#... which is where I can slot in Venom to this. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jazlynriddle · 25 days ago

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Welcome to your life - Pt 3:

It's My Own Design Ch 10:

Summary:

Ominis fought to control his expression, to keep his hands from trembling. Five years. Five years since he'd seen his parents, and this. This was the reason they'd given him the honour of their time? This was the reason they'd sought him out at Hogwarts?

The bitterness welling up within him was thick enough to gag on.

New year, new allies, new responsibilities, new avenues of revenue, and new aspects of their own Ancient Magic to explore. As the Keeper and their partners enter their last year at Hogwarts, it remains to be seen if the new school year will bring with it new problems or adversaries, but they are confident in the strength of their relationship with Sebastian and Ominis. The three of them would endure, no matter what befell them.

And if they were wrong?

What a joke, they would suffer no alternative.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Spoilers for the Haunted Hogsmeade quest! And a lot of lore and some groundwork laying before the ball truly starts rolling next chapter!

I made up a bunch of lore for this chapter/series based on the snippets we got in the game, and some gameplay features. Integrating game mechanics into the narrative in a way that hopefully makes sense xD

And yay, after all this time, the devs finally gave us the PS5 exclusive! And it's amazing, I'm not going to lie, I'm a big horror nut so I trying to keep my hopes low and wasn't expecting this to even make me mildly unsettled, and while it didn't really scare me there was one moment that actually gave me a shiver and that's awesome, it's been ages since anything has given me a shiver, and it was insanely creative and so clever.

If you haven't played it, I highly recommend opening Hogwarts Legacy just to play the Haunted Hogsmeade quest before reading this chapter. It's well written, very witty script, well designed, the puzzles and boss fights were great- I wish they'd forced us to use Ancient Magic in the fight against Ranrok the way they do for this quest's final boss. All around, fantastic experience and I wish we'd gotten more of that calibre of gameplay throughout the game.

I'm actually really happy with how perfectly the quest fits into this time period, I was worried that I'd have to tweak something, but it just slots in like a dream. Fantastic! And the MC dialogue felt so Keeper lol, I'm actually really happy about that haha-

“Ominis?” The Keeper called out, cautiously pushing open the door to the secondary greenhouse, where they kept their more dangerous plants. One could never be too careful, some of the things they’d moved in here were more dangerous than a box of chomping cabbages, and those little green leaf-balls could be more chaotic than even Sebastian.

As they did so, an unexpected chime rang out and the Keeper startled, darting their gaze about for the source of the soft and melodic sound, which turned out to be a cluster of hollow metal pipes hanging from some string that was then attached to the door.

“Yes?” Ominis' voice, far more pleasant than the chime, came from the other side of a large Venomous Tentacula.

Leaving the door to close behind them, the Keeper examined the chime's mechanics for a moment, before striding over to where Ominis was tending to a Fire Seed Bush which, strangely enough, wasn't on fire.

“Did you hang that chime to the door?” The Keeper asked curiously.

“I did, aunt Noctua made me one for my bedroom door when I was five. It...” Ominis paused for a moment, before continuing. “Made it easier to sleep at night, not having to keep an ear out for someone opening my door, and I asked her to teach me how to craft one too.”

The Keeper wondered what their lover might have feared creeping into his room as a child. Monsters? His older siblings? Parents? The possibilities were potentially concerning.

“I see, I think it's rather clever.” The Keeper hummed thoughtfully. “We could probably do something similar in the main house, perhaps a touch more unobtrusive.”

As they spoke, the chime rang out once again, catching their attention. Leaning back to peek at the door, the Keeper spotted Sebastian entering the greenhouse, walking in backwards and holding the door open as he levitated a large crate inside.

“What have you got there, Sebastian?” The Keeper asked curiously as he followed the box inside.

“Dirt.” Sebastian proclaimed with a flourish, setting the crate down on the floor beside Ominis with a thud.

“That... sounds like a lot more than I asked for.” Ominis blinked.

“Well, I wasn't sure exactly how moist ‘a slice of bread left out on a foggy morning’ would be, in dirt terms.” Sebastian explained with a shrug, swishing his wand and opening the box to reveal six large pots. “So I just dug up a few different spots.”

The Keeper snorted in amusement, taking note of the dampness of his thin and summer-appropriate linen shirt as it clung to his frame. “Manually? Or by magic?”

Combing his fingers through his sweat damp bangs, Sebastian lifted his chin and flashed them a proud grin. “Manually, of course. We haven’t been in battle for ages and if I just rely on our practice spars to stay in shape, I won’t be able to keep up with you.”

“See? It’s not so hard to work out when you work it into your everyday routine. You wizardborn rely too much on magic and neglect your bodies to your own detriment.” With an approving nod and a fond chuckle, the Keeper swept an appreciative gaze up and down his body, pleased when he flushed happily under their attention. “Besides, there are other benefits to being fit, aside from dodging killing curses.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re working on your... health.” Ominis sighed and shook his head. “But I do hope you didn't leave a trail of holes all over our courtyard.”

“Of course not, I smoothed them out again after getting your variety pack.” Sebastian let out a huff at the blond's expression, seeming rather indignant that his partner thought him so inconsiderate. “So, what’d you need a ton of dirt for?”

“Oh, this little one here seems to be suffering from low nitrate levels. I think the soil we used from the previous grass lawn wasn't very nutritious.” Ominis explained as he stooped to run his fingers through the soil in each pot, inspecting the moisture levels of their contents no doubt. “I'm hoping the carpet of clover would have made the soil more suitable for growth.”

“I see.” Sebastian nodded, though his expression didn't quite match his words. Well, he wasn’t taking NEWT Herbology for a reason, their partner only cared about plants insofar as they were useful in potions or other practical use, and higher education Herbology was more focused on the detailed care of plants rather than identification or application.

“The plants are lucky to have such an attentive healer looking after them.” The Keeper smiled fondly at the blond, only for him to narrow his eyes and straighten.

“Hm, well, that's very kind of you to say. Though I notice that you have been complimenting me all morning.” Ominis’ dry tones were dripping with suspicion. “Which reminds me, shouldn’t you be going for your weekly lessons with Professor Rackham soon? Exactly what did you need from me?”

“Can I not simply wish to see the beautiful face of my lover?” The Keeper tried, with their best imitation of Sebastian's most charming smile, receiving a bark of laughter from the brunet beside them for their efforts and, unfortunately, an increase in the intensity of Ominis’ suspicion.

Clearing their throat, the Keeper conceded. “I – well – was wondering if we’ve got any Mandrakes in here.”

Folding his arms, Ominis raised an eyebrow. “Third aisle, beside the Mimbulus Mimbletonia.”

“Thanks, love.” The Keeper quipped, giving him a light peck on the cheek as they shuffled past him quickly.

Weaving through the rows of plants, they dodged a bite from a Fanged Geranium as they rounded the corner, easily spotting the aforementioned Mandrakes they were looking for, next to a large and putrid cactus.

“There we go.” The Keeper murmured, plucking the most pristine and unmarred leaf from the small Mandrake bush’s stem.

“And what do you plan on doing with that?” Ominis’ voice made their shoulders sag in resignation. While, granted, it was obvious what they were up to, perhaps it had been too much to hope that the boys would simply leave it be.

Sighing quietly, the Keeper turned to face him, seeing their partners standing between them and the door, both with folded arms, though markedly different expressions.

“Would you believe me if I said I was wondering how it tasted?” The corner of the Keeper’s mouth lifted in a lopsided smile.

The sheer incredulity on Ominis’ face was almost worth the amount of nagging that was sure to follow.

“Didn't you say you didn't want to become an Animagus?” Sebastian cocked an eyebrow, though his bemused grin never faltered.

“I... did, yes.” The Keeper sighed. “Look, if I do it openly, Natty will be on my case about registering for the rest of her life.”

“So you just planned to sit in on Natty's Saturday evening lessons under the guise of wandless coaching, and then follow along on your own a day late.” Ominis’ lips pressed into a disapproving line.

“If I'm lucky, I'll be something small enough to sneak about unnoticed.” The Keeper reasoned. “I'm not normally one for recon, but it could come in useful and I'm not about to make such an advantage publicly accessible information. Surely, you'd approve of my taking a more cautious approach?”

“They've got a point.” Sebastian grinned, bumping shoulders with Ominis and receiving a glare for his trouble.

“There are reasons people have to register with the Ministry.” Ominis shook his head.

“The only reason the Ministry makes Animagi register is so they can charge whichever bird Animagus they want when a pigeon happens to fly by before a big incident.” The Keeper rolled their eyes. “I'm not going to give them such an easy way to implicate me in crimes I didn't commit.”

“Fair, you'd rather it be for crimes you did commit, I'm sure.” Sebastian chuckled. “But that's only a concern if you can be caught.”

“Sebastian!” Ominis glared in his general direction.

The Keeper laughed lightly, how very Sebastian, to be inexplicably confident that he'd escape consequences. Hard to blame Ominis for being so high strung when he'd grown up with this one for a best friend and love interest. “Says the one who needed our help to get out of your last pickle.”

His expression immediately became chagrined. “Yikes, you just had to remind me.”

“Good. Because you need to be.” Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose with a tired shake of his head. “Ugh, can't believe I'll need a second collar and leash.”

A mischievous grin spread across Sebastian's face, as he sidled up against Ominis’ side with a suggestive purr. “Why, Ominis, I didn’t realise your appetites were that deviant.”

Wow, he really was fearless, the Keeper smiled fondly as Ominis bristled in pink cheeked indignation.

“Sebastian!”

Swirls of silver and white, bathed in a soft blue hue, spiralled through the air and danced across the Keeper's wand. The air within the Repository chamber of Dìon's second basement floor vibrated quietly with energy, sharp cracks, and pops echoed across the large hall, and throughout it all, they struggled to focus.

Wood, smooth and firm, planes of porous yet sturdy fibre. Straight sides and a kind of... rounded top? And holes for hinges on the sides and a doorknob. Twisty... patterns? Sort of elegant er-

The swirling stream of Ancient Magic, that had been in the process of transfiguring the large pile of logs at the Keeper's feet, rippled for a moment, before crackling loudly and snapping. The Keeper's eyes opened at the sound and were treated to the sight of half flattened logs collapsing, one of which, tumbled down the pile and rolled to a stop at their feet.

“Argh!” The Keeper released a muffled shout of frustration. It took every scrap of willpower in their bones to stop themselves from kicking or stomping on the warped log right in front of their ancient and conservative teacher.

“How strange, this method seemed to work well when I was instructing Isidora in Ancient Transfiguration.” The portrait of Professor Rackham hummed thoughtfully, and the Keeper fought the itch to throw a Confringo at the artwork.

Seeming to notice their restrained frustration, the portrait quickly followed in a placating tone. “Don't be discouraged, my young student, I can see your efforts. Perhaps, seeing as you have not made any improvement since our lesson last Sunday, we should try a different approach.”

“I'm all ears, Professor.” The Keeper smiled tightly.

Sure, it stung that they weren't getting it even after spending the little free time they had all week drawing bloody doors, touching the damn classroom doors in Hogwarts while getting weird looks from their classmates, and trying desperately to mentally visualise this shit, but hey, they would do whatever it took to learn how to use their powers.

This whole Ancient Transfiguration thing was insanely useful. While it required the materials necessary to craft the object manually and cost a truly exhausting amount of magic, being able to craft and ascribe customisable directives into objects, like the Ancient Guardians that were tasked with guarding the Trials? Worth it.

Especially since they could use Pain to boost their production output well above what Professor Rackham had achieved alone. Once they’d mastered the crafting skill, of course.

Not to mention, if they could even learn to manipulate the weather like Rackham had with Feldcroft, any defence of Dìon could be bolstered even further with nature’s elements. They could already call down lightning to strike a foe in combat, if they could conjure a hurricane or a tornado to annihilate their enemies, Dìon would truly be impervious to aerial attacks.

A dry voice, that sounded remarkably like Ominis, prodded them in the back of their head. Well, of course, such a skill could also be of agricultural use, but, look, priorities.

“How have you tapped into your Ancient Magic up to this point?” Rackham asked after a few minutes of thought.

“What do you mean?” The Keeper frowned in confusion. “It just... happens. When I need it.”

“Purely on instinct then, I was much the same when I first began to experiment with my abilities.” Rackham nodded with a small smile. “Perhaps the way we access and channel our Ancient Magic may differ. Tell me, how did your Ancient Magic first manifest without prompt, and under what circumstances?”

The Keeper hesitated, but ultimately decided to be honest. They'd have to broach the subject eventually. “In combat. My Ancient Magic consistently surfaces to help me... expedite my victory.”

Rackham, to his credit, didn't show much surprise at their answer. “I assume those... results were permanent.”

“Quite, they are extremely effective and I haven't seen anyone successfully counter or dodge my Ancient Magic spells. Though in all fairness, the latter could just be because I hardly ever see anyone actually dodge, far be it from wizards to do anything more strenuous than side-step.” The Keeper rolled their eyes, while Rackham flashed a bemused smile at their apparent pet peeve, adding after a moment’s thought. “Not that those spells had any actual incantations, I simply... did them.”

“Do you recall your thoughts or feelings, or perhaps, more specifically, desires, during those moments?” Rackham asked, clearly struggling to smother his distaste under a professional demeanour.

“...I suppose I was thinking of how to win, I wanted to kill my enemies.” The Keeper murmured, recalling the rage that would grip them whenever a goblin or Ashwinder managed to injure Sebastian or themselves.

Ancient Magic practically leaping from their fingertips to shred the insolent cretin to dust, turning their desire to shatter bones into reality. Their wand, nay, their magic becoming a powerful arm with which to beat their foes into submission.

I see.

“I think I understand.” The Keeper raised their wand and pointed it at the pile of partially transmuted wood, closing their eyes and focusing, not on the visual aspects of the door they wished to create, but the function of said door.

Their mind returned to their conversation with Ominis, and the reason Noctua had made him a wind chime. The desire to protect him, to keep him from ever feeling that fear again, the same fear they knew all too well, the overwhelming terror of being cornered.

A wall to guard against fire and water, against any and all threats. An impenetrable barrier to ward off all but speakers of parseltongue. A portal to safety and solitude for its lord, and its lord alone. A surface smooth and pleasant to the touch, free of splinters or edges- so tuck those pointy slivers of wood away, or so help me, I will shatter you on the fucking spot if you so much as draw a drop of blood from my Omi-

“Well done, well done! A fine piece of work!”

The sound of applause drew the Keeper from their focus and their eyes opened, to the sight of a simple and, honestly, rather plain and flat oak door standing before them. Well, at least the large cracks their previous attempts had borne were nowhere to be found.

They shot Rackham a sceptical glance, did he really think their ego so fragile that he must coddle them with praise?

Setting the thought aside, the Keeper's eyes scanned the door rather critically. It wasn't nearly pretty enough to be worthy of being the door to Ominis’ study, nor could they determine if they'd successfully imbued it with the functions they'd intended. Though, looking at the diminished pile of logs they'd set aside for the door, it seemed like the piece of furniture had consumed a fair bit more than a door this size would use.

Taking a step towards the flat slab hovering upright in the air, about half a meter off the ground, the Keeper placed their hand against the wood, pleased to discover that it was indeed smooth as silk to the touch. Next, they rapped their knuckles against its surface, and were satisfied to hear a solid thunk in response. Perhaps the density of the door was higher than normal, exactly as they'd intended, hopefully.

Raising their wand and moving a safe distance away, the Keeper figured the best way to test it out... was to test it out.

“Bombarda maxima!” Without hesitation, they jabbed their wand towards the door.

There was an explosion of light and smoke. Accompanied by a wave of heat that made the Keeper cough lightly as the dust from the blast dissipated, leaving a darkened patch on the door's surface but, to their delight, upon examination, the exploding charm didn't seem to have done much more. Huh, durable indeed.

“Perhaps a word of warning before you set things on fire, hm?” Rackham's voice was relatively pleasant, despite the uneasy smile on his face.

“Why?” The Keeper flashed him a lazy smirk. “Worried I'll destroy you, the way you did Isidora’s portrait?”

The professor stiffened at their words. “You've been to her home.”

“Yes, Sebastian lives in Feldcroft and we found the remains of her portrait.” The Keeper shrugged nonchalantly. “There is no reason for Ranrok or Victor Rookwood to destroy her portrait so deliberately, which only left you Keepers as the likely culprits.”

“We couldn't risk her sharing her knowledge with the inheritors of Ancient Magic.” Rackham sighed. “Though, our efforts were clearly for naught.”

“Indeed.” The Keeper gave a dark chuckle, leaning leisurely against their door as they rolled their wand between their fingers. “Her diary pages were enough to give me some idea of how extraction worked. Though they also made clear how she'd descended into madness. It's rather telling of her mental state, that she thought her writings wouldn't discourage others from following in her footsteps.”

Rackham's eyes widened in surprise.

“You didn't know?” The Keeper asked with a wry smile. “She was on the front lines of the Black Death. The sorrow she witnessed eroded her sanity until she gave in to the desire to shortcut emotional healing.”

The Keeper huffed in mild amusement. “She accidentally consumed the Pain from her first extraction and passed out. Not understanding what had even happened to her, believing that the smoky energy she’d extracted had ‘dissipated’ when it had more likely entered her body in search of a new host. After all, we now know that Pain energy cannot be destroyed.”

“It probably began there, with the misconception that the addictive Pain induced euphoria was moral righteousness.” The Keeper mused thoughtfully. “Addiction adding desire to her desperation.”

“Accidentally...” Rackham's eyes were now filled with a deep grief. “Then she never stood a chance. If I'd been there, I wonder if it would have made a difference.”

“Probably.” The Keeper shrugged. “Having Sebastian and Ominis by my side certainly helped me snap out of it when my addiction began to consume me. They gave me a reason to stop. To fight to control myself.”

“May I ask how you manage to resist it?” Rackham spoke tentatively as though he thought they might refuse to answer such a reasonable question. “I must confess that I am quite curious.”

“With difficulty.” The Keeper snorted sardonically, placing a hand on the satchel resting against their side and closing their eyes. “And by any means necessary. I won't pretend it is easy, or that I don't struggle with it even in this very moment. Even with a featherlight charm on this bag, the weight I bear has never been heavier.”

A moment passed before they opened their eyes and met Rackham's gaze with a determined countenance. “But my partners trusted me. Chose to trust me, and I refuse to let them down. To meet that trust with disregard.”

The look on Rackham's face was conflicted, seeming to have found some assurance in their declaration, yet tempered by an almost abashed slant to his shoulders as he placed his hands behind his back.

Disregarding his inner conflict, the Keeper returned their gaze to the door. “I desire the future I will share with them more than the momentary bliss that Pain provides, I will neither drown myself, nor my ambitions in its depths, no matter how alluring they may be.”

They shot Rackham a wry smirk. “I'm a greedy Slytherin after all. I will have everything, and I will give up nothing.”

The elderly man snorted lightly in amusement, his expression pensive for a few seconds, before returning his gaze to theirs with a small smile. “I see that you value your loved ones greatly, and that is a good thing. I only hope that doesn't become something that ultimately clouds your judgement.”

The Keeper cocked an eyebrow at him. Was he suggesting that their boyfriends could be a vulnerability? That their love made them weak? That seemed out of character for the kind and cautious man.

Seeing their confusion, Rackham quickly elaborated. “Isidora sought so desperately to cure her father of his pain, to ease his suffering and reclaim happiness, that eventually she lost sight of what happiness even meant. She forgot that happiness was not the absence of pain, but something that exists in defiance of pain.”

Well, that made much more sense, the Keeper nodded absently, thinking back to their experiments with Pain energy. As they did so, a realisation struck them, and they lifted a hand to their chin in contemplation.

“What is it, my young pupil?” Rackham asked curiously.

“My tests have shown that once pain is removed from a subject, it leaves a numbness behind, a lack of sensation.” The Keeper began pacing across the floor, thinking aloud as they did. “However, if the source of the pain is not addressed and healed, it continues to produce pain that will eventually fill the space once more.”

Rackham grimaced, but nodded slowly. “That certainly does make sense.”

“Which makes Isidora’s father less so.” The Keeper continued.

“What do you mean?” Rackham frowned.

“Well, her father's grief over losing his son is supposedly the reason he remained mute for decades.” The Keeper explained. “But that's a one-time injury, certainly a devastating one, but should it not have begun healing over time?”

“I have neither had, nor lost a child, so I wouldn't presume to say.” Rackham's tone was chiding, and the Keeper rolled their eyes at his thinly veiled admonishment.

“Yes yes, I don't have such experience either, but I'm thinking of how Isidora’s inexperience might have affected his recovery.” The Keeper shook their head, thinking of Anne and the way Solomon had ‘cared’ for her by destroying her hope for salvation. “Isidora was his only caregiver, perhaps her impatience for her father to recover may have worsened his condition. After all, what hurts more than someone you love telling you to get over it? It might even explain his reluctance to speak, for expressing his grief would only be met with frustration from her.”

“Or perhaps her presence alone, as his only surviving child, may have exacerbated the emotional wound, reminding him of what he had lost. Regardless of what she did.” Rackham countered, shaking his head in clear disapproval. “Regardless, I do not see it meaningful to lay blame on Isidora for consequences she did not intend.”

The Keeper huffed irritably. “It's not blame I wish to lay, it is understanding. There's a difference. Whether she intended to or otherwise, if we are to learn from it, we must understand it. That reluctance to discuss difficult topics is the reason we're in this mess to begin with.”

Rackham sighed. “I wonder which of us is supposed to be the teacher here.”

“If you actually started teaching instead of dodging, it'd probably be clearer.” The Keeper grumbled.

“If you were more respectful perhaps it'd be easier to teach you.” The elderly man's lips were pressed thin.

“Take it up with my parents.” The Keeper shot back. “I tried the whole respect and politeness thing with you Keepers for an entire year. It got me nowhere and cost me-”

The words caught in their throat and the Keeper turned away to take a breath, surprised to find it shaky.

If they had taken Sebastian's advice and pressed the elder Keepers instead of being afraid of failing to meet their expectations. Of escaping the muggle world only to die at Ranrok's hand if the handful of portraits abandoned them, would Fig have survived? It was a question they would never know the answer to. A question that would forever haunt them, the way his uncle haunted Sebastian even now.

Rackham's furrowed brow smoothened out as his student visibly swallowed around the lump in their throat.

He paused, reminded that despite all their pomp and pretension, they were still just a child struggling to make sense of the world in the only way they knew how. Perhaps it wasn't so strange that Isidora had sought a magical solution to a human problem, when that was all Hogwarts had taught her.

And indeed... all that he himself had taught her too.

“And what have you learnt from speculating about Isidora?” Rackham asked.

“You're the teacher, you tell me.” The Keeper rolled their eyes. “And if you don't know either, I'll keep speculating and gathering information till I have a takeaway that makes sense. That's the point of all this discussion.”

The portrait huffed in amusement, well, they say it's hard to fill a cup that is already full, but at least it looked like his student's cup had both room and desire to grow.

“In that case, I'd say the takeaway, for now, is that magic cannot solve everything. Caring for your loved ones is something you need patience and restraint for.” Rackham raised a finger. “Magic can protect the body, but the heart is another matter altogether.”

“Mm, I can agree with that.” The Keeper nodded absently. “Speaking of protection, I've been hoping you could help me understand chapter fourteen of your Ancient Magic tome.”

Rackham blinked at the sudden change of topic, but decided to allow it and spent a moment thinking before giving his reply. “Hm, Ley Lines, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes, I couldn't make heads or tails of it when going through the tome with Fig. So Sebastian and I studied some books from the library last year to get an understanding of the basics.” The Keeper nodded, folding their arms. “I got the importance of Ley Lines for magical fortresses, anchoring the warding spells into the innate magic of the land to make them stronger and last longer, but the tome gave me the impression that Ancient Magic enhances this somehow?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Rackham nodded. “Regular Ley Line bindings allow spells to draw power from the Earth's ambient magic. Ancient Magic, however, ties the building itself to the Earth’s soul, bringing it to life, and turning it into a part of the planet itself, like a mountain or lake.”

“A good example of a fortress bound to the Earth with Ancient Magic is Hogwarts itself.” Rackham smiled. “I'm not sure if you're familiar with the Room of Requirement?”

The Keeper's eyes widened. “I am, actually. I've been using it to get in extra schoolwork and as a bit of a workshop.”

“Excellent, then you know how it reads the mind of its occupant to fulfil their needs.” Rackham nodded. “Hogwarts is, to a degree, sentient. In some likeness to myself. Due to its size, its duty is most likely simply to protect inhabitants as much as possible. A simple task to be sure, but as you will learn, the simpler the assignment, the better they are followed.”

“Wait, if Hogwarts was bound with Ancient Magic, that means...” The Keeper breathed, their eyes gleaming with eager anticipation.

“Indeed, the founders of Hogwarts were bearers of Ancient Magic as well.” An entirely relatable pride was reflected in Rackham's eyes. “Much like how I drew on the magic of my friends to end the drought in Feldcroft, it is likely that the four founders of Hogwarts pooled their vast stores of Ancient Magic together to bring such a magnificent structure to life.”

“That's incredible. To think, we share the same power as such renowned legends.” The Keeper murmured, raising their wand and gazing into the strong bluish glow at its tip. “That's why Hogwarts, San Bakar's Tower, your home and the Trial grounds contained enchantments powerful enough to last centuries.”

“Correct, and the traces of Ancient Magic that you've been collecting endured as well because they were also tied to the Earth, and part of its stream of life.” Rackham added. “In collecting them, you have already experienced the sensation of tapping into the natural magic of our world.”

The Keeper frowned for a moment before gasping. “The storm of magic that would erupt when I followed and unlocked Ancient Magic traces?”

“Quite right you are.” Rackham smiled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Though, what you describe as a ‘storm’, was but the trickling spring of a wizardmade tree tap, one that I sculpted myself. The true torrents of Earth's natural magic are a raging whirlpool far more turbulent and chaotic than what you have glimpsed.”

The Keeper's jaw went slack. “You can't be serious, those ‘trickling springs’ were enough to bring me to my knees on my first attempt to connect with it.”

“Yet, as time passed and the more Traces you collected, the stronger your Ancient Magic and the firmer your stance became.” Rackham reassured. “Though, you will need much training and experience to be capable of resisting being caught in the whirlpool of nature's forces, lest you lose your sense of self in the cacophony of life itself.”

The Keeper frowned. “How long did it take you to become capable of sculpting in the Earth with Ancient Magic?”

“It is necessary to be well versed in many branches of wizarding magic in order to master Ancient Magic.” Rackham hummed thoughtfully. “I was close to a hundred years of age when I was forced to stand against Isidora. The rest of my life was spent making preparations for you and your journey.”

“By the time I was specifically training to craft the Trial Grounds, I was already quite proficient in my mastery of Ancient Magic, and it still took me several years.” Rackham gave the Keeper a sympathetic smile. “I'm afraid it'll take you quite a long time to develop the capability.”

“Even with your guidance?” The Keeper asked, uncertain if they were trying to convince him or themselves. “You had to figure this out alone. With you, surely I will have an easier time.”

Rackham shook his head. “It is not merely knowledge or skill that plays a part in this endeavour. Your Ancient Magic core is naturally larger and more responsive than most wizards, having spent a longer time developing before it emerges when you reach fifteen. But even then, it too takes time and age to grow and further increase in capacity. Without enough magic in your body, you will simply be overwhelmed by the Earth.”

The Keeper's eyes sharpened, along with their grin. “If that's the only concern, then you have nothing to worry about. That was pretty much the only part of the chapter that I grasped and when I consumed Pain energy to re-seal the Repository, I experienced a surge in magic capacity.”

At the Professor's surprised expression, they shrugged. “It's one of the main reasons I'm still using the Repository, even after I realised how addictive it was. I can't afford to wait years, Anne's life is on a clock, and my activities will necessitate that our home be safe.”

Rackham sighed. “That's quite the predicament indeed. I suppose in that respect, your circumstances differ greatly from Isidora's.”

“Took you long enough to trust me when I say that.” The Keeper grumbled, folding their arms. “But yes, I am driven by necessity and restricted by the constraints of reality, not by delusions of grandeur or some souped up Jesus complex.”

The Professor's confused frown made them pause and struggle to find a way to explain their analogy. “Er, you know, muggle religious deity figure, literally takes all the sin from mankind to save their souls. Isidora was kind of trying to do that, but with pai- nevermind.”

The Keeper cleared their throat. “Point is, I'm hoping to be able to perform the Ley Line Bindings as soon as possible. So, as great as it's been to learn how to make doors, if you think it'll take effort, I'd like to start sooner rather than later.”

“I understand your urgency, however there are some things that simply cannot be rushed. And one of them, is learning.” Rackham raised a finger. “While the Pain energy might allow you to perform the initial binding ritual earlier than otherwise, you will still need to learn how to control your Ancient Magic before you can even do that. For performing the ritual requires that you bind yourself to the Earth as well.”

“Not to mention, you will need to master nearly all other elements of regular and Ancient Magic before you can actually mould and manipulate the Earth's soul, not just connect with it.” The professor added with a wry smile. “Which means, mastering the art of Ancient Magic Transfiguration.”

The Keeper sighed as he gestured back at the door they'd crafted. Following his hints, they raised their wand towards the door once more. Well, slow and steady.

Taking a deep breath, they closed their eyes.

They would master this.

No matter what.

“That sounds like quite the adventure.” Ominis shook his head as he strolled leisurely alongside the Keeper, wand pulsing a soft red as the throuple made their way to the Slytherin common room after dinner. “I swear, you have the most bizarre experiences, you could fill a book or two with tales of a year alone.”

The Keeper shrugged, sure beat their life before. “Well, I won't deny that. Though, I'm just happy to have yet another means of making money and a third house elf, Penny is quite the sweetheart.”

“You should have been there, Ominis.” Sebastian chuckled from the other side of the Keeper. “Damn poltergeist actually taunted us with the dumbest thing, asking if it worried us that he could see us, but we couldn't see him!”

“Hilarious. Though, had I been there, I doubt he would have used that line.” Ominis flashed a sardonic smile. “I'm just glad you were there to go in with them, it sounds like that dungeon would have been quite scary to traverse alone.”

“I will admit, some of his games certainly gave me a start. Almost hit Sebastian with an Incendio when the mannequins appeared around us, after we dispelled our Lumos.” The Keeper patted Sebastian on the shoulder apologetically.

“It's quite alright, I had my share of jumps as well, but at least the puzzles were an enjoyable challenge. I actually wouldn’t mind playing with Fastidio again if he ever gets too whiny.” Sebastian admitted with an unconvincingly lackadaisical tone.

The Keeper shot him an amused glance, well, at least they could rest easy knowing that the two could tortur- entertain each other if they ever got too restless.

“Though I must say that Mason was a fool to outright attack Officer Singer when we confronted her. No surer way of confirming her guilt.” Sebastian gave a disparaging shake of his head. “It's a good thing Singer trusts you too.”

“I'd like to think I've proven myself to the officer over the last two years.” The Keeper smirked dryly. “I'm just glad that Mason is getting punished for swindling dozens of people in this manner. Not to mention, for the emotional abuse a kind soul like Penny suffered under that callous woman's thumb, being forced into the role of accomplice and set as bait alongside the shop.”

“Aspiration.” With a small laugh, the Keeper stepped through the door to the Slytherin common room. “In all honesty, it was the elf that I’d wanted, more so than the shop. A thousand and five hundred galleons for an elf and a small building next to Hogwarts? That was too good to pass up, regardless of how suspicious it’d been.”

“Indeed, Penny will have a better life in our care.” Ominis smiled softly. “I suppose we will introduce her to Tynx and Tibsy over the weekend.”

“Yes, she can familiarise herself with our wares before the official opening next week.” The Keeper nodded.

“Have you decided on a name?” Sebastian asked from behind them as the three made their way down the stairs in a row.

“Well, we'll be selling potions we make from our greenhouse and the clothing I've found or received as payment for errands.” The Keeper shook their head, it had bewildered them at the start, that the surplus of unsightly heirloom garments, given to them by people who couldn’t afford to pay in cash, traded for galleons well and consistently. A luxury of those wealthy enough to have developed unusual tastes or collectors of old and storied cloth, they imagined.

“So, something along those lines.” Sebastian hummed thoughtfully. “Stitches and Draughts?”

“We could go with something like Gladrag's.” Ominis suggested. “Perhaps Cladwell and Brewster?”

“I was thinking of something with a bit of alliteration, something like Vesters and Venum?” The Keeper mused, turning to face the boys as they reached the foot of the stairs and sidestepping to avoid smashing those damn pots again.

“Surely we’re not specialising in selling poisons, especially not when the shop is right outside Hogwarts.” Ominis raised an eyebrow, leading the way towards one of the open couches littered about the common room.

“But we could.” Sebastian grinned.

“Well, we shouldn't.” Ominis’ lips pressed into a familiar thin line and Sebastian heaved a forlorn sigh as he flopped down, draping himself across a long couch.

“Now, Ominis, if we market ourselves as selling standard potions, there won't be any reason for customers to patronise our establishment over the long-standing Pippins. Same goes for clothing and Gladrag’s.” The Keeper reasoned, taking a seat across from Sebastian and patting the spot beside them. “Not to mention, I doubt either of those shops will be too pleased at us encroaching on their businesses.”

“Again, is it not a bit dangerous to sell poisons right on Hogwarts’ doorstep?” Ominis reiterated, stopping beside the couch, but remained standing and folded his arms.

“No less so than Dogweed and Deathcap selling Venomous Tentaculas.” The Keeper shrugged. “If the authorities have no issues with such a store near Hogwarts, I don't see any reason they'd protest ours. And we can claim our poisons as effective defence against pests and dangerous creatures if need be.”

The Keeper flashed a cynical smile. “I assure you, if students wanted to poison someone, Hogwarts itself has more than enough means to procure or craft some. I’m sure you recall the Draught of Living Death incident last year.”

Hearing the Keeper pat the space next to them more insistently, Ominis relented, taking the offered seat with a sigh. “Fair enough, I suppose you do have a point. How then will we distinguish our clothing from Gladrag's?”

Across from them, Sebastian's face lit up at his agreement and the Keeper struggled to stifle their amusement at the brunet's expression, clearing their throat as they gathered their words.

“I've been performing additional enhancements to my clothing using beast materials for some time. We can market our apparel as protective wear, rather than fashion oriented as Gladrag does.” The Keeper answered easily. “While there's likely to be less demand, particularly amongst the student population, if our reputation rises high enough, people will come from elsewhere to make purchases.”

“Sounds like you've got a plan already.” Sebastian chuckled. “I wonder why I'm surprised.”

The Keeper shrugged. “I learnt early on that there's a market for everything. Trading was a matter of success or starvation. I had to discern what others might desire from me to sustain myself, and there is nothing more foolhardy in trade, than selling something commonly acquirable.”

“Were that you weren't considered a commodity yourself.” Ominis murmured bitterly.

Bumping shoulders with him, the Keeper chuckled softly. “Hey, kept me alive long enough to meet you two, I'm content with my lot.”

“High praise indeed, to be worth all that.” Sebastian huffed with a wry smile.

The Keeper was about to reply, when they felt the tell-tale sensation of eyes upon them. Casting their gaze about surreptitiously, they quickly spotted a girl approaching them. She looked a tad familiar, but not enough to recognise, which meant she was likely one of the younger Slytherin students.

“Um, Ominis?” The girl stopped a step away from the couch, twirling a strand of her long auburn hair in her fingers as she spoke.

“Yes, Jolene?” Ominis lifted his head curiously.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you'd mind taking a look at my Mimbulus Mimble- er... Mimbleto... to-” The girl, apparently named Jolene, stumbled on the name for a moment, before Ominis took pity on her.

“Mimbletonia.” He supplied helpfully with a small smile.

“Yes, that.” Jolene's emerald green eyes slid away with some embarrassment for a moment, before clearing her throat and continuing. “I think it's not doing very well and I'm not sure what to do.”

Ominis hesitated for a moment, and she quickly added. “And Professor Garlick is doing an assessment on Monday. Please, I really need your help!”

With a quiet exhale, Ominis tilted his head towards the Keeper, and they placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Go ahead, Ominis, you needn’t worry about us.”

A smile formed on Ominis’ lips as he stood, giving them a nod before turning his attention back to the girl. “Very well, I'll see what I can do.”

“Oh, thank you!” Jolene beamed, clapping her hands together in an exuberant display of gratitude. Giving the Keeper a good look at her long and colourfully polished fingernails, along with the three bejewelled rings adorning said fingers, before leading him in the direction of the staircase.

Well, with hands like that, of course the damn plant is dying. The Keeper rolled their eyes as the two disappeared up the stairs, girl looked like she wouldn't touch dirt without two layers of gloves and a spade.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Sebastian commented, seeming rather thrown by the sudden disappearance of their partner. “I guess we have some time to kill before he gets back.”

“Indeed...” The Keeper hummed thoughtfully, before perking up. “Oh, that reminds me. I was wondering if you would teach me chess?”

“Oh, that's right. I can't believe you don't know how to play.” Sebastian shook his head as he stood, leading the way over to a nearby chess table. “It's a good job I was there in Fastidio’s dungeon, elsewise you might have fallen through the floor to certain doom.”

“Look, we didn't have chess boards or pieces in the orphanage, or on the streets.” The Keeper shrugged as they sat across from him. “The best we had were cups and dice or poker cards.”

“Poker?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow quizzically while the chess pieces arranged themselves.

“A gambling card game where the most powerful card in your deck is an unreadable visage.” The Keeper smirked. “Also known as a ‘poker face’ for that reason.”

“I bet you were good at that game.” Sebastian's voice was so dry, you could probably use it for sandpaper.

The Keeper chuckled. “I'll teach it to you in exchange for chess.”

“Deal.” Sebastian grinned and gestured towards the board. “So, this row here is filled with pawns, and these pieces can move forward, but can only attack diagonally...”

“For Merlin's sake, you're running for your bloody life! Why is the most vital piece in the entire roster so useless? You spend the entire game babysitting that turtle.” The Keeper sighed, glaring at the small pile of rubble that was their King. “And who decided to make Knights move in such a bizarre manner? Horses jump in a straight line ya moron.”

Sebastian laughed as the board pieces magically restored and rearranged themselves for a fresh game. “You'll get used to it, it's not so bad once you’ve memorised what the pieces do. And in all honesty, that was a pretty impressive first round. You lasted long enough for more than half the common room to retire. I'm rather jealous of your learning curve.”

The Keeper lifted their head from where it'd fallen back against the backrest, humming thoughtfully and tracing a finger over the rim of their Castle piece. “I have been thinking about that actually. I know Rackham was renowned in his time for being extraordinarily gifted, as were the Hogwarts Founders and Isidora. And I wonder perhaps, if we Ancient Magic bearers simply have a higher propensity for learning.”

“It's possible, Rackham said something about a more responsive magical core, right? And it would explain the sheer ridiculousness of your existence. You might literally be a different species.” Sebastian smirked, before pausing in thought for a moment. “Huh, would that make Ominis and I creature-lovers?”

“Aw, you'd love me even if I were a magical creature?” The Keeper simpered playfully, relaxing their guard a tad since there wasn't anyone within earshot.

“Course, fuck the Ministry and their bullshit laws.” Sebastian grinned.

“How sweet.” The Keeper chuckled, meaning it quite sincerely. They'd spent most of their life feeling different from everyone around them, and despite their expectations to the contrary, that hadn't changed when they'd entered the wizarding world. So, it was indeed quite wonderful to know that Sebastian would love them even if they weren't human.

“Besides, humans are all different anyway, not even our skin colour is consistent. It'd be weirder to define being human as a specific set of abilities or rate of learning, I think it's enough that we're built similarly.” Sebastian shrugged.

“Fair enough.” The Keeper nodded, perhaps it wasn't too surprising that Sebastian wouldn't think being born with an additional unique magical ability or accelerated learning would make them inhuman. After all, he'd grown up with Ominis, who was both a parselmouth and blind.

“Oh, there he is.” Sebastian perked up and the Keeper turned around to see said blond walking towards them, wand outstretched as always.

“Sorry that took a while.” Ominis smiled sheepishly as he stopped beside their table and Sebastian flicked his wand, calling over an armchair for Ominis to sit in.

“No worries, love.” The Keeper shook their head. “Sebastian just spent the last hour trouncing me at chess.”

“Did he?” Ominis’ eyebrows lifted with some surprise.

“Once.” Sebastian snorted. “So, was Smith's Mimbulus Mimbletonia dead?”

Ominis flashed a wry smile. “Not quite, it was rather close, however. It seems as though the pungent cactus was dehydrated, and then she proceeded to drown it.”

“I'm surprised that you're friends with a younger student.” The Keeper snorted in amusement, before asking. “What year is she in?”

“She’s not that much younger, just in fifth-year, though I'm not sure I'd call her a friend.” Ominis’ expression was thoughtful. “She asks me for help with schoolwork every now and again, but that's the extent of our interactions. She seems rather shy, and I think she's a tad intimidated by my family name.”

“How did that even start?” The Keeper prodded curiously. While Ominis was certainly the type who'd help others if asked, it was rare that someone who didn't repulse him would even approach him to begin with. Not to mention, shy and intimidated weren't quite the impression she'd given them.

“I stumbled across her in third-year, having a cry in front of the entrance to the Undercroft.” Ominis explained. “I couldn't exactly go in with her there, and if Sebastian or Anne came out at the wrong moment, it would have revealed the secret passageway. So, I asked what was bothering her.”

His expression softened with sympathy at the memory. “She'd had a fight with her parents, they wanted her to be more like her six older sisters and were disappointed at her lack of ambition. Her family is rather wealthy, with her father being an official in the ministry and her mother working in Saint Mungo's, and her sisters are all equally successful.”

Ominis flashed a wistful smile. “I felt her something of a kindred spirit. So, I shared a little of my own struggles with my family's disapproval and it seemed to give her some comfort, to not be alone. I thought perhaps we might become friends after that, but I think the difference in our stations made her nervous. After she realised that I was a Gaunt, she remained somewhat distant.”

The Keeper raised an eyebrow. “Even though she's also wealthy?”

“Unfortunately, the pureblood aristocracy requires more than wealth to be a part of or even engage with. First, they must be pureblood, which means there cannot be any muggles, muggleborn or squibs within two generations. Her grandmother was apparently a muggle-born, thus making Jolene and her sisters halfbloods rather than pure. Second, they have to have blood from one of the old noble family lines.” Ominis explained.

A bitter grimace then crossed his face. “I have considered it possible that her parents forbade her from interacting with me overmuch, for fear of her misstepping and drawing the ire of my parents, thus inviting political retribution.”

“Well, that sounds incredibly complicated and stupid.” The Keeper commented bluntly.

Ominis chuckled. “Honestly, you and yours are refreshingly uncommon, to be so forward and cavalier with a member of the pureblood aristocracy. I imagine it’s because Natty only recently moved here, so she is unfamiliar with the nuances of our customs. Where Poppy is already quite the odd one out, and Amit champions Goblin rights, which is already a precarious political position, but he doesn't mind because he's only interested in Astronomy. And the Weasleys may have a long-standing rivalry with the Malfoy house, but are known for disregarding pureblood culture as a whole.”

Ominis’ smile was soft with gratitude. “It's quite impressive that you managed to draw in all the people who wouldn't mind engaging with me, and I'm glad you encouraged me to befriend them.”

The Keeper shrugged. “I did nothing, it's not your fault half the wizarding world seems to be lacking any sense.”

“And what am I? Burnt toast?” Sebastian cocked an eyebrow, his petulant tone drawing a laugh from the other two.

“Yes yes, Sebastian, I am endlessly grateful to you too.” Ominis gave a small, amused huff, and paused for a moment, his cheeks turning a light pink. “For being by my side since first-year.”

“Good.” Sebastian gave a firm nod. “And that isn't going to change, come what may. Unlike a kid who can under-water a cactus, I don't give a rat's arse what your parents might do.”

The Keeper snorted. “That ‘kid’ is only two years our younger, love.”

“Speaking of kids, remember Dumbledore?” Ominis interjected, and the Keeper got the feeling that he was trying not to think of the potential friend he might have had earlier, when he was lonely, if his family hadn't scared her off. He might be happy now, but it probably still hurt.

Sebastian blinked at the sudden change in topic, but went along without resistance, perhaps realising his mistake. “Redhead kid? Yeah, I remember him.”

“Apparently, he's being lauded as the newest prodigy to hit Hogwarts, and one to rival the Salamander themselves, no less.” Ominis’ voice had become light and his expression carefree, and the Keeper was bemused at how much their blond boyfriend liked gossip.

Perhaps it was easier for him to forget about his own problems and live a normal Hogwarts student life vicariously through his schoolmates. Which they were perfectly content to encourage, especially when the gossip he always somehow managed to hear, provided them with information that they wouldn't have otherwise. Not to mention, the extent to which he seemingly enjoyed having someone to spill tea to.

“Really? It's barely been a month since term started.” Sebastian's eyebrows rose, and he shot the Keeper a proud grin. “Took this one less than a week to gain attention for their magical talent.”

“I think there's a tad more excitement around Dumbledore’s genius because the boy is only in his first year.” Ominis suggested with a thoughtful hum.

“Yeah, but fifth-year was their first year too.” Sebastian pointed out almost defensively, and the Keeper wondered if he was experiencing second-hand competitiveness.

“But they were fifteen and Dumbledore's eleven.” Ominis reasoned, clearly equally amused that Sebastian was taking this personally.

“I think it's good.” The Keeper interrupted before Sebastian could further argue the point. It wasn't like Ominis was the one who had this opinion, he was merely the messenger. “Anything that takes attention off of me is-”

The words caught in the Keeper's throat as a chill slithered down their spine. Though foreign and new, the sensation was one whose meaning they understood within seconds, and a brief flash of fear crawled across their skin, before quickly burning into rage.

The quizzical expressions on both boys' faces quickly warped into ones of equal alarm when the Keeper took a breath and explained.

“The territory wards have detected intruders on our land.”

Their eyes hardened.

“And a lot of them.”

Notes:

Sorry for the cliffhanger, but whoo! We're finally done with the groundwork laying and the rollercoaster ride can truly start.

I've always liked the idea that Hogwarts is alive. I mean, in The Chamber Of Secrets, the whole basilisk's gaze being blocked by water reflections on the floor, ghosts and cameras thing. That's way too many coincidences that resulted in no deaths. Moaning Myrtle aside, I mean, even God couldn't save that girl when she was right in the Chamber's doorway.

Page 3/7 of Isidora’s diary reads; “I recall feeling a sense of euphoria as I watched the pain vanish. But then everything started to turn. When I fell, I must have hit my head. I neither feel nor see a mark, but the pain is throbbing. I can only hope it is not the Black Death.”

Hopefully, my interpretation of this page makes sense, the throbbing pain sounds like a hangover lol xP And I've said it before and I'll say it again. Hogwarts should really add a compulsory ethics class to the NEWT years.

Also, yes, the stream of life maaaay be somewhat inspired by Final Fantasy's Lifestream, but you can't blame me for thinking of the Lifestream when that epic animation upon interacting with Ancient Magic spots has a literal splash of water amidst swirling gusts of wind.

It looks so damn cool by the way, God I love the animations in this game. They were great in the Haunted Hogsmeade quest too, and you can tell that the doorways are really moving when they move, rather than a still animation, because you can step through doors before the wall turning animation is complete.

While the game definitely lacks proper optimisation in its coding, it's not difficult to see why the game requires such a powerful system to run. I really liked the screen flip during the fight with Fastidio’s box boss too, that was brilliant. It still amazes me how much love and craft went into the making of this game.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #gender neutral mc #mc x sebastian sallow #mc x ominis gaunt #sebastian x ominis #sebastian x ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #fanfic #jazlr welcome to your life #jazlr #lgbtqia #nonbinary

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gement · 2 years ago

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I broke down and started an actual character build... which immediately turned into three and was actually a mental RP of a live character roll-up session with my usual group, which I think had some useful advice on how to guide that and also was a HELL of a lot of fun. tl;dr I have accidentally generated a villain trio who are ready to assassinate God with extreme prejudice.

And eat Him, obviously.

(Apologies, I did not come up with formal names.)

Cellophane

Ethos 4, Pathos 5, Logos 6

Undercooked, Roving Members, Polycephalous [* pick]

Art of Emulation

Cellophane is kind of poorly-drawn, sparsely-haired, and Moomin-like. Xir formal name probably includes "The whole is more than the sum of its parts" even though Aristotle didn't actually write that as the others keep telling xem. Xir pushmi-pullyu paws-wandering-off bullshit is fucking terrifying.

Smiles

Ethos 5, Pathos 3, Logos 7

Vile Venom (Necrotic), Striking Mien (Trustworthy), Wicked Weapon (Teeth)

Art of Conveyance [* pick]

You would think that a snake as thick as a human arm, with enormous teeth dripping black venom and capable of chewing concrete, who just casually blipped out of nowhere to coil comfortably just behind your ankle, would freak you out. You'd think that. He seems so nice, though. It's probably the cravat.

[Someone has already inquired how the cravat holds its shape. It is tucked into his little suit jacket. Obviously. No, the jacket does not have arms, but in a masterwork of tailoring, it does have a tasteful hint of a suggestion of shoulders.]

Mem'ry

Ethos 4, Pathos 7, Logos 4 [* reroll]

Amphibious, Copious Fluids (Slippery), Chameleonic [* swap]

Art of Multiplicity

Mem'ry's dreams of Broadway stardom were dashed just because she's a 50cm high octopus from a deicidal cult. Her ability to multiply into arbitrarily long coordinated chorus lines, flashing threat displays and twirling her legs in unison while kicking ass, is pretty impressive as long as she doesn't freak out and start inking everything. (Do not remind her.)

[Octopus doesn't mean Mem'ry can use Dexterous or Hundred-Handed or those other things, she just looks fancy. Until the day we get bored and switch some out.]

Build Experience Notes

[*] not rolled or not first roll

I found the idea of actually picking a character completely overwhelming for a game this silly when I didn't have a plan to play it and constraints spur creativity, so I picked up my dice... but I knew "take the first thing you roll" would also just piss me off. So I pretended there were three of us, which was basically what you recommended anyway, and this is what happened:

Basically, we used the dice in conjunction with the Roger Rabbit rule to say "We will find a way to obey the dice as often as we can make it funny."

Third person rerolled Facets because we looked at the three and said we had too similar a set of stats. We also would have swapped around or manually adjusted immediately if someone strongly preferred playing "the [whatever] one" because stats are a PITA and less of a creative thing.

We rolled one trait at a time, and every time there was a duplicate, the person who already had the trait had the option to keep it or cross it off and let the new roller have it. (I know we could also decide to duplicate them, but meh. More interesting to spread out the powers.) This allowed a lot of flexibility and horse-trading while still giving the dice significant control of what came into play. That "keep or pass" mechanic was great.

We marked ? for all those 6X blanks on the table, but mostly chose to reroll them because making up new ones sounded like work. One on the last round of Traits seemed like a good chance to allow a swap and manual pick where the character concepts were really coming together. Keeping a couple of those 6X slots free if you don't think of really great things to do with them would both prompt "invent your own trait" and leave space for other wildcard mechanics that players like me come up with.

I did sensible little "only if it was funny" tweaks like crossing out the 3 Mien options that didn't make sense for Smiles, but still actually rolled between the other 3 and DANG, I was not expecting to end up with the 1/3 chance of the absurd Trustworthy option. This character is ridiculous. Thanks, dice!

Other thoughts

I saw you talking about another set of traits and that frankly just sounds like more to keep track of. Let's be horrible little animals and go eat God already.

With my schedule being The Way That It Is lately, I don't know when I'll be able to pull together a complete and playable version of Eat God, so I'm hoping this will sustain interest until that time comes. This document contains the complete character creation rules, more or less, incorporating reader feedback from the previous thread.

For those who've expressed interest in giving the character creation rules a spin, well, here you go!

For those just joining us (and anyone who's been following this blog all along but has somehow managed to miss every single previous post), Eat God is a tabletop roleplaying game where you play as a bunch of small muppety critters who are – as the title suggests – on a mission to kill and eat God. Its inspirations include... well, I'm going to let y'all work that out for yourselves.

As always, comments, criticisms, and bizarre rants welcome, though I can't promise I'll be able to respond in any timely fashion.

#eat god #tabletop rpgs #game design #beta testing

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benk625-blog · 3 years ago

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Roughing it

"I bet terrans ain't so tuff without alla that fancy tech they got!" Yazz grumbled before tilting the filthy stein of beer down his gullet.

"Shows what you know" Snork snorted derisively.

"Bah" Yazz waved "Under that power armor they're helpless." Shouts from the crowd and various handfuls of bar snacks are hurled at him. "Alright, some of them are scrappy. I'll give you that, but they all complain about the slightest inconvenience, right?" Various grunt and nods prompt him to continue. "Can you imagine what those crumbly little pastries would do without matter converters, scanners or teleporters? Curl up a die, that what!" Hearty laughs and cheers greet this point.

"You forget they are deathwolders." Snork sneered.

"We're all deathworlders in this pit ain't we boys?" More cheers. "Where's their hide? Their tusks? Their venom glands? In place of natural advantages they gots all in those clever machines of theirs. And, fair is fair, they have kicked all our collective asses out of civilized space. But if we were dropped in a no tech world with any of us they'd be the first to go."

"Codswallop." Snork snarled. "I’ve seen otherwise first hand. And, fair is fair, I thought much the same way you did in that situation. You sees, I was part of a mixed race mercenary company. Our tranpo got shot down and we made an unscheduled landing in the middle of a forest. Crashed, you might say.

“Half the boys were minced meat in the tin when all was said and done. Ol’ sarge survived out of a sheer need to keep reminding us what a bunch of sorry sacks of slime we all were. He starts barking about disaster kits and all the Terrys start grabbing backpacks and duffle bags.

“‘Snork!’ Snapped the sarge. ‘Where’s your gear?’ ‘Ain’t got none’ I sez ‘Fine. You get the dead men’s weight.’ So I ask my squad mate what the hell dead men’s weight is. The boys look at me and start going through this pile of belongings whose owners were now part of the great scrum in the stars. They tied together a couple of bags and slung them on my shoulders.

“I can’t make snouts or stingers of the stuff we’re all carrying. No high tech to speak of. The most advanced thing in the lot was a bunch of short wave radio transmitters they called tally-wallys or somefink like that. One thing in abundance was multipurpose hunks of metal.

“Fellas, if you fink their high tech is tops, you should see what their low tech does. The same piece of metal has a cutting edge, sawing edge, prying tip, knuckle duster grip, screw head studs and wrenching slots.

“In a matter of hours they stripped the wreckage. They cobbled together an emergency beacon from bits of broken machinery and bits from the items in their packs. Hull plates became improvised shelters called skinny 2s. The next priority was of course, fire. Terry’s love fire. I can kind of see why now.

“Over the fire they criss-crossed metal struts from the ship. A big pot of water was placed on the grull and the humans started pulling out various paper pouches. After a bit of argument they decided which bags would be opened and put the others away. The contents of the selected bags were dumped into the simmering water and the bags were tossed to the flames.

“In less than an hour I was eating my first stew. Some of the humans had separated themselves from the rest and had tied strips of cloth over their eyes. Squadmates told me this was done to prepare for night watch duty. Others spent their time gathering all the packs into a net and hoisted the whole lot so that it hung suspended over a tree branch to protect it from local fauna.

“After falling asleep to ‘campfire songs’ I was woken up to a chilly pre-dawn glow. Night watch had scared away a pack of nasty-wasties. Two of them pursued the hunters deep into the unfamiliar forest. This led them to a stream of running water 3 kilos away. I had been assigned to join the foraging group.

“We made our way slowly to the water. Each forager carried several metal pots in both mitts. A few of the Terrys had compact books called field guides. Inside were extensive survey notes on edible flora on the moon’s surface. We gathered nuts, fruits and roots on our way to the water. First meal was by the water’s bank and consisted of a variety of food bars stored in the endless array of pockets human clothing has.

“We filled the empty pots with water. I was about to take a deep slurp kneeling in the mud. Sheila boxed my ear and advised me not to drink from the flowing water until it was properly treated. I followed this advice as only a fool would ignore a human’s warning. Using their hand tools, some small trees were fashioned into limbless trunks that were slung across shoulders. Big lunks like me got several water pots hanging from our sticks. The small fry mostly carried the food pots, but they did their best to be fair about who got whats.

“The return trip took almost as long as the first leg as we were being careful not to spill the water. When we got back to camp, the Terry’s were obsessed with treating the water. I’d say a quarter of their gear was focused on cleaning water. Some had rolls of finely meshed fabric to filter out large particles, this was then filtered a second time through fabric the humans swore could capture microscopic impurities. Then it was boiled and had sanitizing tables dropped into it as it cooled. Some humans even had flavoring packets for the water as they did not like the taste of the sanitizer.

“And so the days passed, foraging for food, gathering water, doing watch shifts and trying to amuse each other with story and song. After a particularly unpleasant day the Terrys played a strange game. They started telling stories about trips even worse than their current predicament. Each tale topped the previous in misfortune.

“Loads of these stories referred to times in their childhood. Raising their runts from seed to soldier involves regular periods of survival in deathworld biomes. They call it camping. Eventually the story contest became more and more unbelievable and the Terrys started calling bullshit on obvious lies.

“Shelia, one of the smaller female Terrys, spoke up and a hush fell over the campfire. Her expertise on roughing it was deferred to even by the Sarge. She starts pointing to a line of numbers on her arm: 20, 40, 60, 80, 120, 180 and 365! The numbers indicated commercial survival contests called “Naked and Afraid”. These humans survive deathworld locations with one piece of equipment and no garments to protect them from the elements.

“Yazz, me mate. Lots of humans would be easy pickens without their tech. But you don’t want to meet Sheila like that. Like as not, your hide would become her tent and she’d carve your tusks into tools.

#humans are space orcs #humans are aliens #humans are space oddities #humans are confusing #humans are deathworlders #humans are silly

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aquaaquila · 1 year ago

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Hey, we can have more than one Black Cat (if we can have more than one Spiderman), especially since Gina already was a Catwoman on Halloween and she did start more as a morally grey character at the beginning of the series anyway. Or we could make her Spinneret since that's MJ as Spider-Woman basically(though not Michelle Jones which would be closer to Gina unlike Mary Jane). Though we could make Ashlyn a Spinneret instead along with being a reporter (this would happen very late though, like super late, and she would still be a reporter and not as recurring as a superheroine)

But Ghost Spider works too, after all, Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy ALSO deserve to have happily ever after, considering how Gwen Stacy is only used to further develop Peter through her death, which is just so seasons 1-2 Gina being only there to further Ricky instead of being his actual love interest unlike in season 3-4, and normally Gwen and Pete don't get to be together so it's about time we could change pace a bit. (Don't mind me providing 4 different ideas at once, I'm just spitballing as this brain rot also was taking over me for a long time and I love exploring possibilities and Spiderverse in general)

But yeah, it's settled that Kourtney must be a Black Cat as I really have a hard time figuring her out as something else. E.J. as Harry Osborn also works excellently, along with his dad. I also agree with Mr. Mazzara(though let's be real, we they all would be grieving him), however what about Ricky's uncle Ben? Is he going to lose his mom? His dad? At least one of them has to go one way or another.

I figured Nini could be like the family-friendly original Gwen Stacy not to be confused with Spider-Gwen where she doesn't actually die but just moves away and it's still a canon event, and perhaps she becomes Spider-Girl in California. Or we kill her and make her a vampire (a reference to Olivia's new song(I mean, it's not no longer that new but still) Also Gwen has a storyline of having clones after her death that were evil and would've ruined her character if she was actually Gwen).

For Carlos, we could use Cooper Coen, known also as Web-Weaver who is an openly gay Spiderman. He also used to have a boyfriend who is the male version of Silk known as Albert Moon Junior who could be Seb (insert Spiderman pointing meme with Maddox and Seb as both being Silks in this like what).

Are we including Big Red, Mack, Dani, Val, Dewey, Howie, Lily, Jack, Antoine, Natalie, Emmy, and Alex in this? I mean, we have slots for Venom symbiote and other Spider-people variants.

maddox is so spiderman coded

OH MY GOD UR SO RIGHT ??? i saw people on twitter coming up with a madlyn spiderman au where maddox is spiderman and if no one does it i think i’m gonna have to bc LOOK

peter parker is TREMBLING rn

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sheetsonfire · 2 years ago

Text

In Pursuit

Fandom: Chicago PD / Chicago Med

Pairing: Will Halstead x Reader, Jay Halstead x Platonic!Reader

Genre: Drama, angst, romance

Warnings: violence, near overdose, drugs, swearing, gun mentions, injuries, sickness

Word Count: 3323

Requested By Anon: I saw that you weren’t really taking requests but I have an idea for a will halstead x reader. Where shes Jay’s partner at pd and she gets hurt on a case, she goes to med and will’s worried, which leads to them both confessing each other’s feelings.

“Carl Larkin! Stop! Chicago PD!" You let your legs carry you, another day another case, another afternoon spent sprinting the streets of Chicago with your partner Jay. You knew he had split off from you a few streets back, a move to help you cut the guy off, as you remained on the pursuit ahead.

Like many of the people you caught on drug-related cases, Carl had been selling a way too potent and dangerous product for the streets. Illegal drugs were one issue, but illicit drugs made incorrectly or made irresponsibly were the true headaches of your work. Of course, Larkin wasn’t the "big fish" he was simply the courier for the supplier he was working under, his value lay in the potential to lead Intelligence to said supplier.

It was somewhere around your second block of the pursuit that Larkin had attempted to slow you down with cursory, wayward, shots in your direction. As civilians screamed and ducked for cover, you instructed them to either move to the side or stay back, you hated drawing innocent people into the chaos. This motion forced you to draw your weapon, ready to retaliate if required. Your boots pounded the pavement, ducking in and out of cars, dumpsters, and general junk that often was left at the back of neighbourhoods, the neighbourhood you’d tracked Larkin into.

You turned a corner, kicking up grit and dirt as you go, you key your radio, “Jay! What’s your location?”

“Heading West, I’ll meet you at the intersection coming around!” He radios back, and you feel the confidence in Carl’s capture increase, knowing you were about to force him to converge right into Jay’s path.

“Carl, stop! You just need to talk!” You holler, gaining speed on him as his limbs flailed trying to run faster on his exhausted fumes, a futile attempt to shake you off.

“Fuck off, bitch! That gun’s not made for talkin’” His voice cracks, but it’s still delivered with venom. It couldn't have been a surprise to him that you would have your weapon drawn. You knew people like Carl, and you knew better than to not take precautions. Unsurprisingly, he fit the bill of a lot of the people you dealt with in the drug world, scrawny, weasely, and a pain in the ass.

You watch in confusion as Larkin slows right down on the sidewalk, rarely did the command for someone to stop result in the actual compliance you were after. But then you realise what’s happening, and you find it within yourself to run a little faster to get to the vehicle Carl is now slotting himself into.

"Larkin!” You bark, holstering your weapon as you manage to get your body in front of the door before he can close it. You tussle with him as you hear Jay arriving behind you, calling out for assistance on his radio.

“5021 George, requesting backup, suspect attempting to flee via automobile, my partner is engaged in a physical altercation, registration Papa Bravo 2 -”

Jay finishes the registration recall, moving forward to help you get Carl back out of the car, before he can even pry open the passenger door he hears a resounding slam of the driver’s door not closing but hitting you instead. There’s a sickening crunch, the hiss of a spray, followed by your string of howling expletives.

Your partner runs back to your side, catching the sight of Carl shoving you away from the vehicle as you fall to the ground, the engine starts and Jay can only yell “Hey!” as he protectively crouches beside you, gun aimed at Larkin as he attempts to pull away, still not knowing if Carl would discharge his weapon or not.

It’s the sound of screeching tires that has Jay keying his radio once again, advising dispatch of the progress of your incident, requesting an ambo be sent to your current location. All of this in a matter of seconds as he turns to your hunched, pained, form.

Jay’s voice is calm, assessing you as you cough and groan, whimpering each time your arm is jarred with your involuntary spasms. Jay sits on the ground with you, securing your weapon and his in his holsters, supporting your weight as he tries to check you for any other injuries. “Y/N, talk to me, what hurts?”

“My- arm… Jay, fuck! He sprayed something i-in my face…” It takes all of your composure to get the words out, this is what you’d been chasing Carl for. N-bomb, a hallucinogen similar to LSD, and it’d been causing havoc on the drug scene. You could feel the fear kicking in, whatever he had sprayed at you was starting to present itself. Well aware that the trip would feed off your agony and stress, it would be a limited time before you really started to react, and you’d need an ambulance quick.

You let out a sob as your arm hangs limply, swelling rapidly by the second, it’s at a sickeningly odd angle and Jay feels his own stomach turn. Larkin had cleanly broken your arm by slamming it in the car door.

“Okay, it’s alright. The ambulance is coming, Y/N. So you just let me help you, alright? Let’s sit you up properly.”

Jay manoeuvers you between his legs, letting you rest against his chest, making sure you’re upright and secure. You’re grateful your partner is with you, you and Jay had become a great team and he was always someone you could rely on to have your back. In this instance quite literally.

“J-Jay… I don’t feel good.” You mutter, your vision was starting to blur, you could feel sweat forming at the back of your neck, and your heart was racing with the pain and the adrenaline of the drug inside you. You could hear a loud whooshing sound, accompanied by nausea that stabbed through your stomach. Suddenly fear struck you, the sense of impending doom came from nowhere as the sounds around you started to feel slow, the faces of passers-by distorting into grotesque creatures as they gathered to observe the scene. You were hallucinating already, that wasn't good.

Jay eyes you worriedly, he could feel you trembling, despite the heat that had been created from running he could tell the temperature radiating off of you was something else entirely. Small whimpers of pain and fear escape you. He finds himself squeezing your good hand reassuringly, whether for you or for himself he wasn’t sure. He knew the very real possibility of you having a fatal overdose of the drug. “I know, Y/N, just hold on, the ambulance is coming, I can hear them.”

Amongst the cacophony of worried murmurs and offers of help, you can hear Jay telling the public to stay back and keep the area clear for the ambo. The last thing you remember before passing out is the beginnings of a seizure and Jay’s pleas for you to stay awake amid your slurred attempts to ask for one person... Will.

The ride in the ambo is frantic, the paramedic working on you is securing your broken arm whilst attempting to alleviate the symptoms of your reaction to the drug. Jay sits out of the way on the phone to Voight, explaining what happened as he anxiously bounces his foot, looking at your fevered complexion beneath the oxygen mask, how quickly you had deteriorated scared him. Your seizure hadn’t lasted very long, but it made it all the more dangerous for you in the midst of coming through this experience.

Jay has never felt more relieved to pull up outside of the ambulance entrance at Chicago Med, though he himself had a severe aversion to hospitals, he knew everyone inside would do their best for you. He didn’t feel much like losing another partner, especially not one with whom he had bonded so well. It doesn’t take more than a moment for you to be unloaded and wheeled into the ED, rushing forward is Ethan with Monique in tow, and the paramedics reel off the information about your exposure to the N-Bomb as well as the severity of your broken arm.

In the wake of the bustle, Jay marches through the ED behind your gurney, seeking out that hard-to-miss head of red curls that belonged to Will.

“Will!” Your partner hollers, jogging over to his brother.

“Hey, what’s-” Will doesn’t have to ask though, watching you roll by tells him enough and he feels his stomach drop. “Y/N? Jay, what the hell happened?” He asks, expression more urgent now as he follows Ethan, only able to observe from outside the already cramped trauma bay.

“She, uh, we were chasing a suspect, they managed to dose her with a bad batch of LSD, she didn’t react well. He slammed her arm in a car door too, it looks bad, man.” Jay exhales harshly, shaking his head in anger. Already calculating what he would have done differently, how he hoped to god some units would pick up Larkin and have him pay the price for what he'd done to you.

He starts pacing slightly with his hands tucked into his tac vest, an unconscious self-soothing behaviour - he was really worried about how long it took to get you to the hospital for the overdose. In Jay's movements, he looks to his brother, he knew how Will felt about you and vice versa, he had been trying to push you both in the right direction for a few months now.

Will’s filled with anxiousness, he knows he shouldn’t interfere with your treatment, Ethan had it handled and if he was being fully honest with himself he probably wasn’t the most emotionally sound person to help you right now.

He can only keep watch over you as they examine you, checking your pupils, your blood pressure again, your respiratory rate…all of it, hearing the turns of phrase that let Will know you’re having to fight hard. There’s a call to push drugs to counteract your high blood pressure, fever and susceptibility to another seizure. They keep supplying your oxygen as they take a look at your arm, Will watches as the technician x-rays the damage.

Jay stands beside him, reaching out to put a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Hours pass and the drugs have a few more hours to go before they’re meant to wear off, not yet fully phased out of your system. You’ve been put under light sedation and you’re hooked up to any medicine or machine that can keep the overdose from taking a more lethal hold. Your arm has been splinted for the time being, with regular icing to keep the swelling down. You had surgery scheduled for as soon as you were stable enough.

Will, though not your doctor, keeps vigil, Jay had told him about your request for him right before passing out. He had encouraged Jay to get cleaned up, check in with Intelligence and get something to eat, he could tell his brother was rattled by the whole affair too.

The redhead sits by your side, watching your vital signs carefully, face pensive in the stillness of the room, only the machines to fill the silence. After a while Will can’t stand it, normally your kind eyes are looking at him with that glint that makes him hopeful for something more, you’re usually cracking a joke or taking an interest in one of his cases, more often than not there would be an invite for dinner with the other people or drinks at Molly’s. The pair of you had been quite shy to ask for anything more, like a real date.

Looking at you now, like a lot of near-death experiences can do, Will feels more encouraged than ever to not waste any more time dancing around you. He cared about you way too much to let this friendship stall at just friendship, it had always been pretty obvious the both of you were smitten. Jay had told him repeatedly that you felt the same way and Will knew he had to act on it.

He leans forward to kiss your forehead, stroking away your damp hair from the fever still simmering beneath your skin. “I’m here, Y/N. You keep fighting like hell like you always do, I’m not going anywhere and you’re gonna wake up feeling so much better. I promise.”

Will’s brow stays furrowed in worry, scooting closer to keep hold of your hand not in a cast.

The first thing you’re aware of is the weight in your limbs, your chest, your head… It felt like the world’s worst hangover but multiplied by an absurd amount. You feel stiff, your mouth impossibly dry and you felt compelled to let out a low, disgruntled, whine - hoping that would somehow gain the attention of someone to help make the discomfort leave.

You’re yet to open your eyes, you could feel the brightness of the lights in your surroundings, and your eyelids felt sore and still hot to touch. Licking your lips only cracks your dried lips, stinging your mouth unpleasantly.

“Whatthefuck.” You mumble, trying to take a breath and gather your emotions. Shifting your body slightly you realise one of your arms is immobile, your fingers stiff from the pressure surrounding it. Then, the memories start to flitter back into your stream of consciousness.

The chase, the fight, the attack on you from Larkin’s spray, the searing pain of the heavy metal car door crushing your arm. Jesus Christ, not the best day. You fidget, letting out a cross between a growl and a sigh.

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re coming out of a pretty heavy trip, it’s alright, just take it easy, Y/N.”

The voice is soft, soothing, and familiar. The familiarity and the ‘sweetheart’ release light flutters in your stomach. You hum now, feeling somewhat vulnerable as you blink your eyes open, confirming the comforting voice matches the face you think it does. Sure enough, it’s Will’s warm eyes that meet your tired ones. You smile dopily.

“Will…” You breathe, nose wrinkling. His face changes from pleased to concerned.

“What’s wrong, what hurts, we can increase the painki-”

“My head itches and my mouth is like sand.” You pout, cutting off his spiral into worry.

There’s confusion and then a smile, he leans forward in the chair to carefully scratch at the top of your scalp, following your directions as he finds the irritating spot. You sigh in relief.

“Better?” Will lets out a snort of amusement, passing you a cup of water next.

“Much.” You hum, relishing the feel of cool liquid travelling down your throat. You're closing your eyes for a moment, they really didn’t like the light.

“Too bright in here?” He asks,

“Mmh, yeah sorry. Everything’s heavy and fuzzy, I feel like I got hit by a truck… even though it was a car door and a spritz.” Your face darkens, anger flashing across it as you start to recognise how easily you could have met death as a result of the overdose.

Will sighs, jaw clenched, he felt that same anger too. The thought that somebody could so carelessly put your life on the line made him wish he had Jay’s profession and the capacity to convict. He leans up to turn the lights down on the dimmer, slotting his tall frame back into the chair.

“How’s that?” He queries, gentle fingers caressing along your arm, it sends contrasting sensations to the discomfort you were in. Gentle, warm, goosebumps prickle along your skin, and you meet his eyes once more.

“Perfect.” You sigh. Feeling the pressure dissipate somewhat from your face. Feeling less agitated by the movement, you wriggle your weak fingers to clasp with Will’s, squeezing softly.

There’s a beat of silence. And then you both try to speak at the same time, laughing awkwardly as you stop, waiting to see who would go first. Will gestures to you, head tilting slightly in a soft expression of fondness.

You swallow, gratefully sipping at the second sip of water the redhead offers. Taking a brief moment before you take the leap to confess. “So, Will… At the scene, I…I uh, asked Jay to get you for me, right before lights out. When my arm was killing me and my body was freaking out, all I wanted was you with me. As much as I love your brother like a brother, I needed you. Which is to say…I’m so glad you’re with me right now, and I’d really like it if you were always with me.”

Your heart is hammering, it catches Will’s attention on the monitor and you both chuckle, he reaches to silence the monitor and to spare your cheeks from getting any redder.

He gets as close to the bed as he can, holding your hand carefully in his, thumb stroking along your wrist in soothing circles.

“Jay told me what you said…and then he, uh, he told me to “Stop messing around and tell her already.”... So, here we go… I want to be with you always too, and I would really like for us to stop being shy teenagers and finally do this thing for real.”

You are thoroughly exhausted, and all too aware of how badly this could have gone today, so Will’s words hit you that much deeper. Knowing how long you’ve wanted to hear this and to finally hear it brings tears to your eyes. You feel safe around Will, you want to cherish him as much as he seemingly cherishes you.

“It’s settled then.” You sniff, and Will gets worried.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, brushing the tears from your cheeks.

“No, you goof, I’m just happy.” You laugh through your crying, nestling your head on Will’s shoulder as he wraps his arm around you as good as he can, palm rubbing up and down your back in a slow, soothing, motion. You press a kiss to his shoulder, leaning back a little to look at him. He’s smiling still, and you reciprocate, licking your lips as his eyes glance at them.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs, and you nod, “Absolutely”, you match his tone, feeling somewhat sneaky even though you weren’t doing anything wrong, or anything people didn’t already have bets on. Glancing at the doorway before leaning in, using your good hand to gently sink your fingers into his hair, bringing him close as your lips meet.

You both groan into the kiss, pressing a little more with need. You feel his hand on your waist, the rush makes you dizzy enough to need to pull back.

“Sorry I-” You cut him off, placing a hand over his mouth, breathing a little heavier.

“No apologies, Will. I’m just still a little wobbly is all.” You smile sleepily, falling against his chest as you drop your hand from his mouth, he cradles you to him, stroking your neck softly.

“You need to sleep, I can kiss you senseless when you’re not full of pain meds and recovering from an LSD nightmare.”

You giggle quietly, catching your breath, "Sounds good, it's a date."

You knew Will had the capacity to fuss, as you had seen Jay be on the receiving end of it countless times, much to your amusement. However, it was totally different when you were the target.

You didn't know if it was because Will changed his tact when it came to you or because you were too medicated to find it irritating, but you found yourself totally enthralled by the doctor-ly yet doting way Will made sure you were okay.

In the pursuit of criminals, you were at the top of your game, there wasn't much left that you could be taught. But in the pursuit of Will Halstead, there was still much to discover, and you were only just getting started.

Fin.

A/N: I hope this wasn't too corny!

#will halstead x reader #one chicago #chicago pd #chicago med

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lyrabythelake · 2 years ago

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I’m back! This time with @fwoosheye’s prompt: “Lorian rabbits are venomous and therefore considered dangerous monsters. None of the Links knows this.”

The rabbit was a deep, dark indigo colour with two bright eyes staring innocently up at Wind, Twilight, Ravio and Legend as they continued their trek through the plains of Lorule. It was sweet really, albeit certainly less skittish than the usual grey rabbits of Twilight’s own era. He didn’t blame Wind for reaching a hand out to touch it.

“Wind!” Wind startled and drew his hand back with whip-like speed at Ravio’s sharp exclamation. The merchant looked positively aghast.

“I know you heroes have this reputation of having a death wish, but seriously?”

Wind scrunched his nose up in confusion.

“Huh?”

“I’m not one to lecture, but you should really be more careful.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, an action he had certainly picked up from Time although he would never admit to it.

“Legend,” he asked the hero who is currently pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a bad headache coming on, “care to explain? I think we might be missing something.”

“Stay away from the rabbit,” he said tiredly. “Just… stay away.”

Now it was Ravio’s turn to look confused.

“Don’t you have rabbits where you’re from?”

“We do,” said Wind, “but they’re not that–”

“--common” Legend interrupted hastily, his hand dropping from his face. “They’re not that common in most of the other eras. Still vicious, though. Very poisonous and deadly, just like the ones in Lorule. And Hyrule. Obviously, because you’ve seen the ones in Hyrule and they’re the same as they are here.”

Twilight narrowed his eyes. Legend was rambling. Rambling! He never did that. He was also pretty certain rabbits in Hyrule were in no way vicious or poisonous. Ravio, however, seemed to take the explanation without hesitation.

“I see. Well, just make sure to be careful around them, okay? As Mister Link says, they’re very vicious.”

Wind and Twilight shared a look.

“Is that why you dress like one, then?” Wind asked, and Ravio nodded proudly, the ears on his hood bobbing up and down.

“You want to know something cool? Rabbits are Link’s and my soul animal.”

“Rav,” Legend warned, and oh, some things were beginning to slot into place.

“What’s a soul animal?” Wind asked innocently.

“Oh, well, it’s like how Mister Twilight can turn into a wolf! A soul animal is a creature that most reflects who you are inside and it often takes form with some transformation magic.”

“Wait…” Wind was clever, much too clever not to figure out Legend’s little secret, and frankly hilarious as it was, Twilight respected the fact he didn’t want anyone to know about it. “So if Legend used Twi’s shadow crystal–”

“Rabbits are vicious!” Legend suddenly cried, rendering any ideas Twilight had of saving his dignity null. “They’re deadly, poisonous beasts and I am not ashamed to be associated with them!” He sounded a little deranged.

Wind sniggered, because of course they were not poisonous, vicious beasts, no matter how much Legend wanted to pretend in front of Ravio. Yes, they might be deadly in the topsy-turvey land that is Lorule, but they literally saw a rabbit in Legend’s Hyrule two days ago and it was clearly docile and harmless (not to mention pastille pink).

“Too right, Link!” Ravio said enthusiastically. “You shouldn’t be ashamed, not one bit!

Twilight had a sudden image of Ravio cowering in the face of one of Hyrule’s pink bunnys and had to really try to keep the smile off his face.

“So, just out of interest, Ledge,” Wind continued, “is your soul animal a Lorian rabbit or a Hylian one?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Legend snapped, which was just a good an answer as any. Legend did have a tendency to dig himself into holes.

“I mean…” Wind began through snorts of laughter, “it kind of does. They’re a bit different if you catch my drift.”

“His form is actually a Hylian rabbit,” Ravio stated cheerfully. “You can tell because of it’s colouring.”

Legend was showcasing that colouring now; his face bright pink.

“Oh, Hylia,” Wind whispered, barely smothering his laughter.

“I hate you,” Legend growled. A lie, and they all knew it, but that didn’t stop him from storming off. Ravio followed, of course, leaving Wind and Twilight alone to burst into laughter.

“So wait–” Wind gasped, “let me get this straight. Ravio is under the impression that Legend can turn into a ferocious beast when in fact, the animal that most reflects his soul is a pink bunny rabbit?!”

“You can’t tell the others,” Twilight warned him with a grin.

“Oh, I know, but I so wish I could. Warriors would have a field day.”

#lyra writes #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu twilight #lu wind #lu legend #ravio #hope you don't mind that I didn't go angsty for this!#was in the mood to write something more lighthearted

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m-jelly · 3 years ago

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Good little changes 2 - Little feet

@kenkopanda-art is incredible <3 perfect banner

Pairing: Mafia!Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: Romance, fluff, dad Levi, cute, love, happy Levi, married couple.

Concept: More changes are happening to Mafia Levi, this time he's a dad! The team are a little confused about how to feel when they are faced with their boss carrying his little baby on his chest. Levi's tone is softer, but his words are venom. The scouts are confused and need momma bear's help.

You hurried around the apartment as Levi bounced his son on his lap. "Damn it, where did I put it?"

Levi looked over at you. "What are you looking for, bunny?"

You sighed. "I can find it."

He smiled at you. "Baby brain?"

You ruffled your hair. "Yeah. I forget where I put stuff." You gasped when you saw your phone. "Got it!" You flicked through the calander and hummed. "I knew it! I have an appointment with the doctor today. Could you look after Evan?"

Levi gripped his chunky six month baby. "Sure, but I'm needed in meetings today."

You leaned over and kissed Levi. "I really appreciate it."

He looked down at his son. "He's dressed as a bear today."

You grabbed your bag and slipped your shoes on. "He loves how soft it is. I'll see you in about an hour or two. I gotta go there, have my appointment and grab a few things while out." You smiled at both your boys gazing at you like they were being abandoned. You hurried over and kissed them both. "I love you both. Be good!"

Levi looked down at his son. "Guess it's just you and me for a while little one."

Evan smiled. "Eh."

"You're right, we have work to do."

Levi lay his son down and grabbed the carrier. He strapped it onto his front and slotted his son into the pouch. He fixed his son's little legs and strapped him in place, so Evan was facing outwards and his back was to his daddy's chest. Levi have Evan his toy he fiddled with a lot and went on his way.

He walked into his office and grabbed his papers. He sat down and made sure to place his hand on his son's belly as he worked. He hummed a little song to his son and kissed the top of his head to keep him happy and busy.

Connie knocked on Levi's office door and slipped inside. He stopped in his tracks as he stared at Evan. "Uh."

Levi glared at Connie. "What?"

He gulped hard. "There's been an issue with the task you gave me."

Levi tiled his head. "Like what?"

Connie felt a cold shiver go through him as Levi and Evan stared at him, and Evan was a carbon copy of his dad. "I made a bad deal. We lost some money cause they conned me a little with this cool thing, so now we're out of pocket."

Levi stoof up slowly and walked over to Connie. As Levi spoke, he used a happy positive tone so his son wouldn't be scared. "Listen Connie. You fudged it up, so you should work your magic and make it work!" He grabbed Connie's shirt. "Tell me, what delightful thing did you fall for?"

Connie shrank under Levi's grip. "I took less money because they offered me tickets to see a singer I love, but they weren't real tickets and the singer has been dead for ten years and I never knew that."

Levi's eye twitched. "You what?"

"I'm sorry!"

Levi bent Connie backwards and kept his voice happy and positive for his son. "Listen, lad. If you don't get that money and some compensation for the doo doo you pulled, then daddy won't be very happy and when daddy isn't happy, little bear here gets sad. When my little bear gets sad, daddy gets really REALLY angry. It's been a while since I've helped the toothfairy out, but I'm happy to lend her a delightful hand. We have an understanding?"

Connie whimpered and nodded. "Y-Yes!"

Levi stood Connie up. "Great!" He caught Evan's toy just as he lauched it, which only terrified Connie more at how fast Levi was. "Get to work."

Connie ran out of the room and went to work right away to get the money back. When he returned to the base he saw that other people were just on edge. "Sasha?"

She jumped and looked at her friend. "Oh, hey."

Connie frowned. "What's going on?"

"Everyone is so confused. Boss is using a happy tone and kid-friendly words, so everyone is confused. We don't know if he's happy or angry."

Levi walked past making everyone flinch. He stopped a moment and looked over at his team. "Connie?"

Connie shot up to his feet. "It's all done! Money back and extra."

"Good! I'm very happy you've done that."

Connie relaxed. "Great."

Levi hummed and turned away to see Eren. "Eren! I would like a little chat."

Eren froze up. "S-Sir!" He turned just as Evan's toy smacked him in the face. "AH!"

Levi looked down at his son. "You've got a strong arm on you."

Eren picked the toy up and handed it over to Evan. "You dropped this. How can I help, boss?"

Levi fixed his son's bear hood. "I was just coming to tell you that the deal you did recently was a good one. Well done."

"Thank you?"

"Sorry, my son threw his toy at you." He waved. "See you in a bit."

Eren watched Levi walk off. "I'm so confused."

Connie stood up. "We have to go see Mrs Ackerman!" He tapped on his phone and called you. "Mrs Ackerman!"

You trotted along and got closer to the base. "Hello Connie, what can I do for you?"

"We're all terrified."

You frowned. "What? Why?"

"Mr Ackerman is talking so nice and positive, even when he's angry! We're all confused!"

You laughed. "He's probably doing that because of Evan. I'm almost there, so he'll be back to normal boss soon."

Connie lowered his voice. "I think your husband and son are plotting to murder me."

You paused in front of the building. "Huh."

"Your son isn't a murderer, right?"

You smirked a little. "Well, he is just like his daddy."

"Oh no..."

"I'll see you in a second." You ended the call and went inside the base. You hummed a song as you went up in the lift before making your way to your husband's office to see him talking with Erwin. "Hey!"

Erwin smiled. "Hi, I was just having a word with your husband. His positive attitude because of your baby is confusing people. I'm finding it funny, but we can't have everyone terrified all the time."

You unstrapped Evan from Levi. "So, me telling Connie Evan is just like his daddy when he asked me if Evan is a murderer is bad?"

Erwin stared at you as you held your son against you. He let out a long sigh. "That's really funny, but you gotta give that kid a break."

You giggled as you bounced with Evan. "Promise."

"I was talking to Evan and Levi. You are fine."

You gasped. "Evan got his first telling off! He's just like his daddy." You smiled as your son giggled. "You are so cute!" You handed him to Erwin. "Hold your nephew while I kiss my hubby."

Erwin smiled and melted as he held your little boy. "Happy to."

You wrapped your arms around Levi. "Hello grumpy."

Levi purred at you. "Bunny. I missed you."

You kissed him and hummed. "Missed you too. Doctor said I'm healthy and good. She also said to stop calling her and booking me in because I have a tiny bit of pain or look a little sick."

Levi pouted. "I just worry about you."

"I know."

"I love you, bunny."

You giggled and hugged him. "Love you too." You leaned around and whispered in his ear. "I'm gonna fuck you senseless tonight."

Levi grunted. "Bunny."

You pulled back and opened your arms to Erwin. "Baby bear." You took Evan and cuddled him. "I bet you were a great boss today, huh?" He covered his face in kisses making him squeal with laughter. "My good little boy."

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #fanfic #snk levi #levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #aot x you #levi x you #captain levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi fluff #mafia Levi #dad levi #dad!levi #jelly fanfics

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taciiturns · 9 months ago

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this is exactly why nikolai steers clear of others - most especially mikaela - in the days surrounding the full moon. each word is another jab at the open wound of a headache raging inside his skull and though he started it ( this being a childish proclamation more fitting of schoolyards and playgrounds but true enough, at the heart of it ), he doesn't have it in him to keep it going. his patience wears thin where it has only just started to form and with a sidelong look filled with mostly uncharacteristic venom, niko steps around her and starts to walk away.

he intends to ignore her, really. process started. set in motion with one foot in front of the other and an initial refusal to answer the question she levels at his back, the riddle that she doesn't know is a riddle to him for him to deal with without a glass of something stronger than coffee in hand and a few hours of mindless, blissful silence behind him. it's what she says after that, which gives him pause. so this is why she arrived so frazzled and frenetic ; this is the piece of the morning's puzzle he was missing, laid bare with mikaela's trademark simplicity. "i came here after the game. he told me to." he stops in his tracks and turns, slowly, to look at her. really look at her, this time. not just the lack of togetherness so unlike her, but the frantic energy that fuels her. he understands something of the breach of trust she's feeling, right now. he felt it, too - back at the derby and immediately after when two plus two didn't come to four and there was nobody around to listen. he doesn't much care about all of that, isn't the person to come to, now, if she's in need of comfort, but there IS something that nikolai cares about. eyes dark, he works his jaw, and when he asks, "what did he do?" it sounds a lot closer to an unspoken threat than a question.

there is no way to fix this, is there? there is no undoing what has been done once the puzzle pieces slowly start to slot together. there was the mikaela that existed hours ago and the mikaela that exists now, splintered by the realization of being put in harms way to move a narrative by the very person she gives and gives and gives to with no benefit. when is it her turn ? when is it over ? is no thing - or no person sacred ? how strange it is to have been made to feel so small and yet at the same time every wave of emotion feels far too big for your body to handle. she releases her hands from the shaky fists they've balled themselves into for what feels like the millionth time, briefly exposing where her nails have left cuts along her palms to run fingers through her hair. hot tears threaten to fall upon blotchy cheeks - a far cry from the put together person she prides herself in being.

she can see it in the way her brother stiffens. in the way his eyes, lifeless moments ago suddenly have something behind them. he's connecting some of the dots that kaela is so horribly articulating. "fenrir greyback is dead. he killed him," she chokes out, and that hangs in the air for a few moments. "he was right there." kaela's hand flies in front of her as though to gesture some vague sort of distance that separated the two. "i - i had a kid in my arms and someone stupefied arturo and i was stuck there. i couldn't - i wouldn't leave." the picture she paints is not great, at best, but she's clear with what she says next. "then of course he saves the day. clearly . . . clearly i was exactly where he needed me to be. he had to know it would happen - he told me so right then."

#( c : mikaela x niko )#i m having fun

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starks-hero · 4 years ago

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What He Doesn't Know Won't Hurt Him

Pairing: Loki x Stark!Reader

Summary: You and Loki had been doing a fairly decent job at keeping your relationship a secret from the other members of the team, specifically your father. But what happens when word finally gets out?

Word Count: 4,480

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, angst

a/n: This gif, that is all

You had your music playing at full volume as you worked your way around the lab, your latest suit laid out on the table. It was almost finished and you were more than impressed with how it had turned out.

Grabbing one of the many tools strewn out on the tabletop, you got to work assuring each circuit was in place.

It was fair to say that whilst you were in one of your zones, you could easily get lost in your work. Which was probably the reasons you hadn't noticed Loki make his way into the lab.

You jumped slightly when two slender arms wrapped around your middle. “Loki,” you scolded, not taking your eyes away from your work. “I'm busy.”

He chuckled. “I can see that, dove,” he purred. “But I'm bored.”

“You're welcome to stay here as long as you stay out of my way,” you offered, smirking when Loki rose his hands innocently.

“You won't even know I'm here.”

You managed to steal five minutes of peace. And then Loki's ability to sit still and not cause trouble seemed to reach its end. He started simply, standing ridiculously close, running his hand along your side. Your frustrated sigh and visible struggle to focus on your suit only egged him on. He re-positioned himself behind you, hands resting on your hips and lips finding your neck.

When one of his hands began to trace down your stomach and towards the waistband of your jeans you drew the line.

“Loki, stop.” you chided urgently. “Not here.”

“Why not?” he asked, nipping at the exposed skin of your neck. “It's as good a place as any.”

“Someone could see,” you pressed on.

Loki’s kissing ceased but he didn't remove his arms from around you. If anything he held you tighter.

“And would that be such a bad thing?” he asked after a beat of silence. You sighed and turned in his arms, now facing the god. His eyes said it all, he wasn't hurt, but he was tired of keeping up this charade.

He hated having to wait till you were both alone to show his affection, having to settle for stolen kisses and subtle glances all in an attempt to keep your relationship a secret from the rest of the team. Loki was growing sick of it. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, mark you, to show everyone you belonged to him. He hated having to hide his feelings as if they weren’t acceptable.

“Loki, we've talked about this. If the team finds out, especially my dad, it'll cause nothing but trouble.” You frowned at Loki's defeated expression. “I want to tell them, I do. I love you and I want everyone to know that. But only when the time is right.”

Loki nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. Slender fingers wrapping around your wrist and he placed a kiss to your hand. “As you wish, darling.”

Loki turned to leave but you gently grasped hold of his sleeve and tugged him back. “Where do you think you're going?”

Loki tilted his head. “You said-”

“I said I wasn't ready to tell them,” you clarified. “I never said anything about you leaving.”

A devilish smirked spread across Loki's lips as he stepped back towards you, hands grasping your waist. “Why of course, my dear.” He pushed you against the cool steel of the table. “How may I be of service to you?”

You pulled him into a hungry kiss and he practically moaned into your mouth. Grasping hold of your thighs, he hoisted you up onto the table and slotted himself snugly between your legs. Truth be told, this wasn't what you had in mind. You were serious when you said the lab wasn't a good place to start something but Loki was just too irresistible. His kisses trailed from your jaw down your neck and you couldn't help the whimper that left your lips as he sucked on the sweet spot just above your collar bone.

Your hand tangled in his raven hair and he laughed breathlessly against your skin as he pulled you closer to him. “That's it, pet.”

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat caused both of you to almost jump out of your skin. You turned towards the lab door and found a rather unimpressed Natasha standing in the threshold, arms crossed and glare seething into a certain god.

Your heart jumped into your throat as you hurriedly pushed Loki away and scrambled to your feet.

“Oh, no. Don't stop on my account,” Nat snarled and the venom in her tone was enough to send shivers down even Loki's spine.

“Nat! We were just-”

“Don't bullshit me, Y/N. You know it doesn't work,” Nat stated plainly and you swallowed. She was right, it was near impossible to successfully lie to her. “Does your father know?”

“No, no, no. Nat, you can't tell him,” you begged. “He'll kill us.”

Natasha scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at Loki, who was still standing sheepishly behind you. “He's lucky I haven't killed him myself.”

Loki shifted uncomfortably. When it came down to it, he was a god and Nat was human. She probably couldn't do much damage to him. But she was certainly intimidating. Loki wasn't so much upset over the fact that you'd been caught, if anything Loki found it rather exciting. His only worry was how this situation would pan out for you. And your relationship.

“Natasha, please. You know how my dad overreacts.”

“I'm not sure I'd count ‘getting pissed that your daughter's dating a criminal’ as overreacting.”

You felt helpless. With Tony as your father, the team were the closest thing you had to family. Nat had always been important to you, she was an older sister, a cool aunt and in some cases, a understanding mother all rolled up into one. She wanted what was best for you, and you knew if that meant throwing Loki under the bus, she wouldn't hesitate.

Noticing your struggle, Loki decided to intervene.

“Agent Romanoff, if you'd allow us to explain. I-”

Nat turned to Loki with a glare that stopped the god mid-sentence. “I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Y/N.” She turned back to you. “Tell your dad.”

“What?!”

“Tell Tony about this.” She clarified, gesturing between you and Loki. “Or I will.”

“Nat,” you started but as she raised an eyebrow you knew she wasn't bluffing. She was dead serious.

“Okay, okay, fine. We'll tell him. But just not yet-” you hesitated. “Just give us a little more time to figure it all out.”

Natasha seemed unconvinced, to say the least, but when she noticed the genuine worry in your expression she backed off and her voice softened.

“Fine. But if he finds out beforehand, I had no idea about any of this,” she ordered. “And you,” Nat glanced at Loki who was still standing behind you. “Are on thin ice.”

Nat turned to leave, shooting one final glare Loki’s way. “Oh, and a bit of advice. Next time lock the goddamn door.”

You both sighed in temporary relief as the door slammed shut and you were left alone.

“Well, that went well,” Loki commented sarcastically, rubbing at his temple.

“And that was only Nat. How do you think the others are going to react?” You took a seat on the workbench and Loki joined you.

“Were you serious?” he asked. “About telling them? Telling him?”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I suppose we don't have much of a choice now, do we?” You murmured and Loki chuckled slightly.

“I suppose not.”

“You're enjoying this.” You growled as Loki’s mood seemed only slightly diminished by the situation you’d just been landed in.

“Yes, I find being threatened by a world-class assassin immensely enjoyable,” he noted nonchalantly. Loki sighed when the fear remained evident in your expression. He gently caught your wrist and pulled it away from your face, lacing your fingers as he did so. “Honestly, my dear. There's no need to worry. It will be fine.”

“You sound awfully sure.”

“That’s because I am,” Loki smirked, his tone reassuring and soft. He placed a harmless kiss against your cheek, but couldn’t resist the urge to continue down to your jaw.

His nose grazed your neck as his breath fanned out over your skin. His voice fell to a low whisper. “Now, what was it we were getting to before we were so rudely interrupted?”

You couldn’t help but laugh in slight disbelief. “You never learn, do you?”

Loki flicked his wrist as he began to plant kisses down your neck. “Do you take me for a fool?”

You glanced at the labs' door to find the keypad had turned red. Locked. Smirking, Loki pushed you down and picked up where he'd left off.

It had been a little over a week since Natasha had found out about your relationship with Loki and thankfully, she hadn't said anything as of yet. She was giving you a generous amount of time to build up the courage to tell both your father and the rest of the team, but it was courage you were yet to find. The stress of the whole situation had been getting to you, something that was becoming more and more apparent to Loki.

In some desperate attempt to help you blow off a little steam, the god had dragged you down to the training hall. You and Loki often trained together, though since the beginning of your relationship, training seldom actually took place during your sessions.

But you needed it today, and after less than fifteen minutes of sparring, you could already feel some of the stress dissipating.

“Let's try that again,” Loki stated, helping you up from where you'd fallen back onto the training mat. He steadied you before pacing back a few steps as you both prepared for another round.

You made the first move, Loki easily blocking your strike. He caught your other arm as you tried to hit his shoulder and he only barely avoided a knee in the groin by spinning you around and catching you in a gentle headlock.

“Fighting dirty today are we, darling?” He purred in your ear and you smirked. Leaning forward, you used the momentum to throw Loki over your shoulder, straddling him to assure he stayed down.

“Problem with that?”

Loki chuckled, staring up at you. “Certainly not.” Throwing his leg over and shifting his weight, he threw you off of him and you landed on the floor beside him. He then took up his position on top of you. “Two can play at that game.”

He used his new vantage point to lean down and kiss your shoulder. “And I do enjoy it so very much.”

You turned your head to the side to grant Loki better access as he kissed up your neck, but your blood ran cold when you noticed a familiar figure standing dumbstruck at the halls entrance.

“Shit, Steve!” You pushed Loki off of you and for a moment he thought it was an attempted diversion until his own eyes locked with the captains. “Steve, wait!”

He was already turning to leave and you took off after him, Loki right behind you. You barely caught him before he reached the door. “Steve, hear us out, please.”

He turned to look at you with slight disappointment, his cheeks still tinted red with embarrassment given what he'd just walked in on. “Why didn't you tell us, Y/N?”

“I swear I was going to. I should have sooner and I'm sorry.” You rushed. “But please, Steve. You can't tell my dad, not yet.”

Steve hesitated. He'd taken you under his wing from day one and he'd be lying if he said he saw you as anything less than family. He didn't want to put you in a situation where he knew you'd face hardship. But he also didn't want to put his relationship with Tony on the line. He knew what that could lead to.

“I won't lie to Tony.”

“Then just don't say anything!” You tried. “Not saying anything technically isn't lying.”

Steve sighed, glancing between you both, his eyes lingering on Loki a moment longer. Loki seemed to have read the captains mind.

“Captain, I understand your concerns. But I can assure you my intentions are completely good-willed.”

Steve shook his head, questioning his sanity. “Does anyone else know?”

“Natasha, that's it.”

Steve seriously pondered the dilemma he was being faced with. Part of him wanted to march off and tell Tony, part of him wanted to strangle Loki for even putting his hands on you and the other part was still hung up on how upset you’d be if he chose either of the latter options.

“Alright,” Steve said after a moment of silence and relief flooded your expression. “But if your father asks-”

“I understand.” You nodded, still breathing a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Steve.”

You counted your lucky stars as Steve left the training hall, the whole conversation having gone way better than you could have possibly imagined.

“You know, my dear,” Loki stated from behind you. “We really must stop picking the worst possible places in the compound to make out.”

You'd been peacefully working away in the lab, adding the finishing touches to the suit you'd been working on. A few more final touch-ups and a test run and it would be ready for missions.

The door slamming opened behind you immediately caught your attention as a severely pissed off Loki stormed in. His jaw was set and his hands were balled into fists. This couldn't be good.

“Loki, what's wrong?” you asked, rounding the table and approaching him. He was already pacing.

“Thor knows,” he growled and your heart stopped. “He was asking ridiculous questions about you and I and he knew I was lying.”

You inhaled sharply and did your best to avoid groaning in frustration, unable to grasp how Loki of all people had gotten caught out lying. “Loki, you're the god of lies.”

“And Thor's a persistent bastard!” He bit back.

You grappled with the little composure you had left and sighed. Loki was still clearly fretting and at least one of you had to start thinking straight.

“Okay, well what did he say?”

“That he wouldn't tell anyone,” Loki murmured, running his index finger along his top lip, something he often did when nervous.

“Alright then, what are we worried about? He said he wouldn't tell.”

Loki scoffed. “It's Thor! He struggles to keep the simplest of secrets, he's going to let it slip!” Loki took a seat and wrung his hands. “Your father is going to kill me.”

You stepped towards him and ran a comforting hand through his raven hair. He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head against your stomach.

“You're a god, Loki. I don't think he could kill you even if he wanted to.”

“He'll find a way,” Loki moped, tightening his hold on you.

You huffed at Loki's dramatic antiques as you continued to run your hand through his hair. One thing was now painfully clear, you needed to tell your dad. Before anyone else found out.

It was all planned out perfectly. The team was set to have dinner together in an attempt to bring some normality to your crazy lives, and you figured it would be the best time to break the new. You'd wait until everyone had finished eating and you and your dad were alone and then you'd tell him.

Not only did you think it would be better to have the conversation one on one, but Loki not being there also lessened the likely hood of your father trying to kill him if he didn't take the news kindly.

The only major challenge now was making it through the dinner itself without losing your nerve. Loki assured you that he'd be by your side right up until the moment he had to leave, and he meant it. Your father sat at the head of the table, because of course he did, and you sat to his right. Loki was seated beside you.

Most of the dinner passed as they usually did when the team ate together. Clint complained about the take out choice, Nat downed an impressive amount of wine whilst somehow remaining sober and a philosophical debate had broken out despite their being no indication as to what had started it.

For once, you and Loki remained silent, too nervous to offer any input should your worrisome tone give you away. You had spent most of the dinner toying with the food on your plate with your fork.

Loki's hand gently held yours beneath the table. It was risky, but no one had noticed and it was currently the only thing keeping you sane.

“You alright, kiddo?”

You glanced up to find your dad staring at you. He motioned to your untouched plate of food.

“You haven't touched your take out. It's your favourite.”

“Oh yeah, I- uh,” you stumbled over your own words and cursed yourself for being caught off guard. Most of the team were still chatting amongst themselves, but Steve and Natasha were now watching the exchange between you and Tony attentively. “I guess I'm just not that hungry.”

He seemed entirely unconvinced and leaned in slightly, away from the prying ears of the table. “You sure everything's alright?”

You gulped. Your father was no idiot and he knew something was eating away at you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Nat nodding her head and Steve smiling supportively. This was the perfect opportunity to bring it up and you decided it was now or never. “Well, actually-”

“Nice going, Clint!”

Both your heads snapped up to see that a knocked over wine bottle had stained both the end of the table and Bruce's white shirt.

“Hey! It's not my fault. Who even drinks this stuff anyway?!”

“What the hell is that suppose to mean, bird brain?” Sam yelled, possessively grabbing what was left in the overturned bottle and dunking it into his glass. Bucky hid his smile behind his bottle of beer.

Everyone else's attention had turned to Bruce, who seemed to be doing an excellent job at not hulking out and sending Clint through the nearest wall.

You bit your lip.

“Dad, is it alright if I leave? I'm not feeling up to eating right now.” You asked. Now clearly wasn't the best time to bring something up and you decided waiting till after everyone had turned it in for the night was probably best.

“Sure thing, sweet pea,” he smiled as you stood and pushed in your chair behind you. Loki followed you, rising to his feet.

“I think it's time I also take my leave.” No one paid much attention as Loki mimicked your actions and prepared to leave the table.

“Leaving already?” Wanda asked politely and you smiled back, already prepared to answer with ‘Yeah, I'm just tired.’

“Of course they are! I'm sure my brother and Y/N have much to do and discuss,” Thor smirked, winking and raising his glass to the both of you in a not so subtle way.

Silence fell over the entire table and you and Loki grew rigid. Natasha and Steve turned to glare at Thor, who lowered his glass, realising what exactly he'd just said.

“What?” Tony said, turning to Thor with a shocked expression. Loki quickly stepped in.

“I think my brother may have had a tad too much Asgardian ale, I-

“No, what did you say?” He asked again, voice raising. All eyes were now either on Tony, Loki or you.

Thor seemed to shrink into his seat, taking interest in the bottom of his cup as he attempted to backtrack and fix his mistake. But it was too late.

Your father's gaze turned to you and then Loki, who was cautiously standing behind you.

“One chance.” He was livid. “You get one chance to tell me the truth.”

“Dad, can we not do this now,” you asked quietly.

“The truth, Y/N.” You couldn’t recall the last time you’d seen your father so angry. And as terrified as you were, you knew lying would only dig you a deeper hole.

“I was going to tell you,” you started, wincing as he ran a hand down his face. “I just didn't know how and then Nat told me I should just-”

Your father's glare turned to Natasha who choked on her wine at your words. You mentally grimaced as you realized what you'd just said.

“Oh, so you knew!” Tony yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Nat. He turned back to you. “You told Thor and Natasha before you told me!”

“I didn't tell her! She just sort of found out...” you fumbled and Tony laughed humorlessly.

“Did anybody else know besides Nat and point break?” he asked, addressing the whole table. Steve fidgeted awkwardly in his seat and Tony immediately singled him out.

“Steve.” He crossed his arms as he glared at the captain. “Something on your mind?”

Steve sighed. “Look, Tony I-”

“Don't bullshit me, Rogers.”

Steve nodded wordlessly and Tony bit the inside of his cheek, looking as though he was prepared to rip into each member of the team. You cowered back slightly and Loki stepped infront of you, shielding you from your fathers rage the best he could.

“Great! Awesome! Did anyone else know my daughter was dating a psychopath and just decided to keep that information to themselves?”

Everyone awkwardly shifted in their seats, some clearing there throats and others offering you sympathetic glances. Natasha mouthed a ‘sorry’ and Thor seemed to still be beating himself up for letting it slip in the first place.

Loki stepped forward. “Stark, I can assure you-”

“Zip it, Reindeer Games,” he warned and for once, Loki did as he was told. Tony pointed to you as if he were scolding a child.

“You are grounded,” he stated. “No more missions, no more lab privileges, nothing.”

You scoffed. “I'm not a kid!”

“Yes, you are! You're my kid.”

“Dad, will you please just listen to me.” You begged as you stepped towards your father in hopes of reasoning with him. He rose from his seat to meet you.

“No. This,” he gestured between you and Loki. “Ends now. End of discussion.”

You took a step back, feeling as though an arrow had hit you in the chest. Tears were brimming your eyes and you couldn't find it in you to meet anyone's gaze. Seeing how upset you'd become, Loki refused to bite his tongue any longer.

“Stark, with all due respect, I won't allow that. I understand your disdain for me and it's more than warranted but do not take that anger out on Y/N. You have no reason to trust me but I can assure you that my feelings towards your daughter and nothing but sincere and genuine.”

Loki's sudden statement seemed to have surprised Tony. He opened his mouth to argue but Loki didn't give him the chance as he continued.

“She has given me a second chance and I love her dearly for doing so. And I would never do anything to harm her. I love her unconditionally and all I ask is for a chance. Allow me to prove myself.”

Loki's speech had left you teary-eyed with a warmth spreading in your chest. A smile pulled at your lips as Loki turned to you. The genuine and loving look in his eyes spoke volumes and it took every ounce of control you possessed not to launch yourself into his arms then and there.

“Tony, I don't know about you but that seemed pretty convincing to me.” Nat voiced from the table and Thor immediately agreed.

“My brother may be the god of lies but he has spoken nothing but the truth tonight.”

Steve, ever the diplomat, offered Tony an encouraging nod. “All he's asking for is a chance, Tony.”

“It's pretty sweet if you ask me,” Bucky murmured from beside the captain, Sam and Wanda nodding in agreement.

Tony watched as the table seemed to take Loki's side and he battled with himself until his eyes landed on you. You were standing side by side with Loki, whilst he smiled at you in adoration. The glances you shared were nothing short of loving and Tony couldn't help but notice how genuine and mutual it truly was. Loki's hand was brushing against yours, desperate to grasp hold and comfort you but not wanting to overstep the line the tension had drawn.

Tony sighed as he realized what he had to do. You were his daughter, his everything. And he just wanted you to be happy. Even if it was with someone he didn’t initially approve of.

“You love him?” he asked nonchalantly and you nodded.

“And you, Frosty,” Tony motioned to Loki who tried not to frown at the nickname. “You love her?”

Loki glanced at you, smiling softly. “Wholeheartedly.”

Tony swallowed down the lump in his throat as he watched the both of you, not completely ready to accept that you weren't a kid anymore.

“Well then, I guess that's that.” He smiled at you softly. “Leave it to you to fall for the God of mischief. You always were a troublemaker.”

Your father pulled you into a hug, muttering a quiet ‘love you, sweet pea’, before pulling back to look at Loki.

“You hurt her,” he started and Loki cut him off with an amused chuckle.

“You'll kill me?” He guessed.

“Oh no, not just me. They'll kill you.” Tony smirked, pointing to the table full of avengers.

Loki nodded. “Understood.”

Nat sent you a wink and Steve and Thor smiled whilst the rest of the team seemed to congratulate you with supportive, and in some cases embarrassing, comments.

You and Loki smirked at each other, slowly turning to leave the dining room when your father's voice called you back.

“Woah, where do you two think you're going?” he asked. “Cats out of the bag now so no need to run off and hide. Sit.”

Seeing no point in arguing, you both took your seats, Loki holding your hand atop the table for everyone to see. Things quickly settled back into a comfortable conversation, you and Loki feeling freer than you had in months. The domesticity of it all was enough to make your heart burst.

“So,” Clint, who was slightly tipsy at this point, yelled. “When's the wedding?”

Tony turned red. “Don't push their luck, Barton.” He partially joked, glaring daggers at his teammate as the rest of the team laughed. As for you and Loki, you couldn't help but smile at the possibility.

tag list: @leftperfectionmoon @doozywoozy @bakerstreethound @miraclesoflove @Kealohilani-tepise

#loki x reader #loki x stark!reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson x y/n #loki odinson x you #have I mentioned how much I love this gif?

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