#by the way the book ends with the group smiling in Egypt

[silent-sanctum]

Can I ask for a story in which Jotaro wants to confess but he just doesn’t know how to since the reader is just a kind and gentle soul and he’s the total opposite, and the crusaders, especially Kakyoin and Polnareff, give him advice on how to confess to the reader? 💕

ask and you shall receive anon :>

Only You - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 3.2k

The night had fallen, blanketing the world in a veil of starlit darkness. Besting 2 enemy Stand users, the Crusaders took solace in a remote island on the Red Sea just before traversing to Egypt.

And sitting around the warmth of a crackling bonfire, the group rested that night, each having their own way of spending the provided spare time- Joseph speaking with a Speedwagon Foundation personnel regarding a method of transportation, Avdol shuffling through the dusty books from a nearby cabin, Kakyoin and Polnareff engaging in a hearty conversation-

And Jotaro listening to you sharing more lighthearted bits of your past to him with a flow akin to a fountain smoothly letting out fresh water to cool his tired and dried-out mind. Though admittedly, he found it harder and harder for him to pay attention.

Was he to blame when all he took in from you was your soft soothing voice calming his ears, the contrasting gleam in your expressive eyes, the genuine smile formed by your pink lips?

All those pieces of you had impacted him in some way or another even at the start when you met at that rooftop. Back then, he found you confusing yet intriguing. Midway in the trip, Jotaro found himself caught in the light of comforting kindness and understanding seeping through your outgoing bravado, one that touched his heart no one could.

And he ended up completely enthralled, compelled to make you happy and safe in ways he could the moment he witnessed you breaking down into complete vulnerability and you opened up to him about your abusive past. You had thanked him wholeheartedly with tearful eyes and it struck him.

For the first time, Jotaro admitted to himself that he wanted to hold you close for a long time, to be with you even after this journey ends and they returned to normalcy.

He… liked you.

But how could he say such thing to someone such as you? You were so different from him; Where you were the warm sunshine in a blossoming spring, he was the chilling wind in a frigid winter. The headstrong angel and the lenient devil. The yin and yang.

The social darling and the reclusive delinquent.

Would she even consider someone like him as hers? It was a hard tell because you got along with everyone so well, but at the same time, you were sensitive to intimate, romantic relationships. This is hard. I can’t see what I can do in this situation.

While all his turmoil boiled within him, someone tapped him on the shoulder, bringing him out of his trance. “I’m gonna speak with Avdol and Mr. Joestar for a moment, alright?”

Blunt as ever, he spoke without looking. “No one’s stopping you.”

You smiled and left to join the older adults as simple as that, leaving him to wallow in his newfound feelings by himself. He watched you skip over to Joseph and Avdol just as the old man finished his call, opening communication while they discussed it elsewhere.

Jotaro sighed a deep exhale, nearly groaning to himself as he hunched over with clasped hands. “This is harder than I thought…”

“Hey Jojo,” he lifted his head by a bit to frown at the ever-intruding Frenchman Polnareff and his fellow batch mate Kakyoin. “You looking a bit worked-out. Everything good?”

“What do you want?” Jotaro asked, short and sharp. He still had to deal with accepting these sappy feelings in him; the least he wanted right now is 2 other people adding to his problems.

He followed the cherry-haired student’s movement as he sat down beside him with a knowing smile. “If I were to guess, I’d think our delinquent friend here is stressing over a certain girl in our group.”

Jotaro clicked his tongue. “You shut--“

Though before the delinquent could curse at him, Polnareff let out a prolonged “ah” of amusement. “Ohoho, is this what I think it is?” He plopped himself on the other side with a giddy demeanor that soured his mood. “Could it be… monsieur Kujo is finally realizing the classic j’ai le béguin towards our mademoiselle?”

“The fuck are you saying?”

“It means you’re finally accepting that you have a crush and much like in your fashion, immediately act on it,” Kakyoin supplemented with a pat on his shoulder, to which the raven-haired shoved off with rapidly warming cheeks.

“It’s not like that--“

“Non non non non~”, Polnareff wagged his finger sideways. “Deny all you want but you can’t fool a man hailing from the City of Love itself. I know and sense what a smitten man looks like from a mile away.”

“Besides, if you refuse to listen to Pol’s words, take it from me,” Kakyoin said. “Ever since our first boat ride, I’ve been keeping tabs on you and Y/N and we really can’t ignore the fact that you consistently… hover around her a lot like a satellite.”

Jotaro looked elsewhere, trying to recall whether he made the conscious decision to do that, but the student continued to his dismay. “And from what I’ve seen when it comes to her, you’re attentive to her needs and complacent to her sudden sparks of joy that would’ve annoyed you if it was someone else.”

“Right!” The Frenchman snapped his fingers. “Don’t forget how his eyes had this certain look of fondness one would give to a lover, and how he smiled more often when she’s around!”

It was one thing to come in terms with what his heart was telling him, it was a whole other thing hearing those words from his friends. As they kept on rambling on and on about all the lovey-dovey details they observed, Jotaro couldn’t stop his cheeks and the tips of his ears from fuming in embarrassment.

Was I really that invested in you Y/N? You made me do all these stuff with you and I somehow didn’t realize?

Visions of you flashed in his mind- a self-made film reel containing numerous moments of your flushed cheeks and radiant smiles directed at him, your confident and determined poise alongside your Stand faced against his enemies, your vulnerable figure pressed against his firm body with his gakuran draped over your shoulders, puffy cheeks, fluttery lashes, kneading hands, pouty lips-

Jotaro buried his face in his hands, thoroughly ashamed of his current state. “Fuck.”

“Called it,” Polnareff said. That smug piece of shit.

“What should I do then?” The delinquent snapped, dropping his hands to face his companions. “How do I make… this go away? I’ve tried everything from ignoring it to rationalizing it, but damnit it’s still here.”

“Have you thought of confessing?” Kakyoin suggested.

Jotaro cocked his head. “Confess?”

“Oh you know, where you approach the person of interest and say how much you--“

“I know what a confession is dumbass,” the raven-haired spat at an unfazed Polnareff who merely shrugged off his insult. “What I meant is how would that help me?”

“Well… you get to express yourself to the love of your life and at the same time release all those pent-up emotions within you instead of bottling it all in,” Polnareff said. “It’s hitting 2 birds with one stone!”

“Knowing you, I’m actually surprised you haven’t confessed earlier,” Kakyoin continued. “You seem like the type to get things done as soon as possible- you know, the directly-saying-I-like-you-and-waiting-for-feedback type.”

They had a point. Jotaro was aware he’s fully capable of saying his mind if he wanted without any filter and he could just say he liked you and your company, but when it came to you, it was more complicated than an average confession.

You’d been through a lot-- living through a toxic childhood, witnessing death, and coping through numerous betrayals- both platonically and romantically. Would that make me selfish if I were to say my feelings for you without considering that perhaps you needed more time? If I were to confess, would that make things awkward between us?

Would you grow distant because you weren’t interested in someone like me-

“Hey Jotaro!” He blinked and faced the Frenchman. “There you are again with the overthinking! Whatever you have in that brain of yours… stop.”

“Think of it like this,” the cherry-haired student crossed his arms. “Just say how you feel and wait; if she’s into you, then great. If not then… you shrug it off and remain friends.”

The delinquent scoffed, unconvinced. “Easy for you to say.” Sure, he hasn’t been in a relationship before and is shit at it to begin with, but at the very least he had some awareness of the side effects resulting from a friend-zoned confession.

“When you think about it, our reserved buddy here needs some tips on how to get-the-girl.” Jotaro side-eyed the adult beside him with clear judgement, to which said adult eyed him in return. “What? It’s better than saying ‘I like you’ as your usual overly crude self.”

“I don’t--“

“Alright listen up.” Polnareff slung his arm over the student’s shoulders with determination plastered on his face. “The way to ensure guarantee in winning a girl’s heart is to find a secluded area that’s scenic to set the vibe.”

“And then…” Jotaro cocked his brow, admittedly waiting for the continuation. “You whip out the flowers, speak your heart out and say- ‘Je n’arréte pas de penser a toi ma chérie!’ And then the fireworks explode, the crowd bursts into applause, and the musicians start playing in the back--“

The whole sentiment of the overly romantic French got cut short with a solid whack behind the head by the most anti-romantic in the group that was Jotaro himself. “Shut the fuck up with that. You’re not helping.” Polnareff pouted, rubbing the smacked area with puppy eyes.

“Since our friend here is too ambitious, perhaps I may pitch in an idea that could work better for you.” The delinquent turned to face his other side, hoping someone with a more gentlemanly attitude could provide actual tips.

“Pol’s right in one thing and that’s heading somewhere private. When you get there, you ease your way into the confession by starting things off with casual dialogue-- you open up a topic, maybe about the surroundings or a hobby, she returns it by talking about said topic, and vice versa.”

“And then-“ Kakyoin pointed a finger up to emphasize a point. “Weave that conversation leading up to the confession once you get into her good spirits. Finally, all you have to do is just say something in the lines of ‘I wanted to tell you something. It's a little hard for me to say, but I think you should know that I have feelings for you.’”

“After all, nothing’s more genuine than a simple statement of truthfully expressing your love without being too direct and sudden.”

The cherry-haired student probably thought he contributed something given how smooth and proud his tone was while addressing his “tip”, but Jotaro simply held the other student’s bicep and said--

“Kakyoin… look me in the eye. Do I look like I’m able to do whatever the hell you just mentioned?”

And his friend took one good look at him—an overly tall and awkward 17-year-old, with a face that screamed ‘I’ll beat you up’ on default, who barely knew how to sustain more than one sentence without involving battle tactics or corny one-liners.

With that assessment in mind, the cherry-haired man read his mind and let out one “ah” and left it as is. The Frenchman let out one short laugh. “Yeah Kakyoin. Clearly my idea was--“

“Same goes for you too dipshit.”

Said Frenchman let his mouth close shut.

“Jotaro! I have something to tell you!” All three men looked up to spot you skipping past stray shrubbery and trees until you paused before the delinquent. “Avdol introduced me somewhere that’s amazing. You have to come with!”

You peeped at the other two sitting beside him and flashed a shy smile. “Excuse us,” You reached to grab Jotaro’s wrist, prompting the latter to stand without question. “But I have to borrow Jotaro for a moment if you don’t mind,” you said, addressing both the raven-haired and his friends.

“No problems with that Y/N! Take your time with him!” Polnareff exclaimed, making hand gestures to shoo the both of you away.

You beamed and turned to your grumpy friend with an excited smile, tugging lightly at his wrist. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

Jotaro’s cheeks might have warmed yet again as he turned his head elsewhere to cover it up. At least the private place is secured. “Let’s just go.”

Like an obedient overgrown wolf pup, the delinquent allowed your hold to remain around his wrist as you half-dragged him through the numerous tall grass and plant-life, careful to not trip on any protruding root or large stones, until you led him out a line of trees and onto a clearing.

And honestly, he was amazed even if he didn’t look like it.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. A lone, lit lamp hanging on its post stood within the spacious area, providing the tiny hill in the middle of the island’s forest cozy amber lighting underneath the night sky filled with countless tiny stars.

You let go of him and walked over to sit at the middle, patting the ground beside you as you looked at him with expecting eyes. Jotaro huffed and complied, making himself comfortable on the dirt.

“When I said you’d like it, I was actually just making that up in front of the guys to look more confident, but I’m not sure if you actually like it. If anything, I might have just dragged you here for nothing.”

“I like it,” he said in an instant, not giving you a moment of doubt. He glanced at you and offered a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry.”

Your cheeks turned pink and sighed a breath of relief. “Here I thought I was being a bit much again.” Both of you sat in comfortable silence, your heads turned up to gaze at the sky, watching the stars twinkle amidst the darkness.

“Avdol said this area’s one of the spots near his cabin where he could meditate or read a book in when he was younger. It was nice of him to suggest a place like this out of the blue.” You reached your hand up, motioning as if it was wading water. “It reminds me of something…”

Jotaro watched you engross yourself in your sightseeing with quiet fondness, letting Star Platinum out to hover before you with wide eyes as he bowed his head.

You gasped for a second and in the next, you giggled in delight letting your fingers comb through the Stand’s flowy hair. “Jotaro, I have the night sky in my palms!”

He didn’t say anything in return, his mouth fixed as an uncharacterized smile of adoration directed at your joy. His cheeks stayed warm and his heart raced in his chest, and it struck him then. Confess. Let your feelings out.

With one wave of goodbye, Star disappeared into his user, leaving both of you alone with the gentle breeze and sounds of crickets faintly chirping in the evening.

“So,” you said with your head leaning on your shoulder to look at him. “Do you have anything to share in a beautiful night like this?”

“Uhm… I…” Shit. Fuck. How should I do this? Kakyoin and Polnareff did approach him about the topic, but none of them provided him a proper flow on how to execute this process. Should he just go for it? Or should he stall for more time?

For the first time in a while, Jotaro fumbled over his words with squinted eyes-- a habit he does whenever he gets flustered. “I… want to… I mean…”

His attempt of making a proper sentence stopped when a hand rested atop his on the grass between them. The delinquent stared at your hand, shifting to the soft smile on your face. “Do you want me to go first?”

He nodded once, gaze never leaving yours despite his embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to put it in a way that won’t cripple me with cheesy cringe and possible regret, but I might as well rip the Band aid off and get it over with.” You took in a deep breath and he felt your hand tighten around his.

Jotaro waited patiently for your words to continue, even as you broke eye contact and stared at your lap. “Ever since we started being friends, I… may or may not be feeling something when it comes to you…”

His breath faltered and his eyes widened at the revelation, a tiny huff of disbelief leaving his throat. You… had feelings for him?

You didn’t seem to catch his change in expression when you laughed nervously, shaking your head in a complete flustered mess. “I-I mean, that’s just my personal feelings or maybe I’m just feeling sentimental, o-or maybe I was too caught up in the vibe of the place I started blurting random shit—”

His lips curled into a knowing smile, his mind and heart syncing into doing what he wanted to do for the longest time. This makes it easier for me then to… “Listen! I completely understand if you’re uncomfortable with this. That’s just so I can let go some brewing emotions in me! You can just treat my blabbering platonically if that makes it better—”

You couldn’t say more as Jotaro took the initiative to lean forward and plant a soft yet firm kiss on your lips.

His way of confessing.

He drew back, slow and careful, gauging your reaction with hooded eyes to see how you responded. You froze on the spot, stunned and fuming pink all over. The delinquent cleared his throat and tipped his hat over his face to hide his own heated cheeks. “You really can’t shut up at all, can you?”

He figured that both parties had expressed what needed to be said, and he made a move to get up and walk away to recoil from his growing embarrassment. However, he let out a surprised sound as a hand yanked on his collar chain, pulling him to sit back on the grass.

At the same time, you threw yourself to him and gave him a firm kiss of your own, wrapping your arms around his neck and causing his hat to fall off his head. With the sudden weight, he held himself up with one arm behind him and used the other to wrap around your waist, holding you close to him as he reciprocated your gesture.

You pulled back an inch to let out a breathless giggle, pressing your forehead with his. “Mm I really can’t. Why don’t you shut me up more often then?”

Jotaro chuckled for once with a small playful smile. “You brat.”

“You ass.” You teased before leaning forward to slot your plush lips with his, gently pushing his head towards you the same time he sat more upright to allow his other arm to secure your body closer to him.

Just then, his heart swelled with unexpected joy underneath the glow of the stars, and all those emotions in him that had been vague and stagnant turned clear and into motion.

He liked you and you liked him back.

As simple as that.

[araminakilla]

Day 0: Some info from the book (not so strong spoilers)

Not spoiling the heaviest parts, because that would ruin the fun of watching the movie. Let's began:

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Spoilers coming!

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1. Mummy was "trapped" in Tad's apartment for three months.

2. "But you are the best archeologist in the world! You found me :D" THE TWITTER WAS FORESHADOWING

3. Also this is not the last time he says the line. The first one was 😅 the second one was 😊 and the third one 😭💔

3. The legend of Hermes. To resume, Hermes made the Tablet to make the kingdom of his dear pharaoh, Keops, the greatest of them all. It worked, until he turned against his master and it ended in Hermes dead and imprisioned in Mexico.

4. As we suspected, Mummy sneaked with the pets in the museum as he was not allowed to exit the apartment (again)

5. He said something about mummies being capable of draining your soul (don't know if living mummies in Tad's franchise/world can do that or Mummy was just joking)

6. Mummy sees Hermes "Oh you poor thing. Not only they trapped you in a sarcophagus, but they chained you as well. I know how you feel" and then proceeds to free him. He had a reason to do what he did and not just shenanigans!

7. Mummy was the one to made a big mess at the museum, as he could not control his Ammit legs at that time.

8. Tad exists the museum and scolds Mummy for what he has done.

9. But with the help of Mummy, they know they have to arrive to the Louvre.

10. After the agents and archeologists left the "crime" scene, Sara reunites with Victoria. Victoria calls her "mandarin" as a nickname (maybe because of her orange hair or because Sara is sweet)

11. Sara doesn't want to do nothing with Victoria... at first.

12. Maybe you are wondering "Hey but in the legend of Hermes you mentioned a guy named Keops. Where is Ra Amon Ah? Well...

13. The thing is, the legend of the Tablet and Hermes are 4.000 years old and Ramona is a 3.000 years old mummy, so she wasn't there.

14. Ramona's backstory: 500 years ago, around the "discovery of America", a goat sheperd had a fruit stuck in his throat and between the coughs and intends to spit that fruit, he accidentaly chanted a spell that allowed Ramona to become a living mummy, because the sheperd just happened to be near her sarchopagus. Years later, Dominique found her in Egypt and managed to sneak her in his egyptian room under the Louvre, where he told her that she would be always be there "for her own good"

What's up with explorers and trapping their living mummies for a greater good?

Also I find it interesting that she became alive around the time Mummy was a human, Pizarro captured Atahualpa, or incan Mummy was just transformed into a monster. I wonder... why is 500 years a common number for the two mummies?

15. How she died? A jelaous cousin one night put a scorpion on her bed so she most likely died in her sleep. It's hinted the male cousin who did that became the next pharaoh after her unfair death.

16. In the Egypt scenes/places, Mummy becomes angry/furious, many times. At Tad and... other characters.

17. Pickles thinks all of the mess in the museums are Tad's fault and that the Ammit is an animatronic made by the soviet union aka "the russians!".

18. "But sir, the soviet union dissolved decades ago" "That's what they want you to think!" Oh Pickles...

19. MUMMY WHAT!? WHAT!? HOW??? I- WE- WHAT THE HECK MUMMY!? This... this can't be right, there must be a mistake. Qué? QUÉ!!!??? CÓMO!?

To put in some context at this. South americans, peruvians, Proffesor Lavroff and living mummies of Paititi if they saw that particular scene:

20. I. AM. SPEECHLESS.

Okay, that's all for now. I sometimes overshare and I had to stop myself for revealing more stuff. Thank all of you who followed this Tad 3 countdown since day 80. Have a great day 😉

[kasplonkable]

Steven Grant HCs:

Just some small things that I think he does

wears odd socks. He likes all the fun colours but always manages to lose one of them. He never buys plain black socks, but sometimes wakes up to find most of his coloured ones gone and replaced with them

regularly goes charity/thrift shopping. Not only is it another way for him to be environmentally friendly, but the clothes in there are cheap as chips, which is good for someone on a gift shop worker's salary

speaking of the gift shop, whenever he sees a cool new paperweight, he buys one for Gus' tank. He tries to set up all the things like a real landscape at first, but ends up swapping the decorations around so often that he forgets

always so excited when he sees a school arrive at the Egyptian exhibit for a trip. He always tries to sneak away to explain an interesting fact to a group of (largely uninterested) kids, before he's dragged back to the gift shop by Donna

he also ends up infodumping about whatever product a customer is paying for, before looking up and seeing them impatiently waiting to actually pay for it. Like if they're buying a pharaoh bookmark, he absentmindedly starts talking about exactly which pharaoh it is and how you can tell and the historical significance of it and the reason it's important and th- right they're still waiting to pay

when he got fired from the museum, he started infodumping to Gus instead, because keeping it all in made him feel like he was going to explode (and Gus never gets bored and stops listening)

read The Kane Chronicles and loved it so much that he tried to read Percy Jackson too, but found that the Greek gods weren't as interesting to him as the Egyptian gods, and just reread The Kane Chronicles again instead

I was going to say that he can't put up IKEA furniture, but the amount of care and patience he approaches things with made me change my mind. He absolutely can put a flat pack table together and enjoys every second of it (Marc on the other hand... "Marc just read the instructions" "No Layla, the instructions are wrong, I can do this myself" *proceeds to make a chair when it was supposed to be a chest of draws*)

tried to look after house plants, but there wasn't enough light in his flat so they died. Then tried to look after succulents and cacti instead, but when they died too he just gave up. I do think he just has one stubborn cactus that sits on his windowsill and refuses to die, which makes him smile everytime he remembers to water it

this is such a random one, but I imagine he understands English slang really well (obviously) while Marc is just completely lost, so he tries to translate

like imagine Marc gets into an altercation with a roadman one day and he has to be like "Steven, what does back out the rambo mean?" And Steven's like "MARC HE'S THREATENING TO STAB US!!!"

Idk that's just a funny situation to me

cannot just walk past a bookshop. He tries so hard to just ignore them, but once he sees the books in the window, he's done. He loses hours in there just perusing the different titles and ends up buying like, six new books

he went vegan after seeing a documentary on food production as a kid. Seeing the way farmers treat livestock made him feel horrible, and from then on he avoided anything to do with meat and animals

reading about how cows and bulls were sacred in Egypt only reinforced his decision

I think that's it for now, but I might make a part 2!! I could talk about this show literally forever, so we'll see how it goes. I also want to say that I've never read The Kane Chronicles, so feel free to let me know who you think his favourite character would be! I'm personally a big fan of Norse mythology, so reading Magnus Chase and then trying to read Percy Jackson was a struggle. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed!!

[moonknightismyhero]

@venommybeloved @johnny-simpfinger ❤️❤️

Stubble Love

Warnings: none

Pairing: Steven Grant/Reader (y/n)

Summary: some stubble love here.

Steven Grant always tried to be fresh and shaved when (y/n)’s around.

But she had to leave for a family gathering and Steven didn’t even bother to shave cause (y/n) would not be back for a couple of days. Or he thought….

He woke up at 7 o’clock. It was Wednesday. Another day without the love of his life. As he checked his phone he saw one message from her.

‘Good morning Love. I miss u so much. I wish that I can kiss and hold you in my arms.

Lots of love,

(Y/N)’

He was smiling. He quickly replied to her.

‘Good morning my Goddess. I miss you too. I can’t wait to see you. Be careful.

Love Steven.’

He then dropped his phone and started to dress up for work. Before he left he looked around in the apartment and thought about his love. That he’ll kiss her and hold her. He sighed and went to work. Another day in the museum. Donna grumpy as usual.

“Man it’ll be a long day innit?’ Asked himself and started the long shift

*time skip srry*

Finally it was the end of the day and Steven was ready to leave the museum. He cannot wait to get home and take a long shower. There were so many groups that he had to deal with. It was a little more stressful than usual.

But his mind were already corrupted with the though of his love. His way to the apartment was quick. He got the key into the keyhole but he saw that the door was slightly open. He was panicking and wanted to call the police but then he heard the most beautiful voice. He immediately recognised the voice.

He opened the door and there you was. On his bed, reading a book about ancient Egypt. You often read it together on sleepless nights.

“Oh my Khonshu. I cannot believe you’re here love .” He said and (y/n) set down the book and smiled at him while he crossed the distance between the door and the bed and dropped himself of (y/n) and hugged her.

“I missed you so much. Why didn’t you tell me that you’ll be here when I get home?” (Y/n) giggled and hold him more close.

“I wanted to surprise you Steven. Ya know.” She looked at him and she was surprised.

“What is it love? Is there something on my face?” He said and looked at her. She was mesmerised by the look of Steven. He had stubble on his face. She stroke his face and enjoyed the feel of his face. He then grabbed his head into her hands and smashed his face to hers. She rubbed his cheeks on his stubble up and down and she also did it on the other cheek. Steven was stunned and cannot believe what she’s doing. He just enjoyed the feeling of his love touching him.

“Omg baby. I love your stubbly cheeks. I just want to stay here forever. Rubbing my face to your cheeks.”

“I thing we can arrange that. But didn’t you forget something darling?” He said and she said an ‘oops’ and gently kissed him on the lips. When they broke apart she locked eyes with him.

“Would it be weird if I wanna lick your stubble coated cheeks?”

“After that…. I don’t think so.” He smiled at her and embraced her to his body and didn’t even let go of her.

Omg. I hope it’s alright…… thanks for the inspo darlings. Love ya all.

[mypoisonedvine]

Hungry Like The Wolf | soft!dark!Ari Levinson x reader

summary: when you need ari’s help for a secret mission with the CIA, he expects gratitude from you— and he wants a lot more than just a thank you card.

word count: nearly 6.5k

warnings: smut (dub con/coercion/sex as bartering tool), oral sex (f receiving) and vaginal sex, overstimulation, possessiveness/very very slight yandere vibes?, some violence and gun use, mentions of human trafficking/warfare, religious discussions and traditions but not particularly orthodox ones, vague discussions of sexism and misogyny with implied religious background, overall just lots of global politics and all that fun stuff

(a/n: I went ahead and wrote the hebrew and arabic in english lettering because tumblr doesn’t support right to left text so just a heads up.  my arabic is very weak so I apologize if there are any errors.)

Taking a deep breath, you ran through your pitch in your head again.  Sure, you’d had plenty of time to go over it on the plane, but one last recitation couldn’t hurt, right?  Unable to stall any longer, you turned the knob and entered Ari Levinson’s office.

You’d heard he was good-looking but his appearance still surprised you; his long hair and thick beard made him look like he’d fit in with a rock band better than an intelligence agency, and his half-buttoned shirt put his Star of David necklace and muscled, hairy chest on display.

He must have caught your gaze trailing down because he smirked at you, making your cheeks feel a bit warm.

“Mr. Levinson,” you greeted as you looked up to his face again.

He greeted you as ‘Ms.’ instead of ‘Agent,’ but you let it slide since you were about to ask him for quite the favor.  When he motioned for you to take a seat across from him, you did so with a nod and a quick smoothing of your skirt.

“So, what can I help you with?” he prompted. 

This was the easy part; this was the part you’d rehearsed a thousand times.  “There is a group of trafficked women and girls who have been rescued from all over— Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Kuwait— and gathered in Riyadh.  We are working on a plan to move them to Cyprus and, eventually, Greece where they will be accepted into a camp there.  Maybe they’ll end up in the States at some point, if we can swing it, but… Cyprus is step one.”

Ari nodded, listening to your story with more patience than anyone else had so far.

“As you can imagine, it would be a lot easier to move through Jordan and Israel and use your ports, rather than go around through Egypt or Syria…”  He stared at you expectantly as you trailed off, and you cleared your throat before finishing:  "The CIA would greatly appreciate Mossad's cooperation in the movement of these refugees."

"How much would they appreciate it?"

You paused, unsure what he meant.  "Um, quite a lot, I'm sure…"

"I just mean that we have missions the CIA could be a useful assist for, too,” he clarified, interlacing his fingers and resting his hands on his lap.  “You guys have a lot more resources than we do.  If we help you out, is this going to be an allyship we can rely on?"

You swallowed dryly, pondering if there was a way to get out of this before you sighed and slumped down in your chair, leaning a little closer to him.  "Alright, I have to be honest with you: it's not really the CIA that's asking for your help."

"Then who is?"

"Me.  Just me.  I'm the only one who believes in this mission; I'm the only one fighting for these people.  The CIA won't help you because they won't even help me and I work for them."

He slumped his shoulders a little bit.  "Then I'm not sure if I can afford to say yes to you."

"Please," you implored, "I know I can't offer you as much as they can, but I'll do whatever I can to make this work.  Please," you repeated as you laid your hand over his, noticing the way his expression shifted a bit, "help me."

"I've been the one person fighting for a mission before," he remembered, voice a little softer.  "I know how hard it is to go it alone."

You smiled gently at him.

"And, I know how far I would've gone to get my people to safety." 

His hand flipped around suddenly and grabbed yours tightly, pulling you closer as you gasped.

"How far will you go?"

You shivered, the darkness in his eyes burning right through you even when you tried to look away.  "Mr. Levinson, I—"

"Call me Ari," he instructed gruffly, grip tightening around your wrist until you yelped softly.

"Ari," you corrected, "I have money—"

"Don't want it."

"I can offer you my assistance in—"

"Don't need it."

"Tell me what you need,” you requested softly.

"I need to know you're gonna show me this 'great appreciation' you promised,” he answered quickly.  “I need to know that if I take care of you, then you'll take care of me."

You gulped but nodded.  "O-of course…"

"Good."

He released you from his grip and stood up, smiling at you like nothing had even happened.

"Pleasure doing business with you, madam."

You stood up and left his office in a haze, unsure if what had just happened was a dream or reality.  But, sure enough, he showed up the next day where you’d told him to meet you, and brought some money and fake passports that you desperately needed.  Frankly, just having a man around was going to make things smoother for you, even if it was a white man who didn’t exactly blend in by any stretch of the imagination.  Seeing him again the next day only reminded you how big he was, tall but moreso heavy with muscle; he looked pretty cramped in his tiny coach seat on the plane to Dubai (your connecting stop where you’d spend the night before flying out to Riyadh).

“Bloody mary, please,” he requested from the stewardess with a gentle nod, turning to you.

“Uh, just water, thanks,” you ordered quickly with a tilted smile.  You had brought a book to read, but Ari insisted on barraging you with personal questions about your job, your personal life, your favorite things— he seemed fascinated by the most mundane things, and disinterested in giving his own backstory.  

Of course you considered that it wasn’t a great idea to tell him so much about yourself, let him in your head and under your skin.  But then again, you’d put your trust in him enough for the mission, so you ought to trust him completely, right?  

So why did his stare send shivers up your spine?

//  

There was room for you and Ari at a CIA safehouse outside Dubai; it wasn’t exactly luxurious or anything, but at least you weren’t going to have to share a room… or a bed.

Normally staying in a safehouse meant sharing common areas with a random assortment of other agents, but it being a Friday night in Dubai meant they were all out enjoying the local nightlife while you two stayed in.  Hoping to review a game plan for the mission with him, you found Ari’s door open, peeking around to see him on his knees on the floor, a candle burning before him, and his hands raised to cover his eyes and face.

“Shema Yisrael,” he sung to himself below his breath, “Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Ehad…”

He jumped a little when he uncovered and opened his eyes only to find you standing there.  “Shabbat Shalom,” you greeted.

“Shabbat Shalom,” he nodded back.  

“I’m sorry you’re forced to take your Shabbat alone,” you apologized, “and that there’s nobody other than me to appreciate your vocal chops.”

His cheeks tinged pink at that.  “It’s all part of the sacrifices we make for our missions, eh?”

“Then I suppose you don’t mind that you’ll be doing plenty of work tomorrow,” you presumed.

“You probably realized by now that I’m not actually so traditional,” he chuckled, extinguishing the candle and standing up.  “I work on the sabbath quite a lot.”

“I hear work is permitted if it is needed to save a life.”

He smiled, but he looked a little sad; maybe not sad, but tired.  “With me, it always is.”

The silence was thick as you tried to reconcile that this was the same man that had grabbed and threatened you— was it a threat?  You couldn’t even tell anymore.  Apparently he wasn’t going to take whatever it was that he wanted until you’d finished the mission, and that should’ve made it easier to procrastinate your worry, but the extra time to ponder what it was actually going to be only brought further anxiety.

Of course, you had an idea of what he was going to ask of you, but the fact that nothing too untoward had happened in his office when you first met him was throwing you off.  In that moment, you were just waiting for him to tell you to get on your knees and show him how bad you wanted these women rescued, but he didn’t.  Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody tried to bribe you into sex; it would’ve been the first time, however, that you actually considered doing it.

Now, the anticipation just made it worse; you were working with him every day and he always acted normal, as if there wasn’t this looming threat of whatever favor he was going to ask from you in return.

Once you actually got to work the next day, it was easier not to think about that.  You barely had any extra brainpower to think about anything except survival and extraction.  Still, each time you looked at him only to find him already looking at you, your hands shook a little.

//

“You’ve been driving for 10 hours, you’re sure you don’t want me to take the wheel?” you offered, watching him blink a few times to clear his vision.

“Not worth getting arrested,” he frowned.

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“Not worth the risk of getting caught.  And I don’t know about you, but if I get arrested here, I’ll probably be killed, too.”

You chewed your lip as you appreciated that it was probably worth avoiding as much trouble as possible.  It’s not like the CIA was popular in these parts, either, and for good reason.

“What’s that up ahead?” he asked, leaning further forward against the steering wheel and squinting.

“Um,” you stalled as you unfolded the paper map in your lap, “I’m… not sure.”

“Looks like a barricade,” he announced, and it did; a gate with two guards and barbed wire on either side.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you reminded him as you frantically shuffled around the map, making sure you were where you thought you were and that there wasn’t a mark indicating a vehicle stop on the road.

“What do we do?” he asked, looking around as if he was considering veering off the path even though that would be equally dangerous.

“There isn’t supposed to be a stop here,” you repeated, more anxiously.

“Well, there is,” he replied, his own agitation clearly increasing, “so we’ll have to go through it.”

“They’re going to pull us over.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“And they will search the back of the truck.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t.  How well do you think they’re gonna take it when they see eighty-something women packed like sardines?”

You chuckled a little even though you were anything but amused.  “Um, not good.”

As the men at the stop waved to signal your car to slow down, Ari sighed a little.  "I'll ask once again: what do we do?"

"Act natural," you suggested quickly as you lifted the scarf draped around your head to cover your nose and mouth.

Ari slowed down to a stop, lowering the window to talk to the officer outside and putting on a fake English accent.  “How can I help you, sir?”

“Identification please,” he requested sternly.  Ari smiled as he grabbed his and your passports, handing them over through the window.  It was a long, awkward moment as he flipped through the thick papers slowly, his partner leaning down to look through your window but never taking his hands off his gun.  “What brings you out here?” the man finally asked.

“My wife and I operate a restaurant in Jordan, and we get most of our equipment here because the workmanship is better,” Ari explained.  “Just passing through with our new stoves and oven hood.”

The officer glanced back over your truck, his expression mostly unreadable but overall not necessarily friendly-looking.  “Could you step out of the vehicle please?”

“Hal hdha daruri?” you asked quickly; Is this necessary?

“Alsamt,” he replied in a hiss; Silence.

Ari looked around like he was thinking but nodded and reached for the handle to his door.  You did the same, the second guard stepping out of your way so you could swing open the rusted metal and step out.

The men guided for you to circle the car with them, stopping at the back and staring at the metal sliding door that was latched shut.

Turning to address Ari, the guard’s face dropped completely as he got a bit more serious.  “What am I going to find in your vehicle?”

“Kitchen supplies, like I said,” Ari insisted.

As the officer reached for the latch on the back of the truck, Ari shot you a wide-eyed look and you gave him a quick nod.  He lunged at the second guard, wrestling him for his gun while you went after the first, who was much easier to take down with him being distracted by trying to unlock the back of the truck.  Your CIA instincts told you to shoot him once you’d grabbed his weapon, but thankfully you knocked him out with the butt of it instead.

Loud pops of gunfire beside you made you fear the worst, but Ari had managed to push the gun toward the sky before pulling it out of the officer’s grasp, swinging it wildly until it made contact with his head and he fell to the ground.

Gun in hand and panting heavily, Ari looked back at you with a grin.  “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You almost got shot,” you reminded him.

“A little more than almost,” he corrected, showing you a gash where a bullet had grazed arm.

“Shit, Ari!” you yelped, running over to him and inspecting the wound.  The way he looked down at you as you clutched him made you sort of regret it, though.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, but he made no effort to push you away.

“I… should check on the girls,” you decided, a little bit distracted but making your way back to the truck to roll up the metal back and examine the women inside, who looked scared at first but relaxed when they saw you.

“Kli shay' ealaa ma yaram,” you assured them that everything was fine, “nahn taqribaan 'iilaa al'urduni, wasawf nasil 'iilaa alsafinat allaylat.”  We're almost to Jordan and will arrive at the ship tonight.

They relaxed a bit and smiled at you, a few muttered ‘shukraan jazilaan’s (meaning ‘thank you’) echoing from inside.  You hated to shut the back and plunge them into darkness again, but they had assured you before that they would brave any conditions for a chance at freedom.  You hoped they meant it.

“Please, let me drive, you’re injured,” you offered to Ari as he started to make his way toward the driver’s side door.

“It’s not even that bad, and we’ve had enough run-ins with the law today,” he dismissed.

“Then let me patch you up first, okay?  Is that so terrible?”

He smiled a little.  “No, I guess not.”

And that was how you ended up leaning on him in the passenger seat, supergluing his arm shut, trying not to think about how his bicep was probably bigger than your head.

“You’re a pretty good medic,” he observed, speaking quietly since you were so close.

“When you’re as clumsy as I am, you have to be,” you responded, sounding monotone due to focusing mostly on your work.  “It shouldn’t scar too—”

You stopped when you looked up at him, because the way he was staring back down at you made you completely devoid of the ability to speak or even conjure words in your mind.  You’d never seen him so close before and those piercing blue eyes made your head spin.

“What were you gonna say?” he asked softly, 

“It… shouldn’t scar too bad,” you finished, “as long as you keep it clean and dry.”

“I generally aim to keep my entire body clean and dry,” Ari chuckled.

“Right, yeah, well— keep up the good work, then,” you stammered as you wrapped some gauze around his arm and rolled his sleeve back down over it.

“Let’s hit the road before we waste any more time,” he suggested, and with a nod you leaned back into your seat.

//

The radio blasting was the only thing keeping both of you awake as you drove through the dark.  The border to Jordan was easy enough, and both of you sighed with relief as you crossed into Israel.  It was by far the biggest blockade you’d seen so far, but of course, Ari got you in faster than you’d moved through anything else.

“Good to be home?” you asked when you saw Ari smiling as he looked around at the streetlights through the windshield.

“You could say that,” he answered.  “Think we have time to stop for falafel before we get to the port?”

“Not unless you plan on buying for all your passengers,” you laughed, motioning toward the back.  “If they have to wait until we reach the ship, so do we.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he relented.  “Besides, probably better to be seen by as few people as possible.  Even if we’re in friendly territory, it’s still a covert operation and all.”

“Wow, so you do have some desire to play by the rules,” you gasped in faux shock.  He smiled and shrugged a bit.

“More like the rules and my desires occasionally overlap.”

It was past midnight when you pulled into the port, surrounded by ships so big that you couldn’t see the tops of them from inside the car.  A cargo ship was waiting for you, along with some Navy men who helped you escort the women onto the vessel.

Since it wasn’t meant to accommodate this many people, the refugees occupied extra crew space while you and Ari were given sleeping bags in an unused office; you were so tired, though, that it actually looked enticing.

As soon as you’d set your pack down and shut the door, you heard a distant horn and felt the ship begin to move.  You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the desk, watching Ari take a seat in the chair and start laughing exhaustedly.

“We did it,” you smiled, “we fucking did it.”

“We’ve still got a long boat ride ahead of us,” Ari mitigated, “but yeah… we should be in the clear, and tomorrow afternoon we’ll be in sunny Cyprus.”

You were so elated from the high of a successful mission that you forgot to worry about Ari’s vague request all those weeks ago; it was probably the first time you hadn’t thought about it since then, truthfully.  That changed when his smile fell as he looked up at you, eyes darkening a little and scanning your body.

“You’re a great agent,” he nodded slowly, “and an incredible woman.  You saved a lot of people tonight.”

You shifted nervously under the weight of his stare, but tried to hide your discomfort.  “I… couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” he informed you coldly, standing up and approaching you.  “I think I’ve gone above and beyond on my end of our deal.”

A pit formed in your stomach, growing with each step he took towards you.  His eyes stayed trained on you except for when he glanced to the side to flip on the radio, American music suddenly piping through the speakers.

— discord and rhyme, I’m on the hunt, I’m after you…

You looked to the radio as well but his hand gently guided your jaw until you looked back at him; he was closer than ever, and you had to look up to meet his gaze, shivering as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip slowly.

“Are you good for your end of the deal?” he asked lowly.

And I’m hungry like the wolf…

You swallowed, hoping it would somehow ease the ache in your gut as you realized what was about to happen, before nodding meekly.

He smirked a little.  “Good girl,” he praised, only a bit louder than a whisper, as his hand moved to cradle your face.  “You want me, don’t you?”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out how you were supposed to answer that.  “I want to repay you, for all you’ve done for me.”

“No, not just that,” he disagreed, “you want me.  I know you do.  You don’t need to hide it, we’re alone…”

Hesitant but catching on to his desires, you nodded a little.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Ari,” you whispered.  

It felt like forever waiting for him to kiss you as he leaned in slowly, eyes half-lidded and dark but never leaving you.  As his lips brushed against yours, you finally let your eyes flutter shut and reciprocated his kiss.  His hands felt especially big as one slipped behind your neck and the other rested on your waist; in fact, with the way you had to crane your head up to kiss him back, all of him felt big.  Including the part you were pretty sure just bumped against the inside of your thigh.

His kiss was soft and patient but determined, slow but somehow still moving faster than you were ready for.  You gingerly reached up and rested your hands on his shoulders; they were strong and warm beneath your touch, even through his shirt.  You couldn’t think of the last time you’d been kissed like this, or held so tenderly like this, but then again, you were also sure that nobody had scared you like this in a long time, either.  For a woman who always knew what to do in a dangerous situation, you couldn’t seem to get a read on Ari Levinson— mostly because you didn’t truly believe he was dangerous.  But maybe you should.

When his hands reached up to start unbuttoning your blouse, you pushed him back a little.

"N-not here," you protested, "someone could hear, or walk in."

"There's nowhere else to go, and I'm not waiting 'til Cyprus.  I need you now."

He kissed you again before you could respond, more forceful and desperate.  You let him work open your shirt this time, his fingers dancing over your skin as he pulled it off your shoulders and tossed it aside.  The feeling of him working your bra open made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but his tongue slipping into your mouth distracted you and before you knew it, it was gone as well.  Your nipples hardened in the cold air— or maybe they’d been that way already, for whatever reason— but they reacted even stronger to his thick fingers gently pinching them as his palms cupped your breasts.

You gasped against his mouth a bit, your breathing getting heavier as he moved his hands down to your trousers.  The idea of being naked when he was still fully-dressed scared you, but you didn’t have time to think about that anymore when he pulled back to drop to his knees, taking your pants and underwear to the floor with him.

He looked back up at you with a mischievous grin as you cautiously stepped out of them.  After guiding you to sit up on the table, neither of you stopping to consider how rude it was to put your bare ass on somebody’s desk in a borrowed ship, he slowly parted your legs.  As he kissed a trail inside your thigh, you felt your hands clutch the edge of the table tightly with anticipation.  You felt so exposed with his face right there, to the point that your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and yet you couldn't manage to tear your eyes away from his as he leaned in to lick you teasingly with the tip of his tongue.

"Fuck," you shivered, feeling your inner walls quiver as he moved so delicately.  You kept waiting for him to really get into it but he was determined to stay gentle and slow, circling your bud for one glorious moment before stopping again.  "Ari, please," you whispered without even realizing you’d said it.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked darkly, his voice deep and gravelly as he ran his hands up the back of your legs.

Your begging whimper was so pathetic you could hardly believe you were hearing yourself.  "More, please…"

He dove right in after that, suddenly latching onto your clit and letting his tongue explore every fold, every wrinkle, every sensitive spot with thick, wide licks.  Your head fell back and your hands jumped to weave into his hair— that gorgeous fucking hair that had driven you halfway insane.  It was soft between your fingers, and in this light you could see the touches of red, blonde, and maybe even grey scattered into the brunette.  Better yet was the way he moaned against you when you accidentally pulled it, your hands clenching into fists against his scalp each time he sucked on your clit just right.

"Ari, baby, fuck," you groaned, feeling your hips shift a little as if to try to get more of yourself in his mouth.

Sensation was sparking under your skin faster than you knew what to do with it, faster than you had ever figured out on your own, and definitely faster than anybody else had ever managed.  You felt your body shaking and couldn’t suppress it at all, every part of you (inside and out) quivering uncontrollably.  It would’ve been embarrassing except that he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit, egging you on with his tight grip on your thighs, and his deep moans that reverberated over your body, and the way his brow furrowed like it almost pained him to see you like this.  Your back arched so dramatically that he had to hold onto your hips tight to keep you in his mouth, but he managed to maintain what he'd been doing— in fact, he didn't stop even when you started to whine and cry, feet digging into his back as you tried not to explode from the overstimulation on your sensitive clit.  

"S-stop, s'too much, can't take it," you pleaded, looking down at him.

He looked back up at you with dark, dilated eyes that said 'you're gonna take it.'  His tongue lapped at you with renewed vigor, sending you tumbling over the edge again and again and again.

Tears were streaming down your face when he finally relented, standing up slowly and staring you down as he wiped his face with the back of his hand; your arousal had coated his mouth and most of his beard, too.  You bit down on your lip to stop it from shaking as he slotted himself between your legs again, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and smiling as he watched your gaze trail down every inch of newly-exposed skin.

You knew he was in good shape, because it was always obvious, but you still shivered a little when you were greeted with chiseled muscles, dusty-blonde hair, a few stray freckles and scars, and last but not least, the gauze wrapping on his arm where you’d patched him up before.  It was nice to see a piece of your handiwork on something so flawless, like how it must feel to design the frame that holds a Monet.  Your mouth was even watering as you followed the trail of hair down to where it was interrupted by his jeans, which were misshapen with the unmistakable outline of his neglected cock.  Either you could actually hear it throbbing, or that was just your heartbeat in your ears as he made a show of undoing his buckle and fly slowly.  

A breath caught in your throat as he slid the jeans down and kicked them off with his boots, his cock bouncing up against the bottom of his abs once he’d freed it.  You hoped to hide your intimidation, but you must have failed from the way he smirked and licked his lips as he stepped forward and pressed it against your stomach; you felt a little dizzy seeing the head of it reach past your bellybutton.  "That's how deep I'm gonna be in you, baby."

For all his delicacy and tenderness in everything before now, he must have had a change of heart; with a little growl, he pushed all the way into you with one brutal thrust, watching darkly as your head fell back in a choked scream.  He didn’t stop for very long, either, setting up a pace that was slow but unyielding, his length filling every part of you and then some with each slam of his hips into yours.

He grabbed your hair tightly and suddenly, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him.  He licked and sucked along your pulse until you were shaking against him, nails accidentally digging into his shoulders a little bit as you held onto him.

His lips trailed up to pull you into a frenzied, sloppy kiss, your mouth slack wide for him to explore however he wanted.

"Tell me how it feels," he growled against your lips.

It feels like my body is on fire but I like it.  It feels like you're shaping my insides to fit you exactly how you want.  It feels like you might split me in half before you're done with me, but if you stop now I'll fall apart even worse.

His grip on your hair tightened at your lack of response.  "Gettin' fucked too good to answer me, huh?  So full of my cock you can't even speak.  Is that right, pretty baby?"

You nodded as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, your hoarse moans and sobs muffled by his skin.  

"Aw, poor thing," he purred, wrapping his arms around your back.  His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke to you in a deep mumble, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine with each word.  "You don't have to tell me, I know how it feels… you're so wet that you're fucking dripping, your needy little pussy is clamping down on me like it's the end of the fucking world, and you're screaming for me so loud I bet half the ship can hear you.  I know how it feels, baby; it feels so good that you're already about to come for me."

You gasped as he pushed you to lay back on the table, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders; you felt a bit whorish seeing your legs up in the air like that, especially when he leaned to the side to plant a wet kiss on your calf.

Soon he was letting your legs slip back down to his hips, leaning over you and caging you in with his thick arms, watching your face as he started to fuck you harder.  His long hair was at risk of tickling you as it fell down beside your face, but it was that Star of David necklace that was dangling from his neck and swinging right in your face with every thrust.  Slightly annoyed by it hitting your face from time to time, you stuck out your tongue to catch it, holding it between your teeth and finding that biting down on it helped you cope with the slight pain of him so deep inside you anyways.

"Baby," he moaned, inspired by the sight to grab your hips even tighter and slam into you even harder.  "Fuck, I'm close," he hissed.  "Gonna fill you up so good, baby, gonna ruin you for anybody else, huh?"

"Yes, Ari," you whimpered.  "I'm close, too…"

"Go ahead, pretty girl, wanna feel how tight you get when you come— when I make you come."

Trying to hold it back only made it hit you harder, and as your moans grew louder and your body began to shake, you felt your walls flutter and flex intensely.  He pulled his necklace out of your mouth and kissed you suddenly; it kept you grounded as you feared that the rest of you would float away, lost in pleasure so thoroughly that you'd never come back to reality.  His moans mixed with yours as they moved between your tongues, and just when you thought you'd break into pieces if he didn't slow down, you felt his movements stutter and his cock pump inside you.  You couldn't feel the warmth of it because you were already so hot all over, but the way his cock swelled as he came was unmistakable and overwhelmingly erotic.

He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, catching his breath while he stayed inside you, resting his forehead against yours.  

After cooling off for a moment, he scooped your limp body into his arms and lifted you into his chest; you wrapped around him and let him carry you to the other side of the room where he set you down on the pallet sleeping bags and blankets.  You whimpered as he pulled out, his softening cock still big enough to make you wince.  The gush of warm, sticky come made your cheeks burn even if it also sent a dulled tingle of arousal up your spine.  He was gentlemanly enough to wipe you off with a towel, mumbling something about how pretty you looked stuffed with his come, but you couldn't really focus on any of that because you were still waiting for sensation to return to your numbed extremities— brain included.

He turned his head and laid it on your chest, and you found yourself absent-mindedly scratching his scalp with your nails.

"That's nice," he whispered, but you could tell that already by the way his skin was erupting into goosebumps, and the way he held you tighter.

You must've laid like that for hours, or maybe it was just a few minutes, but it was one of those moments that felt like a piece of forever.  He lifted his head to look up at you, pulling you down a bit so his face hovered over yours.

"What's next for you after you get these women to Greece?" he asked quietly.

You chewed your lip as you thought about that.  "Back to DC, I figure, and then wherever they send me next.  I hear they might want me undercover in Cuba or Russia…"

"How often do you end up in Jerusalem?"

You squirmed a little beneath him, but he slipped his arm under your neck and pulled you closer; how were you supposed to think with his bicep right by your face like that?  "Uh, not often, but if I'm in town I'll give you a call—"

"Come with me," he requested softly.  "Get to Cyprus, go to Greece, and then meet me in Tel Aviv."

"Ari, I can't—"

"Why not?"

You laughed a little, but he clearly wasn’t joking.  "Because I have a job?"

"You won't need a job," he shrugged, "I make good money and you can just live with me."

Your throat went dry as you stammered, trying to figure out if he had seriously just asked you to quit your job and move in with him.

"You'll like Israel.  You speak some Hebrew don't you?"

"Uhh, yeah but—"

"Then what's stopping you?"

You couldn't answer because you didn't even know where to start with all the things that were stopping you.  Your mouth opened and closed silently like a fish out of water, and he laughed at you lightly.  

"Just say yes," he encouraged gently, and your heart twisted as you wondered if this was part of the deal, if you needed to do everything he wanted to keep him on your side.  You were on an Israeli ship, sailing international waters; if he changed his mind now, he could still sell you out and have these people arrested or worse.  But he wouldn't do that, right?

Perhaps the more important question was not 'would he do that?' but rather 'are you willing to find out?'

"Yes," you heard yourself answer before you even realized you were considering it.  

He grinned, hugging you tightly.  He was already rambling about how great it was going to be and how he would spoil you all the time and maybe find a way to get you hired as a contractor at Mossad so he could bring you along on missions, but you couldn't hear it past the ringing in your ears. You desperately needed sleep, and his arms were warm and welcoming as you drifted off.  He kissed your forehead before letting his eyes fall shut as well, joining you in unconsciousness.  

The swaying of the ship was like being rocked to sleep, so much so that you slept for an uncharacteristically long time: you were just a few hours out from your destination when you awoke, in fact.

Instead of getting up and attempting to acquire some food, you laid there staring up at the ceiling as his heavy arm draped over your chest.   Even in his sleep he had power over you, refused to let you go.  You tried to remember how you'd ended up in this situation but instead you found yourself fantasizing about a chance at love.  After running around the world for so long, there weren't many good men left to settle down with.  And Ari was maybe not an entirely good man, but you believed him when he said he would treat you well.  You'd shacked up with a lot worse in your time, when you were young and reckless and thought the worst thing you could be was alone.  Still, a long-suppressed desire for companionship was awakening in your mind and you weren't going to swallow it back down this time.  Smiling, you lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles.  If what he wanted in exchange for his cooperation was your affection, you could do that.

[viking-raider]

Seals of the Lost - Chapter I

Summary: You and Henry cross paths, and the truth behind the disc Henry has is revealed.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,080

Warning: PG - RPF, Language, Magic, Stalking, Deception, Death, Light Bullying

Inspiration: This comes from several sources. XD

Author's Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for her wonderous Beta skills and helping me world build and world out my idea for this story!

Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist

After nearly a week of searching for information on the disc that came in the box his mother sent him, Henry finally found someone in central London, with a doctorate's degree in archaeology, that could potentially shed some light on what it was, and drove out to meet them.

“Mr. Cavill?” The archaeologist asked, coming out of his office.

“Yes.” Henry replied, politely extending his hand.

“I'm Dr. Rick O'Connell II.” He introduced himself, shaking Henry's hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Henry nodded, smiling softly.

“Your message said, you had a strange little artifact in your possession and would like to learn anything you could about it.” Dr. O'Connell said, showing Henry into his spacious and bright office.

“Yes, sir. I do.”

Henry confirmed, his eyes going to the glass cases, picture frames and artifacts hanging around Dr. O'Connell's office. The small spark inside of Henry that had once wanted to be an Egyptologist and Historian, before becoming an actor, flared to life as he approached one of the tall glass display cases, filled with artifacts from Egypt and a few that looked to be from Asia; one of which was a pale stone and gold jar with the head of Anubis.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Dr. O'Connell smiled, seeing Henry had been drawn to it, many people often were. “My grandparents were on the expedition that uncovered them.” He commented, stopping beside Henry.

“Seriously?” Henry replied, shaking his head and blinked at Dr. O'Connell with surprise.

“Yes.” Dr. O'Connell nodded, proudly. “My father, Alex, named me after my grandfather. My grandparents met shortly before the expedition and fell in love during it, married, and had him. They made a life of it and these are some of the artifacts from their expeditions together.”

“The others are from yours?” Henry asked, moving to another case.

“Yes, they are.”

Henry stared at the other objects for a moment longer, before turning towards him. “I'm sorry, I came here to talk to you about my object and I'm busy gawking at yours, like a schoolboy on a field trip.” He chuckled and blushed, quite abashed.

“It's quite all right.” Dr. O'Connell laughed, motioning towards a chair in front of his desk, before taking his own behind it. “So, let's take a look at what you have, Mr. Cavill.” He said, holding his hand out over his desk.

“Yes, right.” Henry nodded, taking the disc out of the protective pouch he had put it in and handed it over to him.

Dr. O'Connell frowned at the disc, turning it over in his hands as he observed it. “Well, I can tell you it's made of granite.” He said, pulling open a drawer in his desk to remove a small tape measure, then set the disc on his desk and took measurements of it. “Thirteen centimeters by thirteen centimeters.” He stood up next and crossed the room and gently laid the disc on a padded scale.

“And just under a kilogram in weight.” He returned to his desk and sat down, pulling out a magnifying glass next. “This symbol is quite strange.” He commented, holding the magnifying glass up to it.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Henry agreed with him, biting his lip as he watched him examine the disc. “It looks like some strange lizard.” He commented on it.

“Yes, a lizard.” Dr. O'Connell agreed, looking up from the magnifying glass and disc, in thought. “A dragon.” He nodded, looking back down at it. “A dragon's head, breathing out fire.”

“Does that mean something?” Henry asked, licking his lips and feeling his heart start to pound.

Dr. O'Connell set the disc and magnifying glass down. “There's this ghost story you hear, if you're in my line of work long enough, especially if you're out in the field digging around. My dad told it to me once, when I was a lad.” He started to explain to Henry, leaning back in his chair and staring out the large wall of windows to their left, with the muffle of traffic coming through from below.

“There used to be this group of people, an ancient civilization, that believed, heavily, in Dragons. It was said they were real-”

“The people or the Dragons?” Henry asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Both.” Dr. O'Connell chuckled at him. “As I was saying, they were real, and these people and Dragons lived together, as one. They supposedly did everything together and held highly sacred bonds to one another, giving the people powers, the ability to do magic, long life and many other things.”

“But, their main task, they kept the world at peace.”

“So, what happened to them?” Henry asked, shaking his head, not completely believing him, but enthralled by the story nonetheless.

“No one knows.” Dr. O'Connell shrugged. “There are theories. But, very few things have ever been found about them. I could fill a shoe box with what's been found on them. Most of what we know has been a story from an odd book or scroll, mythology or lore from some culture all across the world, pieced together. A few dusty unexplained bones that some scholar, archaeologist or theorist thinks belong with them.”

“Do you think this has to do with them?” Henry frowned, his brow pinched in conflict.

Dr. O'Connell rubbed his face, twisting back and forth in his chair, and stared at the disc. “I'm not sure.” He replied, honestly. “But, something in my gut tells me otherwise.” He admitted, letting out a huff of air.

“Is it all right if I take some photos of it, Mr. Cavill?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Of course, anything to help you identify what it is.” Henry nodded, eagerly.

Dr. O'Connell removed his mobile from his pocket and snapped several photos of the disc. “I'll contact some of my colleagues and send them the photos, see what they have to say about the artifact and what we can find out about it.” He said, picking it up and holding it out to Henry. “Once, and if,” He laughed, smiling. “we come to a conclusion on what it is, or isn't, I'll give you a ring and tell you.”

“I would really appreciate it.” Henry replied, taking the disc and tucking it back into its little pouch, before standing up and extending his hand out to Dr. O'Connell again. “Thank you.” He smiled, squeezing his hand.

“Have a good day, Mr. Cavill.” Dr. O'Connell smiled back.

“You as well.” Henry replied, before parting ways with him.

Dr. O'Connell moved over to his windows and watched the street below, chewing on his bottom lip until he saw Henry appear in the crowded sidewalk and turn down the street towards the parking garage he had parked his car in, then turned back towards his desk, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair.

“Molly, I'm going out.” He called out to his secretary, rushing down the hall towards the elevators.

Riding the lift down to the main floor, O'Connell rushed onto the street and the opposite way Henry had gone, frantically dialing a number on his mobile, before pressing it to his ear. “It's Rick O'Connell.” He said, when the line picked up. “You told me to call you, if I ever found anything that looked Dragonic.”

“Have you?” A raspy, deep voice replied on the other end of the line.

Dr. O'Connell pulled his mobile away from his ear and sent the connected number the photos he took of Henry's disc, then put the phone back to his ear. “I'm pretty sure.” He replied, out of breath.

“Do you have it with you?”

“No. I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. So, I let the guy that brought it to me, take it back with him.” He explained, getting a sick feeling in his stomach, stopped in his tracks and turned around, but didn't see anything behind him, but Londoners going about their daily business. “I can contact him and get it back, if you like?”

“That's not necessary, Dr. O'Connell.” The voice replied, their tone never changing. “Just give me their name and I'll take care of the rest.”

“His name is Henry Cavill.” Dr. O'Connell informed the voice, before the line went dead.

The air in the small meadow was cool and shaded by the clustered ring of trees that surrounded it, as a soft breeze stirred the short stemmed wild flowers in the tall grass, before a shimmering blue light glowed softly in the center of it, and a moment later, with a small rush, you stepped through and the glow dissipated.

You sighed, rubbing the glowing mark on your forearm, before pulling your sleeve down to cover it. A bark filled the air, before a massive black and white dog came tearing into the meadow through the trees and right up to you, his long pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

“Hey, there.” You smiled at him, as he barked several times and ran several circles around you. “You're a playful, little guy.” You chuckled at him, bending over to pet him as he came up to you, but turned sharply and ran off again. “Oh, you faked me out.” You roared, thoroughly amused by the dog's antics.

“Kal!” A deep voice shouted through the trees in the direction the dog had come from.

“Is that your name?” You asked, turning to see the dog busy going number two. “Kal.”

“Oh, hello.”

You looked away from Kal and faced the owner of the voice. “Hi, I'm guessing this is your dog.” You said to him, motioning behind you.

“Yeah. Kal, are you bothering this nice lady.” He asked the pup, a feeling of shy apprehension in his chest as you looked him over, waiting for your brain to click and realize who he was and start freaking out, asking for a photo and autograph from him.

“Oh, not at all.” You replied, chuckling as Kal ran up to you again, actually letting you pat him on the head this time, before dashing over to his owner.

“I'm Henry, by the way.” He introduced himself, with a sweet smile, realizing you either didn't recognize who he was or you were being polite enough not to freak out on him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Henry.” You replied, offering him your own name.

“I don't think I've seen you around before.” Henry commented, tilting his head at you. “Then again, I have just moved in a couple of months ago.” He blushed, biting the corner of his lip.

You chuckled at him, brushing your fingers through your hair. “I live just across the way.” You said, pointing in the opposite direction of the trees. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” You greeted him.

“Thanks.” Henry smiled at you, leaning down to rub Kal's ears. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, motioning around the meadow.

“Oh.” You blinked around the meadow, grasping for a reason. “I went to the little park that's nearby and dropped my house keys.” You grinned, giving off the vibe that you felt like a complete idiot for your mistake. “I've come looking for them, when I ran into your adorable pooch.” You said, looking at Kal.

“Do you need any help looking for them?” Henry offered, politely.

“I would hate to put you out.” You said, shaking your head at him, gulping.

“It's no issue at all.” He replied, shaking his head back at you. “It's not like I'm not going back that way.” He chuckled, tilting his body in that direction.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, then flexed your fingers at your side, like a wave, and the mark on your forearm warmed. “I suppose an extra pair of eyes would make the task go faster.” You giggled, biting your lip and berating yourself for not being more careful.

“Never hurts.” Henry grinned at you, laughing as Kal jumped up on him, putting Henry's forearm gently in his mouth and tried to pull him down. “Come on now, Bear. Let's help find her keys.” He said to him, wrangling his arm out of Kal's mouth and corralled him through the trees, where there was a small dirt path that edged around the ring of trees and his property.

“So, where did you move here from?” You asked, eyes glued to the ground in your key search.

“London.” Henry replied, his own eyes searching the tall grass at the edges of the path. “So much of my life is busy, fast paced and noisy, I just wanted a nice and quiet place, where I could go, that was relatively secluded, so I could relax and decompress.”

“I can understand that.” You nodded, licking your lips and glancing over at him. “There's something about having your own little world. A place to yourself, so you can be yourself, without the worry of others judging you and disrupting your peace.”

Henry paused and looked over at you, dumbfounded that you had nailed precisely how he felt about why he moved out of London and into the English countryside. “Exactly.” He replied softly, blinking and licking his lips, his heart pounding.

“Ah-ha!” You exclaimed, seeing the glint of sunlight on the silver ring key ring and hooked your finger through it. “Found them.” You grinned at Henry, holding them up for him to see. “Thanks for helping me.”

“No problem.” He smiled back at you, even though it didn't quite meet his blue eyes. “Um,” He bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder. “Would you like a cup of coffee or maybe some tea?” He asked, looking back at you, with a brow lifted in hope.

“I just live right there.” He said, pointing a thumb to the two story house behind him.

You looked between Henry to his house, then glanced down as Kal barked and bumped into your legs, like he was begging you to take his owner's invitation. Letting out a soft chuckle, you reached down and scratched Kal's back, making his back leg go wild.

“Sure, a cup of tea sounds nice.” You replied, looking up at Henry, kindly.

“Cool.” Henry grinned, relieved and excited.

The pair of you crossed his backyard and stepped onto his patio, before Henry politely excused himself and rushed through the sliding glass door into his house, leaving Kal to entertain you for several minutes, while he threw together a cup of coffee for himself and a mug of tea for you. He brought them out, setting down a little thing of sugar and creamer, unsure how you took your tea, before the two of you sat down at the little patio table he had set up out there.

“So, how long have you lived in the neighborhood?” He asked, sipping his coffee and lifted his brows at you.

“Not long.” You replied, holding your warm cup in your hands and giggled as Kal frantically dug a hole a short distance away. “A little more than a year.” You explained, taking a gulp of your tea, turning your eyes back to Henry.

“City life is not for you either?” Henry laughed, setting his coffee cup down on the patio table.

“I try to avoid it as much as possible.” You grinned at him, your eyes guarded.

“You're not from around here, are you?” He asked, tilting his head at you, brow drawn together. “Your accent is nothing I've ever heard before.” He commented, he had been trying to place it since encountering you in the meadow.

“No, I'm not.” You shook your head at him, shyly dropping your eyes to your teacup. “My family are kind of like gypsies. They travel around Europe a lot, living their own life, on their own terms. So, I've picked up bits and pieces growing up and it sorta mashed into an accent that doesn't really belong to a specific place.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“People always try guessing where I'm originally from with it, but never get it right.” You added, amused.

“So, what made you settle in England?”

You shrugged your shoulders at him, then smiled as Kal trotted over to you, dropping a filthy tennis ball into your lap. “I wanted to put down roots.” You replied, taking up the ball and tossed it for Kal.

“Plus, I got a good job here.”

“What do you do?”

“Mainly, I'm a dog walker.” You replied, taking the ball Kal brought back to you. “But, I do some dog sitting on the side as well.” You told Henry, throwing the ball for him again.

“That explains a bit of why Kal likes you so much.” Henry commented, watching Kal's mad dash for the neon yellow ball across the yard. “He usually doesn't bring his favorite ball to people he's just met.” He explained, watching Kal charge back towards you with the dirt and slobber covered ball in his mouth.

“I've always had an affinity with animals.” You smiled, gently wrestling the ball out of his mouth and giving another throw, a bit further this time, then shivered.

“Are you all right?” Henry frowned at you, seeing the soft tremor rock your body. “Are you cold?” He asked, it was a bit brisk outside.

“No, I'm fine.” You chuckled, sitting your almost empty cup down on the table in front of you and stood. “I should really be going. I have some work I need to be doing.”

“Oh.” Henry replied, saddened, and stood with you. “I shouldn't have kept you so long, I'm so sorry.”

“It's quite all right, Henry.” You assured him with a soft smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.” You told him and Kal as he returned. “And, thank you for helping me find my keys.”

“Of course.” He nodded, forcing a smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“See you, Kal.” You smiled at the Akita patting him on the head, then nodded to Henry and started back off towards the meadow.

You were just inside the ring of trees and about to roll up the sleeve of your shirt, when you heard feet on the path behind you, then the sound of Henry calling out your name, and yanked your sleeve down and turned around to see what it was he wanted.

“Are you all right?” You asked, lifting your brows at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, a little out of breath from running after you. “I was wondering, if you weren't busy and didn't mind, since he seemed to have really taken to you and everything.” He babbled on. “If you could take Kal on a walk for me, tomorrow?” He asked, biting the corner of his lip with shy uncertainty. “I have a bunch of work meetings I have to make and I don't want him to just get stuck around the house or digging even more holes around the property.” He explained to you.

You grinned at him, touched. “Sure, I'd love to.” You agreed, filling him with relief. “Do you have a specific time you would like me to come?”

“Um,” Henry frowned, his brow pinched as he looked at his smartwatch. “The main bulk of them are around noon. So, any time between then and one, if that works for you?” He said, looking back up at you.

“That'll work out fine.” You nodded, smiling.

“Excellent.” Henry grinned, his face lit up with excitement. “Just come round and knock.”

“Will do.” You assured him, amused that you could easily read his face and eyes. “I'll see you tomorrow, Henry.” You chuckled and turned on your heels and continued on into the meadow.

“I can't wait.” Henry replied after you, giddy and nervous.

You continued on through the meadow, unsure if Henry would still be standing in the ring of trees watching you walk in the direction you had told him you lived in. All you needed was for him to see through your ruse. So, you stepped into the furthest set of trees, glancing around to make sure no one was around to witness or stumble upon you leaving. Seeing the coast was clear, you yanked up your sleeve, rubbing the mark on your forearm with the heel of your palm and took a deep breath, closing your eyes.

“Open the way and return me home, Occam.” You called out through an invisible bond that connected you to your true home, like an umbilical cord between a mother and her babe.

The glitter of blue light illuminated the cluster of trees and brush around you, like it had in the middle of the meadow not an hour before, and taking another deep breath, you stepped through it and let it close behind you.

“Did you get it?”

You sighed and rubbed your face. “No, I didn't get it.” You replied, looking at your father. “I ran into an unseen issue.”

“And what issue was that?”

“The guy that has it.” You answered, rubbing the back of your neck.

Your father's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at your words. “He caught you in his home?”

“Thankfully, no.” You chuckled, patting him on the chest and walked by him. “I crossed through the pocket door, where we suggested I make it.” You explained as the both of you walked towards home. “But, no soon after I arrived, so did his dog. He's adorable too.” You quipped, smiling at the image of Kal in your mind. “He looks like a black and white bear, with a long curly tail!”

“Oh, if I could have brought him home with me-”

“Sweetheart.” Your father snorted, amused and patted you gently on the back. “I'd have to build a whole new world for all the animals you keep wanting to bring back with you.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“Tell me what happened.” He gently pressed you back onto the subject.

“Right.” You laughed, shyly. “Well, his dog showed up and he came after him.”

“You're sure it's the same man?”

“I am.” You nodded, heaving a tired sigh. “I saw him outside of that archaeologist's office yesterday morning.”

“Master Simperwill, we've gotten intel on a possible subject.”

Darius looked up from his desk. “A possible subject for what, Vena?” He replied, lifting a brow at her.

“Serpents.” Vena answered him. “An agent in the field, who's been tracking a known Serpent, Tate Forester, followed him to an office in London, England.”

“What kind of office, exactly?” Darius questioned her, his interest peaking.

“From what my agent gathered, he's an archaeologist with a doctorate's degree in the field.” Vena read off a tablet she was holding in her hand. “His knowledge is quite extensive as well, coming from a long line of archaeologists, explorers and historians. It seems he might even know some things about our culture.” She said, glancing up at her boss.

Darius leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Do we know why this Forester went to see the archaeologist?” He asked her, troubled.

“No, he lost track of Forester when he went inside the archaeologist's office.” Vena shook her head.

“What's this archaeologist's name?”

“Um...” Vena flipped through several of the papers clipped to her tablet. “Dr. Richard O'Connell.”

Darius let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his graying hair. “We'll need someone to go and investigate this Dr. O'Connell to find out what it is the Serpents want with him and what he knows about us.”

“I can get one of my agents on it right away, Sir.” Vena nodded at him, turning towards the door.

“No.” Darius replied, shaking his head, having already made up his mind.

“Sir?” She frowned, turning back to him.

“Have my daughter come to my office.” He told her, nodding his head. “Yes, have her come see me.”

“Right away.” Vena nodded back at him, finally leaving his office.

A knock sounded on Darius's door several minutes later. “Come in!”

“You asked for me?” You said, stepping into his office.

“I did.” Darius replied, grinning lovingly at you. “I have something I need you to do.”

“All right.” You nodded and approached his desk, plopping down in a chair in front of it. “What's on your mind?”

“I need you to go into the base world and learn what you can about an archaeologist, Dr. Richard O'Connell. Follow him and learn whatever you can from him.” Darius explained to you.

You blinked at your father, then shook your head at him. “Why?” You asked, frowning.

“Vena thinks he has dealings with the Order of the Serpents.” He replied, biting his lip, worriedly.

“You think a human is in league with the Order of the Serpents?” You echoed, leaning forward in your seat.

“I don't necessarily believe the Doctor is in league with them, but I'm sure they're using humans for their own means.” Darius sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “We need to know what they're using the human for. That's where you come in, daughter.” He explained to you, dropping his hand and looking over at you.

“You're the only one I trust to do it and who knows so much about the Serpents and the base world.”

You rubbed a hand over your face, holding your father's eyes. It was true, you knew a great deal about the Order of the Serpents and the base world, and not from sitting around your people's sanctuary world of Moros reading about them; though you have done your fair share of reading about them. A great deal of your knowledge about your people's enemy came from running into them, while in the human world, or what Morosians called it, the base world. Your job in Moros was keeping them safe, doing recon work in the base world and making sure the Serpents didn't find a way into Moros.

While it was assumed that Alaric had collapsed the world cave on all of Christos's followers the day Darius led the refugees through the door that Marcus, Coda and Ian had opened and closed behind them, before separating, scattering for the safety of the Seals they carried with them.

One man had actually survived, and would go on to create what would become the Order of the Serpents.

Knox Steelmane was ordered to be one of the four to stand by the mouth of the world cave to await Alaric Saintwatcher's arrival. He bounced from foot to foot beside his creature, Kayda, his bladder screaming, as they waited in the brisk air.

“Going to piss yourself, Knox?” One of the other Riders teased him, digging his elbow sharply in Knox's side, with a hearty laugh.

“Go to hell, Jonas.” Knox grumbled back, shoving at the older man away.

“Seems like you're already in it.” One of the other Riders ribbed him, grinning.

“Look!” Jonas yelled out, pointing to the skies overhead.

The group looked to where he was pointing and saw Alaric and Tila making their descent toward them and the mouth of the world cave. They clustered around Alaric and his creature after they landed and approached, closely following them inside.

“Where are the rest of your brats?” Christos's voice echoed over to Alaric.

Knox listened to Christos and Alaric bicker back and forth with each other, still fidgeting and trying to ignore the fact he still had to piss. But, it quickly became clear to him that he couldn't hold it any longer or he would be peeing his britches. So, pretending to look at something behind his creature, Knox sneaked outside, quickly rushing behind the nearest tree, pulling open the strings at the front of his trousers and started relieving himself. He was mid-stream when he felt the first tremor rock the ground, making him stumble and stagger on his feet, urine getting on his boots.

“What the hell was that?” He snapped, fumbling to quickly retie the strings of his pants, as another shock wave rocked the earth beneath his feet.

Abandoning the rest of ties to his pants, Knox tripped and fumbled back towards the world cave his companions and leader were still in. But, as he rounded the corner of a tall rock formation, sprinting down the path to the cave, he heard the screams of his friends and the creatures inside, he was forced to skid to a halt as the entrance collapsed, blocking his only way inside.

“No, no no!” He screamed, rushing up to the dusty rubble, tossing what he could lift out of the way, desperate to get back inside. “Kayda!” He screamed for his creature, feeling her terror and injury through their bond, like it was his own agony. “Jonas! Christos! Kayda!” He wailed, still tearing at the rocks blocking the entrance, cutting and hurting his hands on the jagged granite rocks.

“No.” He whimpered, dropping to his knees and slumping against the landslide, tears streaking through the dirt and dust covering his face, sobbing as he felt the painful flickering of Kayda's life force inside of him. “Don't go.” He begged her dwindling life, clawing at the dirt and rock around him, as if he could keep Kayda alive by sheer will.

“Please, don't go.” He whimpered. “I need you.” He sniveled, but felt the last thread of Kayda's life break and fade.

Knox dropped his head back and let out an agonizing, heart wrenching howl, his eyes glowing the moss green of Kayda's scales. Taking a few moments, Knox dragged himself onto his feet, his arms limp at his sides, but his shoulders were stiff with grief and anger, as was his dusty and tear-stained face.

A dark hatred encrusted Knox's heart that day, he vowed to make those that had followed Alaric and opposed Christos pay for killing them, turning Christos into a martyr and championed his cause. He drudged through the roads to the sanctuary Alaric and the others had stayed in, while the two sides battled. But, when he reached the gates, he found no guards, no one alerted to his presence and reacting to it.

Suspicious and careful, in case it was another ambush, Knox moved around the tall, stone wall of the building; he didn't see a single living soul, not a single Rider or Creature in sight. He made it to the south gate and found it ajar, his suspicion growing as he approached. Closing his hand around the pummel of his sword and slipping through the open gap, Knox pulled his sword, gripping it tight, as his eyes scanned the stone and wooden structures, the worn leather soles of boots squelching as he moved slowly through the ankle deep muddy pathways, but the only things that stirred were things blown by the wind. Lowering his sword, Knox let out a roar of anger, kicking a wooden crate and sending it flying across the street, then staked his sword in the mud.

“Where could they have all gone?” He huffed, pacing in his agitation.

Yanking his sword out of the ground and sheathing it on his hip again, he began picking his way through the buildings, looking for any clues to the group's whereabouts, when he found the war room Alaric, Darius and Marcus had been using during the conflicts, finding the maps and open books they had been referencing and studying before they put their plan into motion to stop Christos and take everyone to safety through the door into the new world.

Leaning over the table, Knox picked up one of the books and lifted a brow at the page it had been left on.

“Edward William's Theory.” He read at the top of the page, blindly pulling out a chair and sitting down as he read the material. “They can't possibly think this could work.” He huffed, tossing the book back onto the table, leaning forward to look at the maps, drumming his fingers on the table as he studied them. “But, where could they have gone, without people noticing that many Riders and creatures were on the move.” He reasoned with himself, reaching out to take up the book again, tapping his finger against the page.

Hell bent on finding out where the others went, Knox gathered every scrap of material that was on the table, every book, map and sheet of paper, whether they had connection to their plans or not. He studied them in and out and became convinced they had managed to replicate the theory. So sure of it, Knox created his own group of followers, the Order of the Serpents, to keep Christos plan alive to grant rightful control over the Riders and creatures, to rule over the world, as they felt they should.

But, first, Knox and his group of Serpents needed to discover where Marcus, Ian and Coda had vanished to with the three Seals that would open the door to Moros, and they had spent the last few centuries trying to track them down.

To no avail, until, a fated phone call from a certain archaeologist.

“All right, I'll leave right away, then.” You sighed, nodding your head at your father.

“Excellent.” Darius nodded back at you. “Try to stay out of trouble, hm?” He grinned at you, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“Who, me?” You grinned back at him, a similar sparkle in your own eyes. “Always.” You chuckled, standing. “I'm as troublesome as a church mouse.”

“Of course you are.” He echoed, huffing with amusement. “Now, I want you to go and see Vena, she has a majority of the details on the subject and she can suggest a place for you to pocket into.” He instructed you.

“Will do, papa.” You nodded, heading for the door.

“I want you back, as soon as you find out anything!” He added, calling out after you.

You made a motion with your hand, signaling to him that you heard what he said, before finding your way to Vena's office down the way. “My father said you have the details for my mission into the base world.” You said, lifting a brow at her.

“Yes.” Vena nodded, looking up from a map. “I was just looking for a place you could pocket into.” She explained, looking back down at the map, which you recognized as a map of London. “The archaeologist's office is just here.” She said, sticking a pin near the central part of London.

“I've been to several places around that area.” You commented, leaning over the map and narrowing your eyes at it. “I've created a pocket door into an establishment that's just here, more than once.” You explained, taking up a pin and poking it into the map several streets down from Dr. O'Connell's office.

“It's a big box store of theirs, they never notice me coming in and out of it.”

“Great.” Vena smiled up at you. “Then, that can be your point of entry and exit.”

“Is there anything else I need to know about this guy?” You asked, studying her.

“The archaeologist or the Serpent?” She asked, lifting a brow at you.

“Either? Both?” You replied, shaking your head.

“Well, the Archaeologist is one Richard O'Connell, he's quite distinguished in his occupation, as are several in his family. He doesn't seem to have any criminal or nefarious deeds and background that I or my agents could find.” Vena answered, shuffling papers around. “As for Tate Forester, the Serpent, his record is extensive. He has several arrests, some for theft, breaking and entering and assault. He's even done time.”

“So, he's a nasty one.”

“I've dealt with worse.” You commented, offhandedly, then glanced at one of the two clocks on Vena's wall. “It's almost seven am in the base world, I should get going.” You said, making a few calculations in your head.

“Yes, you should.” Vena nodded, biting her lip.

“Right.” You nodded back at her, smiling softly. “I'll see you later, Vena.” You chuckled, seeing yourself out of her office, then went to the house you lived in and changed into an outfit that would allow you to blend in with the humans, and a small backpack of items you might need. “Hey, Occam.” You smiled, stepping outside and happily greeting your creature as he landed before you.

“I've got some business to do in the base world.” You told him, stroking his snout. “I shouldn't be gone for too long.” You said, opening the bond between the pair of you. “You behave and don't go bullying Mundu, while I'm gone either.” You added, smirking at his huff and the rattle of his scales as he shook his mighty head at you.

“All right, Occam, let's open a portal.”

You pulled up the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing and pressed your palm to his head, both your and Occam's eyes closing, feeling the warm tingle of your shared magic undulating between you. A gentle breeze stirred around the two of you, the mark on your forearm grew warm and glowed as the bright blue pocket door opened beside you. Patting Occam, you turned and stepped through the portal, then with a rush and a pop in your ears, you found yourself in a cramped dressing cubicle with mounted full-length mirrors on three sides and discarded clothes and hangers strewn about.

Turning, you opened the latch to the door and stepped out of the changing room, pausing for a moment to watch the oblivious shoppers, pushing their carts, stopping at racks of clothing or purchasing their items. Sighing, you slipped into the flow of the crowd and out the front doors to the street, taking a moment to orient yourself and headed in the direction of O'Connell's office.

You looked up at the tall office building and headed inside, checking the nameplates for what floor the archaeologist was on, then bypassed the lifts, having no trust in them, and took the several flights of stairs to the third floor. Coming out on the floor, you glance around, finding a young blonde woman sitting behind a desk, flipping through a magazine, seemingly unaware of your presence, as you approach her, forcing you to clear your throat twice to get her attention.

“Can I help you?” She asked, sticking her nose up at you with extreme distaste.

“Is Mr. O'Connell in?” You asked, narrowing your eyes back at her.

“No, he is not.” She huffed, picking her magazine back up. “He won't be in for at least three hours. He's teaching a two-hour class in Oxford's School of Archaeology this morning at six am, then it's an almost hour and a half train ride back here to London for him.”

You looked up at the clock on the wall above her head, it was just past seven, meaning you had hours before O'Connell showed back up at his office for regular work. “Thanks.” You sighed, but she was already absorbed in her magazine again.

Making your way back downstairs, you popped back out onto the street and turned left, following the flow of foot traffic and shops down to the local Starbucks, to order yourself a tall, blended Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino with whip cream, paying for it with the money you made from a few business dealings you had done, using your skill for tracking and finding people to your advantage in the base world, since Moros didn't have any money or currency. They shared, grew or created what they needed to survive and thrive. It enabled you to have real human money in your pocket, so you could buy things, like coffee from the famous Starbucks, you had seen countless humans carrying around with them, or to buy something to eat, even bring things back to Moros, even different clothes and books. Many types of technology from the base world didn't work in Moros, so you never bothered buying a mobile phone or a laptop.

Though, you had always yearned for one.

Having your coffee in hand, you went back to O'Connell's office building, opting to sit in the building's lobby to wait for his return. Putting your backpack on the floor between your feet and pulling out the novel you had been reading, you slowly sipped on your drink as you thumbed through it; killing the time until Dr. O'Connell arrived from Oxford to his office.

Your coffee was gone and your leg and butt-cheek were starting to fall asleep by the time the door to the building opened, admitting a group of four people, two men and two women. You lifted a brow at them, but kept your eyes on your book, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

“Your lecture was amazing, Dr. O'Connell.” One of the women commented as the group approached the lifts.

You lifted your eyes, watching the two males, to see which of them answered.

“Thank you, Kimmy.” The taller of the two men, with graying blond hair and a pudgy middle replied, smiling at her and pressing the button for the third floor.

You shifted in your seat, watching the group pile into the lift and ride it up. Now that you knew what the good archaeologist looked like, it made your job of tracking him a lot easier. A few minutes later the two girls and the guy came back down in the lift, chatting and holding a copy of a book with O'Connell's face on the back of it; no doubt something written on his career and life. Watching them go out the door, you got up and used the bathroom that was in the lobby, before coming back out and took your seat again, intent on waiting there until O'Connell left for either his lunch break or to go home.

An hour later, the ding for the lift doors echoed through the lobby, catching your attention, as a tall, dark and curly haired man stepped out of them. He was handsome, for sure, but that wasn't the tingle that drew you to him as he walked by you, towards the front doors. There was something about him that called out to you, that made you want to stand up and follow him out of the building, to wherever it was he was going; and you didn't understand why. But, as soon as he was out of the building and you could no longer see him, the tingle flowing in your spine vanished, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded.

It wasn't five minutes later that Dr. O'Connell came flying through the lobby, his long coat billowing behind him as he yanked his mobile out of his pocket, frantically dialing a number on it. You waited a moment for him to get out onto the street, before stuffing your book back into your backpack and got up, swinging it onto your back, slipping your arms through the straps, and looking left and right, before catching sight of him and dashing in that direction.

You kept at a reasonable distance from Dr. O'Connell, but still close enough to hear him speaking to whoever it was he called.

“It's Rick O'Connell.” He was saying, walking quickly in his agitation. “You told me to call you, if I ever found anything that looked like Dragonic.”

“Dragonic.” You mumbled to yourself, frowning.

“I'm pretty sure.” Dr. O'Connell was explaining to his caller. “No. I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. So, I let the guy that brought it to me, take it back with him.” He said, suddenly stopping and turning around, but you casually walked by him, as if nothing was amiss. “I can contact him and get it back, if you like?” He said, frowning to himself and started walking again.

“It was a disc shaped object, with a dragon on it.” He described the object he had called them about. “A man brought it to me, his name is Henry Cavill.”

Your ears perked up at the name and the description of the object. Biting your lip, you picked your pace and headed back towards the department store you had used to enter the base world, sneaking back into the same dressing room and opened a pocket door back to Moros.

“Father!” You shouted, rushing into his office.

“I'm here, I'm here, daughter!” He called back, appearing. “What is it? What's happened? Are you all right?” He asked, looking you over, urgently.

“I'm well.” You assured him, out of breath. “I come with news.”

“Well, sit and catch your breath first, child.” He told you, ushering you to a seat and bringing you a warm cup of tea, with a splash of something stronger in it. “Now, tell me. What is it you've learned?” He asked, leaning back against his desk in front of you.

“I found the archaeologist in his office building, it was easy enough.” You told him, slowly sipping your tea and taking slow, deep breaths. “I had to wait some time for him to show up, he was doing work for one of the base world's schools. But, once he did arrive, it didn't take long for something to happen.” You explained to him.

“And, what did you find?”

“The man, a Henry Cavill, he said his name was...”

“You talked to these men?”

“No.” You shook your head at him. “I talked to only his secretary, to see if he was in. That's how I found out he was not in, at the time. But, Dr. O'Connell wasn't back in his office long after his teaching engagement, when he apparently had a client bring him something. I didn't see the meeting or the object. But, when I saw the man leaving, I felt oddly attracted to him and not because he was handsome either.” You chuckled, hiding your shy smirk in the rim of your cup.

Darius rolled his eyes at you. “The object, did they describe it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.

“Dr. O'Connell left his office soon after the man, Mr. Cavill, left. He made a phone call to someone. Apparently, he's meant to call them, if he encounters anything, Dragonic, and described the object Mr. Cavill brought to him.”

“It was a round disc with a dragon on one side of it.”

Your father's face fell, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Dragons.” He whispered, pushing off his desk and began pacing his office.

“It's what they call our creatures.” You said, watching him. “Dragons.”

“Yes.” He nodded, stroking his bearded chin and pinched his bottom lip, as he brooded. “Did the archaeologist have the disc on him?”

“No.” You shook your head. “He said, Cavill still had it with him, because he wasn't sure if the object was the real thing or not.”

Darius turned back to you. “You said, when this Cavill was leaving, you were drawn to him, and not just because of his looks.”

“Yes, I wanted to follow him, to go with him. There was a tingle up my spine, like the feeling I get when I use my magic with Occam.” You explained to him, frowning and tilting your head at him.

“By the Order,” Your father gasped. “He's in possession of one of the Seals.”

[thatslikely]

we - g.w.

we - george weasley x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of food, tooth rotting fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: ok... this was meant to be 800 words ish but I guess I just can’t write blurbs?? i think my shortest work ever was 800 soooo

“Hey, Georgie,” you said hesitantly, tapping him on his broad shoulder, “we need to talk.”

The laugh that quirked his lips and crinkled the edges of his chocolate eyes you weren’t shy of adoring fell as flat as the icy Black Lake during the harsh winter months. The slightest wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, nonchalant concern seeping through his pores.

The phrase you just uttered never led to anything remotely good. Those four dreaded words are what ended his juvenile relationship with Katie Bell all the way back in fourth year. Bill had stated the four words as he sat down a ten-year-old George so many years ago, who loved his older brother dearly, and broke the news that he would be indefinitely moving to Egypt. 

It was safe to say he didn’t have a great history with the phrase.

With worry wincing his features, he agreed. “Sure, darling. Everything all right?” You nodded, grabbing his wrist and dragging him away from the group of Gryffindors that he had previously been enthralled with in conversation.

He sat on your curtained dorm bed with a creak uncomfortably, as if he were a guest visiting your house for the first time. “You look like you’re about to explode Georgie, relax,” you meekly smiled. “I just have something to tell you.”

The heel of his shoes lifted up and down, causing his knee to bounce every so slightly, a habit that was only expressed when fear truly racked his body. With a dry mouth and averted gaze, you said, “you see, after Hogwarts, there’s been a little change in plans.”

“I want to attend a Muggle college.”

“The Muggle world’s a lot bigger than I thought,” George said thoughtfully as his tongue licked vertical stripes up the scoop of ice cream in his palm. “No one ever told me there were so many places to go and see and do.”

“Yeah, they never did talk about its expansiveness back at school. Even Muggle Studies barely scratched the surface.” 

As your mind swam through the previous school year, which was packed full with laughs, pranks galore, romantic dates with your titian-haired boyfriend, and an awful case of senioritis, George swiftly lurched to steal a bite from your cone with a mischievous smirk.

However, you were too quick for him, you always had been, and your treat was safe from his stomach. “Not today, Weasley.”

“Bummer. I regret not getting that flavor, ‘looks delicious.”

“I guess I’ll let you have one bite.” You turned your cone in his direction, and unsurprisingly, he snatched it from your grasp, dashing away from you, laughs interspersed with joking taunts escaping his strawberry cream-coated lips.

“Get back here!” you shouted at the lanky, retreating figure, moving your legs swiftly after him.

The sun had risen tranquilly to the center of the dreamy, blue sky above, and its golden beams were trickling down from overhead. The weather fostered the perfect atmosphere to tour one of the college campuses you had been accepted into, accompanied by no one but the doting, red-haired boy you could call your’s.

The brilliant idea of attending Muggle college had stemmed from Hermione, who one day in the library, when stacks of yellowing books and dusty pages crammed with research enveloped the two of you in a world of strictly academia, mentioned in passing that it was on her list of possible things to do post-Hogwarts.

Before you had learned that the blood coursing through your brains contained traces of magic-harnessing abilities, university had seemed some distant end goal expected from you after graduating high school. That notion had been quickly swept aside when you learned of your wizard ancestry and you received a letter informing you that you would attend Hogwarts first thing the next fall.  

But now, observing the cliques of college students sauntering around the open-aired quad, you realized that this was the next step for you. The only next step for you.  

“Hey, Y/N, I have a question,” a sixth-year George asked as his thumb lovingly caressed your skin, leaving warm, tingly patches in its wake. “When me and Fred open the shop the moment we’re out of here, will you come live with us? Me?”

“There’ll be a homey flat above the shop, perfect for us. Fred’ll be there too, of course, but I reckon we’ll have plenty of time just the two of us.” George’s umber eyes scanned your face in an attempt to know what thoughts and opinions ran through your mind. He meant what he said: he couldn’t imagine not seeing you after the both of your educations concluded.

“I’ll live anywhere as long as you’re with me, Georgie,” you replied with a grin.

A small chip of guilt flaked off your heart when you knowingly broke the promise you had sworn by not even two years ago. You outright refused to attend any universities not within the UK, as part of your internal compromise for leaving George.

George was beyond happy for you, though, and he was not shy of showing it. He’d unabashedly boast around the Great Hall or common room practically every day, saying with a smirk oozing with pride and joy, “I’ve got the smartest girl ever. She’s going to college.”

You and George strolled along the brick-pathed sidewalks and trails, admiring the different buildings with elegant architecture. When you two walked past the dorm rooms, varicolored flags could be seen draped from the windows; in the patches of well-groomed green that dotted the landscape, students were tossing frisbees and eating sandwiches on picnic blankets.

It was like no school you had ever attended, and you were undeniably enamoured by it.

As the afternoon faded away, conquered with a sweeping tsunami of darkness, the silver moon encroached closer to the pinkened sky. You and George treated yourselves to a nice dinner on the river, at a restaurant that you wouldn’t dream of dining at again if you chose to enroll.

You and George had covered all the logistics of college: how it worked, where you would live, when he could visit. 

“Maybe Fred and I will open a shop down here someday,” he said, forking a bit of the food before him. “You think college students (or to-be college students in your case) would like pranks?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them, by the looks of campus so far.”

He gave you a genuine, innocent smile (his mouth still full of food, not unlike a squirrel’s), as if to say ‘it’s settled then.’ “You never were the neatest eater,” you giggled.

“I can be sophisticated if I want to!” he rebutted.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Definitely. One-hundred percent. No doubt about it. I’ll take you to another nice restaurant one of these days and watch me have the best manners ever!”

The string lights illuminating the patio looked great, the beads of contained golden light highlighting every detail about him that you love so much. It shone on the faint, near indistinguishable scar on his eyebrow from a failed prank when he was six. The glint of pure love in his eyes that he held ever since he laid eyes on you back in fifth year. The way one specific tessel of his soft ginger hair would never sit quite right, no matter how many gels and spells he’d apply.

The boy opposite you was so easily tempted to simper and tease you for so blatantly staring at him, every inch of him it seemed, as it was a trait him and his twin could never rid. But instead, a fuse in his brain finally clicked; the final piece of a undeniably complex and breathtaking puzzle fell into place, and he finally made up his mind.

He smiled warmly, his eyes prickling with joy. It wasn’t a grin of the same nature as one derived from one of his pranks, or a clever jab Fred would crack: it was an expression of ultimate contentment, resulted from the pure emotions that sputtered through his chest like a firecracker. 

“You think we should apply here?” He’d accepted the fact that he had been grappling with for so long: there was no way he’d live without you, and if that meant leaving Fred the shop for a while, or even delaying its construction, then so be it.

“We?” 

“We.”

general taglist:

@amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @accioweaslcy @theweasleytwinsgirl

twins/george taglist:

@horrorxweasley @hufflepuff5972

send me an ask or dm to be added!

[travelwithmck]

Egypt May 2022. Literally my favorite country ever! Everyone, even the customs agents loved us. Friendliest people ever. We went to Sharm El Sheikh and I was the only one of my friend group to jump into the crystal clear water. I immediately thought the coral was gorgeous, and then I looked up and saw millions of jellyfish floating above me. I panicked and couldn’t make it to the ladder because it was covered in jellyfish. A woman in a burkini saw me struggling and she pulled me out of the water. Come to find out, the jellyfish are all dead and can’t sting you. We flew to Cairo and were in awe of the city as we drove an hour to Giza. We saw people running across the dirt highway, donkeys standing in the backs of pickup trucks, and families of 5 all on one motorcycle with the baby on the handlebars. Once settled in our massive apartment, our tour guide took us to the pyramids. In line for tickets, 2 little egyptian girls walked over to us and smiled so big. We asked our tour guide why they were staring and she said, “because they think you are so beautiful”. Once inside the complex, everyone was staring at us, people were begging our tour guide to take photos with us, parents were sending their children to pose in photos with us, it was so much fun. We had to climb up the side of the pyramid to get to the entrance. There were no railings, and as you can see from the photo above, people were all over the pyramid. Our tour guide explained that going into the pyramid is not good for people that suffer from claustrophobia. Our tour guide has never seen the inside of the pyramids because it is forbidden for Egyptians to enter. I have claustrophobia but I wasn’t about to miss the inside of the pyramid. To go inside, you gave a little Egyptian man your ticket and then went down a narrow hallway to a set of one way stairs. Once up these stairs, I saw the tunnel that I would have to crawl through. About 3 feet tall and 3 feet wide. We each had to crawl through this one way tunnel with very dim lighting. It was hot and the tunnel is long and uphill. Once you reach the top of the tunnel, there are more stairs and then a room where the pharaoh’s mummy was kept. Once I reached the top of the tunnel, I bid my friends farewell and booked it back down the tunnel. I cannot stress how much big the pyramids are. They are truly a world wonder. We then headed to our camel ride and although we don’t approve of how the camels are treated, we thought we should not miss the experience of riding a camel at the pyramids. At night, we went on a dinner cruise on the Nile. There was a belly dancer and then a traditional Egyptian dancer. I could see the dancer looking for a victim to bring on stage and I quickly looked down. Somehow out of everyone in the room, he chose me. I had to go put his dance getup on and twirl until I almost fell over. When we got home, our Airbnb host wanted to take us for a walk on a famous street called El Haram- The Pyramid. We asked what the dress code was and he said we could wear anything so we put on some cute dresses. We were there at the end of Ramadan, called Eid. Everyone stays up very late and hangs out in the streets. They have little children walking camels around on the median, giving rides on the literal median in the street. Once we started walking through the street full of thousands of people, everyone stared at us. People were honking at us, following us, yelling at us, it was insane. We followed our host to KFC which was PACKED. Inside there was a Baskin Robbins and he bought us all ice cream. Everyone in this KFC stared at us. A little girl saw my legs and said, “Oo la la”. It’s fascinating how many Egyptians have never seen white people. The next day we went to the biggest and nicest mall I had ever seen. Our server at a restaurant asked if I was a famous actress. This trip was my favorite of all time and I think everyone should visit Egypt!!

[javier-djarin]

Son of the Medjai: Prologue

Osiris's Curse: Book 1

The Mummy AU

Ship: Pero Tovar x Aria MacKenzie (OC)

Rating: M

Word Count:  2,361 Words

Warnings: Violence & Death

Masterlist

Summary: Ausar and Kazemde were brothers and best friends, until Ausar became crowned prince and engaged to the beautiful Nefertari. The jealous Kazemde makes a mistake that costs him his soul. Pero Tovar stumbles upon the lost city of Aten, only to be greeted by a group of Medjai who still guard the city.

A/N: Like many of you, I LOVE the 1999 movie, The Mummy. Here is my special take on this iconic story with none other than Pero Tovar as our Rick O'Connell. I’ve decided to stray away from the original source material but keep it in the same spirit. If you’re interested in my origin story, read the story of Osiris and Isis. There are dozens of versions, but they’re all very similar. Special shout out to @rebelscumlena for being my wonderful beta! If you know the OP of the gif, please let me know so I can give them the proper credit. Please let me know if you want to be on my taglist and what you think of the fic! Any Spanish Translations will always be found at the bottom of every chapter.

3000 years ago - The Lost Dynasty

Egypt was at the height of its prosperity, and the city of Thebes was at the center of this flourishing era. Amenhotep’s rule was as peaceful and serene as he was. The city grew, merchants were in abundance, and the people respected the royal family. The prosperity of Thebes pleased the gods enough to allow them to walk among their people once more in the forms of Amenhotep’s sons, Ausar and Kazemde. Ausar was born first during the Feast of Osiris, and a year later during the Festival of Set, Kazemde came into this world. They grew up inseparable and adored by all, until Ausar was officially named the crowned prince. This made Kazemde insanely jealous of his brother, becoming a shadow of the once peaceful boy he was. Amenhotep saw the darkness growing in him and worried the spirit of Set had indeed found a new home. As their father grew older, Ausar assumed more responsibilities. Before long, it was time to find Ausar a wife so he could take his father’s place on the throne.

King Seti from across the sea had two beautiful daughters, Siti and Nefertari. Amenhotep and his sons hosted the great king and his daughters during the Festival of Osiris. The daughters would compete for the privilege of becoming Ausar’s wife. Both daughters were known as skilled fighters and were impressive in hand to hand combat. Days leading up to the duel, Ausar had quickly fallen in love with Seti’s younger daughter, Nefertari. They would walk the streets of Thebes during the day, and his love deepened as he observed  the way she cared for his people. “I do not understand what makes you cherish these people so much,” he noted one day.

She beckoned the servants behind them to distribute the loaves of bread she’d stolen from the palace among the poor women and children in the streets. “These people cannot help they were born like this,” she said, wrapping her arm through his, “so it is our duty to do what we can for those that need help.”

He smiled at her and continued with her through the streets. “I believe my father has found Isis,” he chuckled.

She turned to look at him, gentleness flowing from her gaze. “It is said that on the night I was born, the moon had never been fuller.”

Ausar pulled her into his arms, kissing her softly before replying, “Then, Osiris and Isis have been reunited once more.”

Their love was no secret to their families, but the contest was still to be held. Nefertari had to prove her worth to marry Ausar. Siti, jealous of how her father preferred her sister, intended on the match ending only one way: her sister’s demise. She vied for Seti’s approval, which always seemed to be bestowed upon the youngest of the two. She would win Ausar for the sake of competition, and force her sister to watch as she wed the one man Nefertari loved. However, the competition went in Nefertari’s favor when she easily defeated her sister. Humiliated and with wounded pride, Siti fled Thebes and became a priestess in the city of Aten. She would worship the trickster god, Set, in an effort to one day bring her sister and brother-in-law to their knees.

Nefertari and Ausar were soon married, and Ausar took his rightful place on the throne. Kazemde was furious. He believed the throne should have been passed to him, as he was a stronger and more well-rounded individual. He memorized policies, maps, and histories of the surrounding areas. However, before Amenhotep’s death, he told his youngest son that his role would be to advise Ausar. He would stand next to his brother and offer support when he needed it; even worse, he would hold no rank over any of the other advisors. Once again, Kazemde was shoved into the shadows, where he soon found untold power.

Some time later, Siti traveled to Thebes for the birth of Nefertari’s son. She and Kazemde ran into each other in the courtyard of the palace where they exchanged grievances of the newborn prince. “Our fathers preferred our siblings over us,” she seethed one night, “it’s only right that we should take their places; show our fathers how wrong they really were. They know nothing about power. They will send this kingdom into ruin if they stay on the throne.”

“We should be expanding our empire across the seas in order to continue growing stronger as a city. With those two in power, Thebes will fade into history,” Kazemde added.

She watched him glance out over the city below and gave him an evil grin. “My sister humiliated me that day of the feast,” she continued, "I was defeated by my younger sister and became a disgrace to my family."

Kazemde turned to her, truly looking at her for the first time. “My brother has all but forsaken me and cast me aside for a mere advisor. I'm no longer recognized as the royalty I once was.”

She grinned and held his hand in hers. “Come with me to my Temple. Let me show you the powers I possess, and together we can bring our siblings to their knees.”

He returned her smile. “Show me,” he growled in a low voice.

***

Late into the night, Nefertari was roused from her sleep when she heard her son wail. Grabbing her robes, she wrapped herself before venturing down to his nursery. A darkness had fallen on the room, and she immediately grabbed the dagger she kept hidden in her robes. She tried to remain calm as she searched for a torch, when suddenly a strong gust of wind cleared the room of the darkness and revealed Siti standing over the crib with Rameses in her arms.

"Siti," she calmly said, "put down my son."

"I’m afraid that won’t happen," a familiar voice rasped from a dark corner behind her. Kazemde stepped into the light with a golden scimitar drawn.

“Kaz,” Nefertari gasped, “what are you doing?”

“What we should have done all along,” Siti answered.

Kazemde moved towards Nefertari, lunging at her with his weapon. She dodged and rolled out of his way as she scrambled for the shortswords hanging on the wall. She crouched and readied herself for another attack, while keeping Siti and her son in her line of sight. She was successfully fending off Kaz's attacks, but the clashing metal and the sounds of battle had awoken Ausar. He rushed to the nursery to see his brother and wife locked in a deadly fight. He moved to run to Nefertari’s aid when he felt a sudden force hold him in his place.

Siti, with an evil grin, held out her hand in Ausar’s direction calling out to the god Set for help. Ausar glared at her and fought against this invisible force. He felt heat burn through his veins as he struggled, only to break free when Kazemde ran his blade through Nefertari’s abdomen. Her hands immediately fell as she dropped her weapon, falling to her knees in pain.

"No!" Ausar screamed in terror as he ran forward, cradling his beloved in his arms.

Her breathing was weak as blood poured out of the open wound. "Protect him," she coughed, "protect our son, my love."

Ausar kissed her lightly before gently laying her on the floor. He picked up Nefertari’s shortsword and dagger as his gaze burned a hole through his brother. Rage ran through his body as he moved to attack his brother, knocking Kazemde into the empty crib. Siti moved, with Rameses still in her arms, but Ausar grabbed her. He wrapped his arm around her neck, angling the dagger below her chin and the shortsword in her side. They heard footsteps marching down the hall; the Medjai had been alerted. "Put down my son," he growled in her ear.

Kazemde glowered at his brother, seething with anger that Ausar he would dare to hurt Siti. "You've lost, brother," he spat, "hand over the throne, and you and your precious son may live."

The Medjai rushed into the room, a few to Nefertari’s body in an effort to save her. "Give them my son," Ausar said again, applying more pressure with the dagger to Siti. A small stream of blood trickled down her neck as he twisted the tip of the blade.

She begrudgingly handed over the prince to the royal guard, but it wasn't enough to save her. Ausar ran his blade across her throat letting the blood flow as her body crumpled to the floor in front of him. Screaming, Kazemde attacked his brother with a fury of stabs and swings as he attempted to overthrow him. The Medjai rushed forward, but not before Kazemde ran his blade through Ausar’s back, straight through his chest. As his brother fell to the floor dead, Kazemde finally took a moment to breathe and realized his plan was complete. Dropping his weapon to the floor as the Medjai surrounded him, he glanced at his nephew being cradled by the royal guard. Rameses would live on and be crowned pharaoh when the time came, while Kazemde would suffer for eternity for committing the most heinous of acts against his own flesh and blood.

The punishment for such a crime could only match in gruesomeness: the Curse of Osiris. God of the Underworld, Osiris held a special hatred for those that killed their own flesh and blood; especially if they were influenced by his enemy, Set. Kazemde was sentenced to this horrific fate. He was to be buried alive with scarabs, his coffin sealed with hieroglyphics banning his soul from entering the underworld. Buried deep within the city of Aten, the Medjai would never allow him to be released, for he would arise a walking disease; a plague upon all mankind, an unholy flesh eater with the strength of ages, power over the sands, and the glory of invincibility.

***

1923

Pero ducked behind a collapsed wall, guns drawn. These damn Bedouin never know when to quit, he thought. After the war, he stayed in Egypt once his sponsors discovered the lost city of Aten. Said to house all the riches of the Lost Dynasty, he'd led a group of British treasure hunters here to reap their fame and fortune. Each time he returned, however, the local tribes would ride in and plague their party. Their leader would issue the same warning every time. "Leave. Leave this place or die."

He was familiar with the local legends of the Curse of Osiris, but he was never one to believe in fairy tales and hokum. He was here for the paycheck. So far, there was nothing he hadn't faced that a shot to the head couldn't solve. So, when the tribe raided their camp again, he'd had enough. He aimed and fired, knocking one of them off their horse. "Nice shot, Tovar!" He heard someone call behind him.

He turned and saw William Garin, his former captain, giving him an approving nod. Out of the shadows crawled Beckett, William's second on this mission. Pero growled at him and turned back to see the raiders retreating into the temple nearby. He followed after them down a corridor that led them to a large statue of the Egyptian God, Osiris. The raiders had scattered and disappeared, and yet he heard murmurs. "I will rise," the deep growl whispered in his ear.

Pero turned, guns drawn as he searched for the source of the phantom voice. "Ausar will die!"

The sand moved, almost as if a large snake was slithering beneath the surface. But as the sand fell away into what Pero assumed was a sinkhole, a strange symbol appeared. One he'd seen before on maps he'd found of Aten, said to be the seal of the cursed: Ouroboros, the serpent eating its tail. Pero backed away slowly as the ground shook, before taking off into a run and returning to William and their camp. He glanced behind him, waiting for one of the raiders  to follow out after him, but they never did. He returned alone. He frowned and holstered his pistols. Fairy tales and hokum, he thought.

"Fuck this!" one of their group exclaimed. "This treasure isn't worth the trouble."

Pero turned to face them, annoyed. "I still better get paid," he huffed.

"Get us back to Cairo alive, and we will pay you double, Tovar," the man ordered.

William grinned and slapped Pero on the back. "You heard the man," he said, "let's move out."

Pero shrugged Will's hand off his shoulder and began packing his things. He didn't keep much on him, except for a few items in his satchel and his full arsenal in a slingback bag. He was nothing if not over prepared for every occasion. "Pinche gringos," he growled under his breath.

"You're at least getting paid," Beckett said.

He turned and faced the thorn in his side. "Nice of you to show up back there, Becky," he sneered.

Beckett glared at him. "What good would it have done for me to sit next to you and waste ammo? They fled. We're alive. I'm not going to unnecessarily risk my life for some fucking tourists."

Pero grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the stone wall next to them. "Those fucking tourists are the reason we get paid."

Beckett shoved Pero off him and sauntered off, no doubt to snitch to William about his aggressive attitude. "Hijo de puta inútil," he mumbled as he slung his pack onto his back. He was hoping this would have been his last excursion to Aten. Pero was planning on grabbing some treasure for himself, if they could find it, and leaving Egypt for good. He had no desire to stay in the dry, sandy heat any longer. Nothing on God's green earth could persuade him to stay here, let alone return to Aten at this point. He was tired of the senseless attacks from the local tribes. Pero decided he would find a different way out of this hellish country and on to bigger and better places.

Translations

Pinche gringos. - Fucking gringos.

Hijo de puta inútil. - Useless motherfucker.

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[theheartsmistakes]

Any Other Name- Chapter 4

Smoke unfurled from the end of the cigarette hanging from James’s mouth as he rested his forearms on the bordering wall that lined the rooftop across the street from the London Institute where he used to call home. Ashes flickered in the placid breeze that drifted in from the North and mixed with the dusting of snow the gray sky had finally decided to release upon the wasteland that was SoHo.

The cold bit at his fingertips, exposed by his fingerless gloves as he took the last drag and then stamped the stub out on the bricks.

It was nearly five in the afternoon when they arrived; he’d been waiting on the roof across the street for nearly an hour when he finally saw the flash of red hair standing out like a beacon in the otherwise gray and dismal world. She stepped out from the cab with a black duffle bag in her hand, in an oversized jumper and bicycle shorts.

She had to be freezing, he thought, as he released the smoke from his lungs. The last time she came to London it was summertime. He remembered the time well. He’d just been expelled from the Academy and kept home from the summer trip to Egypt his friends and sister went on to see the infamous pyramid Institute there. It wasn’t his parent’s intention to keep him behind, but since a number of his academy peers would be attending the trip as well, it wasn’t advised that he be amongst them after the recent series of unfortunate events that led to his unjust expulsion. He wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t purposefully release a demon in the same room as Augustus Pounceby and Alastair Carstairs and their cadre of idiotic sycophants if given even the slightest chance.

Besides, he didn’t mind being left behind. He got to spend the summer catching up on his reading and training in the Institute’s gym. He’d nearly perfected throwing his blade directly into the target without looking when the Carstairs arrived for official Clave business. Their daughter, who was around the same age as Lucie, arrived with them. Cordelia wasn’t able to go on the Egypt trip either because of a training injury that left Cordelia on crutches and in a cast that wouldn’t be healed for several weeks. He couldn’t recall what happened, but he did remember that her ankle snapped in three different places and the Silent Brothers couldn’t mend it fully without her taking some time off of it. So, like him, she had been left behind. While his mother entertained Cordelia’s mother, she volunteered James to entertain Cordelia.

They spent the entire week she was there reading together while Cordelia rested her foot, sharing their favorite stories until hours into the night. She read to him passages of Layla and Majnun and he showed her all of his favorite parts of London from the top of a Mundane tourist bus. When the days would come to their end and they’d go off to their separate rooms, he found himself staying up at night craving the sound of her voice, the pitch of her laugh, the way her smile transformed her whole face and made his insides unfurl. He couldn’t stop his thoughts from finding their way back to her. One moment he would be reading Hemingway and the next he would be highlighting a passage to share with Cordelia. He’d be eating breakfast with his parents and find himself comparing the color to her hair. Each moment he was with her, it became more and more of a challenge not to give in to the overwhelming desire to kiss her.

He cursed himself for the better part of five years for not saying something to her before she left to go back to Tehran.

It may have been nothing more than a childhood crush at the time, but it flickered somewhere deep in his chest at the sight of her loose hair tumbling in the breeze as she looked up at the Institute.

“Daisy,” he whispered, the word curled in white smoke from his lips.

She turned to look over her shoulder towards him as if she’d heard his voice. He resisted the instinct to duck and instead held her gaze. From where he stood on the roof, he couldn’t make out her profile or even see if her lips were moving. There was no possible way that even if she did see a figure on the adjacent roof a few yards away, that she would recognize him. Still, he found himself holding his breath until she looked away again.

He watched as the Carstairs moved their things into his home with help by the very same Shadowhunters that voted him and his family out. Boxes filled with items his parents didn’t have time to collect before they were evicted from the estate were thrown out like trash to the curb.

“I don’t know why you choose to torture yourself in this way, Jamie boy,” said Matthew as he came up behind James and leaned his back against the railing. “It’s fucking freezing up here.”

James hadn’t heard Matthew come in through the roof door. He was still growing accustomed to the absence of intrinsically knowing when Matthew was near since their Parabatai runes had been destroyed.

“What can I say?” said James, leaning onto his forearms. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“And what have you done this time to deserve this self-assigned penance?” asked Matthew, kicking an empty beer can across the gravel. “And why was I not involved in the crime?”

“Thoughts of murder,” said James, “and revenge.”

“Nothing a few hail Angels and hours of demon hunting can’t forgive.” Matthew spun around and leaned on the railing beside James. “Ah, it’s move-in day. I should’ve known you be stalking the Institute like a starving crow.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Who?”

James nodded towards the Institute.

“The Carstairs girl?” Matthew pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket and stuck it between his lips. After a moment of fighting with his lighter, smoke drifted from the corner of his mouth. “Considering she’s only been here for all of seven minutes, no, I haven’t talked to her. Is she cute?”

James turned to glare at his friend. “How would I know?”

Matthew shrugged. “I just figure if you’re willing to freeze your balls off on the roof of this mundane hotel to watch her move into your old place then she must be cute. Didn’t the two of you have a short fling a few years back?”

“It wasn’t a fling.”

“Sorry,” said Matthew around a puff of smoke. “A relationship.”

“It wasn’t a fling nor was it a relationship,” said James laced with annoyance. “We spent a short summer together when you abandoned me to go to Egypt. We read books and I showed her around London.”

Matthew clutched his chest, right over his heart. “Please, James, spare me the intimate details.”

James gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Come off it. I haven’t seen her since we were children, I was just curious if you spoke to her and could tell me how she... seemed.”

Matthew’s pale eyebrows raised. “How she seemed?”

“Forget I asked.”

“No,” laughed Matthew. “Genuinely, I’m happy to see you pining after someone other than Grace Blackthorn.”

A flash of betrayal coursed through James at the mention of his ex-girlfriend’s name. He’d been in a fairly serious relationship with Grace (serious on his part, but rather noncommittal on her end) that ended abruptly when the Clave sided with Inquisitor Bridgestock in exiling the Herondale family. That very night Grace approached him outside the Institute in Idris and while hugging him, told him that her mother no longer thought it would be appropriate if they saw each other and then left.

He indeed pined for her for some time afterward. He got roaring drunk and sent her a series of fire messages that went unreciprocated and progressively turned to beg until Matthew took away his stele and paper until he was sober and could control himself. Not even a month later, Matthew told him that she started seeing Charles, Matthew’s brother from time to time. James went out and got himself so drunk that he passed out underneath a bridge like a deranged troll.

Grace had been his first real relationship. He’d taken other girls out before, and it was on a date that Grace approached him—or rather stole him—from his date and started snogging him in the back alley of the Devil’s Tavern. That was Grace’s way with him: stolen, secret moments that left him reeling and in desperate need of a cold shower.

But when he tried to hold her hand in public, she’d find a reason to move away from him. If she spoke to her within a group, she barely made eye contact with him. When they attended parties or went out, she insisted they arrive and leave separately. He never asked her why she wanted it that way; perhaps he knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.

He stayed with her because of tender moments when he felt the real Grace, his Grace, show herself. Like when they snuck out to Richmond Park and spent the night together lying on the grass, looking up at the stars, and talking about plans for their future. It hadn’t occurred to him then that none of her plans included him.

No, he’d long since stopped pining after Grace Blackthorn and wished for her demise with as much sincerity as he wished for the rest of those who exiled his family.

Matthew could be relentless in his teasing, so James made a quick attempt at changing the subject. “Did you bring what I asked for?”

Matthew shoved his hand into his light blue corduroy jacket pocket and brought out a three-toothed brass key about the length of his pinkie finger and handed it over to James. “I need that back before my mother realizes it’s missing which shouldn’t be until Monday morning when she returns to her office, so make sure that you get whatever it is that you need done with it finished by tomorrow night.”

James clutched the key in his fist. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Shouldn’t?” Matthew blanched. “No, no, it won’t be a problem, because if it is a problem then my mother will take the blame for it. James, I need that key back by tomorrow night.”

James placed a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “I understand, Math. I will leave the key at your flat tomorrow morning underneath the ceramic dog on your porch.”

Matthew’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “I have your word?”

“Of course,” said James and pocketed the key. “Do you not trust me?”

“Yes, of course, I trust you,” insisted Matthew. “My family has just been under a fucking microscope since everything happened. I had to tell the Penhallow boy that I was going to the shops to pick out new underwear and the bastard trailed me all the way to the strip mall and only left when I started picking out briefs. I would be insulted by his assuming that I am lying if I weren’t so goddamn irritated.”

James tensed. “Are you sure no one tracked you here?”

“Yes,” said Matthew as he took another long drag of his cigarette, “I’m sure. In fact, I tracked Penhallow to the Institute where he is one of the volunteers helping to move the Carstairs family in.”

“You didn’t volunteer?” asked James.

A stream of smoke flowed from Matthew's nostrils. “God no, I may have mentioned assisting my mother on official Clave business regarding a demon possessed artifact in an abandoned warehouse on Bleeker Street, so that is where they all expect me to be. Thomas, I believe, volunteered or perhaps he was wrangled into the job by his parents. The boy hasn’t stopped growing since he turned thirteen and his voice dropped. He looks like a linebacker on one of those American football teams. He will come more in handy than I ever could.”

Nearly a month has gone by with no word from Thomas or Christopher since the exile. As hard as James tried to understand the position his closest friends were put in, he couldn’t stop the sharp pang of abandonment, no matter how desperately he tried to convince himself that it was not like that for them. If the tables were reversed and he had to decide whether to risk seeing his friends or protecting his own life and the life of his family, then he could understand the hesitation.

Still, the anger ripped at his logic. He missed his friends— more than anything else he’d been forced to leave behind, he missed his friends.

“Is there really a demon possessed artifact in a warehouse on Bleeker Street?”

Matthew flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “Yes, but it’s being dealt with by Anna and a few others. I told my mother I volunteered to help the Carstairs move. Everyone believes me to be in one place, when in fact, I’m actually here with you. As long as no one speaks to each other about my elegid whereabouts then they’ll all be none the wiser.”

“Clever,” said James, fiddling with the key in his pocket. “Thank you, for risking what you have to bring me what I needed. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Matthew shook his head and stepped away from the bordering wall. His trainers crunched against the gravel as he spun on his heels to face James. “I may have to appear to be obeying their rules, but that doesn’t mean that I agree with them and it doesn’t mean that I will allow them to win. My life is still very much my own and I still choose to have you in it. You’re more than my friend, you’re my brother, more than my own even. I’ve told you before Jamie, they can erase my rune, but they cannot erase my promise, I will honor our vows as parabatai until I meet my end and not before.”

James embraced his oldest friend, clutching him tight around the shoulders. “I feel the same.”

Matthew returned the embrace. “You’ll take care of yourself, yeah? You haven’t told me yet what you intend to do with that key and I’ve been trying to give you your space and not ask, but if I’m invited to your trial after they catch you, I will deny ever being involved.”

James released him. “But you just said…”

“No where in the vows does it say that I have to stand by you when you do something stupid that I clearly warned you against!”

“It’s implied,” said James.

“I only follow explicit instructions, not implied instructions,” said Matthew throwing his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his trainer before glancing at the watch around his wrist. “Shite, I’m going to be late. The Inquisitor saw fit to put a curfew on those of us who were affiliated with you. If I’m home even a minute after seven then I am forced into a meeting with both Bridgestock, Pounceby, and a witness to verify that I am being truthful about my whereabouts. Also, I’m supposed to pick up Christopher to help my father with one of his experiments on weapons infused with holy water.” Matthew’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t effect your demony issue, does it?”

James rolled his eyes. “No more than it effects yours.”

Matthew grinned as he slowly walked back towards the roof door. “My demons have far more expensive taste in poison, I’m afraid.” With that, he opened the roof door and disappeared leaving James staring over the edge as his life once again shifted into something he couldn’t recognize.

___________________________________________________

Whispers of the exiled Shadowhunters crawled through the streets of Hackney, one of London’s most dangerous boroughs and home to most Downworlders that had effectively been pushed out of the bigger, better boroughs by the Clave. Lined with crowded pubs and coffeehouses, and veined with dark and minacious alleys fraught with all manner of salacious activities, the whispers followed James around like his own shadow.

It’d taken him not even a week to develop a reputation in Hackney that allowed him to wander the streets unbothered, though it did involve a significant amount of blood on his hands and a few scars that couldn’t be healed fully with an iratze. Afterward, the whispers turned to warnings and rumors of his ruthlessness; those standing on the streets as he walked back averted their attention or moved out of his path. There were the occasional few that stepped out to challenge him from time to time, but he’d simply have to fling a blade within an inch of their skin and they’d let him pass.

James flipped one of his throwing knives between his fingers as he walked: a silent reminder to those around him of who he was and what he was capable of doing. It was an unnecessary safety measure, but a comfort all the same. The knives were the last remnants of being a Shadowhunter that he has left; now he lived amongst of the shadows he once hunted.

As he approached the great stone arch that marked the entrance to The Hell Ruelle, Hepatia Vex’s nightclub, without uttering a word, the burly guard stepped out his way and allowed James entry.

The place was packed with a mixture of mundanes gifted with the sight, Fae, Warlocks, Witches, Vampires, and Werewolves dancing in the strobing lights that swayed in the exposed rafters to the electronic music that pulsed throughout the building. James dodged dancing bodies until he reached one of the many ladders that went to the second level. The steel bars were warm underneath his palms and littered with glitter amongst other unmentionable things. Once on the second level, he went straight, passed the NO ACCESS signs that flickered above the doorway, and pushed aside the heavy curtain that kept patrons out. Once the curtain closed again, the music went nearly silent except he could still feel the beat of the dancers and music underneath his trainers.

He slipped silently down the hallway, scanning the shadows in the rafters above for any of Hepatia’s spies until he reached the rouge door at the end and knocked three times.

“Who is it?” asked a deep feminine voice.

“James Herondale,” he said and crossed his arms. “I’ve brought what you asked for and I’m ready to trade, that is if you still want to do business with—“

The door swung open and standing on the other side was not Hepatia Vex, as he has expected, but a half-naked girl with star-shaped nipple covers and a skirt that was nothing more than a belt with two long strips of fabric covering her front and back. Long, tanned hips and legs that James had a difficult time ignoring were laid bare and glistening in the dull lamplight. Her opulent eyes reflected like those of a cat as she smiled lasciviously at James.

“Come in, Herondale,” said a voice from within the darkroom.

James shouldered past the courtesan that may or may not have smelled him as he passed and walked towards the plush green sofa where Hepatia stretched out in a black leather skirt and white bralette that nearly glowed against her deep, rich skin tone. The room smelt heavy with magic laced with weed and sex.

Hypatia's eyes wandered lazily over James as she uncurled her hand towards him. “Where is it? Give it to me.”

“No until you give me what I asked for,” answered James and glanced over his shoulder at the courtesan. “And she needs to leave.”

Vex started at James for a moment, the corners of her full, sensuous mouth turned up at the corners until she swung her body into a seated position and crossed one leg over the other knee. “Why the secrecy? Afraid to tarnish your reputation… but wait, hasn’t that been done already?”

“I don’t need all of the boroughs to know my business,” said James, staring at Vex around the ends of the curls that had fallen into his face. He’d been told on countless occasions that a look from him set people on edge. Perhaps it was the color of his eyes or the intensity within them.

Whatever it was, it worked. “Leave us, Femi. Bring us back some refreshments.”

Without a word or much of a sound, Femi left out the door.

Vex bounced the foot resting in the air and drummed her long red-painted fingernails on the couch cushion as she continued to look James up and down. “You look thin. Life in the dirty Hub not treating you so nicely, little angel.”

“Don’t call me that,” snapped James.

“Why not?” grinned Vex, satisfied to have found a wound for which she could press. “Oh, is that not accurate anymore? Should I refer to you as, little demon, instead?”

“Do you want to make the trade or not?” James’s voice dropped into a low, miserable timber. “I have other business to attend to.”

“I’m sure you do,” said Vex as she stood up and walked around the couch towards the minibar at the back of the room. She waved her hand over the ceramic ice holder three times as flecks of red and magenta smoke uncurled from her fingers. The lid to the ice bucket shook until she took it off and removed what was inside.

She sauntered her way back to where James stood. Her cat-shaped eyes slid over him from brow to chest to hips and back up again. Her pupils dilated slightly. “My you’ve grown into a handsome young man, haven’t you?”

James resisted the urge to cross his arms or crumble under her stare.

“But then you’ve always been handsome.” Elongated incisors flashed as she grinned. “Something you inherited from your father.” She reached and grabbed James by the wrist-twisting his arm until his palm was flat and facing up. She dropped three bags of iridescent powder into his hand. “Now for the key.”

James pocketed the powder and retrieved the key. Hypatia snatched it from his hand and held it close to her chest. “Pleasure doing business with you, Herondale. You should go have a dance. You look like you need to unwind and there are other ways to do that without the use of those drugs. I can fall up Fima and show you one of my favorite ways.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I need to be going,” said James, but before he turned to leave he remembered his conversation with Matthew. “I’ll need that key back by tomorrow afternoon and no later. It’s important that I return it.”

Vex dropped the key into the ice bucket and replaced the lid. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I will have someone meet you at Blackfriar bridge.”

James nodded and turned to leave. As he reached for the door handle, Vex’s voice came from behind him.

“And James, if you ever find that you want a real job and not to sell magical drugs on the street, come and see me.”

James didn’t bother to turn around, he turned the handle and stepped out, with absolute surety that a business with Hypatia Vex was not one that he wanted any part in.

Walking out of The Hell Ruelle, James felt as if he could breathe freely again. The warm July night had the streets crowded with miscreants and the company of such, especially in Hackney. He skirted past couples doing more than just making out against the alley walls and avoided the gang of werewolves lighting dumpsters on fire outside of a liquor store and proceeded to howl mockingly at the moon.

He made his way down Briar Street towards the canal where his regular customers would be waiting for him to provide his recently acquired goods under the troll bridge where all manner of questionable deeds went on. He needed to be one of the first ones to get there or all of the most desperate would have bought from someone else.

As he passed an alley towards the end of the busy street, he heard the sound of a female voice coming from the alleyway. He wouldn’t have stopped if it hadn’t sounded so familiar.

He backed up several steps and looked down the alley. Three tall male Fae warriors stood in a row and over the middle one’s shoulder, James could see a flash of red hair, the curve of her face, and the golden hilt of a sword resting over her shoulder.

Something twisted in his gut as recognition overtook him. She looked different, older, beautiful.

“I don’t want to harm any of you.” There was a slight waver in her voice: fear and determination. “I’m here by accident and I’d like to leave without any unnecessary bloodshed. If you would kindly move, I will happily be on my way.”

The Fae warrior in the center removed two blades from the scabbards at his sides and glided them across each other so they made a spark. “I say we remove her clothes piece by piece and allow everyone in the Mill to look their fill of her nakedness.”

“She is a lovely thing,” said the Fae to his right. “Perhaps we could take turns with her and return her back to her people used.”

James’s blood boiled in his veins at the threat and he reached for the throwing knife tucked in his jacket pocket. He hadn’t answered the call in his blood in some time, fighting as a Shadowhunter was too painful. He preferred to get his knuckles bloody and his skin to split, but there wasn’t time for that now and it was far too kind of a punishment for the threat they made towards her.

Cordelia drew Cortana and positioned herself to fight. “You can try.”

“What will you do?” grinned the head Fae. “You’ll cut all three of us down by yourself with that little blade?”

He moved towards her again, but Cordelia stood firm. James couldn’t help but smile at her stony resolve. She would do it, he could see it in her eyes that she would not hesitate, but the bloodshed from either side would surely make waves in the water that his parents and several other Downworlders were trying to still.

James leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. “Oh, I wouldn’t doubt her, Bevan. I’ve seen her take down men twice as skilled as you.”

As the three Fae men turned to look behind them, Cordelia lunged.

A/N:

Thanks for reading! Comments, like, and reblog are my primary motivation.

Next update: Fri, 6/25

[ziezie13]

So I watched The Mummy for the first time last night and I am appalled that there is only one Drarry Mummy AU. The thing practically writes itself. Rick O'Connell = Harry Potter, Evelyn Carnahan = Draco Malfoy.

After the war, Draco was exiled either officially or socially and has taken up residence in Alexandria, Egypt where he works as a librarian, restocking the ancient library that had been lost. Over the years he has also become the foremost experts in dead languages. But he never wins any grants for his research because of the bias around his ex-death eater status. One day an artifact comes across his desk, a strange puzzle box. Draco solves the thing over evening tea, of course (also he has reading glasses now because that is hot). Inside is a map to Hamunaptra, the ancient Egyptian city of the dead that has become no more than legend and most people believe never existed. Draco is ecstatic because the last recorded location of the Book of Amun-Ra and most myth is founded in reality as he knows. He takes the map to his boss who laughs in his face and accidentally burns off a piece of the map with a badly placed candle. Draco asks where the puzzle box came from and someone tells him it was confiscated from some treasure hunter at the local prison. Draco goes to the prison only to find Harry bloody Potter in chains and looking very disheveled.

Potter's hair is long and greasy, he had a matted beard, covered in dirt and grim, and wearing rags. But Draco would recognize those bright green eyes anywhere. Potter does not seem to be as surprised to see Draco as Draco is to see him which frustrates him to no end. Turns out Potter dropped out of the Auror program years ago and has been working as a freelance curse breaker in the Egyptian desert ever since. He landed his ass in prison after a drunken bar fight where he was arrested with multiple legal magical artifacts. After composing himself, Draco asks Potter about the puzzle box.

"You want to know about Hamunaptra." A statement not a question.

"How did you know the box was connected to Hamunaptra?"

"Because that is where I found it."

"You've been to Hamunaptra."

"Yes."

"Why should I believe you?"

Potter's smile fades immediately at those words. "I don't lie, Malfoy. Besides, you have the proof in your hands."

Draco weighs Potter’s words and shows him the damaged map. "Could you complete this?"

Harry studies the map for a few seconds. "No."

Draco wilts.

"But I could take you there. If you can get me out."

The next day after a few well placed bribes Draco picks Potter up from the prison. "So what first?"

"First I need a shower and a shave."

They go to Draco’s flat where Potter cleans himself up. He emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and fuck Potter has absolutely no right to look like that. His skin has a bronze hue, golden from the sun, and there are just so many muscles. His facial hair has been trimmed to a sexy scruff and his long hair is now clean and dripping wet. Draco follows the path of a drop as it drips down Potter’s chest and disappears into the towel.

"I don't suppose you have any clothes that might fit?"

Draco gives Potter a shirt and trousers. Potter pulls his hair into a messy bun. The trousers are too long, so Potter rolls them up a bit. Both the trousers and shirt fit snugly in more that a few places. Draco knows a charm that would fix that but decides to keep it to himself.

"Why are you so set on getting to Hamunaptra? Need some more dark artifacts to round out your collection?"

Draco frowned. "If you must know I am searching for the Book of Amun-Ra so that I can return it to the Library."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that the book is made of solid gold."

"You know your history, Potter?"

"I know my treasure."

They then go into town to get supplies and transport. Turns out there is a group of Americans also headed for Hamunaptra and they have a guide who also claims to have been there before. And so the race is on. The city is magicaly protected so they can't apperate or use a portkey. They will get as close as they can using the river then ride camels the rest of the way. What they don't know is that there is a secret society that has protected Hamunaptra from outsiders for centuries. On their first night on the boat they are attacked. A masked figure tries to steal the map and the puzzle box. Draco and Potter jump overboard and escape but they lose the map. Doesn't matter though, because Potter assures Draco he knows the way. Their clothes and supplies are still on the ship though and Draco is in pajamas. They find a local market and Potter pays for some new clothes for Draco and a couple of camels. They set off for Hamunaptra and arrive at the exact same time as the Americans. They wait for the sunrise to reveal the ancient city and ride in. They set up separate camps and dig sites. Draco uses his expert knowledge to find them a prime location. That night the masked riders return and attack both camps. They warn both parties that they have one day to leave or they will die. Draco gets drunk and has a heart to heart with Potter.

"Can I kiss you Potter?"

"Only if you call me Harry."

Draco moves in close but passes out on Potter’s chest before they can kiss.

The next day it is back to business because they are on a clock now. The American's find the Book of the Dead and an ancient magic settles over them as they pull it out. They read from the book and accidentally activate an ancient curse that awakes the Mummy.

The mummy sucks the life/magic from one of the Americans becoming more alive looking.

Some other people die. Harry and Draco manage to escape but not before Draco is marked by the mummy.

They regroup at a hotel in a nearby town and devise a plan. One of the Americans decides to peace out and tells the others to have a nice life. The leader of the masked men shows up and chastises them for activating the curse. He tells them about the mummy, Neferkarê. Neferkarê was an ancient priest, i.e. wizard, sentenced to death along with his lover after breaking his vows. He placed a curse as he died that would ensure that one day he would awaken and resurrect his lover. The mark that he placed on Draco signifies that Draco will be the sacrifice to bring Neferkarê's lover back. Draco reads from the Book of the Dead and they learn that Neferkarê is weakened still and will need to suck the life/magic out of the Americans who unearthed the book before he can do the ritual to resurrect his love. Draco also figures that there must be a spell that can stop Neferkarê written in the Book of Amun-Ra. He goes over the layout of the city in his head as well as everything he has read about it and deduces where the book must be. Potter then locks Draco in the bedroom.

"This is for your own safety. The Mummy marked you, not me. I will rescue the American, get the book, bring it back, and then you can fix it."

Potter and the masked man go after the American who left, to warn him. Meanwhile Draco dies of boredom. He paces in the room trying to find a way out. Neferkarê shows up and drains the two Americans that Harry left behind to guard Draco. He then becomes sand and enters Draco’s room reforming. Draco fights him but Neferkarê has drained all four Americans at this point and kidnaps Draco.

Potter arrives just as Neferkarê grabs Draco and dissolves into a dust storm.

Potter chases after them across the desert on a broom.

Seeing Potter following them he stops and sends a sandstorm right for Potter. Draco attacks Neferkarê again and breaks his concentration so that Potter can get away. Potter crashes his broom but Draco is hopeful that he is still alive after all Potter has survived much worse.

Neferkarê finishes taking Draco back to Hamunaptra and ties him down to the ritual alter. He begins to prep the ritual and Draco can only hope that Potter shows up with the Book of Amun-Ra. Things look pretty grim for a moment but Potter shows up at the last minute and severs Draco’s bonds. Neferkarê resurrects other mummies that begin fighting Potter and turns his attention back to Draco. Draco meanwhile is trying to get the book open but it requires a key i.e. the puzzle box which is now in the possession of Neferkarê. Draco and Neferkarê battle a third time. Draco knows he is no match for Neferkarê, Harry might be - maybe, but he is otherwise occupied at the moment. So Draco outwits Neferkarê and gets the key. He reads from the book but before he can finish the spell Neferkarê recovers and turns on Draco again knocking the book away. Harry finished up with the undead army but he doesn't know if he should go for Draco or the book. Draco makes the decision for him.

"The book, Harry! Get the book."

Harry obeys and flips the book open to the right spot.

"I can't read this Draco."

"Just describe the last symbol to me."

At this point Neferkarê has begun to choke Draco to death.

"It’s some kind of bird. A stork!"

"Ahmenophus." Draco chokes out.

Draco manages to say the entire incantation and Neferkarê drops him and staggers back. But after a beat he seems fine and goes after Draco again.

Harry steps in and fires off a spell. "I thought that was supposed to kill him."

Draco shakes his head. "It made him mortal."

The structure begins to shake and threatens to collapse in on itself. Draco and Harry share a look and head towards the exit. Neferkarê refuses to leave his lover and ends up buried alive.

Draco and Harry emerge from the sand unscathed and share a passionate kiss before riding off into the sunset.

[vcsecretgifts]

Snap shot in time

From: @auburnandamberangel

Merry Christmas @plopofcolour Qotd era Khayman and Armand interaction on the Night Island. Hope you like ^u^

~~~

Armand watched Khayman looking at his upper terrace garden, the plants benefiting not only from the sunshine but also the seaspray. The cacti, the large Saguaros with their armed tall appearance especially had captured the ancients fascination. The silhouettes classic to many a western. They weren’t indigenous to Egypt, effectively a new world plant, and certainly capturing this until recently slumbering vampire. Perhaps as they too were long lived, slow in maturing. He had his cameras slung over his neck and shoulder wanting to capture the bloom on one of them, a first. He recorded all of them on this island. Mementos.

Khayman was a very good guest, polite, and surprisingly unaloof compared to other vampires of a similar age. ‘Mr manners leaves their bodies after the first few thousand years!’ Daniel had observed dryly not to long ago as they say in said same garden, watching the waves. Sitting on the stone steps, snuggly between Daniels stretched out legs. Barely dead himself, so manys ways appeared rude by his modern standards. “Not all are…impolite.” Daniel had nodded, smiling almost as if he’d read his mind and knew he was thinking of the Egyptian. Which was impossible, he just people watched very well. And surely he was an expert in Armand observations by now.

“Ahh but Khayman was nice as a human, not many airs on him plus he’s sweet on you. So you’re the last person he’d be short with.” Interestingly not too much jealousy in that statement. A small possessive kiss to the top of his head, caressing of his arms about his waist. Their guests came and went, things were more peaceful minus some of their vampire brethren. Peaceful between them even. Born in a time of crisis, his home even invaded it wasn’t ideal for them even with a notorious nosey parker like his fledgling. He’d borne so much strain at his hands before being turned, it worried Armand. Sometimes they fought as he instinctually pulled back.

“The fact he’s easy on the eye doesn’t hurt much either does it.” Daniel added laughter in his voice. Teasing. Armand smiled despite himself turning his head. “But I’m famous for a penchant for blondes darling aren’t I.”

“Except Louis.” His beloved kissing his dimples. And others he’d best not mention. Not eager to quote that book at him right now.

“Hmmmm. Nice to not always be predictable then.” Kissing Daniels matching smile. It had ended up being a very good evening that night. Allowing himself to bask in the glow of the memory of it.

Khayman found the sea soothing, the air fresh and the garden a magical oasis. A small movement betrayed his hosts presence, rare to not have an exuberant Daniel or hesitant brooding Marius in orbiting attendance around Armand. Moths to this ’cherubs’ - seraphin now surely more apts flame- A ethereal beauty no matter the flowery language. In his time one destined to be blessed by the gods. A soul just as full of substance as his appearance. To think without her, the mother waking he’d probably not have crossed paths with this one. So artful at cloaking his presence. Deep in thought he was looking at him, but not really seeing him. Caught in a recollection. Unguarded he looked so young, in the eyes the depth and knowledge in them gave his age away. This was the way with their kind. Trapped in their making, the soul grew seen through the orbs alone. Somehow still warmth there, if the mood was right. A miracle considering the heartache had been through in so far centuries. He would do much to make sure he didn’t make those eyes cold. Watching this former coven master navigate so many vampires in his sanctuary, first love mingling with last. Struck by the poise. The former parents guardian, the Roman made said face light up and close down in equal measure. Not his place to intervene ofcourse, though tempting. Best to announce his presence, so Armand didn’t feel too exposed.

“Armand, good evening. Was there something I can aid you with?” Smooth heavily accented voice totally interrupting his reverie. “Did you want private time in your garden?” Previously observed vampire catching him unawares, hoping he hadn’t left himself open to scrutiny thoughts wise. His mind usually locked up tight, some of the first brood lacked finesse with the mind gift, it coming to them later. But what they lacked in finesse, could be made up by brute force alone. Being Marius’ blood line vicariously provided some civility that otherwise may not exist, for a not even five hundred year old former cult coven leader. Ageism was alive and well in their surviving group from Akashas cull. As if age always came with wisdom… Khayman had been gentle and respectful in his manner towards him. Armand appreciated this from his most recent friend. He saw him as he was, no judgement.

“No not at all. I take pleasure in seeing enjoyment from my garden. The cacti have you in their thrall I see.” Genuine smile to the ancient. Moving closer. The garden lit by coloured uplights here and there to make it appealing.

“They are exotic to my old eyes, yes. Beautiful yet dangerous. So like us I feel.” Small smile back. “Your a gracious host, I know it’s not in most of your nature’s to live on mass for long. You’ve been patient where you could have been firm. Silent when you could have spoken.” Khaymans turn to watch and enjoy the view that had nothing to do with the garden, but more it’s creator.

“Ah well, tact or diplomacy is something I’ve always had to have. Never to speak unless it improves the silence or my position in it.” Being quite open now in this admission. Unusually candid for himself truly. He didn’t think he’d regret it in this situation.

“The lone jackel is a hard role to break, though it’s served you well.” The ancient replied. Looking back at the cacti. “How old is this one then?”

“This one is around seventy years. It’s the first year it’s flowered, you’re lucky to have witnessed it.” Itching to take a picture of the flower, and perhaps Khayman too if he was truthful with himself. Just incase his stay was brief and centuries passed until another meeting of minds. “But they can live to around one hundred and seventy five perhaps even two hundred years. Not bad for a desert dweller.”

Khayman eyed the camera, that was the term wasn’t it. One of the magical picture capturers. “You’ll record it with this?” He hadn’t tried anything new in a while. Armand was patient, the best person to ask to try. “How?” He uttered before he had time to edit.

Inquisitive and open to instruction, not your average elder. Refreshing like the sea breeze. “I need a tripod, unless you can hold it steady as a rock. I’ll do both.” Zipping inside and then back out to get it. “I’ll need a long exposure to make the most of the moon light, and a flash for my close ups. The window inside opens for the picked time, the light hits the film and makes an imprint like an eye I suppose but in reverse, or inverse a negative. We can use the darkroom next.” Twinkle in his eye as he saw the ancients eyes widen. “The Polaroid develops as you shake it.” It must sound odd to the others ears.

“Witchcraft then. I’m an apprentice to a modern sorcerer.” Pleased by the laugh this comment brought from Armand.

“Usually I’m called bewitching. But I’ve been accused of worse.” Daniels words echoing in his head, pleased he didn’t blush as easily as said youngblood.

Gingerly taking the camera and going still, statue like as he could. A trick you learnt which came easily with age. Though it usually unnerved younger immortals. *Direct me as if I’m a tripod.* He said is the mind voice. Armands softer hands aiming the slr camera for a closeup. Physical contact was a luxury being a nomad rarely afforded.

Hearing the snap of the inner workings, turning of the spool. With each shot, the flash singing. Armand liked this process, methodical, practised yet still room for error and surprise. *Move back a little so I can get a portrait of it. Perhaps one of and for you to take with you?* Because people leave - eventually. This was always a possibility. Sentiment came with a cost, this he always knew.

A photo to keep. An anchor would be good for times Khayman felt unsteady. Stronger by the year, but wispy in his soul sometimes. A welcome light in the Night Island Villa, to concentrate on. *Yes. A portrait of plant, myself and it’s guardian even better.*

Warm glance, nodding his answer. “This also has a cable to take a photograph at a distance. A bellow balloon, a tube and a metal press.” Screwing it into the button. Then retrieving it from the taller elder. Fixing this on the tripod via it’s own foot. Let’s set ourselves up. Standing and leaning into the framing arms of the cactus, as if the plant was behind them, reaching to hold them close.

Khayman followed the younger ones lead. Moving in closer and realising he could smell Armands hair. Wondering if this was his shampoo or just his natural scent. Vampires sometimes exuded a odour that was unique to them, a spice in the blood perhaps. Marius had made him, imbued with donations by Akasha during his guardianship. Perhaps he had smelt like this in Venice as a mortal. Not something he could easily ask the child of two millennia. Nor share a want to share his blood to strengthen those below a thousand in their coven, truthfully only this one piqued his interest.

Armand had the cord behind his back to depress at just the right moment. Khaymans strong heartrate was hard to ignore so close. “Ready. One two three.” Not using cheese, referring to a dairy product as slang for smiling usually put older vampires in a spin. So a countdown better. Not flinching at the flash or the next long exposure. “Always take more than one for practicality.” Moving to replace the lens cap and concentrate on the Polaroid camera in front of him now. “Arguably this one is like magic.” He stated with a smile. “As Daniel can attest I took so many in our early years here.” Boxes and boxes of them, indulgent expression on his face. He was rich, but some things were priceless that had little monetary value in his collection. “Strike your next pose. Make yourself comfortable.”

Khayman liked Daniel. He was full of life, and hoped that energy didn’t turn downwards into madness. Knowing Armand was concerned with this too, any elder making a first fledgling would be - especially one as fond of forward planning as his host. Smiling nervous about doing something wrong. Hoping irrationally it wasn’t magic, as magic never bode well. Flash and snap. Painless. Wondering what the twins back in Sonomo thought of this new family, Mekare learning after her travelling the wilderness. Focus on Jesse, their link to Miriam.

Armand handed the Polaroid by its framed white bottom edge to the elder. “Now shake it, and you’ll slowly appear.” Charmed by Khaymans expression, bouyed one so old could still feel the wonder of the new. Despite intermittent sleeps. Hope for all of them surely. Watching Khayman watching the photograph as it developed. “What do you think?”

Bit by bit the image appeared - the dark background shading in firstly, the bright green cacti appearing next with its vibrant blooms. Then the paled by time figure, a smile all for the taker. Now one such photo of Armand with or without himself would be wondrous. “A fine picture.” So excited he placed kisses on Armands cheeks stopping before he daren’t put any on those rosy lips. Moving faster than he usually did, enveloping the younger vampire in a hug would perhaps be too much of a liberty. They had time. “One of us next, yes?”

Armand didn’t have time to start at the sudden movement of the ancient. Stealing himself to be squeezed, fortunate it didn’t come to pass. Khayman smelt inviting though, heady blood from their fount. Marius would be jealous no doubt. But he wasn’t here was he. Attending to Pandora, a promise of a return soon. As ever time would tell. Trying not to stare at Khaymans lips. “Yes. An instant portrait next.” Glad of someone who gave as much as he took.

[sugar-petals]

18+ Tarot Reading: BTS In Bed

↳ Caro’s Note › decks out for the end of spooktober! here goes a different type of content aka my lil’ hobbyhorse. even if you’re new to tarot or find it quirky, i hope i can interest a curious soul or two. late september i gave in to temptation and pulled 5 cards for yoongi, asking what sexual style he could have. it was so much fun i did it for ot7 & want to share the results with you. besides listing the card names i don’t use tarot-specific terms so anybody can understand. i also scanned the spreads so you can see the imagery i take clues from. ignore that they’re labeled in german, it’s all in english below. enjoy! 

⇢ disclaimer ♡ this is subjective interpretation; there’s no guarantee for precision and things aren’t definite. divination relies on perspective, believing in tarot is a choice. the reading is for entertainment purposes only, all portrayals are fictive/speculative. 

WARNINGS ⚠️ smut ahead, not suited for minors.

↪ kim taehyung

⌈ THREE OF CUPS ⇁ romantically, more parties could be involved than just two. he might meet his partner in autumn. there will be a lot of upbeat and luxurious activity around sex, especially drinking and eating. his partner could feed him delicious fruits for dessert. 

⌈ QUEEN OF PENTACLES ⇁ taehyung likes to be taken care of. sex might go down in the kitchen. his partner likely has the same vintage fashion sense as him, perhaps even more extravagant. taehyung could become shy but his lover will dissolve all doubts. 

⌈ FIVE OF WANDS ⇁ playfights or roughhousing are common, as is copious teasing and making jokes, it’ll be lighthearted. particularly in a group sex setting, this tendency will come out. sex standing up or even one carrying the other might take place.

⌈ QUEEN OF SWORDS ⇁ his lover can be assertive. it could be a battle of the wits. teasing is all good and well, but at one point, it’ll get serious. he’s the type to really enjoy sex in marriage, particularly with female partners (three cards in his pile have women with long veils).  

⌈ THE HIGH PRIESTESS ⇁ sex is intuitive. he’ll be head-in-the-clouds, almost dreamy in the sheets. he prefers to do it at nighttime. taehyung might often find himself indecisive between trying two new things, eventually deliberating to choose either: the more, the merrier. 

↪ park jimin

⌈ JUDGEMENT ⇁ bragging about his partner isn’t rare, as a fan of praise he also loves to praise right back. when jimin has sex, his friends will know. it’s something he can’t hide, deliberately or not. he’ll have a lasting positive reputation for sex and many suitors.

⌈ EIGHT OF WANDS ⇁ toys, toys, toys. also: jimin needs it fast, one position can sometimes suffice. he makes it so good and cuts to the chase, foreplay won’t draw out. drives it home like no other. might get it on with his partner on a plane or in a car, again, speed is key.

⌈ SIX OF SWORDS ⇁ jimin often moves from one kink to the other. he enjoys deep and tireless penetration, can go on for a long time. to him, sensuality is relief and a restart for the next day. might like sex on ships (yachts, sailing boats, cruise liners) or by the water.

⌈ SIX OF CUPS ⇁ jimin can create an almost fairy tale-like life for his partner. he’ll woo them with flowers. he enjoys sex in the countryside and at daytime. there, it will be playful, spontaneous, and often vanilla. it’ll elicit a lot of his innocence and bring both partners great joy.

⌈ QUEEN OF WANDS ⇁ he likes energetic, determined, and bold partners who are social butterflies just like him. summertime is jimin’s favorite season to make love. a vacation in a hot country (i’m getting egypt from the card) will ignite a lot of sensual activity.

↪ kim seokjin

⌈ THE MAGICIAN ⇁ the type to give roses to his partner in a gentlemanly way, but he’ll also be cheeky. loves using many toys at once, particularly at the beginning of a relationship or during foreplay which can get very heated. does multiple rounds, perhaps on a table. 

⌈ FIVE OF CUPS ⇁ cum has to spill over. any play with semen and saliva excites him. it has to be messy. there might be one partner who’s into contortionism. any stimulation of the back is possible, or positions that involve looking at his back in its full glory. 

⌈ PAGE OF SWORDS ⇁ sex is always dynamic, jin likes quickies. things are guaranteed to rarely stagnate, he keeps it all moving. sometimes, he might enjoy engaging in a one-night-stand via online services, or meet a permanent sexual partner through a respective app. 

⌈ THE HERMIT ⇁ might masturbate a lot in the evening when he has time for himself in a dark room. even if sex is frequent, there will be days to recharge. jin loves cooling off after pleasing his lover. the card also tells me that he’s got a long dick that he knows how to use.

⌈ EIGHT OF PENTACLES ⇁ could meet his partner at work. sex means business. puts effort into all things intimate. fucks good, can really make a nailing save the afternoon. like jimin, jin might have an affinity for sex in rural areas. it could happen on vacation close to a village. 

↪ min yoongi

⌈ THE EMPRESS ⇁ scent and taste are important to yoongi. he’ll set up a lot of pillows, candles, cook nice food and bake. he likes a person who’s really feeling themselves. always winds up with calm, and dignified partners who have a lot to offer and a ton of sex appeal.

⌈ NINE OF WANDS ⇁ big on defining boundaries and fairness. resilient lover. likes rough sex/playing hide and seek with his partner as a form of foreplay. a hunter or huntress-prey dynamic might be part of his repertoire, although he might be hesitant to suggest it. 

⌈ ACE OF WANDS ⇁ yoongi is potent. the guy can keep his cock hard for you. no issues with staying power. enjoys handjobs and primal sex to the max, has a lot of semen for his partner. any penetration is going to end up refreshing and fiery. prone to morning wood. 

⌈ TEN OF SWORDS ⇁ he wants to be pinned down, wrestled, defeated. penetration by several men or toys is possible. he likes doing anal. a position that will occur often is prone bone. sex might take place during late dawn. yoongi also loves to fuck during thunderstorms.

⌈ SIX OF PENTACLES ⇁ a giver, but also knows how to appreciate being pleased on the other hand. one partner will be kneeling or begging, with the dominant party being jovial to the submissive. sex wrapped in blankets might take place, in that case, a third party joins. 

↪ jung hoseok

⌈ PAGE OF CUPS ⇁ hoseok likes to get it on in the shower, bathtub, the sea, or a pool. hoseok admires his partner, there will be a lot of body worship involved. he is curious about a variety of kinks and is likely very creative with postions. his partner will never be bored.

⌈ TEN OF WANDS ⇁ unafraid of strenous romps. he’ll mobilize all his endurance to please. especially after a long day, he’s still ready to give his lover everything. nobody has to worry about not being satisfied, there will be release. hobi is responsible, especially with protection.

⌈ KING OF CUPS ⇁ he knows how to make sex and relationships work out like a pro. loves to make his partner hot and bothered, dripping wet. hoseok is the number one guy to splurge on lube and vibrators. will fancy wearing necklaces or other jewelry during sex. 

⌈ TWO OF SWORDS ⇁ he’s a big fan of orgasm denial, giving or receiving is possible. there might be blindfolding involved, or one orders the other to stay completely still while pleasing them. hoseok likes to have sex sitting up, particularly on a chair. 

⌈ NINE OF SWORDS ⇁ hobi will dream about making love a lot. waking up in the middle of the night and going down on each other won’t be a rare occasion, especially when either partner is stressed. sex in pjs happens often. loves to have his face cupped and fondled. 

↪ kim namjoon

⌈ FOUR OF SWORDS ⇁ a part of him needs to rationalize sexuality, rm takes time to retreat and think things over in silence every now and then. as far as positions are concerned: he’ll be on his back a lot of times. it’s the most comfortable to him. might enjoy erotic art on the walls. 

⌈ WHEEL OF FORTUNE ⇁ sexting is a huge forte. also, he might read erotic books or know a lot about sex in mythology. he tends not to initiate, things develop naturally— namjoon’s appearance and charisma bring it all to him, he doesn’t have to crook a single finger. 

⌈ THREE OF PENTACLES ⇁ joon will do a lot of planning around sex. he might write down a list with kinks to try. there might be an old and sophisticated building involved, or sex on a bench. clothed sex could be his thing, dry humping, threesomes, making out in the dark. 

⌈ FOUR OF CUPS ⇁ has sensual daydreams, could be oblivious to actual advances. masturbates a lot. again, there’s a connection to nature, intimacy outside might take place. likes to be woken up by his partner’s hands gripping him. sleepy sex is frequent.

⌈ EIGHT OF CUPS ⇁ there’s a certain calm to his style. escapism is a frequent topic, sex brings him to a different time and place. he likes to fuck with the moonlight coming through the window (yes, the tarot knows he’s a moonchild), or when he hikes with his significant other.   

↪ jeon jungkook

⌈ KING OF SWORDS ⇁ jk might enjoy giving or receiving butterfly kisses. he is confident and smart with sex, or enjoys someone who embodies these qualities. intercourse is something he takes seriously and likes to be 100% clear about what he wants to do. 

⌈ ACE OF PENTACLES ⇁ big on stroking, caressing, tickling, mutual masturbation. hands are so, so important. all things lavish in the bedroom are great. he is very keen to establish a constant in his life that involves regular sex. hasn’t to be asked twice, he takes chances. 

⌈ THE SUN ⇁ jungkook craves harmony and romance in bed. smiling is important during sex. physical contact brings him tremendous happiness, jungkook is carefree when he’s naked. might enjoy warm places for sex, maybe a sauna or hidden garden. favorite position: riding.

⌈ DEATH ⇁ meeting a sexual partner wil reprogram his entire life. it’ll be like rebirth. jungkook will stop at nothing to create a good time and discard a lot of old habits that get in the way. because he’s a keeper. sex isn’t just sex, his partner will impact him greatly. 

⌈ TEN OF PENTACLES ⇁ spends generous amounts of money on intimate activities. it’ll be the good life, making love is wholesome. all erotic things can easily be discussed in relaxed, domestic settings. will be sexually active for a long time in life.

× end note feel free to ask any questions 👋 the deck i used is the classic rider-waite one, no card reversals. i might do a post like this in the future should i pull another relevant reading. if you’d like to learn tarot yourself or want an overview of the cards, i can link you resources, just give me a quick shout. 

[lchufflepuffcorn]

As the dragon roar (Charlie Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Words: 2206

Warning: Angst, I do not own the gif, they belong to their owner/creator. Their will be spoilers from the Hogwarts Mystery game, they are marked so you can skip them, it won’t affect your reading, but you are warned. 

You can find my masterlist here! 

There is one thing marked with a *, its because I was inspired by a post I found on here, but I can’t find it so if anyone knows, just write it to me so I can give credits to the original author pls... 

Charlie was known to be passionate. About his grades, his friends, his love for dragons, his family. He was, after all, a Gryffindor. But Charlie was also, deep down, a little bit jealous. Bill, his older brother, was calm and - as their mother would say- the example to follow. Charlie was not. While he was less of a trouble maker than his younger brothers Fred and George, he still was more troubling than Bill. 

And now that Charlie was in his first year at Hogwarts, where he thought that he could become something else than Bill's little brother, said brother took his chances away. 

Charlie had witnessed a duel in the courtyard between Merula Snyde and (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the was said to be Jacob (Y/L/N) 's sister. And as you had defeated Merula, while knowing two basic charms, he found himself to be in awe before you. And so he talks about it to Bill. That was his first big mistake. 

Soon, while Charlie was doing his best to try and talk to you, Bill became your friend easily, and it was now him who was talking about you to his brother. Making Charlie jealous. But that, Bill didn't know. 

The second year, Charlie found himself yet again second in line -well, third really- as his friend Andrew became your friend too. First, his brother, then his best friend. Really Charlie has no luck. And it seemed that during the summer you had become even more friendly and shining - you become more like the sun- it was making it hard for him to try and talk to you even more now that people flowed around you. Andrew too, would start talking about You, Rowan and Penny, Bill, and once again, Charlie would become jealous. 

The third year, he shares a class with you this year, for the first time since his first year, he can see you up close again. Bill told him about your escapades, and he longs to do the same. At the same time, he wonders if he could see dragons too. He talks to you a little more in care of Magical Creature, but nothing too elaborate, as you seem to be more preoccupied with what was the secret Jacob was hiding before his disappearance. He can't help but wonder if you use magic in the morning to be this radiant. 

Year four, he did it! Andrew officially made him entered your closed group of friends. Bill gave his name so you could choose to take him to the forbidden forest. He got to meet you, become your friend and share your secrets. You look nothing like the little girl he saw battle Merula in the first year, you look more and more like a lady now. Once again, he wonders if you used that magic cream his mother buys at a high price. That summer, Bill invites you to spend some time at the Burrow. 

Year five, he's prefect, you helped him get some money during the summer, and he hopes to buy a dragon egg. You look more gloomy than usual, but you too are a prefect, so he can spend more time with you. Bill is at his last year at Hogwarts, and Charlie feels somewhat bad that he feels relieved by that. Now he can spend much more time with you without his brother around as much as before. But at the same time, have your eyes always been so shiny? Have our cheeks always looked so soft? As your lips always looked so plumped? He can't tell. His this bad, his heart races each time you smile, is he sick? When he asks Andrew, he's not much help, as all he can do is start laugh, so he asks Penny, and she tells him that he can answer that on his own. It's Tonks that makes him realize. 

Year six, you are not your usual self. You seem like you sleep less, you look paranoid, your nose is always inside some book, you learn spells like you change clothes and you start skipping meals. Charlie is the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, and starts having less and less time with you and the gang, but mostly with you. And it makes his heartache. He finds you one night while patrolling the castle, walking quietly in the corridor, your wand before you. You walk aimlessly doing your round, and Charlie can't help but come see you. You're fast picking up a smile and make it seem like nothing is happening, it looks like you became a better liar during the summer. Charlie is nearly fooled. He gets you to spend Christmas at his house, and his goal is to make you smile as much as possible during that time. 

*Spoilers* 

You are never the same after that night in the forest. Your eyes are dull, dead, your smile seems fake, and your voice lost its passion. All you see is vengeance. 

Rowan was your best friend, he gets that, but Charlie doesn't want to lose you like you lost your brother. You spent more and more time alone before the Idea of the Circle of Khanna is spoken. Of course, you take that opportunity, and because Charlie is your friend, he follows. 

*Spoilers end*

Year seven, Charlie took the famous courage that Gryffindor was renowned for and asked you on a date. He knows that it's his last year before leaving, he still doesn't know where yet, but he'll find out. Maybe he can use it to distract you. He knows that you want to become a curse breaker, like your nickname, and he finds himself jealous of his older brother once more. He doesn't want to lose contact with you. 

Charlie knows he's not one for sex, it doesn't interest him in the slightest way, but he would like a family, one day -with you- maybe. And he knows that maybe it won't be as soon as both of you leave Hogwarts, too many bad memories and loss come with your family, and he's okay with that. He can have a family just of you and him for a while, or forever if you want. 

But he doesn't tell you that. 

1991-1992, Charlie and yourself did not lose contact, you even go and see him in Romania quite often. Apparently, you became an employee for the endangered magical and mystical creature, you travel around the world to see if all camps for endangered magical (or mystical) creatures are all in order, which means that sometimes you pop in Romania and stay a little to pass the time with him. 

You pass Christmas together that year and receive your very own handmade Weasley sweater with the first letter of your name on it. It's your third, but this one also has your old quidditch number on it, so it means that Mrs. Weasley, erh, Molly, and Charlie talked a whole lot during the year. 

Charlie is also surprised to receive a letter from his little brother Ron about a dragon that Hagrid hides in his hut. So he takes the opportunity to ask some members of the old gang to reunite*. You, Andrew, Merula and Penny go to get the baby dragon, and Charlie waits for you guys not far from there. 

1992-1993, Charlie finally asks you to marry him. "So you can be family in your own way." You don't want children, and he okay with that. You don't need children to be a family; plus, there are enough Weasley on the earth (His argument, not yours). You choose not to tell Mrs. Weasley -erh- Molly, yet. She's already set on cutting Bill's hair and finding him a lover, and Charlie doesn't want to be pestered about children. He knows that it's a touchy subject with you. 

At the end of the year, he learns that his sister has been abducted, and starts panicking. That summer, you spent some weeks with them. That throws you back at your time in Hogwarts, but for Charlie, you let it slides. You went to Egypt too and saw Bill. That made you happy, even with all the things that kept you in the past with Ginny. 

1993-1994, Sirius Black escaped? Nothing really important happens except for that new. Your group of friend reunite and remembers your times together. You finally tell Mrs. Weasley… Molly about your engagement, but Charlie is prompt to tell her that you and he won't have any children. What surprise Charlie is that his mother is okay with it and doesn't ask questions. When he announced the same thing to Bill and say the reaction their mother had, he's surprised to see that Bill only smiles and responds, "I know, I told her about it…" But instead of being jealous, this time, he's glad. 

However, he's happy to tell you that his father won places at the 422e Quidditch World Cup that summer and that both of you can come. 

1994-1995, it's the first time you meet Harry Potter, Ron's friend. And he makes you think of Rowan, tho that doesn't make you feel sad. Fred and George are happy to see you again, and Percy is all high and mighty, but because he doesn't,t really know of your past as a trouble maker, he's still sweet with you. You find a way to find Murphy, Orion and Skye in the camping, so you spend some time with them before the match. 

That night, however, you rush Ginny with Fred and George, look at Hermione and run back to where the action is. Death Eaters are destroying the place, and you throw charms right and left, scavenging for any hurt person you could help. When you reunite with Charlie again, you have dirt all over, and nobody knows where the others are. He's relieved that you're alright, but his big brother's attitude is kicking in. You decide it's best if you go back home to Mrs…. Molly. 

Then school starts again and so does your job. Charlie wants to have a private wedding, simple, his family, your family, some close friends, that's it. You agree. 

You wed in October after Charlie went to Hogwart with four dragons for the Tri-wizard tournament. After that Molly starts sending infuriated letters to everyone about how poor Harry is not meat, and should get through so much and while your not certain you understand, when Cedric Diggory's body arrives at the center of the spectator's view with a hysteric Harry by his side, you are one of the first to be exited the ground following that incident. Too many memories, too much, the flashbacks are unbearable. 

That summer, your group of friends joined the order of the Phoenix. 

1995-1996, Sirius Black is not a bad guy, Voldemort is back, you reunited with Tonks. You are now sent all around the world for work, but also to get information. Charlie wasn't really happy that you became a member, but he can't stop you. You were close to young Cedric, he was the first year when you became a prefect for Hufflepuff. And you once said that he reminded you of a young Jacob too. Of course, you would be invested in something that took another one of your loved ones away. 

Sirius Back dies. 

1996-1997, Tonks is in love with Remus. H's about fourteen years older then her, but she loves him, and he's sweet, and even if he's a werewolf, he doesn't really seem bad, just like Chiara. You remember him from her. And you still have the picture she gave that was from him. You give him back. Charlie wants you to quit, says that it can become too much. He doesn't think your mentally ready for a war. 

Tonks often come to your house crying. Because Remus doesn't want her. You're always there to tell her that it doesn't matter, maybe he's just scared. Maybe she's better off without him. Maybe they just need time. 

Dumbledore dies. 

1997-1998, You can't stand it anymore. You can feel people watching you, you can feel something following you. Maybe Charlie was right. Tonks and Remus married. Bill and Fleur married. Tonks is pregnant. She asked you to be the godmother. It surprised you why she didn't ask Tulip first. But you agree. 

For a while, as Charlie stays with his family because of the new rules, you flew. Your parents died during the years before, you go stay with Penny. You listen to the radio every day, and as soon as you can, you try to contact Abelford, so students know it'll be safe going out the school by his tavern. 

When Charlie comes to you about the war, Penny goes with him, but you arrive at Hogsmeade, to Abelford, so to make the younger students travel back home safe. 

You can't face the truth that is right in front of you. Next to Fred's body lies both Tonks and Remus. And you can't help but weep in Penny's arms. 

Harry Potter is Teddy's godfather, Remus and Tonks's son, but after Tonks' mother, Andromeda, dies, the boy comes live with Charlie and You. 

That's what becomes your family. 

[alit0my]

You know those fanfics, 5 times (something) plus 1. So five times someone on the team taught Booker something. And since it was he who taught. (maybe with OT3) {for example: teaching a language, cooking, fighting with a sword}

hello anon! idek if you still want this fic bc its been so long... but i have finished it! no ot3 this time im afraid, just didnt fit well with where i took this... hope you enjoy!

~

1 - Russia, 1812

When they first found him in Russia, they barely understood one another and had to use Andromache’s passable French to communicate. The Asian woman beside her named Quynh stared at him, as if looking into his soul as he gasped out words of conversation as he recovered from another hypothermic shock. The two men were paired off, keeping a close eye on their surroundings and ignoring the conversation altogether as they did not understand.

”The first thing we will do,” Andy said, handing another wooly coat his way. ”Is teach you a language we can all speak.”

”Like hell you will. I’m to return to my family,” he replied, wrapping the coat around him tighter. Andy shook her head and huffed, glancing at Quynh beside her.

”When you return in fifty years, when your family is dead, we will teach you Russian.”

”Or you could learn better French,” Booker snapped, cursing the entire world under his breath as his limbs shook uncontrollably.

The corners of Andy’s lips curled upwards slightly.

(Back then, Booker paid no mind to this. But now, he knew it was the introduction to Andy’s competitive side.)

It was thirty-eight years later when Booker returned. Andy had gotten better at French, and Booker grumbled at the fact that he now had to learn Russian, as per their unofficial agreement.

He wasn’t half bad at Russian, but he wasn’t particularly good at it either.

~ 2 - Italy, 1850

As he returned to the group after the passing of his son, the last of his true family, Quynh pulled Booker aside and placed a bow in his hands. She watched as he pulled the bow string back slightly, testing the recoil of the weapon as if he was examining its limits. Booker was just trying to not break the thing.

Quynh was scary, and Booker did not want to mess with her.

”Now aim at the target,” she had told him, nodding her head to the tree as she placed an arrow in his other hand. ,em>”Aim, and fire.”

Booker did as he was told.

Booker missed the tree by a mile.

Quynh tutted and put her hands on her hips, before taking another arrow out of the quiver on her back.

”Try again,” she said, almost encouragingly. ”We have time. I’ll make sure you can handle a bow almost as good as me.”

Booker ended up being half as good as Quynh, which they both saw as an achievement.

(He could never be as good at archery as Quynh, but it was the thought that counted at the time. Really, Booker should have been grateful for the distraction.)

~ 3 - Japan, 1894

Nicky was sitting at the kitchen table cleaning his sniper rifle when Booker walked in, still half asleep. Pausing in his tracks, Booker rubbed at his eyes and looked at the weapon on the table, never having really seen it out of its case which Nicky kept stored under his bed in their various safehouses.

Nicky looked up at locked eyes with the youngest, beckoning him over to sit beside him.

”I will show you how to clean this, and then if you want, how to use it,” Nicky said, picking up the scope and rubbing the rag gently across the glass. Booker nodded and watched silently before Nicky handed him a part and a new rag. ”Gently, don’t rush or you may scratch the metal.”

Booker wasn’t sure how a piece of cloth would scratch metal, but he dared not say. Nicky was allowing him into his space, to help clean his most prized possession.

When the weapon was cleaned, Nicky showed Booker how to reassemble the rifle before picking it up and beckoning him outside.

”We will set up here, and I will teach you how to shoot,” Nicky explained as he set up the tripod that would hold the barrel steady. ”Come, look down the scope.”

Booker could not see a thing, and Nicky gently nudged his head until he gasped, suddenly seeing the tin can in the distance.

”Now line it up, and shoot.”

Booker missed, but Nicky’s eyes gleamed.

(It was something that Booker looked back on fondly as he sat in his French apartment surrounded by booze.)

~ 4 - Egypt, 1948

”Where is your sword, Booker?” Joe exclaimed whenever they were gearing up for a mission. Booker looked at him then the others, who all had a sword strapped to their bodies whereas he only had an assault rifle and a handgun.

”I.. Don’t have one?”

Joe scoffed. ”I will change that. When we are done I will teach you how to wield a sword.”

Booker objected, which fell upon dead ears as the team went back to gathering their gear. Furrowing his brow, Booker looked down at his assault rifle and started to feel anxious. Was knowing how to wield a sword some kind of necessity to be in this strange team of immortals?

(He found out later, the next day in fact, when Joe had woken him up at the break of dawn with his scimitar in one hand and a longsword in the other. Joe was always the early riser, and the most energetic. Booker missed him the most.)

”Here, I will train you the art of the sword,” Joe smiled, but Booker could see the excitement shining through his eyes. ”Try to strike me.”

Booker looked at him incredulously, but swung the blade at him.

He ended up on his ass with Joe standing above him, scimitar pressed lightly on his throat.

”You take too big of a swing, leaves too much gap for the enemy to strike,” Joe explained, removing the weapon from Booker’s neck and holding a hand out to help him up. ”This will be fun. Bonding, if you will.”

”Joe, no one even uses swords anymore?”

Booker ended up on his ass again, in record time.

~ +1 - France, 2020

Booker hadn’t heard from them in six months, as per their non-contact rule, but he hadn’t expected a package to arrive at his front door with his alias on it. Curious, he placed his glass of water (which still tasted of whiskey from the night before) on the counter and picked up the box, setting it down on his kitchen table.

He stared at it for a while, not sure what to make of it as he decided to rip open the box before he could change his mind. Inside were a bunch of letters each with his name written in different handwriting, a few pictures and five small magnets that represented each member of the team.

Booker picked up the first letter from Andy, skimming through the words quickly before the tears fell on the paper and ruined it for good.

’...miss you Book…...Nile’s idea to……..considered your biological family……….struggling to cope……..should have listened to you more, and for that I’m so sorry. You taught me that there is more to life than what we do, and I should have seen that back in the 1800’s and not belittled you for it. I love you Book, see you soon.’

Quynh’s letter was short as sweet, but mainly contained phrases in many languages calling him a dumbass and pictures of him practising with the bow.

’Next time, maybe try to be a perfect shot before you decide to cross us you moron…….I hope you have improved with your bow I gave you, oh wait you left it in England and some historian took it to the museum because it is so ancient…..You better get me my bow back you absolute- Nile has been reading over my shoulder this whole time and now I’m going to write some good things about you…

‘How to start? What is good about you, Booker? You reminded me that not everyone is good at something first go, and that they deserve the effort and time you put into them. You ended up being a good shot and it only took you ten years! The others took twice as long. We will have a competition when you return, so keep those archery skills sharp, my friend.’

The next letter was from both Joe and Nicky, and Booker smiled softly to himself. Never to be separated, those two, and he was a fool to think otherwise.

’Nicky does not want to write you a letter, so I will write for both of us. This was Nile’s idea, sending you this little ‘care-package’ as she called it, but do not think this is an olive branch. We are grateful for you, Book, and since you turned up our lives have been somewhat exciting. Our separate and joint experiences in teaching you things has brought us both enjoyable memories, and though somewhat tainted by your actions, upon your return we would like to teach you more new things as we teach Nile. Maybe you might actually improve on your skills for once.

We both love you dearly.’

Booker sniffled and separated the picture enclosed within the letter. It was a capture of when Nicky was teaching him how to cook proper spaghetti bolognese, after he found out that Booker was using jar sauce and packet pasta. Booker remembered getting scolded all night in Italian, and when he told Nicky he understood, the response he got was ”Good. I should hope so."

Nile didn’t write a letter, but she didn’t need to write one. They only knew each other for two weeks before shit hit the fan and Booker was sent away. Instead, in Nile’s envelope was a tiny slip of paper with a phone number on it, along with some fliers for activities to do around Paris.

’Call me anytime, I’m here to chat. Also, don’t mope about for a hundred years, do something! Learn a new skill! (Okay, that might be hard but just do it, maybe bake some sourdough? You love that stuff!)’

Booker took the magnets out of the box, walked over to his fridge and placed them in a circle with a small click!, his heart panging every time.

Bow and arrow, two swords, a labrys, and a handgun with a US flag.

~

AO3 Link

[ducktracy]

177. dog daze (1937)

release date: september 18th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: mel blanc (police dog, spitz, russian wolf hounds), billy bletcher (st. bernard), berneice hansell (puppy)

around this time, friz freleng left warner bros. to reconnect with his former co-workers and friends, hugh harman and rudolf ising, over at MGM. he’d serve a relatively short stint as director there, coming back to WB as soon as april 1939. the backlog of friz cartoons would trickle out until early 1938, where he would then be replaced by ben hardaway and cal dalton. friz has seniority at the studio, going as far back as animating for the 1929 pilot bosko, the talk-ink kid. while this isn’t his last cartoon, it remains an intriguing talking point! he’d make his biggest splash upon his return, directing a number of great black and white porky cartoons and making other little-known characters such as yosemite sam and sylvester, to name a select few. let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, now: here, we’re treated to a number of spot-gags involving dogs—including a drunken st. bernard.

patrons stream into a theater advertising the local dog show. it’s not a ‘30′s cartoon without a celebrity caricature of some sort--a lumbering caricature of humorist/author irvin s. cobb moseys along down the street with his identical looking bulldog. he’s followed by william powell and his pooch asta, both featured relatively prominently in speaking of the weather just 2 shorts ago. and, furthering the connection to the aforementioned cartoon, we get another gag implying that the dog took a leak on a nearby pole: powell marches past a spare pole, when suddenly his leash is yanked from behind, leaving the audience to read between the lines.

another gag that is more reminiscent of the early days of animation: your stereotypical “fat lady” gag, underscored by a rather sardonic rendition of “oh, you beautiful doll”. the woman, in an attempt to fit into the seats, ends up shoving the entire row out of the way. not much to add here: fatphobia funny, right? (eyeroll)

cue the dog puns as we get a look at the line-up for the dog show. a bird dog (as in, dogs who hunt birds) is taken to its literal meaning, perched in a cage and whistling like a bird. the next pen over is an irish setter (sitter, get it?) perched on top of a nest. mama crawls out of the nest to reveal a line of eggs. one by one, they all hatch to reveal a trio of energetic, yappy puppies. points for surrealism. 

next up, a disembodied voice cries “RAIN BLOW THROUGH THE MOUNTAIN!”, curtains withdrawing to reveal a police dog donning a mountie uniform, howling (its howls, of course, provided by mel blanc). this is a reference to the ever popular renfrew of the mounted, a ‘30′s book and radio series about a singing mountie--frank tashlin’s porky in the north woods even served as an ode to it. after that features a spitz hound, chewing on a glob of tobacco and lobbing it at a spitoon. amusing at first, this gag quickly wears its welcome as its featured in a number of other cartoons. spitting gags themselves were more along the lines of the earlier ‘30′s cartoons, right at home in the cruder days of the early harman and ising films.

 a st. bernard booze hound is next to be revealed, drunkenly singing a wordless rendition of “how dry i am”. billy bletcher’s deep bellow is a perfect match for such a big dog: the dog, rather pluto-esque as we’ll come to recognize, will return throughout the picture. the animation of it is rather nice--the physics on the floppy jowls are great. after a fit of hiccups, the dog giggles bashfully.

so, to counteract that high of the dog, our next pooch?

oh, sweet hilarity!

time to make room for more puns, this time plastered on the curtain. the curtain advertises groaners such as “come see our itchings -- canine art galleries”, “are you in the dog house? get a new leash on life supply co.”, and so forth. the spotlight takes its sweet time to roam around each pun, allowing it to really sink in. complete with close-ups! i’m watching the newly restored version on hbomax (which looks gorgeous, by the way), and so i don’t know if it’s the fault of the restoration or if the original print had this issue, but the close-ups are a bit blurry, as if they were having some problems with the double-exposure effects. 

with eye-rolling puns out of the way (and i say this as a shameless pun lover), the audience is treated to a variety of k-9 vaudeville acts, starting with a pair of scottie dogs, who perform the highland fling. personally, i like the camel’s version better in porky in egypt. the spacing of the animation isn’t well distributed here--the movement feels too mechanical. 

the scotties are replaced by a pair of russian wolf hounds, who look like sticks when viewed from the front--a common place gag. animation of the hounds doing the hopak fares better than the scotties, and the barks at the end of the musical phrases are at least passably amusing. as the performance wraps up, the ushankas worn by the hounds turn out to be little black dogs curled up in a ball--once more, a tried and true gag that calls back to the days of the harman and ising era. 

just when we think we’ve had enough groaners: the next act, titled “dog eat dog” features a... wait for it! a dog eating a hotdog. at least the ironic commentary by the sarcastic, pitchy, violin rendition of “where oh where has my little dog gone” alerts us to some self-awareness regarding how lame the gag is. thankfully, the next gag at least got a polite chuckle out of me: the act titled “little man you’ve had a busy day” (in reference to the popular song of the same name) showcases a dog panting and flashing a guilty smile, a line of poles in the backgrounds. two piss jokes in one short! that must be a record! 

what could be considered the song portion of the short follows next, a group of prarie dogs singing “my little buckaroo” with alternate, dog-inclusive lyrics (mentioning pedigrees and the like). the drunken st. bernard from before cringes at the act, howling and carrying on. a hand off-screen shoves a muzzle on him to shut him up (don’t tell PETA!), prompting the dog to force it free. 

instead, the dog accidentally ricochets himself into an open trunk (labeled johnson skating act, a reference to background artist johnny johnson, most commonly associated with tex avery). and, as to be expected, the dog emerges from the trunk slipping and sliding on a pair of roller skates. the animation of the dog on the roller skates is certainly the high point of the short--even the dog’s emergence just slides like butter. definitely worthy of a frame-by-frame watch. 

the prarie dogs finish up the remainder of their song (once more bitten by the double-exposure bug, still wondering if that’s the restoration or the original print?), just in time to allow a shanghaied skating pup to slide across the stage. more great animation of the dog struggling on his skates as he slides into the other wing, his struggle animated on ones (you’ll also note the sign in the background advertising a gross of anvils). he eventually topples over, the barrel on his chest keeping him going until he crashes into a wall. the few smear frames leads me to believe that this is ken harris at work, though i’m far from confident on that claim.

even more great animation as the dog, pluto-esque in his struggle and frustration, struggles to get back onto his feet, his drunken hiccups sending him falling each time. i love when he resorts to grabbing his ass by his teeth to lift himself up, giving a self-satisfied grin at the camera before falling right back down again. frustrated, the dog grovels in his humility, a welcome burst of comedic timing as he shoves the lower half of his body down in frustration, free to mope and ponder in peace. 

next up serves as a rather deliberate callback to one of friz’s most monumental pictures (in notoriety, not quite in quality)--his 1935 entry i haven’t got a hat, that most famously marks the debut of everyone’s (okay, MY) favorite porcine. a shy little puppy timidly pokes her head out from a cardboard standee, clearly in no rush to get out on stage. ken harris’ animation of her resisting the push of the disembodied arm is full of character: her facial expression creased with worry is relatively scribner-esque, another bonus. 

finally, she’s thrown out on stage... facing the wrong way. a whistle summons her to turn around, where she recites “mary had a little lamb”, her squeaky vocals provided by none other than berneice hansell. she starts off... and, in an avery-esque break of character, growls to stage left “awww... this is SILLY!” a book is thrown at her in response. 

in the midst of the puppy’s recital (which is cleverly underscored by “puppchen”), the drunken dog from before still engages in his battle to get up. once more, the animation is more than a treat to look at: the dog, fueled with fury, scrambles to his feet with a running start. the animation glides as effortlessly as the dog, but something off-screen catches his attention: a trunk containing a flea circus.

as you can surely guess, dog crashes, and the fleas miraculously fly (suspension of disbelief!) out of the trunk, ready to cause trouble. in another ode to i haven’t got a hat, where porky was the one mixing up two poems in a recital, the reciting puppy mixes up her nursery rhymes (”mary had a little lamb, the mouse ran up the clock. and anywhere the lamb would go, hickory dickory dock!”) while watching a flea buzz dangerously close to her vicinity, eyes rotating 360 degrees and all.

inevitably, the flea strikes, and the puppy gives a strained remainder of her recital, itching all the way. the main ode to i haven’t got a hat stems here--the puppy’s voice grows exceedingly higher in pitch, the animation of her pacing from side-to-side and eventually off stage directly reused fom the short. it should be noted that, in the original scene, another hansell-voiced animal (little kitty) was giving the same recital of mary had a little lamb. this scene has the benefit of better animation and a little bit more humor, but it’s an interesting callback to such an important cartoon.

fade out and back in to the remainder of the fleas, who are having a hell of a time sopping up the spilled alcohol from the st. bernard’s barrel. one flea fishes in the liquor, another swimming, one more even licking it up straight from the source. the short comes to an end on a quartet of drunken fleas, singing a shrill, obnoxious, hiccup-ridden rendition of “how dry i am”. iris out.

i will admit that, as i reviewed this, the cartoon slowly warmed up to me. i wasn’t at all charmed by the first half: the puns are rather lame, the timing is bloated and slow, and it lacks direction, even for a spot-gag cartoon. it feels overwhelmingly half-hearted: when a director or its crew lacks enthusiasm, that absence is certainly felt. yet, the second half of the short definitely thawed my otherwise cold review. the animation of the st. bernard on roller skates is some absolutely gorgeous stuff. it’s very smooth, very funny, and very tactile. moreover, the puppy’s recital of “mary had a little lamb” was very fun and amusing--berneice hansell never fails to win me over with her vocals. with that said, however, i wouldn’t really recommend this cartoon: there are too many other good friz cartoons to check out. it lacks enthusiasm and conviction, and feels more like a relic of the past, from the prevalence of billy bletcher and berneice hansell (who dominated the pre-blanc cartoons) to the harman and ising-esque gags to the deliberate callbacks to i haven’t got a hat. mainly, i would persuade you to check out the second half for the animation of the roller-skating dog, and maybe add the recital sequence as an extra incentive. but, for now, this is a largely unremarkable cartoon that you can skip without feeling too slighted.

yet, with that said: the short is available on hbomax if you have it, where i got the screenshots from! if not, you can check out a lower-quality version here. better than nothing!