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luxekook · 4 years

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RESPECT ✩ namgi

✩ as part of @btswritingcafe‘s mots: 7 collab ✩

✩ pairing: king namjoon x witch reader x king yoongi

✩ genre: soulmate au, fantasy au, angst, smut, fluff, a sprinkle of crack

✩ summary: in a land where the only openly acceptable magic is intrinsic soulmate bonds, what is a lowly witch to do when she is called upon by not just one king but two?

✩ word count: 7.1k

✩ warnings: 18+, cursing, magic, societal oppression, mention of snakes, reader has hella trust issues, begging, general cheesy fluff, smut [dom!reader, dom!namjoon, switch!yoongi, threesome (duh), throne sex (yuh), yoongi gets taken to paris and then the reader gets double teamed (aka double penetration)]

✩ beta’d by: the MAGNIFICENT phia @meowxyoong

✩ banner by: the ILLUSTRIOUS danica @dee-ehn

Magic danced at your fingertips as you summoned ingredients from the shelves behind you. You had been brewing this potion for hours - a tedious and tumultuous process that always accompanied the crafting of wolfsbane. It was a badly kept secret that you supplied the temporary suppressant along with a variety of other magical remedies, spells, and an occasional curse or two.

There were - of course - limits on what you would provide. You did not take too kindly to townspeople that asked for dark spells or soulmate switches. Your fellow magical and supernatural folk in the kingdom of Meridian were ostracized enough as it was by the majority of the wealthier classes. To add on to your bad reputation would be a foolish endeavor.

Magic - it seemed - was a poor man’s trade. Why would the rich deign to ask for help from lowly witches and warlocks when they had access to the best doctors, the furthest overseas markets, and the fattest bank accounts? The occasional upper class individual would stray from the norm and enter your shop, but that was a rarity. And thank god it was.

The rich and the royals often feared what they did not understand – whether it be foreign powers, lower class revolts, or magical beings. For centuries, supernaturals like yourself clung to the outer rim of the kingdom out of necessity. Some who were able to pass as human lived closer to the castle at the center of the kingdom; but, you had long since lost your cover, choosing to openly use your powers for good and for a source of income.

While the two current rulers had lifted the outright ban on supernaturals and magical beings a few years ago, centuries of prejudice and trepidation could not be quickly unlearned.

It always struck you as ironic how easily the magic of soulmates was accepted, but a simple spell of healing, for example, was not. Perhaps the acceptance of soulmate magic was out of the longevity of its presence or the necessity of its inevitability - perhaps a combination of the two. You were taught from a young age that soulmate bonds felt like a welcomed tether to another person - a connection celebrated and cherished. And, in most cases, that rang true.

However, you knew too much to hope for a soulmate of your own, having heard too many stories from your fellow magic wielders. You knew all too much about the severance of soulmate bonds and the pain that accompanied the process – the pain that never left.

Obviously, you were downright terrified of finding your soulmate and the almost certain rejection that would follow over the mere fact you were a witch. You would stick to your spells and your potions, thank you very much.

Giving the wolfsbane one final stir, you reached for the empty bottle next to your cauldron, only to be interrupted by a thumping knock on the thick wood of your front door. Sighing, you set down the bottle and doused the flames beneath your finished brew with a flick of your hand.

Turning to the door, you cast a quick reveal-spell at the dividing barrier between you and the newcomers. The magic dripped down the door, erasing it from your sight.

Kim Taehyung waited expectantly on the other side, body practically vibrating with anticipation. You rolled your eyes. That boy always carried way too much energy with him. He pounded again on your door. You smirked, it always seemed funny when visitors would continue to knock on what was - for you - an invisible barrier.

You waved the spell away with another wave of your palm. Pulling open the door, you failed to get a word in before you were swept into a giant hug. “(Y/n)!” Taehyung bellowed in your ear while he swung you around.

“Tae,” You wheezed, “Can’t. Breathe.”

The werewolf let you stand on your feet once more. “How is my favorite witch?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, chuckling slightly, “Tae, I’m the only witch you know besides Sinestra, and she scares you.”

Taehyung gasped, “She does not scare me! She’s just mean. She threatened to turn me into a cactus last time I went to her shop!” A pout formed on his face.

“Well,” You cannot resist teasing the boy, “She did say that you were being a prick.”

Taehyung shot you a playful glare and mumbled something about damned witches sticking together.

Deciding to let him off the hook, you headed back over to where the wolfsbane was left waiting to be bottled. “It just finished,” You told Taehyung as he trailed after you. “But, Taehyung, you really should just tell him.”

The reason that Taehyung repressed his wolf each month was none other than his soulmate - a human named Jimin. Tae was terrified of Jimin’s reaction to discovering his supernatural side. You thought his fear was justified, but you also figured that Jimin would be accepting of Tae just from how the werewolf described him.

Besides, it seemed inevitable that Jimin would catch on at some point. And Taehyung seemed to know that, too.

Tae’s shoulders sagged, “I know, (y/n). I’ll think about it.”

With that, you nodded and dropped the subject, pouring the portion of the potion Taehyung needed into a bottle. Capping it tightly, you handed it to him, “Here. Remember to take it with food this time, okay?”

He smiled widely, clutching the bottle close to his chest. “Thank you! I will, (y/n).” Pulling you into one more hug, Taehyung waltzed out the door with a wave.

You smiled wistfully at his departure. So full of life, that one was. You just knew that his soulmate would accept him. You also recognized that you were not like Taehyung. You weren’t as vibrant, as gentle, or as beautiful. Would your soulmate be able to look past all your magic and stay for you? You didn't think so.

Shaking yourself from your negative thoughts, you carefully bottle up the rest of the wolfsbane for your stores. Even though you had long since stopped charging Taehyung, there were other werewolves nearby that you sold the potion to for quite a pretty penny.

You had barely begun to shelve the bottles when another knock sounded at your door. Cracking a wry smile, you yanked the door open, “Tae, what did you forget to tell me this ti—”

The knock had not been from Taehyung. Instead, two palace guards stood there, shoulder to shoulder.

Oh, this was not good. Having any lingering association with the palace would hurt your business. It was always best to deal with potentially hazardous situations quickly. Pulling open the door wider, you stood with hands on your hips, facing the two intruders. They both gaped at you, and you arched an eyebrow at them. “Can I help you, boys?”

You took their continued silence as an opportunity to flick your eyes up and down each of the men before you.

The one on the right looked like he had just passed the guards’ test with his widened doe eyes and his flushed pink cheeks. The one on the left looked slightly older but no less youthful as he seemed to bounce on his toes with energy.

Seconds ticked by until - finally - the second guard exclaimed, “You’re (y/n)? The witch?”

“Last time I checked, yes,” You addressed the guard who had spoken. You dubbed him ‘Happy’. “Were you expecting me to look differently?”

“I heard that you were super old! Like over one hundred years old!” Doe-eyes unhelpfully answered before widening his eyes in panic, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being old! I mean, I love old people! But, not, like, romantically! I mean—”

Happy seemed to notice your mood darkening with each word his partner spewed out. Shoving the younger guard aside, Happy puffed out his chest and announced with pride, “We are members of the Royal Guard sent to escort you to the palace, Miss Witch.”

Doe-eyes nodded swiftly next to him, cowering slightly as you continued to glare at him.

“First of all, please never ever call me ‘Miss Witch’. My name is (y/n),” You uttered, completely unamused, “Second of all, what happens if I refuse your escort?”

The guards slid each other a look.

“Ah, I see,” You murmured, mood darkening even still, “Was there an implied ‘by any means necessary’ tacked on to the end of that sentence that I didn’t hear?”

“She’s a mind reader!” Doe-eyes gasped, leaping behind Happy and peering slightly around his shoulder at you.

You rolled your eyes at the sight of his quivering form, “Calm down, kid. I’m not into non-consensual mind reading.” Shooting the baffled duo a wink, you turned to open your door further. “Please, come in,” You insisted. It was obvious there was no avoiding your summons, but that did not mean your business would suffer.

“But our orders...” Happy failed to follow through with his attempted protest as he practically jumped past you into your little cottage. What an intense curiosity that one had, you mused. Meanwhile, the younger guard seemed more trepidatious, practically tiptoeing across the threshold and into your humble abode.

You shook your head at the way the two palace guards were quickly captivated by your gathered crystals, your worn spellbooks, and your wall of potion ingredients. Swiftly, you shelved the rest of the wolfsbane potion like you had tried to do before being interrupted.

Your clients would have to pick it up themselves. Scrawling a quick note to your fellow witch Sinestra about the recent events just in case, you vanish it to her with a snap of your fingers.

“Whoa,” Two awed voices sounded from behind you.

“It went ‘poof’!” Doe-eyes yelled, tugging on the sleeve of his fellow guard, “Did you see?”

“Do you want to go ‘poof’, too?” You smiled evilly, wiggling your fingers in his direction.

“Ah, hyung! She’s threatening me!”

“Get it together, bro,” Happy rolled his eyes. Turning to address you, he asked expectantly, “Ready to go now, (y/n)?”

“As I’ll ever be,” You muttered, grabbing your cloak from the rack by the door. Ushering the two men out before you, you quickly cast your protective charms on your home. Now, no one besides your most trusted clients should be able to enter.

Satisfied, you trailed behind the guards as they walked over to where their horses were tied to one of the many nearby trees surrounding your cottage. At least they didn't seem to be malicious in their intent. Their backs were to you, either a sign of trust or blatant stupidity. Only time would tell, you guessed.

"You'll ride with me," Happy smiled at you as he held his palm out for you to take. You shrugged, ignoring his hand to mount the horse on your own. "Alright then," The guard muttered as he seated himself behind you, "Let's go."

The journey towards the heart of the kingdom was not one you made often. It was only out of necessity that you sometimes ventured to the more expensive markets for key ingredients. The looming castle always stirred up inexplicable and foreign feelings of longing and fascination. You feared that actually entering it this time would be almost too overwhelming.

As the three of you made your way through the town you lived in, you received some tentative smiles and concerned looks from those in which you interacted with regularly. Visitors from the palace were rarities in these parts of the kingdom. You didn't blame people for being concerned by the guards’ appearance and by your departure with them.

The day wore on as you made your way through village after village, stopping only for a quick lunch. All too soon the palace appeared on the horizon. The looks you received from the townspeople were no longer cordial or concerned. They were full of suspicion and condescension.

You shrugged it off as best you could. You had bigger things to worry about - starting with whatever was waiting for you on the other side of the looming palace gates.

The large engraved metal doors swung open with your approach as Happy and Doe-eyes nodded to the guards posted there. Your breath caught in your throat. The castle was magnificent. The stone structure seemed to shine with a silvery sheen. Large stained glass windows gleamed from the many stories and towers adorning the palace. Vines wound their way up the walls despite the best efforts of the gardeners to stem their growth.

You stifled a laugh as one such gardener attempted to do so, but the vine refused to budge. Maybe there was some magic here after all.

Two other palace guards walked over to where the three of you had come to a stop inside the palace gates. Doe-eyes dismounted first and then offered a hand in your direction. This time, you decided to take the olive branch and accepted his assistance.

“Okay, ready?” Happy nodded at you and pointed towards the castle doors. “Let’s go. We don’t want to keep the kings waiting.”

“Oh, no,” You gasped, slapping a hand to your heart, “That would be a travesty.”

Doe-eye’s mouth quirked at the corners like he had stifled a laugh, while Happy spluttered something about respect. The short walk to the front entrance was much too short for your liking. You felt like you were walking to your doom - and maybe you were. The two guards had given you no clues as to the purpose of your summoning. That was such bullshit.

The heavy gold encrusted front doors creaked open as you approached. The foyer of the palace beckoned to you with that familiar pull. You sighed as you took in the expensive decor. From the shiny marble floors to the heavy purple drapery, you could see yourself living here all too easily. Why did you feel so called to this place? Well, you had always thought of yourself as a queen.

Laughing to yourself, you let yourself be ushered down an adjacent corridor to the right of the foyer. You barely noticed where you were headed since your attention lingered on the gorgeous paintings that lined the walls. You probably should have been more alert because you suddenly found yourself at the cusp of the throne room.

The second you entered the room your attention was captured by the two men lounging on elevated thrones at the focal point of the room. These must be the kings, you mused. You had never seen them in person before, but their reputations preceded them. Your magic surged as you neared the kings. Was there a threat nearby? You shift a glance throughout the wide hall.

Courtesans were scattered amidst large marble columns adorned with intertwining gold and silver accents. The majority of those gathered gaped at you in distaste, while a small handful simply spared a few curious glances. You couldn't spot a single person you knew in the bunch - not that you had expected to - nor could you find a source of outright danger.

Still, your magic thrummed louder within you as you continued on your way towards the kings.

Your heart sank. This was not a reaction based on imminent danger. No, you knew what this was; someone here was your soulmate. And, when your eyes finally landed on the two men who summoned you, you had to choke down the hysterical laugh that bubbled up inside you.

King Yoongi reclined lazily on his ornate silver and black onyx throne, his body lax but his eyes sharp. His laser-focused attention on you made your stomach flip. You held his gaze as best you could, taking in the delicate dark silk of his diamond encrusted tunic and the tousled auburn hair on which his silver crown resided. He was beautiful.

And he was your soulmate.

Could he feel the tether between you? Had he known about it somehow before you did? Was this why were you here?

Your eyes slid over to the right, unable to take the heat of King Yoongi’s gaze; King Namjoon’s curious eyes met yours. Unlike his partner, King Namjoon leaned forwards on his gold and emerald throne, avidly taking you in like you were a subject of study. And perhaps you were… You studied him right back. This king was no less intimidating in his scrutiny than the other. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands steepled in front of his face as he stared you down. The intelligence you saw within the depths of his brown eyes clued you in that this was a king that no one could fool.

And, since fate was clearly a bitch, he was your soulmate, too.

You came to a stop before the kings amidst the sea of murmuring courtiers. “Bow,” Doe-eyes whispered to you, urgently prodding you in the side with his hand. You only stood straighter. You bowed to no one, and you certainly would not bow to your soulmates - no matter their status.

“Leave us.” At King Namjoon’s command, the room emptied. Your two escorts remained behind you. “Hoseok, Jungkook, that includes you,” King Namjoon lifted his chin as he swished a hand in dismissal of the two guards.

“But, sire—”

King Yoongi spoke for the first time, effectively cutting Happy off, “Don’t worry, Hoseok. What can one little witch do to us?”

Oh, you could think of a lot of things. Your thoughts must have been written all over your face because King Namjoon glanced at you and immediately let out a deep chuckle.

Glaring at the two men before you, you decided that one way or another they would learn to respect you. The guards you now knew to be Hoseok and Jungkook exited the room, leaving you alone with the two kings - your two soulmates.

Now, it seemed that you were somehow in a staring contest with both of them at once. Fine, if they didn't want to talk, you would.

“So, nice weather we’re having, huh,” Your tone could not be any drier.

“Indeed,” King Namjoon quirked a half smile, and you realized you might be in over your head as his dimple made its first appearance.

You hated the whole power imbalance thing going on right now - the two of them sitting silently on an elevated platform lording over where you stood. Gathering all your dignity and lack thereof, you placed your hands on your ample hips and raised your eyebrows, “Well? Did you summon me just to stare?”

“No,” King Yoongi drawled, cupping his chin in his hand, “But you are quite delightful to look at, soulmate… That is, if this is your true form.”

You let the backhanded compliment simmer as King Namjoon chastised his partner, shooting him a warning look.

“Ah, yes,” You finally say, swiping at a nonexistent tear, “You’ve caught me. My true form is actually so old that it’s partially decomposed. Ah, silly me. I thought I would spare you from the grotesque monstrosity.”

King Namjoon burst into uproarious laughter. “Yoongi-ah,” He wheezed, “You’ve really met your match this time.”

Opposite him, King Yoongi scowled, “It was a fair question! The last witch that we summoned could shift into an owl.”

“You’ve met Helvetica?” You blinked, thinking of the only witch you knew with that ability, “She’s legendary.” Then, it registered. “Wait, what do you mean she was ‘the last witch you summoned’... Why have you been summoning witches left and right?”

“Isn’t it obvious now?” King Namjoon smiled, “We’ve been looking for you.”

“You see, (y/n),” King Yoongi purred your name, inciting a shiver down your spine, “Namjoon and I are also soulmates.” He gracefully shifted to his feet before walking down the few steps to where you still stood.

Circling you like a shark in water, King Yoongi continued, “But we had been feeling lonely despite our connection. We couldn't figure out why.”

“That’s right,” King Namjoon chimed in from his throne, “We tried everything to fill that void.”

“And we mean everything,” King Yoongi whispered in your ear, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“We were quite desperate,” King Namjoon laughed lightly. He, too, rose to his feet and made his way to stand before you.

Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest from the sheer sensation of being caught in between these two beautiful men. King Yoongi continued to play with your hair from his position behind you. King Namjoon’s heavy gaze pinned you in place with its wicked intent.

“Desperate enough to contact King Seokjin of Andolia and request that his top Seer be sent to us to do a reading.” King Yoongi’s words caused you to jolt back slightly in shock. Andolia was known to be a more liberal kingdom than yours. It was a kingdom of magic, of carnal pleasure, of beauty.

Plus, King Seokjin was practically famous for his good looks and for his love of otherworldly entertainment.

“You outsourced from Andolia? Couldn't you just have asked one of the Seers here in Meridian?” It seemed absurd to you that these two kings reached out to another land so unlike their own for assistance - especially when you knew of at least four Seers in your own land.

King Yoongi and King Namjoon exchanged a look. “The Seers in our kingdom weren't exactly forthcoming, (y/n).” The taller king in front of you withered under your responding glare.

Could they really blame the Seers for not coming forward to help the very kingdom that had rejected them for so long? You certainly didn't think so.

King Yoongi continued, “Well, King Seokjin sent us his personal Seer Moonbyul… And imagine our surprise when she took one look at us and laughed.”

“‘No wonder you’re lonely! You’re missing one,’” King Namjoon quoted the Seer’s past words with air quotes. You had to bite down a smile over the cuteness of his action. “And not just anyone… a witch no less!”

His tone was light, jovial. You couldn't tell his feelings on your magical status no matter how hard you searched his twinkling brown eyes. Turning slightly, you assessed the other king who looked no less unreadable.

Still staring at King Yoongi, you questioned, “Okay, so you knew your other soulmate was a witch, and you just decided to summon every witch in Meridian to check them out? Do you have any idea how much that would scare us?”

The shorter king had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. “I guess we were too excited by the prospect of finding you.”

You fought down the hopeful feeling inside you. There was no way these two actually wanted to keep your bond to them, right? Not in this economy…

“I’m just going to be straight up with you.” You pulled away from their hold and paced away to climb up a couple steps so you were finally the same height. “I think you searched for me because you want to sever our bond.”

The two kings moved to interrupt you, but you just held a palm in the air, “No, let me finish. Look, I’ve already come to terms with the fact that my soulmate wouldn't want to be tied to a witch. And why should I even want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me or my craft?”

You lowered your palm, effectively lifting the unspoken silencing charm you had cast on them.

The first thing that King Yoongi said once he recovered his voice was: “Damn, that was sexy.”

And the second? “I would rather sever my left arm than sever our bond.”

“Well,” You blinked as King Namjoon nodded emphatically besides his partner, “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Please don’t write us off that easily, (y/n),” The taller king begged, “Don’t you feel it? The tether between the three of us? Can’t you see we were made for each other?”

Oh, you felt it. You felt the pull so deeply that you feared you might lose yourself within them.

But if the spark you felt for them was akin to a flame, you weren’t sure if you were the darkness longing to be brightened or the moth destined to be burned.

Would it be worth it to give up your current life to be with them? Could you leave Taehyung and your little cottage? Could you survive in a court that held no love for your kind?

Your prolonged hesitance clearly worried the two kings before you.

“What can we do to show you how much we want you here with us?” King Yoongi implored, his hand drifting out to clasp with King Namjoon’s.

Staring down at the unified front the kings presented, you realized that your soulmates could offer you so much if you let them. By accepting the bond, you could gain the ability to help others more broadly than just offering simple spells of assistance. You could feel safe and secure. And, you could even allow yourself to love and be loved.

“Hm,” You mused, “I think I need to take a seat.” You lounged on the very throne in which Yoongi had lazed just a half an hour prior.

“Just when I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful,” King Namjoon murmured as he stared up at you as you reclined on the silver and black throne.

King Yoongi hummed in agreement, “We’ll need to make hers resplendent just to even come close to her radiance.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” You lied, secretly basking in the warmth of their praises, “Would I really get my own throne? You’re not planning on shoving me in a far away tower?”

“We were fearful of this,” King Namjoon walked up to the foot of the throne with King Yoongi in tow. Pausing briefly, they both fell to their knees before you. King Namjoon continued, “We feared you would think the worst of us. And for good reason.”

King Yoongi’s gaze pleaded with yours as he explained his partner's words, “We grew up to be scared of magic. We were sheltered from it and were told falsehoods about its ‘malicious nature’. It wasn’t until a few years ago that we first travelled to Andolia and met King Seokjin that we realized how wrong we were.”

“We were ignorant,” King Namjoon said lowly, “We removed the outright ban on magic and supernaturals immediately, but unlearning such prejudiced ways has proven to be difficult for our kingdom.”

You took everything in. You did not doubt that they were being genuine; however, one thought still lingered in the back of your mind.

“If I stay here with you...” Both kings eagerly stared up at you and you rolled your eyes, “And I mean if I do, will you see me as an equal? Will you respect me as such?”

The kings exchanged a confused glance before replying that they already did. You weren’t convinced. You decided to lay everything on the table.

“Okay, but do you really respect me? Or do you just want to fuck me?”

“Do those have to be mutually exclusive?” King Yoongi asked, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from touching you.

Your lips quirked, “I suppose not.”

“Thank the gods for that,” He growled, “I’ve been hard since you sat on my throne.” Both kings moved forward with clear sensual intent, but you sent a wave of magic forward - effectively halting their movements.

Their eyes blazed with desire for you that you were certain was mirrored in your own. You take in the magnificence of the sight before you. Your two powerful soulmates on their knees before you, desperate to touch you, to taste you. Your eyes traveled over the expanse of Namjoon’s shoulders to settle on his black velvet and gold choker. Then, you shift your gaze to Yoongi and his long ring adorned fingers, the smooth skin of his chest that peeked from the v-neck of his tunic.

They really were quite a pair. What in the universe had you done to be fated to such beauty? You guessed you probably shouldn’t question it.

Waving away the magical barrier between you, you began, “Earlier you asked what you could do to show that you want me here with you.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi rasped, his heated gaze locked with yours as he lightly trailed a finger up your calf. Beside him, Namjoon inclined his head in agreement before taking your hand in his.

Trying to ignore the rising tension, you forged onwards. It was important that you made these points before this went any further. “Well, I have some requirements.”

Namjoon cracked a smile, “I would be disappointed if you didn’t, my soul.”

Your cheeks warmed at the endearment but didn’t let it distract you. “I want to draft an ordinance that explicitly declares equity for those with magical and supernatural abilities.”

“Done.” Your soulmates agreed in unison.

You paused. That had been almost too easy… “And also an amendment stating that discrimination against said subjects will not be tolerated by any means.”

“Agreed.”

You were on a roll now. “I like practicing magic. It’s a part of me. I don’t want to have to hide it.”

Namjoon pressed a kiss to your palm, “We don’t want you to hide it.”

“Your magic is beautiful, (y/n),” Yoongi’s hand slid further up your leg, “You should never feel like you have to hide an intrinsic part of yourself - especially around us.”

Your body burned under their touch, but you still held back. Were they just going to agree to any old thing you threw at them? “I also want ten thousand Burmese pythons.”

That took them a second to process. “We can easily get you around six hundred, maybe seven?” Namjoon squinted as he seemed to calculate the math in his head, “I’ll have to talk to our allies about trading for the remaining amount.”

Spluttering out a laugh, you shook your head, “I was just kidding about the snakes, my gods. Although… now that i think about it, maybe one would be cool?”

Yoongi pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. When had he pushed your skirt up that high? “Anything for you, my queen.”

It was official. You were ruined.

Your soulmates had effectively stymied your doubts and quelled your fears, leaving you with only the intense desire to be with them.

And so you caved. “That just leaves one last stipulation... You say you want me, need me. Well then show me how badly you want me to be with you.”

The words barely left your mouth before they were on you. Yoongi pushed your legs further apart so that he could get closer to you. His hands slid around your waist, tugging your body flush against him, and he fused his mouth with yours.

You smiled into his kiss as you felt Namjoon sidle up to you and begin to place fevered kisses across your collarbone. A witch could get used to this, you thought as Yoongi’s tongue tentatively swiped across your lower lip. What a good boy he was to not take more than you offered.

Your hands tangled into Yoongi’s silky strands before they came to a halt at his crown. Carefully, you slid the crown off his head and onto yours. Pulling away from Yoongi’s mouth slightly, you murmured, “Well? How’s it look?”

“You look like our queen,” Namjoon whispered hoarsely as Yoongi just looked at you like he might devour you whole.

At Namjoon’s words, you turned to face him, hooked a finger around the choker adorning his neck, and tugged his mouth onto yours. His hand immediately flew up to cradle your cheek as he kissed you as if you might slip away from him if he stopped. You almost laughed at how obvious it was to you now that Namjoon was the more dominant of the two.

He had just mastered the art of patience amongst the other things you only hoped you could have the pleasure of discovering. His teeth playfully nipped at your bottom lip, and you returned the affection in kind.

Meanwhile, Yoongi refused to let you forget about him as he settled into his position of kneeling between your legs. His lips kissed and sucked at your neck while his fingers danced up your thighs, taunting you with their light touch.

You decided you had been teased enough. Tugging away from Namjoon and shifting Yoongi back from you slightly, you paused briefly to focus your magic and then snapped your fingers. Your dress and undergarments disappeared from your body and reappeared a few steps away folded neatly.

“Fuck, I love magic,” Yoongi breathed as he takes in your naked body for the first time.

Without hesitation, you hitch one leg over one of the ornate arms of the chair. “Well?” You arched a brow, looking over your two speechless soulmates, “Are you just going to stare? Or are you going to get naked?”

The speed at which they shed their clothes almost gave your magic a run for its money.

You marveled at the two men before you, their bodies chiseled, their cocks hard.

“How do you want us?” Yoongi asked, practically thrumming with anticipation.

You arched an eyebrow at Namjoon, “Is he always this eager?”

The taller man grinned, “Occasionally, but this level is rare form for him.”

Yoongi scowled, “Please, Joon, like you aren’t dying to sink your cock into our soulmate’s pretty little pussy.”

“Oh,” You sighed, “Someone has quite a mouth on them… Why don’t we put that to good use while Joon teaches you some discipline.”

Not even thrown off at the notion of being punished, Yoongi gladly sunk to his knees before you once more. Namjoon hesitated, and you quickly realized the problem. Summoning your magic, you materialized some water-based lubricant for him.

“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed, “Magic is a fucking beautiful thing.” Taking the lube from you, he leaned down to prep Yoongi. “Ready?” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. Yoongi nodded.

“Gods yes,” You barely finished your thought before Yoongi buried his face between your legs, his mouth immediately kissing and exploring your pussy. The first stroke of his tongue tore a moan from you as your back arched into the cool metal behind you.

“(Y/n),” Namjoon growled, “Look at me, my soul. Watch me fuck our soulmate while he tastes you. I want you to feel each of my thrusts in every jolt of his tongue.”

Despite not being one to typically take orders, the heat of Namjoon’s words pulled your attention immediately and the sight before you made it stay. You watched enraptured as Namjoon slowly sank his cock into Yoongi’s ass.

Yoongi groaned and the vibrations sent another rush of arousal through you as he continued to greedily tease your clit with his tongue. Your hands dug into his auburn waves, pushing his face harder against your pussy.

Namjoon slid out of Yoongi and then drove back in. The visual of his hard cock pumping feverishly in and out of Yoongi’s pert ass was indescribable when every stroke caused Yoongi’s tongue to thrust inside you and his nose to nudge against your clit.

“How does she taste, Yoongi? Is she as sweet as she looks?”

You scowled at Namjoon for causing Yoongi to pause his worship in order to answer. “She tastes like the fucking sun, Namjoon.”

“Now, that doesn’t even make sense— Fuck,” You moaned as Yoongi’s mouth sucked hard on your clit, effectively shutting you up. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you felt the arousal build and build inside of you. Your legs shook as Yoongi sucked and hummed on your clit as Joon continued to pound into him.

Your eyes focused on the sharp movements of Namjoon’s hip and the flexing of his muscles as he alternated in thrusting and rolling his hips. Gods, you wanted those hips to drive that cock deep inside of you.

“Does this please you, my soul?” Namjoon growled, “Do you like watching me wreck Yoongi while he gives you pleasure?”

“Y-yes,” Your breath hitched as Yoongi teasingly nipped at your swollen bud. “But I want you to wreck me and then I want to wreck you both.”

Namjoon’s thrusts stuttered to a halt as your words connected. Yoongi tore his mouth from your folds. Placing your foot on his forehead, you gently pushed Yoongi back so you could stand, “I want both of you inside me.”

Panting, Yoongi gasped, “Please, please wreck us, my queen.” His lips shone with your essence and you swiped a finger along their seam. Bringing your finger up to Namjoon’s plush lips, you tilted your head with a sly smile, “Well? You wanted a taste, didn’t you?”

Without a pause, he took your finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around the digit, tasting you. His dark eyes remained on yours as he released your finger with a pop. “So fucking divine,” Namjoon groaned, his hands darting out to grab your hips, his hard cock pressing into your stomach.

Yoongi once again mirrored Joon’s actions from behind you. You could feel his hardness against your ass, and you couldn't help but to grind slowly into him. “(Y/n),” Yoongi moaned into your neck as his cock practically throbbed with need for relief.

Tugging Namjoon closer to you, you whispered, “My love, go sit on your throne.”

Your soulmate appeared confused but nonetheless did what you said. Pausing only briefly to admire the way Namjoon looked on his throne, you extracted yourself from Yoongi and sauntered over to stand over Joon.

“You know,” You murmured, grabbing his cock firmly, eliciting a gorgeous moan from the man, “I think I want to sit on your throne, too.” Your hand stroked him teasingly as his head leaned against the back of his throne.

“As you wish, my soul,” He rasped out, his thighs tensing.

With that, you knelt over him. Immediately, Namjoon’s hands rested on your ass and squeezed. “What a greedy boy,” You murmured, placing a soft kiss on his lips, “That’s for Yoongi, my love. Or is my pussy not enough for you?”

As you spoke, you slowly sunk down his thick cock inch by inch. And at the mention of his name, Yoongi practically shoved Namjoon’s hands off your ass and replaced them with his. Echoing your own words, he teased the younger king, “Yeah, Joonie, don’t be greedy.”

Namjoon shot the two of you a half-hearted glare, but before he could say a word, you clenched your walls around him. “F-fuck,” He moaned, his eyes squeezed tight, “You feel so good around my cock, so wet.”

You slid up and down his length, reveling in the building heat consuming you. From behind you, Yoongi slowly teased your other opening. The coolness of his finger assured you that he had done this before. His finger slid into my ass with ease, the lube no doubt helping with that. You both moaned.

“You like that, my queen?” Yoongi growled, beginning to push his finger in and out.

“Oh my gods, yes,” You felt wild from the sensation of being so full of your soulmates, but you couldn't help but want more. “Want your cock inside me, too, Yoongi.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” He responded, pulling his finger out of you. After a moment, you felt the gentle nudge of his cock head against your ass. You stilled your motions, bottoming out on Joon’s dick as you waited with anticipation of being stuffed full with both of them.

Slowly, inch by inch, Yoongi pushed into you. “Fuck,” He bit out, “Joon, I can feel you.”

You felt so satisfied as Yoongi’s hips pressed into you, his cock buried deep inside you.

Namjoon’s cock twitched inside you as he no doubt could feel Yoongi right back. “Please, my soul, I need to fuck you. Let us fuck you,” He begged, gazing down at you with pupils blown out wide.

“No,” You shook your head emphatically, “I’m going to fuck you.”

With that, you started riding Namjoon’s cock. Moving up and down his thick shaft, you guided Yoongi’s hands to your hips as he thrust in and out of you in time to your movements. Every time you sank down on Namjoon’s shaft, Yoongi thrust into your ass. It was exquisite.

You felt your orgasm coiling within you, burning brightly. You squeezed down, trying to prolong the sensation, rolling your hips.

“Godsdamn,” Yoongi moaned, “Your ass is so tight, my queen. I’m not going to last much longer.”

You shook your ass slightly just to tease him. Yoongi responded by biting your neck and muttering, “You’re such a witch.”

“You fucking know it,” You gasped out as Namjoon suddenly rolled your clit between his fingers. Pleasure shot through you as you writhed on top of them. Your walls clenched down as you hurtled towards bliss, your world going white.

You could feel both of them coming inside you, painting your walls. The heat of their releases only added to the intensity of your orgasm as you flew over the edge, milking them with every pulse of your pussy.

Slowly, you came down from your high, breathing hard. Collapsing against Joon’s chest, you nuzzled his neck.

You felt his chuckle before you heard it, “I think we tired her out, Yoongi.”

“Yes, I think so, Joon,” Yoongi replied, slowly pulling out of you, “Let’s get you cleaned up. We have a private hot spring just outside.”

Not one to be outdone, you straightened, hopping off Joon. Placing your hands on your hips, you leveled each of them with a devilish smile, “Hey, maybe I was pretending to be satisfied for your benefits, you old men.”

“Old!?” Yoongi bellowed, so easily riled up.

“Hmm,” Namjoon’s arms encircled you, hugging you to him. Bringing his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you, my soul?”

“Undoubtedly,” You whispered back as Yoongi still fumes over being called old. Yeah, a witch could really get used to this.

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gayaristocrat · 3 years

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Lupercalia (Nicholas Scratch X FtM Witch Reader 3/4)

Pairing: Nickolas Scratch x FtM! Reader Words: 1.1k+ Summary: Final ritual of Lupercalia, and it seems the the red riding hood is hunting the wolf. Notes: I have decided to continue this series because this story is in my Kinkmas 2020 Writing Challenge List and I decided to continue it. Also, I hope I don't give anybody dysphoria or anything, if I do then I deeply apologies. Also I hope there are no spelling errors or grammatical errors, if there are any, then please dm/inbox me and let me know what I need to fix.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

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After going to the Valentine’s Day dance at Baxter High, let’s just say it was very eventful. Long story short Nick and I ran into Amalia, his werewolf familiar, in the library at Baxter. Nick attempted to temporarily banished her successfully, and when she came back for him in the woods, he had no choice but to kill her. He was pretty emotionally destroyed about the whole situation, but he managed to cope with his loss and grieve her. I was there for him through every step, and once he was able to heal we had to continue the Lupercalia ritual.

“After the hunt, all I can say is poor Melvin doesn’t know what’s in store for him” Agatha says with a sinful chuckle as she pulls up her black stockings. Prudence laughs at the though of how pitiful she thought Melvin was before she contributed to Agatha’s degradation. I take glances at them as I clip together my own maroon cape and red stockings all while listening in on their conversation. “Can you imagine? A virgin, at his age? You’ll be gentle to him won’t you sister?” She questions to Agatha. “And afterwards Prudence, we’ll share him. It’s been a while since we’ve had a virgin.” They shiver with anticipation as they imagine dominating the poor boy.

“Sorry to crush your hopes sisters, but unfortunately for you I initiated Melvin the night of the Courting.” Dorcas chimes in with an ‘matter-of-fact’ tone. Prudence and Agatha question her on why she didn’t stay abstinent as required, but then again they should have known she was gonna go in for the kill. Dorcas asked if Prudence stayed abatement, but like she always says, “A girl doesn’t kiss and tell”

All three of them put their capes on as they head to the doors of the dormitory. Now you may be wondering why I’m in the girls dorm room. Well, since 99% of the guys in the boys dorm room have unbelievable toxic masculinity I didn’t feel comfortable being around them. So I was allowed to switch and stay with the girls, which they welcomed me with open arms, and since then, they played a part in helping me during my dysphoric breakdowns. Also, staying with the girls also allows me to be closer to my sister, Sabrina.

The trio turn to me and tease me about spending the night with Nick. “ Poor y/n, this is your first time spending the night with someone huh?” Dorcas says in a fake pitiful tone. Prudence chimes in after her, “You better prepare yourself because Nick can be a wild animal, and I know from personal experience when he was in an orgy with me~” she slyly says in an attempt to make me jealous.

“Honestly I don’t care how many people Nick slept with. That was way before we were ever in a relationship. Him sleeping around in the past is his business and has nothing to do with me.” I say as I stand my ground. Nick has been loyal to me since the beginning of our relationship, so whatever he did back then won’t make me jealous because I know for a fact I’m secure with him. I love the Weird Sisters with all of my heart, but sometimes they really get on my nerves when they do shit like this.

Prudence smirks in defeat and lets out a sigh. “Anyways..are you coming y/n?” She says. “In a minute-“ I respond pausing to look at myself in the mirror to make sure I look okay before I continue, “I still need to take my berries of phylaxis, then I will be ready to go”

—————-Later That Night————

The witches and the warlocks are gathered back in the woods. Everyone is radiating high levels of hormonal energy, the girls lusting after the boys and vice versa. The full moon is out, cascading us below it, illuminating our surroundings with a healthy light blue glow. Ambrose once again is leading everyone through the last ceremony of the ritual.

“Welcome to the final night of Lupercalia!” He shouts with authority as he stands on the dark mahogany wooden platform, as he speaks, you could see his breath in the cold air. “The hoods hunt wolves, witches hunt warlocks, and the outcome of the hunt shall determine the year ahead. Will it be bountiful or barren? Fruitful or fallow?” He says adding suspense. “Wolves are you ready!?” The warlocks howl in response to him before he blows the horn and send them on their way, running through the woods. Ambrose pauses for a few seconds to let the howling and energetic boys get a head start, then turns to our remaining group. “And hoods, are you ready!?” The girls and I also howl in response, causing him to blow the horn again signaling is to chase after the guys.

The girls and I start running into the dark foggy woods to chase after the boys, bobbing and weaving through the trees as we desperately try and catch our prey. Pools of red capes billowed behind as we ran through the woods, speeding up to the shouting grey furs. Once the hoods caught up to the boys, they pounced on their backs, some rolling around on the ground and falling on each other. I searched all around trying to find Nick as quick as I can and pounce on him to claim him as mine before anybody else tries to get to him before I do. I searched for him all around, but all I could see were witches pinning their claimed warlocks on the ground and on the trees.

More screaming echoes through the woods and the thrill heightened our senses as if this was a game of cat and mouse, in this case, hoods and wolves.

As I attempt to avoid hitting trees and rocks, I see Dorcas caught up to me, running along side me as she chases after Nick too. “Find someone else y/n, I don’t care who it is, or what the ritual said. I. Want. Nick.”

“Look Dorcas-“ I say trying to reason with here, but still paying attention to where I’m running. “-Stop trying to go after my boyfriend and just go be with Melvin!”

“Oh and also, you might want to watch where your running before you trip on something” But of course, she didn’t head my warning and refused to pay attention, which in turn made her trip over a rock and fall flat on her face.

I keep moving and ignore her failed attempts of calling my name for help to distract me. As I keep going I see what looks like a familiar bulky silhouette, dodging the trees left and right and trying not to bump into other people. I feel my feet automatically pick up speed as I get closer and closer to him, then I finally pounce on him, making us roll on the ground for a minute before we stop.

After a while I finally manage to pin him down on the soft grassy ground with a tight grip on his wrists as both of our chest heave up and down to catch our breath. Nick and I lock eyes as a smirk creep up onto his face before we both leaned in for a intimate kiss.

“Looks like little red riding hood caught the big bad wolf this time~”

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Finish the fic? Leave a like and comment if you enjoyed it. Also, give it a reblog too!

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uglierdaikon · 3 years

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I’ve had this one WIP sitting in my documents forever, and as hard as I’ve tried I absolutely cannot think of a direction to take it in but I really like what I have written, so I’ve decided to say “fuck it” and just post what I’ve got in here and let y’all imagine whatever ending for it you’d like. Without further ado, I present my long-deceased Witch!Nene x Demon!Hanako au:

Nene, my love. Whatever happens do not forget that you are special. You were born special. You will help so many people.

Nene couldn’t remember her mother very well. She had been so young when she died. In the furthest, foggiest corners of her mind, she could recall the long gray skirt that she clung to and hid behind when the other townspeople jeered at her. There was silvery hair like hers, and surely a face that would resemble hers. She remembered a voice that sang, a voice that stood up for her, a voice that told her, you are special. You will help so many people.

And so she did. Although people were still unkind, still jeered at her, still called her an unnatural thing, she helped them. Some learned to be kind, and those were the ones who made it feel worth it. The others… well, the others couldn’t help that they found her strange. She was strange. Witches weren’t supposed to be born—they were made, by sealing deals with demons. And yet, she’d had magic from infancy. This marked her as an oddity, and people were afraid of things they didn’t understand. The rumors that swirled around the village about her certainly didn’t help. But Nene didn’t mind. Or, at least, she told herself she didn’t mind.

There was work to be done. A farmer wanted a spell to help his cow get pregnant; the blacksmith wanted his tools bewitched to feel lighter to ease the strain on his aging back; a merchant from a nearby town had written her asking for a cure for his wife’s morning sickness. Morning sickness was simple enough—if you knew your plants well enough, you didn’t even need magic. She’d start with that.

Nene set out her pestle and mortar on her worktable, then went to her cabinet for ingredients, whispering them to herself as she searched.

“Cinnamon, dragon’s blood, rose petals… ginger.” She stopped short, carefully tucking jars of the other three ingredients in the crook of her left arm. “Have I used up all my ginger?” She shifted jars and vials and other magical odds and ends around her shelves, but there was no ginger hidden amongst them. She swore softly, set the other ingredients down on the table, and grabbed her cloak. She’d have to run out to her garden.

She stepped out her back door and into the cool night. It had been unseasonably warm as of late, but now a chill wind nipped at her nose. Still, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the scents of damp earth and autumn rot. The woods around her house seemed to thrum with gentle sounds, crickets and owls and the wind shuffling through the leaves. Nene smiled to herself, then hurried off to her garden. She knew it well enough that the dark was no impediment to her finding her ginger. She knelt carefully between other rows of plants and tugged up what she needed and a little extra, for next time.

As she stood and began to brush dirt from her dress, Nene heard a rustling that did not belong to the thrum of her woods. It was a disruption, a discordant note. She heard a twig snap not far off and nearly dropped her ginger. Her immediate thought was that she should run—people may have been coming to accept her, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe there was no one in the village who would do her harm. She should run, but her legs wouldn’t move except to tremble.

“H-hello!” she called cautiously. Perhaps it was just someone lost. Or maybe it was only an animal, and she was being paranoid because some foul-tempered old woman had told her she was going to hell the day before. “Is anyone out there?”

There was a pause, and then the rustling and crunching of leaves and earth continued, louder and closer. Nene frantically tried to think of a spell—something to freeze them, or confuse them. But when a shape finally moved in the darkness, all she could do was shriek, “Don’t hurt me!” and squeeze her eyes shut.

Silence. No rustling, no movement. No attempt to seize her, or worse. Nene peeked an eye open, then the other. There was… nothing.

“Meeeooow.”

Nene jumped, then laughed. At the edge of the woods, mere feet from her garden, was a small black cat with golden eyes.

“Well, hello there,” she said, crouching down and holding her hand out to it. “You sure gave me a fright, didn’t you? Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” The cat peered at her curiously, then took slow, cautious steps forward. When Nene reached to scratch it behind the ears, it flinched away. “I suppose people aren’t very kind to you, hm? Black cats are supposed to be a curse, you know. But I’m supposed to be cursed, too, and the only sign I see of it is in my love life. So I’m not afraid of curses.” The cat stepped toward her again. It seemed to her to be trying to communicate something with its eyes, some need or question. “Are you hungry little fella? I’ve got some catnip growing here.” The cat circled behind her, and in her squatted position it was awkward to turn to try to face it.

“You shouldn’t feed strays. We’ll just keep coming back.” The voice came from directly behind her. Male. Dark. Amused, like he was laughing at her. Nene stumbled forward, whipping around to look at him once she was somewhat upright again. Where the cat should have been, there was a man dressed in fine black clothing, with choppy black hair and golden eyes. He was smiling at her, and the smile was not kind.

“You—you—how, I—”

His smile widened.

“Hello there, little witch,” he said. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?” He looked her over like an animal eyeing its dinner. Nene pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“Wh-who are you? What do you want?” she managed to stammer. She tried to think of a spell, something to confuse him, or send him away. She didn’t have it in her to hurt someone, but she couldn’t expect the same of him. They were alone here by the woods, a long way from any neighbors that might care enough to help her.

The man’s smile quickly morphed into a pout, and his eyebrows knit together. He stepped closer and leaned forward to peer at her. Nene made an odd squeaking sound and stepped back.

“You haven’t been expecting me?” he asked. Before Nene could say anything, or think further about what to do, he reached out and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Hm. You really don’t know who I am.”

“Y-yes, that would be why I asked,” she said, jerking her head to break free of his grip. He tapped his chin thoughtfully and began to circle her. “You do know what I am though, don’t you?”

She didn’t. She had been too shocked, too frightened to see him as anything but some frightening man in her garden, possibly a warlock. But now that he asked, she didn’t know how she hadn’t sensed it, the power radiating off of him. The magic.

“You’re a demon,” she said, her voice very audible. There was nothing she could do. No defense. What was her magic against a creature like him?

The man gave her a small nod.

“Tell me then, little witch,” he said. “How did you get your powers?”

“I was born with them,” she said. Her voice was stronger—she’d had enough of that line of questioning over the years. He smiled at her, and she managed the courage to hold his gaze. She hoped he couldn’t tell that under her dress, her knees were shaking.

“Were you now?” he said. “Oh, I do think I like you.”

As he passed again on her left, he ghosted a hand through her long hair, watching as it faded from silver to green between his fingertips. The look in his eyes had changed into something less playful, just for a moment, and it did funny things to Nene’s already racing heart. Finally, he came to a stop in front of her again. The too-wide smile had reappeared.

“I have a proposal for you,” he said. “I came tonight to claim something, but I can think of a much more entertaining game. How about a wager? What I want against what you want.”

Nene narrowed her eyes.

“What do you know about what I want?” she asked. His eyes narrowed slightly, but they still held their humor.

“Oh, I can make some guesses,” he said. “I wager that in a week’s time, I will be able to tempt you into agreeing to… something. If I fail, I’ll be on my way, and I’ll never haunt your doorstep again. If I win, well. You’ll have agreed to my terms anyways.”

“I don’t want any part in your wager,” she said. She tried to sound firm. Being firm with people who meant to manipulate her usually worked—it was a strategy a boy in town named Kou had taught her many years before.

He shrugged.

“Then I’ll just take what I came for and go,” he said, advancing toward her. Nene quickly scrambled back.

“No!” she cried. She couldn’t imagine what horrible thing a demon could want to demand from her. “…Just a week? And once you fail, you’ll go.”

He chuckled.

“At once,” he said. “If I fail.”

Nene scraped together the last of her courage and nodded. He would leave. She would lose nothing to him, face no harm whatsoever, as long as she simply said no to anything he might offer her. He would be gone.

“Then it’s a deal.”

His smile grew wider. Before she could react, he had wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest.

“Do you know how demons usually seal their deals, little witch?” he asked, putting a hand under her chin to tilt her face up towards him. His gold eyes were hooded, locked onto her lips. Nene couldn’t form words, couldn’t form thoughts, as he slowly leaned in and—

“No!” she cried, turning her face away. He stopped short. When she dared to peek at him, she saw his eyes were wide, like she’d startled him. That was a thought. Her, startling a demon. Then he laughed, and let go of her waist.

“If you insist,” he said. He took her face in two large hands, tilted it slightly downward, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s sealed. We’ll begin tomorrow.” Before her eyes, he began to fade into nothingness. “Good luck, Miss Yashiro.”

#tbhk #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #hanako #yugi amane #yashiro nene #hananene #witch #demon #alternate universe #fic #snippet #i had plans for this but I don't like any of them and I can't come up with anything better #sorry for failing witchy nene like this everybody #my fic

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whitewitch95 · 3 years

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alright, I'm usually over at twitter or discord spewing my thoughts and prompts, but I feel like the Merlin fandom is bigger over here, so maybe someone appreciates that

Thoughts and a fanfic prompt to s2ep07 The Witchfinder

Aredian accuses Merlin of magic bc of the amulet he placed in the physician's quarters, and from the look in his eye, presumably speculates that Gaius will "confess" that it's his - what Gaius of course does because he loves Merlin like his own son. During the episode, still-innocent Morgana is on Aredian's radar as well, just bc Gaius treated her nightmares, and we learn that although Gaius confesses, Aredian still wants to "expose Merlin and Morgana's evil deeds".

I feel like most people - once we realize that Aredian is an asshole who stages all the "sorcerer sightings" for money, and Arthur once more is more reasonable than Uther and helps Merlin save the day, who is actually doing all the work again - I feel like most people tend to forget that Aredian actually precisely accused 3 real sorcerers of sorcery. Yes, neither of them did what they'd been accused of, but nonetheless, Aredian points them out with eerie precision.

So WHAT IF Aredian actually has some weak magic himself? Like the "funny feelings" Merlin sometimes gets when he just instinctively knows shit's gonna go downhill or when he feels drawn towards other people's/being's magic? Like an actual witchfinder, you know, not skilled enough to play detective and catch sorcerers in the act, maybe not even interested in upholding the laws against sorcery or not, just as long as he gets payment and fame - but what if he makes those seemingly random *finger point* "THAT BOY" accusations that nobody ever questions bc of his own weak magic that makes him sensitive for it?

Okay, so now comes the prompt idea. We all probably laughed when cheeky Merlin exposes Aredian with that toad coming out of his mouth on top of everything else, but imagine he doesn't bc that would be too obvious and instead just places the "fake" evidence in his room - that would leave Aredian the opportunity to use his mouth.

So what if, while Arthur and the knights are searching the room, Aredian thunders that "THAT BOY placed this here, HE'S the sorcerer, you have EVIL IN YOUR CASTLE" and Arthur only scoffs because please, that man is just ridiculous. And then, like *Merlin* did in the actual episode, *Aredian* turns away, half-hidden from view, whispers a spell that has Merlin's magic reacting, body spasming and eyes golden.

And Merlin is just standing there, struggling to hold his magic inside and not have it lashing out, and Aredian is smirking bc there's no way to explain that away, surely he has won now-

And Arthur whirls around, punching Aredian in the face, yelling at his knights about stuffing that man's mouth with a cloth before he says any more spells, and when Aredian fights them bc he finally realizes he's about to lose and then moves towards Morgana, Arthur runs him through with his sword.

Aredian is dead.

Merlin is still breathing hard, even though his magic has settled once again, and while everyone is shocked and panting and Arthur assures himself of Morgana's wellbeing, Merlin is On Edge. Because that was his actual magic reacting, and his own eyes turning golden in response to the spell, and a room full of knights, and Morgana, and Arthur were watching.

But when they all return to Uther, Arthur relays the story and it sounds as if Aredian, traitor of Camelot and apparently an evil sorcerer that has sent innocent people into their death, has enchanted Merlin to look as if he had magic, JUST like he did with hiding that amulet in Gaius chambers, to put the blame onto someone else.

Nobody questions it, not even Uther.

Merlin feels the tightness in his chest lessen, finally able to breathe normally again. He wants to laugh, really. Arthur is SO CONVINCED that his manservant is nothing more than a bumbling, but highly loyal idiot - and he has tried to protect Merlin, he remembers, right in front of Aredian and Uther and the whole court - that Arthur doesn't even consider Merlin could actually have magic.

When the day winds down, Merlin helps Arthur getting ready for bed, serving him dinner, tidying his chambers, still tired and wary, but incredibly relieved.

Until Arthur says, "So, Merlin," and Merlin freezes because that tone sounds chilling. Carefully, he straightens up and looks at Arthur, who's watching him with frighteningly intense eyes, gaze piercing. "Anything you have to say?"

"Uhm," Merlin hesitates, unsure what exactly Arthur means, heart beating wildly. "I don't know what you mean, Sire," he settles on, but that seems to be the wrong thing to say.

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'thank you', but I know manners aren't your strong suit, so how about the truth?"

"The truth?" Merlin laughs nervously, dear god, he shouldn't have let his guard down-

"YES, Merlin, the truth," Arthur growls, and then he's out of his chair, stomping towards Merlin. "Because I can assure you, this was the last time I've lied to my knights and my father and the entire court for you if you don't even have it in you to tell me the TRUTH!"

Arthus has him cornered against the bedpost now, and Merlin is trembling ever so slightly. Arthur's eyes are blazing, like a blue, furious thunderstorm, and Merlin knows there's no escaping this; especially because Arthur is right.

So he talks. He's hesitant at first, reinforcing that everything they found out about Aredian is the truth, that Merlin did not lie, that he did not *once* betray Arthur, or Camelot. Arthur looks as if he isn't sure if he fully believes Merlin, but he listens, and that is more than Merlin could've hoped for.

In the end, Merlin's voice is rough from talking, his face pale and tight with worry. Arthur has stepped back from him a while ago, first crossing his arms and snapping out questions, and then he started pacing.

"I swear," Merlin says lowly, "I never intended to bring anyone harm. I was born like this... and I have finally found a purpose."

"And what would that be, Merlin?" Arthur asks, but he doesn't sound harsh; he sounds tired, staring into the flames of the fireplace.

Merlin gulps. Now or never. "Protecting you. I- I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to have to choose. Because no matter the outcome... it would've burdened you."

Still staring into the flames, Arthur laughs humorlessly. "And yet it seems I did it anyway."

At Merlin's silence, Arthur finally turns, and he almost looks sick. "Does Gaius know?"

"Yes," Merlin whispers, but he's not afraid that Arthur will punish Gaius for it. Arthus isn't Uther.

"Of course," Arthur mumbles, and his eyes show that he's working through what he's heard so far. "How could he not know? After all, a quite powerful warlock is living with him."

Shifting uncomfortably, Merlin wonders if there's anything he can say to make it easier for anyone, but there are no words he can think of.

Arthur scoffs, shaking his head. "That... that can't be..." he trails off, and he's reeling more than Merlin has ever seen him before. "That would mean-"

Abruptly, Arthur turns away, aiming for his chair, before he whirls around again and once more stomps towards Merlin.

"If you're telling the truth," Arthur snaps, and there's a threatening expression on his face, before it softens at Merlin's flinch. "Then why aren't you affected by the magic? Why do you still want to protect me, so much so that you're putting yourself at risk everyday?"

"I," Merlin starts, unsure. "I told you, I think... that you'll be a great king, and I-"

Arthur shakes his head. "No," he interrupts. "Why is the magic not tainting you? Why... why are you still you?" he finishes, quieter.

Merlins heart feels incredibly tender. "Because magic is just a tool, Arthur. Like sword fighting. A tool that some people can use, and some can't. A tool that sometimes is used for good, and sometimes for evil. Having magic says nothing about a person - but the way they use it does."

Silence, only the crackling of the fire can be heard as Merlin watches Arthur's face, seeing the emotions flit over it, the horrible realization. "Then..."

Merlin doesn't say anything. This is a conclusion Arthur should draw, alone, without Merlin's influence.

Arthur looks up, and the light of a candle reflects in his eyes. He looks vulnerable. Pleading. Incredibly young.

Merlin waits as Arthur turns away once more, running a hand through his golden hair, shoulders tense.

"If it's alright with you," Merlin carefully starts, "I'd look after Gaius now. He's gone through hell these past few days."

"Yes, yes," Arthur agrees, sounding crumpled under the weight of tonight's revelations. "Please pass on my well wishes to him again. What happened to him was... unjust." He gets hung up on that word apparently, because he repeats it under his breath, like a death sentence. "Unjust."

Tentatively, Merlin steps towards Arthur, but he doesn't know if it will be welcome right now.

"Goodnight, Sire."

The door has almost closed behind Merlin when he hears the faint "Goodnight" in return. He smiles. Maybe, just maybe, the horrors since the witchfinder arrived are leading the way to their destiny.

Addition: Maybe, because Arthur's actually kind of smart, he realized that Merlin has magic earlier, but tried to convince himself that he hasn't. And maybe Arthur puts two and two together about the witchfinder having actual magic, and he asks Merlin about Morgana. And maybe that would save her, and the kingdom, and ultimately himself. Just saying.

#merlin bbc #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merlin x arthur #merthur #the witchfinder #episode remix #prompt idea #half a fanfic #bc let's be honest I can't not spew copious amounts of words when I try to explain a thought #Merlin's magic revealed #Arthur knows about Merlin's magic #yes these are ao3 tags

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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

Note

So between a few fics I’ve read between various fandoms as of late, I came up with the cutest idea ever, with a hint of angst of course. I am gifting it to you because you’re an amazing human being!

So you know those fics where a character gets de-aged and sort of keeps their memories, but because they’re younger and *waves hand* magic, it’s mostly just impressions of the people around them? What if prior to TID, Will got hit with a potion or spell or something that de-aged him to like a 5-8 year old or something. And he doesn’t really remember his curse, but what he does know is that Fairwell have been raising him, so he thinks they’re his parents? And calls them as such? And he’s just the sweetest little boy, always chasing after them or Jem, wanting to be read to or picked up and cuddled. And then the potion or spell wears off after a couple of weeks of this, and they have to go back to dealing with normal Will, who claims not to remember anything of what happened, but totally does, and acts worse than normal accordingly.

Uh oh, I got carried away with a fic againnn. Thank you so much for this amazing request though! I would post it all here, but I’m not even done and it’s almost at the 2500 word mark, so I’m posting this chunk, and if you enjoy, you can look out for the second part! Here it goes:

Will Herondale De-age fic (part 1)

“Jem?” Charlotte asked, incredulously. “Why, may I inquire, do you have a toddler in your arms?!”

“Mama!” The toddler, who looked an awful lot like someone Charlotte knew, squealed. He began frantically squirming in Jem’s arms, and reaching out to Charlotte, desperate for her to hold him.

Charlotte took the toddler from Jem’s arms. He shot her a grateful look as the child ceased his squirming and put his head on her shoulder and promptly began playing with a loose strand on the bodice of her dress.

“Whose child is this? And why does he think I’m his mother? And why does he look exactly like Will?”

“That’s because he is Will.”

Jem must have gone mad. That was the only other explanation. “James Carstairs, there better be a good explanation as to why you seemed to have kidnapped a child from the streets!”

“I did not! That is Will, Charlotte. Somehow, he got turned into a—a child while we were patrolling.”

“What do you mean?! Who did this to him?”

“I don’t know! I was not present at the moment. All I know is that I went to go find him and there he was!”

Charlotte held the boy at an arm's length and looked at his face. Sure enough, the little boy had eyes the color of blue glass. His unruly raven hair curled in a pile on top of his head. He stared at her and she knew.

“By the Angel!” Charlotte exclaimed.

The child—Will— giggled.

“Oh, Will. What happened to you?”

“Lottie, have you seen my—” Henry paused as he came into the threshold and looked at little Will. “Whose child is that?”

“Ours, apparently.”

Henry looked at her, confused. “What?”

“It’s Will.”

“Will? But Will is sixteen. Why is he so tiny?”

“That’s what we are trying to figure out.”

“Papa!” Will exclaimed, opening and closing his fists.

Henry’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not your father.” He said. Charlotte noted that he looked at her back, perhaps so horrified, he was hoping to hide from Will’s gaze by moving behind Charlotte.

“You’re not?” Will asked, his voice so small, Charlotte had to suppress the “aw” that was building up in her heart.

Henry seemed to think it was adorable too, and not nearly as frightening, because when he spoke again, it was softly. “No, I’m Henry.”

Will nodded. “Papa.”

Henry shot a look at Charlotte. The want to coo at Will was short-lived. She was about to pull out her hair in stress of what to do.

“Here, Henry. Hold Will for a moment, would you?” She said, putting him in Henry’s arms.

Henry looked tense for a moment, not knowing what to do, until Will wrapped his arms around his neck tightly. A small smile spread across Henry’s face.

“Who do we call?” Charlotte said, “what will the consul say? He’ll think we killed Will and tried to replace him with a Nephilim child. He won’t even try us with the mortal sword. This is so absurd, it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Charlotte, I still feel our Parabatai bond; it’s peculiar and faint, but it’s still there.”

“Is it still on him?” Charlotte asked.

“I haven’t checked yet.” Jem said. “The first thing I did was come home, I–I didn’t know what else to do, Charlotte. I panicked!”

“It’s alright, Jemmy.” Charlotte said, patting his shoulder, “we will figure it out and fix this.”

Charlotte turned to Henry and Will. The latter was snuggled up against Henry’s shoulder and sucking his thumb, perfectly content to stay there for the rest of the day.

Charlotte walked towards them and moved his thumb and pulled his shirt down just enough to see the edges of where his parabatai rune began.

“He still has his runes.” Henry said.

Charlotte shook her head. “He has only his Parabatai and Clairvoyance rune. Whatever dark magic he’s under cannot break something as sacred and powerful as a shadowhunter’s first rune nor the Parabatai rune. Which is a relief for when we manage to change him back.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to change him back?” Jem said, a worried expression on his face as he looked at his parabatai.

Charlotte put her arms around him. “Of course we will, Jem. Don’t you fret.”

…

“He’s much more pleasant when he can’t talk much.” Sophie said, side-eyeing Will as he padded around the room. He stopped in front of her and offered her the cog Henry had given him to keep him entertained. Sophie took it hesitantly, and Will tottered away, in search of something else.

“He’s definitely more affectionate.”

“Well,” Jem said, “the innocence of childhood.”

“Right,” Sophie said slowly, looking around the room, before turning back around, saying she had work to attend to, but that she’d come back if her help was necessary.

Jem began reading the book in his lap, but he found that he was reading without processing the words, and he kept having to read the same paragraph over and over again. No matter how many times he read it, all he could think about was how the last time he checked his parabatai rune, it seemed to be getting lighter; a dark gray instead of it’s normal, stark black. He hadn’t told Charlotte yet, though.

Speaking of Charlotte, she was speaking, now. “It would need to be a trusted warlock.” she said, before she was interrupted by a tugging on her dress. She froze and turned her gaze downward to find Will, his blue eyes wide open, staring up at her. He put his hands up and Charlotte sighed as she bent down and picked him up. “As I was saying,” she continued. “A trusted warlock would be necessary. I don’t want to know what would happen if the Clave were to find out about our…situation.”

With Will’s head rested on Charlotte’s collarbone and his fingers playing with her necklace, Jem realized two things. The first was that Charlotte looked like the symbol of empowerment; she was a defender of the fact that just because women were mothers, it didn’t mean they were any less capable of leading a group of people, nor that they are, by any means, weaker. The second was that Charlotte was less of an older sister and more of a mother than any of them had thought. The same went for Henry. No matter how old they thought they were, they all still relied on Henry and Charlotte, and they needed them more than they cared to admit.

“Who can we trust?”

“That is the question of the century, Jem.” Charlotte sighed.

“I can’t imagine Ragnor Fell would say anything to the Clave. We could ask him.” Henry suggested.

“Except he never seems to be available.” Charlotte said.

It’s true; even Jem knew that Ragnor wasn’t very keen on assisting the Branwells for matters that he wasn’t forced to do.

“However,” Charlotte continued. “I will send a message to him regardless, as it won’t hurt to try, and there is nobody else I could think that wouldn’t report to the Clave.”

“It's a good thing that the only thing Ragnor hates more than us is the Clave.”

Henry frowned, “Ragnor hates us?”

“No, darling, he just hates helping us with our problems.”

Henry’s frown deepened, like the idea of not wanting to help people confused him greatly.

“Miss!” Sophie exclaimed, coming into the room, a little bit breathless, suggesting that she had sprinted there.

“Sophie, what’s the matter?”

“The Consul,” she gasped, “he’s here!”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “By the Angel!” She thrusted Will into Henry’s arms. “Hide him!”

She followed Sophie out of the room, putting on a mask of cool calmness. “And don’t look suspicious.”

She closed the door behind her and Henry whirled to face Jem. “Where do we put him?!” He asked.

Jem shrugged, and looked around the room frantically.

“You two are hopeless.” Jessamine said with cool indifference, as she slipped off her glove and examined her fingernails.

“What about here?” Henry asked, sitting Will down on a bookshelf. Will giggled, falling off. Henry let out a yell and caught him before he could hit the ground.

“Yes, Mr. Consul, right this way.” Charlotte was saying.

Henry’s eyes widened in panic. As the doors opened, he quickly hid Will behind he’s back.

“He’s right here.” Charlotte said, gesturing to Henry.

“Mr. Branwell,” Consul Wayland said. “I have to speak with you on matters concerning…” he frowned at the outstretched hand Henry hadn’t shaken yet and then he squinted his eyes. “Is that a child behind you?”

The residents of the London Institute held their breaths (well, except for Jessamine, of course) before Henry finally spoke.

“Er—yes. We’re playing hide-and-seek.”

“Hide-and-seek.”

“Why yes, it’s a game played by children for entertainment in which—”

“Yes, Mr. Branwell, I know what hide-and-seek is.” Said the Consul, annoyed. “Anyway, there is an issue with a group of werewolves from Bath, who are migrating to London and you’d do well to keep an eye on them in the next few weeks.”

“And why would we do that? Surely they haven’t done anything wrong in Bath.” Charlotte said.

The Consul ignored her. “It is of utmost importance you report any strange behaviors.”

“My wife asked you a question, Consul Wayland. I should think it’s important and that it should be answered.”

“Did she now?” The Consul asked, unenthusiastically.

“As a matter of fact, she did.”

“It’s alright, Henry. We’ll look into it, Consul Wayland. Thank you for the personal message.” Charlotte said, diplomatically, leading him away from the library and out the door.

The Consul paused. “Who’s child even is that?”

“A Nephilim family from Idris needed someone to watch over one of their children while they attended a funeral.” Henry said, without skipping a beat.

“Yes. Henry and I agreed to watch over this little one for the afternoon.” Charlotte said sadly. “It was the least we could do.”

“Oh, which family?”

“The Cartwrights.” Henry said.

“Oh. Well, best wishes.”

“Thank you very much.” Charlotte said. “Sophie will see you out.”

The Consul nodded and turned back around, striding out of the room with Sophie in tow.

Jem released the breath he had been holding in since Sophie brought the message about the Consul’s arrival.

“Why the Cartwrights?” he asked.

Charlotte took a fussing Will from Henry’s arms and smoothed down his hair. “Oh, yes! Henry darling that was brilliant! The Cartwrights have so many children that nobody can keep track of each one. And there actually is a funeral being held today, though I don’t suppose the Consul will look into whether they are actually there or not.”

Jem raised his eyebrows before asking, “Well, what now?”

“We keep working.” Charlotte said with a sigh.

...

Tagging:

@autumnangel20 @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @hitheresomeoneusingthus @rinadragomir @youngreckless @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @itsdaughterofthemoon @dustandshadowsworld @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @celias

Send me a message if you want to be tagged! If I forgot to tag you, it could because you changed your url and I can’t find you 🙈 If that’s the case, just send me a message and I’ll update the tag list!

#will herondale #charlotte fairchild #henry branwell #henry fairchild #charlotte branwell #jem carstairs #sophie collins #jessamine lovelace #de-age #tsc fanfic #tid fanfiction #tid fanfic #fairwell #henry and charlotte #jem and Will #pre-clockwork angel

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liron-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Brilliant

A Doctor Who–Destiel–Malec Oneshot

"This is brilliant!" the Doctor exclaims. She pushes some buttons on the console of the TARDIS. "Brilliant!"

"How is this 'brilliant'?" Alec asks. "We're trapped in a TV show."

"No, we are trapped in a TV series, Shadowhunter," Yaz hisses.

Castiel huffs in frustration. "It's probably just one of Gabriel's stupid jokes."

"Gabriel?" the Doctor asks. "Oh, the Archangel. Amy loved him, but not as much as she loved you, Cass."

"Where do you know his name from?" Dean demands to know.

The Doctor rolls her eyes. "I watched the show, Dean. Crappy ending, sorry."

"You... what!?" Dean asks.

"Nevermind. That's more brain-wracking than the usual time travel paradoxes. But I'm thrilled to meet you all. Umm—what are you doing, Magnus?" She raises an eyebrow at the warlock who lets his magic run over the console.

"This is worse than the technology in the Institute," he mutters.

Alec pulls him away cautiously. "Maybe you shouldn't mess with it then, love?" he suggests, smiling strained, holding tight on his husband's hand.

"Aww, you're the reboot version. I was so happy when Netflix saw sense. And your boys are the cutest," the Doctor chirps.

"Boys?" Magnus asks.

"Doctor, they might be from episode one of season four. Look at their clothes," Yaz whispers, but it's loud enough for Dean to hear it.

"There are only three seasons of Shadowhunters," he states. "It ends when they marry and Clary loses her memories, but gets them back in the last few seconds. It wasn't the best ending, but at least the gays were happy." Dean's grin reaches from ear to ear before it falters at Castiel's stern look.

"Dean, did you watch 3b without me?"

Dean shrugs. "If you wouldn't always run out on me or die then we coulda watched it. It was on my playlist for aeons. And I needed something to distract me from… You know." He waves his hand up and down the angel.

"Jesus! That's like that time when Sam and I were in this weird Hollywood dimension, with that Russian guy that looked like Cass!"

"Wait!" Magnus says. "I watched Doctor Who for six decades and Supernatural for fifteen years—I agree, Doctor, the 'finale' was crap. But if you all know us from a show called Shadowhunters, then we must be in some kind of dimension that morphs everything into a TV series that everyone else has watched."

The Doctor claps her hands together. "The French mistake—one of my favourites!"

"No, Russian." Dean shakes his head and rolls his eyes. He always loved the Doctor and was excited for a woman to take over the role, but he thinks he might have been able to live without her enthusiasm about their little get together. They have a world to save, after all.

"Chuck has a strange sense of humour, but that doesn't sound like one of his interventions," Alec states. "Why would he put us all in the TARDIS?"

"What do we all have in common?" Dean asks.

"We're kinda humans," Alec says.

"Time Lady."

"Angel."

"Warlock. And you're not fully human either, Alexander."

The shadowhunter chews his lips.

"But you three have some kind of mojo," Dean supplies.

The Doctor furrows her brow. "You're right. Cass has grace, Magnus magic, and timelord technology is so highly evolved, it could be seen as magical. If there is a—" she trails off and points her sonic screwdriver first at the warlock then at the angel. Then she listens to her ship. "You're right," she says and putters about the console.

"Care to fill us in?" Alec asks.

The Doctor pushes a button and a high-pitched sound makes them all cover their ears. "Gotcha!"

"What?" Castiel asks.

"I know what we have in common. We all have a fam. You've got the SPN family, and you," she turns to Alec and Magnus, "your fans call themselves shadowfam. And I?" She smiles brightly. "I have Yaz, Graham, and Ryan."

"You agreed on team TARDIS, Doctor," Magnus reminds her.

"Still, feels like fam to me." She shrugs. "So…" She quirks her lips in thought. "Some blood magic, maybe?"

"But family doesn't end in blood," Dean argues.

"Right, Bobby taught you that. Wish the showrunners remembered that in season 15," Alec murmurs. Dean gives him a strange side look.

"Is something wrong, Dean?"

"Nah, Cass," he says and pulls his gaze from the intertwined hands of the Lightwood-Banes. "So, maybe some rune thingy?"

Alec pulls a face. "Could turn Yaz and you into forsakens. Maybe even the Doctor. Better not."

"Can't you just put the coordinates in and throw us out in the bunker. Or in front of it? No idea if the warding would keep the TARDIS out or not." Dean frowns.

"Wouldn't work," Magnus says. "If this dimension, or whatever it is, thinks that we are all fictional, then the coordinates can't bring us into our worlds. We might end up in your dimension. I like our vampires better."

"Awesome!" Dean groans.

Magnus curls his fingers around his chin in deep thought. "I could summon a dimension demon, but they usually demand things one would rather die than do."

"Like what?" Castiel asks.

"The last time I had to pay one, he wanted me to drink seelie wine."

"Doesn't sound too bad," Dean says.

"You've never had seelie wine. That stuff is worse than the touch of a Djinn." Dean whistles in acknowledgement.

"Could still be worth it. I mean we need to get back to our friends, and yours are surely waiting, too," Yaz supplies.

"The TARDIS is stuck in this dimension, Doc?" Alec asks.

"Yes. Positive."

"Then we should begin," Magnus says, conjuring chalks. "We all will be home soon."

***

They stand in a circle around the pentagram drawn on the floor of the TARDIS.

"We must initiate a bond. Once this bond is sealed,..." Magnus starts.

"...it cannot be broken until the demon retreats," Castiel ends his sentence and smiles softly at Alec, who blushes fiercely.

"Well, this time, I won't be the one who'll break it in a gay panic," he huffs. Yaz snickers.

Dean furrows his brow, ignoring Castiel eyeing him. He recites the summoning spell together with Magnus and the Doctor. Green flames rise in their midst. They aren't hot, but their sight hurts the eyes. A deep growl speaks to them, and Castiel turns pale.

"I haven't heard this demonic dialect in a while," he calls over the noises. "Did he say what I think he said?"

Magnus worries his lip between his teeth. "I think he did."

"I can't."

"What, Cass. What does he ask for? Give it to him. It can't be that bad," Dean shouts.

"It isn't. At least not for me." Castiel looks at the Doctor. "Any Supernatural sequels you've seen by any chance?"

"No, sorry. I got stuck at the Destiel YouTube vids. Didn't get around to checking future releases. But you two always reminded me of Rose and me, you know?" She looks sad at the memory of her lost love.

"No. A human doppelgänger won't do," Castiel says firmly. He says something in the demon's tongue and gets a rumble in reply.

Magnus nods at him. "My magic can hold the circle. But hurry."

The others stare at them. "Why doesn't the TARDIS translate his words?" Yaz asks.

"This demon is too old," the Doctor says. "Even older than evil itself. No one speaks this language anymore but angels and demon-blooded ones, as it seems."

"Lucky me, huh?" Castiel presses out. He lets go of Magnus' hand and turns to Dean. The warlock holds the gap with his magic. "I know how you see yourself, Dean…"

"We don't have time for the whole death speech. Fast forward," Magnus hisses, clearly struggling to hold the bond.

Castiel frowns at him but nods. He turns his face back to Dean. "I'm sorry. I know you never wanted that to happen. It's simply what the demon demands. It doesn't have to mean anything, okay?"

"What are you talking about, man?"

Castiel smiles at him. "I love you." And then he leans in and kisses him. It's chaste but after a moment of shock, Dean returns the kiss, and his hand cards through Castiel's hair. Thunder booms around them and dense fog separates the different duos. The demon disappears with a screeching noise and when the fog thins out, the places where the two couples were standing are empty.

"It worked!" the Doctor rejoices. Yaz grins at her. "Let's get to the boys."

"No, Mulder, this isn't a UFO. It's surely just a high-quality film set," a redhead in pantsuit and coat says as she strolls into the room.

"Scully!" the Doctor cheers. "Brilliant!"

#fandom fusion #doctor who #shadowhunters #supernatural #destiel #malec #deancas #metafiction #crack taken seriously

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

Note

HI, IT'S ME! YOUR LOCAL CHAOTIC WEIRDO!!!!! I'M BACK AGAIN LIKE I AM TWICE EVERY WEEK

IT'S MY BOY DAVID THIS TIME! WHY AM I SO HYPER! MAYBE BECAUSE THEY KISSED! AND I HAD TO SUPPRESS MY SCREAMS BCAUSE IM IN CLASS AND THE REST OF MY FAMILY IS OUTSIDE MY DOOR (NOT LITERALLY OFC)

OK OK OK OK OK OK

MAX AND DAVID ARE AT THE LONDON INSTITUTE YESYESYESYES

He rather liked that part in a story – when the hero fell, and everything seemed bleak. It always meant that hope was just around the corner. Because darkness never lasted. It was always followed by light. There was nothing more beautiful than that kind of sunrise.

THIS

I literally live my life by this analogy

AHHH DAVID IS ON HIS TRAVEL YEAR AND MAX IS WITH HIM

SCREAM

well i can't scream because my mom is sitting right there and I have class in 4 minutes so imma smile really wide

“Are you planning to read the entire library during your travel year?” Max chuckled.

“Of course not,” David replied. “I will need longer than a year to accomplish that goal.”

Me.

Wait

does max not being able to make portals have something to do with his lineage?

demon parent

ok so my programming class started 2 minutes early but screw programming I'm gonna be studying minds not this shit

ok that's a very bad attitude for someone who needs good grades in this year

Max was always hungry.

this is so me

KIT

THEY MENTIONED TY

also if David doesn't become an institute head in the future THEN WHAT'S THE POINT

“Where is the kitchen?” Max interrupted.

max is such a mood

He had told Max that he had centuries to perfect his magic, that there was no need to rush it. Max had given him a noncommittal nod and nothing more.

HE'S GONNA MAKE THE BEST PORTALS YOU'LL SEE

“I won’t tell the Consul,” Kit winked.

At the mention of the Consul, David straightened up. He had been trying to get into Alec Lightwood’s good graces for years now. He didn’t think sharing a room with his son would do him any favors.

DAVID UDUCDFUHKDUHVUHSDH

PLEASE IF WE DON'T GET A CUTE ALEC AND DAVID SCENE SOON

KIT CALLED TESSA MOM

oh my god

Word was that Mr. Herondale had gone back to his obsession with brewing tea.

JACE

I have so many emotions right now but all I'm gonna say is that I'm so so proud of Rafael

“Do you not want to sleep with me?” Max asked.

UH-

WELL-

DAVID STOP THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE AND ALL THE SHIT

STOP IT

OH MY GOD THE ONE BED TROPE

MAX IS IN HIS ARMS I'M ABOUT TO-

takes a deep breath don't scream. everyone outside this door thinks you're taking programming class

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY

AWW JULIAN PAINTED PORTRAITS FOR THE INSTITUTE

The one of Will Herondale and Tessa Gray – A love that had transcended reality and lasted a lifetime.

The one of James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs – A love that had started with a lie and then blossomed into nothing but happiness and devotion.

The one of Lucie Herondale and Jesse Blackthorn – A love that had been so powerful that it rewrote the past.

The one of Jace Herondale and Clary Fairchild – A love that had walked through hell and shaken up the heavens.

And then there the final one. The one of Kit Herondale and Tiberius Blackthorn – A love that had survived distance and darkness and doom.

This omg...

He wanted a love story. The kind he read in the books. The kind he saw in these portraits.

But he wasn’t a Herondale. He wasn’t sure if he was destined for that kind of love.

HEY

DON'T THINK LIKE THAT

The first part though

same

He might have been a little too excited. It was biologically impossible to control yourself when you find a stranger reading your favorite book in the whole world.

SO TRUE

“I see you already made a new friend,” Max said.

He sounded a little…odd. As if he was not pleased that David had made a new friend.

honey...

take a guess

can I jump in and bash their heads together?

“You are thinking of conjuring chocolate syrup, aren’t you?” David chuckled.

“How do you always know what’s on my mind?” Max chuckled back.

Because I know you, David wanted to say. I just wish I knew what’s in your heart too.

OH MY GOD I CANT WITH THIS

“You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup!” Max was yelling, standing on the chair.

They residents laughed harder, and David shook his head fondly. He hoped one day Max would pursue a career in theatre. He was a born showman.

can I have chocolate syrup?

also, the way David is just so fond of him like DYUSDGYJCDYUJM

“By the angel, do you have to be a drama queen about everything?” the boy next to them muttered – not so quietly.

David blinked. That was uncalled for.

But Max being Max was completely unfazed. “Of course I do. My Bapa would be personally offended otherwise.”

exactly you rude little shit

Max often pretended like people’s words didn’t hurt him - just as he pretend that fire doesn’t burn or wounds don’t bleed.

wow ok stop calling me out

Is max jealous??????

is he??????

how are people so good at languages like damn

“Oh my god,” Max groaned. “Is he already telling people to check on me?”

LMAO

using mundane medicine...

that's risky

but it's also something that WILL help

can't warlocks tamper with the blood samples?

A part of him wondered if that’s why he had agreed to send Max away to London – at least for a week. Because sometimes you didn’t want other people to see you were hurting.

alec I really goddamn hope you're dealing with this well

some of whom had even decided to die than get help from a warlock.

alright then gets my knives but you chose this :D

Nobody brought a book down for breakfast if they didn't like to read.

yes but sometimes also to seem busy so people won't bother you or you won't look alone.

“I know,” the boy said as he walked past them to the gate. “I sat on the stairs and thought about life for a few good minutes.”

his family is the one who took over David's previous institute (i can't spell that. marse- marselli- wat??) methinks.

The gang always visited whenever all of them were in the city together. They would have so much fun! Of course, the 'fun' mostly entailed Rafael stopping Georgia from drinking random potions she found in the stalls, Selena stopping Lexi from opening a psychic booth to help people talk to Raziel and of course David stopping Max from running to the gambling booths.

LMAO, I CANT WITH THIS-

Rafe: I am anxiety.

me at any given moment

EW TESTICLES HE'S EATING THOSE-

ok maybe I'm the only person who's really picky when it comes to food and doesn't eat the majority of things

“Anything on Magnus Bane?” Max asked.

“No,” the woman snapped and shoved some of the letters into a bag and hide it under the table. “Leave Magnus Bane alone!”

“Appreciate your loyalty,” Max winked at her and started examining a diary.

I like her.

"Everyone should be participating in this" -my programming teacher

me, an intellectual: participating in what?? goes to the class web THE FUCK IS THAT

“Something for the shadowhunter?” the woman smiled. “Perhaps an unpublished snippet from the Beautiful Cordelia?”

“Do you have any love letters?” David asked.

“Hmmm,” the woman went through the pages. “I do have a correspondence between an Iblis demon and Christopher Lightwood? Would you be interested in that?”

if u don't mind I would love to see both of those-

you know I just remembered I have a computer assignment I need to submit by the end of this week fml

“Never fall in love with an immortal,” she giggled again. “We don’t like staying in one place.”

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

MAX WHERE ARE YOU

why are we using x and 3 in programming class what the heck is going on

“I’m not just some warlock,” Max said, his voice low. “I’m Magnus Bane’s son.”

GIVE HIM THAT NECKLACE BACK

we usually have programming once a week on our physical school days and those are fun because my and my friend are continuously passing notes and talking to each other through writing

The scene where Max fought off all the evil people who tried to steal his valuable belonging. He would fight without breaking a sweat and throw magic fireballs at everyone and then get his necklace back. And then he would kiss David in front of everyone and it would somehow rain all of a sudden.

But life wasn’t a movie or a book. Life was just life.

life's boring

fuck life

I just heard a student ask "why are we not taking out the values of b and c" BESTIE I THOUGHT WE WERE DOING PROGRAMMING AND NOT ALGEBRA?????

“I know there wasn’t anyone to protect you before,” Magnus Bane had said. “But we are here now. We will protect you. This will protect you.”

He hadn’t wanted it back then. He didn't even want it even now.

He didn’t want something to protect him. Most importantly, he didn’t want to cover his scar. He didn’t want to hide it. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It wasn’t a mark of a victim. It was the mark of a survivor.

So, David had smiled and given the bracelet back.

“I never wanted to be protected,” David had replied. “I only ever wanted to be loved.”

The warlock had smiled at that and given David a hug. It had felt different than other hugs he had experienced since he had come to New York.

It wasn’t just the magic. Magnus Bane carried so much love inside himself you could literally feel it through him.

I'm gonna cry during my programming class (where we're doing variables apparently all of a sudden??)

this is so beautiful

“I wasn’t talking about Bapa,” Max said now. “I was talking about the other one.”

David chuckled at that. “Oh, yeah. He is definitely going to kill you.”

what flowers would you like at your funeral?

so Jackson has family troubles

I've definitely got that

yeah I know what it's like to be jealous of someone else's perfect family

JACKSON WTF

Is he trying to ruin max's relationship with his family???

oh hell no

JACKSON THE AUDACITY

“One stolen necklace, One broken nose and One bruised cheek,” he said. “And you’ve been in London for less than a day.”

kit seriously? but is he wrong though?

“This is what I get for falling for a Lightwood-Bane,” David sighed and walked through the portal.

WELL AT LEAST HE'S SELF AWARE

Jackson...

in some ways, I can empathize with him. my younger self anyway. but Jackson this is not how you do things

There was a moment of silence and then Magnus Bane giggled.

“I do love it when the quiet ones go feral,” the warlock grinned.

MAGNUS

NOT.THE.TIME

(me too)

“David!” Mr Herondale gasped. “Is your hand okay?”

yup that's Jace y'all

David hated violence. He hated fighting – which he was often not allowed to say out loud considering he was a shadowhunter.

But it was the truth. He hated hurting people – or even things. It made him feel sick.

“It’s alright, Chouchou,” Mr Herondale ran a hand through David’s hair. “Next time, just-”

“Use my words?” David asked.

“Just don’t get caught,” the man winked.

and that is why I would never want to be a shadowhunter.

I know saying that doesn't do anything but when I first read tsc I wanted to be a shadowhunter really badly and damn that was some time ago but now...violence of any kind is my biggest trigger idek why. and I hate that so much because what kind of a person gets triggered by loud voices and fighting EVEN ON SCREEN??? I usually just push myself to watch stuff because it's dumb. I refuse to see trigger warnings before reading a book or watching a show because damn it, I should be able to stand those things I'm, not a child. and it may be doing me more harm than good but I shouldn't feel like this in the first place

okay...that was long

ANYWAY

“David, I appreciate you standing up for Max,” the Consul said. “But next time, please try not to punch anyone in the face.”

“Yes, sir,” David nodded. “Because it’s wrong.”

“Because it means more paperwork for me,” the Consul groaned and then straightened up. “But yes. Absolutely. Very wrong. No punching people!”

LMAO ALEC

Jackson...

I was wrong then

He was grinning. Magnus Bane must have raised hell in the shadow market.

that must have been fun

Max was doing that thing where he was not trying to pout but he was mostly definitely pouting. It made David want to kiss him. But then the Consul spoke, and David reminded himself he didn’t want to be the third person to get punched in the face this evening.

well-

“I understand that Jackson has been through a lot. But that’s not an excuse for him to hurt those around him. I learned that lesson the hard way. So, you shouldn’t excuse his behaviour.”

someone's trauma and pain is never an excuse to hurt others

but that doesn't mean we should invalidate their trauma either

“You can stay back and try to help him. I won’t stop you,” the man got up now. “But if he tries to hurt you-”

“You will unleash hell?” David chuckled.

“Worse,” the other man grinned. “I will unleash Lexi.”

that is much much worse

Books brought him comfort in so many ways. Just holding one in his hands automatically made him feel better.

oh my god

he gets it

I always have a book with me when I'm out even if I'm not gonna get the time to read it because just the weight and comfort of it in my hands or in my backpack brings me so much comfort and helps with my social anxiety so much

no one understands when I try to tell them that

you get it...

someone gets it finally

AYYY IRENE

“David, it’s very sweet that you want to protect Jackson,” Kit pointed out. “But literally no one is buying that. Not even Irene.”

The lynx purred on his lap as if she agreed with Kit.

“I could break into a liquor cabinet,” David said a little indignantly.

David is the nicest you can get

David wouldn’t. Apparently, everyone already seemed to know that - even the lynx he had met five minutes ago.

we are solving something in class and it's really quiet because we're all doing our work (I'm reading the fic so-) and this one person had their mic open and they kept on whispering their steps and it was so weird I cant-

BUT YES DAVID IS A CINNAMON ROLL. EVEN THE LYNX KNOWS

“We were talking about shitty fathers,” Jackson pointed out. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“I’m gonna need something stronger than red wine for this conversation,” Kit chuckled.

I remember that bitch

David used to do it when he was a child. He used to pretend his life was a story. He used to pretend everything that happened to him was happening to some other boy – a boy who wasn’t real. A boy who lived inside a book. Because it hurt a little less when you pretend like it wasn’t happening to you.

But the pain was still very real.

OK YOU CAN STOP CALLING ME OUT NOW

“I fucking hate ogres,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Was your father an ogre too?” Jackson asked.

“He was more like a harpy,” Kit snorted. “He was always flying and fleeing. I didn’t know how deep his talons were in my head until it was too late.”

you really like traumatizing all your characters, don't you?

I really fucking hope the ogre got what he deserved

and if the angel is dead then fuck everyone

“I mean, there was that time when Sebastian Morgenstern turned my father into the endarkened, and then he went around killing people. So, I would say he was more like a zombie,” the man was explaining now. “The zombie father tried to kill me but my brother killed him first.”

“Good lord!” Jackson said in shock.

Kit chuckled softly. “Boy do shadowhunters need therapy.”

they really do

He knew about those from New York. He knew Mr Herondale and Miss Fairchild went for one together.

YES GET THEM THERAPY

“Yikes,” Kit chuckled. “I’d prefer something classier. How about London Boys?”

“None of us are from London though,” Tiberius pointed out.

“The Beatles are not actually beetles, Ty,” Kit chuckled. “It’s just for pizazz.”

damn guys

Then the idea of a band turned into a possible YouTube channel where they would react to cute animal videos.

YS DO IT

“When people do awful things, really awful things, at one point we stop being surprised. Like what Valentine did to his children or what our fathers did to us or what those women did to Rafael. We might have been shocked or disgusted. But it wasn’t unrealistic, was it?”

“I guess not,” the boy said.

“Even when they did the most unimaginable acts of cruelty, it somehow managed to fit into our imagination. We accepted that the world can be unrealistically cruel. The kind of cruelty we will never understand. But why isn’t it the same for kindness? Why is that when someone is too kind, we automatically feel uncomfortable? We judge their intensions or think they are just pretending to be nice. We think they are being unrealistic. Why is that?”

we get so used to cruelty that kindness feels weird

“But that’s how our life works, doesn’t it? It’s a giant ball of what ifs and could have beens and if nots. What if my father had loved me instead of hurt me? Could I have been kinder if I was hugged instead of being abused? Would have I been a different person if not for my trauma? Our lives are an endless collection of theories about our real selves. The one didn’t we never had the chance to become.”

THIS

I used to spend a bunch of time on the what-ifs but those are useless. so screw the what-ifs and live in the present

“I guess we’ll never know, Jackson. None of us will never know how we would have turned out if things had been different for us. We never got the chance to be who were meant to be. Instead, we became who we had to become to survive what we went through. We will never know our true selves. We only know the version of us that made it through all the trauma.”

“Christ, that’s depressing,” Jackson said.

“It is,” David nodded. “But we made it through. We survived. I think we should focus on that.”

you survived. that's what matters

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be rescued,” David smiled.

I wish I had heard this before...

maybe I don't always have to be strong. maybe it's ok sometimes just want to be saved.

I'm so happy that both Jackson and David found each other

David had learned Gaelic. Jackson had learned how to play the piano.

They had laughed and lived and loved and learned.

And they had survived – one day at a time. The London Boys.

they survived.

I know I'm always key smashing and screaming but these words, these lines, all these chapters mean so so much to me.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” David asked, hugging Jackson closely.

“No,” Jackson replied. “I will FaceTime you like a normal person, you weirdo!”

David laughed at that. “I prefer letters. They are more emotional.”

“I’ll text you,” Jackson countered. “With emojis.”

oh to have someone write me letters.

I love writing letters

once at the end of a school year, I wrote little letters to everyone in my class anonymously. even the people who had been mean to me. that was like 1-2 years after my transfer to that school and everyone practically hated me but I wanted to do something nice because who knows what someone is going through. I ended up not putting them in people's desks...

I threw them all away :)

but writing letters is superior

I often write my feelings down and give the letter to someone rather than talk to someone

if you receive a letter from me or a custom-made gift...you have reached my ultimate friendship

oh my god. THIS IS HOW I SHOULD TALK TO ONE OF MY FRIENDS ABOUT MY FEELINGS

It's kind of been a mess between us and I want to talk to her but I didn't know how to.

this is why i shouldn't send asks-

JACKSON CATCHING UP ON MAX AND DAVID

“You know what it means,” Jackson grinned harder. “Also, if that wanker tries to break your heart, I will break his face.”

“You know he is the Consul’s son?” David giggled.

“I’ve done it once and I will do it again,” Jackson shrugged. “He better treat you right.”

"wanker"

I HAVE A BRITISH ONLINE FRIEND AND THEY CALLED OUR AMERICAN ONLINE FRIEND A WANKER

AND OUR OTHER BRITISH FRIEND JOINED IN

WHILE ALL THE NON-BRITISH PEOPLE WERE LIKE "huh"

Lexi had cut her hair even shorter. Her girlfriend apparently got something called an undercut.

“Just in case someone dared to assume we were straight,” she had winked at him.

how many years has this fake dating been going on...

CENTURION SELENA

fterA the twins went to bed, David stepped out of the institute and went looking for his heart.

"went looking for his heart"

OH FUCK I FORGOT TO JOIN MY CLASS

MAX STOP DEPLETING YOUR SELF GODDAMN

And then somewhere along the way, Max’s heartbeat had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.

Max, with all his chaos and drama and danger, had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.

oh my god that's a parallel from canon

“Tell me why.”

“Ain't nothing but a heart break!!"

Max-

Max could make fireballs that killed demons on the spot. He could summon things from anywhere. He could heal people with his eyes closed. He was one of the youngest warlocks allowed to visit the spiral labyrinth.

Max was a warlock in every sense. A good one. A great one even.

he is so talented...

Only idiots would underestimate Magnus Bane’s power.

EXACTLY

He is probably going to be Consul like next week.”

David chuckled. “Next week?”

next week????

“Yeah, his smoking habits,” Max rolled his eyes.

Rafael wasn’t the smoker in the family. He knew who it was, but David would never open his mouth. It wasn’t his secret to tell.

this keeps on getting better

“It’s my hair!” David laughed.

“And you’re my David!” Max argued. “I say you are not allowed to grow your hair.”

MY DAVID

“I don’t want to downworld-splain it to you.”

Max blinked and then laughed. “You don’t want to what?”

“Downworld-splain,” David mumbled. “It’s when shadowhunters explain downworlders how to be downworlders.”

they were SO close to kissing

I'm gonna get in there and lock them in a closet together and tell them to FUCKING GET WITH IT

Remember who you are. Remember where you stand.

remember who you are. remember where you stand...

I know this is supposed to be about portals.

OH MY GOD THEY KISSED

THEY KISSED

IM SO CLOSE TO SCREAMING CLASS AND EVERYONE OUTSIDE THIS ROOM BE DAMNED

OH MY GOD DAVID FELL

reminds me of when alec fell down the stairs-

OH MY GOD I'M GONNA SCREAM

WE'RE GONNA GET MORE MAVID CONTENT SOON I'M SCREAMING INTERNALLY UYDRVFY7VSDU7UYVFSDUYGCADUYIGJCDSHJKGDVCSUGISDVHVF

ok, I have a computer assignment to get to and tests to study for. BUT I LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO SO MUCH!! THEY FINALLY KISSED I'M SO HAPPY!!!!!

Also I know I tend to go off track and you can totally ignore that. i just go crazy. BYEE

This live blog gives me so much life you don't even know. I am go glad you enjoyed the chapter. I love hearing you rant about it. It's refreshing lol.

And I looooooove the lil anecdotes you share in between. Also wtf is a programming class like nobody wants to learn programme what kind of hetero nonsense I-

FINISH YOUR ASSIGNMENTS AND STUDY FOR YOUR TESTS I'LL SEE YOU SOON :)

#lbaf

9 notes · View notes

fan-fantasies · 4 years

Text

Destiny (Micheal Langdon smut)

Pairing?: micheal langdon x reader

warnings?: SMUT, unprotected sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, chocking, ritualistic (kinda) sex, voyeurism, season spoilers (follows episodes from the season)

Word count?: 4.1k

A/N: WOW! Two posts in one week? Its almost like all i wanna do is write! Here is somemore smut, idk why i keep writing smut but for some reason i keep doing it. Maybe I’m getting better at this? I don’t really know honestly. Though I do hope you guys enjoy... Thank you so much for the likes and everything. Enjoy! <3 ~Breezy

You had been wandering in the woods for what seemed like eternity, you weren’t exactly sure where you were going or why you were here. It was the middle of the night, when you felt compelled to leave your home and go in search for a man. A voice had told you nothing more than he was living somewhere around here, in the middle of nowhere. You had been told that about three days ago, you had been endlessly wandering through the woods with no food, no water or even a clue who this man was. Your legs had begun to feel weak starting at the beginning of what you figured was the fourth day. It was then you came to a clearing, in the middle of the field was a strange metal statue, what was that? The bright sun blinded you as you entered the direct sunlight as you headed towards the entrance. There was no one around, how in the world was this the place you weren’t meant to be? The closer you got, you heard male voices speaking they seemed hushed but you honestly didn’t care. They didn’t notice you till you nearly collapsed in front of them,

“M-Micheal?” You stammered, “I need Micheal,” you whisper before you saw nothing but darkness.

The two men standing before you watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head before collapsing to the ground. You were dirty, clearly having been in the woods for awhile. Normally they would be hesitant to bring a stranger into the school but the fact you asked for Micheal intrigued them even more. How did you know about the new student that was prepared to test to be the new alpha?

There was no doubt you played some important role here, maybe the witches had sent you? Where they trying to get a spy on the inside? Regardless, they managed to get you inside, finding a spare bed to lay you in for the time being. Many questions where asked of them as they walked through the academy, mainly from the boys who had witnessed them walking by but they gave them no answers, seeing as though they had none themselves.

Micheal wasn’t a hard student to find among the others, mainly cause his energy stood out to them the most but to you it was even stronger. Feeling his energy getting closer made your eyes fly open, you body moved as if you were on autopilot. You legs swung over the side of the unfamiliar bed, the room was rather large but that didn’t exactly matter, all you wanted was to see him. You had to be beside him.

You easily swung the door open only to be overwhelmed by his energy. He stood across the way, glancing your way, a wide smirk grew on his face. He made his way towards you, you didn’t dare move even though you wanted nothing more to be near him. Micheal looked around quickly before walking into the room with you, shutting the door behind the both of you and locking it using his power. You reached your hand out, almost like a mindless zombie but once your hands touched the trance went away. You had found him.

“Micheal,” you whisper looking up at him.

His eyes dark, “So my father sent you?” He questioned his facial expression unreadable,

“Yes, we were destined,” you say softly, “He wants us together, I only make you stronger,” you didn’t break eye contact, you could tell he wanted to do more but something was holding him back.

“They won’t let you stay,” he says, “they already believe you to be some sort of spy that the witches sent,” you looked at him, almost as if it didn’t exactly matter. “If they send me away, I will only come back for you. Nothing can separate us,” you tell him, “We are meant to rule together.” You gently caress his cheek, wanting nothing more than to be closer to him. He signs heavily, he gently touches your cheek in return but this was for something completely different. Your mind felt less hazy, less controlled.

“Now that you are completely here, tell me all you remember,”

And you did. You told him how you awoke from your sleep one night and compelled to leave your family and walk into the forest with no word. It was in the woods when a spell seemed to be cast over you, a black goat having approached you scaring you half to death.

“So my father did come to you,” he mumbles, “You are the one he spoke about,” He rubs his temples clearly trying to take in all this information. While he did that, you took in the man before you, short blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, he was truly handsome… It wasn’t like you had a very great Homelife, it was pretty boring honestly.

“You do have a strong power within you,” he whispers bringing his face closer to yours, he seemed hesitant at first but now he seems convinced that you would be of use to him. “You will stay by my side at all time, they won’t take you away from me.” He growls almost possessively. Not like you minded, you knew he would keep you safe.

And keep you safe he did, you stayed by him every second of every day. To his lessons, to his training, to whatever it is he was doing. He even made it so you could stand beside him while they used a spell to give him protection and strength. You stood in the circle of fire with him, your arm wrapped in his. Though he knew he didn’t need either of those things from them, because you already gave him that.

You even stood by him when he went for his seven wonders test. His ‘teachers’ weren’t exactly pleased to hear that you would be tagging along but some how he convinced them that it was important that you stand by him. You had rested all day, knowing that he would likely pull from your energy when he began to do his ‘craft’. You knew he was strong enough to do it all without you, but you gave him even more just to be safe.

You were awake by his gentle voice and soft lips against your cheek, “My dear, it’s time to wake up,” he whispered into your ear, your eyes slowly opening meeting his beautiful one.

“Is it that time?” You ask him, he smiled softly answering your question. Slowly you sat up, he stood next to the bed waiting. You yawn a bit before standing for yourself,

“I got you this to wear my love,” he says as he motions towards a dress that laid on his desk. A black floor length dress with a beautiful gold pattern on the sleeves and chest piece. You weren’t afraid to undress in front of him and put the dress on.

“Micheal~ It’s beautiful!” You squeal as you spun with a giggle, he smiled at your reaction.

“My beautiful queen deserves the best,” he says as he fixes his uniform, “Now come, we must go,” he offers his arm, which you gladly take. You both make your way to the area where he would show his power. You enter with him at your side, his ‘teachers’ leading the way and the female witches waited for us. The witches gaze was on Micheal for a moment but was quickly shifted to you. Confusion overtook them seeing a female among the men, they prepared to ask but the men insisted the test begin. You stood away from Micheal, not near the men or the female, just alone. The supreme, Cordelia you had learned her name was, seemed uneasy not only with how well the tests were going, but with your presence. You could tell she wanted to ask but she couldn’t get a word out.

Micheal had passed almost all the tests given to him, the last task he was given was to basically bring someone back from somewhere. You didn’t fully understand seeing as though this whole magic thing but by the sounds of it, it seemed as though he had to go to hell to retrieve a soul. You knew this was something easy for him, seeing as though who his father was. He stood beside you as this was explained to him, you could feel him recharging his energy by taking yours, it wasn’t enough to hurt you it just made you tired. Once they finished arguing each other, Cordelia took one of the men into another room to speak about this you had assumed. Micheal had leaned down to your ear, you kept a straight face as his breath tickled your neck.

“You’re doing so well my dear,” he praises, “Keep it up and I will reward you later,” he gently nips your earlobe before pulling away. The witches that stood across the room eyed you both suspiciously and curiously. You tried to keep a straight face after Micheals slightly teasing words but you knew that if you listened, you would be rewarded, he was a man of his word. Micheal left your side only to go towards the door and use his power to open it. You knew full well he would do this.

Once convinced, the test began, Micheal laid on the ground ready to begin. It was so strange to see this ritual in progress. They began to chant until Micheal seemingly fell asleep, leaving you with some anxious witches and eager warlocks. Now that there was silence for a moment, Cordelia finally was able to ask her question.

“And who is this?” She asked looking at you, “She hasn’t seemingly left Micheals side all evening.” She points out looking you up and down. You stood there in silence, no one spoke a word mainly because even the warlocks couldn’t answer that question and you refused to say anything that might give you away.

There was a long silence, and if Micheal hadn’t just shot up gasping for air you were sure a fight would have broke out. He woke up alone but surprised even the witches when he brought back the witch named Misty. Micheal stood to his feet, walking straight to you as he seemed exhausted by the ritual. While none of the witches were watching, you gently took his face in your hands, taking a deep breath you gave as much energy before they began to pay attention. The oldest witch then called one of the warlocks, ‘a pathetic pompous ass,’ which got a giggle out of you, she wasn’t wrong…

“I did everything you asked,” Micheal proudly says standing tall, you arm now linked with his. You both stood proud together, like a king and queen. Once the commotion seemed to die down, both you and Micheal took your leave heading towards his bedroom. All of them believed he needed rest, but you knew exactly what was going to happen behind those doors.

Micheal was eager to take you in every way possible before they had a gathering in the study. It didn’t take long for clothes to be shed and for you to be tossed onto the bed. Your face pushed into his pillow, your ass high in the air presenting yourself to him. No matter how much you begged him to take you, he did nothing but tease you, his touches light and gentle. This continued for what felt like an eternity but when you least expected it he turned into a monster. Thrusting into you like a wolf in heat, his hand wrapped in your hair pulling you to his chest. One hand pressed against your stomach, the other wrapped around your neck cutting off airflow. Your moans silenced by this but small sounds still managed to escape.

“Who do you belong to?” He growled in your ear as he continued to roughly pound into you. It took you a few minutes to register his words.

“You, my prince,” you sobbed as his hand now tightened against your throat. You felt your release coming, your eyes welled up with tears.

“Don’t you dare cum,” he continues to pound relentlessly into you, showing no signs of stopping.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on, he let go of your neck for a brief moment giving you enough time to speak, “My prince, please!” You cry, he chuckled darkly his lips attacking your neck before roughly bitting it, marking you as his. You squeal as he pushes you forward onto your hands, his hand wrapped in your hair pulling just enough for it to force you to arch your back. You made sure to take this position to your advantage, you looked up at Micheal who was practically towering over you.

“You gonna cum?” He growls, you are only able to nod, “Then beg for me, beg your prince to let you cum,” he smirks proudly as he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

“Please my prince, let me cum on your cock. Please, I’ve been so good!” You cry trying to even comprehend words, “Please let me cum and make me yours forever!” At those words he groans loudly. Those were the magic words. His thrusts became stronger, if that was even possible, drawing a loud moan from you.

“Then cum!” He snarls as his hips continued to piston into you. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, the cry that left your lips caused the lights in the room to flicker. The energy coming from you was overwhelming throwing Micheal into his own orgasm. His final growl was animalistic, demonic even, it was the hottest thing you had ever heard. Micheals thrusts slowed until the both of you lay still. He smirked at the sight of his princess fucked out and tired, he laid a gentle smack to your ass causing you to squeal. He gently caressed the cheek in his hand before flipping you on your back.

You laid there trying to catch your breath, your eyes automatically locking with his.

“I’m not sure I will be able to walk my love,” you giggle pulling him down to you for a final kiss. He chuckled against your lips before pulling away, “That’s alright, you stay here and rest beautiful,” he says, “I will be back in a little bit,” he kisses your forehead before standing up and getting dressed.

“I love you my prince,” you whisper before falling into a deep sleep. You weren’t sure what time it was when Micheal came back but you did end up finding his way back to bed. You felt him wrap his arm around your waist and pull you towards him. You couldn’t stop yourself from cuddling even closer, feeling safe in his arms.

Days passed and things seemed to still be going in the right direction, as you had hoped they would. Though Micheal had been going out more, which you gladly followed. It wasn’t until that day, you were both heading towards some random area. Micheal seemed adamant that you get there quickly, and now you could see why. Three charred corpses were in your line of sight, you knew one of them belonged to the woman who acted like his mother. A scream of agony resonated from him as he mourned for his dead mother.

“It’s over,” Cordelia says from behind the both of you, where had she come from? You stood by Micheal, his form still slightly shaking. “We know who you are, your allies are all dead,” she continued to speak, “You failed,”

Micheal was angered by this, “Then you know I can defy death, I’ll just bring her back. My Ms. Mead will stand by me to watch you die.” He manages to speak out.

“You can go to hell, but you won’t find her there,” she spoke, “her soul is hidden under a spell that only I can break. You’ll never see her again.” He fell to his knees, you could feel his pain it hurt you just as much as it hurt him.

“You’re all alone,” Cordelia continues, you knew Micheal wasn’t alone, he had you and his father.

“I have my father,” he mumbles, he takes your arm as you kneel next to him, “I have my princess,” his voice soft, almost powerless almost trying to convince himself that he wouldn’t lose you.

“Where is your father now? Why did he let this happen? You don’t have to follow this path he laid out for you,” she tells him, you didn’t see hostility in her but you could tell Micheal was conflicted.

“As for her,” she starts, “Do you think she will stay by you? Do you think she will be able to survive all of this?” She questions him, you knew she wanted to continue speaking.

“I will always stand by him,” you growl lowly not liking her tone as she spoke to you.

“You can write your own destiny, there is humanity in you. I see it,” she stands up, “If you come with me, maybe we can find it, together,” You were slightly shocked when Micheal takes her hand as he stood to his feet. You watched as his tightened his grip on her, drawing her close,

“Somehow, someway, I will bring her back and then I’m going to kill every last one of you,” he growls before taking your arm and walking away. You knew what Micheal had to do but did he want you to take that journey with him? He had to speak to him father and you weren’t so sure if he would want you present.

“My love?” You say softly as you walk swiftly with him. “I want you to know I will never leave your side, no matter what,” you say confidently. He doesn’t respond but he nods at your comment. You could tell, now wasn’t the time for that.

Going to the woods was your next destination, you had honestly believed Micheal would have told you to stay at the school so he could be alone to find himself but he kept you right by his side. You watched him draw the pentagram on the ground, big enough for the both of you to sit in the center. He declared he would not leave the circle till he got his answer, you knew his father wouldn’t speak so easily. He knelt In the middle, prepared to wait for the answer he was looking for. You sat beside him, your hand placed gently on his thigh as he stared into the woods.

The sun fell from the sky, then rose, before you had known it four days had gone by. Micheal hadn’t moved an inch, your head was placed gently on his lap. His forehead laid gently on your temple as he was trying to be as comfortable as possible.

He suddenly sat up, looking around as if he had seen something before he began to talk to no one. Slowly you sat up, no one was around you but you knew this meant he was being tested. Whoever it was, he wanted them to leave and declared them not to be real. He seemed distraught for a few moments before he launched himself up at no one before falling onto his back once more. He was afraid.

A black goat appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, a sign from his father. Micheal wasted no time before launching himself at the goat, stabbing it spraying blood all over himself. In his rage, he ripped the poor animals horns off, more blood covered his nice clothes. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t the hottest thing you had ever seen. Whenever Micheal acted on his rage, it sent tingles down your spin.

“What do you want from me?!” He cries to no one, “What am I supposed to do?!” He shouts hoping his father would answer. He fell to his knees, a small sob escaping his lips. You crawled over to him,

“My love,” you whisper grabbing his attention immediately. Your hands cupped his face, you brought his face to yours in a searing kiss. Things did heat up, he took you right there in the middle of the woods. Much to your surprise he was gentle with you, slow, taking his time to savor every moment he had with you. It was amazing… You knew he was going to get his answer soon.

After all of that, you had found yourself at a church for his father, a woman of the congregation offered to take you both in for something to eat. You paid no mind to their conversation until you were heard the woman shout, a knife in hand. Micheal didn’t seem frightened by this but that was cause he knew they were waiting for him. He was the anti-christ.

The knife brought to his throat, “Well before you kill me, see me!” He growls moving his hair to the side showing off the mark he had behind his ear. It was almost immediate that the woman dropped the knife and gasped “Hail satan! Our savior has risen!”

The next events you knew what likely was to come, walking in the pouring rain towards the satanic church where he would make himself known to the group. You three had barged in just before the human sacrifice where Micheal was now given the honor of doing so. He walked towards them, not before offering his arm to you.

“This honor is yours too my princess,” he whispers shocking the woman, the whole group seemed to also be surprised at this. You smiled widely, he would do the killing and you would stay behind and watch. He took the sacrifices and slit their throats, the choir singing louder than before setting the tone for the ‘praise’ they were giving. Once the deed was done, seeing Micheal in front of the bloody bodies sent a hot wave through your body towards your core. The look on his face, demonic and strong, it was attractive.

“Micheal~” you whisper as you stand beside him. He glances at you, curiosity in his eyes. “I want you, now,” you whimper looking up at him. His eyes instantly grew dark, those in the room bowed before him chanting, hail satan. He pulls you towards his, his lips smashing into yours in a hungry and rough kiss. No one in the room did anything, just continued with their chanting. Micheal picked you up by your waist, lifting you up onto the alter you legs automatically wrapping tightly around his slim waist, your lips never parting from his. He began to bunch up your dress, not plaining to waste a single second. You undid his pants, just enough to free his hardened cock.

He pushes your panties aside, pushing his dick into you with no hesitation. He was pounding into you ruthlessly, you didn’t even try to hide the fact that this was happening. Your moans loud as he made you feel better than ever. The people around you watching as he pleased you, only increasing the pleasure.

“You like that they’re watching, princess?” He growls into your ear as he pounds into you, you can’t hide it,

“Yes!” You cry as he continues, he chuckles darkly. He takes your legs, widening them letting his go deeper. The idea of these people watching and the pace Micheal had set made your orgasm come quicker than.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” He groans into your ear,

“You are my prince,” he slaps your thigh harshly signaling that that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. He thrusted roughly just before you answered,

“You are my king!” You shout shamelessly drawing a groan from his lips. “Please let me cum, my king, please,” you beg for everyone to hear.

He laughs evilly, “Not yet my queen, you will cum with me,” your eyes water as the pleasure grows stronger and harder to contain.

His thrusts becoming sloppy and less precise, “Cum my queen,” you cry out, your walls clamping down on him threw him over the edge, his cum filling you up. Your body shook from the pleasure as you came down from your high. He pulls your lips to his in a passionate kiss, it showed you how much he loved you. The following events that happened that night were a blur, the pounding that Micheal had gave you honestly tired you out. You knew that this was just the beginning of a huge plan that you knew he would be able to execute properly.

#Micheal Langdon smut #Micheal Langdon imagine #michael langdon #American horror story imagine #American horror story smut #ahs imagine #ahs apocalyps imagine #ahs smut #cody fern imagine

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scarlet--wiccan · 3 years

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your ideal billy/teddy duo comic (plot, character designs, artists and writers involved etc)

One thing that I've always wanted to see is a comic about Billy and/or Teddy that was produced entirely by mlm creators. Vecchio, Robles and Gracia are all gay artists who've worked with the characters on recent titles, and I'm eager to see more from them. While none of these artists have ever shown the characters in a way that exactly suits my wants, they've each demonstrated a clear personal vision of who Billy and Teddy are that I can respect. I find that Vecchio and Robles, as illustrators, both articulate a gay sensibility in their designs and are able to represent a range of gay identities and expressions with not only dignity, but real love, which is frustratingly hard to come by. Oh, also, Kevin Wada covers, because duh.

Writers are a little bit more difficult for me. I love Anthony Oliviera and I know that he's got a lot of ideas for the characters, so I'd be delighted to see anything that he might pitch. Vecchio also does write, and his creator-owned series, Sereno, is an urban superhero story in a modern fantasy setting-- something he describes as Batman Beyond meets Sailor Moon. Based on that, I think he'd do a great job telling a story about a witch and shapeshifter from New York. I know that Sina doesn't work for Marvel anymore, but I've always wished he could've done Billy and Teddy in a sweet little rom-com miniseries, or even just a single issue special. He's particularly good at writing tender, funny, and just unapologetically gay characters who signal authentic elements of our culture and community without making them cheap or laughable. That is a quality which I find essential for Billy and Teddy, and it's part of why I want more mlm creators to work with them.

If you had asked me this question last year, I would have had an easier time pitching ideas for these characters. I'm eager to see what the future holds for them, but "rulers of an interplanetary nation" was never part of my vision for how Billy and Teddy would be spending their early twenties. I did have this idea for an ongoing series about their "college years", wherein Billy would be studying magic with Wanda and Agatha, and Teddy would work part time with Carol or Alpha Flight while attending community college or learning a trade, like piercing or tattoo artistry. The idea was that they'd often spend time apart, as they'd each be focusing on their own careers and having individual storylines, but they'd always come home to each other at the end of the day and lend each other support, in ways both mundane and super-heroic.

I used to imagine that they'd stay in that nice apartment Sunspot got them, which would act as sort of a crash pad/base of operations for a revolving cast of their friends. They could convert one of the rooms into a magical sanctum for Billy, and another into a study room or art studio for Teddy. Tommy, America, Kate, or whoever could crash on their sofa whenever they're in town or need to do a team-up. Wanda could help Billy ward the apartment so that he and America are the only ones who can portal in and out, but then Loki would find a way to get around the wards and cause trouble, and there'd be a whole dramatic reunion. The whole idea could easily be adapted as a Young Avengers ongoing if you widened the focus from the main couple and treated it as an ensemble piece with individually chunked plot-arcs, much like the original series.

Unfortunately, that idea no longer holds as much water as I'd like because, for one thing, they lost that apartment and never explained why-- it seems like it was passively retconned out in between New Avengers and Death's Head. More importantly, they now live in space, with Teddy being a busy ruler of an interstellar Alliance, and Billy his prince-consort.

I would still like to explore the idea of them pursuing separate goals and working in separate fields while never being truly apart. Empyre introduced a clever plot device wherein Billy is now able to sense Teddy's location and teleport to him instantly, no matter the distance, which, I assume, works in reverse as well. This feat of magic is made possible by their marriage, which binds them symbolically and draws on the power of their love. They can go anywhere and do anything on their own, and still be together again at a moments' notice, which is super romantic and also affords them more flexibility than most superhero couples. I would still pitch a series about Billy doing magic work on Earth while Teddy does diplomacy in space, and one can always warp to the other when they need backup fighting a bad guy. They could even switch back and forth between staying on Teddy's throne-ship, and getting cozy at Billy's little Manhattan apartment when they want to get away from it all.

I guess my final answer is that I want the two of them to be fully realized, individual characters whose love is illustrated through mutual support rather than, like, being glued to each other's hips. The things that I want to see Billy doing are very far removed from the things that I want to see Teddy doing. Superhero characters tend to lose momentum when you marry them off, and superhero couples tend to fizzle when you keep them apart, but Billy and Teddy's unique strength is that they're never truly apart, and their relationship never seems to lose steam-- they've been a pair from the start, and... they're a little obsessed with each other.

The Billy story that I most want to see right now is a full Maximoff team-up. It could go in one of two directions: A) a quest to uncover Natalya's history and finally vanquish the Emerald Warlock, in which they're waylaid by Doom and other magic villains from their past, while teaming up with their magical friends around the world-- basically a sequel to Scarlet Witch; or, B) a showdown with Krakoa and a resolution of their relationship with Erik, which, best case scenario, partially reverses the Axis retcon and proves once and for all that the Maximoffs are mutants. If we got a longer series, we could actually do both plots-- they learn something about Natalya which leads them back to Erik, and the two arcs become a larger story.

The Teddy story that I most want to see is a Guardians-esque space romp with political elements featuring Teddy, Xavin and Noh-Varr as, like, a sexy-alien-boys version of the Gullwings from Final Fantasy X. Does that make sense? I don't have a great grasp on the political landscape of Marvel Space so it's a little hard for me to come up with details, but I know that the status quo has been totally upended, so there are going to be different factions and movements springing up, and likely no shortage of villains and space monsters rearing their heads when the dust of the war has fully settled. Teddy's a monarch now, but he's also been set up as this Arthurian hero-king, so I think there's still room for him to go on adventures and fight his own battles with his magic sword and, maybe, a crew of loyal space knights.

Having said aaaallll of that, I would absolutely die for a full-on fantasy adventure story with Billy and Teddy. I mean, Teddy's a king with a magic sword and his husband is a super-powerful witch. It's gotta happen. I'd actually be into them having a rematch with Mother, who is a pretty adaptable villain, in that her abilities and motives will differ depending on how she's been summoned. I'd also really like them to have a chance to go up against Sequoia directly, and on more even grounds. Quoi is such a great enemy for them because they represent the same generation of Avengers babies, and, actually, Quoi's origins are directly tied to Billy's-- their respective parents had a double wedding together. Sequoia and Teddy's arcs in Empyre paralleled and contrasted each other beautifully, but the two characters had no meaningful interactions. I want to see thems as arch rivals, and maybe, begrudgingly.... friends? Plus, I love that they're both alien princes who live in sci-fi stories, but whose aesthetics and powers are pure fantasy-- Quoi's a dryad wizard and Teddy is King Arthur, if King Arthur was a gay anthropomorphic dragon.

Anyways, that's my Wiccan+Hulkling pitch. The first arc is Billy and Teddy facing off against Sequoia in a magic forest that he's grown on his new planet, only to find out that they've been set up by Mother.

In the second arc, the three of them grudgingly team up against Mother while hashing out their shared backstories and giving Quoi, who's literally never had peers to relate to, a chance to fully come to grips with the way he was conditioned and manipulated by his father. Instead of conjuring dead parents, Mother seems to be able to summon dead children, which makes her particularly dangerous around the Cotati, Kree and Skrull, who've just emerged from a war and have countless recent dead.

In the third arc, Mother has freed R'kll and they've set their sights on Earth. Billy heads out with America and Tommy to ask Loki for advice on defeating her, while Teddy brings Sequoia before the Avengers as his charge in order to ensure that Quoi receives provisional immunity.

Loki is able to provide insight on how Mother might have been summoned and what the parameters might be for breaking the spell that's tethering her to Earth-616. It turns out that Mother is essentially holding Anelle's soul hostage and has been appearing to R'kll in her form. Mother's hold, at this point, has spread to the entire Alliance, and Teddy will have to defeat her or else she'll use it to destroy Earth and decimate his nation in the process.

Teddy recruits Wanda to help face Mother down. (side note, I'm desperate to see more of their relationship as in-laws.) Wanda agrees to work with Sequoia but insists on calling Mantis and making them talk.

The final showdown is the three boys, plus Wanda and Mantis, against Mother, R'kll, and an army of dead alien soldiers. Mantis and Wanda are able to pull Anelle's soul from Mother's grasp, but this doesn't banish her-- Mother's true anchor was R'kll, who'd been carrying Anelle's ghost in her heart ever since the destruction of Tarnax.

R'kll believes that she's always acted in the best interest of her nation, and she thought that bringing back Teddy's mother would finally make him see her way. Anelle and Teddy have a tearful reunion, but he admits that the only mother he's really mourned was the woman who raised him.

Wanda, Mantis, and Anelle, as a trio of mothers united with their lost sons, are able to reverse and seal Mother's power, which was based on lost children. They are not able to banish her, however, until R'kll steps forward and sacrifices herself, believing now that the best she can do for her nation is to rid the Alliance of the curse she brought upon it.

R'kll and Anelle begin to dissipate, but R'kll's sacrifice has called forth the spirit of Mrs. Altman, who is finally granted some closure and dignity in death by getting a chance to see how far Teddy's come and the peace that he's built in her memory.

Lots of crying! I made this sad. I'm sorry.

#young avengers #teddy altman #hulkling #wiccan #billy kaplan #empyre #robintext

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pixelatedrose · 3 years

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read this and respond (if you’d like) when you aren’t in the car anymore, i don’t want you to get sick :0 !

you don’t apologize for not be able to write a lot! you didn’t have to answer my ask in the first place but it means a lot to me that you did :) also! i wanna say two things! one, i think i’ve said this before but i really like how you explain things. i’ve tried to learn how to play d&d and i think i’ve got a solid understanding of it, but it’s still hard when people say things like “10 AC”. but i don’t have to worry about that when you explain things cause you sorta dumb it down in a way that doesn’t make me feel dumb.. if that makes sense. two, i love how you showed callahan being healed in your drawing cause it just adds so much more weight to the picture. and i can’t even imagine how that fight was, dancing with death the whole time, that must’ve been so stressful. anyway! that’s about all, but you still have a lot of explaining to do (if you want and when you’re ready) mister >:0 i hope you had a lovely day and you enjoy the rest of your night, love you ro :)) !

1st: dw bout me answerin asks in the car lol I have no fuckin self control sksjshs

2nd: thank you sm m8!!! I know you've mentioned in the past that you don't play d&d or know a ton about it so I try and give little explanations where I can and it's great to hear that I do it in a non-patronizing way

3rd: heheheee okay so imma go into some more detail on the Callahan & Shade training session-

Okay, so.

To understand how we got to this point in time, we have to understand where he was

The party entered the Shadowfell- a mirror plane of existence where everything is contorted and dark and just about everything wants to kill you. This is where we were trying to get to when Callahan first joined the party.

Now Callahan didn't have a full grasp on what the Shadowfell was, really, when he went through the portal. The only one who did was Sylas, and by all the gods did he try to warn us.

Callahan was still so very very unprepared...

The very first fight in the Fell- one of the first battles Callahan has EVER been in in his life- he gets one-shotted by this monster and drops below zero hp.

When you drop below zero hp in d&d, you're Ina state of in between life and death, right on the cusp of either one and a breath's wrong move could send you toppling over the edge. You stay in this state of dying until one of three things happen. 1) you get healed. 2) you succeed three death saves and you stabilize. Or 3) you fail three death saves and you die.

Callahan had succeeded two saves, but he had also failed two. One last roll would have determined his entire fate, and I'm not known for having the best of luck when it comes to dice.

Sylas, our lovely amazing wonderful cleric boy, barely made it in time and slapped Callahan with a healing spell right after the monster died and he regained consciousness.

This...messed him up.

Callahan was absolutely shaken to his core at this very close encounter with death and he did not handle it well.

He got furiously angry, ignoring the fact that it was him that brought him to the Fell, and instead shifting the rage to the rest of the party and blaming them for his being there and, by proxy, his almost dying.

He...said some things...that shouldn't have been said. At least not like that...

And the worst part? It didn't get better. He was fitful and angry and upset at everyone for weeks.

Finally, Haru was done with Callahan's baby-bitchfit and when Callahan snapped at Monty (again), Haru got up and dragged Callahan out into the forest a little ways away from the rest of the party.

And what did he do?

Well he punched him.

Well, more than that. He told Callahan to fight back too. Soon fist-fighting turned into hitting each other with sticks, which turned into Haru having to tackle Callahan to the ground, leaving Cal the perfect opportunity to steal the dagger off his belt and ramming the pommel into his ribs.

Cal would like to say he won that fight. Haru would have something else to say.

After laying there on the ground for a moment, Callahan started to laugh. A sound that Haru had not heard in weeks, and one he didn't know he missed.

Haru explained that he wanted to teach Cal to fight so that what happened with that first monster? Where Cal nearly died?? So that that would never have to happen again.

Something about it- maybe it was something about Haru- calmed Callahan down.

And then it really hit him.

Oh fuck.

I've been a jackass for weeks to literally everyone.

It also started to hit him just how weak he really was in a fight if it ever came down to melee.

So they came back to the party together, Callahan happier than ever with little scrapes and lookin very roughed up (I won't say but the rest of the party did not in fact think they were sparring-)

Callahan apologized to Monty the next morning. The things he said specifically to him were...well...let's just say it hit harder for Monty than the others.

Monty wasn't as quick to forgive and forget. Callahan doesn't blame him.

However, that night Callahan and this new party member- Shade- were on a watch together. Now Shade is a much higher level than everyone else in the party, and is far far more powerful. He's a Hexblade Warlock, but he's also a fallen paladin (or cleric I can't remember) as WELL as a fallen Aasimar (kinda like a fallen angel but watered down). But...also probably a Shadow sorcerer?? Listen Shade is an amalgam of magic and power and idk where all of it comes from-

In any case, Shade is big powerful lad.

Now Cal and Shade are on a watch together, and Shade begins talking about Callahan's magic. He picks up a small opal stone from gauntlets he wears and focuses his magic into it. The opal glows with a black light and swirls with shadows of purple and black. He then hands the opal to Callahan and instructs him to focus his magic like he did.

When he does, the opal changes again, but this time, it swirls with bright, ever-changing array of fantastical colors. A rainbow of things that have never quite been seen before. It's extraordinary.

Shade explains that his own magic is that of the Shadowfell, it's dark and thus his magic is sewn from the shade. And then he explains that he's met other mages- ones with powers of the storm, magic of dragons- but he has never seen someone with magic like Callahan's.

Why?

Well, cause Callahan has pure, unfettered, untained, raw magic inside him.

It's an inferno of unbridled magic and it is completely and utterly entirely untamed. It cannot be controlled and it is as wild as the wind and earth itself. And sometimes, that uncontrollablity lashes out and surges forth, and sometimes things that Callahan doesn't exactly want to happen, happen.

And Callahan listens. And his heart sinks. Uncontrollable? Pure?? Absolute chaotic force of magic??? He can't stand the thought of not having a handle on his magic, because if he can't control it, how the hell is he supposed to use it to protect people??

He expresses this to Shade and the "older" man tells him that he can and should use this to his advantage.

At that moment, Callahan's magic goes wild and he surges. The wooden log they are sitting on, under Callahan's hand it starts to faintly smoke. Callahan doesn't notice, but Shade does. He cuts a small piece of rope and asks Cal to hold it for him. The rope errupts into flames and Callahan drops it in vibrant shock and distress.

Shade calms him down and explains that he can use that. He gets Callahan thinking. Asks how he can use this to help in in battle- he can set things aflame with a touch, for God's sake, what can he do to use that?

And Shade looks at Callahan's small scratches and bruises and scuffs on his clothes and turns and says "I know that look...you've been sparring, haven't you?"

Callahan nods his head. He says that Haru said he'd teach him how to fight, that he wants to- needs to- be stronger.

Shade asks if Callahan would like Shade to help him as well, help him learn how to use his magic to fight.

Callahan says yes.

They start small, Shade borrows Haru's sword in his sleep and gives it to Cal to use. Shade goes through the motions of explaining how he uses his magic to help him wear armor and wield weapons- how he manipulates the pull of power inside him into his blade, into his armor, how he makes them seem lighter and easier to use and wear.

And Callahan follows suit. He goes through the motions of swordplay, focusing and directing his magic into it. And slowly, it seems the blade gets lighter and light in his palm.

After a little while of this, Shade says that he would like to try something to really help Cal in the middle of a real battle. And he summons a demon.

Now, as Shade summons this demon, he explains that he has control over it. That the demon cannot do anything that Shade does not want it to do. The demon is not pleased with this.

In fact, with shadowy chains around its neck and wrists and ankles, it seethes and hisses and spits that it will tear and murder and shred Callahan and Shade to scraps. Shade reassures Callahan that he won't let it kill him. But he asks one last time if Callahan wants to do this.

And with a glance at this horrible creature with blood and murder in its eyes, Callahan's grasp tightens around his borrowed blade and he nods yes.

And so the fight begins.

Callahan uses his magic and filters it into the blade in his hands and tries to strike the beast. He hits it a few times, but the monster keeps hitting Callahan back, and he drops down to 1 hp.

As the demon cackles and pulls back for one final attack, Shade pulls down on the shadowy chains and restrains it. It howls in fury at this.

Shade asks Callahan if he wants to stop, that if he really wants, Shade knows a way to help Callahan keep going.

Callahan, bloody, sliced up, fighting for consciousness and blinking red drops from his eyes, hands on his sword in a white-knuckled grip, the blade digging into the ground as the only thing keeping him upright, looks Shade deep and deadly in the eyes, his goggles hung slightly cracked around his neck. His eyes have a burning flicker to them and with no hesitation to his words, he speaks. "I need to be better."

Shade takes a moment and the faintest ghost of a smile flitters onto his face and he says "That was the right answer." And he begins to heal Callahan with Greater Restoration.

Now, I could be wrong either with what the spell does or what spell he actually cast, but what happened with this spell was this: he could restore an incredible amount of hp to Callahan, but he would TAKE half the hp he restored as damage to himself. So if he healed Cal for 10 points, Shade would take 5.

This first time he ended up healing Callahan all the way back up to full.

And back to the fight they went.

This happened four more times, where Cal dropped below 10 hp and Shade had to stop to heal him for a moment.

Finally, Shade asked Callahan one last thing.

"I can do one more thing to help you learn the movement of battle, but it would mean releasing him. You don't have to do it, but-"

"You're wrong. I do have to- what would that make me if I backed down at the first sight of risk?"

"...you've made a good choice."

With that, Shade released the Demon, who was battered and torn and nearly as destroyed as Callahan himself, if not far far more. And he let out a ravenous cackle, full of craze and bloodlust and victory. And he looked Callahan directly in the eyes and told him "This is where you die!!!"

Four more rounds.

Callahan had messed up his magic once before in the fight and his magic had surged, giving him the ability to teleport short distances for the next minute.

And his magic messed up once again, poisoning a random creature near him. Luckily, it wasn't Shade, but the Demon was immune to poison anyway.

But as Callahan took hits, he dropped below 10 hp again, but there was no more looking to Shade for help anymore.

He took one last swing, a move of the blade that felt more dance-like than any sort of movement to kill, and he cut the demon clean a sunder- a trail of the blade that ran from one shoulder across to the bottom of its boney hip- and the demon let out a croaking, creaking, collapsing gasp of air that could have been mistaken for a strangled last cackle of defiance.

And then it fell over, a position of defeat that Callahan may have been had he not made the surer move.

And Callahan stood above it all.

Alive.

Alive and by his hands alone was his enemy gone.

Alive and by a blade he used with magic in his veins was he that way.

Alive and the victor over a demon.

Shade healed Callahan one last time, nearly collapsing himself from the loss of life energy. He managed to gain some of it back by summoning small imps that he then proceeded to suck the life out of, but it still took a bit of a toll on both of them.

They went back to the party where everyone lay sleeping, none knowing the exchange that had happened that night.

The spoke for a while longer, Shade telling Callahan of his past while casting the mending spell on his destroyed and torn clothes.

Their shift ended and they woke up the next pair for watch and went to bed.

And now did Callahan forget to tell anyone else about what had happened?

Yes absolutely.

Did Haru end up finding out because 1) Callahan had a fresh magical scar on his cheek and 2) Callahan forgot to give Haru back his sword?

Yes absolutely.

Was Haru pissed off that Callahan basically almost died multiple times and go into full protective boyfriend mode after he found out?

Yes absolutely.

Anyway long story time but I hope you liked it ;D

#spooky-scary-bumblebees #Bee!!!#the Weave of Silence #Callahan McBlithe #Shade Walker #ask me things #LISTEN I REALIZE I HAVEN'T BEEN THE BEST AT UPDATING Y'ALL ON THE ONGOINGS OF THE WOS CAMPAIGN #BUT ITS REALLY FUCKING COOL I PROMISE #i mean this is literally something that happened IN THE GAME so yeah I'd say its pretty killer #anyway sorry for the long read but i hope it was worth it !!!

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- WILL AND WON’T

Sirius took the book from James and idled a bit before starting. Torn between wanting to get back to Harry already and yet not wanting to just as much, for they'd find nothing more but depression if the way he was acting now was anything to go by. Yet all these extras just kept delaying it more than anything. Finally he took a deep breath and just jumped in, the dragging silence was worse than anything.

Harry Potter was snoring loudly.

Then Sirius comically snorted, grinningly lovingly at his godson who was blushing just slightly, but finally. Just being back to chatting about him for even one second had them all smiling at something again!

He had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window for the best part of four hours, staring out at the darkening street, and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold windowpane, his glasses askew and his mouth wide open.

"I hope that was a very fascinating cat," James chuckled.

"Oh, that wasn't what I was watching," Harry corrected, the smile slipping away at once into an uneasy frown. His headmaster hadn't left a very good impression on his family because of his last year, and he wasn't looking forward to their reaction of him showing up again so soon. So for now he feigned ignorance of anything else just for a few more seconds of peace.

The misty fog his breath had left on the window sparkled in the orange glare of the streetlamp outside, and the artificial light drained his face of all color, so that he looked ghostly beneath his shock of untidy black hair.

Lily made a noise of distaste for that description, she'd had far to many details already of how that could have come true.

The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores, and sweet wrappers littered the floor, a number of spellbooks lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled robes on his bed, and a mess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on his desk.

"I mean, you can't even really blame him," Sirius smirked at Lily's eye roll. "He's had people cleaning up after him all his life."

"The exact excuse he uses to never clean up his mess at home," Remus tragically bemoaned, waving him quickly on before he could go into a detailed account about how it wasn't really a mess until you couldn't see the floor anymore.

The headline of one blared:

HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?

Sirius' face flipped to agitation at once. Harry had more than enough press in his life, so of course he just had to mock what was clearly making his pup uncomfortable. "Yes, because the Boy Who Lived wasn't memorable enough! Let's brand him with another title!"

"I'm surprised they didn't call it the Boy Who Lived to be the Chosen One." Remus quietly snarked.

"That's a mouthful even for them." James heard anyways and poked them along.

Lily sighed heavily, but tried her best to get them to keep going. If they were already going to be like this just over the title of the article, they were going to be here for awhile.

Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more.

"We're not allowed to talk about it, don't ask me anything," said one agitated Obliviator, who refused to give his name as he left the Ministry last night.

Nevertheless, highly placed sources within the Ministry have confirmed that the disturbance centered on the fabled Hall of Prophecy.

Harry shivered heavily for just the name of that place again, honestly still wishing he could go back and erase the whole place from his mind all over again. For a moment his only solace was the reassurance he tried to grasp at least he'd never have to go in there again.

Then Sirius gave him a comforting nudge and refused to let his own voice crack, and Harry had to come back to here and remember he did have more to take comfort in. So he put on a smile again and insisted waving Sirius on like he really was getting over it so easily.

The others didn't buy it, but could no more force Harry to admit that than let him harm himself remembering anything before he should.

Though Ministry spokes wizards have hitherto refused even to confirm the existence of such a place, a growing number of the Wizarding community believe that the Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespass and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy. The nature of that prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have survived the Killing Curse, and who is also known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question.

Harry grumbled a bit about how he wished they'd been smart enough to piece this all together a year ago, while Sirius just scoffed but pointed out, "only makes them seem stupider the longer they take to catch up to us."

"And I didn't think it was possible for them to be going any slower before all this," James agreed.

Some are going so far as to call Potter "the Chosen One," believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"That is quite a leap," Lily snapped.

"A true one," Harry reminded in a less biting tone. He regretted the words the moment they came out, tensing and avoiding all eyes, not wanting to go anywhere near that conversation again. To his relief they didn't force him to, his parents just brushed him reassuringly while waving Sirius on.

The current whereabouts of the prophecy, if it exists, are unknown, although (ctd. page2, column 5)

A second newspaper lay beside the first. This one bore the headline:

SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE

"Why on earth was the first part of this necessary if we're getting all of this information again anyways?" Remus groused.

"Since when do you complain about learning more," Sirius demanded.

"When you're the one giving it," Remus snipped back.

"Oh well then be my guest," Sirius mocked, trying to pass the book to him, but Remus smacked him instead.

Most of this front page was taken up with a large black-and-white picture of a man with a lionlike mane of thick hair and a rather ravaged face. The picture was moving â€" the man was waving at the ceiling.

Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office.

"Can't be any worse than what Fudge was going through," James said blandly.

Scrimgeour's representatives admitted that he had met with Dumbledore at once upon taking possession of the top job, but refused to comment on the topics under discussion. Albus Dumbledore is known to (ctd. page 3, column 2)

Sirius made a face at that particular bit being cut off, so supplied himself, "known to cause misery and hope all at the same time, truly a gift of a man we've never had before-"

He ducked this time and used the book as a shield as Moony made to smack him again, then pouted at his grumpy friend who'd been refusing to play along all day. Prongs was being of no more help and he was going to have an aneurysm if he couldn't get some proper laughing in before lunch!

To the left of this paper sat another, which had been folded so that a story bearing the title ministry guarantees students' safety was visible.

Newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, spoke today of the tough new measures taken by his Ministry to ensure the safety of students returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this autumn.

James mock yawned and even Lily couldn't pretend much enthusiasm for this. They'd never feared the safety of their school before they found out what all Harry went through, and didn't have much hope this Scrimgeour would clear it up any better than Dumbledore's lack-less attempts.

"For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into detail about its stringent new security plans," said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that measures include defensive spells and charms, a complex array of countercurses, and a small task force of Aurors dedicated solely to the protection of Hogwarts School.

"Well the Aurors are new," Sirius pointed out happily, wondering if at least Harry would get a treat out of that. He hadn't mentioned it for a while, but as far as they knew he still wanted to be one.

"Though I'm blasted what enchantments they think they've added that haven't already been inlaid in the school already," Remus rolled his eyes.

Most seem reassured by the new Minister's tough stand on student safety. Said Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, 'My grandson, Neville' a good friend of Harry Potter's, incidentally, who fought the Death Eaters alongside him at the Ministry in June and-

Sirius was as glad as anyone that had been cut off. He adored Neville and now respected him as highly as he would with Ron and Hermione for all he'd done, but that coming from Augusta, especially after the way she'd spoken back in St. Mungo's, felt more like bragging than the praise he deserved for those feats.

Not to mention the increasing amount of times this had been mentioned already still made Harry look likely to be sick again any moment. They hadn't expected it to never be spoken of again, but clearly repetition wasn't helping Harry to move past that memory.

But the rest of this story was obscured by the large birdcage standing on top of it. Inside it was a magnificent snowy owl. Her amber eyes surveyed the room imperiously, her head swiveling occasionally to gaze at her snoring master. Once or twice she clicked her beak impatiently, but Harry was too deeply asleep to hear her.

A large trunk stood in the very middle of the room. Its lid was open; it looked expectant; yet it was almost empty but for a residue of old underwear, sweets, empty ink bottles, and broken quills that coated the very bottom. Nearby, on the floor, lay a purple leaflet emblazoned with the words:

-ISSUED ON BEHALF OF-

The Ministry of Magic

PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES

"I wonder if those were kept in storage all these years or something," James sighed heavily. His infant enjoyed gumming on the bright pamphlet now, and it had been quite something his elder counterpart had never had to be anywhere nearer to it. Now that was as gone as surely as all his baby teeth.

The Wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack.

1. You are advised not to leave the house alone.

2. Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness. Wherever possible,

arrange to complete journeys before night has fallen.

3. Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure that all family members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms, and, in the case of underage family members, Side-Along-Apparition.

Harry frowned uneasily at this one like he had all those summers ago. Now with someone to ask, he glanced at his mum, but his mind was on another. "Are Muggle-borns allowed to use magic to put those up then?"

Lily hesitated too long in answering, which was answer enough before she tried to explain, "yes and no. We were still told not to use magic, but if we contacted the Ministry they would come over and place some up if requested. My parents allowed it, but I know some who never invested in the idea and...paid for it." She finished softly.

Harry tensed uneasily as he glanced out the window. He'd never felt safe at the Dursleys, but that was for a wholly other reason than his inability to do magic there. It occurred to him for the first time though, if Hermione had been attacked while she was at home, her parents were defenseless. What must that feel like, to be the sole person, the child having to protect your parents? It scared him to think about, but could come up with no honest solution either, you couldn't force the parents to just accept someone coming into their life from another world even if your child was in it, all in the name of a protection they didn't even understand.

4. Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (see page 2).

5. Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or neighbor is acting in a strange manner, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been put under the Imperius Curse (see page 4).

6. Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror office immediately.

7. Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death Eaters may now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any sighting of an Inferius, or encounter with same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY.

Harry heard this in the same detached way he had read it the first time in the Dursleys house. While all straight forward advice, he couldn't feel any real fear, or safety, or whatever that pamphlet was suppose to impress upon him. With no one in his life at the time and only a bitter reminder of something he no longer had an option for in a secure home, he'd cast it aside after only briefly scanning the information.

In here felt no better, only a bitter reminder of something he hadn't even been able to dream about at the time.

Lily watched his mood continue to spiral down, and clinging to anything to keep his mind in here she asked, "Harry, whose nickname did you hear first?"

Distracted by the odd question, he looked over at her but easily cast his mind back to the first conversation he'd heard with the four of them. "Er, Padfoot. Him and Remus were snipping while you two were talking to me." It worked at once, he smiled again. At the time the soft brush of warmth for hearing those names, seeing these faces and voices again had all been far too muddled with everything else going on. Now he could look back on that moment with a clarity he never would have believed possible.

"Works as well as any other security question we could ask," James chuckled for his wife. He knew she was doing it to keep him involved in the here and now, but it was rather a mute point considering they couldn't leave the premises for the time being.

"What about yours?" Harry asked curiously.

"We each have one for each other," Lily began happily, though Sirius cut her off in mock outrage-

"It would defeat the point of sharing them though!"

Lily rolled her eyes while Sirius grinned at Harry who was laughing just a bit at his godfathers antics again. He honestly would have told Harry if he'd asked again, but now he was waiting patiently for Sirius to keep going so he knew he could bring this up later.

Harry grunted in his sleep and his face slid down the window an inch or so, making his glasses still more lopsided, but he did not wake up. An alarm clock, repaired by Harry several years ago, ticked loudly on the sill, showing one minute to eleven. Beside it, held in place by Harry's relaxed hand, was a piece of parchment covered in thin, slanting writing. Harry had read this letter so often since its arrival three days ago that although it had been delivered in a tightly furled scroll, it now lay quite flat.

Dear Harry,

If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays.

Sirius scrutinized that, thought again about the description of the handwriting, and said in a flat, cold voice, "Dumbledore eh?"

Harry uneasily nodded his agreement, tense and waiting now for a new row of insults to come the headmasters way. With everything else that had gone on that night, Harry just had not been able to hold onto the same anger of blaming what had happened to Sirius on anyone but him. He knew they disagreed, they blamed the leader of the Order as much as Snape for trying to insist Sirius stay shut up, for not telling everything to him and Harry in the first place.

To his immense relief though, Sirius kept going without further comment. Whatever they were chewing on in regards to this, there was just no point shooting it at anyone in here, when their real target was still at Hogwarts and waiting for all of this to finish.

If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.

Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,

I am, yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

"Sounds, fun," James struggled to say with some lightheartedness. He'd admit he was curious what Dumbledore was up to, but already this wasn't starting off well. Dumbledore was clearly using Harry for something. Again.

"Hey, he's actually the one escorting you out of that place though!" Sirius did say cheerfully. "I think some good finally came of something, and he's not trying to keep you there all summer!"

"For once," Lily grumbled. It had taken the man six years what the Weasleys had done for him in his second, but she supposed she'd have to take what she could get here.

Though he already knew it by heart, Harry had been stealing glances at this message every few minutes since seven o'clock that evening, when he had first taken up his position beside his bedroom window, which had a reasonable view of both ends of Privet Drive. He knew it was pointless to keep rereading Dumbledore's words; Harry had sent back his "yes" with the delivering owl, as requested, and all he could do now was wait: Either Dumbledore was going to come, or he was not.

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't," Remus muttered, "it's not as if he's disappointed him lately or anything."

Sirius gave him a sideways look for that, but remarkably held his tongue and instead kept himself going rather than forcing Moony to address that right now.

But Harry had not packed. It just seemed too good to be true that he was going to be rescued from the Dursleys after a mere fortnight of their company.

"Miracles happen," Lily drawled.

"No, no, the miracle would be if he hadn't had to go back at all," Sirius happily corrected.

"I take what I can get," she snapped.

He could not shrug off the feeling that something was going to go wrong, his reply to Dumbledore's letter might have gone astray; Dumbledore could be prevented from collecting him; the letter might turn out not to be from Dumbledore at all, but a trick or joke or trap.

"I like that you listed trap last," James nodded, "obviously it's the least concerning option."

"Technically a trick and a joke are the same thing, so it was only fifty fifty," Sirius said fairly.

"Don't be so crude Padfoot," James wagged his finger at him. "Undermining the intricacies between a prank, a ploy, a ruse-"

"Keep going, or he will for an hour," Remus grumbled while Harry and Lily watched with honest fascination to see how long he could go.

Sirius took their distraction to hiss at him, "if you don't lighten up I'm going to use Lumos Maximus on what little of your brain is left."

Remus just raised a brow, unimpressed, while Sirius let Prongs keep going until he started making up words just to prove his point.

Harry had not been able to face packing and then being let down and having to unpack again. The only gesture he had made to the possibility of a journey was to shut his snowy owl, Hedwig, safely in her cage.

The minute hand on the alarm clock reached the number twelve and, at that precise moment, the street-lamp outside the window went out.

"The magic of timing," Lily giggled. Didn't need to worry about traffic when you could apparate.

Harry awoke as though the sudden darkness were an alarm. Hastily straightening his glasses and unsticking his cheek from the glass, he pressed his nose against the window instead and squinted down at the pavement. A tall figure in a long, billowing cloak was walking up the garden path.

Harry jumped up as though he had received an electric shock, knocked over his chair, and started snatching anything and everything within reach from the floor and throwing it into the trunk. Even as he lobbed a set of robes, two spellbooks, and a packet of crisps across the room,

"Can't forget the snack for the road!" Sirius laughed outright.

"Sirius, you're just describing the way you pack, so I don't know what you find so funny," James snickered along as well.

"I can admit to my flaws, if I had any. This is much faster than whatever that nonsense folding is," Sirius stated with his nose in the air.

the doorbell rang. Downstairs in the living room his Uncle Vernon shouted is surprise who would be here this time of night.

"Darn, and here I was hoping the hour would have them in bed," Lily grumbled.

No one disagreed with her. It was finally happening, someone even closer to Harry than Mr. Weasley was on the premises, could give these Dursleys a piece of their mind...and the stale taste in their mouth it was anyone but Sirius would linger until they got out.

Harry froze with a brass telescope in one hand and a pair of trainers in the other. He had completely forgotten to warn the Dursleys that Dumbledore might be coming.

Remus couldn't help an involuntary snort at that. This could be more than they'd initially thought for this reaction alone. Lets see Vernon try to stand his ground against Dumbledore. The only person this could be funnier for was Voldemort himself, and that led to far more complications than payback, so this was honestly the better option.

Feeling both panicky and close to laughter,

"A feeling I wish you'd have more," James sighed, that was perfectly reminiscent of how it felt to pull off a prank.

Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught him to remain out of arm's reach of his uncle whenever possible.

Harry flinched, though not for the reminder of that. He just hated watching the expressions it caused in those around him, that terrifying murderous look as they recalled why exactly this was. He still wished they'd never found out about that, but instead he forced himself not to rub at his neck and just told, "to be fair, most any person learns that after the first five seconds."

The joke gave Sirius a surprised snicker at least, though his voice was no less venomously laced as he kept going.

There in the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver hair and beard. Half- moon spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a long black traveling cloak and a pointed hat. Vernon Dursley, whose mustache was quite as bushy as Dumbledore's, though black, and who was wearing a puce dressing gown, was staring at the visitor as though he could not believe his tiny eyes.

"It is a sight to behold," James grudgingly tried for a laugh at these circumstances.

Then Dumbledore judged by his look of stunned disbelief Harry had not in fact warned of this, but he assumed he was graciously invited inside anyways. It was unwise to linger on doorsteps in these troubled times.

"Or just rude, but take your pick," Lily sniffed.

Dumbledore stepped inside and Vernon still seemed to thunderstruck to react, even when Dumbledore spoke of his long absence from here, but mentioned the agapanthus were flourishing.

"Of all the things to notice while dumping a child on a front porch, the flowers would stick out!" Sirius harshly snapped, making even himself wince for a comment no one needed reminding of.

Vernon Dursley said nothing at all. Harry did not doubt that speech would return to him, and soon, the vein pulsing in his uncles temple was reaching danger point, but something about Dumbledore seemed to have robbed him temporarily of breath.

"If it were permanent I may even start to like him again," Remus grumbled.

It might have been the blatant wizardishness of his appearance, but it might, too, have been that even Uncle Vernon could sense that here was a man whom it would be very difficult to bully.

"I'd say a combination of both, but that implies far more sense than those three could put together," Lily snipped.

Then Dumbledore caught sight of Harry and greeted him with an excellent.

These words seemed to rouse Uncle Vernon. It was clear that as far as he was concerned, any man who could look at Harry and say "excellent" was a man with whom he could never see eye to eye.

"Considering he can't see eye to eye with anything more than the deranged female version of himself he calls a sister, this isn't surprising," James agreed.

He began he didn't mean to be rude, in a tone that threatened rudeness in every syllable.

"And he even blatantly contradicts himself, again." Sirius huffed, wishing he'd kept a tally of how many times he'd done so, but at this point it would be redundant, he didn't need more reason to hate this idiot.

Dumbledore finished for him that rudeness often occurred even by accident, and it was best not to say anything.

Sirius couldn't help it this time and full out laughed. He knew his friends resented Dumbledore for the way he'd treated Harry, and himself, last year, but even while being an arrogant old man he'd done something only Moody had previously done, shut up Vernon!

The kitchen door had opened, and there stood Harry's aunt, wearing rubber gloves and a housecoat over her nightdress, clearly halfway through her usual pre-bedtime wipe-down of all the kitchen surfaces.

Her rather horsey face registered nothing but shock.

Dumbledore introduced himself when Vernon failed to.

"He didn't introduce himself to Vernon," James pointed out with mischief finally lighting his eyes again. He couldn't believe Dumbledore and the Dursleys were causing it, but he always had tried to find fun in the bleakest of places. "He'd just stepped over the doorway and told Vernon to shut his trap, not that I'm arguing the point."

While reminding they had corresponded. Harry thought this an odd way of reminding Aunt Petunia that he had once sent her an exploding letter, but Aunt Petunia did not challenge the term.

"I'm honestly still blasted at that," Lily said harshly. Of the many things wrong with Harry's fifth year, that was at least in the top five.

Dudley had that moment peered round the living room door. His large, blond head rising out of the stripy collar of his pajamas looked oddly disembodied, his mouth gaping in astonishment. Dumbledore waited a moment or two, apparently to see whether any of the Dursleys were going to say anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled.

He presumed he was invited into their sitting room.

"No," James said flatly, honestly he wouldn't be doing any such thing to Dumbledore right now. He had far to many things needing to be shouted for a place like his living room.

Dudley scrambled out of the way as Dumbledore passed him. Harry, still clutching the telescope and trainers,

"A conversation starter at least," Sirius' smile grew as he did wonder why Dumbledore was choosing to linger and make a show of this.

jumped the last few stairs and followed Dumbledore, who had settled himself in the armchair nearest the fire and was taking in the surroundings with an expression of benign interest. He looked quite extraordinarily out of place.

Harry asked weren't they leaving?

Dumbledore agreed that was soon on the agenda, but they needed to attend to something first best not done in the open. So they were too trespass on his aunt and uncles hospitality just a little longer.

"Catch up with the Order?" Lily demanded, this being the only thing they could think of, and not at all missing the fact that if this were true, something had come of last year if Dumbledore was really, finally, going to be so open with him. They wouldn't deny they'd prefer it to be done anywhere but there, but they'd take what they could get right now.

Vernon demanded he would, would he?

Dumbledore simply said yes, he shall.

Remus still couldn't help making an agitated face no matter how much he tried to hide it, refusing to admit what he'd been thinking even as the thought lingered in his head. 'A man after my own heart.'

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

Sirius read all of this with an increasing smile, he wasn't going to deny anymore he was starting to enjoy this. Watching the Dursleys be flicked around their own house, and Harry wasn't even going to get in trouble for it! The Ministry would have been informed of this going on by Dumbledore himself most likely. His only thought now was how far could they go with this.

As he replaced his wand in his pocket, Harry saw that his hand was blackened and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burned away.

Sirius at once felt his nose crinkle up in disgust, but it did nothing to hide the flash of concern. It sounded impossible in his head Dumbledore would get anything resembling an injury, let alone one that would leave some kind of mark.

He looked around in concern when Harry started muttering to himself, never a good sign.

James had already noticed and was already babbling at top speed about how even wizards didn't have a magical cure for everything, though he was confident it wasn't anything the man couldn't shake off. Even while holding a flare of hate for the man, he seemed able to push that aside instantly to help his son with the worry for that same person. Harry in no way looked convinced, but smiled anyways for the attempt even if his eyes lingered with that fear.

Harry tried to ask what had happened to his hand, but Dumbledore simply said he'd explain later.

"Oh, well apparently we still haven't quite gotten over that nasty habit of not explaining everything," James snapped.

Lily sighed, not arguing the point aloud, but thought her husband was just looking to pick a fight now. Not every aspect of Dumbledore's life, such as injuries, were of their concern.

He instead turned back to Vernon and told evidence suggested refreshments coming would be optimistic to the point of foolishness.

"Evidence used to suggest honesty was your strongest point, but that was foolish as well," Remus muttered.

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-colored liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room. He told this was Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead, while Harry took a sip.

Lily made a little face at her son drinking, though sixteen wasn't an unreasonable age, for a moment she almost wished her biggest concern was her child acting like a teenager and slipping into the liquor cabinet from time to time.

He had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely.

"As you well should, Rosmerta can make a man go broke buying that from her," Sirius grinned.

"Trust him, he's tried," Remus rolled his eyes.

"You certainly don't try to stop me," Sirius challenged, his eyes gleaming at finally getting a normal response from Moony.

"I'd be a hypocrite if I did, considering how often I nick a glass," he shrugged without remorse.

"Aha! You admit it!" Sirius cheered with triumph.

"I never denied it, you just never asked," Remus huffed. Sirius frowned at him now, his moment of fun clearly having passed as quickly as it had come for Remus was refusing to play along anymore, so Sirius kept going with his own little huffs.

The Dursleys, after quick, scared looks at one another, tried to ignore their glasses completely, a difficult feat, as they were nudging them gently on the sides of their heads.

At least that got a collective snort of laughter, all of them having imagined hitting them upside the head with something far heavier than a drink, but it was a start.

Harry could not suppress a suspicion that Dumbledore was rather enjoying himself.

"At least someone is," Sirius said good-naturedly.

Finally Dumbledore turn to Harry and explained the Order had located Sirius' will this past week, and its contents were relatively simple, he'd left everything to his godson.

Then Sirius felt like his throat had been clogged shut and he couldn't remember how to breathe for it. This was the opposite of what he was going for, more depressing reminders! Even he couldn't find a way to put a spin on this to make it in any way funny!

Then what he'd said really ran through his head, and he did release a childishly rude giggle.

Lily quickly brushed her hair out of her face, cleared her throat loudly while she shifted next to James, purposely brushing against him to keep his attention while snipping at him, "just what was so funny about that?"

"My inheritance, my mums precious Black house and heirlooms, all going to a halfblood. The only thing to make it better would be giving it all to Moony, or you Lils."

Lily rolled her eyes even as she'd expected the answer, while Harry shook his stinging eyes and forced them to focus back in confusion of that. Why hadn't anything been left to Remus? Then he really considered this, and recalled some earlier statements from them how Remus wasn't even supposed to be here right now, nor allowed to adopt Harry, or any child. Was it really possible werewolves were so forced outside their own laws they weren't even allowed such a thing as possessions left by the dead? After all he'd heard, Harry believed it.

James still couldn't bring himself to join in this, he couldn't look at Sirius or anyone or he'd break down again for this future hanging over his brothers life. Not to mention Dumbledore nor anyone had ever said what became of his things. The vault of gold Harry had now was not the only thing in the Potters line, was it really too much to ask who now owned his parents house? This one? Aside from the cloak, Harry still had more from Sirius than him, and even when they were in the same boat now, or well, afterlife, Sirius was still managing to give more to him.

Sirius didn't press the issue onto anyone else, but he certainly hoped Harry got to the Weasleys soon now, or even another cutaway chapter to anyone else who wouldn't mention him for once!

This should leave matters straightforward. A reasonable amount of gold had been added to his vault, as well as all of Sirius' possessions should fall to Harry-

Vernon interrupted to demand his godfather was dead?

"Timing," Lily snarled in disgust at anyone so blatantly stating this, as if it hadn't been done enough already today. She didn't know how Sirius had managed to say that with a straight face, she and James had only gotten through it on constricted confidence it wasn't yet true. He tried to brush right past it like he did all things Vermin, related...or Vernon, same thing.

Dumbledore answered a simple yes.

"I would have given him a one word answer as well, but it wouldn't have been that," James snapped.

"Don't be daft Prongs, the only single word you ever use is for a spell, and even then you flourish those for show," Sirius happily corrected.

James made a face at him and actually looked to give a colorful response back, just for the simple bliss he still could and would hold onto that as long as possible, before Remus snapped, "I'm surprised you two never read a dictionary for all the words you use, but we don't need to hear every one of them now!"

James made an annoyed, slightly confused face at him as if just noticing for the first time what a mood Moony was really in, but Sirius had no want to test it right now when he still had to get back to something so unpleasant so kept going anyways.

He did not ask Harry why he had not confided in the Dursleys.

Lily stopped eyeing Remus and went back to the despicable and never ending thoughts for these circumstances going on. Dumbledore himself had admitted last year how aware he was of the situation going on there and still they got more evidence how little he cared!

Then continued as if uninterrupted this should also mean Harry was in possession of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The problem was-

"That is indeed a problem," Sirius couldn't help making his own disgruntled face at that. "I never wanted Harry stepping back into that place even while I was in it, now I don't want to even think of him being on the same block as it!"

Harry tensed and shifted with unease for this particular comment. Everything in him wanted to agree with Sirius, but at the same time the words wouldn't come out. He never wanted to be near that place again, but the idea saddened him the same as if he was never allowed in this home again. Home...such a strange word choice, he just couldn't imagine it ever applying to such a grim house, and was sure it was simply his mind slipping up with something else.

Again he was interrupted by Vernon greedily demanding he'd been left a house?

"Actually, I take it back," Sirius said at once, his eyes narrowing maliciously. "If giving it to Harry in any way leads to Vernon stepping in and never stepping back out, I'll arrange this myself-" he stopped with a hiss of pain and glared at Moony.

"Do I need to point out why that was in poor taste," he hissed for his ear while the other three winced and pretended like they hadn't heard him anyways.

"Is this what's got you so round the bind? I'm not going to stop saying whatever I please thank you."

When Remus just made a face and turned away muttering about nonsense, Sirius realized he hadn't guessed right and kept going without almost anyone noticing for a moment, which was lucky with the next few lines.

This time he was ignored, and Harry supplied they could keep using it as headquarters, he never wanted back in that place again where Sirius had once prowled, so desperate to escape.

Dumbledore thanked him for the generosity, but explained they had temporarily vacated the premises.

"Of course the only good that place has ever got would be taken away," he muttered purely for himself.

Harry asked why, both of them ignoring the Dursleys predicament of the glasses now rapping the Dursleys over the head and sloshing the drink everywhere.

That got a surprised snicker out of everyone, leaving at least Sirius pleased one thing could still make them smile during all this constant black depression.

As Sirius was the last, than tradition would instead have it go to the next available pureblood in the line.

A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Sirius's mother that hung in the hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into Harry's mind.

"I'm almost saddened he knows the place so well," James said in disgust.

He agreed that didn't surprise him, and Dumbledore supplied this meant Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Would be a touch more fitting than it ever was on me," Sirius shrugged without any real care.

"The only thing she should have is a cell, not anything you once did." Harry snapped at once.

Sirius eyed him but chose not to argue the point, thinking he was far too worked up about it.

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry sprang to his feet; the telescope and trainers in his lap rolled across the floor. Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's killer, inherit his house?

Dumbledore agreed it would not be helpful to the Orders cause, but there was a very simple test to now know who it truly was in ownership.

Sirius paused to scratch at his ear, but he couldn't really think of one. He supposed there was some blood magic to be worked, he vaguely recalled something of the like going on with house-elf ownership and quarrels about that in the past of who it should go to when the eldest chose otherwise. However, the very idea of Harry drawing blood for anything only reminded him of more pink, and far from it being worth that waste of space, he skipped on and hoped Dumbledore literally meant the word simple, for once.

Before he could explain, Vernon interrupted again to get these off!

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

"That, is the best mental imagery, I've heard all day." James declared at once.

"Wasn't much contest," Remus rolled his eyes.

The other four gave a lighthearted laugh in agreement anyways, it just wasn't as satisfying as Sirius arriving and cursing them all where they sat, or even Dumbledore doing more than sloshing some drink on them with cups.

Dumbledore did indeed vanish them after pointing out it would have been better manners to drink it.

Lily shook her head, politely incredulous at Dumbledore's incredulous politeness.

It looked as though Uncle Vernon was bursting with any number of unpleasant retorts, but he merely shrank back into the cushions with Aunt Petunia and Dudley and said nothing, keeping his small piggy eyes on Dumbledore's wand.

Then he turned back and flicked his wand for a fifth time.

"Why is it keeping count?" James randomly muttered.

"For the Dursleys benefit I'm sure," Harry gave a slight smile, knowing he'd seen them flinch uneasily every time.

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags.

Sirius' face drained of blood, while his mind consumed with a shocking amount of hatred he thought he could only feel for a rat. It seemed to extend to the thing that got him killed as well. The others may blame Dumbledore holding information over Harry's head leading to it, but Sirius couldn't forget the kicker, or what he'd like to be kicking! That no good, infested vermin who'd done everything his whole life to treat him as if he were lower than the filth cleaning their floors!

"Sirius?" Remus spoke softly, the first time this morning he'd really come back to himself as he leaned towards him in concern, grabbing for his shoulder, but Sirius shook it off just as quickly. He no more wanted to linger on that wretch than he did the veil, none of it mattered, least of all the soon to be headless elf.

Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory. Dudley drew his large, bare, pink feet off the floor and sat with them raised almost above his head, as though he thought the creature might run up his pajama trousers, and Vernon bellowed what was that?

The twisted expression upon his godfathers face could never be described as a smile, but the pleasure was certainly there Kreacher was getting some use in scaring the Dursleys for a moment at least.

Dumbledore pointed out if Harry owned the house, than he also owned Kreacher.

Kreacher was clearly none to happy about this, stamping his feet, and shouting he won't, won't, won't, go into the Potter brats care! He wanted his new mistress! He wanted miss Bellatrix!

Lily had half a mind to get up herself and smack Sirius for the tone he was using. She still wished he'd understand he'd never helped the situation by showing nothing but cruelty to his elf, but it would do no more good than blame the way Snape treated Harry on his godfather. The elf was his own actions and was as responsible for them as the Potions teacher was for abusing his students. She like the others wished more than anything Sirius would release the elf now and avoid all future problems with this.

Harry at once protested he didn't want him!

Harry rubbed painfully at his ear, Sirius shouting that with increasing volume was starting to hurt, so he shot a question that occurred to him instead. "How was Dumbledore keeping him away? If Elf's have their own magic and can apparate, or I assume disapparate from wherever they want."

"Oh there are still ways of blocking them," Sirius viciously explained, and Harry instantly regretted asking as it only seemed to fuel his desire to be stamping on the elves head right now. "Magical blockers, outsmarting the little blighter which isn't hard, Merlin just knocking him unconscious or poisoning him or-"

"Alright Sirius," Lily snapped, "I don't need to hear the entire list!"

He scowled at her but kept going simply because he actually didn't want to linger on all the things he'd considered doing in his past which were suddenly a far more real threat to that things life.

Dumbledore reminded to turn him away would send him to Bellatrix just as fast, with the knowledge of all the Order.

Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher could not be permitted to go and live with Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of owning him, of having responsibility for the creature that had betrayed Sirius, was repugnant.

"Responsibility isn't the right word," James snapped. "Just tell him not to set foot outside that place again until his dying day, which hopefully will come soon enough anyways! Problem solved, you never have to see the scum again."

Dumbledore prompted Harry to give him an order, and if he complied, than the matter was settled. If not, they'd have to find other methods to keep him from his new and rightful mistress.

Through all of this Kreacher's shoutings had only gotten louder, so Harry said the only thing that came to mind, shut up!

Sirius' satisfied little smirk was the closest thing he was going to get to congratulating Harry for that right now, he certainly wouldn't have been so kind with this test.

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

"Well, we can no longer say Sirius doesn't think ahead," Remus tried in vain for a joking tone even if his face was too pale to pull it off.

Sirius did give him a real smile for the attempt anyways even as he mock pouted for the jab.

Cheerful now, Dumbledore said that settled it all.

Harry asked if he had to keep him with him?

"Malfoy didn't keep Dobby on his heels," Sirius rolled his eyes for Harry's random question.

"I certainly didn't want him at the Dursleys place, as if I needed another reason to loath it," Harry reminded, thinking more along the lines Kreacher would have to relocate to wherever he called home, no matter how loosely.

Sirius nodded that made it a fair question then.

Dumbledore gave the idea to have him working in the schools kitchens, where the other elves could help keep an eye on him.

"Yes, because there's not enough slave labor going on in there, another was really needed," Lily couldn't help but scoff at that, honestly thinking that's more what Hermione would say so felt like somebody should.

Harry however frowned and demanded, "Dumbledore couldn't have suggested that for Sirius? Have him out of the house to begin with?"*

Sirius opened, then closed his mouth. It wasn't ideal, and still left the house-elf open to much vulnerability without someone keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't spread something he wasn't supposed to, but if this had been done at the beginning there would have been little to nothing to start with! He had no good answer for Harry, none of them did.

Harry agreed to this at once and instructed the house-elf to do as such. Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

"You didn't even order him not to seek out Bellatrix, or otherwise do much of anything," Sirius frowned in unease at once. "You're leaving that thing far to loose after what you now know he can do."

Harry winced at this overlap, but Lily pacified, "I'm sure whatever Dumbledore was doing before to keep him away from Bellatrix he's continuing now. It may not be permanent and he'd have Harry go back and enforce it later, but it worked for a fortnight, it should last them a while longer."

Sirius was honestly just disappointed Harry hadn't clothed the thing and be done with it, but as that would only circle them back to the problem with the Order he chose to let it all go instead and hopefully move on.

All that was left now was the matter of Buckbeak.

Here he actually sobered, for the first time realizing he'd had something in his care. It was as if someone were telling him what was being done to his owl Buggle when he went to Azkaban. He'd somehow grown distantly fond of Buckbeak and he'd never even met him yet.

Hagrid had been looking after him, but if Harry wished other arrangements-

He perked up all over again, a lighthearted chuckle escaping a throat he wouldn't have thought possible a moment ago. At least Hagrid got something out of this!

Harry at once said that was perfect.

"I am wondering now why that wasn't done anyways," James ruffled up his hair at such a simple explanation. "It's not like the Ministry was going to swing back by and accuse him of having the same hippogriff that had gotten away so many years ago."

"I'm sure I kept him around for a quick get away," Sirius shrugged, not liking the idea of how long he probably went without a wand on the run, and had probably still been afraid of being unable to apparete so Buckbeak was just an extra security for it at the time.

They had rechristened him to be Witherwings just in case, but no one should ever suspect a thing about the hippogriff to die those years ago was the same now.**

"I'm sure that makes him completely invisible to them," Lily couldn't help a giggle.

Now, was his trunk all packed?

Harry muttered err, eyeing his fallen shoe and telescope.

"That means yes, I just have to finish up one or two things," Sirius lightly interpreted.

"Like the rest of it," James snorted.

Harry ran off to finish this, but came back to find Dumbledore was still waiting in the sitting room. So he reluctantly came back and found Dumbledore waiting for him to finish by addressing the Dursleys that Harry would come of age in a years time.

Petunia spoke up for the first time he would not, he was a month younger than Dudley who didn't turn eighteen until the year after next.

"What does that have to do with anything?" James asked. He'd just thought Petunia had completely forgotten how old Harry was, which was honestly a likely answer.

"Muggles are considered of age at eighteen," Lily shrugged.

James looked baffled at what he saw as a random number but didn't press her for more.

Dumbledore corrected wizards were of age at seventeen, and ignoring Vernon's mutters of preposterous.

"I would too," Sirius nodded.

"Honestly, a year is so preposterous?" Remus rolled his eyes.

Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions,

Sirius made an agitated noise at just how casually that was said.

was still in danger from Voldemort, though the protection invoked fifteen years ago when he'd been left here would be broken at that age.

Sirius finished through gritted teeth, the hate curling tight in his chest never having left since the moment he'd heard that and still somehow convinced if they could just fix that one thing it would all be worth it!

Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and he gave no obvious sign of anger, Harry felt a kind of chill emanating from him and noticed that the Dursleys drew very slightly closer together.

They had not done as asked, had never treated Harry as their own. He'd known nothing but cruelty and neglect at their hands.

James twisted violently in his seat for the reminder, his will prepared to launch him back at that door right then to continue retribution for that, but this time Harry was there, more sure of himself than ever to keep them close to him while he still could. He scooted close to his dad and nudged him with a small smile he didn't really feel, but it worked. For all the reminder it was that had happened to Harry, looking at him was just as much a reminder he shouldn't leave him now.

The best that could be said was that he had not suffered the same damage as the boy between them now.

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around instinctively, as though expecting to see someone other than Dudley squeezed between them.

Lily scoffed in more disgusted disbelief than she would have thought possible. She really just couldn't believe anyone was so daft before she was forcefully hearing about them.

Vernon furiously tried to protest they'd never done anything against their Dudders,

"Yes, because that was the accusation you should defend," Remus snarled none to quietly even if he did try to keep that one under his breath.

but Dumbledore raised his finger for silence, a silence which fell as though he had struck Uncle Vernon dumb.

He continued the magic keeping him safe would end when he turned seventeen, but he asked that he remain back here until then.

Lily was already fuming by the time Sirius got to that, and couldn't stop herself all but shouting, "Ask? Since when has he had to ask before? He's been forced back whether he wanted it or not! If you hadn't told him they'd have no reason to think otherwise until he was eighteen and could finally kick him out themselves!"

Harry did the same for her, wrapping a gentle arm around her in a hug. She merely patted his arm but refused to really let herself be comforted while this monster of a sister was permitted to act dumb about this.

James had agreed with every word, and wanted more than anything to add on this magic protecting Harry seemed more confusing the more he heard of it. Why would the protection end when he turned of age? Couldn't it simply be reset so long as he was living with Petunia he would remain safe? Not that he in any way wanted that, but if Dumbledore were there the moment it happened and reset it up again, his son would remain safer for just that little bit longer until they came up with a true plan to rid Voldemort once and for all. Apparently though it just vanished once he was an adult, which wasn't unbelievable as the age broke many spells upon one such as the trace, but he had more questions about this that no one was around to give an answer to.

None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was frowning slightly, as though he was still trying to work out when he had ever been mistreated.

"Honestly the fact that he even has brain cells he hasn't eaten is the miracle," Remus said dryly.

Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat; Aunt Petunia, however, was oddly flushed.

So was Lily still, though the comparison between the two had never been less obvious.

He finished with a polite until they met again, the Dursleys looked as though that moment could wait forever as far as they were concerned,

Harry cocked his head to the side with a nasty frown in place, though he was sure that was simply because he was wishing it had happened again and it was likely Dumbledore had simply never gone back.

and after tipping his hat, swept from the room.

Harry waved goodbye and hauled his things to the curb, where Dumbledore asked he extract his cloak before vanishing the lot to the Burrow so as not to cumbersome them on their further outings tonight.

Harry made sure to duck low so his headmaster couldn't see the mess of his trunk as he did this.

Sirius did make a little 'pfft' noise, erasing some tension back in the room as he not so subtly laughed at how little anyone cared about that.

When he had stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket, Dumbledore waved his wand and the trunk, cage, and Hedwig vanished. He told Harry they were now going to step out into the flighty temptress of adventure.

He finished with a greatly attempted curious tone, but even he couldn't deny he wasn't looking forward to whatever he was passing along to Harry. Dumbledore's idea of an adventure very likely wasn't the same as theirs.

HPHPHPHP

Random note, I keep wanting to have James call Harry buckaroo. I've been fighting off this compulsion for ages and even catch myself doing it and deleting it in a few drafts, but you all know for a fact if this had been based in America Harry absolutely would have been called that! Or is that just a Southern thing...

*I feel like there were a bunch of points where characters just casually drop ideas that could have done so much good in the last book but are never mentioned again!

**Why didn't Sirius just use polyjuice potion, Transfiguration, or any number of things to leave Grimmauld place at his leisure, or go adopt Harry, or anything? I never brought it up in fic because I don't have a good answer. Hell, they just gave Buckbeak a new name and no one ever bats an eye. All Sirius would have to do was pick a new name, change his hair color and make his nose a little longer and so long as he didn't do anything to draw attention to himself again, I sincerely doubt anyone would have given it notice ever again. I still don't get why he didn't go to school with Harry last year as Padfoot. There was almost no reason for him to be locked in that house except a headcanon I have that will be revealed in the seventh book, but that's at the end, and this was on my mind now, so please discuss!

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #The Life That Never Lived #HBP #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter #Jilly

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commanderbragh · 3 years

Text

True Colors Shown

(Warning: not sure there are triggers, but this does get a bit dark.)

Braghaman shook his head and let out a groan. Everything was blurry when he first opened his eyes, but he sat patiently and took a couple of deep breaths and waited as his vision came back into focus. He looked around and saw that he was in a small room, about the size of a novice’s bedroom in the Cathedral. There was no furniture in the room, just shadows cast by the afternoon sunlight coming through the small window.

He looked down and saw that his armor had been removed while he was unconscious. He had been left in his leather pants and cotton shirt. He started to bring his hand up to his head to rub the spot where he had been hit and realized that he couldn’t. Flexing his arms, he heard the familiar sound of chains behind him that bound his wrists together. Bragh let out a quick breath and frowned slightly.

“So here we are,” the paladin said quietly to himself.

Braghaman managed to pull himself up to a sitting position and then scooted back against the wall. He then sat quietly, facing the door, with his head bowed and his eyes closed. When he finally heard keys being inserted into the lock of the door, Bragh opened his eyes and saw from the deepening shadows that some time had passed. The door opened and Bragh lifted his head just enough to see a paladin removing the key from the lock before stepping aside. Stepping past him, Lord Shadowbreaker stepped into the room and looked at Braghaman sitting on the floor.

“Larethian,” Shadowbreaker said quietly. Braghaman did not respond. “That was a poor choice.” Braghaman didn’t move. “You’re in a good amount of trouble, brother.” Braghaman lowered his head and closed his eyes.

The paladin trainer frowned and shook his head. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

“There’s someone who wants to speak with you, Brother Larethian. It’s in everyone’s best interests if you behave. Do you understand?”

Braghaman continued to sit against the wall with his head bowed and breathing slowly.

“This is a bad idea,” Shadowbreaker said, looking back to the doorway.

Bishop Lancaster strode into the room, glancing at Shadowbreaker as he passed, giving him the barest of nods. “You may leave us paladin.” he said as he looked around the room before leveling a disdainful gaze on the prisoner.

He waited until he heard the door close before addressing the chained paladin, “So you’re the husband.” he sniffed contemptuously, “You are what drives Sister Niviene to treason. I must say, I do not understand her reasoning, you look hardly worth dying for. But then, it is said that like seeks like. Tell me? Are you raising your children to be deserters too?” He looked Braghaman over, his voice changing to a more conspiratorial tone, “Perhaps you can tell the little woman to attend to her duties to the Light. Demand that she pay homage to the Cathedral and her king. You are her husband, make her commit to service to the kingdom.”

Braghaman slowly lifted his head to look at the bishop standing in front of him. Without warning, Bragh lunged forward a few inches and flexed his arms to make the chains of his shackles rattle. The bishop fell back and quickly cast a spell, a pale shield appearing around him. The paladin leaned back against the wall and tilted his head slightly. The neutral look on his face never changed through it all.

“I don’t remember seeing you on any battlefields,” Bragh said quietly as he relaxed and lowered his head again.

Bishop Lancaster gaped at the paladin, forcing himself not to retreat further though he knew the shielding spell wouldn’t last long. He straightened, gripping his staff tightly, “There are many battlefields, you could not have possibly been on them all. I was there. I am always there. Serving the Light as is my sworn duty. As it is that of your wife.”

He moved closer, though not close enough that Braghaman could reach him. “Had I been in charge at the time you would have never been permitted to wed. Marriage, children, they are a distraction. A priest’s only passion should be the Light, their only desire to serve it. Until death.”

Emboldened by the safe distance between the two of them Lancaster sneered, “This is what comes of consorting with warlocks. The two of you stink of them.”

“No,” Bragh answered with a shake of his head. “You’ve never been on a battlefield. At least not until it was safe for you to be there.” The paladin closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. “I do not work for the Cathedral and have not for a while. You have no say in what I do with my life. Same for my wife.”

“A priest dedicates their life to the service. That duty never ends paladin.” he sniffed self righteously. “I will not speak for your lot but my priests serve the Light, the King, and the Kingdom. There is room for nothing else.”

“Seems to be enough room for your ambition,” Bragh answered with a smirk. “And she was serving the Light and the kingdom, just not in the way you wanted. She didn’t need to walk out onto the field and sling the Light around to make Azeroth better. Some make things better back home, that’s what the Light calls on them to do.”

Braghaman closed his eyes again. The paladin said nothing for a few more moments, seemingly ignoring the bishop. Then he cracked one eye open. “Actually, I imagine she’s doing more out there right now than you’re able to.”

“Let us pray that it is not too little too late to save her soul from damnation.” Lancaster glared at Braghaman, “It is blasphemy that dares to know what the Light calls us to do. You are no priest. You call yourself a paladin but you are merely another thug, using the Light to sew destruction and chaos at every turn. I’ve heard of your exploits Larethian. You’re trouble.” he gave a bark of dry, mirthless laughter, “the two of you are well suited.”

He pointed a long, boney finger at the paladin, “I can do nothing for you boy, but I will save her. Even if it’s the last thing that I do.”

“I’ve heard that talk before, bishop. ‘You’ve been corrupted. We’ll save your soul. You don’t know what you’re doing.’ You aren’t the first to say that kind of thing in front of me. It’s no more impressive coming from you than it was coming from the others.”

Braghaman lifted his head from the wall and opened his eyes, staring directly at the bishop.

“You say you’ve heard of me, that you somehow know me. Then you know what I’ve done to the others that threatened my family. And no, that’s not a threat. It’s a clarification. You call me blasphemous and a thug, yet I’ve done more in the service of the Light than you have. I have put my safety on the line to protect others while you sit comfortably in the back waiting for the limelight. What have you done? Thrown others into the fire without any thought to them or their safety. Putting people on the line whether they were fit for the job or not. Sacrificing others for your own desires and ambition. Explain to me how that is not blasphemous.”

“And just for the record,” Braghaman started to add, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes again. “She’s not yours. Not to order around and not to save.”

Lancaster laughed softly, nodding his head, “Aye I throw them to the fire. We are cleansed in flame. Those who do not survive are not worthy to call themselves children of the Light.” The laughter quickly ceased as the bishop looked at Braghaman, his face a picture of zealous fervor, “It is time she proves her mettle. The flames await.”

Braghaman snorted. “Trial by fire, eh? You sound an awful lot like Benedictus did. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s not the limelight that motivates you.” The paladin snorted again. “Willing to sacrifice the innocent to achieve their own goals. Yeah, sounds a whole lot like the old archbishop.”

Bragh opened his eyes a crack again and looked at the bishop. “And how exactly does that serve the Light, much less get the king back, sending innocent people to die in the ‘fire’? Not sure how much forgiveness there is in setting people up to die.”

“I would hardly call Sister Niviene innocent. She has cavorted with warlocks and trolls. She has served the shadow. Her soul is black as the abyss. But I can bring her back from that darkness. I will save her. But I will break her first.”

Lancaster turned toward the cell door, calling out to the guard, “I believe the good brother here has refused to repent. Be sure that he receives no rations for the several days. We’ll see if hunger can turn him.”

“Turn me, eh?” Braghaman repeated with a chuckle. “I didn’t realize you were trying to save me, too. Thought you didn’t care for my lot.”

“How right you are paladin. You can rot in the abyss for all I care. But I do gather some joy at the thought of you suffering. Joy is so hard to come by theses, one must take it where he can.”

Lancaster tapped a boney finger against his teeth, “Those children of yours… we will have to place them in the orphanage. No one will want them of course. They will be raised by the church. They will know what it is to serve the Light correctly.”

The bishop turned at a sharp rapping on the door, moving forward he leaned against the grate as a courier muttered to him. Lancaster chuckled and nodded, “Excellent. I knew she would come around.”

He looked at Bragh, a self satisfied grim splitting his gaunt features, “Sister Niviene has seen the error of her ways. She has thought for nothing but serving the Light, of caring for her patients. I am positive that by the time I am through with her, she will be through with you. She will return to the cathedral and service to me.”

“At least you’re being honest now,” Bragh responded, closing his eyes again. “This was never about the Light. It was always about you and what you wanted. Right, Benedictus? Especially if you have her taking care of patients. That was never her calling. But hey, as long as you get what you want, right, Bennie? Never knew someone serving the Light and also taking joy in people’s suffering. Oh, and you don’t need to worry about our kids. They’re perfectly safe.”

Braghaman shook his head slightly and opened his eyes again. “You don’t serve the Light in this. And all your posturing and bleating won’t change that. All you’re doing now is trying to punish people you don’t like.”

“In that you are wrong. I like Sister Niviene. I like her very much. She’s a pretty little thing isn’t she?” Lancaster licked his lips unconsciously, “She would be radiant were she to turn to the Light. I will see it done. I will cleanse her soul, I will save her.” he looked at Bragh, his muddy brown eyes shining, “I will have her.”

“So it’s not the Light you serve. Just lust. Lusting after another man’s wife, using whatever justification you can come up with you justify it.” Braghaman shook his head again, but his eyes were wide and staring at the bishop. “Not exactly the holy man that everyone should be looking up to, is it? I came here thinking you were doing this because you thought it would get you more power. Maybe you expected it would pave the way to being archbishop. I guess I was wrong. Your motivations look to be a lot more base.”

“I will have power. The power of the church, and power over her. I will bend her t o my bidding and together we will cleanse this kingdom of the filth that floods its streets and clouds the morals of its people. She will be the angel at my side, inspiring the masses to follow where I lead.” he looked at Bragh, down the length of his nose, “The first thing I will do is throw the paladin rabble out of the cathedral.”

“Paladin rabble, eh?” Braghaman repeated loudly. “You feel okay with that Shadowbreaker?”

Lancaster started to say something but was interrupted by the door opening and Lord Shadowbreak stepped into the room. “I can’t say that I am, brother. How’d you know I was out there?”

“Figured that you’d stick around to make sure I behaved,” Bragh answered with a smirk.

“Right,” Shadowbreaker replied with a slight frown before turning his attention to the bishop. “Rabble?”

Lancaster started at the sound of Shadowbreaker’s voice. He quickly gathered his wits and straightened to his full height, squaring his shoulders, “Rabble. Yes. If your men are an ounce like this one they must all be cast out. You do not deserve to walk the hallowed halls of the cathedral with your filthy boots.”

The bishop grasped hold of his staff and stepped forward, shoving passed the elder paladin. “Out of my way paladin. I am needed in the Shadowlands.”

Lord Shadowbreaker took the bishop by the arm and pulled him back into the room. “We’re not done here.” The bishop looked startled as he was almost taken off his feet, glancing at the gloved hand that was still holding on to him. “Guard. Get in here. Unlock his manacles.”

Another paladin stepped into the room and walked around the trainer and the bishop. He leaned down next to Braghaman, reaching behind him and unlocking the manacles around his wrists. Bragh stood up slowly and glanced between Shadowbreaker and Lancaster.

“Now, bishop,” Shadowbreaker said, leaning closer to the bishop. “You and I have some things to discuss. And I dare say the other leaders would like to be a part of this as well.”

The bishop jerked out of the paladin’s grasp, “By right do you detain me? This only proves my statement! I will have you out. All of you! Now get out of my way. I have to go retrieve my priestess.”

Braghaman lunged forward and pushed Lancaster in the back, sending him into the wall next to the door. The paladin then grabbed the back of the bishop’s robes and yanked him backwards, pulling him off his feet. The bishop fell to the ground on his back and before he could do anything else Bragh was on top of him with his left hand around Lancaster’s throat.

“I warned you not to talk about my family,” Braghaman said through gritted teeth. He brought his right hand back and then struck Lancaster in the jaw. He struck again and then a third time, causing a cracking sound to echo in the room. The bishop’s eyes rolled up into his head as the paladin brought his hand up to strike a fourth time. But before he could land another blow, he felt someone grab his arms and pull him off the prone bishop.

“Stop Larethian,” Shadowbreaker said loudly in Bragh’s ear. “Stop!”

Braghaman looked around and saw the paladin who had freed him holding one arm and Shadowbreaker the other. He looked down at the bishop who groaned as a thin trail of blood trickled down the corner of his mouth.

“We’ll deal with this, Larethian,” Shadowbreaker said calmly. “We’ll get your wife back and we’ll deal with him.”

Braghaman pulled his arm free and stood up straight. Eventually he was able to control his breathing, though the anger in his eyes didn’t fade.

“You’d better,” Braghaman said quietly, taking a step back from the bishop.

(collaborative writing with @niviene-larethian )

#WoW RP #Shrouded Dawn #Collaboration #Niviene #Shadowlands #Shadowbreaker #Bishop Lancaster

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blissfulalchemist · 3 years

Note

"we've lost so much time" for hypatia/conner? <3

Okay so this was going to be so much longer (like 5k kind of long) but the other time I wanted to use this line I realized wasn’t going to fit so you get like half of what would be a chapter. Lo Siento. But it’s still pretty long. (◕‿◕)♡

I needed to buy a burner phone, or at least something separate from the three I currently had. Two for the Alchemists, because it was better for them to just pay for a personal cell phone now along with one for work, and the one that was for only Abe and my mom. Four, I was on to four phones now that Tia finally called me. Seven months of silence from her, I would have worried more about her but it seemed she kept the crystal keychain. I could at least always tell she was alive when I could check in, a small blessing with her.

She wanted to meet up with me in person, three days and she’d be back in St. Louis, not the smartest decision if you asked me. She needed to stay away from here as much as possible, she shouldn’t have even been contacting me really, not that it ever stopped her before. I sigh as I open the door to my apartment, the only thing I was able to do on my own, keys tossed into the bowl on the small kitchen table, as I make my way to the fridge. I don’t know why I do when there’s no appetite to be had. My stomach hasn’t stopped turning since I heard her voice once more.

They need my help, they, she’s found people to join her little crusade, I wonder if I’ll get to meet some of them. Couldn’t tell me exactly what it was they needed my help with, it has to do with getting information or else I wouldn’t have been called. The sharp ring of cell phone prime stops the rumination of what exactly Tia and her merry band of thieves are up too.

“If it isn’t my favorite warlock,” Abe greets as if I was the one to initiate this call, “How are things in St. Louis?”

My eyes roll, as I fall into the couch trying to relax, “How many times do I have to remind you I’m not a warlock,” my voice is the only part of me that’s obeyed as I drop the American accent.

“Well you did make a deal for some power, my boy,” he retorts, I can almost see the smile he has.

Yeah some power I have being your dog, “St. Louis is fine. They’re all still trying to look for Caro.”

“And after seven months,” Abe hums a second, “Have you been able to find anything else about her? What makes her so special to them?”

“I can’t get access to anything, I’m no hacker.”

“Surely your magic can get you somewhere,” his tone has dropped lower, I’m not doing my job in his eyes, or I’m just being difficult, “A little persuasion never hurt anyone.”

I stiffen, “You know exactly how I feel about your idea of persuasion,” my voice meets his in a growl, “That’s crossing into dark magic. I don’t do dark magic.”

“If you want to get out of this job and debt,” Abe taunts, if he was at a desk I’m sure he’d be leaning over it to look deep into your soul, “you better get a little more comfortable with the idea of it.”

My jaw clenches, “I’ll ask her myself, she’s returning in a few days.”

He’s silent for just the smallest amount of time, “Is she now?”

I nod, leaning back against the couch, “She said they needed some information I have access too.” I don’t know that I do but I just hope that my bluff will get some hint on who Tia might be with.

“Well I hope you can get it for them,” should have known better, “Till next time Enache.” The call ended and I was back to being alone once more, eyes lazily looking at the clock on the wall, too early for any type of sleep and mom would be out in the garden still. I flipped the stereo on grabbing the old journal mom sent back with me, she wanted help translating and seeing if there could be any improvements to the spells from some great aunt some long time ago. It's been harder to get through them with Tia being gone, some of my ancestors encoded their works and Tia always had a different way of thinking that cracked it faster than me. It all started to blur together and the next thing I felt was weightless.

Maybe weightless wasn’t the right word as I felt sunlight burn at my eyes as I seemed to sink father into a bed. Wherever I was, it was warm and surrounded by the scent of citrus, my arms wrapped around its source. My lips turn upward, I know exactly who it is with me as I sink my face deeper into her hair pulling her closer. I’d have this dream before, I know I have, to finally have it real and right here with me….I can’t think of anything better.

She stirs, her hand grabbing onto mine, “Good morning, C-man,” Tia’s greetings haven’t changed for me and I don’t think they will any time soon, “You know what today is?” Did I? I open my eyes looking to my left hand, no sign of a ring and the only thing glittering is the lingering golden lily on her hand. “Smallville,” she teased, “you forgot what today was didn’t you?”

“I-. No,” its somewhere stuck in my brain, I should know this answer, “It's about us, I know that.”

She laughed, turning to face me, her hazel eyes sparkling like peridots in the morning light, “Of course it’s about us,” her fingers trace down my jaw, “It's Mardi Gras, the day I ran away,” I know her hands are going to start tracing around the runes along my ribs.

“Why should that matter so much? Why can’t it just be Mardi Gras again,” there’s something off with my words, they don’t feel right speaking to her. I speak to her differently during these times, I know I do….so why does it feel like I’m forcing my speech in a way I dislike?

“We’ve lost so much time because of it Conner,” she says softly, the sun’s rays bringing forth the gold in her hazel green eyes, “I should have never-.”

I sigh, tilting her chin up, “I know why you did it,” Conner, she called me Conner….did I never tell her my real name? I take another look around us, I can’t place how I know, how I can even see it, but everything looks so soft around the edges and….foggy. I always told her in these fantasies, told her everything, we were both finally happy because there were no more secrets between the two of us. A chill starts on the back of my neck.

“I know but think about all that could have happened between us if I never did,” she kisses me, her lips soft and guiding, just as I always imagined it would be, the alarms in my mind attempting to overpower how good this all feels.This can’t be real….it feels real but….Her arms pull me closer, enticing me, “We could have had all this sooner. You and me together….”

There at the end of that word, I can feel it, the barest touch of a claw just outside of this fantasy….someone else was here. I jump up from the sheets, Tia’s eyes going wide, “I have to go,” I’m almost naked and I search for some kind of clothing, guess even in a dream I still had feelings of needing to cover up around others.

“Conner wait,” she calls, hand reaching for me, “Don’t go.” Her eyes plead with me despite the small laughter she tried to use to hide the desperation in her voice. I hesitate. “Just stay here with me,” she’s on the bed on her knees, arms moving around my neck, biting her lower lip, “We can have everything you ever wanted. We never have to part again, we can live here, it can be anything you want.” Everything I ever wanted….so tempting of an offer. I’d never have to be Abe’s dog, never have to worry about leaving this place I call home, never have to have Tia away from me….

I take hold of her hands, shaking my head, “No,” I breathe out, stunning her a moment, “You’re not Tia. This isn’t real,” my thumb brushes along her cheek, as she presses her face more into my hand. I want to stay…., “I have to go.”

I turn away from her, my head making contact with the top of the van, I should have known it was her van, I can’t help but smile. “Conner don’t go! Stay!” She pleads once more, whoever made this fantasy did a good job in matching the way Tia’s voice sounds when she’s near tears, I only ever heard it the one time, “Don’t leave me here all alone! I need you! I don’t want you to leave me again!” Her words sting, though there’s no reason for them too, I never left her, “I’m sorry. I regret leaving you. Please stay with me, help us make up for lost time.”

I stiffen momentarily before a smirk comes to my lips. Nice try, I want to yell out to whoever it is that’s wanting to hold me here, “See now I know that you’re not her,” I look over my shoulder to the fake, “All you can do is just look like her, you could never match the real thing.”

I step out of the van, into nothing solid with everything vanishing around me. I’m falling, my heart races, hands reaching out for something, anything, to slow me down. “Constantin,” a woman’s voice whispers next to my ear, it would sound sultry and sweet if not for the sharp annoyance at the edge of her words, “you can’t hide forever from me.” I shut my eyes, willing myself to wake up, the voice not letting up in whispering my name. There’s a little familiarity to it, but I can’t place it as I keep hoping to reach some kind of ground, the impact would surely wake me from this, now, nightmare. Red eyes reach past my eyelids, the fire in them clear, her voice certain and filled with that faux sweetness, “I’ll find you. Maybe not today but I’ll find you soon enough.”

I hit the sofa, gasping while I bolt right back up, her laugh a whispering echo in my ear for a heartbeat more before it's gone and Coltrane the only thing I can hear again. I can’t catch my breath, my hand gripping my chest, heart beating faster than I can ever remember, the room is closing in. My heart won’t stop racing, I’m going to fall, there’s not enough air. Not enough air. Not enough space. Things are closing in. Something’s wrong. I can’t figure out what. I have to stop shaking. Everything needs to stop spinning. The record’s warped, the notes are out of place. I know they are. I need to find an out. I need to breathe. When did it become so hard to breathe?

There’s a shrill ring over taking.

Loud, too loud. I need to make it stop. Need the quiet. I need it quiet to all stop. It’s all still spinning, legs shaking, I can’t even look at the screen. I can’t even get the simple word of hello out as I answer. “Constantin,” her voice is soothing, softened after so many years, “Constantin, honey, what’s wrong?” I’m younger, or at least my voice sounds childlike as I can tell I’m mumbling what’s wrong in my mother tongue, “Oh, mica mea grădină,” I can almost feel my mom’s arms around me. I can’t remember going to the ground, rocking back and forth, head between my knees.

“Here focus on me, Grădină,” it feels like a strangled scream comes out at her nickname for me. Her voice is slow, steady, the perfect volume, “Hai Luluțu, dormi un picu. Dragul mamei, puiuț micu.” I know the words….the melody….it’s a lullaby. One she’s sung to me since I could remember, “Oare când oi fii voinicu. Să n-am grijă, de nimicu. Haida nani nani,” I can hear the way her voice is coaxing mine to join in through the sobs. I’m trying to take breaths as slow as I can, the near muscle memory wanting to take over. She keeps going and finally I can start to make out the carpet below me and the black coffee table in front of me, “Puișorul mamii. Domi in leganuț. Puișor draguț, luna și cu stealli.”

She holds the last word, my voice meeting hers with the first real words I can process myself saying, “Să-ți păzească viselii. Să-ți mângâie genialii.” Slowly I feel the tension in my body release as I continue to sing with her. The rocking stops, sobbing ceases, and soon I am able to breathe once more. “I’m sorry mama,” the first words out of my mouth as I wipe at my face, feeling a headache coming on.

“Grădina mea,” she says softly, soothing the slowing of my heart finally, “There’s never a need to be sorry.” She lets out a breath, I can see the wrinkle in her forehead she always got when she worried over me, “What got you so spooked Constantin?” I open my mouth to answer before she cuts me off, “And don’t go saying it's nothing. I’m your mother, I want to help you.”

I close my eyes, shaking my head, “It’s just a nightmare, mama, I must be working too much is all.”

“Maybe it's time for you to come home and quit this new job of yours,” I can hear the undertones of annoyance. She hadn’t been happy with this job since I told her I couldn’t visit more than once or twice a year if I was lucky. “This whole thing has just gotten worse and I’m worried about you.”

“What if I video chatted with you a little more,” I suggest getting up from the floor finally, turning down the music, “Would that make you a little happier?”

“No,” I smile at the quickness of her answer, “It’s not the same.”

“I know but it’s better than nothing.”

“What happened to that girl you used to talk about?” I stiffen, eyes shifting looking for cameras that aren’t there, “You didn’t have trouble sleeping then. Did you break up?”

“Mom,” I groan, “I haven’t dated while I’ve been out here, you know that.”

“Firstly you should,” I roll my eyes, “You not having the time is more proof that you need to be back home. Secondly, I think she had something to do with this ‘increase in work stress’. Or did you forget that this was the second time I’ve caught you in a panic attack?”

Was it the second time? I didn’t think so, that couldn’t have been right, “This is the first time mom, the other time you probably just caught me at a bad time.”

“Constantin,” she paused before letting out a slow breath, mom was done trying to worm her way through my lies, “I’m always here for you, you know that right?”

I nod, “Yeah, I know you are mama. I love you for it.”

“I love you too,” she was quiet a moment before letting out a small gasp, “Oh, my package. You got that right?” It’s still sitting on the kitchen counter, it came in three days ago, “I put some tea in there for you. It should help you sleep.” I rest the phone between my ear and shoulder, tearing open the box, “I also put some cookies and jam in there for you. All your favorites.”

It's nice to hear the smile in her voice again, I can’t help but meet it with my own as I look through everything, “Thanks mama,” I pull out the jar of tea, feeling the low hum of power they emanate, “I should be going to bed here soon.”

“Okay mica mea grădină,” I hear the faint sound of a bell, she hadn’t even left the shop yet and I was working too hard, “Sleep well, honey. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too mama,” I hang up after that, filling the automated teapot with water setting it to the correct temperature of her chamomile tea. I never had to worry about making the tea sweeter with mom’s recipe, the chunks of sugar being what imbued the tea with its magic. Sure chamomile already helped in relaxation but some needed more help and sleeping pills could be addictive, not mom’s tea though. She really must have been worried about me to have sent some, she was right too though, not that I’d ever tell her that.

It was about six months ago that I started to get a feeling as if I was being watched. Sleep was harder to have as I would wake to something echoing in my ears while I felt like I was in a fog. I brushed it off as worry for Tia’s safety due to her radio silence, now though….there was something about the dream that felt too real. It was coated in magic, it had to have been, I couldn’t tell what kind but I could tell they needed more time for something. The woman said she would find me….I just couldn’t place who would be looking for me after all this time.

One came to mind but there was no way they could have been looking for us after all this time, those were just random attacks. I shook the thoughts from my head as I filled a mug making my way to the bedroom flipping the tv on, the theme to Dateline playing. Three days, three days and I’d be seeing Tia again. I should bring her some of the cookies….then again, mama made them special for me.

#conner enache oc #bloodlines oc #one day I will have a banner made for him but ce la vie #Thank you for the suggestion Ash! I love you!

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llnwritings · 4 years

Text

♫ JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS APPRECIATION WEEK ♫

DAY 2 | Write an AU.

Summary: Turns out Reggie was right, Julie really is a witch!

[[Read on Ao3]]

Family meant everything to the Molina family and Julie was very proud of her family. Not everyone could say that they could trace their family line back 15 generations and that their family regularly produced powerful witches and warlocks.

When Ray had married Rose, he had proudly taken her name, knowing how much it meant to her. It was also a long standing family tradition, the Molina name must live on no matter what. You join the family, you become a Molina.

Growing up, Rose and Victoria had been known in certain circles as the Molina Sisters, both being strong witches. Rose had the main power of telekinesis, something she was incredibly talented using, as well as a strong talent for spell creation. While Victoria had been gifted the power of psychometry; the ability to make accurate associations from an object of unknown history by making physical contact with that object as well as being a low level empath and also she had a natural talent for potion making.

Both sisters used their witch powers to help out unfortunate people, if you had a magical problem, you could contact the sisters and for the right price they would deal with it for you. They always only charged people what they knew they could afford, if someone was down on their luck and couldn’t pay, the sisters happily accepted payment in the form of food, vouchers or from those that insisted that they paid the sisters accepted a form of payment plan, pay what you could, when you could.

If you were rich or tried to swindle the sisters, they happily charged you double if they were feeling nice or triple if you really pissed them off, 3 quarters up front before the job and the other quarter afterwards once the job was done.

It was a good job, something they both enjoyed. They knew which jobs to take and which ones to pass onto someone else in the family that was better equipped than them. Well paying clients also allowed them both to live comfortably and continue pursuing their hobbies. Rose with her music and Victoria with her cooking.

The only time the sisters slowed down was when Rose fell pregnant. It was then Rose felt it would be best to focus on her growing family. She didn’t completely give up taking jobs though, Victoria and her were just more selective on what they picked.

The day Rose brought Julie home from the hospital, the house had been filled with numerous ghostly relatives, all offering their own blessings to the newest witch of the family, love and happiness surrounded the newest little one. Growing up, Julie was taught in many forms of magic by her mamá and her Tia, in hopes of bringing her own power to the surface.

Julie liked making potions with Tía Victoria but she lacked the natural talent her Tía had. Julie instead took after her mama. The little girl loved making spells up with her mamá, Julie had a gift with words, which transferred over nicely when Julie discovered music and began writing lyrics and playing the piano with Rose.

It was discovered that Julie’s power revolved around her music, she had a talent for mixing her magic with her music and making things happen when they heard her play or sing. She could also use sound to defend herself if the need ever rose, not that it had so far. This was something Rose nurtured deeply, wanting Julie to be as in touch with her witch side as she could be.

Then when Carlos was born, the same ghostly relatives visited and offered their blessings again, this time to the newest warlock, the first one born in 3 generations. It was Tia Victoria who noticed that when he was 2, Carlos had the power to affect the emotions of those around him. If he was happy, people in the same room as him felt happy and it was the same for any other strong emotions the 2 year old felt. They also found out that he could feel the emotions of non-living members of the family, as he always seemed to know when great-great-grandmama was around visiting.

Rose nurtured his talents just as much as Julie’s, but took advice from her sister, as Victoria was the empath out of the two of them. Victoria theorised that Carlos would be able to affect more people at once and larger areas as he got older.

Everything was going good for the Molina family, that was until Rose died.

When Rose died from a job gone wrong, it was like the magic and warmth from the Molina household died with her. It also didn't help that no matter how hard they tried, Julie and Carlos were unable to summon their mamá's spirit. So Julie cut herself off from music and her magic, refusing to even step into her mama’s old studio, while Carlos unconsciously dulled his own ability to emotionally connect with others outside of the family.

----

It wasn’t until a year later, when Julie finally entered her mama’s studio and played an old Sunset Curve CD, that she felt her magic reach out connect itself to the chaotic energies surrounding the music itself and she felt herself pull. Somehow Julie managed to pull three dead teens from limbo without much effort.

After the initial shock of the accidental summoning of a group of teen ghosts and playing numerous gigs with her boys, Julie waited patiently for one of them to ask what was so special about her that allowed her to see them. But it never happened. It’s not like Julie intentionally hid a part of herself from her boys, they just weren’t curious enough to ask. They were just happy to be back and to be able to play music while being seen and heard by people.

Not even after her magical hug, that broke Caleb’s hold over them and allowed Julie to touch them, raised questions from her boys. It was only when Caleb returned to enact his revenge plan, that things began to fall into place for the boys.

While possessing Nick’s body, Caleb attacked Julie in the studio on a Wednesday afternoon. He threw her across the room with a wave of one of his hands and used his other hand to hold her boys in place, unable to help her. Julie yelped as her body slid across the floor and stopped when it connected with the steps that lead up to the loft.

“Julie!!” She heard Reggie yell out.

“How the hell did a little lifer like you break my stamp!” Nick’s voice echoed deeply as Caleb twisted his face into an evil sneer, “It shouldn’t even be possible.”

Julie wiped away the blood that slowly began to run down her face with the back of her hand as she slowly pulled herself back to her feet. She groaned as she felt her magic start to build up, just waiting to be released. Having not truly been used in so long, it was itching for release and it thought Caleb was a perfect target. Clenching her hands into fists, Julie breathed deeply and focused, she needed to wait for the right moment, it wouldn't work if she striked to early.

“Leave her alone!” Luke yelled as he struggled to break free from Caleb’s hold, but all he managed to do was anger Caleb enough for him to send jolts of electricity coursing through his body. Luke clutching his chest and gasped in pain as he dropped to his knees.

“You boys are going to watch,” Caleb-as-Nick turned to the boys with a flourish, “Watch while I crush the life out of your little lifer. Once she’s gone, you’ll have no choice but to come play for me and you’ll be mine forever.”

“Get out of him.”

Caleb-as-Nick stopped gloating at the boys and slowly turned to look at Julie with an eyebrow raised, “What did you say to me?” He stalked towards her, electricity dancing along his fingers, "Look at me when to speak to me." Caleb-as-Nick reached out to grab at Julie's face but was shocked when she screamed.

Caleb wouldn't have known, but it was never smart to attack a witch in her own home. Years of living there, with multiple powerful magical beings under the one roof created a pool of magic, just waiting to be unleashed on some unexpecting evil. Unknown to Julie, her magic eagerly tapped into this pool, giving her a hefty power boost.

"I said, get out of him!" Julie’s eyes glowed electric purple as she thrust both her arms forward towards Caleb-as-Nick and released a sonic soundwave. Using everything she had, Julie focused on pushing Caleb out of Nick’s body, never minding the fact that she blew out the windows of the studio.

The soundwave forced Nick’s body to stagger as Caleb’s hold over him wavered. Caleb could feel himself being ripped away from his pawn, it didn’t matter how deep he tried to sink his claws in, Julie was proving to be more powerful than he had realized. He released his hold over the phantoms to pour more power into holding onto Nick, but it was no use.

Caleb could only watch in shock and horror as Julie’s power painfully expelled him from his meat suit. He landed on the floor of the studio near the entrance with a thud, gasping in pain. Once he was removed, Nick’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the floor.

Julie stepped forward, getting in between Nick’s fallen body and Caleb. Her eyes continued to glow as she stood over the man that had hurt her boys.

“You’re going to disappear to wherever the hell you came from and leave us alone. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear about you. You’re going to forget about my boys and them joining your hack of a band. If you don’t,” Julie pulled her phone out her pocket and scrolled through the numbers, “I’m sure my Tia will be very happy to help me banish a ghost, it’s practically her day job, a problem like you shouldn’t be too hard for her. Hell, maybe she can trap you in some jewelry for a few hundred years and we’ll throw you into the ocean, how’s that sound?”

Caleb’s eyes widened in fear at each sentence Julie spat at him, he could only pathetically crawl backwards as he attempted to get away from her. With his last bit of his dwindling power, Caleb forced himself to teleport away from the angry witch to the safety of his club, he could only hope that he could regroup and try again later with a better plan.

Once she was sure that Caleb had really disappeared from the studio, Julie dropped to the floor with a gasp, landing hard on her hands and knees. Slowly, the purple glow faded from her eyes as her magic receded back within herself. Shock hit her as she remembered the boys, eyes widening Julie looked around for her boys. She didn’t have to look far, as the three of them had recovered enough to quickly make their way to her side. All of them trying to reassure themselves that she was okay.

“Are you okay?” Alex hovered to her left, “Do you need us to get anyone?”

“I’ll be fine. Are you guys okay?” Julie smiled at Alex, “He didn’t hurt you guys too much right?”

“We’re dead,” Luke tried to wave off Julie’s concern, “We’ll be good as new in a moment, the pain will fade. Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached out to take her hand.

“Um, are we not going to talk about what just happened?” Reggie cut in, “Julie what are you? You handed Caleb his ass.”

Alex smacked Reggie on the arm, while trying to hush him, “Dude, don’t push!” Alex turned back to Julie and smiled, “You can tell us whenever, it doesn’t have to be today.”

“Whaaat?” Reggie huffed, “I wanna know. Don’t tell me you guys don’t wanna know. That’s just unrealistic.”

“It’s fine Alex,” Julie giggled as she pushed herself to sit up properly, with the help of Luke, “Actually Reggie, you already know what I am. Remember the first night you guys appeared?”

Reggie’s face scrunched up in thought as he tried to remember that first night. It took him a moment, but when the penny dropped Reggie’s eyes lit up, “Witch!” He clicked his fingers at her and Julie smiled in reply, “I totally called it.” He happily nudged Alex in the ribs with his elbow.

“Stop it.” Alex smacked Reggie’s elbow away.

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” Luke helped Julie stand up, “But first I’m going to have to make sure Nick’s okay and then maybe ask Tía to help with a memory spell. We have no clue what Caleb did while in body.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Reggie cheerfully agreed, “I want to know everything.” Reggie froze and gasped, he spun around to face Julie, “Is Ray a witch too?”

“Boys with magic are called warlocks,” Julie explained, “Dad isn’t one,” Reggie frowned sadly at the information, “He married into the family, not a drop of magic in him, but Carlos is and he can see you guys.”

#jatpweek #jatp #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #day 2 #llnwrites #jatp alex #luke patterson #jatp reggie #caleb covington

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