#surprisingly not wizard fire lines
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"life, isn't it?"
the human body, the human mind
searching for a goal, a rare find
many had thought about lifes very nature
but no facts were set by any legislature
and so, we are free to ponder
and admire the world's wonder
is it truly the one and only goal?
the truth is as dim as coal
so one is able to find their own way
some don't see it, for others - bright as day
in one's opinion it's about happiness
others think it's all money, rest can be a mess
many think it's truly all about one's calmness
but it's up to you, no rules set, unlike chess
so don't be afraid to search for a rare find
a goal for your body and your mind
#so yeah these are totes some deep fyre lines#like i think this qualifies as poetry#so i guess ya wyzzer is a poet now!! B))#yoo being a poet totes rocks#but yeah i wasnt in the mood for writing wizzer stuff rn so i spit some fire about life!! hope yall like it#but wyzzardrous lines are coming back soon!!#they do seem p cool n deep n stuff#surprisingly not wizard fire lines#fire lines#poetry
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svt as your hogwarts boyfriend
tags: hogwarts au, gn!reader
gryffindor: seungcheol, hoshi, chan
seungcheol: quidditch team beater, quidditch team captain
prepare to be sick of him!!
very competitive, so match days are always so big for him
if you’re not dripped out in gryffindor colors (regardless of which house you’re in), it’s over. he’ll be so pouty and whiny
“baby, it’s match day. why are you not wearing your custom made quidditch jersey i made for you?”
“don’t talk to me, you’re wearing [house other than gryffindor] colors. nope, obviously you don’t wish me good luck.”
big bad quidditch team captain has nothing on his lover
says he plays better when you’re cheering for him
claims he’s mcgonagall’s best student
he’s actually very good at transfigurations
he wants to be an auror one day, so this is just a step in the process
mcgonagall actually does adore him
very protective of his quidditch team members and would gladly start a fight to defend any one of them (hot-headed but won’t admit it)
always says he’ll buy you anything, no matter how many galleons he has to spend
actually gets upset if you try to pay for your own chocolate frog on the train
the type to always want to sit next to you if you share a class together (except potions)
hoshi: quidditch team chaser
he is mr. horanghae…. mr. quidditch is in my blood…. mr. tiger chaser
his plans are to become a professional quidditch team player
the british national quidditch team coach has already scouted him out
genuinely a quidditch prodigy, since he’s a muggleborn wizard. just picked up a quaffle and was an instant baller
mcgonagall’s pride and joy…. she lives and breathes quidditch
he has nothing else going on for him academically, really -- just trying to pass and that’s it lol
snape hates his guts. didn’t even have to do much, really
only asks for quidditch stuff for his birthday
he loves when you shout out nonsense stuff like “get ‘em tiger!” or “horanghae!” or “tiger’s gaze!” during the quidditch match. it’s soooo embarrassing for you but it actually gets him fired up
the type to fall asleep in class and then ask you for notes afterwards
chan:
he wants to be on the quidditch team starting line so bad, but he’s been benched… then injured… then benched again…
but he’s, like, lowkey highkey very good at defense against the dark arts???
like, conjured a patronus at the age of 12 kind of good
comes from a family of aurors (his dad’s side), so this kind of just runs in his blood
he offers to tutor you in it because it’s his greatest passion in life
of course, he’ll need some tutoring in all the other subjects…. snape has lit his ass on fire (metaphorically, for legal purposes) due to many badly made, strange potions he’s made
hufflepuff: dk, mingyu, seungkwan, vernon
mingyu: quidditch team beater
of course this big puppy is a hufflepuff! but, he’s the most gryffindor-like hufflepuff ever
even the sorting hat had trouble placing him in the correct house, but ultimately chose hufflepuff
he honestly didn’t even know if he should be trying out for the quidditch team, but dk brought him there and he barely even had to struggle at tryouts
his big frame and strong arms make him an excellent beater
he still has a fear of heights, he just forgets about it during quidditch (like what)
he loves when you praise him for his quidditch skills, especially after a particularly hard practice or grueling game
he just wants to be held in your arms near the fireplace, is that too much to ask for ?!?!?!!?!!
surprisingly very smart at most subjects too, especially potions
the only thing he struggles with is herbology (like wtf would he be doing near all these screaming plants or oozing flowers????)
kind of based for a hufflepuff to not be good at herbology bc of professor sprout but alas….
he loves care of magical creatures, because he’s like a dog -- just friends with everyone
he’s kind of like the cedric diggory type ngl -- well liked, friendly, athletic, smart
the type to want to walk around the castle holding hands all the time
deekay: quidditch team chaser
the most stereotypical hufflepuff ever
so kind, so loyal, so hardworking, so…..
the happy virus, sunshine, rainbows shooting out of his ass kind of guy
seriously, there’s not one hufflepuff that doesn’t love him
he plans on becoming a charms professor at hogwarts one day!
he’s soooo good at charms
so much so that girls around hogwarts giggle and call him a charmer
like he got people blushing n shit
turned down the offer to become captain because it was a lot of pressure! he is still going to be the next quidditch team captain next year.
he simply did not have a choice in this matter
loves going to hogsmeade and sitting in the three broomsticks with his friends laughing because it’s so cozy. he wants to live in that feeling forever
the type to send you a love letter by owl on valentines day to watch your reaction while you sit with your friends
seungkwan: hogwarts choir soprano
he is THE boo seungkwan of the hogwarts choir!
professor flitwick (the conductor of the choir) is always amazed at his performance ability. seungkwan has never Not had a solo in the hogwarts annual christmas choir performance
likes to watch quidditch practices while he does his divination essays
he feels like it gives them a certain vibe while he makes up dreams about his imaginary rabbit dying for trelawney
if dk was everyone’s crush, seungkwan is everyone’s friend
there’s no table he’s not welcome to sit at, and definitely no house that would turn him away
the most social butterfly in hogwarts, even more so than the weasley twins
his networking capabilities is insane, but necessary for his life path
he wants to work in the ministry of magic, close to the minister of magic
this requires lots of connections! he wants to collect those wizard society inductions like pokemon cards
the type to ask you to come to his birthday party as a special guest but he actually invited half the castle and dumbledore
vernon:
he’s just here for the vibes
very seriously collecting all the chocolate frog cards. if you see one, please check with vernon to see if he has it or not. he’ll give away the ones he doesn’t need and is always willing to trade
please help him. this is his life’s goal right now
is really good at quidditch but doesn’t really vibe with organized sports, so he just comes to tryouts to play with other people
tried to start a recreational interhouse quidditch team to play outside of the house matches but it turned messy so he gave up
really good at herbology and care of magical creatures! he just understands
not sure what he wants to do in the future, but he’s honestly down for whatever
the type to ask you if you’re free for a date and then forget, so you both end up just asking the house elves in the kitchen for food
ravenclaw: jun, wonwoo, woozi
jun: quidditch team chaser
another person who is just here for the ride
just naturally gifted at a lot of subjects, so he doesn’t really study that much for the exams either. it really makes other people mad
once you asked him for help in a class (“jun, why is this the right answer?”) and he just gave too vague answers (“that’s just the order the things are put in.”) that you just kind of gave up
will definitely be asleep in class if you let him
history of magic is spent 90% of the time with his head on the desk sleeping away zzz
sometimes just gets really sleepy, what can he say???
a really good chaser, but just plays quidditch because it’s fun
he goes to practice because games/matches are more fun when you’re actually good at playing
self-dubbed “arthur wen of quidditch”
what does it mean??? you will have to ask him yourself
the type to sneak you into his bed on friday nights so you can spend all weekend cuddling together
wonwoo: prefect
what an absolute heartthrob
he’s not really a man of many words, so he was genuinely surprised when he became a prefect for his house
is actually a very understanding and caring prefect
he doesn’t really like taking points away from other houses or giving out detentions and only uses it as a last resort
you can usually find him reading novels/writing essays in the library (madam pince is very enamored with him) or playing wizard chess in the ravenclaw common room
he’s VERY good at wizard’s chess
if he could be a professional wizard’s chess player, he would.
ron weasley has nothing on jeon wonwoo
a lot of younger ravenclaws like asking him questions because he always explains things so thoroughly and patiently
tutors younger students in other houses for extra money -- fellow ravenclaws free of charge! -- and sends it to his family
wants to be a professor at hogwarts but still isn’t sure which subject he wants to teach. he figures he could be a librarian like madam pince if he were allowed to be
the type to gift you a new book on christmas every year and highlight/annotate things that reminded him of you
woozi:
also legendary in the hogwarts choir
he arranges all the pieces for both the choir and band
wants to be a professional wizard producer and music writer
once got to meet the weird sisters and got a random muggle t-shirt signed by them that he carries like his most prized possession
other than that, he just like hanging out with you, his friends, and going to the quidditch matches whenever ravenclaw plays
he’s not really that interested in other house matches unless it’s an important one that affects ravenclaw
he tries to be interested in your house’s matches too (if you’re not a ravenclaw) but you can tell he would rather not
tends to befriend a lot of gryffindors (like seungcheol and hoshi) for some reason unknown to even himself
the type to write poems to you when he gets bored in class
slytherin: jeonghan, joshua, hao
jeonghan: prefect
oh, don’t even try to mess with him, because he will get you back and worse
definitely takes advantage of his prefect status way more than he should, but rules are meant to be bent
sneaks you into the prefect bathroom because “you shouldn’t have to take a bath with the rest of the normies” or so he says.
likes pranks and practical jokes, so he often turns a blind eye to the weasley twins when they stir up trouble
they have an unspoken partnership
weasley twins don’t prank him, jeonghan doesn’t snitch on them
it’s honestly a win-win for both of them.
he’s really good at charms
this is mostly because it teaches you shortcuts of how to do everyday things but just faster and lazier with magic
his favorite is using the duplication charm to make copies of polaroids he took with you so both of you can have a copy of it
he likes messing with the younger students and getting them to loosen up (like what are they always so serious for?) with him + reminding people when to have fun (but also when to buckle up!)
the type to ask you on a date to three broomsticks and then prank you into thinking he forgot his wallet in his room
joshua: head boy
classic head boy vibes from a gentle sexy. jk he is so chaotic, but no one really expects it from him until after he gets all these privileges
you want a permit to paint a brick pink? just a single brick? okay done.
you want to rearrange the quidditch trophies by most to least impressive accomplishment? okay done.
you want to take a date walking around the castle while he patrols the hallways? okay done.
he lives for the things that are ambiguously not breaking the rules but definitely not abiding by them either
kind of athletic (grew up playing quidditch in his neighborhood around the other wizard children) but never liked it enough to actually play for the team
it’s way too competitive + he wants more time for you. it’s already hard enough with all the head boy stuff
also was in the hogwarts band but then it was too much work so he only did it for a year
very gifted in potions and transfigurations!
he always wants you to teach him the more boring subjects like history of magic since he always finds himself doodling instead of listening or dozing off in that class
his dream is to become a healer at st. mungo’s hospital for magical maladies
likes to tease you that you’re mrs. head boy
he treats you like you’re the first lady and he’s the president. it’s a very american way of thinking, but then again, he is american.
if he catches you doing bad stuff, you’re legally required to write him a love letter. it’s the rules. no detention, no points taken away from your house. just a nice love letter.
the type to let you dress/style him for all your dates because he wants to have matching outfits always
hao: quidditch team seeker
he’s actually one of the most popular people in slytherin house due to his insane skills as seeker
his catch rate is insane, like he can sniff out the snitch on the field
he’s already set to play for the national team in the U20 league and for the montrose magpies (the british-irish quidditch league team with the most wins)
his knack for flying was discovered during their first year flying class with madam hooch. after the class, she spoke with snape and set him up to shadow the quidditch team to be on the starting lineup starting his second year
he pretends like he doesn’t care if you come support his matches or not but is always visibly happy when you do
the times when you can’t because you’ve got a big essay due the next day or you’re sick is when he pretends he doesn’t mind (because you gotta focus on yourself too!)
his favorite subject is divination (because he really vibes with the tea leaf readings)
but, his best subject is astronomy. he’s the best student as has been the best student in astronomy out of your entire year (all 7 years!)
the type to ask you if you want to share your scarf while you walk around the castle together
#daegutowns#svt hogwarts au#hp au#seventeen#svt#gryffindor#ravenclaw#hufflepuff#slytherin#kpop hogwarts au#vaguely golden trio era#svt quidditch team players#kind of obessed ngl#svt boyfriend au#this is supposed to be in britain still#svt x reader#svt x y/n#svt x you
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rugan headcanons pt 3
he's cleanshaven because his beard is going grey much faster than the hair on his head and he's vain. has to grow it out in winter when otherwise he'd have to break ice to get shaving water. grows his hair out, too. undercut doesn't keep the top of his ears warm. he hasn't lost anything to frostbite yet and he doesn't intend to start now.
prefers plain solid armour to that fancy stuff. muchly less likely to catch an arrow first in ambush. like wearing a sign that says i'm important kill or rob me first. conversely his underlayers are as fine as he can afford. chafing is the worst. he has learned there are some women you can talk to about chafing, and most women you can't. also that the temple of sune has a surprisingly affordable line in salves and unguents.
has extra coins and a knife tucked away in his boots, just in case
not a great singer. not an awful one. where he excels is knowing all the words to all the verses of a large number of filthy drinking and working songs. whistles or hums them absent-mindedly sometimes, along with snatches of luskan working songs.
prefers being rearguard - always has been - but can ride a horse or a mule and can drive an ox-cart competently. capable of doing a lot of jobs well-ish if someone's injured or sick or if they're shorthanded. not much room for dead weight on a caravan.
having said that, hedge wizards are welcome in his crew. the shittiest of them can cast prestidigitation which means no fleas and no lice. shape water can turn a muddy wheel breaking sinkhole into a frozen surface you can get a wagon across, or clean out a wound and stop it going septic. mend? he would almost - almost - consider paying for someone to learn mend before setting out. wizards add utility and contingency, even if they're useless in combat. if they're not, well, fire bolt is more of a deterrent than a crossbow, and he'd rather the bandits fucked off than play hide and stab in the trees with locals.
is charming because it doesn't cost him money and it pays off, over and over again. he grew up hardscrabble poor, hand to mouth for years, and he won't give over coins if he can do it with flattery.
he's been working these routes for years. consistently not being a dickhead means he gets the bowl of stew with an extra piece or two of meat and a warning about which barrel had a drowned rat in it. he's got useful working relationships with people who'd otherwise be wary as hell about a bunch of zhents strolling in. nah, that's just rugan. everyone knows rugan.
adding to that he also his crew under control in the caravanserais. don't hassle the barmaids. don't get too drunk. don't wear your boots in bed. don't be a fucking dickhead. he wants his not-ratty pint and if you interrupt him because you couldn't keep your cock or your knife under control he's going to be very fucking furious.
fucks. often and well. once he got out of luskan and found that a large swathe of the sword coast found his big blue eyes and his accent attractive he was a terror. privately considers the surest sign of tymora's favour is that he doesn't have the pox. has occasionally had nightmares about someone dumping a kid into his arms when his caravan rolls into town.
am considering him using sheep gut or fish gut condoms mostly because they're reusable and i want to imagine him asking sal to cast prestidigitation on it between partners. and sal's face. mostly sal's face. this is not why he went to wizarding school.
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what are like 3 facts of each ro?
👁️ so many possibilities lol I'm going to sprinkle some itty bitty subtle details that may or may not be relevant later on.
Dante
I don't want to reveal too much about Inferno because it kinda defeats the purpose of exploring the place yourselves lol but let's just say that somewhere… there's a certain area… where people can like... fight… and Dante is pretty good... There's a ranking... He's among the top 10 in that list...?
Dante smokes like a fucking chimney but always insists he isn't addicted. Will most likely avoid doing it in front of people if they were bothered by it tho
As an Aeshma (warrior Demons of Wrath) his body temperature is pretty high. When he gets really mad there might be a slight risk of fire.
Lilith
They are one of the managers of the strip club Paradise Lost (which is very girlboss of them imo).
One of the highest rankings Succubi, also one of the few who care the least about social rankings. As a Succubus, their power is mostly revolved around their voice and how convincing they can be.
Insanely good with numbers.
Josh
He's the youngest of three siblings. Josh's older sister also has the same ability as he does.
Josh is often considered the golden child (of the Guerreros and of Blackburn) but he really hates that title.
He would've liked to be a nurse but his parents gently swayed him towards a doctorate instead.
Villanelle
She has had two sets of foster parents. The first couple who adopted her weren't really the best.
Villanelle realized she was a witch when she was around eleven-twelve. Funnily enough, most witches and wizards live their entire lifes and never come to know of their nature.
You've already seen it in the demo but Villie has visions of the future. Her power though is more like... having Earth's timeline shoved into her face.
Victor
Aka Nemesis, the number 1 Demon Hunter in Entity. Let's just say he only joined in the first place because the highest higher up is… pretty convincing. That was nine years ago (if my math doesn't fail me). None of his partners survived lol let's hope Alekto is different 🤞
He likes card games 🥺 and wearing very expensive accessories (mostly watches)
Victor would actually want to have children but has kinda accepted that's kind of... complicated given his situation.
Aliyah
Aliyah claims to hate humans but there are a few very obvious exceptions. This Genie has a soft spot for a certain kind of people.
She surprisingly loves sleeping. She loves it so much she's spent more than a few years straight napping.
As Genies go, her abilities are quite limited to the whims of those who own the lamp. In the meantime, all their power goes as far as being smoke and mirrors (illusions, or plain nothing).
Nathan
Nathan is a guardian angel so he's basically at the bottom of the social ladder (at least prior to falling lol). He's also pretty young things considered, most angels are old old.
He wasn't all that good at being a guardian either? I mean personally I wouldn't trust him to take care of a goldfish
Don't let him trick you! He knows jack shit about actual philosophy (reference to a sneak peek)! Nathan likes having many interests and broadening his horizons tho, to keep conversations interesting. He could literally chat you up about anything.
Eden
He's living my dwarfless Snow White cottage core dream and I'm so jealous fr
So good with his hands, Eden really likes woodcrafting and crafting in general. The life of isolation is pretty boring despite its very attractive appeals (pls me too)
King Solomon lore but he used to have very powerful ring! In their family line (and in my story lol) those rings are their white irises. Yeah very powerful.
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Greensleeves
Chapter Thirteen: Dirty Paws
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Wordcount: 4.4k
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, description of injuries
The party confront the last of the goblin leaders and conclude their business at the Selunite temple. They set their sights on the Risen Road and the wardevil Karlach
Read on AO3
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He wakes to the sound of her laughter again. It tricks him into thinking they’re still camping in the woods, but when he crawls inelegantly out of his tent he’s confronted with stone. Still in the snake pit, then. Not for much longer, hopefully. Fire still crackles in a pit before the statue of Selune, their only source of light unless a spellcaster throws sprites into the air. Gale does a headcount. Avoiding looking at Xaph for as long as possible. Shadowheart is lying flat on her back, staring up at the stone ceiling. The artefact rests on her stomach while she toys with it. Lae’zel is in her underthings, stretching each of her limbs until they look fit to dislocate. Astarion’s tent is still closed, suggesting that he’s still asleep. The other three are sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall opposite Gale’s tent. Wyll has found a stick and is getting the dog to turn around and around in circles to chase it. The druid Halsin is smiling, though he still has the dark circles and scratches from his imprisonment. He’s a mountain of muscle that makes Xaph and Wyll look small but waves Gale over with an even wider smile when he sees him awake.
Xaph tosses Gale an apple from the stash of fruit the wizard and the warlock had found in the storage cupboard the goblins had been keeping Volo in. Xaph. He needs to talk to Xaph. Preferably without other people around, so for now he’ll settle for group breakfast. Not on the floor though. It’s far too early for his knees to even consider that. There’s an upturned crate nearby. That’ll do. Xaph. She’s working through a peach. She’s wearing those loose trousers and a cropped undershirt. Her midsection has bloomed indigo and plum overnight. He makes an educated guess that the ranger and the druid had stayed awake together despite the set night watch. At least they’ve made friends, bringing the party’s number of arguing duos back down to one. The dog bumps into his knee and reminds him other people are around. His hand drops to ruffle the dog’s ears and Scratch pushes his head up into his hand. Idle conversation is made, an activity at which Gale knows he excels, though he forgets it temporarily when Xaph drags her tongue up the length of her forearm and across her palm to collect drips of peach juice.
She answers a question from Halsin several minutes later and he rolls away from them and into bear form to plod across the chamber to a section of wall ivy has pushed through. Xaph and Wyll engage in an admittedly childish game of fire-water-wood to decide who has to go and wake Astarion. Wyll loses and rises with a sigh. Once Astarion’s up the party will have to leave and face the carnage of the camp and the consequences of acts they’ve already committed. Gale can see the appeal of leaving the vampire in his elfin trance, but Shadowheart would start cracking the whip soon enough. Xaph rakes a hand through her hair and lets her head fall back against the wall. They’ve been left alone. For how long?
“He didn’t sleep at all last night, poor thing,” Xaph says quietly, sadly, watching bear-formed Halsin slump, then stand to move somewhere else, sit again, up again- “I know the feeling.”
“Did you?” Gale asks, “Sleep?” he clarifies a moment later. Xaph nods.
“Surprisingly, I did. After Gut I was sure I’d spend several nights awake, remembering the House of Hope,” a hand creeps up to her throat, fingers tracing the line of her collarbone, and he wonders if she’s aware of the movement. Now is not the time to ask. “But you gave me something better to think about. Thank you. You’ve brought me much comfort during nights that would have been sleepless. I’ll figure out how to pay you back.”
“Kindness isn’t bought, Xaph.”
“Well, no, but it should be returned. Besides, I hate owing people,” her head rolls to the side so she can look at him, and she pulls a knee up to her chest, “Listen, Gale, about last night…” his shoulders pull back, just a little, correcting his posture,
“Oh, I was surprised. But pleasantly so, like I said,” he tells her, “Amid the madness that has befallen us, it’s important to recall what makes us human. Well. You know what I mean,” a sharp exhale through her nose tells him he’s caused no offence, “A stolen glance. That sudden heartbeat. Sometimes the little things are worth more than kingdoms,” there it is. Their eyes meet and it feels secret and stolen and exciting, “They promise things to come.”
“What’s to come?” Xaph asks. Her eyes drop to his lips then back up and the bursts of want and sympathy that flash between their worms are as quick as a coin flip. How far open is this door? No. They should close it. They don’t want to.
“Divination’s not my school.” Gale quips, and there’s the little exhale again. It unravels another string from around his rib. He’s letting her answer, of the opinion that he’s made his feelings on the matter clear. Xaph thinks - he can practically see the cogs turning in her mind - before she lifts her hand into the space between them. Her pinky finger is extended.
“Tell you what. We make it through this, and I’ll take you to the mountains. I’ll even let you portal us, and we can see where the thyme grows,” she says. Gale hooks his finger with hers, mimicking the way he’d tried to make contact the night before. She squeezes a promise into his finger before she pushes up onto her feet and unlinks their fingers to flatten her hand in a more general offering, “Give me your hand, if we be friends.”
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” He knows the line, of course he does. Knows the play. Xaph’s smile is one partly of relief that he’d understood, and it grows when he accepts the hand though he doesn’t really need the help to get up.
“It’s my favourite. I’ve seen it a half-dozen different times, and it’s always different. And always beautiful.”
“I propose a trade then,” Gale says, “If you show me your mountains, I’ll take you to the finest theatres in Waterdeep.”
She nods in agreement, and her eyes are bright. He’s smiling and there’s warmth in his face and his hands. They’re going to die, but maybe for a little while they can pretend otherwise.
***
Blood fills the day. Now that the goblins have finally sobered up - those who hadn’t been poisoned and gargled to death that is - they notice there are rather a lot of bodies scattered around their stronghold. Dror Ragzlin, their fearless and until-now undefeated leader, is slumped on the floor of his chamber stripped of his weapons and his vault ransacked. The priestess might not be in seclusion at all, though this is unconfirmed because no one can find her. The druid they’d been keeping in the worg pens is gone. So is their new bard pet. And the prisoner from the grove. They don’t even have a chicken left to chase. All had gone to hell as soon as those True Souls turned up…and they can’t be True Souls, can they? Would the Absolute punish them so severely when they’d done nothing but follow Her word?
It’s not a delicate operation. Halsin shifts from rat to bear when a goblin blade slices Xaph’s calf open and if further hell can break loose it does so as his captors realise where their captive has gone. However, he’s an incredibly useful asset for batting enemies away while Wyll wraps a rag around Xaph’s leg to staunch the bleeding. Shadowheart and Lae’zel have found harmony in their shared fervour for battle, the former finding great joy in swinging her new flail into the skulls of goblins who get too close. A goblin heretic caught in a wooden cage howls that this is a punishment from Maglubiyet for their sin of straying to another god. The party retreats to the stairs to find the drow Minthara and at the top of the steps Gale twists, claps his hands, detono, and a fistful of goblins clatter down onto the stone floor of the sanctum again. This wing is clear of goblins, and the party aren’t sure if that’s because the drow was sure they wouldn’t make it this far or if she’s collected the strongest around her. The former proves to be the truth. When they spill into the room functioning as the office where she delegates raids, she stands alone. Her name is Minthara, and she’s intent on destroying the grove. To cleanse the ground of druids believing in the ‘false god’ she perceives Silvanus to be. To wipe out the treacherous surface-dwelling tieflings who should have stayed in the hells. To find the artefact trembling in Shadowheart’s pocket. She stands on the opposite side of the room, across a rickety bridge that covers a gap in the floor. Her armour is incredible - drow have many expert leatherworkers in their numbers - and she wields a heavy sword. A lyre is strapped to her back but no one is about to make the mistake of thinking she’s a bard. Illusory shields circle around her and further yellow light puffs up from the ground like dust where she walks. Her body hums with enough magic that the hair on the back of Gale’s neck prickles. He has to say that their ragtag group looks intimidating between the githyanki wielding a sword almost a quarter of her weight, the tiefling with her tail thrashing despite her bleeding leg and the giant bear looming behind them. Gale himself brings pinpricks of red energy to each of his fingers, ready to fire. He’s fast running out of spells and he has to make what he’s got left counts. Wyll stands beside him with a crossbow he’d lifted off a body ready and loaded and Shadowheart on his other side levels a spear at the drow. She’s crossing the bridge now, still silent but more menacing for it. The sword twists in a bright circle. Scratch cowers behind a bookshelf.
“Oh, for pity’s sake.” Astarion. Gale had almost forgotten about him. “Ignis.” He casts spells lazily - as though they don’t take massive effort - but credit where credit is due, his ability to aim is indisputable. He lands his hit now, his firebolt eating into the wood of the bridge. The drow laughs, high and cruel, thinking he’s missed. Her mouth opens into a wide O of shock when she hears the snapping and cracking of the bridge beneath her feet. Astarion’s flames have burned through the rope securing the supports of the wooden planks. Without the rope, the wood falls into the chasm. The drow follows with hardly time to scream. Silence sits on surprised shoulders, none of them willing to relax quite yet, but the drow doesn’t rise back up from the chasm.
“Well. That’ll do it,” Wyll says eventually, “Let’s get out of here before her backup arrives.”
“As solid a plan as any.” Shadowheart agrees, turning without further ceremony.
“Good spot, Astarion.” Xaph hits his shoulder and he pulls away from the contact but he doesn’t insult her.
The party slink out of the room and back towards the makeshift torture chamber. It’s the only exit they know of besides the front door and none of them want to face a second horde of goblins. Slowly, with many helping hands, they climb the rocks and squeeze out of the cragged hole that Liam had escaped through. The goblins must have been aware of this bolt hole because there are traps every few feet along the grassy path that Liam has pushed sticks into. On one side the stone wall of the temple rises upwards and on the other, the grass drops off into the river at a height that would break limbs if they were to jump. They have little choice but to inch their way along the grass single-file, hopping over traps Liam had missed, bones clattering when Astarion or Shadowheart stop to check skulls for weapons. Xaph carries the dog. Halsin morphs into a bird - Gale doesn’t know what kind - and flies above them, stretching his wings. He and Xaph call back and forth and he directs them away from any goblins until they wind their way back to the copse of maple trees. Their campsite is untouched, the grass where their tents had been set still flattened, as though the last few days hadn’t happened.
Once she’s decided they’re an adequate distance from danger, Shadowheart strips off her armour and wades into the river in her clothes. Xaph flops onto the ground and sets to pulling off her boots and trousers to get to her injured leg. Halsin plummets to earth and she watches him with a fondly knowing expression as he becomes himself again and pushes his fingers into the grass and mud. She also conjures some of her goodberries and deposits them in a bowl Wyll offers her, which he then carries around to the rest of the group. Lae’zel kneels at the riverbank to clean her blood-coated sword. Astarion pointedly distances himself from the bleeding members of the party. Wyll collects a bowl of water and takes over Xaph’s treatment after seeing her groaning when she bends to try and reach her leg. When she beckons Gale over he obeys. An arrow had caught his arm and his clothes are sticky with blood. He undoes the purple robe and rolls his sleeve so Xaph can get to it. They form a funny little line, Wyll gently holding and cleaning Xaph’s calf and testing the length of her tail for further injury while she tears strips from clean clothes to wrap Gale’s arm and wrist in.
“Spell check?” she whispers to him, turning his arm over in her hands. She draws a circle on his skin with her thumb, indicating that she’s asking about his magical malady.
“Manageable, for the moment.” The pain is no worse than usual, there’s no need to consume magic, but with quick fingers Xaph presses an agate ring into his palm.
“Astarion nicked this off that goblin with the foot fetish. He won’t miss it.”
“Thank you.”
“Ow!” Wyll has found a cut in Xaph’s tail and she can’t stop it from slithering out of his grasp.
“Sorry.” Wyll grimaces in time with the tiefling.
“You’re alright.” Xaph assures him, not unkindly. While he refocuses his attention on her leg she waves Halsin over. The elf sits in front of her, but doesn’t speak. With his nodded agreement Xaph takes his chin between her fingers and lifts a damp rag to his face. She sets to wiping the mud and goblin viscera off his face - discovering that the red marks on his face are in fact tattoos - and the druid’s eyes close as he lets himself relax into the ranger’s hands. Slowly he comes back to himself. Xaph makes small clucking noises, and they seem to bring him comfort.
Shadowheart and Lae’zel permit them a half hour of respite. Gale’s changed his shirt and tried to beat the blood out of his robe with river water and a stone. When he pulls it back on the sleeve is still soaking wet, but hopefully the sun will dry it. Astarion returns to them with a little colour in his cheeks, thanks to some squirrels he doesn’t tell Halsin about. The druid has grounded himself and speaks to the group at large,
“The grove owes you a debt beyond measure. All of you. Killing’s never my first choice, but those three were too dangerous to leave alive.”
“The debt might be beyond measure, friend,” Astarion starts, leaning back on his hand, “But I do hope we can count on some compensation,” Xaph pokes him with the toe of her boot, “What, that was a lot of work.”
“When you return to the grove, I’m sure I can arrange something,” Halsin tells him, “But I must return as soon as I can to stop Kagha.”
“We can’t go with you,” Wyll says, “At least, I can’t. I think we should check on that settlement the goblins raided. Waukeen’s Rest. The trader I spoke to said that some of the buildings were already burning when they got there and the fire couldn’t be put out.”
“Hellfire.” Xaph says. Wyll nods,
“Karlach. I’m honour-bound to make her my priority, and I cannot deviate further from my path.” It’s the first mention of his quarry since they’d met him. He’d set his mission aside for the tieflings. Appreciation buzzes in the tips of Xaph’s ears as she replies,
“I’ll come with you. I want to find out where those gnolls came from.” It was gnolls that had attacked the tieflings on the Risen Road and tracked them halfway to the grove. It was gnolls that had attacked Scratch’s master. They don’t normally track along roads, particularly not such a prominent road as the one between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate.
“If it gets us closer to the creche, I will join you. If not, I go on alone.” Lae’zel decides. That’s three out of six. Shadowheart is pulling at the leather straps of her armour to secure it but she looks up to nod her assent to Xaph,
“Like I said, I’ll go where you go…” her eyes slide to Lae’zel, “Within reason.”
“As will I. Though I think my limitations of reason are quite different.” The brevity of Gale’s answer carries sincerity. Astarion rolls his eyes,
“Well, you’re hardly going to leave me behind.”
“I understand. Of course, you have missions and motivations of your own,” Halsin says, “Though I do ask that you return to the grove before you leave the wilderness entirely. No doubt the tieflings would give their thanks to you as well,” he rises to his full height, taller than everyone else in the camp, “Thank you again. I must say, even though I am unable to help you, the bonds you have formed will. They will aid you in your search for a cure as much as any sword.” With these parting words said, he shrinks down into a rat once more and leaps away.
“Fat lot of good friendship’s going to do us,” Astarion sneers, “Bloody druid.”
***
The Risen Road has become the Ruptured Road. Following their map, the party comes to a stone bridge that has fallen in the middle. It’s a manageable gap that everyone can jump across, though Xaph’s injured leg buckles under her and Shadowheart pulls her back up by her collar. Crates litter the bridge, debris from a broken-down cart. When Astarion prises one open he finds fresh produce. Cabbages, onions. Garlic he deliberately leaves when he brings his spoils back to the party. Other crates are broken into and the food is taken from them. Someone wonders aloud what had happened to the cart. Wyll reminds them of the goblins, the gnolls, the drow, Karlach. There are many possibilities. Xaph’s limping noticeably now, but she doesn’t ask them to stop and she waves Gale’s helping hand away. At a fork in the road, they turn right based on a hunch Wyll has. There are more crates here, but no fresh food. Just the smell of death. There are hyenas on the road. They look dead. Lae’zel makes way for Xaph to creep forward, dragging her injured foot a little.
She sinks to one knee and passes a hand over the creature’s bloated stomach. It’s still breathing, shudderingly. At Xaph’s touch, its entire body jerks as though taken by a seizure.
“Weapons,” Xaph says simply, and she hears the shink of daggers sliding into Astarion’s palms. The hyena writhes under her hand. Its life isn’t ending. It's evolving. This is how many gnolls are born. A shocked noise startles from Gale when, lightning-quick, Xaph extracts a goblin arrow from her hip quiver and plunges it between the unfortunate creature’s ribs and a second through its ears, “How many?” she asks.
“Five.” Wyll answers. Xaph pulls her bow from her shoulder, angling it so it doesn’t scrape the ground when she draws.
“They’re turning. Gnolls can spawn from infected hyenas, and all-” Xaph’s explanation is drowned out by high whining, howling, the snapping of bones. Her companions watch in horror as the hyena bodies in front of them contort and burst like boils. Creatures, far bigger than the hyenas they came from, crawl out and up onto surprisingly steady feet. Signature hyena laughs erupt from the beasts and it chills the party to the bones.
“Fight or run?” Astarion asks in a hushed voice.
“Fight.” Lae’zel insists. She races forward before anyone can protest, and both Shadowheart and Gale groan god-related curses while Wyll darts after her. Xaph sends an arrow along their path to stick in her target’s leg.
“Astarion, bow,” she calls back, “Stay back.”
“Ex textura!” Shadowheart pushes her hands out, then spreads them apart. A thick line of golden light follows her movement, moulding itself into the shape of a greataxe. At a word from its caster, the axe flies forward to chase a gnoll. Astarion falls into a good stance directly behind Xaph, so he can see where she’s aiming and course-correct accordingly. All four of the other gnolls zero in on Lae’zel and Wyll, their nearest targets. One falls behind, peppered with arrows. Another enters into a duel with the magical greataxe Shadowheart is micromanaging, her fingers crooked as she manipulates the Weave to her will. Gale lunges forward and takes one of the daggers Astarion had hurriedly sheathed in favour of his bow. The vampire whips around, fully intending to use the other dagger to threaten Gale, but the wizard is too quick. With a flick of the wrist, the knife morphs into an icicle and is sent into the face of a gnoll. It explodes into smaller shards of ice, covering both beasts in frost. The one that had taken the hit directly howls as its head snaps back with the impact, and two quick-fire arrows from Xaph are enough to tip it over onto the freshly iced surface below its feet. Wyll’s rapier ensures the creature isn’t going to get up again. Gale glances down at the blade a few inches from his throat and raises his eyebrows at Astarion.
“I don’t think you want to do that.” Gale is surprised at the lightness of his own voice because his breath is most definitely caught in his throat. The bright blue tendrils of his spell’s light swirl around his arm and find painfully cold refuge in his arrow wound.
“Oh, I do,” Astarion’s teeth aren’t bared, but the growl is implied, “Don’t touch me.” Gale glances down again, at the fist screwed into the front of his robe. He doesn’t know what move he can make that doesn’t get him sliced open. Xaph yelps and Shadowheart roars. A gnoll is within clawing distance and neither of the men are providing cover. Xaph rolls backwards, holding her bow up to protect it, and rises to wobbly feet beside them.
“The fuck are you doing?” she doesn’t even look at them, already drawing her bow to loose yet another arrow into the juggernaut this particular gnoll is proving to be. Shadowheart grunts in exertion, trying to keep up her magical greataxe to aid Lae’zel and Wyll while also sending tiny motes of blue flame at the creature barreling towards Xaph. “You can measure each other’s dicks later,” the ranger tells the men, “Astarion.” The elf turns his attention and his blade to her and hisses. She hisses back. More of her teeth end in points than his. Shadowheart spits the wizard’s name through gritted teeth. Gale takes his chance, ducking under Astarion’s arm and consequently twisting his wrist to the point where he has to let go. A marble from the bag in his pack appears in his palm. Blue. Perfect. He hurls it at the gnoll, yanking on the Weave to turn the simple little marble into a semi-solid sphere of freezing cold energy that finally stops the beast.
When he turns back to his companions, he finds them with blades at each other’s throats. His worm wriggles in his head and he knows that they are communicating through their own parasites. Slowly, the knives are lowered. Slowly.
“The hells is happening over here?” Shadowheart is furious, stamping towards the trio as the last gnoll falls at Wyll’s hand.
“Pointless peacocking,” Xaph answers, “They’re good now. Right?” her eyes are daggers in themselves, and Astarion’s voice is tight when he answers, perfect, darling. She looks at Gale with the same sharpness and he agrees. “ Right. We need to find this settlement soon, we haven’t got long until the sun starts to set.”
“I think he’s got something else in mind.” Shadowheart jerks a thumb in Lae’zel’s direction. She’s collecting melons and apples from another cart, but past her Wyll is already marching away.
They walk a few miles before Wyll even thinks about slowing down. Xaph’s using her bow as a makeshift walking stick to keep up, having wedged herself between Gale and Astarion in the walking formation. They’re nearing the river again. Shadowheart and Gale both try to talk Wyll into making camp or changing direction, but he won’t hear it. Somehow, he knows this is the way he has to go. Another mile and Wyll is stalking rather than walking, and the change of pace suits Xaph.
“Sulphur.” Astarion mutters.
“Hells.” Xaph curses.
“Indeed.” Gale sighs. None of them are in a condition to put up a strong fight except for Wyll and Astarion, but the warlock shouldn’t count on the rogue’s loyalty after his earlier outburst. He’s too prickly. Xaph relents and takes Gale’s arm to ease her down the slope that will take them to the riverbank. Shadowheart opens her mouth, presumably to call Wyll’s name, but the word dies on his throat. A bonfire is raging on the riverbank. And it’s moving. There’s a person there, encased in flame. Wyll draws his rapier,
“One horn. The stink of Avernus. Advocatus diaboli.”
“Well, I’ll be godsdamned. The Blade of Frontiers.”
#rae's writing#greensleeves#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#bg3 fic#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate 3 oc#bg3 oc#rae's ocs#xaph [tav]#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#wyll ravengard#halsin#astarion#astarion ancunin#shadowheart#lae'zel#karlach#karlach cliffgate
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Baboon in Wizard’s Robes.
summary: dark wizards, chaos and oops… i think i’ve misplaced our reader
warnings: attempted murder by panicked stupidity(?)
a/n: literally the first ever piece of ff i’ve ever posted, if you read this i B E G you be gentle with me i’m f r a g i l e
*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･' ★'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*
Feeling the air get knocked out of you was not exactly how you thought the spell heading your way would feel like. Your thought process was more along the lines of: ‘maybe a bit of pain and then completely cease to exist’. You know, the way most witches and wizards speculate being hit by an unforgivable curse might feel. Why were you, our precious reader, the target for an unforgivable curse? One may ask. The answer is simple: you weren’t. The spell’s original target was one of hogwarts’ resident pranksters and certified pretty boy, James Potter. But you, hopeless romantic you, lovesick fool you, completely-embarrassingly-in-love-with-your-friend you, i-would-die-for-you you, were absolutely ready to risk it all for this boy, and risk it all you did.
What was supposed to be nice, relaxing, and enjoyable trip to hogsmead with your friends took a turn for the worse, when on your way back to school grounds two snob-looking Slytherings slithered their way out from behind a large tree next to the path. Obnoxiously proclaiming to be dark wizards here to “get rid of any mudbloods and blood-traitors that stood in the dark lord’s way.” Sounded very muggle ‘spread the word of our lord and saviour amen’ hypocritical of them but to each their own. Their first target, surprisingly was not Marlene, Remus, Lily or yourself (the muggle-born or half-bloods in your group today), but “one of the blood-traitors” among you. They didn’t seem to have anyone particularly in mind and chose one lucky James Potter, by what looked like a quick ‘eeny meeny miny moe’ judging by the not so subtle bounce of one their heads across the group.
Without much warning, one of the two “dark wizards” shot a jinx James’s way and the other another jinx haphazardly at the group. Both spells did little to nothing as the group had visibly more people, as well as some who were more than ready to jump at the opportunity of an “exciting impromptu duel” *cough* siriusandjames *cough*. What the two “dark wizards” lacked in offensive spells they seemed to make up for it with defensive ones, being able to at least hold their ground for a moment while the more responsible ones in the group ran back to Hogsmeade in hopes of finding a teacher to settle the matter. In normal circumstances you would’ve been one of those responsible witches and wizard like Remus, Lily, and Marlene. But it seemed any time James Potter was involved your brain would short circuit and stop firing the needed neurons for common sense. So you joined the mix of spells being exchanged, mostly focusing on sending defensive charms, much like Dorcas, any time the opposing wizards got the chance to send an offensive jinx either Sirius or James’ way (you mostly focusing on James no duh), the two of them a bit distracted with their own offense being trigger happy. Peter just stood to the side closer to the tree line seeming a bit overwhelmed and having lost his chance to follow Remus away from the fighting.
The two “dark wizards” were loosing their footing and loosing quite embarrassing so for a pair that started the fight to begin with. They seemed to be running out of spells and energy to keep up with the four of you when you noticed the slight change in wand grip from the wizard that shot the first spell. You could’ve said he looked akin to a cornered animal, that lashes it with all it’s got left in them when it feels really hopeless. You weren’t sure what he was going to cast, but you knew James was getting cocky and not ready for whatever was coming his way. It hadn’t even taken you half a second to grab the back of James’ robe and switch positions with him now slightly behind you. No other thoughts going through that precious head of yours besides making sure darling James was safe. By the time you managed to switch with him the opposing baboon in wizard’s robes already had his wand pointed in your direction and what sounded like the beginning of an unforgivable curse at the tip of his tongue. Before anyone could react a couple things appeared to have happened at the exact same time.
Making their way back and within distance of the spectacle taking place, were our responsible friends bringing along Professor Slughorn. Who, judging by the bags he and Remus seemed to be jostling with, was in the middle of shopping. Professor Slughorn, quickly taking note of what was happening and from what the others had told him on their way there, shot a spell to the crazed pillock. The moment Slughorn’s spell hit its mark was the same moment the opposing wizard had finished his own curse as well the same moment james backside hit the ground after you had pulled him behind you.
Everyone’s eyes had instinctively widened and their breath halting when the curse was casted. Slughorn even attempted to send a (useless but nonetheless appreciated) defensive charm your way when the words hit his ears. A cloud of dirt blocked everyone’s vision of you, even James who was right behind you, filled with dread but, ready to catch you had his vision obstructed. When the dirt cleared and no audible body dropped a bit of confusion was awry, understandably so.
You weren’t there. No where to be seen actually, no matter where anyone looked. Only an indent on the ground where you once stood was present but you? Gone. The first to come to their senses, surprisingly so, was Peter. Who with a now sickly pale face and a voice a few octaves too high broke the silence.
“He disintegrated her!” followed by the soft plop of his body hitting the ground where he fainted.
//that’s kinda how i see peter falling over tbh.
#james potter#james potter x you#james potter x reader#marauders#sirius black#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#harry potter#lily evans#marauders era#james potter x y/n#dorcas meadowes#marlene mckinnon
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We Are Only Seven - Chapter 10 (Final)
Fandom: BTS
Characters: OT7 (Devil!Namjoon, Demigod!Seokjin, Wizard!Yoongi, Angel!Hoseok, Werewolf!Taehyung, Gumiho!Jimin, Vampire!Jungkook) For a visual representation check these >>> VMinKook & NamJinSope
Warning: Battle, death, injury, murder, suicide, slight swearing, angst, a little cheesy, betrayal etc.
Word Count: 2.8k Words
Summary: In a world ruled by humans, the other worldly, non-humans are in hiding. But how long will it last this way?
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 [Complete]
They had escaped to the wood, made fire to keep themselves warm and hunted down animals to prepare for supper. Hoseok was lying on the ground, his head rested on Yoongi’s lap. Namjoon and Seokjin sat silently with them. The other ‘Bulletproof’ boys were spending time with the escaped prisoners. There were two vampires, a werewolf, three demigods, two elves and a satyr.
Taehyung was found to be alright and not badly hurt. He had recognized the werewolf from when he was a prisoner himself and they started a conversation. Jungkook talked with the vampires to learn about his servants; those who had been caught. He found out that they had been killed during the experiments. Jimin stayed quiet the whole time.
Meanwhile, Yoongi kept muttering a spell in an attempt to heal his unconscious friend of the wound that had been left on his back. But it didn’t seem to be working properly. Namjoon came closer and Yoongi noticed the tears on his cheeks.
Namjoon gently wiped them away with his hand and placed it on Hoseok’s back. Light sparkled through Hoseok’s wound for a moment. Then, it healed completely. Yoongi gasped in shock.
“I almost forgot,” Yoongi said, “You were an angel once.”
Namjoon nodded but remained silent. It was a common knowledge that an angel’s tears can heal any wound. Yoongi being an educated wizard, should have known that.
Seokjin stood up and announced, “I think, this is the time I part. I had caused enough trouble to you all. I know I’ve done something terrible and it’s beyond forgiveness. But if you can, please forget my mistakes and remember only the good parts of our journey together. Do this for the old time’s sake.”
“But you can’t just go away that easily.” Namjoon said boldly.
Seokjin was taken aback. Namjoon never sounded this serious before. Not even at the worst time possible.
Namjoon stood in front of him, arms crossed, and said, “Did you forget the iconic ‘Once you Jim-in, you can’t Jim-out’ line?”
Yoongi let out a small laugh. Seokjin couldn’t believe it. Namjoon was not mad at him. In fact, he was making jokes. He was even okay with him being on the team.
The golden trio had come towards them. Hearing Seokjin wanting to leave, Jungkook whined, "Hyung, you can’t leave us like that.”
“Especially, not after saving us like a hero.” Jimin said, while hanging a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “We are not gonna let you be the main character of the story.”
Yoongi pleaded, “Just let us know the truth. When did you go against us exactly? Don’t say it was since the beginning.”
Seokjin shook his head. Tears were threatening to come out of his eyes at the surprisingly kind reactions from the others. But he told them the truth anyway.
He told them, how he was once a normal boy living with his Goddess mother and mortal father. Until one day, Aphrodite decided to take him away to the Mount Olympus. Being a kid, he always wondered what the reason could be. He was sure of one thing; his mother was indifferent to him. She never showed love or affection towards him.
As he grew up, the longing for his father, who once used to love the boy so much, became stronger. Then, one day, Seokjin decided to escape Mount Olympus with the help of some other Gods. By his own wits, he was able to come down to the earth. He had been searching for his father since then.
“But then, I met Yoongi.” Seokjin said, “When I heard about his plan of bringing down the OHA, I decided to stay with the team in hope of finding my father. But I swear, I didn’t know he was the CEO of this fucked up institution. I don’t know what got into me when I agreed to help him. I believed him to be a good man. I never imagined he could be so cruel.”
“Everyone believes their father is a good man.” Taehyung sighed.
Suddenly, one of the elves came to interrupt them, “Don’t you think it would be wiser to leave the wood and go to a safe place?”
They exchanged some worried looks. Even though the OHA facility was being destroyed, all thanks to Seokjin’s explosion, they couldn’t be sure if their enemies were really gone or not. They couldn’t go back to their abandoned building and risk being attacked.
The elf continued, “I know a place. It’s the safest of places for beings like us. We should go to the ‘ARMY’.”
“ARMY?” The ‘Bulletproof’ boys asked in union.
Aid and Refuge for Mortals by Youths, in short ARMY, was a secret society formed by young people who believed in equality among humans and other intelligent beings. The members of this organization called themselves ARMY too. Being less in number and power, they ran their rescue missions of saving the non-humans from the OHA secretly. And these secret missions were the reason behind the OHA’s failures at the recent times.
The elf knew their hideout very well. He was on his way to seek help from them when he was caught by the wizards almost a year ago. Now, he led his rescuers and the fellow prisoners to the only safe place there was on earth.
There were minutes of confusion among the ARMY seeing a large number of non-humans gathering outside. Soon after Namjoon explained the situation clearly, the ARMY let themselves in.
They were then taken to the leader of the organization. Her name was Linha. Despite her tall figure and intimidating face, she was quite friendly and kind. She welcomed them with overwhelming joy and learned about each of them individually. Her eyes got teary as she learned how they had managed to escape the OHA and exploded their laboratories before coming to them.
“You did the impossible.” Linha exclaimed. It was her usual way of talking. “I can’t believe you did something in such a short time which we had been planning for so long.”
“All thanks to Seokjin.” Namjoon said, “He did almost everything.”
“Yeah,” Seokjin scoffed at himself, still not over the guilt he was feeling for betraying his friends, “after ruining our original plan completely.”
There were so many ARMY and other non-humans inside the pretty huge hideout. The ‘Bulletproof’ boys almost couldn’t believe the fact that so many humans were on their side and they were willing to fight for their freedom. They had spent most of their lives being afraid of the humans that accepting them as their friends was something they found difficult.
They learned that there were more humans out there on earth who believed in the equality too but couldn’t voice out their opinion in fear of the OHA. Some of them were even helping the ARMY with whatever they could offer, ranging from shelter for some beings to providing medical supports.
In order to celebrate the official downfall of the OHA, they arranged a huge feast for themselves along with the new comers. Everyone ate and drank to the fullest. The music was turned on and they danced and sang out their hearts.
Then, Linha made a great announcement, “From now on, we won’t hide anymore. We will declare our victory over the OHA. We will reveal it to the whole world that from today, we all live in unity. Humans, vampires, werewolves, elves, satyrs, centaurs, demigods,” she glanced at Hoseok for a while and added, “angels and many more. We all live in harmony and without fear.”
They all cried out with full of enthusiasm. But suddenly there was a blast. It made their whole ceiling crash. When they looked up, they could make out a figure with huge wings flying down towards them.
“What happened to the others?” Kim Joon-Hwi inquired about his guards and wizards.
“They’re all dead, sir.” The Master of shadow informed.
The Master was the only one to have escaped the OHA facility after the explosion. He, then, went straight to Kim Joon-Hwi, who had already made his escape after getting his most desired thing, an angel’s wings.
“Are you telling me that you have lost the Gumiho?” Kim Joon-Hwi asked, his tone deep and serious. When the Master looked down without replying, Kim Joon-Hwi let out a terrible laugh, “How will I survive after attaching the wings on myself if I failed to kill the Gumiho?”
The real reason for his desperation for the Gumiho was that, a Gumiho was the most powerful being to exist on earth. And if he had to attach the angel wings on himself in order to be as powerful as the Gods, he needed to kill someone powerful first.
“Sir,” The master spoke, “I think we should wait. I promise to find that Gumiho as soon as I can.”
“No!” Kim Joon-Hwi said rather calmly this time, “I have waited long enough.” The Master was about to interrupt but he held his hand up to silence him, “You have done enough all these years. In fact, it’s the result of your research that I am now going to be the most powerful.”
He went closer and rested his hand on the Master’s shoulder. The Master bowed in gratitude for the appreciation. But the next moment, he felt a sharp pain on his back. He fell to the ground with a loud groan when he realized that he had been stabbed.
“You think I didn’t know who killed the last Gumiho on our laboratory?” Kim Joon-Hwi stated to the dying man before him. “I know why you had joined the company in the first place. You wanted power.” Then, he laughed manically and added, “Killing a powerful wizard like you will serve my purpose.”
The Master of Shadow struggled to say his last words, “Yoongi. Was. Right.”
But Kim Joon-Hwi didn’t pay any heed to it. He kneeled down to whisper, “Goodbye to you! From now on, you can rest all you want.”
Kim Joon-Hwi looked deadly with the wings on his back. The veins on his body had popped up within his skin. His eyes were red and they glowed when he shouted or showed any excitement. The wind he created by flapping his wings can overthrow Jimin’s old hut in a second.
“Father?” Seokjin whispered in disbelief.
“Everyone, grab your weapons!” Linha shouted her instructions at others. Then, they all were busy getting hold onto a weapon they could find.
“Fools!” Kim Joon-Hwi screamed, “I am inevitable now. Accept me as your new God if you don’t wish to die.”
Seokjin tried to step forward to speak to him. But Yoongi held him back and said, “Not now! He’s more dangerous than ever before.”
“But…” Seokjin was interrupted by a sudden explosion. An Army had thrown a bomb at the monster. But he soon came out of the smoke, laughing gigantically, proving his statement earlier.
The ARMY knew that it was too late. There was no way they could win against this monster. But they were not going to give up. They would rather die fighting. And with that mindset, they jumped.
No explosion, bullets or arrows could penetrate his skin. On the other hand, the ARMYs and the supernaturals were badly hurt. Some of them were already dead. Seokjin looked around the miseries. His heart clenched inside when he noticed one of his friend taking a flight to fight his monstrous father face to face.
“Namjoon!” Seokjin called to stop him.
“Why don’t you fight someone your equal, instead?” Namjoon yelled at Kim Joon-Hwi, who was pointing at a satyr with a gun on his hand.
He looked back at Namjoon and snarled at him, “Did you just compared me with yourself, you pathetic devil?”
“Why?” Namjoon smirked, “Are you scared?”
Without a delay, Kim Joon-Hwi launched himself on him and they flew away from the sight of the rest.
“No!” Seokjin screamed, “Namjoon, please come back.”
But they were nowhere to be seen. All around, the only sounds were of the burning and wailing of the injured. Everyone got busy helping out the wounded. Some of them were even grateful that the monster had spared them some time. Some were mourning for the death of their closed ones.
Hoseok collected the ‘Bulletproof’ boys from the crowd one by one and made sure none of them were hurt. They reached Seokjin last. Taehyung called, “Thank God, you’re here.”
“Where’s Namjoon?” Jimin asked. But Seokjin didn’t answer. Jungkook and Taehyung gasped as they realized Namjoon was the one who had driven away that monster.
Suddenly, Jimin sat on the ground. All of their attentions shot to him. “I think… I see something.” He said. He shut his eyes closed tightly, his brows furrowed.
Yoongi went closer to sit beside him, “Is it a vision?”
Jimin nodded violently and said, “He’s dead. Kim Joon-Hwi’s dead. And…” He stopped for a while. He looked as if he were concentrating on a scene with his eyes closed.
“Who killed him?” Yoongi asked. Everyone paid more attention.
“I can see wings.”
“An angel?” Yoongi asked in disbelief, glancing at Hoseok for a while.
Jimin opened his eyes abruptly and gasped, “Namjoon.” He declared, “Namjoon’s the angel who was supposed to bring the demise of the OHA.”
Namjoon stood at the entrance door, Hoseok’s formal wings hanging on his hands. He looked exhausted, which was rarely visible on his face. Jungkook ran to hug him without a delay.
Namjoon spoke to the others after Jungkook released him, “Kim Joon-Hwi’s dead. We have nothing to fear anymore.”
Everyone cheered and shouted in excitement. Some of them patted Namjoon on his back and thanked him. After minutes of celebrating the good news, everyone went back to their business; fixing the aftermath of the short but terrible battle.
The dawn had broken. Seokjin sat at the edge of the lake and gazed at the rising sun. Namjoon came to sit beside him. Seokjin glanced at him and looked back at the sun again. He said, “You’re the true hero. You’ve saved everyone.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Namjoon said in a low voice.
Seokjin let out a fake laugh and said, “Don’t apologize. You did the right thing. If I had done it earlier, Hoseok still would have his wings. Not to mention how many people could have been saved.”
“Do you want to know what happened exactly?” Namjoon hesitantly asked.
“Surprisingly, yes!” Seokjin turned to face him, “I’m still stupid enough to care to know how my father died.”
Namjoon nodded understandingly and said, “I gave him a chance to save himself, you know, for your sake. But he said, he would rather die than live with the pity of a devil.” Namjoon let out a painful laughter.
A tear escaped Seokjin’s eyes as he spoke, “He would definitely choose his pride over me. And I’m not even surprised. After all, it wasn’t the first time.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t have the happily ever after with your family.” Namjoon said.
The other ‘Bulletproof’ boys joined the couple. They sat down quietly and enjoyed the sun rise. At a point, Taehyung asked Seokjin, “Are you going back to your mother now?”
Seokjin didn’t reply. Instead, he asked Hoseok, “Why aren’t you going back to the heaven?”
Hoseok shrugged and said, “There’s nothing to go back to. I’ve already found my true family here on earth.” He rested his head on Yoongi’s shoulder.
Seokjin looked back at Taehyung and smiled. “Exactly.” He whispered, which brought out the best box smile on Taehyung’s face.
“I want to say something.” Jungkook mumbled, “I don’t know if I can ever say this if not today.”
Everyone looked up at him as he slowly rose up to stand. He continued with a heavy voice, “As far as I can remember, I was just a vampire with thirst for blood only. I didn’t have a family or even friends. The only thing I cared about was surviving. I never knew how much I was missing out on life until… Until I met Jimin and Taehyung. They took me in as their own. Then, you guys showed up. I learned what it is to actually live and not just survive. I am eternally grateful to you for that.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I… I love you, guys.”
They looked at him in admiration. They had never heard Jungkook opening up about his feelings to them at any time throughout their times together. Hearing him speaking such words melted their hearts.
Jimin went straight to hug him, “I’m glad I’ve found you that night.” Taehyung joined from behind. Hoseok stood up and said, “Guys, my eyes are sweating. Help!” before going for the hug too. Yoongi tailed him from behind as well. Namjoon gestured Seokjin to join the group hug. Seokjin smiled and did as he was asked to.
Finally, it was Namjoon to join them last. As he did, he slowly spread out his huge black wings to shelter the members on the inside.
Note: Thank you to everyone for sticking with me till the end. Thank you for taking your precious time to read my story. Thank you for all the little feedbacks you had left. It means a lot to me. By the way, it was my first proper series. I finished it in a hurry due to an upcoming exam. And I am a little disappointed coz it didn’t come out as I’ve expected. But I hope to improve my writings in the future.
My Masterlist
Tag List: @bts-ruu,
#bts#bts ff#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#kim namjoon ff#kim seokjin ff#min yoongi ff#jung hoseok ff#park jimin ff#kim taehyung ff#Jeon Jungkook ff#bts ot7#ot7#ot7 ff#ot7 fanfic#bts imagine#ot7 imagine#vampire jungkook#werewolf taehyung#gumiho jimin#wizard yoongi#angel hoseok#devil namjoon#demigod seokjin#ot7 series#ot7 drabble
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𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 compared to what had been experienced in new mexico, during juno’s adolescence. it was dreadful, to say the least. sweat clinging onto the nape of your neck and running down the slope of your spine; everlasting heat that even the shade of a lemon tree could not spare you from. this, is why she preferred quantico and rarely went back home ( wherever that truly was ). more importantly, this is why she stays.
a primary colored, plastic ball drifting across the surface of the pool, now rippling with the cool hues of sunset. a ball which had been tossed around for nearly two hours, over an invisible line dictated by derek morgan. two hours of fierce competition, so convincing she found herself awaiting the screech of a whistle. instead, it was penelope’s cheers, seemingly rooting for both teams. two teams, though one had to be favored by the tech wizard for more than one obvious reason. surprisingly, derek, juno, and emily had lost—though it was a close call. those last few rounds were truly nail biting and heart racing, but by being sharp and perceptive, juno would realize there was more than jj’s skillful serve keeping her team afloat ( and of course, rossi’s snide, clever comments seeming to egg derek on ).
the bright, afternoon sun that had gleamed over their heads with the orchestra of cicadas had died down. orange fire dipping beneath the horizon and ushering deep blues overhead; the chirping of crickets began and juno had an inkling there’d be more than just pizza to count on when derek and penelope returned. oh, you could always count on david rossi, too. surely he wasn’t third wheeling them just for fun, he had exquisite taste in fine wine. and so, with emily and jj taking a quick bathroom break, there was all but the slosh of chlorine water. the small gust of wind overhead. doctor reid, having seemed so out of his element three hours ago—only for juno to eventually catch onto his antics.
for whatever reason he seems to be close to reaching the ledge, about to climb up metal steps before she’s snatched him by his shoulders. like predator surprising prey. “ ah, ” droplets trickling down her chin, arms persuading him back into the deeper end of the pool. “ where do you think you’re going? ” an air of mischief filling whatever inch of space left between the two. juno lingers, patiently until he’s facing her.
“ you’re just full of surprises. aren’t you, @violenthunt? ” is he still doctor reid when they’re outside of work? completely stripped of their badges, pinstriped shirts, coats, and the like? either way, it’s funny to think about. how they can balance the two, as if they have two lives and personas. one for work, one for reality. lately, though, it seems like things have begun to blend with . . . whatever had transpired between them recently. “ you probably think derek didn’t notice you hustling him, did you? you really think no one would notice . . . ” and then, an amused smile while fingers are carefully perched on his neck. “ vegas teach you how to play dirty, or have you always been this way? ”
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Lets start simple. Inventory. What other assets do you have to kill a super-wizard with?
Kaila was yelling at Luka, which he was used to. She always complained when there was work. He tuned her out to focus on the mission. Kaila, always smug about her own magical talents, tended to over-state the dangers of wizards, but this was still going to be far more challenging than any hit they’d ever done.
It would help if they had better gear and equipment. He only really had one gun, a Whitefeather 53 rifle that was good for sniping but only shot bullets. Kaila’s magic, like Kaila herself, was flashy and confusing and usually useless. She could dazzle, and force people out of cover sometimes, but nothing she could do magically was worth mentioning against a full-bore wizard. Her Cyberkatana didn’t do it’s previous owner any good, and neither of them really knew how to use it anyway. Luka had tried cutting watermelons with it and all it did was set him up with a trial account on Date/Stay Night, and neither the app nor the blade had gotten him any melons. Really his rifle was the only thing he could count on.
Well, that and time. The advance was enough to live off for the mission and have a little left over for new equipment. Luka tried to figure out what equipment would be useful against a wizard. Bombs, maybe? Kill the wizard in one attack before he could fireball or teleport or some other bullshit.
“He’s going to turn our souls inside-out”, said Kaila. Luka didn’t even know what that meant, so he ignored it. They could also hire some help. A professional would want a full share of the bounty, but they could maybe find a moron. Most people underrated morons, but they could be a powerful weapon used properly, and they usually got themselves killed before payroll. Maybe you could strap a bomb to a moron? Hm. That’d be a difficult sell, and a little ethically dubious. Maybe they could strap a bomb to a dog?
“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” said Kaila. It was a fair accusation. Luka turned to her and smiled his most assuring smile. “Have a little faith. Unus gradus, deinde ad astra”
Jesus Christ he was doing Latin. This was worse than she thought. Kaila buried her face in her hands, but her argument was cut off by the arrival of the Silver Line SuperTransit Hovertrolley, more colloquially known as the bus. When the big transit upgrade happened, all the budget was spent up in Watertown, and all that was left for Branson was the new signs. The busses down here didn't even hover, and were notorious for randomly catching fire, which to be fair was as much the mages' fault as it was the city's.
Kaila grabbed one of the few empty seats, put her backpack on the seat next to her, and her feet up on the seat in front of her. She knew Luka was going to stand either way, but was important to demonstrate petty rebellion here.
"Skcsshzshhxokcshhsh", said the bus intercom. Several passengers groaned at the news. An ad came on the screens above the seats, but immediately crashed before anyone could even tell what it was an ad for. Wasted money for the corporation. Kaila was a little jealous she wasn’t as punk anti-capitalist as underfunded mass transit adware, and distracted herself from her thoughts by casting little lightning bolts back and forth between her hands. Magic was illegal on public transit, but cops were too rich to ride a bus, so they were the safest place to practice. She tried to get the little bolt to go around her finger, but she just zapped the tip. Ow. Again. Ow. Again. Focus.
Kaila wasn’t really a mage, she couldn’t pass the exams, but her magic was still the only tool they had. Luka’s rifle, like Luka himself, was reliable but one-dimensional. He couldn’t shoot someone hiding behind cover. It was usually up to Kaila to smoke them out. Simple grade-school hexes like bugs and spiders worked surprisingly well at scaring dumb adrenaline-pumped gangsters into walking in front of Luka’s gun, but a real wizard wasn’t going to fall for cheap mind tricks like that. She had a few months to study on spells, find the right trick to let her get within cyberkatana distance. Easier said than done.
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🩵🐍 Sanguinis et Omnium Fractorum🐍🩵
Chapter 2- Of Irritation and Curiosity
🐍🩵🐍🩵🐍🩵🐍🩵🐍🩵🐍🩵🐍🩵🐍🩵🐍
Pairings- Sebastian Sallow x Female OC
Rating- This story is rated overall 🔞 (Ch2 is SFW)
Featuring-Sebastian being a brat and Clara being irritated with him. Also, wizard texting.
The full Chapter can be found below the cut (2.2k words)
Ongoing Fic
Chapters 1-5 are available on AO3 and Wattpad
Thursday, 1st September, 1892
The dormitory door flew open before Clara could trail her thoughts to a response within the ink. The crash of wood against stone ricocheted between the walls before slamming against her ears, and she jumped so violently that her knee caught painfully against the edge of the rickety table. The inkwell wobbled with the collision. Dangerously close to emptying its contents over the page.
What would happen if she spilled ink all over the charmed parchment?
Clara decided she'd rather not test it.
"Oi! Elmore! There's a party downstairs and I am not wasting Seventh year with you sitting up here being all morose."
Imelda Rayes had a voice like brass and a personality just as brazen. An amalgamation of barbed edges and unapologetic sharp corners that blatantly refused to mold herself to fit the role society had carved for her.
Though, Clara thought, the brunette's rough edges and unapologetic brashness were a surprisingly welcome contrast to the thinly disguised pity that etched near permanent lines over the face of the blonde hovering a step behind her.
Grace's face pinched, eyes darting between Clara and the still-undrunk tea. Pushed shamelessly out of the way and forgotten. Was she supposed to feel badly for not drinking it? She'd not asked for the tea. Perhaps Grace was expecting gratitude for the tea Clara didn't want. Irritation prickled the corners of her eyes and Clara forced her gaze back to the glowering brunette before she said something Grace didn't deserve.
Imelda bludgered on. " Just because your boyfriend decided not to—"
" Sallow is not my boyfriend!" Irritation catapulted the words before rationality could examine the phrase with any sense of calm.
Clara realized her mistake too late and Imelda raised incredulous eyebrows.
"Imelda, maybe we should just let her be. I don't think she wants–"
The taller brunette rounded the blonde. " I don't care what she wants. If I have to deal with having my best Beater gone for another Quidditch Season, then Elmore can deal with not having Sallow around for another year too. She will get off her ass, come down to the party, and enjoy herself. "
The emphasis placed on 'enjoy' felt more of a threat than an invitation and Clara exhaled through her nose, rolling her tongue along the inside of her mouth. Her stubborn firmly planted itself in the glower between her brows.
The brazen fire flickered marginally softer behind her hickory-brown irises. " I'm not taking 'no' for an answer, Elmore. You know it will be good for you."
She groaned and launched an indignant pillow toward the brunette's face. Much to Clara's frustration, Imelda caught it easily and tilted her head to the side, looking mildly unimpressed. Stubbornly refusing to give credit to the traitorous corner of her mind notioning that Imelda might be right, Clara pocketed the Protean Charmed parchment and followed her roommates from the dorm.
*/*/*/*/*/
The common room smelled distinctly of Firewhiskey, swirled with a distorted cacophony of inebriated slurs, and thrummed with the unmistakable beat of pending regret.
What had started as an impromptu gathering between a few 6th and 7th years of various houses, seemed to have devolved into something far more unrestrained than would be wise on the night before classes resumed.
A dense crowd rocked and gyrated to a pulsating beat below an ornate chandelier at the center of the darkened room. In a far corner, a game of Truth or Dare had a 6th year whom Clara didn't know dancing lewdly on top of a table to raucous whoops and cheers. Meanwhile, a somewhat quieter group of students lounged in a circle of cushioned armchairs as Garreth Weasly passed out tiny bottles of a glittering purple liquid beneath a smoky haze.
Clara abandoned the goblet of questionable liquid— shoved into her hand by a sweating, red-faced, Hufflepuff boy— and snatched two unopened bottles of honey-colored Butterbeer from a nearby table. Clutching both under one arm, she pushed her way through the mass of students to the three towering windows at the back of the room, where she could just make out the pale blond leaning elegantly against the glass.
The distinguished quality of Ominis Gaunt extended to nearly every facet of his being. From the sharp angles of his face to the perfectly quaffed blond hair and the elegantly tailored and perfectly pressed school uniform. He may have been more Ominis than Gaunt, but the aristocrat in him had been schooled meticulously. Raised with an expectation of class and perfection which extended almost unconsciously to the manner in which he now carried himself.
Ominis's head tilted a fraction at the sound of her footsteps and he offered the softest twitch of a smile. It did little to soften the furrow of his brow or the subtle tightness of his jaw, and her gaze slid from his face to the crisp black envelope, gripped to the point of bending between his slender fingers.
Curiosity curled at the tip of her tongue and nudged her hand against his arm. "Is everything alright?"
Only the brief flare of his nostrils and the slightest twist of a grimace furthered to distorted his usually impassive features. The soft illumination of the window shimmered over the embossed emerald of the Gaunt Crest and Ominis shoved the now disfigured envelope into his robes. "It's fine. Nothing I am particularly inclined to acknowledge at the moment."
Venom tinged the corners of his syllables and she swallowed curiosity before it could, once again, escape the cage of her teeth. Letters from ' The Gaunts' had a nasty habit of sending the blond into an irritable mood. Judging by the uncustomary roughness with which he'd handled the envelope, their latest correspondence was even less welcome than usual.
Instead, Clara pushed one of her two Butterbeers into Ominis' hand and slumped unceremoniously to the ground to rest her back against the cool glass of the window. "Imelda kicked me out of our dorm."
Ominis followed suit, albeit with much less slouching, and pulled off the cap of his drink. "Hmm, yes. I heard you were being morose."
"I was not morose. I just–"
"Had hoped he might come back this year?"
Clara sighed and dropped her head backward against the glass with a little thump. It was enough, and Ominis said nothing.
She'd told him enough of Fifth year to know Sebastian's absence was not the only spektor that haunted the shadowed corners of her mind. To know of the countless faces that swam behind her eyelids and the blood that coated her palms. Worked its way between the creases of her fingers and refused to be scrubbed away.
They had excused it as self-defense, and though she'd not corrected anyone, the words did little to describe the complexity of her interactions. Lives had been stolen in more fashion than one; in the spaces between the glaring white of Ancient Magic and the scarlet she'd painted over the Highlands, more than one Unforgivable had found its way from the tip of her wand.
Sebastian had not been the only one to bathe the walls in green. He'd done it exactly once, and Clara had stopped counting even before she entered the Repository.
If she still had a soul, she was certain it had shattered beyond repair. Irreparably fractured with each life she'd ripped from existence.
Ominis's cool fingers slid around hers and squeezed in the silence that stretched between them. She knew his heart beat a rhythm that wasn't hers, just as her own matched another's, but there was a comfort in his touch. Bound between the threat of Anne's curse and Sebastian's disappearance they'd found a silent reassurance and understanding in the space between their fingers.
He asked her nothing more of what troubled her, just as she asked him nothing more of the letter crushed between shaking fingers and shoved into his pocket because sometimes thoughts were too complex and any words found felt inadequate.
They sat there, sipping their drinks on the floor of the alcove, for a long while. Eventually, the silence of too many memories turned to conversation about class schedules and summer homework and predictions on Weasley's next disastrous concoction. Anything inconsequential. Until Clara's mind quieted somewhat amid the distraction of trivial conversation and listening to the din of chatter mingle with the thrumming pulse of music.
*/*/*/*/*/
The common room had nearly emptied by the time Ominis bid her goodnight. Upon watching Grace and Imelda climb the stairs to their dormitory, Clara gave up entirely on getting to bed before either of her roommates.
In the near silence of the empty common room, her muddled thoughts trailed back to the parchment still bearing Sebastian's last message. Almost unconsciously, her fingers found the rough edges where it hid in the space of her pocket. As though in response, the parchment shivered against the pads of her fingers.
She'd still not told Ominis.
He and Sebastian had been closer than friends. Brothers in all but blood.
Guilt collided with hesitation and wove tangled strands around her knuckles until hesitation snapped the strands of guilt and held her fingers motionless against the page.
Curiosity's eager form slipped past guilt and clawed its way over hesitation to the forefront of her thoughts. Before hesitation could retaliate and restrain her fingers again; she snatched an abandoned quill from a nearby table, pulled the parchment from her pocket, and settled back on the floor of the alcove.
Aching fingers smoothed the rough edges against the floor. Below his first message the freckled boy's near indecipherable scrawl continued.
.:Hello, Sweetheart.
I see you didn't set fire to the letter. I'm impressed, Elmore. Though I must say, I was beginning to worry a bit::.
---Don't tempt me, Sallow. I'm still holding the option in reserve.---
She could almost hear his unapologetic laughter. See the way his grin would widen until it crinkled his eyes and rippled the constellation of freckles across his cheeks. The tip of her quill kissed the fibers of the page and she continued.
---Where are you?
Where the fuck are you?---
.::I can't go around telling you all my secrets now, can I? That would defeat the purpose of my anti-tracking spell.::.
Clara glared at the parchment as though he might actually see her scowl. Part of her hoped he could. Perhaps she ought to gesture rudely at the parchment as well, though she doubted it would've done much more than make him laugh.
She'd known better than to truly expect he'd give himself up that easily. That was Sebastian. He was infuriatingly stubborn, even in writing. Clara made a face and dropped her head against the parchment. It rippled against her forehead and more words scrawled below the first.
.::I can tell you're glaring, Darling. Your nose is doing that little scrunchy thing, isn't it?::.
---My nose is not scrunching, Sebastian!---
A lie.
.::You do know you're a horrible liar, right?::
She shot another glare to the parchment for good measure.
---Can't you just tell me where you are?---
The words hovered there, unchanging, for a long time. Washed, once again, with the ghostly glow of pale green from the lake beyond the glass as time drug its tired feet and Clara all but gave up on a response.
.::I'm sorry, Ara...I can't........ Not.....not yet. Soon, hopefully.::.
Clara sighed as irritation faltered to concern and dripped to the onyx she scrawled across the parchment.
--- Will you at least tell me if you're okay?.... Safe?---
.::Yeah, everything's fine......good.....great, actually
Are you?::.
---Good...yeah... fine.---
Another lie and she wondered if the words would ever be more than a well-rehearsed script to appease those who never truly wanted a response. Was the mask of her own answer as thin and cracked as Sebastian's had been?
Clara didn't press him further, nor did he press her, and the moments elongated. Breaths stretched between seconds to tug at the feet of minutes before the page shivered again and the ink shifted to match Sebastian's writing.
.::Hey, Ara?::.
---Yeah, Bastain?--
.::I'm glad you wrote. I've really......
It was good to hear from you.::.
*/*/*/*/*/
When Clara finally crawled to the cushion of her emerald cocoon, sleep proved elusive. Teased the edges of her consciousness only to flutter away moments before she could take hold. When she finally trapped it behind her eyelids she found, once again, that sleep and rest were not synonymous. A swirl of disfigured images shattered into fragments and pieced together in a conglomeration of sound and color and stained with fear:
Pale fingers dripped garnet against trembling blades of grass.
A flash of glistening hazel.
Swirls of emerald haze and terror wove ice through veins below puppeted digits.
Golden light speckled through the rustling leaves of a hawthorn.
The crunch of bone and crimson splattered against worn wooden floorboards.
Choked screams. Terrified and pleading.
Bright white and a darkness that crushed against her ribs, squeezed and she couldn't draw breath.
"It's okay, Sweetheart."
Clara woke with a start. Smashed sweating palms to her lips and dug crescents in the flesh of her cheeks to stifle the scream that ripped from her throat and slammed against the back of her teeth.
#hogwarts legacy#sebastian sallow#hogwarts legacy sebastian#ominis gaunt#hogwarts legacy sebastian sallow#avada kedavra#anne sallow#angst#hogwarts legacy fanfiction#hogwarts legacy fandom#sebastian sallow hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fanfic#sebastian sallow x oc#I just want someone to read it!!#Sebastian lives in my brain#i just love them so much
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can I ask why in a Wizard Abroad, Nita's irish name is Shonaiula ni Cealoidhean? I understand Aoine ni Cealoidhean for aunt Annie, but what's the derivation for Shonaiula? phonetically it doesn't seem similar to Nita or Juanita. (of course, Annie and Aoine don't, either...)
Yeah, I could see where it would be confusing, as they don't look close. ...But this is Irish we’re talking about. :)
Nita is of course short for Juanita, and Juanita is a diminutive-inflected variant of Juana, which is the female-gendered version of Juan, the Spanish version of John. So Nita's Irish-version name is derived forwards from Séan, which is the Irish version of John.
One of numerous “Séan” variants (though, admittedly, surprisingly few feminine-gendered ones) is a very old formation for a girl’s name: Sionnuala. Probably its considerable age contributes to its rarity these days. (The “-nuala” suffix has itself become something of a diminutive form for another (better known and still-seen) name, Fionnuala [who was one of the Children of Lír: the word means “fair-” or “pale-shouldered”]. ...But as a diminutive, it doesn’t work as such. The conventional Irish language diminutive suffix is -ín, which has been extensively adopted into Anglicized Irish words: colleen, boreen, smithereen*.)
In any case, when I went looking for Irish-language versions of Juanita—ideally, variations of a diminutive-inflected version of Séan—I came up annoyingly empty. I could have coined something, but I didn’t want to. I wanted an verifiable, extremely old Irish formation that one might reasonably expect one of the local Gentry to use. I kept coming back to Sionnuala, but the derivation (or the unclarity about it) kept bothering me.
Somewhere along the line, though, while I was doing research up at the Trinity College library, I came across one linguistic scholar’s suggestion for the construction of the name that gave me just what I needed. (And don’t ask me for a cite at this end of time. I just made a note of the potential explanation, said to myself “Thank GOD now I can get on with things!...”, and moved on.)
As you may already know, Ireland is where the Latin language was preserved by Irish monks during the post-Roman Empire period during which Latin fell out of European usage. (And they later re-introduced it to the Continent, which is why we even know about Latin at all.) As a result of having been made into a sort of linguistic safe haven, Irish has incorporated a truly astonishing number of Latin words. For example, when you’re in some bars or restaurants here and you head for the (gender-labeled) restrooms, you may find them labeled FÍR and MNA, and not have the slightest idea which door to use. But if you know any Latin at all, you’ll have a hint: because “fír” is an altered version of Latin vir, “man”, and “mna” is an abbreviation of Latin fem(i)na, “woman.”
The scholar in whose work this discussion came up suggested that it was possible that the diminutive hooked onto that variant of Séan was, rather than the Irish one, a Latin one: the -ola or -ula diminutive that one finds hooked onto all kinds of words, and which has seeped even into English (in weird usages like “pianola” and so forth). The respelling of “Séan” as “Sion-” could also have been an attempt at Latinizing the name. (Or an additional alteration via Welsh, which has Sîan.)
I looked at that and thought, “...okay, yeah! I’ll buy that for a dollar.” And did. (...And this explanation also makes the translation/structure of Fionnuala seem a little more likely—to me anyway. I mean, who names their kid after what their shoulder looks like?...)
Only one thing remained to take care of: making the name a little tiny bit easier for the reader to handle. Fortunately Irish orthography is a dumpster fire*** at the best of times, and has shifted a double handful of times just in the last couple of centuries. (You haven’t lived until you’ve fetched up at a crossroads over here and found the same town or village name spelled three different ways on three different generations of signage.) So changing a letter or two for the sake of euphony isn’t going to cause most scholars to cut up cranky: they’ll have seen lots worse.** As has been accepted as permissible in other parts of the language, I tweaked the consonants just a little and swapped the initial vowel for an “h”, just to give the non-Irish readership a hint about how to pronounce the word in their heads. And then I stepped the hell away from the issue and got busy with other problems.
So now you know. :)
(Also, just in passing: one other note here, since we’re talking names—not on the Irish but on the [kinda] English side: There’s a misapprehension that crops up from time to time regarding the name Juanita, which (applied to our protagonist) has caused some people to think that both she and Kit are Hispanic. ...What these people are missing is that in the 1950s, the name “Juanita” had a period of being a fairly popular name given to girl babies whether they were of Latinx descent or not. It’s also the name of a good friend of mine with whom I worked as a nurse, back in the day... and when I got around to writing SYWTBAW, I named Nita for my friend. So now everybody knows.) :)
Anyway: HTH!
*Why do we never see “smithereens” in the singular? A question for another day...
**Cf. the Anglicization of the name of the biggest in-city park in Europe. Its Irish name is Fionnuisce: bright/clear + water, for the springs and fountains that were there. This got turned unceremoniously into “Phoenix.” (eyeroll) Bloody colonizers...
***”And I mean that in a very caring way.” :))))
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Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century
AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.
Fics Masterlist
Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)
Summary:
“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”
Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing:
1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do."
2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?"
3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.
without further ado:
It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.
And what a proposal it was.
Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.
While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.
To each their own and let’s move on.
The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.
So that was how the proposal went.
Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.
Perfect.
As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.
No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.
She needed a date.
She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.
“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.
“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.
“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”
Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.
“Actually I do.”
“Pardon?”
“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”
“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?
“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.
“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”
“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”
“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”
“Green eyes with daddy issues.”
“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.
“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”
“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.
“Adrien.”
“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”
“Felix.”
“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”
“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”
Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”
“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”
“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”
“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.
What could go wrong?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.
“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”
“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”
“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”
“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”
“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”
“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”
“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”
“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”
“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”
“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”
“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”
The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.
‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.
“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.
“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.
“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.
“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”
“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”
“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”
“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.
Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.
A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.
“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.
“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”
“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”
“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.
“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”
“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”
“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”
“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.
The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.
“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”
“A what?”
“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”
“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”
He scoffs before answering. Bitch.
“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”
“...And you are?”
“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.
A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.
“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.
“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.
She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.
The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.
The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.
Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.
“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.
“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.
A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.
“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?
“So.”
“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”
“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”
“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”
“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”
“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”
“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”
The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.
As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.
You were right, I do have a type :(
#maribat#daminette#maridami#mgi trope tussle#mgi- server event#enemies to lovers#speedrun#i#like a dumbass challenged myself to use three prompts and i delivered#i hope#i hope yall enjoy#tumblr do me a solid#dont hide my posts#please#im begging#ml x dc#mlb x dc#tumblr please stop hiding my posts#no beta this is tussle
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* & HOT HOT POTATOES, GETTEM WHILE THEY’RE HOT — MORE TEST MUSES !
this is mutuals only.
verse . banshee . vanessa k.irby . ??? yo . cis female . orphaned from a early age, taken by some old church, was seen as cursed the first time she predicted death in house with her death song, chained and locked away with no intentions of being freed, ‘if it’s a villain they want.. then it’s a villain they get’ trick to run away, wanders in search of entertainment, known to bother griffin crone and work with chinmae on occasion.
lewis sharpe . necromancer . richard a.rmitage . 40 - 50 yo . cis male . hails from a renown convenient primarily known for their influence over earth & healing magic, got greedy when he got his grubby hands on some particularly tasty lore of barghests and the wild hunt, not only managed to participate ( like an idiot ) but also survived and outwitted their ploys, continued to participate until his own ego tangled him with a particularly nasty sorcerer, is now cursed to appear as beastly as his soul is.
hunter turned werewolf . 30ish yo. cis male . from a big family of hunters, got married young, had a child and loved his wife to bits, both of their families took on a pack that outwitted them, some were purposely changed as punishment while the rest were killed, he struggled alone until caught by another tag tram of hunters, self preservation won out in the end and he ran away with too much blood on his hands.
jin yunseo . pigeon shifter . kwak d.ong yeon . 25 - 30 yo . cis male. no one knows why he does it, but yunseo takes it upon himself to enact as a messenger for the dead. he finds the spirits wanted audience and relays their last message ( in the deceased’s own voice ) before delivering them in peace. works closely with chinmae and verse alike. very loud with his clothing, very retro and messy ( shoes are almost always untied, shirts unbuttoned, jackets unzipped ). he doesn’t really care about how the living feel in regards to the dead’s message. he’s just there to give the spirits peace. not the other way around.
gargoyle . 30 - 50 yo . gender undecided . quite the hot topic for hunters to capture, take a piece of a gargoyle when in slumber as stone and they’ll be bound to do your bidding until the piece is returned ( that does not mean they’ll roll over to every wish without some amount of hatred ), so far they’ve managed to escape such a fate and continues to thwart any that try, also very knowledgeable about random things and runs a horror podcast.
sorcerer ( hydromancer ) . 30 - 40 yo . cis male . rootin’ tootin’ goth livestock haulin’ farmer, got a knack for everything water, personable and innovative and welcoming of any stray souls that wind up on his hard earned plot of land
space chef . 30ish yo . gender undecided . loud and sunny dude that’s a part of an intrepid crew, the suave designated chef, everything they make looks `redacted` but always taste horrendously delicious ( make it make sense? ), background details are a mystery and they’re all too keen to keep things that way
wang hoseok . wizard ( aeromancer ) . lee do h.yun . 27 - 30 yo . gender undecided . proud line of x,y,z wizards, grew into terrifying control over air with quite a cankerous personality while their younger sibling is surprisingly placid and steady with abilities over fire ( no, the swap of personalities isn’t lost on them ), both of which are barely on speaking terms with their parents, very much a show of generational trauma, probably has a dog
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Nalu for 48 👀✨ (or 50)
Touch Prompt:
50: Putting hand over the others mouth to shut them up.
Special thanks to @phoenix-before-the-flame for giving me the idea.
---
"Cool, cool! Now Lucy, a question from our readers! Or should I say, your readers?" Jason was surprisingly calmer compared to past interviews. His general enthusiasm for Fairy Tail and all things 'cool' clung to him like stickers, but his smile and curiosity shown through at a tempered volume.
This didn't surprise Lucy. Not after the time she spent working under him. There was a professional kinship between them now and she appreciated the lowered voice. Folding her hands together, she waited patiently for his question, fully aware the rest of the guild was listening in from all corners in the hall. Their curiosity knew no bounds.
Especially Natsu, who made no attempt to hide his eavesdropping. He was shameless. As was expected.
A thrill ran up Lucy's spine. This was her first interview since she'd won that award for her book. what sort of question was Jason about to throw at her? "Lay it on me."
Was it a question about her writing style? How she managed it in between jobs? Or perhaps her brilliant execution of action and emotions? Why was Jason taking so long to ask it? His grin made her wonder if she was about to regret this line of questions.
"Many of them, including myself, suspect you gained much of your inspiration for the Adventure's of Iris during your own adventures. Especially towards the male love interest... his reckless attitude seemed very familiar-"
Oh no... Lucy felt the color drain from her face. Oh no, no no, this was NOT the question she needed to answer right now. She wasn't even PREPARED to answer it. And damnit, she could feel Natsu smirking from his table! Please don't ask me if it was based off Natsu, please don't ask me if it was based off Natsu, Please don't-
"What they want to know," Jason continued, unaware of Lucy's inward rambling, "Is if any of the scenes involving him were based off of real life moments with your own team members? Like that one with the hoard of fire wizards?"
It was as if angels began to sing Lucy's salvation. This wasn't a line of questioning she'd regret answering. Perfect! Casting a smug grin back towards Natsu, who blinked in reply, she turned back to Jason with the wiles of a woman ready to spill a lot of information. A lot of embarrassing information, that is.
"Oh, you bet!" She exclaimed, positively giddy. "Natsu can be a genius at times when fighting, but he's also prone to the most insane actions too. While I tried to not make the fights exactly the same, that hoard of fire magician's is based off one of my silliest memories when working with him!"
The ears of every member in the guild grew three sizes that day. the world could imagine them all stretching their necks to catch what was coming next. Even Jason leaned foreword, almost conspiratorially, waiting for the juicy details.
"Go on," Jason prompted.
And so she did.
"Well, the job was supposed to be easy, you know?" Lucy began, spinning the tale from memory as she held back giggled. "A group of Fire Mages were causing trouble, and being a Fire Dragonslayer, Natsu could handle that easy. Only, I guess no one really considered what could happen if a Slayer eats too much of his element too quickly while laughing at the same time."
"How can he laugh while-" Jason began asking, but Lucy's answering shrug silenced him and he motioned for her to continue, unaware of Natsu's chair suddenly sliding back as he stood up, facing Lucy with wide eyes.
"It's a mystery to everyone, but him and Happy," Lucy said, continuing her story, "See, we took them all out, except one, and that one had already prepared a massive fire spell to throw at us. Natsu geared up to swallow and eat that fire too when he suddenly started-" She burst into small giggles here, shoulders shaking.
Jason was on the edge of his seat, "Yes? Starting to what?"
"CHOKING!" She gasped out, "somehow he got too excited and the fire went down the wrong pipe and he just started hacking and coughing and rolling everywhere. Even the fire mage looked worried! Taurus and I took care of it after that, but he was stamping his foot on the ground and-"
Lucy never finished her sentence, but it was already too late. The damage was done. Jason was covering his eyes as he laughed, the guild fell to a loud, simultaneous chortle and Natsu...
Natsu had his hand firmly pressed to Lucy's mouth, face red and lips pursed together in the largest pout.
"Lucyyyy! I thought we agreed we'd keep that a SECRET!"
Oops.
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When a Dragon Purrs
Something I wrote for Natsu Day and because Lucy's birthday was yesterday.
Available on FF.Net and AO3.
It was just another typical day for Lucy Heartfilia. She managed to pay her rent for the month and had a little extra saved, so today, she just thought she could take it easy and write some of her novel... at least, that was the plan. However, when she came back home, who else was there to greet her but the one and only Natsu Dragneel, who pretty much made himself at home, anyway.
Even though she was used to him barging in like this, she still wished that he could have at least let her know in advance that he was coming over. Knowing that he wasn't going to leave until he actually felt like it, Lucy resigned to let him stay as long as he didn't make a big mess. Since she wasn't going to be able to write her novel with Natsu distracting her, she decided to put that off for now and just read a book, instead.
"Why do you always have to be so boring?" asked Natsu, causing the blonde to side-eye the Fire Dragon Slayer from her side of the couch before she went back to reading. Natsu pouted, not liking the idea that a book was getting more attention than he was, right now. What was so great about some crummy old book, anyway? He was way more fun, he figured.
Maybe the Celestial Spirit Wizard needed a little reminder.
With a grunt, Natsu suddenly crawled up to Lucy and began to worm his way on top of her, causing her to gasp as she suddenly found her view of the book getting obstructed by a mop of spiky pink hair.
"N-Natsu! Stop!" she cried. "Get off!"
"Nope," Natsu replied as he practically flopped right on top of her, settling his head on top of her bosom, causing her cheeks to flush pink as he settled down with a sigh. "I'm stayin' riiiiight here."
Now it was Lucy's turn to pout. She couldn't believe how childish he could be, sometimes. She swore she could never have a moment's peace with him whenever he was around... but then, again, ever since she joined up with Fairy Tail, a moment's peace was a rare thing indeed. At least Gray wasn't here to pick a fight with Natsu. Then she'd really never hear the end of it.
She had to admit, though, Natsu was pretty heavy... not to mention warm, even for the average man. Then again, she supposed it was because of his Dragon Slayer Magic. It did make him warmer than usual... and she had to admit, that did come in handy for cold nights.
As Lucy tried to shift so she was a bit more comfortable, she just couldn't help noticing that Natsu's vest was open, as usual, exposing his concave stomach lined with six-pack abdominal muscles. She blinked, curiously as she stared at them, watching them rise and fall slowly with each breath Natsu was making.
For a boy of 17, Natsu was surprisingly pretty muscular. Even when he stuffed to the point where he could explode, he always managed to burn off all that food pretty quickly. She also attributed that to his magic... but then again, Erza happened to have a really big sweet tooth and she could eat so many cakes that it was a wonder why her teeth hadn't rotted out, yet, or why she hadn't gained any weight from it all.
As Natsu gave a yawn, Lucy reached her hands around his stomach... and lay her palms against the muscles, which tensed slightly under her fingertips. Obviously, he wasn't expecting her to do that, and yet, he made no attempt at stopping her. Growing more curious, Lucy began to gently slide her hand up and down his belly, causing his muscles to go lax as he practically melted against her, his eyes half-mast as his body went limp, which caused her to giggle softly.
What happened next, though, she never saw coming.
As Lucy kept rubbing Natsu's abdominals, she heard this sound. It wasn't snoring, but she felt this reverberating rumble coming from him. As Lucy leaned in closer, her eyes went wide as she realized what was happening.
Natsu... was purring!
Lucy couldn't believe it even if she was hearing it, herself. Even her fellow guild members probably wouldn't believe this if she told them! And yet... it was so cute! It didn't sound quite like a cat's purr. It was a bit deeper, and she could feel his chest and stomach vibrate as he kept purring. She attempted to move her hand away to let him sleep... but then, he grabbed her by the wrist and placed her palm over his tummy, again.
"Don't stop..." he murmured in a sleepy voice, causing Lucy to smile with her blush reddening as she continued to rub her hand along his belly, up and down and even in slow circles... and the whole time, her book lied on the coffee table, momentarily forgotten.
She could always get back to it later, she figured. Right now, she just wanted to enjoy this pleasant purring coming from her favorite Salamander.
However, little did she realize that he and Natsu were currently being watched by a certain little blue cat, who was peeking through the window while covering his mouth with his paws in an attempt to stifle his giggling.
"Wait till the others hear this...!" he whispered, mischievously.
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* & PLOTTING / STARTER CALL — TEST ADJACENT MUSES .
like & comment which one(s) you’d like! mutuals only. if you don’t specify i won’t be inclined to write a starter.
lee yoona . 29 years old . actress (?) . canon divergent from drive m.y car
yoon jiwoo . canon divergent from my na.me.
kang suyeon . 45 years old . lawyer . canon divergent from my na.me
cho yeongun . 38 years old . International Security Intelligence Service agent / geumga plaza owner ( verse dependent ) . canon divergent from vi.ncenzo
verse . banshee . vanessa k.irby . ??? yo . cis female . orphaned from a early age, taken by some old church, was seen as cursed the first time she predicted death in house with her death song, chained and locked away with no intentions of being freed, ‘if it’s a villain they want.. then it’s a villain they get’ trick to run away, wanders in search of entertainment, known to bother griffin crone and work with chinmae on occasion.
lewis sharpe . necromancer . richard a.rmitage . 40 - 50 yo . cis male . hails from a renown convenient primarily known for their influence over earth & healing magic, got greedy when he got his grubby hands on some particularly tasty lore of barghests and the wild hunt, not only managed to participate ( like an idiot ) but also survived and outwitted their ploys, continued to participate until his own ego tangled him with a particularly nasty sorcerer, is now cursed to appear as beastly as his soul is.
gargoyle . 30 - 50 yo . gender undecided . quite the hot topic for hunters to capture, take a piece of a gargoyle when in slumber as stone and they’ll be bound to do your bidding until the piece is returned ( that does not mean they’ll roll over to every wish without some amount of hatred ), so far they’ve managed to escape such a fate and continues to thwart any that try, also very knowledgeable about random things and runs a horror podcast.
amaro jara . sorcerer ( hydromancer ) . pedro pascal .30 - 40 yo . cis male . rootin’ tootin’ goth livestock haulin’ farmer, got a knack for everything water, personable and innovative and welcoming of any stray souls that wind up on his hard earned plot of land
amant jolicoeur . space chef . yahya ab.dul-mateen ii . 30ish yo .cis male . loud and sunny dude that’s a part of an intrepid crew, the designated buff chef, everything they make looks `redacted` but always taste horrendously delicious ( make it make sense? ), background details are a mystery and they’re all too keen to keep things that way.
wang hoseok . wizard ( aeromancer ) . lee do h.yun . 27 - 30 yo . gender undecided . proud line of x,y,z wizards, grew into terrifying control over air with quite a cankerous personality while their younger sibling, Jiah, is surprisingly placid and steady with abilities over fire ( no, the swap of personalities isn’t lost on them ), both of which are barely on speaking terms with their parents, very much a show of generational trauma, probably has a dog
#* & starter call .#// i... am erasing the last post from my other blog Sorry#// SO HAVE A FRESH ONE#* & test muse .
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