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the-fiction-witch · 5 months

Text

The mademoiselle P3

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Adorable!

Warnings: Amputation / 1800's surgery / ether/ body horror

I couldn't help but move an ottoman over to sit on, and I looked closely at the amputation, I had been done... terribly, even just from this look I could tell this must have caused her agony even before weight bearing, the skin overstretched and warped, the thread used to sew up the amputation had never been removed, skin partly healed around it, it wasn't even surgical thread it was twine! fraying and splintering as old twine does,

"what on gods earth-" I muttered bringing a candle closer to better see what fucked up nonsense was happening here, "Who did this!"

"A clown."

"Yeah, I think he was,"

"No, he really...really was."

"He was a clown?"

"Yes."

"An actual... actual clown!"

"Yes."

"Uhhhh you mind telling me what happened?"

"It's a very long story. I was in an accident and he was the only person nearby with any form of training and here we are." She explained,

"Okay, I take it it's causing you more pain than usual?"

"Yes doctor, I can barely walk let alone perform."

"well that's certainly no good, I've heard of the magic of your performances. Wouldn't want to deprive anyone of that."

She blushed a little, "Well is there anything you can do doctor?"

"Uhh... I can give you some painkillers they should help your walking but If I may be so bold, I think it would be wise to have a doctor really look it over, when was the last time someone looked at it?"

"When it was done."

"Which was?"

"Twelve years ago."

"Alright, tomorrow come up to the hospital and I'll take a real proper look see what's going on. you sure it hasn't had any other work in that time?"

"Mild stuff, cutting back skin, infection control and such."

"Right, and not once has anyone suggested ... further amputation?"

"A couple of times, but I need to dance so we always just did the minimum."

"Alright, come by tomorrow whenever you can," I told her as I gave her some medicine

"I will, thank you, doctor."

"You're welcome mademoiselle," I told her as I took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss, "Have a nice evening."

"You too doctor Dawkins," she smiled,

I took my bag and headed out filling in the paperwork as I went, as soon as I got back to my room I collapsed on my bed, I don't know why I felt so... conflicted, that I had looked at her pictures and desired her so much when... she must have been in agony to do it. I felt guilty about it, like It was my fault she was in pain. I took my box from under my bed and looked at the various postcards, I looked at her in these poses and situations and noticed how often they had her sitting down, how often the drawings stopped at her knees, or hidden by dresses, all of it to hide her away. I wanted to help her out I didn't want her to feel any more pain.

I made sure to clean up as I knew the mademoiselle was coming in today, and soon enough Hetty came and told me I had someone here to see me. So I fixed myself up and headed into one of the small patient rooms, and saw the mademoiselle sitting on the bed with a nervous smile.

"Bonjour docteur Dawkins,"(Hello Doctor Dawkins) She smiled,

"Bonjour mademoiselle," (Hello mademoiselle) I smiled back, "Quelle belle robe tu portes aujourd'hui," (What a beautiful dress you are wearing today)

"merci beaucoup docteur" (Thank you very much doctor) she blushed,

"Now, lets have a look." I told her, "if you could?"

"Alright," she sighed, sitting back on the bed and unlacing her boots letting them fall to the floor, I got my tools and had a much better look really investigating and it was worse than I suspected and I think she knew that too as the longer it went on the more grim her face got,

"You know what I'm going to say," I told her,

"You think I need a further amputation?"

"I don't think I know." I sighed leaning on the metal bed, "I know this is a big decision with you, but if I don't do this, you are going to get worse... and you could die."

"I don't really have much of a choice do I?"

"I can't in good conscience let you go without at least letting me do an operation to pull back the skin and at least remove the twine."

"Alright, When can you do it?"

"I can get you into the surgery theatre today."

She nodded,

"Alright, I'll make sure everything is sorted I'll get you in as soon as possible."

I made sure to get the theatre prepped while she got some stuff delivered by her maid, And soon enough Hetty brought her in,

"Right, Up Here mademoiselle," I smiled helping her up onto the table, "Just relax I promise I'll take care of you."

"I do hope so." She nervously nodded lying on the table,

"Okay," I nodded fetching the ether, "Just breathe gently for me, when you wake up this will all be over," I reassured her she nodded and did as I asked slowly drifting off until she was gone. "Okay... Let's do this." I told Hetty that I needed her as my nurse, I quickly got to work revealing the true situation and it was bad. The skin was stretched and infected in places, with dirt and grime under her skin, the bone had been left as a sharp splintering point as if broken by hand not cut in the amputation,

"Oh my -" Hetty gasped,

"I know,"

"How'd it happen?"

"she wouldn't say, I don't imagine it was good," I answered, I did my best to save it but amputation was the only option so I did as low as I could just under her knee and made sure to sew it up in a way that made it look as good as I could, once I was done Hetty took her back to her room so I cleaned up and went on with my other work, After a good while I went to her room to go and check on her, seeing her sat up in the bed with a box in her lap, "Bonjour mademoiselle,"

"Hello Doctor," she said looking through her box,

"How do you feel?" I asked sitting beside her

"Humm... Like I lost weight," she chuckled playfully glancing at her leg which made me chuckle a little, "It still hurts, which is odd. As it's not there."

"The phantom limb will fade."

"I know, I remember when they took my foot, it itched for days but it wasn't there." She said, "Thank you, doctor, most doctors I've seen just do what I ask... not what I need."

"You're very welcome." I smiled, "And uhh you can just call me Jack,"

"Alright, Jack." She smiled, "Y/n."

"Y/n? That's a very beautiful name."

"Thank you," She blushed, "I'm going to take a guess and say you know who I am?"

"I do. I uhhhh" I blushed, "I spent a lot of time in the navy growing up, your postcards... gave me a lot of peace then. And still do now."

she chuckled, "I'm glad I could be of such, Peace to you." She smiled gently taking my hand, I smiled and held her hand tightly, "I can't thank you enough Jack, though... I'm not sure what the future holds now."

"I wouldn't be so quick to be fearful, not much has really changed trust me... Most people won't even notice. You're far too beautiful for people to be looking at your feet."

She laughed, "I guess so. The postcards won't change that much."

"No, not really. But... I'll still look forward to seeing them. I'll pick up your next one just to show you so." I winked

"Humm... I'll send you it special," She smiled squeezing my hand,

"How did it happen? if you don't mind my asking?"

She seemed sad but flicked through her box before she handed me a postcard with a beautiful young girl, a ballerina dancing on a stage. "I wasn't always a showgirl, That was me... Once."

"My god- You were beautiful."

"Where?"

"Are- sorry I-"

"It's alright, I spent my whole life wanting to be a dancer classically trained from three, My father worked every hour god sent just to get me into ballet school." She explained, "I was so happy when got a job at the royal opera as a ballerina."

"Impressive."

"They were talking about me like I was something special," She said, "my first tour and this one show we were out in the sticks, I went on and did my part but- the galley walkway above the stage collapsed, fell down to the stage below... By the grace of god, it fell where it did. A few inches to the left I'd be dead. But it crushed my foot" She explained, "I was losing blood so fast, my foot wrecked beyond repair. The nearest doctor ten miles away, the only person in the company who had any training... was one of the men playing a clown in the opera, He had some medical training but nothing near what was needed but- time was not on our side. So they did what they could and took my foot there and then on the stage." She explained,

"How old were you?"

"Eighteen."

"What happened? Once it healed?"

"I healed while the rest of the tour went on and when we returned to the opera house... They tossed me away. Said I would never dance again. Wanted nothing to do with me. So I tried everywhere else but who wants a crippled dancer. The only place that would take me was a small club in pairs, they didn't want me to dance more just... take off my clothes. So I did. Learnt the violin, learnt how to perform in shows, named myself the mademoiselle, and... I suppose the rest is history."

"For what is worth. I think you'd have made a beautiful ballerina."

"Thank you," she blushed, "But now... I'm not sure what to make of myself, I don't even know I can be a showgirl now."

"I'd pay to see you, still."

"You would?"

"Absolutely."

"even like this?"

"I would."

"That's very sweet of you." She smiled, "But if my boss doesn't feel the same... I don't know what I'd do, or where I'd go."

"Well... Port Victory is a little place, not much goes on here, it's full of those of us with nowhere else to go. You'd always be welcome here."

"You think I would?"

"I'm sure you would,"

"What would I do?"

"Whatever you want, I'm sure a smart girl like you would find something." I smiled giving her back her ballerina picture,

"I'm sure I'd find something, even if I just became some...business guy's wife."

"I think you could do a lot better than that"

"You do?"

"Yeah, I mean... I think you could end up a doctor's wife."

"You really think so?"

"j'en suis sûr mademoiselle" (I'm sure of it mademoiselle) I smiled kissing her hand, "I'll leave you to rest." I smiled getting up to head back to work,

"Thank you, Jack."

"You're welcome Y/n."

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster imagine #tbs smut #tbs #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger

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scrimblyscrorblo · 6 months

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Sure thing !

After a nice meal (it's weird to be eating human food after centuries of eating only human flesh... The differents tastes and texture were both amazing and horrible) and a good night sleep (not being nocturnal anymore and actually needing sleep is very... Perturbing.)

Luckily, their weirdness can be explained by surviving a very traumatic event... (The story was a lie but they still live some quite traumatic).

The next morning, some slayers comes to the butterfly mansion talking to each other with confusion. Douma, Gyokko and Enmu, whom were a three together running around and playing happily, stop to listen to the new comers...

"That was so weird...!" "I know right ?!" "Last night, no demons. And we weren't the only one with no demons to hunt ! Should we be worried ?" "I have no idea... But we have to tell Kochou-sama !" "Yes yes...!"

The three boy stay quiet, looking at each other, blinking stupidly... HUUUUHHH ?! No demon !? How's that po... Ssible. Muzan's... Is a human now. He was changed into a human. Or more like... His body, and so his cells, reverted back in time ! Oh. My. God !

They rush to their assigned room to deliver the message. Everyone was shocked to say the least... But in the end, it made sense. But now, what were they supposed to do ? And what would the slayer do to ?

For now, they decided to stay together (without Hakuji choice), to continue the lie. They do need to grow up after all, well... For the ones who needs to.

Nakime want to become a geisha, but she will wait for everyone to settle before do so.

Hantengu just want to live peacefully with his children and watch them grow up into fine men.

Hakuji will open a dojo and help any unfortunate persons he finds, he swears it on his life. He can maybe create an orphanage and also help woman in distress... Yeah, that sound nice.

Gyokko is going to become an artist, obliviously. And he's going to start now ! He's missing making beautiful art.

Enmu wanna become a train conductor... And now he actually can ! He's really happy to not be forced to do something he didn't wanted to do. He can also collect little knick-knacks like he always wanted to to ! Oh yes ! Specially tea sets, those are his favourites !

Daki likes the idea of becoming a geisha too. She doesn't wanna become a prostitute again... She never liked it anyway.

Gyutaro doesn't know, but he knows he want his sister happy, and she likes pretty things (him too but shush), so he will make many pretty things for her to wear !

Douma is confused... He doesn't have his cult anymore. Should he create it again ?... For now, he will wait.

Koku will train to become stronger. But some how... That goal seems... Wrong. But he doesn't know what else to do so...

Mukago want to take care of slik moth and make nice clothes ! She absolutely adores moths, they're her favourite animal of all time, plus, she be able to do the same job as he nii-san, tou-san and ka-san...

Wakuraba like the idea to heal people, so maybe he could find a medicine that could heal Muzan ! He's going to ask Kochou-san to teach him later. But he isn't going to ask Enmu any help, he's a really bad doctor...

Rokuro just wanna do pottery, he always loved to play with mud and create stuff with it, so he's going to do just that.

Kamanue honestly didn't know what he should do... Wood cutting seems nice, he could even make nice little things with the wood he will cut. Mh...

Then, Muzan and Rui...

They just wanna live...

(They seem to bound over their sick that will one day takes their live very soon.)

A few days later... And it is confirmed. There's no more demons. To the confusion of all the slayers.

But Kagaya wonder...

While the confusion and panic of slayer continue, the former kizuki are actually enjoying their new life ! Even Muzan and Rui are starting to get a tiny slightly bit better, but they are overjoyed about it.

But they wouldn't dare hope.

Then suddenly, they are asked in a hashira meeting by the master ?! Everyone stressed, but Kochou reassure them. They are going to be fine, they aren't so sure but don't say anything.

(i promise you, next one, there will be more Giyu action ! ;-;)

Omg this has me reeling avtually I’m so super intrigued like

My poor Daki and gyutaro they’re my favourite demons (clearly) and they should not have been restricted to the reds lights district MUZAN

Omg her getting to meet Shinobu and Mitsuri, and all the girls at the butterfly mansion LET HER HAVE FRIENDS the two can learn to not be codependent

(They mean a lot to me lmao)

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naphali09 · 1 year

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Partners in Crime (Dottore x OC)

Title: First Meeting

Hello, Everyone. I really want this to be the start of a series. This is an inspiration ever since I started playing Genshin Impact. Yeah, I know I am far behind. Don’t worry, I did my research on the game before or during playing (which is a habit of mine ever since). I hope you enjoy the fanfict and crossover of the two.

Have a nice day!

Her timid nature had caught the attention of a another student. The male student is a grown-up with red eyes, wavy blue hair, and pale complexion. Her pale complexion also caught his eye. It was normal to be pale, but her paleness seemed unhealthy. He, with a knowledge and interest for medicine, knows that something was wrong with the newcomer.

She was a slave and orphan. The poor student was sent to train in the morning and to work as a slave in a restaurant. She kept covering her torn clothes. The expression etched on her face showed shame and hidden sadness.

Zandik, the young male student, worked on his experiments as he stared at the vial filled with a blue fluid. He studied the fluid closely and carefully. Senses open to observe any changes to the animals he bought. He didn’t mind the door being since he didn’t want to be bothered by presence of other students.

Naphali, the young female student, watched in curiosity as she entered the laboratory. She could see how the liquid glowed. She closed the door behind her as she entered. She approached the table he is staying and stared at him in fascination.

“Did you enjoy watching my experiment,” he inquired.

She gave a nod. She finally knew that Zandik is fascinated with experimentation. She found it fascinating to watch her fellow student dig for knowledge. The gold of a human mind is knowledge.

Zandik selfish nature was long gone as soon as he saw Naphali. He was concerned for her wounds and bruises. His concern turned the curiosity about her wounds on.

“What happened to your arm,” he asked.

Her eyes landed on the wound on her arm. It was left out on the open. The clothing she wore didn’t conceal the wound. She bit her lip in nervousness. She didn’t know if she could trust him.

“Wounds like this would take time to heal. It is the same when it comes to emotional and mental wounds. It takes time to speak about this matter,” Zandik sighed.

He was right. She was flabbergasted at his statement because he knew what she felt. Her trust towards him increased, but not that much. She was eager to know his name so she could show the trust he earned.

“What is your name,” she asked.

Zandik had to admit that he loved to hear her voice. She remained silent most of the time. He could tell that she is hurting since she kept a facade towards the people around.

“Zandik,” he briefly answered.

“I’m Naphali,” she introduced. “Do you go here often?”

He nodded. He had been around since he step foot in the academy. He had an undying interest of experimenting for humans to achieve maximum power like gods.

“What is that,” she implored, pointing at the fluid.

“It is a serum to be injected to the animals,” he responded, pointing at the bunnies.

What scared her is the emotionless tone in his voice. She quickly freed the bunnies from their cages. Her soft nature towards animals is showing now. She showed him her innocent face as she shivered under his stare.

He sighed, finding her innocence cute. He found it endearing. He could feel his heart exploding. His face is burning and he was tempted to fiddle with his fingers. He finally learned that Naphali loves pets like cats, dogs, bunnies and many more.

“Why do you have to do this,” she asked, teary eyed.

“This is for a medicine. This is an experiment for a cure,” he answered.

She calmed down. This is a good for the people and the students here. She held onto the bunnies who are looking around in curiosity. He decided to give her the bunnies so she could calm down more. He could buy or capture some animals in the wild.

“You can keep the bunnies,” he said, patting her shoulder.

She squealed in happiness. “Okay.”

He smiled as he turned his back on her. Her happiness made his body warm. It was like a sun that would brighten anyone’s day. The effects of that sun is affecting him now.

#rwby x genshin impact #OC x Dottore #Genshin Impact #RWBY #Genshin Impact crossover

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paleparearchive · 7 months

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Extremely Unlucky Birthday

Courbet's Birthday 4* 3/3 ( 1 - 2 - 3 )

Location: Courbet & Millet's room ; dormitory hallway (evening) | Characters: Courbet, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Watteau, Millet, Manet

Van Gogh: Is Courbet alright?

Millet: He was up late painting last night, so maybe he was just a little tired.

Courbet: (Hmm...? What is it. It's noisy. Is that Millet... And Van Gogh?)

—

Van Gogh: Ah! Courbet! Thank god. You're awake!

Courbet: (Ah, right. I collapsed on the floor… So I was brought here. I've really done it. How dare I say I could take care of myself?)

(...? I can't get my fingers to move… Huh!?)

Hey, what the hell is this? Why are there bandages wrapped around my hands and face?

Millet: I think you scraped your hands and face when you fell down in the hallway. Rembrandt-san saw this and was very worried…

Courbet: You let him do it? ... You could have easily seen this coming, couldn't you?

Millet: I know, but Rembrandt-san kept winding down with a very grieving face.

Van Gogh: Right. It would've been a pity to stop him.

Courbet: (A grieving face… That's easy to imagine. That's why I didn't want to worry them…)

Watteau: Oh! You up? How ya feelin'? Need medicine?

Courbet: There's no need.

Manet: Hm. That's not very nice. That's what happens when you don't train your body on a regular basis. Recover promptly before your gloomy mood spreads to others.

Courbet: This is just fatigue. A little rest and I'll be fine.

Manet: Huh, I see.

—

Rembrandt: Ah, Manet-san. How is it…? Is Courbet-kun still having a hard time?

Manet: I don't know. See it with your own eyes. You're way too worried. The only reason that guy fell was because he was weak.

—

Courbet: What's with that guy. Did he come all the way here to lecture me?

Watteau: I was the one who found ya lyin' in the hallway, but it was actually Manet-san who carried ya here.

Courbet: (It's the worst thing to owe to Manet, of all people.)

Van Gogh: Manet-san. He kept coming back to check on you while you were sleeping. Manet-san is also worried for you, Courbet.

Courbet: That guy…? … Then I guess I should thank him.

Watteau: Heeh, you're awfully honest, arentcha? Maybe ya got a fever?

Millet: Hahaha… Maybe.

Manet: This is a gift from me. Accept it with gratitude.

Courbet: A gift…?

Rembrandt: Ah, let's see, it's this nutritional drink. Manet-san said it was specially made by him.

Manet: It's a panacea for fatigue, eye strain, stiff shoulders, and headaches. Take it and get well soon. Goodbye.

Rembrandt: ? You're leaving, Manet-san?

Manet: The rest is up to you.

Watteau: … Got it. Well, I'm off too!

Van Gogh: Rembrandt-san. See, Courbet was fine.

Rembrandt: …

Courbet: … You were worried again?

Rembrandt: Because I'm like this, I'm afraid I might have a bad influence on the people around me…

Millet: So you got anxious and didn't let yourself in the room even though you were worried about Courbet.

Courbet: (I knew you were bothered by it, that's why I wanted to hide it…)

(Ah, so that's what Manet was preaching about earlier... Because Rembrandt would be concerned if I were the one who was laid in bed.)

I've just been a little careless as of late, putting in a lot of work on the concept of a new piece. No fever, no illness. And it's not your fault, so don't worry about it.

Rembrandt: … Are you really okay? Then I'll check to see if you have a fever.

Courbet: H-Hey…! Why, what are you… Tch. If you want to measure it, use a thermometer…

Rembrandt: But if I try to find a thermometer, I might make a mess in the room. Isn't this simpler and easier to understand?

Courbet: That's… Yeah, but… As expected… This is…

Rembrandt: I can't measure properly if you moveee. Hmm, which is it? It's not that hot, I guess?

Courbet: … Ah!

Rembrandt: Huh? … Your face is red. I think you have a fever, don't you?

You have to heal properly. Uhm... I think I have a bandage in my pocket…

Courbet: I do not have a fever, and bandages would have nothing to do with it in the first place. Just move out of the way!

Rembrandt: Hahaha. Sorry, sorry.

Van Gogh: I'm glad to see you both are feeling better!

Millet: Haha, right.

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starfinss · 3 years

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Shelter From The Storm — Razor 1/2

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Summary: You get lost in Wolvendom when searching for berries. Razor helps you out, leading to a new friendship.

Pairing: Razor x Reader

Rating: Fluff (SFW)

Word Count: 2,677

For future reference, all characters are depicted as 18+

You'd somehow managed to get yourself hopelessly lost on your quest to find enough berries to fill your basket. You wanted to bake a pie for Sara's birthday, and while she worked at Good Hunter and more than likely had access to the best pies in Mondstadt, you wanted her taste your grandmother's recipe. Her occupation and access to delicious pies would not stop you. But this was more than you bargained for.

You'd ventured along the path outside of Mondstadt, attempting to take an alternate route to the Dawn Winery before doubling back and making your way back Springvale where you'd get a room at the inn and then head back to Mondstadt in the morning. It was supposed to be simple. But you'd ended up in the Archons only knew, which was far from simple.

And it was getting dark.

You'd dressed warm, it was mid autumn and winter was coming soon, and while Mondstadt didn't get nearly as cold as somewhere like Snezhnaya, the snowfall was still rather intense. It was the very end of berry season and you were making the most of it. Your outfit consisted of a cotton dress layered with a wool over skirt and a long wool cloak. You wore a pair of brown leather boots as well, gloves on your hands. You tugged the cloak more tightly around your body as the wind picked up. There was forest up ahead, dense and full of restless shadows so thick you could barely see past them. You had no idea where you were.

You turned in a full circle to try and regain your bearings, and after a moment or two, you realized you could see Mondstadt across the lake. There was the cathedral, backlit by the sinking sun, and all at once, you realized just where you were.

Wolvendom.

Oh. Lovely. I'm going to be eaten by wolves.

You felt a raindrop splatter against your cheek and you looked up, face falling as you watched menacing clouds roll in, obscuring the stars that had just begun to freckle the sky. The God of Anemo was not on your side tonight. Your eyes scanned the area in front of you. The last thing you wanted was to be caught in one of Mondstadt's thunderstorms without shelter.

"Thanks, Lord Barbatos," you muttered sarcastically.

The wind didn't calm.

You heard a twig snap behind you and you turned, tucking your basket against your chest almost like a shield.

There was a hilichurl standing in front of you. It said something in that weird language they all spoke, something that didn't sound particularly friendly.

"Um," you stammered, "please don't hurt me."

It said something again, waving its club in front of it. You struggled to unsheathe your sword from its scabbard, the vision pendant hanging from the cord attached to your belt glowing softly in response.

"Hey, can you just—"

The hilichurl lunged and you dropped your basket, blocking the club with your sword, swinging a leg out to hit the backs of the hilichurl's knees, making its legs buckle beneath it. You sent a blade of water sailing through the air as the hilichurl struggled to its feet, causing it to stagger back, knocking its head on the side of the ledge behind it. You scooped your basket up and made a run for it, only stopping once you were safely behind a tree.

The lone hilichurl was joined by a mitachurl, and you were suddenly in over your head. You had a vision, sure. You could fight, yes, of course. But you were no Knight of Favonius. And your longsword was no match for a massive axe. You couldn't make it work like Cavalry Captain Kaeya. All your combat training had come from your father, who was a knight and from your mother who knew more than a few tricks of her own.

Of course you could fight. But this was a bit much.

You slid your sword back into its scabbard, but the rasp of metal against leather alerted the monsters, and your eyes went wide.

Uh oh.

You tried to scramble up the tree you were hiding behind, but managed to twist your ankle, making you yelp in pain. Nevertheless, you persisted, hauling your body into the branches.

A scream left your mouth when the hilichurl began shaking the tree. You wrapped your arms and legs around the trunk, hanging on with all your might, but the rain was beginning to fall, and the sudden slickness wasn't helping with keeping your hold on the tree. Your world shuddered as something struck the tree, making you scream again, and you didn't have to look to know that the mitachurl had struck with its axe. A few more swings and the tree would be down.

You grunted with effort as you attempted to pull yourself farther up the tree, hopefully to where the branches thinned enough so when the tree fell you wouldn't end up being trapped. You would not die here, damn it. You refused to. Your hair was now sticking to your cheeks and forehead as rain water streaked your face, the freezing kind of rain that even hydro vision users like yourself weren't all that fond of.

You had no choice but to cry for help, not knowing if anyone would hear you and seriously doubting that they would.

"Help me! Help me!"

Your voice sounded desperate, but at this point, you were desperate.

You heard a shout after the tree shook with another strike, then the crackle of thunder. There was the sound of exchanging blows, something that sounded like a snarl, something animalistic. The ground shook, jostling you free, and you lost your grip, falling down to the next branch, crying out in pain.

The ground shook again and you fell, straight to the ground, into a heap of limbs and messy hair, your basket flying from your hand.

You saw a figure crackling with violet energy before everything went dark.

————————————

You awoke to a loud bang, followed by rumbling. Thunder.

Where... am I?

Your head hurt. Hell, your everything hurt. There was something laying beside you, something warm and furry and soft. An animal? You didn't move to touch it. Your mind was muddled with confusion, but your eyes finally snapped open when a hand lifted one of your own hands.

There was a young man hovering above you. He was wearing a brown hooded coat and a light brown poncho sort of top with tribal markings. The rest of his toned torso was left exposed. A necklace with what looked like fangs hung around his neck.

His hair was long and messy and silver in color, and he had a handsome face, his eyes a shocking shade of scarlet. There was a scar on his left cheek. He looked to be around your age, maybe a little older.

Who...?

He blinked in surprise when he noticed your eyes were open.

"You wake," he said. His voice was a rough sound, low and almost raspy. He sounded like he didn't speak much.

You took note of your surroundings.

You were in a cave. There was a fire crackling a few yards from your feet, and from what you could see through the mouth of the cave, it had begun to pour outside. Thunder was growling overhead, lightning flashing, the brief light making it look like daytime. You were laying on a collection of pelts and a few pillows. The cave was otherwise empty except for the silver haired boy and you. You turned your head to look at whatever was beside you.

You were met with a wall of grey fur, and it took you a moment to realize you were staring at a wolf's back. There was a wolf beside you. You tried to jerk into a sitting position, but the young man pushed you back down.

"No," he simply said, "rest."

He made a good call. Your head was spinning.

"What... Happened?"

He glanced at you. You noticed a bowl of what you recognized after a few moments as wolf hook berries, as well as a bowl full of what looked to be crushed up ones beside it. There was a rock stained with the juice sitting beside this bowl.

"You fall from tree. I save you from monsters."

"...Oh."

"How long was I out?"

"Hours."

The young man turned to the bowls behind him, then looked back at you.

"Your name?"

It took you a moment to realize what he was asking.

"Oh. It's (Y/N). My name is (Y/N). What's yours?"

A beat of silence as he studied you.

"I am Razor."

Razor reached into the bowl of paste, smearing some of it onto your palm, which you didn't notice had been scraped up. It stung.

"Medicine. Will help you heal."

You'd heard about the medicinal properties of wolf hook berries from Barbara at the cathedral before, so you didn't doubt that Razor was doing this to help.

"Thank you," you said, shifting, "for helping me. I should go, though—"

"No!"

You started at the sudden volume of his shout. "No?"

Razor looked sheepish, his voice quieting. "You rest. You are hurt."

You relaxed back into the pelts, sighing. "Okay. I'll rest. But I have to go when the rain stops."

Razor shook his head. "Your ankle is hurt."

You moved both your ankles, met with a painful stiffness in your left one. Razor was right. It was most likely sprained. It would be hard to get back to Mondstadt like that, and it was a beyond stupid idea to try and get anywhere in this rain, let alone on an injury.

A massive grey wolf suddenly entered the cave, startling you. It was carrying something in its mouth. You recognized it.

"My basket!"

The wolf walked over to you, setting the basket down beside you, then promptly turned and left. Another smaller wolf entered a few minutes later carrying what looked to be the leg of a small animal.

Razor took the leg from the wolf, and then turned so his back was to you, working with his hands. He then dropped the meat into a pot you hadn't noticed was over the fire.

"You don't eat it raw?" You asked, and Razor shook his head.

"No. Makes me sick. Heat helps."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," you said, "humans can digest raw meat, but we can also get sick from it. Cooking it makes it easier to eat and gives more nutrients."

Razor stared at you for a moment, something almost like awe sparkling in his eyes. It was a little endearing. You smiled.

Was this guy... raised by wolves?

He certainly looked the part.

His body was toned and covered in scars. He looked wild.

"Sleep," he said, "I will wake you to eat."

You were tired. You rolled onto your side, realizing for the first time that you'd been stripped down to your underclothes, left in your blouse and the cotton skirt you'd been wearing underneath the woolen one. Your shoes were gone, so were your socks. You spotted said articles of clothing on a rock, presumably drying.

"I shouldn't," you said, "I might have a concussion."

He tilted his head curiously.

You tried to think of a way to explain what that was. You didn't think that Razor was dumb, far from it. He'd successfully treated your wounds and figured out how to cook without much outside interference it seemed. If anything, Razor was very intelligent.

You sighed. "It's something that can occur if you hit your head really hard."

Recognition dawned on his face. "Oh. I think I know."

"Know?"

Razor nodded. "Yes. Has happened to me. I fall into hole. A red man helped me."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Red man?

"Someone from Mondstadt?"

"Do not know."

You ran through a mental list of any men that fit the description of 'red,' but Diluc was the only one who came to mind, so you settled on him.

"I need to stay awake, just until the dizziness passes," you said.

Razor simply nodded, turning back to the fire, and you relaxed against the pelts beneath your body.

You tried propping yourself up a few times to check and see if the dizziness had gone, and when it did, you fell asleep fast.

You faded in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waking only when Razor shook you in order to feed you. You ate greedily, not realizing how hungry you were until the tender meat was gone. After eating, you fell asleep again.

You awoke fully in the morning, and you rolled over to find Razor sound asleep beside you. The wolf that had been beside you before was now gone. The rain had stopped, leaving behind that musty smell that rain left behind.

"(Y/N)!"

You started. That sounded familiar, even if the voice was far away. You propped yourself up on your hands, wincing at the remaining tenderness of the scrapes. They could have gotten infected if not for Razor, and you were thankful for his help.

The voice called out again, and you realized with a start who it belonged to. Amber.

Was there a search party?

You put a hand on Razor's shoulder, about to shake him awake, but when you looked down, his eyes were already open.

"Who is it?"

You smiled. "Amber. She's an Outrider for the Knights of Favonius. Someone must have come to the knights to tell them I was missing."

"You were... missing?"

"Yeah," you said, "I got lost."

You cupped your hands around your mouth. "Amber! In here!"

A beat of silence, then the sound of distant running footsteps getting closer. Amber appeared at the mouth of the cave, relief washing over her face as she hesitated before entering the cave.

"Razor," she said, "can I come in?"

Razor nodded. "Red girl is friend."

Amber walked towards you at a hurried clip. "What happened?"

You smiled. "I got attacked by hilichurls as the storm started and Razor rescued me. Wait, you two know each other?"

"Yep!" Amber said, "as an outrider, I know everyone in the Mondstadt region, including those in Wolvendom. You were in good hands."

"Razor helps friends," Razor said, matter-of-factly.

"Thank you for helping her, Razor. I'll take her home."

Amber helped you get redressed, and it felt good to have the comforting weight of your sword on your back again.

As you began to walk, supported by Amber's shoulder, you turned back to Razor.

"I'll come back to visit. I'll bake you a pie."

Razor seemed to like the prospect of you coming back.

"Visit again, friend!"

You smiled.

After getting back onto the main path, Amber spoke.

"You really need to be more careful, (Y/N)," she said, "we were all so worried! What were you thinking?"

You chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry. I wanted to find an alternate path to find more berries. I got lost. I couldn't have predicted that a storm would roll in. The Anemo Archon was not on my side."

"Yeah," Amber said with a note of bitterness, "he's finicky like that."

You snickered. "You say that like you know him."

Amber simply laughed.

You looked down at the basket in your free hand, noticing that not all of the berries inside had been lost. It looked to be just enough for one pie.

You watched as the first few buildings of Springvale came into view, making a mental map of the area in your head. You'd have to write down the location of the cave when you got home. You'd be seeing Razor again soon, this time bearing gifts instead of injury. Sara's pie would have to wait. After all, she did have access to the most delicious pies in Mondstadt, what with working at Good Hunter and all.

You had a feeling this was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

You just hoped he liked berry pie.

#razor #razor x reader #razor genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact #fluff #My writing #cross posted from wattpad #fanfiction #I have some Xiao fics #so stay tuned

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voidix · 3 years

Text

So my dear friend @kittytudor and I were discussing some takes the fandom has on Dazai and especially his interactions with Mori and I thought I’d share

I really hate the train of thought that goes like “they’re super smart so they know life has no meaning and nothing matters” like that’s cynical for no reason whatsoever and just nihilistic

Yea when you are intelligent you see all the bad in the world and feel like you’re powerless to stop it a lot of times but the things is

You know scientists see beauty in everything geologist will get excited about literal dirt a marine biologist about a gold fish. When you’re intelligent you see all the bad but also all the good

However it’s easier to see the bad and often times it clouds your view but part of the healing process is starting to see beauty and happiness in the smallest things and I think that’s a journey Dazai is slowly going on.

So I really don’t think intelligence is the issue here and I’m gonna assume you’re an edgy bastard if you say so

I feel like Dazai’s issue is more the environment than anything and the lack of meaningful relationships. I know we clown the scene where he says actually living is okay now 1 day after meeting Chuuya but here is the thing. This might have been the first time he had someone his age who wanted to hang out with him or even less just someone his age who tolerated him. I personally know nothing about his life pre mafia but you can assume it wasn’t a good life if at age 14 you decide the bloody mafia is preferable to wherever you’re at at the moment

In my opinion Mori didn’t encourage it per se but he didn’t try to stop it either I really think that for him he did not expect Dazai would go through with it (again) and /or as cruel as it sounds if he actually did it which Mori didn’t think was likely he had one less rival to worry about but I really think that’s Mori’s reasoning for staying “neutral” for lack of a better word on this issue

That being said I’m sure being surrounded by death and suffering did not do any good for an already depressed 14/15yo

Which leads me to the second point. I really don’t think Mori expected Dazai to leave or tried to make him leave. For Mori Dazai was a powerful asset because of his ability and because of his intelligence that y’all are obsessed with. So why would you want to push that person away and it’s not like he was encouraging him to suicide here which would make much more sense than wanting him to leave.

And I have evidence

I’m gonna start it with: Oda did not die to set an example I don’t think so no. In his conversation with Chuuya he said something like “being a leader means making sacrifices for the well being of the group” or something like that and that’s what he did here.

He sacrifices Oda to get the permit.

The strange thing is I do think Mori meant what he said to Chuuya that he is a leader but also a servant to the mafia he wants the mafia to gain more power and that’s why he did what he did to get the permit.

I do think it could be a lesson to Dazai but not in the “if you cross me this is gonna happen to you” because Oda didn’t cross him Oda didn’t want power he is the last person who was interested in that. I think if anything it was more a lesson as in “when you take over this is something you’ll have to do and I’m showing you how it’s done”

Evidence for that is he was chuckling when he mentioned that possibility that Dazai would kill him and take one someday. And I agree that Mori

Wouldn’t mind if that was better for the Mafia. Like he wouldn’t make it easy for him and he wouldn’t give up but if he is defeated he wouldn’t be angry or annoyed because like I mentioned above I do think he was genuine when he said he is also a servant to the Mafia

My other piece of evidence is that when he showed Dazai the permit he seemed proud of what he’s done. The way he presented it and the entire scenario he seemed proud more than smug. If he really wanted Dazai out I feel like he would’ve been more smug about the whole thing and we know he can do that well.

And obviously there is also the fact he offered him not once but twice to come back. And what’s interesting is that the first time the offer was secret like he sent Gin and Higuchi and it was in a shady ass tunnel

Now the other time is where it gets interesting because it was very public in front of Dazai’s colleagues the black lizard and Fukuzawa.

Now Mori is a smart guy but also he has a sense of pride as we learned so I really don’t think he would risk being humiliated in front of Fukuzawa of all people just to mess with Dazai and he seemed genuinely surprised when Dazai said “you kicked me” and he didn’t offer him to just come back no he offered to be back as an executive and having Dazai decline and clown him in front of Fukuzawa like that I don’t think he would risk that if he was just playing

The thing is Mori is smart but he has tunnel vision in my opinion. He was so focused on getting the permit he forgot that this plan has consequences that aren’t just “we get the permit”

And also one of Mori’s issues is that he never takes into consideration people’s emotions. You can predict human Behavior to a certain degree a lot of times you can know what to

Say or what to do to get a certain result but the thing is humans aren’t algorithms they don’t always operate on logic they have emotions. And these emotions can be so strong that they override any crumb of logic left which is something I think Mori fails to understand. That’s why he didn’t expect Dazai to leave he forgot about the emotional factor.

That’s what Mori lacks but Dazai has and my evidence for this is a scenario we laughed at because it was presented in a funny way but I think that’s something that shows that Dazai is better at this 4D chess game than Mori.

On the Moby Dick he knew that Akutagawa would abandon everything to talk to him. If Dazai only operates by thinking about logical Behavior he wouldn’t have told Atsushi to do this but he realises that the emotional factor is one of the strongest drives humans have.

And you know I think Mori knows that when it comes to 4D chess Dazai would defeat him but he doesn’t mind that he isn’t scared of that. In dead Apple he couldn’t have possibly known the whole business with the pill but he told Chuuya to interfere. Mori has a strange sense of trust towards Dazai even now that they’re part of different sides.

I think Mori is has always been aware that although he says he does Dazai doesn’t actually want to die and I think the scene with the hyper and hypo tension medication in 15 shows this. If you actually want to die why would you Mix medicine with effects that cancel out each other and Mori is a doctor he knows this. That’s why I think he didn’t expect Dazai to commit and that he believes Dazai actually wants to live and because of that he will try and preserve himself and by extension Yokohama which is why he told Chuuya to go in dead apple, which is why he let Akutagawa go on the Moby Dick in season 2 because he realized Dazai wanted him to go there and he trusts Dazai to a certain degree .

I really feel like his underestimated the emotional factor and this will ultimately lead to his downfall. Like he didn’t expect Dazai to leave he wouldn’t expect anyone to react super emotional to god knows what he’ll do and thereby underestimate their response to that which will make him meet his end.

I don’t think the “you kicked me” is Dazai in denial he acted ok emotions or at least that’s not the whole thing. I think that Dazai’s reasoning for saying that is this:

Oda died so Mori can get more power which was part of Mori’s plan all along so looking at the bigger picture it was Mori’s plan and actions who drove me out of the Mafia so he basically “kicked me out”

Also I wanna add that I feel like Mori because he underestimates the emotional factor he doesn’t understand to this day why Dazai left like he knows it’s related to oda he can follow that train of events but in his mind it doesn’t make logical sense why Dazai would do that which is why he didn’t manage to win Dazai over back to The Mafia because in his mind be doesn’t know the logical reason why Dazai left which is also another reason why he was so surprised when Dazai said he kicked him

Also I’d like to add that I really don’t think he felt threatened or wanted to just get rid of him

Dazai was already suicidal so if it would very easy to make it look like that. And like I mentioned before if it was the best choice for the Mafia I really don’t think Mori would be that bothered about being replaced by Dazai.

I also don’t think he thought Dazai would be more useful on the outside because once again why lose a valuable addition like that

And it’s not like

He wanted to use him

As a spy or anything we know that would’ve been arranged differently see Ango

So Mori the logical guy he is wouldn’t want his enemies to have someone with Dazai’s ability because that’s a pain in the ass and also

He wouldn’t want an insider like Dazai to join his enemies and spill all his secrets. Dazai had a very high rank and like I said I don’t think Mori expected him to leave so he had no reason to hide things from

him so even without his ability he would be a very strong asset to the Mafias enemies so there is no way Mori would think he is more useful on the outside since

1. we already said mori has tunnel vision he couldn’t possibly predict that much that he thinks Dazai is better out

2. We established that he isn’t afraid of him

3. He wouldn’t want the ability and the information to fall into his enemies’ hands

4. If he was actually scared and wanted to get rid of him making it seem like suicide or actually driving him to suicide would be much easier especially since mori is a doctor

So yeah this is long thanks if you read until the end it was super fun to write this id love to know what others think I’m sorry if it’s a bit unorganised it’s copied from my notes app

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd Meta #Dazai osamu #osamu dazai #mori ogai #ogai mori #bsd Mafia

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spidernerdsblog · 3 years

Text

You’re a Sunflower (Part 2)

A/N : as some of you requested a second part here is it. I tried to incorporate all of the ideas you sent. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think.

Part 1

Pairing : Peter Parker x Reader

Summary : you finally come out of coma.

Warnings : none

Peter’s phone rang the caller id flashing with Mr Stark’s name as he receives the call

“Hey Mr. Stark”

“Hey kid, where are you?” his voice sounded a little wary.

“Uh I’m at a college party. Is everything alright?” Peter frowns.

“Uh Peter you might want to be here at the compound right now”

“Anything wrong?”

“It’s Y/N” Peter felt his heart clench at it as an unknown fear gripped him.

“Y/N? What happened to her?” he asks restlessly.

“Things don't seem pretty good you should come as early as possible” Peter ends the call immediately without wasting time he rushed out of the party. Reaching the compound he runs out of the elevator to go to your room.

“Y/N! Y/N!” he pants as he finds your room empty.

“Peter..” Tony places a hand on his shoulder.

“Mr Stark where’s Y/N?” he turns to him with tears in his eyes.

“She has been shifted to the emergency room, her vitals were fluctuating massively. We have called in the best team of doctors and Strange is personally supervising everything. All will be fine kid” Tony tries his best to calm him down just then Strange and Banner walk out of the emergency room.

“What is her condition now Strange?” Tony asks.

“Nothing satisfactory. The toxin levels in her brain are just increasing by time we are trying to lower it but she isn’t responding to any of the drugs. If it deteriorates further I’m sorry to say but she might suffer a multi organ failure” Strange informs sadly.

“Mr Stark what if you give my blood to her? The spider venom in it will quickly heal her” Peter sounded desperate as he proposes the idea to them.

“Peter, are you forgetting that your father genetically modified the venom which is only compatible with his bloodline. Your blood will just worsen her condition” Tony says disapprovingly.

“I know but you’re the genius Tony Stark. Can’t you and Bruce think of a way to reverse engineer it and make her DNA compatible with my blood?”

“It's impossible Peter it will take days, we even don’t know if it will even work or not and Y/N is running out of time” Banner points out.

“No, no there’s got to be some other way” he rambles pacing up and down the room.

“Peter, listen, you need to calm down” Tony advises.

“How can I calm down when the love of my life, my best friend is dying in front of my eyes and I’m sitting here helpless?!” Peter snaps out at him before dropping down on a nearby chair feeling awful at yelling at his father figure like mentor. He was completely broken from inside seeing you in your deathbed. He has lost his parents, his uncle, he doesn’t want to lose you too.

“Peter, we can understand what you’re going through everyone here loves Y/N dearly but you have to stay strong” Natasha sat beside him rubbing his shoulders gently to help him calm down.

“Her pulse is declining” one of the doctors announced

“Charge the defibrillators now” Strange orders as he rushes inside.

“Y/N!” Peter stands up immediately

“No, Peter you can’t go inside” everybody stops him.

“You don’t understand Y/N is dying she needs me” Peter sobbed.

“No one is dying today, get yourself together Queens” Steve orders him strictly.

Peter saw through the glass partition from outside the emergency room, your face covered with an oxygen mask and several wires connecting your body to different machines in the room, the team of doctors surrounding you trying their best in keeping you alive. One of them charged the defibrillator and placed the paddles on your chest. Your body jolted at the shock as everyone observed the monitor with anticipation but unfortunately your heart rate was continuously decreasing. They repeated the process but it seemed to be a futile attempt.

The beeping went slower and the HRM flat lined as Peter stared at it blankly.

Is this how your story ends? No heartfelt conversations, no last goodbyes just you drifting away from him in your sleep forever. The promise you made to each other of growing old together now lay broken. He hates to make this about himself but what is he supposed to do without you? When life gets hard who is he gonna pour his heart out to? Who’s going to cheer him up and make him believe in himself? Will he never get the chance to say how much he loves you? That you’re his ray of sunshine, his sunflower. You lighten up his life with your warmth and love and without you it’s all dark and cold. Tears trickled down his eyes as he watched the doctors give cpr to your limp body.

“Okay one more time” they charged the device and pressed it on your chest. Your body jolted all eyes inside and outside the room trained on the monitor hoping for some miracle to happen and after some nerve racking seconds later the machine started to beep again with kinks appearing in the monitor showing your heart was beating again. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief and rejoiced at it.

Strange and Banner walk out of the room to break the news that you were finally responding to the medicines and the toxin levels have decreased in your body. They also indicated that there may be a slight chance of you to wake up from your coma. Peter refused to go back home and stayed up all night by your side. He had decided to never let you out of his sight anymore.

🌻

Next morning Peter was dozing off beside you half asleep whilst you lay on the bed motionless, the sunlight peeking through the blinders of the window when suddenly you mumbled in your sleep.

“Peter…Peter..” Peter immediately jolted out of his sleep, his eyes wide in surprise and disbelief he thought he may be hearing things due to lack of sleep and then he watched you stir in your sleep there was a surge of emotions inside him as he jumped off his seat.

“Y/N?” lacing his hand to yours he shouted out “Mr Stark! Y/N is awake!”

“Peter..” you mumbled again

“Y/N I’m right here” his voice quivered, holding your hand tighter as tears filled his eyes. You squint your eyes open your pupils slowly adjusting to the lighting of the room and the first thing you saw was Peter’s warm honey brown eyes red and puffy tears streaming down the corners.

“Hey” he sniffles, smiling weakly. You tried to sit up with a groan.

“No, no don’t get up you’re weak” Peter makes you lie down again, your eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Where am I?” you ask in a raspy voice.

“You’re in the Avengers med facility” he informs wiping his tears with his hands.

“Why? What happened?” you frown as you hold your head a dull ache still persisting. “Why can’t I remember anything? The last thing I recall is you defeated eletro and-and then Harry threw me off the building, I-I was so scared” you rambled. He pulled you in his arms caressing the back of your head gently.

“I know, I know but everything is okay now, you’re safe” he murmured softly, you pulled away to look at him properly.

“Did you get him?” Peter takes a long sigh before breaking the news to you.

“No Y/N and it has been 3 months to that incident” his voice was calm as your eyes bulged out in shock.

“Wait 3 months! But why don’t I remember anything after that?” you were totally lost.

“Y/N you had been in a coma for the last three months” he informs you.

“What?” you looked at him in disbelief

“Yes Y/N I couldn’t save you on time and you were badly injured, the doctors were also unsure that if you were ever gonna recover but finally you are awake now”

“Oh my god..wait, where’s mom and dad? Are they ok? And aunt May?” you badgered him with questions.

“Everyone is fine Y/N and they will soon be here to meet you” he assures you meanwhile Tony came rushing in.

“Peter we heard you..” he stopped as soon as his eyes went to you “oh my god Y/N you’re finally awake” he exclaims in joy as the other avengers walk in the room they were equally happy and relieved that you have finally recovered.

“Welcome back to the land of the awakened” Natasha snickers giving you a warm hug as you smiled widely “Girl you really scared us last night”

Everyone asked you about how you’re feeling to which you had to reassure them several times that you feel fine. Your parents came to visit you along with aunt May; it was indeed an emotional moment for everyone.

Later when everybody had finally left you alone in your room to rest Peter came in with a bouquet of sunflowers in hand. Your face instantly lit up seeing him. You never got the chance to talk to him properly between your parents and friends dropping by to pay you a visit and ask about your wellbeing so you were dying to have some alone time with him.

“Aw you brought me sunflowers?” you chimed and he gave you a warm smile.

“Of course they’re your favourite after all, I actually brought them everyday for you so whenever you wake up you see the thing that makes you happiest” he says putting them inside the vase and then sits beside you.

“Then I have to say it's you who makes me the happiest” you reach out your hand to cup his face he holds it with his hand and softly kisses it.

Tony along with the other avengers were on their way to check up on you but they stopped at the doorway seeing you both.

“Aww they look so cute together again” Natasha gushed while Tony and Steve broke into a smile.

“I’m so happy to see the kid smiling again these past three months had been hell for him” Tony looks at Peter proudly.

“Let’s not disturb them right now and ruin the moment for them” Steve suggested.

“Yeah let them be, they deserve some alone time” Natasha and Tony agreed and went away.

“Ok I know the college applications are closed now but I’m sure Mr Stark can pull some strings and I’ll provide you with all the notes you don’t have to worry about anything ok” Peter says cheerfully.

“Peter I just woke up from a three month coma. The last thing I want to hear right now is about college and exams”

“Ok so what do you wanna talk about?” he scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“Can we just talk about you? How are you?”

“Well now that you’re out of coma I’m good, I really missed you so much” his face drops remembering the tragic night.

“Wish I could say the same if I wasn’t completely knocked out heh” you tried to lighten the mood.

“I was so scared for a moment I thought I lost you forever” he clings onto your hand

“It’s ok Peter I’m here now and completely fine, see” you tried to cheer him up

“No it's not this was all my fault, if it wasn’t for me your life wouldn’t have come in danger. It was to take revenge on me Harry threw you off the building and I couldn’t even save you” he sniffles. You cradle his face with your hands and make him look at you.

“Peter, look at me. it. wasn’t. your fault. do you understand? You had always tried to keep me away from your dangerous life but it was I who insisted to stay by your side and I’m gonna continue doing that” you gazed into his chocolate brown eyes “and as I said before I laugh at the face of danger see I even defeated death for you” you chuckled.

“And that will be the last time Y/N, promise me whatever happens you’ll never put your life in danger for me again, promise me Y/N” he insists as you sigh.

“Okay I promise you” you pull him closer to you as he leans forward to capture your lips. It had been a long time he had felt your soft lips on his as he instantly melted in the kiss. It was so delicate, soft and full of love as tears of joy streamed down both of your eyes.

..................................................................................

#tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman #marvel #peter parker oneshot

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squidbol · 3 years

Text

Here's my version of the steam babies!

Kya

First born

Water bender

A big share between her parents' features

Kyoshi warrior trainee

Has more of zuko's personality traits

That being. Having the signature hot headedness

Absolutely adores auntie toph. Suki and ty lee

Might be gay for Taang's eldest

Is the sporty type

Much like her mother. She doesn't want to end up as a healer. She has the fighter spirit

Likes politics but isn't allowed in the meetings anymore cause she's fought with too many of the nobles

(Not that zuko complains though. She's doing something he can't ifiwickwjcjwjx)

Was thought to be a firebender for having her father's eyes

Oh boi were they wrong

Could've gone to a more public school to experience a far more normal childhood if assasination attempts weren't a normal thing

Had to stop wearing the loopies when she started her training cause it kept getting on her face

But she wears them at home

Much to the fire nation's dismay

Flying druk on her own privileges were given to her when she was 18

She fell off the first try-

Good thing uncle Aang was there

Kiara

Remember how zuko said he was "lucky to be born" yeah no that's actually kiara

She was the most sickly out of the three when she was born.

She was born in the middle of blizzard during their visit in the southern water tribe

The women honestly thought she along with katara weren't going to make it

But they're fighters.

After a whole week of fighting to keep her alive. She stayed

She's a non bender

Has majority of her mother's physical feature apart from her eyes

Is 12

Is the bookworm of the bunch

Enjoys studying medicine in her free time or visiting auntie azula to paint

She's a theater nerd much like zuko

But is the most quiet

Social skills who

She absolutely adores grandpa iroh so when the day he passes away it leaves her absolutely distraught

Wishes she was a waterbender like her sister to be able to have healing properties but medicine will have to do

Usually found babysitting Rai or druk once the sun warriors gave the bundle of scales to zuko

Too connected to the spirit world to be bothered with "princess duties"

"Your highness. Your piano lessons are starting" "mm?" "Your highness?" "Oh sorry"

Started her kyoshi warrior training at 14

Because she's the only non bender of the family. Uncle sokka gave her her own boomerang. Much to katara. Zuko and suki's dismay

But to her she loved it. She loved practicing with it. She loves calculating the angles. The distance. The timing. she was all in for it

Rai

They actually weren't supposed to have a 3rd child

Katara was on the cusp of menopause

But zuko and decided "eh why not" and boom steam baby number 3

Hauntingly looks like his father

But has his mother's eyes

Is only 5

Firebender

God this kid is mischievous

Remember the triplets in brave?

That's him

Absolutely gets in his sisters' nerves when he pulls the most unexpected of pranks

And gets even more in the nerves of the castle servants for bringing in wild animals

Once when they were visiting ba sing sei he IMMEDIATELY went to bosco

Little man. Straight up. Jump out of his sister's arms to run up to the big fluffy friendly giant

Much like his mother and auntie. Hq was a prodigy. But he never usually uses his bending since he grew really used to doing things "the normal way" much like his sister kiara

But he does give the best warm hugs when kya and kiara have cramps

Out of the three. He's auntie mai's favorite. He reminds her of tom tom when he was a baby

He only got to be with iroh till he was 4

Back to the topic of him being the trickster of the bunch. He does most of the pranking on the "old looking men are mean to daddy"

This little guy. Hates bullies

Hates them

Only he gets to be mean and be annoying to his family

So yeah. Here's my steam babies. And i love them all

#zutara #steam babies #steam baby #steam children #zutara family #atla zuko #atla katara #zuko #katara #druk #fire nation #southern water tribe #atla #avatar the last airbender #zutara kids #zutara children

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pjo-whore · 3 years

Text

Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

#pjo #hp #percy jackson #harry potter #pjo x hp #crossover #percy #annabeth #nico #thalia #part 1 #magic percy

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dickgrcyscns · 3 years

Text

Play Pretend

Play Pretend, Steve Rogers. Based off of the prompt “Go on then, tell me you don’t love me”.

Summary: In which you had been hiding your feelings for a super soldier for quite a while, and he was getting tired of waiting to hear you say you liked him.

Set During: AU

Word Count: 1813 words

Gif used not mine!

“Morning everyone,” You came into the compounds kitchen with a smile, taking a seat on one of the breakfast bars stools. Steve placed a cup of coffee in front of you, smiling back. That was his way of greeting you in the morning. And every time you looked back up to him with a shy smile, a warmth spreading across the apples of your cheeks.

“Morning Y/n,” Tony took a sip of his coffee, taking a glance between both you and Steve.

“Morning Tony,” a smile rested on your lips, taking a sip of the coffee Steve had given you. “How’s the suit redesigning going?”

“It’s tedious,” Tony smiled. “But it’s coming along pretty well. How’s working in the lab with Banner?”

“We’re working on this really cool biochemical theory right now, I’m interested in seeing how it’s going to play out but I have a good feeling about it! Otherwise it’s just a lot of paperwork and making sure all of the files are in their correct places. Which reminds me,” you pointed at Steve, “it’s about time for your bloodwork again.”

“Again?” Steve let his head fall back, the mug of coffee he had been carrying up to his lips long forgotten.

“Well, we have to make sure you’re well, Cap,” you laughed lightly, sipping on the coffee. See you had only joined the Avengers at first because of your background in medicine, but then you kind of accidentally showed them that you have powers that allow you to either kill or regenerate cells in an instant. You kind of, maybe, became a full member after that. But when it came down to the basic lab work and doctorly things, you were always happy to do them. You loved everything around that type of work. Getting to draw blood and analyze it, trying to see if anything had changed. It was like a mystery waiting to be solved and you loved that.

“She’s right icicle,” Tony quipped. “Can’t have you dying on us Cap. Especially Y/n here.”

You felt your cheeks go warm when Tony nudged your shoulder, your eyes rolling as a laugh fell from Steve’s lips. See, it would have been funnier if Tony wasn't telling the truth. Steve had become such a big person in your life, you had almost no idea what you would do if he left. A part of your heart was owned by him and he didn't even know that. “Geez,” you muttered, “thanks Tony.”

“Anytime,” Tony winked back in response. “I’ll be in the lab, you two don’t mess up my kitchen, okay?”

“Tony!” Your cheeks flushed, giving the billionaire wide eyes before he walked out of the room with a smirk rested on his lips. A huff pushed past your lips as you turned towards Steve, trying to reconcile the situation. “I’ll uh, I’ll be down in my lab if you need me at all. We can do the bloodwork tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve nodded, setting his mug down onto the counter as you got up to walk away. You pulled your hand up to your lips, nervously biting at your fingernail. The thought of Steve knowing — of Steve finding out how you feel freaked you out. Now, listen, you had a lot of things going for you but subtlety was not one of them. But Steve had never said anything and that was enough to calm your nerves. You didn’t want to lose him — you couldn’t afford to lose him. That’s why you had never told him how you felt. You had gotten so used to playing pretend, part of you began to believe you enjoyed it. That hiding a secret was fun to you.

Settling into your lab, you let out a short sigh. Your lab was a place you were never afraid to be in, pulling off your coat and placing your hair into a ponytail effectively pulling it from falling in front of your face. A smile rested on your lips, a pen tapping on the papers you had just began to fill out. Your favorite song played lightly in the background, only adding to the smile on your face. Mumbling the lyrics to the song, head nodding along, you continued to analyze your past labs and samples while taking notes. This was the place that you had all of the control, something you couldn’t quite say you had in the normal day-to-day life as an Avenger. So many things were left in the air; how would a mission end, would you end up having to heal people that had become your family or would you end up using your powers to harm people in ways you tried not to think about?

But when it was just you, in your lab, you knew how things would go. You knew the songs that would play and you could almost guess how the labs would come back. Out in the field, you were working on pure adrenaline, in your lab, you were working on caffeine and intelligence. You got to sit back and think about things, not having to worry about the time it would take or what could be lurking around the corner. Your friends had noticed it as well, Natasha and Wanda loved to sit in the lab with you. Something along the lines of you having better conversations when you were in the lab. Every now and then, one of the Avengers would come running in with a small cut they got during training (or even in Bucky’s case, the one time he was trying to cut an onion and cut his hand, you didn’t ask any questions as to how a former assassin cut himself with a knife) asking you to heal it. And you would do it with no questions asked.

That’s the exact reason as to why you rolled your eyes at the knock on the doorframe of the lab, looking over to see who it was standing there. Steve smiled over to you, raising an eyebrow as a way to ask if it was okay to come inside with you. You nodded, putting your pen down when he closed the door behind him. “Everything okay Steve?”

“Hmmm?” He looked over to you, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, yeah, everything’s okay. I just figured that you could take the blood sample today? I have training tomorrow for most of the day.”

“Of course,” you smiled, standing up to grab what you needed to draw his blood. “Have anything you want to talk about? Most of the team uses this time to ramble on about their issues.”

“That’s got to be a lot to deal with,” Steve’s brows furrowed together.

You waved him off, “I enjoy it. Everyone needs a person to vent to, might as well use this time to ramble on about something, you know? It’s nothing we haven’t heard before or expected, either. A lot of the times they’l rant about the missions and things that went wrong. Bucky will complain about something Sam did or vice versa, it’s great when they’re both in here at the same time.” The words continued to run from your lips as you grabbed the supplies you needed. Steve’s laughter filled the silence once you stopped rambling.

“What about you, doll? Do you take this time to rant about anything?”

“I’m more of a listener,” you shrugged.

“So am I,” Steve raised a brow. “I’m not backing down from my spot either, so it looks like you’re just going to have to talk.”

Eyes rolling, you began to draw Steve’s blood. “What is it you want to hear about?”

“Anything,” Steve looked like he had a quick thought before a mischievous smile made its way to his face, “your love life maybe? Out of everyone on the team, you always keep quiet when people talk about their escapades.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, so did you,” you promptly added in.

“We’re not talking about me,” Steve muttered, pink dusted across his cheeks. “But for your information, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“I’m not either,” you felt your cheeks warm up. “Yeah, that’s about it for my love life there Steve. Nothing too fun.”

His hand went up to brush against your cheek, “You know, Tony’s comment earlier had me thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Are you in love with me?” Steve’s question caught you off guard, making you stand still in the middle of the room. A small vile of his blood rested in your hand, that was the only reason you kept a grip on the situation. Putting the vile down on the counter next to you, you turned back to look at Steve with wide eyes. His lips had been pushed upwards into a smile, “Go on then, tell me you don’t love me.”

Those words came out just as you opened your mouth, about to say something about how you weren’t in love with him. It closed wordlessly, your tongue resting between your teeth, blinking a few times. To be completely fair, you were normally much more relaxed in your lab. You figured that’s why Steve brought it up while he was in there. But you couldn't help your heart that quickly began to beat, the sound ringing in your ears as fear took over your sense. No matter what you said in that moment, your little charade was up. You couldn’t hide behind a mask of not being in love with Steve Rogers. Not when he knew. You could tell. The smile on his face, the look in his eyes. There was no escaping it.

“God I hate Tony.”

“I don’t,” Steve muttered. “I wouldn’t have figured it out if it wasn’t for him. And it makes it a bit easier when you realize the girl you have feelings for, feels the same way about you.”

You blinked a few times, did he just say what you thought he did? “So, you mean, I’m confused.”

“I love you,” Steve placed a gentle hand on your cheek, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Always have, Doll.”

“I,” you muttered, “I love you too.” He pulled his lips off of your forehead, your head leaning onto the hand he had pressed against your cheek. You glanced down to his lips and back up to his gaze.

“Y/n,” you nodded in response to him calling out your name. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” a smile formed on your face as he pulled your face closer to his. Your lips melded together, it was full of longing. The two of you had been so in love with each other, yet never acting on it. In that moment, you felt it all hit you. All at once.

Maybe playing pretend was a stupid move after all. Sometimes, you just have to trust that leap of faith.

#steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers #steve x reader #Steve Rogers imagines #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers/reader #avengers #avengers imagines #Chris evans #chris evans x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers x y/n #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

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5e Aphelios, the Weapon of the Faithful build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)

(Shit meme by yours truly.)

Yes I hate Irelia so much I’m genuinely making an Aphelios build before her.

But I really don’t get the “Aphelios too confusing 200 years” memes. Don’t get me wrong his kit’s weird and certainly overtuned but it doesn’t take that long to figure out what his guns do. Calibrum has long range and fires a skill shot, Severum has lifesteal and attacks fast, Gravitum slows and roots, Infernum attacks in a cone for AoE damage, and Crescendum attacks very fast and creates a turret.

Just because I understand this does it mean I can play Aphelios? Fuck no. Did I learn all this from Legends of Runeterra by playing Labs with Aphelios? Yeah kinda. But all I’m saying is that if my stupid support-main ass can do midway decently as Aphelios on free-to-play rotation I really think the hype around him is overblown.

That’s enough hot takes from me. He’s the point where I list 5 goals for this build instead of 3 and make 200 years jokes.

GOALS

Calibrum - We’ll need a long-ranged weapon to harass our foes and pick them off when they try to run.

Severum - If enemies get too close or we get too low we’ll need a way to keep ourselves alive in a 1v1.

Gravitum - We’ll need to control our foes to always stay in an advantageous position.

Infernum - AoE damage is always useful to deal with crowds.

Crescendum - To take down the toughest of foes we’ll need to unleash all our firepower and even get our weapons to fir themselves.

Basically we need literally everything, all packed within 20 levels of D&D and 200 years of game design.

RACE

Aphelios is a human... but ellipsis means that another race makes more sense. Aphelios has his sister advising him wherever he goes in life, so to play two spirits in one a Kalashtar is a good choice! Your Wisdom score increases by 2 and your Charisma increases by 1. Alune’s Dual Mind grants you Advantage on Wisdom saving throws, and her Mental Discipline lets you resist Psychic damage. Alune also keeps you Severed from Dreams, meaning that you’re immune to spells that require you to dream (like the Dream spell) but not spells that require you to sleep (like Sleep.)

Aphelios doesn’t talk (unless you want him to) but Alune can make a Mind Link to speak telepathically with others! You can speak telepathically to any creature you can see that’s within a number of feet of you equal to 10 times your level. You don’t need to share a language with them, but they must be able to understand at least one language. You can also use your action to give that creature the ability to speak telepathically with you for 1 hour or until you end this effect as an action. To use this ability, the creature must be able to see you and must be within this trait’s range. You can only give this ability to only one person at a time however, as it ends when you give it to someone else. Oh and speaking of languages you know Common, Quori (which no one is going to have outside of Eberron lol), and one other language of your choice: Celestial probably makes the most sense but you can pick whatever you fancy.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - You’re a kpop pretty boy, because Aphelios has more guns than body types in League of Legends.

14; WISDOM - I mean you get advantage in Wisdom saves anyways: may as well make the skill good too?

13; DEXTERITY - You are a marksman but we aren’t really using DEX for combat. So in other words: something something Medium Armor.

12; CONSTITUTION - You are one of the squishiest ADCs in the game but you do have enough sustain to keep yourself alive.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You were trained spiritually, as opposed to academically. That being said Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.

8; STRENGTH - I mean look at Aphelios’ arms; kid’s a freaking twink.

BACKGROUND

Aphelios fights for him and his sister’s faith in the Lunari... bit unorthodox, but you’re certainly quite the devoted Acolyte. As an acolyte you get proficiency in Religion but I’d replace your proficiency in Insight with Medicine, which you’re probably used to after drinking so much poison. You also learn two languages that you won’t use because Aphelios is mute. (But yeah pick whatever you think will be useful and if you want to feel free to swap your languages for tools or something. A Herbalism Kit or Poisoner’s Kit actually works rather well given your favorite drink to keep close to your sister.)

Alune may be in the Shelter of the Faithful but you can return to the temple from time to time for solace. You and your adventuring companions can expect free healing and care at a temple, shrine, or other established location of Lunari faith (you have to provide any material components for spells though.) The Lunari will support you (but only you) at a modest lifestyle in the temples.

If you’re near your sister’s shrine you can ask the chosen Lunari priests for assistance, provided the assistance you ask for is not hazardous and you remain in good standing with your temple and your sister.

(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting off as a Sorcerer for proficiency in CON saving throws lol, but also for proficiency in Arcana and the Insight skill we skipped from our background. But Sorcerers get to choose their subclass at level 1 and to get closer to the Aspects grab a touch of the Divine Soul. As a Weapon of the Faithful you are Favored by the Gods, letting you add 2d4 to a missed attack roll or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest for a touch of Alune’s guidance. I’m going to mention now that a death saving throw is technically a saving throw, and I mention it because your AC is 11 and your health is 7. Level 1 ADCs, am I right?

Anyways: Divine Souls get Divine Magic for one extra spell from the Cleric spell list: technically you’re supposed to take one of the ones they suggest to you but I’d recommend Guiding Bolt for Calibrum’s Q: a long ranged shot that lets you shoot the target more easily afterwards.

And of course being able to cast spells implies that you have Spellcasting! You can learn four cantrips from the Sorcerer or Cleric list which means you can grab Guidance for a bit more of your sister’s help. You can also grab Word of Radiance to attack everyone near you with Severum’s Q, Acid Splash for some AoE damage from Infernum (should it be doing fire damage? Yeah probably), and Light to see with your dumb Kalashtar eyes. You can also learn two leveled spells like Sanctuary to protect yourself or your allies as long as they act peacefully, and Ice Knife for a more ranged AoE blast from Infernum.

If you want you can grab Mage Armor or something because your AC and HP are kinda uhhhhhhhhhh... trash?

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

Hopefully you didn’t die as a level 1 Aphelios with 7 HP and 11 AC; we didn’t even get 200 years of damage yet! Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 as well which means you can shape yourself as the Fiend the Solari see you as. Dark One’s Blessing grants you temporary hitpoints equal to your Charisma modifier plus your Warlock level whenever you slay a foe for Severum’s lifesteal and passive shield.

You also get Pact Magic, which is like regular Spellcasting but your spell slots are funny! You can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Eldritch Blast to blast while you eldritch, and Chill Touch for some Grievous Wounds. You can also learn two Warlock spells like Burning Hands from the Fiendlock list to blast your foes with Infernum, and Hex to mark your foe for death under the moon.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get access to Eldritch Invocations like Agonizing Blast to agonize your blasts, and Lance of Lethargy to slow your foes with Gravitum. You can also learn another Warlock spell like Unseen Servant for some extra sisterly help. I mean, you’re probably going to replace these all next level anyways.

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks can choose their Pact Boon and truthfully? Just about any of them work. Pact of the Blade would be the most “in-character” but your Strength and Dexterity are both kind of bad and you don’t need to use weapons. Pact of the Chain will let you personify Alune on your person and get a shitty version of Crescendum’s turret but Aphelios doesn’t have a pet. Pact of the Tome lets you get Aspect of the Moon which is funny in its own right and more cantrips are universally useful. And hell: even Pact of the Talisman is useful for your sister to lend her aid to someone else in the party. Basically this is an elaborate way for me to say that your Pact Boon doesn’t matter much for this build, as we won’t be using any of the abilities or invocations from your Pact Boon much. So pick what you think will be useful and fun and make your own Aphelios!

With that being said: you can also learn second level Warlock spells now! Shadow Blade will serve as Crescendum’s blade that you can throw at the enemy, but it is based on your DEX which is kind of... bad? Well at least you can replace Unseen Servant with Misty Step, because a summoner’s Flash is more useful than your sister’s unseen help.

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 4

Man isn’t it fun to wait until level 5 to not die when the enemy support breathes on you? That uneven Dexterity score was done so you could grab the Moderately Armored feat for +1 to your Dexterity and proficiency in Medium Armor and Shields. Grab both to get hit less, basically!

You can also learn another spell like Hold Person for Gravitum’s root. And another cantrip like Minor Illusion for your sister to summon some props that you can hide behind.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 5

Hey that Medium Armor doesn’t really fit your outfit: how about the Mask of Many Faces invocation to put on some skins?

Third level spells are also useful! Vampiric Touch will let you heal in close range by damaging your foes with Severum.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Fiend Warlocks get more guidance from Alune. The Solari may call it the Dark One’s Own Luck but all it lets you do is add a d10 to an ability check or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest. I mean hey: if you want a load of saving throw insurance this plus Favored by the Gods basically means you’re adding +10 to a saving throw!

You can also learn another spell but the only ones I’d want have very expensive components. Basically I want a Tasha’s summoning spell for Crescendum’s turret, but you’re going to be replacing it with...

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 7

4th level Warlocks can learn Summon Aberration which is a little more than just a turret! You can choose between a Beholderkin turret, Slaad tank, or Star Spawned Aspect! I’m not going to go too deep into this spell as you can read up on it for yourself but the point is you’ve got some backup now!

Alternatively if you want I think your sis could use some friends: Banishment will send them up to the temple where they’ll have to sit around and chat peacefully with Alune. Or if they’re not from the plane you’re in they’ll just be sent home.

Oh and you can also get another Eldritch Invocation like Eldritch Spear to keep your range with Calibrum.

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 8

8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: you should probably increase your Charisma for more damage and accuracy with your weapons.

Speaking of weapons Dimension Door will let you head back to fountain to buy more weapons, or get out of danger and in range to use your weapons.

(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - SORCERER 2

We’ve gotten all of out basic auto attacks: now I want some of Aphelios’ finer abilities. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently do nothing other than let you get more spell slots. You can melt down your Warlock slots however to get more Sorcery points, which will be useful later.

And of course you can learn more spells, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 11 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers can finally learn Metamagic to empower their spells! You can take Quickened Spell for some Attack Speed, or Seeking Spell for some armor penetration to deal with higher AC enemies.

You can also learn second level spells like Icingdeath’s Frost (UA soon to be in Fizban’s hopefully) to blast foes with Infernum then Gravitum, or Dragon’s Breath to blast Infernum all throughout the fight.

LEVEL 12 - SORCERER 4

Would be good to cap off that Charisma, so go ahead and do so with your ASI.

You can also learn another spell like Spiritual Weapon for a turret you can move around a bit, and a new cantrip like Mage Hand for your sister’s help reaching the top shelf.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - SORCERER 5

5th level Sorcerers can get some Magical Guidance from their sister to reroll ability checks, because she’s been reading up on Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything.

You can also learn a new spell like Fireball... I mean I really shouldn’t need to justify this. It’s Fireball. Blast them with Moonlight Vigil for a burst of Infernum’s fire!

LEVEL 14 - SORCERER 6

6th level Divine Soul Sorcerers can use their Sorcery Points for Empowered Healing... wait you have healing? Well whenever you or an ally within 5 feet of you rolls dice to heal from a spell, you can spend 1 sorcery point to reroll any number of those dice once, as long as you’re not incapacitated. This technically doesn’t work with Vampiric Touch (since that spell does damage and then heals you based on how much damage it deals) but if your support heals you or a nearby ally there’s no reason not to give them an extra pick-me-up!

You can also learn another spell but I’m going to hop back to second level real quick for Mirror Image. It perhaps doesn’t fit as well (which is why I didn’t take it until now) but it’s very good to keep yourself alive, and as a squishy Lunari boy it’ll be very helpful to make it harder for the enemy to hit you.

LEVEL 15 - SORCERER 7

7th level Sorcerers can learn 4th level spells like Guardian of Faith for a turret that actually stands still! It shoots at anyone who comes close, and when it runs out of ammo it disappears. But what’s cool about this spell is that it lasts for 8 hours, which is plenty of time to rest through the night while your sister watches over you.

LEVEL 16 - SORCERER 8

8th level Sorcerers get another Ability Score Improvement or Feat: seeing as you’re mostly casting War Caster would be a good pickup to keep your Concentration with your bad Constitution and also hit those who come too close with magic. Or you could just get better Constitution maybe since it’s a bit late for War Caster tbh...

You can also learn another spell like Death Ward, for a Guardian Angel that you’re probably going to need seeing as you still have less than a hundred health.

(Artwork by Francis Tneh and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 9

9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells like Teleportation Circle to recall back to base or to your sister’s temple. If you know the sequence of sigils to go back to a teleportation circle you can use this spell to link yourself back to it. You can also create a new circle over the course of a year. (And by spending a lot of gold.)

Basically this is my way of saying that we got all we wanted after level 16 tbh and I’m kinda just going through the motions of grabbing your last few levels.

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 10

10th level Sorcerers get their third Metamagic option! Hurrah! By this point you have enough spells that force saving throws that Heightened Spell is a good option to make it a lot harder for your opponents to resist 200 years of magic!

You can also learn another 5th level spell like Hold Monster for Gravitum’s root against a ganking Fiddlesticks. And another cantrip: I somehow didn’t take Prestidigitation until now, so grab it for all sorts of basic Lunari magic.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 11

11th level Sorcerers can learn a 6th level spell! This is going to be your final, highest level spell; your ultimate ability! And I’d consider an ultimate from a fed Aphelios to be a Circle of Death. It’s a huge AoE that does a lot of damage: a simple nuke for a simple ADC that isn’t remotely confusing.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 12

12th level Sorcerers get one last Ability Score Improvement or Feat... I’m going to be honest: this doesn’t fit Aphelios but you likely have around 100 HP. Do yourself a favor and grab the Tough feat for 40 extra health.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

For every phase, a weapon - Wow who would’ve guessed building for versatility makes you versatile? You have a huge variety of spells for just about any occasion: AoEs to deal with crowds, single-target spells to take down big foes, crowd control to keep enemies in place, summons to keep enemies targeting them instead of your allies, and of course more than enough damage to shake a stick at.

In your hand; from my heart - Sorcery points also give you plenty of flexibility, notably in your ability to greatly increase damage output thanks to Quickened Spell on Eldritch Blasts and Seeking Spell to reroll missed Eldritch Blasts. But being able to turn your Warlock slots into ammo for your more useful guns is extremely useful and allows you to better adapt to various situations.

I am with you... shining above - Medium armor goes quite a long way! A Breastplate and Shield gives you a solid 18 AC, and if you’re willing to have Stealth Disadvantage upgrading to Half Plate gives you a respectable 19 AC!

CONS

You make yourself a weapon, so you do not have to feel - Skill proficiencies are reserved for those who don’t spend 200 years on damage. You have two skills from your background and two from your class and none of them are particularly great. Sure your Insight and Medicine skills are fine enough but you’re going to be beaten in Arcana by a Wizard and Religion by a Cleric also a Wizard, because Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.

Your life upon the altar, brother... - Even with the Tough feat your health is extremely poor. d6 hit die hurt and anyone with Power Word Kill can easily execute you. While I did give you good Wisdom for roleplay’s sake you could (and probably should) opt for Constitution instead.

An omen in your grasp - Your low health is kind of a problem when a lot of your spells force you into close range. There are ways to use spells like Burning Hands, Dragon’s Breath, Shadow Blade, and Vampiric Touch without getting too close (those methods being the Distant Spell Metamagic which we didn’t take; you could totally replace Seeking Spell if you wanted though) but Severum and Infernum are balanced around their low range. There’s no reason you can’t throw balance out the window to take spells that will likely be more useful.

But you are a weapon, sworn to carry your faith and show the world the light in the darkness. Your task is to slay those that deny the right of your people before they even know you are there... Sure confusing them as to what you are even doing is also effective, and I guess it doesn’t matter if your abilities make sense if they’re all dead. They’ll have 200 years to figure out how you killed them: I’m sure that’s plenty of time to read your ability descriptions.

(Artwork by @NAOMM29 on Twitter.)

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shootybangbang · 3 years

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[Talking Bird] 17: In which beans are ruined

[Ao3 Link]

At the mention of Trelawney, Arthur dimly recalls a scrap of half-remembered conversation from last year, when he’d idled with the man in a Lemoyne saloon while waiting for a mark to arrive. The first flicker of your existence, passing him by unknown. Like the brief touch of a licked finger through candle flame: deceptively benign, with just a whisper of the burn to follow.

Somewhere between his first and second glass of whiskey sours, Trelawney had mentioned the burgeoning demand for opium in Chinatown. A former contact of his had recently left the high stakes poker circuit to get in on the profit, and he’d lamented the loss.

“It’s a shame,” he’d said, absently swirling the ice cubes in his emptied glass and regarding the swirling wood grain of the countertop with a pensive, faraway look. And for once, the sentiment had sounded genuine. Knowing him, the man was grieving a lost business opportunity more than anything else, but it’d been a long time since Arthur had heard him even bother to feign emotion for a stranger. “She’s not suited for smuggling in the least. Can’t say I can see this ending well.”

Less Trelawney’s gift for prophecy and more stating the obvious, now that he knows exactly who he’d been talking about. Prickly disposition, clueless when it comes to violence, and far too trusting of strangers. The cavalier attitude of someone who’d never been exposed to serious conflict and who, having since been exposed, lacks even the conviction necessary to put a bullet in the man holding her hostage.

And far too delicate besides.

When you’d pulled the blanket down your shoulders to untie your braid, Arthur had tilted his head back just enough to catch an eyeful of your backside. A pretty thing to put to paper: the wet swathe of hair draped over your shoulder, the faint shadow of your spine a dark curve flickering with the shifting of firelight. Soft, dappled lines wrapped in the body of someone who’s caused him nothing but grief in the past weeks.

The view had confirmed something he’d already been suspecting: your lack of threat to anything larger than a rat terrier.

Judging by your physique, you’d probably struggle to lift anything more than fifteen pounds. Maybe twenty, on a good day. A veritably pathetic amount of muscle tone with none of the etchings that rough living leaves behind.

Some foreign high society girl fallen on hard times, he guessed. But oddly, none of the clumsy caution people of that strata have when confronted with any sort of real work. You’d fallen into the rhythm of whittling bark off the cottonwood branches too comfortably for someone unacquainted with physical labor, handled the knife with a deftness that comes only from rote repetition.

“I knew Trelawney had connections to some gang out west, but I never thought…” You shake your head slowly, dazed by the absurdity of this new development. “Did he know? When I sold them those bonds, did he realize they were yours? And why—”

“Nah, he wouldn’t have known. I, uh… wasn’t too keen on tellin’ folk I got robbed by a woman.” He rubs the back of his neck and lets out an embarrassed huff. “Told ‘em the whole thing was a bust.”

Looking back, he may as well have told them the truth. The lie hadn’t done much to salvage his pride, and had prompted weeks of jibes at his own expense. Snide little asides from Micah, overt ridicule from Bill, and the painful ordeal of Sean.

“Gettin’ sloppy in your old age,” he’d quipped. “I’ll tell you what you need, Morgan. You need to let someone else hold the reins for a change. Someone quick on the uptake, someone young and hot-blooded and—”

“Get back to me when you’re done complimentin’ yourself,” Arthur had replied, already walking away.

“Wait, Morgan — take me with you next time you ride out! I’ll scout somethin’ out, and we can…”

Sean had been insistent as a mosquito and twice as annoying, but ultimately bearable so long as he had a beer in his hand or a pillow over his head. His own head, though he’d been sorely tempted otherwise.

No, what had really driven him to leave camp had been Dutch.

Dutch and his put-upon fatherly air, all stern mouthed disapproval and downward sloping shoulders. His pointed observations of Jack’s tattered jacket, well on its way to becoming a patchwork Ship of Theseus. Pearson’s dwindling supply of seasonings, so scarce that the stews have become bland to the point of near inedibility. The stocks of medicine running low, bandages boiled so many times that their fibers have since frayed to a cobwebbed consistency.

“I know you’re doing your best, son,” Dutch had sighed, casting a weary eye over his threadbare kingdom. “God knows you’re the only man I can depend on to get anything done around here. But folks are… well. Folks are struggling.”

Arthur’s eyes had slid momentarily towards Dutch’s tent, resting on the golden gleam of the gramophone and the crisp cotton sheets laid across the bed. An unbroken sea of white, with not a stitch out of place. And not twenty feet away, Hosea’s shabby lean-to, the older man’s bedroll bearing the same disjointed array of colors as the rest of the camp’s accoutrements.

Dutch always did have a taste for the finer things in life. A level of refinement proportionate to the depth of his ambition, which in earlier days had been tempered by kinder, simpler ideals. Feed those that need feeding. Shoot those that need shooting. Robin Hood-esque, with a western (and occasionally lethal) twist. Evelyn Miller had been a fixture even then, but in those halcyon years Dutch had not yet twisted the author’s words to the tottering worldview that he’s since constructed.

The gang’s nascent success had bred standards and attracted new followers. A ragtag flock all too eager to nourish their leader’s growing, malignant appetite for grandeur.

“Just one last score, and we’ll be clear of all this… this manmade rot.” Dutch said, gesturing in the direction of Blackwater. “But for now, we’ve got to play their game. Get our hands dirty for the time being so we can wash ourselves clean of all this when we’ve finally got the means.”

Arthur had departed under the pretense of retrieving the missing bonds (impossible) or locating some cache of similar value (near impossible), but in truth he’d done so primarily for the preservation of his own sanity. More and more these days, he’s been seeing cracks in the foundation of the man who’d given him this life, dragged him out of the gutter and set him with a previously unwavering sense of purpose. And it feels treacherous — traitorous, even — to take any of it into question.

But as always, the open road and the unabiding sky of the prairie settled him into a different mindset altogether. The cycles of flora and fauna in untouched wilderness exist completely separate from the artifices of men, with the legacies of countless tiny lives encapsulated in the fine grit of the dust to which all things return. And in that certainty comes an overwhelming comfort. Everything else seems trifling in the wake of the vast perpetuity of nature.

A few days spent wandering would do him good, he’d decided. Spend some time away from all the trappings of civilization, then rob some poor sap on the side of the road so as not to return empty-handed.

And then you’d ruined his plans entirely by literally walking into him as he’d been passing through Strawberry.

“Well,” you say, offering up a small, nervous smile. “What now?”

What now, indeed. Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Guess we take a visit to Trelawney’s,” he replies, already dreading the inevitable embarrassment of explaining the whole sorry situation to the man. “And if it turns out you’re tellin’ the truth, I’ll give you a ride from Rhodes to St Denis.”

You frown and furrow your brow. “Rhodes?”

“Yeah, Rhodes. Trelawney’s got a caravan there on the outskirts of town. You didn’t know?”

“You can’t take me to Rhodes,” you say automatically, as if stating the obvious. “I mean… look at me.”

“You’re a woman?” he asks stupidly.

“I’m an Oriental, you moron. And Rhodes is a fucking… it’s a fucking Raider town.”

“You’d be with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

You shake your head and set your mouth into a grim, flat line. “That’s worse. They might think we’re together. And they don’t take kindly to miscegenation.”

Your words have to them the quality of a veil being drawn back, exposing a corner of this country’s ugliness he’s not often been privy to. A familiar knot of guilt tugs at his innards, accompanied by the unpleasant, impotent sensation that surfaces each time he catches the ungracious stares of the crowd when walking into town with Tilly by his side. Each time he hears the practiced courtesy in a shopkeep’s voice drop away when the man turns away from him to address Charles. Each time he watches Lenny reread for the thousandth time the letter from his dead father, the creases in its paper worn so deep that it would have long since fallen apart were it not for the boy’s careful, reverent handling.

“You know those big plantation houses just south of Rhodes? They hire Chinese sometimes to work the fields. Cheaper than sharecropping, apparently.” The look on your face is drawn and bitter. The bite in your voice suggests something personal, the sting of an injury not yet healed. “One of the boys got involved with a white housemaid. He’d saved up for train tickets to Philadelphia, and they were… he was going to marry her there. Wanted an August wedding. The number eight’s lucky for us, you see. So August 8th, 1898… he thought it was all very romantic. Used to make this stupid joke that he wished he’d met her ten years earlier. Raiders strung him up in an oak tree a couple weeks before they were set to leave.”

Arthur’s tongue lies silent and heavy in his mouth.

You take in a deep breath that rattles with the failing determination of someone struggling not to break their composure, then look to him with a desperation so absolute that it seems almost indecent to witness. “Why don’t you just leave me here? Keep me tied up if you have to. Come back for me when you’re done with Trelawney.”

In the short span of time that he’s known you, you’ve made enough of an impression to warrant several conclusive classifications. A haughty, pampered little thing. An ineffective liar. A self-destructive fool — but not stupid. Definitely not stupid.

The sheer idiocy of your suggestion indicates a fear so deep that it’s completely severed you from your senses. Just a frightened little bird caught in a trap, scratching and clawing for the narrowest possible opening for escape.

“You’re tellin’ me to tie up a woman and leave her in the middle of nowhere? May as well just hand-deliver you to the wolves. No,” he says firmly, trying to shake off the unwanted pang of sympathy. Dutch had been right about one thing — the gang did need money, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let this opportunity for it slip away out of misguided compassion for a woman who’d literally robbed him as he’d bled out. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Soon as we near Rhodes, I’ll tie you to Boadicea the same way I did when we left Strawberry.”

You blink and utter a disbelieving, “Excuse me, what?”

“Reckon they’ll treat us both a hell of a lot nicer if they think you’re a bounty. Gives me plenty excuse for keepin’ you in one piece, too.”

Your face ventures on a quick journey through the five stages of grief. The grief in question being for the loss of your dignity. The blank look shifts to a glare. You open your mouth to spit out something no doubt acerbic and very rude, but a flash of uncertainty crosses your face and you quickly bite your tongue. Then you lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut. When you finally open them again, there is a defeated resignation in them that attests to a lost mental argument.

“You better ride slow if you don’t want a repeat of this morning,” you say wearily.

Arthur shrugs. “Can’t throw up if you got nothin’ in your stomach. We’ll just skip feeding you breakfast tomorrow.”

To his relief, the atmosphere lightens to blessed, familiar hostility. You tell him to go fuck himself. That you’ll literally fight him for the apples you know he has tucked away in his saddlebags. That maybe you’ll throw up anyway purely out of spite. That he’s a miserable piece of shit who you wish—

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the outcrop for a fraction of a second, painting everything beneath it into harsh shades of white and black. It strikes as sudden and violent as a fiery whip crack, leaving behind it the bittersweet scent of burnt grass and a curl of grey smoke like a departing ghost. Its near-simultaneous clap of thunder drowns out your last sentence with an ear splitting boom so encompassing that the vibration of it seems to rattle down to the bone. The silence that follows has in it the anticipatory hush of the void prior to Genesis. You shatter it with a quiet but appropriately placed, “Jesus Christ.”

The land outside is hedged low in the horizon, and the vastness of its sky swallows all else. It crowns as its dominating feature the movement of its anvil-shaped clouds. They shift leaden and portentous, translucent bellied and lit up by the jagged tongues of lightning darting throughout quick and sporadic as pale dragonflies. Roiling violet like the murky blood of some vast organism, pulsing membranous over the prairie with a fury of near biblical proportions. And below, the buttes with their strange eroded shapes like scattered islands in a black sea of grass. In the torrential dark, their silhouettes flash ivory with every strike of lightning only to sink back into the hushed umbra of night.

There is a muted look of awe on your face, as if witnessing for the first time the true scale of a storm. Something that before now had been glimpsed only through the gaps between high-shuttered buildings. Tempests caught in concrete snares and, not unlike the men that build them, diminished until they are but a feeble whisper of their former selves.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur. “I never knew rain could be like this.”

With a jolt of displeasure, he finds that the soft expression on your face renders you unexpectedly pretty in the fire’s flickering light, the amber reflection of it bright as copper in your eyes. A gentle chiaroscuro, the smooth line of your cheek and shadowed hollow of your throat the anchor points to which his eye is drawn.

You shuffle a little closer to the outlook’s rain-veiled edge. The roughspun blanket, still drawn tightly around your shoulders, shifts. Arthur quickly averts his eyes, but even so is met with a sliver of bare skin that runs neck to navel. The subtle outline of a breast, the mild fishbone curve of a rib.

And all at once he’s unbearably, disastrously hard, filled with a painful but directionless longing — not just for intimacy, but for the simple reassurance of another body pressed close, skin to skin and breath to breath. A kind of tenderness he’s been deprived of for so long that the memory of it brings not warmth but the brittle cold of hoarfrost. Absence like a thick pane of ice, the things he’s lost visible just underneath.

From the periphery of his line of sight, you’re but an indistinct blur in the vague shape of a woman. How appropriate then, that you should be the focus of this formless arousal. And how infuriatingly pathetic. He hadn’t lied when he’d said you weren’t his type, and yet here he is, his cock stiffer than it’s been in months at just the suggestion of a woman’s naked body.

In desperate search of both distraction and something to obscure himself with, Arthur pulls back the front flap of his satchel and fishes out your blue notebook. He glances briefly in your direction, already anticipating your angry shout of indignation — but you’re far too occupied with watching the progression of the storm to so much as glance in his direction.

The notebook’s contents are far more legible than he’d initially assumed. Most of the foreign characters seem to be either names or places, which makes it possible for him to pick out the main thread of most sentences.

Its first half consists of what looks like a ledger. Neatly organized columns with foreign characters and numbers that he hasn’t the slightest idea how to parse. When he flips past it, a slip of paper scrawled with the same strange, flowing text flutters from the pages and alights delicately into his lap. Arthur picks it up, and as he examines it, it occurs to him that he has no idea how to orient it.

Prior to this, he’d only ever seen Chinese characters painted on the roadside food stalls accompanying railroad workers on their long trek westwards. A strange, complex syllabary. He’d once read somewhere that each word of the language had its own unique character. A sort of pictograph that, when studied, relays its meaning to those who knew how to read it.

He scrutinizes the slip of paper in his hand, but finds himself unable to pick out even the vaguest of resemblances. The corner of the paper bears a square seal of red ink, inset with an intricate consortium of straight lines. Curiosity spent for the moment, Arthur slots the document back in place.

The rest of the notebook looks to be an odd mixture of field observations and long, ornate paragraphs about various landscapes. A few pressed wildflowers, field observations of city flora and fauna, crudely drawn animals reminiscent of the scattered petroglyphs he’s found carved in long-abandoned settlements. An earmarked passage describing the wetlands bordering St Denis, full of strikethroughs and hastily added phrases squeezed into the margins. Another describing what sounds like Cotorra Springs.

“The amber fields are dotted with sprigs of larkspurs and wild flax like blue-violet stars,” Arthur reads aloud.

You turn to face him so quickly that your wet hair arcs through the air like an ink-stained brush, scattering water droplets that sizzle and hiss when they fall into the fire. Wild-eyed as a spooked horse, but frozen into a horrified silence as he licks his finger and traces the rest of the line across the page, continuing, “And even further north, viridian-blue pools from which rise plumes of white smoke, the water still and clear as glass. Hills of black obsidian —”

You scramble towards him and, while clutching the blanket around your shoulders shut with one hand, slap the notebook out of his grip with the other. It lands perilously close to the fire, but you snatch it up without giving a second thought to the nearness of the flames.

“That’s private,” you hiss, hugging the notebook to your chest the way one might accidentally smother an infant.

“Thought it was fair turnaround, seein’ as you never extended that same courtesy to me,” he retorts.

The memory of that miserable morning after surfaces in him like a bloated corpse too persistent to stay hidden. His billfold emptied, ill-gotten gains vanished, and his journal speckled with smeared, bloodied thumbprints from beginning to end. Above a sketch of a mountain wildflower he’d drawn a question mark next to, the word “crocus ?” written in an angular, jagged scrawl.

“Yeah, because I thought you were going to die!” you argue back. “Figured you probably had your next of kin listed somewhere in there!”

Next of kin. The phrase pierces through like a stitch popped out of place, and Arthur nearly flinches. It’s an unintentional blow on your part, but nevertheless he deflects the only way he knows how. When bitten, bite back.

“Oh that’s real charitable, comin’ from the dope-peddler,” he jeers. “You save this compassion for everyone you fuck over, or just me?”

A clear and unguarded expression of hurt crosses your features. The same you’d worn when he’d had to pry his shotgun out of your hands. Forlorn, helpless as a wounded prey animal. But it passes quickly into a cold disdain, your head raised high again and your eyes hard as flint.

“Do you know,” you say quietly, lip curling with contempt. “I seriously considered cutting your throat when I finally realized who you were. I should have.”

Then you blink, forehead wrinkling as you sniff at the air. You glance at the fire, where his forgotten can of beans is beginning to burn.

Arthur curses. He hastily swipes one of his discarded riding gloves from the grass and pulls it on, then grabs the can and blows on its contents, fanning away its delicate wisp of black smoke.

You retreat to the far inner corner of the outcrop and frantically page through the notebook until you find the red-sealed paper sheafed inside. With a sigh of relief, you slump against the rough granite wall, the tense set of your shoulders loosening as though some secret string stretched taut through the frame of your body had suddenly been cut loose.

A sullen silence permeates the shelter, punctuated only by the grating scratch of metal as he scrapes burnt food off the edges of the can with a spoon.

“You forgot to mention that the whole place smells like shit,” Arthur says finally. He keeps his eyes on the can, attention focused squarely on the arduous task of excavating beans.

“What?”

“Cotorra Springs. Smells like week-old shit. Especially around the pools.”

The rustle of blankets. From the corner of his eye, he watches you tentatively scoot closer. “You’ve been there?” you ask. Your voice is still deeply reproachful, but touched with genuine curiosity.

“You haven’t?”

“No. I’ve just seen pictures. And notes from people who have.”

“Huh,” he says. He scrapes another carbonized mouthful from the can. “Could’ve fooled me, the way you wrote about it.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You think so?”

“Sure.

The corner of your mouth quirks upwards in a reluctant smile that unfolds like the breaking light of a clouded dawn. “Well, that’s… that’s good to know.”

“You writin’ a book or something?” he asks.

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” The smile wilts slightly, and you drop your gaze down to the notebook on your lap. “No. Just a favor for an old friend’s husband. The man fancies himself an explorer, but can barely string a sentence together. He’s paying me to pretty up his notes for him. Half of which I think are made up. There’s some bullshit in there about an enormous rainbow colored pond full of boiling water.”

Arthur laughs. “Naw, that bit’s true. I’ve seen it. It’s a hell of a thing.”

You seem skeptical. He doesn’t blame you. Even after having walked the rust-banded edge of that craterous spring himself, his memory of it still carries with it the preternatural awe of a place half-dreamed. He tells you about the slow gradation of color leading inwards from the rim. Ochre to cadmium, to turquoise, to a deep cerulean with the unreal brilliance of a painted ocean. Steam hanging like a pungent fog. Entire stretches of ground covered in a thick, boiling mud, bubbling ominous as something out of Dante’s Inferno. A constant gurgling of earth and water, as if he were treading upon some living thing in the midst of an infernal digestion.

Halfway through his description, you flip the notebook to a clean page and ask him for a pencil, then begin scribbling down his words with an unceasing, determined hand. This bemuses him. That anyone might find his drivel meaningful enough to commit to paper is a new experience altogether. It’s an odd feeling, but not at all an unpleasant one.

That is, until you begin peppering his narrative with so many questions that it takes the better part of an hour to accommodate them.

What kind of plants grew there?

“Bunch of disgusting slippery shit around the edge. Algae or something. Other than that, can’t think of a single thing that’d lay roots in boiling water and sulfur.”

Did the mud boil like roiling water, or was it more the viscosity of a slow simmering stew?

“More like wet cement, really.”

Were there animals?

“No. Nothing there for ‘em.”

Birds?

“Didn’t see any.”

Insects?

“A shit ton of gnats, but not much else.”

How wide were the prismatic bands around the crater? What was the geology like? Did the surrounding forest taper off gradually in the vicinity of the spring, or was the loss of vegetation sudden and absolute as a drawn border?

“Give me your notebook.” he says, having finally reached the point of exasperation. “Easier if I just draw it for you.”

To his faint surprise, you hand it over without hesitation. He sketches out what he’s able to recall, all the while acutely aware of the madness of the situation. Fucking illustrating an account of his own wanderings for the woman who robbed him while they both sit in varying states of undress. Scribbling out a messy landscape in the same notebook whose contents he’d derided just a little while ago. Focusing all his attention on Cotorra Springs so as to ward away the unfortunate possibility of another inopportune erection.

The mediocre drawing he finally manages to scratch out would have disappointed him under any other occasion. Instead, he feels a warm flood of relief at its conclusion. If this doesn’t shut you up, then nothing will.

Nothing will, it seems. To his immense chagrin, the drawing sparks another round of questions. After silently admiring his work just long enough to spark hope of your satiety, you ask him about the species of the trees. Had he explored the nearby forest? Were there flowers? What season had he visited in? Was the acrid smell of sulfur present even here?

“Look,” Arthur says wearily. “You clearly come from money. Why don’t you just hire someone out to take you sometime?”

You snort at the suggestion. The corner of your mouth lifts upwards into something that’s only nominally a smile, and more the type of grimace that accompanies an old wound. “The only two men I’d trust enough to take me out into the middle of nowhere are dead. And with the money I owe, I can’t… I can’t just… you know what?” you say abruptly. “It’s getting late and I’m fucking exhausted. I’m going to sleep.”

And with that, you tug the blanket tight around your shoulders and huddle against the ground like a felled shrimp. You lay with your back to him, the words left unsaid hanging over you both like an unripe fruit of a question.

Arthur fetches his bedroll and unfurls it close to the fire. A battered pillow emerges from the worn tarp as he spreads it flat. After a moment of contemplation, he picks up the pillow and tosses it in your direction. It hits you square on the head.

Immediately, you sit up and snarl at him. “What the fuck is wrong with — oh.” You pick up the pillow and grasp it tight, as if at any moment he might change his mind and demand it back. Your small “thank you” is puzzled and uncertain.

“I’m gonna put out the fire,” he says. “You try to slit my throat in the dark, I’ll wring your neck.”

But the threat comes out empty and toothless, and judging by the renewed sarcasm in your voice when you tell him you’ll keep it in mind, you seem fully aware of it.

Arthur douses the flames by kicking dirt over the embers, which glow dim and vermillion for minutes afterwards, fading slow to dull, crumbling ash when the heat finally bleeds out of them. The pleasant smell of smoke lingers inside the shelter for a good while longer, but even that dissipates eventually, leaving just petrichor and the crisp, clean scent of early autumn rain.

The worst of the storm has shifted westwards. Water drips in a steady stream from the outer edge of the overhang, churning the ground below to a soup of mud. The cloud cover is still dense, but it’s thinned enough that moonlight gleams through the feathery underbelly in a pale and spattered mottle. With it, he can make out the dim outline of your body, the rise and fall of your chest in a slow, steady rhythm he sorely doubts you’d have the patience to feign.

He lies awake there in the dark for a long while, shuffling through a jumble of discordant emotion. It’s as if the pieces of several sets of puzzles have been mixed together and jammed into an incomprehensible mess, so hopelessly and thoroughly muddled that he can no longer tell where one thing starts and another ends. He sorts his way through it until the rain weakens to a grey drizzle and the drip of rainwater turns from the unbroken stream of a faucet to a series of droplets beating out an abstruse morse code against the ground.

In the end, he’s only able to definitively place a single solid sentiment. Pity.

———

Couple notes:

Arthur's understanding of Chinese is incorrect, but aligns with the assumptions a lot of Western scholars during that time period had regarding it. There was a big tendency to treat it like Japanese, which despite using some of the same characters, uses a completely different structure.

Cotorra Springs seems to be based off Yellowstone. The big boiling rainbow spring is actually real: it's called the Grand Prismatic Spring and seriously does look like something out of a fever dream. Yellowstone also does smell like sulfur in some places, but it’s not so much like week old shit as it is the potent fart of someone who’s eaten far too many deviled eggs.

No algae grows in the spring. It's actually cyanobacteria, but there's no reason Arthur would know this. It does look pretty gross up close.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #fic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #my work #talking bird

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beigehearts · 3 years

Text

The Price of Self Respect

Read part one here! Read part two here!

PART III CW: mentions of kidnapping, alcohol, drugs, crude language, physical trauma

Let me know if you want a part 4!

1,873 words

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The first thing that comes to mind on dreary morning like these, where the rain trickles down the window and sun hides itself from the world: what started this all? What made you decide to become a hunter? What made you decide to become a freelance hunter? What made you decide to become a freelance assassin? While the answer was easy, a fucked up childhood, you still wondered. Was your first mistake becoming a hunter? Or was your first mistake killing?

A sigh escapes your lips, rolling off of them with practice. Your leg is still covered in the nen cloths. If it weren’t for the myriad of illicit pain medications you are on, you would probably still be doubled over in pain. The bruise that is your entire abdomen has bloomed into a beautiful yellow and red. You felt that Picasso would be happy to use your abdomen as reference.

You no longer reside in that dingy cave-like area, where you were surely deprived of vitamin-D. The Phantom Troupe has moved, where did the whole group go? You did not know. Chrollo and yourself occupate a small cabin in the middle of no where. Middle of no where and you have no idea where no where is. You have been bed ridden, laying in bed staring out the window, being served food and entertainment. Speaking of, you glance over to the stack of books in the corner of the room, it’s about time for another book. The thought of Chrollo needing to give you everything does upset you, feeling so helpless. You’ve been on your own for so long that needing someone is torture.

You swing your legs off of the bed, and hobble towards the bathroom. If you were going to be helpless you would at least keep your dignity. Chrollo has offered many times to help you to the bathroom but you would rather rebreak your leg than that. At this point though there were so many medications in your system that you could barely feel anything from the waist down. Sure you risked falling and breaking your face but again, you will not give up your dignity. It’s only been about two weeks here, though sitting in bed staring out a window makes you feel every single second that passes.

Finally you reach the bathroom that’s on the other side of the bed. Though you don’t lay on that side. Oh yeah, you almost forgot, there’s a catch to this moment of peace. You sleep in the same bed as Chrollo. It definitely took getting used to, and you’re still not quite used to it. The first night was hell.

You scooted yourself down on the bed so you were under the covers, instead of the position you sat in to read. You reached over to the lamp on the bedside table and turned it off. You sigh with relief, finally not sleeping on rocky ground, and finally you had some medication to ease the pain. Most of it anyway. Once you finally shut your eyes, you heard footsteps. You chalked it up to your kidnapper checking in on you, making sure you were still kidnapped.

Then it happened, the bed sheets rustled and you felt a weight next to your own. You sat up as quickly as you could with a broken leg, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He turned over to you, “Sleeping, what does it look like?”

“Looks like you’re sleeping next to a helpless girl.” You growled at him.

“There’s no heat in this cabin, I looked for any sign of heating besides a fireplace and there was none. This is our best way of survival.” He stated as if it were obvious.

You grimaced. “It’s not exactly freezing cold outside.”

He gave you a look which said more than words could in the moment, and that was the end of the conversation.

You allow yourself to reminisce in the memory once you sit back down from the bathroom, though you don’t get to do so for too long. The bedroom door creaks open, Chrollo opening it gently. He wore his fur coat and carried a tray with fruits and a soup. He closes the door behind him with his foot, wanting to keep the heat of the crackling fireplace in the room.

You nod at the tray in his hands, “Where’d you get the soup?” You ask knowing there was none in this house you have broken into and entered.

In response he offers a smile. “I see you didn’t finish your book.”

He lays the tray next to you on the bed, and sits down in the rocking chair next to the fireplace.

“It was boring. I’m not interested in a misogynist’s philosophies.” You cross your arms, now realizing that it is cold as the drugs ware off some.

Chrollo chuckles, “I agree, he was not the most agreeable man. Much too sexist for my liking.” He rocks back and forth in the chair, creating a methodical creaking that you count off in your head. Creak crack, creak crack, creak crack...

Silence befalls the both of you, you have learned that Chrollo enjoys his silence. He would rather sit in hours of silence than hours of passionless conversation. After what feels like hours, and may have been hours, Chrollo walks over to the stack of books, he thumbs a book out of it. “How would you feel about a glass of wine y/n?”

A smile almost presses itself against your lips but you stop it, “That doesn’t sound half bad.”

Forty-five minutes later, you’re on your third glass of medicinal wine while Chrollo serenades you with the words of a book you’ve already read. He gently swishes the wine in his glass before taking a sip, and finishing off the chapter. His reading had almost lulled you into a light sleep but just the gentle sound of the book shutting snaps you awake.

“What time is it?” You mumble, and realize there’s still half a glass of wine in your hand. You go to sip it but a hand beats you to it, and slips it from your fingers.

Chrollo places the glass on a table out of reach, “I know you’re not a light weight, but I think the medication and three glasses were enough.”

You frown and throw your head back. The wisest of choices for a girl who just had half a bottle of wine, and is laying on a bed with a wooden bed frame. there’s a loud crack sound and pain instantly blossoms in the back of your head. “God damn!” You hiss and sit up with your legs off of the bed. You rub the back of your head and groan.

You glance up and see Chrollo who almost looks dumbfounded, until he starts laughing. “The fuck are you laughing at? Get out of my way.” You bark at him.

Without much thought you stand up, but manage to keep your balance. You didn’t realize how close that Chrollo was standing next to you, you tilt your head up and find that you can feel his breath.

“Go ahead and lay back down y/n. You’re still healing.” He manages to say between some laughter. His hands fall upon your shoulders but you grab his wrists before he tries to push you back to the bed.

You grip his wrists as if about to make a plea, “I’m tired of this bed, I want to see the rest of the house.” Your eyes meet his, “Let me look around.”

He seems to understand without further explanation, he offers his arm for you to hold onto, and begrudgingly you accept his offer.

The house is much bigger than you were expecting. You didn’t understand how this wasn’t just someone’s home and not their ‘villa’. As Chrollo had put it. He chose a good house to occupy for a while, you had to give him that.

The roof is high up, with wooden beams lining the ceiling. The kitchen is grandiose and has marble counter tops, you looked through all of the cabinets and found no sign of soup. The tour for the rest of the house was as expected, overly expensive and too much time has been put into a house that’s used once a year for maybe two weeks.

The small walk about tired you out immensely, you were only able to use one leg and someone else’s arm to get around. Chrollo helps you sit down on the couch of the main room, and sits down next to you.

Chrollo seems comfortable, as if this were any other day for him. You begin to wonder if it is just another day. Suddenly you feel a pet on your head, and then another one. Is this man... petting you? You look to his face and see his eyes trained on you, his other hand reaching for your face.

Is it your extreme desperation for affection that you’ve been missing all these years, or was that wine stronger than you thought? When his lips reach your own, you make no move to stop him, no move to stop him at all. A hand grabs your chin, and another grabs the thigh of your unbroken leg to pull you towards him. You hiss out in pain at the sudden movement jostling your still injured leg and he whispers something of a sorry on your lips. You had slept with people for your missions before, but for some reason this made your lips burn, it made your heart pound, how it never did before.

But you feel sense snap into you and you raise your hand between both of your faces. “This isn’t going to happen Chrollo. I won’t succumb to stockholm syndrome. No, I won’t” You state as if only reassuring yourself. Before you can get anything else you’re stopped in your tracks when he begins kissing the palm of your hand, small and enticing kisses.

“Oh y/n. You continue to surprise me everyday.” He sighs and flops against the back of the couch, “I’m not sure a woman has ever denied me.” He claims.

You raise an eyebrow- the mood suddenly lifting, “So you’re a ladies man huh?”

He scoffs, “Hardly, no more of a ladies man than I need to be for missions.”

You can’t help but to smile, the tone between you has changed. From captor and victim to old friends. This is looking bad for you. Will you be able to say no next time?

#chrollo #chollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #hxh #hunterxhunter #yandere

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whirlybirbs · 4 years

Photo

BEGIN AGAIN ---- i.

summary: after the events of the rise of skywalker, ben solo and rey of jakku make work on gathering and training the next generation of jedi on the planet of ajan kloss. you are a force-user from tattooine. there are two things you’re sure of: there’s much work to do, and you do not like jedi master ben solo. pairing: jedi master!ben solo x jedi!reader word count: 1.6k a/n: this is an au and does contain some spoilers for tros. anyways, i’ve been chipping away at this for a few days now -- merry christmas if you celebrate! if not, happy holidays! here’s my little gift to you.

If someone had asked you where you saw yourself in a year, you wouldn’t have answered, “on Ajan Kloss, of course, running the jungle training course blindfolded, being nipped in the heels by blaster fire from a rusted out JTR-47 droid”.

Certainly, you wouldn’t have explained that you, and many others, were a part of the first class of Jedi to be trained by the legendary Jedi Master Rey of Jakku and Ben Solo-Organa, ex-Sith lord and one of the last Skywalker’s.

But, here you are.

After all, everything changed on Exegol.

Everything.

And when Ben Solo and Rey limped from the carnage of the great hall, force dyad split wide open for the world to see like a raw wound, the war around them began its end in soul quaking violence. The two, bound by the running river of the force, witnessed the end of the Empire -- old and new -- from the cockpit of his Uncle’s old X-Wing.

It’s done.

In the silence of space, they find comfort.

Age old wounds finally begin to heal under the stars.

The war is won.

On Ajan Kloss, Ben Solo falls to his mother’s knees and weeps. Leia Organa cannot remember the last time she held her son -- and for a moment, the whole of the Resistance hangs on the reunion of the last Skywalkers, and the swing of emotions that rush between mother and son through a rekindled home in the lightside of the force.

Leia holds him and Ben smiles for the first time in years.

Everything is different; with the war won, with Palpatine gone...

There’s much work to be done.

Rey is as much his opposite as she is his right hand -- their dyad, though often annoying and terribly troublesome, allows him to have a true friend for the first time in... forever. She is, despite her polarity in approach and attitude, an important part of his life.

And without her, he’s not really sure if this whole rebuilding-the-Jedi-Order thing could happen.

It’s with R2′s help that they locate an age-old holocron buried deep in a temple on Yavin’s third moon -- the names of children who were once designated as ‘gifted’ by the Jedi Order lay in the record. It’s something. The archival piece is nearly rusted shut with age but opens with a delicate tinker when it passes into Ben’s hands.

It’s beautiful.

Pale blue light flickers awake the information inside, presenting a list of names -- a list of lives -- protected deep within the holocron’s humming databank.

When Rey, Ben, Fin and Poe return to Ajan Kloss, hopeful and excited about the prospect of finding others -- it’s with a mournful tone that Leia explains the systemic hunt the Empire conducted to snuff these children out.

“Many of them,” she says softly, “are gone.”

So, perhaps it’s pure chance they find you -- maybe it’s a cosmic happenstance granted by perfect timing and a straight shot in the dark.

Kau'i Koi -- Human -- 10 years old -- Location: Mos Espa, Tattooine.

Your chain code is old -- but places you in a small, old-Empire controlled mining town just outside the Western Dunes.

Ben is skeptical. He blames his dad -- that Solo trait runs through his blood more than anything, along with a bad habit of getting himself into things he can rarely get himself out of. It’s the temper. And off-putting sense of humor.

Whatever.

Ben has to duck when they enter the cantina. Rey is quick to bound ahead of him, leaving the Solo to tug at his poncho and pry the goggles from his face. The sand storm outside has finally started to die down, leaving Chewie looking rather windswept as he steps inside beside him; the Wookie gargles out a bitter complaint.

“No kidding,” Ben supplies, “Let’s hope we find who we’re looking for.”

God, he hates sand.

Shaking his boot, Ben trails Rey to the bar. She’s already chattering excitedly with the barman, eyes alight in that curious way -- the sand doesn’t bother her. Not in the slightest. In fact, she seems to relish in the Jakku-like atmosphere of the desert planet.

“We’re looking for a Kau’i Koi?” she asks, leaning in on her elbows, “Do you know where we can find them?”

“Koi’s been dead a long time,” is the gruff retort she gets. Immediately, the Jedi’s posture sags and Ben sighs, “But her daughter’s around --”

“Daughter?”

“Yeah,” one of his four hands tosses the bar rag over his shoulder, “She runs her Ma’s medicinal shop now. Kid’s got a good hand at elixirs...”

Rey blinks. Ben, narrowing his eyes, tosses five credits on the bar. “And?”

The bar-tender spares a quick look around, leans in and takes the bribe before saying: “Rumor has it, she’s got some Force mumbo-jumbo goin’ on. Buddy a’ mine jacked up his shoulder in a pod-racing accident -- Koi’s kid just...”

He snaps.

“Good as new.”

And that’s how they found you -- wrist deep in an old text about the distilling of certain Felcuian herbs that allows for maximized healing potency. The book, though, is quickly forgotten in exchange for a weary sense of confusion that follows the two people and the Wookie into your cozy, small shop.

“Can I help you?”

You stand, dark root-died robes tied close to your waist. Your tanned, Dewback hide boots mute your movements as you weave through the mud hut.

The first thing Ben Solo realizes is that you’re beautiful. Truly.

(You must be about his age, if not a year or two his younger. There’s something about the quiet calm in your voice -- you hold an air of posture and regality and kindness that falls short on him. You move, too, like a whisper in the wind. You’re quick, a bit like Rey, and far his opposite as he ducks below trinkets daring to clock in him in the forehead.)

The second thing Ben Solo realizes is that you’re dangerous.

Your eyes fall on the lightsabers holstered on either of the hips the moment Rey asks if you’re Kau’i’s daughter. You remember, in that moment, the warnings your mother had nursed you on.

There are people in this world that want you dead for the gift you’ve been given, sweet one. Protect yourself and that gift.

In one swoop, you’ve got a knife to the neck of Ben Solo and a hand raised, stopping the woman with the three buns in her tracks. The Wookie, hurriedly, raises his furry fists in surrender.

The women grits her teeth, muscles locked in a tumultuous state thanks to the force seizing them entirely. Ben is quick to note the control you have over your powers. The knife digs in a bit too much and he winces.

“Who are you?” you ask quickly, calm lost for a terrified look.

Ben raises his hands. “Jedi.”

The first thing you realize about Ben Solo is that he’s handsome. In a rugged, roguish, distrusting sort of way.

You decide, quickly, you don’t like him.

“There are no Jedi,” you spit, grip tightening on the woman as she writhes -- your attention is on the man, with dark eyes and long legs and a handsome face, “The Empire came and killed them. What they left, the First Order finished.”

Rey winces.

“Is that... Is that what happened to your mother?”

We’re not here to hurt you.

Like a rush of cold water, you feel the pass of something along your mind’s consciousness. It’s enough of a distraction to break your hold on the woman who asked -- and it leaves you treading in a sea of panic. It’s an intrusion; a rude prodding of your memories and thoughts that comes like a sideswipe of a pod-racer.

Rey falls to the floor and Ben pushes the blade from his throat.

You step back and raise the knife. Your hands tremble.

“... How do you know about my mother?” you whisper.

"Ben,” she says, “The holocron.”

“... A holocron?”

The tall man digs it from his bag -- the moment it falls into your fingers, the delicate blue crystals interlock backwards, gilded edges rusted from years of hiding away in from age-old temple revealing a data-sequence. A list of names. And your mother’s lay there, highlighted alongside her chain code.

“Only a force user can open it,” says the man -- the one you understand to be Ben -- rather quietly.

You blink. Immediately, the bridge between yourself and the force closes and the holocron snaps shut.

You shove it back his way.

“What do you want?”

That’s when Rey smiles.

And that’s how you find yourself here, six months later, running head on into a thousand year old S’pio tree. The impact itself renders the younglings amused -- the gaggle of them lingering by the upper platform dissolve into laughter as you grip your ribs and groan, rolling into the brush as you swat at the JTR-47 droid nagging at your head incessantly.

“Koi!” it’s a fast bark of your mother’s surname that gathers the attention of everyone on the training course. It comes from Master Ben Solo, swathed in dark robes and perched on the top platform. “Begin again!”

Gritting your teeth and baring the annoyance, you tug the blindfold off your face and begin the hike back to the start of the course.

There’s much work to be done.

And you still don’t like Ben Solo.

#star wars imagine #ben solo imagine #ben solo reader insert #ben solo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #rise of skywalker imagine #WOOHOOOO i wrote

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the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Open your eyes (Prologue)

This story started out as a Merlin AU with the SW character and then went completely off the rails. I hope you enjoy it. Credit for the charsacters goes to @lumosinlove.

@waltzintherain @clearsuitcasecookienerd hope this lives up to your expectations <3.

Masterlist

Remus stood in shock, staring at the center of the square as the crowd thinned around him. The king had just killed someone, and these people were acting like nothing happened. He shook his head, as if to dislodge the image of the axe falling down from his mind. He knew that the laws on sorcery were nothing short of ridiculous in the kingdom of Slytherin, but he hadn’t expected to find himself witnessing an execution less than an hour into arriving.

He walked towards one of the guards nearest to him. “Hey”, he tried to sound like he hadn’t just witnessed one of his own get murdered, “do you know where I can find the physician's chambers?”

The guard pointed to the entrance to his left, “up those steps, it's the first door to your left.”

“Thank you.”

Remus went up the steps, trying to forget the execution he had just witnessed. He stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath. He reminded himself that Minerva was his mother’s friend, she knew about everything, it would be fine.

He pushed the door open, only to discover an empty room, well not empty, the room was filled with herbs and vials and medicine, but there was no one there. He walked in, hovering awkwardly in between a table and the patient cot.

He heard footsteps approach from outside before someone opened the door. “Hey Minnie do you- oh hi”.

Remus blinked slowly when he saw the newcomer. He was tall with broad shoulders, black hair and sharp grey eyes. It took Remus a second to remember he was supposed to answer. “Hi”

“You’re not Minnie”, the stranger said, confused.

“Astute observation”, Remus retorted, tone dripping with sarcasm.

The stranger blinked at him, mouth slightly open in what appeared to be shock. “You can’t talk to me like that”, he said after shaking off his confusion.

“Oh, really”, Remus said, “and, do tell, why not”.

“Because.”

“Saying because and pointing at yourself isn’t an answer.” Remus sounded amused.

“I could have you thrown in the dungeons for that”. The other man didn’t sound offended, more teasing than anything else.

Remus cocked an eyebrow at him. Stood in front of him was who he now recognized as Slytherin’s prince and heir to the throne. He had heard of Sirius Black in passing. He maybe came up in conversation once or twice, but Remus had never met him. People said he was the spitting image of Orion, but seeing him now Remus couldn’t help but notice how unlike his father he looked. Orion looked cold and distant, even the few glimpses that Remus had gotten of the king were enough for him to notice how above it all Orion thought he was.

“I would like to see you try”

Sirius barked out a laugh, “You have to be the most moronic person I have ever met. Challenging the prince in such a fashion”

Remus smirked. “Well to throw me in a dungeon you’d have to catch me first.”

“You think I can’t catch what’s right in front of me?”

Remus pretended to think about it. He knew the prince wouldn’t be able to catch him. He had years of practice from running away from Finn and Thomas. “Maybe if what was in front of you wasn’t me”, he made a pause to give the prince an exaggerated look. “Maybe then you could catch it.” Whatever Sirius was going to retort got interrupted when a man opened the door. He was all but screaming at Sirius and he hadn't even entered the room.

“Sirius Orion Black, get your lazy arse back to training and stop bothering Minerva.”

“You wound me Logan.” Sirius said, putting a hand over his heart dramatically and turning to face the newcomer. “You think I, Sirius Black, would dare skip training just to annoy Minnie.”

Remus wanted to laugh. This was nothing like what he had expected from Sirius Black, Prince of Slytherin. “I have known you for less than five minutes”, both men turned to look at him, “but even I can tell you’re skipping.” Sirius gasped. If Remus thought Thomas was dramatic, this guy was worse.

Logan laughed at Sirius’s betrayed expression. “I like you”, he said, “what’s your name.”

“I’m Remus, Remus Lupin,”, he shook Logan’s offered hand, “and you are.”

“Logan Tremblay, a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m sorry to interupt what is surely some form of traitorous meeting,”, Sirius didn’t sound at all sorry, “but we have to go.”

Remus sighed, letting go of Logan’s hand. “Oh, well, it was nice meeting you Logan.”

“Likewise.”

“Skipping training again, your highness?” A beaming smile took over Sirius’s face at the woman’s voice.

“Minnie!”

Minerva stood in the entryway, not at all phased by the two knights that were standing in the room. Remus wondered if this happened often.

“Hello Remus”

“Wait”, Sirius said putting his hand up, “you two know each other”.

Logan rolled his eyes, “yeah yeah, they know each other. Now let’s go”. He grabbed Sirius by the arm and dragged him out of the physician's quarters. Remus chuckled lightly, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“It’s good to see you”. Minerva greeted warmly. “It’s been a few years.”

“Last time we talked I was, what” he stopped to think about it, “5 or 6 years old?”

Minerva nodded before adding, “your mother said you wanted to learn medicine.”

“Yes. Thought I should learn, since my heale-”. He stopped himself, he couldn’t talk about his magic so casually anymore. Minerva seemed to understand what he meant anyway. Remus would have to be careful, he was grateful that he learned to control his magic when he was younger. He couldn’t afford accidental magic here.

“Well there isn’t much for you to do today.” Minerva’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “You can go explore the citadel if you want.”

Remus smiled at her. “That would be nice.” He spent some time in the room Minerva had prepared for him before going out. He thought about Sirius, he seemed like a good guy, but he was still raised by a man that couldn’t even bare the mention of magic. Maybe he thought people who chose to learn it would turn evil, but he didn’t seem like the type to kill someone without reason.

Remus wouldn’t think about it too much. Even if he ended up befriending the prince, there was no chance Remus would share his secret until he knew for certain he could trust him. After he unpacked all of his belongings and wrote a letter for his mother he headed out of his room, crashing with someone right outside his door. He managed to regain his balance easily, the other person wasn’t so lucky. He heard the sound of metal and someone hitting the floor, muttering a curse. “Oh gods, I am so sorry” Remus offered his hand to help the person up. It was a girl, with dark curls and tan skin.

“That’s ok, I had to fix those anyway.”

“Still”, Remus bent down to pick up the armour the girl had dropped, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you”, she said, accepting the chainmail he was handing her and putting it in the basket she had been carrying. “I’m June”

“Remus”. He handed her a damaged gauntlet.

“Are you new here, I don’t think I've seen you before.”

“Is it that obvious?” Remus asked sheepishly.

“Very”, she said, trying to smother her giggles behind her palm. “Want me to show you around?”

Remus nodded, “yeah that’d be great. Thank you.”

“Great. We just have to drop these off at my house first.”

The two of them walked in silence for a bit, passing through the citadel before heading towards the lower town. Remus was looking around trying to memorize where everything was but quickly becoming lost. June stopped in front of a small hut besides the forges and went in, probably to drop the damaged armour off.

Remus felt only slightly dumb for not expecing June to live besides the forge. She had said she needed to fix the armour and now that he looked at her properly she didn’t look like all the other women in the lower town. She was muscular, definitely stronger than your average peasant woman. Her hands had burn marks and her fingers had thin scars, probably from accidentally cutting herself on blades.

“Ready”, June's voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yeah.” They began walking back towards the palace. “So, where are you taking me?”

“The training grounds.”

Remus just stared at her. “What?” He noticed she had something in her hand.

“Well, you wanted a tour of the citadel, and I have to give this”, she showed him the dagger she was holding, “to sir Pascal, thought we would kill two birds with one stone and start the tour there.”

“Can I see it”, he said pointing towards the blade. She handed it to him and he took it out of its sheath. It was a very detailed knife, it had a gladiolus flower engraved into the silver blade, and it had a small blue opal snake encrusted into the hilt.

“Did you make this?”

She grinned at his surprised tone. “Why are you so surprised? Didn’t think a girl could make something like that.” Remus didn’t miss the edge on her teasing tone.

“Of course not. I don’t doubt your blacksmith abilities. It’s just that-” Remus was looking for the right words.

“Just what?”

“This is one of the most beautiful designs I have ever seen.”

“I can make one for you if you want”

Remus hummed in acknowledgment, handing the sheathed dagger back to her. “I’ll think about it.” When they reached the grounds they saw Sirius and Logan sparring. Logan seemed to be struggling to hold himself up as Sirius pushed down on The shorter man’s sword with his own. June whistled towards the crowd of armored knights and everyone but the two fighting men turned to look at her. A man started to walk towards her with a warm smile on his face. Remus guessed that was sir Pascal.

“Here you go.” June said, handing him the dagger. “I hope Katie likes it.

“I’m sure she will. Just like she loved all the other things you’ve made for her.”

The knight turned to look at Remus and offered his hand. “Pascal Dumais, pleasure to meet you.”

“Remus Lupin”, he said, shaking Pascal’s hand.

“Have we met before?” The knight looked him over, as if trying to find an answer to his own question in Remus’s face. “You seem familiar.”

“I don’t think we’ve met.” Remus managed to keep the panic from his tone, if someone here made a connection between him and his father it would end badly. “My father is a lord from Gryffindor, perhaps that’s where you see a resemblance.”

Pascal looked at him for a second longer, then spoke. “That’s certainly a possibility.”

“Well, I hate to be the one to break this meeting but I have to show this guy around”, June said, pointing at Remus and then at Pascal, “and you sir have to make sure Logan doesn’t get his ass beat for not knowing when to hold his tongue.”

The knight threw his head back, barking out a laugh. “The only people that could ever manage to make that boy behave are Celeste and his mother.”

“You say that like your wife isn’t the scariest woman in this kingdom”, June said before grabbing Remus by the elbow and dragging him off to wherever was next. “Goodbye, see you later”, she said over her shoulder to a waving Pascal.

“Where are we going to next?”

June hummed in acknowledgement before answering, “I thought, since you’re probably going to be helping Minerva with handing out medicine, we should start with all the different castle wings.” She guided Remus through a series of elaborate corridors and showed him some of the different servant entrances, he didn’t think he would have to use those too often but if he ever needed to escape they would be useful for him to go unnoticed. She showed him the guest quarters, took him down to the kitchen, and finished in the royal chambers.

“The big doors at the end of the hall are the King’s chambers, and these are Prince Sirius’s chambers”, she said pointing to the doors they were passing, “I would suggest you stay as far away from here as possible.” Even though her tone was even there was a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Wow June”, said a voice from down the hall, “and here I thought we were on good terms.”

She smirked. “After what you did last week Black?”. She raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think I’m capable of such forgiveness.”

Remus looked at Sirius with a questioning look, the other man was pouting. “What did you do?” Sirius answered “nothing” at the same time the June said “he ruined Katie’s surprise.”

Sirius threw his arms up dramatically, “I already apologized for that June.”

June sighed heavily. “Give me some time to plan my revenge and then maybe I’ll forgive you.” Remus watched Sirius’s eyes widen comically, his mouth opening a closing like he couldn't find what to say to that. He suspected that threats of a night in the dungeons wouldn’t mean much to the blacksmith. Remus tried not to laugh at the entire interaction, it was almost like Sirius forgot he was the prince. It reminded Remus so much of Finn it made him feel a little homesick.

June grabbed Remus by the wrist, not giving Sirius the chance to respond to her threat, and guided him towards an opening at the end of the corridor. He heard Sirius run to catch up with them, his steps echoing through the hallway. “Where are you taking him?”, Sirius asked once he caught up to them.

She turned to look at him, “Regulus’s chambers. It’s the only place left apart from the library.” Sirius hummed. The three of them lapsed into a comfortable silence. They started going up a narrow winding staircase that took them to the top of one of the towers. “Ok, so, that over there”, June said whilst pointing at the double doors at the end of the small hallway, “are Regulus’s chambers. And that”, she pointed at a single door half hidden behind a tapestry with the Black Family crest, “is either a servants entrance or a way to escape if there’s an attack.” Remus nodded, if he was honest he had already half forgotten what way was what.

“Well, I have somewhere else to be right now, but I look forward to seeing you around”, Sirius said, extending his hand for Remus to shake.

Remus took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Sure thing, I certainly can’t wait to see what revenge June is planning.” He let go of Sirius’s hand, ignoring the pout on his face in favor of turning to June. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

June laughed, shaking her head lightly. “Will do”. The three of them went down the stairs, Sirius going to his chambers to get out of his armour and sweaty clothes from training. Remus and June continued their tour around the castle for a while longer before she brought him back to the physician’s chambers. “It was nice meeting you Remus”, she gave him a small smile. “See you around?”

Remus smiled at her, “Definitely Good night June.”

“Good night”

Hours later, when Remus was lying down in his bed staring up at the ceiling, he thought about how that morning had gone. The image of the axe falling, the old woman threatening the king, swearing she would avenge her son. The entire thing left him feeling uneasy, there was nothing he could do now, he knew that.

He moved so he could see out the window, he tried to find some constellations in the night sky, giving his mind something to do other than worry about vengeful sorceresses. He mapped some of his favorite constellations, trying to imagine his brother doing the same back home, the thought calmed him a bit. The last thing he saw was Sirius’s soft glow, so much brighter than the other stars, before he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Three years later

Sirius had just called the end of practice when he saw someone hovering along the edges of the training grounds. A girl around his age was looking around with a frustrated expression on her face. He waved at Pascal and Logan, telling them he would see them at Sir Pascal’s house and walked over to the girl.

“Hello”, her gaze focused on him, eyes flashing briefly. “Are you looking for someone?”

She looked at him for a moment before answering. “Yes actually. Do you know where I can find Remus Lupin?”

“No, sorry. I haven’t seen him all day.” Her face fell slightly, the irritated look returning to her expression. “I can help you look for him though. I’m Sirius”

Something that looked like apprehension mixed with relief crossed her expression. “I’m Heather. And thank you, for the help.” He gave her a curt nod and they began walking away from the training grounds, heading to the castle.

“Why were you looking for him in the knights training area?” Sirius asked conversationally.

“Oh, I thought maybe he’d be there. I need to give him a letter.”

Sirius looked at her, confused. “Why would Remus be with the knights while they’re training?” It was her turn to look confused, it only lasted for a second, her face going back to a neutral expression. She didn’t say anything, shrugging lightly.

They lapsed into awkward silence. Sirius took her to the physician's chambers first, hoping Remus would be there so that he could get out of the uncomfortable situation. They stopped in front of the door, Sirius said his goodbyes, telling her he had somewhere else to be. Heather smiled kindly at him, nodding. After he left she faced the door and pushed it open, sighing in relief when she saw Remus reading a book on the table. She walked towards him and sat down on the stool beside the table, dropping the stachel she had been carrying on the ground soundlessly. Remus jolted when she touched his arm, the feather-light touch raising goosebumps on his skin. She giggled at his startled expression. “Hello Remus.”

“H-Heather?” Confusion and happiness flashed across his eyes in equal measure. He pulled her in for a hug, the angle a little awkward from their position. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m just passing by”, she turned to look for something in her bag, “Finn asked me to bring this for you.” She handed Remus an envelope.

He frowned at the golden seal. Finn never sealed his letters in gold, the color much too formal for a message between friends. He would usually use red wax, the color of Gryffindor’s banner. He opened the envelope, the golden wax crumbling and falling onto the table, and brought out a single page of writing. His eyes read over the words, the letter was unusually short and it had ink stains between words, almost like Finn had hesitated when writing them. His eyes widened mid-way through the first paragraph, a gasp escaping his lips.

Heather watched him, making sure to mask her excitement with a carefully blank expression. When Remus finished reading he stared at the last sentence, his eyes reading it over and over again, a hundred different emotions flashing through his eyes before settling somewhere between surprise and indignation. He turned around to look at her with a weird glint in his eye.

“Since when is Finn getting married?”

#Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #logan tremblay #June #Heather #orion black #Open your eyes #lumosinlove

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