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speedwalkingtheplanes · 5 months

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Willow characters as D&D classes and races not because I can't sleep, but because I don't want to write tomorrow's session

Unlike my Percy Jackson version of this post, Willow has pretty clear ties to D&D, especially the 2022 show, so I'm not really going to be changing characters' races for this list. For all intents and purposes, they could be played in the world they're in, rather than adapted into a high-fantasy setting like I did with PJO. That said, I will be taking a couple of liberties with it, and trying to make it at least a little interesting. Same rules as the last one: minimal reflavoring, and no hombrew or unearthed arcana.

Willow Ufgood: Halfling Transmutation Wizard. Yeah, I know that all of the magic-users in the Willow-verse are referred to as sorcerers, but I think there's some nuance between how they use magic, and Willow, despite his intuition, certainly does not find his magic born within him. He doesn't necessarily have a natural gift for it, but rather finds careful study and many of years practice aiding him in becoming the magician he is by the time of the series, not to mention receiving a spellbook at the end of the movie. I struggled for a little while to decide what his subclass is, as we only really see him doing generalist magic. That said, war magic or order of scribes are out, seeing as he isn't a battlemage at all, nor does his spellbook play as important of a role as a scribe's would. So, considering his feats of returning Raziel to her human form, and restoring the Galladoorn warriors, transmutation feels like the most apt option for him.

Madmartigan: Human Swashbuckler Rogue/Battle Master FIghter. I had initially thought Madmartigan would be a champion, but thinking back on his fight against the Nockmaar soldiers, I think it's fair to say that he exemplifies the Art of War qualities that are so prevalent in the subclass. Swashbuckler is much more clear-cut. He nails one-on-one combat, and certainly has the high charisma necessary for the class, not to mention how he aids Franjean in picking the lock on the cage.

Sorsha Tanthalos: Human Hexblade Warlock. We don't see a lot of Sorsha's capabilities, so I'm gonna play flavor far more than mechanics with her. We know that she is a skilled fighter, and we see some of that, but I like the idea that her patron is her mother, and her pact ends after Bavmorda's defeat. She's certainly charismatic enough to trick Madmartigan into letting down his defenses enough to allow her a chance to escape from him, and was seemingly quite the leader in the quest for Elora, so I don't feel that this is too much of a stretch.

Rool/Franjean: Fairy Fey Wanderer Rangers. These two are interesting. I had almost made them gnomes, but I think them being fairies themselves (alongside the other Brownies) makes a bit more sense. They're definitely rangers, what with their affinity with animals, tracking abilities, and association with other fey creatures.

Airk Thaughbaer: Human Crown Paladin. We don't see a lot of Airk, but given that Madmartigan named his son after him, I think it's reasonable to put him on this list. He's kind of the ideal Galladoorn knight, fighting for country and fellow man against the forces of darkness. While I definitely think he's a paladin, other sublcasses might work for him.

Bavmorda: Tiefling Undead Warlock. Bavmorda being a tiefling is really only because she has the name "The Demon Queen." (And yes, I know that tieflings are infernal and not abyssal, but there isn't an abyssal race in D&D, so this is what I've got.) Her class and subclass seem pretty clear-cut. We find out in the series that she had made a pact with the Withered Crone, so she's clearly a warlock, though whether she's undead or undying is up for debate. In all honestly, they really aren't any different, and undead is just better.

General Kael: Human Berzerker Barbarian. Kael's so cool, but we also don't see much in the way of his combat ability. He's certainly very skilled, and he can also take a beating (the man took a sword to the face, and then kept fighting after getting stabbed), not to mention his shouting about "Now you die!" That feels very much like a raging barbarian to me.

Kit Tanthalos: Human Champion Fighter. Champion was my first choice for Kit, but I thought that I should dig deeper for her and kept trying to find something else. I've seen people say that she's a swashbuckler, or a battle master. I've even seem some people say that by the time she has taken the Kymerian Cuirass, she's gained three levels in artificer and become an armorer. And I hate all of that, because it's all too damn much. I think Kit's most important arc as a character is learning that she isn't the invnincible fighter she thought she was, and that her main character syndrome doesn't actually make her the main character. As far as that goes, I came back to champion, because I think the simplest fighter subclass conveys that journey really well.

Airk Thanthalos: Valor Bard/Oathbreaker Paladin. Airk is really interesting to me from a character creation perspective. He's clearly high charisma and low wisdom, and he isn't too shabby with a sword. He could very easily just be a paladin, and the Crone's corruption caused him to be an oathbreaker, but he's just too charming for me to not make him a bard too.

Jade Claymore: Human Samurai Fighter/Devotion Paladin. I've seen a lot of people say that Jade is a battle master, and while I see it, I think Samurai is a significantly more interesting choice for her. She's definitely not an average knight, and we can clearly see her wisdom in her fighting and her decision-making. As for paladin, Graydon aptly points out that her devotion is her driving force on the quest. If it's that important, than I'd say it counts as an oath.

Scorpia: Human Scout Rogue. There isn't a lot to go on for this one, unfortunately. She's clearly well-versed enough in combat to beat Jade, though I'd argue that she's simply a higher level. Being a scout would be beneficial for the forest-swelling Bone Reavers, and we see her have some skill with a throwing knife, which feels much like a roguish quality to me. (Ignore that Airk Thaughbaer also kills someone by throwing a knife.)

Thraxus Boorman: Human Berzerker Barbarian/Swashbuckler Rogue. I figured that Boorman was a barbarian/rogue early on, and was pleased when I saw some other people saying the same thing. I don't think Berzerker really fits him, but the only other non-magical barbarian sublcass is battle rager, and that fits him even less. (Seriously, there needs to be more non-magical barbarian subclasses.) It is possible that he never made it to three levels of barbarian, and just has a one or two level dip. (If i were to optimize him, it'd be two levels. That way reckless attack can be used to proc sneak attack at any opportunity.) I also don't think his rage is purely angry, but instead reflavored into sorrow that is masked with humor. As Madmartigan's squire, it makes sense that they would have the same rogue sublcass, and we definitely see Boorman's charisma shine through the series. Plus, like Madmartigan, he can pick locks. Ish.

Graydon Hastur: Human Lore Bard. Yeah, he's said to be a sorcerer in the show, but the man casts magic with his flute and gives other characters inspiring pep talks. If that doesn't make him a bard, I don't know what does. College of lore because he's very booksmart, and collects dead languages and ancient stories like an old lady collects little spoons.

Elora Danan: Protector Aasimar Divine Soul Sorcerer. And finally, the chosen one herself. I really wanted to make her wild magic, but divine soul unfortunately just makes more sense. I feel that of the sorcerers in the franchise, she's the only one that's actually a sorcerer. We don't know anything about how Raziel's magic works, so there's really no figuring her out, and Cherlindrea is more of an archfey than anything else. Elora, on the other hand, has an inborn aptitude for magic. She still has to practice, and reads Willow's spellbook, but that's more about control than power for her. As the child of the prophecy, and the one destined to defeat evil and unite the lands, it makes sense to me that she would be an aasimar, a divine being imbued with the power of celestials. She also has the chef feat.

There's certain characters that I left out, either because we don't see enough of them for me to properly gauge what they might be, or I think they'd be better with monster stat blocks than character sheets. But maybe I'll revisit this later and figure out characters like Silas, Lilli, and Ballantine. In any case, let me know if you disagree, I'd love to hear what everyone else thinks.

#willow #willow 2022 #willow ufgood #madmartigan #sorsha tanthalos #kit tanthalos #airk tanthalos #jade claymore #scorpia #thraxus boorman #graydon hastur #elora danan #bavmorda #general kael #dungeons and dragons

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celira · 7 months

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4/5+1 (cw: violence against prisoners, neurological aftereffects of electric shock)

When the retaining wall around her composure finally caved in, it gave way like his skull must have – and she stared that thought head-on, now: explosively, irreversibly, inopportunely.

Indubitably, Warden, she thought to herself, a negative made less rare in its repetition, and then again: Warden? at the little bag around her neck.

He didn't reply.

Truth over solace, but truth as a matter of belief in degrees – after long weeks of silence followed by long weeks of disbelief in confinement, she woke up the morning after her first conversation with We Suffer thinking: this is not the end. After the second: He would want to know more. After the third: We have work to do.

We was a thought that required dispensing with solace, as befitting her house, emerging from the remnants of her disassociation, and still it made her inwardly twitch. She chose belief like knowingly placing a hand to red-hot metal, less exposure therapy and more enduring overwhelming pain in hopes of a cauterization to follow. Did that hold up? She let herself, for the first time in many, many days, imagine what he might say: well, Cam, not your finest work, but an apt metaphor in some ways–

"Hect?"

She hadn't realized she'd frozen, head spinning with familiar neural pathways finally released from suspensed animation, trembling minutely but not so imperceptibly that it avoided the notice of Judith Deuteros, who she had been in the middle of examining – a routine review of her vitals, rote and familiar to her, which apparently had occupied only enough of her attention to let the rest of her brain go wandering through reconnecting wires willy-nilly.

The Captain's face, drawn with fatigue, still managed to convey bemusement with pinpoint clarity. "What happened?"

Before Camilla could collect herself, the door slammed open. Three masked figures streamed in, two unfamiliar and one wearing the mask used by We Suffer. Obscuring their facial expressions somehow did nothing to make hostility of the first two less evident.

The voice confirmed the mask. "Ah, we do not mean to interrupt you both,” said We Suffer in her careful, clipped House. “Camilla Hect, this topic of discussion only concerns you.”

“Anything you have to–” the Captain began, but Camilla stepped toward the three and cut her off, watching the two likely-guards tense further. “Yes?”

We Suffer said, “After conferring with other members of this wing, we have come to a slight impasse. Some of our officials find it difficult to assess your, ah, clarity of judgment.”

Camilla did not ask on what basis; she’d spent her first four weeks unresponsive to input. She thus still managed to be surprised when one of the other masked figures spoke out of turn, voice dripping with derision still discernable through a clumsy accent: “The Commander is a diplomat. In truth, we cannot trust the mind of a minion who yet carries wizard bones around her neck.” The person stepped forward and extended one hand. “A basic compromise. Hand them over. If you cannot do this simplest of tasks, we cannot work together.” “No,” said Camilla promptly.

“That tells us all we need to know,” said the other, who made the mistake of grabbing at Camilla’s neck.

Even with slight rustiness, Camilla had a higher baseline of agility – and likely age – on her side; she dropped immediately into a deep side lunge and braced herself on her hands, sweeping out the extended leg into the person’s kneecaps.

They buckled, and Camilla’s leg ignited. Reality went up in static briefly, and her muscles seized; she hit the floor next to the person, hard. Her would-be assailant reached for her again, and Camilla convulsed, shaking out the arm that was jerking less spasmodically and managing to swiftly shove her elbow back toward their face. She heard the crunch of cartilage and felt a moment of brief satisfaction before her leg went up in pain again.

And again. And again. Her vision went dark.

—

When Camilla woke to the walls of a medical bay, it took her a few moments to realize she was still in the same room – but now occupied the cot opposite Judith’s. One of them would likely be moved soon, she thought hazily, since shock recovery didn’t warrant the same level of long-term care. Probably. Maybe. When she attempted to flex her foot, her ankle screamed, searing fire up her right side; her vision briefly sparked and swam. She wondered what kind of nerve damage she might be experiencing. She started to wonder what else was wrong. She grabbed at her neck, and relaxed imperceptibly when her hand met rough, lumpy sack-cloth.

“They claimed you weren’t supposed to have lost consciousness,” said the Captain, apparently still awake. Camilla started, still clutching the bag.

“Those three were all Blood of Eden officials,” she continued, gesturing at the door. “Whatever parlaying you thought to do with them clearly didn’t take, and you set yourself back by not giving up those bones. They left them with you because they seem to think that it’s better that you come willingly. It’s treason, Hect, no matter how you justify it.” So declaimed, the Captain’s hands dropped back to her chest limply, outburst exhausted.

Camilla didn’t feel called to justify it, but given the state of her leg and the so-called discussion that had landed her in this cot, it probably made sense to check her work. Judith Deuteros, she supposed, was as good a sounding board as any. Camilla tried to relax her fingers, gave up, and said:

“The commander – named We Suffer –” (“do we ever,” she thought the Captain may have muttered) “– has information about the Sixth House that should be impossible for her to know.”

“So they have spies you weren’t aware of. Unimpressive.”

“They can’t be active spies,” Camilla said, ignoring the roundabout slight. ”The references they make–” parts of the station long-dismantled, systems long-since updated, but in essence, still about the release mechanisms that no one outside of Oversight should know of – “are all…incredibly antique.”

“What kind of leverage does outdated and obsolete intel have over the Sixth, then? What utility could it have to you now?” The Captain’s weakened voice nonetheless managed to support a good deal of disapproval.

Camilla turned the allegations over in her head and back again and forth once more. Cassiopeia the First, founder of their House, the original Reason of the Emperor. What, she wished she could ask her, were you thinking? She returned her focus to diehard ranked Cohort officer Judith Deuteros and said instead, “The source they cite was themself a member of our House, a known and documented one – one involved in its earliest days.”

She heard the rustle of the Captain shaking her head slightly. “It would suit insurgents to claim that they can destabilize us from within, to have us believe they have been successful and canny for thousands of years.”

Fair enough, if you were the Captain. Camilla remained uncertain. Even if Blood of Eden were to have patched together an inexpert facsimile of information from fragments gathered over the years, hitting on something that sounded adequately convincing only through luck and her own wishful thinking, how could they have known about the break clause?

As if calling a recess over this quandary, the seizure decided to hit then.

—

Camilla remained hospitalized. The stun cuff wasn’t, the medics reiterated, supposed to render her unconscious; given that it had, it had seemed likely that she would suffer additional neurological side effects. She supposed she could grant them an eighth of a point for correctly surmising this, and revoke it immediately for having caused the situation. “Supposed” implied a typical use, and however many times she’d been shocked certainly suggested a serving size above the daily norm.

Droll, as the Third might have said. Coping mechanisms, as the Warden might have said.

Warden, are you in there? she thought again.

He still didn’t reply.

The thought didn’t rankle as much. Consecutive days in Judith Deuteros’s company, mentally mapping chess pieces to ceiling tiles and debating the merits of playing out Blood of Eden’s negotiation for information, resulted in her proverbially wiping the floor with the Captain in the former pursuit and wishing to physically wipe the floor with her after the latter. But it’d also aided her mental acuity as her neurons unscrambled, and further desensitized her to the brain zaps that had nothing to do with shock recovery and everything to do with one missing adept.

She vaguely recognized Judith’s engagement as inroads toward some kind of allyship, by necessity and by solidarity, even if it had taken being thoroughly incapacitated and unable to leave the same craft – or same room – for extended periods of time to engender it.

It was nearing the end of a full week in the same ward when the Captain said to this effect, abruptly, “Hect. However you choose to act – remember we remain behind enemy lines. Whatever perspective I have as a Cohort officer who has seen active duty is at your disposal. Please avail yourself of it –”

Camilla just as abruptly realized that this – all of this – was what Judith Deuteros attempting to be helpful while still incapacitated looked like, and she thawed a fraction.

The next words out of her mouth iced that back over. “– before you compromise your values as a House dignitary, for the memory of a man who himself died in service of the Houses.”

The Warden would want to find out, Camilla had told her earlier, and that was a misjudgment.

“The Warden would dispute that characterization,” Camilla said levelly, and those were her final words until she was discharged.

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auburniivenus · 1 month

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Gale had been nose deep in a tome of his before looking up and clasping it shut with a thud. He laid it precariously upon his lap as he looked up from his seat at the one who approached. "Ah you're speaking of our resident blood sucker, yes?" He animated himself with hands drawn close to his mouth, index fingers pointing down in a mock display of gnashing fangs.

He chuckled to himself. "I can't say I have though I'm sure he's off to find something new to sink his teeth into- Ah pardon the pun. It was intentional." The Wizard smirked before giving a more refined and serious answer. "I wouldn't worry, he always finds his way back by the morning. Ah- forgive my curiosity, was there something you needed him for? Perhaps I could provide some assistance in the meantime. Should you be inclined to it." @altaqua

A chuckle, pleasant and melodious, flutters from her lips into the ambient nimbus, as she reacts to his mention of Astarion. Indeed, Gale has presented him with a title most apt, encapsulating his essence in the veil of humor. "The blood sucker, indeed. Do take care to guard your neck." Teases, her words laced with a playful cadence, yet a note of warmth pervades her jest. Her eyes, sparked with a blend of mirth and curiosity, then drifted to the ancient volume nestled within his grasp. She finds herself captivated by a curiosity most ardent, yearning to uncover the secrets shrouded within its time-weathered pages—a veritable compendium of esoteric knowledge.

"What secrets do you unearth within its embrace?" She poses the question, her smile blossoming unceasingly upon her lips, tinted with the soft hue of rose petals basking in the tender glow of dawn. Her demeanor shifts, weaving a thread of earnestness into the fabric of their conversation. "I stand in need of a companion to aid in the conveyance of some crates. The market today overflowed with the harvest's bounty." Her tender digit, graceful and precise, gestures towards the collection of crates positioned at the field's entrance, her movements painting the air with her decisiveness. Inoue, ever the guardian of her comrades' well-being, is determined to ensure they feast upon provisions worthy of valorous hearts, though she acknowledges Astarion's unique predicament, shadowed by his darker proclivities. "Might you extend your assistance?" An inquiry, soft yet imbued with the weight of camaraderie.

#°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ threads #( — .:｡✿*┆ BG3 VERSE ❀ ❞ )#ooc; let's have some fun :3

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metvmorqhoses · 3 years

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i have a headcannon that voldemort never really “punishes” bella when she does something wrong, but his punishments to other death eaters are way way worse & so she’s obligated to act as if vold has given her a worse punishment than he actually has. not that she does a lot of things wrong as his “most faithful” though. i’m talking about the occasional slip up like the department of mysteries thing. had that been someone else, he probably would’ve harmed them more, let alone wouldn’t save then from some witch statue holding them down.

this is very true, anon. so true, in fact, i actually consider this much more a canon fact than mere speculation.

sorry if this is very long, but for every thousand of anti-bellamort idiots there must be a very precise bellamort’s defense attorney lol

correct me if i am wrong, but to my knowledge not once in the books a physical punishment coming from voldemort is ever mentioned in relation to bellatrix - and even if, let's be real, after his "rebirth" she became involved in literally the majority of the most crucial errors, the worst happenings ever, that ultimately brought to no less than his very downfall.

and yet, still, she came out of it all not only unscathed, but treated very specially.

even to a lazy reader, this should at least come across as peculiar.

let’s take the primary example of what i am saying, the battle of the department of mysteries.

just freed from azkaban and after being showered in honors and recognition, the first pivotal mission bellatrix was entrusted with was a damning fiasco.

true, it was not entirely her fault, lucius was in fact “in charge” of it, but let’s be real, do you really think voldemort sent his literal general with that malfoy dandy, his pupil, his most trusted and powerful lieutenant, just for company? just as a henchman? as i have always interpreted it, bellatrix was there to keep an eye on lucius, whose silver tongue was famously more apt to political plotting than to field missions.

voldemort wasn’t trusting lucius with the prophecy that had literally already meant almost death to him once, it would have been madness to. you can say anything about voldemort, but certainly not that he was an idiot.

i actually don’t think he ever trusted lucius at all. lucius had renounced him after his fall and didn’t manage to paint the fact as pragmatically as snape did, the cowardly aftertaste of his betrayal blatant and thoroughly disgusting on voldemort’s tongue. lucius’ status, family name, relations and wealth were just very useful for the movement and likely the only things that kept him in the high ranks of the regime (or alive at all) even before the fiasco, along with his marriage to bellatrix’s sister.

i am positive voldemort was in fact trusting bella to see the prophecy retrieved.

he probably didn’t officially put her in charge because she was still recovering from azkaban and therefore not completely stable or/and already with child (even if i tend to exclude the latter option, since she would have been still entirely too weak for a pregnancy to even take).

still, she was the one with the highest military rank there, not to mention the highest degree of closeness to voldemort, so you can bet she was the one that bore also the highest degree of moral obligation in that delicate situation. and she failed.

knowing voldemort, you would have expected to see killing curses flying left and right. had bellatrix been literally anyone else, she could have easily returned home to a murdered family and a pending death penalty.

instead, you see a voldemort that walks into the ministry of magic. you see a voldemort that, even already knowing the prophecy lost forever, renounces his every advantage and reveals himself once again to the wizarding world, moreover having to fight at the same time his very nemesis (nemesis that the mission should have helped him understand better and therefore defeat), dumbledore (the greatest wizard alive besides him) and soon the entirety of the aurors of britain.

what was exactly the reason that compelled him to enter such a nest of vipers, when he had been unwilling to do so in secrecy and surely in a highest degree of safety before and to retrieve the prophecy himself? to kill harry potter?

the very reason of the mission tells us he wasn’t sure about what to do with his potter dilemma and had therefore decided to have a more cautious, academical approach regarding the matter. he wanted to know the whole prophecy before trying again. he was frustrated and puzzled about harry’s absurd invincibility and insolent luck. do you really think he had decided to go for the hardest battle of his life unprepared and with dumbledore present of all people (whom he didn’t even directly kill afterwards) and possibly hundreds more on the way?

had voldemort suddenly turned from cold strategist to hotheaded kamikaze?

the only plausible answer is that voldemort had purposefully entered the ministry, risking capture and possibly his very life (or at least his newly created body, since at this point the horcruxes are still intact and a secret) and not knowing what exactly was there waiting for him, as a rather valiant rescue attempt and quite an unexpected one too.

bellatrix herself just moments before had laughed at the absurdity of the possibility of voldemort ever entering the place in response to harry’s questioning:

“Get it himself?” shrieked Bellatrix on a cackle of mad laughter. “The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?”

bellatrix herself believed it an impossible and ludicrous thought and yet, less than half an hour later and her life in jeopardy, there voldemort surely appeared.

you could speculate he wanted to save his most valuable, just freed death eaters and then couldn’t, but there’s no evidence of it in the chapter whatsoever. the only evidence points out to the fact he was focused only on saving bellatrix.

this is in fact what lucius tells his hunting party while harry and co are trying to escape the ambush:

Harry put his ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar: “Leave Nott, leave him, I say, the Dark Lord will not care for Nott’s injuries as much as losing that prophecy — Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We’ll split into pairs and search, and don’t forget, be gentle with Potter until we’ve got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary — Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabastan, go right — Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead — Macnair and Avery, through here — Rookwood, over there — Mulciber, come with me!”

so, la crème de la crème of his high ranks is there and everyone is positive the only thing that voldemort would care about is the prophecy, even above captures and fatalities.

rabastan and rodolphus are also there and yet he doesn’t go for them.

he appeared when harry told bellatrix the prophecy was gone, specifically when bellatrix began to have a manic fit because of it, alone in the ministry’s atrium with harry.

“Potter, I am going to give you one chance!” shouted Bellatrix. “Give me the prophecy — roll it out toward me now — and I may spare your life!”

“Well, you’re going to have to kill me, because it’s gone!” Harry roared — and as he shouted it, pain seared across his forehead. His scar was on fire again, and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage.

“And he knows!” said Harry with a mad laugh to match Bellatrix’s own. “Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it’s gone! He’s not going to be happy with you, is he?”

“What? What do you mean?” she cried, and for the first time there was fear in her voice.

“The prophecy smashed when I was trying to get Neville up the steps! What do you think Voldemort’ll say about that, then?”

His scar seared and burned. . . . The pain of it was making his eyes stream. . . .

“LIAR!” she shrieked, but he could hear the terror behind the anger now. “YOU’VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME — Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY !”

Harry laughed again because he knew it would incense her, the pain building in his head so badly he thought his skull might burst. He waved his empty hand from behind the one-eared goblin and withdrew it quickly as she sent another jet of green light flying at him. “Nothing there!” he shouted. “Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that —”

“No!” she screamed. “It isn’t true, you’re lying — MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —”

“Don’t waste your breath!” yelled Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever.

“He can’t hear you from here!”

“Can’t I, Potter?” said a high, cold voice.

specifically, he appears behind bella when she starts to maniacally invoke him, almost as if they had a special mean of communication with each other even from considerable distance.

(here bella is afraid voldemort would punish her and i find the manner of it very interesting, we will come back to it later on)

voldemort was obviously furious the prophecy was lost, but again why risking his own life on top of it? was he perhaps concerned of bella’s mental state now that she knew she had failed and therefore her ability to flee/fight his very nemesis, dumbledore and the aurors?

normally, we would have expected voldemort to stay away and deal with the surviving death eaters later, leaving them to their deserved destiny (as he did with literally everyone else who was there).

instead we have:

“So you smashed my prophecy?” said Voldemort softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. “No, Bella, he is not lying. . . . I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind. . . . Months of preparation, months of effort . . . and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again. . . .”

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer.

“Master, you should know —”

“Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?”

“But Master — he is here — he is below —”

Voldemort paid no attention.

“I have nothing more to say to you, Potter,” he said quietly. “You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!”

even when she literally has just lost his one mean to achieve his every goal of a lifetime, she is “bella”. even when we would expect him to tear her to pieces then and there, he had come to stand between her and harry.

the only reprimand she receives is a scowling “be quiet bella, i shall deal with you in a moment”, as you would speak in public with someone who is very close to you and you are very mad at, who shouldn’t let that closeness slip in public, especially now that she’s making you risk a lot to save her sorry ass.

i find this scene very comic, on top of everything else. voldemort is clearly so done and yet there he is, come to save his sobbing mess nevertheless.

the scene proceeds with dumbledore’s arrival, the duel and bellatrix trapped under the statue. during the duel and just after having trapped bella, we see a really curious exchange:

“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?”

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,”

Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

“You are quite wrong,” said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks.

(...)

"Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —”

what is this fate “worse than death”, these “other ways to destroy a man” that dumbledore wants for voldemort? we know how it all ended - with voldemort’s literal death, his very disintegration (after bellatrix’s very own). what was this all about then? this one i’ll let you decide for yourself. it’s certainly peculiar, considered the context.

voldemort doesn’t respond to this, he in fact seems very provoked and sends a killing curse at him.

at the end of the duel he disappears and everyone thinks he fled, bellatrix included, who cries out his name sobbing from under the statue.

he in fact, at that, goes straight to possess harry.

And then Harry’s scar burst open. He knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance —

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature’s began. They were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape — And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move. . . .

“Kill me now, Dumbledore. . . .” Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again. . . .

“If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy. . . .”

Let the pain stop, thought Harry.

Let him kill us. . . . End it, Dumbledore. . . . Death is nothing compared to this. . . .

And as Harry’s heart filled with emotion, the creature’s coils loosened, the pain was gone, Harry was lying facedown on the floor, his glasses gone, shivering as though he lay upon ice, not wood. . . .

And there were voices echoing through the hall, more voices than there should have been (...)

“...where’s Voldemort, where — who are all these — what’s —”

The Atrium was full of people. The floor was reflecting emerald- green flames that had burst into life in all the fireplaces along one wall, and a stream of witches and wizards was emerging from them. As Dumbledore pulled him back to his feet, Harry saw the tiny gold statues of the house-elf and the goblin leading a stunned-looking Cornelius Fudge forward.

“He was there!” shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Bellatrix had lain trapped moments before. “I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he grabbed a woman and Disapparated!”

“I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!”

this passage is ever so interesting to me, because dumbledore’s words appear to have somehow made voldemort “emotional”. they provoked him somehow. he didn’t laugh at them. he linked them to the worst pain imaginable and almost killed harry with it, posing a philosophical dilemma - if such pain is worse than death, if my life is worse than death, why don’t you put this boy out of his misery?

there’s no doubt in my mind “that pain” is voldemort’s pain. a pain intrinsically love-related. voldemort’s problems to accept/understand/feel love are the crux of the saga, his every villainy and pain. it’s so interesting that in this whole scene the train of events and thought have ultimately reached this topic (even in the movie love is mentioned here, harry literally fights the possession telling him he shall never have it).

voldemort was furious with bellatrix, feared for his plans and life and went to save her anyway. he is enraged beyond belief but puts himself between her and harry and dumbledore. while they duel, dumbledore traps bellatrix and lectures him about “other ways to destroy a man” and “worse things than death”. he absolutely hits a nerve. voldemort completely feels what he’s meaning, so much he wants to retaliate and mercilessly - he never wants to be forced to face such things, such emotions. i don’t think he’s trying to kill harry there, he’s trying to prove a point, to make them both understand how it feels to be him, how the whole concept of love feels to him. and the matter is addressed in a scene entirely built around bellatrix. in fact, finally he then grabs her, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves, and flees. he effectively saves her and her only.

to me this whole passage is directly linked to the famous scream at bellatrix’s death, and to the way the events leading to voldemort’s own death unfolded. that scream might very well be that “fate worse than death”. jkr loves parallels and to me this one is perhaps the most beautiful of the series.

this really proves, in my opinion, at what depth their relationship stands, absurdly perhaps much more abysmal on voldemort’s part than on bella’s.

anyways, i took the time to analyze this particular episode because it’s emblematic of their relationship and his way to deal with her disasters.

lucius would carry on his face the signs of this fiasco literally for the rest of the entire series. the malfoys would fall from grace because of it, probably alive only because of bella’s intercession. half of the death eaters who were present at the ministry would end up back in azkaban.

voldemort would end up defeated, furious and destined to die.

bellatrix would come out of it not only physically unscathed, but with voldemort’s child.

even when she again loses the trio at malfoy’s manor (along with the sword), everyone ends up physically tortured but her. she says she fears for her life if voldemort was to know she lost the sword, but it seems more a metaphor than an actual possibility. when the cup is stolen from her vault, he makes her leave the room before murdering everyone in it. she’s not present at dumbledore’s assasination, and that’s because she wasn’t disposable.

i don’t think physical punishments are involved in their relationship, or if they are they are very rare, and i don’t think voldemort’s reactions to her transgressions/wrongdoings are in tune with the way he reacts to everyone else’s.

bella can more than anyone with him and never really loses this status of utter closeness, no matter what she does.

this obviously doesn’t mean that voldemort is a saint with her or that he doesn’t occasionally punish her. this doesn’t mean she isn’t rightfully afraid of him.

yet, the main way i see him actually hurting bella is psychological torture and silent treatment.

and here we come back at what bella was sobbing at the ministry, her desperate “MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED — DO NOT PUNISH ME —”.

i don’t think a warrior, a general, a woman who remarkably survived 14 years at azkaban, would ever react this way to the mere fear of physical punishment, no matter how cruciatus curses hurt. i think she would have taken it as stoically as possible. thought she deserved it, even.

no, voldemort’s punishments must be unbearable to her, impossible to even fathom, because they involve falling from his graces, from the closeness she lives for. voldemort can serve bellatrix the cold, silent, disappointed treatment of a mentor and a lover, and have bellatrix literally rotting away because of it.

this is truly the worst thing he can do to her and the thing that had her sobbing and having a fit before harry at the mere idea of it.

this is also somehow confirmed when hermione, transformed in bellatrix, meets a death eater (i don’t remember who he was) before entering the gringott. he wasn’t surprised to see bella, well, alive and physically well, he was surprised to see her out of malfoy manor, where she was supposed to be confined.

so yes, definitely the way voldemort deals with bellatrix regarding punishments is special. everything regarding his way of treating bellatrix is, to be honest.

their relationship is written in such a subtle, beautifully twisted way. i adore it. the only problem is that because of it virtually no one ever connects the dots.

#i'm sorry for yet another essay #it just... happened lol #bellamort is based on hints and symbols so here i am in the dead of night psychoanalysing my client to the bone lol #bellamort #lord voldemort #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #asks/replies #hp #one and one thousand stories lis told #anon

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ahkaraii · 3 years

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sort too soon (or not enough) [1282 words]

"I don't know why I was sorted into Gryffindor," Poppy sniffed. "I'm nothing but a coward."

"That's a lie and you know it," Minerva said, briskly rubbing Boil-Curing solution onto the mess that was her friend's purulent arm. "Besides, the House Sorting is a load of hogwash."

"What? Surely you don't mean that!"

"I always mean what I say, exactly as I say it." Minerva wrapped the bandage by hand as she spoke, her lips twisted in distaste. "It's ridiculous to categorise children into loosely fitting personality types before their personality has time to fully develop."

"It's not about personality," Poppy said earnestly. "It's temperament, which we're born with. The houses are based on the four Humours--"

"Don't quote Hippocrates at me, Pomfrey, I ate that theory for breakfast and it's almost time for dinner." Minerva patted her friend's arm, now safely ensconced in about half an inch's worth of paste and gauze. "Sanguine Gryffindors, Choleric Slytherins, Melancholic Ravenclaws, and Phlegmatic Hufflepuffs. I read Hogwarts: A History, same as you. As if a person can't be brave and studious and ambitious and loyal all at once! You're all of that and more, Poppy, so don't let one silly schoolyard fight put you down."

Poppy's bottom lip trembled.

"You hear me?" Minerva insisted with her characteristic Scottish accent, shaking her friend's shoulders for emphasis.

"Aye," Poppy said. "I hear you." She mustered up a smile, which Minerva reflected back at her.

"You know, I have often said we Sort too soon."

The two witches startled, badly. "Professor Dumbledore!?"

"The one, and thankfully, only," said the eccentrically dressed Transfiguration teacher with his usual cheery smile. "It is always a treat to hear students so thoughtfully criticise our beloved institution."

As usual, neither of them could tell if he was being ironically genuine or genuinely ironic; it was often the case that he could be both.

"We're, ah-- quite sorry, sir," Poppy said. "Minnie didn't mean any harm by it."

"I am not sorry, Professor," Minerva said bluntly. "It truly is a needlessly reductive system."

Poppy gripped her friend's arm in alarm but Professor Dumbledore merely laughed, delighted. "An apt observation! How, instead, do you propose we should Sort? Or shall we do away with Sorting entirely?"

"Well, I don't know how to fix it," Minerva said stiffly. "But I do know it's far from perfect, sir."

"I quite agree with you," Dumbledore confessed. "It is a heavily flawed method. But, like many of the organisms and organisations that rule our society, it is an inherited burden that we must adapt to, and, if sufficiently dissatisfied, change by well-reasoned increments. To overthrow a system from the start merely because it is flawed without properly proposing a solution is, in essence, an anarchical revolution doomed, I am afraid, to produce more grief than it had at the outset."

Poppy looked overwhelmed, but Minerva looked thoughtful.

"Change by well-reasoned increments," she echoed. "Like one does in Transfiguration?"

Dumbledore beamed. "Quite so! Five points to Gryffindor for a marvellous association."

"You're planning on making Minnie a Prefect one day, aren't you?" Poppy said shrewdly.

Dumbledore's smile turned into something more mischievous. "Oh, but who can say what the future holds? On that note, my Inner Eye says you two should soon be in the Great Hall for dinner. My Outer Nose smells something like pot roast. Off you go!"

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," the two girls chimed, and walked off arm-in-arm. He watched them go with a twinkle in his eye; it was, contrary to popular belief, not a charm-- he had inherited it from his mother who had Selkie blood down her maternal line. It gave his iris its characteristic, reflective sheen; though he did, on occasion, spell it more or less noticeable.

"Renouncing revolutionary action merely because one of it's byproducts is momentary grief," said a high, cold voice, "when maintaining an unacceptable status quo is guaranteed misery -- how un-Gryffindor-like of you, Professor."

"I wouldn't call it miserable," Dumbledore said, tilting his head slightly upward to meet Tom Riddle's, who was casually lounging on the rafters.

"No, of course you wouldn't." Tom neatly slid off the sloping beam, blurring into his cloak like a gust of black wind, reconfiguring on the ground without a single hair out of place. "Such is the mark of your privilege. Sir."

“That was an impressive piece of magic,” Dumbledore said, ignoring the slight. “A shadow-step instead of proper apparition. Did a vampire teach you this, Tom?”

Pride always brought out the boy’s knee-jerk honesty. “It’s my own invention,” he said stiffly.

“Remarkable,” Dumbledore said. “Just like how bats and birds came to have wings through different means, it appears you have converged upon a similar method of flight.”

"You insult me,” Tom said coldly.

“Not at all,” Dumbledore said. “I am sorry if you took it as such. I, myself, fancy a fire-step--” he demonstrated by flickering to the left in a flash of phoenix-flame, emerging unruffled behind Tom’s blind spot, to the boy’s momentary but quickly snuffled alarm.

“It is not subtle,” Tom said.

“Well, no. I am, after all, a Gryffindor,” Dumbledore said, with a quirk of his lips.

“But you use it like a Slytherin,” Tom said shrewdly.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly to a side. A backhanded compliment?

“Do we Sort too soon,” Tom Riddle asked, softly. “Or not enough?”

“Oh?” There was no more twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, now. "Would you do away with our Sorting system, then, Mister Riddle?"

"I might refine it," Tom said idly. He met Dumbledore's eyes with the casual defiance of a confident Occlumens. "Though, of course, I am no Grindelwald to dismantle it entirely."

"Gellert Grindelwald would not dismantle it," Dumbledore said quietly. "He would Sort upon birth, before choice is an option." He paused. "Such is his rhetoric."

"I suppose that's a future we all have to look forward to," Tom said drolly. "Seeing as he's winning the war. They say he soon will make an attempt at our shores, and our Ministry will accept him with open arms.”

"Grindelwald will not invade England," Dumbledore said calmly. "Not while I live."

"Is that what you tell yourself? His muggles have already dropped bombs on me! On wizard folk!" Tom's face twisted abruptly with his rage. “His acolytes pervade the Ministry. The children of his followers openly walk our halls. I don't need a bloody Inner Eye to see he doesn't need to touch England to change it—he already has.”

"Grindelwald will not win England," Dumbledore repeated, coldly, "so long as I live."

“How? You while away your time debating rhetoric with children!” Tom seemed, for a moment, desperate. “Don’t you get it? If you don’t fight now, then he has already won. You cannot kill an idea, Professor Dumbledore, until you kill everyone that thinks it.”

“Murder is hardly ever the answer, Mister Riddle,” Dumbledore said crisply. “And you would do well to remember that. Now I would advise you to walk back to your dormitory. Curfew approaches, and I shall not overlook your nighttime wanderings this time.”

Tom Riddle’s handsome face distorted with a passing sneer before it became smooth. “Yes, sir,” he said, in a tone edging on mockery.

Albus Dumbledore watched him go, and, for a brief moment, felt as if he was watching another boy go. The darkness swiftly followed him-- when Tom rounded the corner and disappeared, a flash of fire briefly licked Albus’ beard as his phoenix appeared upon his shoulder, driving away all nearby shadows. Fawkes crooned softly, having been summoned by his human’s sadness.

“Alas, my dear Fawkes,” Albus murmured. “It appears we missed dinner yet again.”

#harry potter #karaii fic #tom and albus #jotted this out without much of a plan #have some 1940's era school kids and professor dumbledore whose doggedly avoiding going to war to face his crazy ex boyfriend

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feather-dancer · 4 years

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Tales of Arcadia Fanfic Recommendations - Part 4

Are you thinking perhaps, wow I never expected a fourth fanfic recc list so soon? Because if you do I feel exactly the same way! I thought I’d have some more of my own writing out by the time it happened and yet even before Wizards I was building up a good list of reading then the release just set off a flood of ‘em I’ve been duly binging and hoarding. Because of how long this post is getting I’m at the point of wanting it out my drafts and in the wilds before it begins to grow legs.

As when I posted the third list, I suspect within 48 hours I’ll find a new fic and I’ll need to start drafting a fifth one thus the cycle continues...

You can find Part 1 of my fanfic recommendations here!

And Part 2 here!

Part 3 is here!

Plus one shameless plug for my own current fics because I can.

General Trollhunters

Hold My Hand in The Dark - Jim may have escaped the Darklands but even now it still has it’s claws in him.

To Say Nothing of the Dog - A Steli fic that’s very cute. Sometimes trolls aren’t the strangest thing you find out in the woods of Arcadia.

say that you'll stay awake for me - Another Steli fic where they’re both completely useless but it’s full of fluff anyway.

Candy canes and Sugar plums - Two very sweet Christmas themed one shots. In one Not!Enrique has to get ready for a photography session and another Jim as a half-troll gets mistaken for Krampus by a pair of kids.

Despondent Contemplations - Back in the old library that was once their home in Heartstone Trollmarket, Blinky and AARRRGGHH reminisce about old times. Contains minor spoilers for Wizards but not enough to remove from this section.

The Indecency of Courage - The thoughts of Kanjigar during his final battle.

Brotherhood - It’s hard to love a sibling who betrayed then later attempted to kill you and in return you permanently blinded but with some relationships it’s worth seeing if it’s still possible to mend.

In Our Times To Come - Jilaire, trauma comes in many shapes and forms but as long as you have the right people around you perhaps you can work your way through them together.

General Wizards - Skip this section if you wish to avoid spoilers

The City Never Sleeps - Douxie, Archie and Nari are now on the run trying desperately to keep off the radar in their new home of New York City but the flights of fancy of the old traveling days meet a whole new reality where things are a lot more expensive. For his new family though, this wizard willingly burns himself out over and over to keep them safe.

Home Away From Home -The sequel oneshot to the above and the struggle continues. Nari's attempts to figure out her place after a month of adjustment while Douxie seems to have lost all concept of things called plates.

a rescue from the weight you've carried - The ending these kids DESERVE.

Eyes Like Hope, a Smile Like Mercy, a Voice Like Justice - Without even realising it, Jim offered so much to the trolls of the past just by the virtue of being Jim.

Another Mistake - It’s not easy to revisit your past but in Douxie’s case he is offered a unique chance to see his younger self and the humbler roots he once came from.

Strings - Zouxie and oh GOD is this adorable and fluffy and I love it very much.

Waiting for Dawn - It’s over isn’t it? But Jim’s journey isn’t, not quite yet. His next task involves stumbling back home with the help of his friends and family and figure out the immediately of the after.

Center Stage - Douxie’s relationship with Merlin might have been incredibly complicated but it does not make the grief any easier to bear.

i've got to find my soul all before i sleep - Jim has been given a second chance at life and as a human at that but the niggling feeling of his old (New?) skin not quite fitting right anymore.

Stricklake

A Little Bit Pear-Shaped - Even when you think you haven’t taken your eye off the ball you find out maybe you might have and, well, then the title happens.

it's a lovely day in stricklake month - And Dreamcrow is once more coming up with the goods for us all to enjoy. The 6th chapter is nsfw as forewarning.

Dropout - Jim was human, once, then in the course of mere days he was transformed into a half-troll, fought to save the world and then forced to leave home and family behind as a reward for surviving. It’s no wonder that when given the chance to finally breathe again Barbara struggles with what has and what will be.

K.O. - The end result of Strickler’s terrible not so fun day results in a hospital visit but at least the upside involves the fact Barbara is there.

Alternate Universe

The Unwelcome Guest Do you remember Sam from the wonderful Whispers Within aka the Gay Uhl with a monster boyfriend fic? Well here he is a bit earlier than that still causing chaos but this time via trying to be ever so helpful towards a certain avocado coloured changeling who would sincerely like this to stop happening. Please.

left-hand florilegium - Even the great Walter (Stricklander) Strickler was a youngling, once, but no road a changeling may travel was designed to be anything other than a constant test to prove your worthiness in survival to gain a place in a brand new world.

Both Sides of the Sky - Jilaire with a historical regency twist and an arranged marriage that forces Jim into Claire’s path. On the surface he appears extremely nervous of something (Or more specifically someone) and she’s had quite enough of suitors making for a poor match. However, a simple act of kindness can bring with it an awful lot of shadows you might well have better off staying oblivious to.

A Foundation of Fluff - I never knew a ship of Barbara, Strickler and Draal could be so adorable and?? Yet?? The spite ship train is glorious. A foundation of fluff is a very apt description.

Broken Mirror - You might think this is another Unbecoming take but you’ll be surprised. During an argument with Merlin over his general treatment of others after the great move to New Jersey, Jim is flung elsewhere to wake up on the fabled day he found the amulet and very much human again. Not wanting to mess things up this time he goes to rescue Kanjigar before he is felled but nothing goes as expected.

Bitter Sixteen - The stalkling was set on Jim and in a lightning storm he was carried away but what if Toby never got that call to come to his rescue?

The World Ended Yesterday - The events of Unbecoming seem so long ago now yet here something went very wrong during the attempt to return to the future causing Jim to be lost to not only time but the very world he came from. Seemingly within another reset, he is not going to bury his head in the sand but equally the half-troll is determined to spare this world’s self future tragedy.

What the Night Brings - There are trolls in Arcadia, hidden underground and planning payback for having the surface lands stolen from them centuries ago. While there is contention in the ranks nobody dares say no to Gunmar the Skullcrusher and there is no Trollhunter to protect the dissents. Jim unwittingly witnesses what he should not and now carries the scars and no longer does he remain a human when the dusk comes, instead he is now some form of were-troll. What’s worse, he’s having to face this whole confusing mess alone.

Claire The Courageous - In a different universe Claire became the Trollhunter instead of Jim and Steve of all people ends up being the one dragged into the world of trolls with her. That however does not mean that Jim isn’t still involved in her journey in some way...

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Wizards #ToAWizards

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douxie-casperan · 4 years

Note

How close were you and Morgana before she turned on Camelot? Did she ever teach you magic that Merlin refused to teach? Did you guys ever just sit and talk trash about Merlin together?

“Lady Morgana is... an odd one to talk about, if I’m honest. It sometimes hard to reconcile who she was with who she became even after watching the speed run of it happen when I knew it would happen.”

Douxie seems to be lost in thought after that, his gaze lowered and hand tracing where the bracelet would be had he be wearing it right now with uncertainty. He takes a deep breath before finally answering.

“I was like this annoying kid brother to her a lot of the time I won’t lie, less of an upstart more I had my ignorance about the “done thing” in Camelot high society and the incessant need to know things while still spending a lot of my younger years skittish of doing something wrong and being left to the mercy of the King. I really didn’t know how I was supposed to approach somebody who was also an apprentice of Master Merlin while being part of the Royal Family I guess? I messed up a lot with the best intentions despite trying to keep under the radar.”

The hand finally moves when he looks up, putting one on hip while the other gestures with his words.

“When I was a little older, clumsy as heck mind but at least much less likely to be a disaster her direction, she would occasionally catch me when studying or pass me in the halls and ask how I was doing if Merlin wasn’t there for any arguments to start up again. She did at least sound genuinely interested beyond the gossip doing the rounds about me? Never told me anything was up to personally other than commenting how she was experimenting with new methods of her own shadowmancy skills which with hindsight was probably for the best. What little tidbits she came me though or pointing things out to me were always full of a passion for learning, being better and less uh restrictively structured? Than what I was used to. It was nice being able to interact like that, nowhere nearly being an equal don’t get me wrong! But it was like the difference between being talked at and being talked to and I lived for those little scraps where I wasn’t treated like some street kid recruited for endless chores. She was another wizard I really could look up to and was taking time out of her day when she coulda been doing a thousand other things. She was always a lot better with emotions than he was and while I’d never trade Archie for the world she somehow seemed to know when what I really needed on those worst possible days was somebody outside us two to say things would be okay and hold me while I got everything out my system.” He lets out a wistful sigh, there is a distinctly melancholic tinge to his voice now.

“... As things got more strained with the King however, I rarely seemed to see her when she wasn’t storming from yet another fight with him or about Master Merlin’s constant backing. She kept on this smile for the public but I could recognise it for how much she was really hurting inside and that’s about when she started to close off more and more, even the occasional chats in the library became beyond scarce. With the benefit of hindsight and seeing it for myself, nobody was in her corner, not truly so, and I too oblivious to the politics in the shadow of Master Merlin to even realise it until it exploded in everyone’s face. I couldn’t have done anything but sometimes I wish that maybe if I was a little older I might have been able to help her as much as she did me.”

Then on the second chance despite that slim chance of getting the siblings to reconcile, everything failed so miserably that he found losing her again somehow hurt far more than the original from how it felt like he’d condemned her to die at the hands of the King.

It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life.

How apt.

#Customer queries #Lady Morgana #Anonymous

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dalleyan · 3 years

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Destiny (1st chapter of new LoTR story posted, 11-4-20)

All her life, the prophecy had shadowed everything she did. Now that she was of age, and the world seemed to be ending, was it possible the Istar had been mistaken? Complete in 8 chapters.

Destiny

Prologue (3002 III)

In the year 2999 of the Third Age, Imrahil of Dol Amroth and his wife Sirrin had a little girl born into their family. Both rejoiced at this special gift since all their previous children had been male, and the entire family doted on the infant. When the child was a precocious three years of age, the family went to visit their kin in Minas Tirith. Imrahil’s sister, Finduilas, had been married to the Steward Denethor, but died many years past. While Imrahil did not share a close relationship with his brother-in-law, he was quite fond of his two nephews.

Both young men had turned out well, despite the death of their mother when they were but children, and Imrahil was eager to see them before duty made it more difficult. Boromir was already deeply engaged in military matters, having a natural bent for it, even at but twenty-four seasons. Faramir, too, was learning the ways of war, though he was a more reluctant pupil. His was a gentler, more temperate nature, and though he knew the evil of Mordor made his participation essential, he did not revel in death or destruction, even of an enemy.

The family arrived on an overcast autumn day, but as the boat pulled into the Harlond, the sun finally came out. The warmth and brightness of it lifted their spirits, despite the gloom of being so near Mordor. Carriages were quickly secured to transfer the family to the city, and Lothiriel was all eyes, staring from the window at the great city looming up the side of the mountain. Her brothers had been here before, and were far more interested in the horses, the soldiers much in evidence and planning their activities in the White City.

The family had a townhouse situated on the Sixth Level, on the North side. Word had been sent on ahead to ready the house for their arrival, and so they were met with bustling servants who quickly saw to their needs and soon had them settled in their rooms.

Less than an hour later, a knock sounded at the door, and Faramir stood eagerly on the doorstep. Sirrin, who had been talking with servants to arrange the household, looked up and smiled warmly. “Faramir!” she called to him, as the doorman stepped aside to admit him. “How good to see you again!

He hurried forward, reaching for her hand to kiss it, but she drew him into an embrace. “None of that formality, Nephew! Oh, how you have grown! It seems ages since I have seen you and Boromir. He is well, as are you?”

Faramir grinned boyishly at her and nodded. “We both are. He is with the garrison at Osgiliath at present, but will return day after tomorrow. I sent word of your visit and he is eager to meet his newest cousin!”

A thunder of feet just then drew their attention, and said new cousin raced down the stairs as fast as she could safely manage. At the sight of the tall man with her mother, however, she skidded to a halt and stood silently staring. Sirrin held out a hand to her, signaling her forward. “Come and meet your cousin Faramir, dearest.”

Shyly, Lothiriel drew nearer, edging close to her mother and seizing her hand for reassurance, somewhat hiding behind her skirts.

“Say hello, Lothiriel,” her mother instructed, but the child turned and buried her face in her mother’s skirt without speaking.

Faramir smiled as he knelt down to put himself more on Lothiriel’s level. “It is a very great pleasure to meet you, Lothiriel. I have been eager to do so ever since hearing of your birth. And such a pretty name, too. Do you know what it means?”

Unable to resist her curiosity, the little girl peeked out at him and shook her head. Sitting down on the floor, Faramir unwrapped a parcel he had been carrying and drew forth a circle made of flowers braided together. “It means ‘flower-garlanded maiden’, and on my way here I stopped and bought some flowers for your hair. Shall I put them on you?”

With a toothy grin, she finally drew near him and lisped excitedly, “Yes, please!”

He smiled at the politeness, even from one so young. Manners were greatly stressed in Imrahil’s house, though as Sirrin had demonstrated, once they were completely ingrained there were times when they might be set aside for familiarity.

The little girl quickly warmed to her cousin after that, and he very nearly regretted his success in winning her over for she attached herself to his side almost as a leech. Her constant press for his attention made it difficult to greet his other relatives, but it was accomplished around the little girl’s prancing and twirling to show off the adornment of flowers he had given her.

The three boys adored and admired their older cousins, greatly impressed by their military activities and wanting to hear all about them. Boromir was more apt to speak at length on such matters, but Faramir tended to give only cursory responses before shifting the conversation to more genteel subjects. Even so, he told the lads enough to almost satisify them.

Faramir joined the family for a late dinner, before all made their way to the Citadel and an afternoon audience with Steward Denethor. Health and circumstances had prevented Sirrin and Lothiriel coming to the White City since the little girl’s birth, so this would be Denethor’s first time meeting his niece. Privately, Faramir thought his father little interested in the child other than random thoughts of how she might be useful to him when she was older and could form an advantageous marriage, but the Steward well knew how to preserve important connections. Not only was Imrahil of Dol Amroth related to him through marriage, but he was also prince over the largest fief in Gondor. It would not do to slight such a man and his family, however tedious it might be dealing with them.

Once the meal was ended, the family walked up through the streets to the highest level. Lothiriel was trying to skip on ahead, gazing raptly around her at all the new and wondrous sights, but Faramir had a firm grasp on her hand and kept her from straying far.

Just as they neared the tunnel that would take them to the gate, a familiar figure was seen talking to one of the guards.

“Mithrandir! Come meet my niece, Lothiriel!” Faramir eagerly called to the wizard.

Slowly the old man turned to eye them, before coming to join them and gaze upon the child looking up at him with wide-eyed wonder. “Lothiriel, is it?” He fell silent for several long moments and no one spoke. Finally he murmured, “An appropriate name as it happens, for one day she will be garlanded with a crown rather than flowers. One day she will wed a king.”

continue reading on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393160/chapters/66948316

#Eomer #Lothiriel #eothiriel #Lord of the Rings #LOTR #first meetings #Faramir #Mithrandir #Imrahil #elphir #Erchirion #Amrothos #wife of Imrahil - named Sirrin by me

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ofmythsandmadness · 4 years

Text

i need a favour - four.

PART FOUR - and so, the truth starts to come out (just a little). or, someone starts to realise that what she’s feeling is a little more than just nerves about this fake relationship - that she might be a bit more invested than she ever would have thought.

WORD COUNT - 2819. A/N - This is a mess of a chapter, sorry folks. I’m not great at this. My gay ass is really just trying to make this work for y’all and truly, it shows. If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask and let me know. As well, if I missed you, just shoot a heads up.

SHE EAGERLY ACCEPTED THE CUP, only to hissing and hurry to place it down. However, she waved off Vanya’s immediate ‘I’m sorry’s’ with a sheepish grin. “It’s fine, I’m good. See?” She waved her slightly reddened fingers to prove her point - which the girl did not really buy, but at least seemed somewhat mollified.

After daring to test another sip - and regretting it immediately after - Y/N turned her attention back to the other woman, sitting across from her. They were around the same height, and yet every time Vanya always looked so much smaller, like a child in an adult’s body who’s too lost in this cruel world to properly function yet.

Far too apt for a vague thought, she bitterly rebutted herself.

“Sorry for stopping by like this,” she started, readjusting herself against the couch cushions. “I just wanted to pass on my well wishes and I saw the posters for the orchestra, figured I should pass on the good will in person.”

Vanya smiled softly. “It’s no problem. And thanks, yeah...yeah, the kids have been working hard.”

By the kids, she meant a small collection of junior students who she had begun to teach after the apocalypse situation. She still nursed a myriad of trauma around performing herself, but she had been encouraged (by both Y/N and her therapist, as well as her siblings when they were about) to not give up on something she loved. And so, she took up teaching again, but went about it with the hopes of creating a mini group of performers of her own. Y/N could tell it was not the same as performing herself, but at least it was something. As she worked on both herself and her strange abilities, it would be enough.

“I hope I can still crash the party? I don’t know much about classical music, but I have gotten quite good at pretending like I know more than I do. Diego’s nonsense helps with that.”

The other girl’s smile bloomed a little, at that. “Is he playing plus one to that, too?”

“Huh - oh, yeah, well...I don’t know,” she stuttered, stumbling over every word like it was from a whole new language. “Haven’t asked, but you know, no matter what the guy says he likes kids. Maybe he can uh, put...put the knives away for the night. Or something.”

“He doesn’t have to-”

“-no, of course he’d-”

“-it’s not his scene, and he’s a busy guy,” Vanya rushed, “you don’t have to feel bad. It was just a joke.”

Normally, Y/N would know that. In fact, she would be so quick to catch any joyful points in their conversations that she would overplay her reactions, laugh a bit too hard and like, slap her knee or something stupid like that. But that time, the reference had gone right over her head and then slapped her right in the back, enough to make her fall over and collapse. She was doing her best to get up and rebuild that hole in her wall again, but it was difficult and she could feel herself coming undone by every passing second.

As if sensing her panic - or maybe just seeing it as it was displayed on her face - Vanya moved forward and gently touched her hand. “I didn’t mean to start anything, or - or say something wrong.”

“Oh. No. NO, you did nothing wrong.”

“But-”

“-sorry, I just lost my train of thought and along with it went my brain, I guess.” Y/N was back to smiling, but it was fake as shit and both of them knew it. “What were we talking about?”

“Hey...is ev-what’s wrong, Y/N?”

She knew Vanya was only trying to be nice - and genuinely nice, as sign by her changing the bland ‘are you okay’ to a real question. She also knew that she had dug herself into a really, really deep hole and it was going to take a whole shit tonne of climbing to get out of it. And this time, she was not sure a smack on the lips was going to solve the issue.

“Would you believe me if I say I’m all good?” Y/N tried weakly, only to sign and slump into the couch when her head shook no. “Alright. Uh...you got anything stronger than coffee? This is a douzy.”

“I think I can handle it. Considering...everything.”

She laughed bitterly from between her friend’s couch cushions, then attempting to smother herself between them. It did not work, but it was nice to hide her face for a quick moment. “This might just be more surprising then everything else, Vannie...believe me.”

Vanya came back quickly with the glasses, and Y/N hesitated none to gulp the drink down regardless of the burn. After that, she struggled through the entire story, the ups and downs and even the stupid little anecdotes shared between her and Diego just to make it seem a bit funnier than it was - like it was just a fun game and not her love life being through around and about like nuts. But honestly recounting it back just made it sound even more dismal and humiliating and plain-out weirder. More than it already was to her.

Vanya was silent throughout it all, simply nodding along and letting her speak without pause. She supposed that was a good thing, she was grateful there was no need to stop - mostly because if she did, she might just never speak again.

Y/N finished it off with a sigh and a wry smile, raising her glass to her lips in an attempt to get the last drops out, sans manners and any grace. “That’s that,” she grumbled. “That’s...that’s that.”

And all Vanya said to that, was a quiet, monotone, rather emotionless, “oh.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Oh? That’s it?”

“Well - I don’t - I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh.”

“It’s just unexpected,” she offered up. When the only response was a quirk of her eyebrows, Vanya moved to explain. “I just thought...you two really had just gone for it. Like we had always teased you two about.”

Her cheeks bloomed with colour, forcing Y/N to duck her head and hide the flush. Not that it did much good, the splotchy red was much too eager to show her embarrassment then appease her. “No. ‘Fraid not. We’re just friends...who are now pretending to be sleeping with each other.”

“But why?”

She shrugged haplessly. “He wanted a break from everyone dogging him about being single, I guess...and I didn’t have anything better to do. I figure do ‘im a favour, he does one back, we’re even - except I didn’t really think it’d be this...big.” As in, she did not imagine kissing him. In front of his entire family, sans Five and their dear old dead daddy.

And also, actually fucking enjoying it.

“And technically, we’re not supposed to say a word to anyone, it’s on the list - but man, I just, I just need to talk to someone about this.” She gratefully accepted the second drink, swallowing it down in three hearty gulps. “I feel like I’m drowning.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I mean, I agreed to this, right? And it’s my fault for thinking this could be a walk in the park. I just thought...I don’t know what I thought. I guess I didn’t.”

Vanya smiled a little at that, and finally moved, walking around her coffee table to take a seat beside Y/N. She took the other’s hand in hers, squeezing ever so lightly. “It’ll be okay. It’s only a couple months, right?”

“I guess, but I feel like I’m already screwing it all up. I mean, it’s been like a week and a half? And I’ve already made a fool in front of everyone, and kissed him - and then blurted out the secret to someone! I mean, I might as well propose to him and then tell him our entire friendship is a lie, too!”

Despite herself, Vanya grinned, finding the humour in Y/N’s words, despite the panic on her face. She squeezed her hand a little tighter. “You’ll be okay.”

“How do you know that, though?”

“Because,” she replied slowly, “you told someone, but just one. And I’m not going to say a word to him. Okay?”

“Okay…”

“...and you didn’t make a fool out of yourself, really. You guys were cute. And everyone believed it, mostly because they’ve all secretly wanted you two to get together for years. I mean, since the moment they first heard your name leave Diego’s lips, Allison was making wedding invitations and Klaus was coming up with the worst moments to drop hints about you. I’m surprised you never caught them,” Vanya finished, lip curling a little at the memories.

Y/N knew enough about the siblings’ thoughts about her and Diego. It was unavoidable and for the most part she was fine with them conspiring. It was only when the mention of Diego came up, when one of them said something alluding to the fact that maybe he talked about her a little more than mere friends...that maybe there was a whole lot she did not know about.

Just as she was going to ask Vanya what she was referring to, the other girl cut her off. “And the kiss, like you said it was nothing. You had to do it, and it didn’t mean anything. So you’re still okay.”

And at that, she felt all the blood that had flooded her face drain right out, leaving her pale and panicked next to her close friend. And just like before, there was no hiding her expression or the plain out anxiety attack raging underneath her skin.

It did not take a wizard, to figure out what had caused it.

“Oh, Y/N-”

“-I don’t know, it just-”

“-Y/N...”

Y/N slumped back and covered her face with the cushion, groaning loudly into the fabric. “Shit.”

WHEN HE CAME BY THAT NIGHT, she was cold.

Polite, and caring as always - but cold in her actions, in her few-word replies, in the way she shied away from any near-touch possibly laid upon her skin.

It was not intentional, at least not at the start. She was a mess most of the afternoon and early evening, but then as the sun fell and the hours crept away faster and faster, she felt herself close off. Even from herself. Like she had rebuilt that wall but it had been built too high and too close, so everything was left out of her heart. Not enough so it could not hurt, not so she could not feel waves of guilt every time she did something stand-offish - but enough to make it continue.

She knew he felt it too, but neither said a thing on it. For that, she was grateful. It was easier to move in silence then have to stop and think about the storm in her head. Mostly? Because if she did let her guard down maybe even a second, she might collapse entirely. And no one could have that.

“Here. Take these.”

His only response was a grunt and a nod, fingers barely brushing hers to take the small pills. She pushed back her worries and maintained the same blank expression, watching as he dry-swallowed the Advil. When he was done, she pushed off the coffee table.

“Need anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay. Shower, there’s some of your shit in the dryer now you can change into. Come in when you’re done.”

“I’ll just-”

“-you’re not goin’ anywhere,” she barked. For a moment, she softened, considering a sweeter tone and more reason than shouting orders. But quickly that idea shrivelled up. “It’s late. You need rest. You’re already here anyways.”

“I’m not-”

“-Diego, please.”

He finally left the couch. She heard him moving behind her, but dared not turn to look his way. Instead, her eyes remained train forward, frozen on the window he had come through Watching, tracing the frame, paralysed in replaying all the instances in which she had stood there before.

“What did I do?”

Her eyes clenched shut, squeezing with all her might; gone was the window, replaced only by darkness. “Nothing. I’m just tired.” A slight pause, then: “sorry.”

“There’s more than that, isn’t there?” Slow, stumbling steps in the shallow dark walked her way. They remained a distance away - and yet she felt like he was right there. “I did something.”

“No.”

“Bullshit. You’re upset - at me.” There was bitter humour in his voice then. “I’ve known you too long to believe any of your lies.”

When Y/N opened her eyes again, they watered and struggled to even make out the shadows, finding the night still pressing into her skull. Digging its claws in, trying to wrench out all her fears and emotions and the shit she had buried deep deep deep within. Offer up her heart on a silver platter and leave her dead in the process.

She smiled ever so slightly. In the words of Cher fucking Horowitz, ‘as if’. No weepy confessions to be made that night.

Instead, she turned and made her lips turn up more, into a more believable grin. “I’m sorry. It’s been - it’s been a long week, feels like everything’s hitting me. I didn’t mean to take that out on you.”

“I-I know-”

“-it’s okay,” she murmured, voice hitching at his slight stutter. “It’s fine. Seriously, Diego, I just need to sleep this off. And uh, so do you.”

Diego sighed, hesitating as he thought over his words before pushing forward. “Why do you put up with me, do all this?”

“I’m not doing much.”

“You should be sleeping.”

“Sleep is overrated, you and I both know that.”

“Come on.”

“I’m being serious!”

“You’re exhausted, Y/N.”

She shrugged lightly. “Maybe. But I’d rather sacrifice an hour or two if - if it means I know you’re alright.”

Those words not the words that she had originally planned on saying. But they came out anyways, and hung heavily in the air, a wall of tension that left both sides unsure of what came next.

Before he could try and pry, ask about those softly spoken words, about the way her voice cracked a little at the end, she spoke. “I’m your girlfriend, Diego, can you blame me for caring about you getting home safe or not? I mean, I can’t have the love of my life dead in a fuckin’ alley somewhere.”

At that, she just smiled and turned, hurrying off to her room. She heard him speak, but it was too soft to pick up, and so she discarded it with the rest of the conversation. Just let herself sink into the blankets once more and shut her eyes, begging for sleep even when her brain was more awake than ever. Like she could sleep, after this. She never did.

Y/N listened instead as he moved around, shuffling into the bathroom and starting up the shower. He was brief, only a few moments before the water turned off and he was back to quietly rustling around. Soon enough, maybe ten minutes or so and he was in the doorway of her bedroom.

She shut her eyes and pretended to be already asleep, just as she always did. Let him feel safe within the darkness, moving to the other side and slipping under the covers. He laid still and at the edge, as always, still as anything so as not to overstep any boundaries. Sometimes, she smiled at that - other times, she longed for him to roll over and move close to her, put his arms around her and-

-with a start, Y/N realised that the silence had been broken by him. He had sighed, followed by a soft sniffle. She dared not move even a muscle, frozen against her pillow as Diego groaned once more and adjusted his pillow.

And just when she thought it was over, he spoke. Just three words, soft as a breath. If it were not for the heavy silence, she would not have caught it, but he might as well had shouted it in that instant.

“You fucking idiot.”

Y/N dared to breathe, soft and slow, attempting to play asleep. But even if she wasn’t pulling it off, she was not sure if he even heard, so wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Not for the first time, she longed to roll over and touch him, reassure him she was there with him. Ask what was on his mind, and if their thoughts paralleled in any way or form. But like always, they remained on opposite ends, too eager to maintain a friendship to overstep. She remained still and staring out into the darkness, listening to her exhales matching with his own shallow breaths.

Neither of them would sleep much, that night.

TAGLIST - @asexualmarauder @thatshellfiredean @the-bird-suit @rangotangomango @fandomsandmore394 @thatkidofwarandpeace @antoouu @soul-of-a-traveller @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @artsyle

#i need a favour series #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves au #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves oneshot #tua x reader

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frumfrumfroo · 4 years

Note

What are your favorite movies and TV shows outside of SW? I’m looking for new things to watch since SW was so disappointing

My tastes are pretty eclectic, so I will stick to just things that are either similar to sw or are in the reylo-esque romance wheelhouse and have happy endings:

Chuck. It is a goofy, light-hearted action-adventure show with extremely endearing characters and a very prominent central romance (seriously, heavy romance and there is a lot of payoff for it, you will be FED- it's kind of slow burn but also shockingly NOT slow burn, they are deep into it pretty much immediately). The main couple is the classic Stoic Badass gradually softened by an innocent they have to protect who is a liability in battle but full of the Power of Heart. Chuck is The Heart btw. He is of that vanishingly rare male Beauty (of B&tB) type. He's incredibly generous and open, Sarah is prickly and closed-off. It is Quality. Very much a gender-swap of your typical cliche anime couple lol. I would recommend stopping at the mid-season finale in season 4, because it's downhill from there. The beginning of season 3 is very rough, but it's definitely worth it to stay for the back half, imo. There are several great endings to choose from before things go to shit, so we don't need to talk about the finale. Probably the most tonally similar to SW thing possible without being high/space fantasy. More humour, more silly, but definitely has a spiritual kinship. Has the best THE BEST 'secret revealed' scenes I have ever seen in anything. If you're into that and were hoping for that in ep IX, you need to watch Chuck.

The Shop Around the Corner. 1940 romance/drama film. You've Got Mail is a remake of it. Jimmy Stewart being profoundly adorable, Frank Morgan (aka the Wizard of Oz), various amusing side characters, and an absolutely deathless double blind 'secretly in love with the workplace nemesis' plot that can and probably has been a great reylo AU.

Mirromask. Fantasy/coming-of-age film. Touted as a 'spiritual successor' to Labyrinth by the filmmakers (one of whom is Neil Gaiman) and let me tell you, that is extremely apt. Beautiful, magical, laden with symbolism and Mask Discourse, and has a great ship. I quote it regularly.

Speaking of which, I'm sure you've seen Labyrinth? If you haven't seen Labyrinth, drop everything and watch Labyrinth.

Legend (the Ridley Scott director's cut, not the theatrical cut). Sumptuous fairy tale, runs on proper fairy tale logic, stunning to look at and overall captivating. Tim Curry. Tim Curry as a lonely tragic lord of darkness who tries to seduce the heroine and has drippingly overwrought monologues.

Howl's Moving Castle. Fairy tale adventure/romance film. Beautifully animated, has the ending you want.

The Silence of the Lambs. Thriller/drama film. Actual masterpiece. Use it as a gateway drug to read the books and rejoice that Clannibal is canon and it is spectacular. Just SotL and Hannibal, you don't need to read the other two. Stan Clarice Starling and revel in that ending. Most triumphant 'villain'/heroine ship of all time (he is not technically a villain but for shorthand's sake).

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Terry Gilliam 1988 fantasy/adventure film. THE TRIUMPH OF IDEALISM OVER CYNICS I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW HEALING IT WAS TO WATCH AFTER THE TROS BULLSHIT HIT. Jonathan Pryce's spiritual villain is basically Chris Terrio and it is cathartic to see imagination and sentiment conquer him.

Sabrina. 1995 romance film. Modern fairy tale with Harrison Ford. Rejecting what you thought you wanted all your life for the thing you actually need, growing up but still believing in magic, beautiful character development across all the leads. Could be (and is irrc) a fantastic reylo AU.

The Scarlet Pimpernel. 1934 adventure film. High romance, secret identities, play-acting, people who aren't at all what they appear to be, falling in love with your own spouse, Big Heroism, guile and wit and audacity. It makes me do little kicks like a happy baby. This is one of the 3-5 films constantly tied for my favourite film of all time. There is a good quality rip free on youtube. Watch it and fall in love with Leslie Howard (this is possibly my favourite acting performance of all time).

Oh, related note. Pygmalion 1938 or My Fair Lady. (The musical is based on this film and borrows from it heavily, including its much more romantic ending compared to the original play.)

The Mummy. 1999 action/adventure/romance film. Very tonally similar to sw. A fucking great time, A+ characters.

EVER AFTER. 1998 romance film. The flawless and perfect and best ever Cinderella adaptation. This is the most satisfying film in history, maybe, the ending is so good it is amazing it exists. Also, it has Richard O'Brien being slimy. Huge selling point. Grapples with identity and stewardship, is brilliant.

Fruits Basket. drama/romance anime. I haven't watched the new version yet, but it's following the manga so I know the story. The original anime didn't do the whole plot (because they caught up with the source material) but it's wonderful and I still recommend it. The central ship is (spoiler.........) a B&tB type where we eventually discover the main love interest both feels like a figurative monster and turns into a literal monster. He has an incredible speech about his relationship with people's fear, it makes me weep. I called the endgame from the first episode and always thought it was obvious, but there is a red herring love triangle dynamic. It's really not annoying, though, because it is a red herring. (I hate love triangles)

I am Dragon. Russian monster romance film. Beautiful, simple fable with a really great heroine.

Jane Eyre. 1943 Gothic Romance film. It's Jane Eyre, byronic hero x sensible heroine love story with much atmosphere and Gothic drama. I stan this version because I am an Orson Welles fangirl and I'm also not convinced it can be improved upon. Elizabeth Taylor's film debut btw.

Hellboy. 2004 action/adventure/romance film. Defying destiny, reconciling identity, monster romance. The complete package and a great time. Tonally similar to SW and probably thematically closest to it out of this whole list. Don't watch the sequel.

Beauty and the Beast 1987 tv series. Exactly what it says on the tin. Deals with the classic B&tB themes, but in a different way. He's not cursed and will never transform into an ordinary man. The first season is very episodic and 'case of the week', but the second season gets more into character drama. It's dated, but if you give it a chance you can get past some of the cheese factor and it's really a unique experience. Its concerns are SO atypical that it feels like something fandom would make rather than a mainstream network show. It was so massively, insanely popular with women at the time that a record of Vincent (the beast) reading poetry topped the album charts. Also Ron Perlman and Linda Hamilton. Stop at season two. Point of interest: George RR Martin wrote for this show.

Stargate (the movie not the series) sci-fi fantasy about a nerdy guy who accidentally a hero.

Possession. 2009... mystery/supernatural/romance. Okay. This is a whole thing. Lee Pace and Sarah Michelle Gellar. It's based on a Korean film I've never been able to find for some reason, but being Hollywood they ruined the romanticism and nuance of the original in the theatrical cut to make a shitty punative ending. However. If you buy it on dvd and go to the alternate ending (which follows the original story) with around 20 minutes left (scene after Lee Pace's character wakes from a bad dream-go to deleted scenes and select the alternate ending), you will get a very, very interesting character study/thriller/redemption about sincerity within deception, compassion, and a major question about second chances with a positive answer. It's kind of dark and kind of astonishingly idealistic at the same time. The heroine makes a very powerful choice, twice over. It's fascinating. If you're into the conflicted and uncertain period in reylo, the part where he is most ambiguous, and you wanted more of that and much darker shades to it, you might be really into this. Also, it should be noted, there is a MASSIVE height difference and they show it off. The film is flawed (and the seams show on the Hollywood rewrite) but idk, it's fascinating. Shocking to me that they even got to shoot the original ending. It is pretty balls to the wall with its themes on forgiveness.

I would recommend getting into kdramas because there is a wealth of female-gaze tropey amazing content, but always check the ending before getting invested. My all-time fave is the 1st Shop of Coffee Prince, but it's not sw related at all lmao. It has a happy ending with all the elements you'd want, but it's not satisfying in execution, so that's it's major flaw and I find that pretty common with kdramas. One that is maybe more relevant is My Love from Another Star, which has a hero who is a little bit like Ben in personality. The heroine isn't my favourite, though. It does have a decent ending.

Oh yeah- brain fart. Kurosawa films and classic westerns were both very influential on SW. Or you can combine both and watch The Magnificent Seven.

#this somehow ended up a wall of text??? I'm so embarrassed #anyway it should be fixed now #recs #anyway 40s movies are fantastic they used to CHURN OUT rom coms and even the bad ones are entertaining #and they were not in the romance ghetto they had prestige actors and directors #I don't know what happened and why this isn't done now because that shit was profitable #another edit:#I messed up my directions on Possession bc I first saw the alt ending on YouTube from the fridge point #but actually the full thing starts way earlier and covers more of the loose ends than I remembered #so I've fixed that now as well #(because I just rewatched it after writing this rec) and serious SERIOUSLY someone watch this movie and scream about it with me #I can't stress enough how important it is you switch to the alt ending and watch that INSTEAD of the theatrical cut but but but #If you do - OMG the ending is incredible #the coded conversation the subtle optimism #it is a meeting place where we Soft Reylos and the edgier villain/heroine stans can meet in the middle

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writerbyaccident · 5 years

Text

An Enchanted Cage: Part Two (Yandere Draco MalfoyxReader)

Request: Oh my God please continue the yandere draco fic

Part One Part Three

Standing beside the creek, you chewed your bottom lip anxiously. Regardless of the days that had passed since the beginning of the summer, you still worried that Draco wouldn’t show. Despite his promise to meet you there that afternoon, you couldn’t help but remember how he once promised much the same thing, only to leave you waiting for four years. And as glad as you were to have your old friend back in your life, there was still a part of you—the hyper-alert, defensive part—that was afraid of it happening again.

In all honesty though, that wasn’t the only reason for the slightly uneasy pit your stomach. You were hardly a fool, after all, it was fairly obvious that there was something that Draco wasn’t telling you. Some reason why you hadn’t seen him in four years, that he always spoke so vaguely about his school, that he rarely ever mentioned his family. Looking back, you recalled him being somewhat odd when he was younger too, off-handedly mentioning things that you either knew were impossible or didn’t recognize at all. You had always figured that he was just playing make-believe back then, and perhaps he had been, seeing how he never brought up those things nowadays. But he still wore those—really, you didn’t know what else to call them—those robes. That, plus Draco’s vagueness these days, made you wonder at times if he might be a part of a cult. As much as you wondered though, you didn’t pry, knowing that if Draco wanted to tell you, he would. But when you finally spotted him walking towards the creek, you still had to wonder.

Picking up his pace, Draco grinned once he saw you. Seeing you, being with you, never failed to lift his spirits, a fact that he taken deliberate care to explain to both if his parents. Truly, talking to them about you had scared Draco like almost nothing else, but it was more than worth it if it meant he would no longer have to keep his distance from you. Besides, he reminded himself, you were surely terrified nearly all of the time, constantly surrounded by feral, vicious Muggles without an ounce of magic to defend yourself with. It truly boggled Draco’s mind, how you managed to survive all those years without a wizard like him to protect you, almost as much as it amazed him that Muggles could ever produce a creature as exquisite and miraculous as you. That was why it had been necessary to tell his family about you, Draco simply refused to let you be hurt and tainted by the lower rungs of your kind.

“Hello,” Draco greeted you when he finally reached the creek. “I was wondering if you might be up for a change in scenery today.” Curious, you furrowed your brow and smiled slightly.

“Depends on what the new scenery will be, I suppose.”

“My mother would like you to join us for tea is all.” Shocked by this sudden development, you scrutinized your friend’s face for any sign of a joke. But as carefully as you looked, you saw nothing but honest eagerness in Draco’s eyes.

“You mean, right now?” you asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Draco snickered, “right now.” Glancing back in the direction of your grandparents’ house, you considered his offer. You knew very little about Draco’s family, neither of your grandparents having ever seen their mysterious neighbors. This invitation was rather sudden, and if you went, your grandparents might worry. On the other hand though, you had told them that you would be visiting with your friend Draco this afternoon, and nothing said you would have to stay long if things went poorly. But what truly settled the matter for you was the clear excitement in Draco’s eyes. After so long of wondering about his family and his life, he was finally opening up to you. If you rejected his offer, he might not do so again.

“Alright, then,” you told him. “Lead the way.” Reaching across the creek, Draco took your hand in his to help you cross it without slipping. When the two of you started walking though, he refused to let go of it, his grip firm but gentle. Technically, Draco did this for practical reasons, seeing as you needed to be touching him to get through the wards. But truthfully, he would have taken the opportunity even if that hadn’t been the case. Even after passing through the wards, squeezing your hand softly when you subconsciously shivered at the sensation, Draco continued holding it. He couldn’t remember precisely, but he knew that the last time he must have touched you was when you two were children. Since reuniting with you, he hadn’t found the proper opportunity. So now that he had, Draco was determined to prolong it as much as he could. He couldn’t help it, your skin was just so warm, so soft. And now that you were with him, he could ensure that they stayed that way.

Leading you into the lavish manor, Draco looked back to find you staring at his home in awe. It was rather intimidating, to be sure, what with its sheer size and clear opulence, but he knew that you would grow used to it soon enough. As you passed through the hallways, you took in the dark tapestries and intricate paintings, shaking your head when you thought you saw one of them move. Your shoes clacked on the gray marble floor, the sound echoing around you. Finally, after walking through countless corridors and walking by countless doors, the two of you reached the parlor. Turning towards you, Draco looked you over hurriedly, wanting you to make the best first impression possible. Without hesitating, he neatened your hair and adjusted your dress, only taking a brief moment to relish the feeling of his hands running over your body.

“Um—” you began to say, unsure of why exactly Draco had felt comfortable touching you like that, as if you were a doll he was prettying up. Draco simply held up a hand to cut you off though, not in the right mood to make an excuse. Anyway, he really didn’t need to make any excuses to you, especially not anymore. You may not have been aware of it yet, but you belonged to him, and that meant he could as he pleased with you. And so, eager for this next step to begin, Draco opened the door.

Venturing into the parlor behind Draco, your eyes went to his parents immediately. They were both blonde like their son, with the same refined and slightly bored air that came from growing up with immeasurable privilege. They also, you noted with interest, wore the same type of black robes over their clothes. Both of them were sipping their tea quietly as they looked you over.

“Well,” his mother began, “I can see that you were being truthful, Draco, she is a pretty little thing.” Relieved by his mother’s assessment, Draco smiled and gave a small nod, then looking to his father for his verdict.

“I suppose,” his father drawled, “that your purebred analogy was rather apt. She almost looks civilized.” Eyes widening in offense, you opened your mouth to speak before being cut off by Draco’s mother.

“And once you bathe her and dress her in some proper clothes, I imagine the result will be even better.”

“Excuse me,” you sputtered, half hoping this was some poorly thought out joke. “What the hell are you people talking about?” Lucius’s eyes slid over to you at that comment, his eyebrows lifting and his lip curling.

“It seems as though she was not entirely able to escape the barbaric nature of her kind though,” Lucius said haughtily.

“She’s merely confused, Father, she still doesn’t know what’s going on,” Draco explained patiently. “She’s grown up her whole life surrounded by Muggles, she simply doesn’t know any better.”

“What are—”

“Even so, Draco, you will have to instruct her well then. I will not have our fellows thinking us too weak to even train our pets.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Pet?! Would someone,” you seethed, “care to explain what is going on?” Frowning at your question, Draco wondered how best to explain things to you. What he was about to tell you would end up changing everything you had thought you’d known about the world, after all. It needed to be done delicately. But before he had the chance to begin, Narcissa interrupted, perhaps hoping to spare her son the discomfort.

“You are to be Draco’s pet,” she told you matter-of-factly, with the tone of someone explaining something simple to a child.

“No, I’m not,” you scoffed in reply, wondering just who these people thought they were. “I’m a person.”

“No,” Lucius responded coldly, “you are a Muggle.”

“And that is?” Sighing quietly at the way things were going, Draco turned to you.

“A Muggle is someone without magic, someone who isn’t a witch or a wizard.”

“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that you and your family…”

“Are magic, yes.” A small laugh escaping your lips, you waited for a moment for Draco to crack a grin and tell you how ridiculous your face looked. But when he continued staring at you with that serious look in his eyes, you started to edge your way towards the door. Well, you thought to yourself with distant hysteria, it seemed that your worries of Draco belonging to a cult weren’t unfounded. However, once you had your back to the door and twisted the handle with all of your strength, you found it locked. Looking back at the Malfoys, you saw none of them had moved from their positions. Draco was still standing in the same spot, gazing at you with slight disappointment, while his parents were still seated in their armchairs. The only significant change you could spot, was the intricately carved stick now in Lucius’s hand, pointed right at the doorknob. “You people are crazy,” you shrieked.

“I know that this is a lot for you to understand,” Draco said gently, approaching you slowly, “but you don’t have anything to be worried about anymore. I will be taking care of you from now on, and I can take far better care of you than any Muggle can.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not staying here with you! I’m not your fucking pet!” As Draco continued to walk towards you, your heart thundering in your chest, you raised a hand to strike him.

“Incarcerous!”

Suddenly, thick ropes and cords appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around you tightly. Falling to the ground, you saw Draco’s mother had stood from her chair, pointing her own wand at you.

“I think you ought to take her to her room,” Narcissa said stiffly. Nodding, Draco gathered you into his arms. He left the room with you secure in his grip, taking you through the corridors again.

“Well,” he murmured into your ear. “That could have gone much better. I meant what I said back there. I’m going to take care of you, far better than any Muggle ever could. You aren’t like the rest of them—you’re not. I had to get you away from them before they tried to ruin you. And now that you’re finally here where you’re meant to be—with me—you will be my perfect little pet.”

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

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Hello folks! Welcome to June! And on the very first day of the month, I bring you this offering. You said in a poll that you were interested in the vampire WIP, so here it is. Although it says WIP, each part has been extensively edited. The story as a whole is a work in progress though, and some elements may change as it develops, although it's all mapped out and I know where it's going. It's written up to Chapter Six, and is sitting at a total of 23,000 words, so it's not going to be a small project! You said you wanted more multi-chapters, so here it is! (I won't neglect the other ones though, I promise! Winter Solstice's next chapter is also ready to go, and is in the posting queue too!)

Now, this one is set in Skyrim - but wait! Don't stop reading now if you're not a Skyrim person!!! It's not following the events of the game, and only features a few characters from the vampire-themed DLC, Dawnguard. You don't need to know about Skyrim to enjoy it, I hope.

It centres on Kjartan, a pureblood vampire (rare) who has lived a cloistered life at the dour Castle Volkihar, located on a remote island in the northern sea of Skryim. His father, Lord Harkon, is a sadistic and obsessive vampire lord, who until just before the start of this story, had been hell-bent on bringing an ancient prophecy to pass that would darken the sun, and therefore increase his vampiric powers. In the game, I think he wants to wipe out the sun entirely, which is stupid because the humans couldn't grow crops, and the vampires would also starve without humans. I removed that element from this story becaues it's dumb af. Without spoiling what's to come, Kjartan was not treated well at the castle, and after his much older sister, Serana, returned to stop Lord Harkon's dumb plan (accompanied by the dragonborn and the anti-vampire faction, the Dawnguard), he left with her to travel Skyrim and learn how to stand on his own two feet a bit better.

Serana took him to various locations in the north of Skyrim, and discovered that he has some magical talents other than his innate vampire abilities, though he's not particularly strong. She suggested he go to the College of Winterhold, an ancient bastion of learning and scholarship, as much to socialise him as to teach him to use his magic, while she continued south to keep working with the Dawnguard.

It is at this point that we pick up Kjartan's story. I am aware that not everyone will be familiar with the lore of Skyrim, so I have tried to weave it into the worldbuilding side of the story without infodumping on you, or making you have to look stuff up.

I really hope you enjoy it - this one has come to be a real favourite of mine, with socially awkward, emotionally repressed Kjartan, and outgoing and outspoken Nora, his first friend at the college...

Any questions, please feel free to ask in the comments or on Tumblr or Discord. Otherwise, here's 3140 words of Kjartan's POV for Chapter One. It will be alternating every chapter between Kjartan and Nora. (Kjartan is pronounced with the 'j' soft, like 'kyar-tan').

Kjartan

“Your talents are… ‘adequate’ enough to gain entry to the college, but you’re hardly the strongest mage we’ve ever considered,” Faralda said condescendingly as his conjured light faded and the residual magicka in the air sputtered out. The high elven gate keeper of the college still looked like she’d swallowed something bitter though, and she continued to stare at him.

“Thank you,” he said, still standing in ankle-deep snow outside the small barbican gate of the College of Winterhold. Beyond, the leaping expanse of the ancient, crumbling stone bridge stretched away into the blizzard, partly masking the millennia-old college building behind, perched on its promontory like the lone survivor of a shipwreck. With half the town of Winterhold now sitting in the sea below the cliffs, it felt somehow apt to think of the venerable old complex of buildings that way. Of course, most of the inhabitants of the town wished the college had gone down to lie with the rest of the rubble, but that wasn’t his concern. He was here for the college, not the town.

“Ordinarily, that rather underwhelming display would have been just about enough to get you admitted to the college,” the mage went on, “But there’s very obviously something else about you which will need discussing with the Master Wizard before I can even let you set foot on the bridge, let alone into the college.”

Meekly, he bowed his head, his long black hair sliding forward to hide a handsome, if extremely pale and drawn face. He’d been waiting for that. “I understand.”

With a soft huff, Faralda nodded and ushered him into a tiny stone chamber in the gatehouse that had room for no more than a fireplace, a battered old table, two chairs, and a round window the size of a porthole. There she left him sitting with his hands in his lap, and his dark gold eyes burning. As she left and slammed the door behind her, he caught her muttering and he held his breath.

The wait for someone to appear was not as long as he’d thought it might be. Apparently it wouldn’t take hours of arguing amongst themselves. The woman who strode into the squat, stone chamber forty minutes later was short but still very much imposing, power washing off her like a font of pure magicka. She wore traditional belted mage robes that crackled with all sorts of enchantments, and her stern expression fixed itself instantly on him the moment she entered the room.

“Kjartan Volkihar, is it?” she said in a gravelly alto voice as she stood in the open doorway, letting all the snow flurry in from outside. The single candle on the table guttered instantly and left nothing but the soft glow of his eyes and the weak light from the window to his left. It was clear that she was not impressed or even intimidated - if her steady heartbeat was anything to go by - and that she knew of his family’s reputation. “A vampire. And a pureblood, nonetheless.”

There was little point denying it. He couldn’t hide with illusion magic from someone as powerful as Mirabelle Ervine, or change his unnatural eyes with their entirely black sclera and red-gold irises, glowing even in strong sunlight. Illusion spells might work on the everyday peasant, but to those two mages here in the dimly lit room, his eyes must have shone like the recently extinguished candle flame.

“Well, it’s not entirely without precedent, you’ll be pleased to hear, but I need to know you can control yourself,” she said, and before either Kjartan or Faralda could have prepared for or prevented it, she had drawn a little belt knife from its sheath at her waist and nicked her inner wrist. Blood welled up, bright and hot and ferrous, and his eyes went immediately to it. Thirst clamped at his tongue and throat and his canines throbbed in his gums, but he never moved so much as a muscle in his body.

The slow drip - loud as hammer blows to the vampire - of falling drops onto the stone was the only sound in the room for almost a minute, time stretching. He wrenched his eyes from the crimson liquid after only a few heartbeats, and fixed her with his careful gaze instead, and all the while she glowered at him, wrist bleeding, daring him to react. Finally with a flick of her other hand, warm, golden light sparkled at the cut, the skin stitching itself back together, and in an instant the damage was healed.

“Apologies for such theatrics,” she said, voice clipped and professional as she entered the room and closed the door. While she spoke, she began to pace. “I had to make sure of your reactions and control, and warning you would have spoiled the test.”

Read the whole thing right now, as well as all the Mermay 2020 posts (five in total, including extra artwork) and a surprise, nsfw ‘ghost lover’ story, plus everything that’s been posted already on Patreon!

#vampire #vampire story #male vampire #vampire x human #male vampire x female character #3rd person narrative #it is set in skyrim #skyrim vampire #volkihar vampire #volkihar

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sistersblack · 4 years

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Since you posted other recs do you have any Lucissa fics to recommend? Thanks!

i do!! gonna cut it because it got kinda long but here’s a few. some of them are more gen than shippy, but still

Play And Make Good Cheer by GMTH (4k, e) - It's never a good thing when Lucius gets bored, but at least this time he won't get them written out of the will.

A Common Phenomenon by floweringjudas (2k, e) - There are stitches being dropped in Ottery St. Catchpole and Godric's Hollow and Mould on the Wold simultaneous to these, there are the same muffled curses, the same hitched breaths near at least four hearths this evening.

Show Me the World As It Was Again by mazily (5k, t) - Severus is half-dead. Perhaps more than half. "Less than fully corporeal," Narcissa says.

Weight of a Constellation by diabolica (3k, t) - In the autumn of 1979, Narcissa Malfoy has a lot on her plate. And then the unexpected happens.

Vocabulary by Musyc (2k, e) - Lucius Malfoy was an apt pupil, especially with hands-on lessons, and his wife can attest to his skill.

Family Matters (Series) by TheMightyFlynn, WIP.

Precautions Before a Duty Dinner by lysanatt (2k, m) - The wizarding world is not the same after the war. Unpleasant tasks and chores have to be done - once more appearance is more important than honesty for the Malfoys. Luckily, Lucius knows how to make a duty dinner much more pleasant.

Two Can Keep A Secret (If One of Them is Dead) by Writcraft (5k, e) - After an attack on the Manor leaves Narcissa dead, a grieving Lucius Malfoy uses dark magic to recreate her exact image and likeness.

How to Manage a Malfoy by Chthonia (2k, t) - "It seems to be common knowledge that I persuaded Lucius not to send Draco to Durmstrang. Actually, that's not quite true - Draco was always going to attend Hogwarts. All I did was remind Lucius of that..."

Glass People In Stone Houses by HenryMercury (5k, e) - Lucius asks in absentia, with an elegant black gift box and no card.

also, like a year or so ago i started bookmarking everything i read, regardless of if i liked it or not, so you can always check out my lucissa bookmarks on ao3 in case there’s something there you might like.

#lucissa #fic rec #mine #me just now realising most of these are smut #it's bc i never used to use the rec function so there's probably more recs buried in my bookmarks #Anonymous #ask

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yadds · 4 years

Text

Tony Reappears - Pt 2

The follow-up to my previous post looking at what would happen if Tony appeared out of nowhere to be found by Peter, who’s still haunted by Beck’s reality bending.

In which Tony is in bad shape and Peter helps, Strange snarks, and Pepper gives him the kick in the pants he needs.

This is now Part 2 of what is looking to be turning into a slow-burn starker, y’all. Just a heads up, it’s still Pepperony for now since it’s pretty much canon compliant through Endgame.

__________________________________________

Peter was at his side before he could blink, hands hovering, unsure, before cradling Tony’s face briefly, eyes darting across his features as he catalogued every detail. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-is it really you?”

Tony just nodded wearily, letting out a soft huff as Peter’s hands slid back through Tony’s hair, touching the gray at his temples reverently. Seriously, if he wasn’t already about to pass out he’d probably be reeling from the emotional whiplash of seeing Peter transform back into the gentle, wholesome boy he remembered.

When Peter seemed to be content to simply stare, followed by flitting, fleeting touches, Tony cleared his throat before croaking, “Hands?”

Peter’s brow scrunched in confusion before realization dawned, cheeks flushing. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh my gosh. Of course. Um, here, one second,” he muttered, fumbling with something on his web shooters before producing a vial of clear liquid that he poured carefully over the webbing on Tony’s hands.

“This is normally something I use in aerosol form from my web shooters, but it can make a mess and it makes everything ironically sticky, so I figure you might not appreciate a potential full-body spray. I’m still working out the kinks - It’s surprisingly rare that I ever need to prematurely dissolve my webbing,” Peter explained, voice high and quick like he was nervous.

“I seem to remember designing a solution for that specific problem - in fact, I think it was the first thing I did when I got back to my lab with remnants of your spider juice still stuck to my hands after our first meeting,” Tony said. Or at least he tried to, but his mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. It came out more like; “I...solution already...lab...spider juice,” with incoherent mumbling in between.

But Peter, bright, wonderful Peter, got the gist and grinned, small and guarded but genuine. “Yeah, of course you did Mr. Stark,” he assured as he pulled Tony’s hands away from the wall and set them gently on the floor next to him. “You thought of everything for my suits! But I’m always tinkering with the web fluid design so I’m also having to change the dissolving solution.”

How long has it been? Tony finally thought to wonder.

Peter sat back on his haunches, still staring wonderingly at Tony. Tony couldn’t blame him - if he had the energy, he’d probably be doing the same thing. He had invented time travel, primarily to bring back one Peter Parker, to remedy his worst failure. Of course, saving the rest of the world was motivation as well, but that was mostly an afterthought. And other than a quick, heartfelt hug on a battlefield at the end of the world, he never got the chance to acknowledge that he had actually succeeded.

But now that his life wasn’t in immediate danger, his pounding headache and burning throat were clamoring for attention again. Right. A glass of damn water, that’s how this started.

Tony’s head listed to the side, staring forlornly at the fridge. It was only about two feet away, but it might as well have been two thousand miles.

Peter followed his gaze and, noticing the shattered glass on the floor, quickly realized what Tony was wanting. “You want some water, Mr. Stark?”

Tony nodded gratefully. When Peter returned a minute later, he tried to lift his hands to grab the cup, but couldn’t get them to do more than twitch. After hovering awkwardly for about thirty seconds, Peter hesitantly lifted the glass to Tony’s mouth, tilting it carefully so that the water trickled slowly past his lips.

When that first drop of cool, clean water touched his tongue, Tony’s breath hitched and his eyes stung, overwhelmed by the relief of it. But after only three swallows, he felt the liquid fall heavily into his completely empty stomach and he clamped his lips shut tight. Peter’s intent, watchful gaze and quick reflexes ensured that he noticed almost immediately and righted the glass, pulling it away. Now that Tony could feel the moisture on his face from the slight dribble that escaped his mouth, he realized how agonizingly dry his skin felt, stretched taut and paper thin. His heart was racing, chest heaving, the thirty seconds of interrupted breathing it took to have his precious drink apparently too much after everything else.

He glanced back up at Peter to see his face creased with concern, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He could definitely make out the ‘Are you okay?’ forming on Peter’s lips.

He tried to respond. To reassure him that he was fine, he just needed to rest, but spots were blooming behind his eyes, slowly taking up his field of vision as his heart rate continued to increase. Uh oh. He was pretty familiar with the way an overstressed heart felt and this was suspiciously similar. He felt Peter’s hands press firmly on his chest and saw his name frantically falling from his mouth before his eyes rolled back and everything faded away.

When he awoke, he blinked blearily, eyes sluggishly tracking around the room he was in. Off-puttingly white, machines beeping quietly in the background, and people in scrubs off to the side. A hospital. Which was probably apt, considering he felt like he’d been starved to death only to be thrown in front of a train and lit on fire. He also took note of the comfortable mattress and tastefully low lighting. So he was probably in one of his own facilities.

“Mr. Stark! You’re awake!” Tony startled at the exclamation to his right, not aware that anyone was there. He turned his head to see Peter, the wizard standing aloofly behind him.

“What happened?” Tony asked scratchily, hand coming up to rub absently at his throat. Peter leapt to his side to bring a cup of water with a straw to him, only letting him take a few sips this time before pulling it away. Tony gave him a quick smile in thanks.

“Well I was hoping you’d be able to tell us,” Strange said dryly.

“I meant my health at the moment, which I thought you might have a better idea of than I since you’re actually a doctor, as you’re so fond of reminding me,” Tony responded, finding the remote and levering his bed up to sit up slightly, feeling much more human than the last time he’d been awake.

Strange stared at him impassively for a long moment before replying. “Of course. Well your vitals are stable now. Your main ailments are malnutrition and dehydration extreme enough to bring you to the brink of organ failure, which has been aided by the IV fluids and nutrients you’ve been receiving for the three days you’ve been unconscious. You’ll be on a strict diet for a while before you’re ready to eat normally.”

“Spectacular,” Tony sniped. At least he’d regained enough energy to maintain his flippant attitude. Priorities. “Don’t worry Doc, I know the drill. Been there, done that. Would have gotten the t-shirt, but they were fresh out. You know the saying. Whatever. Point is, that’s a pretty standard medical issue. A little above your pay grade these days isn’t it?”

“I was simply answering your question, Stark. That’s not why I’m here.”

When silence followed that statement, Tony gestured in his direction. “Do you need an engraved invitation to finish that thought? A drumroll? Some dramatic mood lighting?”

The smothered laugh from Peter’s direction was a pleasant counterpoint to the irritated pursing of lips from Dr. Strange.

“I would have thought it would be pretty clear. You reappeared unexpectedly after being dead for 3 years. I’m here to figure out what’s going on and make sure you haven’t completely torn a hole in the fabric of the universe, as I’m sure you would at the first possible opportunity.”

“And to make sure you’re really okay, you know, mind, body, soul and all that,” Peter chimed in.

“Yes. You do appear to actually be alive, by the way, considering near organ failure affected you as it would anyone else. Further tests will need to be done to determine if everything else is ‘normal’,” Strange explained.

“Mmhmm,” Tony hummed with a dismissive nod. He was choosing to work very hard at not thinking about the fact that he’d pulled some kind of resurrection act. He didn’t know how he was back, if he was still himself, how long he would be here or anything. And he was choosing to live in blissful ignorance at this point. That was a problem for future Tony. If there would be one. Who knows? He could disappear tomorrow.

“So you really don’t remember anything?” Strange pushed.

Tony glared at him. “Whoops, you caught me, Merlin. I’m purposely keeping a whole host of information all to myself so that I can remain under constant surveillance and suspicion. Because that’s how I get my jollies. No. I remember dying - which, not super fun, let me tell you - then nothing, until I suddenly showed up here. Or there. Am I still at the Compound? Where am I?”

“Yeah, you’re at the Avengers medbay on the Compound campus,” Peter answered helpfully.

“Well there you go. Consider me interrogated,” Tony intoned.

Strange was opening his mouth, probably to continue his inane, insulting questioning, but Tony cut him off as he saw the door to his room open. “Pepper, Honey, light of my life!” he called, holding his arms out in her direction.

Pepper stopped right inside the doorway, hand falling heavily on the wall beside her as she stared at Tony with wide eyes that were quickly filling with tears, chin quivering. “Tony,” she whispered.

“The one and only. Come on Doll, don’t leave me hanging here,” he joked, hoping the desperation that was creeping into his chest wasn’t apparent in his voice.

Pepper finally moved, stumbling to a stop at Tony’s bedside and collapsing to the side of the bed to gather him in her arms. Tony let out a heavy, ragged sigh. Yes. This is what he’d needed, her warmth seeping into his skin like a toasty towel fresh out of the dryer.

After a moment, he looked around and frowned. “Where’s the munchkin?”

Pepper pulled back, looking uncomfortable but not averting her gaze. “Tony. We don’t know yet what’s going on - are you really back? For how long? Are you completely stable? It didn’t seem right to bring Morgan into this until we knew for sure.”

“Right, yes, of course,” he murmured, heart seizing in his chest again. It all made sense and objectively, he agreed. She was still so young - to involve her now when he could possibly be gone in another five minutes would just be devastating.

But subjectively, it was fucking ripping him to shreds. His daughter, his baby girl. Even if he was only here for five seconds, he’d want to spend them holding her tight. But that was selfish. She’d probably moved on by now, made some kind of peace with his death. He didn’t want to ruin her world all over again. And what if he wasn’t safe? What if he suddenly went berserk? What if he was some radioactive mutant or some crazy shit like that? No, this was the right decision. Didn’t mean it wasn’t low key killing him all over again though.

Suddenly he was a lot more motivated to face everything and get it all figured out. Guess he’d have to actually cooperate with fucking Dumbledore. Wonderful.

__________________________________________

Part 3 - Tony comes back with more than he bargained for

#starker #eventually #slow burn #tony comes back #endgame fix it #tony stark x peter parker #tonyxpeter #ironspider #fic #ficlet #yadds writes #tony stark #peter parker #pepper potts #peter takes care of tony #tony is a good dad #starker fic #my au: Tony Reappears

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yaxleyemerson · 4 years

Text

❝It tastes so bitter. The truth’s a killer, but I cant leave it alone.❞ EMERSON YAXLEY looks a lot like that muggle, AVAN JOGIA, right? Only 28 years old, that RAVENCLAW alumnus works as a LAWYER and is sided with the WRAITHS. HE identifies as MALE and is a PUREBLOOD. [ 47, 28, THE VENGEFUL. ]

Death TW/Murder TW for mentions in the intro

Emerson was born exactly seven minutes after his twin sister Elianna. There was magic in that-the power behind the number seven magnifying their twin bond from the very beginning. The Yaxley’s were not an overly social or influential family. They had remained largely neutral during the last two conflicts within the wizarding world, and had come out of both of them largely unscratched. It didn’t make them many friends, seen too frequently as fencewalkers, but the few families that the twins socialized with prior to going to Hogwarts were those of respectable, pureblood names. Emerson didn’t mind it, not really, not when he had Elianna to spend time with growing up. He never felt lonely, never particularly felt the need for more even once they went to school.

Not much changed when they started Hogwarts. Elianna was sorted first, and Emerson wasn’t surprised when they hat called Ravenclaw for her. He kept his nerves hidden when he had the hat placed on his head, silently hoping to follow his sister. He did, and he was happy to have his closest friend near to him. He made other friends over the years, but Emerson had never been the social twin, and was content to largely focus on his studies.

It wasn’t until after Emerson had finished becoming a lawyer that things began to shift. His parents started talking of marriage for him and his sister, and they would never outright say it was a betrothal, but when Emerson proposed to Valentina, it wasn’t due to any love between them. They were friendly enough, in those early stages of their courtship, but it wasn’t until recently that there was any level of closeness to them. He thinks it might have to do with his joining the Wraiths, something he wouldn’t have considered until the unspeakable happened. There was a level of understanding between them now, this secret no longer having her keep him at arm’s length. It wasn’t love, not really, but it was at least friendship, someone to lean on as he struggled to deal with the unexpected loss of Elianna.

It was Orion who told Emerson what had happened. That Elianna had been working for the Wraiths, spying on the Order to bring knowledge of their movements back to the Wraiths when she was caught. Her disappearance was because the Order chose to kill her for her betrayal. Emerson lost it when he heard, already deep in mourning for his sister, his twin, his best friend that he didn’t stop to question what Orion was saying. Emerson swore vengeance on those that took Elianna away from him, and he joined the Wraiths in order to do so.

He chose Mortifer as his codename after careful consideration. Death bringer was what he was trying to be, and it felt apt to name himself after his goals. It kept him grounded, reminded him why he was fighting. Emerson was never the type to get his hands dirty, and he likely would never have moved from his neutral position had Elianna lived, content enough with knowing his place in the world and not feeling a need to prove it. But he couldn’t let Elianna die in vain. He would avenge her death and further the cause she had given her life for. It wasn’t much, not when she was gone, but it was all he could do to honor her.

He hasn’t taken a rune yet, not sure which one would work best for his needs. He’s working on it now, thinking of the best way to maximize his abilities to do what needs to be done. There’s no lines he won’t cross to right the wrong that is Elianna’s death

Emerson puts little stock in the prophecy, his focus less on the conflict overall and more on his personal vendetta. He hasn’t given his own role in it much thought, hadn’t considered what line might refer to him, and he doesn’t particularly want to know. Eventually, when the truth of Elianna’s death comes to light, that it wasn’t the Order that killed her, that Orion twisted the truth and destroyed his sister’s legacy to recruit him to the Wraiths, he might regret this ignorance. The vengeful will one day realize that they are the villain in their story – not the hero – and the aftermath will be catastrophic once they finally see themselves for who they truly are. A warning, that he was wrong, that he’s the one dishonoring Elianna’s memory, that she would never condone the actions he’s taking, one he could have heeded if only he wasn’t so focused on revenge.

#[ intro ]#death tw #murder tw #rev intros

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