#the ice knife saga

[cntbtchthevapegod]

There’s some sort of bucolic misplaced fantasy about being able to just go outside and just hang out in a shed full of meat and vape in there. Its not my life, but god it could have been.

-Caldwell Tanner (Naddpod Short Rest: C3 Ep. 55: Big Brother)

Gotta love Caldwell speaking in flowery poetic language about vaping in a meat shed in the middle of the short rest

[littlebearwithlittlebrain]

Spearmint & Tea Leaves is now one of my most favourite Emily Axford songs. Cracked voiced Calliope talking to a mother who isn’t fully there…Callie’s story continues to hit different

go ahead and listen from 25:00 in C3E57 and thank me.

[pocketspaday]

Swag talking about himself and his relationship to Sol in the past tense even before the reveal in the dream sequence has me emotional

[operationslipperypuppet]

swag is so fucking dead jesus christ

[one-little-nerd-stayed-home]

Nose to the Grindstone came on while thinking about Gowan Kilde 4 dead 26 injured

[vxnuslogy]

╭──────     the challenge for a new king    ✦ ⸝⸝

            ✦   ⭑𓂃   honkai: star rail      ┆     mydei    .ᐟ                ──╯

𐔌  warnings. mentions of blood, ooc-mydei (written before official release)        ♟         notes. mydei kisserhood is infectious and so is the ithaca saga's "the challenge." my favorite mydei kisser sol (@st6rly) this is for you <33

           ━━━ art credits. hoyoverse        ♟         tags. @lowkeyren @starcharmed @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @powchakko @pneumosia ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms on my pinned!!

                                 ౨ৎ crown prince of kremnos, mydeimos — your lover from a past life, eternally bound to you and you wouldn't have it any other way.

the clamor of suitors in the palace’s main hall rings in your ears like a cacophony of arrogant laughter. even in the comforts of your room, as your servants dress you in ceremonial robes — garments reserved for only the eyes of your husband now will lay bare for the hundreds of men waiting for you downstairs — strike a nervous trail of ice on your back.

from the corner of your eyes, you see your council take away the stacks of papers on your table. after all, your duty as a monarch will be stripped away once a king is chosen. you will no longer need to trouble yourself with this kingdom’s affair — it hurts you deeply; the people you’ve served since you were a child now bid you farewell without sparing you a second glance. 

“your highness,” a gruff voice from your bedroom door called out. “everyone is waiting for you at the banquet hall. they eagerly await your answer.”

with a sigh, you raise your hand to signal your servants to stop. all of them slowly step away from your figure as you grimace at your reflection. a white girdle wrapping around your frame and decked from head to toe with gold — you truly looked like a prize to be won. you turn on your heels and walk out of the comforts of your room, the high council and servants following you as your head remains low and eyes strained on the marble floor. the intricate swirls of red and gold marble, its presence guiding you the banquet hall, stir a bittersweet ache in your chest, reminding you of the weight of what will transpire today. shouts and whistles of men grow louder and louder, the noise making you tug at the red cloth in your hair. taking a deep breath, you steadied your nerves as the giant doors in front of you opened.

everyone stills like statues of grand heroes as you walk to your throne. your mother and father sit beside you and like any other day after deciding you were of age to marry. you father reminds you sternly about who to choose.

“a king must be courageous; unafraid of the lengths of danger to protect his kingdom.”

“does this length of danger include the death of his spouse?”

you don’t miss the sudden flash of panic in your father’s eyes as you continue to gaze at the massive banquet hall. heart hammering in your chest as one by one, your suitors came to the front to introduce themself. you barely gave them any attention, only prompting you to give a nod of acknowledgement. from the corner of your eye, you see your father whispering to a council member. they both look at you with a hint of agitation but you only shift your gaze in front. at one point, you had grown parch from all their introductions and asked for a servant to bring you a drink. as you sip the wine from your cup as each man grew bolder and bolder. you don’t recall them having to witness their introductions this close. 

irritation flared in you when you notice one of the guards stationed in front of your throne let one suitor approach you closely. if you had not glared at the guard, he would have only stood there, playing ignorant.

“enough,” your voice cut through the hall like a sharp knife. every man in the room — mother, father and council included — looked at you in shock. “i’ve had enough of listening to nonsensical chatter. we will settle this engagement the old fashioned way.”

before you can take another step down your throne, you feel your father tug at your arm in a single harsh motion. his eyes were blazing with frustration, searching for any reason why you would do this. in his survey, his eyes eventually settle on the piece of red cloth keeping your hair together before drifting to the band of gold on your right arm, the single blue bead mocking him as it glistened. you feel an onslaught of pride shattering words bubble in his throat but you don’t give him the chance to say them.

you dash down to the center table of the hall and take off the cloth hiding a giant spear. 

“whoever can wield my husband's old spear, and shoot it through twelve axes cleanly will be the new king, sit on the throne and rule with me as the monarch.”

the hall murmurs in confusion at your challenge. for all they knew, you were as pure as morning dew — unmarried. you tilt your head high, urging anyone to try and wield the heavy weapon. the challenge seemed easy enough on paper, but as the twelve axes were set in place and as you stood on the other end of them, no suitor dared to move from their place.

“[name] you will cease this behavior this instant and call off this challenge!” your father’s loud voice echoes in the hall as everyone turns their heads to stare you down. but you proudly stare back, face cold as you watch if anyone tries while your father angrily makes his way to the center table with the spear.

“how did you get this?!” he asks, turning to look at every staff member and council member present. “who gave it to you?! do you understand what you’ve done, child? you’re asking for a death wish!”

“you and i know, father, that the person who wields that weapon would not let a single scratch appear on my person.” you proudly exclaim, cradling the band on your arm tenderly. 

the guards present in the hall slowly circle your figure, weapons glinting in a deadly light as they point the blade to you. the silence following your proclamation was followed by a loud clattering of the spear against the marble floors echoes as your father struggles to stow it away. his frustration and your amusement was palpable — he might have been this kingdom’s most formidable fighter, but he still wasn’t a match for your lover. his eyes glare at you as you laugh, the sound so mocking more and more men began to try their luck but no one could even lift it an inch above the ground.

and then, the doors of the hall swings open with a thundering crash.

unconscious bodies of guards fall beneath his feet as his presence commanded the attention of everyone. clad in golden armor and a red tunic, mydei’s fierce eyes didn’t linger for even a second on anyone in the room until they settled on you. a glint of recognition and equal amusement flock his eyes — uncovering the many layers of depth of your history together.

the suitors part like the waves as he makes his way to the fallen spear on the floor. mydei easily lifts the spear in one fluid motion, ripping off the red cloth binding the golden blade. your breath hitches in your throat as memories of a past your family tried so hard to bury come rushing out — images of past battles and sacrifices, side by side you conquered, and a love too strong fate had to intervene. 

your husband has come to get you.

“i accept this challenge.” his voice is steady and calm, it cuts through every person in the room. 

you don’t move an inch in your spot on the other end of the axes, even as mydei prepared to shoot. gasps ripple through the walls, you remain unafraid of the man you know would find you no matter the distance. your father pales in the distance, ordering the remaining guards to disarm him immediately. he steps forward, blocking his shot, and angrily glares at the prince.

“you are the reason for [name]’s curse! you were the one to poison my child’s thinking with those relics from the past. they are no longer your lover! begone and never return!” he shouts but with one forceful shove, your father was face to face with the floor.

mydei’s grip on the spear tightens as he steps past your father, voice an octave lower and seething with rage.

“‘poison?’” he asks, incredulously. eyes narrowed dangerously at your father’s pitiful state on the floor. “is that what you call loyalty that defies death itself? or the truth you’ve tried to bury under lies and manipulation?”

he casts a quick glance at you as you chuckle under your breath. a brief moment of tenderness flicker in his gaze, a silent promise renewed.

your father desperately scrambles to his feet, his composure cracking under mydei’s presence and accusations. murmurs of questions erupts from the suitors. the high council pitifully tries to intervene, calling out to deafened ears, but they are overpowered by the man in red.

mydei shifts his focus back on the axes, ignoring your father’s weak protests. he hefts the spear with familiarity, wielding it as if it was as easy as breathing. the room watches with bated breath as he takes aim, you close your eyes and flashes of a younger warrior invades your mind.

his ash stricken arms and face, crying out to you to not leave him. with a small giggle, you oblige and vowed to fate itself, that if you were to ever leave his side, you will accept a punishment even worse than death. 

mydei throws the spear. as it soars through the air, you hear the axes clamor to the ground one by one by your feet as a strong gust of wind passes the side of your head. when you hear the twelfth axe fall to the ground, you open your eyes to the sound of gasps and cries of astonishment.

mydei strides in confidence, kicking past every axe cut in half, his gaze is locked on yours. with each step, you’re reminded of your past with him. the red scarf gifted on your birthday to survive against the cold, a golden band with a singular bead of blue he crafted with his bare hands, and the experience honed after years of training with him. he stops right before you and drops to one knee, one hand to his chest as he plants the spear upright before him.

“you were always the reckless one between the two of us,” his low chuckle sent shivers down your spine, his gaze holding the weight of promises from past lives. “you remain to have the final say, my love. will you defy fate with me once more?”

as if to emphasize his words, flashes of the past glimmer in the back of your mind like a newly discovered gem. through bloodshed and sacrifices in vain — every bloody death centered around you — you find small moments of respite. beneath the shade of an olive tree, you and mydei find a moment of solace, resting side by side as the weight of your vow comes crashing down.

“you are a careless monarch,” he grumbles, ruffling the blonde hair you’ve kept neat despite the chaos. he sighs, chest heaving as he breathes and looks at you almost forlornly. “you’ve cursed yourself for eternity with me.”

“how is that a curse?” you rebut with a smile. you tear your eyes from him and suddenly the landscape darkens. stone by stone, a palace is built around the olive tree you both cherished. from your side, mydei stands. his helm in hand, his hands and voice commanding as more and more servants appear before you, while you sat idly by the tree’s base. a smile — soft and adoring — as mydei tries to hide the flush of his cheeks.

he turns his head slightly to ask, “an eternity with me… do you not find that revolting?”

you chuckle, your voice carrying a warmth that contrasts the night sky that’s making its presence known. “if it were eternity with anyone else, i would agree,” you reply, fingers brushing mindlessly at the bark of the olive tree. “my dear mydei, with you, it is a gift i would always ask for.”

he stills, movement halting with time as the palace is engulfed in flames. his gaze once sharp now softens as he approaches you, “you say that now,” he murmurs, kneeling before you. “but will you feel the same when the weight of eternity and fate crush you? when all but me begins to fade, and only we remain, will you still call the love that binds us a blessing?”

you cradle his face in your hand relish how he melts in your palm. even with the distant clamor of death and destruction, his eyes remained glued to you. gently, your fingers begin to brush against his cheek as he sighs in contentment. “love will always be a blessing for us. i will never regret loving you, mydei. not even for a single moment. through all the bloodshed, sacrifices, and lifetime… my heart has never wavered.”

mydei closes his eyes, “you have always been braver than i. always the first to shift the burden of us on your shoulders, even if doubts claws at you.”

“and i have you to thank for always being my reason,” you counter. “to fight, to endure, to hope. even in another life, i will always find my way back to you — or find a way for you to find me.”

the vision begins to fade, the palace halls taking life of its own, stretching far beyond the olive tree that remains at its heart — a symbol of your eternal love. even as the present rushes back, you find yourself clutching mydei’s hand, the warmth of his palm grounding you.

“and if i must be cursed,” your whisper, a loving smile gracing your lips. “then let it always be with you and no one else.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[morganbritton132]

obsessed w this new saga with David and the other teachers.... perhaps them either coming over again for a small party - "it's mostly family!!" Hence being even more confused when even MORE famous people show up (THAT'S brony Erica???)

I’m picturing the same cookout from this post.

There are three new eighth grade teachers this year. Including David, there is Marissa and Jordan. Then there is Kathy, who has been at the school for two years. They are all trying to figure out what is going on with Steve Harrington.

The man is a complete mystery.

He’s a walking contradiction in a math pun sweatshirt and he is often the topic of conversation when the four of them are alone in the breakroom. Jordan describes him as ‘onion-like’ because he has many layers and Marissa always replies with, ‘yeah, a fucked up alien onion where each new layer is weirder than the last.’

It’s a bit cruel but also, they found an article about Starcourt Mall.

Who is just in a fire? Who saves a bunch of children from a structure fire that collapsed on top of them and doesn’t make it their whole personality for the rest of forever? Who just never mentions it ever?

Steve Harrington, apparently.

After David (and Kathy) left Steve’s house more confused about the mild-mannered math teacher than ever, he went home and googled ‘Eddie Harrington.’ All he found was a link to a Facebook page for some dentist.

So, like, who the hell is he even married to, right? The guy has a Grammy but not a Wikipedia page? What’s up with that?

All David knows is that when Anita (the teacher that’s probably closest to Steve) invites everybody over for a cookout and says that your partners are more than welcomed, he’s going. When Steve asks if it’d be okay if Erica stopped by on her way to the airport and Anita said yes, he’s definitely going.

He is not going to miss the opportunity to see the kid that gave her dad psychic damage by introducing him to the fucked up parts of the My Little Pony fandom. No way.

Kathy informs everybody that she will NOT be bringing her husband, but she will bring booze.

David arrives too early and ends up helping in the kitchen. He’s slicing up tomatoes with the world’s dullest knife when Steve gets there. He can’t see the front door, but he can hear Anita ask, “Oh, where’s your service doggie?”

“It’s his day off,” He hears Steve joke, “Brought the human instead.”

And then David hears the man of mystery’s man of mystery himself because Eddie says with 100% impulsive thinking and 0% brain-to-mouth filter, “Yeah, he brought his service top instead.”

David just knows that Steve is giving Eddie the same dead-eyed look of unbelievable that is reserved for students that mix their chocolate milk with peas and dare each other to drink it in the silence that follows. Anita, bless her heart, replies as happy and clueless as can be, “Oh, that’s cute. Because you provide a top-notch service.”

“Never had any compl- ow!”

The first time David gets a good look at them, Eddie’s pressed up against Steve’s back, looking over his shoulder at the pictures of Anita’s grandkids she has on her phone. One of his hands is wrapped loosely around his waist and Steve is holding the other one, fiddling with the rings on it. They look so casual, like they’re always standing that close together.

David watches as Anita points in the direction of the drinks cooler and Eddie slips away with a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck and then another to his cheek. They hold hands until they absolutely have to let go. It’s cute. Marissa, next to him, scoffs and says, “Gag me with a spoon, they’re fucking adorable.”

Eddie returns to Steve with two beers and a Smirnoff Ice for Anita, gets another kiss and clearly calls Steve ‘sweetie’ when he clinks their bottles together. Steve throws his arm across Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie tucks his hand into Steve’s back pocket like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

David loses track of Steve and Eddie for a while, catching them in his peripheral as he mingles with everybody. He seems them steal a kiss. He sees them laughing at something Kathy says. He sees them holding hands as Eddie looks utterly lost during a discussion of the baseball season.

At one point, he sees Eddie stand up on the bench of the picnic table and get yanked down by Steve. They’re both laughing and Steve gives him a kiss that is not exactly chaste.

Cindy rolls her eyes at them and says that they’re always like that.

Him and Jordan are playing cornhole against Steve and Eddie. He’s almost positive that Eddie is not as bad at the game as he’s pretending to be, but just likes when ‘Stevie baby’ guides him through how to throw the beanbags. If it wasn’t for Steve excusing himself than he probably wouldn’t have noticed the big SUV parked in the driveway.

His first thought when he sees Erica is ‘oh, she must be adopted’ followed immediately by ‘wait, duh’ and then by ‘hey, wait a minute.’

Steve gets stopped by her bodyguard before he can hug her with a big threatening hand on his shoulder. David’s still trying to figure out why she looks so familiar when Erica says to the bodyguard, “Uh, excuse you. Do not touch him. He was my first bodyguard, have some respect.”

Steve scoffs, “I was your babysitter.”

“I’m sorry,” Erica says, full of sass. Eddie is a couple steps back, grinning ear to ear. He loves when Erica and Steve get into it. “Did you bleed for me? Did you fight for me? Did you, Steve Harrington, get tortured so I made it out safe? I think so. Bodyguard.”

Eddie finally greets her with a bow, “Lady Applejack.”

Erica gives him a flat look and tells her bodyguard, “You can tase that one.”

David is still reeling from the words ‘babysitter’ and ‘torture’ that he probably would’ve missed Marissa in his ear if she wasn’t so goddamn loud, “Holy shit, that’s a fucking US Senator.”

Jordan is quieter when she mutters, “Language.”

Later in the evening when the sun is starting to set and they should all really go home and prep their lesson plans for next week, Anita’s husband lights a bonfire. David is sitting across from the fire from Steve and Eddie and he so tempted to ask what Eddie does for a living when Steve whispers something to him and then stands up quickly.

He can’t even ask what that was about because Eddie gets up and follows him, almost matching Steve’s quick steps into the house. They’re gone for a while, long enough that David gets up to check on Steve. He looked pretty pale when he rushed out of here.

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears them, and he stops. Steve sounds tired but reassuring as he repeats, “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m fine now.”

He hears Eddie respond with, “I know, baby. I know, but rest with me for a minute, kay?”

When he pokes his head around the turn in the staircase, he can see the bottom of Steve’s Nikes hanging over the top landing. He can also see the bottom of Eddie’s boots where he’s crouched over Steve. His first reaction is to think he stumbled on them in a compromising position, but he can’t bring himself to move just yet.

“You just had a seizure, take your time getting your bearings, sweetheart. Do you wanna go home?” Eddie asks in a cacophony of jingling metal rings and chains. Steve makes a noise that Eddie interprets, “Okay, do you want me to give you space?”

“No, come –“ The sound of metal clinking together doesn’t get louder, just more and when David pokes his head around the corner again, Eddie is straddled across Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands are on his hips and then higher, pushing up Eddie’s shirt clumsily just feeling him. “Feel floaty.”

“I’ll keep you grounded, baby.”

David knows he should leave, or at least looks away, but he stuck frozen to the floor at the sight of the scar tissue running up Eddie’s sides and back. They’re deep and jagged, and old. It looks like he was torn open and sewed back shut, and it takes David a long time to get his feet to go back down the stairs.

He goes back out to the fire a little dazed and later, it’s only Eddie that returns. He whispers something to Anita and then disappears into the night.

When Cindy makes a comment about Steve leaving without a proper goodbye, David tells her to shut up.

[sideblogdotjpeg]

ok bcus ice knife saga got me curious abt height comparisons. calder is the only one w a canonical height on the wiki so for callie i just took an estimate based on eladrin heights + sol i put somewhere between small bullywug & tall halfling

[marabelle5]

I'm going to drop this and run

The Ao3 link for some reason isn't working so you can look at it from the last few post but here is chapters 4 5 and 6. 5 is really short though.

Chapter 4- The Champion and the Spirit

Scott sat in his bedroom humming to himself. He checked the group chat. The Codvengers - Pix, the Wither Rose Alliance - Pearl, and Kathrine were meeting up. He texted ‘good luck’ to Gem, Lizzie, and Kathrine. He turned back to his knitting and then realized that no one would be on watch. He put down the scarf that he was making and texted ‘The Ice King is going out.’ 

Scott put his phone in his pocket. He headed to the kitchen. His brother was sitting at the table reading a cookbook. 

“I’m heading out.” 

“Alright be careful.” His brother answered. Scott put on his shoes and headed to Rivendell. Once he was in his shop he went to the backroom and took off his jacket and put on his robes. He looked at himself in the mirror as he put on his crown and headed out. 

He watched ¾ of the Codvengers enter House Blossom. He sighed as he watched Jimmy enter the cafe.

Gaslight landed on the roof that he was on. The Ice King looked up at the zombie. They were in their normal attire of an outfit that belonged in the 80s. It was bright and neon. They also had their red curly hair tied up in a ponytail.

“Hello Gaslight.” He bowed. “Where’s Poet?”

“Not here.” They replied coolly looking at their nails. The Ice King shot ice out of his hands. Gaslight dodge it, getting close enough to trip him. They caught him pushing a knife to his throat. “Where is - AH!”  Gaslight slammed against the door that led inside. Panting the Wolf Spirit was standing there. 

“You okay?” She held her hand out. The Ice King took it. 

“Yeah.” They both turned to see Gaslight arguing with someone on they’re comm. They looked up and rolled their eyes. 

“Fine.” They snarled. Gaslight looked at the two heroes. “Consider yourselves lucky.” And with that the zombie back flipped off the roof. 

“That was weird.” The Ice King remarked. Gaslight was not the one to back down from a fight.

“Agreed.” The Wolf Spirit hopped down from the roof. “I’ll try to find them again. You stay here.”

“Alright.”

Chapter 5 - In which Pix finally gets to have time with his friends

Pix sat in his house reading a book. The door busted open. He saw his two friends in the doorway. One was holding a bag of popcorn and one bag of chips, the other had his hand on the door.

“Movie night Pix!” Lyarrah said. Zloy closed the door. Pix put the book down.

“I have a better idea. The new saga comes out tonight. We could watch that.” Pix replied smiling. Zloy and Lyarrah nodded and Pix took the remote and turned on the t.v.

Chapter 6- Hermits

“I WILL BURN THIS HOUSE TO THE GROUND!” Cleo turned around the corner to see Bdubs standing on one of the chairs pointing to Scar. 

“I’m not cheating.” Scar replied, which Cleo knew was a lie.

“Good Sir Scar, if you don’t tell us you will have to forfeit.” Ren added on.

“Jokes on you all, I'm going to win.” False said laughing. Bdubs then pointed at her.

“YOU’RE CHEATING!” 

“Bdubs you can just say everyone who is beating you is cheating.” Etho reasoned. Cleo looked over at Doc who was sitting in his chair very menacingly. Then Xisuma came in.

“All right I think it’s time to put monopoly away.” He said scoping up the board into the box.

“No no I was finally winning.” False complained. Cleo laughed and put the books they were holding on the table. 

“I might have some new leads on what happened to the Cleaning Lady and Slayer.”

[imstacks]

The Ice Knife Saga is fucking me up so bad why I am crying every single episode !!!

[bluecichlid]

Mhmm, 2, 10, and 19 for the writer asks?

2.       Anything that you'd like to write but feel like you're unable to?

I’ve been writing fanfic on and off for a long time, so there isn’t really much I haven’t tried at this point.  I don’t feel like I am great at writing extended fight scenes or battles, but they aren’t really my bag in any event.  No big loss.

The last major thing I wanted to write and felt I couldn’t was smut.  A few years back I decided to have a go.  A friend set me up with a friend of hers who was completely amazing at smut and wanted to work on her plotting/complex storywriting.  She really helped me get over my shyness on that front.  We ended up being mutual betas and coauthors for a while, which was a blast.  Smut still isn’t my go-to as a writer, but I’m much more comfortable with it now. 

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

I had to think about this one but:

Star-crossed tragic lovers, who fell in love at first sight but spend novel-length sagas being separated by circumstances.  

Sexual chemistry between the villain and the hero.  

Misunderstood overlooked nerdy character has a massive glow-up and shock-and-awes enemies.

19.   Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

Lila stumbled through the doorway into the new world, tripped, and went to her hands and knees on the snow-covered cobbles of a street.  She choked back a cry of pain as her cut palm slammed into the ground.  A blood-stained coin fell to the ground.  She rolled, still on the ground, and stared up at the wall she had just come through, a knife in her undamaged hand.  Her breath steamed in the air.

Nothing.

Not taking her eyes from the wall, she reached across the ground from her coin, but her fingers touched nothing but dirt and ice.  Leave the coin, she told herself.  The token had been priceless in Red London.  Knowing the cost at which it had been given to her she hated to leave it.  Leave it.  She still had the other two: the red lin, and its companion, the silver shilling from home.  She felt tears prickle her eyes and blinked hard to force them down.

She scrambled to her feet and backed away from the wall, her knife still at the ready.  Then she turned and ran.  She made sure she was several streets away before she allowed herself to stop and take stock of this strange colourless world she found herself in.

[smilingformoney]

Armed with six Outstanding NEWTs and an appetite for knowledge in a world without Voldemort, Severus Snape must look elsewhere to satisfy his curiosity about the Dark Arts.

AN: You may or may not remember, at the end of Soul of Ice, I promised a No Voldemort AU, and here it is. This isn't going to be a long-winded saga like I usually do - I have a 10-chapter plan, and the chapters will be shorter. And the chapters are all named after Taylor Swift songs because I want to.

Read Chapter 1 on Ao3 or below the cut:

In the gloomy walls of Number 1, Spinner’s End, Severus Snape had been pacing for approximately twenty minutes.

He looked down at the parchment in his hand again, as if he didn’t already have it memorised.

Dear Mr Snape, Thank you for your application to join the Ministry of Magic in our Department of Mysteries. I am pleased to inform you that you have successfully passed the first round of applications. After careful consideration of your academic results, your personal essay and your applicant test results, you are invited to interview for our Dark and Ancient Magicks Division. Please attend for your interview with Emmett Bitterwood at 12.30pm on Monday, 7th August.

There followed directions to the Department and the letter was signed off by the Principal Director.

Severus couldn’t believe his good fortune. The Department of Mysteries was notoriously picky for its recruits; hardly anyone who applied made it past the first round of testing, even if they managed to achieve the minimum five Outstanding NEWTs required. They would rather go years without recruiting than hire someone less than exactly what they were looking for.

With all the secrecy of the Department, Severus couldn’t even apply for a specific Division as the public knew nothing about what they did - he therefore had to demonstrate his skills in a personal essay without knowing exactly what job he was applying for.

Dark and Ancient Magicks Division. What a name. What a subject. It was perfect for him; he had always wanted to study Dark Magic. He had met a few Durmstrang students through his friend Lucius, and he was always envious that they were able to study Dark Magic. But at Hogwarts, it still had a sore reputation and all that was offered was Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was all well and good, but how could one defend against something one hadn’t taken the time to understand?

He glanced at the calendar on the wall. His interview was five days away. Plenty of time to revisit his favourite books on Dark Magic, ready to impress Emmett Bitterwood on Monday.

Severus was so focused on absorbing as much information as he could from the books that lined his shelves that the next five days flew by. Before he knew it, it was Monday morning, and he was anxiously picking at his breakfast. He didn’t often eat breakfast, but he had an important day ahead, and so he allowed himself a slice of toast.

An owl flew in through the open back door. Severus didn’t often open his doors or windows, as the house was too old to know how to keep heat in in winter, and besides, the fumes from the mill across the river were sometimes too pungent to bear allowing in. That day, however, was a swelteringly hot summer’s day and Severus needed a breeze to cool himself off.

He recognised the owl immediately. It was larger than average, with elegantly fluffed feathers and a haughty expression on its face, clearly showing its distaste for its current surroundings. Severus plucked the letter from the owl’s foot, and it took off as soon as it was free of the letter without even waiting for a reply.

Lacking a letter opener, Severus instead pried open the envelope with his butter knife, slicing through the wax seal emblazoned with an elegant M . Even the parchment was expensive, much weightier than the paper-thin parchment Severus usually used. He carefully unfolded the parchment and read:

Severus - Good luck at your interview today. I’d offer advice but even I know nothing of what they do down there, so all I offer is my warmest regards and a promise of a bottle of Ogden’s finest when you inevitably get the job. Yours, L

Severus smiled. Why Lucius had so much faith in him, he had no idea, but he was glad to know his friend was wishing him luck.

Later that day, even following the directions from the letter, Severus still found the Department of Mysteries a confusing series of twisted corridors. He was just beginning to wonder if he hadn’t passed the first round at all and the letter was some sick joke from Potter, still taunting him even after school, designed to have him caught wandering the corridors of the Ministry’s top-secret research department, when he finally saw another human being.

Well, less saw and more walked into. He rounded a corner, having double-backed on himself for the third time, and had his nose so intently in the parchment as he attempted to discern where he had gone wrong that he didn’t notice her until he literally walked into her.

“Oof!” Severus grunted as they collided, and he had to grab the wall to stop himself falling. In doing so, he dropped the parchment, which the other person picked up for him.

“Lost, are you?” said a vaguely familiar voice as the figure straightened up. She handed him the parchment and their eyes met. Severus was almost lost for words when he realised he’d bumped into Persephone Payne.

“Snape!” she said in surprise, apparently just as shocked to see him there as he was to see her. “What - did you - what are you doing here?”

It took Severus a few moments to register what she’d said. “Interview,” he said quickly. “Except I… I can’t seem to find where to go.” He held up the parchment between his fingers. “These directions aren’t very clear.”

“Let me see?” Payne offered. Severus showed her the parchment, and her eyes lit up. “Oh, hey! That’s my division!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and these directions are way outdated. Come on, I’ll take you to Emmett’s office.”

She beckoned him to follow, and began leading him back down the way she’d come. Severus was suddenly even more eager to ace the interview. If he didn’t get the job, she would know he’d failed the interview, and he’d be mortified.

Persephone Payne. He could be working with Persephone Payne.

Every year at Hogwarts, the school hosted a ball on the last day before Christmas break for the sixth and seventh years. Severus hadn’t gone in his seventh year - he had far too much studying to do for his NEWTs - but in his sixth year, his classmate had asked him who he wanted to ask as his date. It took him some convincing to admit it, but eventually Severus confided that he wanted to ask Persephone Payne.

“Who?” Mulciber had asked.

Severus had thought he must have been going insane when each one of his friends shared a look of confusion and said they had never heard that name before. He was relieved the next day when he saw her in her usual spot in the library; he’d almost started to wonder if he’d made her up.

The fact that hardly anyone knew who she was astounded him. Sure, she was quiet and kept to herself, but how could they not notice her? She was the most beautiful girl in school, after all.

“You just don’t want to admit it’s Lily Evans,” Avery had said when they had disagreed on who was the best-looking girl in the school. All of his friends agreed it was Lily, even though they’d never date a muggle-born. Severus couldn’t deny Lily was beautiful, but she was nothing compared to Payne.

Severus knew he paled in comparison to his peers. He worked harder than them; most of them were rich and were able to ride their rich fathers’ coattails into whatever job they wanted, so they didn’t care as much as Severus did about NEWT results. He got better results than them due to his own hard work, but they still managed to land cushy jobs straight out of school. They’d all had girlfriends at some point or another, but Severus hadn’t. He knew he was poor and ugly; there was no point even trying to ask a girl out.

Especially not when the only girl he fancied was her. In his sixth year and her seventh, he’d finally managed to actually have a conversation with her. Through serving detentions together and a shared academic interest in Dark Magic, they had become… not quite friends, but something of acquaintances. She knew he existed, at least. Enough to recognise him and remember his name when he bumped into her two years after they’d last seen each other.

Payne stopped suddenly outside a nondescript door. “Here he is,” she announced.

“How can you tell?” Severus asked, looking around at the row of identical doors.

“You get used to it,” she replied vaguely, then checked her watch. “Right on time, you’ve got five minutes.” She faced him and then suddenly her hands were hovering over his clavicle. Severus winced, then realised she was adjusting his tie. “Good luck. He’s not an easy man to impress.”

“Any tips?” Severus asked hopefully.

Payne scrunched her nose as she thought. She released his tie, apparently happy with his presentation, then slipped her hands in her pockets. “He’s… well, he’s not nice . He’s not malicious, just… he doesn’t care for other people’s feelings. Don’t talk about how you feel about things, he doesn’t care about that. He was in Ravenclaw, so appeal to that. Facts, knowledge, information. You invented spells in school, right? Drop that in there. Oh, but don’t mention that you know me.”

“Why not?”

Payne grimaced. “He doesn’t like me much. Said I ask too many questions.”

“Surely that’s a good thing, if information is so important?”

She laughed then. “Yeah, questions are great. Just don’t question him.”

The door began to open behind them, and Payne’s expression suddenly turned cold. “Well, good luck,” she said with disinterest. “Try not to get lost again on your way out.”

She left quickly, and Severus was left alone with the man who had opened the door.

“Severus Snape? Come on in.”

One of the advantages of living alone was that Severus didn’t need to occlude or hide his emotions, because there was no one around to see them. So when he received a letter from the Ministry of Magic a few days after his interview, he allowed himself a celebratory punch in the air when he read the contents. He read the letter again, then practically ran to his study to write a letter of his own.

Lucius - When do you take lunch on work days? I’ll try to schedule mine with yours. - Severus

No, that wouldn’t do. He screwed the letter up and threw it in the fireplace, then tried again with a fresh piece of parchment.

Lucius - I hope you have that bottle of Ogden’s ready. - Severus

Yes, that was better. After sending the letter off with the owl that lived in his back garden, Severus let out a deep breath.

He, Severus Snape, had what it took to work in the most exclusive department of the Ministry. He was going to study Dark Magic. He was going to earn a generous wage, maybe enough to move out one day. And he was going to work with Persephone Payne.

On his first day, he presented himself at Emmett Bitterwood’s office as instructed in his offer letter. Director Bitterwood sat him down and explained exactly what he was going to be doing as an Unspeakable. Severus was disappointed but not surprised to learn he wouldn’t be doing a lot straight away. He was to shadow a current agent who would show him the ropes and train him up to eventually go out on his own. He was to do everything his trainer asked of him, no matter how menial the task may be. When his training was complete, he was told, he'd be given his own assignments.

Just as Director Bitterwood was explaining this, there came a knock on the door.

“Ah, there she is now,” said the older man. He waved his wand to open the door, and Severus stood to greet his assigned trainer.

It was her. Of course it was her.

“I believe you already know Agent Payne,” Emmett said with mild disinterest. “You are to shadow her, train with her, do everything she says. She’ll show you the ropes.”

“A pleasure to see you again, Snape,” Payne said, strangely formally. “Or I suppose I should say Agent Snape now.”

Agent Snape. How strange that sounded to him.

“Come on, then. Let me give you the tour.”

[lovevalley45]

i have to wonder how intentional it was but it does feel right for the frooze ur own adventure 8bbc to fall right after the start of the ice knife saga in ba2mia

[stone-stars]

the ice knife saga is the 6th time “saga” has been used as an arc title, and the second in c3 (other sagas: moonstone, galaderon, shadowfell, chosen, mothership)

[operationslipperypuppet]

i love being absolutely terrified for a new naddpod episode it’s super fun and normal

[one-little-nerd-stayed-home]

I'm starting the Ice Knife saga either tonight or tomorrow and I am just gonna apologize now for the person I will become when I finally actually meet Calder's brothers.