#just gave myself a jolt of paranoia!

[blueshykitsune-blog]

Mmmm I should not be able to right that good....

[hestiaswifey]

Is this love?

The clang of bronze on bronze echoed through the battlefield, a symphony of chaos and desperation. I, Y/N, a ladies man and, if I was being honest, the bastard son of Hera, was caught in the thick of it. Not by choice, of course. My mother's paranoia had me stationed here, in the heart of the war between my mother, hera, and her constantly unfaithful husband Zeus, a supposed peace envoy. A task I would have gladly shirked, had it not been for the presence of Athena.

Athena, the goddess of wisdom, strategy, and everything I was not. For eons, I had admired her from afar, her grace, her intelligence, her unwavering dedication to justice. I, the god of pranks and mischief, felt as though I would be swallowed whole by her presence.

But the battlefield was a different beast. The smell of blood and fear, the clash of weapons, the agonizing cries of the dying – it stripped away the façade, revealing the raw, primal fear beneath. And in that fear, I saw a flicker of something different – a vulnerability, a shared humanity that transcended our divine status.

It began with a Trojan spear, aimed at Athena's back. It was a cowardly move, a desperate act of a man whose hope was waning. I, a mere messenger, had no business intervening, but I found myself acting before I could think. I sprinted, a trail of dust behind me, and intercepted the spear, taking the blow in my forearm. The pain was sharp, immediate, but secondary to the sudden rush of fear for Athena, a fear I hadn't known I was capable of.

My legs buckled, sending me sprawling to the ground, the spear embedded deep in my flesh. My vision swam, but I could still see Athena, her face a mask of shock. She was magnificent, her silver eyes widening, her normally stoic expression etched with concern.

She kneeled beside me, her hands hovering above my wound, a silent command that healed the gash in an instant.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, 'What were you thinking? You could have been killed.'

I laughed, a breathless, shaky sound that was more a gasp than a laugh. 'I had to save the wisest of goddesses, wouldn't want you to fall victim to a rogue spear.'

Athena's eyes softened. “You are foolish, Y/N,” she said, her voice laced with a warmth I had never heard before. 'And reckless.'

The blood rushed to my face, a telltale sign of my embarrassment. 'Always the pragmatist, Athena.'

She sighed, a light, airy sound that I could have listened to forever. 'You are a strange one, Y/N,' she said, 'A mischievous god with a heart of gold.'

Her hand rested on my shoulder, a gentle touch that sent a jolt through me. I met her gaze, and in that moment, I saw it - a flicker of something akin to… affection? It was fleeting, a brief spark in her silver eyes, but it was enough to make my heart race.

Suddenly, the battle around us seemed to fade away. The world narrowed down to just me and Athena, the god of tricksters and the goddess of wisdom, connected by a shared moment of vulnerability and a glimpse of something more.

Athena stood, her hand still resting on my shoulder. “You should leave, Y/N,” she said gently. “This battlefield is no place for you.”

“But I’m happy here,” I countered, my voice stronger than it had been in almost a millennia. “With you.”

She drew back, a frown marring her otherwise beautiful features. “Y/N,' she said, her tone firm, 'We are gods, not… lovers.'

The words fell like a weight onto my heart. “Maybe not yet, Athena,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “But perhaps, someday…”

I rose to my feet, brushing the dust off my tunic, a painful grimace twisting my features. The battle was still raging, the air thick with the smell of blood and death, but it didn’t matter. I had seen something in Athena's eyes, a flicker of something more than just friendship, something that gave me hope.

'I will leave,' I said, my voice tinged with a hint of longing. 'But I will return. And then, Athena, perhaps you will see me not as the god of tricksters, but as a man who loves you.'

I walked away, the echoes of the battle fading into the background, my heart filled with a newfound hope, a flicker of possibility that perhaps, someday, I would not only be the god of tricksters, but also the one who captured Athena's heart.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Part 2, anyone? Many people liked my miniature cabin short, so I wrote a continuation! If people continue enjoying it, I’ll make a third part!

Another night of no sleep passed me by.  Paranoia set in long before even the sun came up.  I kept telling myself that the giant wouldn’t come back in the dead of night — there was no need to worry.  I worried anyway.  All morning I waited like an anxious kid, knowing their doctor’s visit was coming soon.  I didn’t dare shower, I dressed myself in a tight closet, and I took the shortest bathroom breaks in the world, all to avoid a nightmare scenario like the ones I’d thought up yesterday and the night before.  By noon, I could hardly stand waiting.  When is Casey coming back for me?  I thought they’d show up at least around the same time they did yesterday.  But then again, the first time I saw them, it was almost the evening.  

My stressful day stretched on into the night.  I nervously took a call from the inspector and silently begged Casey not to come while I was speaking.  During the call, I barely even recognized that the inspector would be here tomorrow.  Even after I hung up, Casey still hadn’t arrived.  After over 24 hours of anxiety, I was getting annoyed.  “What the hell?!” I shouted into the empty room, “Are they really going to come tear my roof off in the middle of the night?!”  It looks like it’ll be another sleepless evening, but I’m too exhausted for that.  Sometime around early morning, I passed out on my bed, tired of waiting and tired of being tired.

A knock on the door woke me up.  “Hello?” I vaguely heard someone call from the front porch.  “I have a 9:30 appointment to assess the value of this property!  Is anyone home?”  I jolted out of bed so quickly I nearly tripped and fell flat on my face.  “One minute!”  Tearing through the closet, I threw on a decent outfit and rushed to get the door.  “So sorry about the wait!” I replied with the most charming voice I could conjure having just woken up.  “I.. I wasn’t finished cleaning!  But you can come in.  It’s done now.”  The inspector gave me a strange look, but thanked me and wandered into the living room.  He got to work fairly quickly, leaving me without too much embarrassment.  I silently followed him from room to room as he took note of things and occasionally offered me advice on how to fix certain aspects to make them a bit more appealing.

It wasn’t long after that when the house began getting colder.  A chill wrung down my spine, but it wasn’t from the sudden drop in temperature.  Behind the inspector’s back, I snuck a glance at the ceiling, but the ceiling was nowhere in sight.  Instead, Casey leaned over the whole cabin once again.  They looked as if they were about to speak, but quickly closed their mouth in confusion as they noticed the other person in the room.  “What the hell are you doing?!” I whispered as loudly as I dared.  Thankfully, the inspector had bent down to examine something, and was too preoccupied to notice.  “Get out of here!  Put the cover back on!”  Desperately, I waved Casey off.  They stared blankly at me for a moment, then reached for something to the side of them.  “You might want to put a new cover on the vent here.  It’s a bit rusty, but the vent itself looks-  HOLY SHIT!”

Flinching a foot in the air, I whirled around and caught the inspector’s terrified reaction just as the ceiling sealed back up.  “What is it?  What’s wrong?” I asked innocently.  “There- The roof!”  I pretended to be confused as I scrutinized the ceiling.  “Is there a water leak?  Mold?”  “No, no!  The roof wasn’t on the cabin!  I..  I thought..  It looked like it was falling down after being pulled up!”  Lowering my gaze, I mimicked his judgemental stare from earlier that morning.  “What are you talking about?  There aren’t even any cracks.”  “I- I know, but…” he stammered, turning around to scrutinize the perimeter of the room.  “I could’ve sworn I saw it…”

I left before I blew my cover with my anxious fidgeting.  Excusing myself to the bathroom, I locked myself in and sank to the floor, back resting heavily on the door.  That was way too close.  I hope the inspector will do what I did and decide it was all in his head.  At least he didn’t turn around in time to see Casey.  I’m pretty sure he only saw the very end of the roof being put back.

After collecting myself up from the bathroom floor, I strolled back into the other room like I wasn’t fazed in the slightest.  To my relief, when the inspector couldn’t find a single thing to blame for what he’d seen, he shrugged it off.  Everything continued much more smoothly after that.  Just before lunch, he left to come up with an estimate, though there were a few things I could probably improve to bump the number up a little higher.  I sat at the kitchen table, exhausted and relieved.  There are still things I’m worried about, most importantly why Casey came a day later than they should’ve.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have to wait very long to talk to them.

The room got colder while I dug through the fridge for something to eat, so I didn’t even notice it.  I gawked as everything around me warped into slightly different-looking objects.  The rumbling sound of a gigantic person clearing their throat startled me so suddenly that I banged my head on the shelf above me.  “What the hell is your problem?!” I yelled annoyedly, rubbing the back of my head to ease the throbbing pain.  “Do you really have to talk to me?  Just put the cover back on and we can both move on with our lives!”  Casey was silent for a moment, and I was slightly surprised that they seemed so chastised.  “I- I got caught up with things yesterday and couldn’t see you, so I thought..  I don’t know..  I wasn’t sure when to come back and apologize.”

“Well now you have even more things to apologize for,” I grumbled, stepping away from the fridge.  The second Casey removed the cover, the entire thing had turned into a wooden box.  Oversized globs of dried glue held the shelves in place, and plastic beads made up all the food inside.  “You turned all my things fake,” I observed, unamused.  “Sh- Should I come back later?”  “I don’t know; will you come back in ten minutes or ten hours?”  Sarcasm spilled into my voice unintentionally. I wandered the newly-turned cabin, examining all the fake things that replaced everything in the house. “What even is this?” I asked, holding up a lamp that was half crushed and made entirely from folded paper with stretched images on it, mimicking what an actual lamp looks like. “You’re shit at building this stuff. Why, out of all the insanely detailed models that are out there, did I get stuck with this one?”

The shelf beneath the cabin creaked as Casey bent over to scrutinize me.  I tried to keep my passive expression, but their gigantic hovering form is far too uncanny for me to pretend to ignore — especially now that they’re glaring at me.  They’re so close I can see my tiny reflection in the lenses of their glasses.  “Why are you so mad at me?  Did I do something to offend you or are you always like this?” Casey asked me accusingly.  

“What do you mean ‘why am I mad?’  You keep breaking into my house!”  “Well, it is my art project.”  I stared up at them, bewildered.  “It’s my HOUSE!  I LIVE here!”  “And I live HERE!” Casey replied, gesturing at the room around them.  As their hand flung outward, it whacked the side of the bookshelf, rattling the whole thing.  A trophy about the height of a four story building had been sitting beside the cabin.  It wobbled dangerously on its base for a second, then came crashing down.  

I nearly had to throw myself off the shelf for the second time that week.  Luckily, I managed to scramble for safety as the sound of snapping wood rattled my eardrums.  I shielded myself at the last second, just as splinters of wood came flying my way. Long after the last creak from the bookshelf, I hesitantly moved my arms away from my face. 

Staring in horror at the place where I stood a moment ago, I moved to kneel on the ground.  The entire back wall of the cabin is now splintered wide open.  Plastic, paper, and felt are strewn across the floor — fractions of everything from pictures to mantles to curtains.  “The- The inspector was just here!” I whispered, still in shock.  I guess it was the first thing on my disoriented mind.  However, the inspector is the least of my problems.  

“Oh no,” Casey gasped, “I- I didn’t…”  Their voice trailed off into silence.  Anger boiled in my throat, but the dread of what just happened swallowed it up.  “I umm..  You should probably go back now.”  Casey’s voice is nothing but a thin whisper.  “Go back?” I repeated numbly.  “Blame it on a rotting wooden support beam or.. something.”  “I don’t think there’s even insurance on this place.”  After a brief silence, they cleared their throat nervously. “Well, you said you got it handed down to you, right?  This isn’t your actual house, is it?”  Mutely, I shook my head.  I barely even flinched as Casey’s gigantic hand drifted into view, lifting the trophy off the model, causing more of it to collapse.

There were about a million different things I could’ve yelled at them for, but I could barely process what had happened.  Without a word, I stepped into the wreckage and pointed to the cover.  Slightly confused, Casey picked it up.  “I’m going home.”  The haunting monotone of my own voice sent chills down my spine.  “I’m done with this place.  I’m done with you screwing me over.”  Quickly, Casey brushed away the debris preventing the cover from sitting right, then lifted it up, mumbling half-baked apologies.  Things are just too unimaginably wrong to acknowledge much of anything else, other than the fact that I want out of this hellishly large place.

One second I stood in the ruins of a model, the next there was a tall wall of clear plastic cutting me off from the shelf in front of me.  That was it.  Where’s the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it transition?  Bile rose in my throat as I stumbled backwards, looking up and up at the giant plastic cover that enclosed me in the ruined model.  No no no no no no.   “Are you sure there’s nothing blocking it?” I managed to squeak out, glancing sickly around at the edge where the cover met the base.  Casey tentatively checked the entire thing.  There wasn’t a single scrap of model in the way.

A new level of fear — something I can only describe as feral and animalistic — surged through my veins while I stared around at the ruined enclosed space.  Screams for help tore past my lips as I clawed at the walls that kept me trapped in devastation.  I’m trapped not just in the model, but in the entire place — stuck small and defenseless.  All my mind could process is: I’m caught!

Immediately, the cover was torn away and a face twenty times the size of mine dropped in front of me.  “Woah!  Woah!  You’re fine, see?  The cover’s gone.”  “The whole fucking bedroom should be gone!” I shrieked, “Why aren’t I back in the real cabin? This is kidnapping!  You can’t keep doing this to me!  I’ll leave your dumbass model alone, just let me go!  A- All I want to do is go back home!”

Casey’s expression distorted with pity and remorse.  I’m dangerously close to vomiting now, and I know it’ll be awful too, because I haven’t eaten a single thing.  “What are you gonna do?” I asked, voice barely hanging on to a perceptible volume.  “K- Keep me here like some pet?”  Casey shrugged, gaze darting away from me.  “Yeah, I- I guess so.”

Yellowish-green bile spewed onto the paper floorboards.  I barely managed to turn my head before it came heaving up.  Casey flinched away from me and stepped back to put down the cover.  “N-No!” I whimpered, quickly wiping my mouth on a piece of fabric strewn across some splintered wood nearby.  “Please!  Try it again!  It.. It HAS to work!”  Sorrowfully, Casey brought the cover back up to the cabin, cleared a path for it one more time, then placed it down.  Nothing.  “F- Fuck,” I whispered, “This.. This can’t be happening.”

Again, Casey put away the cover.  I’m too disheartened to bother asking him to try it a fourth time.  They tried to talk to me, but I kept yelling at them to leave until they finally did.  Things are marginally better without a literal giant walking around.  I paced back and forth for hours, trying desperately to think of any way out.  When nothing came to me, I slunk over to the side of the shelf and lay down with my back slumped against it. 

My gaze slowly wandered around the massive room just beyond the shelf’s edge.  Soon, everything was reduced to blurry shapes and colors as tears filled my vision.  Will I ever get back to my real height?  What’s gonna happen when my friends and family find out I’ve gone missing?  Is the whole cabin missing?  Shit, even if I went to a friend’s place at the size I am now, what would happen to the rest of my life?  Boarding safely at one of my friends’ houses would be better than sitting in a stranger’s house though, that’s for sure.

“C- Casey?” I called uncertainly, slowly standing back up.  “Casey!”  The door to the room swung open and they stepped in, tentatively coming to stand in front of the bookshelf as they readjusted their glasses.  “I.. still want to go home.  I can tell you the place; it’s just a few hours past the cabin.”  “You want to go home like that?” they asked nervously.  “I umm…  It’s uhh.. near the cabin?  The one I pulled up on my phone?”  My heart dropped into my stomach.  Why does Casey sound so nervous?  “Yes, that one.”  They clenched their jaw and stared out above me, debating something silently in their head.  The lenses of their glasses caught the light of a lamp on the desk beside the bookshelf, hiding their full expression.  

“I can’t.”

“Wh-  Can’t what?”  My voice cracked on the last word.  “I- I can’t bring you back.”  I shook my head, refusing to accept it.  “Yes you can!  The cabin is out there somewhere!  Which means my house — my family and friends — are out there too!  You-  Are you…  Why?”  Casey took a deep breath and glanced back down at me.  “The country where your cabin is..  That’s almost halfway across the world!  I- I don’t have the time or the money to go there right now.”  “So you’re gonna keep me here?  Against my will?!”  “Look, I would love to take you back to where you came from, but-“  “No, YOU look!” I inturrupted angrily, “You have no fucking right to keep me on your shelf like some.. some object!  I’ll call the police!”  Triumphantly, I held up my phone.  “Don’t test me!  I’ll DO it!”  

Casey reached for me, but I darted away behind the remnants of the cabin.  “No, please!  I told you, I don’t have the resources to take you there!  What do you want me to do?  I can’t magically get myself a plane ticket, and if I leave work to take a 20 hour flight to who-knows-where for who-knows-how-long, I’ll get fired!”  “Well maybe that’s what you deserve for shrinking and kidnapping me!” I spat.  Though, as much as I hate it, they do have a point.  

A sigh slowly built into a groan in my throat.  “Do you think the police or.. someone would give us a free escort if they knew about me?”  Casey thought for a moment, then shook their head.  “I think it’ll just freak people out.  You might end up as some weird lab rat, or a public attraction.  Even if they did let you go home, the whole world would probably find out about.. this,” they gestured vaguely at the shelf where the cabin and I stood.

An unnerving silence choked the room for what felt like hours, though it was probably only a few seconds.  “I know you don’t have much of a choice, but you can stay with me until I save up enough to get you home.”  “I don’t have any choice,” I mumbled.  Casey shrugged, “You can leave.  Look for a better option.  Maybe someone with more money.”  I shot them an unfriendly look.  Casey has to know how awful that idea is.  I would likely be dead or worse before I managed to find someone willing to help a random tiny woman.

“Daniella?”  I flinched slightly, glancing back over at Casey.  “I’m.. I’m really sorry.  All of this is my fault.  You were right.  I should’ve just left the cover on.”  Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I stepped back out onto the open shelf, stopping a few feet before the edge.  Though, I guess now a few feet is a few inches.  “Well, it’s too late now.”  They retreated a bit further into themself.  “But,” I added tiredly, “I’ll try not to mull too much on it if you let me be your roommate for a bit.”  “Thanks,” Casey replied sadly, “I’m still going to be immensely guilty for the rest of my life, but thanks.” My stomach roiled, and I sucked in a pained breath of air.  “You ok?”  I nodded, “Just really hungry.”  “I’ll see what I have,” Casey said, stepping one foot towards the door.  “Did you.. want to come with me?”  Memories of being clutched in hands far too big to be real spilled into my mind and I shook my head.  “N- No.  I’ll wait here.”  Seeming the slightest bit disappointed, Casey slid out the door and vanished from sight.  All I can hear is their footsteps now, echoing eerily loud on the gigantic floor.  I sank to the shelf heavy-heartedly.  Terrible thoughts already began to flood my mind.  Please don’t let this size be permanent.  Maybe I’ll grow back to normal after a while.  It isn’t likely, but it’s the only hope I have.

[minseologs]

cold solace

 @antiresolution​

She thought paranoia is a facetious thing. It makes her laugh because it’s uncomfortable. The delusions and anxieties fume out of the blue until it becomes unprovoked anger and anyone in her reach becomes a target.

For the most part, Minseo had been calm, especially whenever Wenhan was around. She knew she didn’t have to pretend around him, knowing he experienced all of the emotions she could muster. Even the ones she swore she will never show anyone. Still, she can’t help but think about people back home. What she could’ve done differently, and what they had said about her.  She told the truth at a cost. Even Hokkaido’s usual calming presence couldn’t pierce her thoughts. The presents she intended for them sat under the tree for quite sometime before giving them away else where. 

Out of touch and delirious with her own thoughts, Minseo had picked up one of her fears once more. She’d rather suffer in silence than losing another person who had known her past her family ties. Another one. It was already enough with what happened meddling with others, the last thing she wanted was burning a bridge she built so cautiously— and with contentment and pure adoration.

I’ve been bleeding all over those who didn’t hurt me… 

Her hands were splattered red, they tremble as the vision slips in between being cleared then blurred. They should feel wet, but she was feeling light— weightless.

Placing her hands down, she sees more pooling of the same red color, they get darker the more she looked around. It led to a body that was staring motionless at her.

But you can’t hurt me, if I hurt you first, right?

The horror on her face can’t be hidden. She couldn’t hear her own voice shriek. Wenhan’s eyes no longer held life, and it seemed everything had stopped. Frozen in her own fear.

I was told to protect myself... it’s no secret. you know, too.

She jolts up with the wet feeling on her cheeks, the weeping had given her pain in her throat and it was cold. A maid was bowing nearby and apologizes profusely for waking her up.

“Minseo-sama! I’m sorry—“

Her footsteps barely gave the other time to complete a sentence, immediately running to wherever he may be. They soften when a silhouette of a body is seen nearby. A screen divides himself from her in another room, Wenhan’s shadow outlined softly from the light. The dream nightmare felt too real she refused to get any closer. The maid’s face was confused, worried more at her state knowing she was more important than a new stranger of the house. The woman reaches for the screen in consideration, but delicate hands stop her. 

“Leave us.” She whispers, the request was desperate. “Please.”

Like a child afraid to approach the unknown, she held the screen door in tension, calling out to him in a much more gentle manner. Wenhan doesn’t response immediately and it concerned Minseo enough that she took a step closer with the intent of bursting through the doors.

“Yes-?”

The floor board creaks as she stepped back, with a sigh of relief caught in her breath. A part of her wanted to truly burst in the room and feel a pulse on his neck for any heartbeat, the other wanted to stick by his side to feel the warmth that he was alive. But she did nothing and stared at her feet.  The snow outside amplifies the silence around them but it was the kind that was comfortable. Another pause.

“Ah- nothing. I wanted to see if you were awake….” He could tell something was off just from her voice, but didn’t pry. Maybe later.

“Do you want company?”

“Please?”

Why do you stay? I don’t understand. Do you enjoy being an ill-tempered woman’s companion?

Composing herself before he comes out, she wipes her face and arranged her hair accordingly. Minseo could only feel her heartbeat slowing down to a regular rate now that she heard his voice. Their eyes meet with a friendly and pleasant gesture. Wenhan was often mute when he gives out emotions, but when he did, his eyes are usually the first to tell how he felt. She takes a good guess and makes sure she didn’t disrupt that feeling. With tenderness in his invitation, she could only chuckle as to why he had responded so late. Holding an old script in his hands, her curiosity peaks with the earlier events disappearing in the back of her mind. 

“What are you reading?” the tatami had provided them somewhere to lay down, they face each other with the edges of his little book in between, eyes never leaving his. 

“Legend of the White Snake.” His voice had always been fascinating to her whenever his native language pops up. “You have no idea what I just said, huh?”

“Absolutely not.” the room soon filled with snickering, only their voices echoing down the corners of the room. “I think you said ‘snake’, but do tell me.” 

still— I’d rather be cold in your arms than be warm in someone else’s hold.

[shaelashaela]

The King's Curse, ch. 9

[reading time] 5½ mins.

“What are ya doin’?”

I looked over at Mal, not sure what he was talking about. I was bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet and shaking my hands like they were wet. He probably thought I needed to go to the bathroom or something.

“Oh, I… uh… this place always just gives me, like, a jolt of energy. It feels weird.”

He shook his head and made a face like I was crazy. I ignored him and focused on our surroundings instead. Brightly coloured plants flourished all around us, hues just a little off from normal. A little shiver went down my spine. Last time, I came to the Wylde to rescue Sylvie from the clutches of Ixion, and here I was again. Big damn hero.

The marsh stretched into the distance, and off to the west, the sun was already pretty darn low in the sky. If we weren’t quick, we’d get stuck out in the night. Somehow, that felt like a bad idea. Dark elves might be more powerful at night, right? That seemed like a reasonable assumption.

Mal snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Hey, you listenin’ to me?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you were ready to get goin’. You were just standin’ there, lookin’ around.”

I patted the pocket of my coat, reassuring myself that I still held the folded map I’d taken from Sylvie’s desk. “Yeah. I just…”

“Just what?”

A broken-down house stood on the other side of the wetlands, drawing my curiosity, even though I could only see it in my memory. Why did I suddenly want to go back there? It made no sense.

“Never mind, let’s just get going.”

We headed east, seeking the mountain.

A couple of hours of pleasant nothingness drifted by us. Devoid of any shadows for me to jump at, the serenity of the flat plain convinced me to relax, despite knowing what waited ahead. Twice, I tried to strike up a conversation with Mal, but he only gave me brusque responses. He was agitated, that much I could tell. His eyes darted back and forth, and he glanced over his shoulder every so often. He acted like a man pursued, though we’d seen no one.

The mountain towered over us, looming closer in our vision with each step. The plain ended not far ahead, and the road wound through the rocky terrain beyond, layers of sedimentary rock piled high on either side. Something or someone cut a path through the rock purposefully.

We strolled past a little stone post stuck in the ground, one of many. At first, I thought they were random rocks, but they repeated at regular intervals along the road.

“There’s another one. What do you think those are?”

“Why are you askin’ me?” he snapped. “Quit sightseeing and keep your eyes out for dark elves.”

“There’s nobody out here, Mal. We’ve been alone for hours.”

“Yeah, that’s just what a dark elf would do… leave us alone to let our own paranoia wear us down.”

Well, one person’s paranoia wore him down, anyway. Not overthinking was admittedly difficult for me, but walking so far in boring silence just left me tired. It was somewhat comical that this man, who’d I seen transform into an eight foot tall giant on a previous occasion, could be so terrified of other fey. I wondered why he remained in human form at all, if he was so worried.

“Uh, awkward question, Mal: do you not like to take your, uh, other shape? … Sorry if that’s personal.”

He paused and looked me in the eye for the first time in hours. “Oh, uh, not sure I have an answer. I think I’m just used to this?”—he swept his hands across his short but broad body for effect—“Haven’t really spent that much time without it in a long, long time.”

I stopped as well and thought for a second. “Maybe that’s just who you are now? How long have you lived outside the Wylde?”

Mal turned his head away and mumbled something.

“Huh?”

“I said, about fifty years. Okay? Why are you pryin’ so much all of a sudden?”

I resumed walking. “Sorry. I just wanted to know more about you. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He sighed and fell into step beside me. “Yeah, friends… right. Look, I got a lotta stuff goin’ on. A lotta stuff I don’t really wanna remember, and every time you and your chick drag me back here, it’s like reopenin’ old wounds.”

A frown tinged my voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I promise I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“I know, I know. Let’s just drop it, okay? Stay focused on savin’ Sylvie and gettin’ the fuck outta here in one piece.”

The mountain stared me in the face, grey and ominous. Something nagged at the back of my brain, telling me the peak itself was somehow important. Was Sylvie up there?

“Yeah… you’re right.”

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

We both froze mid-step, but neither of us had the courage to ask what the sound was. The way our eyes met, though, told me it scared the shit out of both of us.

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

Somehow, I pushed out a question. “Should we… run?”

Mal spun in a circle, fists raised, seeking the source of the disembodied hoofbeats. “Show yourself!”

Clip, clop. Clip, clop.

The shadows of waning daylight swirled and harried us like a dust devil, and I let out an unbecoming shriek and dodged away. Mal took a swing, but his fist just passed through it. Within seconds, the spinning darkness separated and took shape. Nine humanoid forms appeared from the very shadow itself, all elves dressed in ill-fit leather armour, scuffed and black. They levelled crossbows at us, and I froze.

A larger form followed them. The legs of a stallion solidified, then its body, followed by a rider in a saddle. He was an impossibly handsome man, beautiful even compared to most elves I’d seen, with a face chiselled from marble. His long, blond hair draped over his black metal armour, and his icy blue stare pierced me straight through. My heart stopped briefly, or so it felt.

His voice demanded respect, but it was also sad in a way that perplexed me. “What business dost thou have here, humans? Speak quickly or die.”

Magic gave unnatural force to his words. While I had learned some Elvish from Sylvie, I still needed a lot of practice. And yet, I understood his words as well as I did English.

Mal’s tone was far too indignant for someone surrounded. “Piss off, jerk. I’m no human.”

I shushed him frantically. “Don’t mind him, please. My name is Rayna Ravenna. I’m here … I’m here, to uh, well…”

The rider sneered at me. “Out with it. Thou dost try mine patience.”

“I’m looking for an elf girl called Sylvie Shaestari. She’s a little bit taller than me, blonde hair, green eyes. Have you seen her?”

The elf was stone-faced, so I had no idea if he knew who Sylvie was or not. I had a feeling he did, though. He opened his mouth as if to reply, but then yet another elf stepped from the gloomy path behind his horse. This one was also uncannily gorgeous. Androgynous, though. He—she?—we’ll go with they—wore a tight-fitting outfit of black leather, neater and obviously tailored for them specifically, unlike the crossbowmen. Their hair was silvery white, shaved on both sides of the head, but very long and brushed to one side. Their eyes were the colour of storm-clouds, but also more warm and mirthful than the rider’s.

Their voice lilted like a songbird. “Nepenthe, I’ll take over, darling.”

The rider shot a pointed glance down at the newcomer, fire and fury in his eyes. “Why are you here?”

The other elf ignored him and paced forward into the circle of crossbows, which seemed a tad mad to me. They bowed deeply and dramatically at the waist, so much so that it somehow felt mocking.

“Good eve, travelers. Welcome to the Wintervale! I am Lacuna, and I will be your esteemed host.”

This newcomer shocked me with their perfect, if slightly accented, English. Pretty sure there was no magic involved. I nodded respectfully.

“Thank you. Can you help me find my friend?”

Lacuna laughed heartily and looked around at the other elves. The crossbowmen exchanged furtive glances but also joined with their own, uneasy laughter. My cheeks warmed. I hated feeling like an idiot.

“Help you? Sweetheart, you and your spriggan friend are in over your heads.”

The one apparently called Nepenthe made a disgusted grunt at Mal. “A spriggan wearing human skin? Uncouth.”

After the laughter died down, Lacuna leaned in close. “I suppose you could call this a sort of ‘help.’ You’re not dead, are you?”

I backed away. I did not enjoy them invading my personal space. “Sorry, I don’t know your customs. Forgive me if we’re trespassing. I just want to find my friend and go home.”

They spun on their heel and walked back to the horse’s side. “Oh, don’t fret, darling. You’ll get the chance. Let’s see if you survive the night, shall we?”

“Huh?”

“Nepenthe! Be a dear and escort them to the Queen.”

The rider narrowed his eyes at the other elf. He clearly did not like taking orders from Lacuna. “As you wish,” he growled. He looked to me and Mal. “Follow.”

I gave my friend a helpless glance, but he just shrugged.

“Play along for now, I guess,” Mal said.

The mountain stood proudly in the distance, grey and unflinching. Despite our unusual escort, my eyes focused on the slopes during the journey. Something deep in my soul told me I should go there. Mal still maintained an uneasy stance that looked like he might run at any moment, but I felt oddly calm. Despite Lacuna’s dire warnings, we weren’t in any immediate danger.

Not yet, anyway.

[meloncalic]

The Dream

i gave myself brainrot again help. pls.

500+ words (also i wrote this at 3am and DID NOT edit it that thoroughly, pls have mercy on me)

warnings: mentions of violence, intention of torture (brief), knife use, paranoia, brief dream/reality confusion

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

Murdock doesn’t sleep. Well, used to not sleep, he rephrases. It’s hard to stay awake with his one and only, wrapped perfectly in his arms, warm and so there. The first time you had slept in his bed, next to him, peaceful and perfect for him? That was the best night of sleep he’d had in years. Maybe even since he started his hunts.

He’s quite a violent sleeper, but you’re used to it by now.  He’d usually wake with a jolt or a twitch and an utterance of something under his breath, but nothing ever really discernible. He would always assure your puppy-dog eyes that he was ok, and to go back to sleep.

The worst dreams are the ones that feel so painfully real, present, that you forget they’re dreams at all. The ones that fool your brain into thinking you’re experiencing reality. They usually start with something believable, something you’ve experienced before. 

So when he is circling another worm he had tied to a chair with his prized metal tool glistening in his hand, he doesn’t think twice about it. It’s just another day at the office for him. But, even through the hood on their head and the haze of the dream, he knows this particular one did something especially heinous. He feels nausea creep up, with anger and disgust both boiling in him. His urge even has the courtesy to visit him, creating a phantom sensation at the base of his neck.

His first strike is quick but effective, an immediate red stream erupting from the small area he chose. He could tell through the fog of the dream that he was going to take his time with this one. He starts walking around them once again, reveling in the noises they make.

Dreams and their timelines are weird, to say the least. He almost feels sad when the best parts are skipped and the dream shifts, leaving a bloody, barely conscious mess in front of his eyes. Littered with cuts, bruises and blood, they whimper weakly as they hear Murdock approach them again. But he holsters his knife, reaching for the hood on their broken frame. He’s curious, what can he say.

He pulls the hood off, and through the sweat, blood and matted hair he sees immediately who he had hurt. Who he had broken into little pieces, barely hanging onto their life.

No no no no no. This can’t be real. This cannot be real. He wouldn’t do that. Not to them. Wake up. WAKE UP —

He wakes with a scream, shouting your name. That’s a new one. You can feel him trembling from your side of the bed. He runs his shaking hands through his hair, and takes a deep breath before looking in your direction. Murdock is out of the room before you can formulate a question to ask what’s wrong.

[hoshi-y]

HEY I JUST HAD TO REQUEST SOMETHING<33

Can I have a Amane and Teru headcanons with a s/o who has terrible paranoia! They are always scared someone is going to hurt them or the people they love so they are always on edge even when they don’t have to be

This also really interferes with their sleep schedule and they tend to stay up most of the night sort of “watching out” just in case something happens

They do other things like sit in the back of the class so that they know no one is behind them with evil intentions, often thinking people are lying to them when they have no reason to think that, watching over amane and teru all the time as well- it just interfere with their life in big and small ways-

THANK YOU SO MUCH IN ADVANCE!!

Paranoia

genre : Fluff

Characters : Amane Yugi, Teru Minamoto

TW : None

A/N : OFC I LOVE THIS, Cause kinda reminds me of myself HAHAHSHSHSHA BUT ANYWAYS I WILL WRITE THIS TO THE BEST OF MY ABILITIES

And I hope you like it Cherry !!

For those who don't know what Paranoia is

Paranoia is the irrational and persistent feeling that people are 'out to get you' or that you are the subject of persistent, intrusive attention by others. This unfounded mistrust of others can make it difficult for a person with paranoia to function socially or have close relationships

I'm here.. Don't worry no one is gonna hurt you..

He notices that you always look around your surroundings, In a very panicked matter

Like you're hiding from something

or someone

He would actually observe your every move

Would walk faster when entering crowded corridors

Sometimes you accidentally leave him alone in the crowd-

He would also observe how much you refuse, to go anywhere alone

even the bathroom—

or even stay alone in your own house.

You couldn't bare to be alone and sometimes have to beg him to come over

There was a time he slept over at your house and you jolted up and started looking at your surroundings

He woke up to you panicking and shaking so he calmed you down

That's when he put the pieces together on what he has observed and came to the conclusion that you have paranoia

Terrible case of paranoia

To the point that it has greatly affected your sleeping schedule too

His poor S/O :(

That's why your lovely boyfriend has come to the rescue!

He would actually monitor what time you wake up and how long you stay up

AND HE WOULD PUT IT ON HIS ALARM BRO LIKE OMG

So when his alarm goes off he'll check up on you, and stay with you until you fall asleep

OR HE TAKES YOU STARGAZING WAHH, WHILE HE PLAYS WITH YOUR HANDS TO CALM YOU DOWN

Or when he can't come to your house, He calls you, Fufu you two sometimes sleep on call together

at school he'll beg for Yamabuki to change seats with him so he can sit next to you

He will give a glare to those who look at you, even the slightest

He'll squeeze your hand whenever you two start walking towards a hefty amount of people

So you'll know he is always there <3

"Don't worry my Love.. I'm here.. No one will come and hurt.." He said as he hugs you tightly and peppers your face with kisses

No one will hurt you when I'm around, I promise that.

I'll protect you.

Teru would notice right away how paranoid you are

You're very aware of your surroundings and look left and right whenever a stranger walks past you

This one time you almost attacked him with a book cause he was following you

My guy just wanted to hug you from behind—

There was also a time you barged into the student council office

Looking.. Worried?

You jump into his arms with no explanation and started sobbing a little

He also notices that you ALWAYS sit at the back of the class

And you sometimes you look a bit tensed with other people

You and him are neighbors, And late at night whenever he stays up, He will notice the light in your room is still on

Why are you awake at this time an hour?

he gave you a call, And you sounded like you were having a panick attack

Went over and helped you calm down

You ended up sleeping in his arms

Thats when he finally noticed that these were symptoms of Paranoia

Do you always wake up at this time an hour??

Now he was worried

You probably stay up all night because of this

or even at class, He sits at the 2nd row while you sit at the far back

The next day you noticed he sits next to you now

aha, he begged the class adviser which took him awhile

He'd look at you from time to time to see if you're doing okay

Drag you away from the group of people who keep bugging you about his and your relationship

With matching death glare

Someone's making you uncomfortable and uneasy?

Just know they're already in the student council office having a 'talk' with Teru

Would update you on where or what he is doing

This little doings of his just makes your heart melt and you are thankful that he understands your situation

"Don't worry, Princess, I'll protect you" He said whispering as he hugs your sleeping figure as he also doze off to sleep.

God i loved writing this, TYSM FOR SHARING ME YOUR IDEA AND MAKING A REQUEST CHERRY!! I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS

Cause it made me realize I have paranoia aha—Dont you jusy learn new things everyday

[imagine-loki]

Everyone's Problem

TITLE: Everyone’s Problem CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her. + Imagine HYDRA has been quietly watching Loki living a quiet life on Earth. They decide it’s finally time to bring him into the fold. It doesn’t exactly work out the way they intended. RATING: T

NOTES/WARNING: Hi, y'all! I haven’t written in a fair while, so I did a quick little one-shot with Charlie to get myself back into shape. It’s probably rough, but cut me some slack! If you’re interested in reading other Charlie stories (there’s a bunch!), you can find them on my masterlist here. Language, mentions of violence, attacks and blood, one v angry human, and typos probably.

XX

“Loki, it’s a stomach ache. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” Charlie remarked for the fiftieth time that morning as she gently shoved the darling Asgardian she called a boyfriend away from her.

Loki huffed for about the same number time. “According to your interweb healers, it could be an autoimmune disorder, an ulcer or gastric cancer! Forgive me if I’m a little worried about–”

“WebMD is not a qualified physician, Loki Odinson! Settle. The fuck. Down!”

Though her tone was no-nonsense, a smile was tugging at the left corner of her plump lips, evidence that she was not nearly as cross as she portrayed herself to be. When she brushed past him, Loki circled his arms around her waist and tugged her into his body, peppering her face with kisses as she made noises of weak protest. Despite his best advances (and really, he was doing his best work here) her laughter began to trickle down and out of existence.

“Loki, stop,” she said firmly, though he was only half listening.

“Stop!” The Prince froze, holding her loosely in his arms. Her tone wasn’t exactly what had caused her to stop his affectionate attack, though. It was the fact that her whole frame had stilled, and her eyes danced from spot to spot as she concentrated on something. “Can you hear that?”

Loki tilted his head and focused. It took a moment, as out of practice in paranoia as he was, but eventually he heard the very distinct pounding of military-grade rubber on linoleum. “Boots.” Quietly, he righted himself, taking silent, measured steps around the furniture, leading Charlie along with him. “Come on. Bedroom. Quickly.”

No sooner had he gotten those words out, the front door slammed open, leaving Charlie to yelp behind him, a handful of his gray heather t-shirt keeping her anchored to his frame. As Loki saw it, there were three men in the immediate vicinity, waving odd-looking guns that bore the signature of the Chitauri. These were not aliens, though. They were humans, who somehow found a way to retrofit the technology to make more powerful weapons. Many had been foolish enough to try it throughout the years, but only one entity bore the skull and tentacled monster on their insignia.

HYDRA.

This was definitely not a great time to still be without magic.

At once, he tried to school the rhythm of his heart, knowing that Charlie was distinctly in tune with the beat and would worry if it seemed like he was in a panic. With delicate fingers, he stroked at her curls, intending to burrow into his side. “Put your arm around me, tuck your head in, don’t let go. Got it?”

She offered little resistance to the order, humming her consent and wrapping her arm tightly around his torso. The feeling gave him comfort, funnily enough, that he was still the warrior that he had trained to be in his youth, despite having lived like a spoiled house cat for the last couple of years. Where in his youth there was glory and blood to be won, today there was only one objective–keep Charlie safe. Loki moved the second the intruders set their scopes on him. Reaching to his left, he grabbed a handful of kitchen knives which would have to do in this pinch and engaged with a growl.

Charlie whimpered, her legs struggled to keep up with his. She could not anticipate his movement and was mostly just being pushed and pulled around the floor while Loki seemed to be skillfully weaving like he was dancing. It also didn’t help that with every jerk of her body and awkward moment, there was the sickening sound of injury filling her ears. In one very distinct occasion, she could feel the breaking of some sort of bone reverberate through her own hand as Loki delivered a blow. Surely, it would be a lot easier for Loki to fight if he didn’t have to worry about Charlie behind him, and the awkward shuffle he had to do to make sure she was never exposed to any of these intruders took significant mental acuity.

When the three in the room had been dealt with, Loki reached for one of their weapons and Charlie’s mobile. He wasted to no time in moving them back through the bedroom door and locking it. Surely, more men would come.

“Stark!”

“Loki, I am, er, dealing with something right now!” The sound of bullets and flying mortar filled the line along with FRIDAY’s voice in the suit. “I’ll need to call you back!”

“Loki.” Charlie’s voice was small and trembling beside him.

Sighing, Loki wrapped his free arm around her and pulled Charlie into his chest. “I have you, love. Don’t worry.”

His lips pressed into her crown. A little bit of battle had shaken away the rust of his instincts and he could feel the distinctive prickle of enemies closing in. He prayed quietly to any entity that would bear to hear his prayers that they would be left alone. There was more noise beyond the door and Loki was left to coo Charlie into silence. He understood her fear, everything to her was a surprise, doubly so when she was scared and couldn’t bring herself to concentrate on her surroundings.

“I’m going to need you to run to the bathroom and lock yourself there, dove.”

Her hazel eyes zeroed in on him with rage-filled acuity. “You’re insane if you think I’m leaving you.”

“Darling, I cannot protect you if I’m busy minding you from getting hurt!”

Her eyes widened. There was panic in her empty gaze if the fidgeting of her fisted hands was anything to go by and it pained him to think that he could not even offer her an empty promise. “No, please! Please, don’t leave me. I–I can’t deal with it if you’re not with me.”

Loki smiled, sighing at the sweet ache of her words on his heart, and cupped her cheeks, dusting them with speckles of others’ blood. “You are braver than this, Charlotte Camden.” His thumbs brushed over her bronzed cheekbones affectionately. “I know you are. So you go and keep yourself safe and I will–”

The bedroom door rammed open with a deafening crash of cracked wood and rained splinters over the couple.

“Go! Go now!”

Charlie reluctantly disengaged, taking a running leap towards the bathroom door and slammed it behind her. Her ear pressed up against the wood to hear the scuffling. It sounded like a bigger force had come in and Charlie swallowed the panicked yelp threatening to bubble up her throat. Loki was a great fighter, but without his magic there was little for him to do if he was incapacitated. All she could do was hope that he was faster, stronger, better than these intruders.

And that’s when she heard it.

His voice.

Screaming.

Screaming like he did when he had a nightmare.

Screaming like when he remembered the blood and gore that he caused and the damage he had done.

Screaming like when he discovered that the extent of his monstrosity went beyond a lineage he had been lied about and the fickle lies he had been fed by a tyrant.

And then she heard it again.

And again.

And again…

And just when she thought her heart could take no more, she heard a body thud onto the ground and the shuffling stop and she feared the worst.

And then her bracelets activated.

Nearly a year of having the damn things on her and she had forgotten that they served any purpose other than setting off the metal detectors everywhere she went. The nanites built up around her in one swift wave. It took Charlie a moment to orient herself back to the seeing world. The colors on the screen still gave her a headache, her eyes still were unfocused, but that was due to her nearsightedness more than anything else, but it was still usable. And the updates Tony had made to the AI over the years made it easy to navigate through the controls.

She kicked the door open at once. Five figures turned back to her while another three were trying to get Loki’s annoyingly heavy body onto a cot to wheel him away. There was blood on his shirt, wounds seeping the dark treacly liquid from stab wounds used to subdue him, he looked pale, but his chest was still moving air and he was muttering deliriously under his breath.

He was alive.

So every one of them now had to die.

The gauntlets whined as the blasters charged and knocked them clean out of their boots. She supposed Tony didn’t think she would ever try to blast anything at full power, but lo and behold her rage was transcendental. They tried to restructure, protect the ones trying to take Loki away while fighting her off. Bullets ricocheted off her armor, letting her forge forward, blasters pumping out energy and leaving a trail of crumpled bodies. Taking a run, her body propelled off the ground, landing with a loud thud just in front of the door and cutting off their escape.

“Put. Him. Down.”

Rifles came up to point at her. Seven in total. They fired in unison, and she raised her arms, flinching instinctually from the projectiles that were intent on ripping into her armor. Charlie’s teeth grit tightly as she waited for the jolt of bullets to knock her backwards. They never came.

I thought it might be helpful to unlock Loki’s magic from the bracelets, the AI spoke into her ear.

When she blinked up, a blanket of green held the bullets in place, swirling in the ether of his magic. Her breath caught. This was definitely not something Tony had mentioned the last time she went in for a tune-up. He had failed to mention that the dampener Loki wore, implanted just under the skin of his bicep was feeding directly into the nanites or that there was any way to access the power. What was stranger was that the magic even listened to her, in the first place. By Loki’s tales, it was untamable force and most sorcerers never got very far without proper instruction. This was most odd.

Guns cocked and reloaded, breaking her out of her reverie. With a flick of her fingers, the bullets turned and resumed their trajectory, delivered back to sender. Another flourish, she disposed of the ones carrying the medical backboard with Loki in it and he fell to the carpeted ground with a groan.

Headache in full swing, she ran to his side, pushing away bodies to fall to her knees beside him. Nanites receded from her hands to touch his cheek.

“Loki. Babe, look at me.”

A wry smile curled his lips. “I am. I’m just very tired.” He chuckled, ending it with a cough and a groan. “Well, that answers the question where has my magic gone all this time?” He blinked a little longer each time as the darkness threatened to drag him down.

“Don’t close your eyes. Please. I need to get you to Tony’s.”

He giggled a little deliriously. “Magic suits you, petal.”

“Jesus, I really do need to get you to Tony’s.” Nanites back over her hands, she pulled his long frame into her arms and heaved. Even with the armor, he was decidedly heavier than any human she had ever met. For a second, she debated going out the front door, but seeing as her apartment was pretty much totaled, anyway, she burst through a window and into the New York skyline.

X

Loki blinked awake to the sounds of Charlie berating someone to within an inch of their life. He smiled, settling back into the covers with a grin despite the obvious pain radiating from just under his ribs and the dull ache in his skull. He peeked an eye open to see Stark, actively cowering backwards, away from her tone, narrowly avoiding her walking cane whenever she gestured wildly.

“It would have been nice to know how to activate the damn thing before Loki got fucking stabbed or I felt absolutely sure that he was dead because you put in a life or death trigger on the damn suit! And don’t get me fucking started on the fact that I’ve been carrying Loki’s magic for the last year and had no fucking clue about it!”

“I’m sorry! I was trying to keep you from playing with the suit for funsies instead of–”

“WE ALMOST DIED AND YOU WERE BUSY WITH YOUR OWN HYDRA ASSHOLES! WHAT WERE WE SUPPOSED TO DO? WAIT FOR YOU TO GET YOUR ASS KICKED BEFORE–”

“Charlie, love,” Loki hoarsed, and the tirade immediately quieted. Charlie rushed over to the bedside, briefly tripping over a chair leg before clambering onto his cot and covering his face with kisses. “Dove, I’m bound to be disgusting at the moment,” he protested weakly, but still pulled her closer by the waist.

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you, too. My savior.” He cupped her face in his hands, absorbing the warmth from her beaming smile. “Glorious. Truly glorious.” He ran his fingers through her curls, bringing them back into shape from their crumpled form. Clearly she had been sleeping here with him and not necessarily keeping up with brushing–that was usually his task, anyway–but her crumpled clothes and dark circles under her eyes belied the worry she felt for him. It made his stomach warm several times over.

“I found your magic.”

He chuckled. “I recall. You can keep it safe for me.” He looked briefly at Tony who was pretending not to smile in the corner. “Do we know what happened?”

“Looking for you, buddy boy. They were a little disappointed you couldn’t do the hocus pocus stuff, but they caught onto the problem pretty quick.”

“I’m the problem,” Charlie muttered, snuggling into his side.

“Mmm, what a lovely problem to have,” he whispered before kissing her crown.

“Look, I’ll talk to your old man and see if we can’t get your sparkles and pixie dust ban lifted–”

“Don’t bother. I can teach Charlie how to use magic if you give her access. He said I couldn’t use seidr, not that I couldn’t teach someone else to wield it.”

Tony looked apprehensive, wincing slightly at the suggestion. “You sure you want to give Live Wire there that kind of ammunition?”

“Oh, if they don’t want to allow me to use my power, that is fine. But I am making her everyone’s problem. Aren’t I, sweet?”

Charlie simply snickered, leaving Tony to groan loudly as he stepped out of the hospital room.

[permian-tropos]

Daniil - Liberosis

Didn’t think this prompt word would become so poignant so soon. The subject matter wound up kind of surreal and taking whatever path I thought might be interesting but sometimes it’s nicer to let other people search for meaning in something. 

IDK yeah I just wanted to publish this. Contains canon-typical misery.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

-

It rains again, always with that damn rain, and inside of each puddle in the street is the reflection of a man with cold eyes. They’re a little bit sardonic, as if the protective cloth tied over his mouth obscures a world-weary smirk. They track movement deliberately, and never dart or flash.

When did this happen? When did his features freeze in place like this? It’s interesting. The last time Dankovsky saw his own reflection, he was burned out like a candle stub.

This is better. You’d rather see a second wind from the Capital doctor on his rounds, a man who cares less and does more, even if what he does isn’t much use to anyone. It’ll give people less reason to panic.

The plague is spreading on the wings of panic. That’s why the patrolmen show no mercy to the sick, those shambling mummies, when they stray into the streets.

Dankovsky never gave such an order. The man in the puddle wears his intentions well: But I wouldn’t countermand it.

When you think about it, the only way to fight the plague is to resist your natural human desire to seek help, or even the comforting touch of another; instead you must succumb in solitude, to save others.

The nature of epidemics really is to target the most precious aspects of our being…

“What do I do? What do I do? I’m lost…”

Dankovsky first expects that wheedling voice to come from a child, but it’s too knowing, like it’s playing a game.

Sometimes they’re called mimes, but they talk too much. They’re more amused by the circumstances than the name Tragedian suggests. Subconsciously, Dankovsky has gotten into the habit of treating them as if there is not a human under that patchwork black cloth, but paper stuffing, or an animated wire frame. They’re an oddly useless counterpart to the orderlies, and they certainly don’t answer to the Bachelor.

“One of you?” he sighs, backing up a few steps. “What do you want from me this time…? Get it over with.”

The masked man dawdling under the streetlamp tips its head slowly one way, then the other. “His Excellency thinks I spoke to him?”

“I’m the only one on the street. Unless you’re raving, in which case I have no time for lunatics.”

“How cruel. In any case… I’ve lost my mask.” The Tragedian shields its eye-holes from the rain with a hand, and looked far and wide.

“It’s right on your head,” Dankovsky grouses. “Now what’s my reward for finding it, a bag of marbles? Or wait, you’ve lost those too.”

“Oh, no, not this. This is my face. You see how blank and plain it is? It wants a character, a role to play. A mask, a mask.”

Dankovsky folds his arms. “What about playing a man who doesn’t leave his house… wherever he comes from, his burrow, his den, and doesn’t get himself into trouble?”

The Tragedian offers an apologetic shrug and spread palms. “I tried it but alas, it weren’t for me. I didn’t know my lines, and came too late…”

The Bachelor mutters, “You’ll be a dog soon – playing dead.”

“I’ve lost a mask of careless cruelty… I think it would be fun to wear a while. It grins at simple victories and doesn’t shed a tear for those less fortunate. I’d like to be the one who laughs in Hell…”

“Fine, I’ll look for something like that… I suppose.” It wasn’t the first bizarre request he’d taken, and been able to fulfill despite not understanding it at first. Whatever the Tragedian was looking for, it would turn up eventually.

Now the Tragedian was clasping its hands together, pleading. It was remarkably expressive for having, as it said, such a blank face. “But if perhaps you’d let me borrow yours…”

“That’s completely unsanitary.” What kind of idiot request was that?

“I mean the one behind the cloth, the visage that regards the world so icily…”

The Tragedian pokes an impudent, spidery finger right between the Bachelor’s eyebrows, which pinch together in great chagrin.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at… but I get the impression you’re not asking for a real object.” He slaps the finger away. “If you want to wear my face, playact all you like. Just don’t impersonate me to anyone important, or use my name for any stupid ventures. Or you’ll regret it.”

Dankovsky leaves the actor to mime out his gratitude, head fervently bowing, clasped hands pumping up and down. He’d expected to get something out of this exchange, but perhaps it’s a longer-term investment. Or it’ll be quite the farce when the thespian starts wandering around the town pretending to be him. He’s not sure what he’s given away.

Signal fires mark the start of an infected district. He tightens the cloth around his mouth and nose and rushes in. There’s one house in particular he has to visit, so he very much intends to keep his head down all the way there.

His ears are assaulted by wails of the dying, carried far even by stagnant windless air.

At first he doesn’t understand why his skin is prickling. Senseless paranoia.

I gave away my mask…

It doesn’t mean anything!

But something’s changed in him for sure.

Even though it’s illogical, he’s shivering like ice has been poured down his shirt.

His eyes catch movement and he jolts away at first, because he’s learned to flee whenever a human shape stumbles across his path in districts like these. One filthy touch from any of these walking corpses could pass on the infection.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t come near me…”

“Help us…” the mummy gabbles. It’s sobbing under the linen wraps, but those cries might be of relief as well as pain. “Please, please, you’ve got to help us… I’ve been looking all over for a doctor… You’ve got pills, haven’t you? Kind sir… spare us something… even just a sleeping draught…”

Dankovsky should be fleeing, and he’s frozen instead. He should do the compassionate thing and put a bullet through this faceless cloth-wrapped head, and he cannot. He has the unsettling thought he would rather turn the gun on himself.

The supplicant takes his inaction as permission. Its hand has seized him and is crawling up his forearm, creeping as surely as a mold on a wall.

“There must be something…” the infected one pleads. “If only to… I just wanted to… oh, but it’s so… my head’s spinning… I can hardly hear myself, can you hear me? Am I speaking? Are you there?”

More dying souls are shambling out of the alleys and either they can smell healthy skin like sharks smell blood or they’re spotting him through the gauze over their eyes and immediately recognizing him. Two have emerged from behind one building… a third and fourth from a park…

The dead come to drag him down into the earth. Rain pours down his cheeks.

“Hey!”

There’s someone behind him, shouting, but he doesn’t realize it’s directed at him until—  

“What do you think you’re doing, dummy? Dummy Dankovsky!”

“Hah?” He’s unstuck when that strident childish voice pierces his ears through the white noise.

In comes charging none other than the wandering saint girl, shoes pattering and splashing through the sodden pavement. She spreads her palms out like she’s pushing out a great wave of force from them, some kind of heavenly wind, and even though no immediate magic goes off with a theatrical bang and puff of smoke, the sickened townsperson withdraws.

Clara catches Dankovsky’s arm. Her grip is mighty steel.

“You didn’t think you could heal them with your touch, did you?” Her tone is either mocking or heartachingly sincere. She’s too peculiar to ever be one thing or another, so maybe it’s both. “Don’t… don’t get those funny ideas into your head, okay? You’ll make people worry about you��”

Of course he finds her words ironic, but not surprising. It’s the usual way that young people parrot the things they’ve been told by others, as a way of expressing concern.

Especially ironic now that she’s extending her free hand towards the bandaged wretch, with a strained but beatific smile, flashing white teeth. Her fingers unfurl, flexing, preparing for an incredible sleight-of-hand.

“Don’t be scared,” coaxes the Changeling. “I’ll take care of you!”

“Careful—!” the Bachelor croaks, voice stolen by panic. But he still waits with bated breath, wondering if he’s about to witness a miracle.

But as soon as Clara’s palm brushes the gauze-wrapped fingertips, the infected person’s hands turn to claws. They gasp and clutch their chest, rocking on their heels, head bobbing.

It’s almost as if they’re trying to express a profound devotion and love that cannot fit inside them. Then they exhale without a word, collapsing in a heap, like a thread over their head has been snipped.

Clara’s smile shrinks by millimeters. Water droplets slide off it, dropping from the corners of her lips.

“Why…?” Her query is a quiet chime, a small tolling bell.

“Leave it, leave it. It was a myocardial infarction,” Dankovsky mutters. “Plainly, a heart attack. It’s usual for them to die like this in the end… Perhaps they were startled by us… Overwhelmed by a moment of hope.”

“I thought I was the one who healed…” the girl says, eyes fogged with confusion. “I mixed it up… Even we can’t tell us apart anymore…?”

Damn this… The girl’s delusions are only going to worsen now. Whoever’s been letting her roam about without supervision needs to rethink their priorities. She used to irritate Dankovsky with her proud preaching, and he was afraid she’d be able to stir the town’s population into a fervor. They come out of their homes in search of her sometimes.

Still, it’s possible she’s been witnessing frightening things for days — or longer? who knows where she came from or what she’s suffered to be without a family now — and has convinced herself she must have a purpose. Whose mind doesn’t falter like that in the face of an insane world?

The Bachelor doesn’t think he’s nearly as paternal as his rough-and-tumble counterpart, the favorite of the orphan underclass, Burakh. But Burakh’s not here right now.

Dankovsky slings a strict enclosing arm around Clara’s shoulders.

“You didn’t do it, Clara…” he commands her to believe, as his heart keeps minutely panging in that new way that he’s not accustomed to. “Don’t think about it. Pull that ratty scarf over your mouth and nose and keep moving.”

She’s stumbling after him, reluctantly keeping apace. “But can’t you see I’m not her…?”

“Whoever you are, I don’t care,” Dankovsky mutters. He stares only ahead, at the distant waterlogged signal pyre marking the invisible border between poison and safety.

[starshine583]

Crossing a Line

(SUPER late to do this, but I finally decided to name the fic lol anyay, here’s part 16 of Le Paon! Sorry it’s a day late, but I hope you all enjoy!)

Part 1 / Part 15 / Part 17

Le Paon landed on a chimney top and frantically searched the city streets. The akuma was probably being formed at that very minute. He needed to find Marinette and get her off the streets before the battle started. If something happened to her because he was floundering around for some pieces of jewelry-

“PEOPLE OF PARIS!”

Le Paon jerked in the direction of the booming voice, where a woman stood in the middle of the street. Or, at least, he assumed it was a woman. The person’s figure was too covered in a dripping, green slime to really tell.

“YOU ALL WANTED A MONSTER.” They bellowed. Yes, that shrieking was definitely on the feminine side. “I GAVE YOU ONE, PUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO IT, BUT DID YOU ALL THANK ME? NO! YOU TOLD ME IT NEEDED TO BE SCARIER, MORE REALISTIC!”

The green slime ball aimed her arms towards the sky. “HOW’S THIS FOR REALISTIC?!”

The akuma thrust her arms forward, causing slime to shoot off in random directions. The slime covered the building and the cars, sticking to them like glue. A few people tried to escape, but within seconds, the akuma had them pinned to the cement with her goo. So far, struggle appeared to be futile.

Le Paon started looking faster.

He passed over the alleyways of the entire street, then jumped to a few other streets and searched through those too. Panicked citizens were running and screaming everywhere, but Marinette was nowhere to be found. Where could she have gone? Why couldn’t he see her? What if she’d gotten hit already, and he missed it?

In a newfound panic of his own, Le Paon rushed back to the akuma, only to find Ladybug and Chat Noir fighting it head on.

The heroes were using their weapons to avoid the slime balls, while the akuma kept shooting. Underneath the akuma’s feet, though, slime was slowly seeping off of her body and climbing up the building wall that the heroes were on. A trap.

She looks like she’s got this. Le Paon thought, continuing to look around for Marinette.

It was then he spotted her. Well, not Marinette, but Allegra. She was filming him from behind a slimmed car not too far away. Le Paon ran towards her. The two girls had run off together, so Marinette had to be close by.

Allegra gasped slightly at his sudden approach, but didn’t back up. She merely stared at him with a mix of awe and a slight bit of worry.

“Where’s Ma- uh- your friend?” He asked quickly. There was no time to play games.

Allegra blinked. “You mean Marinette? I don’t know. She said we’d get better coverage if we split up.”

Le Paon let out a frantic laugh. Of course she did. Of course she did.

“Alright, alright, um..” He looked around for a moment, before pushing the camera until it was facing down. “First of all, no pictures. Second, get to safety and tell your friend to do the same.”

Allegra went to reply, but Le Paon spun on his heel and sprinted back towards the fight. He didn’t have any more time to look for Marinette. So he’d have to win- or end -this fight swiftly to make sure she didn’t get hurt. (If she wasn’t already.)

Ladybug threw her yo-yo at the akuma, easily tying them up to stop the blasts. Le Paon used the akuma’s excess sludge to slide forward and grab the yo-yo string. He caught a glimpse of Ladybug’s surprise before he yanked on the yo-yo, causing the hero to fly forward.

Unfortunately, Chat Noir managed to grab her arm in time, but the yo-yo did slip off the akuma when Ladybug lost her balance, so Ladybug’s being saved wasn’t a total loss. 

With the akuma free, Le Paon took off towards another alleway. They needed to surround the heroes, make them sweat. If he could coax their powers out of them prematurely, he might be able to figure out Ladybug’s identity when her time ran out. 

Le Paon jumped back and forth between the alley walls until he was back on the rooftops. Ladybug and Chat Noir were fighting two roofs away. What the heroes didn’t see, however, was the sludge that was ever so quietly creeping onto the rooftop. Le Paon didn’t know how they were missing it, since it was almost covering the front of the building they were standing on.

Pushing that thought aside, He charged forward and spread out his fans. It didn’t matter why they missed the sludge. The point is that they did miss it, and it would be their fatal mistake.

“Incoming!” Chat yelled as Le Paon landed on their rooftop.

Ladybug glanced behind her, briefly catching Le Paon’s gaze. “I see him! Cover me-”

Her orders were cut off with a gasp when the slime finally crawled around their ankles. 

“C-Chat!” She yelped, foolishly trying to pull herself out of it as it continued up her legs.

“I got it!” Chat Noir said, raising his hand in the air. “Cataclysm!” 

Le Paon watched the familiar, dark magic swirl around his brother’s palm. As soon as he thought about stopping the use of the power, though, Chat Noir already had his hand on the slime, and it was disintegrating.

Along with the rest of the roof.

Le Paon stumbled back as the black decay spread across the plastered rooftop. He’d seen Cataclysm a few times in action, but he’d never dared to get so close. His paranoia was proven justified too when the roof caved in on itself, bringing Le Paon with it.

A shocked cry escaped him as he grappled at the air. Debri smacked him from all sides, and his vision clouded with the dust of it. 

When his back hit the top floor, he couldn’t even gasp a second time, as the hit ripped all of the air from his lungs. He did, however, find the time to shield himself with his forearms in the two second span it took for the rest of the debri to fall on top of him.

That’s when the floor caved below him for the second time.

~~~~~~

Ladybug tried not to gag as she dug through the akuma’s slime to grab the akumatized object. She thought that cinema monster was bad, but now she almost missed him.

“There!” Chat Noir spoke up, pointing towards a small object around the akuma’s neck.

Ladybug yanked it off and promptly smashed it to the ground. As expected, an akuma fluttered out of the object.

She used her yo-yo to catch it and stood up with a relieved sigh. “I’m glad that fight’s over. I’m pretty sure I still have some slime left in my ears.”

“I couldn’t agree more, M’Lady.” Chat Noir commented. “Mind using your miraculous cure so I won’t have to take five showers when I get home?”

Ladybug chuckled and threw her Lucky charm into the air. It burst into a million, tiny ladybugs before sweeping over the city- them included -and putting everything back to the way it was.

Chat Noir shuddered. “Oh, finally! That goo was starting to find its way into uncomfortable places.”

Ladybug scrunched up her nose with a laugh. “Ew! Don’t tell me that.” 

Chat Noir gave a shrug. “It’s true.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes playfully. “Anyway, where do you think Le Paon went?” Her eyes swept over the city street they were on. “Usually, he’d come out to fight some more or we’d see him running away.”

Chat looked around as well, but he obviously wasn’t as interested- or worried -as she was. “He probably ran back to his little boss, the coward. As long as he’s out of our way now, I don’t care.”

Ladybug frowned. Chat Noir had always been more firm in his belief that Le Paon was pure evil, not that she could blame him. She’d thought the same thing until he saved her, until she found out he was actually Felix. She wanted to help him give up peacefully, but would Chat Noir allow it? 

“Chat..” She began hesitantly. “Do you think it’s possible to end all of this peacefully?”

Chat furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what if Le Paon decides to surrender? What do you think we should do?”

“Le Paon? Surrender?” Chat Noir snorted. “Come on, M’Lady, we both know that’s not going to happen. Le Paon is an incompetent criminal with no remorse. He’s not going to ‘surrender’ until he’s gotten the miraculous or we have him in handcuffs.”

Ladybug held back a grimace. That didn’t sound like a good start to Felix’s redemption.

“But what if he did? What if he decides to stop working for Hawkmoth and turn himself in?” She prompted.

Chat stared at her for a moment, then sighed. “If he really had a change of heart and decided to give up his miraculous, then maybe I could see myself being fine with him. But the fact is, that’s never going to happen Bugaboo.” 

Ladybug’s miraculous took that moment to start beeping.

She touched a hand to her earrings. “Yeah.. maybe..”

Chat Noir offered her a smile and patted her shoulder. “Hey, everything’s gonna be alright. Even if he doesn’t surrender, we’ll catch him.”

Ladybug bit her lip and nodded. What was she going to do if they did catch him? Would she have to convince Chat Noir to let him go? She couldn’t see him letting a terrorist run off without consequences if he didn’t know them.

She threw out her yo-yo, letting it wrap around a nearby chimney. There was no use in worrying about something that might not happen. “I’ll see you later, Chat.”

Chat gave a small wave and pulled out his baton. “Later, Lb.”

The two ran off in opposite directions, Chat Noir in the direction of the school, Ladybug in the direction of Master Fu’s Massage Parlor.

~~~~~~

A gasp tore itself from Le Paon as his eyes snapped open. He jolted upright and gripped his chest, hard. Where was he? Was the battle over? How did he get back onto the rooftops? Le Paon was sure he’d been…

He shook his head. The miraculous cure must have healed him, which meant the battle was over. Ladybug and Chat Noir must have taken out the akuma while he was- ahem -out. 

Le Paon started to scramble to his feet. He had no way of knowing where the heroes were now. They might have left, or they might be searching for him. Neither situation sounded pleasant. 

Just as he was wondering whether he should go home or back to school, Ladybug’s yo-yo strung out across the air, and she sailed forward a second later, her earrings beeping the whole way.

Le Paon’s eyes widened, even more so when he saw Chat Noir using his staff to volt off in the completely opposite direction. This was it. This was his chance. He could finally figure out who Ladybug was.

Le Paon was on his feet and running in moments, his thoughts of what just happened during the battle lost in the back of his mind. If he could figure out Ladybug’s identity, he could take her miraculous and convince Adrien to give up his. The battles and endless fights would be over, their mother would be alive again, and, most importantly, Marinette would be safe. 

It only took a good minute for Ladybug to land in another alleyway, as she was clearly out of time. Le Paon slid up behind a chimney from the rooftop across the street, holding his breath. Any sudden movements and this whole plan would fall apart. He couldn’t let that happen, not when he was so close. 

“Tikki, spots off.” The magic words tumbled from her lips, and Le Paon peeked a bit further around the chimney. His nerves were buzzing with anticipation as the shimmering magic melted off of her body. He’d never thought much about Ladybug’s identity, but now he couldn’t help wondering who it might be. This girl had been spoiling his Father’s plans for months, after all. She must be special somehow. 

The flash of light faded.

Le Paon’s heart stopped.

Though her pigtails had remained, the light replaced Ladybug’s spotted suit with an outfit of pink capris and a white t-shirt under a black, half-sleeved jacket. An outfit that Felix would recognize anywhere.

Oh no.

All hopes of him seeing things was dashed away when a red kwami zipped around the ravenette, chirping, “That was a close one, Marinette!”

Marinette- why Marinette?-chuckled, giving a small nod of agreement. “That it was, but I made it just in time.”

Le Paon hid behind the chimney again as she turned to jog out of the alley. Of all the people in all of Paris in all of the world- it just had to be Marinette. Then again, who else could it be? The cleverness, the strength, the agility- of course it was her. Felix honestly couldn’t imagine anyone else being Ladybug, and that made him sick to his stomach.

They were on opposing sides. Not only was he fighting his little brother, he was also fighting the woman he’d fallen in love with. Gosh, what kind of sick joke was this?

Le Paon sank to the ground, thumping his head against the chimney bricks. Marinette’s pleas to talk with Ladybug made sense now. She wanted him to talk to her as Ladybug, but she couldn’t say that outright without giving her identity away. What would she have said as Ladybug that she couldn’t as Marinette? Their positions were the same either way. Felix needed the miraculous. She wasn’t giving them to him. That was it.

Le Paon blew out a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. Maybe.. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. If Ladybug was Marinette, he could get the miraculous easily, right? All he had to do was visit her again and take them. It’s certainly something she wouldn’t expect.. He would have the earrings. Then he could talk to Adrien and get the ring. Father would make the wish, Mother would be returned to them, and Felix could give the miraculous back to Marinette in one piece. No harm done..

Except Marinette would be betrayed.

Le Paon finally stood. Doing this might make her hate him forever, but it was necessary. Even if Felix decided to give up and surrender, he couldn’t say that his father would share the sentiment. Then what? Hawkmoth gets a new partner, and Marinette is still in danger, probably more than before? He couldn’t stand that, yet he couldn’t fight her himself anymore either! Getting the miraculous was the only option. It would hurt her, yes, but it was in everyone’s best interest. She would have to find it in herself to forgive him, and if she didn’t.. well.. 

Le Paon started the run home. 

If she didn’t forgive him, at least she’d be hating him in the safety of her home, without the heroic duties that he and Hawkmoth currently gave her.

~~~~~~

Marinette closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, silencing her thoughts. She needed to focus on healing, on life, on every breath she took that represented both.

“Your connection to your kwami is sacred and rare.” Master Fu explained, sitting across from her. “Many wear the miraculous, but few are completely compatible with them. When one is compatible, though, they are able to unlock unique abilities, with practice.”

“In this case, you are connected to the miraculous of creation. That means you have extended abilities towards life itself. If your powers are nursed properly, you will be able to heal others by restoring life to them, or, in other words, recreating their life force.”

“So.. I can bring people back from the dead?” Marinette asked curiously.

“No.” Fu answered. “Bringing people back from the dead doesn’t work, because there is no original life force to restore or recreate. If you did manage to bring someone back, they wouldn’t be the same.”

Marinette cracked open an eye, worry flickering across her face. “Then what happens to the people that don’t make it during akuma attacks?”

Fu gave a small smile. “Tikki’s powers can bring others back to life, or rather, recreate them properly, under the proper circumstances, such as akuma attacks. Right now, we are talking about your powers.”

“Right, right. Sorry.” Marinette said, closing her eyes again.

Master Fu continued. “Now, to access this bond, you need to concentrate on the connection with your kwami, along with magic that has now been infused with your soul. You need to feel it glowing from within and transfer it to the object you are hoping to recover. Clear your mind of everything but Tikki and try to heal this plant.”

Marinette nodded and inhaled. Healing.. What did that mean? Restoring the health of a living being, she supposed. Fixing things that are broken. But it also meant washing away all of the bad that rotted the thing in the first place. 

Marinette touched a hand to the drooping plant in front of her, focusing on the magic within her, feeling it wash away the corruption in the stems and leaves. 

She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that a soft, pink glow was spreading over the plant, but she opened them anyway to watch the wilting leaves slowly rise and regain their bright green color. 

“I’m doing it!” She exclaimed. “Look, it’s being healed!”

Unfortunately, the excitement at her success caused her to lose her concentration, and the pink glow faded, which in turn left the plant drooping again. 

“Don’t worry.” Master Fu told her as her shoulders dropped with disappointment. “This was an excellent first try. I have no doubt that you’ll get the hang of it with more practice.”

Marinette bit her lip, staring down at the lifeless leaves.

“.. What if.. What if I can’t heal her.” She asked, her fingers tangling together nervously. A human being had to be immensely complicated compared to a small plant. How could she revive Emilie if she could hardly hold up a fern for more than three seconds?

Master Fu put a comforting hand on hers. “You can do it, but even if you can’t, I’m sure Felix will understand.”

Will he though? Marinette couldn’t help thinking. She’s always known Felix as a sensible person, but would he give up his mother for a random person he might not even know? Further more, will he betray Hawkmoth to surrender?

“Let’s try again.” Master Fu spoke up, taking her from her thoughts.

Marinette nodded her head and closed her eyes to clear her mind. No Felix. No Hawkmoth. Only life and healing.

She held out her hand to restart the magical process.

~~~~~~

The familiar clang of metal resonated across the secret garden with each step Felix took. He’d come down here a scarce few times since he accepted the peacock miraculous to help his Father. Most of the time it was to grieve, or to restore his determination to get the miraculous. Today, it was for courage.

Marinette was Ladybug. Adrien was Chat Noir. The two people he held most dear were against him and Father. Now he had to choose what meant more to him: Their opinion or Mother’s health.

Felix touched a hand to the glass of his Mother’s coffin. It was cold against his skin, the same way he imagined her to be during her current, sleeping state.

“Duusu, can you heal her like you did me?” He asked.

The kwami shook her head. “I’m sorry, but the peacock miraculous doesn’t work like that.”

Felix sighed. “So, I do need the wish to heal her.” 

Why was he hesitating? Wasn’t this the thing he’s been working towards for months now? Adrien had the ring, and Marinette had the earrings. They were both so close that Felix would barely need to do anything to get them. The wish was at his fingertips, right there in front of him. All he had to do was act.

Felix took his hand off the glass. “Duusu, spread my feathers.”

It will be the coward’s way out to hide under his mask while taking her miraculous, but at least the betrayal will be quick.

~~~~~~

The greenish brown leaves of Master Fu’s plant swayed mockingly as Marinette set the pot on her table. She’d managed to heal it somewhat during her training session, but it was still susceptible to illness. So Master Fu sent her home with the plant and advised that she practice during her free time. 

“You did a great job today!” Tikki praised beside her.

Marinette smiled. “Thanks, Tikki. I’m gonna get this healing magic down if it’s the last thing I do.” 

She pulled up her rolling chair and took a seat in front of the plant. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she drew in a deep breath, the same way Master Fu taught her. 

Clear your mind. She reminded herself. Focus on the bond with your kwami.

Marinette reached out to touch her plant again when-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A knocking sound came from the trapdoor above.

Marinette’s heart skipped a beat, recognizing the knock instantly. 

“Felix.” She whispered to herself. “Coming!” 

Marinette stood from her chair and swiftly hid the plant under her desk. He probably wouldn’t think anything of a half-dead plant being in her room, but it felt natural to hide something related to Ladybug.

She climbed the ladder and opened the trapdoor, and Le Paon dropped down into her room. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He said in greeting.

Marinette smiled. “No, not really. I was just.. Uh.. sketching.”

Le Paon offered a small smile. “Oh? It wasn’t a picture of me again was it?”

Marinette pursed her lips, a soft blush swirling across her cheeks. “Well, no.. not this time.”

Le Paon’s smile widened slightly, and Marinette felt her heart rate pick up. The last time they were in her room along like this, they kissed. Would he kiss her again? Was it okay to admit that, despite the stress of him working for Hawkmoth, she really wanted him to?

“So.. what brings you here?” She inquired, horribly hoping he would simply say her name, that he would admit to missing her too.

Le Paon’s smile faltered. Not exactly the response she was looking for.

“I..” His gaze flicked to the left of her a moment, and his expression twisted with confliction. “Uhm..”

Marinette’s eyebrow knitted together. “Le Paon? Is everything okay?”

Le Paon met her eyes again, swallowing thickly. “Of course. I just.. I wanted to see you. You know, after last night.”

Marinette frowned. She might be wrong, but people don’t normally look conflicted when talking about a kiss.. unless..

Marinette’s stomach twisted. 

“Do regret it?” She hated to ask the question- What if he did regret it? Where would they go from there? -but she also needed to know. The last thing Marinette wanted to do was pressure Felix into spending time with her on a romantic basis. 

Le Paon’s eyes widened. “What? No, not all! I mean, I regret not asking permission first, but..” 

Relief flooded Marinette’s chest, though his answer still didn’t explain why he looked so conflicted a second ago. “But?”

Something flickered across his expression, but she didn’t have time to decipher it as he took a step forward. “But I could never regret kissing you. In fact, I..” his hand came up to cup her cheek again. “I was hoping to do it again.”

Marinette held back a smile as butterflies fluttered through her. “Is that your way of asking for permission?”

“Should I be on my knees begging instead?” He replied teasingly.

A giggle bubbled up her throat. “Maybe.”

Her leaned forward, capturing her lips in a soft kiss, and the rush of euphoria that came with the contact left her absolutely giddy. She should probably be practicing with her magic right now, or convincing Le Paon to go talk to her alter ego, but all she could think about was the touch of his lips on hers and the gentle strokes of his thumbs on her cheeks.

“I love you.” Le Paon mumbled against her lips, sending Marinette through the roof. He loved her! Albeit, he confessed to it as Le Paon, but still-

“And I’m sorry.”

Wait, what?

Marinette opened her eyes, only to wince when Le Paon quickly yanked out her earrings. As soon as he had them, he jumped back and started climbing up the ladder.

“Wait!” She yelled, pure, icy fear shooting through her veins. How did he know? When did he know? 

Le Paon threw himself out the trap door and slammed it shut. Marinette shot up the ladder after him and swung the trapdoor open again, but he was already two rooftops away. Without her miraculous, she had no way of going after him.

Marinette started hyperventilating. How was she going to explain this to Master Fu? Did Felix already have the ring? What if he made the wish? What if Hawkmoth decided to make a different wish? With both miraculous, they could do who knows what!

“Felix!” She shouted desperately. He didn’t hear her. If he did, he didn’t turn around.

She could only watch as he disappeared into the night.

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[imaginejamesandsirius]

i literally love your blog so much! i didn't know this was a ship before i saw yours and i'm so fucking happy it does, can you write some post war fluff or literally anything you want, i just really like your writing lol!

Waking up in the middle of the war had been like a tired jolt. He had to jolt to make sure that he wasn't in danger and that he was still in his flat where he should be, and tired because Sirius hated that he had to wake up like that. It was an ingrained habit by the time the war ended. 

Every day had been a worried knot of paranoia. He hadn't wanted to keep his eyes to himself and worry about missing something that could've saved lives. Even when he didn't have to work and stayed at the flat all day, he never knew when news of someone's death or capture would break. He was so stressed out all the time that he never knew when he was actually tired and when it was just feeling wrung out from being stressed. The days had blended together, which just made his sleep schedule worse. His alarm clock was programmed with the days that he worked, so he never had to worry about missing a day at the office. 

He'd still felt like rubbish all the time. He'd been overworked, over-stressed, and under-loved. Under-loved because he'd never had time to see any of his friends, and with how paranoid he'd been, he'd hardly had the time to enjoy it. Not to mention that James had been equally stressed out, and it had only made Sirius feel worse to see him sad. 

By the end of it all, Sirius had felt like little more than a wrung out rag. 

When the war ended, he suddenly had time to himself. There weren't life-and-death matters to be stressed about at all hours of the day. When Sirius woke up with his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, he no longer thought of it as being safe; he thought that he was being stupid and should calm down. The danger was gone. He could get back to his normal life. 

The problem? Sirius didn't have a normal life. He'd gotten kicked out/left his parents and wound up with James. At first, he'd been specifically not thinking about his future so that he didn't freak out. By the time he started to think about his future, the war had been starting, and it was more important to make sure they all made it through that than to worry about what he'd do afterwards. 

Now it was afterwards, and he had no idea what to do. 

He didn't like being an auror. He sodding hated the Head Auror-- who also hated him, and in turn, could make his life miserable, which the bastard did gleefully-- and the entire system made his lip curl in disdain. He was coming up on his last days working at the Ministry, and he still didn't know what he wanted to do next. The good news was that his flat was paid for, and he had enough saved up that he wouldn't have to worry about his other bills for a long time. 

The bad news was everything else. It felt like no one knew what to do now that the war was over. They were all drifting, waiting for something to shock them back into normal living, and it hadn't happened yet. 

Sirius was meeting James for drinks tonight. Just the two of them. The old, familiar flame was still alive in his belly, heating when James was nearby; he'd never said anything to him about it, and he'd had a dozen excuses. Always excuses, never reasons. The only reason he had for not telling James that he fancied him was because he was a coward. The excuses ranged from 'it's not a good time right now' to 'maybe if I wait a little longer, he'll confess to me first'-- and he didn't think that James fancied him, so that excuse really didn't hold up. 

He walked in the pub, eyes scanning from one side of the room to the other automatically. His gaze darted back over the people that looked suspicious, but he shook himself out of that headspace before he could get any further. That was a wartime practice, and they weren't in wartimes anymore. 

Point was, James wasn't here yet. Sirius took a seat at the bar and ordered a pint, keeping an eye on the door. 

James showed up a minute later, grinning when their eyes met. He made his way over, and Sirius ordered a pint for him. By the time he sat, the bartender was sliding the mug over. 

"Thanks," Sirius said, then nudged it into James's hand. 

"Thanks," James said, picking it up and taking a pull. "How've you been?" 

"Fine," he said. Saying that he felt like rubbish for no reason wasn't exactly pub talk. "You?" 

"Same." He probably meant it the same way that Sirius did, which only served to bring his mood down. 

"Cheers," Sirius said, clinking their glasses together. He took a sip, but it didn't make him feel any better, so he put it back down on the bar top. "What've you been up to?" 

James shrugged, looking down into his beer like it had the answer. "I've been thinking about leaving the aurors too. Without you as my partner, I don't know how I'd get through the day." 

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just-" 

"No, it's fine," James said, shaking his head. "I don't like being there anymore than you do. You're braver than me," he chuckled. "I can't leave without something else lined up." 

"I'm not braver than you," Sirius denied, because he wasn't. 

"Sure you are." 

Sirius snorted and didn't say anything else to disagree with him. If James wanted to believe that about him, there wasn't much he could do to change his mind. 

James glanced at him, then away again. Sirius pretended like he didn't see it; if he had something to say, he'd say it. "I keep thinking that the war's not really over," he said. 

Something told Sirius that that wasn't what he'd been thinking about, though. 

"Like we're here, having a pint and relaxing, and I feel guilty for not doing something helpful. Or I take a drink, and I want to kick myself for getting pissed when I should be paying attention." His throat worked for a moment as he stared at his beer. "Can we go to yours? This place is making me itch." 

"Sure. All I've got is rum, though." 

"You don't like rum," James said as Sirius started chugging his beer-- if he had to pay for all of it, he was going to drink all of it. "Why do you have it?" 

Sirius didn't answer for a minute because he was still drinking. When he stopped-- and burped, because honestly, it was a mistake to try and drink that much in one go-- he shrugged. "Uncle Alphard had left it there, and I never saw a point in getting rid of it. I just wanted you to know that I don't really have anything to drink at home." 

"I'll survive." He pushed himself to his feet. His beer was still almost entirely full since the only drink he'd taken had been when he first sat. 

If they'd been fresh out of Hogwarts, Sirius would've made some joke and James would respond by either rolling his eyes and joking back, or by drinking more of it. But they weren't fresh out of Hogwarts-- they weren't fresh anything-- so Sirius paid for the drinks, and they left. Once they were outside, Sirius offered his hand so he could apparate both of them to his flat. He remembered too late that James knew where he lived and wouldn't need any sort of guidance to get there, but he took his hand before he could move. Sirius wrapped his fingers around his hand tightly and disapparated. 

He protections against people apparating inside the flat, so they landed on the welcome mat-- a gift from Lily, otherwise he never would've bothered-- and he had to unlock the door. He supposed that he could take down those protections, now. With the war done and all, there was no point in keeping them up. It would be nice to pop right into his flat like he'd always wanted to when he grew up. 

He didn't really feel grown up. Did he count as a grown up? He wasn't sure. He thought about asking James, but they were the same age, and he knew that James didn't think of himself that way. No point in asking a question when he already knew the answer. 

Sirius opened the door, and they stepped inside. He heard the door close, and he started taking off his shoes. Beside him, James was doing the same. He took off his coat and hung it up, then padded to the kitchen. He expected for James to follow him, but he didn't. He gave it a few more seconds, but James hadn't moved. Sirius turned back to look at him. 

James was stood by the door, working one foot absently against the floor like he was thinking very hard about something. 

"Is something wrong?" Sirius asked. It would make sense if there were. They'd gone out for drinks before and made it an hour before leaving. Maybe James had something to get off his chest and hadn't felt like he could do it in public. 

After a moment, he said, "No," but he was looking at Sirius like there was something he wanted to say. 

Sirius stared back evenly, willing to wait as long as it took. 

After several seconds, James seemed to come to a conclusion. He strode forward. Instead of stopping in front of Sirius and talking, he kept moving until he was in Sirius's space. He had to tilt his face up to kiss him, and he had his hands on either side of Sirius's face. 

For a heart-stopping moment, Sirius wondered if he was drugged. There might've been something in his drink but he didn't notice because of how quickly he'd downed it. 

But he couldn't imagine there was a drug vivid enough to give him the scent of rubbish beer under James's normal scent, or the warmth and every single wrinkle of his lips against Sirius's. Maybe that was a lack of imagination on his part. But if he was going to get to experience this in any way, he wasn't going to fight it. 

It only took him a second to kiss James back, but he could practically feel the relief coming from him when he did. 

Sirius could admit that it was a little awkward. James's glasses got in the way a little, and Sirius didn't know what to do with his hands. The only place to put them was on James's waist, and he didn't know if that would be okay so he kept them at his side. 

There was a long moment when James pulled back and they stared at each other. Neither of them said anything. They just looked into the other's eyes. He didn't know how to ask for more, or-- at the very least-- for James not to leave. James didn't look like he wanted to go anywhere, but Sirius's immediate, panicked reaction was to hold onto him and never let go. 

He didn't have to. James kissed him again, and his grip tightened to the point that it was clear he never wanted to let Sirius go either. 

Neither of them said anything. 

Not for the rest of night, except for when James took off his glasses. Sirius asked, "You're going to be bloody blind." 

And James had said, "I can still see you," like it was the only thing that mattered. 

Sirius went to sleep feeling warm and tired but tired in a way that made him pleased instead of miserable. James was right beside him, curled against his side. 

When he woke up, James was still there. Not talking last night had been fine, but it wouldn't pass this morning. 

He didn't know what they were going to do because he didn't know what last had meant to James. Maybe he'd been lonely and they were mates and that's all there was to it. The thought was more than a little heartbreaking, but it made Sirius feel lighter, like a weight had been lifted. But no, that wasn't quite right. It was like a weight had been lifted but he hadn't realised until now, when he had something else to worry about. 

He could worry about how James felt for him-- whether it was aesthetic appreciation or an actual fancy-- without feeling guilty for ignoring more important problems. There wasn't a more important problem. His friends weren't getting murdered and tortured. Muggles were free to continue their lives without wizarding interference to hurt them. The ministry wasn't in danger of being overthrown. He could worry about what James may or may not feel for him, and it would honestly be his biggest problem. 

The thought made him grin. 

James shifted, then propped his head up with one arm. There was a soft smile gracing his face. With the morning sun coming in through Sirius's window, it made him look almost angelic. "What're you so happy about this early?" 

"I was thinking that this is my biggest problem right now, and that's okay. I can worry about what we are to each other without missing details at an Order meeting because I'm distracted. If you don't want to date me, I can mope here all day, and that won't put Lily or anyone else in more danger because I wasn't around. Worrying about what you think of me is my biggest problem, and it's allowed to be." 

"You're a strange sort." 

"You mean you don't like that your biggest problems in life aren't worrying about death and torture and the imminent destruction of life as we know it?" 

James shook his head. "Not that. The part where you think I could possibly not want to be with you." 

"In my defense, we didn't really talk about it," he said, still smiling. 

"Eh." James reached out with his free hand and splayed his fingers across Sirius's chest, looking at the contrast of their skin like this. "I didn't say anything before the war because I was scared. I didn't say anything during the war, because I didn't see the point in having that conversation and distracting us. Whether we got together or not, it would've divided your focus, and I wasn't about to put your life on the line because I was in love. And I didn't say anything last night because... well, we didn't really need to talk about it, did we?" He looked up at Sirius's face. "I looked at you, and it seemed like you were feeling the same things that I was. So I didn't worry about it." His mouth quirked. "Should I start worrying about it?" 

"No. It doesn't seem like a good use of your time." Sirius lifted a hand and covered the one that James had on his chest. "You know what is a good use of your time?" 

"I'm guessing sex." 

"Well, yes, but I was going to say more sleep. I'm kind of tired, still." 

James chuckled. He leaned forward and kissed Sirius before laying back down. "Sounds good to me." 

It took some shifting for them to get back into comfortable positions, and Sirius let his hand trail idly across James's back as he thought. 

"I love you too, you know," he said quietly. 

James's eyes were already closed, and he didn't open them. "Yeah. I know." 

Sirius smiled and closed his eyes again. Getting a little more sleep really did sound like an excellent idea. 

[rogue-durin-16]

THE KEEPER (Part I/II)

Summary: When a mysterious person threatens the heir's life, the service of a personal guard is required to keep him safe until the foe is found. Fíli, who doesn't take the matter very seriously, only sees it as an chance to spend more time with certain knight.

Pairing: Fíli x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @queenofmankind @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: a little angst, probably some typos

A/N: am I deliberately ignoring the canonical end of The Hobbit? Maybe so. PSA my phone died and i just got a new one; I'm still getting used to typing with it, that's why I haven't updated in more than a week. It's also why you'll probably find typos here, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless <3.

Part II

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

I sighed at the music that echoed through the pillared halls of Erebor and managed to sneak into my room. Staying isolated while the whole kingdom was partying made my immature side, the one who would run down to the celebration in the blink of an eye, come to the surface, burying my common sense in its way.

"Must I tie you down to the lamppost?" Luckily, I had the most efficient keeper in the entire Royal Guard to remind me what I could and couldn't do.

"Would it kill you to relax?" I teased, though I had gotten her memo and was already moving away from my door.

"Probably." She replied, sparing me a quick glance with raised eyebrows. "Likely, it would kill you too." I rolled my eyes at her. "That's rather the point."

As a new idea crossed my mind, a smile flashed across my face "I'll risk it." I said, moving to stand in front of her, and held out a hand. "Dance with me?"

"No?" her tone expressed perfectly her incredulity at my words.

"Y/n I'm so bored, please, indulge me." her eyes opened widely, throwing daggers at me as I removed her sword and started to tug her towards me. "No one will attempt to kill me here."

"We don't know that." she retorted, though she didn't stop me from placing one hand on her waist and the other up in the air holding hers.

"Yes we do." I hummed, starting to sway at the rhythm of the music, quieted down due to the distance between us and the great halls. "We're in my chambers."

"will you remind me why aren't you at the party?" she inquired intently.

"Because of Thorin's paranoia?" I feigned innocence as I pretended to doubt the answer.

"Wrong." I pouted and she shook her head. "Someone sent you a death threat." I huffed, pulling away from her to spin her around. "You should take it seriously." I dramatically groaned, pulling her back to me. "Fíli." I couldn't help but grin.

It took me quite a while —almost a year— to convince her to call me by my name and not by my title.

"There is nothing to worry about," I stated, earning a tired sigh from her. We had been having that same back and forth for a week —it had started as soon as she had been assigned that task, in which I might have had a hand. "Because you are here to protect me."

"Something I can't quite do if I'm dancing."

"I said I'll risk it" i repeated with raised eyebrows.

It was then that she finally started to relax in my arms, not before letting out a sigh of defeat accompanied by an eyeroll though. Her beautiful eyes drifted off me to get lost somewhere at my left; took that opportunity to let my poor façade down and stared at her mesmerized as if she was the Arkenstone.

It's not as if I didn't make it quite obvious that I fancied her —actually, that was an understatement— but often my feelings were accompanied by a joking tone to spare my heart from Y/n's genuine reply.

A strong knock made us jump away from each other and rush to get our respective weapons. "Fíli?" My shoulders relaxed when Nori's voice reached us, but just as I stepped to open the door, Y/n tugged my arm to stand behind her. "Calm down, will you?" The dwarf requested, offended at Y/n's hostility whilst letting him pass.

"I tried telling her, but she won't listen." Y/n huffed and I winked at her. "What is it?"

"Thorin wants to move you to another room until this is sorted out." My eyes widened at his words. Now the whole matter was starting to look like a tempest in a teacup. "Dwalin offered to exchange chambers with you."

"You're all exaggerating." Y/n joined Nori in his task of picking up the necessary. "This is ridiculous!" Both of them were now running around the room, completely ignoring me. "I can defend myself!" Y/n, now at the doorframe, motioned me to follow her out of the room. "I refuse to leave my room just because a coward sent—"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Force wasn't necessary." I grumbled, throwing myself over my back to the king sized bed. It wasn't as comfortable as mine.

"In fact," she gave me an intent look, taking off her light armor and mesh, and throwing them over a stone bench. "it was."

I propped myself up with my forearms, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion as I stared at Y/n. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to sleep?" She replied, leaving her sword as close to her as possible, in case she had to reach for it.

"In that chair?"

"Yes?" Now she was the one who frowned confused. "Where else?" With eyebrows raised, I motioned at the large, empty space on the bed. "No?"

"There's enough room left for you and your sword." She snorted as if I was joking ��which I partially was but not entirely. "We're both grownups are we not?" Her eyes pierced through me giving me that look. "It wouldn't be the first time that we sleep together anyway."

"We are not to repeat that." She stated.

"Y/n? Y/n." I kicked her leg through my blanket and hers, making her gasp and consecutively turn to meet me with an annoyed gaze. "Don't give me that look."

"You just kicked me." She hissed in the same quiet tone I was speaking.

"Because you're shivering."

She completely spun around so now we were face to face. "That's not a valid reason to kick me."

"I was trying to get your attention." Before she could complain again, I rushed the words out of my mouth. "Sleep with me." She slightly scooted away, surely taken aback by my suggestion. "I'm freezing too." I added, which wasn't a lie, just an exaggeration.

Before I knew it, we were laying together with both blankets over us, our legs interlaced, and our faces way too close.

"this is the most uncomfortable position we could have chosen, is it not?" I laughed, refusing to let my cheeks redden.

She laughed too, in the same way I had. "Any suggestions?"

"maybe..." I started guiding her, searching for another posture. "Maybe... Like this? or-"

I was cut off by her quiet laughter, now genuine and contagious, as she had ended up with her torso over mine. "I don't think this is better." She caged me so she could prop herself and move; and she propped herself, but didn't move.

The muffled chuckles had died the moment our gazes met. Both of us parted our lips in an attempt to say something, but none spoke.

With our eyes locked, my hands carefully traveled up her thighs whilst one of hers hesitantly caressed my cheek.

As if we had silently agreed on it, we both leaned into each other and let our lips share a ghostlike kiss that left me yearning for more. It was the reason why I unconsciously lifted myself, trying to capture Y/n's lips when she pulled away.

I snapped out of it when my forehead met hers and her hands rested on my chest. It was the strangest sensation; seeing the regret in her orbs at the same time as I felt her body refraining itself from returning to me.

"... would it be so bad?"

Y/n opened her mouth like a fish out of water. "It would be worse. I thought I made clear that this" she finally spoke, motioning between me and her "cannot happen."

"Well, this time we're not sleeping in the woods." I reasoned, deliberately ignoring the pang in my chest. "So there is no reason for it to happen again. Now" I patted the matress. "Sleep with me."

After a moment of meditation, she gave in and lay down, throwing the soft furs over her.

Silence.

"This is uncomfortable." She spoke, both of our bodies stiff and our eyes on the ceiling.

"It is."

Silence.

"Okay, take the bed." I finally said, attempting to get off it and move to the chair, just to be tugged back by her hands.

"Don't you dare." Before I could argue, she scooted closer and I had to force myself to relax when she laid her head on my chest because I could make it even more uncomfortable if I didn't do so. "No kissing this time." She teased.

"Yes ma'am." I replied with a chuckle, wrapping my arms around her.

It didn't take long for either of us to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

I woke up to Fíli and Kíli's hushed voices, and I instantly jolted up, entering a kind of alert mode that only the two brothers were able to get me into.

"What are you doing?" Kíli's eyes went from his brother to me, and back to his brother. "What is it?" Instead of giving me a reply, the younger prince nodded at the blond one and exited the room. "What on Durin's beard was that?" I inquired, suspicious.

"I was telling him where I was going." Replied, sheathing his blade.

"You are not going anywhere."

"I am going out."

"No you're not." I commanded, already dreading it would be in vain.

"To Dale." He was speaking so casually, as if he wasn't about to disobey direct orders from our king and to get me in trouble in the process.

"Fíli."

"I need fresh air!" His voice became slightly louder in desperation.

"Go to the damn balcony!" I replied, mirroring his tone as I threw the furs off me.

"I'm going out."

"Well, I'm staying here." I firmly stated, not willing to give in just yet.

"Then I'm going out alone." And with that, he left. "Until this afternoon!"

"What even-" after going through a moment of shock, I got up and put on my boots, only being able to grab my sword and belt before rushing out of the room.

"Oh so you are coming?" He teased, literally strutting along the hallway, not bothering on slowing down the pace for me to be able to buckle my belt and sword around my waist without struggling.

"You're impossible." I yanked his arm to stop his walking.

With my attention on the belt I didn't notice how close he had gotten, so when his hands appeared in front of my eyes, pulling away mine, I had to stop myself from gasping. "You have always loved challenges." He pointed out, taking care of securing the belt around me.

"Not when I have to keep the challenge safe." He pulled at the leather clothing to make sure it was okay, and then held my hand to prompt me to resume the walk. "I don't even have my armor on."

"You won't need it." He assured me, not allowing me to go back before sneaking us out of the mountain.

This would surely end terribly.

[pokegeek151]

By popular demand, what if Orion was well written part 2/??

Previous   Next   Bonus

Orion was settling into a more comfortable position in his chair, seemingly oblivious to Holly’s nervous energy across from him. Argon, somewhat desperate to talk to Artemis after he’d missed over a month of sessions in favor of letting Orion handle them, had agreed to step out at the young man’s request. The doctor decided that leaving him alone for this exercise was a bad idea, though, so Holly was called in to babysit.

“I don’t think I’m qualified to do this,” she said.

“You’ll be fine, love,” Orion said with what he hoped was reassuring confidence. “Though you know I adore being around you, your presence is mostly a formality.” As he spoke, he placed his hands facedown on his legs, allowed his limbs to relax into the gel-supported cushioning, and let his eyes fall closed. “Expect to be bored.”

“If you say so,” she said. As Orion’s motions stilled, Holly spoke up again. “How long do you think it will take?”

“Difficult to say. If Artemis is agreeable, only a couple minutes.” He opened one eye and grinned. “Though Artemis being agreeable is not something I would place money on if you’re not in the habit of losing.”

Holly grinned as well and allowed Orion to begin his meditation. Despite herself, she leaned forward curiously. Though she had of course induced a few switches herself, they were all violent and came after long periods of electroshock-induced unconsciousness. She had never seen them do a voluntary switch.

Orion spent a few minutes focusing on his breathing and observing his body in physical space. Artemis had taken up mediation and mindfulness as a hobby years ago, and that knowledge had sunk into Orion’s consciousness, as well. Eventually, the world around him slipped away and the light of Artemis’ mind office became visible in the distance. At this realization, the image of legs formed beneath him, and he walked towards it. By the time he arrived at the office, Orion was fully formed in the mind space.

“Artemis, can I come in?” he asked, though it was unnecessary. The mind is a funny thing; though Orion as the conscious alter had to focus on the arrival into the office, to Artemis, he simply appeared already inside. Orion was nothing but a gentleman, though, and he always asked for an invitation into what he considered Artemis’ space.

“Of course,” Artemis answered. His desk had changed since Orion had last visited; there were stacks of paper and what appeared to be a rudimentary circuit board and other electrical materials arranged atop it. Of course, rudimentary was relative, and the board on the desk was actually quite advanced on an objective level, but Orion knew that it was practically a child’s toy to Artemis.

“What’s that?” Orion asked, genuinely curious. He had never seen anything like it in the mind office.

“I’ve been doing experiments,” Artemis replied. He stepped aside and allowed Orion to examine the device. “It’s quite a simple circuit board, but I have perfect knowledge of its construction and properties.” He reached over and pressed a button on the board, and the device buzzed to life. “It took quite a bit of mental effort and focus, but I have actually created a working piece of electronic equipment in my own mind.”

“Astounding,” Orion said, awestruck. It was incomprehensibly impressive. “A perfect recreation of a physical object.”

“I knew you’d have a proper appreciation within the mind space,” Artemis said. While together like this, the edges of their personalities started to blur and mix. They were still separate, but perhaps not as distinct as when one of them was fronting. Some of Artemis’ intelligence and scientific awareness bled over.

Orion nodded, though something about the discovery bothered him. “But why?” he asked, gingerly placing the device back onto the desk. 

“I have no intention of spending the rest of my life simply watching you pilot my body,” he said. “So I came up with something to do. I plan to experiment with oil paints next, then move on to something more complicated. My goal is to be able to invent from within here and run accurate tests on new discoveries.” He sounded genuinely excited, his willingness to show emotion enhanced by Orion’s presence.

Orion wasn’t sure how to react. A certain detail Artemis had mentioned was making it hard for him to get as excited as his alter. “That is…very impressive, Artemis,” he said. He hesitated, trying to phrase his concern delicately, then decided not to beat around the bush. “Do you really expect to spend your whole life in here?”

Artemis, who had started to fiddle with the circuit board, paused. “Well, I suppose not,” he said noncommittally.

Orion stepped around him, partially blocking his view of the desk. “You can’t stay in here forever, Artemis.”

Artemis stepped back, away from Orion. “And why not? Who are you to dictate my life?”

“It’s my life, too,” he said, taking a half step closer to Artemis, who moved away the same amount. “And there are people out there waiting for you.”

“People whom I will push away once I lose myself to the disease.” There was a rising anger in Artemis. Orion could feel it. 

“People who will stand by your side while you recover,” he countered. This wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go.

“When I’m outside, I am not the person they know. I cannot control my own thoughts.”

“They know that, and they love you.”

“And what do you know of that?” It was Artemis’ turn to move forward and Orion’s to retreat. “They tolerate you, at best, and you know that.”

“You’re wrong, Artemis.”

Artemis continued his approach, forcing Orion towards the view wall inch by inch. “Am I? You are delusional; the world to you is a storybook.”

“That’s not fair, I’ve been getting better—“

“You have no respect for Holly’s personal boundaries. She is disgusted by you.”

“That’s not true. I’m learning, and she—“

Artemis stopped as Orion’s back was about to touch the gel of the wall. “And worst of all, you are trying to replace me, and they know that.”

Orion planted his feet and met his alter in the eye. “I’m not trying to replace you. You’re stressed, and your paranoia has infected your haven. Allow yourself to calm down, and you will see you are thinking illogically.”

Artemis also planted his feet. “Get out of my head,” he said, and pushed Orion into the view wall.

Artemis, ever unathletic, had telegraphed his action, so Orion wasn’t surprised when he was shoved, but he allowed it to happen anyway. He knew that Artemis was too agitated to be reasoned with at the moment, a once rare, nearly impossible occurrence that was happening more and more frequently as Artemis continued to lock himself inside his mind. Orion thought perhaps that allowing Artemis to shove him might offer some cathartic relief, at the very least. 

The gel fizzled on his skin, though the golden fours that made the substance buzz with electricity ignored him. Because he was allowing himself to resurface, the wall gave him almost no resistance. 

In the real world, his body jolted in the chair. Holly rushed to support him immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder to help keep him upright.

“Artemis? Are you alright?”

“I am fine, princess, though the fair prince remains trapped within his accursed tower.” Ah, there was the fairy tale, right on schedule. The stress was exacerbating his delusions. “I fear a witch has hexed him. Perhaps we can brew a potion to negate the enchantment.”

Holly frowned but didn’t contradict him. “I take it Artemis wasn’t feeling agreeable?”

Orion rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “No. He pushed me out. Literally.” He was exhausted from the ordeal. Entering the mind space with Artemis was not itself a tiring activity, but the mental energy he expended in their fight, as well as the rather ungraceful exit, had drained him.

“What happened?” she asked, shifting from sitting on her heels to kneeling beside his chair.

“He’s inventing,” Orion said. “He built a circuit board.”

“Hunkering down,” Holly realized. “He’s in it for the long haul.”

“Indeed. He got angry at me. He yelled at me, forced me out. As I told the good Doctor, he’s scared. He fears you’ll reject him, princess.”

Holly looked almost offended. “I wouldn’t dare,” she said.

Orion smiled sadly. “I know. I told him as much, but he was beyond reason.” Holly opened her mouth to question, clearly confused by the very notion, but Orion explained before she could ask. “Within the mind space, our characteristics…mix, a bit. Though I am made from that which he had repressed, when the two parts are put together, we begin to combine. There is no risk,” he added quickly, seeing concern flash across her features. “Just a bit of blurring at the edges.”

Holly looked around the room, giving her eyes something to do while she processed all of this. “If asking nicely won’t work, we’ll have to come up with something more aggressive,” she decided. “He can’t just stay in there forever.”

Orion nodded. “We will save him from the dragons that plague him.” He tried to shift his posture to evoke the stance of a knight, but he only held it for a moment before the exhaustion hit him again and he tilted forward into Holly, who had moved to catch him before he even realized he was falling. The chair was comfortable, but he had no desire to sleep in it. “Though perhaps we should return to the castle first. I would appreciate some time to recover before we begin our quest.” Holly helped him stand, and after an uncertain moment, Orion gained his balance. 

><

In the hall, Argon was pacing, waiting for the pair to finish. He turned excitedly when the door finally opened.

“Artemis? Holly? How did it go?” he asked, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Orion is exhausted,” Holly said bitterly. She wanted Artemis to spend some time outside his own head as much as the next person, but Argon’s blatant disregard for Orion was insulting. “Session’s ending early.” Without waiting for approval, she led Orion down the hall.

Argon scurried after them. “But there’s still nearly half an hour left!” he cried.

“Session’s over, doc,” Holly called over her shoulder. Even with an exhausted Mud Boy in tow, they were able to easily outpace the squat doctor.

Butler was waiting for them outside the clinic. There was nowhere inside for him to comfortably wait, though Foaly had said something about an oversized chair being put on order. He glanced at the door on habit as it opened, checking for security, but he did a double-take when he realized Holly and his charge leaving the building half an hour ahead of schedule.

“Is everything alright?” he asked as the pair approached.

“Argon is letting him go early, today,” Holly said in a tone that told Butler it was likely not Dr. Argon’s decision.

“And why is that?” he asked casually, falling into step with them as they headed towards the nearest shuttle station. If Holly had forced Argon to end the session, Butler was willing to trust it was for a good reason.

“Because Artemis is stubborn as a hungry troll,” she answered.

“He had no interest in making an appearance,” Orion added, confirming his identity for Butler.

Butler had, of course, known about the plan for today’s session, and he’d been quietly hoping Artemis would finally come back to them. Artemis and his alter looked a lot alike when tired, and Butler hadn’t been certain who was fronting. He must have let some of his disappointment show based on the way Orion’s features tightened, though the young man didn’t comment. Butler instantly felt guilty, though he also said nothing. He hadn’t meant to hurt Orion, but Artemis was still his priority. 

“I see,” was all the man offered.

The trek to the shuttle station was uneventful, though the group got more stares than usual. The regular commuters through this part of Haven had gotten used to seeing the massive Mud Man in this time of day, but the half hour difference was enough to mix up the crowd.

The shuttle ride was similarly uneventful; the one shuttle large enough to carry Butler had been co-opted by the LEP and served as private transport for the humans 3 days a week, so there was no need to wait for a ride or concern themselves with citizens being in their way. Orion dozed lightly during the ride, his head against Butler’s arm. He looked peaceful. As peaceful as Artemis did in his sleep, Butler noted.

Orion roused himself as the shuttle landed, though he fell asleep on Holly’s shoulder once they were in the Bentley. She nudged him awake once they arrived at the Manor.

“That really took a lot out of you,” she said as he unfolded himself from the car.

“More than expected,” he said. “I think I am sad,” he added, “for sadness is a tiring emotion.”

“What’s making you sad?” Holly asked. She had heard enough about his therapy sessions to pick up on some things. He still struggled with identifying his emotions at times, and encouraging him to explore what he was feeling helped with that.

“Artemis.” He held his hand out in front of him and turned it over and back, studying the surface and the way his fingers moved. “He is in anguish.”

Holly nodded. “I’m sad about that, too. And frustrated.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she forced herself to uncurl them.

Orion nodded. “You can’t punch your way through this.”

“As much as I want to,” she agreed.

The sessions with Argon were at the beginning of the day in Haven, but fairies being nocturnal creatures meant that it was dark above ground when they were done. There were footlights along the paths on the estate, but to minimize light pollution, they were on specialized motion sensors that were fine-tuned enough to differentiate between wild animals and humans (and fairies, of course). As such, the world around them was a shroud of gloom for a few seconds until the lights clicked on, giving everything a unique, almost unsettling glow from below. On hard, tiresome days like today, the unnatural underside lighting seemed mystical in a way Orion was growing better and better at determining to be part of his delusions. This was something he knew, and at Argon’s suggestion, he used this knowledge to practice grounding techniques after sessions.

Today was no exception. As much as he would love to go straight inside and collapse into bed, practice and consistency were important, so he took a few minutes to breathe deeply and take inventory of his senses and his thoughts. Holly and Butler both waited for him, silently exchanging slightly worried expressions. They knew what he was doing, but his mental health was still a concern, especially after a particularly trying therapy session. And of course, they were always thinking about Artemis. They had both returned their expressions to neutral by the time Orion was done, though, and the trio finally escaped the cool, humid night air so Orion could get some much needed rest.

[artobotsrollout]

Double Crossed or Back Stabbed?

I finally wrote something a little longer around my TFP Autobot spy/strategist OC Backslash and ensuing hijinks here we go! Starscream centric and really dumb I'm warning you.

Starscream, master of deception, instantly knew something was up the moment a certain new 'Decepticon' joined their ranks and quickly became a favourite among the troops. Maybe it was the fact that he looked identical to reports of a new Autobot that recently joined Team Prime except with red eyes and one, admittedly impressive, accessory or maybe Starscream just doesn't like the possibility of another Decepticon channeling even more theatre kid vibes than himself.... No it's definitely the first one.

---------

Starscream entered the bridge on the Nemesis. Having long since abandoned stoicism, the irritation he held in his hunched shoulders, clenched claws, sneering expression, and under the breath complaining was blatantly obvious to anyone with a pair of optics; although even in Breakdown's case a single optic would have been enough to spot the obvious. He'd only been gone an hour or two to clear his head after arguing with Megatron, again, about allowing a new arrival on board, to come back and learn that said new arrival had just recieved far too much free range for his liking. Starscream rarely liked new arrivals these days. New Decepticon arrivals 9/10 meant new competition and with every passing day Starscream had liked his odds of coming out on top less and less. But this was different. Starscream has run into this particular trouble before and his paranoia saved him then and would help raise his standing now.

The flier had hardly taken two harsh steps into the room before he was feeling his temper rise at the very problem that was currently laughing with his faction's leader. The conversation that created said rare laughter aboard the Nemesis was one of which he lacked context. Context, as he told himself in a tone that certainly wasn't apathetic, of which he absolutely did not care about.

"Lord Megatron are you certain that it's wise to allow this-" he sneered at the new 'Decepticon' arrival. "-unknown security risk to have such free range on the Nemesis?"

Megatron's uncharacteristic geniality was quickly snuffed at the sound of his Second's insubordination.

"You doubt my judgement? I would trust him free range sooner than I would you Starscream." He growled in a dangerous tone with squared shoulders. Starscream flinched back slightly with a flick of his wings and a stuttering of peds. A nervous smile quickly fell on his lips as he shrunk in on himself and gestured placatingly.

"N-not at all my Lord it's just that.. Heh.." he silently cursed the involuntary warble in his vocalizer. "I-in your endless glory I ehm.. do not doubt your supreme wisdom b-but I would be remiss as your second I-if I didn't caution you about an unusually deceptive Autobot that's been on our radar as of late."

"Elaborate."

Starscream perked up slightly, finally feeling as though he was hitting his stride. "Yes. Right. Well.. After hearing rumours from the troops and having my own.. encounters I took it upon myself to find out more about this fool! Everything I've found proves he is a master of undercover reconnaissance that would surely have gone unnoticed indefinitely were it not for the keen optics and meticulous research of yours truly!" Emboldened by a lack of any negative, or well any response, from his leader he continued with a straightened posture and slow confident strides into the room. He pulled out a data pad to access his reports for reference and smoothly slipped a data drive to Soundwave without breaking stride. "Soundwave, show our illustrious leader the face of this... new adversary."

Soundwave turned briefly to Megatron and at the slightest nod from his leader entered the command. Several images ranging from different missions and locations filled their vision as they splayed over the glass. All were images and video of a black, red, and gold lithe flier mech with long wings giving him the look of wearing a cape. There were slight variances between appearances. Optic colour, accessories, what have you but otherwise Starscream felt the evidence was undeniable.

Starscream shot their guest, who happened to have the exact colour scheme and body as the one in the photos, a victorious grin and side eye over his datapad. Their optics met and, to the disguised autobot's credit, beyond the slight twitch of wings and widening optics, he was unflinching. But it was enough. Gotcha. Starscream puffed out his chest as he preemptively preened at the future praise he was undoubtedly about to receive. Who would have thought that Starscream would be so good at surveillance? Such a colossal success would impress even Soundwave himse-

"I fail to see what this has to do with our guest Starscream," Megatron replied.

Starscream snapped out of his revelry as though he'd been slapped. His jaw dropped and eyes flicked between Megatron, the images, and the mech that was identical to said provided evidence. His wings stuttered in their flattening to his back as he reeled.

"EH!?... Ahem.. Did I mention this autobot's designation is Backslash? Which is remarkably close to Backstab?" Starscream stuttered out. Megatron raised an unimpressed brow. "Backstab.. Same meaning as... his designation: Doublecross? Rather on the nose don't you think?"

Megatron sighed as though he was too done to even be mad at this point. "Surely a fitting name for you. Are you really so desperate and paranoid as to bring me meaningless word association puzzles Starscream?"

"WHAT!?" Starscream squawked.

"Doublecross may bear a very loose passing resemblance to this Autobot, this is true, howeve-"

"-M-Megatron he's IDENTICAL!"

"It would be wise to get your optics checked before interrupting me my dear second." Megatron growled as he looked over the silver commander. "This Autobot spy you describe is severely lacking compared to Doublecross here," he said with a flourished gesture to his guest's face.

Starscream had to squint and focus in his optics to figure out what the frag the warlord was talking about. Upon the lips of his fellow flier was a hairy moustache.

"Thank you Master." 'Doublecross' replied with a grateful bow of the head.

"... Cybertronians can't grow FRAGGING MOUSTACHES!!" Starscream yelled.

"Doublecross is obviously living proof of the fallacy in your assertion! Next time you decide to waste our time with your petty accusations it had better be undeniable!" Megatron yelled back.

The edge of the new mech's facial accessory seemed to partially come off from the left side at the sudden bow and the suspected spy jolted his head back up and quickly raised a servo to push the offending accessory back onto his lip as though it were *GASP* fake and held on by a mere poor quality adhesive! 'Doublecross' nervously looked around he room as he regained an upright posture.

"T-THERE! YOU SEE!?!" Starscream pointed and madly made eye contact around the room. Begging someone to show him that he wasn't the only sane mech aboard this ship. Megatron approached threateningly with a sneer.

Starscream blinked with unfocused optics as though he astral projected into another dimension. He looked once more at the mustachioed spy and then back at Megatron. The Commander let out a deep exvent and straightened his posture, schooled his features into a neutral calm, and thought 'frag it all why do I even care what Backslash does at this point? Megatron, the blundering oaf, can choke on that glitch's hairy facial abomination on his descent to the pit for all I care and it'll be his own slagging fault!"

Despite his rage filled thoughts Starscream was chillingly, uncharacteristically, calm as he replied, "Of course Master. Primus knows what I was thinking," His optics flicked to 'Doublecross', only continuing when their optics met again. A bitter smirk tugged at his lips. "Don't let me keep you." He purred. Though speaking to the room as a whole, the pointed look he gave 'Doublecross' aka Backslash made it clear who the message and it's underlying double meaning was really for. Starscream turned on his heel and left the bridge deciding that now would be an excellent time to go for a flight and be as far away from the Nemesis and the ensuring mayhem as possible. He needed an alibi, and maybe something to destroy, cause this sure as slag would not be his fault.

....

Starscream's later return to a grounded Nemesis was immediately known to the entire crew from the loud and triumphant screeching echo in the halls of: "I TOLD YOU!" followed by a looooong rant.

This would not be the last time this happens.

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 4 - I’m Alive

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The tournament has been announced! Hermione expresses some conflicted feelings, and Fred and George make a harrowing discovery.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 3

If I should break My silent streak Will knives come out To cut my cheek?

  Hermione couldn’t help the swell of pride in her chest at Fred’s acknowledgement of being bested. Truly, it wasn’t a thing to be proud of. There was no joy in winning a game amongst idiots. What was the muggle phrase again? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes? Either way, the last thing she ever expected to fill her with smug glee was Frederick Weasley’s approval. No. She shook her head. It wasn’t his approval that made her feel this way. It was the glorious relief of getting the prat to shut up once again, that’s what it was. But if that were true, then why was her mind drifting back to last night’s conversation and the gentle banter the two shared? She felt it then too. The glowing sense of satisfaction that he not only approved of her mental prowess when it came to the art of repartee, but that he also found amusement in it.

Unable to ponder on the thought for long, she turned her attention to Dumbledore as he announced for the year’s sorting to begin. Hermione watched as the group of frightened first years filed into the Great Hall; their eyes wide with wonder. She remembered her first moment seeing the magnificence of Hogwarts. No amount of reading had prepared her for all that the school had to offer. The sorting went by quickly, Hermione clapping and cheering politely when one of the new students joined their table. Some students, especially the Gryffindor students, got quite into the sorting, seeing it as some competition. Hermione was all for house pride, but she really didn’t see it necessary to boo when a child was placed in Slytherin or laugh when placed in Hufflepuff. Glaring over at Ron, Harry, and the Weasley twins, Hermione wished they would conduct themselves with a bit more civility. Honestly, the school could do with more house unity in her opinion. Still, they acquired quite a fair number of new Gryffindors, including the Collin Creevey’s little brother who was already gawking at Harry like he was some kind of god.

Hermione snorted. She imagined they wouldn’t feel that way if they ever had to help him with his Astronomy homework.

Once the sorting ceremony was over, Dumbledore stood up again, his midnight blue robes sparkling with silver stars. Hermione always secretly wondered where he got his robes. They were the most ornate and intricate pieces she’d ever observed in the wizarding world. Surely, they didn’t sell them anywhere in Diagon Alley. At least, she never saw anything quite like them in Madame Malkin’s shop. Perhaps Twilfitt and Tatting’s. She watched as their headmaster adjusted his half-moon spectacles and cleared his throat.

“Good evening and welcome back to another fantastic year at Hogwarts. I would like to begin with a few announcements. First, as many of you know, the forest on the grounds is strictly prohibited to all students. Second, the wizarding village of Hogsmeade is also off limits to students below their third year or for those without permi—” Dumbledore was cut off by a loud crack of thunder and the groan of the large Great Hall doors opening. All heads turned towards the entrance, confused by the sudden interruption. What they found was a short and stalky man standing haggardly as the heavy wooden door closed behind him. A sense of unease washed across Hermione as she watched him enter the hall slowly. His long, patched robes hung heavy on him, dripping water onto the floor as he limped towards the head table. He leaned heavily on a thick, wooden staff and grunted with every step. Wet, tangled grey hair hung in his face – a face marred with thick and grotesque scars. But it wasn’t the grueling number of scars that unsettled her. It was his eyes. One eye was small, dark, and beady, while the other was a striking blue that never seemed to stop moving. It swiveled around in all directions, never focusing on one spot for long as he kept his pace towards the headmaster. As he approached, Dumbledore smiled unfazed. They shook hands briefly across the table in a familiar manner before the mysterious wizard limped to take a seat at the spot usually reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“What good timing my old friend, I was just about to introduce you!” Dumbledore exclaimed delightfully. “This year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position will be filled by a very dear friend of mine, Alastor Moody. Alastor?” Dumbledore motioned to the scraggly man. Moody stood and gave a curt nod to the mass of students. A spatter of confused, yet polite applause greeted him. Hermione stared at the man speculatively. She had read about Alastor Moody. Some called him Mad-Eye Moody, which observing him now, she could see why the nickname was appointed. A famous auror and dark wizard catcher, he was renowned for his part in catching most of the known Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. However, over the past few years he had become known for his increasing paranoia. If the rumors were true, Hermione wondered if he was truly qualified to be teaching young children.

“Right! Lastly, I have the unfortunate duty of informing you that our annual Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year,” announced Dumbledore. His announcement was met with numerous cries of outrage from the tables of students. Some of which were most loudly emanating from Oliver Wood down the table. Hermione frowned sadly in his direction before looking to Harry and Ron who seemed equally as devastated but more entirely confused. While Hermione was disappointed for them, she couldn’t help but feel a small jolt of glee. At least she wouldn’t have to spend hours in the cold watching Harry try to kill himself on a broom.

“This is due to a very special opportunity—” Dumbledore went on “—Over the coming months, our school has the honor hosting an event that hasn’t taken place in over a century. It is my pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be home to the Triwizard Tournament!”

“You’re joking!” Fred Weasley exclaimed, his voice ringing loud through the hall. Hermione turned to glare at him for his incredibly rude outburst, but ultimately rolled her eyes when the entirety of the hall began to laugh, including Dumbledore himself.

“No, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking,” the headmaster stated before continuing to inform them all on the history of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione of course, knew all about the tournament. There was a whole section in Hogwarts, a History dedicated to the event. While the competition was a great opportunity for selected students to show off their magical abilities, it was also quite dangerous. In fact, the whole reason the tournament hadn’t taken place in centuries was because of the overt amount of deaths it resulted in. She warried a glance at Harry across the table. This was exactly the kind of thing he would find himself mixed up in.

“I’m going for it!” she heard Fred whisper down the table. Rolling her eyes, she doubted he had half the knowledge and strength it took to win something as monumental as the Triwizard Tournament. As Dumbledore went on, the hall became restless. Student voices, excitedly discussing the tournament and all it had to offer, soon rose in volume that Hermione deemed quite inappropriate.

“Now, now, I know all of you are understandably eager to participate and win the Triwizard Cup for Hogwarts—” lamented Dumbledore “—however, as one of the compromises made in order to bring the tournament back, myself, the heads of the participating schools, and the Ministry of Magic have all agreed to place an age restriction on this year’s event. Only students seventeen and older will be allowed to enter their names for the Triwizard Tournament. This, is something that we feel is necessary as the tasks will be incredibly difficult and will require the education and experience of older witches and wizards, to complete.”

Hermione gave a great sigh of relief at this revelation. Thank Merlin. That fact alone meant everyone she knew at Hogwarts personally was safe. Even Fred and George weren’t seventeen yet. However, looking around at the disappointed and even angry faces at her table, showed that only she was happy about the rule change. She didn’t let their disappointment ruin her mood though. Instead she listened contentedly, until next thing she knew, her was done and dinner was served.

Dinner went by uneventfully, conversation filled laments of summer trips, general gossip, and theorizing about the upcoming tournament. Hermione was thoroughly stuffed by the time the tables were magically cleared and their group departed back to Gryffindor Common room. Hermione trailed behind Harry and Ron as they walked with the twins through the halls, thinking about her classes the next day when George’s voice broke her concentration.

“You know, Freddie, I reckon we could find a way to get past whatever Dumbledore will use to enforce the age restriction,” George said enthusiastically.

“How do you suppose they’ll pick to decide who gets in or not?” Harry asked. Hermione thought that was quite a good question. In her reading, it was never explicitly stated how the competitors were chosen. It simply stated that they were.

“No idea, but it’ll be them that we have to fool—” stated Fred, his chest puffing in confidence “—I think a few drops of aging potion should do the trick.”

“But Dumbledore knows you aren’t old enough,” Ron piped up as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

“Yes, but whoever is deciding doesn’t. It seems to me that they’ll just choose whoever is best from each school. Dumbledore is just trying to stop us from getting our names in is all,” George replied to his younger brother.

“And you two aren’t the least bit concerned that people have died in this competition before?” Hermione inquired, feeling irritation bubbling up below her calm façade.

“Not a bit,” the pair responded with cheeky grins.

Fred and George’s response irked Hermione quite terribly. Were they really that immune to the idea of potential imminent death? Fred definitely wasn’t – no matter what he said. She knew that for certain just from her memories of the Quidditch World Cup. He had been just as afraid as her, she saw it on his face. That fact alone gave her comfort when she continued to endure the agonizing nightmares revolving around that night. Rubbing at her eyes, she cursed at just how bloody tired she was. When she nodded off in the Weasley kitchen that night sitting across from Fred, it had been the first peaceful sleep she’d had in weeks. Unfortunately, the peace did not last long, for as soon as her head hit the pillow in Ginny’s room the nightmares were back again. However, the comforting thought that she had not been the only person scared and panicked that night reassured her that she was not overreacting. Even though everyone had all but forgotten the events of the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione wanted to forget as well.

“Well if Fred and George figure out a way to enter their names, I want in,” said Ron as they sat in the common room. Upon entering the tower, Fred and George made swift exits to their room, most likely to start on their idiotic aging potion idea. It wasn’t going to work, Hermione knew that, but she doubted anything she said to them would get through their thick skulls.

“You most definitely will not Ronald Weasley!” Hermione scolded the freckle-faced boy sitting across from her in front of the fire. He rolled his eyes at her, ignoring her objection.

“Oh, come on Hermione. Everyone knows the age limit is insulting. Us three have faced loads of dark magic already. Especially Harry! You don’t think he’s capable of winning a silly little competition? Tell her Harry!” Ron looked over at Harry for support, but all the bespectacled boy could manage was a conflicted expression before Hermione responded.

“I think Harry has faced enough life-threatening situations for a lifetime, thank you very much. I’d rather you two lose the opportunity of fame and fortune, than risk your necks again. To do so would just be stupid. No one can evade death forever!” Hermione rose from her seat and stormed out, leaving the two boys to gawk at her retreating form.

Hermione huffed and puffed about her room, slamming books down and pulling on her sleep clothes more aggressively than usual. The other girls in the room continued their babble, paying her no mind as they were too engulfed in whatever the latest gossip was to care about her bad mood. She crawled into bed and drew the curtains closed, blocking out all the light from her roommates Pavarti, Lavender, and Fey. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep – to block out all the frustrations of the day and to most importantly not have nightmares. Truth be told, she shouldn’t be so upset at Ron. It was all trivial. In the end, the twins would never figure out how to enter their names into the tournament and thus neither would Ron nor Harry. This might end up being a perfectly normal year after all. There was no magical item with the ability to keep one alive forever taking up residence in the castle; there couldn’t possibly be a second mysterious chamber hidden under the school housing a deadly snake; and there wasn’t an escaped Azkaban prisoner seemingly attempting to murder her best friend – that she knew of. No, this year they would be the spectators. They would watch as three experienced and skilled students, they were not close to, risk their lives in the tournament. Maybe a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin would compete for Hogwarts. Whoever it was, it wouldn’t be them and they would watch from the stands, getting a thrill from the entertainment. Then they would return to the common room, talking about who they thought would win. They would study hard and pass their classes. They would end the year happy and safe, and looking forward to the next year.

Everyone would be safe, happy, and together.

    No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be there. It had to! Fred tore through his trunk again, this time physically removing the items one by one and throwing them onto the dormitory floor around him. However, much to his dismay, he reached the bottom empty handed. Standing abruptly, he rushed over to George’s trunk and began to do the same. He was halfway through its contents when his brother came in, followed closely by Lee Jordan and Kenneth Towler.

“Oi, Freddie, mind telling me why you’re scrounging through my personal things?” George asked, staring down at his brother with a curious gaze.

“It’s gone,” Fred answered gravely, continuing to tear through George’s trunk.

“What’s gone?” asked Lee, hopping over the growing pile of things on the floor and landing clumsily on his bed.

“I swear I just saw it the other day and now it’s gone Georgie!” exclaimed Fred in a panic, sitting back on his heels when he, once again, reached the baren bottom of the trunk.

Towler sighed, walking through the mess, and placing his school bag down next to his neatly made bed. Airily he pulled out a few textbooks and laid down before remarking, “I always knew one of you would lose it. Personally, I always thought it would be George.”

George cast an unamused expression in Towler’s direction before crouching down next to his obviously distressed twin. “Get ahold of yourself mate—” George shook him roughly “—just tell me what’s going on.”

“The money!” yelled Fred, breaking away from George’s hold and moving to his wardrobe. “It’s gone! I’ve looked everywhere for it and it’s gone. Last I checked it was in our money pouch and now it’s not there.”

“Wait. You don’t mean the money we won, do you?” George asked, rushing to Fred’s side, and grabbing him by the arm. He pulled him roughly, forcing Fred to cease his search and face his twin. Fred swelled with irritation. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to find the missing galleons. Fred didn’t need to respond for George to know that it was, in fact, the money they won from their bet at the world cup. George’s eyes widened in disbelief and then, he too began to tare wildly through his wardrobe, all the while chanting a desperate mumble of “No, it’s impossible.”

“Two hundred galleons do not just up and walk away Freddie!” cried George, abandoning his wrecked wardrobe, and lying flat on his belly to look under their beds.

“Where on earth did you two get two hundred galleons?!” asked Lee incredulously. He sat up in his bed, showing a larger interest at the mention of money the two had seemed to misplace.

Fred sighed, sinking to the floor, and leaning against the open door of his wardrobe. Closing his eyes tightly, he banged the back of his head against the wood as he tried to think.

“We won it,” answered George, now pulling back the covers on his bed.

Fred smirked sadistically, knowing it was a lost cause. He already checked there.

“Won it?” asked Lee again, clearly both confused and impressed.

“Yeah, we bet our dads friend all our money and a bloody fake wand that Krum would catch the snitch, but Ireland would win—” Fred rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms in frustration “—he was pretty surprised when we were right, but he paid us. We’ve had the money locked up in my trunk ever since. We were going to use it to upstart our business.”

‘Were’, was the important part of that sentence, thought Fred. Now without the money, he had no clue how they would fund their business after school. They could get jobs he supposed. He and George could work in a shop and save up until they had enough. It wasn’t the worst scenario, but merlin, it wasn’t what they imagined.

“Well I didn’t touch it,” said Lee, holing his hands up to signify his innocence.

“You couldn’t have taken it even if you wanted to,” said Fred. “I put so many wards on my trunk, you’d think I was trying to keep Dumbledore himself out.”

“It has to be here somewhere Freddie. Are you sure you didn’t take the money pouch out for something and then, I don’t know, leave it somewhere?”

Fred looked at his brother in irritation before snapping, “Actually now that you mention it, just the other day I was sitting on my bed and I thought ‘Gee, you know what would be an excellent idea? Taking two hundred galleons for a bloody walk.’ Of course, I didn’t take it out for anything! What do you take me for, Georgie?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. That was a stupid question. I just don’t understand what could have happened to it.”

“This friend of your dads, he wouldn’t happen to be Ludo Bagman, would he?” asked Towler from his bed, nose currently buried in his transfiguration textbook.

Fred and George froze, so still they could have easily been mistaken for victims of a well-placed body bind curse. They looked at their second roommate with suspicion.

“Why?” the two questioned in unison, staring hard at the sandy-haired boy.

“My dad says he’s a real bilker. He’s always making bets and never paying up – still owes my dad two galleons and seven sickles from a game of cards almost a year ago,” said Towler, looking back at his book with a bored expression.

Fred took a moment to process his words. Kenneth Towler was many things: swotty, boring, killjoy to name a few, but he wasn’t a liar. So that meant if he said Ludo Bagman was a renowned cheat, then it was probably true. Still though, he had paid them the money. Almost immediately even. If he was constantly broke, then where did he come up with the galleons to pay them off? Unless…

George seemed to have the same thought he did because it was his turn to sink to the floor in abject horror.

“Leprechaun gold,” they said in distraught realization.

It was the only possible explanation, thought Fred. While possessing the exact same features as a wizarding galleon, leprechaun gold had one little thing about it that made it unique – it vanished after twenty-four hours. Fred cursed under his breath, standing, and beginning to place his things back into his trunk.

“Of course that slimy git would try to con us out of our well-deserved money. We should have known!” exclaimed George, throwing his hands in the air.

“Maybe it was a mistake,” Lee offered kindly.

Fred and George snorted, “That’s likely.”

“Well it never hurts to make sure,” said Lee, taking off his shoes and kicking their things out of the way as he shuffled to his wardrobe to pull out his sleep clothes.

“He’s got a point Georgie,” said Fred, pausing his cleaning to grab parchment, a quill, and his ink bottle from the ground.

Dear Mr. Bagman,

Fred and George Weasley here! We’re sure you remember us from the world cup. We were the two incredibly dashing twins that won all that money off you.

Speaking of the money, it seems there was a slight mistake and you paid us in leprechaun money instead of real money.

We’re sure it was just an innocent error on your part and therefore would hold no ill-will against you as long as you respond to this letter with the amount in full.

Sincerely,

Fred and George Weasley

Founders of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes

Fred penned the letter as George stood over his shoulder reading aloud and making suggestions. When they were satisfied with the tone and contents of their letter, Fred folded it neatly and placed it inside an envelope, addressing it to Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic.

“Do you suppose we have enough time to make it to the owlery before curfew?” Fred asked, kicking the rest of his things out of the way, and pulling on his shoes.

Kenneth Towler snorted rudely from his bed, “When have you two ever cared about curfew?”

“He makes a fair point Freddie. Come on, let’s go then.”

“Oi! Aren’t you two going to clean up your mess?” Lee shouted at them as they made their way to the door.

The twins yelled a shifty “Maybe” over their shoulders as they exited the dormitory and made their way down the stairs to the common room.

Fred held tightly to the letter, hoping against all hope that it was all just a big misunderstanding. Perhaps Ludo had been a bilker in the past, but recently changed his ways. Perhaps he had every intention of paying them in full. Perhaps he’d be embarrassed upon opening the letter and realizing his mistake. Perhaps George would sprout a tail overnight and he would shit out a pig.

Still, it was worth a try. Not only were they short the two hundred galleons Ludo owed them, but they were also down the 37 galleons, 15 sickles, and three knuts they originally gave him for the bet. It was all the money they had to their name. They needed that money. Fred rubbed a hand through his hair and gripped it tightly at the roots behind his left ear. He honestly didn’t know how it would all turn out, but one thing became apparently clear as they reached the owlery.

If Ludo Bagman didn’t give them the money he owed them, then it was more important than ever that they get their names into the Goblet of Fire and have their chance at the prize money.

Chapter 5 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

[lovingzombiechaos]

A Girl Named Man

AO3 Link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404203/chapters/66978391

I’m really excited to present to you my newest work of fiction, based on the early access version of Baldur’s Gate 3. I’ve been playing D&D for about 6 years, and after buying this game for my spouse, I fell in love with it. And I’ve had so many ideas. So, here they are! Explicit, as always. Word count: over 4k. A jolt of lightning shot up my spine as it connected with the beach. Splayed out on the ground, I barely registered the debris thudding all around me. Indeed, the only thumping I registered was the not so steady rhythm of my heart in my chest and ears. By some miracle of the gods, I was alive. And mostly unhurt. I could wiggle my toes. I could grab handfuls of sand. I could breathe, though my lungs were on fire. I lied there gasping for air, eyes staring wildly into the vivid blue sky. 

The kind of blue that was too blue to be real. The kind that made your eyes ache.

Eyes. I covered my own with the heels of my hands, pressing into my skull. As if that would crush the mindflayer spawn lurking in my head. My cheek thrummed at the pressure and I tenderly reached out to feel where the rock had hit me. 

Swollen, I thought as I prodded the cheek, but not broken. One less thing to deal with.

I let out a shaky breath, followed by a half-hysterical laugh. This was fine. Completely fine. Who cared about the mindflayer parasite in my brain? I was alive. Here on the banks of the Chionthar, I hoped. Alive with a tadpole in my brain.

Another laugh escaped me and I clapped my hand over my mouth.

“It’s okay, Dir,” I whispered to myself, my hot breath flitting over my face, “you’re alive. In one piece. You need to get up and function.”

Words I had told myself every day for the past thirteen years. Why would today be any different?

It was tempting to just lie here, in the warm sun and let go. So easy to just let myself drift away. If I rolled over, I could be in the river and it wouldn’t take long at all. And then I would see Jamie again.

But it was for Jamie that I had to go on. That was what got me out of bed in the morning. The idea that I was wasting away my life, when he couldn’t live his. And that is what gave me the resolve to push myself up into a sitting position. My love for him.

The hilt of my longsword poked me in the side. At least I hadn’t lost that. I had lost everything else, including my spellbook and the locket given to me by Aislinn. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, feeling naked and vulnerable. Like I was being watched. Aislinn was going to murder me.

I couldn’t think about that just yet. I needed to gather my wits about me, figure out where I was. I skimmed my fingers over the hilt as I surveyed the immediate area, taking note of the rocky wall behind me, the river to my right and the remains of the ship, flaming hot, a few yards away, half in the water and several dead bodies spread along the beach.

I rose to my feet, brushing the sand from my legs and fluffing it out of my hair. Great, I’d be emptying sand from every crevice of my body for the next month. As much as I wanted to push forward, the dead bodies gave me pause. I’d seen plenty of the dead laying in gentle repose, but never like this. Never seen them with their unseeing eyes staring up at the sky, their mouths agape and jaws twisted. Had never seen limbs form into such jagged lines. The terrible thought of Jamie laying this way made me physically recoil. It was a visceral, horrifying sight. I closed my eyes, the better to block out that horrible image. It was enough to make me want to cry.

Despite the carnage on the beach, and the horror in my mind, my stomach growled and gurgled. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate. Certainly not on the ship.

It was the hunger that forced one foot in front of the other, until I found myself on my knees next to one of the dead bodies. I hesitated, but only for a moment. It was just a dead body. Nothing more. Nor did he have need for anything on his person.

I fished out a few gold coins, some line, a small vial of some sort. No food. I pocketed the coins and the vial and moved to the next body. More coins, more line, bait, a dagger. And an apple. I gasped and then looked over my shoulder. Nothing there.

It was a nasty, bruised apple, the kind I would have turned my nose up at had it been served to me. But gods be damned, it was the best damned apple I’d ever eaten. I ate it all the way down to the core, the juices dripping down my chin. One belch and a sigh of relief later I tossed the remainder of the apple into the river. I glanced back over my shoulder again, a wave of guilt coursing through me.

They were dead and I was alive. Though if I didn’t find a healer, I was royally fucked. And unless I had supplies, I would not be able to find a healer. This was not the time to contemplate the morals of supposedly robbing dead men. Not when I was so close to death myself. Or rather, a death of the self. The thing I was infected with would turn me into a mindflayer. An ugly, gray tentacled mind flayer. With no mind of my own, no action of my own. I reached for my locket. Still gone. I let my arm flop uselessly to my side and blew the stray strands of hair from my face. Standing here was getting me nowhere, and fast.

I pushed onward, clutching the rocky wall as I carefully stepped around the dead bodies of three young men. They must have been fishing at the time of the crash. Bad luck.

Though, I wondered what killed them. I stopped and turned back to look at them with a frown on my face. There was no debris around. That was…odd. I squatted down and examined the face of an elf, staring at the big lash across his neck. It wasn’t a knifes doing, though. A knife didn’t make singe marks in the wound. And a knife that deep in the throat would mean more blood. The wound was cauterized. What?

Looking about, I saw no one save the bodies and the only footprints I could make out were my own and theirs. The beach was eerily quiet save for sounds of water. I was alone, and yet I felt watched, by someone, something.

I stood up and shook my head. Aislinn’s paranoia was getting to me now. 

Whatever killed those men were long since gone.

I went to reach for the locket again and cursed when I remembered I still didn’t have it. I needed to stop faffing around and get going.

I left the three dead sailors behind.After an hour of walking and glancing back over my shoulder, I came across a tall, raven haired woman, standing at what looked to be an entrance of a temple. Littered all around her were the bodies of those brain…things.  

She swung her bloodied mace, hitting the door repeatedly, but it wouldn’t budge. “Blasted door!”

I strode towards her before hesitating. I’d just assumed she was friendly. There was no guarantee. I lay my hand on the hilt of the sword, just in case, and cleared my throat.

She whirled around, green eyes staring wildly as she leveled her mace at me. 

“Stop! Not another step or I’ll…”

The anger melted from her face, replaced with recognition. “Wait…it’s you. You tried to save me on the ship. At least, you made the effort.”

It was her, the half-elven woman I’d found on the ship. Some of the tension left my body and I took a step towards her. My head began to pound, stopping me in my tracks. From far away, she cried out and our minds touched. I felt her anger, her resolve and her gratitude.

It was over just as soon as it had begun and it left me reeling.

“What the bloody hells? It must be the mind flayer tadpole. It connected us somehow.”

I rubbed my temples. “We need a healer.”

She nodded and gestured to the door behind us. “Been trying to get through for the past hour. But I’ve barely made a dent in it so far.”

I stepped back to take in the door. Whatever the temple was, it was built directly into the rocky cliffs. With a closer look, I decided that it probably wasn’t the front of the temple at all, but a secondary entry.

“There’s probably another way in.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Up the cliff there,” she waved her mace towards the cliff. “Though, I don’t know if we’ll find a healer there. Or anywhere in this wilderness.”

“All we can do is try,” I said, eyeing the path. I could see smoke curling up the end of the pathway. More parts of the ship. Lovely.

“You can call me Shadowheart.”

Shadowheart? Well, I wasn’t the one to judge names. I licked my lips and regarded her for a moment. If I told her my name, I knew exactly what words would come out of her mouth. Ah, well, I’d heard worse, and from people better loved than her.

“I’m Dir. Shall we head on?”

Shadowheart did not disappoint. “Dir? As in the elven word for man?”

I wanted to roll my eyes at her. Instead I plastered what I hoped to be a serene smile on my face. “Yes.”

“Your parents must have hated you,” she said with a small smirk as she lead the way up the path.

I followed, climbing the steep slope. “My parents wanted a boy. By the time I was born, my mother was rather stuck on the name.”

“Even for a boy that name is…odd. A human boy called man. Unless, it’s short for something. Is it?”

“Yes.” But I wasn’t going to give her even more ammunition.

She paused, one foot hovering above the entrance to the ship and half turned towards me. Poised and waiting. I knew better than to engage.

Instead I stopped short and took in the mass of writhing purple in front of me. 

Shadowheart’s gaze followed mine back to the ship. It didn’t look nearly as elegant laying in pieces on the ground, a flaming mass of former glory. My stomach lurched, the apple nearly making a reappearance.

“Not so impressive now, are you?” Shadowheart practically snarled, echoing my sentiments.

We marveled at the havoc and wreakage around us and an unearthly cry filled the former helm. The hairs on my arms stood up and my toes curled in their boots. I clasped the hilt of the sword strapped to my hip, drawing it slowly with silent intent.

Shadowheart lifted her shield and gripped her mace. “There!”

An intellect devourer. A walking abomination of a former brain. They had been on the ship. They were the ones calling for me to release them. They had been the ones to kill those sailors.

“Stay back, one strike could be lethal,” Shadowheart said to me over her shoulder as she inched forward, mace at the ready.

To my left another one came from the shadows. A third screamed from above and landed on the flooring between myself and Shadowheart.

With another piercing shriek the three devourers moved in unison. Two towards Shadowheart and one towards me.

I adjusted the grip on my sword and waited for it to come into range before slicing through the meat of the brain. The little faux tentacles on the side swiped at me as I danced out of their reach. The air crackled as they whizzed by. Shit. Too close.

It skidded to a stop and turned to face me again and again, I waited for it to rush to me before making my move. As I thrust the sword into the brain, it wrapped its tentacle around my wrist and I roared in pain. I swung my arm around until it slipped from my wrist and went flying.

It hit the side of the ship with a splat and slid to the floor in a vicious, slick red puddle on the ground. It moved no more.

I held my wrist with my good hand and turned to Shadowheart, who was pulverizing one of the brains while the other smacked into her shield.

Pushing the pain from my mind, I came up behind the other and struck it right in its rear. It gave a blood curdling cry and danced at the end of my sword before collapsing on the deck.

Just when I’d thought I’d seen enough combat. I stood, looming over the dead devourers, and gave my head a shake. Monstrosities.

A sharp pain in my wrist brought me back to the present. I peeled the sleeve of my tunic back and grimaced at the angry, red slice. It had the same crisp edges as did the dead elf’s face, though it wasn’t as deep. Still hurt like a bitch.

I sheathed my sword and sat down upon one of the lopsided stairs. From a cursory glance, it looked like we were in half of the helm of the ship. I didn’t want to spend another godsdamned moment in there, but I needed desperately to catch my breath.

Shadowheart turned toward me, a victorious smirk on her face.“Well, you fight quite well. It seems our survival may not be such a distant prospect afterall.” Her eyes flitted to my wrist and the smirk disappeared. “You’re hurt.”

“Yes. It would seem so.”

As she reached into the bag on her hip, she walked over to me. She pulled out a large bandage and began to wind it around my wrist. When she was done and had tied it off, she whispered. “Take cure.”

The magic settled into my wrist, knitting the skin back together. The pain had already lessened by a considerable degree.

She stood up again and nodded. “It will be good as new in the morning…If we even have that long.”

I pushed myself up to my feet. “Let’s get moving. We don’t know how long it will take.”

“Agreed.”

We skirted through the helm, past the dead bodies of thralls that had been previously hidden, and past the body of a mind flayer.

Shadowheart stopped and spat on him. “Monster.”

“Monster’s too good a word for it.” I said, cupping her elbow. With a little tug, I said, “Come. Pissily staring at it won’t get us any closer to a cure.”

“You’re right,” she sighed and allowed me to guide her out of the ship and onto an unfamiliar patch of sand.

I tilted my head back, shading my eyes from the sun. Too much foliage and fiery wreckage, prevented me from seeing anymore of the temple. We’d just have to keep climb upward and hope we were going in the right direction.

I shrugged back at Shadowheart.

“Something the matter?”

“No, just looks like it’s a longer walk than we first anticipated. Hope we make it before nightfall.”

“You have got to be kidding me. Come on,” she said as she rolled her neck and shoulders. “This is ridiculous.”

“Welcome to, uh, wherever we are.” A pathetic attempt at a joke, but Shadowheart half-smiled at me anyway.

“Well you know---"

“Help! You! Help me!” A voice cried from the brush.

Shadowheart and I exchanged quizzical looks.

“Please, I need help,” the voice insisted.

“I’ll go,” I said with my hand on the hilt of my sword. She grabbed my arm. “We don’t know if they’re friend or foe.”

While she was right, she could also be very wrong. I smiled blandly at her. “I didn’t know that about you either and yet, here we are.”

She threw her hands up. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I headed toward the voice. “Promise, I won’t.”

A tall, white haired elf stepped directly in my path. He had a handsome face and windswept curly hair, nearly as white as snow. His dark eyes darted between me and the brush as he pointed.

“There! Do you see it? It’s just there, I had it cornered just now. Can you kill it? Like the rest of them.”

I sized him up; he was no small elf, tall and thick in stature, with a handsome, haughty face, angular in nature. And red eyes. I squinted. That couldn’t be right. No, they weren’t red, just a rusty brown…

I glanced over. “Where is it?”

“There, just there! Can’t you see it?” His voice very nearly sounded desperate.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” I drew my sword and stepped closer just as a boar jumped from the brush, causing me to jerk back in surprise.

Right into the waiting arms of the elf.

The cold bite of a dagger bit into my throat as his other hand gripped my aching wrist and my sword fell with a clang into the dirt. All while whispering, “Shh, shh,” in my ear.

Behind me Shadowheart roared. “I TOLD you! Let her go!”

The elf ignored her and his breath tickled my ear. “Now, you were on the ship, were you not? Just nod, like a good girl.”

As much as I wanted to remain calm, this was just too damned much. A pounding formed under the skin of the wound and there was a rock jutting into the middle of my back. I was fucking done with the day. Done.

I wriggled into him, taking him by surprise and leaving a trickle of blood at my throat as I slammed the crown of my head into his chin full force. Just as Aislinn taught me. I could almost hear the glee in her voice, telling me every inch of the body was a weapon.

He rolled back, roaring and I scrambled to get up just as Shadowheart ran over, her mace poised for attack. I stomped my heel on his wrist, twisting. He let go of the dagger and I gestured with my head for her to pick it up.

As soon as she grabbed the dagger, I moved my foot off his wrist and stepped back, allowing him to scrabble to his feet.

His handsome face was twisted into a red, wet angry mess of features. “How dare---arrgh!” He gripped his head between his hands.

My head throbbed as visions flashed before my eyes. The streets of Baldur’s Gate. Dark, but busy.

What the fuck? First the githyanki woman on the ship, then Shadowheart, now this elf too. I splayed my hands on my knees, panting as I stared up at him.

He stared back at me. “They put one of those brain things in you too. I felt it.”

I said nothing, observing him. The way his dark eyes flitted back and forth, searching my face.

He lifted his bruising chin at me. “And to think I was ready to decorate the beach with your innards. My apologies.”

I regarded him for a moment and stood up, giving him a curt nod. “Accepted.”

He smiled. “I am Astarion.”

Sigh. Here we go again. “I’m Dir.”

His light brows shot up. “Dir? As in, man?”

Did people think they were clever for pointing that out?

“Yes. And now, we’re in desperate need of a healer. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Are you insane?” Shadowheart hissed behind me. “He just tried to kill you!”

“There is safety in numbers. And it seems he has our problem.” I tapped my finger against my temple.

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

The elf grinned and bowed with a flourish of his arms. “Well, then, lead on.”

Lead on? Both Shadowheart and Astarion were both looking at me expectantly. I pretended not to see them as I readjusted my belt and went after my sword. This was insanity. I covered my mouth to prevent another giggle escaping.

“You alright there?”

“Yep, just a sneeze,” I said, pinching my nose as I slid my sword back into the scabbard. “Let’s go.”

“So, do either of you know the consequences of our little parasite?” Astarion drawled as we climbed further.

“Yes,” said Shadowheart. “It will turn us into mind flayers.”

Astarion laughed.

I whirled around and whispered, “Shh! Don’t draw attention to us.”

“Sorry, it’s just….of course it will turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?”

I peered him. He focused down on the soft white sand beneath our feet. His lips pursed into almost a pout. There was a sad, despairing look about him. The urge to comfort him was strong, but he didn’t look like the type of man who would appreciate a kind word and a soft touch from a stranger. He turned his face to the sun, eyes closed and inhaled deeply.

“I suppose we should get moving,” he muttered.

“Yeah, we should.”

“That’s curious,” said Shadowheart.

She pointed at a shimmering rune etched on the rocky wall. I jogged down the slope with Astarion on my heels. I traced my fingertips down the intricate lines. A transport rune. The stone was hot under my hands, yet left me cold and empty. The weave was barely reacting to my touch, leaving an ache in my heart.

“I see you’re alive and well!” An unfamiliar voice said.

Damn. I was meeting all sorts of new people today. I stood and turned towards his voice.

His voice was friendly enough, as was his face, save for the furrowed brow. But, he was more thoughtful than scornful. His brown eyes examined my face closer and his bearded mouth split into a grin, revealing straight white teeth.

“Where the bloody hells did you come from?” Shadowheart cried.

“Netherese rune,” the man said, patting the rune. “Simply viscous with magic. One little touch and now, well, here I am.”

The man turned his smile to me. “Last I saw you, you were laying in a crucibles worth of blood, an intellect devourer nibbling at your ear. Glad to see that my eyes deceived me. I’m Gale. Well met.”

I bowed my head to him. “Well met. These are my companions--”

“I’m Shadowheart.”

“Astarion. I take it you too, were on the ship?”

“That I was. A traumatic as well as instructive experience.” Gale replied, his palms together.

Shadowheart snorted and Astarion laughed aloud.

“An instructive experience? Hardly. Traumatic, yes, I’d say so,” Astarion drawled. “But tell me, Gale, were you also infected with our little…friend?”

“Indeed, I was. Are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation it will turn us into mind flayers? A process known as ceremorphosis. It is to be avoided,” Gale said with a scowl.

I let my face curl into a half-smile. “Well, yes, I’d agree there.”

He looked between the three of us. “I take it none of you are wizards?”

“No, we are not,” Shadowheart sniffed. “Why?”

“Pity,” Gale said, seemingly to himself. He peered at me with a frown. “I sense a gust of weave coming from you, but I’m in need of more of a tempst.”

I lifted my brows in response, but said nothing. His eyes met mine for a brief moment.

He sighed. “Nevermind that. Our first priority is a healer. I don’t suppose any of you are accomplished healers?”

Crossing my arms over my chest I shook my head.

“That would also be a no,” Astarion replied.

“Hmm. Well, we need a healer, and fast. I’m not sure where we’re going to find one in this wilderness.” He rubbed his chin as he stared at the rune over my head. After a moment he clapped his hands together. “Why don’t we embark on this quest for a healer together?”

Astarion and Shadowheart were both oddly quiet and staring at me. I stepped forward, arms still crossed, regarding Gale. It was clear the man was intelligent. 

Slightly full of himself, but entirely capable. Of course, I was going to say yes, but not before I pretended to think it over.

“Alright,” I said, clearing my throat. “That sounds like a plan.”

Gale flashed his white teeth again. “Excellent! But before we’re off, I didn’t quite catch your name. And by didn’t catch it, I mean, you didn’t mention it.”

Here we go. I licked my dried lips. “I’m Dir.”

He inclined his head. “Well met, Dir. And, without further ado, let us be off!”

He gave no inclination of knowing the meaning of my name. Indeed, a learned man such as himself, would be apt to know the meaning. I smiled at him, a little grateful.

We pushed further up the cliff. Due to the sheer amount of debris and fallen earth, it took a few hours more than we’d originally anticipated. By the time the ancient ruins came into sight, the sun was settling low in the sky.

I put my hands on my hips. “We should stop and make camp soon.”

“Every moment we aren’t looking for a healer, is a closer moment towards death,” Shadowheart hissed.

“We need rest. Rushing won’t get us anywhere but into a load of trouble. Not to mention,” I pulled back my sleeve, pulling down the wrappings. Shadowheart inhaled sharply. The skin on my wrist was half-healed, an angry, throbbing red. “I’m of no use to anyone now with my wrist like this.”

Gale leaned in close to examine my wrist. “Intellect devourer got you?”

“Yes.”

He waited for me to say more. When I didn’t he began to turn my wrist over in his hand.

“Oh, don’t mind her,” Astarion said. “She’s the strong silent type.”

“Indeed,” Gale said, his eyes sparkling as he wrapped up my wrist again, taking care not to wrap too tightly or too loosely. “Too bad we’re not back at my tower. I probably would have a soothing salve for this.”

I allowed myself a smile. “I’m fine. We all need the rest. We’ll be of no use to each other, exhausted and hungry.”

Shadowheart opened her mouth as if she wanted to argue, but then thought better of it. “Fine. But we need to be up at first light.”

I nodded. “Agreed.”