#you need contracts to deal with those elves

[the-scarecrow-of-aus]

(Don't you love it when tumblr posts something that's meant to be saved)

"Sure I know her, we hung out at a few winter solstice festivals a while back, we even tried dating, of course that was before her dad and his cultists tried to gatecrash it and sell her to me as a bride. ...it really killed the mood for the rest of that last festival though".

Batmans eyes snapped to dannys face looking concerned "you met trigon? What exactly did he want from you to offer his daughter?" Danny shrugged before counting off on his fingers "Everything I could have given him basically. the ghost kings army, a physical body capable of anchoring him in reality and containing his power, access to the infinite realms... I didn't actually help him in the end if that's your concern?"

"What's the ghost kings army?" Whispered spoiler to nightwing who shrugged in reply "uh, the army of a ghostly king?" The fairies had settled on nightwings head and shoulders and were examining his costume. "Nightwing! Please be careful, those fairies are related to the cobbler elves from the fable. Unless you want to be unable to stop dancing in your old disco-wing outfit, politely decline any costume designs they suggest out of hand".

Nightwing startled stared closer at the fairies, one of them had pulled out a small measuring tape and was measuring his bodies dimensions while muttering to another one. "Huh, cool! Wait, you remember the disco-wing suit? Nobody remembers that!" "We try not to" giggled spoiler.

"My sister does, she's been secretly fangirling over you since Haley's circus. I visited her at gotham U a while back and spotted the disco-wing body pillow in her wardrobe- uh, spoiler please don't tickle Val too much, she might bite you out of sheer vindictiveness". Danny's attention switched to spoiler as nightwing and batman froze from his words.

Spoiler jumped and stopped petting the salamander "Sorry! Didn't mean to upset her". Danny smiled "oh its not that, she's just unhappy she's stuck in that form. My ex got infected with an extra dimensional parasite and to stop it from harming her and others I had to turn her into a cold blooded reptile to starve it out!"

Danny picked the salamander up and petted her gently "Valerie can't see very well and your costume is similar to the person who infected her so she might think you were vlad coming to mock her"

Constantine was grinning as he spoke up "so you turned your ex into an animal, huh, I didn't think you would have as much misfortune in your relationships as me!" Danny stared at constantine annoyed "I don't, unlike you and anyone around you. the fenton luck only affects me, i get on well with all my ex's 'and' I make sure to shield them from harm. Also my choice was turn her into a 'reptile'" danny stressed the word "or she turns into a flesh eating ghoul loose on the world. Besides, it's only one more week before her checkup then she's human again and back to bounty hunting!"

Danny turned to batman still watching him "now, since we've moved past the whole 'whose the better occultist' you mind telling me what the situation is that requires the bats on my doorstep and knowing about me?"

Batman didn't blink as he stated slowly "you know nightwings identity?" Danny cocked an eyebrow and gave his best legally blonde impersonation "what, like it's hard? If it helps nobody else will figure it out the same way. Jazz thought he had a cute butt when she saw him perform then proceeded to play 'match the butts' when he was robin. I personally put a seal on the dead so nobody would speak your identities without permission of their king. Now, again. what did you need help with?"

Constantine coughed and shuffled before speaking "uh, I um discovered recently that the demons I had contracts with sold them to someone unknown, I have to go find out who has them before something bad might happen".

"Uh huh, is that all or can you get out of my office?" Danny turned to a glowing filing cabinet and started rooting around in it. "What? No, oh no not constantine, life is cruel' or are you a 'ha, suffer hellblazer, actions have consequences!'"

"Neither, I learnt my lessons when I was younger, I'm a 'deal with this now before it's a problem later' kind of person, here. Get out of my office" danny dumped a pile of contracts on the desk "93% total contracts on a one John 'hellblzer' Constantine. 5% belongs to the ghost king and is untradable, any further attempts to sell your soul or first-born will summon a skeleton who will observe the situation then smack you in the back of the head. You're welcome"

Constantine looked stumped at the pile of contracts, you bought them from the demons? Why?"

"Bought? Those idiots can't play poker without cheating and I'm better at it. They also got sloppy when I put the crown up as prize, told them the crowns not worth fractions of a mortals soul" danny winked at spoiler "I got three magic swords, two powerful grimoires and atrocitus's stolen red power battery which I'm using to power the sun in my living room!"

"Now if you'll excuse me I have a client coming in soon who wants to talk to her departed husband, Nestor really want to tell Minnie about his time in the afterlife"

Danny shuffled them out of his office and towards the front door, nightwing put up a hand and asked as danny got them outside his door "uh what happened with trigon, he didn't just accept a no did he?"

"No, but when he threatened to blow up the festival I willingly took him to the sarcophagus of eternal sleep and gave him the key... then I pushed him into it and locked it again, now pariahs got a room mate"

"Ta ta!" Was the last thing said as danny closed the door

-

(Danny's definitely investing in a peep-hole for the front door and taking a page from madame xanadu)

Bonus: how danny treats pariah (and now also trigon) in the sarcophagus of eternal sleep.

"Oh, fuck no." The door is slammed, unfortunately for him, the guy stuck his foot in the jamb and pushed it open again.

"C'mon luv!" Constantine smiles charmingly, not waiting for Danny and entering the apartment.

At least Batman, Nightwing and Spoiler had the patience to wait for him to invite them in. Sagging against the door, he beckoned them inside.

Despite the caution, Spoiler gleefully stepped in, looking around like a child in an amusement park— which might not be too far off.

His apartment is, with all its wards and enchantments, very magical inside than it is outside.

The planetary system of another world, used as light for the living room and for practice.

(Nightwing is careful with what he touches. He still remembers the hours they spent in Mumbo Jumbo's hat.)

Batman on the other hand is following Constantine and Danny to what he assumes to be the office, if the amount of magical stuff carelessly laying around means anything.

"Alright fucker, what are you doing here? And how did you even know I live in gotham?"

John had the audacity to look abashed, scratching the back of his head with a nervous chuckle.

"Something came up and you know Gotham doesn't like me. She is much more used to you and I wanted to introduce bats to you, in case of emergency."

The young adolence stares owlishly.

(How did Constantine expect him to act at the fact that he's trusting a magical situation into the hands of a stranger?

Batman isn't sure how good the boy even is!)

"That's incredible thoughtful of you Connie." Danny hums. "What did you lose for your sorry ass to come here?"

Spoiler snorts, petting a red salamander. "He didn't lose anything." She reassures with a wave, giving an exaggerated smile and raising her brows to show that she's finding it very amusing.

Constantine sputters.

"Ancient knows how Zatanna and Raven deal with him."

Nighteing perks up from the side where he'd looked over the books, some pixie fairies(?) fawning over him? "Raven? You know her?"

Danny suppresses another sigh.

[y-rhywbeth2]

A Care Guide for your Undead Minions

As they are your BG3 necromancer/s' little buddies and the most frequently encountered undead in the game, and I'm on an undead kick right now: Ghouls. They're the unfortunate puppies of the undead world.

They need corpses, friendly conversation, and it wouldn't hurt if you paid them a wage, frankly.

-

There are three ways ghouls are created. 1) A person who in life profited by causing and/or exploiting the suffering of others and/or has consumed the flesh of another person dies and doesn't receive burial rites*. * Burial rites are important because otherwise we'd have a lot more undead. Crimes, bad encounters, trauma and etc all contribute to the spawning of the undead. So there's a big deal about getting a Kelemvorite/Myrkulite/other death god to see to the corpse, getting protective magics put on your coffin, burying the dead in consecrated temple grounds, etc.

2) A person is bitten or scratched by a ghoul, contracts the disease known as ghoul fever and dies of that disease. At midnight they rise as a new ghoul*. *Unless they're elves in which case they're immune**. **Unless the ghoul is classified as a ghast, in which case they're not.

3) A necromancer raised a dead person's corpse as a ghoul to serve their will.

-

The initial ghouls being born from cannibalism and greed and the 'blessings' of the Abyss, they are those traits made manifest. They need to consume (preferably dead) human[oid] flesh to maintain their bodies, harvesting it for both physical substance and the negative energy a dead body is accumulating.

They can go a week of starvation before facing physical consequences, but need to feed at least once a day to retain mental faculties otherwise the hunger starts eating away at their sanity.

Food is their primary concern at all times, even when working on other goals like 'protecting my loved ones from harm,' 'world domination,' 'building a society for the undead,' 'revenge against the bastard what did this to me.' They don't experience fear when faced with the opportunity to feed and won't be kept from it for anything.

'Endless hunger for the flesh of the living, never sated, no matter how much it consumes...'

They're carrion feeders for the most part: 'They attack the living only when corpses are not to be had, or in self defence. They find animal flesh unpalatable.' In the interests of your ghoul buddies not consuming your living buddies and random passers-by, please keep a stock of human flesh available at all times.

To aid with their feeding habits their teeth all lengthen into points and their tongue 'hardens' and lengthens in order to enable them to access marrow when cracking open bones. Most ghouls encountered are emaciated (a visual metaphor for the hollowness of greed, I suppose), but particularly powerful ghouls may be fat, so it's possible that it depends how much food they have access to. Their nails also harden and sharped into claws.

Oddly this hunger can also extend to material greed, and ghouls have been noted to strip their prey for valuables and hoard them, creating fancy macabre lairs full of gold and half-eaten dead bodies.

-

Ghouls, if not preserved, will decay and eventually rot into nothing. Said rotting will lead to the development of a lethal miasma that follows them everywhere they go. Without steps taken to preserve them a ghoul will last between 200-1000 years before the body wears out. If preserved they can last indefinitely. They're also functionally immortal if they're in the Abyss.

Their souls are damned: when a ghoul dies its soul goes to the lower planes, typically the Abyss, likely due to their connection to Doresain, 'King of the Ghouls,' and Orcus the Demon Lord of the undead.

Due to this traditional methods of raising the dead will not work; you need a wish spell or elven High Magic to return them to life. There are, however, necromancy spells for reviving the undead as undead so at least you have that.

-

They are one of the five undead that have been officially statted as player character options in the past, and the other of two sapient undead with dietary needs and a hunger that borders on addiction, the other one being vampires.

They're social; when encountering other ghouls they typically join together, usually forming packs following the leadership of the oldest/most powerful member. Some are reported to be 'personable,' and more likely to engage in a friendly chat than attack... although the conversation may be erratic and a touch disconcerting for the living.

As with other undead, their state and the transition into undeath itself is inherently traumatic. The 'horror of transformation' and the hunting instincts and agonising hunger does a number on the psyche, resulting in a feral mess that exists only to eat - albeit one with traces of their self and no less intelligent than before. Memories of life and identity return slowly eventually culminating in the whole person, although this too usually causes severe mental health problems due to the distress of realising what's happening.

A variety of coping mechanisms and, not-infrequently, psychosis abounds.

Many ghouls cannot accept what's happened to them or what they do now, and insist they are still alive and exactly as they were before. They will refute any attempts to tell them they're dead, and will have a nervous breakdown and possibly attack if challenged too hard or if shown evidence otherwise.

-

Despite their preference for carrion they are very skilled hunters. Their senses - particularly scent - are powerful, they're extremely stealthy, they co-ordinate brilliantly in packs, and they never give up the pursuit.

They're also often robbed of free will and kidnapped as 'hunting dogs,' being used by mortal necromancers, vampires and sometimes demons who just out of nowhere drag them off to the Abyss to be enslaved and 'upgraded' for their personal needs. Ghasts are nicknamed 'Hounds of the Abyss' due to that last bit.

Occasionally dark powers take a personal interest and start customising ghouls to make whole new breeds of designer ghouls with unique powers and quirks, and then we get Kiaransalee's Abyssal Ghouls and Doresain's Gravetouched, and etc.

-

They prefer to live underground in self-made tunnels (usually starting from their grave). At the most basic is a small underground lair for them to relax, store their belongings and eat their food in. More complex communal warrens with standing room, decoration, larders and etc may span under graveyards and entire towns in some cases.

They're also very good at traps and ambush predation and dislike direct approaches.

-.

Ghoul fever, associated with how filthy their nails are from raking in dirt and dead flesh and etc, has a one day asymptomatic incubation period before the infected begins to deteriorate. Fatigue and deterioration of motor skills as a result of progressing necrosis being the primary symptoms. Assuming there's no medical intervention and the immune system - and the person's will to live - fails to fight it off you're getting a new ghoul and a bloody mess. Unlike most undead spawning methods, ghouls aren't bound to the will of the ghoul that made them.

[sentenceme-leni]

Tuesday. Minimum 2 sentences.

---

Belle glanced around the local shoemaker's modest showroom in confusion. The shelves, usually brimming with pretty confections of polished wood, leather and lace, were sadly empty. The room itself felt dusty, and Belle could spy without any effort the massive spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling.

She turned to the young man now in charge of the shop. She had come to present her condolences for his father's passing, but obviously she was intruding in a time of deep mourning.

Too often, while visiting Rumpelstiltskin's most desperate cases, she had noticed that sadness tended to manifest outwardly in disarray.

"I see I came too soon," she apologized, trying to keep the pity off her face. "I was very sorry to hear of your loss, and I'll come back when you are ready to receive clients."

The man nodded tightly, not really looking at her.

Belle started her way out without further conversation, unwilling to prolong his embarrassment.

"Wait, milady!" The shoemaker's widow rushed from the private side of the building. "We need your help, please!"

"Mother..."

The woman glared at her son. "Oh, be smart for once, Stevie," she snapped. "We cannot continue like this."

"Father wouldn't have wanted to involve the Dark One." He gave Belle a quick bow, and added quickly, "No offense to the lady."

Before Belle could protest that she understood their stance, the mother spoke again.

"Your father had help enough," she said firmly. "He never needed to consider the idea. Besides..." She walked over to Belle, giving her a piercing look. "You are not actually Rumpelstiltskin's creature, are you?"

The son made a choked sound at the direct question.

Belle smiled. People who were unafraid to speak Rumple's name were often wiser than the rest. "No. I'm just his maid."

The widow gave a laughing scoff, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Belle fought down a sudden blush.

"How can I help you?" she asked instead.

"It's the little ones. They helped Gregory for decades. Why, they practically made the whole of the inventory, as he became too old to do much but be around and sell it. And then, when he... When he..." She teared up, taking a crumbled, well-used kerchief from her pockets and dabbing at her tears. "Since then, we haven't seen hair or tail of them."

It took Belle a moment to understand. "Oh, you are under elf protection!"

Mother and son stared at her. After a moment, the young man said, sounding truly puzzled. "I thought they worked for us?"

Belle winced.

The old shoemaker must have been beloved indeed, or the son's attitude would have merited the elves' frankly disturbingly mischievous behavior.

The shop should be in ruins.

Instead the family had been left alone. That told Belle that the old man must have treated the elves with the freshest milk and the softest buns for a long time.

"Did you continue leaving the offers?"

The question obviously made no sense to mother or son.

"Oh dear!" Belle hoped the elves were willing to consider ignorance as a lapse in judgement instead of a broken deal. With luck, they would retake their labor as soon as the human side of the contract was delivered. "Well," she told the confused family. "If the elves want to take you back, it should be easy to call their attention."

"Thank you, milady!"

Belle smiled back.

If there were elves involved, it should be easier to get those glass shoes Rumpelstiltskin wanted for his next deal.

The End

30/04/24

[ansbobcar]

I made Agito Headcanons

ummm I forgot ur name user who slipped into my dms it was like @urujsj387 or 389. I hope you enjoy this yappery. I tried my best warnings. this got my ocs in it. implied gay tension. that's it ngl. agito level stuff.

_ _ _

Amongst those who hadn't retired from Ryoh's debut as DV, Agito was incredibly unfavoured to be a Divine Visionary by many staff members and by the public. Even moreso than Renatus Revol. This is due to how problematic his cases of magic manslaughter were.

Atleast Renatus had a one and done case. (read here) Agito?

His cases were so bad that only 2 people were able to subdue him without losing their life. Sears Onoji, when he was younger, and Rinka Ontarin, when he became Divine Visionary. That's due to the use of Absolutum Tranquilier, a calming spell only used to subdue rogue magical creatures with a 100% guaranteed effect.

He had over 50 cases written and covered by Sears compared to the 10 cases Rinka had to deal with. (Don't let the numbers fool you. They were both of equal magnitude.)

Sears is the one who did the paperwork (and paid) to make Hippo-tan his pet dragon since the cost of it can make you go into debt. Otherwise it's punishable by law to keep a dragon as a pet or companion. Even moreso if it's a Professional Dragon since it violates the contract/license. (read here)

In order to stay by Agito's side, Hippo-tan became a Professional Dragon for the Bureau as his assistant when he became DV. (Conveniently enough, there was a slot open to become one.) Yes it's possible to be a pet dragon and have a job.

Yes. There is a policy which forbids non Professional Dragons (tied to the Bureau) from entering the grounds. It's weird but that's the reason nobody bats an eye about Hippo-tan. Unless you're a new staff member.

_ _ _

He feels rather grateful for receiving Sears Onoji's aide and support even when the man retired from his duties. Although he's seen as a cold and cruel person with a nickname such as "Mr. Fear", he's oddly forgiving of the problem child with a higher kill count than himself.

You would think that because Sears covered for his problems Agito and Rinka would get along or absolutely despise each other as children, and you would be terribly mistaken.

They never encountered each other until she had to oversee the Walkis candidates and their interviews during his 1st year. However, she is on familiar terms with Hippo-tan.

So... it's awkward.

(more stuff to do with rinka's relationship with agito here)

_ _ _

As a child, Agito was naturally able to do wandless casting at will. However, it was destructive so he was beaten into using a wand in order to control him output. As you might have guessed, this was ineffective.

This boils down to how he bottles up emotions and let's it explode or when he's extremely stressed and pushed to a wall. He doesn't explode physically, his magic output does and in tandem often chants lethal spells. That's why manslaughter cases... are common with him. Whether it's animals, magical creatures, people, elves, giants, etc. As a person, he needs therapy, which was never given to him.

The closest he could get was in the form of a pet (Hippo-tan) to divert his bottled feelings, and by being affected by someone who excelled in mental manipulation spells, like Sears Onoji.

As of now, he is unable to willingly cast magic without a wand (thank Sears for that).

Currently, his control of magic output is being magically restrained by 2 people:

Renatus and Rinka.

Renatus is able to temporarily lift the restraints at will for a maximum of 3 hours. He is unable to modulate Agito's maximimum output like Rinka can. However, this limits the immortal's own maximum output that he gains from being the Vessel of Thanatos.

Rinka is the one who suggested and was later convinced to put the magical restraints on him for the safety and peace of mind. This also limits her maximum output but she doesn't mind if it's for good reason. Unlike Renatus, Rinka is able to lift the restraints at will and modulate the output but she only willingly does the latter when necessary.

Why?

That's because of how the seal is undone and voluntarily placed back.

The easiest way to describe it is that you have to kiss the face. And so far the only other person who can actively survive Agito's crazy output and not die of embarassment doing it is Renatus. (Where's Ryoh? Ryoh doesn't know jackshit about mental manipulation spells. What about Kaldo? Yeah no.)

(Yes this means I ship Renatus and Agito together... whatever they have is more complicated than I could write.)

_ _ _

Even to the present day and post canon timeline, he isn't well liked by the public and often avoids news reporters and even staff dinners.

He enjoys doing the teambuilding workshops Mary Shawn, head of HR (or star staff from Magical Talent), conducts monthly for the Divine Visionaries.

He's a nerd? geek? about animals and magical creatures as a whole. He hasn't seen anyone match his level of obsession as Darren Randel, the troublesome girl Rinka has to manage since her parents could not be bothered to.

Agito doesn't know Common Communication Draconic (a learnable language between Humans and Dragons, read more here). He is able to communicate with dragons and animals through his personal magic, Dragons, but he needs to be physically touching them in order for it to work.

Magical creatures and animals on land, sort of avoid him because of his vibes. He's on better terms with sea creatures since his unapproachable aura diminishes when he's in the water.

He sort of wants Darren to be his (second) assistant since she is incredibly approachable to most creatures and even people (so they don't avoid him) but she becomes Rayne's assistant after graduating so... better luck next time!

_ _ _

Thank you for listening to this ted talk. I need to figure out Sophinaaaaa.

[talesfromsiteredacted]

Dealing With Fae Entities, a Helpful Guide To Managing Elves, Faeries, Pictsies, and Other Annoyances

Hi, kids! This is Dr. Snow here, your friendly neighborhood Fae expert, as of this afternoon. After several very irritating encounters with the Fae, Dr. Clef and I agreed I should record some tips for dealing with them.

First thing first, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCE, NO MATTER HOW FRIENDLY A FAE MAY SEEM AT FIRST ENCOUNTER, GIVE THEM YOUR TRUE GIVEN NAME. Names have power, give them yours and you are screwed.

Second, never enter any contract without reading it three or four times and running it through both Legal and Ethics first. Dr. Venser failed this crucial test, and had to give up her first born child. Don't be like Venser. Fae contracts are almost as hard as Hell contracts to break.

If cornered, bonk the bastard relentlessly with cold iron. Burns them worse than a bloody flamethrower, plus the added hilarity and embarrassment of being nearly clubbed to death by cookware. Skillets are the best option, but never underestimate the humble fireplace poker.

Do not, no matter how hungry you are, or how good the food or drink look, accept "free" gifts from the Fae. That's how you wind up in their debt. Plus, the Fae are worse cooks than Clef, which is saying a lot. THERE IS NOTHING FREE WITH THE "FAIR FOLK"! Bunch of scheming, cheating arseholes. Again, remember Dr. Venser!

Never believe a word they say. They lie more than Clef.

If a Fae raiding party approaches, throw candy at them then call in the MTFs. They're distracted by sweets, much like children. Plus, they are compelled to pick up every single piece of thrown sugar. Candies that shatter against hard surfaces, like jawbreakers, are ideal.

If captured, AGREE TO NOTHING, EVEN THE ATMOSPHERIC CONDITIONS. Agreeing with the Fae on anything is practically giving them consent to torture you.

Carry silver on your person at all times. To think, Dr. Harrigan laughed at me over my silver snowflake Scranton pendant. She's not laughing now, seeing as she's now the Fae King's newest plaything. Silver burns Fae like cold iron, plus it renders their unicorns too weak to do much.

Trust nothing in the presence of the Fae. They bend reality just by being here. Cold iron jacketed hollow point magazines will be distributed by Munitions. Treat them like your average Bixby, aim for their head once distracted.

To ward against the Fae, salt the entryways and windows. While this works on vampires due to the purity of salt, the elvish arseholes will be compelled to pick up every last grain of salt spilled. You may then headshot them to your heart's delight.

If attacked by six inch tall blue pitcsies with red hair and a tendency to fight, steal, or drink anything they come across, offer copious amounts of alcohol, and hide. The Nac Mac Feegle may be tiny compared to him, but those scunners managed to kill SCP 076-2 with minimal effort. One of them even climbed in his loincloth. Look, if even ABEL is afraid of these guys, don't try to take them on. Abel barely lasted ten minutes.

Refuse ANY item offered. We do not need another "Anomalous Ring Of Inconsistent Waterbreathing" incident. Poor Dr. Mariner needs a tank now, and that damned thing is fused to his finger.

Unicorns, while beautiful, are... not very nice. How not nice? They'll gore you as soon as look at you.

Do not look at the Queen of the Fae. Two reasons: one, she's incredibly vain and will pester you to no end on how beautiful she is, and then... she'll try to get you into bed with her. Bad decision. She's got a higher (dead) body count than a black widow spider, and like a preying mantis, bites her victims heads off. Two, the King is hella jealous and you may not even live to accept that invite to the Queen's bed. Bigger dick than the Scarlet King.

Glitter also distracts the Fae long enough to dome them easily. Especially if 035 coats his junk in it. Wasn't ever expecting Disco Dong Dyo to be helpful, but the bastards were so confused killing them was easy.

If all else fails to repell the elvish dickheads, threaten to summon Dr. Clef. Not even their King wants to hear his ukulele.

If, for some reason you are tired of life, you decide to really annoy the Queen, insult her appearance. Again, she's extremely vain. She'll be so busy trying to become your version of the "perfect" woman it's easy to distract and kill her. Use their weaknesses against them.

Those perfect, 7 foot tall walls of elvish muscle in the invading forces? That is not at all how they really look. The average Fae's no taller than 5 feet tall, max. And uglier than a Hollywood divorce. It's a glamour, pretty convincing one too. Distract them enough, and it crumbles.

Speaking of distractions, these dickheads are compelled to dance whenever they hear music. You can thank Dr. Myriad for this one, they had the entire army grooving along to the "Safety Dance". Yes, there is video footage. No, the Fae do not have rhythm. It was like watching the most awkward mass dry heave set to '80's pop.

Grimhounds, much like Wu-Tang Clan and the Ethics Committee, ain't nothing to fuck with. Think hellhounds on massive doses of steroids, pcp, with the most advanced and aggressive case of rabies, with teeth sharper than Abel's swords. They are fast, relentless, and the only sure way to get them off your arse is to blow them off the map with high explosives.

While it is possible to bribe the Fae... they're not trustworthy. Just don't bother.

Mousetraps work well against smaller entities. As do cats; Liam caught one last night. Was really funny to see my fluffy boy dragging this cursing little sod all around my kitchen like my cat was doing a victory lap. Theiving bastards won't raid my pantry again anytime soon, heh heh.

Clef discovered if you use enough rocks, you can weigh them down enough to drown them. It might have helped that the portal opened upon the Red Pool instead of the ocean as I intended. Oopsie. Mea Culpa if the Ethics Committee are reading this. I know, three months Keter Duty. Still worth it.

If you're thinking of poisoning the Fae... don't bother. It simply doesn't work. No one knows why. They can, however, succumb to the zombie prion disease, but then... you have to deal with feral, infectious, and above all quite undead Fae.

For once, those damned bloody Tesla Gates are useful. Fae and electricity do not react favorably, for the Fae. They explode. Bone shrapnel is an issue, but if you get far enough back it's minimal. Still, wear your goggles kids!

073 is immune to the Fae glamour. He confirmed the Fae being unattractive, and I think it was the first time I ever heard him drop the "mf" bomb. Dr. Gears dropped his Foundation issue mug so hard it shattered. You know you're hideous if CAIN, the nicest guy in the Foundation, calls you "one ugly motherfucker" to your face. Dr. Clef and Dr. Cimmerian nearly hyperventilated laughing in shock.

In need of a quick distraction, but trapped in your office? Simply scatter whatever is on top of your desk, book it out of your door, and flag down the fine friendly folks in the MTF. While the Fae reorganizes your desktop, the MTF can shoot them. Even if you don't believe Clef on this... we had one in his office last month, he scattered his massive pile of paperwork on the floor, by the time we got the clear to go back in, his desk had never been better organized. Aside from the blood splotch on his Shooter's Bible.

Fun fact: Fae are highly flammable. A raiding party caught the backblast from one of 682's Volcano Chili farts, there was nothing but ash in seconds after the flame hit them. Must ask if we can weaponize the big lizard's flatulence, that stuff burns hotter than even thermite! Pity R&D could never quite replicate it, even if it reeks worse than a zombie skunk in a manure pile.

By all means, allow 049 access to the Fae should they attempt another invasion. With his skills and knowledge, we'll soon know exactly how these bastards operate on a physical level. For once, Ethics Committee has authorized 049's request for live test subjects, provided they're Fae. No, Agent Dennis does not count, he's just short, not an evil magical arsehole.

One last thing: I cannot stress this enough. NEVER TELL THE FAE YOUR TRUE GIVEN NAME, AGREE TO ANYTHING THEY ASK, OR THINK OF TRUSTING THEM FOR A SECOND. I realize this sounds incredibly species-ist of me, however, it's truth. The Fae cannot be trusted, even less so than you'd first suspect. They will trick you, use you, then drop you harder than the atom bombs. Shoot them first, don't bother with asking questions.

Okay, I think that's everything. Oh, wait... never mentioned how to spot one before it spots you. Grimhounds are obvious. Hellhounds on steroids with rabies. The Nac Mac Feegle, once you meet them you're either broke or dead. The others? People who seem way too perfect, too good to be real, you meet in life? Those could be Fae. The hot chicks in the bar everyone is flocking around despite them being mean vapid idiots? Fae. The super smoking but arrogant dickhead every straight girl in 10 miles is lining up to be rejected by? Either Lucifer Morningstar post marriage or Fae. The guy in Soho offering unbelievable deals on top line stuff like PS5s or suchlike? Fae. And shimmering lights where no such lights could possibly be, Fae. They can be anywhere. Stay alert, stay aware, trust your instincts. Keep on, carry cold iron and silver, and Secure, Contain, Protect on.

Hugs,

Dr. "Rabbit" Snow and Dr. Alto Clef

[madam-legba]

Bellamione -

It’s just like Harry said, a long time ago, when they first started talking about death.

Faster than falling asleep, painful and painless in the same time.

She’s dead.

She knows she’s dead because the green spell hit her square in the chest, and it partially is her fault.

Since her wife, Bellatrix, passed away many moons ago, Hermione has become sloppy, negligent and careless.

The first weeks without her soulmate were the worst: the witch hardly ever even left the house, and had it not been for Ginny and Harry’s intervention, Hermione would have let herself die of sorrow and guilt in the heady emptiness of Black Manor.

Instead, her friends once again rescued her, for the sake of the old times. That, and the fact that the Minister for Magic couldn’t just go missing.

Hermione turned in her resignation three months after Bellatrix’s passing, as focusing on the wellness of the wizarding community was too much for a witch who could hardly think about hers.

Bellatrix had been cursed, no doubt on Hermione’s mind.

Too many were the people who wanted her dead, too many the relatives of the victims of the dark witch’s youth wrath.

Right when Hermione and the prime ministers of the European wizarding council had finally signed on the treaty for a better collective contract for House Elves, a gift was delivered to her private residence.

A place only those closer to her knew.

When she apparated back home, Bellatrix had insisted oh so much for her not to open the package.

“It’s not even signed, Hermione. How stupidly naive and thoughtless must you be to trust it?”

“It can’t be from anyone we don’t trust. That’s all I need to know.” Hermione protested, moving closer to the wrappings.

With a flick of her wand, Bellatrix made the package levitate through the air, the same way she did when she first brought the thing inside their home.

“Bella.” Hermione called her lover, with a raised eyebrow.

“If you deem it safe, you won’t mind me opening it, then.”

Hermione sighed. She could tell there was a tinge of jealousy in her wife’s voice, and she was sure it was related to the card that came with the gift.

“Congratulations for your latest accomplishment.

Here’s a beautiful piece for the brightest, dreamingly breath-taking witch of our age.

Lots of love. xx”

The handwriting vaguely reminded her of Ron’s.

Hermione hence moved towards her wife, who was making it a big deal at keeping her back directed to Hermione.

The younger witch didn’t let that stop her, instead she encircled the dark witch’s waist from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder as the older witch would usually do with her.

“You know, if I didn’t know you any better I’d say you’re being..”

Bellatrix’s back stiffened, and Hermione quickly changed the ending of her original sentence.

“… envious.” Surely, a better shoot than jealous. She could manage a quirky mocking Bellatrix, but she couldn’t stand being the reason for an irate, hurt one.

“Envious? Whatever of, pet? A necklace? A bracelet?” Bellatrix smirked, purring the words right into Hermione’s ear.

“The jewels in my vault could make whatever is in this wrapping bleach in comparison.”

“Our.”

Hermione simply stated, closing her eyes as Bellatrix’s warm breath caressed her skin.

“Hm?”

She squeezes her wife as she further corrected her.

“You said my. It’s our vault, now.”

Bellatrix smiled softly, relaxing in the younger witch’s hold. Then, pecking her lips, she convened: “I always knew you were after my money.”

Hermione slapped her, softly.

They exchanged one last look of complicity before Bellatrix turned her attention to the package. Her long pale fingers opened the carton wrappings, and her fingertips barely even scraped the emerald green pearls of the elaborate necklace before it happened.

The older witch stiffened, making Hermione frown with confusion.

It quickly turned into concern as Bellatrix grasped her own left forearm, and a gut-wrenching scream pierced the silence of their private residence.

“Bellatrix?!” Hermione kept calling her, even as the witch tried to break free from the younger witch’s hug. “No, no, hang in there! Don’t you dare leave me, Bellatrix Black!”

Hermione cried, as she rushed to their bezoar stock, only to find it empty.

A wheeze called her attention, as more strangled coughing came from her wife.

“No! This can’t be it, we can still disapparete to—“

Bellatrix’s fingers closed around a lock of Hermione’s hair, as the witch sat down to straddle her suffering wife.

The older witch barely shook her head and Hermione understood: it would be painful and useless.

The last gift Bellatrix gave her wife, was a vial full of memories - memories Hermione would then consume in the following months.

Hermione held her, kissing her every inch of skin: her eyes, her forehead, her nose, her cheekbones, her mouth.

She wanted Bellatrix to leave this world feeling loved.

Loved, she was.

Despite the appearance, Hermione never stopped blaming herself.

If only she had listened to her wife… yet she never looked for revenge.

Ultimately, Hermione understood the wizarding community wasn’t ready for the changes she was leading then through, too projected into the future while half of the wizarding world was still grieving their deads from the Magical Wars.

Even by not seeking revenge for the terrible murdering of her wife, Hermione came to meet the wizard who gave her the package.

Ronald Weasley, her childhood friend, whose eyes were under the unmistakable influence of the imperious curse.

Hermione didn’t even try to dodge it.

And here she was, the unmistakable walls of Hogwarts surrounding her with an unnatural blinding-bright light.

“Why am I here?” She asked, talking to herself.

“You’ve died, Hermione.” A celestial voice replied, making her jump with surprise.

The creature in front of her, a bronze-skinned man dressed in nothing but a white tunic, compassionately smiled at her.

“I… yes, I figured. But why am I /here/? At Hogwarts?”

The man smiled.

“You chose it as your passing place. People usually pick their childhood home, I’m guessing Hogwarts was your favorite place during your most vulnerable times.”

Hermione nods, giving it a careful look.

It was all exactly as she remembered it from before the war. The reconstruction changed many things of the castle, so this truly had to be the version of it that she experienced.

“I guess so, we surely had so many things happening when we were…” she trailed off, her memories suddenly coming less.

All except one.

“Where are we going?” She asked the man.

Once again, he smiled and it gave Hermione a sense of peace she’d never experienced.

“People have different names for it. We’re going towards… peacefulness of the senses. The ethereal sunshine.”

“Paradise.” Hermione prompted him, but he only shrugged.

“That’s just a version of what some may call it, yes.”

“Is… do we get to see our loved ones?” She asked, and although her heart surely wasn’t beating, she felt it quiver in her chest.

The man stalls.

“Some of them. Those who lived rightful lives.”

Hermione instantly knew the meaning of those words. She loved Bellatrix and she forgave all her deeds, but she knew some things just couldn’t be erased.

What Bellatrix did during her life — during her years as a Death Eater — had tainted her path.

“What if I don’t want to go there?”

The man looked at her curiously.

“To…?”

“Heaven. What if I don’t want to go there?”

“People entitled to the eternal sunshine don’t usually argue their way out of it.”

“But what if I do?” She enquired, with no attempt to hide the preoccupation in her voice.

The man only nods.

“I had a feeling you would.”

“She’s not there where you want to take me, is she?” Hermione finally asked.

“She isn’t.” The angel confirmed.

Hermione closed her eyes.

“Then take me to her.”

The travel was fast. Surprisingly enough, Hermione found herself at the gates of Malfoy Manor.

A man with dark-red coloured skin studied her and the angel from behind the metal bars.

“We don’t accept visitors, buddy. How long have you been doing this job? You should know better.”

“We’re not here on visit, Curlybeard.”

The creature frowned.

“She’s staying.” The angel explained, shortly.

“I don’t…”

As the devil began to mutter, the gates unlocked, and the creature stopped talking altogether.

“Come, Hermione.”

Said the angel instead, leading the way.

Hermione couldn’t help but notice how, wherever she and the angel laid foot, the tile would light up in bright colour, in sharp contrast with the blackness of the manor.

“She might be a little different from how you remember it. But before I let you in” the angel started, as they stalled in front of the closed doors of the entrance, “I need to ask. Are you completely sure this is where you want to spend the rest of eternity?”

Hermione smiled.

“It’s not really about the place.” She reasoned, making the man smile heartedly.

“Is she who you want to spend the rest of eternity with, then?”

Hermione momentarily thought of her friends: Harry, Ronald, Ginny, Luna. Her parents. Fred, Tonks and Lupin.

She wondered what they might think of her.

“Hermione?”

“Yes.” She breathed. “Yes, I want to be with her.”

The angel smiled tenderly, although his eyes didn’t hide the pity he felt.

“Alright then. Welcome to your resting place.”

With that, he opened the doors of the manor for her.

In the middle of the hall, right in the same spot where Bellatrix years before had Hermione screaming and crying with pain, was a witch.

Younger than Hermione had ever seen her, no Azkaban tattoo on her skin.

Bellatrix had tears in her eyes, and her hand was caressing the tiles of the floor where Hermione’s blood was shed.

“Looking for something?”

Hermione called her, making the witch start.

There, in the loving, almost worshipping look Bellatrix gave her, Hermione read all the reasons in support of her choice.

Behind closed walls, the angel and the demon were taking.

"I don't get it," said the demon, "This person's lived a perfectly good and virtuous life. Why are you sending them to hell?"

The angel nervously rubbed the back of their head.

"Honestly? We're pretty sure they'd be happier in hell than heaven."

“I don’t get it,” says the demon, “This person’s lived a perfectly good and virtuous life. Why are you sending them to hell?” The angel nervously rubs the back of their head. “Honestly? We’re pretty sure they’d be happier in hell than heaven.”

[zorkaya-moved]

“Yeah, no, nobody who looks like you minds their own business.” oh god no this was even better from astarion im sorry

@avaere

It makes her laugh. Openly and without holding back, placing her hand on her stomach to keep herself from keeling over from how dramatic he sounded upon saying that. He is correct, Astarion knows far more the likes of her than any other person in this camp. More than the great wizard who was beloved by the goddess, more than the Blade of Frontier, more than anyone, truly. He knows and he understands, he's a man far smarter than most would give him credit for. She knows a survivor when she sees one, they speak to her journey and they let her know of power they hide within if they did not break from pressure.

He should be proud of himself. He was bent but he remains... himself. It'd be fun to assist him in taking down his 'master' if he allows her to offer him support in that endeavor. It's be fun to watch a vampire lord finally go down, she is confident in their skills to take down someone like that, but she must gain some more information. It'd be mutually beneficial if she supports Astarion if he ever wishes to go against that critter. Well, she'd need that vampire out of Baldur's Gate no matter what. Cazador is not as big of a threat to her as Mephistopheles, but he is still someone who must be approached with strategy, not pure brawl.

"You are most correct, dear Astarion!" She exclaims, theatrics undergoing a new phase as she places one hand on her chest and the other behind her back while giving him a bow as if she's a ringleader or as if she's an entertainer. A bard would be envious of her performance, but she won't go down that road, not yet. Not while her current skills are more important and powerful. "Why would I not mind others' business when it can cause a delightful turn of events? Knowledge is power, gather as much as you can!"

The garden of knowledge will make one the most dangerous. If you know enough secrets, one word from your lips will bring ruin to peace so hardly won over by those who call themselves heroes. Zarina straightens up as she gives Astarion another smile, but it's sly and confident as she doesn't let the tadpole in her brain to take away from what she is and what she knows. It's better this way when her powers are limited, it gives her a new outlook and humbles her.

"Everyone's business is my business as long as it falls under my jurisdiction within Baldur's Gate. Because each mistress and each lover a noble takes can be used for blackmail," she begins, passing by him while keeping one hand behind her back and the other snapping her fingers to create small ice figurines looking like humans, elves, gnomes, just five of them. "Each whisper, each discussion, each deal made, each love confession made. It's not my business, but..." And when she squeezes her hand into a fist, they shatter in the air. "It's my turf. The business of others, that's why so many want me dead. Because knowledge is power, Astarion, and you must use any and all opportunity to get it." Golden eyes look back at the vampire spawn, giving him another encouraging smirk. "But I will be kind to you. Your secrets will not be used against you as we are allies in this troubled present. We are equals. Your business will remain yours until you request my services as support. As my respected equal," genuinely so, but she'll kill him without hesitation if he betrays her. "I will not rob you of freedom nor will I ask for anything unfair as payment. I'm not Raphael or Mizora. My contracts are clean cut."

[mollymauk-teafleak]

"shit youre burning up" + taakitz

Hey, I’m relistening to the TAZ finale, I heard them kiss, this happened in the space of about twenty minutes

Leave a comment over on Ao3 if you liked this!

----------

Kravitz didn’t need to sleep. He simply enjoyed it.

There were a lot of things like that, things he thought he’d left behind along with his beating heart. Things that, over the centuries, he’d simply let fall away in the wake of his new task, the comfortable, endless rhythm of his service to his queen. After a while, he’d even stopped missing them.

But in the last ten years he’d rather changed his mind on a few of those points.

Kravitz no longer needed to eat, his body was composed of shadows and sorcery and had long since stopped any kind of metabolising. But he enjoyed the taste of some new combination his husband had dreamt up, something he’d sat and watched him take hours to prepare, giving it his sole focus and attention before handing it to his husband and saying here.

Kravitz’s body didn’t need oxygen to function, his chest only rose and fell when he reminded it to so as not to unnerve people around him. He would never suffocate for want of air to fill his lungs. But he enjoyed that inhalation, the deep draw inward he took for the sheer hell of it, to match his lover when their lips parted. When their kiss would be ended by Taako’s need to breathe, before for those few seconds he’d prioritised Kravitz over air.

And Kravitz didn’t need to sleep. He simply enjoyed the peace, the quiet in his mind. And he most enjoyed feeling morning sunlight on his eyelids, opening them and rolling over contentedly to see his Taako still stubbornly sleeping with his face adorably scrunched up. He enjoyed drawing him close and feeling him whine at the cool of his skin but burrow in anyway, gently coaxing the elf into the world of the waking.

He’d remembered how to enjoy sharing his bed with someone else. Which was why he was so startled that morning, when he rolled over and realised he wasn’t.

Kravitz frowned at the crumpled sheets where his husband was supposed to be curled up, the slightly dented pillow that was supposed to be supporting his head. He couldn’t remember the last time Taako had gotten out of bed before nine without being forcibly dragged.

“Darling?” he called, sitting up and looking around, the beginnings of a battle ready wariness honed over centuries prickling the back of his neck, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” came the reply, weak and watery and sounding rather muffled, coming from behind the bathroom door, “Yeah, I’m all good, babe, just...just go back to sleep…”

His reassurance fell a little flat when it was immediately followed by a hacking, retching noise. Kravitz also no longer needed to vomit but he certainly knew what it sounded like.

He practically leapt to his feet, about to rush straight through the door before remembering about personal boundaries- another thing he’d fallen out of habit with over the years- and knocking on it instead, “Darling, can I come in?”

“No!” Taako’s voice was hurried, even if it was obviously coming from the inside of their toilet bowl, “No, I’m great. No problems at all, everything’s fine.”

Kravitz sighed, “Taako, you’re clearly sick. Let me help you?”

There was a long pause before Taako called miserably, “I don’t get sick.”

Kravitz opened his mouth to argue before remembering his husband often didn’t deal in obvious facts. Especially when he was feeling scared and vulnerable.

“But could I come in anyway?” he said instead, “I, ah, need to brush my teeth after all.”

“No you don’t,” Taako muttered, “...but you can come in.”

Kravitz couldn’t help but wince when he walked in. Taako was pale and shivering in an oversized shirt but somehow sweating at the same time, hunched over on their bathroom rug with his back against the tub. It looked like if he wasn’t leaning on something, he’d crumple altogether.

“Darling…” he groaned, stepping forward though halting when Taako flinched back, shaking his head, “Okay. Okay, no touching right now. That’s fine.”

“I’m not sick,” Taako mumbled, ears folded down over his face, “Elves don’t get sick.”

“Ah, that’s not quite true, my love,” Kravitz smiled gently, leaning back against the sink and folding his arms so Taako could be certain he wouldn’t reach for him again without express permission.

“Isn’t it?” Taako blinked heavily like he was struggling to focus, “Well...Taako doesn’t get sick.”

“Right,” Kravitz nodded slowly, “But...maybe Taako has days where he doesn’t go into work and he doesn’t get out of bed and his husband stays home and makes sure he’s feeling okay? Not because he’s sick or anything, just because he needs it?”

Taako shifted, one ear shifting slightly to show a red rimmed eye cautiously peeking out, “You never stay home from work, babe. Never ever.”

Kravitz’s eyes softened and he moved closer, waiting for Taako to shake his head. When he didn’t, he slid down onto his backside right next to his husband, leaving an inch of space between them.

“Well maybe I should,” he shrugged, “Lup and Barry can fulfill contracts as well as I can and there’s more important things sometimes. Like you needing me to take care of you?”

Taako hesitated, eyes wary like a cat who wanted to accept the bowl of milk being held out to him but wasn’t quite sure how.

“It’s just the two of us here, my love,” Kravitz offered his hand, palm up, “Just you and me.”

There was a long pause before Taako surged forward, throwing his arms around Kravitz’s neck, holding on tight. Kravitz hid his smile against his husband’s hair, gladly gathering him close.

“You’re burning up,” he murmured sympathetically, “Let’s get you back into bed.”

“Okay,” Taako whimpered, “Just don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” Kravitz promised softly, standing easily with the weight of his husband in his arms, “I promise I won’t, Taako.”

For once, Kravitz was glad he didn’t have to sleep, as much as he enjoyed it. Because now he could lie his poor sickly husband down in their bed, summon glasses of water and medicine from their cabinet, let Taako press close to his cool skin. He could spend the entire day watching over him, rather than chasing down souls, right where he was needed.

And never once did he have to break his promise.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: Apocalypse - Ch 9

I'm running out of chapters that I've written, uhoh. Looks like I have hunker down and really write again.

-

You looked at Loki, then back to Tony, then did a double take and winced, “Surprise?”

“Honestly, this would happen to me.” Tony shook his head. “Really. I was having a relatively normal day in the face of an apocalypse, and now my cousin shows up with one of the Asgardians. Great. We haven’t seen Thor in ages, and just, boom. Out pops Loki. That is absolutely what I needed.” Tony started nodding as he spoke. “So what are you doing here Rock of Ages? Are you behind this weather? Global conquest, being a little shit, just ruining humanity’s day, killing for fun,” Tony held out his hand towards you, “What is that thing on his neck, did you capture him? Why are his eyes covered? Good job if so.”

“Well if you took a minute to stop talking, he could answer you.” You replied coolly.

“Is that thing on his neck the reason you wanted the cutter? Because nope, no thank you, whatever it is, it’s staying on. It looks like it’s,”

Loki stepped forward and pulled off the gauze. It wasn’t a normal step, it was a threat.

Tony looked at him and his Ironman gloves came on, hands at the ready, “Back off, I will shoot.”

“Has it occurred to you,” Loki sneered, “that things have not changed between myself and humanity since we last saw each other?”

Tony blinked taking in Loki’s eyes, “Uh, what’s up with,” he waved his hand in front of his own eyes.

“I wouldn’t know.” Loki replied, his voice colder than the outside, “I can’t see.”

“That’s part of why I asked you to come.” You piped up timidly.

Tony looked between the two of you, confusion scrambling his features.

“Please can I have the cutter?” You asked, reaching your hand out towards Tony, “look at him, those spikes are digging into his skin, he’s bleeding constantly.”

“Maybe he deserves it.”

Loki rolled his red eyes. “Oh yes, my loving father, torturing me continuously, I’m sure you would agree given your history with your oh so wonderful father.”

Tony clenched his jaw, “What do you know about my father?”

“I know a great many things about all of the Avengers. You will recall my time on Midgard when…” Loki paused and picked at his hand, “I was not quite myself.”

Tony laughed sarcastically, “Yea, we remember.”

You interjected, “And we also remember how you heroically died trying to kill Thanos.”

Loki looked up from the vague direction of his palm where he had bowed his head slightly, his blank eyes searching for your voice.

“And all the other Avengers are no saints by their own standards either, they’ve had their crimes they’ve committed in order to do good, or to come back from it and turn their lives around. Surely everyone deserves a second chance, no?” You elbowed Tony.

“He’s had his second chance.” Tony grumbled.

“When he died stopping dark elves from invading earth?” You offered.

“Ok, hello, since when are you so knowledgeable in all things Loki?”

“I talked to him, you should try it some time. When he was recovering, asked him about his life. You know, when you ask people about what they’ve been through, really listen, sometimes they share things. You could stand to learn a thing or two about people around you.” You narrowed your eyes at Tony.

Loki stood there unmoving.

“Fine! Fine! Throw in with him, betray humanity, I’ll have nothing to do with it. Take the damned cutter, but we’re hunting you down as soon as I leave. This is the last we speak.”

Loki sighed, “You really are an imbecile, Stark. Is your pride so great?”

“What?” Tony rounded on Loki, pointing a finger at him, though it had no effect.

“The monsters you humans need fear are frost giants. Those are what are hunting you in droves, and if I would stand to guess, I imagine they brought some of their beasts along as well.” Loki replied, crossing his arms.

Tony looked at you then back to Loki.

“That’s the information we were going to give you in exchange for the cutter.” You said, holding your hand out palm up.

Tony slowly set the cutter in your palm. “Expand.”

“Your cousin and I were attacked in a produce store by three of them. I am… not at my best at current, and they got the jump on me. They are also enhanced by some means, their weapons are different than normal Jotun weapons.”

“Which means?” Tony asked.

“That even if I were at my full power, healing my vision wouldn’t be a possibility. They’ve used ancient magicks, magick that goes back into the depths of time. It is very difficult to learn such techniques.”

You furrowed your brow, “Why didn’t you learn it?”

“Surely Doctor Strange would know it then?” Tony asked.

Loki sighed, “I’m very young, it takes centuries to learn and master, one has to commit fully to it. I have been working on other magical practices, so such things fell to the side.”

“You got a physics degree instead of a mathematics?” You offered.

“Essentially.” Loki turned in Tony’s direction. “That half rate sorcerer would not even know of such magick. What he knows is from books, and mostly books on Midgard. No, you need to travel the cosmos to learn this, even if he still had the time stone he would need to know where to travel, where to look, who to ask, what to seek.”

“Oh.” Tony leaned over towards you and muttered, “he’s still arrogant as hell, you really let him sleep with you?”

“Fuck, Tony, we shared a bed, and he can hear you.” You cried out, shoving Tony away. Though you were too busy to notice the pink on Loki’s face.

“Ok so fine, fine. What’s the creepy collar thing for then?” Tony asked.

“I’d rather not say until it’s off,” Loki paused, “If it can be taken off.”

“Fine, god of lies. Have at it, cousin.”

You stepped forward and gripped the collar carefully, looking at Loki’s face intently. Unbidden, Loki’s hand reached up to grip your arm. You could feel his warm breath on your face as you looked up at him. Your eyes lingered on his thin, pale lips, his square chin and sharp nose and cheekbones. Trying not to bite your lip, you whispered, “Do you trust me?”

You could see Loki swallow before he replied, “Yes.”

Pressing the cutter on, you held it to the metal. A thin beam of energy passed between the two prongs at the end of the red tube. The cold metal hissed and screamed as the energy beam pressed against it, your hand vibrating dangerously. Loki reached up and gripped your hand, steadying it.

“Easy, love. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.” Loki murmured, the disappointment evident in his voice.

You pressed against the metal harder. The tool screeched and shook violently, threatening to slide up and down the metal columns of the collar but you held fast with Loki’s help. Your heart pounded in your chest, you knew it was going to give, you just knew it, and you knew if you pressed in on the metal too hard, it would give and your hand would fly through and strike Loki in the throat.

Pulling your hand back, you tried to keep it in place, just enough that the beam would eat through the metal but not move forward. The beam was so bright, you wanted to look away, but you couldn’t, you had to be sure you did this right.

One final ear-wrenching screech and your hand shot forward. Lightning fast, you snapped the tool off, succeeding in only grazing Loki’s throat and leaving a mark resembling a small hickey.

You let out a soft gasp of relief.

Loki pulled his hand away from yours, feeling the broken metal. He had cried out softly at the burn but compared to other pain he had felt, it may as well have been a curling iron. The tool cooled fast for safety reasons. Loki touched the cut part that slid down, one side no longer digging into his throat. With a mixture of giddy relief, he laughed.

Tony leaned around and saw the cut metal, “Well not bad me.” He squinted at the mark on Loki’s neck.

You narrowed your eyes and held up the cutter.

Tony opened his mouth to say something.

You cut him off with an angry look and mouthed, “Don’t.” Then you turned back to Loki, “How are you feeling?”

“I believe as long as it’s on me it’s going to keep working.” Loki sighed, “assuming taking it off even works.”

“Well, hey, even if it doesn’t help, at least you’ll be able to move.”

“Yes, thank you.”

And so the process continued, this time with the one by his chest. You wanted to delay the one under his chin as long as possible since it was so close to skin. Even as fast as you moved, that one would burn the bottom of his throat in a long strip before you could turn it off.

“Can you put like any nanites or something to protect him, Tony?” You asked as you struggled with the lower bar. “The last one is going to be nasty if not.”

“You know? I probably could.” Tony said thoughtfully. “But you owe me.”

“I assume you want to know what this contraption does.” Loki replied dryly.

“Bingo.”

“It makes me mortal.”

“Wait what?” Tony blanched, “Woah now, cousin, wait a minute, I don’t think cutting that off is the right idea.”

The lower bar snapped, the cutter shot forward and just in time you managed to only lightly singe Loki’s armor.

“We had a deal, Tony.” You growled.

“Nonbinding contract, oral agreements aren’t technically legally binding.” Tony replied.

Loki narrowed his eyes, looking slightly to the right of Tony. “Even without my sight and powers I am plenty lethal.”

“Yes well, I like my odds way more if you can’t go around using magic and surviving explosions and like fifty foot drops.”

“Tony! We had a deal!” You slapped Tony’s chest.

Tony looked at you stunned. “Did you just hit me?”

“Loki has been nothing but kind to me throughout the entirety of me knowing him.”

“Minus the murder of eighty-six people in a SHIELD bunker and two-hundred fifty or so people in New York plus billions in property damage.”

“As I recall, the SHIELD bunker was your director’s doing, he was the one playing with the tesseract, attempted to bury me in a last ditch attempt to stop me from escaping, failed and blamed it on me. And while I did hurt some people in New York, I do apologize for that, I wasn’t quite myself but that is neither here nor there. How is your Hulk, did the civilians he traumatized appreciate him? And the chitauri which you by now know wasn’t me. In fact, if the Hulk hadn’t shown up, you might have been better off, given the sheer amount of damage he added to the wreckage.”

Tony opened and closed his mouth pointing a finger at Loki.

“I assure you, whatever gesture you’re making at me is wasted.”

“Fine, you can use my nanites.” Tony grumbled. “You fell hard for this guy, huh?”

“That is none of your business and neither here nor there.” You huffed. As you turned back to Loki, a lingering ghost of a smile stayed on his face.

Then the nanites were on his throat and you began to cut.

[kueble]

Not sure if you want questions on your demon au still but- so you know how swans wings are basically clubs? Are Witcher wings similarly battle ready?

I do!  Thank you so much for this!  So I see the wings as mostly decoration?  Geralt still fights with his swords and magic, though his magic is obviously a lot stronger as a demon.

---

“You never let me come with you on the contracts you actually fulfil,” Jaskier complains.  He stops idly strumming his lute and looks at Geralt across their campfire.  The flames flicker and chase shadows across the demon’s face, but Jaskier can still see him frown at the statement.

“You don’t need to see that,” Geralt tells him quickly.  He’s extra prickly this evening, probably because he actually carried out a contract that afternoon.  The woman who summoned them needed to escape.  She lived in fear of the town alderman, who was apparently stealing children in the night.  Jaskier didn’t want to think too much on the why but after a morning of research, Geralt had discovered that the woman’s cause was just.  He’d left Jaskier her cottage while he went to deal with things.  He’s been silent - well more silent than usual - since he came back to collect him.

If Jaskier thinks too long on the fact that he did in fact come back for him, his gut starts feeling weird, so he’s been avoiding it.  “I can’t write songs about you serving vengeance if I’m not there to see it,” he mumbles grumpily.  Because that’s why he’s here, isn’t it?  That’s the reason he’s allowed to stay.

“No one’s asking you to,” Geralt answers with a pointed look.  Jaskier just huffs at him and rolls his eyes.  They’ve only been travelling together a few months, but it didn’t take long for him to realize the demon was harmless to him.  He carried out his own brand of vengeance when it was called for, but more often than not talked whoever summoned him out of it.  Geralt wasn’t one for false revenge.

“I mean, what do you even look like?  How do you fight?  Do you use your wings?  They’ve very intimidating,” Jaskier questions him.  And it’s true.  His wings are large and black, framing Geralt in a way that makes him seem like some kind of fallen god.  And fuck if Jaskier wouldn’t worship at his alter for the rest of his days.

“Why would I use my wings?”

“I mean...have you ever seen a swan?  Those beasts are viscous.  I’ve heard they can break bones with their wings.  They come at you all wings and beak and just,” Jaskier trails off, shuddering.  Personally, he’s never witnessed a swan attack, but he was on the wrong end of an excitable peacock as a youth and he’d like to never relive that.

“They can’t,” Geralt sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Come again?” Jaskier asks in confusion.

“Swans can’t break a bone.  They have hollow bones.  Still feral fuckers, though,” Geralt chuckles.  He pauses for a moment and studies Jaskier’s face before adding, “I fight with swords.  Two.  Steel for men and silver for monsters, though I don’t get summoned much for those.”

“Bullshit,” Jaskier scoffs, “You don’t wear swords.”  And he’d notice, because watching Geralt is one of his favorite pastimes.

Geralt snorts and shakes his head before waving his right hand.  A sword materializes in a flash of blue light and Jaskier just gawks at him.  “Demon,” Geralt says smugly.  

He turns the sword over in his hand, and it shines in the firelight.  Jaskier’s breath catching in his throat, because he looks so damn gorgeous like this.  Logically, he knows the demon could kill him without breaking a sweat.  But he can’t help wanting dangerous things.  And Geralt paints a glorious picture with his coal black wings bracketing his muscular frame.  The stark contrast of his white hair against the top curves of his wings makes Jaskier’s mouth water.

But Geralt is a flighty thing.

Jaskier has to remind himself that he’s an uninvited guest here.  Ever since that day he grabbed hold of Geralt and followed him on the contract with the elves, they’ve had a sort of unspoken agreement.  Geralt will do whatever he wants, and Jaskier will be allowed to come along if he’s not too annoying.  And he’s pretty sure blatantly hitting on the demon would be against the rules.  He can be patient, though, when he really wants something.

And oh, how he wants.

So instead of the flowery words that long to fall from his lips, Jaskier starts playing again, a beautiful and haunting melody that fills the night around them.  He can’t help noticing the way the edges of Geralt’s mouth turn up ever so slightly when he’s playing.  And that?  That he can work with.  If he can’t speak his feelings aloud, he’ll let the music do it for him.

[aspnss]

                   i still run with the lost boys                        i still look for mermaids —                              i hear the moon at night, talk to the trees                                     we are NOTHING but MAGIC in our head!

THE SUMMER FAE.

(aka: a comprehensive list of facts + personal lore including one apple markos.)

faeries are divided into courts, primarily distinguished by the season in which they are created — spring, summer, fall, and winter courts. and while faes are divided & classified by courts, the courts themselves as classified almost like familial terms. the spring fae are the sisters of the summer fae. the fall fae are the cousins of the summer fae. the winter fae are the daughters of the fall fae. and in both nature as well as in behavior...summer & winter don’t typically get along.

summer fae are most akin to the spring fae in that they are often born within the same time of one another, and in turn, develop one another’s behaviors. where spring is the start of rebirth, summer brings the harvest — a lot of these fae are extremely in tune with nature, plants, and wildlife. they also bring forth a lot of babies between the months of summer & spring. (whether by procreation or the human children they spirit away once a deal has been made. it means all the same to them.)

the summer (and in turn, spring as well) fae thrive in warmer climates. they’re likely to settle closer to swampy areas, shaded forests, and ocean fronts. they have a very special connection & communicate often to the wildlife & the animals native to these places, as well as the other otherworldly beings that may co-exist with them in these places — they get along rather nicely with fire elves & water nymphs, particularly. they lean towards warm attitudes, prefer to dress in loose clothing in bright colors (or none of at all), and are the most fond of certain raw materials such as gold, geode stones, and brightly colored gemstones as gifts.

summer fae are very much fire like in spirit, and as a result, their corporeal counterparts often list birth dates that align with the fire signs of the zodiac as well as those born in the spring / summer months. — apple markos herself is a leo. she fares well with any being aligned with these signs. she’ll butt heads with sagittarians often being that their births fall under the winter, but out of all of the winter fae, apple personally is able to make easier amends with sagittarians & vice versa. so if apple is fond of you & you happen to get kidnapped by a winter fae, you better hope it’s a sagittarius! 

continuing with the above bullet point, the summer fae are the one of the easier fae to approach. they are the most receptive to conversation, they’re more patient, they appear friendlier. when it comes to contracts & the loopholes they rope others into, nothing they promise is meant to intentionally cause harm, death, or otherwise — but that doesn’t mean it’s entirely out of the question. (a lot of methods they use come at the risk of embarrassment, or neglect of one’s mortal needs as punishment or otherwise. a contract apple has used in the past as well as in an ongoing thread of hers is demanding the attention of a human upon their true / given name being spoken by said fae. this comes at the risk of neglecting one’s needs in order to honor the fae with all of their attention whenever they’re near the fae at all times. another penalty she’s used is making a human repetitively fixate on a word, especially if it’s a profanity directed at her. this comes at the risk of sleep deprivation, dehydration, damage to one’s tongue, etc.) conversely, the summer fae are the ones with the shortest tempers, and are more prone to offense or emotional outbursts. doing a minor offense such as indirectly insulting her or something she’s doing (ie: that skirt would look prettier in a different color. / are you sure you know what you’re doing?) or declining an offer made out of kindness is enough to trigger a temper tantrum.

their fiery temperament doesn’t only reveal itself in moments of anger — the summer fae are very passionate beings. because they’re much more emotionally open, they fare well in friendships & romantic partnerships not just within their community but with other supernatural creatures or even mortals. they also lean towards things associated with lust, and while not as intensely as spring fae, they have a lot of sexual energy. again, there are more spring and summer fae within their courts because of their mindset of rebirth & harvest, so they like making and having babies. expanding on the whole ‘spiriting away human babies�� thing, they don’t do so with malicious intent — they only claim a human baby if said human offers it regardless of intentions to follow through or not. they don’t harm them, rather they think human babies are very cute beings & raise them up as limited members of their community. sometimes they give these babies back, though. (because of this? i wouldn’t advise verbalizing, joking or otherwise, that you would give your first born baby or next child for something around apple. because she’ll come to collect on that wish at some point or another, and you may not get that baby back!)

 lastly, the summer fae are more social & open to interaction with humans in contrast to courts like the more elusive fall fae or the isolated winter fae, but that doesn’t mean they’re more receptive to unwelcome visitors. trespassing in the private realm or sacred communal space of a summer fae is like a huge fucking offense. it’s like breaking into someone’s house while they’re still inside! they’re not immediately hostile like the fall fae or resort to kidnapping (likely for a super elaborate, hunger games-esque festivity for their personal entertainment.) / ‘torturing’ (in fae terms, which is like the equivalent to being a court jester until they grow bored & let you go or you die.) / eating their trespassers with complete malice — but they aren’t letting you off scott-free, either. instead, they’ll just pretend you’re a welcome guest, serve you some food & drink, hold a grand feast / party in your honor...then trap you there for the rest of your natural life. could be anywhere to a few hours, a few months, a few years, or well over fifty years. the only way you’re getting out of any of that is if you’ve got some good gold or gemstones on you, because human money is worthless to a fae.

[konohagakureship]

Hidan and Kakuzu d&d au! Two more members of the Akatsuki Fellowship!! They are travelling around Khorvaire, in the world of Eberron!

au! Akatsuki D&D

Headcanons:

All the info related to places and clans is from the canonic lore of Eberron, or from interpretations that I’ve found here and there, and also a bit of my own homebrew lore. I’m gathering all the info and sources in my WorldAnvil page so you can check it out if you want :)

And this is the map with notes so you can pin all the locations.

This time I chose to put only the info relevant to the characters to make the post shorter. But still, this will be a LONG post so be prepared xD

Founding of the Akatsuki Fellowship

All the members of the party met in Sharn, the biggest city of the continent of Khorvaire. They were there for different reasons but ended up travelling together across the world.

Hidan the bloody warlock

Hidan was born in the warrior nation of Karrnath in the city of Atur, where the living and dead coexist in a daily basis.

His parents were members of the Blood of Vol cult, and actively participated in the life of the Crimson Monastery, the largest worship site dedicated to Vol in the entire continent. 

From a young age, his parents instructed him in the faith of the Divinity Within and encouraged him to follow their path and become a Seeker of the Blood of Vol.

The Blood of Vol is a religion centered on the belief of Divinity Within, which means that they do not revere any deity but the blood that courses through their own veins. The followers of the Blood of Vol are called Seekers, and many of them are necromancers employed by the government of Karrnath to control their undead soldiers. 

Seekers believe that death is a curse prevent mortals from achieving divinity, so by breaking the curse of mortality, humanity will be able to live a plenty existence. Necromancy is an attempt to fight the curse of mortality and prevent the loss of the knowledge and skills obtained by past generations. 

Contrary to the popular belief, Seekers cherish life and do not want to become undead. Those who become undead are considered to be martyrs who have given up their own chance at divinity to help others, since they will become tools for the living.

The Blood of Vol cult is ruled from Atur by The Crimson Covenant.

At the age of twelve, Hidan showed signs of possessing magical abilities, which catched the interest of the Cult and welcomed him into the Crimson Monastery to train his powers in favor of their religion and ulterior plans.

Hidan had always been an avid follower of his faith, but soon after joining the Monastery he started to interpret it in his own terms.

His warlock status made him believe that his blood carried the divine will, and that his mission was to actively fight for the Divinity Within by converting all the misguided mortals to The Blood of Vol, or sending them to their deceiving gods to see for themselves how misguided they were. 

The years passed and Hidan only grew more powerful and reckless, learning and crafting unique invocations to unleash his magic at its fullest potential.

His ever growing power mixed with his free interpretation of the beliefs of The Blood of Vol, marked him as an individual too independent and powerful to escalate in the ranks of the Cult.

In an attempt to channel his energy and give him a purpose, The Covenant prompted him to join the Order of the Emerald Claw, the paramilitary arm of the Blood of Vol, and sent him to Rekkenmark.

The Order of the Emerald Claw is an outlawed organization of Karrn patriots and Blood of Vol worshippers spread throughout Khorvaire. They continue to operate in a semi-terrorist fashion to this day, proclaiming their desire to see Karrnath once again rise to power.

Their connection to the Cult is only known by highest ranking members of the Order.

Hidan was sent to Rekkenmark, in the border with Thrane. His cell had the undercover mission to hunt down any paladin of the Church of the Silver Flame that entered Karrnath with the intention of killing Vol’s vampires and undeads.

The Blood of Vol is a forbidden religion in some regions of the continent due to the evil connotations associated with their practices, and many groups such as the Church of the Silver Flame actively works to destroy them.

His days as an Emerald Claw Knight were short, though.

At the beginning, Hidan thought that the Order was his rightful place, that surrounded by powerful patriots he will be able to bring the divine will to all the mortals and spread his faith to the edge of the world.

However, he soon started to feel disenchanted with how the Order handled their business and how little they cared about his divine will. He realised that like in the Monastery, the Order also lacked of determination, and so he began to make their creed his and reform it by his own standards.

The time passed and Hidan grew more reckless and discarded his superior’s orders more frequently, which caused friction within his cell. 

By recommendation of The Covenant, when the situation became unsustainable, The Emerald Claw “prompted” him to take his own path and fight for the Order by himself in his own terms, far away from Rekkenmark.

Instead of going back to Atur, Hidan decided to travel the world, free from any restraints, finding misguided mortals to convert to the Blood of Vol and killing all those who didn’t want to achieve immortality.

Unsurprisingly for everyone but himself, his homicidal activities granted him the status of “kill in sight” in many cities, and soon the bounty for his head was high enough to buy a villa in the upper levels of Sharn.

So Hidan, a powerful warlock and Seeker, spent the following years running away from the law and inquisitors of every city he stepped on. He never bothered to hide his presence anyway...

After a near death experience with a Flame paladin in Sigilstar, he traveled to Sharn, where he knew he could hide from prying eyes and find refuge in one of the Order’s liars. 

However, The Emerald Claw rejected to host him as he attracted too much attention, forcing him to hide in the lowest levels of the city, where he was told that there was a unofficially Vol-friendly tavern run by elves.

Little did he know, that in the Callestan district lived one of the most renowned bounty hunters of Sharn, who was currently drinking a pint in the same tavern he choose to spend the night in.

Kakuzu the bounty hunter

Kakuzu was born in the port city of Zarash’ak, in The Shaodw Marshes.

His father was a human from House Vadalis (beast tamers), while his mother was a human with a quarter of orc blood from House Tharashk with the Mark of Finding (bounty hunters).

He was raised within the Tharashk House and learned how to bounty hunt from a young age. Even though his training was focused on the ways of his mother’s House, he enjoyed spending time with his father and help him train and sell his imported beasts from the Eldeen Reaches.

Kakuzu spent his childhood proudly working for House Tharashk, dreaming of becoming a renowned bounty hunter and awakening a powerful Mark of Finding. However, his dreams would sunk when at the age of seventeen he finally manifested his dragonmark. 

It was an aberrant dragonmark.

The dragonmarks are passed through bloodlines and when two members of different dragonmarked families reproduce it often results in aberrant dragonmarks. Originally aberrant marked were seen as outcasts and outsiders, often shunned by the houses and eked out a pitiful existence. Now they unite under their own House, House Tarkanan.

Kakuzu tried to hide his new mark, constantly covering his body as much as he could and not getting intimately close to anyone for fear of being discovered and casted aside. His mood soured in a couple of months, and he ostracised himself from his closest friends and family.

But after a couple of years it had grown up so much that it almost took his entire back, and inevitably the House found out about his condition and expelled him from the clan.

Abandoned by his people, he traveled to Sharn in an attempt to join the Aberrant Dragonmarked House Tarkanan.

House Tarkanan is a house only formed by aberrant markeds, from any race and clan. They are usually bounty hunters, mercenaries and accountants.

When House Tarkanan first established itself in Sharn, the halfling Boromar Clan attempted to assimilate them, but the offer was turned down. This resulted in the Boromars attempting to destroy the House. When this proved too difficult a deal was struck. Since the Boromar clan doesn't traffic in assassinations, it was agreed that so long as House Tarkanan doesn't take contracts against the Boromars, they would be permitted to stay in Sharn without paying a fee.

Despite being shunned away by his family and now working as a bounty hunter for a bunch of criminals, Kakuzu found his place in Sharn. He also worked as an accountant for the clan from time to time, a nice changes of winds from his usual, dirtier, business.

He made himself a name in Sharn, and over the years was granted the title of Baron, as a senior assassin of the Clan. Kakuzu was well known in the city, especially in the districts of Lower Dura. 

He established his residence in the lawless district of Callestan mainly because the rent was cheaper, but also because his best informants also maraud those streets, inns and ateliers.

Kakuzu is a baron of House Tarkanan, and his main income comes from the clan’s dealings. However, he takes freelance work if the pay is good enough, and he usually doubles his fees if the contract is from his former House.

House Tharashk, despite expelling Kakuzu many years ago, is often interested in hiring his services in the big city, since bounty hunters that are not from House Tarkanan or the Boromar Clan are not allowed to make business freely even after paying a bountiful fee.

House Tharashk has deals and a close relationship with House Thuranni. The elven house team with them whenever they need to find artifacts or people, in exchange for influences and intel. They are currently working together with the Emerald Claw in Stormreach (Xen’dirk), seeking ancient artifacts for Lady Vol. 

House Thuranni is involved in many dubious affairs and unofficially allied with many organisations, such as the Blood of Vol and the Emerald Claw. The Thuranni fought alongside Karrnath during the War, and they have an important presence in Atur with their True Shapers academy.

These unofficial affairs turn every Thuranni establishment into a safehouse for those allies who need refuge or a meeting point.

So Kakuzu visits The Shadowkeeper tavern whenever the Tharashk need something from him, to catch up with his informants, or just to drink a large pint.

...though cashing in a good bounty for a dumb Seeker, is also interesting.

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

We have 6 out of 8 members of the party!! yeyyy!!! now i need to finish the other two ;)

[kibleedibleedoo]

The oneshot I lovingly call “Fuck you Thranduil”

Just a little oneshot that has been floating around my head for a few weeks. Its set after BOTFA where everyone lives / nobody dies (YAY) during the negotiations regarding reparations. 

Warnings - if you couldnt tell from the title it contains a few swear words, mentions of assault/abuse of power, mention of bloody death

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

"Well, if you do not agree to our terms then the Arkenstone will remain in our possession."

"Listen here you pointy eared bastard! " Thorin raised a hand to silence his cousin, then brought it to his furrowed brow. The meeting continued to go around in circles, as it had the past few days, no side willing to budge on their demands and no concessions being made.

"I think it time we all took a break." Bard, ever the peacemaker, huffed.  He was already out of his chair and pouring himself another drink. Dain was all worked up and angling for a fight, which with guards and armies assembled would undoubtedly lead to another war leaving countless more dead.

"Amrâlimê, you have barely spoken work since talks began." Thorin turn to you stood next to his chair and kiss your hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to overstep the mark"

"I think we are well past that given the bickering that is occurring. If you would like I can have Dwalin go to back to the mountain, at least then one of us can have a reprieve."  he chuckled through a pain smile. His patience was wearing dangerously thin.

"No, it's okay." you smiled back. A flash of relief washed over Thorin's face. "Plus, I think I have an idea, but it is going to be umm well a bit insane, possibly a little dangerous, and it might make things a whole lot worse.  Do you trust me?" you whispered into his ear.

" Do I trust your judgement? Undoubtably! Your ability to keep yourself safe? Well, that is why we have a small army of guards overseeing the negotiations. If you think it will work, go at least put an end to this, then you have my blessing" Thorin whispered back.

"Excellent!" your hand reached up and caressed his face. As he turned his lips met yours. " if you'll excuse me, I just need to fetch something" you kissed him quickly then left.

"As I have said before, operations you are requesting at out of the question!" Thorin growled cutting Thranduil off. 

"Do you mind if I cut in?" you asked before Bard or Thranduil could begin again. Thorin smirked and ushered you forward. "My lords, I think it is important we address your request individually as our current approach is getting as nowhere. Lord Bard I hope you do not mind, but I will be addressing the elven king first.

"Very well" Bard seemed a bit taken aback for a moment that consented regardless.

"For my benefit could you please reiterate your demands Lord Thranduil?"

"The necklace made of jewels of Starlight, pay for my soldiers, and compensation for those lost defending the Mountain!" Thranduil snarled.

"and in exchange you will relinquish your claim on the Arkenstone?" Thranduil tilts his head in your direction, his smug way of agreeing. " brilliant!" you now turned your attention back to Thorin. " as part of my employment contract I am entitled to one fifthteenth of the treasure in Erebor, correct?

"Yes?" everyone was now looking in your direction, confusion plastered across their faces.

"Then I would like to claim this as part of my share" you gesture towards a very distinctive elvish box. " it was after all an item of treasure from within the mountain." Thorin leaned back in his chair, eager to see where you are going with this, while Thranduil’s expression flashes from shock to distain. Your attention now returns to the elven King. "It seems I am now the owner of this beautiful, jewelled necklace that you so desire and unfortunately for you I do not desire the Arkenstone nearly half as much as the dwarfs you were previously dealing with." Thranduil clenched his jaw, trying to keep his composure. He knew he had just lost the upper hand.  You knew the calmer you acted the more frustrated Thranduil would become. Afterall, the last time you had engaged the elven king have almost slit your throat trying to get information about the quest from Thorin and yourself. Now you all that scar with pride but still you held a grudge and would do anything to see that entitled elf brought down a peg or two. " Now from where I am standing, I do not see why you are entitled to anything you're requesting. See it was you who assembled your army against us. You were only caught up in the war because you marched on the mountain for selfish reasons!

"THOSE JEWELS BELONG TO THE ELVES!" Thranduil rose to his full height, likely as a means to intimidate you. However, though he was nearly twice, your size your rage was far greater. You would stand atop the table if you must, to show that Thranduil did not have the upper hand. 

"Those jewels belong to me! Regardless of who they belong to in the past after the dragon attacked, anything in that mountain belong to those brave enough to try and reclaim Erebor and since I am counted among those few these jewels on mine." a smirk crossed your face knowing that Thranduil was struggling to keep dignified. " now the deal on the table is these jewels for the Arkenstone."

"I cannot conduct such a trade. My men -----------” before he could even finish his sentence you cut Thranduil off.

"That is a pity. Oh well, I am sure this necklace will look lovely when I wear it to my wedding” you took the Jewels out of their box and drape them over your neck. " my love do you mind?" Wordlessly Thorin stood, brushed your hair to the side, fasten the necklace and placed a kiss with a gems of Starlight grazed your collarbone then sat back down. It seems he was enjoying how flustered Thranduil was becoming, and he did have to admit he did find it rather attractive when you took charge. “Thank you.” You once again switched your attention to another. “My Lord Dain, what do you think?”

“You look divine my lady.” This earned Dain a quick judging glance from Thorin, you were his one after all.

“Hmmmm I don't know, it doesn't sit quite right with my scar. “Your hand traced across the stones, feeling their position on your neck as you turned back to the elven king. “No, I think it would be better if we broke it apart for different jewellery. “

“YOU WILL NOT!” It seems that had caused Thranduil to finally snap. the tip of his sword was now firmly pressed against your throat. all had jumped into position. Dwarves, elves, and men all ready with swords drawn. worry exuded from Thorin however he trusted your calmness and held Dain back.

“Go ahead. Spill my blood all over your wife’s necklace. Did she die wearing it?” A single drop of blood landed on one of the sparkling stones. “Did her blood tarnish the jewels as mine now seems to?” You wiped the warm, sticky blood from the gems and tapped Thranduil’s sword to the side, which he lowered in shock. “Oh, did you not expect me to know the history and why you covet this piece of jewellery so much?“ No words were uttered, the entire tent was silent even Thranduil was speechless. “Now I repeat again, the Arkenstone for the necklace. Or I break it up piece by piece it's that simple.” You gave the elven king a sweet smile, but he said nothing “No? Okay. Thorin my dear, do you reckon it is possible to get one of these gems out with just a knife? or will I need a hammer? I want to do it personally you see.” You had already unclasped the necklace and held it firmly in your grasp.

“A knife should work on some of the smaller stones, aye” Concern had not left Thorin. At any point this could turn deadly. You are pressing buttons that even an orc dare not press. Still, he knew interrupting now would only lead to disaster.

“Great thank you.” You reached down to your boot and took a small knife from within, then placed the necklace on the table ready to take a stab at disassembling it.

“Wait!” Thranduil shouted drawing everyone's attention from you. “You have a deal!” He almost sounded defeated. Almost.

“I will give you this necklace and in exchange you and your army will leave this land. Agreed?”

“. . . . Agreed.“ Thranduil responded flatly.

“and the Arkenstone will be returned?”

“. . . . yes.” Bard and Thranduil exchanged a look but agreed nonetheless.

“Don't worry Bard, I still acknowledge your claim on the Arkenstone as well.” He gave you a slow nod of acknowledgement. “Then it's a deal!” Thranduil watched as you gently placed the necklace back into its box, then held out your hand to shake on the deal. Apparently, that was not how deals were usually ended in Middle Earth.

“Come, we should leave these accursed lands!” Thranduil took the box from the table and quickly turned on his heels, not even acknowledging the other Kings at the table.

“Oh! Thranduil” you called after the elven King. As he turned, you flung a single gold coin at him. “I'm feeling generous. Here, consider this a donation towards your troops.” He scowled and swiftly left, causing Dain to burst into bouts of uncontrolled laughter.

“Up yours! You gangly bugger!” Dane managed to pant out through laughter. Thorin looked at you full of love, pride, and bemusement. You moved across the room and sat on the table across from Bard. He looked vaguely terrified but concealed it well.

“Back in Laketown Thorin gave his word that the wealth of the mountain would be shared. Bilbo and I vouched for him.” Bard nodded, not entirely sure where you were going. Your calmness unnerving for all now. “If he does not keep his word it would reflect poorly on me. Now I cannot have that. You will receive enough gold to rebuild Dale and Laketown.” You quickly glanced at Thorin to ensure he wasn't already scowling. “Your people will be looked after through the winter and they will receive compensation for the dragon attack and the battle. Is this acceptable?”

“That is very generous my lady.” Thorin and Bard locked eyes. Thorin’s usual scowl had returned causing Bard to shift his attention back to you. You briefly returned Thorin’s scowl, letting him know this was happening whether he liked it or not.

“If the King doesn't keep up with payments please inform me. I will ensure everything is taken care of. I took the Liberty of bringing a chest so that you need not leave here empty handed.“ Bard gave you a quick bow and took the chest from one of the dwarven guards, leaving the Arkenstone behind on the table. Turning back to Thorin and Dain you could see they weren't nearly as happy as when Thranduil left.

“That was far more than I was willing to give, amrâlimê”

“When you failed to provide adequate compensation, you called my honour into question Thorin. Thorin looked slightly ashamed at your remark. “At least I earned you back the Arkenstone my love.” Since you weren't in a caring mood you took the opportunity to sit on your Kings lap.

“You were very impressive ghivâshelûh” Thorin tilted your chin up to inspect the wound on your neck. It was only minor. and required no further attention.

“Remind me not to get on the wrong side of the future Queen” Dain chuckled.

“You might have to remind me the same cousin.” Thorin smiled giving you a kiss.

  Translations

Amrâlimê – my love

Ghivâshelûh – my treasure of all treasures

[shadowron]

The Conclusion of Ivy & Chrome for Shadowrun (1st Edition)

The last section. The runners have tracked Fayette and Nick to the Shoalwater Tribal Community in North Cove, where they also meet Marti Vann – their Mr. Johnson.

“If Marti can help it, she will not reveal to the runners that it was she behind the Diana persona.”

Uhh… how is that supposed to work?

The team was hired to find Fayette and… they did. End of job. If they are not aware that Marti is their employer, they should immediately bundle up Fayette and take her back to Seattle to arrange a drop off to “Diana”. At which point, Marti would have to reveal her real identity as to not pick a fight with the, most assuredly, heavily armed shadowrunners, especially when she knows Aztechnology is on their way.

The players would be perfectly within their rights to demand payment – even if they themselves did not physically deliver Fayette to Marti, they did the work for which they were contracted and, indeed, Fayette is alive and in the custody of Marti.

Pay up.

Of course, to get the full Karma reward for this adventure, they instead must do the Right Thing and help protect Fayette from Anton and his Aztech stooges on their way to the reservation. If anything, they should negotiate with Marti for more pay since this kind of thing is outside the bounds of their initial contract.

Either way – they can’t leave without running into the hit squad, so get some condition monitors ready.

And bust out some minis.

The Opposition

The Big Baddies (Dr. Arhill, Anton d’Venescu, Hortense, Farnwell) along with 4 Aztechnology “Senior Technicians”

The junior technicians aren’t given bullets.

They all have Armor Clothing, Ares Viper Sliverguns (silenced), HK 227 SMGs (silenced), six grenades (2 offensive, 2 neuro-stun, 2 smoke), and, oh yeah, Spell Locked Invisibility spells.

Clearly heavy armor of some sort, and not just armor clothing.

For backup, they have two Hughes WK-2 Stallion (Military Variant) helicopters with twin rigger-controlled chin-mounted LMGs and a single side-mount 6-pack High Explosive Missile rack.

Each of the Stallion carries ten Ork Mercenaries. There are two Stallions, so…

The Good Guys

That’s some pretty stiff opposition.

It’s a good thing you have…

Marti, Fayette, and Nick, of whom, only Nick the Ganger has any real combat skills.

But it takes a village! And surely they are willing to stand up and fight for their community! There’s…

Marietta – “Sorry, I see your position. But I think this is an issue where we have to consider the rights of the community, too.”

Uh… maybe they’ll get more support from…

Arden – “Elves handle their own problems, thank you very much.”

And even if the runners manage to convince enough of the population of the impending danger, they’ll have to deal with…

Fantine – “I just don’t think that’s right?”

Why is that Fantine?

“It just doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

Maybe she’s onto something. After all, this is the weaponry that the village can bust out to repel the incoming militant corporate invasion:

I mean, Damage Code 5S2, so you have a chance to do some damage with those 5 rounds before you need to manually reload the magazine.

You have to keep animals out of the garden, you see, so they have 1 GUN.

Okay, okay, so it’s not really that bad.

They also have three laser-guided anti-vehicle missiles.

Also for keeping animals out of the garden.

The village also contains a former Corp Rigger named Jac who joined the village after his panzer crashed not too far away from Shoalwater. Likely causing him to lose the “k” from his name.

The panzer can’t be salvaged (and none can any of its machine guns and autocannons, natch), but the three missiles and two launchers can.

So the team has the odds stacked against them, but a good GM can make this a thrilling, A-Team style finale.

[wordsablaze]

3~ i can’t explain this

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: this chapter is a peculiar embodiment of eskel going "i've only had jaskier for one day but if anything happened to him, i would kill everyone on the continent (especially geralt) and then myself. but i don't understand why."

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @cloudspeck @in-love-with-writing002 <3

previous chapter

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Jaskier starts walking before Eskel can ask him where he’s headed.

He’s confused, of course, but he pulls himself up onto Scorpion and follows, assuming that the bard wants to keep his distance for now.

And they fall into a steady silence broken only ever so often by Jaskier starting to hum something before seemingly changing his mind and lapsing back into the quiet.

Eskel doesn’t question it at first but when he hears Jaskier start and stop humming familiar tunes, not just something new he might be composing, he decides to intervene. “You can, um, hum if you want. Or sing, if you prefer… You don’t have to stay quiet.”

Jaskier stops walking.

He turns to look at Eskel with confusion in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asks eventually, his fingers twisting over one another as he waits for Eskel’s reply.

Once Eskel stops trying to figure out why Jaskier could be nervous , he nods. “Of course. You have a good voice.”

At that, Jaskier beams, his eyes shining suspiciously bright as he clears his throat and winks. “Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger…”

Eskel splutters slightly as the song progresses but doesn’t complain, laughing as Jaskier keeps going, his voice becoming louder and brighter with every chorus he sings, the sweet scent of confidence getting stronger and stronger.

“So, darling, a review?” Jaskier asks breathlessly once he’s stopped singing.

Eskel starts, having been more focused on Jaskier’s voice as opposed to the actual lyrics. “I like your voice,” he mumbles.

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Well, that’s new.”

“It is? Don’t you have taverns full of people admiring your voice?” Eskel points out.

There’s a long moment of silence before Jaskier shakes his head. “Yes, I suppose I can, but people usually have something to say about the daughter’s hunger before they even think about giving their opinions on my voice,” he admits, somehow sounding both proud and mournful at the same time.

Eskel hums in response, not quite sure what he’s meant to say since he can’t tell if Jaskier is happy with his feedback or not.

But Jaskier doesn’t seem to mind, reaching for his lute before pausing. “Do you mind if I play?”

Strangely, it rather hurts to imagine that someone had made Jaskier think listening to him playing the lute would be annoying.

“As long it’s not more about this fishmonger,” Eskel ends up saying, hoping that he doesn’t offend his new favourite bard.

He doesn’t.

Jaskier grins at him as if he’d just showered him in coin and does some complicated manoeuvre in which he very impressively removes his lute from its case without taking the strap off his shoulder.

Eskel whistles. “Nice lute you have there.”

“She’s a beauty,” Jaskier agrees, “and I am, of course, ever grateful to Filavandrel.”

It’s as if he doesn’t even realise how casual he’s being about having been bestowed a gift by the leader of the elves. But Eskel chooses not to point that out because everyone knows that’s a story from Posoda and he doesn’t want Jaskier to run away again.

So he just says, “Prove it.”

Jaskier gasps in mock horror. “You dare question the beauty of my lute and the skills of my craft? I’ll show you proof!”

His proof involves singing practically non-stop for the next three hours.

Eskel has never heard so many metaphors in his life and although they all merge together in his head, he does appreciate the way they fill the silence - even Scorpion had sometimes changed her pace to match Jaskier’s music.

But when Jaskier stumbles over a chord and slows down, Eskel stops, jumping down from Scorpion. “Lunch break?”

Jaskier blinks, frowning. “A break? Why?”

“Because you’re tired?” Eskel replies, already leading Scorpion into the nearest clearing off the main path.

“I am?” Jaskier asks as he follows Eskel.

Eskel turns to him and nods slowly. “You’ve been playing for hours and I might not have a coin to toss at you but give me ten minutes and I’ll find us a rabbit.”

“What?”

Although he’d been about to leave to find said rabbit, he turns back to Jaskier as the scent of confusion increases to an almost unbearable amount. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier’s fingers fiddle with the lute strings as he shakes his head. “You’re stopping… because I’m tired?”

Oh.

Eskel makes a mental note to punch Geralt twice when they meet again.

“No. We’re stopping because I don’t want you to collapse somewhere,” he corrects, leaving out the part where he feels bad for being atop a horse when he’s better built for walking.

Jaskier scoffs. “I have never been so undignified as to collapse anywhere! Well, okay, maybe a few times… But I’m really not that tired, we don’t have to-”

“Jaskier,” Eskel interrupts, “I want to. Okay?”

A small pause and soft smile later, Jaskier nods. “Okay.”

Eskel shakes his head, leaving the bard to go find them lunch, which takes him just a little over his prediction of ten minutes because he’s still busy thinking about how idiotic his brother seems to have been.

He doesn’t expect to find Jaskier kindling a small fire by the time he gets back.

“Oh,” escapes him before he can stop it.

Unfortunately, Jaskier hadn’t seen or heard him coming and jumps so sharply he wobbles where he’s perched and almost falls right into the flames. “Sweet Meletite-”

“I’m sorry!” Eskel exclaims, dropping the rabbit as he steadies Jaskier and nudges him away from the possibility of getting burned.

Jaskier exhales slowly. “It’s fine, I just- You scared me, that’s all. I forgot how quiet witchers can be.”

“I’ll step on a twig next time,” Eskel promises, not even sure if he’s being serious or not.

Either way, it’s a downright relief when Jaskier laughs.

And it’s not long before they’re done with cooking and eating, both of them falling back into a comfortable silence as the time passes and their stomachs are filled, Eskel then putting out the fire.

“Do you still want to walk?” he asks as Jaskier picks up his lute case.

Jaskier chuckles as if he’s said something stupid. “What other option do I have, darling? It’s not like I’m about to grow wings, is it?”

And abruptly, Eskel realises he needs to punch Geralt thrice.

With a small sigh, he gestures to Scorpion. “You could ride with me?”

Jaskier blinks.

He glances between Eskel and Scorpion with an oddly intense frown before opening his mouth only to close it again, his fingers starting to fidget again.

“She’s a strong horse and she’s more than capable of carrying two riders,” he adds before letting Jaskier take as long as he needs to consider the offer, which ends up being a very, very long two and a half minutes.

“I’d like that,” Jaskier admits eventually, a hesitant smile on his face.

“As would I,” Eskel says a little too quickly for his own liking; he’s known the bard for less than a full day and he’s already bordering on admitting he has what humans like to call feelings.

“Can I strap my lute next to your bags?” Jaskier asks, pulling Eskel out of his musings.

He nods quickly. “Yes, of course. Wouldn’t be very practical to have you holding onto it.”

“Oh, you are such a darling,” Jaskier declares as the two of them mount Scorpion, Eskel in front.

He doesn’t know how to reply to that so he just starts moving, slightly surprised when he doesn’t feel Jaskier’s arms around him - it hadn’t seemed likely that Jaskier would be good at holding himself upright if he’d never ridden Roach.

But Jaskier holds on just fine, staying quiet and all but invisible until the road forks into two.

“Go left,” Jaskier blurts before Eskel can even think about choosing.

“Why?”

He feels Jaskier shift awkwardly. “I mean, you can go right if you have a contract that way but you’ll have to drop me off here because I cannot go that away.”

“What?”

Eskel is dimly aware that monosyllabic questions are not the best form of conversation but Jaskier just shrugs, seemingly unbothered by his lack of eloquence.

“I might have made a few enemies there? Just a few, mind you, most of them loved my performances. But it just so happens that the few who didn’t like it have very sharp swords that I really don’t want to meet again…”

Eskel laughs.

He can’t help it.

He’s still laughing as he guides Scorpion to take the path on the left and he’s still laughing when Jaskier pointedly nudges him. “Exactly what are you finding so amusing?”

“You’re quite the mystery, bardling,” he chuckles.

Jaskier just hums in acknowledgement, but that seems to give him some kind of idea and he then starts humming tunes that Eskel can feel just as well as he can hear, even if he doesn’t recognise them in the slightest.

As they continue travelling, Eskel wonders how Jaskier’s lungs and vocal chords can possibly function so well for such long periods of time.

“Bardling?”

Eskel is most definitely not startled by Jaskier finally talking rather than humming. He coughs to cover up his surprise and shrugs, knowing the bard can see him do so. “I just…”

“I’ll have you know that I am one of the most esteemed bards in the continent and most definitely not new to my profession.”

A little intimidated by the serious edge to Jaskier’s voice, Eskel doesn’t offer up a reply, hoping once again that he hasn’t seriously insulted his favourite bard. He hadn’t even paid the term much attention if he’s honest, it’d just slipped out.

“But if this is one of those witcher things where you mean to express affection without wanting to admit you’re capable of it, well, I can appreciate that,” he continues, switching between threatening and compassionate as easily as Eskel switches between steel and silver.

“Witchers don’t feel,” Eskel offers.

Jaskier scoffs. “Says the witcher who just used a term of endearment.”

“I did what?” Eskel asks, seriously regretting the life choices that led him here.

“Well, maybe not quite, but it was close enough…” Jaskier trails off and without warning, the air around them is tainted with worry.

Eskel shakes his head, trying to physically clear it away. “I know you’re a professional,” he says slowly, wishing he knew how to convey that he doesn’t want Jaskier to be sad or worried.

Somehow, that seems to work and the tension around Jaskier dissolves as he laughs, curling his arms around Eskel and squeezing ever so gently. “Thank you, Eskel.”

He doesn’t understand how Jaskier’s touch can be so warm when witchers are biologically warmer than most species but he isn’t going to complain. After all, it means Jaskier isn’t afraid of him and that’s a marvel in itself.

“You’re welcome, bardling.”

-

i’m having fun with these two !! ik it’s a little chaotic but i hope it was enjoyable reagrdless <3

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part three

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

With help from some of the Ministry's interns, your tent was finally up. It was lilac purple with a beautiful satin finish. Walking inside always took your breath away just because of the sheer size of the tent. It smelt brand new and didn't have that homey feeling like the Weasley's tent but it would do for a couple nights.

(y/n) plops down on the bed. She opens up and rereads the letter that Minister Fudge had sent her father two months ago. You had started reading your dad's mail and answering for him since he was no longer capable of doing it himself. Your father had a very formal way of writing so it had been easy enough to imitate his handwriting to answer the Minister's letter.

You open the creamy beige envelope and pull out a sturdy white letter with gold embellishments. It reads:

Dear (f/n),                                                                                                                  I hope this letter is finding you in good health. I've heard that you have recently been traveling Europe in search of new properties. Barty and myself were wondering if you would be so kind as to join us for a meeting during the Quidditch World cup. The time is nearing and we must finalize the deal.  Looking forward to seeing you,                                                                                                                                Cornelius

You tried remembering what you wrote in the answering letter. It went something like this.

Dear Cornelius,                                                                                                         I am currently in Romania for business and I unfortunately will not be back in time for the Quidditch World Cup. However i've left my daughter (y/n) in charge of my business affairs while I am away and she would be delighted to join you. Barty and yourself can finalize the deal with her.  Wishing you the best,                                                                                                                                             (f/n)

Your father had started a real estate company when he was twenty four and it had grown into one of the most successful businesses in the wizarding world and in Britain. You assumed that the Minister and Barty Crouch wanted to buy a property but you didn't know anything further. It was a very secretive affair and you had searched your father's files extensively but there was no mention of this mysterious deal anywhere. You were essentially going in blind.

The meeting was going to be over dinner in the Minister's box during the Quidditch Match. (y/n) had time to kill so she walked back to the Weasley's tent.

You arrive just in time to see the Weasley twins and Ludo Bagman betting on the games.

"Personally I have to agree with Mr.Bagman, my money is on Bulgaria winning" You tease and the twins shake their ginger heads.

You hear sirens that signal the stadium has opened. You head over with your friends. The inside of the Quidditch stadium is just as breathtakingly festive as the outside. Red and green coats everything, it is filled with headshots of various Quidditch players and drunken voices singing national anthems.

"Blimey how far up are we dad!" Rom complains.

"Well, put it this way, if it rains you'll be the first to know." You turn towards the familiar cold posh voice. Lucius Malfoy.

You had grown up with the Malfoy's and practically spent half your childhood at their house. Narcissa has become a second mother to you after your own mother's death. (y/n) had her suspicions that her parents and the Malfoy's were hoping their children would get married but (y/n) cringed at the idea. It wasn't that you didn't like Draco but your relationship was more like cousins. He was like that one favourite cousin everyone has that makes all family gatherings fun. But you couldn't stand the snobby facade Draco put on whenever he was around other people. Like now.

"Father and I are in the minister's box. A personal invitation from Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't boast, Draco" Lucius says while nudging him with his cane. " There is no need with these people."

You rolled your eyes so hard it felt like you could see the back of your skull.

"Ah miss Deauxville, I believe you'll be joining us in the Minister' box." Lucius says in a respectful tone.

You hated how he talked to your friends like they were lower than you. Lucius nudges Draco with his cane and Draco immediately offers you his arm. You look back at the trio and mouth help me as you take Draco's arm.

"Have fun" Hermione says sarcastically.

The Minister's box is filled with house elves carrying trays of little delicacies and wizards and witches dressed in overly formal clothing. You immediately felt underdressed in your sweater and tennis skirt. But to your delight you could see the sweat glistening off their skin, after all it was still mid August.

A curly haired blonde woman in a ridiculously tight plum dress and green glasses walks over to Mr. Malfoy.

" Ah Lucius, darling, I see Draco has brought his little girlfriend along." She sneers at you, clearly not recognizing you. However you knew exactly who this was, Rita Skeeter, a slimy idiotic gossip columnist with worms for a brain.           " Hope she enjoys this once in a lifetime opportunity to dine with such fine people."

You feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Miss Deauxville, so glad you could make it. The Minister would like to talk in his private room."

Rita Skeeter's face blanched when she realised you were a Deauxville and you follow Barty Crouch through a curtain into a smaller room with a round table and a huge window.

Seated at the table was Minister Fudge, you took a seat just as the team mascots stepped out on the field. The beautiful Bulgarian veelas danced on the field while the Irish leprechauns bounded with their gold, this angered the veelas who in turn transformed into demon-like bird creatures. The teams stepped out on the field, national anthems were played and the snitch was released.

"Well let's get this over with quickly so we have a chance to enjoy the game" You say.

Cornelius Fudge starts.

"Yes, yes well as I'm sure your father mentioned, the Ministry would like to lease a property for a couple months."

Just then Percy walks in holding a stack of papers.

"Here are the papers you asked for Mr.Crouch." He says importantly.

"Ah thank you Weatherby. You may go now."

You almost choke trying to stifle your laugh, earning a glare from Percy as he leaves. Mr Crouch hands you a stack of papers.

" The contract." He simply states. You're too distracted to notice the house elves bring the meal to the table.

You take your time to look it over for any loopholes. Normally your father would have his team of lawyers draw up his own contracts but this would do.

"You want to lease lot number 637? The two acres in the Black Forest, next to Hogwarts? You're sure?"

"Yes" The Minister replied looking uncomfortable.

"There are a few modifications we would like to do to this property." Barty Crouch cuts in.

"What kind of modifications?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well first we would like to cut most of the trees off"

You squawk.

"What! You realise that property will lose all value without the trees."

"Indeed but the ministry is prepared to compensate you for the trees and any fire damage." Mr.Fudge adds.

"Fire damage! What on earth are you planning on doing there!" You blurt out, you're voice rising several octaves.

" Miss Deauxville, we would tell you if we could, trust us it would make this so much easier, but unfortunately you are still a Hogwarts student and therefore we regretfully have to keep our lips sealed."

You decide to let it go. After all your father had done plenty of suspicious deals before he fell ill.

"How much are you offering?"

"370 000 galleons for eight weeks" Barty answers. You knew that property in the middle of the Black Forest was essentially worthless because of the aggressive centaurs that lived around it. They were offering a lot more money than expected so you quickly grabbed your pen and signed the contract. The two other men did the same. You got up to shake their hands and left the room.

(y/n) sat next to Draco and Lucius Malfoy for the remainder of the game. They made small talk but she couldn't focus on anything other than that property in the Black Forest.

Why the hell would the ministry be so eager to lease that dump? Why would there be fire damage? Why cut all the trees? Questions were swarming your mind like bees.

You look up when you hear the tremendous cheers coming from all the Irish fans. The game was over. You smile to yourself.

Those bloody Weasleys predicted it. Krum caught the snitch but Ireland won.

Both teams came up to the Minister's box to shake his hand. Everyone got up and clapped when the Irish team proudly walked in. The Bulgarian team stomped in with it's sulking seeker Victor Kum leading them. You started shaking hands with people you barely recognized just trying to get out of there as fast as possible. You shake Viktor Krum's hand and give him a warm smile, after all the guy had just lost the biggest game of the year, and he gave you a smile that never completely reached his eyes. Suddenly a bright flash blinds both of you. When you regain sight you see Rita Skeeter standing there with a camera.

"Beautiful photo" She says with the phoniest widest smile.

You finally join the Weasley clan and Cedric Diggory around a campfire later that night after the Malfoys had insisted that you have dinner with them.

"Where were you? I was getting worried. I mean. We. We were getting worried" Harry says quickly. The others give him strange looks.

"Stuck at a dinner with the Malfoy's." You sigh "If anyone mentions politics or the stock exchange one more time I will slit all your throats ok?" They all laugh and explain that they're playing truth or dare.

"Give me a dare! Give me a dare!" Ginny pleads.

"That's not how it works Ginny, you have to get picked." George explained.

"We've been playing for an hour and nobody's picked me !" She whines.

"Fine, eat this" Fred says, handing her a candy.

She pops it in her mouth and her tongue starts to swell enormously. She runs to find Mr.Weasley.

"She asked for it." Fred says, throwing his hands up.

They all keep playing, (y/n) not really paying attention. She was distracted by the Minister's words: "we would tell you if we could, trust us it would make this so much easier, but unfortunately you are still a Hogwarts student and therefore we regretfully have to keep our lips sealed."

"Cedric, truth or dare." George asks, smirking.

"Dare."

"Very well, your dare is to go ask one of those veelas on a date." He says pointing to a group of breathtaking creatures. You feel a pang of jealousy as Cedric gets up. Instead he comes and sits next to you.

" (y/n), how about a date?"

"Sure" You smile and turn red as George gets up, flailing his arms around..

"No no no. I said a Veela."

"George, are you a bloody idiot, everyone in Great Britain knows (y/n) is a quarter Veela." Hermione says.

Fred and George look at you puzzled.

"Really?" Asks Fred.

"Can you do that cool demon bird shit?" George looks at you suspiciously.

You laugh. "No! It would be kinda fun though if I could. But no, I can't turn into a bird or enchant men into falling hopelessly in love." You say making dramatic hand gestures.

" I don't know about that" Mumbles Harry. You shoot him puzzled looks.

As the night goes on the group keeps talking and playing various games. Your eyes start to feel heavy.

"I think I need to go to sleep." You mumble.

"You can always sleep with me." Fred purrs. Ron hits him with the back of his hand. Cedric's jaw stiffens as he glares at Fred. He looks like he's about to say something when Hermione cuts him off.

" I'll walk you back to your tent (y/n)"

You agree and say goodnight to everyone. As you're walking back you hear screams and see dark figures with masks levitating and torturing a muggle family. You and Hermione run towards the forest where you catch up with Ron and Harry. Ron trips. Lumos Hermione whispers and a bright glow appears on the tip of her wand.

You spot Draco leaning calmly against a tree close to you.

"Better go Hermione, unless you want to show everyone your underwear, if so stick around it would be tremendously funny" He sneers while gesturing to the levitating family.

How can he be so freaking calm when people are literally being tortured less than fifty feet away?

Harry and Ron start defending Hermione and question Draco about his parent’s whereabouts. Meanwhile, you're stuck in a trance watching the family of muggles being tortured and feeling helpless.

"Have it your way, Potter" Draco grins maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a mudblood, stay where you are"

Anger ripped through your body at the sound of those words and you were about to tear his vocal cords out and jinx him within an inch of his life when someone gently squeezes your hand.

"(y/n), let's go." Cedric says, his eyes pleading.