#scuffed rough draft but you see the vision

[meat-fr]

Yeah, i could try to make an actual nice skin for babies

OR

I could give my boi Isaac his D6 >:]

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 1/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU 

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

This is chapter one of…I don’t know. I may continue if enough people are enjoying it.  Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Oh God, Martin thought to himself as fur began to emerge from under his skin, covering newly reshaped limbs and hiding sharp claws from sight, Jon’s going to be so mad at me!

Oh no, Martin panicked as blunt teeth gave way to pointed canines, this is so unprofessional of me! 

Only then did Martin allow the terrible question to enter his mind – what was he becoming? 

He should have known better than to pick up an unfamiliar book lying around in the archives of the Magnus Institute, the academic home of research into the paranormal and esoteric. At the very least, if he was going to pick it up, he should have done so only to tidy it away. Why he had felt compelled to open the tome and sneak a peek inside, he couldn’t say. 

As the world around him lurched into a new angle, Martin could only think about the presentation his boss had delivered a few weeks prior. 

Obviously, you shouldn’t be dealing directly with any artefacts of note, Jon had said dryly, tapping the large screen behind him that showed countless examples of seemingly mundane objects. We have a department for that for a reason. However, it’s not unusual for one or two to slip through the cracks; particularly books, given the extensive nature of our library. If you should check out a book as part of your research and you see the name ‘Leitner’ involved in any capacity, do not read the book. Put it down immediately. Martin, that goes double for you – if you even think the word ‘Leitner’ near a book, I want you to turn around immediately and walk back to your desk – do you understand? 

Had he seen the name ‘Leitner’ in this book? There had been a torn bookplate in the front, and maybe the remaining letters had been ‘ner’...

Did it matter? He was paying for his stupidity now, Martin thought. All fur and claws and fangs, and oh, what hideous monster would emerge from what had once been Martin Blackwood? 

Martin lay down, his fluffy belly flat against the floor, and pushed his newly shaped paws over his eyes. Oh, it didn’t bear thinking about! Jon would burst in at any moment, see some horrible creature, not realise it was Martin, and—

“Martin?” 

As if on cue, the door to the shared office of the archival assistants opened, and in walked Jonathan Sims. “Martin, have you taken your lunch break? Tim and Sasha have already gone, and Elias has been getting very prickly about me making sure you all…oh. Martin?” 

Martin had scampered under the table in hope of avoiding his boss’ gaze. Treated now to a blurry view of the man’s green socks and scuffed brogues, he watched as Jon entered the office. “Oh. Good. He’s gone already,” Jon said to himself with the air of a job well done. He turned to leave, and Martin had almost let out a sigh of relief when the man’s feet stopped. 

No, no! Martin thought, Go! You can’t see me like this! I bet I’m the ugliest monster, all fangs and talons and hair all over the place! 

A scarred hand appeared in Martin’s imperfect vision, scooping up the fallen book that was to blame for Martin’s plight. A new fear sprang up in Martin’s mind then – what if Jon read the book too? 

He had to do it. He had to save him! Even if it meant Jon would see Martin’s disgusting new form, he had to keep Jon safe! 

He lunged with a power that Martin hadn’t ever known before. A screeching roar – or a miaow, really – pierced the air, and Martin all but bodyslammed Jon’s hands, knocking the book firmly from his grip. It span across the room and slid under the bookshelf out of sight. 

Now he’d done it. Now Jon would see Martin in all his revolting glory – witness what that awful Leitner book had turned him into. If he didn’t recognise Martin, as surely he wouldn’t, he’d no doubt call security, and then what would happen? Would Martin be taken down? Locked away in the tunnels for examination and research? Worse, what if Jon did recognise him? He’d know that Martin had messed up in a spectacular fashion, and he’d be so disappointed in him. Would he be the one to tell Martin nothing could be done, that the effects of a Leitner were irreversible and that they’d have to–

“Good Lord! Oh…oh, now, where did you come from, little one?” 

Jon’s voice took on a bizarrely soft tone that Martin had never heard before. He couldn’t respond, however, as thin hands had latched gently around his torso and lifted him from the ground, a startled purr rumbling from Martin’s chest. 

All of a sudden, Jon’s face filled Martin’s entire view. And for once, no scowl darkened his features. In fact, Jon almost looked…delighted? 

Martin blinked. 

“Mrrow?” 

Not once in over a year of working for Jonathan Sims had Martin managed to coax a smile from the other man. All his best attempts, his best teas, his ridiculous amount of overtime to finish his reports to a standard Jon would accept, all his own smiles and attempts to cheer the man up, not one of these gargantuan efforts had been rewarded with a smile. 

And now, with one confused miaow, Martin had unlocked a smile from Jon. 

“How did you get in here? Did you get lost? Did Martin leave the door open again? Oh, I bet he did. I bet he did!” Jon repeated, descending into a cooing baby voice that would have had Martin howling with laughter if he could still laugh. Jon shifted the perplexed Martin to sit over his shoulder more comfortably, the book all but forgotten. “But you’re such a handsome boy! And no collar? Poor little man, have you been wandering around looking for some food and shelter? We’ll get you sorted, don’t you worry, little champion.” 

What…the hell…is happening? Martin wondered, even as a big, goofy smile curled his lips. 

Jon was carrying him. Out of the office. Stroking his back. Calling him a little champion and handsome. 

“How about a saucer of warm milk, hmm? Does that sound good? Would that set you right, hmm?” 

It was only then that Martin’s mind dragged itself out of the dazed, happy fog to piece together what Jon was saying. Why he was saying it. 

Martin had not been transformed into some vicious beast from the eldritch corners of reality. 

As they passed by Jon’s office, Martin caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass pane of the door. 

A large cat with white and orange fur blinked back at him from over Jon’s shoulder. 

──── •✧• ────

Martin was, of course, the talk of the town after everyone returned from their lunch break. Funny, then, that not one person actually mentioned Martin. 

“So you’re gonna take him to the vets, right, boss?” Tim asked, rolling another roll of Sellotape towards Martin, apparently expecting him to play with it. Martin, on principle, refused, turning his nose up and huffing. 

Tim, come on! You’re back, Sasha’s back, who isn’t back yet? Ask where Martin is! he thought. 

“He seems healthy enough to me,” Jon replied, not looking up from the paperwork he was pouring over. “Why?” 

“To get his microchip checked? Get him back to his owners?” 

That made Jon look up, a flash of shock and upset clear in his widened eyes and slightly parted lips. “His ow— No, no, he hasn’t even got a collar on. No owners.”

“Right, but by law, cats have to be microchipped. Maybe his collar fell off or something?” A hint of amusement danced in Tim’s questions; Martin could tell that Tim was toying with Jon. Jon, however, hadn’t picked up on that. 

“M-maybe,” he replied stiffly. “Right, yes, fine. Vets after work. But he can stay here for now. Till the end of the shift.” 

Martin wandered over to Jon, sitting himself down by the leg of his chair and craning his neck up, tail swishing behind him. 

Right, now that’s sorted, onto the next obvious issue in the office, Jon, he thought. Which is…the obvious and mysterious disappearance of—

“Martin’s late back off his lunch,” Jon noted, checking the office clock with a critical glance. “Could you check the archival assistants’ office please, Tim? Maybe drop him a text. Probably got himself distracted by some…particularly interesting bollards or something…”

Sure, there’d been an insult mixed in there, but Jon had noticed! He’d noticed Martin’s disappearance, and that meant Martin had to repay his kindness! 

Fuelled with delight, the cat sprang up onto Jon’s lap, earning him a surprised chuckle. “Ah! Well, hello! Y-yes, you can sit there while I work, Champion. That’s fine.” 

Tim snorted as he headed out of Jon’s office, arching an eyebrow at the pair of them. “Champion? Are you kidding me? He’s a classic Fluffy or Ginger or Marshmallow or something.”

“Nonsense. He’s brimming with regal strength. A Champion if I ever saw one,” Jon retorted with a sniff, deeming the argument not worth his attention beyond that and turning back to his work. “Let me know if Martin gets back to you. And if he shows up, send him in here.” 

The newly named Champion stretched out lazily on Jon’s lap, settling down for a cheeky nap on company time. 

Already here, Jon. 

──── •✧• ────

[quincywillows]

sunday progress report ( 09.08.19 )

somehow my pals it has already been a week... time flies and yet also marches at an excruciating pace. it truly be that way huh. i hope you all had an awesome week and as many of you likely went back to school in the last couple weeks, i hope your semesters are going well! you got this!

QW stats for this week:

68,000+ words

19/56 story beats completed.

story phase “unlikely partnership” 100% completed. :)

story phase “halloween” 5/7 beats completed.

momentum of the week: i was very excited when i woke up one day just Ready to write a villain monologue, and thusly ended up writing the first draft of my final battle scene. it’s rough in places and will certainly need rewrites, but just having that scene as one of the completed ones felt really good!

obstacle of the week: truly, i’m just stuck on what i want to work on next. i think my plan is to gear towards finishing the halloween phase since i am so close, but then we’ll be jumping into more blank territory and i know thats intimidating for me. so i will just have to do my best and see what this week brings.

other work updates: some major developments in AMBITION land! i officially wrote the S2 premiere this week (clocking in at “55 minutes” and about 31 pages), and esther and i have worked hard to create a release schedule as well as start gearing up for like... hype season. the show is coming back soon and i’m truly feeling the energy of it. :’)

snippet of the week: below the cut is a little snippet of the climactic confrontation i was really proud of writing this week. best of luck to all y’all with your projects and endeavors for another week!

“Unfortunately, you’re not quite disposable yet, Null. It would be imprudent to finish you off when there’s so much pure energy left in you to appropriately redistribute.”

Every step [ redacted ] takes towards him, Jonah knows is a step closer to death. The moment he knocks him into the pit to join Archie, he’ll be facing the same fate. If only he had the energy to fight back. So much untapped energy inside him, supposedly, and yet he can barely keep himself conscious.

He sees his scuffed dress shoes appear in his line of vision, blurry as they may be, and he decides he better count his blessings. Amidst all of the new friends he’s made and the people he’s grateful to have known, he finds himself getting stuck on Jamie. Wondering if instead of sending him a vague message of appreciation, he should’ve told him the truth. About Quincy Willows, about his circumstances, about how the hardest thing in the world was leaving him behind.

Jonah knows all too well how much trouble withholding the truth can cause.

[gold-from-straw]

The Golden Prince - ch6

OK, I’m actually really proud of this chapter... I like Credence being a badass. However, it does end on a cliffhanger - please don’t hurt me! Read from the beginning on AO3 if you prefer! @vacantbloodbones @soz @theaterclassmademegay @fckimlovingit 

Percy had lost all awareness of time. His arms were numb from being stretched above his head, the stabbing cramps now terrifyingly dull. He could feel the dried blood on his back flaking in the wind, rusty particles fluttering around him and becoming part of the sand on the courtyard floor. He licked his dry lips, his saliva sticky with dehydration. He did not bother to open his eyes. He knew it was the dawn of another day as Grindelwald’s plaything.

Since Tina had been stripped of her armour and thrown out of the city gates, Percy had fluctuated between desperate hope that she had survived, and despair that she would have been taunted, toyed with, given a head start and then hunted by that bastard’s soldiers. A part of him, a part in constant tension and panic, waited for her bloody frame to be thrown down in the dust in front of him. To complete the grief that tore at him.

Grindelwald had an army of magic users at his disposal, a laughably perfect mirror to Salem. He would have Percy whipped several times a day, before calling for him to be healed just enough to survive. Just enough to take a new beating in a few hours’ time.

He tried hard to keep his mind off his beloved prince. If he thought of his sweetness, his gentle smile, he would surely lose himself to despair. He would want to live, and Percy had now accepted he was beyond such a kind fate. It would not be long before Grindelwald tired of this game of his, and then he would not bother to call for the healer. He would not see his love again.

The disruption outside the gates existed in the back of his mind for several moments before it filtered through to his consciousness. He frowned, his eyes still shut, as he heard the distinctive sound of battle, sword on sword, cries of pain and instruction. But why should there be such a thing, so close to the gates of the citadel? Salem’s soldiers had never yet managed to penetrate beyond the walls of the city, all battles taking place in the plains. He must be going crazy.

But there were hands on his own, smooth hands on his rough, bloody skin, and Percy could not believe it, would not accept the lies his eyes were telling him, because his beloved prince stood before him, murmuring sweet things, cutting his bonds.

Credence was dressed in black leather and golden armour, his hair drawn back and out of his face. He bore a sword at his hip and knives at his forearms, and his eyes were hard, the soft masks torn back to leave only his intelligence and passion. Percy reached out a hand for him as he sank back, no longer trapped, but his body betrayed him, weakened as it was.

“Newt,” called Credence, wrapping his arms around Percy and pulling him gently to his feet. “Jacob, Newt, I need you to help me bear him to the throne room.”

“My prince…” he said, his voice barely breaking a whisper.

Credence pressed their foreheads close for a moment. “I have you, my love. I have you, you are safe.”

“How can this be?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You cannot have believed that I would leave you here, and not tear the world apart to find you?” He did not wait for Percy’s response, but drew his sword and led the battalion across the curiously empty courtyard to Seraphina, who stood with another woman in the shadows of the palace.

“My prince, we must take the throne immediately,” said Seraphina, sparing a surprisingly relieved glance for Percy. “Grindelwald is occupied with the battle, it will not be long before he realises it is a decoy.”

Credence nodded. “My lady Ya, will you lead us?”

The woman at Seraphina’s side bowed to him and turned to hasten down a stone corridor. Percy, suspended between the executioner and the apothecary, tried to get his legs to obey and hurry after the prince.

They burst out into a great hall, vast pillars carved of granite and soaring into the ceiling under which doves fluttered. The afternoon light poured into an open balcony, and there, at the apex, rested a great throne, the wooden back carved into an arc of sun’s rays. Just as Percy, his mind surely delirious, considered that the seat would be perfect for his golden prince, Credence mounted the steps. Seraphina gathered her skirts and followed, withdrawing an intricate crown from her robes. “Well, my lord. This is not entirely what I had in mind when I thought to hasten your ascension to the throne, but never let it be said I cannot adjust to surprises.”

Credence quirked a smile, then bowed his head. Seraphina placed the delicate crown upon his silky black locks. “Long live the king of two lands,” she said.

“We may hope so,” he said, then shook his head. “I must admit, this is not entirely what I had in mind either.”

She glanced at Percy. “Love, my lord, brings out strange things in us all.” She retreated down the steps and came to stand with Ya, who linked their fingers tightly and kissed the back of her hand.

Newt led Percy and Jacob over to a bench at the side of the throne room and lowered him down, fussing over him with balms and incantations. He poured a cool, sweet liquid down Percy’s throat that seemed to spread through every inch of his aching body, refreshing him and clearing his vision.

And what a vision! His prince draped himself on the throne with an arrogance Percy had never expected. “What in all the world have I missed? Has it been so long since I left Salem?”

Newt smiled, but did not take his eyes from his work. “Not more than three days, Sir Percival. But when news of your party’s demise reached us, the erstwhile queen called for a draft of all people of age. The country would have been decimated in her war.” He shook his head, mop of red curls shifting in Percy’s peripheral vision. “Prince Credence faced her, called it folly. She would have killed him, but for Jacob’s sword.”

“Jacob killed the queen?”

“No, Credence did so, but with Jacob’s sword, thrown to him in loyalty. He is truly King Credence now.”

“But why…”

“The war could not continue,” said Credence, his voice strong in the vast hallway. “We could not keep up this sacrifice, and yet I would not treat with the vile creature who would treat his prisoners like…” he clenched the fist at his chin and looked away. “He would never have accepted Salem as equals in any case, being as we are mostly non-magical.”

“But how could you be here?”

Seraphina smiled. “Thanks to magic.”

“Magic? But we have none!”

Newt cleared his throat. “I would not be so sure of that,” he said apologetically. “I do hope you will not look upon me with ill-judgement.”

“Of course not, apothecary. I have long suspected your abilities, and have been glad of them, for they bring relief to my pr- my king.”

“I am not the only one in Salem with such powers. And Ya is not the only one in Nurmengard who does not approve of the current tyranny here, any more than we were willing to accept the tyranny of Queen Mary.”

“There are many paths into Nurmengard known only to those in the high court," said Seraphina. "Ya has spent many years as a trusted vizier here, just waiting for one chance. When King Credence expressed his need to end this war, we set one of many plans in motion within moments. Our small group was able to infiltrate the city, get within the walls, and lead the king directly to the throne room, undermining Grindelwald’s power and security. We just needed a diversion.”

“And that is where Tina came to the fore,” said Jacob. “She insisted on her revenge. She lead a small group of the most skilled fighters, cloaked in Ya’s magic, to the very gates of Nurmengard’s citadel before they revealed themselves and began to attack.”

“They were not within the palace,” Credence continued, “but they were closer than any other has come, and with such a threat, we hoped to draw out the entire court.” He spread his hands to encompass the empty throne room. “And it appears to have worked.”

“It might have helped that I ensured all the soldiers looked exactly like Tina,” said Ya, in mock innocence.

“You did?” Seraphina turned to stare at her, shock and delight warring for supremacy.

Ya nodded, a smile plumping her high cheekbones. “It appears now that the one soldier who was released as an insult, as disrespect, has now returned and multiplied. What is more, as time goes on, any soldier of Nurmengard who gets within a certain distance of Tina herself will also appear as her - Grindelwald’s army will begin to turn upon itself, a fact that our own resistance movement will soon take to our advantage.”

Percy shook his head and laughed, awed at the audacity of the plan. “And then what?” he asked the prince. No, the king, now. “Is physical possession of the throne enough?”

Credence widened his eyes slightly, the first sign of anxiety Percy had seen that day. “It will be enough to undermine his rule. I hope.”

Ya suddenly turned and listened as if to an invisible messenger. Indeed that may have been her action, for Percy had no idea of the intricacies of Nurmengard’s magic. “We must prepare,” she said, turning wide eyes to the gathering. “Grindelwald has learned that his throne room is unprotected and returns as we speak.”

Seraphina touched her hand and they nodded at each other with the instinctive communication of long friends or lovers. “Be safe,” she murmured, and with a nod, Ya was gone. Seraphina turned back to the Salemites. “Arrange yourselves as guards to the throne. This entire endeavour depends on our appearance.”

She raced to Percy and began to pull his armour from a sack, throwing the scuffed leather and steel upon him so it gave the barest appearance of correct. Percy raised an eyebrow at her and pushed her away to take over. “My squire need not worry about his position,” he quipped. She just glared at him and held out a sword.

He stood at Credence’s right hand, while Jacob took the left, the two trained soldiers standing tall and impassive. Newt, wearing borrowed armour, tried hard to emulate them, and Seraphina herself took the vizier’s position behind the throne.

But Percy could hardly take his eyes off Credence. The soft, sweet prince was gone, and in his place sprawled an arrogant warrior king, his chin high and legs spread wide as he slouched in the throne as if he felt entirely comfortable, as if he were in the right and not the usurper.

The tension in the room built as they waited, the silence pressing in on them. Even Percy felt like fidgeting, like speaking, but instead the held their positions, listening hard.

At last there was distant shouting, feet thundering on the stone passageways and the clank of armour. Percy felt his muscles tense as the sound grew nearer and nearer, until the great doors to the throne room burst inwards with an echoing boom.

Grindelwald marched upon them, his hand clenched around his sword and the core of his army following behind. Percy could hear the collective intake of breath as they saw Credence on their master’s throne, the symbol of their leader’s power undermined by a young man slouched upon it.

But Grindelwald simply laughed. “Do you think it would be so simple? Do you truly believe your childish prank is enough to wrest power from Nurmengard?”

“Believe?” said Credence. His lips curled in a smirk, and he rose and walked towards the other king, his hips swaying and steps lazy and casual. “Shall we discuss belief now? You believe we are beneath you, all those who hold no magic. You believe we are little more than animals to be leashed. That is why you came to war with Salem, is it not? Although you do not call it war, but taming. To you we are wild horses to be broken in. And yet now you can see that these animals you so deride are able to trick you.” He tutted. “How embarrassing, for a king to be tricked by a beast. Perhaps you are not as powerful as your people believe. Perhaps you are not fit to rule them.”

Percy could see the flicker of rage that spread over Grindelwald’s face, and hear the rippling murmurs of thought in the soldiers that now lined the throne room. Then Grindelwald snorted again. “And who is suitable to rule Nurmengard? You? A fresh child, son of a queen so stupid and set in her ways she had no other strategy but to throw her people at our gates?”

“Aye, I am her son,” Credence nodded. “I am not her. Her strategy was harmful to my people, and thus I killed her, as I will destroy any who threaten Salem. All of Salem, that is, and not just the non-magical citizens.” He gestured at Newt, who held out his hand, muttering under his breath. Grindelwald’s eyes widened as the golden crown changed on Credence’s curls, diamonds glittering as they flowed into place in an organic, leaf-like shape. “Unlike my mother, unlike yourself, I am not so scared to foster those with different strengths to me. All skills shall be welcome in Salem.”

Grindelwald looked on him with pity. “All skills? And when your pathetic, magicless worms realise that they are without skill? When it becomes clear as it has to those in Nurmengard that we with magic have no need for those without, what would you have them do? Carry you, do all the work without hope of recompense, like a mother who knows her children will never grow? Why should those with magic support such a farce?”

“I do not know, Grindelwald,” he said, head cocked on one side. “What is it that we have to offer? What is it that gave us the power to infiltrate your deepest inner sanctum and sit upon your sacred throne?”

“Luck,” he scoffed. “And riding on the wings of those misguided magic users who have seen fit to help you.”

“And why is it that a powerful entity such as Nurmengard should remain at war with a country of militant anti-magic sentiment for such a long time? Should not your superior power have overwhelmed us by now? But instead you have been embattled with us for years.”

“Numbers,” he scoffed. “Nothing more.”

Credence hummed and turned to pace, showing his disrespect by not keeping Grindelwald in sight at all times. Percy knew that it was a clever move politically, but he could not help but clench his fists and wish himself closer to protect him. “Numbers,” said Credence, nodding. “And perhaps our more advanced weaponry, our technology, our training. Things I believe your council has campaigned for these past months, to your scorn.” He smiled smugly at the furious man. “Indeed, I know the workings of your council. I have my spies. Sorry to disappoint your views of my inferior intellect and skill as a leader.”

“I should kill you where you stand.”

Credence threw his head back and laughed. “You really have no idea the extent to which my network extends in your country, do you? I have been plotting since before I came of age, since I realised that my mother would never support my ascension to the throne. I have so much practice at hiding my strength, Grindelwald, you have simply no idea. And when you began to attack my country, when you and my mother engaged in your pathetic posturing and strutting, this waste of precious life on both sides, it was but the work of months for me to extend my tendrils into your world. You have no concept of how dissatisfied your people are, do you? You simply do not care. If one appears less powerful than you, they are discounted.”

“What have you done?” he hissed, his fist clenched around his sword. Percy felt his body tense in readiness.

Credence let the smile creep across his face slowly. He held up one hand and snapped his fingers. In the distance an explosion rocked, and the soldiers flinched, turning to each other in shock and confusion.

“What was that?”

Credence snapped his fingers again, and another blast rang out.

“What do you want, boy?” Grindelwald roared.

“An end to this war,” he said, his smile gone, his eyes hard and unyielding. “I have no interest in your throne. I turn away none who wish to come to Salem, with magic or without, but I will have it known that my people are protected. No longer will they fear for their lives, not from this stupid war, not from your entitled raids on our borders, and not from a despotic ruler who uses them as canon fodder. Our strength lies in numbers, in the people with little power but the freedom to use that power to the fullest. The woman who hears, the man who knows the perfect quantity of explosives, the quiet people who go unnoticed and may plant their explosives in strategic positions, the loyalty of a soldier, the patience of people who have been used and then rejected for too long.”

Grindelwald snarled. “You sneak. You little bastard.”

“Indeed. It is my strength,” he shrugged. “I do not want your throne, I have my own. But I want my peace, and I will have it. Either with you on the throne or not.”

Grindelwald held his gaze for a long moment, and Percy held himself by a thread. At last he nodded. “Call off your dogs,” he said, his voice little more than a hiss. “You shall have your treaty.”

Credence held up his hand and gestured. In the distance a shout went up, and another. Cheers reached their ears.

Then Credence dropped his arm and went to step back.

Percy knew it was coming, knew Grindelwald must have seen there was no recovery from such destabilisation. He will have known there was no future in which he remained upon the throne, not with so much of his country in disarray. Percy was moving before Grindelwald lifted his sword, before he drew back his arm and drove it forward. He was throwing himself before his lover before it had a chance to scratch his precious skin, and felt the steel enter his waist, angled upwards into his flesh, into his lungs. The pain bloomed like flowers of ice, and Percy’s eyes fluttered with the overwhelm of it.

The world narrowed to a single point, the pain the only thing that existed. Beyond it he could only just hear the roar of rage. He was dimly aware of Credence, black robes whirling. Then there was red, splattering the floor, and he knew not if it was his own or someone else’s. It did not matter, as long as it was not his beloved Credence’s. He blinked, battled with the air itself, tried to draw it into his body. He must stay alive just long enough to see his love well.

“Percy!” The voice was in pain, and he struggled to open his eyes, fought to comfort his king. But Credence was not hurt, only splattered with Grindelwald’s blood. He bent over Percy, his hands soft on his cheek, his eyes swelling with tears. Percy raised a shaking hand to brush them away. “Percy, my love, hold on. You will be well, but you must hold on.”

“Are you well, my love?”

“Only if you live!”

He smiled, tired. “You must be well, Credence,” he rasped, and coughed. Blood thickened on his tongue, and he closed his eyes. As long as Credence was well, he had done his job.

[domain-of-friendship-blog]

05: Digdirt

"Ow, oof, ooh, ow, ouch!"

Rarity found herself tumbling across rough stone, stopping only when she collided with a wall several yards away.

"Ohhhhhh... I think I'm going to be ill. And now my skirt is all scuffed up, too..." Carefully shifting into a sitting position, she raised a hand to her head and gingerly rubbed the spot where it had thumped against the wall, her fingers lightly brushing a furry ear in the process.

"Hmm?"

Rarity paused, patting the top of her head curiously. Yup, those were definitely her pony ears. "Wait, when did I...?"

Her sentence trailed off as she finally caught sight of her surroundings. What appeared to be a cave carved out of sandstone stretched in two directions before her; daylight shone from one, while the portal glowed softly in the darkness of the other, tilted slightly as though leaning casually against the wall.

Carefully so as not to irritate her already upset stomach, Rarity braced herself against the wall and climbed to her feet. There was no one else in the cave with her, but how could that be? Pinkie had been right in front of her as they'd fallen into that strange red-and-black space.

"Pinkie?" Hand against the wall for safety, Rarity made her way toward the bright end of the cave. "Pinkie Pie, where are you?"

It wasn't long before she reached the end... and the sight before her made her gasp.

The rocky slope on which she now stood ended only a few feet down, to be replaced with a vast desert that stretched as far as Rarity could see. Occasional outcroppings of sandstone like the one in which she had appeared were the only landmarks in the endless sea of sand. While the cave had been relatively cool, the daylight felt like a heat ray against her skin; in seconds, she was already sweating. Pinkie was nowhere to be seen.

Rarity retreated back into the shade of the cave and took a deep breath. "Alright, Rarity: focus. You're officially in a survival situation, and you need to figure out what to do next to maximize your chances of... well... surviving." With that, she began slowly pacing back and forth.

"Let's see now... Option one, return to the portal." She glanced back at it for hardly a second before scowling and turning up her nose. "Absolutely not. It's what put you here in the first place, and it separated you from Pinkie in doing so; it's as like as not to send you someplace even worse if you trust it like that.

"Option two, brave the desert and look for help." Several seconds of staring out at it left her cringing at the prospect. "...Not exactly ideal. You have no supplies of any kind, no sense of direction, and no way to know if there's even anyone out there in the first place.

"Option three, wait by the portal for your friends to catch up." Her attention turned back to the portal once again, her scowl threatening to return. "But is that even possible? Again, you and Pinkie have been separated despite entering nearly simultaneously; assuming the rest of your friends did in fact follow you, it seems unlikely for them to wind up here alongside you.

"That means..." She sighed quietly. "...wandering aimlessly in the desert is looking like my best option." Even so, saying it out loud wasn't going very far in making it feel like less of a terrible idea. "Oh, and if I don't find something soon, I'll probably never get the sweat stains out of my clothes..."

At this, she shook her head. "Now stop that! Your vanity isn't as important as making it out of this alive," she scolded. "Although it would be nice to know that if I don't, I'll at least still look good for when they find my body."

The thought made her shiver.

Standing at the edge of the cave, she spent several moments steeling herself before starting out into the desert proper.

*******

Sweat poured from Rarity's brow, slowly drenching her top as she trudged across the sand. She had rather quickly begun regretting her decision; the further she walked, the clearer it became that there was nothing here but rocks and sand. At the very least, she had passed by a few varieties of cacti, meaning the place wasn't completely devoid of life. Hopefully, that was a good sign.

With no food or water and no shield against the heat, the best she could do was to rest in the shade of a rock every few minutes, but this didn't provide much in the way of relief.

"Ugh, why couldn't it have dropped me off at a spa instead? This place is dreadful."

It also wasn't doing much for her mood.

Knowing full well it wasn't a terrific use of her dwindling energy, she gave the sand a frustrated kick. "I'm hot, I'm tired, I'm thirsty, I'm horribly sweaty... come on now, I just need - AAAAAAUGH"

Rarity fell to her knees, screaming as she felt the stinger plunge into her thigh. A perfectly sand-colored scorpion almost a yard long, far larger than any she could have imagined, emerged from its hiding place just beneath where she had kicked.

Trying to climb to her feet only caused her to stumble and yelp as pain shot through her body from the effort of putting weight on her injured leg. There would be no running.

But she could still defend herself.

With a wave of her arm, Rarity intended to summon a crystalline shield to shove the scorpion away. What she got instead was rather different: a hail of razor sharp crystal shards materialized over her head and plunged themselves into the creature's body, piercing its carapace en masse like bullets shattering glass.

Oily black fluids oozed from the scorpion's body, staining the sand as it twitched for a moment before finally lying still.

Gasping for air as though she had just run a marathon, Rarity clutched at her leg, now swollen and bleeding where she had been stung. The world around her began shifting in and out of focus as her vision blurred and everything started spinning.

"Well, it was... worth a shot... I suppose..."

She spotted something else moving out of the corner of her eye, but by this point she was too exhausted to care. She just needed sleep.

Sleep, then everything will be fine.

Sleep...

*******

Cool.

Everything felt so refreshingly cool.

Did that mean she was dead, then? No matter, so long as she was free of the desert and the heat and the scorpions...

Wait, no - of course it mattered! What was she thinking? She couldn't just leave her friends behind like that...

Rarity opened her eyes. They expressed their disdain for this by taking their sweet time focusing on her surroundings, but eventually gave in a few seconds of blinking later.

Was this... a hospital room? It looked like it had been designed on a fairly tight budget, featuring little more than a countertop, some shelves, an electric fan pointed at her, and the bed on which she now lay. Her clothes were hung up on a rack, pristine and spotless as the day she'd made them.

Wait a minute...

Still a bit dizzy, she took her time sitting up, a wet cloth falling from her forehead and landing in her lap as she did so. Looking down, she quickly discovered she had been reduced to her underwear. A large bandage wound around her thigh covered the spot where the scorpion had stung her. A cursory glance later, she found a second, smaller bandage on her upper arm.

Someone was taking care of her. Against what were likely ridiculous odds, someone had found her out there and rescued her.

As if on cue, the door at the other end of the room opened partway to permit a rather strange-looking girl. She didn't seem to pay Rarity much mind at first, instead brushing a strand of blue hair out of her darkly tanned face, hooking it behind a pointy ear as she peered at the clipboard she was carrying.

Rarity opened her mouth to speak, but quickly realized she had too many questions and no idea where to start. "Er...?"

The girl's eyes lit up as they met Rarity's. In an instant, she tore the top sheet of paper from her clipboard, slapped it down on the counter behind her, produced a pen from the pocket of her poorly fitting nurse's uniform, and began scribbling furiously.

"So... you wouldn't happen to be...?" Rarity began.

The girl looked up from her writing for only barely long enough to hold up one finger; Rarity simply watched. A few more seconds later, she held out the clipboard for Rarity to take, rushing from the room once again as soon as it had left her hands.

i'm so glad you're awake!! don't worry, you're perfectly safe here!

my name is miri and you're at me and my mom's clinic! you're suffering from heat exhaustion and a nasty dose of scorpion venom, lucky i found you in time! i have lots and lots of questions but they can wait till you feel a little better okay??

i'll be right back, i need to get you some water because you're really dehydrated BUT DRINK IT REALLY SLOWLY or it might upset your tummy!

The girl returned not long afterward with a tall glass of water that Rarity had to resist the urge to chug as quickly as possible.

"Hah... thank you, er... Miri."

Miri beamed.

"Oh..." Rarity figured she already knew the answer, but it was still worth trying. "Did you happen to see anyone else out in the desert? Anyone, well... like me, perhaps?" Her pony ears twitched to emphasize the point.

Miri gave a silent gasp and drafted a response as quickly as she could. is someone else out there? oh no i'm so sorry! i went to investigate the bright light i saw way out in the desert but all i found was you... should i go looking again??

Rarity shook her head sadly. "No, that's not necessary, dear! We got separated after we fell into the portal, so..." She paused, turning to look out the window. "I... feel like she probably ended up somewhere far away. I'm not sure how I know that, but..."

Miri held out the clipboard. YOU CAME THROUGH THE POR no, we should talk about that later. i'm really sorry about your friend :( you're welcome to stay here until you get better! i should go tell mom you're awake so we can make you some food!! are you hungry?

"That would be lovely, thank you!" Rarity smiled, but it was short-lived. "Oh, but... I don't have any way to repay you for your care."

She found herself staring at Miri's uniform while she awaited the next written response. Not only was it clearly too big for her, but the stitching on the seams was uneven... and the whole thing was such a drab color to boot! Yet she had so expertly laundered Rarity's clothes for her until not a hint of sweat stain remained...

Was there such a thing as an idea that was too perfect? Rarity hoped not.

"Actually," she found herself saying, "hold that thought. Did you make that uniform yourself?"

Miri blinked, crossing out her old response and starting over. yes... i'm not very good at sewing though and we can't afford so it was the best i could do

Rarity smirked and leaned forward. "What if I offered to make you and your mother an entire line of brand new uniforms?"

Miri stared at Rarity's clothes for several seconds before responding. you can do that??

"Of course, darling! Picture it - the perfect blend of style and substance! Functional yet fashionable, durable yet dazzling! I promise you'll love them, or my name isn't Rarity!" At this, she paused. "...Which it is. I may have neglected to mention that," she added with a sheepish grin.

Miri beamed the entire time she spent writing. your name is really pretty <3 that would be wonderful, miss rarity! thank you!! i'll go talk to mom for a bit and be back with something for you to eat :) :)

After an affirming nod from Rarity, Miri left the room, grinning from ear to pointy ear.

The moment she was gone, Rarity let her own smile drop.

It wouldn't do to dwell on what she couldn't control. By all accounts, she seemed to be fairly well stuck here - wherever 'here' even was - and it sounded like her friends were nowhere to be found. But fashion! She always had a handle on that.

"You've been lucky so far," she told herself. "Let's ride that luck as far as it'll go and show this world just what Rarity is made of!"

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter