#when magic goes wrong

[bafflement]

Deaged Oz AU - Finding Oz

Felt like that very first scene needed expanding, so here it is.

Qrow flew… literally… through the devastation that Cinder had wrought on Beacon, heading for the vault. He wasn’t too late, he couldn’t be… he couldn’t lose Oz. Not like this, not when everybody had already lost so much. Yang was injured, Pyrrha Nikos was dead, and yet he’d only just be informed that Oz was… missing.

Missing, dammit. Not dead, he wasn’t allowed to be dead. The man he loved was meant to be bomb proof, indestructible. The thought that he’d fall so easily to someone like Cinder, of all people? One of Salem’s pawns?

And yet… and yet that would be exactly the damn fool decision Oz would make, wouldn’t it? His life for his students, he’d always told Qrow that was the way he wanted to go out. Protecting the youth, protecting the future. Yes, he’d come back… but it wouldn’t be Oz anymore, would it? He’d be filtered through whoever the next version was. There’d be no more quiet nights spent in Oz’s ridiculous sitting room, sipping whiskey and watching Oz consume those sugary beverages he adored so much. No more evenings spent under the stars while his lover told him all the names they’d had however many thousands of years ago Ozma had lived… or during the vast  gulf between then and now. One taloned foot clenched at the thought of just how lonely Oz must have been, however long this stupid war had consumed him already. The talons bit into his leg slightly, but Qrow was far too panicked to feel it. If he’d died, alone… if Qrow hadn’t been there to save him, to help? How could he claim that he loved him, if he hadn’t even been there for him as he died. From the scorched walls he was flying past, the rubble… it would have been many things, but never an easy death.

He wasn’t going to think about that. Not yet, not while there was still a chance that Oz was still alive. Magic could do a lot, after all. Maybe there really was time for one last miracle? For Oz, of course… not for Qrow. He hated his semblance, had tried to keep away as much as possible but what if it hadn’t been enough? What if his mere background presence had… had… no. No, Qrow had NOT killed Oz. That wasn’t the way things worked. If he was dead at all. Oz was a competent Huntsman, one of the very best, after all. This was hardly his first fight, he would be okay.

But then… Huntsmen fought Grimm, not each other. Human targets were rare enough to need entirely separate fighting styles. Oz was very old, or a part of him was, he had to have killed before. But. But Cinder Fall had been masquerading as a student and if his ridiculously perfect lover had one major flaw, it was his protective streak. She had been a student, had posed as a student… could Oz have bought himself to fight her at his full strength? He would have seen her as a child, she’d fought in the Vytal festival, for the Brother’s sake. Oz… could he hurt a child, or would he just have let her kill him?

The vault, by the time he made it there was a mess. The air stunk of burned hair and blood and some of the walls were collapsing into heaps of masonry. He glanced at the ceiling and swore as it bowed. Whatever… whoever… was down here might not have much time.

He started the search, hoping against every fibre of himself that he’d find Oz. Every instinct in him was screaming that it was hopeless, that this was a tomb, but he had to try at least. If nothing else, the next version of… him… would need his cane. Finally he spotted it, the scrollwork seemingly untouched by the devastation around it. He scooped it up, eyes still scanning and froze. There was a figure, curled up in a heap and surrounded by rubble, but as he watched, astounded, their chest moved with a breath. Then a second, could Oz somehow still be alive? He felt his heart race for an instant before it sank like a misaimed stone skipping on a river. Whoever this was, they were far too small to be Oz. His lover was six foot six and big with it, this figure was, well… tiny. Diminutive and child like, and… what was a child doing here, how could they have found their way into a situation like this? Oz would never have let… but no, there was no time to wonder.

Qrow snatched the child up, cradling them protectively in arms that were shaking from adrenaline. Most of the smell seemed to be coming from the kid, but he’d know more once they were both out in the light and he could take a good look at them. If Oz was still here… he’d run out of time to find the body. At least he had the cane, and this unexpected burden… blessing? From such a tragedy. As Oz would have implored him, ‘save the child.’ He just hoped that, somehow, the lift was still functional, there was no way he could carry the kid out of here as a bird.

Miracle on miracle, the lift seemed untouched. As it made its slow rise towards the surface, he glanced down at the child. The kid hadn’t stirred, a dead weight in his arms. At least they were breathing, which was something, but… were their arms meant to be that skinny? He wasn’t at all certain how old the kid was, but surely Yang and Ruby had had more muscles at however old this poor brat was? If so, if they were truly a civilian… had Salem bought them there, had that been why Oz had let her kill him. And he really would have had to have let her kill him, there was no other way she should ever have got the drop on him. But threatening a child, one she’d bought there for that very purpose? That seemed very Cinder like, from the little he’d seen of her. He clenched his teeth, gripping the kid harder as he did so. They still didn’t stir, whatever had been done to them seemed to have knocked them out pretty good. That was worrying, for more reasons than one. Hopefully someone could help once they got to the surface?

Dammit Oz, how long was this lift going to take? There was making an entrance, then there was overkill. This lift fell in the latter category at this point. He concentrated on the kid. Boy, girl? He wasn’t sure at this point, just glad that they were still breathing. As long as he was concentrating on that, he wouldn’t break down. He couldn’t, he couldn’t afford to. Not yet, not with what was looking like a child’s life on the line. They were so young though, far too young for Beacon. Where were their parents, had Cinder or… worse… Salem killed them when they snatched the poor kid up? It would certainly track, but…

One tiny hand seemed to shift slightly, reaching for something. With a pang, Qrow realised that they seemed to be reaching for the cane, but… surely he was imagining things? Oz had told him about the reincarnation process, what was likely to happen when he died. This wasn’t it, not in the least. Yet the child smelled of ashes and blood and he had found him very close to that cane. He’d been the only sign of life Qrow had spied down there, though his eyesight wasn’t as good in the dark. Was it possible? He spent a second, daring to hope, before dismissing the thought.

Qrow could never, ever hope to be that lucky. After all, it wasn’t in the cards for someone like him.

He squinted at the sudden glare as that damn lift finally came to a halt. At least they were out of the vault, the probably-a-tomb. Wherever Oz was, whoever he was now, he’d find him again. At least the child was safe.

He glanced down at the kid, only to blink in shock. They seemed to be dressed in clothing that was far too large for them, torn, bloodstained and badly burned. But what little was visible under the burn marks was a worryingly familiar shade of emerald. The child’s skin and hair were dirty and soot smeared, but just as pale as Oz’s were now he could see them in the light of day. Too pale, actually, though at least they were still breathing. If this was Oz, if they hadn’t just snatched a kid that looked similar and decided to torment the adult Ozpin with this kid who could have easily been their child, then what had happened? What could have gone so badly wrong that this could occur? What would happen, now, anyway? As it was, the boy was far too young to return any feelings that Qrow still felt for him. Oh, he loved Oz, he always would. But this child? No, he needed his protection but… what if they woke and their mind was as young as their body? What if he truly had lost Oz? Forever… what if his initial thought down in the vault was right and this wasn’t Oz at all. He scanned the surroundings, but although there was frantic activity in the distance, nobody seemed to have noticed him or his burden just yet. Could he risk handing maybe-Oz over to the medics, though? There didn’t seem to be anything too wrong with him that he could see, and as the surge of adrenaline left him, he could feel the kid’s aura tickling against his own.

It was strong, too strong to be coincidence. Familiar, too, though it was a painful thing to realise. This had to be Oz, it couldn’t be anyone else. But he hadn’t stirred, hadn’t woken. Was entirely vulnerable. Qrow ached to go and see to his nieces, but Oz needed him right now. He couldn’t leave the boy alone, if Salem found out that he was trapped like this… there was no telling what she’d do with the unconscious, too thin child Oz currently was.

Well, there was. He knew exactly what she’d do if she got her hands on the little boy. She’d torture him, make an example of him. Swallowing back sudden bile, he gripped the kid harder. Just hard enough for the clothing to shift slightly, revealing a half melted pin in the vague shape of a cross. Qrow let out a sob at the state of it, at the state Oz was in. How could they keep going, like this? What if he never woke up? What if he died, would Qrow be forced to watch as his heart shattered even further than it was already? What if this was actually a ten year old Oz, devoid of any memories, no longer the wizard? If he died, it might be possible after all. There was too much he didn’t know and for all the warnings, Oz had never mentioned anything even remotely similar to this.

Blinking down at the weakly twitching fingers, the only sign of life beyond the rise and fall of Oz’s chest, he placed the cane in the outstretched hand. Oz gripped it tightly enough that his knuckles went white, but some of the tension seemed to drain out of him. As his face relaxed, Qrow readjusted his guess as to age downwards. If he was eight, that might explain the size a bit better. But then, Oz had always been small until he suddenly wasn’t. There were very good reasons it was referred to as the growth spurt from hell, after all. He shook his head, glancing over at the medics again. They still hadn’t noticed, or if they had then they were choosing not to get too close to him. But then Qrow had rather a reputation, they had to know that even if he was injured he was unlikely to go to them willingly. Besides, they had far more important people to treat.

He couldn’t see Glynda, or any of the others from Beacon. That was good, to an extent. It meant that he’d have a chance to get Oz to safety, somewhere he could heal from whatever had happened down in the vault. Time to think of a plan of sorts, to get things sorted… to learn what had happened, if Oz even knew that, either. To prepare, if the worst should happen and he really was just a little boy now. Although, had he been, Qrow rather doubted the cane would have calmed him as much as he did. Where was the easiest safe house, though? Who could he trust to have Oz’s best interests in mind when he could not be there, and he would have to check in with Tai and the girls soon enough. Oh. Oh, yes, she was rather the obvious choice, wasn’t she? Besides, Mistral was the closest kingdom anyway, Salem’s probable next target. Hopefully she’d think Oz was dead, he was pretty certain Cinder would have thought that or she wouldn’t have left the body long enough for whatever had happened to happen. She would have just killed him again, or worse, presented him as an offering to Salem. Qrow shivered at that, Oz’s still form shifting slightly but not waking, not stirring.

Rise and fall, rise and fall. Watching him breathe seemed to take up most of Qrow’s attention at the moment, but he needed to get moving. He could wrap Oz in a blanket once they were far enough away from Beacon so as they wouldn’t be stopped. Hopefully anyone that saw him would assume Oz was an actual kid and Qrow his caregiver. In a twisted way, he was right now. And to think, the day had started off so well.

He managed to make it away from the aftermath of the fall of Beacon without being stopped of questioned. That was odd, considering the lack of luck that Qrow always carried with him like a miasma, but maybe something somewhere knew just how important this was? They might not be looking out for Qrow, but maybe they were looking out for Oz?

He glanced down at the kid again, taking in the familiar features in rather unfamiliar sizes. Maybe his first guess was right and he really was nearer ten, but either way he wasn’t anywhere near old enough to fight yet. He would still be at least three years too young for even one of the primary Huntsman’s academies, after all. Maybe they could stop him from fighting if and when it came to it? Probably a bad bet though, knowing Oz, but it was an amusing one none the less. Oz had always been the protector, but now? It was rather likely that he’d be the one being protected. Qrow couldn’t help the snort at the image that bought up, but as he lay him down to wrap him in a blanket, his eyes were very sad. What would happen, really, if Oz never woke up? He was breathing, true, but there was no telling what sort of damage could have been caused by whatever it was that had turned him into a kid. It was probably magic, [Qrow was one of the few people who had been privy to Oz’s semblance and this certainly wasn’t it] but that just raised more questions. If it was magic, was it even something that they could reverse? Should they? From the state of Oz’s suit, it was more than likely that he’d be gravely injured as an adult if not… worse than injured. Ah well, it was only a decade and Qrow could wait. He just hoped Oz would still love him, when the time came. If it was Oz, and, well, that remained to be seen.

At least the person he was counting on knew he was coming. If it turned out Oz really was just a kid now, then that would be as safe a place as any for him to be raised, it wasn’t that likely Salem would really go looking as long as she thought he was dead after all. Qrow felt like the weight of Remnant was crushing him at the thought, though. If they’d lost the wizard, if Oz woke as a child and nothing more and the wizard never reincarnated… then they’d lost. Salem would run unchecked with nobody to counter her. So few people even knew about her to start with, how would they ever get them to believe that she was real? And without Oz, they’d have to. Without Oz, it was hopeless. They weren’t even certain where all the maidens were, and one of them was Cinder of all people… and Cinder was on Salem’s side.

Maybe their powers would vanish if the wizard died? Qrow was trying not to think about it, but the worst possible situations usually happened around him. After all, what was his semblance if not a curse to himself and those around him? Dooming Remnant, though? That would be a new low, even for him. Maybe Oz really should never have trusted him, never kept him around. If the worst happened, then the Tribe was right.

He swiped away the tears, angrily, watching Oz as he slept. It was getting dark, Qrow really needed rest himself, but Oz was too vulnerable to leave. Oh, Qrow could deal with any Grimm that popped up, he could really do with something to hit right now, but that wasn’t the point. Oz was never still when he slept, not really. That this sleep was too deep even for his normal nightmares… was that a good thing, or a bad thing? Could anything about this particular situation be viewed as anything bar a disaster? But no, Oz was still alive, even if he was a kid right now. He’d wake up, he’d be Oz, everything would be as okay as they could make it. Or at least as okay as anything really could be under the circumstances, weird though they very much were.

Qrow pulled a face, even as he got out his bedroll, positioning it so as to be between Oz and anything that might want to attack, trusting the fire to act as a sufficient barrier on the other side. He did need to rest, even though he knew he wouldn’t actually sleep.

They still had a long way to go to reach Mistral and safety, after all.

[justaz]

semi-dark king merlin au, someone from ealdor tells king cenred about merlin and he is captured and held as a slave in essetir. since merlin despises captivity and servitude, he’d rather be dead and free than alive and in chains so he acts out and pisses people (especially the king) off so they’ll think him too much trouble and kill him. at first they stick to beatings until merlin manages to get his chains around a few necks and now has a body count so they kill him…..only he wakes back up a few hours later and king cenred is Intrigued and keeps him close. merlin keeps acting out but no matter how many times they kill him, he won’t stay dead. merlin has this moment after waking up perfectly fine after his twenty seventh death where he is hopeless and believes there to be no escape, not even thru death. a few other sorcerers in chains come and help him clean up and give him a lil peptalk, realizing him to be emrys, and then they revolt and take over the kingdom and crown merlin as king and now uther is like “wtf” bc his neighboring kingdom who was kinda sorta on his wavelength about sorcery, though uther did not approve of keeping them alive, is now a kingdom ruled by magic. he goes to war with them but with magic running free and fucking emrys on the throne, they don’t make a lot of headway. anyways merthur meet on the battlefield, enemies to lovers, you get it

[anne-is-confused]

"firstly, i ABHOR the use of blood magic" SINCE WHEN???????

[themoonking]

finally finished the priory of the orange tree after putting it off for like a year, and putting aside the fact that it's insanely boring, way too long, and the romance is lackluster, it certainly was a choice to, in a book at least in part about finding common ground and coming together, basically go "religion a is correct and good and its believers can continue on their merry lives, but religion b is a 100% incorrect wrong bad lie founded by a wrong bad misogynistic lying liar, and everyone who believes in it should convert and in fact we're going to end the book by heavily implying that the recently-converted queen is going to slowly but surely pressure the entire country to convert because their faith is wrong and bad". like that was certainly a decision that samantha shannon made.

[lord-squiggletits]

"Rodimus is a better Prime because it didn't hurt for him to bond with the Matrix while for Optimus it did" headcanon/theory my beloathed.

One day I'm literally gonna snap and make a whole post addressing why what's wrong bc I'm tired of the inaccuracy and tired of ppl not understanding the Point TM of IDW and its version of the Matrix/Primacy and even more tired of people putting down Optimus in favor of Rodimus by essentially arguing that being unworthy means you deserve to be punished/put in pain bc you just weren't good enough to hold the Symbol of Ultimate Authority

[enter-drfrog]

What if I say that watching Mischief Theatre is the only thing holding my life together right now? What then?

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing of Paul Hackett from the film After Hours. The piece is landscape, but the bold dark blue background has a lot of empty space, with Paul confined to the right side. The piece is drawn upwards of his shoulders. He has a exhausted and apathetic expression on his face, with his head tilted to one side slightly. His skin is coloured with exaggerated tones, with dark purple shadows circling his eyes. He is covered in a white plaster dust, which congregates on his disheveled hair and suit jacket. Behind him, there's an askew streetlight, which has a glaring red light at the top. It is the brightest part of the piece, and is drawn with spikes of red protruding from the lighter light yellow in the middle. To the left of this, there's the phrase "stop him!", written out like it is on his wanted poster. The lineart is a very dark navy colour, although it veers redder on Paul. It has stark shadows but also sections of softer, more textured shading.]

Inktober - Day 8 (Hike)

Film - After Hours (Martin Scorsese, 1985)

[nomairuins]

how it feels to want to dress very fancy and accessoried but unfortunately have the autism where i think im supposed to just be lounging in a field naked or in like. a plain linen dress. and any accessory or makeup or nail polish or ehat have you makes me want to rip my skin off

[bafflement]

Deaged Oz AU [continued]

Emerald Pine sighed as she noticed that her scroll was ringing. Who could it be at this time of... oh. Qrow. Hopefully he wasn't drunk again... Picking up rather hesitantly, she could hear his voice on the other side. He didn't sound drunk, weirdly enough. He just sounded... panicked. "Hey, Em? Y'know ya said I could always come lay low at your place if I needed to? Well... we need to." "... we?" "Yeah, we. I'll tell ya when I get there? Bit busy trying to keep the kid alive right now." "... kid? Qrow, did you kidnap a child?" "S'not that simple... you'll see. Besides, ain't your nephew there? Maybe he could use a friend..." There was a desperate hint of hysteria in his tone, as though whatever it was that had happened had well and truly upended Qrow's world view. "This child you found, they're not dangerous, right? And where are their parents?" "As said, tell ya when I get there." Qrow muttered something too low to be easily picked up through the scroll and the connection cut. Em sighed as Qrow rang off. Well then, that was obviously as much information as she'd get out of him... she didn't even know if the kid in question was a boy or a girl. Oscar came through into the room, looking curious. "Who was that, auntie Em?" "Oh, just an old friend, he's bringing someone to stay with us for awhile. Mind sharing a room for a week or two?" "Huh? Who're they bringing?" "I don't know, Oscar. All they said was that they're a kid. Qrow's a huntsman, though, so whatever it is can't be that dangerous?" "A huntsman? A real one? Here?" Oscar sounded excited 'Can I meet him? Can I ask him stuff? What's he like?" "Qrow is... Qrow. Hard to describe, really. No idea who trusted him with a child, but I might need to have words with them, too." Qrow breathed a sigh of abject relief as he came to the door of the farm. The bundle in his arms hadn't moved once since that terrifying moment he'd first found him. He was breathing, but he was so frightfully still in his arms, pale skin even paler than normal, moonlit hair half burned off. Em came out to meet them, glancing with concern at the boy in Qrow's arms before her eyes widened slightly. Looking back up into Qrow's face, all he could do was nod as he lay them down on the sofa. Their clothing was mostly rag, bits of it seemed to have flaked off in some terrible heat, but the boy himself seemed untouched. Em wrinkled her nose slightly at the smell of blood and burnt hair, but tucked an old blanket around him anyway, Qrow tucking something familiar beneath it, wrapping one tiny hand around the hilt. The boy wasn't very old. Ten, maybe? It was a bit hard to tell, but he was definitely younger and smaller than her nephew. This was all absolutely impossible, of course. She'd wake up from this at some point, but for now... "Qrow?" She bit out. "Explain. Is that... what happened to them?" "Magic bullshit, Em. I don't have anything better. Maybe he will when he wakes?" Oz moaned as he came to, the light bright against his eyes. He groped for glasses that he couldn't find and winced. He tried to ascertain if there was anyone else, if he'd become just a voice in their head but was met with silence. A slightly sleepy murmur that he knew to be Ozymandias, but beyond that, nothing. So, this was likely still his body, then. "Where am I? Qrow? What happened. What happened to my students, to Beacon, to..." "It's okay, Oz. You're alright, you're safe for now." "Maybe but... everybody else? This feels odd, it's still me but everything seems far bigger than I think it ought to. If I died, I don't understand how I'm still here." He raised a hand in emphasis, blinking at just how small it looked. "... Qrow? How old would you say I am? Physically, at least? Because on one hand I am so incredibly glad that my curse has not claimed someone else, but on the other, I sincerely doubt that this was Miss Fall's intention."

[thesorcerersshadow]

merlin whispering “don’t let him get too close”, already the advisor on arthur’s shoulder when society says he really has NO BUSINESS being so, and arthur listening and drawing his sword and warning uther. okayyyyy.

[slippery-minghus]

ebery time i let myself doze off on the couch then wake up gasping, i tell myself i need to stop doing it.

but, reliably, every night, i get too sleepy and too comfy and can only convince myself to get up after i've dozed a little. i need a little sleep to give me the strength to get up. but then. i wake up. panicked and out of breath. i'm so fucking sick of it.

[duckduckngoose]

Hhhhhhh brainrot hitting so hard. I low-key wanna revive all my Taz grad wipes again from the dead

[pzyii]

Need. content. of. Jenny. acting. Like. Willows. Mom.

[hella1975]

i went on the date...

[vaugarde]

i feel bad for any pmmm fan following me just now bc like i love literally everything ive read and watched so far except for magireco and thats what im watching rn

[opens-up-4-nobody]

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