#compass rat trap pass

[urbanadventureleague]

The Butte-ification (and de-supplification) of the Bantam

It was becoming apparent that I needed to replace the tires on the Bantam. While overall the extant Panaracer GravelKing SKs were in decent shape, I noticed that the raised “grid” tread on the rear tire had smoothed down due to wear. I also noticed that the tires were feeling a little squirrely on uneven surfaces, maybe a squirreliness that has always been there, but for some reason, this unsure…

[refriedrambles]

Zim's weak to tears

He frequently uses pity as a weapon to get what he wants and he's weak to tears

He's so offended by his compass not working

Also like GIR is very visual everything thing he's said in the last minute has relatively to something directly in his field of view

He immediately switches from crying cause he was being yelled at to crying cause his muffin is gone and all that's left of it is the wrapper. His suggestion about asking the information humans for help is cause they're selling information across the street, and obviously he was literally just reading what was on the side of the bus and it did feel like a suggestion and Zim went for it

That rat that passed by was very squeaky

Bus driver is backing up in traffic

You know I don't think the bus scene would have gone down like this if Zim wasn't already having a shit day. Bus lady has an arm tho

Is this twice Zim's stared into the sun and messed up his eyes? Like it's the first instance if it is, but I feel like I remember him doing something like this in Door to Door too

"They booby trapped their sun somehow!" Zim totally just stared into Irk's sun for hours when he finally got to the surface

The question here is did it take hours for the skin on his eyes to grow back or did he fall asleep while waiting

GIR kicking in his sleep is cute

[yugiohcardsdaily]

So despite never ever playing a Legend of Zelda game in my life (but I've watched playthroughs of the majority of them and read a lot of stuff online) my brain decided to create an AU that's probably not that unique and it's incomplete af but yeah

Zelda AU

Gerudo woman sees someone capable of seeing the future and discovers the child she's pregnant with is going to be male. Ganondorf's legend is well-known, she's scared for her kid and doesn't want him to follow that path or be persecuted just because he had the misfortune of being born with a penis, so she up and leaves the Gerudo people/desert and goes far from it.

She manages to pass for a Hylian (hair's not too red, she's not too much taller than the average woman, she has her father's nose) and winds up in Kakariko Village before she gives birth. The name I've been using for him is Ford (it's -dorf but not lmao so clever). He grows up without ever knowing his heritage. His closest friends are Link and Aryll, orphans in the village that Ford's mom all but takes in when she realizes they don't really have a home or family. Aryll in this continuity is Link's twin rather than his little sister and a mix of her namesake and Linkle.

Aryll wants to be a knight for the Kingdom of Hyrule and serve Princess Zelda someday. Link goes along with it, but when asked privately by Ford, he admits he'd rather just travel the world and see what's out there beyond their little village. Ford isn't sure what he wants. He's content with life in the village with his mother, raising animals (pigs especially love him :3) and farming and just living a simple life, but he feels a calling to go somewhere else. He once mentioned to his mother he has dreams of a sandy desert full of people who look like them, but her reaction was harsh and convinced him to keep such dreams to himself. She doesn't want him to ever go into any desert or respond to any voice that has no obvious source. Why? She would never say. She just made him promise to do what she said.

Somehow, word reaches Hyrule that a male Gerudo is alive somewhere in the kingdom. This doesn't sit well with anyone in power. The king is in poor health, so it's up to Zelda to decide what should be done. Knowing the tales and under the advice of her, well, advisors, she decides the male Gerudo should be found and taken into custody. Then they'll decide what to do with him.

The soldiers eventually come to Kakariko Village. Ford's mom sees them and manages to keep calm, because any action could draw their attention to her and her family. She had prepared for such a possibility when building her home, so there's a trap door hidden under the rug under her bed. She ushers Ford, Link, and Aryll through it, telling them to run and not look back. Ford wants to know why. She doesn't say as she hands them a bag with provisions and a map. They need to trust her. They need to leave, avoid any Hylian soldiers, and stay away from the Gerudo desert no matter what. Then she shuts the trap door on them and hides it properly, leaving her kids in the dark with only one option: do what she says. (The villagers love and accept Ford's mom and Ford himself as their own, so they didn't rat them out to the soldiers. The soldiers still pushed their weight around to search every home, and Ford's mom is recognized as a Gerudo. She claims to have no children, that she's lived here for nearly 17 years and never had a relationship, but they don't believe her and take her into custody since there's no sign of her son. Surely she'll be treated well :D)

Link has a bow and a quiver full of arrows he used for target practice as well as the occasional hunt. Aryll has a compass (a nod to Linkle, as well) and a sword she used for her self-imposed knight training. Ford has a couple of knives that were only ever used for practical reasons. They have no idea what they should do once they escape from Kakariko Village and exit the tunnel Ford's mom forced them down, but they know they can't go home again.

That's the part I have fleshed out. I'm not sure if Zelda's going to be rigid and fully believe in the legends and thus end up antagonistic, if everyone keeps their respective Triforce shard and/or Aryll gets one, or how Ganon himself will come into play. I do know Ford, Link, and Aryll will end up traveling to all kinds of places all over Hyrule, that Ford will learn his mother lied to him about being a Hylian and why, and all kinds of forces/people will try to convince them that Ford can never be anything but Ganondorf, host to the Big Bad, and he must be destroyed. But Ford will thwart destiny, somehow. Even if he does become possessed by Ganon at any point, he won't succumb to the darkness or fate or whatever. People will see him for him, not for the shit cycle he's been pulled into. Link and Aryll will never doubt him, either. They grew up together. They know him better than anyone. He's a good man. Their friend. Practically a brother. They won't ever turn their backs on him, because they know he won't turn his on them. Even if he starts to doubt himself, they'll be there at his side.

Anyway there's my Zelda AU. Thanks for reading if you did lmao

[hannahhook7744]

Meet Hannah Artemis Hook;

Fc: Maia Mitchell.

Fic Title: The Marvelous Misadventures of Hannah Hook.

Nickname(s): Bam-Bam, Scream Queen, Hook, Slimeball, Snot ball, Batty, Sailor Mouth, Mouthy, Human Disaster, The Jack of All trades, Clumsy, The Messenger, The Chameleon, Nightmare Queen, Butterfingers, Glowy Pyshco, Moody, Dreamer, Dream Queen, The Fairy Child, Brownie, Shortie, Han, H, Hannie, Little H, Chatty, Heartbreaker, Sweet Tooth, Angel of Vengence, Slime, Slimeypirate, Slimey, Moonflower (only by Gothel), Hannahabelle, Wild Card, and Hannah Banana (used only by people who wanna catch these hands).

Sexuality: Unknown.

Pronouns: She/her.

Birthday: December 2nd at 8:00 pm.

Height: 5"4 ½.

Hair Color: Brown with a White and Teal streak.

Eye Color: Brown.

Place of Birth: Isle of the Lost.

Hobbies: Writing, Storytelling, role playing, gaming, drawing, listening to music, reading, and swimming.

Likes: Exploring, magic, road trips, sailing, her old doll, her baby blanket, sword fighting, hanging on rooftops, food, pranks, fire, and building traps.

Dislikes: Spiders, bugs, rats, Ignorance, needles, how clumsy she is, songs with no lyrics, long sleeves on shirts, heights, bullies, being picked on, the dark, being alone, being abandoned, and losing her friends.

Favorite musicians: Cavetown, Taylor Swift, Eminem, Melanie Martinez, The Dragonslayers, etc.

Physical Quirks/Scars: Very short nails (from biting them), sideways anchor tattoo on her right knee, small dot scars all over her left hand, healed cuts on her feet, and 6 tattoos. (A skull and crossbones with a sword running through it on her wrist with the words 'Family doesn't end in blood' surrounding it. A hooked cane on her left shoulder. A small winged hook on her right shoulder. A crocodile and flower compass on her left shoulder blade. A rope and sword on her right one. And she small skulls on her other wrist. One on fire, one with a black cat on it's head, and one with a hook necklace on it's head).

Family: Hugo (stepdad), Varian (Bio Dad/Donator), Cassandra (Bio Mom), Andrew (step dad), Captain Hook (Adoptive Dad), Zarina (Adoptive Mom), Mama Hook ( adoptive grandma), mother gothel (disowned grandma), Ulla (grandmother), Davy Jones (Adoptive grandfather), Captain of the guards (Adoptive grandfather), Ginny Gothel (Adoptive sister/bio aunt), Mason and Glenn Gothel (bio uncles), Harriet and Cj Hook (Adoptive sisters), Harry Hook (Adoptive Brother), Peter Pan (Possible Adoptive Brother), etc.

Honorary Family: Hades, Persphone, The Fitzherberts, Yong, Nuru, and The Stabbington brothers.

Friends: Chad Charming, Audrey Rose, Bobby Hood, and her crew.

Pets: Icarus (Owl) and Midas (Racoon).

Love Inserest: Prince Haul Ryder Bjorgman.

Optimistic or Pessimistic: Optimistic.

Introvert or Extrovert: Niether. She's an ambivert.

Occupation: High school student and pirate captain.

Extracurriculars: Art Club, Creative Writing Club, School News Paper, and Archery.

Favorite Animal: Frogs.

Favorite Color: Red, Black, and Gold.

Favorite Book: 'A Light In The Attic' by Shel Silverstein.

Favorite Food: Spicy chicken sandwiches.

Favorite Drink: Sam's Cola.

Favorite Movie/TV Show: Fear Street Trilogy and Batman Beyond.

Background: Once upon a time, Cassandra wanted a kid but her on again off again boyfriend, Andrew, wasn't available to have kids so they used Varian (this is when he was around (30) as a donor and Hannah was the result. For the first few months of her life, she was passed between her four parents (Cassandra and Andrew: Hugo and Varian) until Gothel murdered her bio parents. She was found by Captain Hook who along with his wife, Zarina, adopted her. Thus how she became Hannah Hook. She eventually went on to become a pirate captain after winning her ship in a poker game at 6. She is every bit her parents' child. All of them. In one. Even though she doesn't know it.

~~~~Playlist~~~~

"Family" by Mother Mother.

"The Mutineer" by JT Music.

"I'll Be Good" by Jaymes Young.

"Adventure Is Out There" by AJR.

"She's a rebel" by Green Day.

"Control" by Hasley.

"Everyday Superhero" by Smash Mouth.

Please don't be mean. Varian and Cassandra weren't romantically involved-- their relationship is strictly platonic. Varian was just a donar and they both were nearly 40 when Hannah was born. So please don't leave any mean comments.

Inspired by @thecaptainsgingersnap and @theinnerworkingsofoc .

[wkil-109-fmx-radio]

[Zone Info]

Events:

Helium I - Fought between 1993 and 1998 when tensions between governments around the world finally turned to war. Nuclear warfare wiped out Northern-Middle Eurasia, most of South America, South-Eastern North America, and Southern Africa. The war ended when what was left of Europe and Asia surrendered.

The Rise of Better Living Industries - BL/ind started as a weapons manufacturing/power company that rose into a major monopoly and self-governing body that overthrew the US toward the end of the first Helium War. It immediately began an effort to bring “peace” to the nation by ridding the country of all individualism and “radical” beliefs, believing that different ideas would turn into conflict. This quickly turned into ridding the country of creativity and self-expression to make a perfect, crime-free society.

Helium II - Fought between 2006 and 2011 when Better Living Industries had taken control of what was left of North and South America and began attacking the rest of the world, trying to rid the planet of ideas that didn’t match theirs. The East Coast started rebelling against the West Coast, where BL/ind had established their capital in what was once Los Angeles but had been renamed Battery City. A wall of nuclear bombs was dropped around the Rocky Mountains and thanks to the radiation around the globe affecting the radio waves, no one knows for sure whether there is anyone else living on the planet outside of Battery City and its surrounding Zones.

The Rise of the Rebels - Since the very beginning of Better Living Industries’ reign, rebels had appeared. When Battery City was established as BL/ind’s capital city, settlements started popping up in the desert outside of the city. On the East Coast of North America, a massive rebellion effort was led against BL/ind during the second Helium War. As the years passed, more rebels started appearing in Battery City and moving to the desert, eventually renamed The Zones, especially after BL/ind seemed to have destroyed the East Coast rebels. Rebels in the Zones became known as Killjoys and rebels in the city became known as Juvie Halls. Rebels began attacking Better Living Industries factories and facilities, hoping to weaken the company but only resulting in angering BL/ind.

The Fires of 2012 - From April till August of 2012, Better Living Industries began lighting fires across the Zones in an attempt to destroy the Killjoys, as they had grown out of BL/ind’s control. The Fires got out of control and ended up spreading to some Better Living Industries camps and buildings that were still stationed in the Zones. As a result, BL/ind blamed the rebels for the Fires and denied any claims of the truth. The blame being placed on the rebels sparked the start of the Analog Wars.

The Analog Wars - Fought between 2012 and 2017 or, to some, from 2012 to the present. The Analog War wasn’t your usual war; it was mostly small battles in the Zones or sabotage of BL/ind or rebel facilities. Better Living Industries describes it as “an effort to suppress the rebels and their radical and dangerous ideals.” During the war, BL/ind established the Draculoid and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W units.

The Pig Bombs of 2017 - On July 4, 2017, Better Living Industries dropped a series of bombs in Zone 8 to destroy the Killjoy farming communities that were settled there. BL/ind had previously withheld using nuclear weapons in the Zones because they didn’t want the radiation destroying Battery City so they settled for dropping them in Zone 8, although they ended up also destroying several important Better Living Industries facilities in the process. The bombs wiped Zones 7, 8, and 9 off the map, left some places in Zone 6 uninhabitable, and created a wall of radiation around the Zones and Battery City, trapping them and isolating them from the rest of the world. This marked the end of the Analog Wars, although some believe that since there was no official surrender or treaty, the war is still going on.

Places:

Battery City - The capital of whatever is left of the US that Better Living Industries can control. In Battery City, the citizens are required to take “Happy Pills.” In the city, BL/ind controls the weather, the way people dress, where kids go to school, and where adults work. Every citizen has a set routine, sent to them in the morning along with their medication. In the center of Battery City is the Better Living Industries headquarters which is the tallest building and largest complex in the city and home to the Director, the head of BL/ind.

The Underground - The subway systems under Battery City where many juvie halls live and plot against Better Living Industries. “The Underground” doesn’t always literally mean the subway systems and can be used as a relative term for anywhere juvie halls may live.

The Outskirts - The edge of Battery City, bordering Zone 1. This is where lower-class citizens live, along with some juvie halls, as this is the least regulated part of the city.

The Zones - The desert surrounding Battery City, where the Killjoys live. As the number of the Zone gets higher, so does the population, as the Killjoys like to be as far away from Battery City and BL/ind headquarters as possible.

Route Guano - The most used interstate in the Zones, running from south-eastern Battery City all the way out past Zone 6.

The Getaway Mile - The interstate south of Route Guano, which is shorter and goes more south but is often used for quick escapes from Battery City.

Death Valley - The area outside of Zone 6 that is dangerous and completely uninhabitable due to the extreme radiation.

Lighthouses - Well-known places across the Zones that provide sanctuary for Killjoys on the run

Train Station Avenue - A popular lighthouse along Route Guano in Zone 5 that is notorious for fights, food, and hitchhikers

The Nest - The largest lighthouse in the Zones, located next to DESTROYA in Zone 4

DESTROYA Site - The home of DESTROYA, a massive droid built by Better Living Industries to destroy the Killjoys during the Analog Wars but ended up malfunctioning and turning against them. The droid was shot down and has remained there ever since.

The Bunker - An underground bunker turned nightclub in Zone 6, popular for raves and huge amounts of attendees

Witch’s Hut - A small hut in Zone 6 where a supposed prophet of the Phoenix Witch lives

The Tracks - A race track in Zone 5 used for competitive drag races where parties are held and bets are placed for your favorite racers

Vocabulary:

Angel Cake - Killjoys who travel across the Zones selling food for cheaper prices

Audition - Initiation rituals that gangs in or outside of Battery City may have for you to be able to join. What you have to do varies from gang to gang

Babysitter - a term used to poke fun at a gang leader but also used as a genuine term for gang leaders who may be visibly older than the rest of the gang

Bacon - dead or dying Dracs and Crows

Batt out of hell - a term for new Killjoys but not used in a derogatory way

Batt Rat - a derogatory term used by Sand Pups to describe new Killjoys who just escaped the city and don’t know the Zone ways

Black Smith - someone who’s good at repairing or modifying technology or cars

Bifrost - places in the Zones that were so greatly affected by bombs, that the sand turned to glass

Blanket drive - driving at night with the headlights off, the windows down, and the music turned up loud

Carbons - The currency used in Battery City and the Zones. One carbon equals four dollars

Chilly - something or someone that’s suspicious

Clap - a physical fight

Cloud - A large group of Draculoids and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W traveling through the Zones

Compass Rose - a Killjoy who knows the desert like the back of their hand

Costa Rica - things that went crazy or got out of control

Crash Queen - a daredevil or thrill seeker who is known for doing things that could easily get them killed and doesn’t care

Deadfaced - taking Battery Acid

Dead Pegasus - a fuel company in the Zones

Debut album - someone’s first love

Digital - An important moment shared amongst two or more rebels that they know they will never forget

Draculoid - droids and brainwashed Killjoys designed to kill rebels. Also called "bats" or "Dracs"

Drifter - someone who lives a nomadic lifestyle and strays from commitment in relationships

Drifting - A relationship that isn’t strictly anything but simply some sort of attraction between two individuals. A sort of go-with-the-flow, whatever happens, happens kind of relationship

Drive sidestreet - another way to tell someone to piss off. Also could use “get off the highway”

Dust Trail - an urban legend or a term used by non-religious Killjoys to describe religious Killjoys’ beliefs

ElectroKat - the most popular battery brand in Battery City and the Zones

Exterminators - High ranking Better Living Industries officials placed in charge of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W units

Fact News - The one news program in Battery City, notorious for spreading lies to the citizens

Favorite Record - someone’s significant other

Firefight - a fight using ray guns

Fly half-mast - that state after having recently lost someone close to you

Gearhead - someone who’s obsessed with all things mechanical

Gemini - someone suspected of being a spy for Better Living Industries

Ghost Chase - Searching the Zones for someone who is possibly, or most likely, dead

Ghosted - killed. Also can use "dusted"

Graffiti Bible - A collection of religious writings across the Zones, mostly talking about how DESTROYA will come back to life and destroy Battery City and the Phoenix Witch

Gravehead - crazy Killjoys who have lost everyone and everything and throw themselves into dangerous situations

Gravity - anything that brings you down

Groupie - someone who travels with different gangs and trades favors for food, water, and protection

Halo Head - religious Killjoys who believe their beliefs put them above everyone else, especially non-religious Killjoys

Happy Pills - Pills issued by Better Living Industries that they say will lift your spirits and protect you from the radiation but make you more submissive and easier for BL to control. The rebels call them "Battery Acid"

Hit the red line - run away, usually from a bad/dangerous situation

Icy - when someone dies or goes missing in a suspicious way

Juvie Hall - rebels who haven’t left the city, usually because they can’t or because they’re working with the Killjoys to smuggle supplies out to the Zones and/or give them information from the city

Killjoy - rebels who live in the Zones

Lawyer - someone who ruins all the fun

Mailbox - small landmarks in the Zones where an old mailbox is painted and decorated and filled with letters, mostly to people that other Killjoys have lost. The more religious Killjoys believe the Phoenix Witch delivers the letters put in the mailboxes to the dead

Maple Plaza - Places in Zone 6 where radiation is still very thick and dangerous

Mega - interchangeable with "wicked"

Motorbabies - people who live and breathe all things car-related

Mousekat - a cartoon character from Battery City

Murder - a magazine in the Zones with Zone news

Pangea - A friendly gathering of two or more gangs

Paperboy - someone who travels across the Zones collecting news, gossip, and reporting deaths, usually for Dr. D or Murder magazine

Phoenix Witch - a supposed deity of the Zones, looking out for the rebels and carrying the souls of the dead into the afterlife

Pigs - another term for Dracs and Crows

Plus - A battery replenisher used by droids that are known for being highly addictive

Power Pup - a pre-moistened dog kibble brand that is often the only source of food in the Zones

Ray Gun - guns that shoot high-powered lasers instead of bullets. Rebels often customize them

Rebel - anyone who actively works against Better Living Industries

Ritalin Rat - drug addicts, usually used for those addicted to Happy Pills but can be used for Zoneweed addicts as well

Robin Hood Honey - party going Killjoys that look beautiful but don’t act like it

Rongee Kay - Killjoys who wander from party to party

Royal - something fancy or high end

Runners - juvie halls who smuggle supplies into the Zones

Sand Pup - someone born in the Zones or someone who has lived there most of their life

Sand Worm - a derogatory term for Killjoys used by Better Living Industries

S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W - BL loyalists specially trained to destroy anything they deem worthy of destroying. Also called "Crows"

Screwhead - someone who parties too much and thinks too little

Shiny Magazine - a magazine for mature readers in the Zones

Shiny - interchangeable with "awesome" or "cool"

Shower Curtain - A rare day when the sun is behind the clouds and the heat isn’t so unbearable

Smiley - someone acting suspiciously

Sour - something off

Squeaky - not having committed a crime against Better Living Industries but still wanting to rebel against them. Also used when someone seems to avoid fights or dangerous situations even though they’ve never done that before

Static - another word for sand or remote areas of the Zones

Trojan Horse - a painfully obvious lie

Tumbleweed - someone who wanders the Zones, living a nomadic lifestyle, having no home or gang

Vend-a-Hack - A device used by Killjoys to hack into Better Living Industries vending machines to steal various supplies

Vending Machine - Dispense a variety of items, including ray guns, batteries, ammo, stickers, stress toys, Plus, Power Pup, and water

WKIL 109 FMX - Doctor D’s pirate radio station that plays news and music

Zone Rat - a derogatory term for Killjoys used by Better Living Industries and some Battery City citizens

Zoneweed - a popular drug grown and passed around in the Zones

[katsuflossy]

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Dabi x reader

WC: 2.3k

TW: Detailed parental abuse, detailed description of a mental episode, obscenities, mention of arranged marriage

A/n: ngl all of this is severely overdue but the recent chapter made my creative juices flow so here we are! Please enjoy💖

Taglist: @melanimed @mixfi @mythiccheroacademia @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @ecao @strawberry-ice @plutropica @photosbyameil @lunabby010 @iiminibattlehero​ @sleepysheepkiara​

The air was crisp, dark, and cold, what one had expected for the autumn night. Only a few patrons roamed the streets in the twilight. Those that wander under the streetlight had their eyes crossed, mind buzzed, and hand full of one final drink due to being kicked out of the bars. The ladies of the kingdom stayed within the comfort of their homes. They laid around the compassion of their loves or their families, only knowing of the horrors of the outside through gossip. The most recent urban legend paced through the streets with a scowl fixed on his face. Azure eyes glowed danger through the darkness, never revealing the coat-clad scarred body until passing under the street lights. The drunks waddled out of Dabi’s way, feeling the rolls of anger off of him from a twenty-meter radius. For once, the fire quirk wielder ignored the low bastards, never smirking as they cowered in fear nor sparking their shoes afire, laughing as they tried to put them out. No, his mind was occupied, fist clenching and unclenching in the pocket of his coat. Thoughts of past and future overwrote each other in his brain, creating a void of black in his mind. His own psyche started to turn on him again, knowing what’s about to happen would risk many lives. However, Dabi cared only about two lives-- his own and yours.

Like God gave him a sign, he passed the alleyway of a sweet memory. Running away from authority was his regular schedule since the age of 11 but he was close to getting caught one day. Caught but cunning, Dabi held you, hostage, by the neck. The little blue flame from his finger close to searing the flesh of your cheek as he backed into the dark alleyway, away from the entire police force out front. He dragged you through numerous yards before you begged him to stop, hands on your knees as you gulped for air. Glowing eyes stared at the ruby necklace that swang from your neck, almost daring him to try to take it. The second his fingertips could graze the jewel you slapped him away, grip tight on the chain and a fire in your eyes.

“You could take anything from me—shit even the pads of my shoes if you want—but I don’t want you to take this. Here, I’m sure the ring will cost more.” You glided the ring off your hand before offering it to Dabi.

Confused couldn’t even describe Dabi’s thoughts at that moment. Are you really offering a lowlife scum precious jewels? With a smile on your face?

“Are you demented?” The tilt of your lips turned down into a scowl. A haughty hmph passed your nostrils as you looked away from the criminal.

“You were stealing from Greggley’s pawn shop. The same bastard that swindles townsfolk out of their money and rats out people to the police for a living. I’d pay to see that fear on his face again when you ran off with me and his pile of stolen goods. So here’s my payment.” Dabi cautiously took the sapphire ring from your palm. The situation was ironic, he seemed more fearful than you. Cyan eyes watched as the dust on your outfit disappeared by the pats and sweeps of your hands before jumping up. You stayed rocking from the heels of your feet to the soles, eyes waiting expectantly on the chilled man to say something. Instead, his eyes bored straight into yours, deadpanned as he occasionally averted his gaze from the entrance of the deep alley, then back to you. The shouts of police guards had left from long ago; the sounds of their frantic pace went far off into the distance. Yet, you remained in this cramped space with him.

It unnerved him to no end.

“Well, your highness, your mutts went the other way to look for you. You can scurry away now,” He questioned his words. Why is he letting you go so easily? You were a perfect hostage. Just by your yelp, he could have your father in his palms, an important piece to the league’s ultimate plan. The smile on your face didn’t ease his confusion at all. His eyes burned with irritation, upset by your cheerful demeanor.

“Oi, are you fucking braindead? I said scram,” Your face dropped, forming a pout before pulling into a smile again. Dabi felt his eye twitch as you began to chuckle. His hand igniting blue flames as he stepped towards you. You put your hands up into the chilly air.

“Woah now, I’m just saying I could be of more use, Mr. Criminal.” The heat dissipated from his hand. His eyes looked as cold as marbles but within his head, he roamed over the possibilities, how and why should he trust you. Dabi was never a gambler, always a mouse wary of traps but today, he felt lucky. The once fiery hand laid out before you, staples glinting in the dim lighting.

“Dabi,” his eyes roamed over your face, noticing the crinkles at the corner of your eyes never softening, the gleam in your eyes shining more than before. You were actually happy.

“You already know my last name but that’s unimportant right now. The name’s (Y/n).”

The memory cleared away like smoke, reminding Dabi of his mission now. His hand clenched around nothing, his fist tight to relieve the searing anger in his chest. He imagined burning Shigaraki over and over, enveloping in the heat of his wrath as punishment for putting him on this mission.

Red beady eyes looked at Dabi in nonchalance, ignoring the smoke rising from his scarred hand.

“We built our whole organization on this end goal. We are one step closer to annihilating these ‘heroes’ and you’re rejecting this offer? Over some little noble mole?” the insult adding more fuel to Dabi’s rage and fire. His flames barely reached Tomura before being engulfed into another dimension thanks to Kurogiri’s interference. Unrelenting glares fixed at each other. Even then Shigaraki continued.

“I’m not saying it again. Either you do your job and save your blue-blood or they die by our hands.”

His eye pulsed; an ache coiled around his nape to his temple. His own anger throbbed in his head and blindsided his mind. He could add Shigaraki to his body count but your life, to him, was paramount. He withdrew his fire, recollecting himself before shoving his hands into his pockets. He surveyed the room, eyes scanning all the league in disdain; the others avoided his intense gaze. The gravel crunched under his heavy boots as he stomped out of the hideout.

Shigaraki’s threats echoed through Dabi’s head, anger already swelling at the thought of his red eyes as Dabi reached the edge of your house. The whirls of wind carried his coat in their stream, pulling the fabric all about. The walls of dark stone contrasted the warm yellow lights of your not-so-humble but welcoming abode. Dabi only knew the layout of your room but whenever he’s in there, there were hardly any lights from behind your bedroom door, just the occasional shuffling of the maids.

He halted his thoughts, pressing his foot against a jutted brick before hopping on to another. His movements were smooth and familiar as if he had perfected this route. He sat on the window’s stony ledge, fingers rapting against its pane, staring into the night as he waited on you to open the window panel.

Meanwhile, you were balled up in a corner, fingernails creating welts on your skin. Still, the stinging pain didn’t distract you from the taste of iron in your mouth, the phantom feeling of blunt rings on your cheek. Your silent cries shook you to your core, sharp inhales forced your weeping to stop, only for them to return again. All crying ceased once you heard knocking on your window, the same three raps then two softer taps only known to two. A familiar rhythm, one that closely relates to the song you made the criminal danced to during one night at a pub. The precious memory was unable to soothe the paranoia of your mind right now. A hitch in your breath paused all noises in your little quarter. If you stopped breathing, maybe he’d think no one was home. You ultimately stopped breathing only for harsher rapping to strike against your window.

On shaky legs, you stood up, swiping off any trails of tears and snot from your face. The cold air greeting you swung open the window for Dabi, who immediately hopped into the warm comb. He barely skimmed over your appearance before asking.

“What the fuck happened to you?” His hand came up to your swollen cheek; an obvious insignia marked the skin. You didn’t flinch away, instead, you wet your lips, pressing more into his palm. His hands were chilly from the cold outside but the contact warmed your entire body.

“I can’t do it anymore, Dabi.” A broken whisper escaped your lungs. Tears bled through your closed eyes, wetting Dabi’s thumb as he swiped a lone one away. He stood still, billions of thoughts jumbling in his mind as you bawled into his chest. Should he do this? On this night? Your well-being and the league’s plan fought for his attention. Every thought of his mission drowned by the sight of the insignia on your face.

“(Y/n), what the fuck did he do to you?” His shirt crumpled within your hands as you contemplated telling him the truth.

Nobody expected your father, an honorary Knight-Captain, to abuse his only child. It took one loose-lipped servant to say that you were seeing a commoner man in the kingdom for him to wrap his hands around your throat. You remember your body flailing, the coldness of your cheeks as tears fell from your bulging eyes. He dropped you by your mother’s cold command. As you gulped for any type of air she told you to stand. Her patience grew thin quickly as she ripped you off of the ground, your legs nearly collapsing from the force. A shroud of care she put herself under, letting her adorned knuckles skim across your cheekbones as she talked about your fate. You're being shipped off to marry the highest knight family, the Todorokis. Enjirou, commander of the Kingsguard, sought after you for his son, Natsuo Todoroki, for months. Your inappropriate actions caused your arranged marriage to arrive quicker. Her veil lifted, and in an instant, she whipped her hand across your face, the blow smacking your staggering body to the side. Their eyes entertained at your cry. She fixed her rings as she declared your fate. House arrest until the Todorokis picked up their new toy. They left you on the ground, weeping until Dabi arrived.

Stammers and hiccups escaped your lips instead of comprehensible words. His shirt crumpled under the intensity of your grip. In that time, Dabi had gathered all the information needed. The look in his eyes was unreadable as he loosened your constriction on his clothes, fingers interlacing in between your shaky digits. A shadow cast over his face as he talked to you.

“(Y/n),” your eyes dull and lost, you were wrapped up in your own severed psyche. A finger on your chin, he guided you to meet his eyes.

“Let me fix this,” It wasn’t a duel, but warfare that unfolded in his headspace as he asked, begged for your permission. You barely felt yourself nod before seeing the flame reignited in Dabi’s eyes. The smile on his face grew like a wildfire, nearly meeting the staples under his eyes. He left your numb body with a soft peck and a willful promise before walking, for the first time, out your bedroom door. Muted footsteps sounded miles away even though he left the door wide open. When did you end up on the ground, scraped knees meeting the plush of your rug, though you did not feel it? The warmth of the room dissipated from the air, goosebumps rising along your skin. Your body could only focus on one sense at a time, tuning into the sounds around you. Though muffled, you could hear the guttural screaming coming from rooms away. The cries formed into pleas before morphing back into incomprehensibility. Whether your body was protecting you from further trauma or not, your audible sense shut off only to look at the smeared blood all over your rug. Your ears never picked up on your outcry, pushing your diaphragm, but Dabi’s did.

He sprinted back to your room immediately, leaving his fires to completely consume your parents and lick at the foundations of the walls. His black coat draped over your body before he lifted you into his arms. The hungry fire now satiated, he left the same way he entered but with now, with you within his arms.

He knows what he did wrong, rubbing salt into your traumatic wounds, but he had a mission to do. He held your trembling body closer to his lithe frame. The league finally made their first step to instigating chaos but that did not matter right now. Dashing through the alleyways, he took a look into your blank eyes, cast away into another realm. The sounds of the Knights fighting against your burning house faded as he ran. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as he made another promise to you.

“No one will ever tear us apart. I don’t care if this whole place burns to the ground. Just know you are the only one that matters. It’ll just be me and you at the end. Whatever it takes to get there.”

[lokrow]

Hades Tigers: SC 0 - Part 5

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Global fic content tags: Injuries, violence, necromancy, mild gore, blood, character death, reflections on life, im-/mortality and love, mentions of alcohol, smoking and corpses.

Day 2: Dusk

.

CW: Death

Orlando felt the rush of the crowd, inundated in noise, scents and adrenaline from the fight. His senses were overwhelmed, his muscles tense, his nerves raw yet his mind was as sharp and focused as it could ever be. This was the only way he truly knew how to exist.

The mushy mud beneath his feet squelched with spilled ale from a rowdy audience. Both he and his opponent knew how to make the crowd turn rabid and bloodthirsty as they circled one another. Orlando had seen his opponent before at the pit and knew well to mind his bravado despite all the showmanship their bout involved. 

Short, tentative exchanges, feeling each other out while moving around to get a feeling for the unreliable floor under them. Orlando smirked when he recognised that as attentive as he was to avoid his worst impulses, so was the fighter across from him. They both stared into each other's eyes as if daring each other to take the first swing.

The fight was over in the blink of an eye. Orlando sidestepped the first swing, feeling the air pass over his cheek as he slid forward, swinging a hook which was dodged 

The fight was over in only a few breaths, missed by the least attentive of the audience gathered. Orlando side stepped a blow, feeling the rush of air pass by his cheek it was so close. He turned his hips, his foot sliding on the mud slightly but not enough to rob his punch from connecting with his opponent’s liver. Staggered, he readjusted, deflecting a kick with two of his forearms and wincing as the hardened shin bone struck him. He used his third right hand to trap his opponent’s leg and spun to deliver a spinning heel kick right to the edge of the jaw, knocking the fighter unconscious with a nasty noise.

“Julia!!”

.

Dagmar's remorse and confusion had been quickly replaced with curiosity and just as quickly once more with compassion as Rat had opened up. They were sat on a stone bench overlooking the docks but for Dagmar who stood by it, feeling too awkward to get closer at the moment.

She and Shrimp had met in the Hades opera, a few years back. Rat had taken 5 years to make it through the grueling competition of ballet classes and make it into the Opera. Shrimp had been in there for years by then, a prodigy by Rat's and Shrimp's mentors' accounts. The kink in Rat's tail and her natural slouch attracted much unwanted attention and much stricter treatment from the professors. 

It would've all been worth suffering through for the sake of her passion and Shrimp had it not been for the fact that a few months back, Rat had suffered a shin fracture. It would have been recoverable had she not ignored it and pushed herself to dance. What was a thin crack in the bone became a surgery and months of rehab. 

Now able to walk on both legs again, Rat's career in ballet and at the Hades Opera house was in precarious circumstances.

Dagmar took a long breath in that she'd not realised she'd avoided while Rat had been speaking. A knot in her chest not simply born out of compassion but the deep shared understanding of having dedicated her mind, body and soul to her craft only to have it ripped away and persisting nonetheless. Something they now also knew of her after her sharing her story over the delicious food Shrimp cooked for them. "I understand." She'd simply said. 

"Do you come here often?" Dagmar changed the topic to something that seemed to be more comforting. Rat’s windows lit up brighter as she nodded quietly. “We come down here to watch the crews unload and load up their ships. Sometimes you can see ghost ships or Charon too.” Shrimp spoke for both again, stroking Rat’s fur with one of her many hands.

"I like watching people working together. Sometimes Persephone walks the docks too." Rat said quietly, eyes both fixed ahead and also not looking at any one specific ship docked at the harbour. Dagmar nodded, "I've only wandered near the river banks. The jungle is more my vibe." Her tail swished along the stone as she sat down next to Rat and Shrimp. They fell into peaceful and meditative silence, much appreciated after the recent ups and downs of their conversations.

Her eyes wandered along the docks, seeing ships she could recognise the build of, from seeing them leave the coasts of her home country of Norway staffed with farmers-turned raiders for a season. Others she had no understanding how they could even float. In fact now that she watched more attentively, holed hulls were far more common than intact ones, no attempts seemed to be made to patch them. After all, the ships were afloat.

The three women sat there for a handful of minutes when a sound caused Dagmar's rounded ears perk and rotate on her head. Footsteps, coming from behind them. Uneven ones, as though walking with a peg leg. Her nostrils flared as the wind carried the salty scent of sea water. One that made sense in any harbour but Hades'. Dagmar was about to turn to intimidate an intruder when the footsteps stopped. 

"Rat Love." The raspy voice called from behind the three women. 

.

CW: Death

Ginny’s eyes widened as xe watched the unconscious fighter be caught by her ringside medic before her head even hit the ground. The crowd was quiet now, awaiting verdict but they received none. Ginny was on xir first day at this job, xir very first shift and while the rowdy fight pit atmosphere was a change from the usual café clientele of the Hellmouth, xe could tell something like this was not meant to happen. Or was at least rare enough to warrant formerly loud inebriated voices shifting to hushed concerned tones.

Ginny had turned from a customer at the bar just in time to see as the medic in question propped up the body against one of the far pit walls, holding it by one hand on Julia’s collar, eyes closed as she was muttering under her breath. Her other hand was frantically searching through her belt pouches, pulling herbs out in a clear rush. Ginny had never seen medicinal herbs used in healing a broken neck.

Smoke seemed to emanate from behind the medic’s eyelids, bluish, seeming to glow faintly as it billowed out slowly, forming into swirls and ribbons that coiled and lashed at random. In her free hand she pulled a dry flower bud, Ginny recognised it as an Asphodel. These flowers bloomed across Hades and occasionally in parts of the Hellmouth but only when circumstances were right, making them rare even in their native environment.

“Ginny!” Pyra’s voice rose from the bar, frustrated at being ignored by her fellow Hellmouthian. “I didn’t come all the way not to be ser-...” Pyra’s eyes finally followed where Ginny’s had gotten distracted to and her voice trailed off as her eyes widened but in them was not surprise and rather a deep fascination. “Oh now this is interesting…” she absent-mindedly let out. 

The medic’s hand was smoking blue smoke, feeling the air with fragrance that overpowered the stale beer staining the muddy ground. She pushed her hand into Julia’s shirt to press the smouldering flower bud against her chest, pinning her upright to the wall of the arena before moving her other hand from the woman’s collar to a pouch to pull out a bundle of lavender. 

Ginny stood stock still, the would-be unassuming bartender looming over most of the clientele through an uncannily tall frame. Xir height cleared line of sight with some of the details of the scene down into the fight pit. Xe watched with slowly narrowing eyes as the medic squeezed the bundle of dry flowers tight, digging her own nails into the palm of her hand to draw blood which stained the flowers.

Using the bloody lavender she drew a line across Julia’s forehead before pressing the flowers and her bloody palm into Juila’s head, blood slowly trickling like tears on the fighter’s face. The incanting had grown louder, her urgency seemed to turn to frustration.

Ginny looked to Orlando, then Metric who had entered the arena and directed their charge to leave. Both were sharing confusion at the magical display, which told Ginny that though witchcraft and sorcery weren’t alien to Hades or the Hellmouth, none of them seemed to have seen this magical display before. The smoke swirl started moving faster, lashing like flails or whips as the witch’ voice grew shaky and more insistent. Incanting as her brow furrowed with strain, sweat beading on it.

“For fuck’s sake, Julia, if you don’t return to me, I will hunt your soul down and make you wish the dead could die again!” she yelled in a mix of frustrated anger and despair, her eyes opening up and glowing a ghostly blue as the smoke swirls seemed to form their own winds, her hold over the spell seeming to weaken as people stood too awed to move. Ginny identified the potential threat and prepared to shout to all to back away when the propped up corpse opened her mouth and eyes, glowing the same ghostly blue. 

The smoke swirls stopped growing or undulating aimlessly as they appeared to be inhaled by the dead fighter.

Ginny blinked and all smoke was gone, the smell of stale beer once again stung their nostrils, it was as if it had all been a hallucination. If not for the ashes in the medic’s hands as the last of the flowers were consumed by the spell. A cough shook Julia first as breath returned to the woman. “Chica, would it be so much to say you love me instead?” her voice croaked, as if she hadn’t spoken in years despite only being dead for at most a handful of minutes. “Shut the fuck up” the medic said before pulling Julia into a kiss.

The murmurs of the crowd as the spell’s nature was confirmed gave room to a mixed reaction of careful cheers and fearful whispers. Ginny stepped back into the arena, concerned about any potential side effects of a spell this big. They were eclipsed as Orlando’s boisterous laugh resounded through the arena, himself overtaking Metric’s tentative steps as he placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder.

“Well that was something most reassuring! Rejoice friends!” Orlando’s showmanship and many handed claps went some way to restoring the atmosphere but as Ginny’s eyes scouted the crowd, xe noticed more than a few faces with neither joy or inebriety flushing their cheeks. And more than a few silhouettes seemed to leave the place in a quiet rush. It was odd, Ginny thought but couldn’t be too sure as to why. “Do you think if we come back after your internship, we can stay longer to try to catch more of these? Next time, we need to be in the front row.” Pyra said, pointing eagerly at the barrier of bodies occluding her view of the details of the reanimation ritual which had just occurred.

.

Hades moves and shifts. Everyone knows this. Far fewer know of the Architects. Silent, barely tangible beings who lift entire districts slowly and carefully up into the air below Hades’ sky, moving them miles in single strides only to set them down just as carefully before leaving for another task.

At times, one may catch a glimpse of these beings. In the reflection of a window or through the heat ripples of a torch lit street. Few others than Hades and Persephone themselves can perceive and grasp an Architect's presence and only Hades himself knows their true numbers.

Their appearance is manifold. Recognisably distinct entities, their true nature and form is nonetheless obscured, unknowable through agglomerated rubble, flesh and fur or the swarming numbers of spectral entities. Their names are unspoken if they even have any, their purpose highly specialised. 

To let Hades, defunct and isolate, cling to a threadbare sense of purpose.

The Architects are the blood which flows through Hades’ veins, the muscles making its heart beat with eerie unceasing regularity. They are essential to its workings as the hands of a clock are to the passage of time. To behold one is to come upon the thin boundary of perception and reality, a boundary no more easily crossed than in Hades Itself.

.

Day 3: Sunrise out now.

[miss-choco-chips]

Robin and Red X

Just a silly thing I wrote for @animemangasoul. Hopefully this makes you laugh a bit, hon! No edit whatsoever.

The titans were having a difficult time reconciling their easy going, funny, sure of himself leader with the hot mess in front of them.

“Uhh…”Wally, the bravest of them all, places a careful hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should… call your dad?”

Robin turns to look at him so fast it almost looks like his neck broke. Beast boy screams, turns into a rabbit and jumps into Raven’s arms, because the sound that came from Rob’s mouth wasn’t human at all.

“If any of you call Batman, I’ll personally ensure living hell for everyone in the Team. This is MY case!”

Wally hastily retreats, hands up in a surrender gesture. 

“Okay, okay! I’m just saying, chill. This Red X dude has been giving us all too much trouble, maybe Bats could point us in the right direction or…”

They think Dick said ‘no’, but it was more of a demonic screeching.

“But we’ll respect your wishes! Because you are our friend!”, and you scare us shitless, he added in his mind. 

Roy signaled at Wally, the moment Dick turned his back to them again. Something like ‘are we calling the Bat anyway?’, to which Wally replied ‘I don’t have a death wish, fuck no’.

They never really get around to capture Red X, but no one dares to bring up asking Batman for help again. The mysterious anti hero keeps kicking all their asses each and every time they face him, always having a countermeasure for their specific powers or abilities, but honestly? He’s not as scary as an unhinged Dick could be, so they’d rather fight him than wait for bathed breath for Dick’s revenge if they went behind his back to solve the case with his old mentor.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Jason hasn’t inherited the Robin cape from his predecessor. Dick wasn’t happy, seeing a new kid using his suit without permission, when he himself apparently hadn’t been ready to let it go.

But Jason wanted to be Robin. Needed it. All the good he could do… the people like him he could help… This was his chance of doing right. Of proving the world (proving himself) he was not like his father, a complete and utter trash that belonged in the dumpster that was Arkham. That he, a street rat, could be a hero.

So he fought for his right to the mask, even if he sometimes felt the itch to go wild and do his own thing. Because honestly, being Robin was awesome, but having Batman constantly breathing down his neck? Yeah, not so much.

So when Dick, now Nightwing, approached him one afternoon while Bruce was out on business, he was both weary and desperate for some distraction.

Which was exactly what the dude provided.

“What I’m going to show you”, Dick starts, slowly, after he’s checked there are no ears on them, ”it’s Robin’s secret. The only one we manage to keep from Batman. What our ancestors saved for us, our legacy.”

“We are the only two Robins, dipshit.”

“Shut up this is a formal process. Do you wanna know or not?”

“Just… tone down the roleplaying.”

“Fuck off, that’s the best part.”

Curiosity trumping annoyance, he watches as Dick places a briefcase in the coffee table where he was doing his math homework.

“This right here, it’s all the information, anything you ought to know about our mantle’s most important endgame. This is Robin’s never-ending mission. Our Moby dick. Red X.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Jason approached Tim with the briefcase, Tim’s first thought was ‘he’s going to bribe me’- an automatic response after working on Wayne Enterprises for months now. 

The second was ‘he has someone’s head there hasn’t he. Am I going to be an accomplice? What crime was this, and can I hide it from Bruce?’.

The third and final ‘maybe I should ask him first’.

His -thankfully sane now- predecessor reached the little nook where Tim had tucked himself, in hopes of staying hidden from Damian long enough to enjoy the mannor’s wifi without having to stand his bitching. He sits cross legged in front of him.

“So. Give me all you have on Red X.”

This was… unexpected, but not unprecedented. The family tends to think of him as a convenient alternative to some criminal wikipedia sometimes. 

Obediently (because then he’ll get to go back to his research sooner), he rattles out what little he could scrounge on the antihero. It was, admittedly, not much; any younger hero had not heard of Red X, as he’d been dormant for some years now, and the older ones were forbidden to talk about him by Dick himself. The first Robin had claimed ownership of the antihero, and anyone caught working on his case without his permission would find themself with their life turned around  in the most inconvenient of ways before they could even finish burying the evidence. With Bruce taking a neutral stand on the matter, merely respecting his son’s wishes, no one was willing to risk the fury of someone with Batman’s resources and knowledge.

Except, apparently, Jason, because he was opening the briefcase and turning it in his direction.

“Let me tell you a lil story, that Dickie shared with me some years ago. I wasn’t a good predecessor for a long time ‘ere, Timmers, and I wanna make it right by properly passing this on. The true legacy of Robin; the mystery of Red X.”

“I… I’m not Robin any longer”, he blurted out, though his fingers twitched to touch the contents of the briefcase, to go through all that juicy, sweet treasure.

“Doesn’t matter. Dickie gave Robin without your permission, but this… this only I can pass on, just as you can only pass it to the brat when yer ready. No one can take this away, or Dickie loses the claim he has on Red X.”

Jason opens the briefacase all the way, then.

Tim drops his coffee.

Suddenly, there was something way more important. As unholy as it sounded.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Damian was invited by Drake to their own private ‘bonding night’, he was weary but hopeful. He’d been trying to fix their bond for some time now, so he could not ruin this chance, as suspicious as it sounded.

So they watched a movie, ate vegetarian pizza (Damian felt emotions when he realized Tim knew, paid attention) and complained about their older siblings and their role as Robin.

“It’s just… a heavy burden”, he admits. If someone can understand his feelings, it’d be Timothy after all.

“I get you. There’s also the matter of Dick’s and Bruce’s expectations on you.”

“I have to be perfect for them, all the time. The smallest mistake and… I could lose my family. But I feel so trapped…”

Tim’s hand found his and squeezed it. When Damian looked up, the older teen had a compassive look on his eyes.

“I might have the solution for that.”

As if he had planned this (perhaps he had), Tim retrieved a briefcase from under the couch they were occupying.

“Dick gave this to Jason, and he to me. Now, I’m passing this on to you.”

Damian tilted his head, a bit confused.

“I.. am already Robin.”

Tim smiled and pushed the case closer to him.

“This is even better. The freedom to the bindings that come with the suit. Open it.”

Curious, still weary but unwilling to lose any ground he had gained with his brother, he obeyed.

And promplty dropped it to the ground.

“What is this?!!”

“This”, Tim smiles, cheshire-cat-like, “is the Red X costume, and all his toys. Including, but not limited to, a perfect holographic devise, to use to make people think you are fighting Red X, to clean your name should anyone suspect the truth. I’ve been using it all this last few months, to…”

“Ruin my life?!”, he yells, because it’s not a secret Red X had came back from dormancy to utterly fuck with Robin, taunting him and beating his ass at every turn. It had been doubly frustrating, because everyone refused to speak about the antihero to him, so he had no information on the man to hunt him down properly.

“Chill. I just.. needed to vent a bit. And this suit helped me, which is the entire purpose of Red X.”

“I...don’t understand.”

Tim placed the briefcase in the coffee table and inched closer to Damian.

“Dick created the alias back in the day, when the pressure of being a perfect Robin became too much and he just… wanted to fuck shit up. Unwind a bit. He couldn't do it as himself and lose all the respect from the other heroes he had managed to amass, so he needed a scapegoat for it.”

Damian felt a tug of interest in his gut. He tried to surreptitiously look at the briefcase. 

“Being Robin is tiresome. It’s too heavy a burden. Always perfect partner, always a goodie two shoes… Red X allows you to go wild, be gay-do crime sort of thing, without meddling from any other hero in the community. Burn a warehouse. Use the rocket launcher B has under lock and key. Fuck whoever dumb crimefighter  you dislike the most up. Stir shit whenever you feel life’s been too quiet. Let go and have fun... Damian, aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you just want to go ape shit?”

His fingers were digging into the suit before his older brother could even finish talking.

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: The Radio Reminds Me

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

Notes: I know this is a slow build, but it was always meant to be more about the re-entry of Shep than a romantic story. I will have more Shenko content, I just don't want different expectations put on this work.

The mass of biotics division huddled around a central table, while most craned their heads to get a better view, some jostled their way in closer. Jane only approached because it was something to bide her time, well really, it was to avoid Rahna and their 'friend date'. Specifics were not important.

"What's going on here," Jane questioned.

Three-quarters of the biotics stood taller, and all stopped moving. The woman still spoke with the authority of a commanding officer, would have been if... well, that wasn't important either. Here, she was just Jane. Even after the deference, the biotics instinctively gave her as they allowed her front row access to the device on the table. Jane chalked it up to her reputation for holding her biotics at full force with a faulty implant rather than face the reality of her other-self.

Jane picked up the comm, looked it over, then promptly set it down, "impressive paperweight?"

A brave student snickered, plucking the device from the table, "did they not teach you old folks tech?"

"Said the 2nd Lieutenant to the N7," Jane smirked, "tell me, how long did it take to put your bars on and still leave them crooked?"

The kid fussed, trying to wave away his faux pass with some technobabble and blustering. Leave it to Alenko to be soft on his kids.

"We've been scanning the airwaves for news, news outside of earth," the soldier finally stammered out, "I found a promising channel I just have to.."

"Well, everyone is waiting."

"Aye, Aye ma'am."

The kid nodded, bringing out the interface of his omnitool, punching out codes until the box relented.

"Relayed July 23rd. Charon Relay is inoperable. Mass relays comm buoys inoperable. Attempts to fix relays have begun. Repeat message."

"The 23rd was a week ago," a voice commented from the crowd.

"Is there another channel?"

"Please respond. We are alive. This is Commander Bailey, C-Sec, on a looping message. Please respond. We are alive."

The lightness a simple broadcast brought to her shoulders was rejuvenating, sublime in the brief moment of having one friend survive the war she wrought upon the galaxy. Until the weight returned in the form of a warm hand resting on her left trap, prior commitments and all.

"Jane."

"Rahna."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jane leaned back, folding her arms tightly across her chest. Proficient in the use of silence, she kept an easy stare at Rahna. If she had to play the hostage, she wasn't about to make it easy, defiant yet still compliant. Speaking now put her into a position of giving something away- well something more than she wanted to give away. With the level of fame Shepard had reached curious hands liked to get into her file, while against the rules, those with access often did. What else could be juicer than personal details on the Commander? On her failures? Successes. Her psych profile.

It was violating.

"It's good to hear someone on the Citadel is still kicking," Rahna broke first.

"If anyone could have survived, it was him."

"Someone you knew well?"

"Compared to most C-Sec officers, he was a dream," Jane allowed her face to relax, "a real cut through the red tape kind of guy. Bailey really came through during the Cerebrus coup."

Rahna nodded, returning with a small smile, "that sounded like a tense situation. Everyone back home was shocked we never thought Udina-"

"Udina was a rat."

"You would know," she mumbled, "I'm glad it ended as well as it did. Without losing another friend."

Jane's lips tightened, shoulders bracing for the mental impact of the emotions she wanted locked beneath the surface. The cacophony of feelings blurred and grew, loss, regret, pleasure, reconnection, and the legion of secondary emotions attached to the cold anger freezing her system. A brittle connection shattered, leaving behind a numbness.

"Is this all about Alenko?"

Rahna's eyes widened, reeling, the blunt words not within the realm of what she expected, "that wasn't-"

"You couldn't; you rejected the man he was," Jane snarled, pitching forward on her chair, "is this jealousy? I can armchair you right back, Strawberry."

The woman chuckled, "you've heard about me."

"Yeah, I've heard about you. I don't need to go snooping into your file."

"Then you should know we reconnected a couple years back- and nothing happened," she returned cooly, "it was obvious he still had feelings for another."

The immediate surge of pride warped with bitter jealousy, her throat tightening. If she didn't know better, Jane swore her heart stopped the long pauses between the beats petrifying the organ. Her world grew cold, hollow. This jealousy was certainly foreign, the Commander was better than this. Mary knew better, knew that after all Kaidan had returned for her- had written that after all this mess, he didn't know, they both didn't know then.

The Yeoman's call that she had a message at her private terminal had grown past the stage of annoying- Mary had hinted once that Chambers should switch it up. Apparently, her tone had been too jovial, and a week later still nothing had changed. Not even a crack at a 'message for you' or a plain 'message.' With a sigh that Kelly met with a quick glance, Mary sauntered over to the terminal. The sender had her retreating.

While she was under no guise that she had privacy, Mary liked the illusion of it.

Back in the empty room of the Captain's Cabin, Kaidan's picture flickered on accusingly. Still, Mary grasped for it, a thumb tenderly resting over his cheek.

"I want to think you're angry, that you'll tear me a new one. But we both know better."

She set the frame down, looking away, focusing on the one-third finished model of the Athabasca Class Freighter. It seemed like a simple ship, not something flashy like a Geth Dreadnought or Sovereign, but it was apparent to what drew her to the model. A sentimental reminder of the Canadian she loved. The man that stared at her when she walked by. The one she talked to in the billions of moments she regretted working for Cerebrus. Kaidan was silent, but it was better than nothing, the picture at first was a warning to what Cerebrus could take from her. Now it became a lifeline. Unhealthy. But a small drop in the bucket compared to the Suicide mission she had thrown herself headfirst into.

"You could never stay mad at me long... you'll even expect me to, to-"

Tears tumbled from her eyes, the first to come since her time aboard the 'fake' Normandy. One painted in colors and emblazed with an emblem that made her skin crawl. It was all wrong.

It filled her head with screaming.

Mary didn't read the message that night.

Or for the next week.

Kelly stopped reminding her about one unread message.

Shepard put the Athabasca down gently, careful not to disturb the drying sealant. Her eyes flickered to the picture that stared at her, "I know it's time to look."

They hadn't spoken in that time, either.

Kaidan was predictable. His gentleness- his compassion. The love he claimed to have for her obvious, even if Mary was fighting to ignore it. After all this, after turning up in bed with a terrorist organization, he still beckoned her to be careful. To return to him when, if, things settled. Most of all, his honesty.

Damn, did it hurt. Her heart squeezing and constricting itself.

Could Mary blame him for attempting to live happily?

She wanted that for him. In her current situation, she would do nothing but bring him strife. It was selfish to reach out now. To clamor for his attention, to stir up old feelings. To let him become a target. The Illusive Man had tried once; what was to stop him from doing it again? As much as she hated bringing Anderson into her troubles, it was becoming apparent she needed to lean on him, at least to get Kaidan out of the line of fire.

Mary left the message unread. Call it revenge or heartbreak.

"You didn't know?" Rahna pressed, her fingers raking across her forearm, "I thought you- well. It was only to reconnect; that's how I got recruited to Biotics Division, eventually. I don't think he had been assigned-

Commander?"

Jane's pupils narrowed, "what do you want from me? This is- this-"

Rahna tried to interrupt, but Jane was not finished, "do you like seeing me squirm? Do you like that I'm not the person you saw on all the vids?

What fucked up reason do you have for doing this? You were stupid enough not to see Kaidan for who he is. You spurned him for trying to help you. I bet you couldn't even look him in the eye. Beauty...sure. But kindness? I see someone who can't stomach a hard decision and is infected with naive idealism. He stopped Vrynnus from torturing more kids, like he did to you, and you just-

Now you have to pull me into this? Do you regret losing him after seeing the compassionate man he became over the years? You could pull anyone, is only the capable and handsome Spectre enough? Or is it more fun to gloat over the decimated competition?"

Rahna watched as Jane rubbed at her cheek and the strange flashing scars. Observing the woman's tension across from her as she only grew more enraged as it did not elicit the reaction she desired from the accusations, pity filled the void that might have been anger.

"I doubt either of us has moved through life without regrets," her voice was silk and cool, "Kaidan and I could have both handled that better. Perhaps I was naive, but what is done is done. There was no longer a spark; we both knew that was the end of an 'us.'"

The blonde huffed.

"I won't lie and omit that I have seriously breached protocol and decorum by perusing your files; the 'Commander' is a fascinating subject to anyone that paid attention. She was hope to many," Rahna looked her in the eyes, playing the woman's staring contest, "can't blame a girl for being curious."

Jane slowly settled into her chair, swiveling her eyes away, arms folding across her chest. More so in a move reminiscent of a pouting child, but it was a start.

"Do you know what your file said? Specifically your psych evals?"

The woman didn't look at her, going stiff as stone. Jaw flexed in her effort to maintain silence.

"Brass had you tabbed for immediate evaluation after the war," she let that settle in, the woman's throat bobbed, "and more than that. I see someone who needs help. Selfishly- I hope I can help. Even a little, even if it is just someone to listen. After you have helped so many."

"Shepard is dead."

The Commander walked out of the room for the last time.

[fandom-imagines]

Little Light

Fandom: League of Legends

Pairing: Sylas X Mage!Crownguard!Reader

Warnings: Violence

Summary: After bargaining with Sylas, Y/N begins to visit him every day to protect her sister, Luxanna. But as the two slowly grow closer, will this affect her status in Demacia?

The day Lux was born was the day my life seemed to have purpose. That purpose being to protect Lux.

Garen also had this feeling, of course, but not as deep as I did. Lux was my sister, my best friend and the main focus of my life.

It wasn’t until she began to grow older when I realised the reason for this.

She’s a mage…

That was when it all made sense; the reason I had to protect her was in fact because she is just like me. Our type being frowned upon and hidden away in the very place that we call home.

“Y/N!” It was Lux, “I’m heading out, are you going to be okay on your own?”

I smiled gently, giving her a nod, “I’ll be fine, Lux. Go have fun.” I winked, hopefully making her think I assumed that she was going to see a boy.

I know she isn’t.

“I will.” She giggled, and with that she left.

I watched her small frame leave our home, dread filling my body.

I knew that she had been visiting the infamous Sylas for the past few days, and I knew that I had to put a stop to it.

“How?” You may ask, but the answer is simple.

I’ll use myself to protect her.

~

It was the early hours of the morning when I heard Lux return, the door shutting as quietly as possible followed by soft footsteps climbing up the steps towards her room.

I knew I had to act now.

I waited for around twenty minutes, knowing how long it would take for Lux to fall asleep before making my way out of the window, fully clothed and ready to go speak to Sylas.

The walk itself was quiet, nobody being around Demacia at this time of night, just the occasional guards who greeted me with a plain nod.

It wasn’t until I reached where Sylas was being held that I was finally spoken to.

“And who might you be?” One of the main guards here spoke to me with a firm voice, glaring down at me.

“Y/N Crownguard,” his eyes widened, “I’ve come to pick up something that Luxanna left earlier.”

The man nodded quickly, “There you go, Miss Crownguard.” He said, letting me past immediately, giving me a final nod as the door closed behind me.

It wasn’t long until I found where they kept him. He was behind a giant door, where he had been for a long time now. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

“Well then, what do we have here?” The man, who could only be Sylas, asked me, a sinister tone lacing his voice.

“You’ve been seeing my sister,” I replied the second the door shut behind me, “it needs to stop.”

I looked up from the ground, seeing Sylas chained up behind the door.

“Another mage, huh?” He chuckled as my eyes widened, “Why would I stop seeing your sister? She is quite a joy to be around. What exactly can you give me in return?”

“Anything you want.”

Sylas hesitated for a moment, seemingly taken aback by my willingness to obey to him.

“Fine.”

And that was the start of my contact with Sylas.

He brushed Lux off, telling her never to visit again and instead, he began by asking me to visit him daily, just as Lux had been doing.

Each day I brought him something else, anything he wanted, and we somehow became friends.

~

“I brought you some food, Sylas.” My voice echoed throughout the room once the door closed.

Sylas glanced up from the book he was reading, smiling slightly at the sight of me carrying a tray filled with food.

Dead rats can’t be nice.

“Thank you, little light.” He nodded, placing the book beside him as I walked towards him, a slight blush dusting my cheeks at the name he had given me.

“It’s okay.” I mumbled, handing him the food before taking a seat on the ground outside where he was kept as he did the same, only inside the prison he was trapped in.

We sat in silence for a few moments before I broke it.

“I wish you weren’t trapped in there, Sylas.” I whispered, catching his attention as he gave me a confused look, “I think we would have been good friends.”

“As do I.” He nodded, reaching out towards me, gently grasping my hand, something I never would have expected from him when I first learned of his and Lux’s meetings.

Glancing up at the clock, I realised that I’d had to leave.

I stood up, immediately dropping Sylas’s hand as I did so, a confused look covering his face once again.

“I need to leave. I have a ball to attend.” I whispered, turning to face him one final time.

“A ball?” He asked, “Who exactly are you, little light?”

“Y/N. Y/N Crownguard.” I stated, leaving as I did so, not wishing to hear his response knowing what he thought of the Crownguards.

“C-Crownguard…?” Was the final thing I heard from him as the door slammed shut.

~

Never had I expected the next time I would be meeting Sylas would be at his execution. Nor would that be the first time I would see Sylas and Lux together.

“You can’t kill him!” I heard Lux yell as I pushed through the crowd to see what was going on.

There stood Lux, defending Sylas who was about to be executed.

The two spotted me, now at the front of the crowd as both their eyes widened.

“She’s a mage lover!” One man yelled.

“Get her!” Someone screamed, pointing at Lux as a group of men ran towards them.

“Lux!” I called, running in front of the group who were doing their best to reach my sister.

“Let us passed, Miss Crownguard.” The group demanded, “Or we might just have to take you with us.”

“Never.” I spat, holding my hand out to cast the men back into the crowd, getting them away from both Lux and Sylas.

I ignored the screams of terror coming from the crowd as I ran towards Sylas, kneeling down to be at his height as I gently stroked his hair, feeling guilty despite there having been nothing I could have done.

“I’m sorry, Sylas.” I whispered to him.

“As am I, little light.”

“Wh…”

A loud crash cut me off as Sylas jumped to his feet, pushing both me and Lux behind him to shield us from the broken pieces of what had been holding him just moments ago.

“Y-Y/N?” Lux whispered, desperately gripping onto my hand.

“It’s okay, Lux.” I replied blankly, doing my best to avoid her gaze as I watched Sylas yell at the crowd in front of him.

“Lux! Y/N!” I heard Garen yell towards us, running at full speed towards Sylas, sword in hand.

“Garen, you can’t!” I yelled back, immediately dropping Lux’s hand to jump in front of Sylas, using all my power to push back Garen.

“Y/N, your compassion is usually welcome. But not over him.” Garen glared at Sylas who simply glared back before he rested a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay, little light.” He whispered, smirking as he noticed Garen grow angrier at the contact. “He can’t do anything to me.”

“Please, don’t hurt each other.” I begged, tears welling up in my eyes as I pleaded with Garen. “If you’re going to hurt each other, then you have to hurt me first.”

Both their eyes widened at this, seemingly in shock at my demand.

“I never thought I’d see you siding with a murderer, Y/N.” Garen stated, raising his sword.

But I knew he wouldn’t strike.

“Y/N!” Sylas yelled, shoving me behind him, obviously afraid.

Garen simply shook his head.

“You’re a monster.” Garen spat, pointing his sword towards Sylas.

“A monster? That is what you call the man that loves your sister?”

Loves…?

“You love her?” Garen yelled in horror.

“That I do.” Sylas grinned, enjoying the horror on his face.

“I won’t let this happen!” Garen roared, once again raising his sword.

“Garen, please. I love him too!” I begged, the tears now having fallen, racing down my cheeks to see who could touch the ground first.

Both Garen and Sylas looked towards me, their faces softening.

“Do not cry, Light.” Sylas whispered, reaching his hand out towards me.

“What we do is wrong, Garen. Nobody asked to be a mage, they were born that way. I was born that way.”

A ball of light emitted from my hand as I raised it high into the air, Garen’s eyes ablaze.

“Fine.” He stated, grasping Lux to tug her towards him, “You two leave this place. The mageseekers and army are coming now, leave and don’t return.”

“Thank you, Garen.” I thanked him, earning a simple nod as he and Lux darted away.

“Come, little light. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Whumptober Day 28: The Fury And The Hunted

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 28. Set in my Httyd Zombie AU. The end of the world makes way for certain extremes, even religious ones. The Dragon Riders try not to mingle with any groups, but when one gets a hold of them, Hiccup won't have a good time.

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup

Pairing: None

Words: 3 588

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Hunting Season

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Almost didn't post this one. But here it is.

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy.

Ao3

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

The Order of the Dragon, that is what the group calls themselves. They are a bunch of religious zealots who have formed shortly after Outbreak Day. They believe that dragons are "the true inheritors" of the world, that humans have been in their way for too long and that this is the reason why human civilization as they used to know it fell. As punishment for taking up space.

Before they met them, the Dragon Riders already saw signs of them. Things like "in fire, they'll rise" or "the world will burn and belong to them once more" written in large letters on brick walls or old, peeled-off billboards. There were surprisingly creepy effigies that were vaguely dragon-shaped. Large murals of what appeared to be the end of times where humanity died horrifically in a sea of flames while dragons flew into the light, into a better tomorrow.

It was unnerving to say the least and the Dragon Riders had decided to not seek these people out. But not running into them and getting into deep trouble would be hugely out of character for them, so that is exactly what ends up happening.

The location they are at is a jungle. Not one made of trees and green, but out of tall buildings and grey. This isn't their home turf, so when the Order caught wind of the Dragon Riders and decided they needed to have them, it was embarrassingly easy to capture them.

Hiccup finds himself thrown down a hole. They'd singled him out, because of course they have, and separated him and Toothless.

He doesn't know why and they didn't tell him what he's supposed to be doing here either. They just spouted some nonsense about Night Furies and proving yourself worthy in front of whatever or something or other. Hiccup didn't listen too closely, much too preoccupied with his group and not getting separated from his Bud before they threw him down here.

He's lucky to have a slope break his fall. Rolling the rest of the way down, over dirt and stones, only to then collide with the remains of a support beam was horrendous. His back is sure to bruise.

Now he's here, back on his feet and staring up at the night sky and not hearing or seeing his friends or the group that has captured them.

He hopes this won't end too badly for him and that his friends will be okay.

He turns away from the hole he'd come through and stares at what lies before him. Nothing but pitch-black darkness as far as the eye can see, which isn't very far at all.

This must be a basement of some sort. An underground parking lot? What little light the moonlight can give is reflected in the back shield window of a car. Other than that, he can make nothing out.

He can't go back up, it's much too high and too steep. So the only way left is forwards.

He goes to a knee and searches his prosthetic. It's been modified to hold certain items in case his pack ever goes missing and since it has been taken by Order, he has to fish a flashlight out of his fake leg.

He flicks it on and thinks of how hasn't changed the batteries in quite a while, hopefully, it'll last him for however long he's expected to be down here.

Taking a deep and nervous breath, he wills his feet to carry him forward.

There is little else to find in this place. Other than proof that his underground parking lot theory is right, judging by the cars he finds and the parking space painted on the ground.

There is the occasional dead body, but they are all too far gone to be of any real threat if they weren't quite as dead as they were supposed to be yet.

He passes them without giving them much thought, too used to the sight by now, and continues looking.

It's quiet in here and that unsettles him. Not that he's usually surrounded by heaps of noise, but everything is supposed to make a sound. Here, the dead are silent and the scuttling of rats is missing. Here, the only one making sound is him and that is concerning.

He comes to a standstill in the darkness, slowly waving his flashlight around to see if he can scan anything in his surroundings. But apart from another beam here and there, there is nothing.

His heart's pounding grows worse. He would be able to keep his cool a lot better if Toothless was here with him.

The silence stretches on and Hiccup isn't sure where to go. He's been walking in a straight line so far, he could continue that way until he hits a wall and then he can only go right or left. Whichever direction he takes is bound to give him one of two things. A general idea of how big this place is or a way out and both will only be beneficial for him.

So he continues on the way forward, walking the straight line until the first wall he hits. There is the brief thought that he should've done this back at the hole he'd been thrown into, where there were walls to follow on each side of him.

But he has eventually reached it, the other side of the parking lot. He halts and touches the cool surface as if relieved to have found it.

But then he notices something.

Pulling his hand back, he finds it is covered in soot. So this wall has been burned before. By a dragon, judging from the pattern. Hiccup backs away and lifts the flashlight to take a look. It is quite a sizeable scorch mark.

With this new development, he turns towards the body nearest to him and walks over, kneeling by it to find that it isn't one of the turned. This is someone who had been killed by something else and context clues would suggest by a dragon. Perhaps the same one responsible for the fire damage to the wall.

Is that what he's meant to do down here? Meet a dragon? Survive this dragon? Either way, something with the dragon that has made this place its home.

But what kind of species would make its home in such darkness? Not many prefer a den underground like this.

Feeling the pressure, Hiccup searches his limited dragon knowledge.

A Whispering Death? No, they usually prefer to make a home more north of the globe, he believes. And they dwell in hole they make themselves, too, a burrow made out of a complex system. This wouldn't do for them. Unless he simply had the luck to not stumble upon, or into, one of the many holes this species is known for.

The second species that comes to mind is the Night Fury. He remembers once meeting Toothless in a place just as dark. The scorch mark is similar to his Bud's.

Standing back up, Hiccup has to swallow a lump in his throat and his pulse, which had slowed during his walk, is quickening again.

A Whispering Death he can barely deal with, especially on his own, but a Night Fury? He has a feeling kind words, some fish, and compassion won't work on this one.

Hiccup forces himself to be hyper-aware of his surroundings. He's always alert, he has to be in order to survive, but he strains his hearing to try and pick up anything that he might've possibly missed.

Soft shuffling? The nearly undetectable movement of a predator sizing up its easy prey? Hiccup has made it so deliciously easy for it, standing in total darkness with the only light source around.

The fear must be obvious on his face. Though he tries to suppress it, he knows it's there as his eyes search the void surrounding him.

It's there somewhere. He doesn't need to see or hear it to know that it is. After being out here in the new wild, he has a sense for that, they all do. Night Furies are feared for a reason, too.

What should he do? Continue on and search for the way out? Maybe there's a staircase somewhere, something a fully grown dragon of this species will not easily fit into.

It would seem like he has no other choice. What other option would there be? The hole? He'd need wings to get out of there by himself. Or at least a rope with something to hook it onto the ground floor.

So he steels his shaky nerves as much as he is able and continues onward.

His footsteps are echoing uncomfortably loud in this deathly silence, his left prosthetic dragging just a tad bit. As he decides to go left, he swears he can feel a pair of eyes following him. His gut feeling tells him that he isn't simply imagining it.

Any moment now. He could be attacked at any moment and he has nothing to defend himself with. He has a tiny knife, but what good will that do against a dragon?

And what will it be? Torn to shreds? Ripped limb from limb? Blasted to pieces? Or will his fate not be as gentle or as swift?

He hates this. He hates this with every fiber of his being. He almost wants it to just happen already, to get it over with just so he won't have to suffer through this ever-building stress longer than he has to.

He's sweating, he can feel his clothes starting to stick to him, to his back and under his armpits especially. If that dragon can't already hear him, he can certainly smell him.

Finally, he reaches the exit, or rather, what should've been the exit.

It is hard to see at night, but a gate blocks his way out and it is locked with a sturdy padlock. If he had something to pick it, that wouldn't be a problem, but all of that is in his stolen backpack. The only ones carrying a multitude of lockpicks on their person itself would be the twins, Ruffnut in particular. So he's trapped.

He could try to find a way around it, if he has the time to. Hiccup swears he can feel the walls closing in on him.

He's trapped with a dragon possibly stalking him. If he doesn't manage a way around this lock, his only other option are the stairs and that is only if this parking lot even has them.

Taking a deep breath to calm his fraying nerves, Hiccup wants to stay here and work on this lock first, but before he can, he swears that there is something behind him.

In the process of pulling a tool from his prosthetic, he can feel the unnerving chill run down his spine and the hair on the back of his neck rise. He halts. Is that breathing that he hears? He's been paying extra attention and so he knows that wasn't there before.

It's waiting for him to turn and face it, it's waiting for him to run. His legs certainly want to, even though they feel like jelly.

But he wouldn't be standing here today if he wasn't good at pushing through his fear, he just has to push some more.

He gets back up to his feet and turns, shaking, holding the flashlight up and the face that stares back at him isn't his Bud's toothless smile. It is that of a ferocious predator staring at its next meal.

Its eyes blink in the light and it growls. To avoid angering it further, Hiccup decides to lower the beam.

"Dragons don't eat humans. Dragons don't eat humans." He tells himself, knowing well enough that there's a chance it can understand him.

He backs up, stumbling with his prosthetic, and the face moves along with him. It snarls and grows limbs as it treads into the beam of light claws scraping threateningly on the ground.

It is a Night Fury, but this isn't normal hunting behavior. He's seen Toothless hunt before and they don't do it like this. This one is almost ordering him to back up and all Hiccup can do is listen until he hits the gate, which rattles behind him.

Is that a sick sense of glee he sees appearing on the dragon's face? Who knew even dragons could have the occasional sadist?

With little elsewhere to go and nothing to defend himself with, Hiccup feels his Night Fury's name on the tip of his tongue, it is stuck in his throat to the point that he can barely breathe.

This is a much larger specimen, too. Most likely quite a bit older than Toothless, but age probably doesn't hinder it at all.

It's piercingly yellow eyes are glued to him. It's growling grows as it towers over him, intimidating him into cowering.

It then gestures to the side with its head and Hiccup realizes Toothless isn't the only one mimicking human behavior. And yet as fascinating as it is, it is ten times more terrifying as it's telling him to run.

"Run!" That face commands. It doesn't want meek prey, it wants to chase.

"Oh, fuck me." He doesn't swear often, barely at all, but when he does, it's with tears of terror blurring his vision.

An instinct to survive wants him to run, too, and he listens. Hoping that it's at least a little bit caught off guard, he springs into action, going for the right.

The Night Fury watches Hiccup go, disappearing in the darkness as he turns the flashlight off.

He's seen a car or two parked in this direction. He reaches it, hands on the dusty hull, and kneels.

He can't see anything without his flashlight and the worst part is that his predator still has ways of seeing him.

But it's not trying to lurk this time, he can hear its weight shifting where he once stood. It's not even in a hurry to follow him.

The car he's kneeling by groans under a heavy weight and that is the only hint he'll get to know that its standing over him. He's still trembling and struggles to draw air.

He lights his lighter, doesn't even dare look up, and spots his next hiding spot. Unfortunately, they'll exist solely out of cars and support beams. Fortunately, however, that this Night Fury wants this to be a game probably means he won't be immediately killed. Probably.

He kills the light before he moves away from the vehicle, diving under the next one. It won't give him as much safety as he would've liked, but it's something between him and it.

He wonders what he should do. Well, logically he knows he should calm down first as he won't be getting anywhere by panicking and acting on pure instinct alone. Here, he can take a moment.

It's not easy. He can hear the dragon circling the car, still not trying to be silent as it wants Hiccup to hear it prowl.

It's having the desired effect. He's trying really hard to stay calm, but hearing clawed paws scratching the ground in endless circles around him is making that very hard.

He takes deep breaths, in and out, in order to not give in to the dragon's tactic. He has to stay calm, he needs to remind himself of that. Only then can he think his way out of this.

What does he have at his disposal? That question is answered quickly as the answer is absolutely nothing. That flashlight, a knife, his pocket multitool? Does he have that? Checking his pocket, he comes to the relieving conclusion that it's still there. His most prized possession, they didn't take it from him. Not that they were smart enough to search his pockets.

Knowing that he has it with him sets him at ease a little and Hiccup lets out a calming breath. The Night Fury stalking him bangs on the hood of the car to rile him up and Hiccup jumps, but it's easier to will himself into a slightly more peaceful state of mind. As peaceful as one can be in this predicament.

These are the things he has and with these things he'll have to make a plan.

Luckily for him, one may already be forming.

When the Night Fury is on one side of the car, Hiccup rolls out from the other side. It hears him and steps over the vehicle with a roar of excitement. It was almost beginning to wonder if his newest prey was simply going to lie there and wait for death.

It wants to take a swipe at him, just to see how this one will react, but Hiccup turns to him, holds up his trusty flashlight, and flicks it on. The flash of the light will mean the dragon's eyesight needs at least a second to adjust. It has been blinded.

Hiccup runs back to the gate. He wants the dragon to blast it open for him, but he's going to have to do something to push the dragon that far. Risk his life pissing it off? It probably won't end well, but his options are dwindling quickly.

He doesn't have much dragon knowledge to fall back on either. Ever since meeting Toothless, he's been interested in learning more about dragons, but he already has so much to worry about, he doesn't have much time. The only knowledge he picks up on is the kind that helps him stay alive.

He's running completely blind on his way back, and he nearly stumbles over the corpse he found earlier. He can hear the Night Fury approach and he shines the flashlight right in its face again, blinding it once more.

The dragon already lets out an agitated snarl at just the second time and Hiccup figures that pissing it off won't be a problem. It's probably used to less levelheaded prey.

"Oh great, just like I wanted." Hiccup puffs and continues on his way to the gate. He sees it with a quick glimpse of the light and makes use of his good memory to remember where it is as he runs towards it.

He reaches it, hand grabbing hold of the gate locking him in and turns to blind the Night Fury again as its right behind him already.

It lets out an enraged cry as it's temper flares. It lashes out, but not with a blast like Hiccup had hoped, instead striking him with its claws and hitting his chest. Four deep lashes bleed through his shirts on his left breast. A cry leaves him and Hiccup falls to the ground.

Instead of finding himself frozen in place, Hiccup jumps back into action and backs away, flashing the light repeatedly to confuse the dragon on the distance between them.

It works, it's not immediately right on top of him again, and Hiccup struggles to his feet. The only reason why he's still moving after taking a hit such as that must be his will to live.

Free hand pressing fruitlessly down on his wounds, Hiccup wonders if he should give his plan a second try and just be better at dodging. That Night Fury is going to have to blast at him at some point, right?

He doesn't get a second chance. His predator has already learned that Hiccup might not be as fun as his previous prey and it's a sore loser.

Always an agile and fast dragon, it cuts Hiccup off and he knows only because he can hear it. It swipes for a second time and Hiccup is thrown to the ground, skull almost smashing against the concrete ground.

It hovers over him with a snarl and it hits him once more, flinging him back in the other direction, its claws getting caught and tearing through his clothing.

Hiccup climbs back up to his feet somehow, but it doesn't like that and it grabs hold of him to pull him back down. It roars in his face, it's a deafening sound.

Not knowing what else to do, Hiccup takes his knife and swipes back, cutting its lip and nose.

Far from a killing blow, that move enrages it and that's when it finally charges a blast.

Sadly, Hiccup isn't standing before the gate, is instead lying underneath the Fury's jaws.

Fortune is on his side as someone does blast the gate open and upon spotting the scene lit up with a lavender light, that someone cries out in outrage.

Hiccup looks over.

"Toothless!"

And he isn't the only one, the other Dragons follow swiftly. He's been saved.

The hostile Night Fury looks at the five new arrivals and feels threatened. Hookfang steps forward, lighting his hide on fire, and growls challengingly. He's warning it to back off.

Knowing that it's outnumbered, it does and retreats back towards the shadows. It is once again silent.

Toothless quickly approaches and frets over his Rider, but Hiccup doesn't let him, wrapping his arms around his Bud's neck and just savoring the feeling of being rescued.

"Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Bud." Hiccup tells him and Toothless sits, allowing him to have his hug. He can smell the blood on him, but knows that Fishlegs and the others can't be far behind them. He can take a look at Hiccup and then all will be well again.

[venusprincess-ts3]

Antique Museum Closeups

“Solutions” under cut xD

Aladdin - magic carpet Alien - face hugger Blade - sword and glaive Back to the future - Hooverboard and Grey Sports Almanac Beauty and the beast - Chip Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - ticket Christine - License plate Child's Play - Chucky doll Donnie darko - wheres Donnie? white board Dark - sic mundus door Dragon Ball Z - radar Dennis the menace - radio flyer wagons Death Note - notepad ET - Elliot's bike Emperor's Groove - Kuzco hat Edward Scisor Hands - mansion photo Ed, Edd and Eddy - Plank Fight club - soaps bars Fifth element - elements and multipass Friends - Frame Friday 13th - Camp Crystal Lake Flyer Ghostbusters - ghost trap Guardians of the galaxy - awesome mix cassete Goonies - Skeleton Key Goosebumps - Slappy Hannibal - Clarice Starling's Id Happy! - Nick Sax scarf Hook- Captain Hook's hook xD Hellraiser - Cube Home alone - doves IT - Derry's map and baloon Jurassic park - pass Jumanji - game board Kill Bill  - katana Lord of the rings - One ring Knight rider - License plate Mr Robot - E corp newspaper Misery - type writter machine (I forgot to edit the brand before taking the pics) Matrix - pills and Morpheus chair Neverending story - book Nightmare on Elm Street - Freddy's glove Pirates of the carabeans - Jack Sparrow's compass Rick and Morty - portal gun Rubber - assassin tire Raiders of the Lost Ark - Indiana Jones hat and wip Resident evil - virus bottles Parks and recreation - Mouse rat cd Peaky Blinders - Garrison pub sign Pet Sematary - Sign Predator - Yautja shoulder weapon Pulp fiction - poster from Jack Rabbit restarant Sweeney Todd - razor Star Wars - Rebel alliance necklace, Luke's lightsabers S7ven- card box Sonic, The hedgehog - rings and bag Silent Hill - Pyramid head mask and sword Saw - Billy The Puppet Shinning - room door Shawshank redemption - letter to Red and post card Supernatural - License plate, Dean's pendant Teenage mutant ninja turtles - eye masks Toy Story - Woody Ted - Plushie Ted Trick 'r Treat  - Sam The Mandalorian - beskar steel plaques Ted movie - Ted Plushie The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance - Hup's spoon The witcher - Renfri's brooch The Texas Chain Saw Massacre - Chainsaw The ring - ladder V for Vendetta - GuyFawkes Wizard of OZ - Dorothy Ruby Shoes Walking Dead - Lucille Westworld - maze Zombieland - twinkies

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 49 - The Blood-Soaked Tower

Chapter Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon-typical violence Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort Chapter Summary:  Rosslyn and Alistair enter the Tower to save everyone they can.

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3

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Almost immediately, the stench of the dead overpowered them. Alistair groped in the darkness for the wall so he could brace against it, pushing up his visor as he retched. Around him, he heard the sounds echoed in the others, and at last Rosslyn’s voice, wry but strained as she declared they should have asked Greagoir for a torch.

“I – I can help,” Amell stuttered, and whispered something under her breath.

Warm, yellowish light like a candle grew from the crystal at the point of her staff and chased away the darkness. But then they found what was causing the smell, and she screamed. Not six feet ahead of them, a pile of corpses lay rended and bloody, torn apart like broken toys beside the splintered remains of the Circle’s inner door. The low light turned their already tortured expressions into something grotesque, locked in their last final desperate cries as their hands reached out to the gate for the help that hadn’t come, that must have stood by and listened to the screams and done nothing to at least attempt a rescue. Rage coiled in Alistair’s gut, squeezing his revulsion into something colder, harder, which had no name. The bodies looked small in the dark, but only once Rosslyn knelt down to examine the closest one did the full disparity of size become apparent.

“No more than twelve,” she muttered. “All the injuries are to the back, days old – they were running away.”

He stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder as she turned her frown towards the door. With all the armour in the way, he doubted she could feel the press of his gauntlet, but the weight was there nonetheless. Her breath came steady, shallow, every muscle still as she collected herself to move on. There was a clink of mail as she straightened.

“The apprentice dormitories are along here,” Amell managed. Her eyes, wide and liquid black in the low light, were still fixed on the bodies.

“Why is it so dark?” Alistair’s voice was brittle.

“There aren’t any windows on this level. One the candles burned down…”

“Ser Cullen, is there a defensible position somewhere nearby – somewhere we can get the survivors to congregate?” Rosslyn asked, staring straight ahead. Whatever grief welled in her had drained away, and the tightness at the corners of her eyes now was only the steel of her battleblood, the keen rush of calculation that allowed her to take in the whole engagement and decide life and death without compassion.  

“I asked a question, Knight-Lieutenant.”

“Your Ladyship…” Cullen swallowed. “Yes. “There’s… the library, further on this floor, or the refectory upstairs. It can house everyone.” He paused. “But wouldn’t it be dangerous? What if we corral the mages and they turn out to be maleficar?”

Amell shot him a withering look. “What do you mean, ‘corral’? Are we just sheep to you?”

“What? No! That’s not what I said –”

“Sounded like it.”

“We’re here to save as many people as we can,” Alistair interrupted. “And the best way to do that is to keep everyone in a secure location while we clear the halls. Any mages left that haven’t yet become abominations aren’t likely to. We should get moving,” he added quietly to Rosslyn. “Try and do some good before Greagoir comes in on his high horse.”

“Or before anyone else has any bright ideas about how to deal with mages,” she agreed. She leaned into him for a brief instant of reassurance before she sighed and turned back towards the darkness. “We stick together, sweep the place floor by floor, keep our eyes open.”

The corridor was silent, deserted. The same unnatural pressure that had weighted the air outside magnified as they made their cautious way through the apprentice dormitories into the depths of the tower. In every room, the remains of battles stained the walls, gore and burn marks and shattered pieces of furniture. Every so often Cullen or Amell would point out smears on the floor that marked the destruction of a demon, but those were too few when counted next to the number of the dead.

And not one templar among them, Alistair noted with a frown as they cleared the last of the long dormitories.  

The high-arched ceilings recounted their footsteps, their buttresses visible above their little bubble of light only as brief, thrown shadows against the ancient stonework. If not for the crisis at hand, Rosslyn might have paused to examine the patchwork quality of the architecture, the recent facing upon Imperial Tevene upon the solid, sure foundations of the original Alamar builders. Their time slipped away more with every moment, however, and took an uncounted number of lives with it, so she pushed them on through the empty foyer that led down to the cellars, towards the first glow of light they had seen that wasn’t their own.  

And yet, the library was empty as well. The light came from complex runes carved into the ceiling, positioned into clusters over the long reading tables. Piles of books still sat open on the polished wood, next to scattered chairs and ink-splattered notebooks, as if the researchers had not even had time to put down their pens before being forced to run. The question was only which direction they had chosen.

“How do we reach the next level?”

Amell pointed. “The stairs are past the Librarian’s office.”

The door was barred.

Alistair knocked. “Anyone alive in here? I promise we’re not demons, we bring word from the Knight-commander.” For a moment he listened, picking up whispers and movement through the wood, and then stood back as a bolt scraped back and the door swung open.

Three templars greeted them, as well as a dozen or so human and elven mages crammed onto a tiny dais at the centre of the room. Many were children. The air held the stale, sour odour of any small place where people have been forced to cohabit for a period of time, and the inhabitants looked exhausted. A barrier shimmered over the door at the top of the stairs, which had also been blocked with a pile of bookshelves and a sturdy desk, shunted onto its side and pushed as far up the steps as it could go.  

“Maker’s breath, you really aren’t demons are you?” The leading templar lifted his visor to reveal a man with a trimmed moustache just entering middle age. “We’ve been trapped in here for over two days, getting by on conjured water and roast rats. Knight-Lieutenant Dunn – this is Knowles and Owen,” he added.

“This is Prince Alistair and Teyrna Rosslyn Cousland,” Cullen supplied.

“More and more surprising! I hope you’ll forgive the informality – I didn’t recognise you.”

“Have you come to rescue us?” one of the smaller children piped from the corner. They sat in the arms of an older mage who eyed their weapons warily, like a dog that has learned the shape of its master’s stick.

Rosslyn pursed her lips and didn’t reply. “What do you know of what’s happened?” she asked Knight-Lieutenant Dunn.

He shook his head. “Must have been, what, five days ago, six? The alarm came down from the upper floors to say something had got loose, so I ordered most of the lads up to lend a hand. To be honest, we thought it was a drill – they close off the gate, fight a few fires, and then everything’s fine and dandy. And then demons appeared in the hall. We got what kids out we could, and pulled back here when they broke through into the library. We might’ve held them with more numbers, but…” With a half-glance behind him and a subtle nod towards the corner of the room, he took Rosslyn and Alistair aside. “What’s the word from outside?” The set of his mouth confirmed what he did not say: he knew the Right had been invoked.

Alistair cleared his throat. “We’re here to find First Enchanter Irving – the knight-commander said he would only listen to him.”

“I wish you luck with that, Your Highness,” the templar replied. “Irving was on the upper levels, and we haven’t heard anything in days. I’d be surprised if anyone is still alive up there.”

“If we find any survivors, we’ll be sending them to you,” Rosslyn said. “They’re to be kept safe.”

“I understand, Your Ladyship. We’ll try and keep everyone calm.”

“Thank you. Hold out a little longer, and we’ll see an end to it, without bloodshed.”

“Aye, Your Ladyship.”

Stepping around him, she nodded and called to Amell, who had bent to talk with the apprentices and offer them some comfort. Perhaps she had also told them about the Right of Annulment, but Rosslyn didn’t pry, only offloaded a packet of dried meat from her pack and slipped it into the knight-lieutenant’s hands.

“The children first,” she instructed.

“Aye, Your Ladyship.”

Cullen was already helping his fellow templars clear away the barricade. One of the eldest apprentices lowered the barrier. She offered a nod and a faint, trembling smile as the party passed, and once they were through the door followed Knight-Lieutenant Dunn’s directions and retreated to the library.

“Maker’s blessings, Your Ladyship, Your Highness,” he said, lingering at the door. “You do your job and I’ll do mine – I don’t want to have to say I failed in my duty.”

Alistair managed a grimace. “Neither do we.”

The level above the library opened out into a narrow space with doors leading off in many directions, cluttered by shelves and not much else. It clearly served as a spare storage space for those items that weren’t considered important enough to be properly locked away. There were windows, tiny and high up on the walls, but they only let in enough light to deepen the shadows in the corners of the room.

The demon attacked them without warning. It boiled out of the wall behind them, a towering mass of flame and molten slag pulled into a rough shape not quite human or animal. Its first swipe caught on Cullen’s shield as he leapt to defend Amell, and a shriek of rage like tearing metal bubbled up from somewhere deep inside its body.

“If we weaken it enough, it’ll be pulled back into the Fade!” The young templar shouted. “Karyna, stay behind me – don’t let it touch you.”

With its path to the mage blocked, the demon whirled on Rosslyn and Alistair. It had no eyes, but its blunt head lowered as if it were peering at them, assessing as it advanced. Rosslyn didn’t give it time to come to any conclusions, and struck forward, bashing it with her shield to expose its side for the cut of her sword. Talon sang as it descended. It remembered the depths of the cave it knew before its forging, the cold dark and the rising water, and gleamed as it bit deep. The molten flesh crumbled around the blade like pumice, its roar this time one of pain instead of rage.

“It doesn’t like the cold!” Rosslyn cried as Alistair made his own strike on the demon’s opposite flank.

“Oh – I have a spell for that!”

The fight did not last long after that. Between the flurry of ice spells and the precision strikes of the warriors’ swords, the demon stood no chance. It got a lucky hit against Alistair’s shield that sent him sprawling with a cry of pain, but bit by bit it chipped, and crumbled, until Cullen thrust one final time into its armpit and it collapsed in on itself like a fire exhausted of fuel.

“Are you two alright?” Rosslyn asked as she knelt to help Alistair to his feet.

Across the room, Amell jumped as Cullen brushed her arm. For an instant, she leaned towards him, but reeled back with a reluctance born of habit. Rosslyn knew the feeling well. She turned away to run a critical eye over Alistair, ignoring his worry for her when she realised he favoured his left shoulder.

“It’s fine,” he told her. “Pulled muscle.”

“And we have three floors to go. Enchanter –”

Something scraped on the stone behind them. As one they turned, weapons raised, and were greeted by a tired-looking man in mage robes, with a mark on his forehead in the shape of a sunburst.

“Owain?” Amell lowered her staff.

“Enchanter,” the Tranquil replied in a flat tone. “You remember me – and you, Knight-Lieutenant Cullen. I am not familiar with your companions.”

“They’re – Owain, what are you doing here? Didn’t you try to leave?”

“Yes,” came the reply. “But when I encountered the barrier on the library door, I thought it best to return to work. The stockroom is in a state not fit to be seen.”

“We have bigger things to worry about,” Rosslyn interrupted. “What do you know about how this began?”

Owain turned to her, unbothered by the sharp edge to her voice. “There was a large explosion on one of the upper floors,” he said, as if reading from a book. “The templars stationed here and in the apprentice rooms went to investigate. Soon after, demons came to kill or capture the mages on this floor. I was in the stockroom and they did not see me. I suppose I should count myself lucky.”

“Why are they taking the mages?”  

“I do not know. Perhaps Niall will succeed and save us all.”

Alistair frowned. “Niall?”

“He came here with several others, and took the Litany of Adralla,” the Tranquil explained.

“But that’s to protect against blood magic, isn’t it?” Amell rubbed her forehead. “Wynne mentioned it to me. If there are blood mages involved in whatever’s happening, we’ll need the Litany to stop it.”

Rosslyn bit down on a curse. She had seen the power a single blood mage could command, and the memory of it sent a cold shiver across her shoulders. There could be a thousand summoned demons between them and any help First Enchanter Irving could offer, if he even still lived, and an army of undead and abominations besides, enough to easily overpower three warriors and one mage with only so much strength between them. And yet, duty bound them now, just as surely as the blocked path behind them. The tower’s architecture would be their best defence, its narrow corridors and curving walls able to act as a shield against superior numbers and ranged magical attacks that relied on line-of-sight to cast with accuracy. They would have to move quickly, and try to reach the source of the destruction before it could spread plaguelike and overwhelm them.

Having watched Amell set a healing spell in Alistair’s shoulder and with orders for Owain to go down and meet the rest of the survivors in the library, she led the way across the shadowed hall, aware of each discordant ring of their footsteps on the stone. Talon all but hummed in her hand, resonating with the nearness of the Fade and eager for another taste of ichor. As the walls closed in again, they found bodies sagged against the walls or lying crumpled on the floor, with blood staining cloth and armour both. Any one of them might rise in an instant, without warning, ungainly but fast enough that Rosslyn nevertheless kept watch out of the corner of her eye. The lack of flies betrayed the unnatural nature of the deaths, and the silence set her teeth on edge.

They made it to Irving’s office unscathed. With most of the mages already defeated or beyond reach, few demons had ventured to the lower levels, and the undead that ambushed them had been new, the spirits unused to their host bodies and the constraints of the physical world. This meant their skirmishes had been sporadic, but the rest granted by the First Enchanter’s quarters was no less welcome, as the spells and protections laid on it would repel all but the strongest demonic energies. As long as they remained quiet, nothing would trouble them.  

Rosslyn laid a hand on Amell’s shoulder as she passed her the waterskin, comforting her as best she could. The enemies they had cut down were recognisable, and considering how many people were as yet unaccounted for, there would likely be worse encounters ahead. Cullen sat a careful distance away, checking his gear. He had taken off his helmet to breathe more easily, and as he ran a distracted hand through his hair, his freed curls bounced against his sweat-damp forehead. Rosslyn stepped around the desk trying not to think about how much older than her he might be while still looking so young, and nudged her elbow against Alistair’s side.

“Anything useful?” she asked.

He turned away from the bookshelf. “Not really. Spellbooks, that sort of thing. There’s a map on the wall that says we’ve got two floors left to clear before we get to the top, which isn’t entirely comforting.”

“At least we’re halfway.”

“See?” He grinned. “That’s what I love about you, you’re always so optimistic.”

“And is that the only thing?” Her eyes flicked to his mouth, then to the others, and back.

“Maker, no. But we don’t have time for me to stand here and list everything.”

“I’ll have to ask again when this is over, then,” she teased, with a growing smile.

A scream from outside cut off Alistair’s answer. They raced out of Irving’s office, weapons drawn and armour hastily jammed into place as a young man in mage robes careened down the stairs to the next level, ducking just in time as a templar blade cleaved the air above his head. He saw the party ahead of him, focussed one the Sword of Mercy etched into Cullen’s armour, and screamed again.

“I’m not one of them! I swear it!”

Rosslyn stepped around him to face the group of advancing templars. Their movements were jerky, disconcerting, and she raised her shield.

“Lower your weapons!” she called. “We’re not your enemy, we’ve come to help.”

The templars paused, wobbling like puppets.

“Do not listen to such lies,” purred a catlike voice from the shadows. “Is your faith so weak that you would submit to the tricks of demons?”

A woman stepped out behind the group of templars. The robes of a revered mother hung from her shoulders, but something in the shine of the thread made her hard to look at. Her smile was too wide, too sharp, her limbs ever so slightly out of proportion.  

“That’s a demon,” Alistair growled, stepping to Rosslyn’s shoulder.

Amell was already winding a spell between her hands. “It’s enchanted the templars. If we can get to it, then –”

“There!” the demon shrieked, cutting her off. “You see! They are hiding a blood mage in their midst!”

“Brothers, please –!” But Cullen’s voice was drowned in the sound of the templars’ charge.

Rosslyn and Alistair drove forward. Their shields butted against blank face plates and their swords flashed in the momentary advantage. One templar went down. The next took his place before he had even hit the floor. Amell hurled an ice spell into the throng, and then another, until Rosslyn, beating back two enemies at once, snarled at her to focus on the demon instead, and slowly, they were pushed back. Even bewitched, the templars had the backing of a lifetime of training, and they had the advantage of numbers, as well as the demon to bolster them as they struck out again and again. Amell’s magic was wearing it down, confusing it, but the templars served it absolutely, energy and bodies both, and every killing blow only made it stronger.

“We need to clear a path!” Rosslyn shouted. She opened her mouth for more orders, but in that instant a greatsword curved down over the edge of her shield. She raised her arm to block, but the movement came too late. Her armour stopped the blade from slicing her flesh, but the impact reverberated down to the bone and she staggered back with a cry. Someone called her name. She blinked and shoved forward again with a snarl, driving through the disorientation to bring Talon up in blunt arc that cut into the templar’s groin.

The fight after that became a haze of pain, and raising her sword even to her shoulder lit fire along her nerves. And still, she hacked at anything that strayed into her line of sight, teeth bared behind the Falcon helm, desperate only to keep her footing as bodies piled up before her. At one point, she felt a flash of magic through her veins, dimming the ache in her muscles and the agony in her arm, and she pushed through, just in time for an unearthly shriek to lance through her skull. The last of her enemies fell, leaving her a clear view of the demon, shocked of its illusion now and impaled upon Cullen’s sword. Arms caught around her waist as she sagged. Gloved fingers scrabbled at her chin to loosen the strap and get her helmet loose.

“Rosslyn – Rosslyn.”

“Huh?”  

The demon was flaking, falling away like wood ash in the wind.  

“I can do it through the armour, it’s fine,” someone was saying, and she rolled her head to the side to find Amell feeling along the length of her upper right arm.  

“It’s just a hairline fracture,” Amell told them. “I can heal it, but it will be weakened. It shouldn’t be used for any heavy lifting for a while. At least as far as you can,” she added, with a rueful glance at their surroundings.

“Do what you can with it,” Rosslyn grunted.

Alistair was still holding her. “That’s twelve templars accounted for, including Dunn and the ones we passed on the way here,” he calculated. “How many would have been in the tower when the gate was shut?”

“Shifts have a full complement of thirty-three.” It was Cullen who answered, his gaze low on the bodies of his fallen comrades, on the blood congealing on his sword. “The number should have been greater, if mages could do this.”

“Demons did this,” Amell corrected, still pushing healing magic into Rosslyn’s arm.

“And who let the demons out?”

“It doesn’t change out plan,” Rosslyn interrupted, before another argument could start. “We have to find this Niall, and then whoever is behind this.”

“Umm…”

They had forgotten the mage the templars had been chasing. He huddled against the wall like a rabbit watching for a hawk, not quite ready to trust them but flicking his gaze from Amell, to Cullen, to the pile of dust that was all that remained of the demon.

“Did you mention Niall?” he asked.

Rosslyn frowned at him. “Do you know where he is?”

“We got separated…” The young mage shook his head.  

“What happened here?”

“Uldred,” came the reply. “It was Uldred. He told everyone Loghain was going to help free us of the Chantry, and in return we would be supporting him. Some said they wanted to stay neutral, and then the fighting started. He rounded everyone up and took them to the Harrowing chamber, but I don’t know what he’s doing to them.”

“Just when I think I can’t hear more bad things about Loghain,” Alistair scoffed. “How well do you know this Uldred, Enchanter?”

“Not well,” Amell answered. “He’s one of Irving’s aides.”

“Is he powerful?”

“He’s maleficar,” Cullen interrupted. “Who knows what he’s capable of.”

Rosslyn’s focus was still on the mage they had rescued. “What’s your name?”

“Godwin,” the mage answered. “Please, I didn’t do anything, I’m not one of them. Niall had a plan to take the Litany of Adralla to First Enchanter Irving, but there were so many demons. He’s still up on the next level somewhere.”

“Will you come with us?”

Godwin stared. “Are you mad? There’s too many of them to fight – I thought I’d, uh, find a cupboard instead and just be very, very quiet.”

“There’s a group of apprentices hiding in the library,” Amell offered. “We cleared all the demons between here and there.”

“Uh… no, I don’t trust –” He glanced at Cullen. “I mean, I’d rather stay here.”

“Suit yourself.” Rosslyn shrugged, and winced. “Just make sure you stay hidden. We don’t want another abomination sneaking up behind us.”

Godwin squeaked at that, but nodded. Then he cleared his throat again and wished them luck with a tentative smile and a mention that he had seen Niall put the Litany into a pocket before they were separated. The party didn’t look back as they climbed the stairs, as grim determination settled over them once more.

“I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this,” Alistair confessed to Rosslyn quietly a little while later. They had stepped from yet another narrow corridor into a high, vaulted room that must once have served as a common area or refectory, until something had stormed through like a dragon on the rampage and cast the now-shattered remains of the furniture against the walls. The aftereffects of whatever magic had caused the destruction raised gooseflesh even under all their layers of armour, and the silence boomed like the pause that hangs between a flash of lightning and the oncoming roll of thunder.

“South Reach was worse,” she told him, her eyes keen on the shadows.

“We’ll be out of it soon,” he said, almost to himself. “I, for one, am looking forward to a long, hot bath.”

“With bubbles?” she asked.

“And lavender-scented soap, and maybe even one of those painted wooden ducks to keep me company.”

She chuckled. “Those are children’s toys.”

“Ah, but I am a prince,” he pointed out. “If I have painted toy ducks, it’ll start a trend.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?” She sighed and dropped her voice. “How do you think our friends are holding up?”

Alistair glanced over his shoulder. “Honestly, not well. This is their home – they know these people, and…”

“They’ve fallen on opposite sides of a very old argument,” she finished for him. “It’s only going to get worse. We need to finish this quickly.”

They trudged on. What little could be seen of the sky outside showed the hours passing as they carved their way through those remaining in the tower and slowly lost hope that they would find more survivors. Pustules of what looked like raw flesh grew like mould on the walls, oozing and growing bigger the closer they stepped to the fourth floor, and every inch increased the latent hum of magic in the air. Rosslyn lost count of the number of abominations that fell to Talon’s edge. At the base of the stairs to the tower’s final floor they found Niall’s body crumpled against a wall, and only managed to fish the litany from his pocket after facing down a blood mage who came at them with half a dozen demons dancing at her fingertips. The parchment was faded, the writing smudged in places where the mage’s blood had soaked it, but Amell read it with confidence, memorising each phrase at one reading. It would have to do as their only secret weapon, because there was no doubt anymore that Uldred knew they were coming. They rested, tended their wounds, ate and drank what was left of their supplies, and moved on.

Nothing attacked them on the fourth floor. The fittings here were richer than the ones they had passed below, more comfortable and more decorative, and the windows were bigger. Late afternoon sun lit the brightly coloured spines of dozens of books and intricate Antivan carpets, and stands of polished swords that stood in racks next to spare shields blazing with the templar Sword of Mercy. It might have been a cosy scene, if not for the tang of metal that coiled at the back of the throat, and the growths of flesh that bulged even more thickly out of the walls. The air was hot, and ripe, and utterly still.  

They found the remaining templars at the foot of the last set of stairs up to the Harrowing chamber. Only a few were left alive. They had been stripped of their armour and thrown into a cage of light, their bodies broken, their minds fled. Babbled words grated through chapped lips, and they did not react to the newcomers, not even when Cullen called them by name and tried to smite the prison wall.  

“Poor buggers,” Alistair muttered. There was a hard line between his brows, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

Rosslyn touched his elbow, remembering what he told her about almost being made a templar. “There’s only one way to help them now.”

“Right. Let’s get this son of a pig and be done with it.”

Uldred was waiting for them. The body of a mage lay unmoving at his feet, and a sickly kind of smile split his face as Rosslyn and the others barged in behind their shields. His baldness made his age difficult to decipher, but he held himself with the absolute confidence of a man in complete control of his surroundings, the very picture of hubris. A crowd abominations lurked behind him, grim distortions of people with melted skin, standing guard over the handful of mages who were left to be put to whatever torture he had in mind for them. An older man was among the group, dressed in finer robes than the others, and his mouth fell open as he watched the four approach, whether to shout a warning or simply out of shock.

“We’re here for Irving,” Rosslyn declared. With her helmet covering her face, the words echoed in her ears.

“Are you now?” Uldred replied, and smiled so all of his teeth were visible. “I must admit, I’m impressed you made it this far. I sensed my demons fall, my prey escaping, the eddies of the disturbance ringing through the Fade, and who is it who comes? Why, the pernicious Falcon of Highever and the bastard brat King Cailan decided to make a prince. I’ll get accolades for ridding Loghain of the two of you.”

“Is he your master then?” She edged away from the door, towards the captured mages.

“There are no more masters,” Uldred snapped. “No more chains. But wait, what is this – Irving’s star pupil.” He advanced, dark eyes fixed on Amell. “You’ve seen how it is for mages, out among the wide world. The fear, the contempt. You’ve seen how unjust the Chantry is to people like us. But you don’t have to suffer like the rest of them. You could join me. I could teach you to –”

Cullen stepped in front of her, sword raised. “You won’t touch her.”

“Don’t be so crude.” Uldred swept his hand to the side like he was swatting a fly, and without warning the templar was picked up by some invisible force and flung across the room.

“No!”

The abominations lunged. Amell was beaten back by the swipe of long, malformed claws even as she tried to push past them to reach Cullen. Rosslyn and Alistair flanked her, catching the blows on their shields, but they were outnumbered, and these abominations had been draining the lives of countless mages for days. Even with more ice spells to slow them down, they barely seemed to feel the wounds inflicted on them.

Uldred ignored them.

“We all knew you fawned over her,” he sneered, prowling towards Cullen. He raised his hand, bringing his prey to his knees in prison of crushing light. “Following her movements like a cat watching a mouse. Did you think we didn’t notice? You and all the others, leashing us, forbidding our true potential.” He squeezed his fist and Cullen cried out. “Did you like what we did to your friends? They proved most interesting diversions.”  

“Uldred, stop it!”  

He turned at that, his face twisted into a sneer all the more sinister for the evenness of his voice. “Uldred? He is gone. I am Uldred and yet not Uldred. I am more than he ever was. I offer you one last chance –”

“No!” Irving interrupted from across the room. His teeth were bared with the effort to speak through whatever enchantment was holding him. “You must stop him. He’s building an army – going to destroy the templars, and then –”

“Enough! You’ve said too much, old man, and I wasn’t talking to –” His words cut off in a yell as Amell used the distraction to douse him in fire.

For an instant the abominations fell back, disorientated. One screeched as Alistair severed its arm, the sound cut off when Rosslyn lunged and cut out its throat, but before they could turn and press their advantage, the flames licking at Uldred’s robes flickered, then dimmed until there was nothing left but the scent of charred cloth.

“Some people can be so stubborn. Resistance, everywhere I go.”

The mage raised his hands again, curling his fingers into claws. A force gripped their limbs, burning through their veins and slowing their movements, and the abominations advanced once more, their horribly broken mouths pulled wide in anticipation –

And then the pressure was gone. The world swam into focus again, along with Amell’s voice, chanting low and melodic from behind a shimmering green barrier. Rosslyn raised Talon and cleaved through the nearest abomination, no longer caring about the ones that closed in behind her. Uldred was the goal. Without him, the rest would flounder. She ducked under one outstretched claw and bashed another aside with her shield, but even running flat out, she wasn’t fast enough to stop him. His form was shifting, growing, his robes tearing at the shoulders and across the waist as his body morphed into the true form of the demon sharing his soul. Chitinous black spikes burst from his skin, his teeth sharpened, and as Rosslyn pulled her sword back to strike, his eyes bled scarlet and any trace of the man he had once been succumbed in a bellow of rage. The creature turned to the attack, conjuring a ball of dark energy in one fist, and in the instant Rosslyn’s blade would have pierced its throat, it hurled the spell at her feet.

[orderoftheavengers]

Infinity Wand

Summary: I recognize that "Endgame" is now a movie. But given that it's a stupid-ass one, I'm electing to re-write it.

Ashes to Ashes, a new Dark Lord

The Avengers' final school year ends on a low note, with Thanos turning half of the world's population to ash with a flick of his Infinity Wand. Not only are half of all living things now gone, but Thanos has evened out the number of Muggles, Wizards and non-Human Beings in the universe, leading to the loss of almost the entire Muggle population.

Thanos now rules the planet with his Infinity Wand. Muggles were exposed to the magical world overnight, in the most horrifying way possible. Imagine preparing for a zombie apocalypse our whole life, only to suddenly instead see half your family crumble to ash, followed by a grape giant declaring himself your new Dark Lord.

All wizard schools are taken over by Thanos's minions, with a not-quite-dead Professor Squidward named the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. All the surviving students and Avengers must pretend to obey the slimy new Headmaster, and plan their continued fights in secret.

No Trust, Liar

Tony Stark and Nebula are left stranded in the ruins of Salazar Slytherin's palace, with no transportation. (Milano, the dragon that the Guardians of the Realm's house sits on the back of, was disintegrated by Thanos.) The two Slytherins develop a strong bond, and adopt each other. Tony teaches Nebula the Muggle sport of paper football, and Nebula drapes blankets over Tony after he's passed out. Just before they die of starvation and exposure, an unusually powerful vampire appears out of nowhere, hauls them each up in one arm, and flies them back to Hogwarts.

A tearful reunion follows in the Avengers' tower. Tony then lets out two years worth of rage at Steve Rogers, before collapsing to the floor and being taken to the Hospital Wing, where Bruce has to give him a literal sedative. That's when

Pepper lashes out at Steve for lying to Tony about his parents, and everything during the drunken Quidditch brawl. Rhodey tries to pacify her; as a military student himself, he guessed early on the real reason for Steve's lie, hence why he was so forgiving when they reunited during the Infinity War.

Steve then goes to the Hospital Wing, where Tony is still seemingly out cold. Steve finally pours out a real apology, warts and all, no excuses, with real emotion and tears. Mad-Eye Fury ordered Nat and Steve to stay quiet about Tony's parents, because Nick, like Stephanigus Strange , deduced that Tony was one of the world's most important defences against Thanos, and didn't want Earth's best defender getting sidetracked and killed on a quest for revenge. Steve never let Fury's orders stop him from doing what he wanted, and he admits now that the only thing stopping him from telling Tony was that he was a coward and he was selfish. He was afraid of Tony going after Bucky, or simply refusing to loan Steve his resources to look for him. He didn't write Tony a real apology after the "Civil War" because Steve has spent the last seven years shielding himself with corny cliches and heroic trappings. Tony wakes up while Steve is starting to cry, and states plainly that he doesn't think he'll ever be capable of forgiving him.

His rage returning, Tony adds, "Nice of you to finally give a real apology after two years though. Only took all your favorite friends dying." Rolling over he repeats, "No trust. Liar."

Last Hope, Crushed

For a brief moment, the Avengers think they had a chance to undo the Dusting Curse.

"Get Time Turners from the Ministry of Magic!" Nat says. "Use them to get our own set of Infinity Stones, fight Thanos, and bring everyone back!"

Since Hermione Granger was among the Dusted, she can't loan them her own Time Turner. But the Order of the Avengers, and their new allies, are able to break into the now Thanos-controlled Ministry....only to find that Thanos has destroyed all of the Time Turners, to prevent exactly what they were trying to do. Conveniently, everyone who knew how to make a Time Turner has been Dusted. And on top of that, he's also Dusted the Avengers' and Guardians' resident telepaths ("completely random" my ass).

Bruce screams at the purple bastard, "Why the hell didn't you just use the Time Turners, or the Time Stone, or all the stones, to make more resources, instead of killing trillions?!" just before Nat drags him out the window by the tail during their escape.

Worst Summer Ever

This following summer break is the worst the Order of the Avengers have ever had.

When the Dusting spell was cast, Clint Barton is at the family cottage with his younger brothers and sisters. His oldest sister is preparing a picnic, while Clint teaches his youngest sister an arrow spell. Having accepted his expulsion from Hogwarts following the UnCivil Quidditch Brawl, Clint is taking the rest of the school year off, and considering his job options. Then, suddenly, all of his younger siblings are ash. This breaks the Hufflepuff, who promised their parents before they died that he'd protect his little brothers and sisters. Clint drops his Hawkeye moniker and becomes Ronin the Barbarian. Outraged by the injustice of the Dusting Spell, Clint hunts down evil people, wizard and Muggle alike, with the Sword of Helga Hufflepuff.

Bruce Banner undergoes the most obvious change. After weeks of being unable to come out, the Wolf finally returns full force, after seeing half his friends Dusted. It takes Thor, Carol and Nebula to subdue the Wolf. Since both Wanda and Mantis are now dust, only traditional magical science can help the giant green werewolf. Tony teams up with Princess Shrui--who was not dusted--to help solve Bruce's dilemma. With the help of all his friends, Bruce slowly makes peace with "the furry guy," as both are now in 100% agreement in their fury and devastation. Bruce then undergoes a new transformation, becoming a humanoid, rationally-thinking werewolf. He takes on the name "Professor Wolf," and gains some new fangirls amongst the surviving Muggle population (mainly the Muggles who frequent DeviantArt and Fur Affinity).

For Tony and Pepper, there is a tiny grain of happiness, encompassed by more fear, when Pepper discovers she is pregnant. They plan to name the child after her eccentric, possibly-magical uncle Morgan. Tony gets them a cottage by a lake, near Bill and Fleur's place, walled off with protective spells. But everyone still lives in terror of Thanos. Tony's Slytherin will is temporarily snuffed out, save his determination to keep Pepper and the baby safe.

Steve Rogers, who during the Infinity War proved to have recovered from his out-of-character antics during the drunken Quidditch Civil War, is devastated by all the loss, especially Bucky crumbling to dust right before him. Steve often looks at his compass, inside of which he has stuck Peggy Carter's wizard card, not because he is abruptly obsessing over an old flame, but because he's wondering what someone he admired would be telling him to do now. He decides to start leading therapy groups, like Sam did. Steve occasionally goes on tangents about his own comparatively minor troubles, but this is a quirk the world has simply come to accept from the Gryffindor.

Thor is arguably in the worst position. His entire family has died one by one, plus the wise family owl Heimdall, and the mountain region of Asgard has been destroyed, along with three forths of the Asgardian population (first half were slaughtered by Thanos's army, and then half of the surviving half were Dusted). Since Hogsmede now has some extra space, the surviving Asgardians are able to get a new neighborhood there. Thor spends most of his time in his apartment above the Three Broomsticks, playing Muggle video games with his friends, and spiraling into alcoholism and overeating.

Natasha Romanoff locks herself up in the Ravenclaw tower and becomes a workaholic, obsessively monitoring the surviving populations around the world, and organizing remaining vigilantes still fighting to protect the innocent from Thanos. The only thing she does for herself is Metamorph her hair into a cool ombre sunset motif.

Carol Danvers isn't around much. "There are a lot of intelligent species in the magic world, and most of them don't have an Order of the Avengers." She keeps in touch with Natasha via the Floo Network, though. But Mad-Eye Fury didn't contact Carol for nothing. What makes her so special? Her connections. Nick knew Carol had a whole Realm of species to protect, and promised to only bother her with (living) humans if something that directly and immediately threatened all populations came up. Carol is now flying around the planet, rallying Vampires and other Beings in the effort to defy Thanos. She also gets a rather boss haircut.

Nebula plots her revenge on Thanos, while also checking on Tony and Pepper. When the time comes, Nebula is even in the delivery room.

Scott Lang is still trapped in the Spirit Realm, and thought to be among the Dusted....

The Ant-Nimagus Returns!

At the end of his last adventure, Scott Lang entered the Spirit Realm to collect ectoplasm (basically ghost-sh!t) to help his new ghostly friend, Ava Starr. Unfortunately the entire Pym/Van Dyne family was dusted, along with Ava, and Scott was left stranded in Limbo for the entire summer....

Then, just as the leaves were beginning to change, one of the Weasley family rats (Scabbers XIV) chews away at the magic veil Scott vanished behind, and finally opened up a portal wide enough for Scott to escape. Scott is confused and horrified when he stumbles onto the street and finds trees covered in Missing posters, accompanied by Ordinances signed by "the Dark Lord Thanos." And Muggle news sources talking about magic?!

Rushing to his ex's house, Scott is both relieved and frightened to be greeted by his now teenage daughter.

After the tearful reunion, Scott asks, "How many years was I gone Cassie? It felt like three hours."

"It was three months Dad," Casseopia Lang replies. "I had another fay growth spurt in that time."

(Cassie Lang is part nymph, and ages more quickly than her peers.) 

"Wow, we're like, almost the same age now. This is awkward."

"Mom and Jim are dust."

"And depressing."

Scott finds his way to Steve and Nat, who are flabbergasted but overjoyed to find him alive. Scott is crushed to learn that all three of his crime-buddies are now piles of ash in the Slytherin common-room. Scott arranges the three piles into neat circles, into which he draws crude emote faces to represent how he best remembers each of them.

Scott is able to bring something to the table that even Carol Danvers lacks; knowledge of the Spirit Realm, which exists outside the Spacetime Continuum, and thus can be used for Time Travel. In fact, it turns out that this Realm was regularly used by the Ministry in the Manufacturing of Time Turners...

Lab Gang Learning about this new hope, Tony is at first apprehensive. By now, more months have passed, and Pepper has given birth to a baby girl. Tony doesn't want to lose Morgan or Pepper, or endanger more lives, in an attempt to defy Thanos. But a glance at a wizard-photo of him goofing off with his little Ravenclaw has him change his mind. Tony flies back to the Avengers' tower at Hogwarts, and tells Steve he's done letting resentment eat away at him, and presents Steve with a new shield. Since Steve has already given a full, satisfying, heartfelt apology and explanation, that the audience saw every detail of and didn't have to head-canon up for themselves, Tony's forgiveness makes perfect sense and has the exact emotional impact its writers intend for it to (breaks keyboard while typing). Now, the smartest wizards have to figure out how to use the Spirit Realm for time travel. Deep in Snape's old Potions dungeon, Tony, Bruce, Rocket, and Shuri--who was not Dusted!--all get together to brainstorm. The four geniuses exchange ingenuity and banter, and it is brilliant. Rocket, a niffler, is enamored with Tony’s chest amulet, and steals it, causing some health problems for Tony. This angers Professor Wolf, who chases the niffler/raccoon hybrid around the lab until he catches him and makes him into a violent chew toy. Shuri snags Rocket from the Wolf, and the amulet from Rocket. Struck with inspiration, the Wakandan princess makes some adjustments to the amulet, to Tony’s embarrassment and begrudging awe. This leads to a “eureka!” moment for the four of them, in regards to the Time Travel problem, and they finally get it solved. Meanwhile, Nat, using her metemorphmagus spy skills, finally tracks Clint Barton down in Japan, where he is slaying evil Vampires with the Sword of Hufflepuff (an opal-encrusted katana). He apparently also used the sword to try cutting his hair, hence his disastrous new do. Nat tells Clint they may have a way to bring his family back, and possibly even fix his hair. With this new glimmer of hope, Clint returns to Hogwarts.

Time Heist! Tony and Scott first attempt to use their combined Slythrin cunning to stal the Mind Stone from the Avengers' first battle with Loki, but succeed only in amusing shenanigans and observing Amreica's ass. Figuring it may be better to combine opposite skills, Tony and Steve then decide to try a Slytherin/Gryffindor team-up, and they go further back to the 1970s. There, they find help from the Maurauders, who are more than happy to break some rules and help with a heist, even for two guys they don't know. Steve sees Peggy, carrying on with her life, and watches her with a mixture of sad longing, and happiness that she's moved on. Tony meanwhile meets his father Howard, and discusses parenthood with him. Howard goes on about how "unqualified" he feels, and how he'd do anything for his coming baby, and Tony is reminded once more how full of sh*t his father always was. But since the bastard died an admittedly horrible death, Tony hugs and thanks him anyway, before yeeting off with the Stone. Steve starts to apologize once again, but Tony cuts him off. Tony's cunning and Steve's daring result in a success, and they return to the present time with the Mind Stone. Thor and Rocket travel to Asgard's past, to get the Reality Stone. Thor reunites with his mother, and sees he's still worthy of his hammer/broom, which he brings back with him to the present. Before he leaves, Queen Frigga tells him, "It's time to start being who you are, rather than who you're 'supposed' to be." "Are you telling me to step down from my throne?" "...step down? After your first five years were less than ideal? You're barely 1500 years old, my son. What I'm saying is, you could  take a bit of time off to find yourself. A decade or two of vacation, having adventures with your rabbit friend, maybe. And you can even stay fat for a few centuries if you want. But why in the world would I be suggesting that you should throw away all you've fought for, just because of how things turned out over the last half-decade?" "I'm sorry Mother...living with Midgardians must've gone to my head. Though, I always was rather impulsive anyway."   Rhodey and Nebula meanwhile travel to the Forbidden Forest, where Star Lord is about to steal the Power Stone from a heavily guarded cave. Rhodey and Nebula get along well, both now being close friends of Tony's, and both having been magically modified against their wills. (Rhodey, still a merman, must rely on his silver broom for transportation above water.) The pair interrupts Quill's opening dance number with Petrificus Totalus, and snag the Stone. Past-Thanos learns what they're up to, and almost follows them back to the present time, but Nebula kills her evil past self and past-Thanos, gaining some much-needed catharsis for herself. Past Gamora, however, stows away aboard Nebula's broom, as she and Rhodey fly back through the Spirit Realm to the present. Bruce gets the Time Stone from fellow a Ravenclaw, the Ancient One. Not battle or trickery is needed for this one; just honest, Ravencalw-to-Ravenclaw reasoning. When Bruce tells her about Strange sacrificing the Time Stone to save Tony, she realizes what this must mean, and hands the Stone over to Bruce. "But you must promise to return it, and restore the timeline." "I swear, my Lady, there is no one amongst the Order of the Avengers who would ever even consider messing up the Timeline for any reason, no matter how tempted they are." Nat and Clint go back in time to the palace of Salazar Slythrin, where Red Skull explains the trade for the Time Stone. Hufflepuff Clint naturally wants to be the one to die; he's already lost his family, he can't bear to lose his best friend as well. And he feels he deserves death, for the violent way he handled the loss of his family. But Nat, ever the pragmatic Ravenclaw, remembers that this death may not be permanent; and if god forbid it is, Clint's family will need him, and the world will need as many stable families like Clint's as possible, to rebuild. And she has a lot more red on her ledger to die for than he does. So she sacrifices herself. This apparent loss crushes the Avengers. The stereotype that Ravenclaws are just cold intellectual machines is BS; Nat was introspective and witty, and at the center of the heart of thee Order. And she never got to have a family. They sit in front of the Hogwarts lake, taking in her death. 

Bruce roars, and tosses a bench into the lake. The kids sitting on the bench, Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley, barely react, as they too were close with Nat and are mourning her. Even the Giant Squid is too sad to be bothered by the littering of his lake.  "We'll bring her back," Steve says sternly, as tears stream down his face. "It can't be undone," Clint chokes. "Sure it can't," Tony says clenching his jaw. "Just like Time Travel and bringing back the Dusted is impossible. When this is over, we won't need the Stone anymore, and we'll still have Time Travel." The Un-Dusting Tony builds a new Infinity Wand for the Avengers' set of Stones. Naturally, he designs the wand with the same red motif as his own--but this isn't just Tony's diva ego flashing again. He has always seen it has his own duty to defeat Thanos. His mind is temporarily changed when he attempts to use the Infinity Wand, and nearly passes out just from holding it with all the stones. Only Professor Wolf is strong enough to wield it with relative ease, and even he howls with pain as he flicks it. Thanos (the real, current Thanos, who is not dead) senses at once that a new Infinity Wand has been created and used, and attacks Hogwarts. The Avengers prepare to face him themselves, Bruce still weilding the Infinity Wand in his furry green paw, when suddenly portals open up around the school. Stephanigus Strange is back, along with all of the Dusted! Steve Rogers is frozen as he watches Sam and Bucky fly towards him on their brooms, coming from the left and right respectively. Bucky stares at Steve with scolding eyes, and says, "I told you not to do anything stupid," before barreling into him with a hug. Meanwhile, an adorkable little Ravenclaw in a spider-themed cloak swings up to Tony, and begins babbling about how wild it is to be back from the dusted, only to be interrupted by a tight hug. "Oh, this is nice!" As Tony crushes his surrogate baby brother, his eyes meet Bucky's, who is stilll crushing Steve. It's a silent, wet-eyed, exchange of forgiveness between the two of them. Then Tony notices Professor Squidward raising his wand behind Bucky and Steve. In one slick movement, Tony shoves Peter behind him, whips out his own wand, and blasts Squidward into a thousand gory pices of sushi. Bucky returns the favor a moment later, blasting a Thanos-minion that was coming up on Tony and Peter, before leaping over and finishing the villain off with some loud vampiric slurping. Bruce searches desperately for Natasha, and can't find her. He has a sickening feeling she wasn't revived. Vision and Gamora aren't seen either.... But all of the other the Guardians of the Realm are back. King T'Challa leaps through a portal, roaring and changing into his panther form in mid-jump. Wanda Maximoff soars out of the Wakanda portal, no broom or wand, running purely on her own scarlet magic. A pixie buzzes over to Scott, and Hope Van Dyne reverts to her usual size. A white ghostly blur gradually solidifies into Ava Starr, emerging through a slightly irritated Stephen Strange. Valkyrie flies in on her Pegasus, accompanied by all of the Asgardians, including Thor's new eccentric friends from "Ragnarok." From the next portal comes Nicademus Fury and Maria Underhill, ready to kick ass, and not about to miss out on this epic showdown battle, because that would just be jackalope-sh*t. From the next portal comes Lady Sif, Sharyn Carter, Christine Everhart, Bill Foster, and Galaga Guy. From the next, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron, Hagrid, and all of the main heroes from their generation (all having been Dusted). Portals open from wizarding schools around the world--Ilvermorny, Durmstrang, Beaubaxtons, Mahoutokoro, and Xavier's School for Gifted Wizards. From the final portal emereges Eddie Brock/Venom, Deadpool, and DarkWing Duck.   And now the most epic battle in wizard history begins. Battle for Hogwarts The red Infinity Wand is tossed between the strongest Avengers during the battle, each of whom gets a turn using it against Thanos's original model. Bruce and the Wolf fight Thanos once more, now together, and wielding the red Infinity Wand. Professor Wolf is struggling to simply turn Thanos and his minions to dust, but it's one Infinity Wand up against another. As the two Infinity Wands blast against each other, a light begins to glow in the middle of the two spells. Bruce suddenly hears a familiar voice, half in his head. "Bruce, give someone else a turn." Natasha--or a ghostly version of her--is emerging from the middle of the two Infinity Wands' spells. "Priori Incantatem!" shouts Shuri, from her blue-and-silver panther broom. "Or something like it! Two sets of Infinity Stones blasting against each other, their past spells are regurgitating!" The moment of shock distracts Bruce long enough for Thanos to blast him to the ground. The grape bastard is about to pick up the other Infinity Wand, but spirit-Nat delivers a kick to his face. It's not a huge amount of damage--she only has the typical strength of a very angry poltergeist--but it buys enough time for Spidey to swing by and snag up the wand with his web. The little Ravenclaw trembles with the Infinity Wand in his hand; he's stronger than the average wizard, but maybe not quite strong enough to wield an Infinity Wand without harming himself. Thanos and his minions close in on him, and Thanos raises his own Infinity Wand towards Peter. The two Infinity Wands clash against each other once more, and another ghost emerges--Gamora. "I won't let you hurt another orphan!" ghost-Gamora screams, flying at her "father's" putrid head with her green fists raised. Below, past-Gamora watches in awe, as the revenge she's alwasy dreamed of starts to come true before her eyes. Seemingly all of the witches in the battle fly over and form a motherly wall between Thanos and Spidey, with ghost-Gamora and Nat in the lead. Valkyrie flies over on her Pegasus, and Ava Star comes running out of a Hogwarts castle wall. Pepper Potts is also there, with a new shinny purple broom and wand. Wanda Maxmoff and Jean Gray exchange a glance, silently admiring each other's red magic motifs, while Storm brings in some extra lightning for Thor. While the two Infinity ghosts of Nat and Gamora wrestle Thanos, Carol Danvers leaps over and snags the red Infinity Wand from Peter, just before the poor kid collapses. Thanos throws the two spirits off of him, and blasts at Carol. Now it's Captain Marvel's turn to have an Infinity duel with the Dark Lord. Thanos head-butts Carol, which does nothing to the vampire. An armada of dragons closes in, and Carol blasts them all with the Infinity Wand. She tries to turn Thanos and his minions to dust, but he stops her with his own Wand. Once again, two Infinity Wands clash. Carol's holding it against Thanos good, but one of the grape f**ker's minions delivers a cheap blast to her back, sending Carol spinning into the air, and the red Infinity Wand into Thanos's outstretched hand. The purple Dark Lord now wields both Infinity Wands. Worthy Thor raises Mjolnir, now in hammer form (it can switch between hammer and broom), in one hand, and Stormbreaker in the other, hoping his two weapons might be at least a momentary match for the two Infinity Wands. Unfortunately, Thanos instantly blasts Mjolnir out of Thor's hand, though Thor manages to keep a hold of the ax. A corny Mexican tune suddenly honks through the battlefield. Ant-Man's three friends are back, and they've made a quick heist on the way to the courtyard. They're flying in on their magical musical carpet. "Hey Scotty," Luis bellows, "Sorry we're late. Here, this thing's like a magical-sword vending machine or something, right?" And he tosses down the Sorting Hat. Scott, currently a giant ant, fails to catch the hat in his whale-sized pincers. But Janet Van Dyne flies by and grabs the Sorting Hat. Her daughter, in miniature-pixy form, soars into the Hat. Hope comes out, full-sized, wielding a Japanese-styled Katnana, with an elegant bronze handle shaped like an eagle, encrusted with sapphires: the Sword of Ravenclaw. Janet tosses the Hat down to Sam Wilson, yelling, "Pass it around!" Sam pulls out the Sword of Hufflepuff. "Isn't this yours?" he asks Clint, who refuses it. "I got my arrows." Clint says, blasting his arrow spells from his wand like a machine gun. Sam gives a curt nod. The young animagus then takes his Falcon form, clutching the sword in his talons, and tossing the Sorting Hat to Nebula. The blue chimera draws the silver, serpentine Sword of Slytherin--once her sister Gamora's personal weapon. Rhodey swoops by on his broom, slapping the Hat into the air with his merman-tail, and in midair, drawing the Sword of Gryffindor. There is one last weapon to be picked up. Mjolnir is lifted from the ground, with a clash of thunder.  Steve Rogers is finally worthy to lift Mjolnir, now that he has finally owned all of his past faults and grown out of previous shallow idea of heroism, in a well-done arc that the audience saw in detail and didn't have to head-canon up for themselves (smashes computer and tosses it out the window). Everyone is now armed with some uniquely badass weapon, gathered behind the Cap. Holding the hammer and shield, Steve finally bellows, "Avengers, assemble!" Scott Lang is now in his largest Ant-Nimagus form, putting Them! to shame, tossing Thanos's minions aside like action figures. Assisting him is the Giant Squid. Hope speeds through the field with Ravenclaw's Katana like a samurai Tinkerbell, sending heads flying. Ava Starr runs through a string of Thanos's minions, ripping out their hearts as she does, making a bloody set of dominoes. She tries doing the same to Thanos, but his Infinity Wand makes it impossible for her to go through his body. Scott has also learned that the "going up Thanos's ass" trick won't work, since it turns out that Titans have no assholes. So he continues to kick ass as a giant ant. Pepper and Tony fight side by side on their badass Iron-brooms with the badass Iron-wands. Groot does his vine-of-death thing. Venom eats bad guys, while in the shape of a sexy woman.   Bucky and Rocket are being closed in by a circle of Thanos's minions. So Bucky lets Rocket remove his metal arm. Bucky fights the foes in front of him with his human fist, wand, and vampire teeth, while Rocket rides the enchanted armor-arm like a broom, steering it towards villains that it strangles, punches, or pokes the eyeballs out of. (Bucky can control his arm even when it isn't attached to him.) Wanda Maximoff flies over (no broom required) to help Steve and Thor. The latter two hold off the blast from the red Infinity Wand, Cap using his shield and Mjolnir, and Thor using Stormbreaker and his other bare hand. Wanda Maximoff hisses at Thanos, "You took everything from me!" and with her bare hands, contains the original gold Infinity Wand with her scarlet magic. She puts all her effort into destroying it, with the image of Vision strong in her mind (har, har). She manages to make Thanos's Mind Stone crack, just a tad, and out of the crack flies the ghost of her lover. Tears well up in Wanda's eyes, but she doesn't let go. The ghosts of Gamora, Natasha and Vision join Wanda, each taking a hold of the wand and crushing as hard as their ghostly hands can manage. Finally, Thanos's Infinity Wand is destroyed in an explosion of light, that knocks everyone in a hundred mile radius to the ground. Inevitable There is one Infininty Wand left now. It is sitting in the middle of the courtyard. Thanos and Tony both make a dive for it. As they struggle over the wand, Thanos sneers, "I will destroy this universe down to the last molecule, and create a new one in its place." "They'll never accept you!" Tony snaps. "They'll never know." Tony's face says it all. After everything he's experienced, that is indeed a loaded phrase for Tony to hear. Thanos throws Tony off, knocking him into the castle wall. "I am inevitable!" he says raising his wand....only to realize he has no wand. Tony, bruised and bloodied, pushes himself up, and holds up the red Infinity Wand. "And I...am...Iron Man." No incantations are required for this killing curse; just pure unstoppable will. Thanos's fat purple jaw drops as his minions crumble to dust around him. The Titan's own will and power being abnormally strong, he resists the Dusting for a few moments of struggle. But then, both Gamoras--the ghost that emerged from the Infinity Wands, and the physical version from the past--leap at their "father" from opposite directions, the latter now wielding the Sword of Slytheirn. Past-Gamora stabs Thanos through the heart, and says just loud enough for him to hear, "For my real parents." Before he dies, Thanos sees himself in a field, facing a young Gamora, the child he orphaned and kidnapped all those years ago. "You love nothing," the green child says locking eyes with him. "And so you have nothing. You are nothing." She, the field, and Thanos's entire universe disintegrate, as the Titan crumbles into a pile of ash. You Promised When the dust settles, there is only one Gamora. The Infinity-Ghost has merged with the past body. She shakily rises to her feet, tears falling down her green face. "Gamora!" Peter Quill, who hasn't had a chance to speak to her yet, tears across the field to her. For a moment, it looks like they're about to kiss. Gamora chokes, "Peter..." and then knees him in the balls. She finishes with a hiss, "You promised!" Clutching his shattered bludgers, Quill retorts in a strained voice, "Hypocrite!" He is referring to the fact that Gamora couldn't sacrifice her sister to keep the Stone from Thanos. Gamora makes an admitting face, helps him up, and now they kiss. ...Mr. Stark? "We won!" Peter Parker shakes a barely conscious Tony, who is slumped against the castle wall. Half of Tony's face is burned, and the blue light from his chest amulet is flickering. "Sir! Can you hear me?" Everyone is crowded around Antonius Stark. It's unbelievable that an ordinary human wizard, with no extra powers, was able to wield the Infinity Wand at all, much less still be even a little bit alive after doing so. Tony's willpower is abnormally strong, even for a Slytherin. There was a reason he had Thanos's "respect." Pepper knows Tony literally will not rest, in any sense of the word, until he knows everyone is safe. "Tony, we're all gonna be fine." Pepper says keeling beside him. "You can rest now." The light goes out. Not our Steve! Tony is rushed to Wakanda. He has been declared "dead," but magical medicine is improving every day. Meanwhile, someone needs to return the remaining Infinity Stones to their proper time periods, to keep the timeline in tact. Since Steve Rogers is the only Avenger bland enough not to draw any attention to himself even if he tried, he is the perfect candidate. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," Steve says to Bucky. "How can I," Bucky repeats, "You're taking all the stupid with you." Steve strides through the veil into the Spirit Realm, to begin his Time Travel.... ...and he doesn't come back when he's supposed to. "I don't know what happened!" Professor Wolf says in dismay. "He just missed his jump..." Sam notices someone on a nearby bench, and breathes to himself, "Oh, hell no...."

The old wizard sitting on the bench is hunched and wrinkled, and has a long old-wizard beard tied with an American flag styled bow.

“S-Steve?” Sam stammers. “WTF?”

The old wizard smiles. “I decided to try that 'life' thing Tony was always telling me about. So I stayed in my old timeline and got married to the woman of my dreams.” "Peggy?" Sam exclaimed. "She had her own full life after you! She had a husband and kids! I think her husband was a one-legged veteran! You're telling me you stole a one-legged vet's wife and erased their kids, so you could have a woman you kissed once 70 years ago?" "Maybe the one-legged vet wasn't ever her husband." Old-Steve retorts. "Maybe it was me, all along!"

Bucky interjects, “I don’t suppose in all those years you were with Peggy, you found any time to save me from being Hydra’s puppet, or being forced to kill all those people, like Howard and his wife?”

“Erm…" Old-Steve shifts on the bench.

“Speaking of Tony,” Bruce Banner growls, “Were you able to use this opportunity of time travel to bring him, Natasha, Vision, and all our other fallen comrades back?”

“I mustn't alter the timeline, fellas.” Old-Steve replies.

“Hey wait a sec,” Sam says,  “You spent 70 years letting your wife clock into the Order of the SHIELD knowing the whole time she was working for Hydra and not even knowing it?”

“Temporal Prime Directive,” Old-Steve grunts.

Bruce, clenching his green furry fists, asks, “So did you ever bob your niece on your knee? You know, the one you snogged?”

“Adam and Eve were brother and sister.” Steve defends simply.

Bucky exclaims, "You couldn't use this time-travel to save anybody from any of the horrible things you witnessed over 70 years, but you were fine erasing Peggy and Daniel's kids?!"

"See," Old-Steve held up a hand to explain. “When we travel back in time, it makes a new timeline. So you don’t know for a fact that any of those awful implications are even true at all. I might have saved all of you in that other timeline I created, and stopped Bucky from becoming the Winter Soldier, and Tony from becoming an orphan--" "And abandoned me for a better version of me?" Bucky finishes.

Before Steve can reply, Bruce demands, “If it’s another timeline then how’d you get back to this one? That cop out doesn't work at all Steve!”  

A familiar voice interrupts, "Seriously you guys? You really think that thing could ever be me?”

The real Steve Rogers–still the same age as he was when he went to return the stones–enters the field, his face crestfallen. “How could any of you believe that this bastardization with my face is the real Steve Rogers, even for half a second?”

Sam mutters, “Well it wouldn’t be the first time you were wildly out of character….” "WE WERE ALL DRUNK DURING THE CIVIL WAR QUIDDITCH MATCH!" (real) Steve exclaims. "Can't I ever live that down?" The false-Steve says, "No, but you can live with Peggy, in the past. The opportunity is still there, Rogers."   Another familiar, snarkier, voice cuts in: "Hold on, I've got the remote." Tony Stark comes up behind Steve, half his face scarred with burns, and one of his robe sleeves flying emptily. In his remaining hand, his red Iron-wand is pointed at the impostor. "RIDDICULOUS!"

The old-Steve transforms into a younger Steve, dancing around the field wearing only a whipped cream bra and briefs.

Here's What Really Happened “A boggart!” a dazed Bruce realizes, watching the false "Steve" do a slow strip tease. “But it’s usually the moon for me…”

“Mine’s the Winter Soldier,” Bucky muses.

Sam finishes, “And mine’s a copy of the ‘Star Wars’ Christmas Special." "But all three of you were standing so close together," Natasha Romanoff--very much alive--enters behind Tony and Steve, arms folded. "So it had to take a form that would horrify you all at once." Bruce breaks out of his daze, and barrels into Tony and Nat with a giant furry green hug. "Nat! Tony!...how?" "Same as Gamora," Nat says, returning the hug. "I came out when the two Infinity Wands clashed. Steve made one tiny change in the timeline when returning the stones, to bring me a body. I have memories of falling to my death, even feeling my body hit the ground. But I also remember Steve popping out of a portal just before I fell to my death, and watching him have a badass duel with Red Skull. It's like waking up from a dream and not knowing what to believe." Tony pointed at her. "Don't go stealing lines from underrated movies like 'Frequency!'" turning to Bruce he explains, "I guess when I slaughtered Thanos's minions, I accidentally turned my amulet into a horcrux. I'm down one arm, but Shuri was able to pump some new life into my body with some donated vampire blood from Bucky and Carol, and as long as I keep this thing on, I'll mostly stay in one piece. But I can also take it off and turn into Tony the Unfriendly Ghost. It's pretty sweet, in an existentially horrifying way." "Don't lie Tones," Nat elbows him. "You'd never miss a chance to be the epitome of both angst and scientific advancement."

"Then...everyone's back?" Sam asks. "Not everyone," Wanda replies heavily, entering the field. Next to her is Princess Shuri. "The Mind Stone from Tony's Infinity Wand had to be returned to its original time period," Suri begins. "The Mind Stone from ours is destroyed, with the rest of Thanos's Infinity Wand. I tried to save him, I was sure he could live without the stone...." "It was always highly experimental," Wanda finishes. After some grieving, the Order of the Avengers all go out to the Three Broomsticks for a bittersweet dinner and round of drinks.

Epilogue: Tony Stark has finally found the perfect job for him, as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Teachers of Hogwarts. Tony was born for the job, on its two most important grounds: Iron Man is obviously the epitome of "defense against the dark arts;" and since being a D.A.D.A. teacher always means suffering some horrible fate at the end of the semester, this too is Tony's life in a nutshell. No teacher before has been willing to return for another semester, after ending their first one memory-wiped, disintegrated, locked in a chest, or soul-sucked by a Dementor. But for Tony, such things are the story of his life. He always has the summer to recuperate. He also has a new magical red-and-gold armor-arm, so that keeps him pretty entertained. More important though, he has Morgan and Pepper. "I love you 3000." Steve Rogers decides to indeed "try that life thing Tony's always talking about," but without ****ing the timeline. He returns to his home country, and coaches Quadpod (the explosive American version of Quidditch), at Ilvermorny School of Magic.  Either Sam or Bucky will carry on his moniker as Captain America, and his embarrassing portrait in the Gryffindor Quidditch pit will carry on his inspirational speeches and moral lectures. Thor plans to find a proper new home for his people. Joining the Guardians of the Realm, he is on the lookout for any unclaimed mountain range or forest that can be called New Asgard. In the meantime, he has left Valkyrie in his stead, back at their burrow in Hogsmede. Nat is teaching Transfiguration, and Clint, Magical Archery. And "Professor Wolf" is in the dungeons, teaching Potions. Bruce can alternate between any of his three forms at will, and actually tends to teach in his boring, adorkable human form (with only the green tail). After curing Bucky's mind-control, almost saving Vision's life, and curing Everett Ross's near-fatal wounds in hours, Shuri finally has managed to fix Rhodey's legs. He has spent the last month going through the very long list of "asses that need kicking" that he's been accumulating since his accident. Wanda and Bucky are growing close, though Ava might make it a love triangle. Or she might simply be the couple's "little sister." Tony and Shuri are constantly competing to give Bucky a better new arm every month, and Bucky is... (cough)...stockpiling arms. (Dodges tomatoes.) Bucky, Tony and Nebula regularly have magical metal arm-wrestling contests.  Bucky, Tony and Wanda are also all extremely protective of each other, after their guilt complexes regarding one another. Carol Danvers continues to patrol the non-Human societies of the planet, and is now dating Valkyrie. And Peter Parker is preparing for a trip abroad, and graduation. He's scared of adulthood, of no longer being dependent on Aunt May or Mr. Stark, but he will take it in stride. Notes: Willikers! Holy mustache! This was a trip.  To honestly justify each characters' Sorting, I have to stick to their main defining moments in canon. I basically decided to keep the most iconic scenes of "Endgame," while giving it a better plot and climax. And ending. By god, the ending. By god, Steve Rogers. Many people online peg Steve for a Slytherin, and by the last scene of "Endgame," he seems every bit like a Rowling-esque, self-serving Slytherin bastard. I have only two arguments for still sorting him into Gryffindor. (1)  the Sorting Hat never said Slytherins were selfish; just ambitious, cunning, and power-hungry. Steve's selfish actions in "Endgame" could just as easily be the result of a Gryffindor's impulsive stupidity and self importance. (2) Steve can be literally any House you want, because Steve has no consistent character at all. Not in the MCU. For this project, I chose to sort Steve going by the traits the films indented for us to see in him, and used as many mental gymnastics as I could manage to rationalize those traits with his actions in canon. I am nowhere near done with this series. I still have all of the supporting cast of "Black Panther" among other things. In the meantime, see the blog for more MCU characters at Hogwarts.  

[artemis-entreri]

[[ This post contains Part 1 of my review/analysis of the Forgotten Realms/Drizzt novel, Boundless, by R. A. Salvatore. As such, the entirety of this post’s content is OOC. ]]

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Generations: Book 2 | Legend of Drizzt #35 (#32 if not counting The Sellswords)

Publisher: Harper Collins (September 10, 2019)

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Additional Information: Artwork for the cover of Boundless and used above is originally done by Aleks Melnik. This post CONTAINS SPOILERS. Furthermore, this discussion concerns topics that I am very passionate about, and as such, at times I do use strong language. Read and expand the cut at your own discretion.

Contents:

Introduction

I. Positives (you are here)     I.1 Pure Positives     I.2 Muddled Positives

II. Mediocre Writing Style     II.1 Bad Descriptions     II.2 Salvatorisms     II.3 Laborious "Action"

III. Poor Characterization     III.1 "Maestro"     III.2 Lieutenant     III.3 Barbarian     III.4 "Hero"     III.5 Mother

IV. World Breaks     IV.1 Blinders Against the Greater World     IV.2 Befuddlement of Earth and Toril     IV.3 Self-Inconsistency     IV.4 Dungeon Amateur     IV.5 Utter Nonsense

V. Ego Stroking     V.1 The Ineffable Companions of the Hall     V.2 Me, Myself, and I

VI. Problematic Themes     VI.1 No Homo     VI.2 Disrespect of Women     VI.3 Social-normalization     VI.4 Eugenics

VII. What's Next     VII.1 Drizzt Ascends to Godhood     VII.2 Profane Redemption     VII.3 Passing the Torch     VII.4 Don't Notice Me Senpai

Positives

I've found that the untrammeled positive elements of Boundless exclusively have to do with solid turns of phrase peppered throughout the book. There are also semi-positives in terms of characterizations and literary devices that Salvatore uses, but these are at best mixed. 

Pure Positives

Salvatore pulls off some surprisingly good descriptions in Boundless through the usage of a more varied vocabulary than his standard repertoire, evocative imagery, compelling metaphors, and other effective strategies. An example of a good passage is, "The demon responded with a word of its own, a croaking, grating combination of hard syllables that sounded to Regis like a porcupine being rubbed across the flesh of a giant frog." in normal Salvatore tradition, the description would've been left without the metaphor. Heck, I'm not even sure that "croaking" and "grating" would've been employed in regular Salvatore fashion. In addition to speaking to the imagination, the metaphor evokes the fantastical nature of the world, a world where giant frogs exist, ones that wouldn't simply rupture when a porcupine is rubbed against them. Furthermore, the metaphor harmonizes with the adjective earlier in the sentence, for even though the frog is not the thing doing the croaking, "croaking" matches frog, just as grating matches porcupine quills.

Another example of solid writing in Boundless can be found here, "Every syllable hit Rethnorel the way the flowing breath of a speaker might make the flame of a candle blow back." Like the previous example, this one combines the usage of a noun associated with an uncommon adjective and demonstrative imagery to good effect. The metaphor shows us that the character is buffeted in an almost soft manner, for such is the flicker of a candle, but it is a continuous assault. A line that is almost too good to imagine coming from Salvatore is, "...scurrying along like a pair of giant rats fleeing the purring pursuit of a hungry displacer beast." This description is short, concise, and yet contains so many effective elements: "scurrying" instead of "running", the alliteration in "purring pursuit", and of course, alluding to a unique creature specific to the world. Putting all of these elements together paints an expressive image of an earnest and high-speed chase, the predator full of pleased anticipation but the necessity of its hunt not allowing its contentment to tamper its progress.

A passage that I wish every Salvatore paragraph could emulate is this one, "Even the way she talked grated on him, every bitten-off word making him feel like someone was running the bark of an old and gnarly oak tree down the back of his neck. It seemed like this drow woman could barely get the words out of her mouth, so tight was her jaw, and when they did come out, they carried the hissing timbre of an open fire in a downpour." The standard Salvatore version of this would be something along the lines of, "Even the way she talked grated on him. Every word was bitten off tightly", which, granted is more concise than what was published, but falls far from embodying the soul of wit in its brevity. The imagery in the published metaphor more than lets us hear the way the female character talks, it lets us feel it. So, too, can we feel what it'd be like to try to talk while our jaws are locked. "Hissing timbre" is a beautiful description on its own, but combined with inciting a sound that everyone can at least imagine, even if they may not have heard firsthand, results in a punchy and effective description. An example of another effective description, and one that doesn't make use of a metaphor is, "Some time later, they lay beside each other, the soft glow of candlelight catching pinpricks of sparkle in the beads of sweat they both wore." Sweat is not normally an attractive feature, even when it's associated with a sexy scene. The way that this imagery is presented however invokes a sense of soft decadence, as though the characters were covered with a delicate and exotic garment strewn with countless pearls. The many sparkles from this "garment" help to further set the romantic mood far more than the soft candlelight would have done by itself. Although the description, "bag of demonic despair", doesn't look like much when presented by itself, and isn't as strong as the preceding examples, it's worth a mention because of how it adequately serves as a concise summary. The object that it refers to is Entreri enveloped in an unbreakable cocoon that an unknown demon trapped him in. The word "cocoon" shows up many times in relation to this object, and admittedly, is an concise, if a bit bland, way to describe the object from both within and without. Inside the encasement, Entreri is held in a state of perpetual torment, whilst outside Dahlia, and to a much lesser extent, Regis, are worrying about his condition. Perhaps "demonic" could be replaced with another adjective but overall I'm fine with the way it is, for anything referring more to Entreri's suffering might run the risk of sounding melodramatic.

"Running stride" is also worth noting because in a world that doesn't use the same units of measurements that we do, it's always jarring when inches, feet, and miles are cited, especially when readers of the text hail from countries that aren’t the US. Without the known common terms, it is understandably difficult to effectively convey distances in a concise and comprehensible way, so units of measurements like this example are wonderful because they use something that we all understand, and do so without breaking immersion.

Tasteful omission is as important as smart inclusion. I'd criticized Salvatore for trying too hard in Timeless by using "fashioned" in in awkward way, and he's dropped this altogether in Boundless. By the same token, "six hundred pounds of panther" doesn't appear at all. Salvatore's favorite adjectives, "magnificent" and "fine", are both used better in Boundless. The former appears thirteen times in Boundless but unlike in Timeless, the usage of most of them aren't vague and lazy ways of characterizing splendid objects, characters, or actions. Six of those thirteen usages can maybe be improved still, but that is already a huge positive change from the fourteen out of seventeen occurrences in Timeless. Meanwhile, "fine" appears fifty times, but many of that is part of modifiers like finer, finest, etc, and through a cursory scan, by itself, relatively few are used in inane ways. 

Muddled Positives

Aside from the examples in diction above, Boundless does contain praiseable elements, specifically even in areas where I usually criticize Salvatore. There are moments of decent, even good, characterization, and some of the negative potential I'd feared Timeless was leading towards are not realized in Boundless. Furthermore, there are improvements to be found in the themes that Salvatore employs, and some descriptors stand up to fact-checking.

One of my biggest criticisms of Salvatore is that he routinely disrespects what I describe as the beautiful tapestry of the Realms, which was woven together by the hands of many creatives who worked in harmony. In Boundless, the amount that Salvatore insensitively scribbles his name in Sharpie over the tapestry is reduced. Ironically, sometimes Salvatore scribbles over the portions of the tapestry that he'd worked with others to create, but in Boundless, he doesn't perpetuate this disservice to both himself and others as much as he has in the past. For better or worse, Salvatore did create a lot of information about drow, though his work is mostly limited to the city of Menzoberranzan. While the Drizzt books contain the most drow content than any other FR novel series, they've done so through their sheer volume, and they mainly portrayed the drow in a one-dimensional fashion. Just as there are many more drow settlements than the fanatic Menzoberranzan, so too, are even Menzoberranzanyr drow capable of qualities other than scheming self-service in the name of dedication to Lolth. In Boundless, we see more dimensions to the drow characters presented. Zaknafein is not the only drow in Menzoberranzan who possesses a moral compass. Loyalties born of motivations other than pride exist beyond the Do'Urden bloodline, with familial concern and the kind of love that'd been described as being unknown to drow inspiring or dissuading murderous deeds. In previous books, the closest that we got to "non-evil" drow were drow who had the potential to be good, perhaps even living for awhile in a goodly way, but eventually and inevitably squandering that potential. For example, Drizzt's sister Vierna was not as cruel as the other Do'Urden females, but ultimately, through trying to seduce her own brother and then turning a different brother into a drider, turned out to be just as bad as the rest of the Lolthites. Another similar example could be found with Tos'un Armgo, whom although having created a family with a surface elf, ultimately participated in the murder of his own family and returning himself and his daughter to the depraved society of Menzoberranzan. 

In Boundless, although the priestess Dab'nay Tr'arach follows a course similar to Tos'un, her path is much more nuanced, and although she squanders her morality for station, she does so with great ambivalence and regret. Dab'nay's house is long destroyed, with she and her siblings' surnames changed to reflect this. She stands to gain nothing by preserving members of her bloodline, but nonetheless, she endangers her own life to see that her brother isn't killed, a selfish thought of rebuilding her long-lost house not at all factoring in to her concern for her kin. It is also clear from actions such as Dab'nay running her finger playfully along the top of Zaknafein's nose while telling him that he, not his services, were worth waiting for, that the feelings that she develops for him are more than those a female in a matriarchal society entertains towards a favored pet or sex object. Dab'nay allows her vulnerability to show in Zaknafein's presence and does not conceal the tears she sheds for the way that they must live their lives. She also fears for Zaknafein's safety even though she'd arguably stand to gain from his demise, and feels guilt for implicating him negatively for the sake of her own survival. Before the Generations trilogy, these qualities were not possible in any genuine or long-lasting way in any priestesses of Lolth, not even a disgraced one. Prior, a disgraced priestess who isn't killed or turned into a drider would become even more dangerous, with having nothing to lose by concentrating the proverbial venom in her veins.

Dab'nay isn't the only Menzoberranzanyr drow who demonstrates the capacity for multiple dimensions in Boundless. So, too, does Harbondair Tr'arch and Arathis Hune. Harbondair possesses the same familial loyalty as Dab'nay, and, like his sister, possesses the ability to genuinely overcome past prejudices. Despite Zaknafein having destroyed his house and despite Zaknafein issuing him a death threat should he attempt to harm him again, Harbondair grows to develop a real friendship with Zaknafein. Arathis, while definitively more "evil" than the Tr'arch siblings, is motivated by more than his rank in Bregan D'aerthe to eventually go to a head against Zaknafein. It's never stated that Arathis' rivalry with Zaknafein isn't based solely in Arathis feeling threatened in his second-in-command position. However, from the way that Arathis is described to behave while Zaknafein is absent, Arathis appears to be motivated by jealousy that he's no longer Jarlaxle's favorite and most trusted follower. Jarlaxle makes it abundantly clear on numerous occasions that he considers Zaknafein and Arathis equally valuable, hence why he prohibited either from trying to kill the other, so were Arathis worried about his position in the mercenary band, he needn't have gone so far because he and Zaknafein were equals in that regard but Zaknafein was definitely his better in combat. However, there can only be one favorite, a fact that Arathis couldn't engineer, but because he could ignore it when Zaknafein was away, his mood was noticeably better when he was the only lieutenant by Jarlaxle's side. It's actually quite pleasant that Salvatore didn't spell out the nature of Arathis' motivations, the way that Arathis is successful in that it is shown and not told to us. Unfortunately, Arathis' fate is soon met, which is probably for the best, as this lets him safely fall into the "gets killed off before too many books ruin him" category that I'd previously (and prematurely) populated with Zaknafein.

Although the Boundless version of Jarlaxle continues to be consistent with the Timeless version of Jarlaxle, ergo de-fanged to his current timeline self rather to the much more morally ambiguous character he was in the earlier Drizzt books, there is a comical and memorable scene in Boundless that is true to Jarlaxle's irrepressible humor even whilst in the middle of delivering a solemn ultimatum. While forbidding Zaknafein from going after Arathis Hune, Jarlaxle manages to bring a smile to the very angry weapons master by assuring him that in any other circumstance, "I promise you, if we two were trapped in a cave alone and starving, I would not kill you. But if you died first, I cannot promise that I wouldn't eat you."

There are improvements in Boundless even when it comes to the less morally gray drow of Menzoberranzan. One such individual that gets a more profound treatment is Mez'Barris Del'Armgo, the future Matron Mother of the second house of Menzoberranzan. During Boundless, her mother holds that title, and House Barrison Del'Armgo is far from its destined ranking. High Priestess Mez'Barris, the most promising member of her house, has her position recognized by being the only one allowed to copulate with the strange and giant Uthegentel, a dubious honor that the other priestesses aren't interested in anyway. Other priestesses tease Mez'Barris' preference of Uthegentel because "it was unusual, almost unheard of, for a drow woman to be attracted to a man so physically superior to her". However, "Mez'Barris couldn't deny the thrill she felt when Uthgentel so easily tossed her up upon his hips, holding her aloft while he took her, never tiring. He threw her about as if she were a child, but he knew how to throw her indeed!" Other than the more than slightly disturbing analogy to a child in the context of a sexual setting, which really could've been better done comparing Mez'Barris to anything else, a rag doll maybe, or heck, even an animal, there are a lot of things going on in the description of Mez'Barris and Uthegentel's relationship dynamic that are pretty outstanding for Salvatore. First, it is made clear in no uncertain terms that Uthegentel's size is unusual, which directly addresses the misconception that elves in the Forgotten Realms are larger than humans. Elves are larger than humans in worlds such as Middle-Earth and Azeroth, but this is not generally the case on Toril. Second, Boundless specifically states with regards to Uthegentel, "He was stronger than the women, too -- another anomaly among the drow -- and was easily the strongest dark elf in the city. Even with magical assistance, other men could not match him, and even with Lolth-blessed spells of physical enhancement, other women couldn't, either." An extremely too-oft practice among the many people who love the very popular drow race is to ascribe Earth human characteristics to them: that the males are usually bigger than the females. Drow of the Forgotten Realms, like many animals of our world, are a species in which the females are larger and stronger than the males. The aspect that stands out the most about Mez'Barris and Uthegentel is a message about reversed gender roles and how, by conforming to the norm, one might miss out on some very exciting experiences. I don't really dare hope that this is a message that Salvatore was consciously conveying, but it would be pretty awesome if it was intentional on his part. Taking that message and reversing the genders for our patriarchal world, if Salvatore could encourage the idea that men do not become any less masculine when they break conventional ideologies of what a man should be, I would be willing to consider putting serious effort into building him a pedestal, and even gazing upon it favorably from time to time. 

There's one other thing going on with Mez'Barris with relation to Uthegentel, specifically, "as it pertains to the other priestesses' teasing, "'How can you be with a man who is stronger than you?' most women asked, seeming sincerely aghast at the thought. 'It isn't natural! Are you sure that you don't simply prefer the bed company of women?" Mez'Barris was sure." I'd actually completely overlooked this three times: as I was doing my read-through, as I was organizing my notes, and as I was reviewing my notes. It occurred to me, while I was writing the previous paragraph, that Mez'Barris' certainty about her preference of Uthegentel isn't based in anything sapphic, which, added to the fact that Boundless doesn't contain any gratuitous lesbian sex scenes means that Boundless is the first Drizzt book in quite possibly forever in which Salvatore doesn't fetishize female/female non-heterosexuality. This is, if it is what it is, HUGE. One of the things for which I regularly criticize Salvatore is how frustratingly often he drops in a female/female sex scene or has implied female/female sexytimes going on. Specifically its that this happens in a totally non-representative manner because, of course, the same treatment isn't even considered in terms of male/male representation. I've gone into this enough in the past and I'll go into it again later so there's no need to do that here, but seriously, just the fact that not once do we have anything even close to some random priestess whose name we won't remember banging this other random priestess whose name we similarly won't remember is such a large improvement. And with Mez'Barris conveying the reverse gender role ideology with Uthegentel, if Salvatore intentionally did all of this, I would totally consider, yet again, and pardon my french, building that fucking pedestal and putting him on it.

Dab'nay and Mez'Barris are two very different priestesses, but their respective scenes of intimacy are better done than such scenes in previous Drizzt books. The passion in Dab'nay and Zaknafein scenes are marked by affection, whereas in Mez'Barris and Uthegentel they're solely lustful. There is tenderness, even hints of trust, between Dab'nay and Zaknafein, whereas what's between Mez'Barris and Uthegentel is detached and mercenary. One is a silken handkerchief while the other is a stinging riding crop, and though each priestess doesn't feel jealousy that her lover is ridden by others, one willingly rents him out, while the other has thoroughly accepted that she is not entitled to possessive emotions.

The drow aren't the only characters who enjoy improved literary treatment in Boundless. The dramatis personae of the World Above receive some refreshing new dimensions. Wulfgar specifically, who has been hammered flat even prior to his resurrection, becomes more than a plot device that fights as much as he beds. Since his resurrection, the carefree barbarian has been primarily embodying getting the most out of his second life by sleeping with anyone and everyone willing to do so. In Boundless, we're told that Wulfgar has been with Penelope Harpell exclusively, even though she is a much older woman and, as Penelope herself realizes, Wulfgar can get practically any younger woman that he wants so he chooses. However, Wulfgar chooses Penelope and exclusively Penelope, because he's enamored with her confidence and authenticity. One of the things that I criticize Salvatore for is his poor handling of female characters, especially with regards to how the most redeeming features for his female characters are youth and beauty. For instance, Drizzt and Catti-brie's supposed great love has never been tested "on screen", for Catti died in her forties and was returned to Drizzt's side as a hot young thing. We never got to see how the glorious hero would've behaved as his mortal wife grew old and frail while he remained young and hale. Drizzt might've told himself that he'd never think Catti ugly, but he was never tested. Admittedly, Penelope isn't super old, but having the hunk that is young Wulfgar faithfully and exclusively stay by her side goes some distance in making up for the previous treatment and portrayal of women in the Drizzt books. The only downside to Wulfgar and Penelope is that their scenes of intimacy are awkward to the point of cringe-worthy, which suggests to me that Salvatore is writing outside of his comfort zone. Nonetheless, he's giving it an honest effort, and even though it doesn't work out, it looks to be a genuine attempt, for there aren't any contradictory messages in Wulfgar and Penelope's relationship.

Boundless is the first time that we see Dahlia up and about since Night of the Hunter. I'd feared that Salvatore was going to have Kimmuriel fix more than the damage wrought unto her by Methil El-Viddenvelp. It would've been an easy and lazy plot device, along the same lines of Idalia's Flute and the aboleth's influence in "developing" Entreri. Thankfully, Kimmuriel has not undone Dahlia's past traumas, nor even eliminated the more recent ones and the personality flaws that she has as a result of those traumas. What we see in Boundless is that Dahlia is still who she was during the Neverwinter Saga, modified by the experiences of her relationship with Entreri. As we follow Dahlia through a Waterdhavian nobles' ball, in addition to learning more about her through her thoughts, we're able to glean additional information through her physical appearance. Most of those details that are mentioned in the past, but certainly don't hurt to see repeated. For instance, "She was tall for an elf, nearly six feet, with black hair that she dyed with streaks of cardinal red." Specifics like height tend to be vague in Salvatore's writing, for after so many books it's clear that he can't keep track of his own details, so it's good to see Dahlia's, and even better that, once again, Salvatore reminds the readers that elves in Toril tend to be short. It's good to see that Dahlia still wears the diamonds she'd accrued from her years of being a black widow, for even though she's abandoned those practices, she hasn't abandoned her past and who she was. Furthermore, she now wears her hair in the manner that she'd use for her softer guise when she was with Drizzt, except this is presumably neither an illusion nor as a result of trying to manipulate Entreri as she did with it and Drizzt. It's a subtle reminder of how things have changed for her in a lasting way. 

In the previous books, we'd only seen Dahlia be angry, vindictive, selfish and petty. Although I'd always liked her more than any of Salvatore's other female characters, my opinion regarding Dahlia is an unpopular one. Dahlia felt very much like a character that Salvatore wrote for readers to hate. In Boundless, he appears to be trying to make her more than that. During the ball, Dahlia is comical, even silly, both of which can begin to endear a reader to a character. Throughout the rest of the book, Dahlia exhibits courage and loyalty so steadfast that it's easy to forget that she was once a villainous character, but she doesn't do so in such a way as to come across as goody two-shoes either. Dahlia is still very much not a goodly character, nor should she be at this point. Unfortunately, there exists a rather large problem with Dahlia, and that is her relationship with Entreri. In just as artificial as a way that it started, so, too, are we told more than that we're shown, namely, that Entreri had overcome his childhood demons and is now helping her overcome hers. The thing is, that whole plot with how Entreri overcame his demons by doing Drizzt-like good deeds doesn't ring true at all, and we're not shown how Entreri has been helping Dahlia overcome her own demons. I doubt we ever will, but I'll discuss the poor handling of Entreri in this book later. For now, I will add that I thought it was a good touch by Salvatore to have the apartment shared by the couple to be located in the Southern Ward of Waterdeep. The Southern Ward is, as of fifth edition D&D and the current timeline (~1490s DR), is no longer the poor ward that it used to be, which is very fitting for Entreri because he wouldn't want to live in the grimy Dock Ward or the destitute Field Ward any more than he'd want to live in the aristocratic Sea Ward, the Watch-infested Castle Ward, or the noble-infested North Ward. The Southern Ward is inhabited by common folk instead of hoity-toity nobles, with a good portion of its population hailing from southern Faerûn. Although Entreri's Calishite heritage is not given much treatment in the Drizzt novels, it would make sense if, even with his rough and austere childhood, that associations of home would bring some degree of comfort or at least familiarity. Waterdeep's Southern Ward is home to some of the best singers of Calishite music and probably the best examples of Calishite cuisine. The location of homes above stables or around inn yards allows us to accept that Entreri would have been able to ensure a good sightline of the goings-on around his domicile, likely a necessity for one of Entreri's nature. The only downside to all of this is that Salvatore calls the Southern Ward the "South Ward", a nomenclature that only fools would use, according to Volo's Waterdeep Enchiridion.

The best-developed member among the resurrected Companions of the Hall is Regis/Spider Parrafin, and this continues to be the case in Boundless. In the past, I'd criticized Salvatore on numerous occasions about how his heroes perform a lot more questionable actions on screen than do his villains. In the travesty of the series, Hero, I'd specifically noted that Regis and Wulfgar kicking people who were already lying down to be decidedly not heroic, even if the victims of said kicking were highwaymen. In Boundless, Regis doesn't do anything of the sort. No, in fact, he actually performs what would be a humbling or even degrading act himself by normal Salvatore standards, and conveys a surprising and important message thereby. Much like how I'm uncertain that the message conveyed by Mez'Barris and Uthegentel is intentional, I'm not sure if this is the case with Regis, but Regis admits to using his looks to get what he wants, which is unfortunately a strategy traditionally attributed to women alone, both inside and outside of Salvatore's books. When Regis states to Dahlia, "Because I do the same thing, as does my lovely wife, Donnola" as he points out that Dahlia knows how to use her looks to gain an advantage in her negotiations, he, in my mind, is performing a much more admirable feat than slaying a hundred rampaging ogres singlehandedly. Humility is a mark of any true hero, and although Drizzt and his companions are supposed to possess tons of humility along with other virtuous qualities, we see so little of those qualities. Instead, much of their actions are full of sanctimony and self-satisfaction. Another thing that was done well with Regis is his reaction to being in Entreri's presence. Despite the significantly de-fanged current nature of Entreri, and Regis' intellectual knowledge that the assassin wouldn't hurt him, Regis struggles to suppress the fear he feels in Entreri's presence. This is one of the few instances in which Salvatore correctly portrays trauma. Regis has more than enough reason to behave the way that he does, Entreri inflicted significant distress in his previous life, and, as Regis notes, "Was there any amount of time and any number of deeds that could fully erase that?" Regis' musing is at the core of many trauma victims' journey to recovery. Furthermore, there is no contrived PTSD in Regis' experiences like was the case with Drizzt in Hero. Accurate, too, is the way that Regis' struggle is focused on the stub of his pinky, with which he fidgets while fighting to hold his voice steady. This shows us rather than telling us that Artemis Entreri is still very much a trigger for Regis, and speaks more to Regis' courage in facing that trigger than had he been the one facing down Demogorgon in Menzoberranzan.

Those are the major positives in terms of characterization and literary devices employed in Boundless. There are also good points dispersed among the descriptions and interactions with lesser characters and incidental elements. While we're not quite sure what the demon possessing the little girl named Sharon is (or if it's a demon at all), Salvatore did a decent job of making Sharon unsettling and creepy under the creature's influence. It's also refreshing to see intrigue in a Drizzt book that isn't confined to Menzoberranzan. Although Salvatore doesn't do the intrigues of Waterdeep justice, he does make an effort to include them, and even if he doesn't show us a great amount of it, I appreciate the nod that he gives to its complexity through indicating that despite months spent in the City of Splendors, one as acute as Entreri hasn't been able to unravel the mysteries he'd been tasked to solve. Unfortunately, there's a total hiatus from the further development of the Neverember plot. The final thing that I wanted to mention for this section is a detail, that, although minor, stood up to fact-checking, which delighted me. A lot of Salvatore's action scenes and descriptions, despite going into overlong detail, are often impractical or simply incorrect. Towards the end of Boundless, we see Drizzt running with everything he's got, "his arms pumping for maximum momentum in the desired direction". I'm not a runner, so I had to research this, but I was ecstatic to find that pumping one's arms does actually help one run faster! Bravo, Salvatore!

That concludes the positive-oriented analysis of Boundless. From this point onward, I'll be performing my brutally critical and honest breakdown of the novel. Fair warning, it's not going to be pretty, because Boundless isn't. Sit tight though, and I'll tell you all the ways that it was bad in excruciating detail, for better or worse. 

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 30

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

BEAVER HOLLOW

Bolting back to camp, Eddie and I powered through the roads like there was no tomorrow as we rode towards Beaver Hollow with the speed of a cheetah, completely forgettin’ about the stagecoach or the loot that was supposed to be in it.

At the moment, the thoughts in my head were rushin’ even faster than I was forcing my horse to go, and with every agonizing second that passed, the more my heart pounded in my chest.

Who knew what the hell Atticus was planning? If he and Cornwall stationed that many guards to protect a single stagecoach -- a trap that was meant to just capture me and Eddie alone -- I didn’t even wanna think about what he had in mind for the rest of the gang.

There was no doubt Atticus knew where our camp was -- all thanks to Micah -- and I just hoped we would be able to get to Dutch before anything else happened.

Our time may have been comin’ to an end...but I sure as hell refused to go down without a fight.

“...Arthur!” Eddie suddenly exclaimed in an alarmed tone, his voice shaking as he pointed to the sky. “...L-Look...!”

Bringin’ my attention to the top of the tree line, I felt the color drain from my face when I realized there was a monstrous cloud of smoke coming straight from our camp, its ghostly texture tinted with an orange glow as bright red sparks danced wildly around it.

There was no way in hell a simple campfire coulda produced that much smoke, and considerin’ the fact that I wasn’t at Dutch’s side to protect him right now, I could’ve only assumed that the gang had been attacked.

This was the perfect opportunity, after all. Our gang’s leader had been left alone with the very same rat who drove us into this hellhole in the first place, and without me or Hosea to keep the camp safe, Dutch was nothin’ more than a target to shoot.

I just hoped they weren’t all dead already. Our gang was vulnerable enough as is, and to be ambushed by someone like Atticus Rose...well, it didn’t leave much chance for survival.

We was at the end of our rope, here. We had done our worst, and tried our best, but now...it was finally time to face reality.

It was time for me to be a goddamned man, and protect the people I loved.

Skiddin’ to a stop, my horse’s hooves dug deep into the dirt below as I quickly hopped off and hurried back into camp, not wasting a single second while Eddie followed me from behind.

All around me, I could see fresh corpses littering the ground with their jaws hangin’ open as smoke rose from the barrels of their guns, and numerous flies began gathering on their flesh.

The stench of gunpowder and death filled my nose and caused me to grimace, my face twistin’ in disgust as I investigated the gruesome scene.

So far, I didn’t see anyone I knew buried in the pile of bodies -- and most of the casualties appeared to be from Atticus’ side -- but the situation still looked more than dire in the camp. In fact, it was downright nightmarish.

There were flames still ragin’ from what appeared to have been a hellish fight, many of the tents and wagons had been destroyed, a handful of our mounts had been slaughtered, and it looked like Dutch’s donation box had been smashed to pieces.

...Jesus Christ. What happened here?

Slowin’ down our pace a bit, Eddie and I cautiously ventured deeper into the ruined camp as the two of us gazed around in pure horror, unable to believe that this was the same place we left behind just an hour ago.

Most of our belongings had been broken beyond repair, and considering how we already had lawmen searchin’ for us in the rest of the states, I didn’t know where on Earth Dutch was planning to run to after this.

It was a big country, sure...but its people hadn’t forgotten us nearly as much as we hoped they would. Our faces were plastered on every building from here to Blackwater, and now that Atticus was teamed up with Cornwall, I doubted we’d have a very easy time escapin’ from Roanoke Ridge.

If we managed to escape at all.

“...Oh!” A brash voice suddenly blurted out sarcastically, grabbin’ my attention. “The hero returns!”

Snappin’ my head to the side, I turned towards the sound and squinted in the fire’s brazen light, only to see the rat himself.

“Micah!” I barked, clenching my fists. “What the hell happened here?”

The crooked man scoffed. “I thought you knew. After all, it was your friend Mr. Kingsley who caused this.”

I glowered at Micah, my voice lowering to an enraged whisper. “That man ain’t no friend of mine, and neither are you.”

“Calm yourself, woman,” he retorted. “Ain’t no point in denyin’ the truth. We all know what’s really going on, and so does Dutch.”

I shook my head in confusion, my words damn near colliding with each other due to how fast I was speaking. “What’re you talkin’ about--? Y’know what, forget it. Where is Dutch?”

A third person joined in, interrupting our conversation.

“Over here, Arthur.”

Gazin’ behind Micah’s shoulder, I spotted a furious Dutch sauntering in our direction as he walked past all the lifeless bodies surrounding our blazing camp, his eyes devoid of any compassion or empathy, and his brows furrowed in anger.

Contrary to the shocked state I expected to find him in, Dutch only appeared to be consumed by rage alone, and I could almost hear his teeth grindin’ in his mouth with how tightly he was clenching his jaw.

There wasn’t a hint of sorrow, or remorse, or grief in his expression. Instead, all I saw was a burning desire for revenge, and I had a bad feelin’ he was about to take it out on us. I just hoped I’d be able to talk some sense into him.

“Dutch!” I called out, rushin’ over to the man.

He simply glared at me in response.

“Arthur,” he said lowly, “where...have you been?”

I glanced back at Eddie, makin’ sure the boy was behind me.

“We was robbin’ that stagecoach,” I replied. “Just like you wanted us to.”

Dutch let out a frustrated breath. “Well, I hope it was worth it. That crazy bastard Rodrick ambushed the camp while you was away. Killed poor Kieran in the process, too. Strauss is also dead, accordin’ to him. As for everyone else...” he looked around the mini battlefield, “...they’re alive, but Mary-Beth, Swanson, Uncle, and Pearson are all missing. Vanished in the middle o’ the fight.”

I fell silent at the news, suddenly realizin’ how much smaller our gang was.

“Oh, Christ...” I cursed, “were they captured?”

“I don’t think so,” Dutch denied. “I think they ran off. Used the chaos as an opening to desert us. Goddamn cowards!”

Micah jumped back into the conversation, crossin’ his arms in an accusatory manner. “I’m just surprised you didn’t take off with them, Morgan. Y’know, considerin’ who you’ve got in your company.”

I sighed in annoyance, scowling at the sly man.

“What are you talkin’ about?”

Dutch answered in his place, throwin’ his hands up out of anger. “Someone had to tell Rodrick where our camp was, Arthur! Someone had to let him know when you’d be chasin’ after that stagecoach, so you could run away while they attacked the rest of us!”

A dreadful realization thought hit me.

“Wait...” I said quietly, “...you think I’m the rat?”

The older man shook his head, steadily bringin’ his attention to the boy behind me. “No. Not you.”

Glancing back and forth between Dutch and Eddie, my eyes widened in fear once I understood what he was saying, and I immediately held a protective arm in front of the boy, warnin’ the others to stay back just as Eddie went for his holster.

“Now, hold on, Dutch,” I insisted, blocking his way. “Eddie ain’t the rat! He’s--”

But Dutch wouldn’t hear it.

“Step aside, son!” He demanded, his tone nearly feral at this point. “I know how you feel about him, but we’ve been fallin’ apart ever since I allowed that boy inside our gang. He’s usin’ you! He’s usin’ all of us! Can’t you see that?! We need to think about survival here. It’s time for him to go!”

I stayed in place and guarded Eddie like a brick wall, absolutely refusin’ to move.

“Just listen to me, goddammit!” I exclaimed, desperately tryin’ to get through Dutch’s thick skull. “The stagecoach was a trap! There weren’t no money inside. Atticus set us up. He knew we would try to rob it, and that’s why he gave Cornwall the extra security. They wanted to capture us, Dutch! Both of us! Eddie ain’t the rat, and you know it. I know it!”

Dutch remained unswayed. “Then who is?”

I gestured to Micah. “Why don’t you ask the man who’s been in your ear ever since Hosea died?”

The older man gazed at his friend and gave him a puzzled look, dismissing the idea.

“Micah,” Dutch questioned, clearly not buyin’ it. “Really. He has been loyal to me this whole time, Arthur. He is one o’ the few people left in this gang who still has faith! Him, Javier, and Bill are the only ones who have yet to turn their backs on me!”

“Loyal?” I fired back, ignoring his statement. “Eddie and I interrogated one of the guards, Dutch! He told us himself that Micah has been helpin’ them out! That rat is the reason we’re in this nightmare of a situation!”

Micah rolled his eyes at the accusation and strolled next to Dutch, almost laughin’ at how much more of an advantage he had over me.

“Really, cowpoke...?” He countered. “A guard told you I was the rat? That’s the best you can come up with? Alright, then, big guy. Where is this guard, hmm? ...Dead?”

I was silent in response, leadin’ Micah to let out a victorious chuckle.

“Yeah. Thought so.”

Stepping in between me and Micah, Dutch dragged a hand down his face before sending a glare in Eddie’s direction, his expression stiff with both a sense of betrayal and retribution.

The manner in which he carried himself frightened me, if I was bein’ honest. Dutch no longer acted like the same guardian so many of us had grown to love, and instead, stormed around like a mad tyrant who wasn’t gettin’ his way.

I knew something about him changed the minute we lost Hosea back at Shady Belle -- and I doubted we’d ever find a way to get the old Dutch back -- but the little boy in me still couldn’t believe that this was the same man I once saw as a father.

He was just so different. So deranged. So deluded. Not at all like the man I grew up with.

I mean, Dutch still hated law and order as much as he did twenty years ago, but the difference today was, he had become the very thing he claimed to fight against.

He preached about livin’ in a free society, yet caged us behind invisible bars called “faith” and “loyalty.” He damned corrupt businessmen like Leviticus for robbing people, yet reveled in the money he pried from a dead man’s hands.

He called me son...yet treated me like a complete stranger.

And the worst part was: I didn’t even think he realized it.

Refusin’ to back down, Dutch got right in my face and pulled out his gun, holdin’ the weapon at his side before giving me one last order.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he apologized flatly, his voice gradually rising with insanity, “but if we wanna survive, we gotta do what’s necessary. If we have to steal, then we’ll steal. If we have to run, then we’ll run. If we have to kill, then we’ll kill. We will do...whatever it, goddamn, takes. And right now, it requires taking Mister Ryan’s life!”

Dutch aimed the revolver straight at my head and cocked it, his hand shaking with rage. “So for the last time...step aside, son!”

I held my ground and stayed in place, subtly reachin’ for my pistol as I desperately tried to recognize the man standing in front of me.

“...You’ll have to kill me, first.” I stated, admittedly heartbroken that Dutch would pull a gun on me.

“Don’t make me do this, Arthur...” he warned darkly, his finger dangerously close to the trigger.

But before he could do anything else, John threw himself into this pit of chaos and intervened, aimin’ his own rifle at Dutch while Abigail and Jack stayed behind.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Dutch?” Marston scolded angrily, rushin’ to my side. “Do you even see what you’re doing?”

The outlaw whipped out his second revolver and pointed it at John, holdin’ both of us at gunpoint as Micah came to Dutch’s defense.

“I am doing what must be done, John!” Dutch yelled, his eyes wide with fury. “Now stay outta this! This is about Mister Ryan, and Mister Ryan alone!”

Marston shook his head. “No! This is about you losin’ your goddamned mind! Eddie saved my son’s life, Dutch. Arthur’s, too. I ain’t gonna let you murder him in cold blood. No matter how close we are!”

To my surprise, the other man seemed truly shocked at the response and tightened his grip on his guns, damn-near erupting with how outraged he was.

“How you two fooled me over all these years...” Dutch whispered, his voice rumbling like magma in a volcano. “I raised you as sons! Goddamn...SNAKES!”

The sound of someone cocking a shotgun reached my ears and I peeked outta the corner of my eye, only to see Miss Grimshaw joining me while Javier and Bill stood with Dutch.

“Put those guns down, Dutch!” Susan warned, her temperament resembling that of a mother bear protectin’ her cubs.

There was a newfound tension growing in the camp, and part of me dreaded to see what would finally ignite the flame.

“What is wrong with you all?” Williamson blamed, appearing genuinely disappointed in us. “I thought better of you! Our gang needs to stick together if we wanna survive. This ain’t how we do things here. This ain’t brotherly!”

Sadie aimed her rifle at them, her behavior relentless as always. “Good thing I ain’t your goddamn brother, then! No one’ll ever replace my Jake, but I sure as shit ain’t lettin’ you take my closest friends from me!”

Javier admonished us. “Come on...what’s happened to you people? I stuck with this gang because it felt like a family. But now, you’ve all become just like the O’Driscolls. Hell, worse. You’re traitors!”

“Bill, Javier,” I said, “think for yourselves! Take a look around you!”

Steppin’ out of hiding, Eddie walked up to my side and unholstered his weapons, glaring at Micah with a level of hatred I didn’t know he contained.

“After everything I’ve done for this gang...” he berated, his tone unusually dark. “I should’ve killed you the moment I laid eyes on you!”

“They’re lying, Dutch,” Micah insisted, practically hissing in his ear. “Lying!”

“Shut your goddamned mouth, Micah!” I snapped, turnin’ to the man who used to be my father. “All them years, Dutch...for this snake...?!”

“It’s done, Arthur!” He growled, failing to see reason. “No more! Lay down your guns...and let me do...what must be done!”

Without any warning, a stray bullet suddenly fired at us outta nowhere and hit Miss Grimshaw directly in the stomach, causin’ her to collapse on the spot while the rest of us whirled around in panic.

“Oh, sunshine!” Rodrick bellowed from inside the woods. “Miss me?”

“Goddammit!” Dutch cursed. “He’s back!”

Completely forgettin’ about the previous conflict, the entire gang immediately ducked for cover as a storm of bullets commenced within the small camp, decorating everything with holes and burns as splinters went flyin’ all over the place.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, throwin’ myself behind a wagon. Even with all the gunfire surrounding me, I could still hear Susan screaming in agony.

“Eddie!” I called out, frantically searching for him. “Are you alive?!”

To my dismay, there was no response.

I felt my heart stop.

“EDDIE!” I repeated even louder, almost feelin’ sick with worry. “Answer me, goddammit! Are you there?!”

A frail voice replied to me from a distance.

“...A-Arthur...!”

Following the lonely voice, I looked at the other side of the camp and spotted Eddie sittin’ behind a large boulder, causing a huge wave of relief to wash over me.

That was, until I noticed his left leg had been shot.

The boy groaned in pain, clutching his bloody knee. “I...I can’t move, Arthur!”

“...Aw, crap...” I muttered. “Keep shooting, Eddie! I’m comin’ to get you!”

Drawing their fire away from me, the pianist took out his fair share of Rodrick’s men as I bolted across the camp, holdin’ onto my gun as if it were a goddamned baby.

I had no idea how the hell we was gonna get outta this, or where the hell Rodrick came from, but now that I knew for a fact where Dutch stood -- or rather, who he stood with -- I was gonna do whatever it took to keep Eddie alive.

I might’ve lost the gang, and I might’ve lost my family, but I was gonna destroy the entire goddamned world before it took Eddie from me.

Leapin’ behind a fallen horse, I used the animal as a shield and crawled through the blood-stained mud, grabbing onto clumps of hardened grass as I dragged myself through the dirt.

“I see him!” One of Rodrick’s men alerted. “He’s right there--argh!”

Shouting in pain, the man abruptly fell silent and toppled to the ground as a bullet carved its way through him, leadin’ me to jolt my head towards the source of the shot.

John reloaded his rifle from behind a tree and gave me the “all clear” sign, urgin’ me to keep going.

“I’ll keep ‘em off you, Arthur! Just get that boy outta here!”

“But what about you?” I asked. “Where’s Abigail and Jack?”

“They already escaped!” He answered. “She took Jack and rode off the minute the ambush started! I’m gon’ find them later! You just worry about yourself right now! Now go!”

Giving him a firm nod, I picked up the pace and ran like hell to the other side of the camp as Marston continued firing at Rodrick’s gang, just barely holdin’ out considering he had nothing more than a tree to protect him. Our enemies seemed to have forgotten about me, and Eddie was still shooting them from his own position, but even with their help, I could still barely see where on Earth I was going.

A thick layer of gun smoke clouded my vision everywhere I looked. And with the amount of fire that was spreadin’ all over the camp, it felt like I was walkin’ through a sea of orange fog...and the only thing I could hear was screaming.

I didn’t see Dutch, or Bill, or Javier, or Micah anywhere. Half of me assumed they had just been shot and were now lyin’ on the ground with their enemies, but the smarter half knew they had run away like the bunch o’ cowards they were.

But none of that mattered to me right now. All I cared about at the moment was findin’ Eddie, and getting that kid somewhere safe. I had been through more than enough bullshit for one day, and I certainly didn’t plan on losing the one man I loved.

I just didn’t know where we would go.

Finally reaching the boulder Eddie was using for cover, I gunned down all the enemies that were surrounding him and helped the boy up, wrappin’ his arm around my shoulder as we made our way to the mounts.

The pianist’s skin had lightened into a sickly pale color by now, and even though he had me to support him, the man still looked like he was about to crash at any minute, which that only made me panic more.

“Hold on, darling,” I encouraged, liftin’ him onto the back of my horse. “We’re almost outta this. I’m gonna get you someplace safe. Just hold on!”

Climbing onto the saddle once Eddie was in place, I barely sat down all the way before snappin’ the reins like a madman, urging my horse to run for her life as a series of bullets showered the ground behind us.

I felt like a goddamned monster for not goin’ back to get John, but if I was being perfectly honest, I didn’t know if such a thing were even possible at this point. The camp had been completely overrun by Rodrick and Cornwall’s men, and judgin’ by the lack of any horses at the hitching posts, I guessed the other gang members had also fled the horrific scene.

I didn’t have a clue where Tilly, Charles, Karen, or Sadie had run off to, and I definitely didn’t give a damn about Micah’s safety, but as far as I was concerned...our home was nothin’ but a pile of ash now.

Everything we built, everything we worked for, everything we sacrificed -- it all meant nothing now because of that rat. Jenny, Davey, Mac, Sean, Hosea, Lenny, Strauss, Susan...all of them died just for a pathetic, little snake like Micah to come along and piss on it all.

We was nothing more than a bunch of scattered cockroaches now. The Pinkertons were most-likely gonna kill us off one-by-one within a matter of days, and that was only if Atticus didn’t get to us first.

Everything was going to shit. My entire family, the only life I’d ever known...it had all suddenly been destroyed right in front of me, and the one man who could’ve prevented it from happening didn’t. Dutch didn’t.

Instead, he simply stood by and watched his throne burn, and allowed a usurper to light the flame...even when he had Hosea to see it comin’ from a mile away.

He had finally descended into a pit of utter madness, and taken leave of every single principle he ever lived his life by.

He may have survived the attack...but the Dutch I knew died a long time ago.

Even with Dutch goin’ insane however, I supposed everything wasn’t lost. Against all odds, I still managed to escape the camp with Eddie by my side. We were both alive, and -- even if I didn’t know where on Earth we were gonna go -- we still had a chance to get things back on track.

Eddie was a fighter, and so was I. We were gonna make it through this, just like I promised him, and...God willing, finally pursue the freedom we had sacrificed so much to achieve. We had come too far to fail now.

Our future was waitin’ for us somewhere out there...and I knew I’d be damned if we didn’t find it.