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portmantaur · 2 months

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because I am a Very Normal person who does Extremely Normal and Understandable Things

I finally watched the Amazing Maurice animated movie and had a little cry near the end. it was so clear that at least a few key people on the art team had an intense love for the source material - a reverence, even. I mean, there’s even a reference to Dibbler’s invented toilet dragon as the fountain in the town square, which is such a throwaway line that I can’t actually remember which discworld book it’s from without looking it up (but I -think- it might be a Watch book). The Morpork owls as a recurring motif. Twurp’s Peerage and the bat-embroidery on the chair in almost all of the scenes from which Malicia is narrating. Obviously the bust of Pratchett in the mayor’s office. There were so many visual references to the whole body of work, not just the exact source material, that I can’t even remember them all. I could feel the love coming from the art/design team.

And then the script itself betrayed so much of the original narrative’s purpose that I ended up crying a little (you can’t judge me, remember we already established I am Incredibly Normal and thusly Not Weirdly Emotional About Inconsequential Things). It did not strike me as a movie that would have survived into being made had Pratchett been alive - which is not surprising, he pretty famously rejected scripts, especially regarding Tiffany Aching. But I also remember the animated versions of Wyrd Sisters and Soul Music, and how utterly tickled Pratchett was in interviews regarding them — I especially remember how twinkly and pleased he was with some of the artistic direction taken with Cliff, particularly his voice direction and the sound effects used for his movement. So while Pratchett did have a reputation for rejecting film adaptations of his work, he clearly wasn’t impossible to please. I just, in my bones, in a totally Normal And Not Weirdly Sentimentally-Driven Way, do not believe he would have approved the final version of -this- script.

Primarily because it was a children’s book on purpose, and the book spends a lot of time respecting its intended young audience by posing a lot of questions without bothering to provide definitive answers. And so when there is one theme/moral that feels very deliberate and intentionally blatant within the novel, that feels incredibly important to me. To wit: This book makes a very clear statement about how evil is a creation, an action; evil is something concocted by people and put into the world. It is not an accident, it is not happenstance, and most uncomfortably, it can thusly usually not be entirely undone. In my opinion, Spider/The Rat King could not be a clearer way to communicate this concept.

Yes, Spider is evil, and yes in typical Pratchett fashion he indicates that evil is a bit of an expansive concept that cannot be contained within the simplified notion of “doing bad things,” and he very poignantly wraps this into the concept of creating/exploiting fear. But as a rat king, Spider’s existence is intentional and unnatural. Rat kings are a real, “historical” concept insofar as they have existed as a myth for a very long time. I remember reading about them in my wee years, when rats and rat-keeping became admittedly a special interest of mine. The concept of them in Pratchett’s book mirrors almost exactly their concept in real life: They are a human invention, and the only “evidence” of them has always just been evidence of the extent of human cruelty, largely in service of making a buck. Pickled rat kings were a common sight in early sideshow exhibitions, and you’ll even still find some modern references to or models of them in similar settings today. But they are simply an impossible concept when considering them as “natural” phenomenons — The Amazing Maurice (the book) explains that petty well via Keith’s knowledge of rats and their habits, but even that leaves out the obvious explanation of the fact that rat tails are bony structures that simply do not have the ability to bend into any conceivable knot-shape without being intentionally broken for that purpose. For a book that doesn’t shy away from the carnage and cruelty humans otherwise enact on rats historically, I have to wonder if that was simply the point at which Pratchett himself shared his much-written sentiment of “not wanting to draw you a picture.” Either way, readers of course find out that Spider in particular was created as a “masterpiece” by one of the resident rat-catchers in order to secure entry into the local rat-catching guild. As a result, Spider is both creation and burden to the rat-catchers.

But this entire discussion of rat kings as evidence of cruelty, this whole allusion to evil being a human-made thing, is mostly thrown away in the film. The film takes away both Keith and Malicia’s knowledge of rat kings (the practicality of them and the mythical reputation of them respectively), instead gives both halves of the knowledge to Maurice, and then claims that the rat catchers did not intentionally create the rat king. Rather, while carelessly storing rats they had caught, the two men simply tossed a few rats temporarily into a pot, and upon later lifting the lid to retrieve them, discovered a rat king had been formed — conceding every possible falsehood about rats, their anatomy, and the history of rat kings that Pratchett spent the bulk of a chapter meticulously refuting.

And I, as the Incredibly Normal And Not At All Weird Person we have already established that I am, had a good cry. I was so sad that whoever was in charge of these changes to the script simply did not respect their child audience the way Pratchett himself did. How can you claim to honor or even love his work if your retooling of it is so fearful, so dishonest? The message of “evil is something you put into the world, not something natural to be observed” is such an important concept for children of all ages to be exposed to, and it’s such a narratively satisfying climax to reach after the buildup of sympathy for this rough and tough rat colony who already navigate the casual and perhaps even somewhat “justifiable” cruelty foisted upon them merely for existing in the shapes they have. And while there are a lot of changes in the script that I found disappointing or un-artfully implemented, this particular change felt utterly cowardly. Of course, if as an executive or screenwriter in charge of what gets finalized in a script, your goal is rooted in creating something to mass-produce and sell, then I understand why arming an audience of children with the idea that evil is an action and not a circumstance would frighten you to your boots. But then I have to wonder: Why take this work to adapt? It's not as if it's incredibly well known outside of a somewhat niche and probably slightly older audience. What was there to be gained by taking such a lovingly crafted, respectful narrative aimed at younger people, only to dismantle and subvert the very clear message it contained? By review standards, this film was kind of a flop. So what was the point?

Mostly, again because of how Deeply Normal I am (such that it obviously doesn’t even bear repeating), I felt a lot of sadness for the art team. At least a handful of people in charge of the artistic direction of the film had a deep connection to the Discworld series, and I have to wonder if any of them felt disrespected or otherwise unhappy with the final product they ended up being party to, especially with the love and dedication to visually crafting this story being so apparent on screen. And while I feel personally that there are valid and constructive criticisms to be made about Pratchett’s work, and perhaps more largely about the specific perspective from which he wrote, something that has always struck me about his novels aimed at young readers is the sheer amount of respect he always had for them. This movie carrying a weirdly clear bias of believing that children would only be -seeing- the movie, engaging with it on a strictly visual level, while adults would be the only ones actually -listening-, felt like such an absolute disregard for the love Pratchett clearly had for young readers that it actually made me angry.

There’s not really a larger point to this essay on something as inconsequential as an animated rat movie, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I can’t help but cling to the idea that I’m not the only Really Very Ordinary And Not At All Strange person who had this sort of emotional reaction to this piece of media. Somewhere out there in the wild world of tumblr, someone else might see this and go “yeah…yeah!!!” To which I want to answer, in total commiseration, “yeah :(”

#don’t even get me STARTED on how HARD they had to work to do Rat Sexism via Peaches #or how they just decided Hamnpork was apparently not narratively important enough to make it into the film at all?????#you’re going to tell me Dangerous Beans can’t have his crisis of faith while being supported by his dedicated acolyte Peaches #AND we can’t have Hamnpork discover evil through the relatable eyes of an old set-in-his-ways man????#frothing at the mouth (in a totally normal way)#long post #(I haven’t looked into the production history but I get serious Ordered To Rewrite vibes from like the whole latter half of the movie so)#(but also how did whoever was in charge of these decisions get the rights to this??? h o w did this happen???)

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shinygemstone · 2 years

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This is my toh trailer analysis. I am making this WITHOUT watching for the future. Please don't post spoilers under this.

So, first of all- Luz's palisman. It doesn't show up in this specific trailer, but I want to cover it very briefly. It's gonna be a snake. Judging by the color of the egg, it'll be somewhere between green and blue.

ANYWAYS, the trailer: https://youtube.com/watch?v=ZIurNjdV-X0&si=EnSIkaIECMiOmarE

The trailer starts with The Collector asking King to read them a bedtime story from a very tall book. It seems that King knocks it over and just starts reading.

It then cuts to a Lilith with short, curly hair, worrying about Hooty.

This does not paint a pretty picture. The moon sigil between Hooty's eyes implies that it is The Collector who did this to him, and his body looks like one of those puppets you'd put your hand through. Lilith lets a tear fall on him- I hope Hooty isn't dead, but it implies that for the time being, he functionally is.

Cut to the coven heads seeming to attack Eda. Eda also has short hair now, fun. King is just... watching. He's probably unable to help. But he has Hooty, which isn't very reassuring considering he's already been got.

At first glance, they look normal. Then you look a bit closer, realize that the sun on the healing coven head's, uh, horns, is a sun, that all of their jaws look strangely puppetlike, and realize that clearly the collector did something to them. Also the collector has no sense of style, just look at Eberwolf and Raine's hair 💀

The glowing eyes, at this point, to me, seem to symbolize that The Collector is actively using his puppets. There's clearly a puppet/doll motif here, which makes sense. The coven heads then proceed to raise spell circles against Eda, showing that even as puppets, they can still use their magic.

Enter Bump, who is actively casting a spell when he gets got. The other hexside teachers are around him, and the expected colorful magic moon, flicked by The Collector, his him. He gets turned into a cutesy puppet, too. Rest in peace, Bump. You're the greatest principal ever.

But yeah, there's a definite puppet/doll motif. Bump just stands there, implying that he is unable to move. This kinda contrasts the last clip, where Raine's movements seem very in character for them.

It's also very interesting that this clip corresponds with the line "seal them up, so that they never fade."

Perhaps that's an insight to the Collector's motivations?

The next clip is one I couldn't get a good screenshot of, but there's graffiti on the Owl House. Camila is (rightfully) worried, and the Owl House is empty.

It's followed up by Amity being surprised, and likely horrified by what's happening, and Belos triggering a glyph. Fun. It opens a secret door.

Hunter pulls Willow out of the way of an explosion, Luz and Amity are using their respective magic against something, and then there's this.

Good news- Scara, Barcus and Matthomule are okay!! We don't know what they're showing our protagonists, but judging from the smug look on Matt's face, it's something good. Perhaps the hideout of the people the Collector hasn't gotten yet?

There's more of Amity chosing violence, and then a surprised look on the faces of Luz and Matt. Maybe this is the point where the Collector finds the hideout?

They look scared. Also, I have a bad feeling about the spider behind Matt. Glowy, ominous, in the middle of the screen? And it might have the Collector's moon symbol on it. Not good. I don't like that spider.

Then there's this. I'll let it speak for itself.

King and the Collector look somewhere between surprised and angry. The puppets around them look scared. I don't really have any major theories on this one, maybe they found out about the hideaway?

There's another clip I can't catch of Camila throwing the baseball bat. Good on Camila. Nail that fucker.

And in this unhinged clip, the Collector says "You look fun. Want to play?"

I think he's talking to the viewer. Yes. Yes I do want to play. I want to play Minecraft. C'mon iPad kid, let's get you a less destructive hobby.

Except it's immediately followed by a clip of Harpy Eda with the Owl Beast taking control and hissing. Oh, Owl Beast is pissed. It lunges for the Collector. Get them. He needs an ego check.

So, yeah. I think that the main cast will only reunite with Eda at the end of the episode, if she isn't a puppet. I think Camila will be having regrets. I suspect that the Collector either keeps all of their puppets close to them or he just makes sure they're inanimate when he's not around/when he doesn't want them "on".

This is a freaky fucking turn of events and I love it.

#king clawthorne #the collecter toh #for the future #not spoilers #thanks to them spoilers #technically #but no for the future spoilers #theories #trailer analysis #toh speculation #toh thoughts

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mcx7demonbros · 2 years

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Soulmates

Ft. Klein, all Obey Me Boys (platonic with Luke)

C/W: none

Summary: Klein’s minion created a method to destroy the Heroes, but the Evil Overlord decided to use the method on him first.

“My Lord, I have devised a plan to destroy all the Heroes once and for all.” A witch said as she bowed to Klein.

“Pray tell, Morgana.” Klein sounded bored. He was tired of his minions’ plan, because they all failed. Morgana the witch in particular had failed no less than 30 times.

“This is “Soulmate Finding Machine”.”

“It’s just a crystal ball.” Klein frowned.

“But it’s also a machine that can help you find your soulmate.”

“And how do you plan to use it?” Klein clenched his right hand, he felt mad because it seemed that Morgana was trying to deceive him so blatantly.

“I will use this machine to let the heroes see their soulmates. Days after that, all the heroes would think about is their soulmates, they could never get the soulmates thought of their heads. And their fighting prowess would decrease. We will attack and destroy them once and for all.”

“…”

“My Lord?”

“…I’ll try it first to see whether it’s effective or not.”

“Of course, my Lord. You can put a hair’s breadth or drop of drop of your blood on the machine. It will automatically absorb them and will show your soulmates.”

Without hesitation, Klein gave Morgana a hair’s breadth of his. The crystal ball soon changed colors after the absorption, from colorless to silver, to white, to teal, to crimson, to purple, to red, to rose, to green, to orange, to gold, to blue.

“What’s happening?” Klein looked at Morgana.

“I don’t understand either, My Lord. It shouldn’t be like that, according to my-.”

An image began to form on the crystal ball.

“Isn’t that Solomon the Sorcerer?” Morgana pointed at the silver haired man appearing in the image, flabbergasted. “Congratulations, my Lord, it seems-.”

The image changed again, this time a dark skin man was shown talking cheerfully with a young blond boy.

Both Klein and Morgana showed no reaction as they didn’t know who they were.

The image changed again, this time, a demon with bat wing-like horns and green hair was shown preparing some tea.

“That’s…Barbatos.” Cedric the butler had been staying in the room since the beginning, but he didn’t say anything until that moment.

“You know him.”

“Yes. After all, we graduated from the same butler academy. He’s now serving as the steward for Diavolo, the Devildom’s Crown Prince.”

“Th-.”

Before Klein could even say a word, the image changed again. A big red haired demon was shown this time, sitting on the throne, talking with a standing demon noble.

“Diavolo.” Some small demons inside the room opened their mouths. “The current Crown Prince of Devildom. I heard he adores human.” A demon said with chagrin “I don’t mean disrespect, Lord Klein, but not every human deserved to be respected like you.”

“So both the Prince and his butler are my soulmates, huh.”

The image changed again, a demon with cow features was shown sleeping soundly, he was even drooling on his cow pillow.

“Belphegor, Avatar of Sloth.” A bat sleeping upside down on the ceiling spoke. “Lazy but bears hatred towards human. You need to be careful with that one, my Lord.”

The image changed once again, an orange haired demon was shown devouring food…a lot of food, no less than 300 dishes were on the table.

“Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony.” Another lesser small demon said. “He eats a lot, including things you have vowed not to touch, my Lord.”

The image changed again, another demon was shown admiring himself in front of a mirror.

“Asmodeus, Avatar of Lust.” Morgana said with chagrin. “He stole my ex-boyfriend before devouring that trash.”

The image changed again, a blond demon was seen arranging books in the library.

“Satan, Avatar of Wrath.” An owl flew from outside the window and landed on Klein’s left shoulder. “A monster is hidden behind that mask and deceiving smile.”

The image changed again, an indigo haired demon was seen playing games. “I did it. New record.” the demon cheered after his Eula dealt 7 million dmg, finishing the boss.

“Leviathan, Avatar of Envy.” The floor light up, showing a shark underneath. “A social inept. However, as Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, he’s scary.”

The image changed again, a white haired demon was shown wasting his money in a casino in Devildom.

“Hahaha. I won again. It seems a Fortune Deity is watching me.”

“Ugh, it’s the scumbag Mammon, Avatar of Greed. He still owes me 3 million Grimm.” It seemed Morgana didn’t trust her debtor’s ability to pay at all.

“Same.” The lesser demon from before said.

“Same.” <The Bat>

“Same.” <The Owl>

“Same.” <The Shark>

“I believe we should check the debtors’ list, my Lord.” Cedric spoke with a fake worrying tone.

The image changed again. A black haired demon was shown tempting a politician in Human Realm.

“Lucifer, Avatar of Pride.” This time, it was Klein who opened his mouth.

Suddenly, Lucifer turned around and looked at the direction of the crystal ball, it was like he looking at all of them.

“Annoying pest trying to spy me, begone.” Lucifer threw a fire ball at them.

“Darn it, Morgana, you didn’t tell me it was actually spying live images.”

The fire ball went across dimension, broke out of the crystal ball, destroying it and headed straight towards Klein.

“Humm, child’s play.” Klein used magic and summoned a water dragon. The water dragon flew towards the fire ball and devoured it. Then the dragon vaporized.

“Just forget about your plan, Morgana.” Klein turned around and exited the room, headed straight to his bedroom.

Epilogue

“My Lord, you haven’t been yourself ever since that day.” Cedric poured tea for Klein, who wasn’t even bother. He was busy thinking about something, his ears and cheeks a little bit pink.

“Look like Morgana’s plan would work if the crystal ball weren’t destroyed.” Cedric chuckled.

“Um.” Klein nodded.

“Btw, my Lord, you have a letter addressed to you.” Cedric put the letter on the table before leaving.

Klein didn’t even bother to look at the letter, he kept daydreaming until about an hour later.

“Royal Academy of Diavolo…huh!!!???” Klein read the letter after the daydreaming ended.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me mc: klein #mc: klein #obey me mc

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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“Faded pictures on the wall... Disconnectin' all calls... I gotta get out, or figure this shit out -- It's too close for comfort! It's a thief in the night to come and grab you -- It can creep up inside you and consume you -- A disease of the mind, it can control you... I feel like a monster...!”

~“Disturbia (Eduardo Esquivel Halloween Remix)” by Rihanna

x~x~x~x

Atticus Lestrange @cursebreakerfarrier had always been rather solitary, compared to his peers. He’d always had tunnel vision on his studies, putting traditional teenage fun on the back-burner in favor of trips to the library and Prefect patrols.

All this changed in Atticus’s fifth year, however, when he -- to everyone’s complete surprise -- somehow became friends with his housemate and Ravenclaw Star Chaser Robert Bellamy, and by extension Gryffindor Golden Boy Bartholomew Gilbert and Hufflepuff Sweetheart Cecelia Crouch.

The entire fifth-year class was perfectly baffled by the match-up. The two Ravenclaws, despite sharing a dorm, couldn’t have been any more different. Atticus was a by-the-book, rule-following, serious Prefect and star student who came from the intimidating Pureblood Lestrange family, while Robert was a laidback, rebellious, sassy Muggle-born athlete whose family was as poor as the Weasleys. Most students thought that someone like Atticus was way out of Robert’s league popularity-wise, and yet those from Pureblood families side-eyed Atticus for giving someone like Robert any sort of attention, just as they likewise did for Cecelia and Barty. Then the two actually started calling each other special nicknames (“Grim” and “Bat,” respectively), and soon the whole school was convinced that they were an item, or at least on the verge to becoming one.

Both Atticus and Robert were completely unaware of the school’s attitude at first. If nothing else, they had more important things to focus on -- namely, the strange dreams they and their friends Barty and Cecelia all shared, as well as their OWLs. After Ravenclaw suffered another devastating loss to Gryffindor, effectively knocking them out of the running of the Quidditch Cup, Robert had nothing else to focus on but his exams, and since Atticus always took his grades so seriously, the two ended up studying side by side rather frequently. Atticus didn’t think he’d ever seen Robert study so hard -- but, he supposed, when Robert was the sort to study outside the library and he’d always been the sort to study in it, he supposed that wasn’t surprising. The two boys would switch between studying for their upcoming Charms OWL and reading over books on Time Turners and their compositions, in the hopes that there might be something they missed regarding the ability to see the future.

“This just doesn’t make sense,” Atticus said tiredly, as he closed the book with a shake of his head. “Every book we’ve read posits that the future isn’t set in stone, so even just traveling forward in time by Time Turner is risky. And if that’s so, what spell could have been cast on us, or could we have cast, to make us see such vivid images?”

He shook his head. “I know that we all appear older, so it seems like it has to be stuff that hasn’t happened yet, but...do we even know everything we saw is going to happen? Or are they things that just might happen?”

“It’s possible,” said Robert. “But we’ve seen things multiple times. If they are only things that might happen, then we have to make sure they don’t.”

Atticus couldn’t fully agree with this. Yes, a lot of the feelings he felt were sad, but...they weren’t all sad. There was a kind of longing he felt -- a connection with something he didn’t fully understand. And yet he knew that Robert and Barty’s visions were worse than his -- Barty had seen Robert getting hurt, and Robert had seen a lot of destruction and pain. Those things certainly shouldn’t come about.

Maybe Cecelia would understand, thought Atticus. I don’t think she’s ever said anything about what she’s seen, in her dreams...

So Atticus met with Cecelia during their nightly Prefect rounds to broach the subject. When he arrived, he found Cecelia already involved in conversation with Trevor Urquart, a Hufflepuff in their year -- and it wasn’t a particularly friendly conversation either.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” said Cecelia.

Urquart frowned deeply. “Well, it’s just...with who your family is, and who his family is -- you really can’t think your uncle would approve.”

Atticus came to an abrupt stop a couple yards away, just out of sight around a corner.

Cecelia’s uncle? What wouldn’t he -- ?

“... I mean, he chucked 'Strange’s father’s cousins into Azkaban for being Death Eaters. I reckon you hanging out with a Lestrange wouldn’t be good for his reputation...especially after what happened with his son...”

Atticus’s lips came together very tightly.

Of course. Cecelia’s uncle was Barty Crouch, Sr. -- the head of the court who sentenced Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastian to Azkaban. The memory of his father’s resentful glare over his shoulder at Crouch when he passed through the Ministry once with Atticus rippled over the Ravenclaw Prefect’s mind, and it made him feel ill.

Father would be pretty upset if he learned who I’ve been spending time with too, he thought to himself.

Atticus dreaded even thinking of what his father would do, if he found out -- he’d probably forbid him from ever talking to his friends again...

“Who I choose to spend my time with has nothing to do with my uncle or his reputation,” said Cecelia sharply. “Especially since Atticus is nothing like his family. And I’ll kindly remind you not to call him by that awful nickname either -- it’s horribly shallow of you.”

Atticus felt the invisible hand that had been squeezing his heart in a vice grip loosen significantly, hearing Cecelia actually defend him. Urquart frowned deeper still.

“Oh c’mon, Ceci -- I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just what everyone else calls him, that’s all. Well, except for Robert Bellamy, but I don’t reckon Lestrange wants everyone to call him by that pet name -- ”

“I think it’s high time you scurry on off to bed, Trevor,” Cecelia cut him off very coolly. “It’s well past curfew, and I have my Prefect rounds to finish. Go on now.”

Urquart opened his mouth as if to say something else, but Cecelia crossed her arms and gave him a very pointed look.

Sensing the conversation was over, Urquart gave a low, loud sigh and trudged off, right past Cecelia and then around the corner where Atticus had been standing. The Hufflepuff boy was startled to see the Ravenclaw Prefect. Atticus fixed him with a rather pointed look of his own, before walking past him and around the corner.

“Cecelia.”

Cecelia brightened at the sight of her fellow Prefect. “Hi, Atticus!”

Atticus attempted a smile, but it didn’t feel genuine.

Fortunately, although she clearly noticed the strain in his expression, Cecelia didn’t immediately address it. Instead, after shooting a quick look at the corner Urquart had departed around, she smiled up at Atticus and took his arm, leading him off.

“Come on -- let’s start on the east side of the castle and make our way back. It’ll be easier for you to get back up to your dorm when we’re done, if we finish on the west side of the castle.”

Atticus was glad for the increased distance between them and Urquart -- and for Cecelia’s talent for knowing exactly what to do to make people feel more comfortable.

It was only once they were a healthy ways away that Cecelia spoke again.

“How much of that did you hear?” she murmured, her hazel-green eyes looking concerned.

Atticus glanced away. “...Enough.”

Cecelia frowned deeply, bringing a hand onto Atticus’s shoulder.

“I meant what I said, you know,” she said firmly. “I don’t give a damn about your family. None of us do. Why would we? I mean, you don’t hate Rob for his -- and plenty of people looked at Barty and me funny when we first became friends with Rob too, at first...”

She offered Atticus a comforting smile.

“So don’t worry about what that clod Trevor said. People like him will get over themselves soon enough, and then they’ll find some other molehill to make a mountain out of...”

Atticus felt himself smiling slightly, feeling encouraged.

“Thank you,” he said lowly. “Not just for that, but for what you said before, too. It was good of you, to stand up for me like that...”

His smile faded.

“...But aren’t you at all worried, about what your family will think about you spending time with me? I mean, sure, maybe your uncle’s opinion doesn’t matter as much to you...but I am a Lestrange. Won’t your parents be upset?”

Cecelia rubbed behind her neck uncomfortably. “Oh sure, they...were a little unsure, when I first wrote home about you...but they’ve been okay about it, all things considered. And well...you’re my friend. I care about you. When I’m at home...well, I have to play ‘big sister’ all the time. What I want, what I need -- that always comes second or third, if at all...”

She offered her best smile.

“But when I’m with Rob...with you and Barty, here at school...I can put myself first! I can have fun and do what I want, and just be me. ...That means a lot to me.”

Atticus smiled a bit more fully too. He understood what she meant. Before Robert had reached out to him...well, his existence had been very lonely. Atticus wasn’t really sure how to do this “friendship” thing at all, but...well, upon getting a taste of the fun, the warmth -- the closeness that came with it...he found he really liked it. He liked feeling connected to someone else...like he wasn’t alone.

Cecelia was lucky her family was so understanding. Atticus wished he could be sure that his father would react the same way, if he ever told him about his new friends...

“...Me too.”

The two came upon a bench under a window. Cecelia strolled over to it and sat down -- she patted the spot next to her, and Atticus followed suit.

“I’m really glad we became friends, Atticus,” she said, beaming fully. “I remember when I first collided with Rob in first year, one of the very first things I heard him say about you is that you should be smiling -- that you didn’t look ‘right’ somehow, looking so serious. I just thought it was awfully sweet of Rob to say, at the time -- ”

Her eyes sparkled as her pretty white smile spread enough to encompass her whole face.

“ -- but now that I’ve seen you smile for real -- like when you and Rob were teaching together, back in Binns’s class -- I agree with him. You should smile like that all the time!”

Atticus felt his cheeks burning, but his heart was too -- like it had swollen up to three times its normal size. He bit back a happy laugh despite himself.

“Well, I daresay I will, if Bat has his way. Got to keep me from getting too ‘grim,’ doesn’t he?”

Cecelia giggled. “Definitely.”

Atticus’s smile loosened slightly as he looked down at his clasped hands in his lap.

“...Cecelia...may I ask you something?” he asked more seriously.

Cecelia tilted her head. “What?”

Atticus bit his lip.

“...Bat and I were in the library earlier today, and...well, we were talking about our theory, that our dreams are what’s going to happen, sometime in the future. We both agreed that even if that’s true, the future couldn’t possibly be set in stone...but Bat thinks that our dreams must be...warnings, somehow. Some sort of magical premonitions of things we have to prevent from happening...”

Atticus’s blue eyes became a little smaller, darker.

“...But...I just don’t know. Bat’s seen a lot of scary things...he’s said as much, anyway, though he hasn’t gone into much detail...”

“He never does,” Cecelia said solemnly.

Atticus straightened up slightly to look at her.

“Rob’s told us some of the stuff he’s seen in his dreams,” said Cecelia, and her eyes were very sad, “but he’s always holding back. I know he is. It’s just like when he disappears to be by himself, when he’s upset. He sees his dreams as a problem he has to fix -- something he doesn’t want to burden anyone else with, if he can help it. Even though he knows Barty and I have bad dreams too, and he knows they frighten us...I think our dreams aren’t half as bad as his, and I think he knows it. But rather than make us feel bad, hearing about all the terrible stuff he dreams about...I guess he sees it as more practical to come up with possible explanations for what our dreams mean, and solutions so that they don’t bother us any more, rather than talk about his feelings...”

Cecelia’s eyes softened, becoming rather strained.

“He’s so modest, even about his own pain,” she murmured. “He won’t even take the time to complain -- he just puts on this calm, cool air and soldiers through.”

Atticus considered her for a moment, his eyes squinting ever-so-slightly.

“It is admirable, in a way,” he acknowledged. “I just wish he didn’t have to soldier through...that he didn’t have to have such a hard time of it.”

He sighed.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps my dreams aren’t as bad as his. Sure, they’re a large part of the reason I’ve only had a few restful nights’ sleep in my entire life,” he added as a light scoff, “but...well, even though a lot of my dreams are sad, it’s not all bad. There are other feelings too, besides the sadness...”

He looked at Cecelia for approval.

“And well, you, Barty, and Bat -- you’ve all seen each other in your dreams before, right? Are they truly all terrible?”

Cecelia looked down at her lap.

“No,” she admitted softly. “No, they aren’t. In fact, some of them -- ” her lips curled up in a weak smile, “ -- some of the dreams I have are ones I always look forward to, when they start.”

Atticus blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Cecelia’s smile broadened.

“I don’t remember all the details,” she confessed, “but there’s a ball. A big, beautiful ballroom, with swirling gowns and festive music. I think it’s Christmas! I’m pretty sure there are fir trees. And I remember dancing...dancing in lively circles around this carefree man with a long ponytail of dark curls and bright black eyes...”

Her face was flushed with fondness. Atticus immediately guessed why.

“It’s Bat,” he said at once. “Isn’t it?”

Cecelia beamed and nodded. “Mm-hmm -- I’d know his face anywhere. I think I’ve seen Barty at the party too, though I’m not sure...it seems like him. Though I have trouble imagining him with such long hair -- Rob seems much more the type...”

She laughed, but after the first chuckle, it slowed and quieted in her throat, before slowly dying away to nothing.

Atticus tilted his head to look at her better. Upon noticing the concern in his face, Cecelia tried to smile again.

“I think I see your point, Atticus,” she said. “If there’s good along with the bad, in what we see...how can it be a warning, to stop some terrible future? ...But at the same time...I think I see Rob’s point, too. Even if there’s good along the way...if the end result is tragic for all parties...are those good times worth it? Do you follow the same path regardless of the ‘bad outcome,’ just to enjoy the good while you can? Do you throw away the short-term good, to protect yourself and the ones you care about? Can you even try to prevent the bad and keep the good, even if they’re so closely linked? Wouldn’t that bad outcome stain all the good that came before it...make it so that even that good ends up just as painful to remember as the bad is?”

Atticus crossed his arms, considering this.

It was certainly a thorny issue. Perhaps Atticus’s own dreams had been less traumatic than the others’, holding this mysterious figure he felt this bizarre connection to and felt this intense need to know the secrets of again -- but Robert had admitted that he’d seen destruction and death. Barty had had nightmares of being unable to save Robert from getting hurt. Was his desire to unravel the mystery of this man who so strangely resembled Barty truly worth that? Could he live with himself if other people got hurt because of it -- if anything happened to Robert because of -- ?

But if we don’t get to the bottom of things, Atticus thought stubbornly, how would we even know there’s no way to preserve the good and prevent the bad? How would we know for sure that the only way to stop those terrible things Bat and Gilbert have seen from happening is to make it so everything we’ve seen doesn’t happen?

His blue eyes flashed with fresh determination.

The future isn’t set in stone -- every book I’ve read says so. I can't believe there'd be no way to make the future we’ve seen better, without throwing it all away. If we could just understand it -- get to the bottom of the mystery of what our visions mean, surely we could use that knowledge to prevent anything terrible from happening...

Cecelia leaned back slightly, her hand propping her up as her gaze drifting up toward the ceiling.

“As far back as I can remember,” she said softly, “I’ve had this nightmare. In it, I open the door, and standing in front of me is this massive man -- taller than anyone else I’ve ever met, with scraggly hair, sharp, overgrown nails, and filthy, blood-stained clothes. And red eyes -- horrible, monstrous red eyes...”

Atticus straightened up noticeably.

“I’m completely eclipsed in his shadow, and all I can think of is to scream, but no sound comes out. I can’t even move. Suddenly he’s in the room with me, and...he’s just shouting. I don’t even know what he’s saying, but he’s just in a rage. Lashing out, blood dripping from his wide open mouth and down his fangs as he screams...his eyes completely red, with no white at all, and full of this...pure hatred...and worse...”

Cecelia’s eyes gloss over as her figure seemed to shrink.

“...Streaming with tears...like he’s some creature that’s gone so mad with pain and hunger...it’s capable of anything...”

Her eyes began to pulse with dread at the memory. Her voice had gone very quiet.

“And all of that mad, blind, directionless, violent wrath...is directed squarely at me. Even if I don’t know why, or what I could have possibly done to him...I feel this fear I’ve never known awake, every time I see him. Like I’m frozen in place and can’t even breathe.”

Atticus watched her out the side of his eye. He’d taken in everything she said, but when silence finally fell, all he could do was recur the piece of her story that had echoed in his head the loudest.

“...This man you see...has red eyes?”

Cecelia glanced at Atticus. The Ravenclaw’s eyes were narrowed, but not out of anger -- if anything, it seemed like he was troubled. The blue rippled with a vulnerable sort of emotion.

Cecelia tilted her head slightly to look at Atticus more closely, her eyes welling up with understanding and amazement.

“...You’ve seen him too,” she said in a very hushed voice.

The red eyes, full of a kind of bittersweet joy and agony that Atticus couldn’t fathom and streaming with tears, rippled over his mind. The memory was enough to make him swallow a lump in his throat.

“...Maybe...but...the man I’ve seen...he’s not frightening. He’s...”

Atticus could almost feel the man clutching his shoulders again.

“...Sad. Happy, in a strange way...but in so much pain. As if he’s known a Hell I can’t fathom, and yet...as if just connecting with another person, in the simplest of ways -- just reaching out and touching someone...is a joy he’s longed for his whole life...”

Atticus himself hadn’t realized just how wonderful it was to feel such a connection, until he’d become Robert’s friend...

Cecelia stared at Atticus, her eyes very small and almost confused.

“...You mean he never frightens you?” she asked softly.

Atticus shook his head. “When I’d describe him to my mother...she’d always say I had nothing to fear -- that the man in my dreams couldn’t hurt me. But she never needed to say that. Even if his eyes aren’t natural and I don’t think he truly is human...I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.”

He turned to look more directly at Cecelia.

“If who we’re seeing is the same person...he wouldn’t hurt you, either.”

Atticus was confident in this thought. This man who called him “Grim” in his dreams, as Robert had just started to -- who clutched his shoulders, with tears streaming from his eyes and painful, heartbroken laughter falling from his lips...he couldn’t be any sort of monster.

Cecelia looked almost awed, as she looked at Atticus. She was quiet for a very long moment. Then, at last, she got to her feet and faced Atticus with fresh determination in her eyes.

“Atticus...will you help me find a boggart?”

Atticus blinked. “Huh?”

Cecelia’s hands clenched at her side. “My whole life, I’ve been terrified of meeting that monstrous man someday. He’s been my worst fear for as long as I can remember. Even in Care of Magical Creatures, when we faced our boggarts...I couldn’t make him go away. I couldn’t come up with anything funny enough to beat him back, or even just happy enough to make him change form. I couldn’t do anything...”

She swallowed, her expression becoming fiercer still.

“But...if this man we’ve seen is as you say he is...then I want to face him again. Barty always says that the scariest magical creatures aren’t monsters that need to be locked up or killed -- just animals that can’t properly express pain, that need patience and kindness. Maybe knowing that this man that’s always frightened me is the same way will make it that much easier for me to overcome my fear.”

Atticus’s brow softened. “I see...”

He considered this for a moment.

“...Well, Professor Lupin had a boggart earlier this year, for his third year class,” he said slowly. “I remember hearing some of the younger students mentioning it.”

Cecelia’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s right! Someone’s worst fear was Professor Snape, right?”

“And he ended up dressed in some awful robes and a hat that kid’s grandmother wore,” said Atticus with a nod.

He was trying not to smile, but it was proving difficult -- Severus Snape had always gone a bit easier on Atticus than a lot of other Ravenclaws due to his family name, but that didn’t mean Atticus particularly approved of his teaching methods.

Atticus got to his feet, his eyes also full of new resolve.

“Maybe if I ask Professor Lupin, he’ll be willing to let us use it. For all we know, boggarts could very well end up on our OWLs, after all.”

The following day after Defense Against the Dark Arts, Atticus dawdled behind after class until everyone was gone so he could discuss the matter with the professor. Lupin, for his part, was very supportive of the idea, and fortunately he’d actually kept the very boggart he’d used in that class with the intention of using it in the third years’ upcoming final exam. So that evening, right after dinner, Atticus and Cecelia bid goodnight to Barty and Robert and went on up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom together to meet the professor so as to borrow his boggart. They didn’t give the other two the full context of what they were doing -- Cecelia had told Atticus she didn’t feel comfortable having an audience, while facing her worst fear again. Besides Atticus thought to himself, there was really no need for Robert and Barty to actually see the man themselves: they could always describe him to them afterwards. At least that way Cecelia would feel more comfortable.

When the two arrived, Lupin was ready to supervise, holding the boggart in a trunk he’d rolled out into the center of the room.

“All right, Cecelia,” the professor said, his quiet voice very grave as he rested a hand on the lid, “are you ready?”

Cecelia swallowed. Her face was very white as she glanced at Atticus on the sidelines -- Atticus gave her an encouraging look.

“Mm-hmm,” Cecelia said after a moment, nodding.

“On the count of three,” said Lupin. “One -- two -- ”

Cecelia set her jaw, putting on the bravest face she could.

“ -- three!”

Lupin opened the trunk.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, abruptly, a filthy, claw-like hand with long nails lashed out of the trunk, seizing at the edge of it.

The creature attached to the hand used the grip to hoist itself up and out, little by little, until it towered over all three of the people in the room. His long, tangled auburn hair swished to the side as he turned toward Cecelia. His face was largely in shadow, even though the room was well-lit, but the light of the room bounced perfectly off his sharp, cat-like fangs, stained with blood, and were reflected in his inhuman, sclera-less red eyes.

Atticus’s heart leapt into his throat.

The eyes were exactly the same. The exact shape, with that exact sharp glint, as those of the man in his dreams. The one who had called him “Grim.”

Cecelia tried to take a step back as the man approached her and ended up stumbling. Her hand on her wand was shaking visibly.

“Steady, Cecelia,” said Lupin bracingly. “It’s just taking on the shape of your fear -- remember the spell.”

“He won’t hurt you, Cecelia,” Atticus reminded her. “He won’t hurt you.”

Cecelia’s hand tightened on her wand in a vain attempt to try to make it stop shaking.

“R-Riddikulus,” she squeaked.

The spell materialized, hitting the shadowy, monstrous man right in the shoulder, but the boggart didn’t even break its stride. The man shrugged it off, climbing out of the trunk and making its way over toward her.

“Think of a way to make it funny, Cecelia,” Lupin encouraged her.

“Riddikulus!” Cecelia tried again.

This time the boggart flinched at the spell hitting it, but Cecelia must have been having trouble conjuring up a funny image in her head, as the cherry pie she’d materialized in her head dissolved before it could fully form.

“Remember what Gilbert said!” Atticus urged her. “It’s not a monster that needs destroying -- it’s a creature that needs understanding -- ”

“RIDDIKULUS!” screamed Cecelia, her voice very shaky.

CRACK.

Finally the spell made the boggart change shape -- but instead of changing it into something funny, it merely made the boggart’s face become a little clearer. His nose was crooked, and his jawline was strong -- even the pale, almost boyish complexion was easier to see --

And with a flare of terror, Atticus realized he had seen the man’s face before in his dreams too.

It was the man who had reminded him of Barty Gilbert.

He was older than Barty -- in his twenties, easily -- and yet somehow so much older than he looked. His eyes were hollowed-out, with terrible dark bags around them that made him look ill. The way he held himself was aloof, strong -- cold -- not at all like unassuming, modest, pleasantly smiling Barty. And his eyes...there was truly no light to be seen -- no white in the eye, no humanity at all...

Cecelia’s face had lost all of its color and her eyes had gone very wide.

“No...” she rasped weakly. “No, no...”

“The spell, Cecelia,” Lupin repeated, though his voice betrayed some concern now. “Remember, it’s not real -- ”

But Cecelia had lost her head completely. The monstrous man closed the space between them, opened his mouth, and began to scream wordlessly at her. Tiny flecks of blood came off his fangs and slapped her face as tears streamed in rivers down his face -- and Cecelia crumpled up in a ball, her wand in her shaking hand forgotten and unable to move.

Both Lupin and Atticus raised their wands, but someone else reacted faster.

“FLIPENDO!”

In a second, the monstrous man that resembled Barty had been blasted back away from Cecelia.

It was the real Barty. Just behind him was Robert, both of them with their wands out -- while Robert ran over to Cecelia, Barty turned his focus squarely on the boggart. His blue eyes were narrowed with a kind of protectiveness and righteous fury Atticus had never seen.

The boggart stumbled to its feet, facing Barty head-on. Upon making eye contact with him, the man reached out a hand toward him --

CRACK.

In the monstrous man’s place was Robert. He looked older, with a ponytail of long curls and wearing a bright red coat and high-collared shirt -- and in a second, and with a loud BANG, his chest was stained with blood and his arm was blasted clean off --

Barty’s response was so effortless that it didn’t even need volume. If anything, the humorless, venom-laced restraint in his incantation with which he spoke was almost disquieting.

“Riddikulus.”

CRACK.

The boggart became Robert, dressed in Atticus’s clothes and tugging against his way-too-tight collar with a roll of his eyes.

Atticus shot into action himself. Pointing his own wand at the boggart, he shouted, “Depulso!”

The boggart resembling Robert was knocked backward. With another wandless spell, Lupin yanked the creature back into the trunk and slammed it shut.

Atticus ran over to Cecelia. She’d collapsed onto the floor -- Robert had both of his arms around her and she was shaking from head to toe with sobs.

“Cecelia,” whispered Atticus.

Cecelia gave a loud choke and clutched at the front of Robert’s new black school robes. Robert tried to soothe her by running a hand along her back, but his face was very white too.

Lupin bent down in front of Cecelia and placed an open chocolate bar in her hands.

“Here now, Cecelia -- eat this,” he told her firmly. “It will help.”

The poor Hufflepuff was having trouble choking back her sobs enough to eat it, but she tried to gulp some down all the same.

Robert looked up at Atticus, his rippling black eyes searching his face.

“Grim,” he murmured, “was...was that thing...?”

“Yes.”

Atticus swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“It was...in our dreams,” he said very lowly. “Both of ours.”

Robert’s eyes widened.

“We were going to tell you, we just thought -- well, Cecelia wanted to face her boggart on her own,” Atticus said weakly. “I only stayed for moral support...”

Robert whirled on Cecelia, his face whiter than ever.

“That man -- Ceci, you never said he looked -- that he looked like -- ”

“I didn’t know!” choked Ceci. “I’ve never seen him that clearly before...”

Robert’s focus shot to Barty. The Gryffindor looked the whitest out of everyone as he stared down at his three friends, clumped in a heap on the floor with their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His expression was also deeply wounded. His blue eyes were full to bursting with emotion -- fear, horror, pain, and utter despair.

Cecelia’s worst fear is him, Atticus realized Barty must be thinking. This girl who means the world to him...is afraid of someone who looks like him.

“Barty,” Robert started, his voice unusually sharp, “it’s just a -- ”

But Barty turned on his heel and ran for the door.

“BARTY!” bellowed Robert. “BARTY!”

He’d stumbled to his feet and charged after him, but he halted in the doorframe -- Barty, with his much longer legs, had outpaced him and disappeared.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #golden era #reincarnation!au #bartholomew varney #cecelia crouch varney #atticus lestrange #remus lupin #;~;#the plot thickens baby...#oh barty my poor boy #my poor baby boy!!#also my poor bb ceci!!#now that y'all know who you've been seeing in your dreams all this time...what to do about it now...?

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akane171 · 2 years

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Exactly, just gotta run off to some remote mountain with a library and wifi connection 😉😁😂

I'm still so confused on which of the animals in Bambi were male and which female 😅🙈

Ohh, I used to watch it every other day and jup, same... We really should have seen it coming, huh?😅

HAHAHA, tbh, I dropped TVD before Season 6 back in the day, but after seeing Kai? I TOTALLY went back and watched most if not all of HIS scenes😂 Tho I'm really sad he and Kol never met, cause how much fun would it have been to have a sociopath-witch and a psychopath-vampire be best buddies😁 And they both were very funny, charming characters, too...🤔😖

Ohh, jup, sounds a character I'd cheer for 😍💃🏻💃🏻 PROTECTIVE SQUAD ACTIVATE!💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻

Yes, just, cause would you rather he keep staying the Superfriends and etc's doormat? I'd rather he tell them all off and destroy a few parts of the universe than keep silently suffering their shit... And at that point Kara was already dead, sooo🤷🏻‍♀️

Yesss, I love her stories, too!😍😍😍😍

Hey, I did tell you my Star Wars AU ideas too🙈 But no, jokes aside, sorry it's been a bit chaotic and I was so tired yesterday, I really just forgot😅🙈 But hey, I've been thinking of a One Piece AU were Mon-El is the Pirate king or has the Gomu Gomu Ni and Kara is either a Princess or a Marine General🤔 Nothing concrete yet tho, sry

XXXXX

Library yes, wifi? You know, I think i could live without wifi conenction. i would send you an owl with letters, how could it would be?

My dad is retired forester, I've spent my childhood in the woods, I have no problems like that xD

I have read like... 3 chaps of the first book and saw first ep of s1. That was enough for me. Unfortunatelly (?) i was too old when i started it. And i was never fan of vampires, I guess. The idea of a super odl dude falling in love with a teenage hormonal girl, it's weird. Also, blood suckers? And bats? Like... why people think it's sexy?

Kol and Kai aka the K club, huh? XD

What can i say, I love sarcastic protectors. I love sarcastic characters done with other people's shit. Why there are not more characters in fiction like them? I kinda know in reality people like that are not the best companions, but well?

i would prefer him be happy. Like. Why i even have to say it? *cough* you monster *cough*

SHE IS AMAZING!!!! @themoonfortress we are talking about your fics here, you have another die hard fan!

*sends hugs* but... do i need to moan to you you need to rest, respect your sleep hours etc? =__________________=

Awww, One Piece. Anotyher shounen watched on RTL 2 xD

I remembered I was thinking about some fic au, where Cat is a well known therapy for couples specialists, and Kara really wanted to have an interview with her and Cat agrees but she demands Kara and her husband and some other couples (Winn x Eve, Nia x Brianiac, Lena x Some Poor Motherfucker and Alex x Kelly (or sam or maggie) to attend her special ne kind of sessions for couples. And while Karamel seems to be the most problematic (constant bickering, small arguments etc) they end like the most healthy and the happiest. And of course Mon-el is not very happy to attend this shit ;D

Anyway, stay healthy AND WELL RESTED, my friend. Hope life is not kicking your beautiful and talented as too much :)

#anons #my fam

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spirits-child · 4 years

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Tasseomancy

First of all we should say thanks to my good pal @norathewitchling for motivating me to learn something xd. Many may already know that i don’t know much of divination, I have my pendulum and i know scrying, no more. Do i wanna learn tarot/runes/etc? OBVIOUSLY, i dream with having a tarot deck.

But i can’t.

So here is another post of “let’s learn discrete divination with Roy 101″

What is tasseomancy or reading tea leaves?

Have you seen Harry Potter? If you have, you may have seen that scene in which the teacher tells Harry that he is fucked up because of some tea leaves. And yes, exactly that is what Tasseography is.

*this is kinda of a long post so stick with me please xd*

How do i read the tea?

First prepare yourself tea, if you can do it in a white/light colored cup that would be even easier for you.

Before drinking, try to meditate or clear your mind. Also trust your first impressions and don’t second guess, trust the process.

You also should know that the cup splits into 3 parts, the rim, the side, and the bottom. The rim is the present of the person you’re reading to, the side is the events that are not too distant, and the bottom represents the distant future. If you wanna add even more detail, the symbols that appear near the handle have a great chance of being fulfilled.

If you’re reading to yourself you should concentrate in yourself, but if you’re reading for other person, the concentrate in the other person.

Drink the cup, thinking in the question you’re asking and when you’re done, you’ll see some symbols, letters, something, well those mean something.

Here’s an example by teausa

Here are some other posts about the positions when reading tea:

here

Learning to identify the symbols

via pinterest

SYMBOLS

Abbey:

An abbey is a sign of financial gains and comfort. It also symbolizes success.

Abacus:

If you see an abacus, it means that you need to be more careful about your finances. There might be a problem in this aspect of your life.

Ace Of Clubs:

Seeing this indicates that you will be receiving good news in the near future, through the post.

Ace Of Diamonds:

Cheer up, because you are about to receive a wonderful present or some amount of money!

Ace Of Hearts:

An ace of hearts indicates that there is happiness and there is love in your home.

Ace Of Spades:

Seeing an ace of spades signifies that you might get involved in something about a large town or building soon.

Acorn:

Finding an acorn means that you are about to receive a good fortune soon or be more well-off financially. However, if the symbol is at the bottom of the cup, it means good health is awaiting you.

Airplane:

This indicates that you have a long distance journey ahead of you. If the plane is broken in the middle, it could give a warning about some impending danger.

Anchor:

If the anchor is pointing upwards, it means there will be stability and consistency in your life. In case it is downwards, then it would mean that there will be inconsistency in different phases of your life. It can also indicate unpleasant situations and burdens lurking around the corner.

Angel:

An angel indicates good news awaiting you. It also means that there is someone out there who is watching out for you.

Alligator:

An alligator symbol is just as unpleasant as it is in real life. It means there are people in your professional life who claim to be your friends but are not, and might even exploit you.

Ant:

It acknowledges that you are a hard working person, and also indicates that being industrious will soon lead to good results.

Apple:

An apple indicates that you will be living a long life, and also predicts success in school or profession.

Arch:

An arch indicates that a good opportunity is coming your way. To have a clearer meaning of what that could be, look for nearby symbols.

Arm:

An arm can mean different things based on the direction it is pointing towards. If the arm is pointing upwards, it means that you will be receiving new direction in your life. In case it points downwards, it means that you are suffering from a lack of motivation and need to take necessary steps.

If it is lying horizontally, it indicates that you will be receiving help or giving out love and good thoughts to someone.

Axe:

An axe indicates the power to overcome all sorts of difficulties.

Baby:

A baby indicates that something new is coming along your way. It might also give a sign of pregnancy, or indicate minor worries.

Bag:

A bag indicates that you are most likely going to be trapped in something. If the bag is open, it means that you have a chance to escape it.

BALL:

A ball indicates fun coming your way, and also shows the possibility and your desire to travel.

Balloon:

A balloon indicates that you have a busy social life, and are always moving on to one thing from the other. Basically, you do not ever settle down.

Barrel:

A barrel indicates joy and laughter.

Basket:

Baskets indicate new fruitful things in abundance. It can also imply that you are going to have a baby.

Bat:

A bat can imply that you are going through a very productive phase.

Bat Or Club:

Bats or clubs tell you that you are in a dangerous situation that you really need to pay attention to.

Beacon Or Lighthouse:

This can mean there are some problems or situations out there that could really use your leadership or other qualities now.

Bear:

A bear means that there are troubles ahead of you. You really need to be cautious about those.

Bed:

Seeing a bed indicates that you need to have a good night’s sleep before moving onto your next venture.

Bee:

If you find a bee at the bottom of your cup know that this symbolizes industriousness.

Beetle:

A beetle means that you are constantly renewing yourself and moving forward.

Bell:

A bell can indicate any kind of unforeseen good news, especially in business and love matters.

Bicycle:

A bicycle indicates individuality, meaning you have what it takes to choose your own way.

Bird:

Seeing a bird can mean a lot of different things, depending on the number and type of bird that you see. Here are some examples-

Standing Bird- Delay in something

Flying bird- Good news lies ahead

A flock of birds- Interesting news

Goose- Success in business

Peacock- Signifies pride about something

Eagle- Signifies power

Crow- Indicates bad news

Parrot- Shows the nature of gossiping

Chicken- Indicates a happy childhood

Dove- Love and warmth

Owl- Indicates knowledge and wisdom

Rooster- Pompousness, and pretentiousness

Swan- Predicts starting of a romance

Swallow- Signifies new and happy beginnings

Boat:

A boat indicates that you will be embarking on a journey soon, mostly a pleasant one

Book:

If the book is closed it means good news is awaiting. In that case, you need to put your investigation skills to use.

Bush:

Bush signifies new opportunities and growth.

Butterfly:

Butterflies can indicate transforming into something more. They can also show the characteristic of fickleness.

Cabbage:

A cabbage means that there is some jealousy brewing somewhere.

Candle:

A candle is an epitome of help coming from loved ones.

Cap:

A cap means there are troubles lying ahead.

Cat:

If you see a cat it means that there is a false friend near you, and you need to keep your eyes and ears open in order to protect yourself.

Chain:

A chain can indicate the starting of a new married life or an engagement

Chair:

A chair means that a guest is coming to visit.

Cigar:

As harmful as cigars are, they symbolize new friends in this form of divination.

Circle:

A circle indicates success in your life. If the circle has a dot in it, it means a baby will be arriving.

Clock:

A clock means better health and time management.

Clouds:

If the clouds are light, it means happiness. If they are dense and dark, they symbolize problems.

Coins:

Coins indicate a financial gain.

Comb:

A comb means that an enemy is nearby. It also means to focus on physical aspects.

Cross:

Cross indicates that a sacrifice has to be made.

Cup:

Cups mean rewards or presents. It is also an advice to be patient.

Dagger:

Dagger serves as a warning. It means that you need to be careful from the ill in yourself as well as in others.

Dish:

A dish means there are problems in your home.

Dog:

A dog is a sign of a good friend. If the symbol is at the bottom of the cup, it means a friend is in need of help.

Door:

If the door is open it means you will move on to something new. If it is closed, it indicates old issues and burdens that you are carrying around.

Duck:

A duck indicates financial gain and success in professional life.

Egg:

An egg is a good omen and indicates new journeys of life.

Elephant:

Elephants mean wisdom and strength. If the trunk is faced upwards, it means you will overcome obstacles.

Envelope:

An envelope is a sign that there is news coming your way. It could be either positive or negative.

Eye:

If the eye is open, it signifies taking notice of something that has been there for a long time. In case it is closed, it means you are putting a blind eye towards certain things.

Face:

The face does not usually mean anything in itself. Look for nearby signs and symbols and see if that face is facing them. Then you should focus on that symbol.

Fan:

A fan means flirtation is happening soon.

Feather:

Feathers symbolize carelessness and lack of concentration.

Fence:

A fence symbolizes limitations or obstacles that are temporary in nature.

Finger:

A finger does not really portray anything in itself, rather it intensifies the thing it is pointing towards.

Fire:

If the fire is on the upper side, it means you will be achieving something but if it is near the bottom, it shows danger.

Fish:

A fish indicates wellbeing and good fortune.

Flag:

A flag depicts patriotism and can also indicate some sort of danger.

Flowers:

Flowers mean that love and respect will be yours to keep.

Fly:

A fly signifies a small bit of an annoyance. But it might become a huge problem if not taken care of immediately.

Foot:

Seeing a foot means that you will be moving forward in various aspects of life such as love, career, and spirituality.

Fork:

A fork indicates that people flatter you to get their jobs done.

Frog:

If you see a frog, hold tight, for you are going to go through a revolutionary change.

Fruit:

Fruits indicate abundance and prosperity in all good things of life.

Gate:

A gate indicates a doorway to future success and happiness.

Glass:

A glass symbolizes integrity.

Glow:

Glow means that you will receive enlightenment, or that you might have to face a challenge.

Goat:

Seeing a goat is a foreshadow of enemies. It means that you need to be careful.

Grapes:

Grapes indicate that you will soon receive something that will make you very happy.

Gun:

Seeing a gun foretells that there might be unresolved anger issues or predicts sexual activities.

Hammer:

Seeing a hammer means that you need to work harder in your life.

Hand:

A hand signifies creation. If the hand is an open position, it means friendship. In case it is in a closed position, it indicates arguments.

Harp:

The harp is a symbol of peace, love, and harmony.

Hat:

A hat signals consciousness and improvement in various different aspects of life.

Hawk:

A hawk is a symbol of jealousy.

Heart:

A heart symbolizes, love, and happiness. It also means there is someone in your life whom you can confide in.

Horn:

A horn indicates prosperity and abundance.

Horse:

If you see a horse that is galloping, then it means good news is coming. If you do not see the body off the horse, only the head, it signifies a lover.

Horseshoe:

A horseshoe indicates good luck and attraction. What is meant to be yours will surely be yours.

Hourglass:

An hourglass indicates that time is running out fast and that some kind of decision needs to be made.

House:

Seeing a house is a signal of success. It may also signify change and uneasiness.

Iceberg:

An iceberg means that there is danger lying ahead.

Insect:

Seeing an insect depicts that the problems in your life are not worthy of being worried about and you will definitely overcome those.

Jewels:

Jewels indicate that you will receive a gift or reward from someone in the near future.

Kangaroo:

A kangaroo symbolizes warmth and harmony at home.

Kettle:

A kettle means that whatever illness is around you, it is minor and not something to worry about.

Kite:

A kite expresses the wish to be free and also foretells that wishes will come true.

Knife:

A knife can mean all kinds of dangers such as broken friendship, illnesses, legal problems. Beware of everything and try to keep an eye open at all times.

Ladder:

A ladder bespeaks promotion, but it can also mean a great downfall in life. The meaning can change according to the surrounding symbol.

Lamp:

If the lamp is turned on then it means wisdom. In case it is situated at the top of the cup it means that you will go to a feast. If it is at the side then it means some truth will be revealed, and if it is at the bottom of the cup then it signals delay.

Leaf:

A leaf indicates a new life.

Letter:

A letter indicates some kind of news coming your way just like the envelope.

Lines:

When the lines are straight, it means that you are progressing in your life. If they are wavy, then it means you are not sure of where you are going and if there are many lines, then it means you will be going on a few short trips in a short span of time.

Lion:

A lion usually signifies a man who is very powerful. If it is a lioness, then it means a strong family.

Lock:

If the lock is closed it signifies obstacles and if it is open, then it means you will come across new information soon.

Loop:

If the loops are complete, then they symbolize commitment and good fortune. If they are broken, then they mean obstacles and minor disruptions.

Man:

A man indicates a visitor. However, it could be of either gender. If the man is situated near the handle, it means that the visitor is someone close to you.

Mask:

A mask indicates insecurity or anything that is hidden.

Moon:

If the moon is full, it means that romance is ahead of you. A half-moon indicates that it is time to leave old things and move on and a quarter moon serves as a warning against making decisions in the spur of the moment.

Mountain:

A mountain symbolizes large goals and the difficulties that arise with them.

Mouse:

A mouse indicates that something close to you will be stolen.

Mushroom:

If the mushroom is at the top of the cup, it means that you will be going on a journey soon and if it is near the bottom, it means abundance and prosperity. An upside down mushroom could indicate a lack of motivation and frustration.

Nail:

A nail portrays injustice and unfairness.

Necklace:

If the necklace is complete, it signifies lovers. But if it is broken, it might mean that you are in the danger of losing a loved one.

Needle:

A needle is an epitome of recognition and admiration.

Oak:

Oak is a symbol of good health and long, happy life.

Octopus:

An octopus indicates there is danger surrounding you.

Ostrich:

An ostrich bespeaks travel, and might also mean that you are running away from a truth you do not want to face.

Owl:

An owl betokens gossip and malicious intentions.

Palm Tree:

A palm tree is a signal of prosperity and abundance in wealth.

Parasol:

A parasol indicates that you will learn new insights about something existing, or be protected from harmful information.

Pig:

A pig signifies gluttony, greed or prosperity and fruitfulness.

Pistol:

A pistol indicates danger.

Purse:

If the purse is at the top of the cup, it means you will achieve financial gain. In case it is at the bottom, it indicates that you are in for a loss.

Question Mark:

Seeing a question mark means that you need to be cautious about your surroundings.

Rabbit:

A rabbit indicates that there is a high need for bravery out there.

Rake:

A rake means that you will get rewards for the things you have done or punishments for the harmful things.

Raven:

A raven indicates bad news or the death of a loved one. However, the death might lead to a new beginning.

Ring:

A ring usually represents marriage or completion of endeavors. If it is broken it means that an engagement will be broken soon.

Rose:

A rose indicates the beginning of a new love story or the prediction that the love will deepen.

Saw:

Seeing a saw indicates that something should be thrown away from your present life.

Scale:

A scale is a mark of legal issues. If the scale is balanced it means there will be a just result; if it is unbalanced it means an unjust result is due.

Scissors:

Scissors indicate quarrels, which could also result in separation.

Sheep:

A sheep symbolizes good fortune.

Shell:

Seeing a shell means that you will receive good news, or get a reward for your efforts soon

Shelter:

A shelter forebodes the danger of loss of money or sudden ill-health

Ship:

A ship indicates a worthwhile journey.

Shoe:

A shoe indicates that you are on the correct path. However, you should also pay attention to the condition of the shoe.

Snake:

If the snake is resting, it means there might be a wedding. In case it is attacking, you should look out for danger.

Spider:

If a spider is weaving a nest, it foreshadows that you will receive a reward at work.

Spoon:

A spoon is a mark of generosity.

Star:

Stars symbolize health and happiness and renders hope.

Sun:

The sun is a symbol of happiness, merriment, and success

Sword:

A sword usually portends arguments.

Table:

A table symbolizes social gatherings.

Tent:

A tent symbolizes hidden meanings and truths disguised. It might also foretell troubles.

Thimble:

A thimble means that there will be changes in your home and personal life.

Tortoise:

A tortoise gives a sign of constructive criticism.

Tower:

A tower indicates that you might face disappointments.

Tree:

A tree symbolizes improvements. The improvement can be related to your life.

Triangle:

Seeing a triangle means that soon you will come across something unexpected.

Umbrella:

An umbrella portrays grievances and annoyances.

Urn:

Urns indicate financial gain and happiness.

Vase:

A vase means that a friend is in need of help.

Violin:

A violin portrays ego.

Volcano:

A volcano depicts that there are dangerous emotions inside you which might erupt at any time.

Wagon:

A wagon indicates that a wedding will take place in the near future.

Wasp:

A wasp means that you will face problems in your love life.

Waterfall:

A waterfall symbolizes prosperity and abundance.

Wheel:

If the wheel is intact, it indicates good fortune. In case it is broken it means you will face disappointment.

Wings:

Wings indicate that you will receive a message quite soon.

Woman:

Seeing a woman means you are longing for love and affection and want to experience the taste of a happy life.

Wolf:

A wolf indicates that the people around you who claim to be your friend might actually be jealous of you. In that case, you should stay aware of them.

Yoke:

Yoke is a sign of domination.

Zebra:

Zebras indicate that an adventure is due, which will most probably take place overseas.

———— :-: ————

Well that was itttt! Hope it helped something, and good luck my kids!

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adragonhoardingstories · 5 years

Text

Of Blood and Bonds - Chapter 3

@mystery-5-5 @synnesstra @thesunanditsangel

@abrx2002 @clumsy-owl-4178 @daminett4life @zalladane

@heaven428 @unmaskedagain

@dawnwave16 @kris-pines04 @emeraldpuffguide @hypnosharkrebeldreamer

@weird-pale-blonde-person

@ravennightingaleandavatempus

@persephonebutkore

@be-happy-every-day-please @blue-peach14 @annabellabrookes

@jaynintodd @st0rmy-w1th1n @bluerosette23 @ladysblackcat @18-fandoms-unite-08

@vixen-uchiha @novicevoice @jessigurl-design @tinyterror333

@rebecarojas07 @sparkle9510

@ladysblackcat @magicalfirebird

@mewwitch @shamefullove

@ravennightingaleandavatempus

@sassydepression @caffeinetheory

@reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo

@krispydefendorpolice @mermaidofthelost @zalladane @drarryismylife101 @ladybug-182 @northernbluetongue @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @iloontjeboontje @mjisntme

@dorkus-minimus @firesong323 @chocolatecatstheron @wargraymon0709 @bamagirl513

@moonlightstar64 @captain-lostkid @angelicbookfangirl @lunar-wolf-warrior @roseunivers999 @dur55 @emeraldpuffguide @evil-elf16 @crazylittlemunchkin @moonlightstar64 @semaalcocer-blog @skyel0ve

Tag list for this is closed! On that note, this book will contain swearing, mentions of rape and torture. I will try not be explicit but that's really relative. Read at your own risk. There will be warning before if I make a explicit scene so that you can skip it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and don't hunt me down for this.

_________________________________

"Wait! Where's Damian?"

Damian didn't know what to think of all this. It wasn't like he hadn't considered that one day his father would adopted someone else but he hadn't expected this - the fact that he had an actual blood sibling.

When he had snuck in on the tour earlier, some people had protested him being there, said that a child would only cause problem.

Before any of his brothers could intervene, Marinette did, said that she was taking his responsibility as long as he wasn't going to be in trouble for being there. Her expression though respectful was basically asking for a challenge.

No one denied her.

Damian decided he liked her and by the end of the tour he would reluctantly admit that maybe he wanted to be friends with her and get to know her better.

She was smart as whip, genuine, could kick ass according to Todd, didn't treat him as a child and not that he would ever admit it but being near her made him feel... lighter...there wasn't a better to describe it.

Now he wondered whether she had done what she had only because she had known who he was.

He banished that thought away. Even if she had, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she clearly wanted nothing to do with father so maybe...she had wanted to get to know him?

That would be a first.

It's not that he wasn't thankful for the makeshift family that he had acquired but this was different. Her and his situations were a lot similar what with them not living with their father for the most of their lives until then.

Also, he knew that as much as they might have made it a long way in their relationship compared to how it was when they had just met, the truth would always be that they had had a bad start and he didn't think that they would ever be able to fully forgive him for the things he had done.

Even Richard Grayson, admittedly the person he was closest with in the family didn't care for him as he did for their other brothers.

If he did, he wouldn't have left him alone.

Damian just wished - hoped that this time he would be able to do things right, that he would get a chance to have someone he could fully trust and that would trust him back like his siblings did with each other.

But he had to do this right.

He started by researching her and a voice that sounded annoyingly like Jon told him that this was not a good way to gain her trust but in the end, he was still a bat and that's how bats showed they cared.

((In the end, he hadn't needed to worry because she hinted that she knew and that it didn't bother her. By the end of the night, he had admitted to searching her up and she had been understanding. He had been so relieved, it felt like weight lifted off his chest.))

His blood was boiling as he researched her. He also felt sick. Who had dared harm his sister? They would pay, he would make sure of that.

But then he started thinking about how strong she was for you going through what had seemed like hell and coming out still smiling like and angel.

There were many things about her case that seemed off to him but there were more important things to worry about them. He made a mental note to investigate them further, especially akumas.

It seemed like that night no one was going to go for patrol. That made his job of sneaking out easier.

While Timothy went to fetch the others, he changed into black jeans, a black shirt, wore a black hoodie on top and hid weapons on him.

He waited until Timothy started explaining what they had found to sneak out. He already knew everything he needed to afterall, including his sister's current address.

It would be too late to stop him once they realized he was gone. Damian needed to see Marinette and no one would stop him.

"Damian." Marinette leaned out of the window, staring in the darkness. "Either come in or go away. In any case, stop lurking or I'll get jumpy and you'll get hurt."

She moved back and closed the window, not putting the lock so that he could come in if he wanted and went back to stress baking.

She had known as soon as he had arrived. After...the incident she had become way more attuned to her surroundings which was why she was more than aware of the eyes that had been on her for the last ten minutes as well as who was observing her.

She prayed to all the gods she knew that she wasn't wrong and that it was Damian. Not that she wouldn't be able to handle her otherwise.

The Incident was also what had landed her in her current location. She had gained some friends and a lot of sympathizers after what had happened which was how she was able to convince the school board to let her live away from the class. It was more than simple actually, the people in her class had not been subtle about their beliefs that she had orchestrated the whole kidnapping thing. She simply had to state that she did not feel safe in such an environment.

The fact that she had a mansion in Gotham under her name only helped.

She had gained this place in inheritance from Master Fu, it had been imbued with Wyazz's protective magic and she could feel the remenants of the other kwamis magic. It was the safest place in Gotham, similar to his Paris penthouse, somewhere not even...he...or another Miraculous user could get to her if she didn't wish them to. As Guardian, the magic shifted and obeyed her.

It was like a blanket of security.

Marinette heard the window open and shut and she smiled. "It's a bit late." She said. "Does B know you're out?"

"He must have noticed by now." Damian looked awkward, like he himself wasn't sure what he was doing there and his eyes were shifting. Someone else might have assumed it was curiosity but Marinette knew when someone was mapping a place out, marking the possible escape routes.

She didn't mention it.

"Either way, Father knows that I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

She didn't question it, the way he held himself showed her enough to know that it wasn't just arrogance or childish endeavours speaking.

"You can sit down." She said after while when he didn't move. "I'd sit with you but if I stop this preparation, everything will be ruined and I don't want this to go to waste."

"It's alright." The reply was instantaneous. He hesitated before continuing. "May I ask why you are still awake, as you said, it is quite late."

"I can't sleep much." She decided that she was going to be as frank as possible with her little brother. "I was already an insomniac but now I get nightmares too." She had no doubt that they had researched her and at least knew the basics of what had happened to her.

They fell silent again and it felt comfortable enough that Marinette didn't feel the need to make small talk. Also, Damian had come there to see her so he probably had things he wanted to talk to her about and just needed the time to sort out his thoughts.

Apparently, she was right.

"You knew didn't you?" He asked.

She made a non-committal sound. "About what?"

"Who I-we were when you saw us on the tour?"

She hummed. "I knew there was a high chance I would bump into one of the Waynes in Wayne Tower yes, and well I know all of your names and even if there aren't pictures of you online, it's pretty obvious."

"Because I look like father?" He sounded almost bitter.

She turned around and leant against the counter to finally meet his eyes. "No, because you look like me."

It was true. They almost looked like twins. They shared their father's looks, Asian traits and had the same skin tone ((sue me I'm making Marinette have brown skin like she should have according to me and not be white)). Damian only reached to her shoulder but if someone looked at them closely, they would see that there were more similarities than differences.

He seemed surprised but pleased with her response though he tried to hide it. Marinette turned back to her macaroons and placed them in the oven.((I DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE MACAROONS SO INNACCURATE))

"Why did you never ask father to meet us?"

"I did. At first, he was adamant that Gotham was too dangerous but then he kept adopting kids and well I started thinking that, well he hadn't planned me. He was nice enough to stay in my life but that didn't mean that he wanted me in his so I stopped asking and well turned out I was right because he stepped out of my life a few years after."

She thought he wasn't going to say anything to that but his answer surprised her. "I understand." He seemed reluctant to admit it but she could hear the sincerity in his voice, in the way he seemed so vulnerable at that moment. "Not knowing whether you're wanted or not."

"Well," She slid in the seat facing him. "I know that I have a lot of time to catch up on but if you'd allow me, I want to be your life and I want you in mine."

He smiled then, slowly and unsurely. Marinette had a feeling that he didn't do that very often and it warmed her heart that he did for her. "I think that I would like that a lot too."

Marinette basked in the moment for a while longer before she stood up.

"Well, you wanna help me bake, little brother."

"I've never baked before." He lowered his eyes in shame. Marinette felt something like anger and protectiveness swell up in her chest. Why would he need to feel ashamed of something like that?

She kept her tone light and tried not to betray any of her emotions.

"There's a first time for everything, right? Come on, I'll teach you it'll be fun."

She smiled encouragingly and he shrugged, walking to her side. She nudged him with her shoulder. "Also, do you wanna spend the night here? It can be like a sleepover?"

She gave him her best puppy eyes and he relented. "Fine."

"Yay." She fist-bumped the air. "Shoot Alfred a text and tell him you won't be home or he'll worry." She instructed and watched patiently as he took his phone out a write a quick text. Not out. Safe. Won't be back tonight. She read over his shoulder. It was sent to Grayson.

She wondered how often he was out that such a simple text would be enough.

She didn't voice her question out loud.

Instead, she beckoned hims over and started explaining.

The next morning when Damian strolled in the manor, was greeted by his brothers, father and Alfred waiting for him.

"Damian." His father sounded disappointed at him. Nothing new then.

"You cannot just leave without saying anything like that."

"I texted." He didn't have the patience to deal with his father right now. He was already taxing on a normal day but after yesterday…"And you know well that I can take care of myself."

"That doesn't mean you can do this."

Damian was so done with this conversation.

"And it doesn't mean that you can take out your anger at your failures on me." His father froze. He felt like he had crossed a line but he was beyond caring. His sister was more than amazing and she hadn't deserved to be hurt like this. And her suffering may have been prevented or at the very least reduced had it not been for the man in front of him and his love for secrets.

He turned to his brother and dropped a bag in front of them. "Marinette sent macaroons for you three and Alfred." He knew it was petty but that did not stop him from emphasising on the last four words.

Both Alfred and Bruce startled.

"Wait Demon Spawn, you were with Marinette?"

"Obviously." He rolled his eyes and turned to walk to his room. But then he stopped and looked at them. "I'll be heading out again shortly."

"Wait Little D," Richard jumped to his feet. "Come on, explain this to us."

He sighed but really his brothers weren't at fault here. "I went over to Marinette's last night, we talked, we baked," he gestured at the macaroons. "She asked me to sleep over. Now if you'll excuse, I need to change and head out again."

He didn't wait for a response and walked away, however his father's voice stopped him right in his tracks.

"Damian, I will not tolerate you being disrespectful to me. You're grounded."

The boy turned on his heels, a shark like expression in his face. "Oh? You're forbidding me from meeting my sister now father?" Bruce flinched almost unnoticeably.

"She asked me to show her around Gotham since she has a free day." He elaborated.

"Fine." It was rare to see his father looking so defeated. "But you're benched from patrol."

Damian was himself surprised at how much he didn't care. He had expected it. Marinette was more important right now.

He smiled. "Of course." This time when he walked away, no one stopped him.

"He didn't even protest to being benched." Tim remarked.

Damian's behavior was...he would say worrying but something told him that whatever was happening was for the best and he had learnt to trust his instincts a long time ago

"I've never heard him talk to Bruce like that before." Jason added.

"You're both missing the most important thing." Dick said. "He mentioned that they baked - meaning he and Marinette baked macaroons together."

As one, all three of them turned to look at the innocent looking package.

"The brat's got the right idea though." Jason said. "We need to talk to the little lady too."

#Maribat #platonic daminette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #Bryce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #torture #mentions of rape #bamf marinette #badass marinette #bruce tries to be a good day but he doesn't always succeed #lila salt #adrien salt

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skywalkerqueen42 · 4 years

Text

Sitting beneath the glaring full moon, a young woman held a book in her lap. The rustle of the pages, coupled with her ebony-furred cat’s rumbling purr, offered the only sound in the night. The woman turned the page with her free hand – the other was busy with stroking the feline.

Yawning, she blinked. The moon hung high in the sky, and she knew she should be getting home. She could almost hear her sister scolding her now. “Sya, you have school and studying! You can’t stay out in that field all day, every day.”

To which she would always respond, “Well, why not?”

She laughed at the memory. The town was just visible beyond the hill, most lights turned out for the night.

Leaves from the nearby forest rustled, a quiet whisper. Leaping up, her cat knocked into her chin, clacking her teeth together. Sighing, the woman turned to look. Fur bristling, the feline stared unblinkingly into the woods, its eyes a glowing yellow.

“You’re seeing things, Luna,” she said, but when she looked down, the cat was gone. She glanced around, searching for the small beast.

Spotting a blur darting through the woods, she sighed, peering in the direction the feline had run.

She crept towards the woods, calling the cat’s name. Receiving no answer, she shook her head and continued onward slowly. She moved lightly, not wanting to attract unwanted attention.

“Luna?” Her fingers rapped against her leg as an owl’s haunting call rang in the distance. “Luna, come here!”

No answer.

Cold sweat ran down her back. Exhaling, she turned to return to the hill. The cat had disappeared before and come back.

She hesitated, not wanting to leave without her pet. In the silence, a caress of air moved by her ear, leaves blowing in the sudden draft.

Shaking her head, she took another step. As she stopped, the same breeze echoed her movement, this time escorted by a succinct shadow.

Standing impeccably still, heart roaring in her ears, she watched an elongated hand cover the rift in the trees – her only illumination source. She silently cursed herself, wishing she had brought a flashlight.

A vaguely humanoid figure, its body as colorless as the empty space around it, visible only by its outline - a slight rim of light surrounding it was all she could see – all else was an empty void. It was almost beautiful, in a horrifying way.

As she watched it, a new light appeared. A thin white line across what would be its face, stretching into a gruesome smile. It stretched out a thin, hand-like shadow, as if welcoming her. Stumbling away, she batted at the outstretched limb weakly.

The wide grin flipped, the horrifying smile now an even worse scowl. It shook, the outline blurring and blurring and blurring.

…

And then it was gone.

…

The darkness trickled away, the familiar but now frightening scene of the forest enveloping her once again.

Her sight flickered, her lashes drifting closed. She fought it, afraid to close her eyes. Afraid the thing would return.

Failing, her vision distorted and died away.

The sun was blazing in the sky by the time she awoke. She still felt cold, the night’s events a blur. Remembering her absent cat, she glanced around. Sure enough, the cat had returned, staring at her with suspicious eyes.

“Hey, Luna,” the woman said, calming. The feline yowled, shrinking away. Its fur stood on end – something terrified it.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she called the cat’s name again.

“That won’t do any good,” an amused voice answered. “Those beasts won’t come anywhere near anything remotely supernatural.”

She yelped, swiveling around. Hovering above her was a figure dressed in all black, a hood covering his face.

Deciding to follow her cat’s example, she recoiled.

“Relax, Sya. It’s only me,” the figure said, taking off his hood. He wasn’t all too bad looking, with a strong jaw and warm blue eyes.

She gave him a puzzled look, though he did seem distantly familiar. “And who are you? How do you know my name?”

“Sorry.” The man sat next to her, setting a large scythe beside him. “I always forget. My name is Tyr. King Death has requested your presence. You are still alive, though.”

She nodded, though she didn’t understand at all. “And why does Death want to meet me?”

Shrugging, he offered his hand. She took it and stood. He grabbed his scythe, wrapping his free arm around her. The forest dissolved into ink. For a moment, she thought the shadow thing was back, but them beams of light broke through the dark, images – memories – dancing across her vision. A large black owl, dancing on a beam of white, flew past her head.

Her reaper looked at the animal. “It’s your spirit animal,” he explained.

She nodded, too breathless to respond. They floated there, motionless, but the perfect moment faded away. Faded into a riverscape, the gentle lava waves lapping against the shore. Across a bridge stood a castle made of black stone, lit by a soft red glow.

She gasped, clinging to her reaper’s arm.

He reached over and carefully pried her hand off. “Ow, Sya.”

Wincing, she looked back towards him. Apologizing, she bit her lip.

“It’s fine. Everyone gets emotional the first time.” He smiled. “Let’s not keep the king waiting, shall we?”

She rested her hand gently on his arm and followed him across the bridge. A tall, handsome man, a crown of bone resting atop his head, met them at the door.

Tyr sunk into a bow. Sya looked around, eyes wide, before sinking into a hesitant curtsy. She hovered like that for a short while before the man’s gaze caught on her.

Death looked her over, curiosity flashing in his dark eyes. “Thank you for bringing her, reaper.”

“Hi?” Sya asked. “Tyr said… Tyr said you wanted to speak with me?”

“You’ve interacted with something out of my control. I do not know what it was, or why it attacked you. However, you are not the first.” He led them to the balcony, gesturing at a grassy valley.

There were at least three dozen people, milling about, talking in hushed voices. Their discussions abruptly halted when they noticed the king’s presence.

“All of these people came into contact with this thing,” Death said. “All of them died. You, however – you didn’t.”

“Why?”

He flicked a hand, a seat appearing behind her. She sat gratefully.

“All of these people have similar spirit guides in one way – they are all prey animals. It makes sense. This thing is obviously a predator, so it goes after prey. Tell me what you saw. All of it.”

Sya hastily recounted how it had stolen the light, smiled, offered a hand – all of it.

The king hummed quietly. “Anything else?”

She shook her head.

Nodding, he sighed. “Do you have pets? What spirit guide did you see?”

“I have a pet – a black cat. There was an owl–”

“It was massive,” Tyr inserted. “I’ve seen large ones before, but it was huge. And pure black.”

Death smiled for the first time since Sya’s arrival. “Call it,” he said. “You know how.”

“Sure,” she whispered. “Sounds great.”

Sitting cross-legged and closing her eyes, she imagined white scenery. Her forest came to mind, coated in snow during a particularly chilly winter. A shadow, much like the one she had seen before, when the creature came, flitted by her. This time, though, she was not afraid. She knew that it was not evil spirits following her, but good ones. Instinctively, she went to the tree on the hill.

A book rested there, a light dusting of snow across its cover. She sat beneath the full moon, taking the book in her lap. The rustle of the pages offered the only sound in this world of spirits. She turned to a randomly selected page.

It was blank. She went to flip to a new page, but dark ink began to spread across the sheet – as though an invisible writer had spilled their inkwell across the snowy white pages.

She stopped to see what would happen. The ink flowed, forming into an elegant cursive script.

Sya read it aloud seamlessly, despite the foreign language. A dark shadow appeared on the ground before her, the massive guide perching on a branch beside her. Standing, she looked into the owl’s great, round eyes.

Bowing its head, it let out an echoing call. The spirit world disappeared, Death’s castle reforming in her vision.

Instinctively, she stood, extending an arm. A beam of white light cut a jagged mark into the wall, the powerful bird soaring out to perch on her limb.

Its distinctive call echoed from the walls, filling the castle with sound.

“Fascinating…” A peculiar look came across Death’s face, almost – but not quite – awe. “Nebulosa.”

He bowed slightly, a respectful act from one deity to another. The owl responded in turn, spreading its wings in a silent movement.

Sya shifted closer to the king. “You – you know her?”

The king nodded. “She is a great deity from our past. I can tell you her story if you wish.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “Perhaps another time, your majesty. We should focus on finding out how to defeat this thing that attacked me. What is it?”

His face fell. “We don’t know.”

Sighing, he stood from his throne, stepping towards her and Tyr. “My sister agreed to allow us in her palace to discuss it. Nebulosa can access realm-shifting. Tyr and I will meet you there.”

With that, he disappeared in a cloud of inky smoke. With an exasperated sigh, she nodded to her guide. The iridescent blackness seeped into her vision. Nebulosa hooted softly in her ear, soaring away. In her wake she left a trail of white, a road to lead her way.

Sya took a hesitant step, her foot hitting the white path solidly. She looked out at the blackness.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she waved her foot slightly off the path. It hovered in empty space briefly before she yanked it back. A disapproving hoot scolded her, beckoning her on. She followed, chastised. As she walked, she came across a door – perched above it was none other than Nebulosa.

She hesitated – a sense of danger seemed to come from the silver archway. But her friends were in there.

Friends. She had known them such a brief time. Were they really her friends?

Yes. And technically, she had known Tyr for a long time. For all her life. Lives. She took a deep breath.

Do they think of you as a friend?

She froze. Confused, she wondered why she would have such a negative thought.

You did not. I did.

She turned around. Umbra – where had the name come from? She had never heard it before – stood there, the gruesomely wide smile once again taking up its features.

“You.” Her voice shook, betraying her fear. Cursing herself, she took a deep breath and tried again.

“What do you want, Umbra?” she asked. Her voice didn’t shake this time.

Come with me. You owe nothing to these people. What have they done for you? If you came with me, you could live forever.

It was tempting. Of course it was – immortality; the dream of Earth.

You want it. I know you do. I know everything about you. The spirit world disappeared. Sya’s home, the apartment she shared with her sister, took its place. She spun around, eyes wide.

“Sissy! Thank gods.” It was her sister, plowing down the stairs to embrace her.

Bewildered, Sya wrapped her arms around her. “Aura? What?”

“That filthy cat of yours came home without you. It may be a mangy beast, but its fiercely loyal. We were so worried!”

“We?” Sya couldn’t think of anyone else who might worry.

Had she stumbled through a portal? How else would she be back home? Back home. Aura had seemed frantic. How long had she been gone?

She repeated the question aloud.

“Only a day.”

But you already knew that, didn’t you? You doubted it – doubted that you’d be home. But the doubt that I knew how she hated that pet of yours. That was stronger. But you forget, my dear Sya.

Aura disappeared, her ruby hair flattening into a black, faceless figure. Umbra’s smile had changed. Where it had had some semblance of warmth, now it held only anger. I know you. I know every thought, every memory, every doubt. I can give you that life back for real.

“You know,” Sya started, the tremble back in her voice. “Humans usually have eyes.”

Umbra let out a wet cough. It reminded Sya of when her grandmother died, the rattling breaths terrifying the five-year-old. Umbra’s coughs lasted longer, dragging on and on and on.

Sya finally realized that he was laughing. At her. Her house disappeared, the spirit world’s inky surroundings enveloping her. It was comforting, now.

See, now that’s why I like you, little witch.

“Why do you call me that?” she asked, slowly backing towards the portal.

Its smile was warmer now, as though remembering something fondly. When I saw you with your cat, I assumed it was your guide. A witch usually has a black cat, and I thought you’d be willing to join me. You still are, though you fear me. My offer tempts you; I can see it.

She took another slow step backwards. Expecting to find solid ground, or perhaps the wall of the portal, instead her foot met only empty space. She whirled around, stumbling back onto the path.

Shaking its ‘head,’ Umbra tutted disapprovingly. Its illusions had swapped where she thought the portal was with where she thought Umbra was.

Fooled. Again.

Now, now. Where do you think you’re going, little witch? Certainly not through there. It won’t take you anywhere you want to go.

“Yes, it will,” Sya said, clenching her jaw. “It will take me to my friends.”

So, you cling to the notion that these people care about you. Its form shifted, the blackness changing into a truly humanoid form.

Blue eyes, sandy blond hair. Tyr’s strong jaw. Umbra smiled unnaturally.

Is this more visually pleasing? Do you prefer me in this form?

His tongue flicked, snakelike. It was black and forked, foreign in Tyr’s mouth. Shuddering, Sya stumbled away, forgetting that she was on a narrow path. As she nearly fell, Tyr’s hand – Umbra’s hand – grasped her arm, pulling her close to him.

Clearly not. Fine. We can ask them ourselves. The portal lit up with swirling patterns of white.

He led her through.

The first thing she noticed was the aroma. The air smelled welcoming, warm. Then she noticed the walls; light fractured into perfect rainbows, making the crystal walls alight with a million colors – more than Sya had ever imagined.

But then Umbra – still disguised as Tyr – dropped the illusion.

The immaculate walls shattered. The warm smell spoiled with smoke.

But most prominently the white-winged angel crumpled on the ground.

“No.” The word was almost inaudible, gone as soon as it came.

“Umbra. What did you do!” Shaking her head frantically, Sya ran forward.

He didn’t stop her. I didn’t do anything. Merely disguised the truth.

Collapsed on her side in a pool of blood lay the angel. She had one wing twisted beneath her, the other sprawled to the side.

Umbra stood beside her, looking down at the angel.

“Umbra.” He didn’t respond, preferring to examine a shattered piece of crystal. He fingered it, flipping it across his long fingers.

“Umbra!” she snapped. Startled, he cut himself with the fragment. He glared at her, the blue eyes a hundred times colder than Tyr’s ever were.

What is it, Sya? What do you want me to do? Sya noted that he used her name – he hadn’t done that before.

Looking up at him with zero fear, she snarled back her response. “Where are my friends?”

He waved his hand – a completely unnecessary gesture – and after a few seconds Tyr and Death barged through the door at the end of the hall.

“Are there any more illusions?” she asked harshly.

No.

She gave him a disapproving look, as he was still in Tyr’s form.

You’ve become very demanding, little witch.

She deigned not to respond, and with a sigh he shifted back into his natural form, reverting to the horrific grin. He very obviously still wanted to intimidate her into accepting his offer.

Death noticed as Umbra shifted, grabbing Tyr by the back of his hood before he could get any closer.

“Nebulosa!” She swooped through the same area Sya had arrived from. But before she could reach the king, Umbra reached up, snatching the bird out of the sky.

Nebulosa. I remember you, my dear. Do you remember me? he growled.

“Let her go.” Sya stood from her position next to the fallen angel.

Turning to set his terrible smile on her, he stepped forward. As he did so, he drew up another illusion.

This is your last chance to turn against them, little witch.

“Release the owl, Umbra.” Her voice stayed steady, though she felt her hands shake.

You are afraid of me, Sya. You cannot harm me, and you certainly cannot hold your ground in a fight.

Standing firm, she held her head high. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She was bluffing, she knew it, he knew it.

She looked around herself – it was a stunning deception. She looked out at the clouds from the top of the grassy mountain.

“It is an impressive illusion,” she said, willing herself to stay strong.

His smile widened. I can teach you how. It isn’t so hard as it seems.

Swallowing, she offered him a slight smile. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

He changed his appearance again, but this time it wasn’t Tyr. He was handsome. He had black eyes – no whites, just pure darkness – and pale skin. Pale, thin lips stretched in a wide grin that seemed perfectly natural on this face.

She hated to admit it, even to herself, but he was handsome.

“Who is this? This body, I mean,” she asked, tilting her head.

Me. Me before I lost this form. Before she –

He froze, his illusion shattering. His large black form lost all appearance – only a black mass floating before her. Turning around, Sya glimpsed Death kneeling beside the angel, Tyr standing guard above him.

Nebulosa flew back to her arm, perching gracefully.

Umbra, glaring, drew up another illusion. Though conscious of the illusion and how it looked, Sya had double vision – with Nebulosa’s help, she saw through the deception.

She called his name, called for him to stop.

Little witch. Why can’t you just give up on them?

Shaking her head, she smiled gently. “They wouldn’t give up on me. Why should I give up on them?”

He didn’t answer.

“Someone hurt you. You recognized Nebulosa, didn’t you. You called her ‘my dear.’ That wasn’t coincidence.”

No. The word was almost inaudible, gone as soon as it came. It wasn’t.

“Umbra. Cruelty to others won’t make up for cruelty to you.”

Death stood from the angel’s side. “We can make you a guide. You can help others, not harm them. I’d say you’re a panther, correct?”

Why would I want that? Why shouldn’t I destroy you all, now? I could do it. I have the power to kill Death. I’d be worshipped by the humans. They’d all be immortal.

“Would that make you happy?” Sya asked him, her voice soft as could be.

I’d be powerful! I’d – I’d be a god!

“You?” Death shook his head. “You’d be miserable.”

A light caught their eyes, the light of a portal opening. Nebulosa flew through it, her movements as silent as ever.

I will follow her. Death smiled at the shadow-beast, extending a hand. Umbra took it, changing into a great black panther. Not an illusion, this time. Bowing, it turned, leaping through its lover’s portal.

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, Sya watched the swirling light emitting from the portal.

Slow clapping echoed through the room. “Wonderful. Just wonderful. I suppose I’ll have to kill you myself, then.”

A powerful figure rammed into Sya’s side, sending her flying through the gateway. She landed, hard, on the white road. Tyr’s face hovered above her, his arms holding her down.

He stood with a growl, pulling her close to him. His striking blue eyes glared into hers, paralyzing her with fear.

Silently, he twisted an arm behind her back. The movement involuntarily spun her around. She tensed, her back to him, as she faced out at the void.

He nudged her forwards…

And forwards…

Until she was right on the edge, her toes hanging out into the abyss. The thought to call for Nebulosa flashed through her head. He covered her mouth with his hand.

“Sya.” He offered her a disappointed sigh. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She bit him with all her strength, tasting blood as she sunk her teeth into flesh. His hand tensed but didn’t release her. The sticky feel of blood ran down her chin. The thought that her shirt would be ruined flashed briefly through her head, and she wondered sardonically if that was important when she was standing on the edge of the void.

“Why, Tyr?” she whispered against his bloody hand. “I trusted you. How could you do this?”

“Quite easily, really,” he replied, releasing his grip on her.

She stumbled, caught off balance by the sudden lack of his steadying hands.

Flapping her arms in a frantic bid for safety, she managed to regain her balance, teetering on the edge.

A heavy sigh met her ears, disappearing with nothing to echo off.

Her hair moved – just the slightest bit, but enough. It brushed against her cheek. Involuntarily, her muscles twitched, her head jerking to the side.

Her balance lost, she slipped. Losing all sense of direction as she fell, all she knew was the rush of air against her face. Her locks of hair whipped against her forehead.

The only sound – a short ‘tut, tut,’ met her ears briefly, then the soft foot falls to let her know of Tyr’s departure.

Abruptly, the sickening sense of falling - that pit in the center of her stomach – stopped. So did her air supply. She had heard stories from astronauts, the feeling of weightlessness, the sense of drifting through the empty blackness.

Only, the had helmets to provide them with air. They had stars, to show them the way, to fill the darkness. They always had something to keep them tethered, someone who could pull them free.

She had none of that, only blackness and empty space. Nothing to guide her, nothing to free her from her prison.

Or did she?

With the last inkling of oxygen left in her starving lungs, she croaked out a name.

“Umbra.”

She couldn’t tell if she was losing consciousness or not. Her head felt fuzzy, but she couldn’t see anything, eyes open or closed.

Then a flicker of light.

It might have been her imagination, looking for something to focus on in its last few seconds before she blacked out.

She woke with no feeling in her limbs. No, that wasn’t true. She had feeling, only she didn’t understand it. The feeling seemed different, alien. Her eyes flickered open, finding herself in the woods. Familiar woods, with tall pines, though her vantage point seemed odd. It appeared to be that she was sitting on a branch, though she couldn’t think of any that could hold her weight.

The details of the grass, the ants strolling along the bark of a neighboring tree, all of it was visible in clear, precise detail.

It unnerved her, as did the ruckus of chirping birds and buzzing insects, more than she had ever heard even in mating season.

That sort of sound level usually gave her a headache within seconds. Oddly enough, to her ears it was perfectly normal. She stretched.

And that’s when she realized why everything was so uncanny.

“Odd, isn’t it?” The voice was in the hoot of an owl, yet the words made perfect sense.

She looked at the large, gray wing connected to her back. The one that had taken the place of her right arm.

“Very,” she said, intrigued but not surprised when it came out as an owl’s call.

She hesitated, opening her mouth – beak – to ask the other owl a question. Before she could get the words out, a different voice stopped her.

Leaping up onto her branch, a panther licked its paw. “You are welcome.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Panthers aren’t usually in this area, you know.”

He purred. “Humans don’t come in this part of the woods, not since a young woman went missing. Besides, they cannot see us.”

Preening her wing, she hooted softly.

“Yes. There was no other way, not with Life gone. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she replied.

“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

��(Hey guys. I wrote this “short” story as a school assignment, and it was what inspired me to write my current novel, bloodless.)

#horror #fiction #fantasy #writing #creative #creative writing #school work #short story #writing is hard #this was meant to be 1 page #what have i done

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sevrustobias · 5 years

Text

[ BASICS ]

First name: Severus Surname: Snape Middle names: Tobias Nicknames: none Date of birth: January 9, 1960 Age: Eighteen

[ PHYSICAL / APPEARANCE ]

Height: 6′2″ Weight: 163lb Build: Slim Hair colour: Black Hair style: Medium/Long, Straight Eye colour: Dark Brown Eye Shape: Almond Glasses or contact lenses: N/A Distinguishing facial features: N/A Which facial feature is most prominent: Nose Which bodily feature is most prominent: Long legs Other distinguishing features: N/A Skin: Sallow/Pale Hands: Long and thin Make up: N/A Scars: Various small scars scattered across his body Birthmarks: Cluster of freckles on the back of his left forearm Tattoos: Dark Mark Physical handicaps: N/A Type of clothes: Simple fabrics, dark colors, prefers robes to casual clothing How do they wear their clothes: Neat and crisp What are their feet like: Practical shoes, usually steel toed, always black Race / Ethnicity: English/White Mannerisms: Curt, Sharp-tongued, Standoffish Are they in good health: Yes Do they have any disabilities: No

[ PERSONALITY ]

What words or phrases do they overuse? Not many, since he has an extensive vocabulary, maybe some small phrases to end a conversation Do they have a catchphrase? N/A Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic Are they introverted or extroverted? Introverted Do they ever put on airs? Yes, he likes to come across more unaffected than he feels What bad habits do they have? Smoking What makes them laugh out loud? Nothing How do they display affection? Sharing books and knowledge, showing patience Mental handicaps? N/A How do they want to be seen by others? Cold, calculating, intelligent How do they see themselves? Not good enough, yet still somewhat better than others How are they seen by others? It varies between respect and dislike, few consider him a real friend Strongest character trait? Intelligence Weakest character trait? Independence How competitive are they? He likes to be better than others, but doesn’t usually feel the need to prove it in blatant ways Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? Both, depending on the situation. He is controlled more by his emotions than he would like, but takes the time to consider in most cases. How do they react to praise? Either accepts it silently, or makes a snide comment, depending on the situation How do they react to criticism? Brush it off and insult the giver’s intelligence What is their greatest fear? Being forgotten entirely What are their biggest secrets? That he still cares deeply for Lily and some of his old school friends, that he’s not entirely sold on the Death Eater’s cause What is their philosophy of life? It’s just something you have to deal with When was the last time they cried? Third year What haunts them? Their past mistakes, specifically calling Lily a Mudblood What are their political views? Death Eater, slightly conservative What will they stand up for? His own spellwork and potions Who do they quote? Classical authors, poets, famous wizards Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? More indoorsy, although he has a great respect for nature and enjoys it as well What is their sinful little habit? Smoking cigarettes What sense do they most rely on? Smell and sight How do they treat people better than them? It can vary greatly depending on the person. He either lashes out at them or shows respect How do they treat people worse than them? Poorly, usually What quality do they most value in a friend? Intelligence, loyalty What do they consider an overrated virtue? Innocence, honesty If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? Social standing What is their obsession? Potions, Dark Arts What are their pet peeves? Complacency What are their idiosyncrasies? Picking his nails, biting his bottom lip

[ FRIENDS AND FAMILY ]

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? Small - just his estranged mother and father What is their perception of family? Negative, he has never had the feeling of a close family bond Do they have siblings? Older or younger? No Describe their best friend. It used to be Lily - kind and gentle, while still full of spirit. Now he has no best friend, but is closest to Lucius and gets along well with Barty Ideal best friend? Quiet, understanding and intelligent, someone he can have deep discussions with and open up to without being judged Describe their other friends. Mostly Death Eaters, superficial friendships made for mutual advantages Describe their acquaintances. A lot of people know him, but he has very little time for people that are of no use to him Do they have any pets? A black banded owl named Cerberus Who are their natural allies? Death Eaters, Purebloods Who are their surprising allies? Old school friends, although he is not willing to admit it openly

[ PAST AND FUTURE ]

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? Quiet and meek, trying to blend into the background Did they grow up rich or poor? Poor Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? Neglected What is the most offensive thing they ever said? Calling Lily a Mudblood, although he says offensive things regularly to people he dislikes What is their greatest achievement? Creating various spells and potions, learning Legilimency and Occlumency What was their first kiss like? Meaningless, a means to an end What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? Calling Lily a Mudblood What are their ambitions? Becoming more powerful in any capacity, becomes a Potions Master What advice would they give their younger self? Be stronger, stand up to your father What smells remind them of their childhood? Alcohol, the dirt after rain, honeysuckle What was their childhood ambition? Become a powerful wizard, have friends What is their best childhood memory? Meeting Lily What is their worst childhood memory? Having to go home Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? Yes When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? When Lily started showing an interest in James Potter What past act are they most ashamed of? His history with Lily What past act are they most proud of? Getting accepted as an apprentice to a notable potioneer Has anyone ever saved their life? No Strongest childhood memory? The way his father smelled when he came home from work

[ LOVE ]

Do they believe in love at first sight? Not anymore, although he used to Are they in a relationship? No How do they behave in a relationship? He’s never had a serious relationship, and in the few casual ones he’s had he’s been distant and uninterested When did you character last have sex? A few weeks ago What sort of sex do they have? Unemotional Has your character ever been in love? Yes Have they ever had their heart broken? Yes

[ CONFLICT ]

How do they respond to a threat? With a smile Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue, although he’s not above a physical fight either What is your character’s kryptonite? Lily Evans If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? His notebooks How do they perceive strangers? As a threat until proven otherwise What do they love to hate? The Maruaders What are their phobias? N/A What is their choice of weapon? Wand What living person do they most despise? James Potter Have they ever been bullied or teased? Yes Where do they go when they’re angry? Personal laboratory Who are their enemies? Order of the Phoenix, Marauders

[ WORK, EDUCATION AND HOBBIES ]

What is their current job? Apprentice to a Potioneer What do they think about their current job? He likes it well enough and enjoys the solitude it brings most days What are some of their past jobs? N/A What are their hobbies? Reading, experimenting with spells and potions, learning everything he can Educational background? Hogwarts Intelligence level? High Do they have any specialist training? Professionally, only potions Do they have a natural talent for something? Potions, Dark Arts, Legilimancy and Occlumency Do they play a sport? Are they any good? N/A What is their socioeconomic status? Middle class

[ FAVOURITES ]

What is their favourite animal? Owls, octopus Which animal to they dislike the most? Cats, dogs What place would they most like to visit? South America What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? A perfectly brewed Draught of the Living Death What is their favourite song? N/A Music, art, reading preferred? Reading What is their favourite colour? Red What is their password? Tormentil Tincture Favourite food? French What is their favourite work of art? Monet’s Poplars Who is their favourite artist? Da Vinci What is their favourite day of the week? Monday

[ POSESSIONS ]

What is in their fridge? Leftover takeout and alcohol, mostly What is on their bedside table? Dreamless Sleep potion, current book What is in their purse or wallet? A couple coins, various notes What is in their pockets? Wand, notebook and quill, empty phials What is their most treasured possession? Wand

[ SPIRITUALITY ]

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? Himself Do they believe in the afterlife? No What are their religious views? Atheist What do they think heaven is? He’s not sure he believes in Heaven, and if he does he’s not sure what it would be What do they think hell is? Reliving all their old mistakes over and over again without being able to make them better Are they superstitious? Not really What would they like to be reincarnated as? A hawk How would they like to die? Peacefully What is your character’s spirit animal? Bat What is their zodiac sign? Capricorn

[ VALUES ]

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Losing all control What is their view of ‘freedom’? Being out from under anybody’s thumb, not having any sides to have to choose between When did they last lie? Very recently What’s their view of lying? It’s a means to an end, a necessary evil, and at times it’s even fun When did they last make a promise? A very long time ago, he doesn’t make very many promises Did they keep or break their last promise? Broke it

[ DAILY LIFE ]

What are their eating habits? Usually three meals a day, although it is often he gets busy and inadvertently skips meals. Lots of takeout and cold leftovers Do they have any allergies? N/A Describe their home. Currently, he lives in a studio apartment in muggle London close to where he works. There’s little adorning the walls and it stays rather dark throughout the day. The furniture is second hand and the water usually runs cold Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Grab a strong cup of coffee - no sugar, just milk What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? Chores that were neglected through out the week, any shopping that needs to be done, and reading/experimenting when the rest is done What do they do on a Friday night? Have a cup of tea and go to bed early if there are no meetings to attend What is the soft drink of choice? He doesn’t drink soft drinks What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Whiskey or gin

[ MISCELLANEOUS ]

What is their character archetype? The Shapeshifter Who is their hero? Tom Riddle What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? He wouldn’t Are they comfortable with technology? No If they could save one person, who would it be? Merlin If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Barty Crouch Jr What is their favourite proverb? He doesn’t know any What is their greatest extravagance? Potions ingredients, and his single set of dress robes What is their greatest regret? Lily Evans What is their perception of redemption? Unattainable, and at the moment, unwilling to try What would they do if they won the lottery? Run away What is their favourite fairytale? Little Red Riding Hood What fairytale do they hate? Cinderella Do they believe in happy endings? No What is their idea of perfect happiness? A quiet room and a good book What would they ask a fortune teller? He wouldn’t go to one If your character could travel through time, where would they go? Backwards, to the Middle Ages What sport do they excel at? Chess What sport do they suck at? Quidditch If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? Invisibility

[ MAGICAL ]

What is their Hogwarts house? Slytherin What is their patronus? Bat What is their boggart? Death What is their wand? Blackthorn and dragon heartstring, unyielding, 13 1/2 inches What is their blood status? Half blood What is their political leaning? Death Eaters What is their stance on muggles? Strongly dislikes

#development #y'all I just went to go see Countdown and if anyone has seen it hit a girl UP because I have thoughts

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truelesson · 5 years

Text

——— 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓 !

▌𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 : Cyrus William Albright ▌𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 : Verse dependent, single by default ▌𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 : Extremely powerful elemental magic, talking endlessly without tiring or seemingly needing to breathe ▌𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 : Greyish blue ▌𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 : Black, but not nearly as black as it used to be (which he is somewhat distressed about) ▌𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 : Lawrence (father), Mildred (mother), Cilène (sister), Cian (nephew), many cousins ▌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐒 : None! His parents never allowed him to have one, and the academy forbids them ▌𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 : Gatekeeping and elitism in academia, as usual ▌𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 / 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 : Reading, writing, magic, magic, lots of magic, gods please someone stop him it’s so much magic ▌𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 : In more ways than one ▌𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 : Unfortunately, yes. Sometimes it has to be done. ▌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 : Definitely an owl. A creature often times associated with knowledge, but in reality tends to be kind of ridiculous? Huge Cyrus mood ▌𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 : Talking too much, struggling to respect certain boundaries, self endangerment for science ▌𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐒 : Above all else, his aunt Josephine. The Albright family has its share of magical talent, but Cyrus and Josephine are the most powerful of their respective generations. Because of that, she tried to involve herself in his education as much as possible and steer him down a slightly less dangerous path than the one his father had set him on. Cyrus always looked up to her and tended to trust her even more than his parents. The two had an excellent bond. ▌𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : Gay as hell ▌𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄 / 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 : In general, Cyrus finds the idea of marrying and having kids very romantic and dreamy. However, given his higher-than-average social status and recognizable family name, he expects never to do either of these for the right reason. Eventually, he anticipates his parents finding him a suitable match and insisting he settle down, a fact that would not be so depressing were it not for the harsh truth that they would probably choose a woman for him. As such, he sees it more as a duty than as something he’d do for personal fulfillment, and does not look forward to it at all. ▌𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 : Bats, losing his magic, his sister, inadequacy, bats, certain parts of the forest at night, falling into a habit of misusing his powers, not being there for his loved ones, BATS ▌𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 : Cyrus is all about the masculine elegance of the current trends in Flatlands high society. The mix of trim and flowing garments, tasteful embroidery, high heels... you name it. ▌𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 : His significant others (when applicable, aka ship partners), his traveling companions, his family, Therese (who he sees as something of a daughter at this point) ▌𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 : Listen... friendship with Cyrus is inevitable. You either stand against him as an enemy, or warm up to him eventually and become his friend. That’s it. Those are your options. ▌𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 : Delicious, but best made by those who know what they’re doing (which does not include Cyrus) ▌𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 : Tea with honey ▌𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐓 : Any library. Surround him with books, and he will be happy. ▌𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 : Lakes. Cyrus doesn’t really know how to swim beyond the most basic conceptual level, so a body of water with no strong current is best. ▌𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 : Big. He likes his men LARGE and preferably BEEFY. ▌𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒 : Indoors, no contest. Cyrus is a creature of comfort and doesn’t care to sleep on the ground or get dirty.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 : @audaciis 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 : Whoever hasn’t done this yet! :*

#✒ headcanons

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simp-lyzity · 3 years

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1, 5, 6, 8, 13

I KNOW THIS IS SUPER LATE I'M SO SORRY VEN BUT ANYWAY HERE U GO HERE'S THE ANSWER TO THE QUESTIONS

link 1, answers to 1, 5, 6. 13

link 2, answers to 8. no copyright intended, i DO NOT earn money from this please don't sue me

transcript utc!

send me a voice ask! || link to the prompts

link 1 transcript:

So I realize this ask was sent in November so I'm so sorry, Ven, for such a late response. Um, but anyway, my URL is simp-lyzity because my name is Lyz, I'm a simp 24/7/365 and it comes together in simp-lyzity which I think I need a little bit more [of] in my life.

Something that I did today—I helped my mom with groceries. Um, I played Skyrim, I showered about an hour ago. And then I was looking through my inbox.

Um, something that I'm obsessed with. I've been obsessed with chess for [hissing inhale?? idk what to call that i'm sorry] over a year? And my rating is 1400 if anyone knows what that means.

I will read a page from Dracula later and attach it because I don't want that to be super long.

Um, my favorite character—I assume that you mean from Genshin. Uh, my go-to is usually Diluc because my character—my favorite characters change pretty regularly with my mood. Um, but my go-to is Diluc. And I just love that he used to be [a] really bright, ambitious person and that despite all of that trauma that he goes through, after [I meant "when" rip] his dad dies, he still goes to such huge lengths to protect Mondstadt. And he just throws himself into it instead of actually dealing with his issues, which is the part I relate to a little bit too much. Um, and I won't go into the Kaeya-four-year-abandonment thing, though that is something I really hate. That's like the one thing that I hate about Diluc's lore.

Um, but anyway, yes, I will attach the page from the book later.

link 2 transcript, NO COPYRIGHT INTENDED:

Hair grows on the palms of Dracula's hands. His ears are long and pointed. His red eyes glare out from under thick eyebrows that meet over a knife of a nose. His red, swollen lips are flagrant against the glimmer of his face, with extraordinary pallor, its long white mustache, its prominent teeth. His breath is rank. He is centuries old and unnaturally strong. Like Beowulf, he has “a grip of steel”; once he gets you he doesn't let go. His intelligence is powerful, but his "child-brain” is entirely at the service of his appetites, the primitive hungers that civilization to maintain itself must deny.

That is how he appears to others, but Dracula cannot see himself, for no mirror will contain his image. Dracula is already a reflection, a shadow, an apparition, a matter of mind rather than matter — and in any case, when we look for him in mirrors, our own faces get in the way. Nor can the light of day illuminate his murks, for until nightfall he likes to lie dormant in his coffin. "I love the shade in the shadow,” he says. His opponent and opposite and alter-ego, Dr. Abraham van Helsing, notes that Dracula's "power ceases, as that of all evil things, at the coming of day." It is while respectable citizens rest dreaming in their beds that he romps among creatures subject to his command and kindred to his spirit — wolves, bats, owls, rats, and mice — nocturnal predators or nocturnal invaders of our sheltering homes. Their forms are his to take on when he will, and he can materialize out of mist, dust motes, moonbeams, out of whatever our spellbound imaginations have at hand to work over. But he cannot cross any threshold or any windowsill without an invitation from someone within who is responsive to his suit. Once you let him in, he will hypnotize you, thus making it all the easier for you to do what you have willed him to will you to do.

#lyz.qgames #FINALLY ANSWERING THIS IT TOOK TOO LONG

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Photo

“It's just like déjà vu, me standin' here with you, So I'll be holdin' my own breath -- Could this be the end? Is it that moment when I find the one that I'll spend forever with?”

~“Gotta Be Somebody” by Nickelback

x~x~x~x

In 1941, the vampire called Bat Varney was murdered by the dark wizard Grindelwald for aiding the resistance movement organized by Ministries across Europe. Bat left behind many friends, including Danny Gibson @catohphm and the Selwyn-Ellison family @that-ravenpuff-witch -- but the person most devastated by Bat’s death was his most constant companion, Atticus “Grim” Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier. Never in his life had the retired professor considered that he’d be the last one standing, out of the two of them -- and in his last days on earth, just before he died peacefully in his sleep at a ripe old age, all that he wished was that he might see his first true friend again. Little did Atticus know that -- in his last moments alive -- Bat had made a similar wish...praying that maybe he and his mate Grim could meet again someday, somewhere where Bat didn’t have to regulate how much or how long they touched...maybe even with his real face...as Robert.

About a decade after Professor Grimsley’s death, the only son of a well-respected Pureblood family started his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was Sorted into Ravenclaw house. The boy -- appropriately enough also named Atticus -- wasn’t particularly popular at school, given his hyper-focus on his academics and on satisfying the high standards of his father. Not only was Atticus expected to bring his family honor and esteem, but he also had a rival at Hogwarts who he was expected to “outdo.”

Bartholomew “Barty” Gilbert (pronounced “JO-behr”) was the only son of an up-and-coming Pureblood family who’d just emigrated from France and made a lot of money investing in robe shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade alike. He was also now a Gryffindor in Atticus’s year, and Atticus’s father was very firm that Atticus not let the boy surpass him in anything. Although Atticus normally obeyed his father with a certain degree of reluctance, in this case, he didn’t like the thought of losing to Barty Gilbert either. Not because the Gryffindor wasn’t pleasant -- no, in fact, he was almost too pleasant...too amiable, too inoffensive. And that made it so that even though Barty got away with doing whatever he wanted without worrying about his family’s expectations, it only served to earn him more friends and admirers. Even before that, though, when Atticus had met Barty in passing before school, he still couldn’t help but dislike the other boy. There was just something off about him -- something Atticus could hardly put into words. It was like whenever Barty opened his mouth, he sounded wrong -- whenever he smiled, it looked wrong...even his eyes weren’t as they should be. There was something almost familiar about Barty’s auburn hair, face, and height -- and yet something was wrong. And it just made Atticus upset for a reason he couldn’t really explain. It reminded him of those times, when he was a very small child, when his mother would try to comfort him after he woke up sobbing and could hardly explain why. Something about someone with red eyes squeezing his shoulders, tears streaming down his face and laughing like his heart was breaking...

So Atticus was determined to throw himself into his studies and do everything expected of him. Just because Gryffindor Golden Boy Barty Gilbert refused to do things the right way didn’t mean he shouldn’t -- and Atticus knew karma would eventually go his way in the end, if he put in the proper work. It didn’t mean that he didn’t still sometimes feel somewhat resentful every time Barty Gilbert waved to him in the hall, his two best friends at his side. One of them was the most popular girl in their year (of course), another Pureblood witch named Cecelia “Ceci” Crouch -- the other was one of Atticus’s own dormmates, a poor Muggle-born boy who in third year had become Ravenclaw’s Star Chaser named Robert Bellamy. Despite sleeping in the same dorm for five years, Atticus and Robert had really never talked -- Atticus was focused almost exclusively on his studies, of course, but even Robert seemed actively disinterested in talking to Atticus. Perhaps it was because of how much Atticus kept sticking his nose up at his best friend Barty -- perhaps it was because of how much of a stick-in-the-mud Atticus was -- or perhaps it was for a reason Robert couldn’t quite put into words, the same way Atticus couldn’t completely explain his instant dislike of Barty.

One day at the beginning of fifth year, however, Atticus and Robert were forced to engage with each other when Professor Binns inexplicably decided to actually assign a paired homework assignment. (A possible result of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore casually reminding the History of Magic professor of a similar assignment he’d assigned his OWL class back in the days when he was still alive.) Although Binns of course didn’t remember any of his students’ names, he nonetheless paired Robert with Atticus. Neither of the Ravenclaws was particularly pleased, but none of them was the type to actively argue or complain.

After class, Atticus approached Robert outside the History of Magic classroom. Robert told Barty to go on ahead to the Great Hall and that he’d catch up. Once Barty was gone, Atticus uncomfortably questioned Robert about when they could meet to work on their oral report on the Witch Hunts of the 14th century.

Robert frowned slightly, his well-toned arms crossing casually over his chest.

“Hogsmeade weekend starts tomorrow,” he said placidly. “You occupied then?”

Unlike the rest of his classmates, Robert wore his bronze-trimmed blue Quidditch robes over his disheveled uniform, instead of his usual black school robes. Atticus couldn’t help but wonder if Barty Gilbert’s buddy just liked to remind everyone that he was one of Ravenclaw’s Chasers.

Pushing this faintly condescending thought aside, Atticus shook his head. “No -- I’m available.”

“Good. Meet me at the Three Broomsticks and we can talk there.”

He turned on his heel as if to go. Atticus couldn’t help but sputter and he quickly rushed in front of the other Ravenclaw to stop him from walking away.

“What is there to talk about? We need to get started right away!”

Robert raised his eyebrows. “Tomorrow isn’t soon enough for you?”

“The project’s due on Monday,” said Atticus seriously. “We’ll need to spend a good deal of time at the library, if we want to be prepared -- ”

“No need,” said Robert with a shrug. “I already know everything we need to know.”

Atticus couldn’t keep himself from quirking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Oh really? Robert Bellamy, slacker jock who always dozes off in History of Magic, knows enough about the Witch Hunts of the 14th century to get us an O on our oral report? Somehow I doubt that.”

Amazingly Robert didn’t react with anger -- instead his black eyes turned very cool.

“The Witch Hunts really can’t be narrowed down to just the 14th century,” he said in a very level, matter-of-fact voice appropriate to a professor. “Not only did the ‘witch hysteria’ phenomenon last well into the 18th century, until the Age of Enlightenment, but there was a lot of set-up beforehand that laid the groundwork for it. Witchcraft, specifically black magic, was considered illegal even in ancient times -- the Romans considered it a capital offense. And of course one can’t ignore how early Christians demonized pagan beliefs by associating them with witchcraft, hence why images of the Devil came to embody traits associated with the nature god Pan. The Witch Hunts of the 14th century largely came about because a bunch of Muggles got their knickers in a twist about an increased interest in necromancy and herbal remedies among the poor, spurred on by the printing and circulation of older Islamic texts. The fact that many of those people who had the most use for those herbal remedies were women -- frequently mid-wives -- scared the church as well, of course, given the sexism of the time. And of course when bad things happen and there’s no explanation for it, people love to find a scapegoat. Add a text like the Malleus Malificarum that tells the terrified masses all of their problems are the fault of evil witches to the mix, and Incendio -- you’ve got yourself a bonfire.”

Atticus was completely sideswiped. He caught himself staring with his mouth open, and quickly closed it.

“That...well...”

He felt very sheepish. His ears burned -- his mother would’ve been scolding him if she were there, for jumping to conclusions like that.

“...That’s really impressive,” Atticus said self-consciously. “Forgive me, I...I was very rude, just then.”

He brushed a loose piece of his dark brown bangs out of his eyes.

“...How did you even know all that? I don’t recall Professor Binns ever saying -- ”

“I doubt he did,” said Robert. Once again he didn’t seem the least bit offended by what Atticus had said and was currently grinning cheekily. “I got my hands on the fifth year History of Magic syllabus from an older student before term started. I went to the Muggle library and borrowed a whole stack of books about the Witch Hunts so I could read them over the summer.”

Atticus blinked. “Muggle books? But -- but wouldn’t that information be incomplete?”

“In some ways, yes. But honestly, magical history isn’t much better that way -- it leaves plenty of stuff out.”

“I suppose it does -- but Professor Binns expects you to know what he teaches too. That’s why he does those lectures.”

“And puts the whole class to sleep,” said Robert with a snort of laughter.

“That’s beside the point,” said Atticus firmly. “It’s good that you studied the material so thoroughly -- very admirable, in fact -- but there is a right way to do things, and falling asleep in class when your professor’s trying to teach you will only make it harder for you to get top marks.”

Robert shrugged. “Guess I don’t see the need to regurgitate my professor’s lessons like a parrot. And how do you know I don’t already get top marks? I don’t remember you ever asking to see my grades.”

Atticus faltered. “Well -- it’s just -- I never see you study.”

“Probably because you never leave the library,” said Robert with a rather mischievous smile.

The words were an unpleasant barb in the corner of Atticus’s chest, and his eyes narrowed to hide the slight hurt he felt. Noticing the shift in the other boy’s expression, Robert immediately put down all trace of humor.

“Only joking,” he said defensively. “Crimey...you really are too grim for your own good...”

As soon as the sentence had left Robert’s mouth, there was a strange, silent ping that seemed to ripple through both young men’s ears. The word “grim” had hit Atticus in the heart stronger than anything else Robert had said. The young Pureblood had stiffened sharply, and his expression tensed further when he realized that Robert too seemed to have suddenly gone oddly pale.

Did...did the word affect him too? Did he also find it so strangely, frustratingly, achingly familiar? Why?

The two stared at each other, both looking incredibly disconcerted. Then Robert, stuffing a hand into his pocket, quickly strolled past Atticus.

“...I’d better go catch up with Barty,” he muttered. His voice sounded oddly calm to Atticus’s ears -- almost evasively so. “Is tomorrow at noon okay?”

Atticus glanced over his shoulder to look at Robert’s retreating back.

“...Yes,” he said quietly.

Robert didn’t turn back around.

“Three Broomsticks?”

“All right.”

“Good. ...Bring some books from the library, if you want. I’m sure Madame Pince will have some suggestions I haven’t read yet. Just don’t tell her we’ll be at the Three Broomsticks -- poor thing would probably throw a fit if we spilled butterbeer on her books...”

With that, the Ravenclaw Chaser departed down the hall without looking at Atticus again.

Atticus didn’t move from his spot in the hall for a while afterward, unable to completely shake the heavy, invisible weight that had settled down on top of his heart.

He’dd only ever felt such a strange, irrational kind of déjà vu around Barty Gilbert before, but this kind...this kind was different, somehow. The feeling that accompanied Barty Gilbert made Atticus feel irritated for no reason at all. This one accompanying Robert Bellamy...it was cold, and yet also so soft at the same time -- like the feeling one has when they hear a beautiful, sad song...or when they wake up sobbing from a dream where someone is squeezing their shoulders, while tears stream down their brokenly laughing face...

#golden era #hphl #atticus grimsley #bartholomew varney #my art #my writing #au #reincarnation!au #OH MY GOD #REINCARNATION TIME BABY #let's give grim and bat a real happy ending shall we?!#I mean sure bat had a lot of happiness in his life before he finally died but he only lived a half-life as a vampire #and this way bat can be there for grim when he's younger so grim can live the life at hogwarts he deserved #without his father's influence looming like a shadow over him the entire time #also yay bat can touch! and actually grow up! and actually be a professor!#I see bat and crew being in cedric's year #so they'll be seventh years when cedric dies and just be starting careers when the wizarding war starts #of course we all know bat would join the order of the phoenix because...duh #but yeah so this means bat flies alongside cho chang!! :D #robert hasn't gotten the nickname 'bat' yet but he will #and of course atticus isn't 'grim' yet -- even in his original canon he only ever was okay with bat calling him that </3 #robert's discomfort around atticus really comes back to him seeming famiilar and yet 'off' too #in this case because grim is supposed to be happy!! he's supposed to smile!! he's supposed to dance and have fun!!#and yet he's this huge stick in the mud that has a beef with robert's BFF -- what's up with that?!#he really doesn't *dislike* atticus at this point but he is uncomfortable and unsure and when bat is uncomfortable he tends to disappear #in all universes bat does not like being uncomfortable or talking about things he doesn't want to talk about XD;;#also yeah bat is smart AF but is the type to only express it when his intellect is useful #he doesn't show off his intelligence by answering every question in class or sharing his grades or going to the library constantly #instead he most often expresses it whenever he's tutoring someone in something or when the knowledge solves a problem #so it's no wonder atticus had no clue that robert's not just a dumb jock XDDD

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thatvirdiguy · 6 years

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EVENT BATTLE 2017: DC’s DARK NIGHTS: METAL vs MARVEL’s SECRET EMPIRE

I know I said that this would be an annual thing, and I’ll try to keep this on schedule, and I’ll try to post these on time, and I know I’m posting the one for 2017 as 2018 comes to an end… but writing this took a backseat as I had to finish some projects and write a thesis. C'est la vie, as the French say.

Welcome to EVENT BATTLE 2017, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for sticking around.

Last time we had what I called a Triple Threat Match: DC vs Marvel vs Valiant. While I was hoping this would be a trend going forward, Valiant Comics took a break from publishing big summer crossover events this year. They’ll be back for the 2018 edition of Event Battle, though. (Side note: I absolutely adore Valiant’s quality over quantity strategy, and I hope it continues despite the recent setbacks.)

So, back to the heavyweights, then?

2017 saw DC Comics handing over their universe to the most successful team off their New 52 experiment, Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo (of the Batman fame), in the form of METAL, or Dark Nights: Metal. While Metal is indeed a continuation of Snyder and Capullo’s run on Batman, it does build itself up on the shoulders of giants. Peter Milligan and Kieron Dwyer’s “Dark Knight, Dark City” being one, Grant Morrison’s seminal run on Batman, Final Crisis, his The Multiversity stuff, and pretty much the entirety of his DC output is some of the few important stories from the past that the creators wove into theirs. However, although Metal leans on and borrows from a lot of stories (like most modern superhero stories do), it does not make them a required reading. You will easily find your way if you have never read “Dark Knight, Dark City” (you should, though) and don’t know who or what Barbathos is. Metal is that accessible to new readers. If you are a long-time reader and know your comics, however, it is oddly satisfying when you catch a reference.

Like I mentioned earlier, Metal brings back Barbathos, the bat daemon occultists in 1776 (including the third President of the United States of America!) tried summoning with their “Ceremony of the Bat”. Bruce Wayne, because of his connection to both the Wayne family and, well, I guess, bats in general, is revealed to be the host for Barbathos’ return. To act as the portal/host for the daemon, Wayne needs to be exposed to five divine metals. It is revealed later that Batman already has been exposed to most of them in previous storylines (Electrum in “Court of Owls”, Dionesium in “Endgame”, Promethium in “Superheavy”, Nth Metal in the prologue of the event with Dark Nights: Casting and Dark Nights: Forge , and finally, Batmanium during the course of this story). The daemon, of course, has evil intentions. It is bringing with itself the “dark multiverse”. It literally wants to sink the Earth and flip the scales.

Oh, and also, it is bringing with itself the twisted versions of Batman… who kinda do look awfully similar to Dark Judges from Judge Dredd?

As you can imagine, much of the story then follows Batman and the Justice League’s attempt at stopping Barbathos and his horde of mercenaries. Metal is filled to the brim with ridiculously absurd and deliciously fun moments throughout. While I did stick with my rule of not reading the tie-ins for events, I did read those that Snyder co-wrote, and they work quite well with the main story. They offer details to the story as you would expect from a tie-in but if you do choose to follow the main book only, you would be good.

While bigger, louder, more ridiculous seems to Snyder’s modus operandi for every story after “Zero Year”, it just kinda works here. Rarely does the story pauses and the characters get a chance to breathe. Even the dialogues are written in such a way that they service the plot forward and not add any depth to the characters themselves. While this does seem to continue on his Justice League run, what I do appreciate here is how he managed to adapt and extend previous stories and add more layers to the cosmic side of the DC Universe, which I have always felt falls a bit short when compared to Marvel. Apart from Darkseid and the New Gods, there’s not much else to it, is there? (Cue fans telling me off in 3… 2… 1…)

Greg Capullo draws every issue of Metal, front to back. This in itself is unheard of for modern superhero crossover events, but that’s not all. The man knocks it out of the park throughout. From huge action splash pages to an eight panel page of a tightly choreographed fight scene, Capullo works his magic throughout. Joining him on the tie-ins are John Romita Jr., Andy Kubert, Jim Lee, Doug Mahnke, Yanick Paquette, Jorge Jiménez, Riley Rossmo, Howard Porter, Bryan Hitch, Mikel Janín, and a host of talented inkers and colourists. While on some scenes in the tie-ins, the transitions between the artists is not subtle and it feels a bit off, the books are a sight to behold. If Jorge Jiménez’s work on Superman, Super-Sons, etc. didn’t inform you, the guy is a superstar.

Marvel, on the other hand, had a rough year. I’m talking about the comic book side of the business, of course. They seem to be doing just fine everywhere else.

SECRET EMPIRE is the continuation of Nick Spencer’s Captain America run, specifically his ‘Hydra Cap’ storyline. You know, the one that caused so much outrage. I wasn’t following his run then, but reading this event now, I learnt that (spoiler alert:) that man is that controversial panel actually is Steve Rogers. While the story very firmly establishes that it is not an LMD, not a clone, not a shape-shifter, etc., that man is still not our Captain America. Something is a bit off – specifically, Rogers gets his history rewritten by a sentient cosmic cube – and this leads to an interesting “What If?” storyline, almost.

Yes, Captain America is a Hydra agent. The bad guys have won. America is under Nazi rule (Which, is not that different from the current state of things, is it?). Spencer’s plays with this idea throughout the story, drawing parallels between the two. For example, the persecution of the Inhumans in the make-believe world is drawn from the persecution of the Jews in the real, and so on. While the story is not that epic in scale as Metal perhaps is, it does work as a summer blockbuster crossover event story regardless. Spencer also smartly limits the active cast. New York is put under a blackout, so half the Marvel superheroes are off the table and a shield around Earth has locked out heavy-hitters like Captain Marvel and such. This makes it easier to follow the action. Not that I doubt Spencer’s ability to write a large cast (he does exactly that so expertly here) or that I doubt the reader’s ability to read a book with a large cast. A smaller cast works here, because unlike Metal, for example, this is not a story about the heroes trying to stop the bad guys from winning. They have won already. It is up to a handful of rebels to overthrow the regime Reich.

The first and the last issue of the story is drawn by Steve McNiven, and rest of the work is divided among Rod Reis, Daniel Acuña, Andrea Sorrentino, Joshua Cassara, Leinil Francis Yu, Sean Izaakse, Joe Bennett, Ron Lim, Paco Medina, …holy shit that’s a lot of artists. To their credit though, the editorial team does manage to avoid any art inconsistencies. The story follows the one artist per issue rule to the dot, or a specific artist(s) sticks with a particular plotline. Steve McNiven hyper-detailed art sets up the mood perfectly in the beginning and that exposition is perfect for the end. Andrea Sorrentino, I think, handles a major portion of the book. His panel structure and innovative use of the borders and the gutters is fantastic.

THE VERDICT

To be honest, this was the hardest it has been in quite some time to pick one of the two. Usually, I like one book over the other a lot. Infinity over Forever Evil, Original Sin over Futures End, Secret Wars over Convergence, Rebirth over Civil War II and 4001 A.D. This year, I thought both worked quite well in their own regard. Neither of them is perfect by any means. There are some gaping holes in the plot of both stories. Dream appearing in Metal to add a convenient layer of exposition to an ‘oh my god, how are they ever going to do it?’ plot, The Punisher and Thor kinda turning Nazis with little to no conviction in Secret Empire, and so on. Nonetheless, I had a good time reading them, and that’s all that matters on some days.

While both Metal and Secret Empire had some lasting impact in their respective universe, most of what was caused by Secret Empire has been hushed over. This is partially, I think, because of all the (unnecessary) outrage it caused. Metal, on the other hand, boosted sales, launched new series, spun new tales. I had so much fun reading that book. And oh, how could I ever forget baby Darkseid doing the devil’s horns?

#marvel #DC comics #event battle #metal #dark nights metal #secret empire #hydra cap #baby darkseid #scott snyder #Greg Capullo #nick spencer #steve mcniven #andrea sorrentino #rod reis #dark knight dark city #grant morrison #peter milligan

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crownvetch92 · 4 years

Text

Light Eternal Chapter 4

Caeweth awoke to the sound of her sister Ingle babbling. Bright golden eyes staring directly into hers. Caeweth groaned, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“What’s the matter little sister,” Caeweth whispered, “Can’t sleep?”

“S-s-sis,” Ingle stammered clumsily.

Ingle proceeded to nuzzle little Caeweth, sniffing at one particular spot on her chest, curiosity leading her to poke at it with her sharp claw.

“Ow, Hey!” Caeweth loudly whispered, “That… actually hurt.”

Caeweth looked down to see a section of skin on her chest, no bigger than her palm, was glowing blue. The lump was hard, like a stone, and sat firmly against her sternum.

Before long her other two sisters awoke, babbling curiously. Caeweth grabbed a blanket, trying to keep the glow a secret as she quietly snuck to the natural spring, Ingle, Frasil, and Levin in tow. The glow became brighter and a dull pain began to throb in her chest. With a bright flash of blue light, the object emerged, much to the amazement of her dragon sisters. It was a stone, a round, smooth, dark blue colored stone embedded in her chest.

Taloned feet clicked on the cave floor behind the children.

“Vell I’ll be,” Estelle’s voice echoed in the cave chamber, “I never thought I vould ever see an emergence, let alone von so spectacular.”

Caeweth gulped and turned around, fully expecting to be in trouble.

“Don’t vorry, you are not in trouble,” Estelle cooed, “Now let me see.”

Estelle closely inspected the round stone.

“What is it?” Caeweth asked nervously.

“Your heart stone. All night fae possess one, and it looks like yours is a blue moonstone. See how it flashes?”

Caeweth looked at her reflection in the calm waters of the spring. It did indeed flash brighter shades of blue when she moved. Her sisters cooed in amazement. Caeweth felt a surge of excitement.

“Does that mean I will get my powers soon?”

“Sveety, I don’t really know… Maybe?” Estelle answered, “All ze Night fae I have met are so secretive about their childhood, it is hard for me to say.”

“So these other Night Fae, what are they like?” Caeweth asked as Estelle ushered her and her sisters back to the nest, “Do they all have moonstones as their heart stones?”

“Zey are quiet folk,” Estelle answered, “I have not spoken to very many. Now back to sleep, growing children need their rest.”

Caeweth’s mind was buzzing with thoughts about what just happened. It was all so sudden, that ‘emergence’ Estelle mentioned. What did it mean? What is a heart stone? How many other Night Fae are there?

She tossed and turned for what seemed like forever, until her eyes felt heavy, and the veil of sleep descended once again.

Meanwhile, in the deepest part of the Forest of Eternal Night, a disturbingly handsome Night Fae gazed deeply into a crystal ball. His midnight hair hung in a blue colored braid over his shoulder. He wore an ornate blue and gold spider silk tunic with a deep V neck, revealing his shining green moonstone, and blue silk breeches.

“Whither art thou?” He muttered, orange eyes intensely gazing into the crystals smooth surface, “Emergling fairy…”

He tried to locate where the epicenter of the magic surge was. He sat in a small room lined to the brim with books. He waved his pale hand over the clear crystal’s surface. He muttered to himself, deep in thought, flicking his translucent, lacy, white wings.

“Darling,” came a sweet sultry voice from the doorway, causing him to lose focus, “Castor, you’ve been at this for hours, Surely you can take a break and have a little fun.”

“Ariadne please,” Castor replied, “This is important.”

“What’s so important that you spend all day locked in a musty old room without little me?” Ariadne pouted, flicking her sunset colored hair.

She wore an especially revealing pink silk dress that emphasized her ample chest, while the peach moonstone on her sternum glimmered pleasingly in the candle light.

“A Night Fae emergence was felt outside the Child Garden,” He replied flatly, “We need to find them before anything else does. Their chances of survival sink lower every minute they remain outside our village walls.”

“Well they survived this long, they can wait a little longer. Why don’t you take a little break with me?” she purred, her voice dripping with desire as she flicked her pink and yellow wings.

“With all due respects, my Queen, this emergling fae might not survive another hour, we really should…” his voice trailed off as Ariadne’s lips met with his.

Oh how he loved Ariadne’s sweet kisses, so soft and warm. Yet, he often felt torn between serving his beautiful queen’s desires, and his loyalty to his own kind. He adored her, he truly did, but her self centered demands became overwhelmingly oppressive, and all of her requests for lovemaking became too much for him to bear. Not one night fae in the village, or even the kingdom, seemed happy at all with her constant demands.

“Well now,” Ariadne purred, “How do you feel?”

The crystal ball glowed brightly, revealing a second, weaker surge of power.

Thank the All Mother, He thought to himself.

“My lady,” Castor said quietly, “I really must find this night fae…”

The disappointment in Ariadne’s deep blue eyes was palpable.

“We will make love once I return, I promise.” He said before shapeshifting into a small, fluffy Scops owl before flying out the window.

“You better keep that promise!” She shouted angrily, stomping her fine pink slippers on the floor before crossing her arms and pouting, “What could be more important than serving your queen?!”

“Serving my people, keeping them safe…” He muttered under his breath.

He flew through the forest, happy to take some time for himself. He barely had a moment alone with her constant need for attention. He sighed, happy to be free… at least for the moment. He soared past patches of brightly glowing flowers, giant translucent glowing mushrooms, and patches of pale yellow glow moss. Before long, he arrived at the mouth of a cave. located at the end of shallow ravine. Glowing white flowers hung down from their vines along the sides of the cave entrance. He perched on a nearby branch, well hidden from anybody exiting the cave. He did not have to wait long before a 6 foot tall brown bat walked out, furiously rubbing her eyes with her spindly clawed hands, a small night fae child trailing close behind her.

“Vell zat vas… interesting,” Estelle said, “Ve really need to verk on your magic. Zat spell nearly blinded everyvon in ze cave.”

“I said I was sorry,” Caeweth said, rubbing her own eyes, “I didn’t think those orbs of light would explode like that.”

“Do not be sorry my little Caeveth,” Estelle reassured her, “I remember my first shape shift did not go vell at all.”

“What happened?”

“Sink of a lump of pitch black slime vith a mouth full of jagged sharp teeth… and too many eyes.”

“Oh…”

“Vas not a pretty sight, I assure you.”

Caeweth laughed merrily, a sound Castor had not heard years, at least not from anybody besides Ariadne. He peeked around the tree trunk as three little whelping dragons bounded out of the cave. Frasil happy tackled little Caeweth to the ground, causing Caeweth to yelp in surprise. The two tumbled around, roughhousing and wrestling playfully under Estelle’s watchful gaze. They all looked… happy… genuinely happy.

He felt torn: Yes the forest was dangerous for a small Night Fae child, but she looked completely happy and healthy, playing around with the whelping dragons. It was clear she was well taken care of by someone, and would be devastated if she was ripped from their caring arms.

On the other hand, the village would provide better protection against the beasts that prowled the forest floor. He could also find a mentor to help with her emerging magic. Controlling magic was often difficult for young Night Fae, and she could get a proper education. He sighed, unsure of how to proceed. He unknowingly clacked his beak in frustration, drawing Estelle’s attention.

Estelle’s ears twitched. She sniffed the air, there was somebody, or something beyond her sight. It didn’t smell of decay and dirt like a grave dog would, or of rancid blood like a skin walker, or of icy winds like a wendigo. She heard the clacking again. She followed the direction of the noise to find an owl.

“Who are you?” She snarled, spooking castor, “Vy are you here?”

Castor gulped. Although shapeshifting mega bats were generally peaceful, they were very protective of their family units.

“A-Apologies ma’am,” Castor stammered, “I was just…”

“Leaving,” Estelle hissed, baring her sharp teeth.

“N-no,” Castor gulped, “Not until I know this little night fae is safe.”

“She is, now leave.”

“Estelle?” Caeweth surprised both Estelle and Castor, “What are you doing?”

“Adult talk my little sveety,” Estelle cooed, “Now go back to your sisters.”

“They are already here.”

The three little dragon whelps had followed Caeweth, peeking over her shoulder. Caeweth looked at the fluffy scops owl. Something looked vaguely familiar. There was a slight green glow from beneath his feathers, barely noticeable to anybody else. She approached Castor, at the behest of Estelle, and parted the feathers on the bird’s chest. Castor recoiled, nearly falling off the low branch.

“A moonstone?” Caeweth asked, “Estelle, I thought you said only night fae had them.”

“Vat are you?” Estelle growled, “Vy are you so interested in Caeveth?”

Castor tried to fly away, only to be hit with a cloud of smoke belched by Ingle, forcing him to land. He sputtered and coughed, reverting to his Night Fae form.

“You are a Night Fae!” Caeweth exclaimed, “Just like me!”

“Clearly,” Estelle grumbled, pinning Castor to the ground with her clawed hand, “Vat is the meaning of this? Vy are you here?”

“I told you before,” Castor replied, “I was here to check on the little Night Fae… Caeweth was it? I just needed to know she was safe!”

“You ver here to take my little Caeveth away, vern’t you?”

“No!” Castor exclaimed, “I saw how happy she was, I believe she belongs here…”

“Vat…”

“I said she belongs here…”

Estelle removed her hand from Castor’s chest, much to his relief.

“You better not be lying,” Estelle snarled.

“No,” Castor said, “I won’t take her away, I swear.”

Castor got up to his feet, dusting himself off. He looked at Caeweth, who was hiding behind Estelle’s leg. An idea had formed in his mind: With Caeweth’s magic emerging, she would have quite a bit of trouble learning to control it without proper instruction. He could teach her about her own abilities, and let her stay with her little family. It would be difficult splitting his duties even further, but this little Night Fae needed his help.

“How about this?” He said to Estelle, “I could teach little Caeweth about Night Fae magic, and she can stay here. How about that?”

Estelle looked from Castor to Caeweth, and back again. She thought about what she had said to Caeweth earlier, about not knowing how Night Fae magic worked. She snorted in frustration, while watching the little dragons try to play with this stranger.

“Maybe it could work?” Caeweth said, breaking the silence, “I want to learn more about my own kind, and he said I don’t have to leave.”

“Alvight,” Estelle relented, “I agree.”

“Then it is settled,” Castor nodded before kneeling down before little Caeweth, “I will teach you all you need to know about your own kind, and your special powers. My name is Castor.”

He patted little Caeweth’s head, “I will see you soon.”

Castor shifted to his owl form quickly, and flew off into the stygian darkness. He mulled over his idea several times… What if Ariadne found out? What if his lessons failed? What if Caeweth advanced too quickly? He landed in the same room from before, morphed back to his Night Fae self, and closed the window. He winced as he heard Ariadne’s unstable footsteps approaching the door.

“What took you so looong,” she drunkenly whined as she slammed the door open, “I got sooooo lonely without you.”

Ariadne smelled of alcohol, and appeared visibly inebriated.

“It wasn’t that long,” Castor sighed, “Come, you must be exhausted.”

“I’m not tired,” she slurred, “You still owe *hic* me that promise.”

Castor escorted his drunken queen to her lavishly decorated bed chambers, where she clumsily stumbled and subsequently tripped, landing face first into her own plush bed. She had passed out as soon as her face landed in the spider silk blankets, snoring loudly.

“Looks like that promise will have to wait,” He chuckled as he slipped into bed next to her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, “Good night, my queen.”

#fairy #dark fairytale #fairytale #owl #bat #dragon #moonstone #blue #blue moonstone #night #night fae #fairy child #shapeshifter

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years

Note

Coldwave au idea: Lens life is better (dad is dead, mom stayed, etc) micks life worse. Their 1st meeting isnt big event for Len now but Mick is obsessed. Stalks him for right moment to have Len forever. Nabs Len. Makes Len his. Dark happy ending

I am so sorry, anon. I promise I will write you something nice and dark at some point. But I tried three times and every time I tried, it got fluffier and fluffier and fluffier until you have what you see below.

ao3 link (i.e. Harley Quinn fic 2)

———————————————————————————–

Lewis Snart is a corrupt cop with a sideline in Family work.

He’s also an incompetent thief, relying on suggestions from his nine year old son to fix his plans, but he refuses to admit such a thing. And so it is, when Len unexpectedly falls sick with a flu that robs him of his voice, he shrugs and does without.

He fails.

The Families have no patience for failure.

Lewis Snart is gunned down in his own house, before the horrified eyes of his son and his infant daughter.

Len’s foster home - both his and Lisa’s, a kind-hearted couple who fell for her golden curls and couldn’t bring themselves to tear her away from her sobbing elder brother - makes him get so much therapy.

That’s probably what makes him decide to become a shrink, really.

And that, in turn, is what leads to -

Well.

Everything else.

“- and that’s why I need your help,” Len concludes.

The woman in front of him looks utterly bewildered. Len’s not sure why; he thought he’d been perfectly clear.

“Should I start again?” he offers.

“Please do, mister,” she says, raising a hand up and pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, wait a sec. I gotta few preliminary questions, stating off with how’d you find out where me and Ivy were hanging out, anyways?”

“Really good fertilizer has a higher toxicity rate than normal soil,” Len explains. “I got the last two geological surveys, which Gotham gets with startling regularity; this was the only place that changed. Next question?”

“So that’s how Bats keeps finding us,” she mutters crossly. “Damnit, Ivy.”

“Maybe if you suggested she start a few new gardens each time instead of focusing on just one?”

“She doesn’t want to leave her ‘babies’ alone for that long. Second question: what in hell made you think that finding me ta ask for help was a good idea?”

Len blinks at her. “Why not? I have a problem and I need assistance from a colleague, and - as I said - you have the most expertise in -”

“I’m Harley Quinn, sweetie,” she interrupts. “I’m a supervillain.”

“What, and you stopped having your PhD as a result?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had my license revoked,” she says helplessly.

“Don’t mean you got a lobotomy and forgot it all.”

“Fair enough,” Harley says, clearly giving up on convincing him. “So, yeah, start again, I wasn’t listening on account of thinking you was nuts. What’s your issue again? And why am I the best person to help you?”

“Okay,” Len says. He wouldn’t be as good a shrink as he is if he wasn’t patient and willing to go over things multiple times. “I’m a licensed psychiatrist specializing in severe disorders among the criminal population -”

“Same as I was,” Harley agrees.

“Yeah, and also like you, I specialize in self-identified supervillains.”

“Tell me you didn’t get a job at Arkham!” she exclaims, horrified.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Len assures her. “I work in Central City.”

“I guess that’s better…”

“Debatable. At least Gotham has an asylum, even if it is Arkham. We just have Iron Heights regular wing and Iron Heights supervillain wing. Not ideal for therapy, even once they’re out.”

“Out?”

“Iron Heights is something of a revolving door,” Len says. “Again, much like Arkham, but more urgent in the exit strategies. Honestly, in my view, it’s all for the best that they get out; most of my patients are definitely not being helped by confinement in a frankly abusive situation by people who don’t understand their particular needs -”

“No kidding,” Harley replies enthusiastically. “Even Arkham doesn’t care, it’s more about tryin’ ta keep ‘em from society than it is about actually taking care of ‘em and trying to make 'em better -”

“Exactly,” Len exclaims, nodding. He knew she’d understand. “The interaction of the superhero culture with the particular neuroses of these individuals results in -”

“- an entirely new pathology, necessitating by definition a different form of treatment -”

“This is why I came to you,” Len says, pleased.

Harley paused, flushing a little. “Well, I guess I do still take somethin’ of an interest. So you treat supervillains?”

“I actually have a rather unorthodox approach,” Len says. “Central City supervillains are often using their supervillainy to work through deep-seated issues - one is dealing with the loss of a younger brother he built much of his identity around, another is a clinical narcissist, yet another is a diagnosed pyromaniac with anxiety issues…”

“Yeah? You getting anywhere with 'em?”

“Actually, yes. In contrast to the traditional approach, which emphasizes care in a clinical setting - one that many of them reject rather, uh, forcefully due to various traumas in their pasts - I’ve taken an alternative approach of working on their issues in their own setting.”

Harley pauses mid-nod. “I know that’s a pretty common technique for patients in regular treatment, mixing with them in their own environments and whatnot,” she says cautiously. “But for these guys - ain’t their own setting supervillainy?”

“It is,” Len says steadily.

Harley holds out a little longer, but he doesn’t elaborate.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” she says. “How’re you treatin’ 'em?”

“They’ve created identities as supervillains, and they want to be recognized as supervillains,” Len explains. “It’s important to them. They form entire coping rituals around it. So I meet with them on their own level, acknowledging and respecting them as supervillains.”

“Won’t that require, uh, you being a super, too?”

Len shrugs. “I explained my approach to the Flash - he’s our local cape - and he’s real reasonable about it. We staged a few fights, couple of thefts -”

“Wait. You’re a supervillain?!”

“Technically I’m just engaging in a police-approved therapeutic roleplay with -”

“What’s your name? Have I heard of ya? Tell me I’ve heard of you!”

“I mean, it’s possible -”

“Alias, now! I’m tired of being the only shrink supervillain.”

“Captain Cold.”

“Holy crap, I have heard of ya! You’re the - oh, man, the Rogues! The Rogues are your patients?”

Len nods.

“How?!”

“I 'rescued’ them from prison. Technically, I’m acting as a guarantee for their parole officers -”

“And ya keep 'em from killing anyone.”

“Exactly. And I work with 'em in the meantime. I’ve made a lot of progress - Pied Piper is actually transitioning to working with the heroes on a regular basis, he’s actually dating a cop now and he’s dealing with his internalized self-hatred in a much healthier way -”

“Nice,” Harley says, offering her hand for a high-five. “That’s much better; if Ivy or Ozzie asks what I was doing, I can just say supervillain meet-up.”

Len frowns. “Are they restricting your access to non-supervillain acquaintances?”

“No, no, nothing like that! We’re just dealing with a small infestation of Owls - don’t worry about it; you don’t want to get involved in Gotham’s shit. No one does. Anyway. Tell me about the problem.”

“It’s not really - he’s not - it’s not a problem, really.”

Harley’s eyebrows go up pointedly and she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“Mick Rory,” Len confesses. “Heatwave, our pyromaniac - diagnosed, as I mentioned, and working with a traditional shrink as well as with me. He’s working real hard on getting better, but it’s tough – it’s a long-standing issue. He’s had the pyromania and anxiety since childhood, and then his parents died in a fire and he got blamed, and then things went downhill from there, so you can imagine the rest.”

Harley nods. “Sounds knotty,” she agrees.

“He’s making plenty of progress, though,” Len assures her.

“So what’s the problem?”

“He’s – well. He’s developed something of a crush on me,” Len admits.

“Ooooh boy.”

“No, it’s - it’s not like that. It’s cute. He tries to stalk me sometimes.”

“Stalking ain’t cute, buddy. Trust me.”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s, like, he hides behind lampposts. He pretends to be reading a newspaper, like that hides his face at all. Stuff like that, it’s absurd. And if I ever tell him not to follow me, he doesn’t.”

“So you haven’t asked him to knock it off generally?”

Len hesitates.

“Yep, that’s what I thought,” she says. “So lemme stop you right where you are: no. Don’t do it. Falling for a patient isn’t just ethically wrong, it’s - well. It’s a bad idea. Trust me.”

“That’s why I came to you, actually,” Len says. “You being the ultimate expert in HQS and all.”

“HQS?”

Len coughs.

“…tell me that don’t stand for Harley Quinn Syndrome.”

“If you don’t want me to tell you, I won’t. Won’t change it, though.”

“Oh jeez. I can’t believe it. You know, when I wished on my twenty-first birthday candle to go down in the history books, I ought’ve been more specific.”

Len shrugs sympathetically.

“So what do you need advice in? How not to fall for your patient?”

“That,” Len says grimly, “or else I’m gonna need to give you a referral so that he won’t be my patient anymore.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Harley says. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Harls?” Mick says into his phone. “You got a minute?”

“For you, sweetie, definitely,” she says. There’s the ripping sound of duct tape and the yelling in the background turns into muffled shouting. “What’s up?”

“I don’t wanna bug you if you’re doing something else…”

“Nah, no business or nothing. Spa day with the Sirens, fucking up some bad guys, but the girls have got it covered. Talk to me, baby. You sound upset.”

“I think I’ve done it again,” Mick says sadly.

“Gonna have to be more specific, sparky. Lit a serious fire? Went mano-a-mano with the Flash? Decided to blow up a building?”

“I kidnapped Len and moved him into my basement so we could be together forever.”

“Mick!”

“I left the door open, though,” Mick says earnestly. “I didn’t want him feeling confined or nothing.”

Harley face-palms. Mick can hear it. “Well, that’s something,” she says. “You know he loves you, right?”

“I know he thinks he does…”

“That’s just your anxiety talkin’. He’s dating you because he wants to be with you. S’why he referred you ta me. Tell me, did you at least leave him the key, too?”

“What key?”

“…didn’t you lock him up?”

“No! You know how Len feels about being stuck and unable to get out of places.”

“So you kidnapped him, took him to your basement, and…left him there with the door open and not tied up?”

“I made him dinner, too?”

“…you know what? I’m gonna call this progress. Now, I need you to go sit down and write about what your day was like so we can try to identify what led you to this decision…”

#dccoldwave #mick rory #leonard snart #my fic #Harley quinn #poison ivy

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