#I MEAN I COMBUSTED INTO A PILE OF ASHES

[constellation-skirmishes]

another round, love?

[ravenclaw-for-all-seasons]

His Soft Spot (5) - Mattheo Riddle

A/N: If there are any specific scenarios you want me to explore, please let me know 🥰

The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the fire casting flickering shadows as you slumped over a pile of parchment, feeling like your brain was going to melt. Your Ancient Runes essay looked like gibberish, your Potions notes were a disaster, and Transfiguration theory? Forget it.

And, of course, Mattheo was in detention, meaning your usual study distraction was nowhere to be found.

"You're gonna combust if you keep staring at that essay like that," Theo remarked, lazily watching you from across the room.

Enzo, stretched out on the couch, hummed in agreement. "Yeah, seriously. You need to relax."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "I can't. If I don’t finish this, McGonagall will murder me."

Theo twirled something between his fingers, smirking. "You need to chill."

You shot him a glare. "Brilliant advice, Theo. Got any actual suggestions?"

Instead of answering, he pulled out a cigarette. "Here. Always helps me."

You blinked. "Are you serious?"

Theo smirked. "Dead serious."

Before you could answer, Enzo snorted, shaking his head. "Mate, I give you ten seconds before Mattheo walks in and loses his absolute shit."

Theo chuckled. "Oh, come on. It's one cigarette. What’s the worst that could happen?"

You hesitated, glancing at Enzo, who just grinned like he already knew how this would end.

"...Fine," you muttered, taking it. Theo flicked his lighter, holding it up.

The first inhale was awful—your throat burned, and you immediately coughed.

"Merlin’s beard," you choked, waving the smoke away. "How do you do this?"

Theo just laughed. "You'll get used to it."

Before you could bring it back to your lips to try again, the common room door creaked open.

A wave of tense silence spread as Mattheo walked in, his uniform slightly rumpled from detention, tie hanging loose, sleeves rolled up.

His dark eyes landed on you immediately—and more specifically, on the cigarette between your fingers.

The room might as well have dropped ten degrees.

"The fuck is this?" His voice was low and dangerous.

Theo and Enzo froze, exchanging looks.

You slowly lowered the cigarette, feeling caught. "...Hi, Mattheo."

"Don't hi, Mattheo me princess,” he challenged, stalking over. His gaze flickered between you and Theo. "Since when does you smoke?"

Theo opened his mouth, but Enzo elbowed him. "Told you, mate," Enzo muttered. "Ten seconds."

Mattheo completely ignored them, eyes fixed on you. Before you could even react, he plucked the cigarette from your fingers—but instead of tossing it away like you expected, he brought it to his own lips and took a slow, deep drag.

You stared. Hard.

So did Theo and Enzo.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you muttered.

Mattheo exhaled a stream of smoke, smirking. "What?"

You folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. "Double standards much?"

His smirk only grew as he tilted his head. "Angel, there’s no hope for my soul," he murmured, flicking some ash away. "But you?" He leaned in, his voice dropping lower, just for you. "I won’t let anyone corrupt you." His lips brushed your ear as he added, "Except me… when you ask really nicely."

Then he winked.

Your stomach flipped.

Theo gagged dramatically. "Merlin, I regret everything. Take the cigarette back, this is unbearable."

Enzo howled with laughter. "I told you, Theo!"

Mattheo shot them both an unimpressed look before turning back to you. He exhaled another puff of smoke, his free hand slipping around your waist. "Promise me, princess—next time you're stressed, you come to me. Not these two idiots."

You huffed. "You were in detention."

"Then you wait for me," he murmured, tapping the cigarette ash away before leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I'll always take care of you."

Theo groaned. "I'm actually going to be sick."

Mattheo ignored him, his eyes locked on yours, waiting for your answer.

You sighed, giving in—because, really, how could you say no when he looked at you like that? "...Fine. I promise."

His smirk softened into something dangerously sweet. "Good girl."

Then, just to be an ass, he took another drag from the cigarette and kissed you slow enough that you could still taste the smoke on his lips.

Enzo whistled. "Oh, that's just evil."

Mattheo just grinned against your lips, clearly having the time of his life.

[everythingwillsurelybealright]

OOPS don't mind me, it's a frantically written unhinged Black Butler theory post

IMAGINE.

IT'S THE PRESENT DAY.

BLACK BUTLER SEASON 4 IS PARTWAY THROUGH AIRING.

I know nothing about what happens in the manga but THESE THOUGHTS WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE.

AND SO: A POST

I present to you; WHAT'S GOING ON AT WESTON COLLEGE, as pieced together entirely by the parts of the Intro that haven't shown up in the show yet.

LET'S SEE WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE

(1) The lake, and something blood-like coming out of it

(2) A tree growing out of the courtyard, and something rising up out of the ground

(3) The Undertaker's medallions show up several times

(4) Imagery of recreating bodies

(5) The Zombies at the end

SO WHAT COULD THIS MEAN? LET'S TAKE A WILD STAB IN THE DARK.

Put these together and I would guess that the Undertaker is 100% involved in the mystery behind the missing students, but also that it's a direct continuation of what he was trying to do on the Worst Boat Trip of All Time. Ie, he's trying to perfect his process of bringing people back from the dead - not just as zombies like last time but as actual functioning people.

Let's add more screenshots to the recipe!

(6) The four elements of Alchemy show up in the intro - Earth, Air, Fire and Water

(7) The four house colours merge together to make a shining new fire - like they did for the cricket competition cup

(8) The shot of a body turning to ash and a shining soul hovering above the remains

So add these to the mix and I'd guess that the new theory of resurrection is based on where the failure in the old one was. Previously, just altering someone's Cinematic Record wasn't enough to really keep them alive after death, as their body kept moving but the soul was gone.

This time it looks like the process might revolve around destroying the old body altogether (ie, turning it to ash), capturing the soul, and building an entirely new body to house it.

ALSO throw into the mix that the four house colours combine into FIRE, since in Alchemy the soul is associated with the idea of Combustibility

Extra symbols for this could be:

(9) The Whole Diamond in the intro which is then split four ways -

leaving a separate smaller diamond to the side (which would be the soul, captured and kept separate from the four elements that make up the rest of the body)

(10) The diamond is present again when the tree is growing in the courtyard, where the implied undead bursts out of the ground

(11) The newly recreated body looking like it's breathing fire, notably against the same backdrop of the school that was present when the diamonds split apart in the first place

Anyway! This new body should in theory be free of the limits of the Cinematic Record (since the old body is already gone), and because the soul is still intact it could freely return to the new body and function normal.

I suspect the Alchemy theme might also be the conceptual connection behind the old body burning (leaving behind the pile of ash) and the new body (or maybe just the soul itself?) being made of fire, like this:

(12)

So that's what I think happened to the students! They were tests to see if the process worked, hidden by the prefects - who may or may not have even known what the process was for or even if it worked.

Either way, with the reappearance of Derrick at the end of Episode 8 I would say that it does indeed work.

But! Also! The mystery of the headmaster.

He's clearly not really there, or not really alive. This could be for a number of reasons but for now I'd guess that (a) he's partway through the process, so his soul is technically around but his new body isn't finished yet, which is why he never speaks and vanished completely when Sebastian tried to grab him, or (b) the process failed on him, but they're keeping him around as a convenient figure head while the prefects run the school instead.

AND ONE MORE THING?

There's always a hovering question mark over what exactly happened to Ciel in his big dark secret backstory that I assume we learn later, but this OP in particular is giving me a few ideas that are probably hugely wrong BUT CONSIDER

(13) In the courtyard the undead rising up out of the ground is in the middle of the frame, and the VERY next shot is of Ciel in the same place

COINCIDENCE? Yes probably! But also:

(14) The shot of Sebastian holding his cloak protectively over Ciel, who flashes briefly as a skeleton

WHICH IS INTERESTING? Ciel is often depicted as dead or dying, I would assume in reference to Sebastian taking his soul in the future. BUT WHAT IF?

It makes me guess that PERHAPS perfect resurrection has already been performed and potentially it was used on Ciel.

Which would also match the brief sequence when the body burns to ash and leaves behind a ghost, the fire seems to come FROM Ciel

(15)

Which is wild and I don't understand whatsoever. Was Ciel resurrected? Was his soul kept and put inside a new body (and maybe that's why he's so short? He's not growing?) Or did Ciel raise someone else from the dead? Or is there some other mystery behind Ciel's identity that just hasn't been hinted at yet?

EITHER WAY THERE WE ARE. BRAIN WORMS: EXPELLED. ENJOY.

[manyothermusingsofmine]

Of Ash And Bones || Drabble

Fandom: Monster Camp

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 1658 Summary: Milo Belladonna is send a gig to persuade a soul to get reborn

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

Somewhere a crow was cawing, its dark eyes taking in the surroundings as if looking for someone. When the bird spotted who it was looking for it quickly flew over, landing on the shoulder of the cloaked figure, croaking slightly to get their attention. With a sigh, the cloaked figure pulled off the hood of their cloak, shaking out their white hair as magenta eyes were locked firmly on the bird. A hand as black as the inky nightsky with pale white outlines in the shape of the bones within reached out to the bird.

"Give."

A simple command, spoken softly and with a warm undertone, causing the bird to pluck the scroll tied to its leg out of the soft rope and immediately dropping it in the reaper's hand before taking flight.

'Milo,' the scroll stated in fancy cursive, 'your assistance is required for the rebirth of a soul. This task was originally granted to Greg, but they have reported the soul is not responding to them. You can find the soul at-' Milo rolled their eyes; not only was Greg incredibly old fashioned, but now they weren't even capable of finishing the job they were set on? Well, seemed like this was the only task left for the day, so might as well go see what was taking this rebirth so long.

Looking around the somewhat dense forest, Milo quickly noticed a pile of white ash in the middle of a patch of the forest scorched beyond recognition, the ash pile glowing slightly blue from within. They quirked an eyebrow, the sight rather odd to behold. Slowly approaching this pile, Milo kneeled down in front of it, searching for some sign of the soul that should be there according to the scroll.

"...Uhm, hello? You were scheduled for a rebirth sequence, like, two days ago. What's the hold up?"

The ash pile remained silent for a little bit, but slowly the blue glow intensified and a disembodied voice seemed to come from within.

"I don't want to."

"I'm.. sorry, what? You don’t want to?" "No," the ghostly voice whispered, sounding quite a bit less confident than before, "I already told the other one the same thing; and they started yelling, so..."

Oh, typical. Greg still had it in their head that souls needed to obey their every command. Now, truthfully, Milo had a petty streak and could be just as commanding when they felt like it was justified. Truth be told, they could even be downright mean to those who deserved such ire

However, this particular soul seemed... scared. This was not the loudly booming arrogance of a recently departed noble insisting they deserved better treatment or demanded to speak with whomever they thought controlled the afterlife. Yelling wasn't going to do much to convince a scared soul of their purpose. Milo just sat back, careful to stretch their legs out in such a matter that they wouldn't disturb the ash, resting their back on the closest tree trunk nearby, casually observing the scorch marks on the bark.

"Why don't you want to be reborn?"

"I combusted. What if it happens again? ... It kind of hurt..."

Hm, fair enough. An end through fire was not usually high on the list of 'favorite ways to shovel of the mortal coil.' With a quiet finger snap, Milo summoned the scroll they had been send, magically unrolling the parchment and reading the lines they had previously skipped. They found themself once again wishing there was an easier way to get send on a soul reaping job; if only for the simple reason that some of this cursive writing was obnoxious to try and decipher.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much, if I were you. Seems like you're not rescheduled for a repeat of this process for the next... five hundred years?" they quirked their eyebrow at that as well. In that case, it was likely that they were talking to the soul of something kind of immortal; and at the very least something with obviously quite a long lifespan.

"... You're not going to yell at me to get a move on?"

"No," Milo simply answered, magically dismissing the scroll with a quick flick of the wrist, before crossing their arms over their chest and studying their nails, "you're my last call for today anyway, and since you apparently seem to have at least five centuries of time to spare, I'm not going to push you to pop out in five seconds. It's not like either of us have anywhere else to be, do we? You can have another minute to sort yourself out, if you so desire, darling."

"... Thank you."

Milo gave a soft hum in acknowledgement, running their thumb over the edge of their nails to gauge if there were any dents or tears in the nails. Apparently, with how quietly they had been sitting there with their hand out to study their nails, a rather bold chickadee decided said hand was the perfect place to perch. The reaper blinked, magenta eyes looking at the little ball of feathers on their hand as black beady eyes looked back with intrigue.

"... Can I help you?" Milo asked, their voice instinctively softening even further at the little songbird. Who could possibly ever dislike such an adorable little creature? It responded with a small chirp, observing the reaper for a moment longer. It then preened a few feathers, before quickly taking off in search of food.

Barely a heartbeat later the ash pile started to stir, Milo's eyes immediately drawn to it. Blue and white smoke started to swirl around in a vortex pattern, until it became such a dense mass of smoke that they barely saw the outline of something emerging from the ash. That 'something' became a feminine form clad in a long, white dress, and as the smoke finally started to dwindle more details became clear. They had long white hair that slowly faded into blue at the ends, light blue skin that was dotted with darker blue freckles, and with the feathers incorporated in both their jewelry and seemingly hiding in their hair- Well, now the caveat of five hundred years suddenly made sense to Milo; "You're a phoenix."

"So I've been told. Uhm, you can call me Phoebe."

"Phoebe," Milo repeated, watching as the being in front of them dusted some soot off their clothes, "and what else do I call you?"

"Pardon?"

"I don't want to assume that just because your form is feminine, you identify as such. That is so last century. So, like, what are your pronouns?"

"Oh. She and her, but thank you for asking... What do you go by, then?"

"Milo, they and them."

Phoebe looked around herself for a little bit, a light purple tone appearing on her cheeks as she saw the scorched earth around herself. Her rebirth cycle had truly been pretty dramatic. She turned back to the reaper, watching as they casually lifted themself back off the ground. Resummoning the scroll, Milo easily signed off on the job. Whistling on their fingers, the same crow came calling and scooped it out of their hands, immediately taking off to take it to the higher hands.

"Hey, uhm," she started, halting them as they were starting to leave, "thank you, Milo, for not rushing me. The previous reaper-"

"Is a douche stuck in the old ways of doing things. I've found that some souls need a bit of gentle guidance, rather than authoritarian yelling."

"Still, that was very kind of you. And, uhm, you're sure I won't have to go through this process again in a long time?"

Giving her a small wink, Milo's lips curled up in a subtle smirk.

"Positive. I promise."

"Well, uhm, I hope that when that time comes... you'll be there to greet me, again?"

"If higher hand allows, sure. See you around, darling."

It was so bizarre to think that had been centuries ago. Milo now found themself scrolling through their socials, posting updates like it was nobody's business while enjoying a quiet evening at the camp fire. A lot of the others were messing around, and since both Dahlia and Damien were involved Milo didn't even react to the sound of a nearby explosion; why would they? Chaos always seemed to be near whenever those two decided to fuck around and find out.

Their quiet evening was only interrupted when mechanic sounds quickly approached them, half looking over the edge of their phone to see Calculester in front of them with a panicked expression. Well, as panicked as an error message could make come across anyway.

"Friend Milo! Friend Phoebe spontaneously combusted! Considering the constant messages on your cellular device, does that mean you got a 'gig' to reap her?! What is the standard procedure?"

Milo leaned back a little to look past Calculester, seeing the pile of ash that probably had their robotic friend so worried. Milo simply looked back at their phone, far more intrigued by the latest uptick in their followers than in what was going on at camp. While holding their phone in one hand, they silently counted down from three with the fingers on their free hand, all while not even looking away from the screen.

As soon as the three counts passed, Phoebe quickly re-emerged in a tiny puff of smoke, with Calculester turning to her in pure confusion as expressed by the wide eyed emoticon on his screen.

"Hi, did I miss anything?!" Phoebe chirped, happy as could be which only seemed to further add to Calculesters confusion.

"But, I thought Friend Phoebe-"

"She's not scheduled for any reaping anytime soon," Milo interrupted with a knowing tone to their voice, a half-smile curling around their lips, "she's just melodramatic."

“I am not!” Phoebe huffed in fake offense, to which Milo could only laugh a little as it simply further proved their point.

[thevemlife]

To dance within the flames.

Fire is an incredibly captivating subject - paradoxically chaotic yet peaceful, causing destruction but symbolising rebirth. The flicker of a flame can draw me in, allowing me to step outside my mind and be present in an ethereal plane, if only for a moment.

Long have I felt this fascination with fire, comfortably watching for hours as piles of timber at my grandparents house would be reduced to ash. It has an innately calming presence for me, as though I can see the very history of the atoms flickering in the light as they are reduced down to carbon, watching endless years of growth combust and return to their base form in an instant, fire is beyond doubt one of natures most beautiful creations.

It strangely pains me to know something which was so crucial to human evolution has become mostly obsolete in our day-to-day lives, of course this isn't quite true - if not for fire then the engine in your car would not start, your boiler would not heat water and the lighter in your pocket would not ignite, but the necessity for fire as a base survival requirement is not as prevalent as it has been for centuries of our bloodlines and I personally feel we lose part of our connection to our past due to this.

Symbolism and fire go hand in hand, likely due to it being deep rooted within our ancestral past. Humans had to conquer fire in order to evolve and survive, thus since the dawn of our age it has been worshipped, feared and referenced throughout almost any mythology, religion or philosophy.

Equally, as does fire and rebirth. This concept is one that enthrals me the most - the belief that not only something so destructive and uncontrollable can bring new life but also that pain and sorrow can be a necessity for ushering in a new age of self. If one is to achieve profound transformations and reach a new state of being, you must undergo a process of destruction, shedding the skin of your former self in flames, reducing your understanding to ashes before being born anew.

Frederick Nietzsche speaks of this in Thus Spoke Zarathustra:

“Ready must thou be to burn thyself in thine own flame; how couldst thou become new if thou have not first become ashes!”

Part of Nietzsches' philosophical teachings encompass this concept of self-overcoming, to challenge your current beliefs and create your own values and identity, in conjunction with existentialism and a search for ones meaning in an indifferent universe.

I find this profoundly resonates with my life experiences, it is no secret that we all have likely wished at times to be someone else, to live a different life or to have made different choices. The ever present marching of time restricts our ability to change the past, but with rebirth we can shed these past-selves and choose our new destiny. We can learn from these mistakes and create new understandings, but not be shackled or beholden to them. We can forgo any preconceived notions of who we are, or who we think we must be, allow the flames of our previous lives to engulf us and then rise from the ashes more knowledgable than ever before.

This is similar to baptism in the Christian faith, which I used to practice, in that no matter the person you were before being baptised, regardless of the sins that you have committed or the strength of your faith - all are reborn anew in the eyes of the Lord. Your slate is wiped clean and you can rebuild yourself as the person you, or in this case God, intended.

In opposition to this, Buddhism teaches saṃsāra, the physical or spiritual rebirth of oneself after death. Although some see physical rebirth as a sudo-escapist answer to the afterlife, it is said to be dukkha, a painful and unsatisfactory process. Saṃsāra does not follow the western beliefs of rebirth, allowing you to start anew for a better life, it is instead taught as a process that occurs because you have not yet reached nibbāna and thus need to live another life (in perpetuity) until you do so.

I do not personally wish for physical rebirth, I am of the belief that this life has meaning because it is finite - that all of the beauty, pain, heartache, pride and awe we encounter is of such importance because we only have one life to experience them. However I do believe that one can, and should, undergo personal rebirth during life in order to better yourself and achieve higher levels of enlightenment.

My largest tattoo, to date, is that of a Phoenix across my chest in a watercolour style. I had dreamt of this from the moment I had decided I would be getting tattooed, choosing to brandish a monument to the symbolistic rebirth I believe is possible for us all, coupled with my profound entanglement in the beauty of fire.

Origins of the Phoenix are a disputed subject; In ancient Egyptian mythology the Bennu bird was a deity associated with creation of the world, said to be the soul of the sun god Ra, it would carry the souls of the dead up to the heavens, where they would be reborn. In ancient Greek mythology, Herodotus wrote of the Phoenix, a scarlet red and gold bird that would live for 500 years before building a nest of spices, immolating itself and being reborn from the ashes.

Regardless of exact origin, the Phoenix is used across many cultures, religions and mythologies to almost universally symbolise rebirth in flames - the reduction of oneself to base form, removing the trauma of your past self, then to be resurrected in the process.

It brings me peace to know my desires are comparable to generations past, that since the dawn of understanding humans have given faith to the very same ideas I have now. I find connection in this ancestral knowledge, which I carry through to each new form of consciousness I am born into.

[vukovich]

Chapter Forty-eight

It was nearly midnight, and Harry was dead on his feet, and Tyler Malfoy - or whatever his last name was - was asleep in a pile of dogs on the Manor’s front stairs.  The night was chilly, but he was dressed warmly and covered in a silken blanket of Salukis.  A poodle lifted its shorn white muzzle from the back of Tyler’s neck and chuffed at Harry.

Tyler snorted himself awake immediately, and the dogs scattered around him as he sat up.

“What?” he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat.  “Oh.  Five-oh.”

“Uh, hi,” Harry muttered.  He was too damned tired for pleasantries.  Tired, but also still aroused, in a lazy kind of way.  Wank-in-the-bath horny.

Tyler sat with his back to the big, wooden door.  He didn’t move when Harry approached.  The dogs all came to sit ranks alongside him in neat rows.

Tyler’s lip twitched.

“Get out…”

The hiss was so sharp, Harry flinched.

“Uhm,” Harry started, then fished the appointment card from his pocket, “I have an appointment.  If that helps.”

It combusted as soon as it touched Tyler’s fingertips.

“Oopsie,” Tyler said.  His eyes narrowed.  “Get.  Out.”

Harry tried to laugh it off, albeit nervously.  

“Fine, I’ll just go around.”

He tried to side-step Tyler, but one of the Salukis growled at him.  Her gold chain caught the moonlight.  It was bulkier and duller than his chain.  Hers was a working dog’s tether.  His was gilding.

Still sitting on the stone step, Tyler said, not looking up, “You’re not wanted here, Five-Oh.”

His tone was as downcast as his face.  The other Saluki nosed under Tyler’s curls to lick his cheek.  Instead of pushing her away, he scratched her ear.

“What do you mean?  He told me to come here tonight.”

“Yeah, I know.  Why the fuck do you think I’m sitting out here on fuckin’ guard dog duty?”

“So then let me-”

“Nahhhhh,” Tyler drawled.  “Fuckin’ homewreckin’ bootlick piece of shit.  I should turn the dogs on you.”

Harry stared at him.  Tyler acted as if Harry hadn’t heard him.

“Fuckin’ fatty-ass bacon.  Probably give them the shits.”

Harry cleared his throat, tightened his lips, and hissed, “Bit lean, actually.”

Tyler’s eyes rolled up to meet Harry’s, a little extra white showing.  “Oh.  Right.  Shit.”

“Can I please just go inside?”  Harry reached for the door handle, but the Saluki growled at him again.  Her teeth were like needles.  “Wait.  How am I a homewrecker?”

Tyler looked at him as if he’d asked the dumbest question on earth.

“Cuz whatever you did to piss him off, he lit his fucking bed on fire.  I feel like torching a bed the size of a small home counts as home wrecking, huh?”

“What do you mean, ‘What I did’ to piss him off?  I didn’t do anything to,” Harry stopped to doubt himself.  Just a little.  “To make him angry.  I don’t think.”

He had sort of pinned him against an office door.  And snogged the resistance out of him.  Sort of.  He’d still maybe been fighting a bit when Harry went down on him.

“All I know is, he came home, and you weren’t here.  And he asked me when you left, and I told him, and then a while later, he came home and went Chernobyl on some furniture.”

Harry wished the appointment card hadn’t been turned to ashes.  He’d have liked to inspect it more closely.  Maybe there was fine print he’d missed.  Something to explain to him whether or not Draco had made the appointment out of interest or not.  Had he offered the cards as a way to get out of Harry’s office?  Was it an escape tactic, not an offer?  Was there some mark of sincerity hidden in the bordered margins?

“He told you not to let me in?” Harry said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

“No,” Tyler said with a scoff.  “But I figured it wouldn’t do him any good to see you.”

“So you stationed your self on guard duty?”

“And…” Tyler shook his head equivocally.  “I’m kind of waiting on a delivery.”

“Pizza?”

“Uh, no.”  Tyler looked at him askance.

Harry forgot he wasn’t wearing his Auror robes.  “Drug dealer?”

Tyler’s lips twitched.  “No.  More illegal, I’m afraid.”

Harry thought for a moment.  “Some kind of Dark magic?”

“The Darkest,” Tyler said, deadpan.  “From the States.”

“Are you serious?”

Tyler nodded soberly.  “I paid someone to smuggle it in tonight.  Draco doesn’t know.”

“Great.”

The absolute last thing Harry needed was to clock back in, put on his robe, and cause a scene.  He needed to find Draco.  Maybe he was angry at Harry, but maybe he was angry at the Wizengamot.  Maybe he’d stubbed his toe on the bed the very last time, and that’s why he’d burned it.

“You should probably fuck off before it gets here and maybe leave my brother alone.”

“Did he actually say he was cross with me?”

“No.”  Tyler pursed his lips and looked to the dogs for confirmation.  “I guess not.”

Harry was about to tell him to call Draco down to clear things up when a battered Honda Civic pulled into the drive.  A woman in a fake vintage Beatles shirt got out, then took a white bakery box out of the back seat.

“Tyler Hypes?” she asked.  The box had a crude drawing of a fortress on it and said ‘White Castle’.

He stood, nodding, and gave her a folded stack of American currency.

She counted it, muttered, “Cool” under her breath, and drove away.

Immediately, Tyler flipped the lid of the box open, and inside were many small, square buns.  They smelled of grilled meat and onions.

“That’s your Dark magic delivery?” Harry asked sarcastically.

Tyler shoved a whole burger in his mouth and spoke around it.  “Sliders.”  He swallowed, winced, and swallowed again.  “You don’t wanna know.”

He had the dogs’ rapt attention, but shook his head at them.

The little burgers smelled good, but looked like some kind of abominable toasted marshmallow chocolate bar.  Like they’d just been broken off of a larger mass of perfectly square burgers.

“Can I just go in and talk to him?” Harry asked.

“Nnnno…”  Tyler chewed and squinted at him, then eventually said, “But I’ll ask him.”

Harry nodded and expected Tyler to head off into the Manor, but instead, he stood there, and his eyes turned white.

Completely, utterly white.  So white, they shone.

His skin bled glowing fog that settled around his feet, then climbed itself until it had four legs, a muzzle, and a tail.

It was like a direwolf, but smaller.  A coyote, or a jackal, maybe.  Some kind of wild dog with rangy, long legs and teeth like scythes.

“Gimme a sec,” the boy and the ethereal hound said with one voice.  “Last time I saw him, he was headed towards the vineyards with a gun.”

“A gun?!”

Tyler blinked blind eyes.  “A flintlock musket, actually.  Brown Bess.  Fuckin’ pretty.”

“He headed off angry, with a gun, alone in the woods, and that didn’t concern you?”  Harry drummed his fingers against his thigh, a bit grateful Tyler couldn’t see him fidget.

Tyler shrugged.  “He knows how to get to the vineyards without going clear north through the woods.  And he’s just pissed.”

“And he’s been drinking?”

“No, he’s always sober when he’s this pissed.”

Harry stared at him.  “What?”

“What what?”  Tyler mocked.  He groped in the White Castle box until he separated another slider from the herd.  “He’s too pissed to drink.”

Harry pursed his lips and hissed, “You’re taking the fuckin’ piss, aren’t you?”

Tyler stopped chewing long enough to say, “What the fuck’s that mean?  Takin’ the piss?  Like there’s one piss, and you all share it?”  He put on a ferocious Liverpudlian accent.  “Oi, mate, my day to use the piss!  Sorry, lads, better luck tomorrow!”

He capped it off with an over-the-top tip of his imaginary hat.

Harry crumpled his laugh up like a tissue and swallowed it.  He should probably be offended, but he’d met old men who really did sound like that.

Suddenly, Tyler screamed, “Hey!”

Harry startled and looked around them.  The dogs’ ears perked up, but they didn’t seem alarmed.

“Hey!” Tyler yelled, even louder.  “Draco!”

Tyler’s chin wagged like he was silently mocking someone.

Harry waited and watched Tyler’s side of the conversation.

“No, I was just-”

“No.”

“Yes, actually.  It sucked, and I don’t want to read-”

“No.”

“No.”

“Fine.”  Tyler sighed so hard, the eye roll was implied.  “Oh, and your cop friend is here.”

Another eye roll.  Another slider down the hatch, presumably during a short lecture.

“Whatever.  Well, he’s just standing here.”  Tyler chewed for a while.  “Alright.  I’m-”

“Ugh, seriously?  It’s Friday night.  Come on.”

“Thursday is the new Friday.”

“One hour.  Come on.  That book sucked, and you know it.”

Tyler victory-boxed air, briefly lost hold of his box of sliders, and fumbled it shut against his chest.

His eyes cleared, back to grey kaleidoscopes.

“He says to leave the gold on his office desk and go home.”

--

24K9

A daily(?) kinktober 2023 fic. Will post to AO3 on American Thanksgiving, 2023.

Harry is a K9 unit Auror. Draco is the Ministry Kennelmaster. How could that possibly lead to anything?

Tags: collaring, top Draco, sensual pet play, touch starved Harry, bathing, shaving, rescue dog feels, other tags TBA, maybe dark draco ending?, maybe werewolves?, definitely coming untouched though, just blasting rope man

--

Chapter One

“I assure you, Auror Potter,” drawled the Patronus, speaking even before it found its full form, “there is nothing wrong with your partner.”

Malfoy’s tone was patronising, as though he were telling Harry that the monsters under his bed weren’t real, and to go back to sleep.

Next to Harry’s desk, his ‘partner’ had managed to catch his tail and was currently gnawing on it with nothing short of ardour.  K9 Auror Wurst, aka RottWurst, clamped down on his fluffy tail so hard, Harry swore he heard a crunch.

The bright fog condensed into a direwolf the size of a modest pony.  It was the perfect symbol for Draco Malfoy.  A pale, leggy, sharp-toothed relic of another time.

“And I assure you,” Harry spat, “Kennelmaster Malfoy, that this mutt’s fucking touched in the head.”

The mutt in question was eighty-plus pounds of Rottweiler-poodle abomination.  He looked like a St Bernard had dug into an avalanche, missed the humans, and hit a thousand-volt power line instead.  The curly white fur on his belly was caked with mud, and his brown muzzle still had bits of grass clippings on it.  The rest of him was black, save his brown eyebrows and speckled ears.

“He keeps alerting to sex magic, not dark magic.  It’s fucking embarrassing.  Dragged me across Hyde Park.  I had to use a Confundus on him to get him back to the office.”

The direwolf was so still that Harry blinked twice to make sure the shape wasn’t burned into his retinas.  It was a bloody showboat of a Patronus.

It was so bright that it brought out the dinginess of Harry’s office.  The yellow carpet had a pale brown trail between the door and Harry’s desk chair.  The corners of the ceiling had cobwebs, and the baseboards held an unhealthy amount of dust.

The fresh dog piss on the floor didn’t help things.

“I mean, he’s not worthless,” Harry added.  “But Robards said he can’t reassign him to Vice.  That he doesn’t have that authority.  So it must be you who has to do it.”

It was a little risky to bypass Robards the way he had, contacting Malfoy directly.  He probably should have made an appointment with his assistant or something.

But he’d been angry, so he’d pulled an interdepartmental priority Howler out of his desk and sent it.

There was probably a DMLE protocol for contacting a member of the Wizengamot.  There was a DMLE protocol for everything but wiping his arse.  Actually, they probably had one for that, too.

Harry blinked again.  His eyes were dry.  He was on hour seven of a twelve-hour shift.  After this, he’d get another coffee.

The direwolf shifted its weight, then leaned back, hindquarters high, in a deep stretch.  Its paws spread out in front of it.

Harry wondered if Malfoy was actually stretching.  And what that might look like.

It’d been years since he’d seen Malfoy in person.  Just in the papers, and only in the background of Wizengamot photos.  He’d been called to his Wizengamot seat the day after his thirtieth birthday, having met the minimum age.  They hadn’t called Hermione to hers until she was thirty-two.  She’d die mad about that.

The direwolf laid down, then yawned.

Harry yawned.

Wurst yawned.  Then farted.

Harry thought to check the time.  2:30 AM, according to his wristwatch.  He’d been on the clock for fourteen hours.  Not seven.

“Shit,” Harry said.

He’d woken a member of the Wizengamot at 2:30 AM.  And an important one.  

The direwolf sighed and tucked its muzzle under its paw.  Harry held his breath.  Maybe Malfoy would fall asleep.

Maybe he’d doze off, and he’d think he dreamt he got a Howler in the middle of the night from a burnout beat cop at least six rungs below him.  Maybe.

The direwolf sighed again, then drifted away like will-o'-the-wisps on the wind.

Maybe Malfoy wouldn’t report this.

Maybe.

Maybe Robards wouldn’t kill him.

He drummed his fingers on his desk.  If he did get written up, it’d be his sixth this year.  Two of them were for failing to meet dress code, but the shaving regulations were stupid, and the hygiene one was just weird.

Still.  

Wurst looked at him.  He looked at Wurst.

Nothing would happen.  His talk with Malfoy had only lasted a few seconds.  He’d think it was a dream.

It would be fine.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry told Wurst, ignoring the sweat on his palms.

Wurst’s nostrils flared, and then an ivory envelope slid under the door.  It sat on the grimy carpet for a moment, then folded itself into a swan.  With a few wingbeats, it landed on Harry’s desk and unfolded itself.

Inside was a business card.

Draco L Malfoy Wizengamot Member, Kennelmaster Warminster BA13 4SH UK

“Shit,” Harry said.

He flipped the card over.  On the back was an appointment date and time.  Tomorrow.

“Fuck.”

Robards was going to kill him.

--

[i-hear-a-sound]

im so fucking hyped to absorb every single spoiler for the new game tomorrow

(obviously won’t spoil it for y’all but. with zelda i take spoilers with fucking pride baby)

[bruh-anator3000]

To Skrill or Not to Skrill

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A/n:... drag...nn... OKAY look i KNOW i should finish all my Viktor wips, esp The Lab Inspector's Daughter one BUT... um, well, skrunkly priorities have changed. My skrunkly, babygirl, the blorbo, the boi: the most insane viking in the Archieplego. Dagur the Deranged. He hath eaten the Viktor worms and started writhing on my brain himself. The madlad.

I WILL WRITE FOR VIKTOR AGAIN!! DON'T WORRY!! But Dagur wants to be written for first. For now.

Summary: Dagur didn't just... leave you, right? You led him and the Hunters to the exact spot your calculations had said the beast would be. The further you got into the cave, however, the less the others followed. Leaving you completely alone. Well, besides the dragon.

Pairing: Dagur x GN!Reader

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: 'Trapped' in an ice cave, Hypothermia!! Near death experience? Dragons, Stupid Ryker, insert Micheal Scott's 'you've been di-frib-u-lated!,' Derangedness duh, Dagur refers to himself as 'Daddy' and the deadly dragon as 'baby,' accidental Hiccup/Dragon Riders hate (but for good reason in the story i swear), cringe stuttering, possible part 2 👀? (We all know how good I am at that)

MOST IMPORTANTLY: I haven't written for Dagur before so if he seems OOC, that's on me. Please let me know how I can make Dagur seem more like Dagur, i would love some advice on it.

Okay, that should be it! I hope you enjoy <3

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"He didn't just abandon me," Your shallow breaths turned to frost in front of your face as you continuously bashed the hilt of your sword against the thinning ice. As much as you wanted to believe your words, he did ignore his father when he went missing and simply took control instead.

"I mean, I'm valuable!" You tried to convince yourself as the ice finally gave in with a sharp crack. Your hilt judded through the hole you made, numb fingers nearly dropping your blade. You couldn't feel the lower part of your body, shivering violently as you awkwardly scuffled your sword on the other side of the ice. Making the weapon parallel to the wall, you began to smash the ice from the other side, trying to pull the sword back towards you.

"I found you, after all." You looked up through your lashes, which were slowly weighing down by snow and ice. The dark purple and grey of the Skrill looked down upon you. His breath fogging the wall of ice separating you two.

He watched you, eyes narrowed but curious. From what you could see, most of his limbs were slowly breaking free of the ice he had been banished to. Wings twitching and claws curling. You hit the icy wall once more. You could feel your fingers lock up around the rod of your sword. The joints in your arms stiffening with the cold. As you yanked your arm back once more, the ice broke. Leaving you to fall on your butt.

Laying on the cold stone of rock-hard ice, you sighed. Your breath turning to ice in front of you. Maybe you should've stayed with the Dragon Riders. With another frozen sigh, you knew that would've led to this exact same situation. Well, not exactly the same.

Hiccup left you to boil and burn in a cavern deep inside an active volcano. Dagur left you to freeze up and become an artifact for the next generation to find. You weren't sure what was worse.

However, Dagur had saved you from combusting into a pile of flame and ash. Maybe Hiccup will turn the tide, and find you, trying to free the Skrill he set into ice. For Dagur.

No, he would probably let you freeze over, too.

You tried to pull yourself up to your feet. You only managed to sit up and rest against the wall. Your bones rattled against each other, you could bite your own tongue off with how hard your teeth clattered. Huddling into yourself, you prayed to Odin someone would find you before you froze to death.

Looking over your arms as you held your knees close, you saw the Skrill ram the horn on his nose against the wall he was sealed behind. You shut your eyes, breathing out once more as you felt ice build around your lungs.

...

Dagur stood before the cave, torch high in his hold as he waited. Eyes narrowed, he held the flame to the dark entrance.

"Where's your little friend, Dagur?" Ryker saddled up beside the Berserker with a dark chuckle. "Think the Dragon Riders finally came back for them?"

Dagur scowled. "They wouldn't do that." He stated simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He saved you, after all. You wouldn't just turn on him like that... right?

"Then why are my men back but not them?" Ryker watched the viking from the corner of his eye. Dagur was simply too easy to rile up. And he was waiting for the moment he slipped up, so Viggo would finally see how utterly useless he was to their mission.

"Why can't your men find my Skrilly but they can?" Dagur shot back. You had told him the only information you knew about his Skrill was the fact Hiccup had sealed it away into an iceberg. With that, you had managed to pinpoint the beast's exact location. Which none of Ryker's men seemed to even comprehend.

Ryker let out a hard huff. "You have another hour, then we leave," He leaned in close, breath rotting. "With your friend, or not."

Dagur only glared back, eyes burning in the larger viking's skull. How he wanted to bash Ryker's head open. For more than one reason, but the top contender was how he spoke of you. A Dragon Rider turned hunter wasn't a very trustworthy transformation but Dagur liked you.

The vengeance written on your face when he found you, betrayed by his brother. It reminded him of the rage he felt daily for how Hiccup had thrown him into jail for three long years. You said you were a dragon rider and his first instinct was to grab your dragon and run. But you had no dragon, only a shattered sword and the outlines of welts beginning to bubble up from the heat on your skin.

When he asked if you wanted rescuing, throwing on his best smile and pose, you laid back down and accepted your fate. That's when he knew he'd like you. So stubborn, you'd rather melt than let a devilishly handsome Berserker save you. A sense of humor he enjoyed poking at until it turned into slight aggravation.

Now, he was aggravated. The torch felt so... throwable in his clenching fist. It wasn't you... it's just that you weren't here. He needed you here, wanted you standing besides him with his Skrill in tow.

Glancing back, he watched Ryker and his lousy men riffle around. Some were walking circles around the boats. Others shoved each other around, acting like there was nothing wrong. Like this was all a game to them. Ryker may be able to dispose of his men like day old fish, but Dagur wouldn't do that - not to you, at least.

He could throw Savage overboard any day. Throw him as far as he wanted, deep into the vast blue of the ocean. He would laugh, watching him scramble back on board. But he wouldn't throw you over the deck. He's considered it, he won't lie, but he could only ever bring himself to grab the back of your shirt, threateningly.

You'd just laugh. Everytime he would grumble and yank you around by the sleeve or tunic, you would laugh. It was cute. And it was infectious, too. Whatever he was angry at, Dagur would have to let it go and laugh with you.

But now, you weren't here. He wasn't able to laugh his boiling anger off. You were still somewhere in the icy caves. And Ryker wasn't going to be any help. Like always, it looked like Dagur was going to have to do this himself.

He really hoped his Skrill was in there, or else you'd be making him look like a fool. He also really hoped you were still alive. But he also really didn't want to look like a fool.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ryker's grating voice called out, making Dagur's whole body twitch with annoyance. By the Norns, he hated that man's voice, and endless proding!

"Getting my Skrill back!" He shouted over his shoulder. If it weren't for the iron grip he had on his torch, Dagur would've sent it straight through the Dragon Hunter's head, hearing Ryker laugh at him. If only the Skrill could come barreling out of the cavern just then. Like Hiccup and his stupid Night Fury always seemed to do.

The ice cave was just as expected - long, dark, and very cold. Barely five minutes into his search, Dagur started shaking like a fish out of water. Violently trembling from the cold. He debated on turning back. Let go of this Skrill dream entirely, that perhaps it was an unhealthy obsession he developed and would benefit him in letting it go.

The thought made him laugh. Loudly and sporadically, his hysteria bounced off the endless tunnel walls. He giggled to himself when he heard his laugh come back to him. Sounded just as insane as he remembered.

Another sound followed the dying echoes of his laugh. One that sent a full body shiver through the Deranged. That same howl, like a screech of home. A dragon's. His dragon.

Bursting into a full on sprint, Dagur ran down the cave, guffawing with excitement. He's dreamt of this day for years, the situation of reuniting with his dearest Skrill playing over in his head like a bard who only knew how to play one song. He would soon use his beloved beast to destroy little Hiccup in a blast of pure lightning. Another drool-worthy ideal that he never stopped wishing for.

Dagur turned the last twist of the tunnel before the beast of royal purple and toned grey became visible. Wide mouth filled with rows of sharp teeth bared before him. The metallic spiky crown the dragon wore was even more daunting in the unusual lighting of fire reflected against frozen water. A sight so enthralling, Dagur's mind went blank.

Mind flooded with excitement, Dagur broke out into a large smile and simply gawked. The cold didn't exist in this moment as he stared at his precious baby. So giddy that he raised both his hands up with a loud, concerning cry and spun in a circle.

"That's right!" He hollered to no one in particular. "Dagur and Skrilly, reunited once more! Ohohoho!" He laughed with his entire body, moving wildly in his joy.

The ripple of dark scales had Dagur turning back around. The Skrill curled into itself as a bright white hue began to glow from his mouth. Drawing his sword, he held it pointed to the beast.

"It's alright, baby." He tried shushing the Skrill, cooing in his gravelly voice. "Daddy Dagur's here for you."

The Skrill had better ideas. He shot a bolt of lightning barely a foot away from Dagur.

He was about to shout. Ready to lose his temper that his own darling would try to hurt him, but that sharp green gaze caught on something beneath those steely purple legs. A figure lumped under the dragon. It seemed like sweet Skrilly was protecting this nearly dead thing.

As another blast of lightning began to charge in the dragon's mouth, Dagur dropped his stance for a moment. His eyes fell to a sword that was laying far from the other two. The same sword he often sparred with. Grabbed along with his own, to hand to his partner in battle. The same sword he's had to help rewrap over 10 times because, for whatever reason, you couldn't keep the yak leather tight around the hilt.

Your sword.

Wait a second. That's you?

He tried to get a better look but the Skrill opened his mouth even wider, ready to blast again. Thank Odin he was a Berserker. Directing Skrills was in his blood.

Dagur waved his sword back and forth until the Skrill could only focus on it. Making sure those slitted pupils were trained on his blade, he lowered the sword and threw it across the ice. Away from you. Unfortunately, the beast stayed put, but his eyes were trained on the sword Dagur had to sacrifice. Skrill's are painfully loyal to those who treat them well. And saving them from an icy prison would be a perfect reason why the dragon refused to move.

Dagur made a mental note to yell at you for gaining his Skrilly's trust before him. After he saved you, of course.

"Come on, baby, work with me here." Dagur tried to reason as he lowered himself closer to the ground. "They're with me. And you like them, right? So you'll like me, too."

The fire-lightning sparked back up in his mouth the second Dagur tried to take another step. He gritted his teeth, trying to think of another way to get to you. They both looked at the torch he held.

Dagur wasn't about to burn the Skrill but he desperately needed to get to you. You had been in here for hours. How long have you been unconscious for? The next place he might see you is in Valhalla. He really didn't want to risk death in order to see you again.

Waving his torch around like he'd done his sword, Dagur began to walk around his Skrill. Every time the dragon tried to lunge forward, he would jump right back at him. The fire discouraging the Skrill just enough to push him away from you. Only the strong and unbelievably gorgeous wing of him hovered above you. Dagur could work with that.

"Hey, wakey wakey!" Dagur dropped to his knees beside you, his free hand reaching for your wrist. His hands always felt so rough compared to your skin. It made him feel... embarrassed that his hold could grate on yours.

As he ran his hand down your arm, panic started seeping in. You were as cold as the floor beneath the two of you. Your fingers were beginning to turn blue. He couldn't see you breathing, not when you were so curled in on yourself.

"Hey," He set his torch on the ground. He didn't care if it was burning out, he needed you alive. "Stay with me." His voice started to raise in tone as he softly grabbed your shoulders. Rolling you on your back, you moved far too loosely. He could tell you no longer had control of your limbs.

Eyes growing wide, Dagur cupped your face with one of his hands. The apple of your cheeks - where pretty freckles, often paired with a slight red the sun always burned onto your skin - was tinting blue. And so was your precious nose. That wasn't good.

Oh Thor, this wasn't good.

Dagur pressed his ear to your chest, silently begging for a breath. He could settle for a heartbeat, a faint one, even! He just needed to know you were still alive!

His search was interrupted when he was scooped into the air. He scrambled to grab you, holding you close to his chest as he started to raise and slide backwards. Letting out an uneasy laugh, his back hit a rod that winded him.

Keeping his arms tight around your freezing torso, Dagur looked down. Sitting on purple scales against dark spikes, he realized all too late what was happening.

"Easy, dragon!" He pleaded with a yelp. The Skrill roared and stood on his hind legs. He scrambled to seat you in front of him, awkwardly sliding behind your limp self and reaching around to grab the crown of the dragon. His left hand barely gripped onto a spike when the Skrill took off with a gut-deep growl.

Dagur's screams came out like his laughs, sporadic and changing in tone. And frantic. Very- extremely frantic. The light blue colors of ice blurred past him, cold wind whipping through his red hair. Cold quickly shifted into warmer air. Ice no longer surrounding him, turning into the sand of the beach outside.

He could barely make out the shouts of the hunters over his own. His next sight was crashing face first into sand. Tumbling further until he hit one of the ship posts. Taking at least one other man down with him.

"What in Thor's name-?" Ryker ran out from his ship. He was ready to shout and yell at the morons he was given to work with for being so idiotic. His loud voice died deep in his throat when his eyes landed on the beast. He was certain Dagur had gone insane, far more insane than normal when he trusted an ex Dragon Rider to lead him to the rarest dragon besides the Night Fury.

Purple and grey scales glimmered in the sun. Sharp teeth nearly chomping one of his hunters in half for getting too close. Metallic spikes running down the dragon's back. Ryker gawked with a dropped jaw.

"It's the Skrill!" One of the hunters called out. "Chain him!" Some screamed. "Cage him!" Yelled another. But Dagur beat them all.

"No one touches MY Skrill!" He bellowed, running back over to 'his skrill.'

Instead of throwing the nets over the dragon, Ryker watched with a scowl as Dagur skidded to a stop in front of the beast. His eyebrows shot up with surprise as the Berserker pulled you off the Skrill's back. Maybe having a Dragon Rider on the team wasn't such a bad idea.

Or maybe it was, since you flopped over into Dagur's hold like a ragdoll. You didn't ride that dragon! You were simply stuck on its back.

"Come on, please." Dagur set you on the sand gently, keeping your head steady. The words stumbled past his lips before he could reign in his emotions. "I need you." His voice was barely a whisper but it still cracked with pain. He didn't want to lose you. He couldn't.

His hand rested on your chest, still desperate to find a sign of life. Yet again, the Skrill had a better idea and knocked Dagur backwards. Falling on his butt, Dagur wanted to kick the beast in the snout. He was trying to make sure you were alive! What did the dragon think it was doing?!

The sun blacked out as clouds began to accumulate above the docks. The back of the Skrill began to arch, the metal rods on his back starting to vibrate. Bright and blinding, sparking lightning burned in his mouth.

Dagur watched in horror as the Skrill roared. His eyes nearly shot out of his head when the Skrill let his head drop onto your chest. Sending a Thor's worthy amount of electricity right through your body.

Static cracked the air, loud enough to leave everyone's ears ringing. As soon as they appeared, the dark storm clouds dispersed and the Skrill stepped back. Bursts of lightning still danced on the beast, weaving between the tall stakes of metal on his back. He watched you, eyes narrowed, and the tip of his nose brushing up your legs.

A scream of pure rage began to bubble in Dagur's throat. His beast, his Skrill, had just killed you!? Sending a bolt through you and probably charing your body inside and out?! Like yak on a stick!?

The sand crunched in between his fists, arms twitching with restrained anger. His two favorite things combined, resulting in one of them dead. He was going to wear that Skrill's skull as a helmet!

The silent building tension between the hunters, Dagur, and the dragon was interrupted by a violent choke.

You sat up abruptly, gasping and choking on nothing. Your arms locked around your knees, still shivering from the ice you once laid on. Whether you were deep in shock, too literally shocked, or far too cold, you failed to realize that you were out of the cave.

It took Dagur three seconds before he was bolting to your side. He was trying to be gentle, but his desperation seemed to make his movements too rigid. You saw him from the corner of your eye, and in a blind panic, smacked the ever loving Odin out of him.

A gasp went around the surronding hunters as Dagur stood back, still facing the way you hit him with his cheek beginning redden. You blinked a couple of times before letting out a relieved cry and jumped up to hug him.

"By Thor, I thou- thought you ha- ad left m- me!" Your words were skewered by your clattering teeth. He felt far warmer in your hold than you remembered. Not that you were complaining, you simply dug yourself into him even further.

Dagur stood still for a few more moments, emerald eyes glaring at you through the corners. It was then you realized what you had just done. You let your hold on him slip as you stared up at him, trembling from the cold - and new-found fear.

Two steps back was all you made it before Dagur's thick arms caught around you. Pulling you into his chest, he squeezed you tight enough to practically crush you. With this confirmation, you wrapped your own arms around him and sighed shakily.

"I wouldn't have left you." His breath tickled your ear, beard scratching against your cheek as he spoke low enough so only you could hear. He pulled back, and set you in front of him with a firm grip on your shoulders. "Let's get you into warmer clothes, especially out of that armour." He declared with a flick to your bracers.

You glanced down at your outfit. Your arms seemed to only grow colder if you held them around your chestplate. Nodding, you fell into his side. He wrapped an arm over your shoulders and helped you move towards the boats.

A sharp poke hit you in the back, followed by a low growl. Turning around, you saw the beast you had been chasing all week.

"Is th- that the Sk- skrill?" Your eyes went wide as you stared back at the dragon. Dagur nodded.

"He likes you," He pinched your ear lightly, making you pull away slightly. He always loved your little reactions. "You were supposed to just free it, not bond with it." The red head stuck his lower lip out in a pout.

"I fr- reed it-z?" Your tongue stiffened on the last syllable, making it sound like a buzz. He laughed and patted your back, urging you to keep walking.

"Yup. He flew you out here." You looked around with new eyes, the earlier shock beginning to fade.

"We're outside?"

"ENOUGH-" You flinched at Dagur's outburst. He held his other hand out, and took a breath. "Enough questions. Just- back to the boat."

You nodded and accepted his unofficial apology by continuing to lean into him. He was so muscular, it felt like you were walking alongside a tree. A very intimidating, genuine, and passionate tree log. Dagur was far more handsome than a log, too.

Your hazy gaze stared up at him from under his arm. If he could tell you were staring, he didn't show it. He wore his usual smug smirk, a gentle squeeze around you, but nothing more.

"The Skrill comes with us." Dagur held out his hand to the oncoming hunters. They slowed to a stop, green axes and chains in their lowered hands. Sharing a confused look, they turned to Ryker, who finally got off from his post on his ship.

"What makes you think that, exactly?" Ryker asked, eyes falling behind you to the beast.

Dagur hemmed and hawed as he removed his arm from you, guiding you to rest on the Skrill for support. The dragon purred, rough and deep, as you rested your hand on his neck.

"Oh I don't know," Dagur tapped his chin, his other hand counting something on his fingers. "Maybe because, well," He chuckled. "I FOUND IT?!" He shouted in Ryker's face, green eyes bugging out of his head. His nostrils flaring in his face.

Ryker stared down at him with a bored brow. Dagur glared right back, breathing heavily. With a roll of his eyes, Ryker backed up with a raised hand. His men backed off as well.

Dagur turned back to you, nodding to the large boat. He hit Ryker's shoulder as you three passed. The Skrill bared his teeth at the lead Dragon Hunter, sensing the discomfort he was causing. Growl vibrating his throat as you patted the dragon, a gentle reminder that you were fine.

You followed Dagur to the ship with small steps. Your tremors made it hard to stay upright, and the Skrill could only help you so much. Dagur threw his head back with a sigh when he noticed the distance between you two.

He trotted back and pulled you into his side once again, keeping an arm around your shoulders. The Skrill walked along your other side, offering more support, if you needed it. Together, they helped you to the ship and into Dagur's quarters.

[therealvinelle]

I just finished Nebuchadnezzar's Dream and I have to say: Holy shit! The werewolf fight, Carlisle getting investigated by the FBI, Aro's funny hat idea as a diplomatic tool, the Ziggy Stardisciples feat. bad face paint, Renata ❤️, the bickering twins, Jane (yes, she gets her own point, she deserves it), Carlisle's gift induced despair and then the fall of Volterra, the horror and grief of the group and the very loud broadcasted-live-to-the-usurpers revenge sex (I hope Edward combusted into a pile of ashes right then and there, lol). It was an amazing rollercoaster to read. And just so you know, I'm very interested in that potential sequel 👀

(Also, if Aro had decided to follow Caius' advice and attack the Cullens first, how would he have done it? Kill them all but spare Carlisle? Kill only Bella and leave it at that knowing that they don't pose a threat anymore even if they do decide to take revenge? Or something entirely different?)

I'm so glad you enjoyed it, thank you!

To answer your question:

If Aro was to take out the Cullens, there are about a million ways he could have gone about killing the Cullens but the simplest one in my mind would have been if he used Nahuel and his sisters to hide from Alice, and then went and killed them outright. No fuzz, no convoluted schemes, even with Bella's gift the Cullens would be easily overwhelmed.

A more thought out plan, at least if Aro wants to be sure Alice doesn't catch on to him, would be sending Chelsea and Marcus around to weaken the bonds of friendship the Cullens have with their various allies, and strengthen their faith in the Volturi. And if some remain adamant, they die. Leave the Denali alive, however, and then make his move.

The factor that allowed the Cullens to gather as many allies as they did in Breaking Dawn was time. The Volturi deliberated two weeks, when a direct flight from Italy to Washington would take less than a day. Should Aro in my scenario then decide "Alright, we're doing this," the Cullens will have very little time and be at a complete disadvantage.

Their only option would be to run for it and not split up, so Bella can shield them all, but even so they'll be leaving scent trails, which means they would have to go by human transportation means. This in turn puts a constraint on their movements.

The Cullens would likely end up on a boat or an island, where nobody can track them, where they would be unable to step outside of Bella's immediate vicinity, meaning Jacob and Renesmee are both obscuring Alice.

This is where the Denali come in, because without them the Volturi would have no way of guessing where the Cullens might go. With five friendly vampires a short distance away, however, the Cullens have an obvious destination.

Where, of course, Jacob and Renesmee's constant presence means that Alice won't know the Volturi are waiting for them there.

Even if the Cullens figure out that the Denali are compromised, they have no allies and Bella needs only let down her guard for a moment for Demetri to know where they are, and given the pressure she's under she inevitably will. They won't have an easy time hunting, either, the stress of the situation will be constantly grating on them, they won't hold out for long.

As for what the Volturi do when they have them at their mercy, Aro would be sad about it but they all have to go. Regardless of the strategy he used, he wants to reinforce that the Volturi are a force you don't stand up to, you don't resist, and you don't embarrass them.

By all accounts, Aro's distinguishing feature is that there is nobody he isn't willing to kill.

People would be crying injustice for a while, but I imagine those voices would be silenced in death or through intimidation, and with vampires having such a high turnover rate it would only be a few centuries before they were forgotten by all but those who keep their mouths shut about it.

[welcometothevale]

Rowan almost fell back when his body was no longer there to support them, but they caught themself with their hand before they fell on the tiny dragon. They were relieved to see him change to a size they could easily carry. “What do you mean he’s had his fire stolen? I didn’t see the phoenix steal any fire.” Would that be something they could see? 

When he woke, they tenderly stroked the top of his head, wary of his injuries. “I’m okay, don’t worry. You took a brunt of the impact; I just fell off at the end.” They reassured him, “remember, I’m not made of glass.” Rowan found it hard to take him too seriously because of his size and his tiny voice. “I’ll get us to safety, you just tell me where to go.” The demigod stood and gently scooped him up into their arms. “Let me be the hero every once in a while.”

They nodded at the kitsune, “thank you for your help, but I think we have it from here.” Rowan often forgot that if anyone tried to hurt them, they could just speak their death into existence. It wasn’t something they liked to think themself capable of, nor is it a power they use, but it could be useful if they had no other option. They hadn’t used it since Paul though, so they didn’t know how successful it would be. “You know, you’re really lucky I don’t talk in my sleep. Theoretically I could probably kill you in my sleep with the right word.” Rowan mused as they searched for a way out of the forest of fire. They’d landed in a clearing, and all around them were trees in various stages of combustion. When a tree would fall and become piles of ash on the ground, a new one would take it’s place in minutes. It took 10 years for a tree to burn to death though. And like a phoenix, these trees came back after burning out. 

(I am writing this out of pure boredom and fun XD I like fantasy okay >:P )

Theta took a deep breathe as he hid himself from mortal vision amongst he clouds. His scales felt wonderful as the wind brushed against them and he felt the air current changing. He could hear the rumbling of thunder around his wings, his head tilting to see how bad the storm would be, as he made his decision. His dark navy scales cloaked him well against the night sky as the rain pelted him upon his decent. He would need to take on a more comfortable form upon landing. 

He noted a forest near a village as he began his rapid decent the weather taking a bad turn. His form shifted and shrank to mortal form as he landed just as lightning struck him in the back. His entire body lit up with pain as he tumbled into the foliage and undergrowth of the forest. He trembled as slowly he began to lose conscious, thankfully in human form, exhaustion took him and he passed out.

[his-heartguard]

Today's Tuesday, which means that it's almost Wednesday, which means that it's almost Thursday, at which point I expect I will combust into a pile of anxious ashes or simply fade away into nothingness.

[shera-dnd]

Damn my first fic in... you know what I'm not gonna think about it. Stressing over that stuff is how I ended up not writing in the first place.

ANYWAYS who wants to see Ruby being the most awkward useless lesbian ever? Bonus points: It's Ruby Branwen from "The Raven's Nest" and it's her first time interacting with cute girls outside her tribe.

Here for anyone who loves Ruby x Weiss x Emerald, whatever their ship name is

Ruby made a mistake.

Not in saving her family.

Not even in abandoning the tribe to follow Yang.

But - somewhere along the line - she’d made a terrible mistake.

“So Yang has a sister?” asked a very pretty girl with green hair.

“Yup,” Weiss - the other pretty girl she helped save - answered.

“Are you sure?” asked a third girl with bright orange hair, “because she doesn’t look like Yang.”

And that’s how Ruby found herself caught between not one, not two, but three beautiful ladies who were all paying close attention to her..

Three girls who all happened to be friends with her older sister, an older sister that was not helping in the slightest! 

In fact, she was just watching and giggling as Ruby threatened to combust into a pile of ashes.

Oh, why didn’t Raven teach her how to deal with situations like these? 

It was all how to maintain weapons, how to set up and dismantle a camp, how to cut a man in half, never how to talk to cute girls .

And right now Ruby really needed to know that.

“Uh, it’s half sister actually,” she corrected, her voice barely more than a squeak.

“Oh, so same mom, but different dads?” the red haired girl questioned.

“Yes. Well… kinda?” Ruby tried, she really tried, “I mean one of my moms is also Yang’s mom, but Yang also has a dad. Technically I was gonna have a dad too, but then mine and Yang’s mutual mom broke up from the polycule, and she didn’t realize she was pregnant, and… uh it’s complicated.”

They all just stared at her for a while, and Ruby worried she had said something wrong. Then the green haired girl broke the silence.

“And here I thought your family was complicated,” she joked, nudging Weiss with her elbow.

“Emerald!” Weiss shouted back, slapping Emerald’s arm.

“What?” Emerald playfully asked, “it’s not like anyone on this team has healthy family relationships. She’s gonna fit right in.”

“There’s Jaune,” the red haired girl offered, “his family sounds pretty nice.”

“And that’s why he’s such a bad huntsman, Nora,” Emerald argued, “everyone knows all the good huntsmen have trauma.”

Ruby couldn’t help but giggle. 

The dark humor reminded her of the nights telling stories around the bonfire. Being a bandit didn’t make for all that many happy stories, but they had all learned to make the most of the sad ones too.

Emerald smiled, “see? The new girl gets me.”

And just like that she was the focus of the conversation again. All eyes were on her and she wondered if it would be too rude to petal burst far far away from this room.

“Aww look at her,” Nora cooed, “she’s all blushy. Isn’t she cute?”

Yup. 

This was a mistake.

“Nora!” Weiss shouted, “don’t embarrass her!”

“Come on, it’s just a little teasing,” Nora giggled, “let me have fun.”

“Can’t you go have fun with Ren and Jaune or something?” Emerald argued, “I think I saw Ren starting to make dinner.”

That managed to get Nora’s attention away from poor Ruby, sending her off to the kitchen to harass her… boyfriend? Partner? 

Ruby wasn’t sure. 

Regardless, she was safe now.

She let out a tired sigh and turned back to face her savior, “thanks for that.”

“Hey, you saved my girlfriend’s life,” Emerald replied with a smile and a wink, “the least I can do is save you from Nora.”

“W-Wait, you two are dating?” Ruby stammered.

Oh no. 

Oh no, this got even more awkward for her.

“What can I say?” Emerald joked, hooking an arm around Weiss’s waist and pulling her close, “I couldn’t help but steal the Schnee family’s most prized possession.”

“You are horrible,” Weiss complained, though she leaned close to her anyways, “besides, I’m no longer the heiress, remember?”

“Hmm,” Emerald hummed, seeming to ponder for a moment, “how old was your brother again?”

“Em, no!” there came another shout from Weiss, before she elbowed Emerald in the stomach.

“Hey, I was joking,” Emerald strained, “you know you’re the most precious thing to me, title or no title.”

“Of course,” Weiss answered, unconvinced.

“I mean it,” Emerald insisted, and to prove her point she planted a kiss on Weiss’s cheek, then another, and another, and a few more just to make sure.

Ruby, who had been silently watching this entire time, just slowly turned her gaze away. Her cheeks burned at the sight, and at the thought of what it would feel like to be in the middle of all those kisses.

“You’re embarrassing her again,” Weiss complained.

Ruby made a little squeak as the attention was brought back to her once more.

“Maybe it’s all part of my plan to steal her too,” Emerald joked, or at least Ruby thought she was joking. 

Not like she’d mind if she was speaking the truth or anything.

“Is that so?” Weiss answered, scratching her chin and thinking for a moment, “I guess she did save my life and Yang’s too, so the least we can do is thank her properly.”

Oh that was it. 

Ruby was not gonna survive Yang’s teammates.

“Alright, alright, spare the girl,” Yang intervened, moving in between the couple and Ruby. 

Thank goodness for sisterly instincts.

“We were just having fun,” Emerald argued.

“Didn’t you tell me I need to loosen up a little?” Weiss added, happy to add to her girlfriend’s mischief.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, but I think we need to set some ground rules here,” Yang insisted, “rule number one, no inducting my little sister into a polycule!”

“What? Why not!?”

And so the three of them turned to face her. Emerald in absolute delight, Weiss in subdued embarrassment, and Yang and utter and total disbelief.

Oh gods. 

She said that out loud. 

Ruby actually said that out loud.

Before anyone could say another word she was gone, swallowed by a cloud of petals, and flung far far away from there.

Ruby had truly made a terrible mistake.

[nako-doodles]

shirley I don't think I'm capable of handling actor jin- I'd probably combust the moment it happens and you'll never hear of me again because I am would be a pile of ash

while this will also apply to me, im willing to spontaneously combust a la that random edwardian lady if it means actor jin is real

[sweetalnazar]

update: there are now 16 kudos & my main reaction is

I went ahead and posted the Asmine prequel fic haha. Just the first three chapters (which make up Part 1)

I wanted to wait longer but after 3 years, it felt sad to leave it gathering dust forever. Also i had such fun rereading, i kinda wanted to share that feeling with everyone too

[sevendusks]

PHEONIXES ARE SO COOL!!!

Like literally!!! they are the best ever thing humanity has come up with after toilets!!!!! Like, the concept of re-birth, new starts associated with phoenixes??? THAT IS THE SHIT, BRO. It’s just such a beautiful concept sobs. I mean, can you imagine a phoenix in age combusting in flames only to start over again and again eternally???? there’s a strange dignity to that. To have watched a phoenix in glory combust to flames, leaving only a smaller, frailer little one and a huge pile of ash grow into something even more beautiful and unbound by everything than its previous self????????? THAT.WOULD.BE.SO.AWESOME.

[bourbon-ontherocks]

(Previously, on Season 4 (re)watch...)

I know, I know. Boundaries of taste and decency have been crossed in this post. But I regret nothing. Nothing!

Yes, Tyler, you're not a baby and you are your own best tool and I'm rooting for you! Live the shit out of that morning routine!

Days earlier??? I mean, this show's not even trying anymore to pretend that they have a consistant timeline (@she'll-recognize-herself: yes I still do believe in time!)

Dean literally brings up Rio within ONE minute in every scene, Dean x Rio bathroom-break when???

I know it's an unpopular opinion but I really really like Phoebe more with each episode.

I feel like I've been waiting one season and a half for this guilt-hallucination montage and I just love it so so so so so much, FINALLY Beth Boland is feeling human emotions and I'm not sure we've ever seen her experiencing moral conflict here so clearly and dare I say this is my favourite scene this episode.

Beth is canonically knitting!!! This couldn't make me happier...

I don't really see the point of the Dave-Phoebe scene, like, are they trying to foreshadow that Phoebe is going to derail and blow the operation because of her fascination for Beth? Cause otherwise this scene's quite useless

I mean I love Tyler but I don't really see the point of involving him in the heist. If the purpose is to actually GET arrested, then the girl could hit literally any place in town, right?

Also this is the stupidest, least efficient way to blackmail the Secret Service that I've never seen. In what universe would that scheme work??? If I were Dave, I'd just lock up Annie and Ruby and use that as a pressuring leverage over Beth since she's the only one who's got access to Rio.

The line about Jane learning cultures really rubs me the wrong way, the level of American-centrism here is just... well I'm not gonna say anything. Also naans are NOT just flatbread.

The shoulder pads on Beth’s sweater are horrible. I mean, we all know that shoulder pads + sex purse is a recipe for sucess but still.

Phoebe: "He'd have to get you naked." Beth: "Mhhhhh..."

H E Y   N O W

Bhahaha, Beth asking straight for a frisk while she's supposed to not have anything to hide to Rio sounds like a porno movie.

"This is not my house" is an underrated line honestly

WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE MINI-HORSE JOSH????

BETH???? IS????? EATING????? FOOD??????????? I HAVE DREAMED OF THAT MOMENT MY WHOLE LIFE SHE'S CHEWING AND EVERYTHING HURRAY

Rio's face every time Nick opens his mouth is honestly one of the most hilarious things I've seen on this show in a long time

Also Rio's laughter-howling after the peach line is like, "don't overdo it honey..."

I have SO MANY questions right now. Where are Rio's rings/wristbands on his left hand? Did he feel the wire? Is Beth purposefully alluding to a bathroom? Why is Rio claiming Beth while he's JUST energically protested that they were just working buddies AND that Beth had four kids? Does anybody at this dinner see how nonsensical and horny these idiots are?

Poop talk. That's the peak of romance tbh. Also unless Lila only feeds from vegetable juices, this conversation is absurd.

This family/business dialogue is extremely confusing and nonsensical tbh, it really ranks high on the Jordan's scale. That's a true sign that these idiots' blood had deserted their brain to, um... somewhere else.

Look. I've already rewatched this episode three times. And I've tried to keep my cool, but OH MY GOD SHE'S GOING FOR HIS BELT OMFG I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED THAT I'M JUST A PILE OF TALKING ASHES RIGHT NOW CAUSE I COMBUSTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the LOOK she's giving him, THE LOOK!!!!

I ------------------------------------------------------------

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

HE’S HOLDING HER FUCKING HANDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OH MY GOD THEY'RE SO CLOSE WHY ARE THEY SO CLOSE NOW KISS

THE WAY HE'S PULLING HER DRESS UP REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF A RATIONAL CHOICE AND I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF THAT SCENE FOR SO LONG I NEVER THOUGHT I'D ACTUALLY SAW IT ON SCREEN OMG OMG OMG OMG

Um... Dean looks good on that bike. I'm sorry I feel like someone just threw a bucket of vomit at me right now.

W H Y   A R E   T H E Y    S O    C L O S E      N O W   K I S S

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

Oh my gosh they forgot to cover MM's weird round-the-neck tattoo!!

FUCK OFF DEAN!!! GROWN-UPS ARE DOING GROWN-UPS STUFF!!!

The way. Her head. Falls back. On a moan

...

-^v--^v--^v--^v--^v--^v-------------------------------

...

Sorry I was clinically dead for a minute

Yes Phoebe enjoy your time!

How Beth still has one valid brain cell left to think about the books is highly unrealistic though.

Also YES I AM AWARE THAT SHE'S COMPLETELY USING SEX AS A DISTRACTION AND IS ACTUALLY MORE CONCERNED ABOUT THE WIRE BUT NO I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT LEAVE ME ALONE

The fact that Dean actually walks his bike back to the house is hilarious

I love Beth's little dress belt!!

Not only did this man not wash his hands (I know that some of you are imagining abominations involving the rest of the dinner, but come on, it's just not hygenic), but he?? literally?? wipes his left hand???? on the wallpaper???? at his grandma's house???? I'm sorry but Rio is an animal.

Note to myself: never invite Rio over for dinner. You don't want snail marks on your walls. Or your bookshelves.

I genuinely enjoy Annie and Josh's hug! I love how they know each other's contradictions and I'd actually really like to see a frienship between them

I'm so happy Annie got her GED!!!!

HOW. ON EARTH. Did Gene manage to produce like 300 UNIQUE pieces of handbags in like a day??

I'm so happy that Kenny has been apparently kidnapped in Kalamazoo and that nobody cares about him!!

"Why don't you just go up and down the driveway like Jane?" is the most infantilizing of Dean they've done ever since the Lego scene in S3 and it does give me hope for a Boland divorce. Also, it's just hilarious.

Yeah, sure, giving contradictory orders to your kids within 30 seconds is the best way to discipline them, uh-huh...

Bonus: Actual footage of -- Um, remember when I said that boundaries were going to be crossed? Well... It’s not my fault. It’s canon.