind of stuff a kid who didn’t have a birth defect could use their quirk to do and no one would look twice.  If I go out in public and so much as open doors for myself with them, people look at me funny.  Because I look funny.”

Don’t use your quirk at school outside of training lessons, Shuuichi-kun.  Spinner remembers that kind of bias, yeah.  All the non-heteromorphic kids could run around the schoolyard playing tag with snowballs in July, but heaven forbid he use his quirk to climb a tree so he can get away from bullies for the length of a lunchbreak.  

He pushes the memory away and nods at Scarecrow to keep him talking.  Not that the guy needs much pushing—he talks like someone who’s told the story before, hard-edged, voice intense despite a mid-ranged pitch.  He’s got just a hint of a—a hiss or a lisp, something that muddles the edges of his hard consonants.  The hood doesn’t move like he’s hiding mandibles under there, but…

“I’ve been wearing prosthetics for longer than I can remember.  The government pays for most of it, since I was born this way, but there’re a lot of limitations on it.  How often they’ll replace them, what my folks got charged for them.  It was always tight, and the kinds of prosthetics government money buys definitely weren’t as nice as these.”  He flexes his false fingers demonstratively.

“My folks and I met Re-Destro—” and there’s that note of reverence, the same tone Re-Destro himself’s using about Shigaraki these days “—when I was nine.  A family friend recommended Detnerat’s products to us, and he took an interest. That’s how we found out about the Army.”

“Yeah?”  Spinner crosses his arms over his chest.  

“My parents joined up because of me.  But I joined up for myself.  Because people think that because I have prosthetics, I shouldn’t need to use my forelegs in public.” Scarecrow’s voice sharpens.  “Like I don’t have the right to use the limbs I was born with.  I should have that right.  We all should.”

“We’re not out to reform society, you know,” Spinner cautions him.  He’s had to tell Re-Destro that too many times already, and that’s just having grasped it himself there in the ruins of Deika.  “That’s not what Shigaraki’s after.”  

Scarecrow gives him another long, quiet look, unreadable behind his hood.  Finally—slower, less practiced—he nods and answers, “Destro’s teaching was that oppression will always lead to revolution.  The Grand Commander of the Liberation Army is the one who’ll throw off those chains.  Whatever he makes of the world, I want to be there to help, not sitting in my shackles waiting for someone to hand me an answer.”

Spinner breathes out hard. He scratches at his hair.  

“…Right,” he manages. Don’t admit he said it better than you could.  “Well put.” He turns to Nimble and adds, “Well, he didn’t offend me.”

«I know you’d like him.»  Her words practically shimmy in the air, flickering green and yellow and pink.  «Then do we have our number 2?»

Spinner glances back over at Scarecrow, who’s staring determinedly out the window behind the desk, his back toy soldier straight.  He still looks more like a kid in a costume than anything else, but…  

Well, I like him better than people like the politician.  And we need to keep things moving, anyway.  Don’t stop running or someone might catch up.  

“Yeah, I think so” he says aloud, then takes a breath and leans over the desk, offering a hand.  Scarecrow takes it without a second’s pause, plastic clicking against Spinner’s scales.  “Welcome to the Support Regiment.”  

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

I’ll have some links up about things here when I post this to AO3, but in the meantime, Scarecrow--whose condition at birth was called amelia--wears a hood not because he’s embarrassed of a bug face, but rather because he’s embarrassed of the way various surgeries to repair cleft palate and cleft lip have left his face looking.  He’s much more confident in showing off his meta-ability than what he thinks of as his disability.  

Scarecrow is also vaguely modeled on an insect called a webspinner, a tiny little bug that lives in big communal web “galleries” and has the unusual feature of its silk production apparatus being located on its front legs rather than the base of its abdomen like spiders.  The choice felt appropriate for an unusually tiny cult member with top-mounted spider legs.   

[anistarrose]

The Liching Hour (TAZ Balance AU)

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/22963831

Summary: Taako is a lich, but he doesn’t die alongside Barry when his memories start to fade. In fact, he doesn’t die for another whole decade… until he arrives in Refuge, and first hears the clock strike noon.

Characters: Taako, Lup, Barry Bluejeans, Kravitz, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch

Relationships: Lup & Taako, Kravitz/Taako, Barry Bluejeans/Lup

Additional tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Major Character Undeath, Angst with a Happy Ending, relationships listed in order of focus

“Taako is a lich too” is definitely an AU that’s been done before, but I couldn’t resist giving it my own unique twist! I actually started writing this fic exactly eleven months ago, when I was still fairly new to TAZ, but I forgot all about it until a few weeks ago when I came back to dust it off and finish the last few scenes.

(if you want an accompanying soundtrack for this fic, then I strongly recommend Lifetime Achievement Award by Lemon Demon! the song has big lich energy)

***

The set of planar systems traversed by our IPRE was indescribably vast, but far from the only one of its kind. Over eons, countless other universes are forged and then left to their own devices by elusory, non-interventionist creators — and in more than one of those universes, a ship called the Starblaster takes flight, propelled between planar systems by the strength of the bonds between its crew. In more than one of those universes, members of the IPRE put enough faith in those bonds to undertake a great risk — fusing their life forces with their magic and becoming liches, constructing a failsafe to protect their family from the Hunger that pursues them.

In one of those universes, Taako joins Lup and Barry in taking that risk. The ceremony goes as smoothly as the transformation into a lich can go, and the three of are all able to hold themselves together, thanks to their love for each other and their crewmates...

But when Lucretia feeds her records of their journey to the Voidfish, when Lup is already trapped in the Umbra Staff and Barry cleverly cheats amnesia by falling to his death off the deck of the Starblaster, Taako stays in his living form. Being undead isn’t the first thing he forgets — no, it’s Lup that he loses first, for Taako’s bonds with his twin are more carefully documented in Lucretia’s journals than anything else he’s done or cared about over the century — but the second that awareness of lichdom vanishes from his mind, the second he forgets the safety net he has in place in case of death, a self-preservation instinct kicks in again after nearly two decades of lying dormant. No need to go charging into uncharted and potentially deadly territory — Taako’s good out here.

For over a decade, he avoids death, and he never remembers what happens to him when he dies. Sometimes animals will shy away from him for no apparent reason, and maybe that faint burning sensation that fills his chest whenever Merle channels Pan to cast a healing spell on him is a little weird — but there’s no dogs on the moon and Merle hardly ever casts healing spells in the first place, so Taako just... tries to forget about it when he can, and convince himself it’s normal when he can’t.

He has a vague suspicion that he hasn’t been like this forever, but he can’t remember a clear date of onset for these symptoms, so he just brushes them off and keeps them to himself. It’s no one’s else’s business, anyways.

Or so he thinks, until he meets the Grim Reaper one fateful Candlenights.

***

There are two presents left under the shrub, both in similar silver-wrapped boxes — but one is addressed to all three Reclaimers, and the other is specifically labeled for Taako. Neither indicates the name of the sender.

Magnus and Merle don’t even attempt to hide the jealousy in their stares as they watch Taako pick up his gift, but something compels them to all stay silent and open the boxes as subtly as possibly while the Director makes conversation with Johann on the other side of the room. There’s nothing inherently suspicious about them other than the lack of a “from” name, though the handwriting on the tags is extremely familiar, but Taako still positions his arm to shield the box from the view of the others before he opens it and sees the contents…

The interior is plush purple velvet, cushioning two items: a coin and a note. The coin is golden and about as big as the circle made by Taako’s index finger and thumb when curled to meet at the tip, and it’s engraved with runes he doesn’t recognize — but he can read the accompanying note, though he has no idea what to make of what it says.

Keep this to yourself. If you ever encounter a situation in which you need it, you’ll know what to do with it when the time comes.

A quick use of Detect Magic reveals that the box and note are completely mundane, but the coin is enchanted. Nothing feels inherently volatile or dangerous about the complex divination spell it’s imbued with, but it still gives Taako a sinking feeling, like it’s something he should be forbidden from possessing.

So he casually slips the coin into his pocket and pops the note into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as he peers over Merle’s shoulder to examine the other gift — an identical box, this one holding three circular blue patches with twelve smaller circles embroidered around the circumference and an unreadable acronym word lying in the center. There’s another accompanying note here too, this one simply reading: “For your eyes only.”

Then, three different noises happen in very quick succession: Magnus turns to Taako and whispers “What was in yours?” and a second later, the Director echoes “What is that? What did you guys get?”

But before any of the boys can blurt out some lie despite not knowing why they feel so compelled to hide the gifts, the Director’s necklace unexpectedly interrupts the conversation, glowing faintly as a staticy, panicked voice yells “Lucretia!” The Director instantly whirls away from the boys, angrily whispering into her pendant which replies with words that are hard to make out from a distance.

Almost on reflex, Taako slips one of the patches into the same pocket as the coin and disposes of the second note with the same method he’d used for the first, cleansing his palate with an elderflower macaron immediately afterwards. He doesn’t think about the patches or the coin for a long time after that — but then again, he ends up getting distracted by a lot over the course of the next few hours. With the impeding crystal apocalypse, and the floating lab, and the death crimes and all.

***

“Well, that’s weird,” Noelle says. Her satellite dish is blinking green as it rotates, scanning the perimeter of the Cosmoscope two, three, four times. “At first, I thought it musta just been interference, but… one of you guys isn’t a lich, are you?”

“A what?” Magnus asks.

“A lich. The signal was real faint at first, but it just got stronger, and now it’s fluctuating a whole lot…”

“Nope, not me!” Magnus declares, with surprising confidence considering that he doesn’t appear to have any understanding of what being a lich means.

“Well, not that I’m aware of,” Taako answers slowly. “But I think even ya boy here would know if he was a lich. Right?”

“I’m friends with a few liches!” Merle adds. “They’re fun at parties.”

Noelle sighs at Merle’s comment, and then continues: “Yeah, Taako, I guess you’d hafta know if you were one. Guess my scanner’s just on the fritz.”

***

“Now Taako, Taako, Taako,” Kravitz mutters from within the sapphire mirror, and the pure exasperation on his face is almost adorable. “Care to take a guess what your bounty is for? I would really hope that you, at least, would know.”

Taako has a feeling he’s been saved for last because his crimes are the worst, but he’s got no clue why — there’s no way he’s died more than fifty-seven times, right?

“I dunno, is it about that tentacle thing? 'Cause don’t worry, my dude, this is a safe and non-judgmental environment where you don’t need to be afraid of being yourself —”

Kravitz's eyebrows raise and he looks aghast for a moment, but recovers quickly. “Taako, you've died twelve times — but alone, that makes you practically a law abiding citizen, compared to the company you keep! I never thought I’d see the day that I’d thought Magnus, with his 19 deaths, would be the least of the evils present, but — but —”

He sputters. “But you three all seem determined to make your crimes as unprecedented as possible —”

“Unprecedented, that’s me!” Taako laughs, and tries to ignore the half static-drowned screams of all his instincts, telling him to run as far away from Kravitz or any portal to the Astral Plane as he can get. “But uh, what is the deal with my bounty if —”

“Playing dumb about dying is one thing,” Kravitz growls, “but you’re really playing dumb about being a lich?”

“But I am dumb,” Taako blurts out, before the accusation really sinks in. “I’m just a humble idiot wizard!”

Kravitz bursts into bitter laughter. “An idiot necromancer, more like. Do you really —”

“There’s no way,” Magnus cuts in. “If Taako was a lich, we would have to know!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that you would, given how long the three of you have been cheating death together!” Kravitz replies.

“Okay, first of all — how do you know we’ve actually been cheating death for that long?” interrupts Merle. “We could’ve just died all those times in the span of, I don’t know, a month or two! We’re really incompetent.”

Magnus and Taako nod in enthusiastic agreement as Kravitz sighs.

“And second of all?”

“Uh... I forgot what I was going to say second.”

“Of course you did! What won’t you three conveniently forget — GAH!”

A giant skeletal hand reaches out of the Eternal Stockade and grabs Kravitz by the robe, dragging him inside the Eternal Stockade. It slams the door of the prison with a force that Taako winces at, all the way on the other side of the sapphire mirror.

“Did we solve the lich puzzle?” Merle asks. “Are we free to go?”

“Gonna be honest — just personally, I’m not too worried about the lich puzzle!” Taako shouts back, as a high-pitched hum emanates from the crystals around them and the room begins to shake. “Mostly just thinking about how much I don’t want to remember what dying feels like!”

“You know, that’s fair,” Merle agrees as he watches a complete skeleton materialize behind the hand, wading through the Astral Sea and towards the mirror. “That’s pretty fair.”

***

“Look, you saved my bacon back there,” Kravitz tells them after Legion is defeated. “Not just my career, but the world too. Things would have gotten very, very nasty, in a way that I wouldn’t have exactly wanted to put on my résumé…”

He sighs. “And Merle, Magnus… I would be willing to let you off with a warning, because you’ve technically never escaped the Astral Plane, and that leaves a convenient little loophole in the law for you two to slip through. Even Lucas — he’s learned his lesson with necromancy, it looks like. But Maureen, Noelle, and especially you, Taako — you’re all going to have to come with me. I can’t make exceptions for those of you who have succeeded in a jailbreak — nor can I do so for a lich.”

This time, he doesn’t spit the word lich with any of the disgust or outrage that were in his voice before, but rather speaks slowly and solemnly — and if Taako didn’t know better, he might think Kravitz actually felt bad about having to lock him up.

“Look, Ghost Rider.” Taako’s heart is racing just a little bit faster than he’s comfortable with, and the worst part is he doesn’t know why. It’s tempting to blame it on the slight crush may or may not be developing, but his crushes — although few and far-between — definitely never send his pulse up this fast this early in the relationship.

“You seem like an okay fellow who’s just trying to do your job, so I’ll be honest with you — I can’t remember ever touching necromancy with a ten-foot pole. Look, I used to make my living as a chef, and when you’re cooking the last thing you want is your meal coming back to life in front of you. I’ve got no motive!”

“Does your book with the bounties say anything else about the charges against him?” Magnus asks. “The charges against any of us, actually?”

“Not a single thing, I’m afraid. The bar’s not very high, but you are some of the… less unsavory bounties I’ve hunted, which is why I genuinely hate to say this, but —”

“Oh, so it’s savory you like? Let me take you out for an evening at Taako’s Bar and Café, and I’ll cook you up as many savory dishes as you like —”

“The — the bar,” Kravitz stammers, slipping out of his Cockney accent, “is so not high —”

“He just wants to help you broaden your horizons!” Merle chimes in. “You must not get out of the — the, uh, whatever your plane is called very often, do you?”

Kravitz sighs. “It’s the Astral Plane, and — and look, we just… we need to get going, alright? Taako, I… I could give you the benefit of the doubt, I suppose, and let you stay here until you die and return to your lich form, but I still need those two souls in the robots to come with me —”

“Wait!” Magnus interrupts. “Gambling with death is a trope for a reason, right? Can we play cards for their souls?”

Kravitz shrugs. “You know what? Sure! This day can’t get any wilder!”

***

Boyland’s rites of remembrance aren’t until tomorrow, but Taako is down in the Voidfish’s chambers ahead of time, Umbra Staff clutched tight as he stares at the twinkling galaxy pattern within the jellyfish’s bell.

“Uh… do you need something?” Johann asks after Taako’s stands there silently for about a minute.

Taako twirls his umbrella and shifts it from hand to hand, half expecting it to fire on its own again like it had when talking to Angus, but it stays dormant.

“Can your jellyfish pal, like… I dunno, choose what it innoculates you for?”

“Uh… no? At least, I think we woulda noticed if it could… why are you asking?”

“I was bored.” Taako turns to leave, but before he can get back in the elevator, he hears the Voidfish sing a short tune — not quite as loud as when Magnus had touched its tank, but definitely the same three notes.

***

Taako dies a few times in Refuge before he notices anything weird about it — well, not that dying and being revived continuously isn’t weird albeit familiar, but at first he’s just immediately whisked off to the white space alongside Merle and Magnus. No special treatment for him — until the first time that they die before the hour ends, and everything starts unraveling.

Magnus leans away from locker as he opens it, but it proves to be a futile precaution as the sound of an explosion blows out their eardrums and shockwaves tear through the room, sending the floor beneath their feet blasting towards the ceiling at the same time that massive boulders rain down from above, crushing the cave’s occupants before there’s even a chance process what happened.

As the dust settles and the roar of the explosives and falling rocks dies out, Taako blinks — except it feels strange, like it’s not his physical eyelids moving as much as it is his vision shifting into another spectrum, as if someone had just cast True Seeing on him.

Huh, he thinks. Thought that would’ve killed me.

And then: Of course it killed me. I’m a lich.

(Well, there goes any chance I had with Kravitz —)

I’m a lich like the Red Robe — no, like Barry. And like —

Like Lup.

How could I forget Lup?!

The sensation of incorporeality hits him on a delay and doesn’t stop hitting him, harder and harder until he feels like he’s about to disintegrate. His red-tinged skeletal hand drifts through the air, catching the silver threads that hang lazily like cobwebs in the space all around him as his spectral fingers curl into a fist. He clutches those bonds with every ounce of strength he has but they’re unraveling now, just like his robe, like his magically deformed essence…

He’s ready to disintegrate, to unravel, to crumble into ash just like Lup’s skeleton in Wave Echo Cave, because of course it was her, it was all that was left of her —

I found her but she was gone — everything was gone, except for her robe and —

“Taako?”

Lying just a few feet away from the hem of his robe is Lup’s Umbra Staff, pulverized into a dozen smoldering fragments — and above it floats another red-cloaked figure, eyes blazing red like miniature versions of the explosion that freed her.

“Taako, I’m here!” she assures him, and her echoing voice is a chorus of too many simultaneous emotions to count — it’s worried, and desperate, but joyous and relieved and comforting all at once. “Don’t break down on me now, Taako! It’s okay!”

Something solidifies in Taako, a grounding sensation so powerful he feels almost corporeal again, but words are failing him, motion is failing him. He stays frozen as the bonds he’d clung to wind back into place, stretching from his arms to Lup’s and pulling them together into the closest thing to a hug that liches can achieve, and he feels warm.

“You idiot,” he finally chokes out. “You didn’t think that absorbing magic shit would make a bad combo with being a fucking lich?”

Lup is literally beaming with happiness, emitting beams of light that would blind someone with physical eyes. “You didn’t exactly realize either, you dingus!”

They stay in the embrace for a few more minutes — and Taako may or may not let out an ugly, messy sob or two, complete with tears and snot made of pure magical energy that crackles like lightning when it strikes the rubble below — before he finally feels stable, and Lup quietly asks:

“How much time do we have? Forty minutes? Thirty-five?”

“What?” Her words don’t sink in immediately, but the second they do, Taako immediately feels like the victim of a sick joke. “Oh, shit. The Umbra Staff’s gonna get fixed next loop, and — and I’m not gonna remember you’re in there —”

“It’ll be okay,” Lup assures him. Taako can tell from the tone of her voice that she’s just as frustrated as he is with the irony of the paradox, except trying to redirect that anger into stubborn optimism. It’s a lifesaving skill for liches of their particular breed, that ability to channel destabilizing negative emotions into sustaining positive ones — a skill Taako hasn’t had much practice with, lately.

“There’s got to be some way to cheat the loops — you know, a loophole.” Lup laughs — a rasping, echoing noise that would probably be terrifying to anyone who didn’t know her, but is a massive relief for Taako to hear. “It’s practically in the name. We’ll figure something out — we always do. Let’s just think — and besides, I’m sure Magnus will get you blown up at least another two or three times, so we’ve technically got even more than forty minutes.”

“Right, right, okay. Physical objects are a no-go, Magnus figured that out after his bank robbing stunt —”

“Yeah, I think I caught that. So we’ll have to try something magical —”

“Wait.” A thousand different realizations are slowly coalescing together all at once in Taako’s mind, and he struggles to find words to articulate any of them. “How much could you, like — how much could you see from in there? You helped me out fighting the vine monster, right, and — and ruined Ango’s cookies, so… you musta been pretty aware to do all that —”

Lup looks down at the remains of the Umbra Staff, now reduced to mostly ash.

“I could see and do plenty, if I put enough effort into it,” she explains, “but it wore me out quickly, especially casting spells. After I spelled my name, I was just… clinging to consciousness for the next few weeks. That stunt might not have been the best idea, since I’d figured out by then that you couldn’t remember, but… I had to try.”

“Did you see Barry, in… let’s see, Goldcliff and the Cosmoscope? He, uh… wasn’t doing so great that second time…”

“He’ll be able to hold it together,” Lup declares confidently. “He’s stubborn like that.”

“Do you think he realized… your situation? He was pretty stable until he saw you —”

“He would have done something about it by now if he’d known, though…”

“Yeah, of course, you’re right. But he definitely seemed like he had some kinda plan — wait, I think I got it! Where’s my body?”

“Wait, got what?”

Taako levitates a few boulders out of place, and summons two Mage Hands to rifle through the pockets of his corporeal form. “Our way out of this time paradox shit, courtesy of Barold himself! As long as it didn’t get crushed — ah, here we go!”

One of the Mage Hands procures a familiar golden coin, imbued with a divination spell of Barry’s own engineering that Taako finally recognizes. “Well, I guess I don’t know for sure that Barry sent it to me, but it’s his spell and came alongside some IPRE patches, so I’m gonna say it sure wasn’t from Lucretia.”

“Is that — is that the spell he made when Magnus was worrying about the Temporal Chalice overwriting things without us knowing?”

“Yeah, storing info across timelines is its whole gimmick! He knew we were going to go after the Chalice eventually, and musta realized that I would forget anything I did as a lich if a time loop like this revived me —”

“Gods, I love him!” Lup shouts, laughing and lighting up with joy all over again. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s send Amnesiac Taako a message!”

***

Taako faceplants in the dirt alongside Merle and Magnus, alive again and holding an unbroken Umbra Staff. As always, Roswell stands guard outside the gate, and Taako and Magnus immediately start running through their explanation.

“Great job, Maggie!” Merle mutters under his breath. “Now we’ve gotta go through this whole shebang again.”

“We’ll be able to make a great speedrun video on Fantasy Youtube by the end of it, though!” Taako whispers back, and Roswell tilts their bird head in confusion.

“What? What’s a speedrun?”

Taako opens his mouth to reply, but a slightly muffled yet incredibly familiar voice from within the pocket of his skirt beats him to it.

Yo, Taako! T to the double A-K-O! I’m you from half an hour ago now, so listen up!

“What the fuck?” he blurts out, digging out the coin. “That’s — that’s not me! I never said —”

I know you don’t remember recording this, but there’s something you’ve really gotta do, the coin goes on, still in Taako’s voice, and he drops it to the ground and stares at it in horror. It’ll make sense later — well, maybe a long time later. Eventually, I hope!

“I don’t trust you!” Taako shouts, not sure if he’s expecting the coin to respond or not. “I don’t know who’s behind this, but I know a trick when I hear —”

You need to break the Umbra Staff, Taako, a second speaker explains, and Taako goes stiff at the sound of her voice. And you need to break it again in every new cycle — or every loop, I should say, until you get out of here. Please, Taako, trust us. We’ll explain as soon as we can, I promise.

Magnus kneels on the ground and pokes the coin gingerly, as if expecting it to explode. “Taako, where did you get this? Do you know what triggered it to —”

Taako snaps the Umbra Staff with his bare hands, and a column of fire erupts around him.

As his vision turns into an orange blur, he can just barely hear Merle yelp in shock and Magnus shout in concern over the roar of the flames, but he doesn’t feel afraid — which is itself a deeply unsettling feeling, because he should really be terrified out of his mind — but he just can’t fear this fire no matter how hard he tries. The warmth of the flames that weave so deftly around him is not harsh, but rather, comforting — almost fiercely comforting, in a way Taako wasn’t prepared to be comforted, a way that makes his heart seize up just like the woman’s voice that he couldn’t help but trust.

The blaze consolidates into a spectral figure in red who floats in front of him and nods, face obscured by the cowl of her robe but a smile manifesting clearly in her voice nevertheless.

“Thank you so much, Taako. I knew you’d come through.”

Then Magnus swings Railsplitter through her — harmlessly, of course — and she turns to face him.

“What do you want from this town, Red Robe?” Magnus yells. “Why did you bring Jack and June here?”

“Magnus, calm down! Really, I should be asking you about Jack and —”

She pauses, noticing Magnus’s disoriented expression. “Shit, was that static? You know, that’s probably for the best. Let’s start over: Magnus, Merle, Taako, earth elemental who’s name I missed —”

“I’m Roswell. Could you please identify yourself?”

“Magnus, Merle, Taako, Roswell — but mostly you Tres Horny Bois, or whatever you call yourselves these days — first things first, I’m not the Red Robe you met before. Second and on a related note, yes, I’ve been in Taako’s umbrella this whole time. Yes, it sucked. And third…”

She sighs. “You’re just going to have to take my word on this one, but I literally can’t explain who I am or why I’m on your side. It might seriously damage your minds, but I should be able to tell you my name, which is Lup.”

“Lup, why do I trust you?” The name feels strange in Taako’s mouth — familiar, except it shouldn’t be, except it is, except it couldn’t be, except…

The contradiction just spirals on forever, boring a hole in his mind that aches like hell and makes his stomach churn.

“Taako — oh, Taako, you’re not thinking about it too hard, are you? You can’t think about it too hard — you see why I can’t try and explain anything else. I would if I could…”

Slowly, with help from Lup’s Mage Hand, Taako stands up. He can’t even remember when he fell to his knees, but… he tries not to think too hard about it. Just take things one step at a time.

“Lup can help get us out of here,” he tells Magnus and Merle. “I don’t know why, but I’d trust her with my life even outside of a time loop, so… we’re doing what she says now.”

Magnus shrugged. “You know, I guess we could do a lot worse than putting a competent woman in charge, even if she’s undead. Lup, whatever your plan is, I’m down for it.”

***

By the time the purple worm dives back down beneath the earth with her children, Taako’s just about ready to collapse. Physically, he’s uninjured — he had a lich and an earth elemental watching his back, after all — but mentally, he’s a wreck. The persistent roar of static in the back of his mind has taken its toll, especially since the loop where he died before anyone else, and woke up to find Magnus and Merle giving him the two most confused and concerned looks he’d ever seen on their faces.

So when Avi freezes, glowing red, and everyone’s Stones of Farspeech go dark, Taako barely has the energy to wonder why until another robed figure materializes, holding a finger to his lips —

“DID YOU RETRIEVE THE…”

Every fold of fabric freezes in place, as lightning washes over the Red Robe’s form.

“LUP?!”

“Hey, babe,” Lup whispers, unfazed by the lightning bolts as she floats forward to wrap her arms around the other lich. “Thanks for the coin.”

“But — but how?” the Red Robe stammers. “How are you finally —”

Several curls of hair, made up of ghostly orange fire, escape from under Lup’s hood as she explains, and the Red Robe gently twirls a coil of flames around one of his skeletal fingers. “How are you really here?”

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Lup explains, “but it turns out that magic-absorbing staffs and beings made of pure magic aren’t actually the best combo.”

“Oh my god, we’re idiots,” the Red Robe gasps. “We’re magical undead idiots.”

“Love you too, Barry,” Lup murmurs.“God, I missed you so fucking much.”

“Wait, like Barry Bluejeans?” Magnus asks, at exactly the same time that Taako mutters: “Ugh, get a room.”

Barry whispers something to Lup that Taako doesn’t catch, and then both liches turn around.

“So, slight change of plans,” Lup announces. “It looks like the bubble isn’t quite down yet, but once we get that taken care of… anyone else up for a moonbase infiltration?”

“I’ve got one condition,” Taako immediately announces.

“What’s up?”

“If we run into the Grim Reaper, neither of you crimson lovebirds know me.”

[pendragonfics]

You Seemed So Happy

Paring: James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes/Reader

Tags: gender-neutral reader, no pronouns in fic, alternate timeline, canon divergence - after Captain America: Civil War, Avengers Tower, domestic Avengers, Bucky Barnes recovering, Bucky Barnes feels, rain, first kiss, fluff

Summary: A longtime lover of inclement weather, Reader is often seen mucking around in their rain shoes outside. It just so happens that the newcomer to the Avengers Tower, a recovering Bucky Barnes has taken note in them, and their somewhat peculiar habits.

Title comes from this song (recommended listening while reading)

Word Count: 2,411

Current Date: 2019-11-20

Requested By: @karasong​

Without a doubt, the best part of any day was checking the weather app. It wasn’t always fruitful in its outcomes, and whenever Thor made his way to the Avengers Tower, you’d be sure to make him change the weather for you. It had gotten to the point where if there was rain forecasted for the week ahead, you’d set your rain jacket and galoshes out in preparation. You’d cancel all plans for days when the rain would roll in.

Luckily, your day job was being a superhero.

By the time that the newest Avenger came to live in the old Stark Tower in New York, everyone else had lost the thrill of teasing you over your adoration over precipitation. And if you were being completely honest, you were glad that they weren’t rubbing it in all the time. You didn’t tease Tony Stark about his love of Judge Judy, or Sam Wilson about his liking of bath bombs. But as soon as your new neighbour to the twelfth floor came in, he was the newest attraction.

James Buchannan ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

With a name like that, he could be many things. You grew up on the other side of the world, it would seem - because before joining the team, you had a) no clue as to who Captain America was, and b) had never heard of the Winter Soldier. Which, you assumed after some context, was James. Wait no, he preferred Bucky. You were still getting used to his many names, among other things.

While you were a morning person of sorts, the only time you ever crossed paths with your new teammate was at the elevator one evening. Not that you were one to objectify openly, but the man - he was sure fresh out some trauma that you were still wrapping your head around, but oh my, was he a looker.

But today, there wasn’t a sign of him at all upstairs. After a movie night with the remaining Avengers, you fell asleep midway through Mama Mia! and woke up on the couch. When whoever’s left are given a budget and told to stay out of trouble when the other half of the team are in Portugal for the latest hero-ing your skillset wasn’t needed for, movie nights become the thing when someone joins you. So far, only Clint joined you when he was able, but that was just because he liked that you only watched movies with closed captions.

It was going to be a normal day.

But then, after stretching, you checked the weather app. And lo and behold, there was the best news of the day: a change in the prediction. Light to moderate rain in the morning, followed by heavy rain in the evening, it said, summarised with the humidity and the other details you didn’t quite care for. At once, you felt your pulse quicken, and you threw yourself from the cramped corner of the couch to the elevator.

Mashing the buttons, you paced the space as the box descended, and as soon as you free from it, you ran to your room and donned the right clothes to explore in the rain. You pulled your hair from your face and brushed haphazardly at your teeth. Washed your face and tossed the clothes you slept in into the hamper. Pulled on the galoshes and your favourite tee shirt and the rain jacket too. You were so happy, you felt your abilities sparkle beneath the palms of your hands, your feet growing light as your happiness translate into partial hovering. Bounding like a kangaroo on the moon, dressed, you rush back to the elevator.

Bucky stood there, also waiting.

He wore black jeans, and boots, and a grey hoodie. They looked like new clothes. Like, they were so new that they hadn’t been washed yet after coming home from the store. As you joined his side, you met Bucky’s eyes. He’d cleaned the dirt that was spread across his face since you last saw him. Not that you had anything against people who wore eyeliner! You’d give him a pointer or two if he wanted to wear it again, that was for sure. And his hair was pulled back into a haphazard ponytail.

“Hi,” you say, beaming.

He blinks. “Hi,” Bucky echoes.

As soon as the elevator comes, you both enter it. As you reach for the button for the roof, your hand brushes alongside his. You’re not sure why, but you feel a little zap! of electricity as you do. Maybe it’s the energy your body is creating from the excitement, or just static from the rain, but Bucky looks at you funny, and presses for the roof.

“I’m headed there too,” you make conversation, poking your hands in your rain jacket pockets. “For some very important business.”

He raises an eyebrow, silent. As the elevator ticks upward, you sway, rocking back and forth on your feet as you wait patiently for the destination. Ever since the roof was refurbished from being Tony Stark’s personal living room to the loft living space - usually used for fancy soirées or stuff like that - you fought to have a little greenhouse outside too, and access to the tip-top of the building. Because of your abilities, and a promise that you weren’t going to go crazy and cultivate fifty types of roses, it was allowed.

As soon as the elevator opened, you waited patiently for Bucky to alight before rushing out. You barely paid him any attention as you made your way to the balcony, and once the doors let you out, you felt your abilities pricking underfoot. At once, you soared up to the top of the Avengers Tower, your rain jacket and boots almost a comical hero-costume as you flew through the rain.

It wasn’t as heavy as you thought it would be, the droplets splashing over your face and head lightly. In your glee, you shot your hands out before you, and without thinking, propelled two bolts of energy from your palms into the sky.

Thankfully, there weren’t any planes in the sky today.

Looping around, you were surely a spectacle to be seen above the Avengers Tower. While the people of New York and beyond America’s borders knew of your existence on the team, you were still a new face that wasn’t as popular an action figure as say, the Black Widow doll. Before returning to the top floor of the tower, you spread your arms wide, as if to embrace the sky, and propelled yourself backwards.

You landed on the top floor, laying softly on the concreted ground. The rain continued to fall around, the droplets gathering on your face to make it run as if they were tears and you were from a Ghibli movie.

“Best day ever,” you grinned to yourself.

---

The next time there’s rain, you’re out in the street, running errands. It’s almost a month later, and the dry spell has gotten to you. Except, unlike any other time when you’d be very thrilled for the rain, you’re carrying groceries back to the Avengers Tower with Steve and Bucky, and don’t want the shopping to get wet. Steve barrels ahead of the both of you, sparing sorry!’s and excuse me!’s to those who he knocks into. You try the same, but it’s no use.

You’re not Captain America.

Bucky loops his gloved hand through the bags you’re carrying and whisks them from your grasp. People move out the way for him and his imposing stature, and you follow him swiftly through the path he carves in the crowds of the New York footpath back to the tower. Once inside, he calls the elevator with his spare elbow and turns to you.

His face is sodden, hair dripping into his eyes like a baptised puppy dog, his clothes soaked through. You’re no better, glad that you wore a jacket over your white shirt so that it isn’t see-through to others’ eyes.

“I thought you liked the rain.” He says as the doors open.

You blink, following him inside. You’ve never heard him say this many syllables except to Steve. You try to hide the shock of it with a shiver, and reply, “I do like the rain. It was just-,” you shiver once more, the movement of the elevator providing the interior with an uncustomary breeze, “-a little unexpected.”

Once the elevator reaches the common area, you both approach the communal kitchen. Steve’s already unpacked his bags and has started to put odds and ends away. As he’s turned to the pantry, he calls over his shoulder, “I’ve got it this time. Thanks for carrying the bags, ________, Buck -,” he beams, and turning, adds, “Why don’t you go get dry?”

You thank him but ask, “You’re wet too, Cap. How about we tag team?”

Steve shrugs. “Thanks, but I don’t feel the cold.” Bucky goes to interject, and the leader of the Avengers adds, “Seriously, I’m good. It’s been a while since you’ve both had a day off. Enjoy the time off.”

Bucky joins you in the elevator, and you return to the level you sleep on. Parting ways upon exit, you only meet up with him again not ten minutes later, when you’re drier. This time, you’ve donned your favourite socks (the ones with avocado’s with faces) and a tee-shirt that Thor gave you (it’s the demi-god’s size, with a print of Thor as Nyan Cat on the front) and of course, your raincoat and boots. Bucky’s in a different all-black set of clothes, and he calls the elevator as you join him at it. Waiting.

“Are you going to the roof?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. A second passes, and you wonder, “are you?”

Bucky nods. There’s a look on his face as you both ride to the roof that you just can’t put your finger on. You don’t have any time to really question what that look is because he turns to you and starts to speak.

“I used to be happy like you are about the rain,” he says. There’s a sigh, barely audible, but you catch it. “I used to be happy…about a lot of things.”

You swallow offhand. Slowly, you gather your words before offering a reply. “I don’t know much about what you went through, before coming to us…but if you like, I can help you.” Bucky looks at you quizzically, and the elevator reveals the top floor of the tower. Stepping out, you correct yourself, “I mean, I can help you with your thing about the rain. Or other stuff. I’m not the most qualified, but I’ll give it a shot if you want.”

He exhales, but it’s then you realise that it’s an attempt at a laugh. You smile at that and move toward the balcony.

“What makes you like the rain?” Bucky asks.

He’s trailing behind. You can see him in the reflection of the glass windows, and as he gazes out, you can see a look there that you recognise. Hesitation.

“I didn’t always like it,” you say. “When I was a kid, the rain freaked me out. It felt weird, like, too much to handle on my skin. But then one day I woke up one day and realised I could shoot energy from my hands, and fly, and I was eight, nine years old?” you scrunch your nose, trying to remember. “Now that is scary. Rain turned into a piece of cake after that, and when I got used to being basically a kid hero, nothing much could really freak me out.”

You look to Bucky. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on with you, but…” you unlatch the door to the balcony and start to step out. The rain patters down upon your face as you go, but you wait for Bucky to follow. “May I have this dance?”

“Dance?” he echoes.

You grin. “Well, if I’m goof off on the roof with you, buddy, we’re dancing. You know, the kind like-nobody-is-looking?”

Bucky glances behind him and sees you’re alone together. “But you’ll be looking too.”

You close your eyes and hold your hands up as if in surrender, “At a risk to my safety, I will not be looking. Besides! I’m a crappy dancer myself.”

You hear Bucky’s footsteps follow you out, feeling him ghost past you with a slight breeze that follows. Quietly, you turn to where you feel he is, and say, loud enough for J.A.R.V.I.S. to hear, “Play The Horses, Daryl Braithwaite, please.”

You thank Tony Starks’ surround-sound system as you start to sway in your space. As the beat kicks in, you start to move faster, feeling more and more confident. You stomp your feet in the wells of puddles growing underfoot, shaking your arms and chest in a half-hearted shimmy, busting out the tried and true bedroom-only moves. The climax of the song comes, and you feel yourself collide with Bucky -

Your eyes shoot open, shocked, but as you see his face, he’s far from upset. His eyes are wide, yes, but at the corners of his lips, there’s the faintest tug, and your heart jumps, pulse fast. You bite your lip, unsure what to do next, but he takes charge. He places his hands on your shoulders, and almost like you’re slow dancing, Bucky leads you into a swaying movement.

There’s a clap of thunder somewhere off, and in the flash of lightning that follows, you feel his hands tense up. Your move your palms to rest on his, and almost so slow that you didn’t realise it was happening until it was, he closes the distance between you. Just as the last part of the song comes, his lips rest upon yours, parting them, pressing in such a delicate way that your already racing heartbeat skips a beat.

“Oh,” you say, the kiss taking all your wits from you.

No words come when your wits return, nor does Bucky supply them. He threads his fingers in yours and looks out across the city, the rain still cascading over the both of you. However, some words come, and they do so as he turns to you, his eyes bright and full of something that you recognise. “I think I - I think love the rain.”

You squeeze his hand lightly, just as the song ends. “I love the rain too.”

[thetypedwriter]

If We Were Villains Book Review

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio Book Review 

    This book came to me highly and yet underwhelmingly recommended by obscure book bloggers I like to follow and I definitely had my doubts, but most, if not all, were assuaged at one point or another.

If We Were Villains is the debut novel by author M.L. Rio and follows closely the pragmatic premise of the older The Secret History, a novel about a small knit group of college students who descend into anarchy and become killers. Villains is similar in premise, yet different in execution and those differences make the crucial impact between a book I liked and a book I loved. 

    So. This book is rife with Shakespeare. No hyperbole intended, this book has Shakespeare dripping from the pages, leaping off of words, and scrambled madly on every surface. To say this book is a homage to Shakespeare would be selling it lightly. That being said, if you don’t like Shakespeare this book is probably not your cup of English breakfast tea.

The author is obviously very influenced and passionate about Shakespeare and his collected folio and it oozes from every orifice. I, for one, found it fascinating, but I understand that most normal people do not want to ask “how was your night?” and get “Swift as a shadow, short as any dream” in response.

Although, no judgement here, if Shakespeare is what you like, then kudos to you. But this reference to Shakespeare seemed important to mention from the onset, so consider yourself forewarned moving forward. 

    Other than the Bard, the book revolves around seven thespians at a small, elite Fine Arts college named Dellecher in which our seven protagonists are all fourth-year theater majors. Now, think of the most elite, pretentious, and cripplingly obsessed small school or group you can think of. Now times that by ten. Dellecher on the outside runs as an esteemed Fine Arts institution, but really, through the course of the play, the university coming across more like a feverish cult becomes more and more apparent.

However, something I adore about Rio is that nothing is spelled out for you. Rio is almost like an objective third party observer along with the rest of us instead of the masterful creator. She observes and points out thoughts, behaviors, and settings, but leaves everything, sometimes to frustration, up to interpretation. 

    These seventh years act only in Shakespeare productions, but not only that. They breathe Shakespeare, drink Shakespeare, and speak Shakespeare, often colloquially and without preamble.

Once again, as an English teacher and a lover of literature, this didn’t bother me, I was more obsessed with the social implications of how this made them feel special and connected and “different” than others, versus the elitism of the actual prose itself. 

    But everything changes once their roles start oscillating into their real lives as well, and the line between stage and curtain becomes blurry until it is altogether impossible to differentiate. Everything comes to a screeching, deafening halt when one of their own is murdered. Gruesomely. Bloody. Horrifyingly. 

    The rest of the novel plays out like a play itself, often with Rio interjecting stage names for dialogue instead of natural dialogue tags. And instead of chapter parts, she has labeled it into acts and scenes. As Shakespeare put it himself: “All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;”

    I could not have summarized this novel/play hybrid better myself. As the characters deal with the aftermath of the death of one of their own, they slowly start to unravel at the seams as secrets get out of control, feelings escalate into raging tornadoes, and consequences of doing nothing are almost worse than doing something.

I won’t be giving away who was killed and by whom and how as that is half of the book’s magic and intrigue and you are better off reading it for yourself. 

    One thing I absolutely loved was that the book was not in chronological order. The book starts with our main resident, forever the sidekick, Oliver Marks, being released from jail. Except he’s innocent, he didn’t commit the murder, and the cop who put him in there finally wants to know the truth, completely and irrevocably. And on the day that Oliver is released from his ten years of second degree murder he gives in and begins the tragedy...or is it?

    The whole book you are kept suspended in midair, dangling with your breath just beneath you, never quite being able to get in a full lungful of oxygen. The exhilaration and thrill of trying to discover the real murderer amongst the seven, how Oliver, despite being innocent, was the one blamed or framed or otherwise punished, and who was killed and why, is what makes this book such an intrinsically deep read.

And the moment of clarity in which we swing back and forth in time between thirty-one-year-old Oliver telling Detective Colborne the truth is then offset by his first stage account of the melodrama that occurred as an active participant. 

    This book is riveting, the characters are dangerously mad and lovely, the fluctuation between the past and the present creates a delicious friction of clarity and backwards thinking, and the anticipation of trying to unravel the truth before it falls away from you is a chase that I haven't had in such a long time.

This book was fun, was relatable, was insanity, and was also, at the same time, beautiful. I loved the meta-cognition of what this book was to itself, the author, and the characters, and this self-awareness made it all the more brighter to me. 

Recommendation: “My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite”

-Romeo and Juliet 

Score: 9/10

[whiskey-bumblebee]

amore mio

Pairing: Mob!Kylo x Reader Word Count: 1.6k A/N: okay so turns out that the song in Gilda is ‘amado mio’, which is Spanish and makes sense because her and Johnny are in Argentina but I... am a Fool and didn’t realize it wasn’t Italian (amore mio) until after I’d made my edit so,.. don’t kill me ? so the title of the fic is amore mio and the song it’s inspired by is amado mio, capisce? bueno Tagging: @babbushka​

He hadn’t planned on being here tonight. But here he was, in a stupid fuckin’ booth eating fries that were too salty, moping.

At least the whiskey was decent. With that thought, he nodded to Silas, who was sitting across the bar, and raised his glass in thanks. Silas had gone across town to buy a bottle of Kylo’s favorite.

Well, it wasn’t as if he would say no. Kylo was already pissed enough that he had to attend a mix and mingle event to fix the impression that his idiot father had given. The least anyone could do was buy him a decent fucking drink to keep him-  “Fuck,” he swore under his breath. Blood leaked out of his finger. He hadn’t even realized he’d been chewing at his cuticles. Drawing a deep breath to fight the urge to roll his eyes, he glanced over at the stack of napkins on the table and grimaced.

He wasn’t a germophobe or nothin’, but man, those could not be clean.

Kylo did close his eyes then, dipped the corner of the filthy fuckin’ thing into his tumbler before pressing it to his finger.

“Ay,” came a voice from the booth over his shoulder.

Nonplussed, Kylo looked over. “What?” “You gonna talk to anyone?”  “Jesus Christ, they really did send me here with a handler.” “Friend.” The burly man corrected.

“Handler,” Kylo scoffed, downing the last of his glass. Setting it down on the table with a heavy hand, he looked over at the man again.

“Keep my booth empty, I like this one.���

The man nodded and Kylo walked over to the bar. He moved to sit, then clenched his jaw as he remembered to ‘mingle’. With an eyebrow raise at the bartender, he made a mental note to figure out what this was punishment for once he was back home.

“What can I get ya?” “Nothing right now, I’m the dickhead who’s sponsoring the Midnight Blend. I just wanted to ask if there’s anyone here worth talking to.”

It was brisk, but he wasn’t in the mood to chat with the bartenders. Not when his whole night was looking like niceties and handshakes. The bartender nodded.

“Red suit seems pretty interesting. If you’re not in the mood to talk, navy baroque will do it for you. Ladies?” Kylo’s shoulders lifted in a shrug, and felt a wave of regret almost as soon as he’d done it. How embarrassing was that? Being asked about ladies and fucking shrugging?

“I could go for a lay, but I don’t do long term.” 

The words crystallized into truth as they left his lips. Sex hadn’t been on his mind while he’d been here, but now that he’d thought about it, it did seem like a better nightcap than the rest of the bottle.

His face turned sour again as he thought about how the night was likely to end. Alone on his balcony, the whole fuckin’ city probably getting laid while he looked down from his penthouse, drunk off his ass and thinking too much. 

Jesus Christ, he thought. The first half of a familiar demon crept into his mind and he pushed it back. ‘What if the rest of your life-’

He cleared his throat and realized the bartender had been giving recommendations the whole time. The bartender stopped and looked at Kylo then. Kylo just nodded and walked away, too tired to think about how to reply to a conversation he’d forgotten he was in.

What felt like hours passed, but the wrought iron clock confirmed it had only been three quarters of an hour. The handler looked smug, so maybe Kylo could go home. He tried to raise an eyebrow to ask for approval, but the man wouldn’t meet his eye.

Kylo assumed that was a no.

He turned around, rolling his eyes so hard it almost gave him a headache, and cursed under his breath.

When he opened his eyes though, he froze.

Descending the stairs in red, smiling playfully down into the band pit at the base of the stairwell. No name yet, but when he saw you, everything about you was in capital letters.

Your lips matched your dress matched your shoes and Kylo’s finger was at his mouth again, worrying his cuticles.

Before he could overthink it, he made his way to the bottom of the stairs and extended his arm.

You took it gratefully, the transition from stairs to floor made significantly easier.

Kylo didn’t even know there was an upstairs to this place. For all he knew, you came directly down from heaven and the stairs would vanish as you stepped off them. His thoughts were a mile a minute, but externally he was cool as ever.

“Drink?”

You nodded and gave him a little smile. 

“What’s my budget?”

Kylo smiled then, a little smile but a grin all the same. 

“Whatever you want.” “Well, I know what I want, but I know for a fact it isn’t here.” You had the kind of voice that convinced Kylo everything you were saying was extremely important, hinting at something deeper than he could understand.

“You a regular?”

“Something like that.”  There was that little smile again as you glanced at him. It had him weak in the fucking knees. 

“Well, I can send a friend across town to get it, if you feel that strongly about it.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll have a cosmo.” “Well now I’m curious. What’s your poison?” “It’s a rare Johnnie Walker.” Slight irritation colored your tone. “Midnight Blend?”

You quirked an eyebrow. Kylo read impressed.

“I took the liberty of buying a bottle and bringing it here when I found out they didn’t have it.”

You made a face that Kylo didn’t understand, a mix of impressed and offended. He realized he’d been asking all the basics. Regular, preferred drink. He kicked himself. Might as well have started with ‘come here often?’

For a moment you turned away, and Kylo was worried this was it. He’d missed his shot. When he followed the line of your gaze, he saw the clock again. You looked back at him.

“Touch early for midnight blend, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I’ll probably be drinking it ‘til midnight.”

He kicked himself again at how boring he sounded, and opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke first.

“So how about that cosmo?”

He relaxed again, nodded and walked you to the bar. For a moment he forgot why he was here. Fuck all that, he wasn’t gonna spend a second on those idiots now that you were here. 

He ordered, then thought too much about the ethics of looking at women and seeing them as a means of sex instead of as people. He brushed it off as a dry spell and decided he’d prove himself wrong by getting to know you.

“Thank you for the drink,” You smiled, touched his arm. 

No no no no, he thought. You couldn’t be leaving already. He hadn’t even asked you anything.

“It’s my pleasure. Do you want to sit in a booth? It’s quieter over there.”

You nodded, surprised him.

This time hours actually had passed. Well, almost two hours. You were laughing and leaning on him. He’d dropped all the names he could, bought you all the drinks you wanted. His confidence had risen as you’d moved closer to him at the booth. Your thighs were nudging each others’ every time you breathed now.

“So, I gotta ask, what makes you think you can come in here, looking like you own the fuckin’ place?”

You laughed with soul, harder than you had all night, and Kylo knew it was genuine. Your hand was on his arm again and he thought he’d die if you ever took it off. 

“I do actually. You know, own the place.” You gestured vaguely, wrist circling a few times before coming back to rest on your other hand.

Kylo laughed then. 

“You’ve been letting me rack up a fuckin’ tab buying you booze when you own the place?”

He was teasing, you knew it. Knew it by the sparkle in his eye and the way he was smiling.

“Hey well,” You shrugged. “You felt the need to stock it up with Midnight Blend, so I’m no different, right?”

He smiled, shrugged back. “You look incredible, by the way.”

“Thank you. It’s the dress’ first night out.”

You both paused for a moment then, sensing that what you said next would determine where the night went.

In the silence, Kylo realized that you were one of the people he’d been sent to get back on good terms with. If you owned the restaurant.... shit. You were a higher-up.

“I did, uh, tell you my name, right? Kylo Ren?”

You nodded, eyes still locked on his, still touching his arm and pressing your thigh against his. Waited for him to go on, then you remembered why he was so surprised.

“Oh, I’m meant to have a grudge against you, is that it?”

“Something like that,” Kylo mumbled into his drink, mood changing rapidly.

“Well, I like to form my own opinions.”

That was the sexiest thing you’d said all night. With the way you leaned up real close to say it, Kylo could feel your breath on his cheek. When he turned his face, you were right there.

He didn’t know it, but you had been about to kiss him.

Kylo smirked. “What do you say, we clear my tab and head back to mine?” You rolled your eyes playfully and leaned back. “What do you say, you pay your tab, I tell my family you’re all good and we head back to mine?”

He pretended to think it over, then looked back at you with a smile.

“Where is yours?” You pointed directly up. “Shorter walk than yours, I’m assuming.”

He nodded. “Want to hear a bad line?” His smile was devious as you nodded back and he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“What do you say we make this the dress’ first night off?”

[kaiju-z]

The adventuring party The Cultbusters has been through quite a bit.

They met through happenstance and joined forces to destroy a murder/suicide cult, bent on ending life on Seon before a worse fate befell those, living on the continent.

They transported the crystal ball that fortold of the disasters to come, from volcanic infernos, to devilish and demonic uprisings, to blood sacrifices and wars to come.

And they partook in the Spring Welcoming Festival of Crystalgate.

And all through that, they learned of each other. And got close. And got distant. And some opted to go their own way, finding their own road to walk, or their place to set roots.

But work is still to be done. And as the group begin and end one more party together, to warm their new house, they prepare for the work that is to come in the morning.

Because with one episode’s end, comes another’s beginning.

Seon Adventures Episode 30: The Lady And The Roadpath’s Man

So the party occurs. It’s hardy and wild. By the end a chandelier has gone and fallen over, surely the work of the Narahs, invited by Belli.

As things seem to begin winding down, Amelia and Nel prep to take their leave back home. One final hug is shared between the group and, having said all he could already, Luck casts Fly on Amelia, to give her a fun trip back to Nel’s mannor.

Before the ladies leave, Amelia reminds them to be sure to visit River in the morning, regarding her business offer, the reclamation of some magic item or another, as it were? River had already visited Amelia, to remind her, so she was now passing that information along to them.

With the promise of another go at T-Rex adventures, for both Amelia AND Morgan, they part ways, anew.

And in the morning assess the damage. As the tieflings’ beds have been thoroughly wrecked by the actions of Belli’s siblings. How each feels about this situation, they react in their own way, be it vocally or to themselves. But regardless. Talks are had and an agreement is made to head off for River’s office.

Arriving at the dungeons, after a good knock and re-introductions, River lets the quartet + Morgan inside, where she regails them of the work that she had in mind for them, greatful for their dilligence.

Before noting Amelia’s status of “missing among them”, River mentions the possibility of bringing along a Bounty Hunter, interested in the job as a means of changing pace and scenery.

She would be somewhere in the South-Western corner of the outside, well, side of Crystalgate. Congregating in the “Ebri’s Home” club. A den of debauchery and sick ass tunes. River had gone there, herself once before. It’s a lot for someone, not used to experiencing that much.Very intense there, lots of Ebriosius worshippers, ya know. Not that there’s anything, well, wrong with that???

The person we’re looking for goes by “June”. She has a very big... personality, as River alludes to. And many a boob jokes are made. The classics.

But back to the business at hand!

As mentioned, it was a retrieval mission, of sorts. A very hush-hush sort of, closed doors, kind of job. The particulars about it are the search, aquisition and delivery of a weapon called “The Kingsblade”. A sword of certain length, located somewhere, in a temple within Gulorum. The country Gulorum.

Somewhere, central east of the border, on Gulorum ‘s side of things, within a temple, the blade could be found.

It’s an ancient artifact for their people. The first wielder was a slain tiefling king. It drives the warrior’s spirit of kings, which… Sounds hinky. But it’s powerful and people up top would like to have it.

It’s more, what could happen if someone gets their hands on it. The war did end 5 years ago. Tippy-top secret, job, ya know. The last king was a Dragonborn, it’s hard to say what happened, it’s energy and stuff. And this is where Luck gets a little lost, not being a native to the continent, having only been around for 3 years. In a secluded town up north from the capitol.

(as the party suggests,  Luck needs a fanny pack and a Hawaiian shirt.)

For Luck’s convenience, River gives a bit of an explanation: At the end of the war there, there was an incident. The dwarven and specifically Dragonborn populace of the region took a heavy blow, which is why you don’t see many, who aren’t old.

And luck immediatelly thought of his new friend, Dragon dad, Edmond.

It’s a case of, you know, population loses and they aren’t willing to give it up. The group wonder if she, June’d be willing to accompany the Cultbusters on a de-tour beforehand. Whatever the case may be, River recommends we have her tag along.

As a reminder, which gets the rich kids’ attention, the reward for the delivery of the Kingsblade equates to 5,000 Platinum for each member of the team.

When asked about it’s appearance, the sword, River mentions that The Kingsblade is a blade made of black glass. Purple hilt with silver trim. Luck feels the temptation to keep it for himself. For the aesthetic.

One more time, River repeats the details, adding the name of the temple in question: “The Temple of the Fallen King: . It’s got a name, so people’ll know where to find it. Lots of scavengers are there, so be careful.”

If the CB bring this back, the Elder Council would like to meet the party. They’ve had their eyes oin it for a while. For cultural reasons, for a while.

“ One more thing. If you decide to give up your search, you should let me know so I could find replacements. Don’t worry if your friend stops breathing in the night.   KBYEEEEEEEEE! “ And before any answers could be brought out from River on why that was, the party were sent out.

With the mission at hand, the party now had to find the certain location.

What little knowledge the others had on the subject would be swept back as Luck would mention that he, himself, knew of the particular location. As he had been working the past couple of weeks, before the tournament, to get materials for his new armor.

So with most of the party thinking that Luck had been constantly visiting the place, as opposed to having gone past it at some point, the hidden Tiefling would lead the journey over to the Soth-Western part of Crystalgate’s outskirts. And eventually to a location, where the Silence spell appears to be in effect.

The curiosity of this effects leads the group to a pair of double doors that lead to a downward path and, without hesitation, Luck just heads on down, followed by Mournimar, Malak and Belli.

Down there, they are immediatelly able to speak again. And are met with an Ogre bouncer, who reaches a hand over, palm up.

Belli gives him the five finger clap and he exclaims in approval. As that is the secret handshake to get in.

And thus. We get in.

Bombarded by sounds and sights and smells, some of which some of the party know all too well and some that require Belli to cover her eyes as the minor of the group.

Protection circle around the youngest among them, the group walk around and search for their target, which eventually leads them through a crowd that would occasionally glance at the Keemis priest that was walking among them.

And they’d stop at the bar counter, where a dark haired woman, seemingly human, of a lighter complexion, in a dark dress, was cupping a drunk man’s face. According to the description they had received from River, she fit it well. Very well.

Turning her attention to themselves, she protests the participation of a minor, at first believing they are customers, seeking her services. Which gives the group an extra idea on what she does.

Between clarifications and gentlemanly actions from Luck, she does note that Mournimar reminds her of someone she’s met before. It’s strange, really.

She asks if he has family in Sa Doma. Which leads to a small realization for those, in the know, of where she was going with that question.

As the particular job is expanded upon, she agrees to follow them back to their mannor, where they could discuss the details of their work, without extra eyes on them, Luck offering a hand to guide her.

On the way back and to the house, June meets the party’s pets. Or some of them, in any case. Morgan ,the dog and Orion, in all his bodeness. Certainly an interesting way start off relations with her new colleagues, if one dared say so.

Once at the house, Malak asks if he could use Zone of Truth upon her, just to be sure truths are being said and nothing is being hidden, which could cause problem for the business relationship along the way. Careful man that he is.

And June accepts this.

With the spell cast, she is asked and answers questions:

June is the name she currently uses. Preferred name. Her profession is – she smiles – well, she has sex for money or bounty hunting. Or they pay her to stand there and yell at them. Just recently, in the past 4 or so years she became said bounty hunter.

It’s like she has two hit lists, the hit just depends where it goes.

When asked, on whether she’d be fine with a detour, she would say she’s fine with traveling at a different location from the mission.

Also, importantly. She currently doesn’t follow Potencia. Her favorite color is lilac. Or red is also good. She likes a lot of colors. But purple specifically.

But there is, of course, a particular thing, that the party should know of her. She points out. As her skin grays out, her hair turns white and her eyes go a deep shade of gray.

Becoming a Changeling.

Jun, as her name really is referenced. But June is one of her masks. The one she prefers currently, though she has many a more, to go about. Much more into the idea of making her own creations, than taking someone else’s identity.

Given the country’s stance on Changelings, that is to be understandable.

During the conversation, Belli notes the rings Jun has. On her neck and on her right thumb, specifically. And asks on whether she knows someone by the name of “Ficus”. She’s heard the name Ficus, but not the last name. She knows an assassin goes by that name. She’s heard of him in circles.

Bellli would message Ficus, regarding this, only for the pajamas clad half-orc to come walking down the stairs, from Luck’s room, apparently? 

Some more lore on the rings comes about, from the talk that happens next.

The rings are not a “prostitute thing”.Jun states. Though she does admit that they should figure out a way to incorporate that.

Her left mark means that she’s very good at interrogation. Which. Understandable.

Her ankle mark means stalking. And the ones on her neck mean aesthetic assassin.

In all this, Luck apologizes for the shenanigans that have just occured, noting the party being, well, strange. But Jun doesn’t seem quite as bothered, noting that she figured them strange from the moment she saw them, given that they brought a minor to Ebri’s Home.

An agreement is reached, upon elaborating on why the party would be detouring, first to Lake Stren. Luck telling the story of how the original five met, fought the cult, got their name and the ball and one of the visions including the lake, itself and something rising there, following a sacrifice by clerics, familiar and strange alike.

The meeting point? The stables. (Note to readers: Kevin and Killer had been mostly staying with the Narahs since Belli returned with her family to town. So the horses like her best).

As the group prepares themselves for the long journey, final checks for supplies and the like, Malak casts Augury at the Shrine, asking Keemis on whether what they are doing is right. If what the party is about to go for is good. And the all around vibe he gets as a reply is “yeah”. Good vibes.

On the way to the stables, Belli gets a voice in her head.

Nash, Cleric of Bellinas, checks in with the Half-Orc Bard, named after her goddess. And Nash warns Belli that Dak and the rest of the Fornas clerics had made like bananas and split from town. They were on their way to the location! SHIT!

Belli would call her in turn, asking her for details. And ultimately, to join them at Lake Stren, for whatever was to happen there.

Updating the party on what’s happened, the group take to the road with the horses, in their carriage. And dash along, exiting the city and heading on the journey back, through familiar and not so familiar paths.

The Game’s Afoot!

Through fields and flat planes, the party rides.  Quite a few farms along the way, not that very effective, but like, Skyrim farms. 2 rows of potatos, basically. Potatos for days.

On the 2nd day, the party go through a dark and gloomy looking area. An extra path, between  Gorrum and Lebovia.  It’s gloomy-ish, shaded and hard to see far into the distance of it. So, hefty foresty area.

As the party travels along, the sky darkening quicker than expected, the five swear they could hear whistling from the trees and footsteps moving along the carriage’s sides.  Trees for days. Owls and the like swooping past the transport. Until...

Nothing. A silenced area. Wide, lonely. And in the nearby. A strange waterfall, of sorts. Not so much a waterfall. But... with the water going upwards, more of a water rise???

Electing to investigate, Belli and Mournimar enter the clearing, where’s a glow comes off from said water rise. Moss is covering every rock, the water having an almost crystal like near ceiling with a chip in it and stuff.

The effects of this place, everyone, while here, benefits from a plus + 2 on Charisma. With everyone feeling safe and comforted here. Like this place is one big hug.

The fountain gives + 2 to charisma, we feel safe and the water gives poison resistence/immunity for 24 hours. Following the example of Belli and Mournimar, the rest fill their water skins and flasks with the Waterrise’s water.

Malak’s heard of certain spots on the continent, where magical plains drip over and make whole cool new things.

And wanting to waste no more time, the party goes along, for as long as they can, until a necessary rest.

On the third day, the group reach a fork in the road. With rocks rising several feet upwards, like a decoration to the split of the path

Familiar, as one path leads to Sa Doma and the other, on their preferred path for now.  It’s like this half-big walkie outcrop thing. and... This place kinda seems off.

Malak is the one, who hears them. Sounds coming from behind the stone formation. There’s chuckling and rustling. Casting Tongues, he speaks: “I know you’re there and I know you can understand me! Come out right now!”

And then. A huge hand covers the rock and a large figure jumps over it, then picks up a boulder and prepares to throw it towards the group.

We roll for initiative.

Luck reacts quickest out of everyone and charges towards the Stone Giant that had appeared. Casting a successful Guiding Bolt, the magical fighter gets between the big Dave looking rocky man and the rest of the party, giving Mournimar advantage on his first attack. Whcih succeeds on hitting the 18ft tall man. As does the second. And with that, the eyes of the Hunter mark their prey.

Belli attempts to Polymorph the bewhildered giant, but alas, she can’t turn him into something smaller. Shaking aside her frustration, the Narah inspires Malak, for whenever he attacks.

Malak casts Ray of Sickness . It’s sick. And coincidentally, so becomes the Dave giant, who can but only watch as the cleric flips him off.

Hurt and frustrated, the big guy then stomps his feet in a wild rhythm. The ground under the heroes cracks and shifts some. And small creatures pop up from different places. Moving towards the group, ready to attack in their own, dusty way.

And after he summons his dusty friends, the giant yeets the rock at Belli and Jun, since they are so close to each other. But the ladies, with cheerleader like precision dodge out of the way, only taking a small subinterest of the damage.

The dust creatures then attack and attempt to blind Belli, Jun, Malak and Mournimar with their dust attacks. But each manages to avoid that action. And only get a growl from Mournimar for their troubles.

All the while, the one near Luctan attempts to put him to sleep. But much to it’s surprise, confusion and frustration, that does not work on the newly tattooed with elven resistence tiefling.

As the poor thing tries to miserably gnaw at Luck’s armor, the fighter can all but just stare down with distaste at it.  “Pathetic.”

(And a meme has been referenced!)

Ready for action, Jun takes out her rapier, an elaborate piece and slices onto her skin with it, evoking  her Crimson Rite. Rite of the Frozen (HOLY SHIT, SHE’S A BLOOD HUNTER, SON!) , and starts a cuttin’. Slashing into one of these beings (which we later learn are Mephits, of the Dust variety) and cuts it down, causing it to explode into sand.

And then she moves closer to Mournimar’s position, slashing onto the one next to him. And with her Gambler’s blade she strikes a killing blow again! Piercing through the creature and popping it like a bag of sand.

Luck takes his action to strike and do some modicum of damage, while also uttering healing words for Jun. 

Mournimar, the ranger, moves closer to Luck’s position and fires with his bow, injuring the Mephit beside his ally. The, sadly, the second attack misses off of the cobble stone body of the giant and lands in the grass, while Belli tries and fails to polymorph the big man again.

Frustrated, she mocks him. Viciously! “The only thing that can get hard is the fact he’s made of rock. The rest of him is weak and limp.”

He is visibly upset by this, feeling fat shamed. and even Belli feels bad for her phrasing. Intending to go for a different part of his physique.

On Malak’s turn, the Holy snek makes his appearance again and goes near the biggun. Sadly, Samael can’t do much at this time. It’s ok, though, because Sam tries and that’s what matters.

With his axe, Malak makes a successful strike for the Mephit near him, though. He just axes him a question.

The fatshamed giant makes his move, then and strikes Mournimar. And clobbers him good with his big ass club, causing some bleeding on the poor digitigraded tiefling’s cranium.

A bloody Mourni spits blood “You really shouldn’t have done that, Motherfucker!” and charges up his Hellish Rebuke, burning the giant to a singed point.

Startled by this developement, the panicking big man attempts to hit Luck, but the fighter moves out of the way of the attack, his cape flowing majestically in the breeze.

While one Mephit attacks Luck impotently, another successfully blinds Malak with the sand at his disposal and attempts to run away, narrowly avoiding getting hit with Malak’s axe in the process.

Jun Hexes the giant, leaving a Profane experience as a Blood Hunter on this 18ft specimen of a man. But her distraction leaves her open to an attack from the fleeing Mephit, which bites her with all it’s tiny might! Which basically undoes Luck’s healing attempt.

Using her Gambler blade, she strikes at the Giant, opting out of attacking the small fry and does some harm on the stoney man. Confident, she attempts to pierce through his loin cloth, but... the sword gets stuck there. And they’re both kind of uncomfortable. Should she move first or should he move first?!

Still, though. Her initial attack. That Hex... It rendered the Giant at a disadvantage in the Charisma department.

And you know what that meeeeans...

Bane. Luck casts Bane on The Giant and the 2 Mephits.

And all three fail to protect themselves form the Tiefling’s own curse. With a surge of power, Luck strikes again at the giant and again at the dusty mephit. Taking note of the wobblyness of the big guy, Luctan calls out to the rest to subdue the giant, but keep him alive.

Wobbly in his own right, Mournimar puts away his bow and pulls out the enchanted All-Star Blade. And stabs a Mephit and said Mephit pops like a balloon. Attempting to follow in the ladies’ style, he attempts to stab the giant in the unmentionables as well. And fails. As well. Today just does not seem to be a good day for unmanning, it seems.

Having had enough, Belli uses her calling card, given Luck’s orders, and puts the giant to Sleep.

And while Jun helps clear Malak’s eyes from the blinding sand, the rest of the party use their ropes to tie the giant to the ground.

Very efficient with the rope work, they tie the big man down and good.

By the time Malak’s eyes are cleared, the giant wakes anew.

As Tongues does not require Concentration and goes on for a full hour, Malak still is able to understand the large highwayman.

And Malak begins questioning him. And getting answers in turn.

He wanted our money. It’s why he was there, for 3 hours, behind the rockmound.

A highwayman, indeed. Of the large variety. The irony of him being the one getting robbed now, as Belli began rifling through his stuff, was not lost that day. She would find a curious bracelet. And begin casting a spell to identify it.

When Malak asks him for his name, the giant answers that his name, is in fact, Dave. Malak asks him, with them not being his friends and all, why he should be kept alive.

Dave would not like to be dead is his reason not to die. And Belli chanting makes him nervous. Which Malak bluffs that is her putting a shrinking curse on him. The tieflings quickly join in on the charade, scaring the ever loving crap out of him as they start chanting in Infernal.

The Item Belli finds turns out to be a Bracelet of Alchemy. It raises the status of one’s Charismatic nature twofold.

And so. The giant is warned. That a curse has been put upon him. If he continues to be a shitheel, with every bad action, he will continue shrinking further and further, until he becomes a speck on the ground, easy for anyone to stomp on.

Malak would warn him to “Think long and hard about your life and all the decisions you’ve made and where they’ve lead you.”

And the panicking Dave, who was being untied in the process, would say a mighty “Ok!”, before booking to wherever his legs would lead him. As the party had. Successfully. Scared the shit out of him.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[ghost-chance]

Fanfiction Recommendation: “Fat. Beautiful. Tasty. Ravenous” by MoofyKitten

Title: Fat. Beautiful. Tasty. Ravenous Author: MoofyKitten on AO3/FFN/Wattpad Fandom: BNHA/My Hero Academia Rating: M/MA for a reason. (Detailed sex in over half the posted chapters. Perv away only if you’re of age!) Pairing(s): Fat Gum [Toyomitsu Taishirou] / OFC Found on: AO3

Deets Expect some light spoilers and a mini-rant.

I am an unrepentant fanfiction addict; this is no secret. There are fics I read to wind down after a rough day, fics I read to put myself to sleep in hopes of pleasant dreams, and fics I read to tear my hear into teeny tiny fragments then build it back again better than before. THEN there are fics that don’t fit the mold – the kind that I become so invested in that I physically cannot put off reading that update. THIS, my lovelies, is one of THOSE fics, and it’s earned that place from the early chapters. This story has almost everything I need from a fanfiction, and I have a feeling the rest is just around the corner.

Let’s get the basics out of the way.

The Spelling, grammar, and punctuation are all excellent – I have yet to notice a single error, so either the author and her betas are a force to be reckoned with or I’m just getting so sucked into the story an elephant could sit on me and I’d never notice. The formatting is effective and easy to follow, and the chapters have all been of a nice meaty length, perfect for plowing through in a single sitting only to realize you missed a meal and it’s time for bed and your brain is hopelessly lost in ship-land daydreaming about what’s up next. ...wait, that’s just me? My bad.

Syntax – This one requires an entire section of its own. The fact that I’m having to actually think about how well the author’s varying their syntax says they’re effing nailing it. If a story’s syntax is at all static or the sentence even the slightest bit predictable, it’s easy enough for me to recall it because I’m mentally rearranging the bits that irk or don’t impress me as I read. I can’t even get through a bleepin’ news article or an online recipe without itching to push what I’m reading up to the standards my professors held. It sounds harsh, I know, but please take  my word for it when I say I’m not criticizing anyone. Suffice it to say, if my classes did anything, they made editing so instinctive I can’t turn it off. Confession: I have never found myself rearranging a single phrase in this masterpiece. Arguing with the characters? Encouraging the characters? Begging, pleading, and berating the characters for breaking my heart time and time again by stopping just short of the sugary fluff I can just smell right around the corner? Oh, Hell yes. I’ve done all of that and more, but I’ve never found myself with the urge to grab my red pen and strike out or scooch even a single word.

Something that strikes me about this story above others I’ve given the same rating (Spoiler: there are VERY FEW!) is the sheer variety of the scenes and environments. Sounds silly? Probably, but romances often develop a certain amount of location stagnation, and I know from personal experience how difficult it can be to bust through those patterns. (I mean, the majority of “A New Lease on Life” takes place in the Lair in some room, most commonly a bedroom, the lab, or the kitchen.) This story takes the couple off of familiar and ‘safe’ turf like homes and offices and drags them through countless other places without regard for their sense of comfort. Each scene feels real and multi-dimensional and directly or indirectly influences the characters’ behavior and reactions. It’s awesome. That’s a sign the author has done her people-watching!

Now, about that OC. I’ll readily admit, in the first chapter, I had my reservations. At first glance she seemed shallow, obsessed with appearances and her own view of the world, and – strange as it may sound – too skinny and too attractive. Yes, there’s some personal bias involved there, but the majority was practical rather than emotional. BUT! Because the writer of this story is the same who unleashed the beautiful Kacchako torment Hot-Headed upon me without a single breath of remorse, I gave Aiko a chance. Sure enough, my first impressions were entirely incorrect. The things that bothered me about Aiko? They all had explanation or purpose, and she’s turned out to be a pretty well-fleshed out character...pun intended. As the story progresses we’re seeing sides of her that I hoped for but didn’t expect and each chapter leaves me wondering what we’ll learn next.

Romantic connection. First word: “OOFTA.” The second word, I’d spell out, but it’s a shrill, wordless, begging whine that I cannot translate into English for the life of me. This pairing starts without any sort of romantic connection; it skips straight to the shenanigans and leaves hope that the snugglebunnies will follow eventually. Friends…if you’ve read any of my writing before, you’ll know that I. LIVE. For. The. FLUFF. The awkward mush, the sweaty palms, the am-I-gonna-barf-or-do-I-have-a-crush, the absolutely tooth-rotting sweetness capable of sending a reader headlong into diabetes with a dopey grin and heart eyes - they’re my crack and I love them. This story started with no fluff but it’s been slowly developing in the background. It’s an entirely new situation for me! I feel like I’ve gotten used to eating my dessert first then digging into an equally sweet dinner without a moment to cleanse my palate. This story? It’s like gorging on smoky, meaty St. Louie barbecue for weeks on end with literally just a smear of something sweet as an afterthought. Mind. Frackin’. BLOWN. It turns out I’m more masochistic as a reader than I ever suspected.

Another relationship I want to cover is the building friendship between Aiko and Fat Gum – because nope, she has not managed to mentally connect the half-starved Taishiro she’s climbing like a tree with the big-and-beautiful Fat Gum who owns the agency. Yep. She thinks she’s boning Fat’s beefy little brother. It’d be funny if my heart wasn’t whining for fluff. While frustrating to fluff-starved readers, Aiko not knowing the beefcake and the brother are one and the same provides an intriguing and natural way for her to build an actual relationship with him. This means none of the fetishistic bullarkey rampant in other stories pairing plus-sized male characters with OCs.

What sort of fetishistic bullarkey am I talking about? To name a handful: I love you so lose weight. I love you because you’re big. I’m fat too so it’s okay if we’re together. Blatant fat-fetish disguised as romance. Fat character’s life absolutely revolves around food and it’s gross/nvm it’s okay. Lastly, OC’s only chance at being loved by fat character is feeding them. Maybe to thin folks those don’t sound negative but to those of us who fit the description? NOPE. These don’t make healthy relationships. Using these can turn a well-meaning pairing toxic and frankly, it tends to piss off those of us who – GASP! - accept ourselves no matter our size. These...tropes, let’s call them, have made me hesitant to even try fiction involving plus sized male characters because I’ve been let down so many times. Finding plus sized female characters is easy, especially OCs, but appreciation for the chonky bois isn’t nearly as common. They need love too, dammit!

Ahem. Rant over.

As mentioned before, I ain’t seen any of that crap in this story. This author is treating Fat Gum like she would any other character instead of focusing on the fat. I wish with all my heart that more authors were capable of (and willing to) do the same with Fat Gum, and with other plus sized male characters. I can’t even put into words how much it means to me that she’s doing such a fantastic job portraying a character type that so many writers bungle without ever realizing it. I’ve needed this story my entire life and never realized it wasn’t there; I shudder to think of how long I might have been waiting for it if this author never found the inspiration to do so.

If I don’t shut up now, I fear I never will. I love this story that much. Moving on.

Warnings

Explicit sexual content – do NOT read this around your family unless you have a stronger will than I and can do so without creeping them out. (According to my husband, when I read smut I “look like a demented vulture staring down at a half-flattened ‘possum waiting for it to take its last breath,” complete with hunched shoulders and heavy breathing. Flattering, I know.) The smut scenes, while not my usual cuppa tea, wreck. My brain? Broke. Chapter four’s budding romance? It’s goin’ on my headstone ‘cuz I’m dead.

There are mentions of human trafficking and the future may include more about it. Slut-shaming comes up a few times because men are assholes and asshole exes are the ultimate assholes. Situational fat-shaming and lack of body confidence come up as Aiko comes to recognize Fat Gum for who he is instead of what he is; on the other end of the tag, Fat is also doing a lot of it to himself even when it isn’t spelled out. You can see it behind some of his reasoning in his POV chapters and since the writer is kickass at portraying thoughts and feelings without ever breaking out of restricted POV, you can also see hints in other chapters. That said, if the shaming was really bad without any redeeming purpose, I’d have noped my way right out’a that fic and never looked back. It has a purpose, and it’s not that bad. Give it a chance.

Recommendation level

This story lacks purple prose and excessive fluff, and I haven’t seen any signs of the pop culture, literary, and music references I love so dearly, but the rating remains the same:

Ten. Out. of. Farking. TEN!

YES! I’ve finally found another 10/10!!! A quick reminder for anyone who’s managed to not see my other reading recc posts, I don’t even need both hands to count off all the 10/10s I’ve read. Congratulations, Ms. MoofyKitten – your story rocks my world and I have an addiction I do not care to shake!

[alyssa-orowane]

Fantasy tropes to avoid (and ideas to reinvent them)

Hello aspiring writers of Tumblr! How is it going?

This is my first post on here and I decided to dedicate it not only to the genre I am writing in, fantasy, but also to a crucial topic, which relates and affects every genre in different ways.

TROPES.

It's lazy to build stories on something that has already been written a million times before. I don't like tropes at all as a reader. If I wanted to read the same stereotyped story all over again I would just stick to the previous book I have read with that same plot, so I would also spare myself the trouble of learning the unpronounceable names of these new stereotyped characters.

On the other hand, as a writer it might be tempting to give in and use tropes. "Why not? After all everybody uses them and I am already SO busy writing the actual chapters of my story."

I tell you what: every time a trope threatens to slide into your story, crush the page and throw it across the room, yelling:

Seriously, though: tropes are just general, undeveloped ideas. That's what you need to do, develop them. In this way only will you ever be able to unleash their hidden potential.

Without further ado, may I present you three of the most common fantasy tropes and hints to reimagine them.

*Keep in mind that this is only my personal view on the subject and you can either agree or disagree with it.

1. The chosen one

This one is the most obvious one and I am also quite sure that you expected to find it on the list. Interesting, Watson: I guess that it makes this article stereotyped too…

Well we all know those characters. Those characters that were meant to be the one. The prophecies had spoken about them long before they were even born. They might as well be the only one capable of using magic or wielding a certain weapon. This character is either the only one who pushes forward the storyline or that one protagonist who does everything except choosing anything actively in the plot. There is no in between. Either way, they only possess notable qualities. Of course there is no trace of flaws. I mean, they are the hero.

Have a side-kick (or co-protagonist) be the chosen one instead

A great idea, if you really want to insert this trope in your story, is to use it to your advantage and surprise the reader with it. Who could ever expect that the protagonist was actually never the chosen one? Or that another character is the chosen one from the start?

To see this trope well recreated I recommend watching the BBC TV series "Merlin" in which a young sorcerer, Merlin himself, must help the future heir to the throne, the prince Arthur Pendragon, to fulfill his destiny and become the greatest king who has ever lived. Arthur has no clue of what has been foretold, nor that he even is at the centre of a prophecy. All of Merlin and Arthur's choices will determine either the glorious success or the tragic failure of the quest; all of this while Merlin hides his powers from Arthur and everyone else as magic is condemned in Camelot.

2. Overused fantasy Races

...which translates mostly into putting Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, dragons and any of the Tolkenian elements and creatures in your own story. Now, don't get me wrong. Tolkien is one of my favourite authors, hence I am always captivated by those fantasy novels that display these Races in their stories. But I don't want to read a copy, I want to read your own masterpiece.

That's exactly why you should:

Redesign the well-known fantasy Races and adapt them to your world and to your theme or just create brand new ones

Personally, I absolutely LOVE to craft new fantasy Races. I believe that it adds depth and realism to the world-building (which does not consist only of geography). Each civilisation brings their culture, their traditions to your story and that's what makes a world truly breathe. In my opinion, the purpose of fantasy is not to focus just on the epic deeds narrated or on endless battles enriched with magic and legends, though those are very important part of this genre and they must be just as equally developed. The reason why I write fantasy is to spread awareness around the vast variety of themes that coexist in our society nowadays, in the first place global warming, the racism that still today people experience, LGBTQ characters which are often unrepresented both in literary fiction and TV. What better genre than fantasy is there to represent diversity and multiculturalism? On these latter points I will never not be thanking and loving the works of Steven Erikson which are part of the high-fantasy series "Malazan Book of the Fallen". Diversity and the brand new variety of intriguing Races are a huge part of what makes Malazan such an awesome fantasy series. I refer to Steven Erikson as the main inspiration of my writing and I recommend you to give a try to his books, if you have the chance. I warn you though, that it is not any light or easy reading.

The other option might be to reinvent the well-known Races. Tolkien himself did not "invent" the Elves of Middle Earth, rather he made a legend of his own after having studied the myths and ballads of ancient civilities. Then he developed their language, their history and their culture as if they were a real existing population. Every single aspect of Tolkien's worldbuilding can be read in his Silmarillion. I think it is a must-read for anyone who is looking forward to reinvent the traditional fantasy Races or just to know more about them.

3. Unfailing magic systems

Magic can be anything you want. That doesn't mean, however, that it should be your escape point: stuff in your story should happen because of your characters, not only because of magic as it is simpler to put it that way. A magic system should be rational and engaging. The reader needs to be able to understand exactly how, when and why does magic work in your world. No, the answer should not be "because it's fantasy."

Set rules, limits and costs to the magic in your world

How do character gain magic abilities? Is magic accessible to everyone or is it elitist? Is it taught in specialised schools or is it something that resonates from within? Are wizards free to practice magic or is it banned? Or maybe are there only specific areas of magic that are prohibited? What is its source? Does magic come from higher beings or are spells more powerful the stronger the mage's will? Does magic need a catalyst (such as a talisman, a weapon etc.) to be casted? If not, do wizard recite spells? Do they need to trace specific symbols? Otherwise is it necessary to make specific hand gestures in order to release their powers? Does it exist only one system for all mages to use or are there multiple kinds? Last but not least, what are magic users in your world called? It's all up to you to decide. Ask questions and let each question lead you to another one. You need to know exactly how your magic system works and so does the reader.

What I love about crafting magic systems is the freedom to establish the boundaries and the natural laws that apply to your world, as magic is a huge part of the story if you're writing fantasy. Well, this could also lead to another question: is your world actually ruled by magic forces or do magic abilities have just a marginal role in the world building?

Remember that magic should not be used as an excuse to fill eventual plot holes in your story. Your magic system should function correctly and it should always stay true to itself. In other words, it must be believable.

And I can hear you thinking "but it‘s magic!"

Then guess what? You need to make the readers believe that magic is real!

First of all, set the rules, the limits and the costs that apply to your system. Having done that, you'll have finished most of the work that concerns the use of magic in your world. Most, not all. If you are a bit of a perfectionist like I am, consider the importance of developing your system furthermore by asking yourself questions, such as the one I have written above.

Rules: decide what makes your system work and what magic can be casted for.

Limits: decide what kind of tasks your magic system cannot perform.

Costs: decide from what kind of source is magic obtained from and, literally, what does it cost to mages to obtain their magic from this source (as Rumpelstiltskin of OUAT wisely says: "all magic comes with a price.")

The most excellent and well-rounded magic systems I have ever come across are the ones created by Brandon Sanderson in this "Mistborn" trilogy: allomancy, feruchemy and hemalurgy. All three magic system permit the magicians to use a wide range of abilities based on the metals they can "burn". Magic originates in the Shards and from Preservation and Ruin, two god-like beings. If you're already interested, I definitely recommend you to check Sanderson's novels out: they are a useful resource of inspiration.

I hope this post has somehow given you the inspiration to go and write right now. 
If you have questions about some of the points or requests for the next articles, don't be shy and send me a message! I will try to cover your topic as soon as possible and as best as I can (and I will also tag your profile, if you agree). 
Thank you all for your attention. Bisous^^