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gremlin-girly · 2 months ago

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Flufftober Day 17

Prompt: Bewitched

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Reader

tags/warnings: Love at first sight, mutual pining, confessions, kiss, FLUFF

Although Reader's gender is not specified the translations below (specifically Vrăjitore) are feminine!

Summary: Bucky and Sam come your apartment for a few days to hide out and a certain Sokovian Baron is enamoured by you.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I've said it before and I'll say it again - I'm a hopeless romantic. - Love, Grem x A/N 2: I loved this so much that I created a follow up (here) and decided to make this a mini-series which you can find here. - Love, Grem x Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Translations:

Draga - dear

Vrăjitore - Enchantress/witch (in the context below - it's enchantress)

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Zemo hadn’t known what to expect when the door to your apartment opened but it certainly wasn’t instantaneous infatuation. You were a friend of Sam and Bucky’s and somehow, somehow, got roped into helping them hide him. Despite the initial feelings of scepticism and meticulously planning his escape from the dingy apartment building, when you opened the door it all changed.

You were stood in your pajamas, rubbing your eyes, speaking in a soft sleepy voice that alluded to you either just about ready to fall asleep or you had just woken up. Zemo was staring and he knew it. Even though you hadn’t looked at him yet, you were the picture of perfection with your slightly tousled hair and the disgruntled expression you were giving Sam as he explained what was going on. When your e/c eyes finally flickered over to him, finally meeting his eyes, he felt his breathing stop.

“You better come in,” you sighed, stepping aside and allowing them inside your small apartment.

You immediately headed to the small kitchen-cum-living room, turning on your kettle and grabbing mugs.

“Tea? Coffee? Food?” You fire off questions in rapid succession but Sam nor James pay attention to you. They’d began a hushed conversation about ideas and plans in your living room. Zemo looked over to you and was surprised to see you were looking directly at him. He felt like a deer in headlights. He was at a loss for words. For once.

You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “You... want anything?”

Zemo clears his throat and stiffly approaches the counter top that seperates the two of you. “Tea will do. Thank you.”

“I have earl grey and English breakfast,” You say, holding up the two boxes. “What would you prefer?”

Zemo blinks, his throat dry. “Earl grey, please.”

“Sugar and milk?”

Zemo only nods and watches as you turn away to prepare the tea. Surely, you knew he was dangerous? Surely, you had seen the news from years before? Surely, you knew you shouldn’t turn your back to him?

But you had. And Zemo was helplessly lost in you whilst the hushed conversation of Bucky and Sam drifted around the apartment. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt this way. It had been a long time, that’s for sure.

After five minutes you turn around with two mugs in your hand and slide one to Zemo. He carefully lifts the mug to his mouth and sips, relishing the sleepy warmth of the lavender drink. His tongue darts across his lips, something else is in the drink, making it ever so slightly sweeter. You register his expression and offer him a small, sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I think I’ve given you mine. I always add a dash of vanilla syrup.”

Vanilla. Zemo’s eyes widen but he smiles and nods. “An excellent combination.”

Your smile brightens. Zemo thinks his knees might give out; that smile lights up your entire living room and you’re not even trying. He should be trying to manipulate you, make you uncomfortable; not nervously running sweaty palms on his slacks or being tongue tied. And you should be cold and harsh, threatening to maim him like Bucky or Sharon not warm, friendly and inviting.

“Have you ever tried an Edinburgh Mist?” You ask, eyes brightening with each passing second. Zemo briefly wonders if it's because your friends, the ones who have barely spoken with you, the ones who have landed a fugitive terrorist into your hands, have never bothered to indulge in the beauty that was you. He shakes his head gently, watching you speak.

“It’s like the cocktail London Fog but an actual hot drink.” You explain. “it’s earl grey with vanilla, with foamed milk and dusted with cinnamon. I loved it so much I had to start making it at home.”

Zemo finds himself smiling over the rim of his mug at you. He hums in response, nodding a little before adding, “I may have to trouble you for one when you have the chance.”

You scoff a little, suppressing what looks to be a blush and Zemo’s heart does a flip. Unfortunately, you’re both torn away by Sam and Bucky wanting to talk strategy.

The next few days feel like a dream.

Zemo practically follows you around like a love sick puppy, offering to help with everything he can. Laundry. Cooking. Cleaning. Each time you dismiss him, citing that he is a guest in your home and will be treated as such. Your mother didn’t raise you to be unwelcoming.

When it’s clear he doesn’t really know what to do with himself, you roll your eyes and pretend you’re so hard done by with the lack of help you recieve from Bucky and Sam, that you’ll gladly take Zemo’s company instead. Which he humbly (albeit very enthusiastically) accepts.

As you do chores, you chat about anything and everything. His favourite books, your favourite shows, his music taste, your favourite foods. Whilst you cook he watches eagerly, asking inquisitive questions and occasionally teasing gently to make you laugh. Part of your brain believes it to be a ploy, as does Sam and Bucky. Some grand manipulation that they had warned you he was capable of. But somehow you doubted it. There was something about how he made you laugh, how he always acted the gentleman and offered his help, something about the softness in his eyes that you knew he meant every word he spoke and action he did.

Perhaps that was what caused the argument between you and Sam.

“He’s a terrorist,” Sam snapped at you on the fifth day. Bucky was out and Zemo was in the shower, making it an opportune time to discuss the behaviour Sam had witnessed over the last few days. “And a master manipulator. You should not trust him.”

“God forbid men have hobbies.” You quip. Then seeing Sam's frown you sigh.

"On a technicality, you are too." You point out, scrubbing at a dish violently. Anger had bubbled inside you at the subtle accusation that you were falling for a manipulation, especially when said terror had been placed in your lap. “You brought him here as well.” You huff with agitation.

It was Sam’s turn to huff. “You don’t get it. He’s dangerous.”

You slam the scourer down and glare at Sam. “No, you’re not getting it. You brought him here. Hell, yesterday you and Bucky went out and left me with him for hours.”

Sam opens his mouth and closes it again, at a loss for words. He knows he can’t argue against that and he knows damn well better than to try.

“Just... be careful. Okay?” He grumbles, heading to the spare room. “That’s all I ask.”

Once the door is closed you roll your eyes and turn back to the sink, haughtily mimicking Sam’s words. You startle when you hear Zemo chuckle from behind you.

“Apologies,” He murmurs, looking over at you with a smug smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Whether or not it was his intention, you know that he isn’t sorry about it at all and it makes you smirk back. As with everything the last few days, you can’t seem to find yourself to be genuinely upset with him.

“It’s alright,” you sigh, drying your hands. “Tea?”

“Please, dragă.”

You blush at the use of the nickname, but turn away quickly. This was another ritual that had formed in the last few days, and you would be lying if you didn’t enjoy the sweet nickname he’d given you and the way his honeyed eyes followed your movements. You didn’t want to tell him you knew the meaning. That you’d briefly dabbled in learning Sokovian. Something about him using his native tongue to compliment you, believing you had no idea what he was saying as he looked at you, made your heart beat faster and your fondness for him grow. Again, this only made arguments of him manipulating you weaker; why say things to you that you couldn’t understand? Quick compliments or praise in a foreign language he thought only he could speak, muttered under his breath that made your resolve crumble apart like a cookie dipped in hot tea. You couldn’t deny that he had charm but something else drew you to him. It was like you were under a spell and the thought that he may have to leave soon was too much to bare.

“You know,” Zemo started, voice quiet. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the countertop. “I’ve noticed that they don’t appreciate you, dragă.”

You turn, eyebrows high, mid-stir of the teas. “What?”

Zemo’s eyes drop to his hands. “Perhaps I am out of line,” he says carefully. “But you are correct in that all of us being here was sprang on you. Yet you welcomed us, even me, into your home without hesitation. You have cooked meals, offered your shower, home and did laundry... and only once or twice I have heard a thank you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes with his. His expression is soft, almost apologetic. “So, thank you, dragă.”

You blink at him, slightly shocked. So, he’d overheard your argument with Sam. He could’ve taken a different route; planting seeds of doubt about your friendship with the heroes, allowing tendrils of resentment to grow and blossom into anger. However, he hadn’t. Zemo had only pointed out the truth of the current situation; you had accepted the bizarre situation to help your friends and hopefully the betterment of the world without question and without thanks. Your mouth opened to defend Sam and Bucky, but your mind faltered trying to find an example from the last few days.

In fact, Bucky had grumbled his thanks of a coffee once and Sam for his food once. Zemo had been trying to help you for the past five days and somehow always managed to thank you and compliment you. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you snapped your mouth closed. You shrug half heartedly and remove the teabags.

“Thank you.” You murmur and then realise it sounds like a very stupid thing to say back. “For saying thank you? Sorry. Um.”

You turn back, handing him his tea but not meeting his gaze. You’d already learned to make it how he liked. That was probably not a good sign. You clear your throat.

“I appreciate it.”

There’s a beat of silence and you look back at him. He smiles. You smile back.

Your heart beats a little faster than before and you shift on your feet. You’re being drawn in again.

“Anytime.” Zemo bows his head to you, still smiling, his tone utterly sincere; like he would never tire of thanking you. His gaze meets yours again and he exhales gently. “You... are something else. Do you know that?”

You tilt your head at him, smile widening to a lopsided grin. “No? How do you mean?”

Zemo huffs through his nose, chuckling slightly. “You have bewitched me, dragă. From the moment I saw you.” He takes a sip from his mug watching you with a mesmerised expression. In a low rumbling voice he adds, “Vrăjitore.”

Your breathing stalls for a moment. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you like how Zemo is looking at you; like you’re almost too good to be true. Your stomach twists into knots and your heart and mind race to try to come up with a quip or statement as equally romantic and poetic as he’d uttered but you can’t.

When you don’t respond, Zemo steps away, looking at the floor. “Forgive me. I’ve said too much.”

“No!” you blurt suddenly, and cover your hand with your mouth. You cringe slightly and smile sheepishly at Zemo, whose tilting his head curiously at you now. “I thought it was just me.” You say lamely.

Zemo’s eyes widen and a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth but he says nothing as you rake a nervous hand through your hair.

“So....” You start awkwardly, wetting your lips and dropping your hand from your nape limply.

“So.” Zemo repeats back to you, his eyes sparkling. You can feel your heart thunder at the sight and you open your mouth to continue but Sam erupts into the room.

“We need to go,” He says hurriedly to Zemo, throwing on his jacket. “Bucky and Sharon have ran into some trouble.”

Zemo nods, setting his mug down and striding to the coat rack for his purple fur coat. Sam shoots you an apologetic glance when you ask if they’d be back.

“We may have to find another safe house. We’ve stayed here for too long, you might get caught being with us.” He shrugs. “But thanks for everything. I owe you one.” Sam grins over at you cheekily and adds, “and so does Bucky.”

“As do I.” Zemo adds, smiling softly over at you as he straightens the collar of his coat. Sam looks like he’s about to shush Zemo when his phone rings. Sam’s expression turns serious and he stalks for the front door muttering instructions to either Bucky or Sharon. He points at Zemo before he opens it. “Parking garage in five minutes. Make sure you’re not followed.”

The door closes behind Sam before he sees Zemo nod and make his way back over to you.

Zemo stands before you, looking down at you with the same wondrous expression he had before. He’s close but not too close; a polite distance even after everything tonight.

“So....” You start again, smiling wryly at him. “I guess this is goodbye?”

“For now, vrăjatore.” Zemo says with a gentle smile. A gloved hand reaches up hesitantly to cup your cheek. You can feel the heat of his palm through the leather, and you lean into it; searching for his warmth. Your eyes flutter ever so slightly and you heave a sigh. Just your luck.

“I’ll find you once the dust settles.”

You raide an eyebrow at him and chuckle. “And I’ll be waiting.”

Your own hand encompasses his on your cheek and it feels like an eternity passes as you both stand in silence gazing at eachother before Zemo leans down and places a chaste, tender kiss to your lips. Your heart stutters and you move to follow his lips as he pulls back, making him chuckle.

“I’ll find you,” he repeats, firmer this time. “And then you may kiss me for as long as you wish. Until then, duty calls.”

He grins at you again, adoring the flushed expression you’re wearing, but pulls further away from you. Your arm stretches out, still holding his hand and with one last, small squeeze you release him; watching him stride out of the front door and follow Sam. The silence in your apartment is palpable, and when you remember to draw a breath, the air is stale and dry. You sigh to yourself and finish your tea while replaying the events of the last hour.

You hadn’t seen Zemo in two months.

That hadn’t meant his presence was missing.

The mission had finished a month ago, however, Zemo was still currently on the run. Bucky and Sam had attempted to find him but from what they had told you, they had assumed he was long gone in some faraway island, living it up. But you had known better.

Lavish gifts from expensive chocolates to tea had appeared at your apartment. The latest was the newest, beautiful bouquet that you had centred perfectly on your coffee table, somewhere you could look upon it everyday, and a pack of cherry blossom tea. You took photos of all of your gifts and added little notes of them into your phone – as you had no way of contacting the Baron, you ensured you could thank him for each and every gift he’d bought for you when you saw him in person. Bouquets came every ten days like clockwork – as soon as one bouquet wilted, the next would appear to take its place. The gifts would be every two weeks. Maybe, you joked with yourself, so it didn’t seem like it was excessive to send two gifts every week.

The only indication that it was Zemo sending you these items was because each gift came with a small 6-by-4 card with one word written in plum-purple cursive.

Vrăjitore.

#flufftober 2024 #flufftober #gremlin girly writes #gremlin girly #no beta we die like men #fluff #zemo fanfic #helmut zemo #fatws #baron zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #marvel mcu #zemo fluff #flufftober2024

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deancaspinefest · 11 months ago

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All in Honesty

Author: golbygloom | Artist: TwinOne

Posting on Tuesday March 19

It's been years of watching Dean and Cas dance around their feelings and at this point, Sam's losing hope that they'll ever take that step and talk things out already. One well-placed spell from Rowena makes Dean and Cas incapable of not talking, but even that doesn't get them together. Will Sam ever be able to help the morons he's forced to live with get together already, or is he destined for a life of perpetually being stuck between them as some sort of bizarre marriage counselor that neither seems aware the other also talks to?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

"It's just so painful," he laments a few days later to Rowena, both more than a little drunk in the Bunker's library, Dean and Cas having already gone to bed (unfortunately in different rooms). "They're just…so obvious to everyone except each other. How don't they realize?"

"Noo, why should they? It's not like all of Heaven and Hell figured it out before them or anything."

"I just don't get it. I mean, Dean's eyes are always practically glued to Cas' eyes or lips or his butt and he still hasn't picked up on the fact that there might be something a little weird about that if they really were 'just friends'?" Sam's drink sloshes violently in his glass as he gestures around the room, agitated. "Cas only gets an excuse because he hasn't even been on Earth for a decade, but somebody as old as him should probably at least have an idea what all those feelings are, right?"

"Aye, the poor dears don't have a brain cell between them when it comes to matters of the heart, it seems," Rowena says sagely. "They can be more than a little daft when something doesn't involve killing or dying or crying…"

"They're so hopeless," Sam agrees miserably, burying his face in his hands to rub at his forehead and push his hair behind his ears. "I have to live with them so it's just constant. I-I don't know what to do anymore."

Rowena's quiet for a long moment before she hums to herself. "There might be some way to get their heads out from within their tushies…"

He looks up at that, though judging by the twinkle in the witch's eye, he's gonna regret listening. "What do you mean?" he asks warily anyway, blaming the alcohol for him even considering…whatever it is Rowena is going to suggest.

"Well, all it takes is a wee spell or two and those two will be singing like canaries."

"About their disgustingly sappy love for each other?" Sam guesses, but the witch just smirks.

"About everything. Anything that comes to mind." Sam stares at her blankly, but Rowena doesn't seem to notice. "Oh, I imagine it wouldn't be more than but a few days before certain thoughts come out and certain feelings are revealed…"

"Rowena…"

"Don't tell me you've changed your mind? It's not like there are all that many ways to get those two to sit down and talk about their feelings, Samuel."

Sam considers it, his drunken mind unable to see why this might be a bad idea beyond Dean getting pissed off. Then again, Dean gets pissed if he sees something green on his plate, so Sam's not all that concerned. "What's the cure?"

Rowena's smirk widens, nearly splitting her face in two. "True love's kiss."

(continue reading on Ao3 on Tuesday March 19)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: golbygloom #artist: TwinOne #Oblivious Dean #Obvious Cas #Matchmaker Sam

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somedaylazysomeday · 1 month ago

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A Deal with a Demon - Part Seven

Things keep going missing at your house and at the shop. You finally decide to confront the most likely cause.

Demon!Beetlejuice x fem!witch!reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,050

Warnings: Hauntings, irritation, mentions of witchcraft and demonic activity (obv), descriptions of burnout, crying, hopelessness, and mentions of seasonal affective disorder, nonsexual intimacy. This part is a little more serious than the others have been - please mind the warnings!

Previous | Masterlist

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If you didn’t know better, you would think that you were being haunted.

It was ridiculous to even think that was possible… but there were a lot of things going on that you couldn’t quite explain.

Weird noises came from the shop - a low groaning that you had shrugged off as part of the building settling, until they had been offset by a higher-pitched whine that couldn’t possibly come from a reaction to the brisk nights.

Certain items had gone missing from your personal supply at your house and the small workshop you’d eventually created in the basement of Sinful. That one had made you grumpy, far more so than the strange noises. You hadn’t wanted to leave materials at the shop for exactly this reason. It was dangerous to leave items used to perform magic around non-magical humans, even if you locked the door as carefully as you always did.

But after you had gone back over the security camera footage and set special wards on every entrance to the basement workshop. When you were still missing supplies without catching intruders with either method, you were forced to consider other possibilities. Besides, there was no way anyone was breaking through the layers of stacked wards you had woven around your house.

And that was ignoring the Presence.

It came and went - never lasting too long, but each incident was randomly spaced and impossible to predict. You would be mind your business one moment and in the next, you would be seized by the creeping sensation of being watched. Sometimes, the feeling was so strong that you could find a way to sit with your back against a wall, if only to know that nothing was waiting behind you.

Honestly, if your place and the shop weren’t warded to hell and back, you would think there was a ghost haunting you.

Beetlejuice had been your immediate first guess for the culprit, but he had never been shy. You would have expected to see him lounging on your sofa or chatting with customers in the middle of the store - you had unexpectedly found him in both scenarios over the time you had known him.

The only problem with that was that you hadn’t seen Beetlejuice in a while. You had counted the dates carefully when he still hadn’t appeared in the days leading up to Samhain, and the last time he had visited was in late August. So you were at a loss about what was going on.

Samhain had come and gone, leaving you energized by your renewed closeness with the source of your gifts and the enjoying the temporary spike in ambient magic in the air. All witches could access that magic, but most had gorged themselves on it during the festival. You had done the same in the past, storing magic like a bear trying to fatten up before hibernation, but the shop changed things. Now, there was so much magic flowing out through your potions, charms, and spells that you were always hungry for a little more.

So you decided to take full advantage of that post-Samhain increase in magic to prep some potions. If you could get them ready over the next week, most of them needed to ferment over the dark days of winter.

The memory potion you were working on was one of those brews, and it was almost ready. Now that everything had come to a boil, you just needed to add some rosemary and decant it quickly into an opaque glass bottle to ferment until the winter solstice.

The large jar where you kept the sprigs of fresh rosemary - enchanted to keep them in a state of infinite freshness - was suspiciously light when you lifted it from the back of your pantry. When you pulled it out into the light of your workshop, your suspicions were confirmed: it was empty.

No, not empty, you realized with a start. There was a single scrap of paper lying on the bottom of the glass jar, folded neatly in half.

You stirred the potion with one hand while you unfolded the paper with the other, hoping to keep the pot from boiling over entirely while you read.

I.O.U. - BJ

“What the hell?” you asked aloud, staring at the note. The potion let out an unhappy hiss, then a sour smell filled the air. When you ripped your gaze away from the paper, you found that the potion had turned. You grimaced, pulling the half-scorched spoon free as you repeated, “What the hell?!”

You crumpled the note in your fist, wheeling away from the stove. The smart thing would be to dump the remains of the potion before it solidified in the pot. Memory potions were known to be very sticky when allowed to sit in containers after they expired.

All you could think about was getting an explanation.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!”

It was a trick you had figured out shortly after opening Sinful. If you skipped the rest of the demon’s summoning incantation in favor of using his name - the section with actual magical significance - you could call him without agreeing to make a deal. It was a workaround, a loophole. You had no idea how long it would last before someone in the demonic hierarchy figured out what was happening and ended that gap in contracting, but you would use it until then.

Beetlejuice appeared as he always did. Instead of his typical friendly greeting, he scowled when he caught sight of you. You scowled back, but it faded when you caught a good look at him.

The circles under Beetlejuice’s eyes were darker than normal and his hair was limp. His skin looked dull beneath the typical pallor. His expressions were subdued, like it was too much effort to be as dramatic as usual, and he was slumping slightly against a nearby counter. Even the moss on his face was a pale gray-green instead of the vibrant emerald you had grown accustomed to.

“You look rough.”

Beetlejuice made a rude gesture in your direction, but there was no fire in it. “Like you look so great. Except that you do. Fuck. Why’d ya have to look nice today?”

You shook your head, choosing not to point out that your shirt was two washes from the rag pile and you were wearing a truly crusty pair of pants. If Beetlejuice was being sweet, you weren’t going to go out of your way to talk him out of it, but you really were concerned.

“Seriously, Beetlejuice,” you said, starting forward.

He held up a trembling fingers. “That’s one already, babes. Ya gonna send me away? I could maybe use the break.”

You stared. “You… want to go back? You never want to go back. What’s going on?”

“Is it so hard to believe that someone would wanna leave the human realm?” he shot back. “Humans aren’t as great as you all pretend ya are. Now, I know ya didn’t summon me here to ask about my well-being, so what the fuck do ya want?”

It was a transparent attempt to make you mad, which made it extra embarrassing when it worked. All of your anger about the memory potion roared back to life. You glared at him, brandishing the burnt wooden spoon in his direction.

“What have you been doing?” you snapped. “You took all of my rosemary and left an IOU? Are you serious? What do you even need rosemary for?”

“Halloween is a busy time of year for a demon,” he reminded you, tone so condescending that it put your teeth on-edge. “I needed the rosemary and some other stuff to keep my concentration while I made deals.”

“Concentra-?” you started, then thought better of it. You didn’t want excuses or circular explanations. “No, never mind. You need to refill all of the ingredients that you took. Starting with the rosemary! I was in the middle of a potion and now it’s turned.”

Beetlejuice’s lip curled. “Why don’t ya just magic some more?”

You don’t know what made you the angriest: his careless tone or the way he wiggled his fingers when he said ‘magic’, but either way, you were seeing red.

“You had better be messing with me,” you seethed. “You came into my workshop, in my house, stole my ingredients! And you never bothered to even say hello. I haven’t seen you in months! You don’t talk to me unless I summon you, and now you’re being petty about replacing the items you used for whatever random bullshit you do when you’re making contracts and fulfilling deals. You need to-”

“Fine!” he snapped. “I’ll go get more rosemary.”

He avoided making eye contact with you as he disappeared, but you couldn’t look away.

When Beetlejuice left somewhere, he always disappeared with noise. It had been a pop for most of your early interactions, and you had theorized that it was the sound of the displaced air. When he was feeling ostentatious, that sound changed to a loud crack! You had even heard it turn into a rude noise when Beetlejuice was feeling cheeky.

This time, the process was utterly silent. And it was a process. Every other time, Beetlejuice had simply disappeared from view, vanishing between one instant and the next. This time, he faded slowly from view, becoming a shade of his corporeal self until he was finally gone from your field of vision.

You sat heavily on the stool at your workbench, letting the scorched spoon fall to the countertop with a clatter. Something was wrong. You had known something was wrong, but you let yourself get angry and overlook it instead of narrowing your focus on the problem and working to solve it. Or at least understand it. You had never seen Beetlejuice be anything but energized by signing contracts and doing deals.

By the time Beetlejuice returned, you had managed to calm yourself down, fighting back both the anger and the guilt to keep a fairly level head.

He held out a large bundle of fresh rosemary. It was what he had used and more - enough to cover all the memory potions you intended to brew for the rest of the season. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

He just nodded, leaning against the wall and letting his head tip back against it.

“How have you been?”

Beetlejuice cracked one eye open, looking at you as if to gauge how sincere you were being. Whatever he found there seemed to reassure him, and he shrugged. “Fine.”

You sighed. Rote platitudes hadn’t been what you were looking for. “No, really. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” he agreed caustically. “Ya said that.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, catching his eye so you could try to convey how much you meant that. “I snapped at you and I shouldn’t have. You took my rosemary, but you didn’t know I would be brewing today. Now I’m worried about you. Is everything okay?”

Beetlejuice sighed, the harsh lines of his face falling into a more relaxed expression. “I’m just tired.”

“Do you have another open deal?” you asked, worried. “Do you need someone to meet their terms? Because I can try…”

That hadn’t happened in a while. Beetlejuice was still being summoned more than he had in hundreds of years, but more of those summonings were turning into actual deals thanks to your spell. It was just a prototype, but as long as it was working, it gave you a shorter list of tweaks it needed for any future versions you might cast. If someone summoned Beetlejuice and it didn’t result in a deal, it could end up putting him in a bad spot.

To your surprise and minor horror, Beetlejuice pulled an expression of deep disgust and horror. You recoiled from him, trying not to be offended as your ego took a hit. “No, babes. Absolutely not. I’m good. In fact, I’m lucky my dick hasn’t fallen off from overuse. Yet.”

“Gross,” you complained, recoiling for a different reason. “And… congratulations, I think? Being busy is a good thing, right?”

“Sorta.”

When he didn’t seem inclined to give any further explanation, you narrowed your eyes at him. “Have you been hanging around lately? I’ve had some weird things happening, even ignoring the missing ingredients.”

Beetlejuice studied his shoes and you were fascinated. He wasn’t embarrassed as a general rule, and you were eager to find out what had made him shy now.

“I’ve been droppin’ by here and Sinful, even when I’m too tired to fully manifest,” he admitted.

So that was the presence you had felt. He had probably also been the source of those strange noises. In a way, you had been haunted, just by a demon you knew rather than some unfamiliar spirit who had managed to circumvent your wards. It was a relief, even if you were concerned by the idea of Beetlejuice being too tired to gain corporeal form.

“Why?”

The question had slipped out before you could bite it back, and you guiltily watched the way it made Beetlejuice flinch. “You don’t have to answer tha-”

“There’s always some residual magic where you’ve been workin’,” he said quietly. “It makes me feel better. I usually take a pinch of an ingredient or a little of whatever potion you’ve got goin’ so I can pull some extra magic from it. I took the rosemary to help me concentrate. I was gettin’ sloppy with my contracts. I was too tired to focus, but bein’ home always makes me feel a little better.”

You nodded slowly, trying to conceal how touched you were at the idea that he thought of your home as his home, too.

“I dunno,” he shrugged off, forcing a smile. “Guess I’m just off my game right now. But don’t worry - I always come back. I’m like an infection.”

“You know, most people don’t compare themselves- Actually, never mind. Sure, an infection,” you agreed eventually. “But you’re taking care of yourself, right?”

“Sure,” he said, sitting on the stool you had abandoned. It put him closer to you and you were struck once more by how tired he looked. “I’m eating and catching some sleep when I can. I don’t need much of either, ya know.”

“Yeah, demon stuff,” you waved off. “But what about other things? Activities you’re interested in, seeing cool places, eating something delicious just because you can. That type of care.”

“I-” Beetlejuice frowned, looking disconcerted. “That’s not really… my thing. Not right now, at least. It used to be, but I kinda… stopped.”

“Maybe you should start back up again,” you suggested gently. “Some of the experiences you’ve mentioned sound like depression.”

“I’m a demon.” Beetlejuice’s grin stretched impossibly wide, showing off far too many sharp teeth to make his point. “I don’t get depressed.”

“Just because you haven’t in the past doesn’t mean you can’t.” You crossed your arms, leaning back against the table with a thoughtful hum. “How long has it been since you spent this much time in the human realm?”

He was silent for a long moment. “I’ve never spent this much time in the human realm. Not without being banished at least once.”

You shrugged, letting the idea speak for itself.

“Are ya saying that this place has infected me with depression?”

It was hard to fight back a smile at that. For someone who had called himself an infection only a minute before, Beetlejuice sounded enraged at the idea of something else infecting him.

“Probably not, but it might have some kind of effects that you’re not used to having. You aren’t interested in things that used to make you happy, you’re tired and irritable, and you’re having trouble concentrating. Has that ever happened before?”

Now Beetlejuice’s silence was the one that spoke. You gave a small nod, avoiding eye contact so he wouldn’t take your point as a confrontation. “That kind of stuff can sneak up on you.”

“Nothing’s sneakin’ up on me!” he bit out.

You paused to gauge his mood and eventually decided to keep pushing. “I have seasonal affective disorder. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned that to you. I don’t like the winter. Especially after Samhain. I know the darker months are better for witchcraft and there’s more time for light-sensitive workings, but I’ve always leaned more toward the warmer months. I get distracted easily during this time of year. It’s hard for me to focus, even on basic tasks. I forget to check whether I have all of my ingredients before I start brewing a potion. I sleep a lot and the world feels really empty. Just… you know, so you know.”

The inelegant ending of that made you cringe, but you let it stand.

“That sounds real shitty,” Beetlejuice admitted.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “But I learned some coping mechanisms that help, and I know how to handle it if things get really bad.”

He nodded slowly. “What, uh- What are they?”

“There’s a few of them that work for me.” You watched Beetlejuice in the reflection of a glass pan you had left standing in the drying rack. From what you could tell, he was listening intently. “I make sure to have a routine, which helps me regulate how much sleep I’m getting. I try to eat healthy and get some exercise whenever I can. And I keep in contact with friends.”

“Thought ya didn’t have friends?” Beetlejuice asked. Despite the directness of the question, his tone was mostly curious, so you didn’t take it personally.

“I fell out of contact with most of them, but I reached out to some old friends I lost touch with,” you explained. “Plus, I joined a gardening group online. They were very helpful when I was trying to grow an indoor herb garden. I hit it off with one of the other group members and now we chat pretty often.”

Beetlejuice gave a wordless hum in acknowledgement. “What if ya didn’t have friends?”

“I’d find someone to talk to, probably. Like you or some of the employees or even random people on the street. Any halfway pleasant interaction works, though it helps if you have enough history with them to talk about something deeper than weather or a late train.”

You glanced sideways at him. “Plus, it helps to say nice things to yourself.”

Beetlejuice snorted. “I don’t think talkin’ to yourself is a sign that you’re all there, toots.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you countered. “Self-talk is common and even healthy. Especially when you’re saying things that you need to hear from someone. That’s helpful even if the someone is you.”

“Whaddaya even say?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Depends on what I think I need to hear. Usually, it’s something like…”

You turned to face him directly, making full eye contact and putting on the soothing tone you’d used to talk yourself out of a panic attack in the past. “Hey. You’re doing fine. Actually, you’re doing great. I see how much work you’re putting in and I see how hard you’re trying. You’ve got this. Everything is going to turn out. Just keep going.”

Beetlejuice blinked frantically, nodding too many times as he broke that eye contact to stare at the floor. “Yeah, I can… Can see how-”

He cut himself off, swallowing harshly.

“You know,” you said softly, “it’s fine if you need to hear those things, too. I’m sorry no one else has said them to you yet. And that it took me so long to say it. But I meant every word I said. You’re working hard and I’m proud of you. More importantly, you should be proud of yourself.”

He was openly weeping by the time you finished your sentence, and it quickly escalated to heaving sobs. You abruptly found yourself with a crying demon wrapped around you, holding you as tightly as he could while you patted his back and murmured soothing nonsense.

“I’ve been going contract-to-contract for weeks, and I haven’t had time to take a breath.”

“I know.”

“No one even says ‘thank you’! Then half the time, they pretend I tricked them into it.”

“I know, honey.”

“And I didn’t even get to watch that video of the dancing guy in September!”

You bit your lip and nodded sympathetically. “You can watch that video now..?”

“It’s not the same!” he wailed.

“Let’s go sit down on the couch,” you suggested. Beetlejuice nodded, following you like a lost child.

The instant you settled onto the well-worn sofa, he flopped down with his head in your lap. The tears had slowed, but you stroked gentle fingertips through his hair. “That’s it. Everyone needs to blow off a little steam now and then. It’s a good thing. Completely natural.”

Beetlejuice tensed, his expression shifting to one of apology. “Sorry, babes, but I’m really not interested in gettin’ down and dirty right now.”

Your first reaction was amusement. Beetlejuice had sounded surprised by his own admission, even a little dismayed. But then you felt a little sad for him. If that was how he reacted to someone attempting to comfort him, it was really no wonder that Beetlejuice was so starved for positive relationships.

“I’m not interested in sex right now, either,” you reassured him after a beat to collect yourself. “If this is making you feel better, that’s the entire point. There doesn’t need to be anything more to it than that.”

He nodded, blinking slower and slower until he was lying utterly still with his eyes closed. You half-thought he had fallen asleep, but a tiny frown put furrows between his eyebrows.

“What am I gonna do?” he asked quietly.

It was hard to tell if he was speaking to you or to himself, but when you made a soft, curious noise, he kept speaking. “I stored up some favors and freedom and magic, but we’re goin’ into the slow season. I won’t start gettin’ summoned until the solstice, then it’ll be dead again until early next year. I don’t like the cold, and I sure as hell don’t wanna sleep in it-”

You shushed him. “First, you need to get some rest. And when you’re feeling less tired, you can just stay home with me.”

You put the slightest emphasis on ‘home’, trying to convey to him that you were okay with him thinking of your living space as his own.

“Ya mean I can stay here?” Beetlejuice’s eyes flew open to search your face. “Do ya really mean it?”

“Of course,” you agreed easily. “I’ll need help with the potions since I’m so absentminded this time of year. Plus, you’re a good focus for when I stock up on the charms and spells for Sinful. I think we can get a lot done around your work schedule and mine.”

“You’re really gonna put me right to work?” he complained, eyes twinkling playfully. “I guess I do owe ya a memory potion. I can start on it in a few minutes.”

“I have a better idea,” you countered. “You take a nap and I’ll go get some dinner.”

Beetlejuice beamed. “Can we have Thai?”

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, pulling your phone free from your pocket and typing out your usual Thai order with an extra pad kee mao for Beetlejuice. Once he had some sleep, you were willing to bet that his appetite came roaring back to life.

Despite Beetlejuice’s loud complaints, you wriggled out from under him. “I need to change! I can’t go to the restaurant in these clothes – I’d freeze.”

“Get it delivered,” he suggested, voice muffled with the way his cheek was pressed against the couch cushions.

“Absolutely not.” You put on a jacket and hat, then headed back out to the living room for your boots. “They charge almost double for-”

You stopped short, unable to fight back a grin at the sight of Beetlejuice sprawled - already sleeping - across your couch. By the time you put on your boots, he was snoring. You were still smiling as you locked the door behind you and felt the wards slide into place.

It was startlingly domestic for a witch and a demon, but life could be strange that way.

---

Author's Note - I was so proud of myself when I thought up this chapter. I was going to write about Beetlejuice suffering through some sub drop after a night with our witch. But then everything was stressful, and I burnt out at work, and my seasonal affective disorder kicked in, and the election was a trainwreck...

After all of that, this fic is what I ended up with. A little too much relationship development and far too little smut, but I promise to write something truly filthy for next time. Thanks for reading anyway!

#a deal with a demon #a deal with a demon fic #beetlejuice #fem!reader #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice fic #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x you #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #reader insert fic #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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themculibrary · 1 year ago

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Maria/Natasha Masterlist 2

part one

And We Will Come Back Home (ao3) - fairywriter G, 1k

Summary: In the few seconds that were her own Natasha would bring out her phone and call Maria’s number just to hear her voice.

a normal, adult friendship (ao3) - basha N/R, 6k

Summary: Maria Hill and Steve Rogers decide to try a normal, adult friendship. They bond over their love of the Dodgers, their sexualities, and their hopeless crushes on Russian ex-assassins.

a thing that wants (ao3) - magdaliny E, 5k

Summary: “Hey, Steve,” Bucky says. “We’re gonna find Nat a dame, okay?”

Natasha shoves him into the pool.

Confessions of an Angel (ao3) - keiko48460 M, 129k

Summary: Maria Hill, is on the run from the government who betrayed her. She finds sanctuary with Shield but a war is coming, and her past is lurking around every corner.

Fury believes she can lead the Avengers. Maria thinks she belongs in a cage. Will she learn to control her powers with the help of the Avengers and Shield or will the darkness within her consume everything she hold dear?

Darling, so it goes (ao3) - TheTruthAboutLove M, 31k

Summary: In 2055, after HYDRA has taken over, but Fury is organizing a resistance cell in Chicago, he runs into a young Maria Hill and takes her in, having no idea of her full potential. In NYC, Tony Stark is covertly leading the rebellion in another, larger-scale fashion, with the help of Natasha Romanoff.

don't bring tomorrow (i'll lose you) (ao3) - dephinecormier M, 1k

Summary: “Just because we’ve fucked for years doesn’t mean that you know me.” Maria shoves Natasha back once more, pushing until the back of Natasha’s knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Well, clearly I don’t.” Natasha growls out, ripping herself out of Maria’s grip and flips them cleanly. Maria stifles a gasp as Natasha kicks her legs out from under her and slams her down on the bed. Her elbow digs sharply into Maria’s chest as she presses down, leaning in.

#girlavenger, or How Natasha Trended on Twitter and Saved the World (ao3) - burritosong T, 5k

Summary: Natasha becomes an internet phenomenon. It's nothing that she was ever trained for.

how to date your friendly neighbourhood super secret agent. (ao3) - dustbear M, 21k

Summary: Agents Maria Hill and Phil Coulson accidentally meet the woman and man of their dreams(respectively), and have to work hard to keep their super secret agent spy jobs a secret in the pursuit of something resembling a normal dating life.

Coincidentally, so do Natasha and Clint.

If There Was a Me for You (ao3) - false_alexis T, 16k

Summary: When Maria is sent to intercept the Black Widow, there are certain things she wasn't expecting- certain very inconvenient things. Now they're stuck trying to distinguish the desirable from the inevitable.

Soulbond AU

i'm staying at my parents’ house and the road not taken looks real good now (ao3) - hhhillhouse N/R, 22k

Summary: Natasha takes The Avengers to her family's farm to recover after their first run-in with the Scarlet Witch and promptly flirts with Maria Hill in front of everyone, whether she admits it or not. (Black Widow comes before Age of Ultron in this storyline)

just when you escape you have yourself to fear (ao3) - capanon E, 18k

Summary: "Natasha was intimately familiar with being the center of this particular circus back on day one. She knew from experience that, like herself, Maria Hill was not a woman to crack under pressure." In which Natasha has commitment issues, fights aliens, and still gets the girl.

Kairos (ao3) - Pumpkinnubbin T, 137k

Summary: When Fury sends Natasha to Hill's place for help, this isn’t what she's expected to find.

Cue a mysterious child, one overprotective mother, and Natasha's unwillingness to be roped into things.

Maria's Rule (ao3) - MTL17 E, 65k

Summary: Natasha convinces Maria to break her own rule on workplace fraternisation. Repeatedly.

My Number One with a Bullet (ao3) - wintersoldier1989 E, 7k

Summary: Even though they’ve had a co-workers with benefits arrangement going on for a while now, Maria is struggling to keep the lines from blurring, especially where Natasha is concerned.

one more game, please (ao3) - powercrow M, 2k

Summary: Maria and Natasha are undercover. So are their feelings.

stuck on me like a tattoo (ao3) - letter2thepast T, 967

Summary: Maria Hill and Natasha Romanov are both tattoo fiends. Just in different ways.

The Taste of Her Cherry Chapstick (ao3) - cartersleia T, 1k

Summary: Natasha stares, breathless, as Agent Hill applied chapstick to her lips, blood still dripping down her nose.

They were both deadly assassins. They were both badass Agents of SHIELD, and both were in the quinjet returning from a mission that almost cost them their lives, hence both her and Maria's bloody noses and Nat's split lip.

So...why was Maria so attractive to her right now? When she's applying chapstick of all things?

Her lips just look so...supple, and soft, but Nat knows she'd also kiss rough. She'd kiss demanding, in charge, shoving Natasha against a wall as her lips smacked against Maria's.

That's the ideal life, she thinks.

Unchained (ao3) - dongyrn M, 175k

Summary: A girl with powers she is just beginning to comprehend is thrust unprepared into the world. Can she find the help she needs? Features primarily the Avengers timeline and characters with other MCU tie-ins, including Daredevil, Alias, and X-Men (yes, mutants, I went there) among others. Light OC Femslash, a BlackHill subplot, and some comic-based cameos.

What if Natasha Didn't Go to Vormir? (ao3) - phg M, 163k

Summary: What would happen if Natasha couldn't go to Vormir because they only had enough Pym Particles for 10 people and 11 had survived the snap to go back? (Read the tags carefully!)

A story about sisterhood (and love) that follows Natasha, Maria, Yelena, and eventually Kate in the time period from Endgame to post-Hawkeye.

You Mean Everything (ao3) - startrekkingaroundasgard T, 5k

Summary: Natasha asks Maria to be her date to the Christmas party but then doesn’t show when the night comes. Maria leaves broken hearted only to find Natasha waiting at her doorstep.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #blackhill #blackhill masterlist #masterlists #f/f #femslash

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dramioneasks · 1 year ago

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HP FESTS: Dramione Teratophilia Fest (Part 1)

Dramione Teratophilia Fest 2.0 2023:

Grace Period by TeTe91 - E, WIP - After all the hardships and challenges Hermione had to face during the war, she is left empty-handed. Instead of a reward, she finds herself in a hopeless situation and struggles with the closed door to her previously bright future. Upset with the hand she has been dealt, she no longer sees any reasons to play by the rules, or even be good. Who better to unleash her anger onto than Draco Malfoy.

Coup de Grâce by ChaosAndCrumpets - E, WIP - The only place Hermione Granger finds some semblance of her former self is - inexplicably - in the arms of Draco Malfoy. But something so unnatural is sure to have wider implications. Then people start to die.

A Captured Moment by peachy_V, Roseheira - E, one-shot - Many wolves die having never experienced the love and devotion that can only come from one's true mate. And for the longest time Draco thought his fate would be condemned to a loveless life. Yet here she was, his mate. Conveniently brought to him, tied up like a present, and ready to be claimed by him.

Shadow Pact by Serpent_Sortia - E, WIP - “From Glittering Love to Gilded Betrayal! Golden Girl Heartbroken by Cheating Scandal” Or, what happens when a certain demon offers to help Hermione get revenge on her cheating ex?

Eternity by emmarauren - M, one-shot - Hermione Granger would wait an eternity for Draco Malfoy to love her back. Even if he is eternally a beast.

Bound by Darkness by BlueZeldana - E, WIP - Draco Malfoy had been living alone for years and no one knew he was alive. He was a murderer now, and the magic of his victims ran through his veins making him more and more powerful with each life he took. The only thing he cared about was power. Until a Muggleborn witch stepped into his manor and ruined everything.

Thick as blood by pinkhairandbooks - E, one-shot - You’re a Vampire Slayer and you find out that your soulmate is the Vampire that you are tasked to kill and almost killed you. What now?

The Claiming by Kayka - E, 5 chapters - The men of the Malfoy line have maintained a carefully guarded family secret for generations. Perpetually exhausted Hermione Granger is simply trying to get through her Thursday.

Starve This Sin by belladeexx - E, WIP - An age-old saying: An Angel on your right and the Devil on your left. In this case, Draco Malfoy is the pesky lust demon on the metaphorical left side of every shoulder Hermione interacts with. He's a constant thorn in her wings, albeit an attractive thorn she can't stop dreaming about, but a thorn nonetheless. After all, he's just a harmless demon on his knees begging for a taste of heaven. Who is Hermione to forbid him of it?

messy eater by riddikulus_puff - E, one-shot - Hermione Granger thought she had learned her lessons when it came to seeking food out during her nightly adventures as a newly turned vampire, but it seemed that she really hadn't learned anything. She had been given the title of "messy eater" when it came to her desperation and hunger and always seemingly made a mess of things. Usually, Hermione found that she could clean things up herself after satiating her hunger but it seemed as though that wasn't happening this time. Draco Malfoy, an older vampire who was more expressed with quelling his hunger, was nearby when Hermione needed help with cleaning herself and the crime scene up. He was used to this, his father being the one who originally turned Hermione and introduced her to him. Draco acted as a shadow for Hermione to follow, supposed to protect and show her the ways of the vampires.

My Love, My Moon by Art_emis, magicalmolly - E, one-shot - Hermione is filling in as the substitute Herbology Professor for Neville and hating it. While gathering materials in the Forbidden Forest one night, during the full moon, she's attacked by a werewolf. When she goes to hunt them down and demand that they leave the school grounds she finds out that the werewolf is none other than Draco Malfoy. But he's no ordinary werewolf and his attack has left them connected to one another in an unbearable way.

I See You by art_emissss - T, one-shot - The familiar thrill of the hunt only began to seep into her blood, and her skin itched with anticipation. Or: the one where Hermione miscalculates and gets something out of it.

there's always a straight way to the point by B_LovedHunter - T, one-shot - Hermione becomes an Animagus just in time for the start of her 8th year. Surprise. She's a cat. While roaming Hogwarts, she comes across a very distressed Draco Malfoy. Against her better judgement, she decides to comfort him. It turns out Draco is a cat person. **** “Granger came to find me in the library today.” She stopped purring. He kept stroking her absently. “She said she forgives me. I don’t know how or why, but she does,” He sighed deeply. “I believe her. Maybe you’ll meet her one day. She has a lot of wild hair and she’s a swotty, annoying sort–” WELL. “But she’s good. She’s good, and brilliant. Pretty too. She’s always been all of that, even when she had rather large teeth.” Well. “Don’t worry, love. Not as pretty as you.”

An Abysmal Riptide by Bana_Bhuidseach - M, WIP - To catch a siren one must set sail on a moonless night at the peak of the storm, to capture a siren one must risk meeting death by the relentless sea and its razor sharp rocks, to capture a siren sometimes it means losing ones mind and life in the process and the captain of the ¨Sea Dragon¨is about to find out what that means when he encounters her, the sweetest thing on this side of hell.

When Stars Align by art_emissss, thatblondebitvh - E, WIP - The one where Draco Malfoy fucks around and finds out.

Waiting For The Bite by rapunzerelli, Sophiesstreet - E, one-shot - Members of notoriously rivaled species, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have only two things in common: a mutual hatred and a soulmate bond they unfortunately share. But when their lives are threatened by lingering followers of Voldemort and their bond forces them to protect each other, they find themselves thanking fate instead of blaming it.

For a Good Time by ymer - E, one-shot - Draco Malfoy finds a mysterious spell that starts as a dream before turning into a nightmare.

By These Fearful Places by ohthedrarry - M, 2 chapters - In his youth, Draco Malfoy had been little more than the disgraced son of an executed Senator. Hunger forced him to teach himself to hunt and risk his mortal life in woods ruled by the gods. Artemis took pity on the young boy and sent a woodland nymph to save him from a mountain lion who stalked him while he slept. Draco returned to that same forest ten years later, a man whose reputation exceeded that of even Odysseus. Fame and fortune gifted to him by his patron goddess no longer satisfied him. He craved the touch of that nymph who’d saved his life – and would risk everything to take it.

Never Let You Go by cauldronofmenace - M, one-shot - Draco is a vampire. Hermione is his prisoner. She has sexy dreams about him and he's happy to make them a reality.

The Sun and Her Shadow by daydreamstory, Ivmaruva - E, WIP - She travels across barren stretches of an eternal night to find him. He waits for her there, on the dark side of the moon.

Blood Moon by NinaBinaBallerina - E, WIP - Under a blood moon, Lycans hunt the forest for their mates. And Draco Malfoy knew just the witch he wanted to sink his teeth into.

You’re Everything a Big, Bad Wolf Could Want by LaLuneMoonstone - E, 2 chapters - A trip into the forbidden forest under the waxing crescent to get herbs for potions plus a new read cloak lands Hermione in a mate situation. Little red riding hood never had to deal with this, or did she?

The Banshee of Biddeford Pond by atomicbombshell - G, one-shot - no summary

La Appel du Vide by CSIsui - E, one-shot - “Flora has always been the most innocent and, at the same time, the most perverse medium for symbolism all throughout history.” Draco once heard in her lecture. “From Georgia O’Keefe to Shakespeare and ancient history, flora has been the favourite when it comes to cheeky sex symbols.” And she was right

#dramione teratophilia fest #dramione #fests/exchanges/challenges

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george228732 · 1 year ago

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Fylass Through the Looking Glass - Chapter One EX - The Witch Hunt

The moon was rising, and the sun was setting.

Dero and Ades were walking down the silent paths of Wonderland, with the sounds of crows, owls and the wind being the only sounds around. Ades was wondering why Dero needed their help; they were friends for a long time, but after some misunderstandings, their reunions were cut short.

The Wise Warrior decided to speak up to Dero, not because of their new reunion, but for other things that made him curious.

"...So, what were you doing at the Memory Lane Cinema?"

"..." Dero didn’t answer back, but it was noticeable that his face became one of pure melancholy. Ades seemingly knew exactly what Dero was going through, or at least, he had an idea, but that same thought filled him with sorrow.

"...I am sorry."

"Thou-... You are forgiven."

All of them walked around the circus when the time came; it was still there, hopefully, with the Cheshire Cats sleeping atop of each other after causing chaos, and the attractions still going strong, with less people around, yes, but it was nice to see the circus around, again. Both would’ve loved to be there, but the air of awkwardness and purpose around there made them unable to do so.

Winds of regret, and hopelessness were around, but they were soon replaced by a warm feeling of comfort being led by the comforting light of the Card Castle’s outskirts, as if that stinge of humanity led both to the entrance.

"Oh, hello again, Jailer Dero, and… Diamond." Ava was the one at the entrance, along with Verin, who was waving awkwardly at both.

"Greetings, General Ava." Ades said.

With these salutations, both Ades and Dero entered, leaving the cold winds behind, embracing the comforting warmth of Dolly’s castle, which was waiting right at her royal chair in the dining room.

"Oh! Hi there, again, Dero, and Ades! Dolly is happy to see you again!"

"Hello again, My Queen, hope you had a lovely day."

"Dolly did! Thank you! Where are Fylass and the rest, though?"

"I am pretty sure that they are at Underland at the moment, you don’t need to worry!" Ades spoke up.

"Oh! Dolly is glad that they achieved that goal! She wants to see them soon, so she has hope that they will come back as soon as possible!"

Dero and Ades were happy to see her happy, especially Dero.

"Oh! Also, dinner is ready! Please, sit down and eat with Dolly and the rest of the knights!" Dero seemed hesitant with the idea, since he was here to talk to Aes about… certain topics, but he couldn’t refuse Dolly with that idea, maybe because she was the Queen, or maybe it was for something else. He looked at Ades, which seemed pretty convinced with the idea.

"Yes, My Queen. We can do that." He spoke with such kindness that Ades seemingly did not believed, but chuckled afterwards.

"Great! Please, sit down right there, and everything will be ready for you!" Dolly really was trying to be the best Queen around, and Dero knew; he wasn’t this happy for a Queen on the rise for… a while.

Dero and Ades sat down on their respective tables, as the rest of the knights, and people at the Castle sat down to eat with the Queen, which seemed ecstatic for this. Dero on the other hand, seemed melancholic, and Ades knew why…

The dinner was big, with pasta as the main course, and sweets as the dessert; it was clear that Dolly was the one that ordered this, such innocence may seem pure, but who would know when the time comes for someone willing to take advantage of her.

Ades and Dero were looking at each other, the former seemingly hiding Blossom on his coat, giving her most of the food to eat; ever since she shattered and formed back again, he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let her go, just like that. The latter though, was doing his best to not make a mess of himself; not having hands surely was a problem, but at least, he tried to be as "classy" as possible.

The rest of the knights were all bickering in a friendly way; talking about how their patrols were, or talking about how the place seemed more merry ever since the Club appeared to control the situation.

Soon enough, everyone was done eating, and that feeling of a home was oozing out of the castle. Twilight Knight and Verin were drawing at the table, like kids; Dero knew that those two were wanting to do that for a while anyways, so, he wasn’t surprised to say the least.

Everyone left the table, at last, and Dolly was about to leave, but was quickly stopped by Dero. "My Queen, sorry for bothering you at this time, but we need to talk about something you might have interest in."

"Oh, sure! What is it?"

"Ades, could you open the door of your respective story? There’s something I need to show you." Dero said.

Pleiades nodded in confusion; was that the reason why Dero needed his help? Was there something bigger to this? What was he not telling? Either way, he complied, and the three left towards the second story to open the Diamond Door.

As the three went upstairs, they saw the guards that were about to sleep, in much more comfortable rooms than the ones they had the displeasure to sleep in before, but that displeasure became confort, hopefully. Dolly wished them good night, as she saw TK, Verin, Ava and some other knights go into their designated rooms to catch some well deserved sleep; even when the new Queen was around, there still was a job to do. Doors closed, and one target to go.

Blossom picked up the key from within Pleiades’ coat, and placed it on one of his paws, and after one sincere smile from him towards her, used the key to open the door. A door to a room that Dolly hasn’t seen.

The room had purple as its primary color, with a green carpet; paintings resembling Cherry Blossoms were on the wall, among the many bookshelves that were filled, a piano was right next to one of them and at the end of the hallway, there was a green throne, with a diamond suit painting right above it.

"Wow! This place is so pretty!" Dolly spoke up with glee.

"It has been a while ever since I explored this room. I hope that what you’re looking for is worth it, Dero."

Dero nodded, and quickly went towards one specific bookshelf, and used one of his swords to point at one book. "Could you pick this book up, please?" He said, pointing to Ades. "I would do that myself, but I am sure you know why I can’t."

The caterpillar couldn’t help but laugh at that fact, and between chuckles, he picked up the book. It was titled "Bestiary". The book was red, and golden framed, with a moon symbol at the cover.

"...Why this book?"

"Look at page 163. My Queen, you should look at this too." Dero spoke up towards Dolly, who took a peek at it as well.

"GRIMMASTER CURSE - JABBERWOCKY" That was the title of the page.

"This being is under the influence of a curse that has been around since the very beginning of Wonderland’s Foundation. It is currently unknown what is the source of it, but it has been passed across generations by different draconic creatures for millenia. The ones under the influence experience severe hysteria and aggressive tendencies, which peak up to the point of harming, and killing others. The most recent Jabberwocky, is an individual known as Grimmaster Celesta, who has been missing ever since the death of four knights at the Infinitea Curse Incident, one of them being a domesticated Jabberwocky."

"It is imperative that this creature must be contained, or terminated."

Dolly’s face of confusion and curiosity becme one of dread; how was it possible that she, being the Queen, didn’t know about this threat looming over her kingdom?

"This creature is on the loose, and I fear it has become much more aggressive. Our mission is to search for it, and to terminate it, maybe not once and for all, but for enough time to find a way to get rid of it permanently."

"W-WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL DOLLY ABOUT THIS?! YOU MUST’VE TOLD HER!" Dolly screamed with fear; the news didn’t make her happy.

"I apologize, My Queen, but I didn’t want to alert you about it that early. We are going to look out for her tomorrow, for your safety. Your safety is in my hands, and I won’t fail you."

"P-Please! Don’t go, Dolly doesn’t want you to get hurt!"

"I’ve been living for more than 9,000 years at this point, so I know what to do; this isn’t the first time I’ve defeated an iteration of the Jabberwocky, so I promise that I won’t get hurt and I won’t leave you alone."

"...Okay…"

"Now please, go to sleep. If you have problems doing so, use the music box I bought you that one time, okay?"

"...Alright, goodnight, Dero… Dolly will see you tomorrow morning…" Dolly said as she left the room with concern.

"Goodnight, My Queen."

The room was silent for a while, but Ades was prone to speak afterwards.

"...So, that’s it? Just wondering…"

"Actually, I wanted to talk with you about something else…" Dero pointed towards a specific point of the hallway; there was a table, with two chairs, and a chessboard along with its pieces right above it. "We can play some chess in the meantime if you like it."

"Alright?"

Both sat down, and quickly pondered over their thoughts at the chessboard. It was prone for Dero and Ades to do their first moves, and they quickly moved their pawns.

"So, what is it?"

"...You see, I need to talk to you about… something more important." Dero said as he used his sword to move another pawn.

"Can you stop with the mystery, please?" Ades remarked, moving another pawn, in a more erratic strategy.

"Do you remember the Moon of Despair?" Dero moved another piece.

"...The Devil, are you saying? Of course I remember. That bastard Suit." Ades moved yet another piece.

"It’s back, and I am sure. We all thought you and the other suits were able to banish him completely to the Void of Agony, but it’s back…"

"Eh? How could that be?"

"You see… When the incident happened, we all shattered, and reformed back. I am sure you remember that perfectly. You see, the hole that was close to your domains was the main entrance to that Void, and even if you thought that it was finally sealed, it only spread towards Wonderland again, but balance was found again, or atleast, you thought so."

"E-Excuse me? How could that be? Vibrato, Giselle, Tenebra and I were able to seal it completely! What nonsense are you saying?"

"...It’s in Underland. Wonderland is safe, but won’t be for long. The Jabberwocky being back only means that the Moon of Despair is also here as well… I have the suspicion that the Club is involved."

"...Are you saying that Fylass is a traitor?"

"No. I am just saying that the Club is connected to it. In fact, I think they are the Wonderlander Deity."

"Okay, that’s enough. You’re just spilling nonsense."

"...You know me, Ades. I have enough proof to say that they are our God, but it’s getting too late to discuss it now. I can see that Blossom is asleep." Ades was surprised by that statement; he didn’t know that Dero had noticed Blossom, and indeed, she was asleep."

"...We must talk about this tomorrow."

"It seems that our king is back."

"...My rule has long since ended, but it seems that I need to guide Dolly and the rest to be protected against this enemy, if what you’re saying is true. Dolly needs to receive guidance from a former King, after all. I shall take my leave now, but tomorrow morning, we will meet again."

"Understood, King Ades."

"Don’t call me that."

"Okay. I wish you good sleep, Ades."

"...Goodnight."

Ades left the room, and Dero looked back to the chessboard; Ades’ pieces were scattered over the whole board, and Dero’s pieces were all protecting the Queen.

"...Sigh."

Dero left, and was about to sleep, going towards the dorms of the Queen to check on Dolly, until he noticed something.

At one of the tables, there was an open letter. Dolly must’ve left it there to check on it tomorrow, but Dero was curious about it, since something familiar was oozing out of it.

"We must meet again. Meet me at the place where I used to live before becoming Queen; the eternal night will rise again if we don’t act now, so please, our reunion must be made soon."

"...Giselle?" She was someone Dero loved a lot, but thanks to the Moon of Despair, and his influence, she met a horrible demise. Why was this note here though? The way of writing felt exactly how she would write, and Dero knew it exactly.

"...If this is a joke, I will kill the person who did it, but if it isn’t… I must see her again… This is stupid, but I need to check in this information." Dero went towards the first story, and used the backdoor to go to the outskirts, leading to the Tarot Village. If what the letter said was true, his destination was close to there.

Steps were taken, and soon enough, the Castle became more and more distant, and the Jailer was able to see a heart shaped clock, and it revealed that it was 11:59.

"It’s a minute before another day; it will soon be the day when I left you behind…"

---------------

@monsterhatdoodles (CREATOR OF THE DOODLES OF THIS CHAPTER)

@loaflovesdoodling

@that-fanperson-meg

@avathestarwarrior

@the-chaos-axolotl

@ilikesillythingswooo

@den-of-the-blue-dragon

#fylass in wonderland #fylass through the looking glass #extra chapter

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rose-of-oz · 1 year ago

Text

𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗔 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 𝗕𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗘𝗦

By the request of my darling @ginevrastilinski-ocs and @dancingsunflowers-ocs (as well as @luucypevensie, though she's already been infodumped to about my newest children), I hereby present to you my new OCs for The Chronicles of Narnia! I might not have their official intro posts up for a little bit, but please still fell free to ask me questions about them!

(Before I get any futher into this, there are a few things I should clarify in order for the lore surrounding these OCs to make sense: 1) my OCs' stories are purely based off of the movie canon because the most I've read of the books is the first chapter of The Magician's Nephew, and 2) I have messed with the canon of the movies like, a lot. For starters, the Pevensies never go back into their world at the end TLTWATW, so they remain the kings and queens of Narnia. For another thing I also completely messed up the timeline so that the Telmarines try to invade and take over shortly after they become the rulers after they've heard about the White Witch's death, and Caspian defects and offers help to the Narnian crown, both because he wants to save himself from his uncle and because he never supported the invasion to begin with - basically, I'm just rewriting most of the story after the first movie to my liking. I'm still figuring out the intricacies of what that's going to mean for certain important events in the last two movies, but for now, on to telling you about the OCs!!)

HEMERA:

— Susan ship.

— Hemera comes from a family of Golden Witches - witches that have mastery over light and heat and solar energy depending on their power level. Her family comes from the same coven that the White Witch used to be a part of, and only a few of them, including Hemera's mother, were able to escape and survive when Jadis killed most of the coven and took over Narnia (yes, I have also very much made up my own Narnian witch lore).

— When Hemera is eleven years old, however, Jadis comes looking for the Golden Witches she missed, killing Hemera's mother, grandmother, great-aunt, and even her human father, and she is sent away to hide, becoming the only Witch besides Jadis left alive in Narnia.

— She spends the next several years in hiding, being sheltered by kind animals or sleeping in forests and being kept safe by the trees, until she hears that the prophesied Daughters of Eve and Sons of Adam have actually arrived in Narnia and are teaming up with Aslan to form an army against the White Witches forces, and she decides to volunteer her magic to help in the fight.

— Her magic isn't actually very strong or focused, however, because she's spent so long barely using it to try and stay safe, so she doesn't do much in the fight. But after Jadis is defeated and the Pevensies are crowned rulers of Narnia, Aslan suggests that they appoint Hemera as the Court Witch - a position rulers of Narnia before Jadis would always have a Witch fill, to help in any battles and provide council on magical matters - promising that he will give her lessons to help her connect more to the Deep Magic and her own powers.

— A hopeless little lesbian who takes one look at Susan with her bow and arrows and pretty much immediately falls in love (it takes Susan a little longer, especially considering the era she comes from, but she gets there).

— Definitely just as much a ray of sunshine as her powers suggest, but also not very good at social interaction since she's spent the majority of her time alone since she was eleven, so she's very impulsive and often just says whatever pops into her head (definitely a perfect contrast to Susan's quieter and planning-inclined nature).

— She and Susan are very much sunshine x sunshine protector.

— Becomes another sister to the rest of the Pevensies; she might have lost one family, but she definitely gained another.

ALARIC RYKER:

— Peter ship.

— A teenage crime lord from Thorn Town, a small city far enough away from Narnia's capital to be mostly spared from Jadis's wrath when she took over Narnia, only having to suffer the eternal cold and the general decline in food rather than the White Witch's cruelty.

— Long before Alaric was born, a smuggling ring called the Shadowy Ravens sprung up in Thorn Town as a response to the lack of resources, stealing from Jadis's soliders and shipments going to the royal palace in order to give them back to members of the community. They began resorting to worse means of getting things as time went on, even killing a few of Jadis's guards, but Jadis never payed them enough mind to take action against them, and the few soliders who did try to get revenge for their comrades were not sucessful.

— Alaric was born a street rat, born to a mother who didn't even know who his father was and who abandoned him when he was a few months old, and he was taken in by the second-in-command of the Shadowy Ravens, who raised him like his own son and taught him everything he knew.

— Alaric eventually rose to second-in-command himself (after doing some less-than-ethical tasks to prove himself) and after both the Ravens' leader and his adoptive father were killed in a scuffle with Jadis's soliders, shortly before the Pevensies came to Narnia, he rose to become the youngest leader the gang had ever had.

— About a year after the Pevensies are crowned kings and queens, when the Telmarines start to invade, Peter approaches Alaric and the Shadowy Ravens, asking for Alaric's help and for soliders to boost their army. He's heard about Alaric's gift for strategy, how despite being so young and constantly underestimated he's managed to take down several more gangs who sprung up in the early days of the Pevensies' rule and tried to steal his territory, and Peter knows his men are strong and trained enough to fight the Telmarines, but loyal enough that they will only join the fight if their leader gives them permission.

— Alaric is pretty reluctant at first - he doesn't exactly have a great amount of trust in any Narnian leaders given how he grew up - but he also figures that not only do the four new kings and queens not seem so bad, but that even if they don't turn out very well then the Telmarines would be worse, so he agrees to lend his strategic knowledge and any of his men who are willing to fight to the cause.

— After the Telmarines are defeated, Peter offers him a position as the new head battle strategist of the Narnian military, and Alaric actually decides he's had enough of being a gang leader, of all the violence and worrying about an entire village full of people depending on him, and accepts it, giving control of the Ravens over to his second but also making sure that the Pevensies set up a new system that will provide extra resources to towns and cities farther away from the capital like Thorn Town. (He also accepts the offer only a little bit because he thinks the new High King is cute and brave and compassionate.)

— It still takes him and Peter a while to get together, mainly because Alaric has big-time trust issues and struggles to let down any of his walls, but once they do they're a surprisingly sweet couple, and the other Pevensies are more than happy to accept Alaric as their new future brother-in-law.

KAI HALLOWS:

— Caspian ship.

— A pirate boy!! He was basically born on the sea, to a former captain of the Narnian Navy (Jadis disbanded most of the military when she took over and replaced them with her own soliders) and his wife. Kai was born on his father's ship, but it was difficult since no one on board really knew how to help a woman giving birth, and his mother died shortly after.

— After his wife's death, Kai's father retreated into the delusion that he was still a respected member of the Narnian military (despite the fact that most of the sea around Narnia was half-frozen and everyone in the surrounding countries were too scared of Jadis to allow his ship to dock in their cities) and ran his ship like a dictator, barely ever giving his crew a break and ignoring his son unless Kai had done something he didn't like, in which case he was yelling at him loud enough for the whole ship to hear. He treated Kai more like an insubordinate member of the crew than his son, and his actual crew did more of a job raising Kai than he did, taking it upon themselves to take care of the boy and raise him right.

— Kai was definitely a troublemaker and a bit of a rogue, always getting into trouble whenever the crew was actually allowed to dock somewhere, whether that was from pickpocketing or pulling some kind of prank on a local solider. Eventually, when he was fourteen, his father became fed up with him and left him, abandoning his son at a market in a city far away from Narnia and setting sail again, despite the protests of everyone on his crew.

— But rather than let that do anything to stop him, Kai located a large abandoned ship in the local harbor, claimed it as his own, and worked odd jobs until he had enough coin to fix it up properly. A few friends he had made in the city decided to sail off with him as the first crew members of the Golden Fish - the chosen name for his new ship - and as they sailed around more and more, getting used to thieving and being pirates in general, they picked up more and more souls looking for adventure, until Kai had himself a proper pirate crew.

— And a few years later, when the White Witch was defeated and ships started coming out of Narnia again, they were able to ramp up their exploits even more, until the Golden Fish and her crew were one of the most notorious names on the high seas.

— They're so well-known, in fact, that when Caspian wants to set sail to try and find seven Telmarine lords that he thinks will have the answer to stopping the green mist that has started to overtake parts of Narnia, High King Peter decides that it would be a good idea to contact the captain of the Golden Fish and offer him a large payment for taking the prince, his two youngest siblings, and their chosen crew along for extra protection.

— Kai agrees, of course - not only will he never say no to adventure or any amount of coin, but he suspects it might be good for his reputation to do business with the High King and not wind up in prison because of it - and he and his crew take the the prince, king, and queen, along with their chosen companions, aboard their ship to set sail on this voyage.

— He and Caspian bond over their father issues at first, but they get closer and closer over the course of the adventure, with Kai bringing Caspian out of the shell he was forced to live in when he was with the Telmarines even more than the Pevensies have over the year he's been with them, and eventually, of course, they fall in love!

— Kai also develops friendships with Lucy and Edmund - he and Edmund bond over being proud bisexuals with no time for hetero bullshit, and he and Lucy are very much badass WLW/MLM solidarity - and even when the voyage is over and they return to Narnia, Peter and Susan take an immediate liking to this boy who's stolen their friend's heart and managed to make him so happy (even if he does get the shovel talk of a lifetime from both of them).

Aaaaand that's it for info on my new Narnia babies!! It might take me a bit to get some proper intro posts for them, but you can still feel free to ask me whatever questions about them you want to!!

(I know I said Grace and @oneirataxia-girl have already been infodumped to about this, but I'm tagging them both because there's new info here, and I'm also tagging @endless-oc-creations because she loves Narnia as well!!)

#plot bunnies #upcoming ocs #oc: hemera #oc: alaric ryker #oc: kai hallows #narnia ocs #chronicles of narnia ocs #fic: sunbeam smile #fic: arsonist's lullaby #fic: jolly sailor bold

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queenlucythevaliant · 2 years ago

Text

When Lucy returned to school for the spring term, Peter sent a war poem. It dropped from the crease of his letter into her lap, as unexpected as a firebomb.

“On Receiving News of War,” the title read, and Lucy’s heart lurched. She was sixteen and Peter was twenty-one. The war had ended three years ago and he had only been a British soldier for a matter of months before he was discharged. Now, this poem came: words from the Last Lot, the 1914 war. Lucy picked up the loose page and read.

ON RECEIVING NEWS OF THE WAR

Snow is a strange white word;

No ice or frost

Have asked of bud or bird

For Winter's cost.

Yet ice and frost and snow

From earth to sky

This Summer land doth know,

No man knows why.

She looked up in shock. What did Peter mean in sending this? Was it only that it made him think of their first days in Narnia, white and frozen under the White Witch’s curse? He could not have missed the title. Lucy worried her lip between her teeth, considering. Her brother did not often use words idly.

Red fangs have torn His face.

God's blood is shed.

He mourns from His lone place

His children dead.

O! ancient crimson curse!

Corrode, consume.

Give back this universe

Its pristine bloom.

Oh. Yes, alright. That made a certain kind of sense. And there, at the bottom of the page, was a single line writ in Peter’s hand. “Variations on a theme,” he had written, “only I’m not yet certain what theme it is. Do you have an idea?”

Several, in fact. Lucy’s mind lit up in an instant, all a-whirl with memory and typology. She wasn’t a child any longer, and in small bits her many battles came back to her. Peter, she was sure, remembered even more of Narnia’s wars.

Yet Lucy remembered the ice of Lantern Waste on the first day as though no time had passed at all. She remembered the crimson of Aslan’s blood. She remembered the thaw. In her mind, those things had nothing and everything to do with Britain’s last war. Nothing: the two worlds were as different as King Arthur and Winston Churchill. Everything: because maybe Arthur and Churchill were not so different after all.

That night, after a trip to the library and with a book of poetry on her desk, Lucy composed her reply. “Another variation,” she wrote, and carefully copied out the lines.

All the dead kings came to me

At Rosnaree, where I was dreaming,

A few stars glimmered through the morn,

And down the thorn the dews were streaming.

And every dead king had a story

Of ancient glory, sweetly told.

It was too early for the lark,

But the starry dark had tints of gold.

The poem was called “The Dead Kings.” Peter was not dead, but Lune was and Cor was. Caspian was. It was easy to imagine them appearing in the trenches and whispering their stories into the ears of British soldiers.

“Caspian would have liked the notion, I think,” Lucy said thoughtfully.

Peter leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Yes. Come to think of it, I rather like it myself. If I were the dead king, I mean.”

“It’s strange—I think these were meant to be sad poems, the way they were written. The world unwillingly cursed and the ancient kings dead. Yet when you apply it to Narnia, I don’t think it’s terribly sad at all. Maybe a little melancholy, but hopeful too. Like I know something that the poet doesn’t.”

“You do know something that the poet doesn’t,” answered Peter.

“I mean about war and dying and all. It’s all so distant for me, you know? And yet I often suspect that I know secrets that some men who actually fought couldn’t guess at. The hopeless men, maybe. In Narnia it was all more beautiful. Having lived there elevates even war and death, in this world.”

“We were, both of us, soldiers once.”

Lucy nodded.

“How about this one, then?” Peter shoved his book across the table, nearly upending the cream along the way.

The drab street stares to see them row on row

On the high tram-tops, singing like the lark.

Too careless-gay for courage, singing they go

Into the dark.

“Simple,” said Lucy. “Singing on the way to war is courage. Singing in the dark is just about the bravest thing a person can do. Just because these boys go into the battle without knowing what it’s really like doesn’t make them any less brave for going, or for singing.”

“You would know,” her brother smiled fondly.

With tin whistles, mouth-organs, any noise,

They pipe the way to glory and the grave;

Foolish and young, the gay and golden boys

Love cannot save...

“It makes me think of Susan,” Peter murmured.

“I can see that. Our love cannot save her, only Aslan’s.” Lucy frowned thoughtfully.

“No, no—I mean I wonder if that’s how Susan thinks of us: foolish children still playing games where singing in the dark means anything at all. Gay and golden, but naïve and careless by the same token. Too caught up in notions of courage and glory to realize that we live in a world where good people die.”

“Oh Peter, you don’t really think?”

“She told me once she’s afraid that we’ll never grow up, did you know? I wondered if she meant that we would always be like children, or if she worried we might die young. Sometimes I still wonder.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” said Lucy. “To always be child-like, or even to die young. Not by half.”

Peter snorted. “You might not mind dying young, but I’d certainly mind it. You’re my little sister, Lu. If you die young, it means I’ve done something wrong.”

“Well of course I’d mind! There are so many things I mean to do once I’m grown up. But I’ve always thought—ever since Father Christmas handed me that dagger—that I might. As long as I died for something, it wouldn’t bother me. I think I could be a rather good martyr.” She winked across the table.

“Don’t you dare. If Aslan has short lives in mind for either of us, we’ll drink what we’re given. In the meantime, let’s both of us focus on growing up well.”

The next week, Lucy went with Marjorie Preston to the mail room. It was Marjorie’s birthday and she was expecting a parcel from home, but Lucy was also privately hoping for another letter from Peter.

An abundance of riches awaited Marjorie: an enormous box that the two of them had to lift together. Thus, Lucy tucked Peter’s letter under one of the box’s flaps as they carried it, and it was Marjorie who tore open the envelope when they reached the dormitories.

“What in the world is this?” Marjorie exclaimed, waving a poem under Lucy’s nose. Lucy snatched it away and hungrily read the words, considering how this variation fit Peter’s theme. Then, she noticed that Marjorie was still beside her, tapping her foot impatiently.

“My brother sends me war poems,” Lucy explained hurriedly.

“That’s strange.”

“Do you think so?” Lucy considered. “Well, no matter.”

WAR GIRLS (here Peter had added “& VALIANT QUEENS”)

Strong, sensible, and fit,

They're out to show their grit,

And tackle jobs with energy and knack.

No longer caged and penned up,

They're going to keep their end up

Till the khaki soldier boys come marching back.

"Does he mean you?" asked Marjorie, wrinkling her nose.

Lucy laughed, but didn't dispute it. She went to fetch some paper and a pen.

On they went for the next several months, passing poems back and forth in their letters. Some of them were hopeful and some despairing, some sad, some darkly funny. It was a dialogue in a war that Peter scarcely remembered, and Lucy even less. In time, Tennyson and others from before the Last Lot worked their way in. Even Shakespeare made an appearance with several selections from the Henriad. Spring lurched into summer which tumbled into fall. Peter turned twenty-two in August and Lucy was seventeen in November.

Then, at dinner at Professor Digory’s house one night, the specter of a Narnian king appeared before them. Before they left, Peter found the poem he was thinking of in the Professor’s study and gave it to Lucy.

Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,

And loss of things desired; all these must pass.

We are the happy legion, for we know

Time's but a golden wind that shakes the grass.

“Does it feel different this time?” he asked once she had read it.

“Yes,” replied his sister, “and no. It feels obscurely like it did the night Aslan died. Like something is hanging over us.”

“I think this is the end,” Peter said bluntly. “He said we wouldn’t ever go back to Narnia, yet here we are. It feels like the end. Do you remember what it was like the night before a battle?”

“Yes. I didn’t before, but I do now. Like we had to gather up everything inside ourselves and name it. Fear and courage, love and memory.”

Peter sighed. “We ought to get going. There might be ice on the roads tonight.”

Lucy went into the closet and fetched her coat. Peter followed, moving a fraction slower than usual.

“Peter?” Peter turned and looked at Lucy, who was standing in the doorway with her fur-trimmed collar turned up around her throat. “It was a good poem, Peter. The right poem. Time’s but a golden wind that shakes the grass…”

Golden. Golden like Aslan’s mane, which they both so dearly longed to touch once more. Lucy tossed the poem round and round in her mind all that evening.

Before he and Edmund left for London, Lucy slipped an envelope into Peter’s pocket. “Read it on the train,” she told him.

Peter nodded. “I have one for you too.”

It was the last conversation they shared in the Shadowlands, though neither knew it at the time.

When Lucy unfolded her poem, she recognized the words. It was her favorite war-poem, which she’d first sent to Peter months ago when their correspondence had begun.

Sombre the night is:

And, though we have our lives, we know

What sinister threat lurks there.

But hark! Joy—joy—strange joy.

Lo! Heights of night ringing with unseen larks:

Music showering on our upturned listening faces.

It almost made her want to giggle, how well Peter knew her. Lucy thought of him and Edmund together in London; she ached for Susan, who had chosen not to join her siblings in their last battle for Narnia. She breathed in deep and thought of music on the way to war.

Death could drop from the dark

As easily as song—

But song only dropped,

Like a blind man's dreams on the sand

By dangerous tides;

Like a girl's gold hair, for she dreams no ruin lies there,

Or her songs where a lion hides.

That last couplet was wrong. Peter had changed it. The poem ended with, A girl’s dark hair and kisses where a serpent hides, but Peter had written gold and lion instead.

When Peter unfolded his own poem on the train, he found only a single stanza, annotated on nearly every line.

It didn’t pass— (His will be done) it didn’t pass- (His will be done)

It didn’t pass from me.

I drank it when we met the gas (His will be done)

Beyond Gethsemane! (His will be done)

The train halted and the whistle blew. Peter shook Edmund awake beside him, and together they went to unbury the rings.

Poems referenced: “On Receiving News of the War,” Isaac Rosenberg; “The Dead Kings,” Francis Ledwidge; “Joining the Colours,” Katharine Tynan; “War Girls,” Jessie Pope; “Absolution,” Siegfried Sassoon; “Returning, We Hear Larks,” Isaac Rosenberg; “Gethsemane,” Rudyard Kipling

#i really am very interested in the ways that Narnia relates to both ww2 and ww1 #but i almost never like the way other people address the subject #(sorry)#so here's my attempt #i'm not 100% satisfied with it but i think it's good enough for now #the beauty of using a cut is that i can still revise if i decide i want to #also this is part of my informal 'Narnia lit analysis series'#because that's just the kind of gal i am #narnia #dear darling heart-daughter of aslan #high king over all the rest #chapter one #martyr club relevant #leah stories #pontifications and creations #intertextuality

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usagirln12003 · 3 months ago

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Mavis Vermillion: Hogwarts AU

Mavis Vermillion was a Pureblood witch that was born on the 23rd of June 1953 and started attending Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1964, being sorted into Ravenclaw House.

She had a Beech wand with a Unicorn Hair core.

Her Patronus was a fairy.

Her favorite subject was Care of Magical Creatures and her least favorite subject was Potions.

She was one of the Ravenclaw Prefects of her year and later Head-Girl.

Mavis is kind and protective of her loved ones. She cares, guides and protects them whenever it's possible. She seems to be quite cheerful as she's smiling and happy most of the time. Mavis can also be quite carefree and reckless, and this side of her is shown when she allowed Jellal Fernandes to participate in a Duelling Tournament, as long as it improved their chances of winning, despite the fact that if anyone found out about the ex-worker of the Ministry of Magic and escaped convict, it could be disastrous to the school.

Mavis is quite playful and to a certain degree, childish. She even left St. Mungos just to cheer on Hogwarts in the Triwizard Tournament, solely because she was bored in the hospital. She seems to be indifferent to certain things. For example, when Mavis felt a malicious force coming from a few Slytherins, she was not especially worried. Though playful, she can be quite serious at times. When it came to winning the Triwizard Tournament, Mavis cast aside her smile, adopting a serious persona in which she stated she would lead Hogwarts' champion to victory, taking charge and giving out orders.

Mavis was once given the epithet Raven Tactician, as she led her team to many victories thanks to her exceptional skill in making strategies during battles. However, Mavis can miscalculate a strategy every now and then, and upon learning one was a failure, she usually doesn't take it well.

Among one of her most noticeable quirks is that Mavis adores being barefoot. Out of comfort, she shuns shoes and chooses to always wander around barefooted everywhere she goes, and to emphasize this conspicuous habit, she is often shown at the perspective of her feet. It is a combination of traumatic events she endured at a young age and her own preferences that caused her to develop the habit. During her childhood, she was abused by her foster father Zeeself, who made her give back the one pair of shoes he bought for her after he decided she doesn't deserve them, then threw them away when his daughter refused them, forcing Mavis to go without footwear. During her time at Hogwarts, she grows so accustomed to her lack of shoes that even when she has freedom to use shoes again, she absentmindedly forgets to wear them. When Zera notices this and scolds her, Mavis cheerfully replied she feels better barefoot. She has apparently embraced the habit wholeheartedly, as she has not been seen wearing shoes since this incident.

Another noteworthy element of her innocent and gentle nature is that she entertains a belief that angels may exist, after her parents mentioned their existence in a fairy tale back when they were still around. As a result, this eventually inspires her with the name for her book, and is at the core of many of the principles and values it and the vast majority of the students at Hogwarts now have.

For a time, Mavis lost her kindhearted, outgoing, and innocent demeanor. Upon discovering a prophecy that predicted that she would give birth to the sons of one of the darkest wizards of all, she becomes a very frightened shell of her former self, driven to despair and madness. In this state, she starts exhibiting the concentric red eyes that Zeref has, and spends over a year in seclusion, far removed from anywhere she could possibly destroy innocent lives. Consequentially, Mavis's appearance goes from pure yet elegant to badly broken and disheveled. She becomes so hopeless that she tries and fails to end her life through starvation, but, upon seeing how Zeref is suffering from the prophecy just like her, she finds new hope through feelings of empathy and love, resolving to find a way to make sure the prophecy doesn't become true.

However, after she and Zeref gets sent back in time where they eventually have their second son August, with them also being put into a age-less sleep for years until she wakes up again, she regains her original good nature and cheerfulness in response to losing her memories about the prophecy. However, there is a noticeable change in her behavior towards seriousness, because of a combination of lingering darkness, guilt, sadness, and regrets hanging over her as she worries about the consequences of her past, the future of Hogwarts, and the wizarding world.

#crossover hogwarts au #fairy tail #mavis vermillion #1964-1965

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kitchenisking · 2 years ago

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March Fic Rec

Guys it's still Sunday! Anyway, March is here witch mean spring is here! As much as I love the winter I also love watching the twas and flowers bloom. That everyone has a great month!

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 105192, sterek)

A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void.

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

This Might Be Irony by thepsychicclam - (Rating: Mature, Words: 38340, sterek)

Stiles and Derek have been close friends since the Hale siblings moved in next door after their parents' death. But Derek's in the popular group, he's a star baseball player, and he dates popular Pep Squad captain Jennifer Blake. Stiles doesn't have any of that, just his skateboard and a hopeless crush on Derek (oh yeah, and his Vote Lydia Martin Prom Queen button). As prom and the baseball state championship grow closer, Stiles and Derek start rekindling their friendship.

And it all begins with two white boards.

Didn't See That Coming by knittersrevolt - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 83838, sterek)

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills in the dust after he catches his husband cheating on him.

He finds his way to New York where he starts working for the Hale House Nursery, accidentally adopts a werewolf baby (through no fault of his own thank-you-very-much), and somehow starts training to be an Exorcist Emissary. So, in general, life was going good.

Then he hears that demons have found their way into his hometown. Can he face his inner demons and go back to save the day?

Wolves with a Spark by AMatchInWater - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 58089, sterek)

Talia lets out a shocked gasp, "your eyes. They're purple." The Alpha is practically oozing with excitement. Stiles hisses, as the fingers touching the Nemeton start to sting as markings etch themselves into his knuckles and a small one on his wrist that looks like a Y but the stem goes up between the v part. "What the-?" Stiles yells out in pain, yanking his hand off the bark, the back of his left forearm feeling like it's been set on fire. A white fox with vibrant blue eyes burns into his flesh. "Mom?" He asks again, she died when he was young, but the Omega remembers what she looked like fully shifted. The spitting image of the tattoo forming on his skin. "What's happening?" Frantic eyes meet Talia's and Derek's. "You're a spark." Talia whispers in wonder. "You have magic, Stiles."

Stiles moves in with the Hales after his father passes away. Presenting as an Omega and then a spark years later. He's hopelessly head over heels for Derek and wants to be his mate, but it almost certain the Alpha doesn't feel the same way about him so he says nothing and pines from a distance. Talia asks if Stiles would like to train to be an emissary to the Hale pack and Stiles agrees.

Accidental Amnesiac Mates Acquisition (ft. a baby) by redhoodedwolf - (Rating: T, Words: 24549, sterek)

“Who are you?”

He snapped his head around and clutched the child tighter to his chest. But then his senses caught up with him: Pack, mate, family, safe, calm, anxiety, panic, panic, panic

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Who are you?”

The man with the warm brown eyes gaped at him in surprise. “Um. I don’t know.”

The baby in his arms promptly burst into tears.

What it says on the tin.

Bleeding Love by BisexualInDisguise - (Rating: T, Words: 6919, sterek)

Stiles promised himself that the werewolves didn't smell the depression and desperation wafting off of him because they were simply distracted, not because they couldn't care less. He told himself that he's just good at hiding it.

Stiles was trying so damn hard.

But he's broken so many promises to himself.

----

Scott's a bad friend and Derek's a fluff ball

I found you hidden in plain sight (why'd I take so long?) by Gorgeousgreymatter - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 25419, sterek)

Stiles is pretty sure he’s hallucinating. He’s got to be. There’s no other plausible explanation, he thinks, as he sits on the sidelines of the lacrosse field and feels the cold, hard bench underneath him, the roar of the crowd at his back like the worst white noise machine in the world.

There’s no other reason why he sees it, the hulking, black figure of a wolf peering at him from the treeline behind the bleachers. Its eyes flare in the glaring glow of the stadium lights, but they’re the wrong color, he thinks: blood-moon red instead of cobalt blue, but the familiarity of it all makes his stomach roll and clench.

Til We Ain't Strangers Anymore byWriteByNight - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 35994, sterek)

Stiles should've expected Derek to suddenly disappear since the werewolf was in the habit of taking off without notice. However, Derek always showed up when they needed him.

As the weeks pass by, Stiles is no longer confused and a little hurt. What started as heartache begins to get worse the longer Stiles goes without seeing Derek. Eventually, his body begins to shut down and his only hope seems to be Derek...but nobody can find him.

There's no cure for a broken heart. Except, maybe, the cause for the broken heart himself.

- - -

Or the one where Derek takes off without warning and Stiles finds out he could be Derek's mate and the distance between Derek and Stiles, along with Derek's refusal to develop the bond, is slowly killing Stiles. Without Derek, Stiles will die, but no one knows where he is or how to contact him. And Stiles is barely keeping it together.

Synonyms for Longing by wanderingeyre - (Rating: T, Words: 11386, sterek)

Derek has been at his house for less than two days and Stiles is deeply regretting his decision to offer Derek a place to stay. Well, it was more like he didn’t try to throw Derek back out the window when he creeped in two nights ago, but he would have made a valiant effort if he’d known what a pain in the ass Derek would be.

Suddenly you're standing still by gottalovev - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7669, sterek)

A long time ago, Stiles promised his mom that he'd never cross the Hale property lines. He has kept his word even if there hasn't been a Hale in Beacon Hills for years, not since the fire. But suddenly Scott gets turned into a werewolf, Derek Hale is back, and Stiles has to share his biggest secret. (AU set in S1+ where Stiles is a born werefox)

#stiles x derek #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #ficrec #kitcheniskingficrecs

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classpectingcaxy · 7 months ago

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Is it cool if you analyze page of life, please?

This is a good follow-up to the Page of Breath ask omg

Analysis below the cut!

Page

Pages ARE technically an active serve class, but they're extremely unique in it. Pages start off...well, for lack of a more fitting word, pathetic.

This is by design. The Page is a class that has a massive deficit of their Aspect, putting even Knights to shame in how lacking they are. We see this with Tavros, who was devoid of Breath (freedom) until he realized his true potential. Not only was he wheelchair-bound for a great portion of the comic, thereby lacking the freedom of movement the others held, but Vriska mind-controlling him regularly meant he LITERALLY lacked the freedom his Aspect is famous for.

We also see it in Jake, who despite his mask of cheer and positivity, was actually REALLY hopeless. He had little faith in himself and little hope for his future, despite trying his best to maintain both of those things through an attitude of "fake it 'til you make it", of sorts.

However, the Page starting off inherently weak and extremely lacking in their Aspect is actually a major strength of the class. While other classes learn to manage their Aspect and control it's different portions and powersets, the Page learns exactly how effective one can be without any of that. They know, from experience, the full extent of their capabilities WITHOUT the power that comes from their Aspect.

Which, of course, makes them ungodly powerful when they ARE given those powers, eventually. A Page who makes it to their mid-level arc is going to be on par with the strongest Knights and Witches for power, and the strongest Heirs in defense.

And a Page who makes it to their final state, realizing their true potential and becoming their best self will undoubtedly be enough to outclass even the Master Classes.

So how are they an Active Serve class?

Active classes are those that use their Aspect...well...Actively. The Knight weaponizes, the Maid "tidies up", the Lord dominates, the Prince destroys. The Page? The Page creates.

"But I thought Witch was the manipulation Class!" you may be saying right now. And you're right, they are.

This is not manipulation. Witches can change their Aspect, warp it, adjust it to suit their needs.

Pages create it. They generate it, they ARE it, in the most literal sense they become an endless supply of their Aspect, a font of power, pure and raw and ceaseless. Whatever powers come with their Aspect, the Page is all of them. They are an unlimited source of it, and the most potent user of the abilities that come with it.

We see this most effectively with Jake English, the Page of Hope.

When his Page powers were kicking in full effect, even his idle thoughts became reality, visible to all around him, and his DESIRE to hope became a physical manifestation, massive and hyper-dense and unyieldingly bright. And that wasn't even him trying. Imagine if he had mastered that power, brought it under control. He could have done ANYTHING. He could have even put a certain Heir of Breath to shame with the level of power over canon he would have had.

But how are they a Serve class? Easy.

Their role, despite their immense power, is not to take charge, but to inspire others to do so.

Tavros was not the hero that led the charge of ghosts. Tavros was the hero that brought the ghosts together to fight for their freedom from Lord English. The ghosts did the rest.

Jake was no leader either. But his actions and his efforts inspired others to hope, to dream and imagine a better world into being.

They serve by being a source of their Aspect both literally...AND metaphorically, inspiring others to take hold of the powers at their disposal and fight either using the Page's Aspect or fight in the name of that Aspect or it's concepts. They are not the Arthur of the story, they are the Merlin, guiding and coaxing and inspiring until those around them fulfill their own legends, and in doing so the Page fulfills their own.

Life

Life is the aspect of beginnings, growth, literal life, and nature. Life players are an odd bunch, and they're difficult to categorize. Meenah, one Life player, believed death was the ultimate way to achieve perfection and that those she deemed "unfit" would serve the world better dead. Feferi, on the other hand, another Life player, believed the opposite, that life should be preserved in all its forms, and death should be avoided at all costs.

Not only this, but the two were as opposite as could be, personality wise, except for one, very powerful, trait.

They both believed they knew best, and became frustrated with those who disagreed.

We can gather, fairly well, that Life players are adamant and picky. They feel they know the right way of doing things, and are easily frustrated by those who disagree. Beyond that, there's little to base it off of, but Life players also seem to be more likely to be in positions of power over others. Meenah and Feferi were both future-rulers, destined to take over the world, for example.

So I believe Life players, whether it be simply power over the few or power over the many, are in positions of authority, or are well-suited to it.

Page of Life

This is the most contradictory Classpect there could possibly be. I'm not exaggerating in that at all. Seriously, I'm not.

Pages are, by design, meant to be background players. Not unimportant, definitely not, but NEVER leaders. They inspire the leaders, they motivate those around them, but they're not the ones calling the shots. They're the heart of a group, not the brain.

But Life players are, by design, well-suited to leadership and are too stubborn to see things any way but their own more often than not. They don't do well in the background, they're direct and forward, with little interest in obscurity.

A Page of Life would, most likely, start off dead. Pages lack their Aspect more than any other Class, and so a Page of Life would completely lack growth, life, nature, beginning. They would be devoid of these things.

This would not stop them though. Have you heard the meme "local man too angry to die"? This is the Page of Life. They may be dead, but that isn't going to be enough to stop them. They will fight tooth and claw for life, for growth, for the chance to begin anew. In doing so, they will inspire those around them to do the same.

The Page of Life would have an unrivalled awakening. Their step into realization, their potential coming out, would be unlike any other.

Their death would invert to raw, unchallengeable life. Their end would become a beginning. I fully believe that a Page of Life may be nearly incapable of achieving a Godtier status, but if/when they did, it would be instant realization of their full potential. Their original end serves as the beginning of their power, their death becomes new life, and their power would grow and grow exponentially, endlessly.

They would not only inspire those around them towards constant growth, be it power or maturity, but towards fighting for life, both theirs and others. They would inspire selflessness, with those around them learning by example how to value the Life aspect and it's concepts, and guiding them into protecting Life in all it's forms.

If I am correct, I don't believe a Page of Life would be capable of dying once fully realized. On top of simply being a font of Life, an endless and limitless source of it, thereby likely healing from any injury faster than you could possibly make it, I think they may also surround themselves with those who would protect their life for them.

A Page of Life would hate the fact they are not the leader of a given group, they would likely offer advice and plans and ideas constantly, trying to guide things their way and convince others to go by their book.

But in doing so, would only prove that, while they may be a font of Life...They don't always know best, but they DO have the right reasons, and those reasons would guide those around them to the right plans of action.

It may be infuriating, but a Page of Life still would not be a leader. They serve best as advisors, inspirations, and guides, showing others by example how to be, so that those others may reach their full potential and be the heroes of the story, even if the Page never will be.

#class #classpect #aspect #analysis #request #homestuck #ask #answer

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praemonitorius · 1 year ago

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I let an idea spark when writing Beta's scene in Chapter 7 of Legacy, Earth and Force of Nature while still riding off the high of Witch from Mercury. So now we're going to have to settle.

Möbius (Zenith!Beta One-Shot WIP)

It was a routine now, practiced a thousand times that her own mind carried the timing and the tune for her. Her eyes were closed as her lips soundlessly spoke the lyrics as she gracefully lifted her arms up and over her head. The only music in the chamber was the sound of her nanolaminate weapon drones and her nanite swarm moving in the direction of her commands, a synchronized dance.

She brought her arms down before shifting her weight and popping up onto the box of her pointe shoes and performing the next set of practiced steps en pointe as her swarm moved around her as if she was painting an image in the air. First she raised her right arm and half the swarm followed, then her left and the second half would crescent upwards in the air.

She would come back down onto her feet and throw her arms out, the swarm exploding outwards from her like a ripple in the water. She would open eyes as she began to turn counter-clockwise as her swarm followed her, spinning around her like the background dancers they were.

From the outside looking in, it was a beautiful and deadly single woman ballet. As for the woman performing this dance it was just another day. Another hopeless attempt to quell the restlessness in her soul after finally being able to experience life.

Erik Visser had been right, and she finally was able to understand what he meant after all these years. Virtual Reality just couldn't capture death. After experiencing it for the first time during her mission in Australia it left something in her that could only be described as desire.

That thrill when her swarm was finally able to play its melody outside the simulations. The high when her sabre was finally able to sing its song and cut through flesh. Then just being able to experience the way the light fades as the bodies grew cold, some even daring to call for their mothers.

She closed her eyes again, trying to sear that image of the battlefield in Australia in her mind. After a moment she exhaled before swinging her hands up towards her shoulders, gently clenching her hands closed to command her swarm. The nanites whistled around her as they returned to their roosts upon her clothing.

Some of the weapon drones clicked into place upon her shoulders and forearms to serve as additional plates of armour, the others broke back down to merge with the swarm that then blended into her clothing, giving the jacket she wore a much longer and elaborate tail.

Green eyes slowly opened to the sound of a single man applauding before her. She never expected an audience when she trained alone but she understood why some would stay and watch. There was a certain beauty in everything she was capable of doing, and it was something she took immense pride in.

So she curtsied before Walter Londra as he showered her with praise in a way only a practiced showman could. "I swear, you grow more graceful in every performance, Beta." Walter smiled with his million dollar smile as he approached her.

"It is because of you that I was allowed this education in the performative arts." Beta crossed her arm over her chest and bowed as she spoke, as she had been trained her entire life. For she had been created and formed for a singular purpose.

To restart Zero Dawn and create the perfect world.

#my fics #work in progress

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auraravenora77 · 3 months ago

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Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Aravena "Raven" Ashe

Masterlist

Summary: The ceremony for breaking the Banshee curse didn't turn out well for Raven and it is leading her to a darker path than she thought.

Warnings: Dark Theme

Word Count: 4,600

AN: It has beem awhile posting my writing here and I am double posting today. What a wonderful time for me!

Chapter Four

Ever since that day following the ball, that has led to a terrible calamity, where the details didn't fare well with the royal witches who resided in various known towns outside here. It took a few quick moments to accept the truth to it all, but they did not pin the blame on Raven for every possible catastrophe here. They were aware of the stories of the prophesied curse, and they maintained their support throughout.

As expected, the royal witches preferred to stay out of it, focusing instead on the upcoming wedding. She wished to delay further for the perfect reason but didn't want to witness the disappointment coming from her father. He was pretty certain that the spell would work effectively, even when Hadeon would be the one in control.

As if things couldn't get much worse, someone had heard the deathly wail within the castle and come to terms with their grieving demise. When the news reached Raven, who seemed taken aback over the sudden omen that had bestowed upon her, she was overcome with a sense of remorse. Despite the fact that it wasn't plainly her fault, she still manages to grieve over an innocent person who did not deserve to die. Either way, it was taken care of, where they expressed their love and respect for them.

The royal council summoned an emergency meeting to speak about the concerning issues within the castle. Numerous suggestions had been brought to be heard, but it wouldn't help out in the process of the life revolving around Raven. It wouldn't help enough to break the ties with Death, which almost led to a cycle of hopelessness. Everything seemed meaningless at this point until a certain individual voiced in, providing a more convincing approach that could work.

Hadeon, Adessa’s powerfully known Warlock, reached an agreement to offer to help out with this pressing issue that needs to be resolved. He would do it for the favor of putting an end to this game Death had created. There was another reason why the Warlock would do this for her.

Ever since she was younger, her father had focused on his world to rule and rely on himself to seek help on otherworldly problems; she was greatly raised and trained well by Hadeon. She always considers him a true father more than an actual father, who watches them speak in utter silence. The envious expression says it all, where she wished to ignore. There were more important things to focus on rather than jealousy.

With everyone voicing their graces to ease the tension that radiated within the castle, it took Hadeon's turn to offer permission to ask an important question. “Lady Raven, would you allow me and the ancient witches to conjure the spell to shatter the veiled curse?”

Everyone swiveled their heads in her direction, awaiting an answer and hoping to make the right one. With time ticking away with her life being on the line, she needs to take action quickly before the impending curse continues to pick a victim to accept their grim fate, leaving death within its mark here. There was only one answer to be heard loud and clear.

“I would allow it!” She accepted it, clinging to the idea that the mere future has something in store for her.

Everyone in the room filled with appeasement, Davian included. Her betrothed has been worried for her sake the most, even when he brought the arrival here recently. No matter how many times she assures him how things would be better, it melts her heart to see him checking up on her every single hour. When that spell succeeded without any complications, they would begin the preparations for the wedding that she definitely needed to make up for.

Contentment filled Hadeon’s features as he swept his gaze onto every single person in the room. “That settles it then! We could make this happen from the moment dusk arrives in the earliest hour.”

With that important discussion concluded that leads everyone to disperse in their own direction, she has most of the day to prepare for tonight's ritual. First, there was something important she needed to do before heading to bed.

The House of the Lord seemed to be a better location where she could clear her head and offer some peace alone. It was what she has been doing daily when royal tasks haven't left her busy and exhausted at the end of the day. Everything seemed perfect as it should be, unlike the vision where it was abandoned.

Shaking off to dispel those thoughts and images, a positive mindset offers her to think for the future. Kneeling down to clasp her hands before the statue of Adessa, she closed her eyes to let out a silent prayer for the ancestors to heed her words.

“Blessed be to the beloved lunarian goddess, Adessa! I honor you with my strength and fortune for participating in this ceremony.”

Silence has been met as if it seemed to be a response to the prayer. This time it has been a desperate agenda for a successful life, desiring to make it happen.

A strange feeling crept up on her when a chilled wind nipped her neck, surprising her at the sudden notice. She took it as a good omen, which lifted her spirits. As if the prayers have been heard and offer her some guidance, it gives her the perfect opportunity, where she departs the scene with everything to be prepared for.

With the hours slipping through the evening, preparations were made when the ladies in waiting prepared her to wear a flowing white dress. She must present herself with a clear mind before taking her leave, which took more time than everyone realized.

A firm knock on the door could be heard, echoing the room as if making into something else. Mother opened the door to ask a simple question that'll change fate forever. “Are you prepared to begin the spell gathering with the witches and Hadeon?”

“Most certainly I am!” Raven answered, taking the moment to smooth out the wrinkles from the dress before taking her leave to prepare for anything possible.

On that fateful night, where the moon hung low in the sky, she ventured into the heart of the forest, her steps guided by a sense of purpose and determination. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable tension that seemed to crackle and hum around her. With the thoughts of encouragement in her head, she stepped inside alone, where her mother joined in the crowd.

Familiar faces in the audience gathered, watching for familial support. Seeing them made her feel even better, which gives her so much confidence in this ceremony. She stepped into the center, lowering herself to sit down and await for the spell to be in perfect effect.

The witches circled around Raven, intertwining their hands together to share power with Hadeon, who concluded the manifestation of the magic that channels through everyone. As if on cue, he stepped forward to shout for the graces of the moon, every major quarter possible.

“To our ancestors in all lunar quarters, I am in need of your guidance and strength to relinquish this curse once and for all. Offer us the fortune and defeat the evil that brought upon this land.”

As Hadeon raised his arms to the sky, fire engulfed her in a swirling vortex of light and heat. His voice echoed through the stillness of the night as he chanted a spell, casting upon the spirits of the underworld to grant him strength and power. A gust of wind swept over the horizon, following with a sense of magic that builds in an extraordinary amount of energy.

A miracle came in perfect arrival here in the forest as the ancestors responded, accepting the magic to flow through everyone. It quickens the process of tearing every part of the cursed veil, where the chance of freedom feels within close reach with a brush of her fingertips. As of right now, she tends to concentrate on witnessing the slow process of the veil shattering away throughout every detail.

While in the process of feeling the effects of his magic, something had grown awry when agony and pain shot through her body. Something was fighting back from making it all happen, but she managed to gain control. It seems something nefarious joins in the fray, leaving everyone cautious.

In her mind’s eye, she could quickly detect something that brought her suspicion. It sort of looked like a shadow-like figure for one moment and nothing in the next. With disbelief surging through her, she blinks many times before finding absolutely nothing but darkness in its place. There is a possibility that the strong magic could mess with her sanity in the atmosphere, but it dwindled on what followed after.

Everything became erratic surrounding everyone, including the weather that is no longer calming. A bolt of thunder struck down to bring fear upon them, causing havoc in the midst of chanting to shatter the curse, but it somehow backfired. It followed with the return of that nefarious hidden figure, who would rather accept to work with the foe’s dirty work.

Stepping out of the shadows to make their presence known, a strong power surrounded the Banshee as she approached the circle in a menacing manner as if being invited here as a guest.

Black tears streaked her cheeks, and dried blood coated her lips as the Banshee eyed Raven as if she were in the hunting game of prey and predator. It sent the witch chills that shot down her spine—how an immortal can be so beautiful and frightening at the same time. She finally could see the true intentions of this dark grieving spirit, who was present here in order to stop everything in the process, resulting in Death satisfied.

Something about this predicament seemed far too real even for her standard of dreaming.

Panic settled into Raven as she wished to be anywhere but here of all places. She prepared herself to move an inch away from her darker form, but the fire has kept the witch to remain intact.

“Do not move!” Hadeon ordered, returning to focus on chanting the spell. Beads of sweat dripped down his face, struggling within each word to conjure up the spell. He would not manage to handle this type of magic, let alone his own.

Complying with the simple demand, she struggled to form words between her cries and ragged breathing. Everyone must've assumed the spell overwhelmed her rather than this unwelcoming guest who decided to visit her. They could not see what the witch had been seeing right before her eyes. There could be a chance it could be simply a mirage or something, finding it could not be another vision.

Shock trickles through Raven as she watches the scene unfold, where the Banshee stepped forward to move past the flames unharmed. Many questions burned in her mind, gnawing at her, relentless and unyielding. She thought the fire would protect her from any danger, but it couldn't fight back against the darkest power of this supernatural being. Nothing could stop her path now, not even the sacred magic of the ancestors.

A mischievous glint through the wild gaze as she seems to find everything amusing, taking in the building tension of their surroundings. This was the cause of Death himself, along with the help of her darker side. Feeling as if Raven was able to read the creature’s thoughts, she offered a message that seemed so chilling to the bone, menacing enough to haunt Raven for years—decades even.

“Death will find you..” the Banshee warned aloud. Her bloodstained lips couldn't help but form an eerie grin when her eyes met Raven.

The warning has been received for only Raven’s ears to be heard, which led her to the monstrosity offering her a gift behind before slowly disappearing into the night. It follows a horrifying and overwhelming stench that seems so sickening in the air that lingers for a while now. Realization dawned upon her as she glanced down at her hands in utter horror, discovering the gift turned out to be.

Fresh blood smeared all stained digits in order to find discomfort in the coldest embrace, chasing a horrifying agony in the making. It was her doing in the making for what Death himself has in store. There is nothing that could save her now except the embrace of death himself. This was what fate has to offer for the entirety of her future, which she refused to allow to happen.

The spell came abruptly unfinished where her nightmares had splintered into reality, plunging her into a pit of horror. Things had gone so sideways that nothing came right in this sacred place of the forest. She has witnessed it beforehand, as what they had wanted.

As the last embers of the fire dwindled and died, casting the forest into darkness more, she rose from her feet, refusing to accept the spell had failed. It feels as if she was at fault for this disastrous mess, creating nothing but absolute chaos here, whether it could be accidental or intentional. Either way, nobody deserves it, not even her people in this entire location of Adessa.

“There has to be another way..” an ancient witch said, her voice filled with hope that soon died down. The truth hits her, just like it did to everyone here in the forest.

The words echoed Raven's broken mind, where she could sense a sickening feeling creeping up to her. Finding it difficult to stomach through the upsetting news here, she came to think there was nothing that could get any worse, but the witch was somehow wrong in situations like this one.

Consequences of an unfinished spell fell upon her when it took effect on Raven, pinning the actual blame on her. The sudden urge to release a piercing scream well up inside her chest, to somehow voice the utter despair in her heart. She refused to do so, not mistaking it as grieving wail. It worsened when her vision swam, black spots growing and shrinking, leaving her a state of unconsciousness called out to her, plunging into a deep abyss.

“Lady Raven, are you alright?” Hadeon questioned, voicing his concern for her wellbeing.

The voice sounded distorted and far away, leaving her lightheaded and nauseated. This was all too much to handle, but it gives her the careless thought to take one step forward to miss her footing and stumble over onto the ground. It leads to a path she succumbs to in the darkness, where everyone rushes to seek her aid, where she could have sworn a chilling voice spoke out as if they stood alongside her.

“Damnation…”

The aftermath resulted in a disastrous mess that affected everyone here in the castle, Raven included. She bore the brunt of the consequences for every single thing, more than the others. It offers the nightmares that torment her dreaming world that possibly could sneak into the waking world, but fortunately it didn't.

Slowly regaining consciousness has led Raven to process everything around her, where the distorted voices sound more clearer in the background. It takes many moments to grasp how the royal council was debating the serious issue without her, but she obviously didn't want to join them. Furthermore, she had to be forced to listen to the entire affair, which was bound to be tiresome.

“We are running out of options..”

That simple remark has sparked an argument, with everyone in the room expressing their heated opinions on it. They were brought here in order to make things right, but it is somehow entirely different. Only if they didn't rely on her decisions most of the time would things worsen in the matter. It became clear why she remained on the council for far too long. With her as future heir and ruler for the throne, people had several reasons to keep her alive, where father desired to maintain the Valencia dynasty.

Raven wishes to intervene with the contentious discussion to put an end to it, but the overwhelming fatigue has taken a hold of her. If it wasn't for the Banshee’s interference, she would be free from Death’s grasp of the curse by now. It has been a long night where every corner of the Banshee’s face will forever be engraved in her mind.

In an effort to distract herself from the horrors of last night, she prepared to shift her body around to hear them, only to met with a sharp ache coursing on her body; a painful groan escaped her lips. That causes drawing the attention of others, who managed to stop speaking about the subject. “Lady Raven!”

When everyone came to notice how Raven was conscious and breathing, her mother hurried to her side, softly murmured comforting and affectionate words into her ear. A sweet feeling enveloped her as she sought solace, refreshed by the maternal love she so desperately craved at a time like this. She wished to feel a similar connection with her father, but he remained seated and focused on his councilmen instead.

In order to ease the pain, she has been offered to drink a special concotion her mother had made, which possessed a pleasant sweetness. While it took effect, Raven noticed the expression painted on Hadeon's features when he glanced in her direction. She recognized that certain look all too well, where he clearly needed to take action. It became evident he obviously did when he managed to face everyone in order to address the others.

“Everyone, I wish to have a private discussion with Lady Raven if you don't mind at all.”

A slight hesitation left everyone in the council stumped upon their chairs. They appeared concerned for her safety and wellbeing, including Devian, who didn't want to leave her alone at this point. A look of assurance formed in her features; she aimed to ease the prevailing tension. She nodded her head in acceptance, allowing that modest request to come to fruition.

Where everyone has left the room to offer his respects for leaving them alone but left their ears peeled for any signs of suspicious activity. A profound silence has been met between them until a faint sound of movement that reverberated the room. She raised her gaze to find him remain by her side, which they did not hesitate to engage in conversation on a certain topic.

“I am pleased you are feeling well despite the consequences you wrongfully endured. You do not deserve any of that!”

“Perhaps I bear some responsibility for it. The Banshee did emerge in the forest, and she traversed the sacred fire to deliver a message intended for me.”

Casting her a doubtful expression, the look conveyed everything that there is no one to blame in that scenario, except for the Banshee. Their kind has a tendency to appear at its moments, ushering in dreadful occurrences. Everything within the atmosphere has shifted, where the tension begins to escalate. It created quite the uneasy feeling she desperately overlooked, yet it proved to be challenging.

“I had orchestrated another plan for a certain spell but, it is considered major consequences in the making.”

Noting the urgency and alarm in the tone of his voice, she expected it would head to this path. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she glimpsed in his direction, forcing herself to ask the ultimate question. “What kind of consequences are we speaking of?”

“In the exchange of my power onto you, it would leave me on a path of darkness and death..”

It sounded more of a risk he would be willing to take for her, and she would not allow him to sacrifice the goodness of his life, his powers, away in exchange to save hers. She just needed no more deaths to happen during this difficult time, but it worsens within the day. They needed to be protected and well cared for from formidable foes, who had any chance to destroy them at any day possible.

“I forbid you from making this happen, Hadeon!” She cried out, refusing to be anywhere but here. “It is not right for you to do that.”

“That I must for the sake of the kingdom and your future here reign as Queen!” Hadeon argued back, standing his ground from reconsidering his decision.

None seemed to surrender to their decisions until she did at the last minute. It has been difficult to challenge this argument with him at this point. Besides, she didn't want to waste her time with absolute nonsense. With push come to shove, she would not find herself living in fear any longer. There has to be some action that comes forth and makes it happen, where she will be the one to do it.

“I promised your sacrifice would not be wasted for the likes of me,” she spoke with determination as she could muster. A fiery gaze reflected in the tone of her voice, convincing the others to bring sweet amusement into the room.

Such immense power in her words fully convinced the Warlock, who always seemed proud of her confidence. It remained the honorable truth, where she would honor his life and death to the fullest, where he would be considered to be an important figure here.

Even in a new day that feels the same throughout the castle, the horror of yesterday clung to her; she has been desperately needed to move along for this night to be over and dealt with.

Being summoned in the private study area where magic has been used, Raven finds it interesting enough to observe it for minimal time. Worn spell books were placed on the shelves, and unlit candles surrounded the magic circle centered in the room. What stunned her the most turned out to be an open ceiling, where the moon shines in their direction. Pieces of iron were placed everywhere in the room, where that wretched creature wouldn't interrupt the spell.

It all began with them in deep concentration, where Raven and Hadeon prepared to begin the process. Clasping hands to channel their powers onto one another, she could feel a faint connection for now. The flames ignited in an instant, circling around them to make the quick ritual commence.

“Ancestors of the moon, I sacrificed my powers and life in exchange to relinquish the Banshee curse that brought upon this land. Hear our prayers and remain in spirit!”

A few moments passed, and the ancestors answered with the manifestation of the magic channel. It succeeded better than she expected it to be, where the ancestors allowed the sacrifice to make perfect effect. There was even a moment when the veiled curse shattered into a million pieces as she could no longer feel the grief and sorrow slowly consuming the passion in her heart.

The agonizing pain subsided, blooming into a sweet feeling in its wake. It has been a long time since she has felt this way, and there would be nobody taking that away from her. Letting out a relieved sigh, she felt somehow free with newfound powers coursing through her veins, accepting as if it were her own.

“Can you feel my magic flowing through you?” He asked her, sounding too weak and human.

Nodding in confirmation, she could feel its ancient magic channeling through the body in order to protect her. “Yes..”

Opening her eyes to offer such gratitude for what he did, she discovered how the darkness was already starting to corrupt his every being, leaving him as an empty shell of his former self. Stepping away in order to be corrupted like him, she did her best to keep a large distance away. It took a moment to remember some information for the forbidden sacrifice spell no one dared to use. When the sun rises in the morning sky, he would no longer suffer in his own pain, accepting the hands of death itself.

Tears threaten to spill over onto her cheeks, but she blinks them back in order to remain brave for him. The last remaining strength took a hold of her as she called out to seek help in a clear voice. “Guards!”

As if on cue, the patrolled guards alarmingly stepped inside the room. They took the situation in a serious manner, remaining cautious over their actions toward the Dark Warlock that took the place of Hadeon. She had the honors to take control of it, handling it well as the future queen should do.

“Escort him to a safe area in the castle until dawn arrives. I also deny entry here for those who want to see me..”

With so much force, they did everything in their power to do so. Averting her eyes to avoid watching the scene unfold, it would be rather difficult to see his pain and struggle in fighting the darkness that is poisoning him. The door closes behind them, cutting his weak protests into silence, just like a sharp knife.

Alone with her thoughts, she stood there with a distraught feeling of consumed guilt trickling through her. People grieve in different ways, where she entered the darkest world of numbness. She never experienced a low point before until right at this moment. Once things were settled down, she would take immediate action to honor his legacy.

Little did she know, with so many clashing thoughts that kept her distracted, someone had entered without her permission.

“My lady..”

The voice echoed that resounded the room, breaking the silence that caused her to flinch. She didn't expect anyone to seek entry; just it was directly ordered. Whirling around to find a guard standing before her, she instantly reacted by wiping away the tears with the back of her hand, straightening her posture to present herself as the princess lends an ear to what the guard has to say.

“Prince Davian of Velora wishes to seek entry here and offers you some comfort..”

By the guard’s surprise, a gentle smile curled on the corners of her lips. It seemed that his presence was almost forgotten when she focused on the impending curse the entire time. It sounded incredulous how much patience he continued to have for her, and her heart melted at the sweet thought of it. She took the moment to step forward, offering to share her consideration over the question.

“Very well then! I respectfully accept his request to seek entry here..”

Even when accepting the romantic request, the door automatically opened by Devian, who rushed to her side. His arms wrapped around her body, which she desperately needed the most. The sweet embrace seemed welcoming enough to make her feel better for her sake. She returned the hug with her own, bringing them closer with every romantically sweet gesture possible.

“I am always here for you,” he whispered in her ear, planting a kiss on her forehead. She always felt convinced enough, even persuaded, by his thoughtful words.

It took a lot to process what had occurred in the chain of events here, but Raven was grateful for preventing turmoil and chaos within the kingdom. Life needs to have such meaning here with a sweet purpose here for the future in this kingdom, which she promised to make happen.

She would never consider herself as broken, as most people intended to see her as, including a certain individual that she called her father.

#raven ashe #Aravena Ashe #Where Death Follows series #Where Darkness Follows series #original character #original story #original writing #writing #creative writing #writblr

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