#I touched a magic ruby and now woo more magic

[asknat]

Hiiii Nat <3 if this is a magic blog. Why don't you tell us about your own?? What sort of magic do you specialise in come on tell the askers you silly goose

Oh! I specialize in telekinesis! After I touched the Revelation Ruby, I unlocked and gained alot of other things too! I don't think my magic will truly ever be the same since I lost it, but It's alright! I can just adapt to my new needs yk?

[kenobers]

anyway, here’s a preview of the next jason + sionis!reader fic | 18+

tw; reader’s an asshole maybe? a girl failure, perhaps?

"I said, 'are you sober'. You look sober. Are you?"

Jason Todd blinks, like he still doesn't quite understand the question. He straightens his posture, jostling the untouched pint of something between his middle finger and thumb.

"I-yeah, I am. Are you?"

You cross your arms, roll your eyes again and ignore the question. Obviously, you're sober.

"Do you know who I am?"

He looks you over thoughtfully. His gaze conveniently lingers on the pop of your hip and the cleavage peeking out of your ruby neckline. Exactly where you want it. You snicker; so maybe he's a little slow, but at least he doesn't seem to be blind.

"You're Sionis' kid, aren't you? It's been a hot minute," Jason leans forward a little, magically more invested in the conversation. The ginger man standing next to him pauses his attempts to woo a brunette to raise an eyebrow at you.

"My dad hates you."

He scoffs, taking a half hearted sip of his beer.

"And bears shit in the woods, what else is new?"

You don't remember him having that stupid white streak in his too-well-tousled hair. It was sexy. You hated it.

"Fuck me."

IPA dribbles down his idiotically strong chin. His mouth goes a little slack as he blinks once again, harder and longer this time.

"What?"

Ugh, again with the repetition.

"Fuck me. Have sex with me," you reiterate as nonchalantly as if you're asking him to move over.

The redhead next to him starts cackling. Jason glowers at him, shoving the drink into his hand with one arm while pulling you closer with the other. It only takes him a gentle tug to pull your chest to broad chest. He leans down so his lips brush against your ear.

"Hey, you sure you're sober?"

The warmth of his breath in contrast with his mouth, still cool from his glass, sends a shiver down your spine.

"I'm dead sober."

"Okay, you see how I might doubt that given you just walked up to me and asked me to have sex with you."

You push him away and it's like pushing into a brick wall. A very muscular brick wall. "Look, Wayne-"

"Todd."

"Whatever. Even if I wanted to drink, I couldn't because my father drained my entire bank account."

Jason tilts his head, causing a lock of white hair to fall across his crooked nose. 

"And why'd he do that?"

You hum amiably, curling your pretty maroon nails around his thick forearm. 

"I'll tell you if you fuck me," you promise, batting your eyelashes as you place your other hand over his heart. Much to your frustration, his heartbeat is slow and steady. His sharp face has lost its earlier shock. He looks at ease, pleasantly entertained, with a slight smirk and a cocked slitted eyebrow. 

"I think that's called extortion, baby girl."

"It's only extortion if I'm threatening you," you snap back. You should know, your father's an expert in it. You take a small breath, smoothing out your tone again, "I'm just keeping my business to myself. So, I'd call this more of a quid pro quo."

"It's a quid pro quo if I'm getting something substantial out of it," he says this but at the same time, two large hands are sliding over your hips with a featherlight touch. His nails briefly press into your skin. 

Something in your belly tightens. Maybe he’s a more worthy opponent than you’d initially assumed. 

You tip your head up as you stand on your tiptoes and sneak your much smaller hands under his jacket, brushing up his warm sides. He sucks in a sharp breath. 

"If you really had no desire to fuck me, this conversation would've ended by now,” your voice is dripping in something venomously sweet. “And I'm not going to claim I have any idea of what's happening in your own business, but if I had to take a wild guess as to who in this room has the most to gain from fucking Roman Sionis' daughter, you'd be at the top of the list. Even if it's just for the bragging rights."

"You're worth more than just bragging rights, princess,” he says, rolling a fold of your dress between his fingers with a condescending shake of his head. You wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from underneath. 

"Prove it."

"...and you're sure you're sober?"

"Wanna test my breath?"

He snorts at your bad line, but his index and thumb are already caging your chin between them. He considers you for one more moment, then kisses you.

You can taste the single sip of beer, but it’s not as strong as the fading taste of a cigarette. His lips move against yours with intent, as if seeking out a falter in your sobriety. Their search comes up empty, leaving behind nothing but a thin string of spit and the overwhelming desire for more of him.

"What's your plan then? Risk it in a bathroom stall?"

You loath how utterly girlish the grin on your lips is.

"Nah, I know a spot upstairs."

[aethersea]

May I request 41 - First Kiss and 94 - Hair Brushing/Braiding for the Leverage OT3, please? (Also extra bonus points if you give Eliot beads in his hair like in The Ice Man Job, because we didn't get NEARLY enough of that in the show) Thank you!

I cannot believe I wrote this whole thing out and then never published it. I’m so sorry, it’s been at least twenty-four years since you sent in this ask, please accept my humble apologies and also this ficlet.

However, this prompt is just pure fluff, and I hate to tell you this but I am not a fluff writer. I just can’t pull off that unadulterated sweetness. I am in this fandom for the shenanigans, first, last and foremost! So this fic is now a 5+1 of Eliot and Parker trying to seduce Hardison.

1. Parker thinks they need to give him gifts, so she goes through her stash and picks out the largest, fanciest jewel she’s ever stolen. Then she realizes: Hardison likes stories. He spends hours giving their aliases histories and pets and allergies and favorite foods, he can get a whole sordid history of jealousy and betrayal from a single corporate email chain, and Parker knows for a cold fact that he writes little stories with his online friends about being wizards together.

She goes through her stash again and picks out the most cursed thing she’s ever stolen.

It’s a jeweled statuette, almost as tall as her forearm, made of gold and studded with precious and semi-precious stones. Mysterious deaths have befallen five separate owners of this thing. Its base is dented from the time it was used to bludgeon Owner Number Three to death. The tiny rubies it has for eyes follow you across the room.

Parker puts a bow on it and leaves it in Hardison’s room while he’s sleeping. He wakes up to this horrible little statue watching him from his bedside table.

He texts the group chat, Hey did anyone put an evil little gold guy in my bedroom last night? But Parker chickens out and says nothing (drunkenly betting Eliot that she can seduce Hardison is one thing, but admitting that she likes him is something else altogether). Everyone else texts back variations on “nope.” (Except Sophie, who just sends back a string of heart eyes emojis and a wikipedia link. She loves cursed artifacts.) So Hardison puts the statue away in a closet somewhere and figures he’ll deal with it later.

Parker is mildly offended that he put her gift in a closet. She goes into his room the next night and puts it back on the bedside table, where it clearly belongs.

This goes on for a week. Hardison puts the statue in a desk drawer, then in one of the cabinets in the office downstairs, then in the dumpster down the street. Every day he wakes up to those glittering red eyes watching him sleep. He’s asked his internet buddies if anyone knows a good exorcist. Hardison doesn’t really believe in curses, but also? What the fuck. What the fuck.

~

2. Eliot assumes the drunken bet will be forgotten by morning. What kind of world would it be if people always followed through on promises they made while they could barely stay vertical? So he spends the morning nursing his hangover and cleaning his knives. Cleaning guns is no good while hungover—all the snaps and clicks of popping things in and out of place sound like actual gunfire when you’re hungover, it’s a nightmare—but knives are quiet and have no moving parts. Buffing and polishing them is soothingly repetitive work, and every once in a while he can throw one at one of the dartboards on the walls and reassure himself that his reflexes are still sound even after that much tequila.

It’s only when he gets Hardison’s text about the golden statuette that magically appeared in his room overnight that Eliot realizes Parker’s actually going for it. After some internal debate about whether he’s going to stoop to this or not, Eliot decides what the hell and starts making plans.

Eliot agrees that gifts are the way to go, but not stolen gifts. Not things. Anyone can give a thing. Proper wooing is about giving experiences.

Eliot plans for three days. On the fourth day, he and Hardison have their irregularly scheduled monthly coffee date, and Eliot texts him beforehand to say he wants to do it at the brewpub this time. Hardison arrives to find a deceptively simple meal: basic country fare perfected through years of experimentation, made with the best ingredients Eliot can get his hands on. And Eliot, after all, is still a retrieval specialist. There’s very little in the world he can’t get his hands on.

And yet the night ends and somehow he has not gotten his hands on Hardison.

This is just not right. Eliot knows how to deploy a smolder, okay, Tangled reference aside he is damn good at flirting and he knows the looks he’s giving Hardison are clear as day. It’d be one thing if Hardison had turned him down, or if he’d been uneasily unwilling, or even if his eyes had widened slightly in suppressed panic and he’d abruptly found a reason to leave. Eliot can take rejection, bet or no, and he’d have bowed out graciously without a fuss. But this was much, much worse.

Hardison didn’t even notice he was flirting.

He’s going to have to up his game.

~

3. “How do you seduce people?” Parker asks bluntly, turning up at Sophie’s door just past midnight.

Sophie, despite the hour, is utterly delighted by the question.

This goes as well as you would expect.

~

4. Eliot’s taken a lot of dates to sports games. Hardison may prefer sparkly elves with purple lightning magic to a decent MMA fight, but baseball is the American pastime. Eliot gets them perfect seats, hot dogs from the best vendor in the stadium, even chilled beer that he smuggles in without letting it get warm. It’s going to be a perfect game.

And it is. At first. Hardison, it turns out, has a lot of opinions about baseball. What he does not have is an understanding of the rules. They’re not even into the second inning by the time Eliot finally snaps and starts arguing with him about it.

They make it all the way to the fifth inning before Eliot realizes that Hardison’s basing his complaints off the rules of a game from a Star Wars novel.

They’re at the bottom of the eighth before Eliot will speak to him again.

~

5. Eliot and Parker are drunk again. This is not intentional. They didn’t even mean to come to this bar, but the smoothie place with the fried oreos that Eliot had brought Parker here to try was playing such incredibly bad music that they’d ordered the oreos to go and fled. The bar was just the coziest looking place on the block, and of course they’d ordered drinks to avoid being rude––Eliot had entertained himself for a few minutes scouring the menu for something that would pair well with fried oreos and popcorn chicken.

And now they’re drunk. The conversation has, perhaps inevitably, turned to the ongoing bet.

“I tried everything!” Parker wails. “I laughed at every joke, I touched my hair constantly, I got him talking about things he likes.” She thunks her forehead on the bar. “All that happened is now I know the complete history of orcs in western literature.”

“Hardison wouldn’t know flirting if it pinched him on the ass,” Eliot grumbles.

Parker slaps his arm. “No pinching Hardison!”

“I’m not going to—I don’t pinch people!”

Parker’s ignoring him. Eliot pouts and takes another sip of his drink. He’s not entirely sure what this one is––it’s blue and kind of fizzy, that’s all he can say for sure. Parker took over the drinks menu several glasses ago, and she’s been picking them based on what has the most fun name to say. Eliot’s pretty sure the alcohol content’s been doubling with each order.

“Eliot,” Parker slurs, “we need to work together.”

“What?”

Parker lifts her head from the bar and frowns at him, the way she does when she’s figured out the obvious solution and is just waiting for everyone else to get on the same page. It’s adorable. It’s always adorable, but right now her eyes are wide and slightly unfocused from the alcohol and she’s listing sideways a little, almost as if she’s unbalanced, and it is the most adorable thing Eliot has ever seen. Parker’s never unbalanced, but some part of Eliot’s fuzzy brain thinks she’s about to fall on top of him and cannot wait to catch her.

“You can’t seduce Hardison,” Parker points out. Eliot is drunk enough to get offended by this, but too drunk to get out a complaint before she continues, “I can’t seduce Hardison. But if we work together, the two of us can definitely seduce Hardison. Together.”

Eliot stares at her. Then he takes another sip of his fizzy blue drink. Later, when questioned, he will blame his next words on that drink.

“Worth a shot.”

They take Hardison to a movie. They research for three weeks beforehand. They find the best movie theater in town, with the nicest seats, the biggest screens, and concession snacks that Hardison likes, and they buy tickets for the midnight premiere of the superhero movie that Hardison hasn’t shut up about for the past month. Parker even hacks into the theater’s computers in a last-minute fit of nerves and cross-references the credit cards with drivers’ licenses to make sure the people sitting in front of them won’t be too tall.

Parker witnesses a kidnapping in the parking lot while the boys are getting popcorn. They don’t even stay long enough to catch the commercials.

~

+ 1. “Hey Eliot,” Hardison says during movie night, a little over a week later. “Remember the Ice Man Job?”

Eliot groans. “I try not to.”

Hardison throws a piece of popcorn at his face. “Shut up. Remember how you did your hair for that one? With the little—those little beads on, like, a braid?”

Eliot shoots Hardison a suspicious glance. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Teach me how to do that.”

Eliot shoots Hardison another, more deliberate look, this one pointedly directed at Hardison’s complete lack of braidable locks.

Hardison rolls his eyes as if that’s a silly detail to get hung up on and leans forward to dig around in one of the boxes he has under his coffee table. He emerges with a ziplock bag of plastic beads in no time flat and hands it triumphantly to Eliot. Then he yanks a few cushions out from behind Parker, who’s sitting on his other side, and puts them on the floor in front of him. “Sit here?” he asks Parker, patting the cushion pile.

Parker takes a moment to consider being offended at having her cushions stolen, but curiosity gets the better of her and she just plops down between Hardison’s legs, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she goes, and waits.

Hardison lifts her hair with sudden gentleness, drawing it over her shoulders and letting it fall down her back in a golden wave. His fingers brush against her neck. Parker shivers. Eliot is distantly aware that he’s gone perfectly still, focused with a hunter’s intensity on Hardison’s dark, graceful fingers carding through Parker’s hair.

Hardison leans back, hands on his knees, and Eliot breathes again. “Well?” Hardison looks over at Eliot, a tiny smirk of challenge on his lips. “Show me how it’s done.”

Eliot is suddenly, brutally aware of how close they are. Hardison’s couch is obscenely comfortable, which is half the reason movie nights are at Hardison’s in the first place, but it is not large. Their thighs are touching. Hardison leans away, to give Eliot access to Parker’s hair, and he’s still so close that Eliot would barely have to reach out a hand to—

Eliot ruthlessly shoves that thought down into the dark where it belongs. He dealt with this, he dealt with this years ago, and accepting Parker’s stupid bet doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the way Hardison and Parker look at each other. It just means he doesn’t mind losing for a good cause.

So he keeps his tone steady and his fingers brisk as he shows Hardison how to braid the clunky plastic beads into Parker’s hair, and if he flushes with heat when their hands brush each other, well, nobody has to know. He’s been trained to withstand eight different schools of torture. It won’t show on his face. His voice never once falters.

Parker has had no such training. Her lips have parted, and her breathing is shallow. She’s staring glassy-eyed at the TV. Hardison can’t see her face, sitting behind her, but Eliot watches her carefully, worried that they need to call this off. Parker’s not used to intimacy, to closeness that means something, and for all the three of them have spent half their movie nights literally on top of each other, this is something else. This has weight.

Eliot puts a hand on her shoulder, pressing down just enough that Parker startles and cants a glance over at him. Eliot raises his eyebrows in question, and Parker glares back: don’t you fucking dare. Eliot backs off. Hardison, frowning in concentration as he threads a wisp of Parker’s hair through a green bead, graciously pretends he didn’t see the exchange.

Hardison gets the hang of the beading fairly quickly, and Eliot shows him a few different techniques. He’s almost managed to convince himself that nothing is actually happening when Hardison says, conversationally, “You two are really bad at this.”

Eliot glowers his confusion. “At movie night? You started this, if you wanted to actually watch Alien then you shouldn’t have—”

Hardison’s smile is soft, but Eliot decides for his own safety to focus on the laughter at its edge. “No, at this.” And then he slides his hand onto Parker’s neck, caresses her cheek, and isn’t the slightest bit surprised when she gasps.

Parker whips around, and there’s hurt on her face but it dies in the glow of Hardison’s gentle, unteasing smile. Hardison pulls her up with the lightest of touches, and she goes, eyes fixed on his like salvation.

They kiss sweet and slow, and Eliot’s heart twists in his chest and he can’t breathe. He needs to leave now before he shatters in half, but if he moves then they will look at him, and he would rather never breathe again than meet their eyes right now.

Hardison breaks off the kiss, gazing at Parker with something just this side of wonder, and then he does look at Eliot. Eliot flinches. He opens his mouth to…say something, make some joke or hasty excuse and scramble out the door, but Hardison raises a hand to Eliot’s face, slides his long fingers to cup Eliot’s neck, and pulls him forward, as gently as he did Parker.

It’s a chaste kiss, no more than a soft press of lips, because Eliot is too stunned to respond and Hardison doesn’t push. It lasts a long time. A whole era of change happens in the span of that kiss, as everything Eliot thought he knew tears out of place and then settles, gingerly, into a new understanding.

Hardison pulls away, his hand still warm on the back of Eliot’s neck. His smile is pure sunshine. Eliot finds himself smiling back, helpless.

Hardison’s grin turns smug. “And that,” he says, looking between Eliot and Parker, “is how you do it. Y’all are disasters, honestly, I can’t believe two master criminals working together couldn’t manage a single real date—”

Eliot heaves a deep sigh and drags Hardison into a headlock, pinning his arms when he flails. Parker surges to her knees and starts tickling him mercilessly.

They don’t finish the movie.

[lordsavemepleaseineedhelp]

Demons by technoblade

chapter 1: this thread... woo...

chapter 2: https://hypixel.net/threads/story-demons-ch-2.621875/

chapter 3: https://hypixel.net/threads/»-story-demons-ch-3.682724/

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

It had been a pretty terrible day- which is to say, it had been completely normal. After seven hours of desperately trying to keep up with the material learned in each class, I was more than ready to go home. At the front of the class stood Monsieur Merlin, who was wrapping up his lesson on the French past tense- something which I had been completely ignoring. It had been a long day, don't judge me. I'd have plenty of time to learn it later, when I wasn't worn out from school. The bell rang, and our French instructor made a brief announcement- except it was in French, naturally, so I barely understood it. I made out the words 'test' and 'tomorrow,' which rarely meant anything good.

As my classmates quickly escaped the room, I walked up to his desk- he'd asked that I turn in my late assignment after class, which I suspected was more about inconveniencing me than anything else. I started to speak.

"Hi, I have-"

He swiftly interrupted. "PARLEZ-VOUS FRANCAIS!"

Oh, right. I had to speak to him in French. I quickly reviewed tenses and sentence structures in my head, and then gave up and held up my assignment.

"Mon... devoir?"

He sighed, likely because every aspect of my French was an insult to his teaching ability. He reached to take the paper, and right as he closed his hands around my vocabulary list, he froze. His eyes were locked on something behind me.

"Wha-" is all I managed to say, before he dropped my assignment and threw me into the wall.

It hurt. I hit the floor, and started to get up- I was pissed. But my anger quickly turned to shock as I saw three men with assault rifles at the back of the class room, right in front of a large, fluctuating purple hole in the wall. The French teacher ripped his necklace off, shouting something- probably in French, I wouldn't know- as they opened fire. But the bullets didn't hit him- they all bounced off some invisible barrier only a few feet in front of him.

"WILL!" he shouted. "DONNEZ-MOI MON SACHET!"

"What?"

He paused, and then remembered my comprehension of french language.

"GET MY BAG!"

It seemed an unusual request, but given the number of high-power assault rifles being fired in our immediate vicinity, I didn't question it. I turned to his desk, grabbing his bag. I started to get up, but stopped when I saw them.

The men had stopped shooting, and the one closest to him had thrown down his gun. He advanced slowly- his face completely expressionless- as he pulled out a stick. Suddenly he leaped forward, slashing as his stick transformed into a long, glowing purple blade- it hit the barrier in front of the Monsieur, shattering it. He quickly stepped forward, swinging again, and my French teacher frantically stepped back- into a wall. The blade narrowly missed him, but he started to swing again.

My French teacher threw his hand out- not at his attacker, but at me. He yelled something, probably in French, and there was a sudden flash as his bag exploded with blinding light. Everything went purple- and suddenly there was silence. And as my vision returned seconds later, I found that I was alone, in a room I'd never seen before.

chapter 1: https://hypixel.net/threads/story-demons-ch-1.615859/

chapter 2: this thread dude

chapter 3: https://hypixel.net/threads/»-story-demons-ch-3.682724/

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

Extremely alarmed, I put down the bag and got up. I looked around- was this someone's living room? The room was empty, except for a dust-covered wooden table at the end of the room accompanied by a few plain chairs. The only other identifiable part of the room was the door next to me. What happened? Where was I? I began to panic.

"Hello?" I asked, almost yelling.

But nobody answered- instead, the bag just... glowed red. I crouched and opened it. The bag was filled with various items, of course, but many of them didn't make any sense. But before I could investigate, I saw the necklace. The necklace consisted of a silver chain attached to a ruby framed in gold, which let out a red glow- one that intensified when I reached for it. I picked it up, and suddenly the light flashed as a miniature man appeared on my hand, slightly transparent and as red as the ruby itself.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

I've never been fond of horror games, and certainly not jump-scares; this was no exception. I flinched, dropping the necklace, and fell backwards awkwardly as the man disappeared. I frantically scrambled up and backed away.

I stared at the bag for a few seconds, and then the red light returned. What? I considered leaving it there- I was thoroughly spooked- but I was curious. I slowly approached and picked it up again. The man appeared again, clearly miffed.

"Rude." he said. "Who are you?"

I was speechless for a few seconds, but then I recovered.

"I'm, uh, Will?" I responded, hesitantly.

"Who? Where's John? I heard gunshots."

"John? Wait, do you mean Monsieur Mer-?"

He interrupted me with an impatient wave of his hand. "Yes, him. What happened to him?"

"I don't know. There were some guys who showed up out of nowhere with guns, and suddenly I was here."

The red man paused for a second, and then continued asking questions, pacing on my hand.

"What did they look like?"

"Well, they were, uh, in suits. There were three of them, and they had huge guns. They came out of nowhere and just started shooting at him."

"What happened to John?"

"You mean-"

He cut me off instantly. "Yes, him, what happened to him?"

"I don't know. He yelled something and suddenly I was here with his bag."

He paused, deep in thought. Then he turned to face me.

"So you're my new carrier, huh?"

"What?"

"John's dead, and you're the one he gave me to. So you're the new carrier."

"What?" I repeated. "Monsieur Mer- I mean, John- he's dead?"

He looked at me like it was the most casual event in the world. "Well, all of his weapons are in that bag. Wizards can't do anything without tools. And shooting at someone demonstrates a distinct lack of concern for their well-being, so yeah, he's probably dead."

"Wait- wizard?"

He looked at me, again, like this was everyday stuff. "Well, yeah. His alias was Merlin, it wasn't exactly a secret."

"But... that means wizards are real."

He glanced at me, and then suddenly realized the magnitude of my ignorance. "Oh no," he said, stunned. "He's left me with an idiot."

I still had no idea what was going on. "But... wizards? That means magic is real. And other things. Like zombies, and vampires. What's going on?"

He let out an exasperated sigh. "No, no, zombies aren't real. Well, I mean, they are, but they're pretty rare, don't worry about it. And vampires went extinct ages ago." He looked around, absorbing the empty room. "Which safe house are we at?"

"What?" I asked- it was quickly becoming my new catch phrase.

"John sent us to a safe house. Go get the map." He gestured at the bag. I looked through it, noting what appeared to be several small, purple-tinted glass frisbees and a stick, and then I saw it. I drew it out and unraveled it. It didn't look like a map at all. But the red man walked across my hand and touched it, and suddenly the paper changed, a map of the United States appearing. A red dot appeared in the lower right.

"Ah," he began. "We're in the Florida one."

"What?!" I exclaimed. "I live in Nevada!"

"That's too bad. You're my carrier now, it's up to you to keep me safe."

"Carrier? What?"

He sighed, as if this was common knowledge that I should have known all along. "Alright, listen here. My name is Matchitehew, Destroyer of-"

"Matchiwhat?"

He sighed again. "Just call me Mat. Anyways, John's dead, so you're my new carrier. There's people that want to destroy me, and it's up to you to make sure that doesn't happen."

"But... why do they want to destroy you?"

"It's a long story. But I'm one of the few things remaining that stands between them and their goal, and they cannot be allowed to succeed."

"Why?"

"Well," he said, dramatically pausing. "The world won't be around much longer after they do."

chapter 1: https://hypixel.net/threads/story-demons-ch-1.615859/

chapter 2: https://hypixel.net/threads/story-demons-ch-2.621875/

chapter 3: spoiler alert, it's this thread

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

"This is ridiculous." I said, holding up my arms to examine my new wizard robes. Mat appeared in front of me, floating at head level, transparent and half a foot tall. He quickly absorbed my appearance, and grimaced.

"It really is. Wizard fashion was always appalling. But you'll need the disguise if you want to get far past that door. Nobody can know you're a... normal. They'll tear you apart."

"Surely they're not that bad."

"Some of them are. Just go with it. Don't let anyone know I'm here, and if you encounter trouble- well, that's what the hand gun is for."

I looked down into the bag, where the black pistol lay ominously at the top of an unorganized pile of random loot. Spying a smooth, stick at the bottom, I asked:

"Is this a wand? How does it work?"

"It is, and it doesn't. Not unless you're a wizard."

"Well why not?"

He sighed.

"Well, their souls are different."

"Souls?"

"Everyone has a soul. I have a soul. You have a soul. Hell, raccoons have souls. Some have bigger ones, some have smaller. But they're all different types. They keep us conscious, they let us feel emotion, and depending on the type, they give us powers. Wizards' souls are used to power their equipment."

"So I can't use any of this?" I said, nodding towards the bag.

"Not a lot of it. Some parts have their own energy sources though."

"So why the hell am I bringing all of it?"

"The robe doesn't make the wizard, the bag full of unpredictable magic does. Nobody's going to leave you alone if they think you don't have several weapons of mass destruction in there."

I turned to look at him.

"Weapons of mass destruction?"

He shrugged.

"Well, one." he said, almost sounding embarrassed.

"What do you mean one?!"

"They're hard to come by, ok? I'm not the one with a physical body. Not my fault John only gathered one. I told him to go snatch a nuke during the collapse of the Soviet Union, but noooo, apparently 1 ton of TNT is enough." He rolled his eyes. "How are we supposed to be feared if we only have one ton of TNT?"

I looked back in the bag. I didn't see any explosives.

"But there's no TNT in here."

"Well, obviously we've hidden it. I think it's the band-aid."

I rooted around in the bag, and finally saw it. I pulled out the band-aid and admired the purple Dora the Explorer logo on it. "You mean this?"

"That's the one! Useful if we ever need to destroy a city block."

"Why would we need to-"

He cut me off. "It's good to be prepared for anything." There was an awkward pause, and he turned towards the door. "Time to go. You've got the hand-gun ready, right?"

I double checked- it was still at the top of the bag. "Isn't it a little suspicious that a wizard is using a gun?"

"Nonsense. Plus, it's a magic gun. Well I mean, it shoots magic. It's complicated. Anyhow, everyone uses guns."

"Don't they have magic?"

"We don't really refer to it as magic, but yes, they have powers. And they do use them to fight. But if there's anything you humans are good at, it's designing weapons..." He drifted off, lost in thought. Probably dreaming of more weapons of mass destruction. At any rate, I'd had enough.

"How will I get home?"

"Home? You're my carrier. You don't have a home."

"What if I don't want to be your carrier?"

"Hey, I didn't ask for this either. But life isn't perfect, and there's no one out there we can trust."

"What if I find someone trustworthy?"

He snorted. "Nobody's trustworthy."

"But you trust me."

"No, not really. I just don't really have a choice." He scowled, and fell silent. Then he started again.

"Look, they'll find us if we don't keep moving. They always do. That was John's mistake, he stayed in the same place. If you want to survive, you're going to have to learn how to run."

I turned towards the door. "But what about my life? I can't leave that behind."

He rolled his eyes. "You hated your life. Why would you go back?"

I froze. "What?"

"You did."

"How would you know?"

"I can see it in your aura."

He paused, and then continued. "Oh. You didn't know what that is either. It's, uh, basically the visible effect your soul has around you. Almost no one can see it- only the soulcasters and demons, really."

He squinted at me. "Nope, you're still confused. But we need to go."

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, I turned towards the door. I opened it, and stepped outside, ready to encounter a magical world I'd never seen before.

[asterekmess]

S3A - E1

Okay, instead of making like massive reblogs of thoughts as I have them for the episodes, I’m gonna just make a massive bullet point list that I’ll add to throughout the episode, so you get One post per episode instead of “Like all nine million of them.”

I put Read-More’s because I care.

Thoughts (of which I have far too many):

I’m in the first ten seconds of the fuckin episode. Why the fuck is Braeden electrocuting Isaac? Like, look, I wanna like Braeden. I have issues with her entire moral system, but I still wanna like her cus’ she saves Isaac. But...how am I supposed to do that when the literal first thing she does is electrocute my boy??? He’s knocked out, not DEAD (not that that’s how shocking someone’s heart even Works) and it’s not like she needs to trigger the healing process. He’s already got Gaping slash wounds on his chest. He’s hurt enough. ALSO. “Be quiet”?? R U Serious? You’re electrocuting him. YOU try being quiet with fucking jumper cables on your chest.

The CGI...is so bad. Oh my god. What the absolute fuck. it looks like Sharkboy & Lavagirl. And why aren’t Ethan & Aiden’s claws doing anything to the bike?

I AM CONFUSION. If the twins don’t have to take their pants off to do the Transformers shit, why do they have to take off their shirts? Can...can I just skip that? Make the big bad werewolf wear an ugly hybrid of two of their stupid ass sweaters? Or do Ethan and Aiden really just like being shirtless that much? (I wouldn’t put it past them)

What is with Braeden and the electricity?

The writing in this show, what the fuck? “I thought I told you to hold on” EXCUSE ME, ma’am. He literally just passed out. His bad I guess.

Guess who has to add the anti-scott tag to this now? Anyway, I hate that Allison’s bit in the intro is her kissing Scott and then drawing the bow. Like, they’re broken up. They don’t get together in this season. Why are they kissing in the intro? That had to have Totally pissed off Scallison fans.

There’s my boy, holding up lizard tattoo designs. Pls tell me he took a pic and sent it to Jackson with the caption “It’s YOU.” Like, yes, way too soon, but man it’s fuckin funny.

This tattoo artist is a good-ass salesman. However, p-sure he’s not a good-ass artist if he had to wrap Scott’s arm up That badly. Like...they have stuff for that. Fuck, the one I got on my ankle, they used SaranWrap and Tape. Just needs to be kept out of the open air for a bit. You don’t need like eight layers of gauze. I do feel for Scott tho. That tat probably cost him like $50-75 before the tip. Oof.

Eyyy, time to be salty. Ya’ll know I love Allison, but does it get any more clear that she totally bailed on everyone after the warehouse? She went to France! She doesn’t even know what happened to Jackson after he got cured. ALSO. Lydia says “Derek taught him the werewolf 101.” Not Scott. Derek. XP

Lydia, honey, leave Allison alone. If she doesn’t want to go on the double date, go alone and make it an orgy. Fun, right? Wait, no. Don’t. You’re 16. Don’t do that!

When exactly did they “agree to give each other the summer”? She said “I’m breaking up with you.” he said “I’ll wait” and then she cried into her dad’s arms. Like...why didn’t we get to see this apparently incredibly important conversation? (maybe because it didn’t happen??)

I fucking LOVE the “I’m just gonna say hi. HEYYYYY! You know....they probably didn’t see us.”

The most horrific thing about that moment was the bad CGI.

I WANNA POINT OUT how cute it is (in a like, sad way cus’ she’s terrified) that Lydia is close enough to Stiles now that she immediately goes for his side and they like insta connect with the eye contact. Not in like a Stydia way, but like, they’re close. she trusts him and goes to him when she’s scared, even though he’s human and you’d wonder if she shouldn’t go to Scott instead, since he’s the werewolf.

SCOTT WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING THE DEAD DEER. Your ability to smell chemosignals/sense emotions has nothing to do with touching. Stop poking the dead animal.

Wait, WHY is there a full moon in that shot? The full moon isn’t for like a week! I COUNTED.

...what? Why the fuck does Braeden think Scott’s an Alpha? Why tho? Like, seriously? WHY? He’s not an Alpha yet. Nowhere near it. And if she knows bc Deaton told her (i think he was the one who hired her) then shouldn’t she know he isn’t one yet? IF SHE KNOWS that she can tell Melissa abt werewolves, WHY doesn’t she know that Scott’s Melissa’s son? Where is the LOGIC?

Scott’s morning routine is giving me Legally Blonde vibes. ~my perrrfectt dayyy, nothing standing in my wayyy~

I can’t tell. did Allison get highlights, or straight up dye her hair brown?

This sweet moment between her and her dad. Yes. Pls.

I will admit, I like getting to see each of their mornings.

Lydia...who are you fucking? Honey, you’re sixteen. Why isn’t whoever the fuck is in bed with you also getting ready for school? What.....the fuck?

Completely different Beacon Hills High School set. I really can’t blame the writers for that.

Wtf Davis? You list Erica and Boyd as being 17...since when? They’re supposed to be entering their Junior Year of high school. They would be 16 GOING ON 17. ANd what the hell do you mean Erica’s birthday is August 16th? She said in the last season that she’d “Just turned 16 a month ago” that was Spring semester. ???? Come on, guys. Seriously. Writing 101, getting to know your characters. I don’t know anyone writing a novel who doesn’t know the exact birthday of their characters. Plus, they cut 2 in. from Gage Golightly’s actual height, while adding an inch to Sinqua’s (according to google, which isn’t always reliable) Whatever. Boooooo.

Uh...that principal was threatened by the Argents. Victoria herself promised to torture him if he didn’t resign. Why does he look so surprised by the fucking sword in his office? For that matter, why is he at the school at all? He KNOWS the Argents attacked him. This should cause problems!

Honestly, Lydia, I love you. Like, go for it. Nothing wrong with not wanting to date and just wanting to have fun. My issues stem from YOU BEING 16. Yes, teenagers have sex. But this is ridiculous. Why is there so much sexualization? I knew a grand total of like....two teenagers who had sex at 16? and like one who did at 15 (which they say in canon she and Jackson were banging before her birthday). Like, it’s not nearly as common as y’all are making it out to be. Knock it off.

WHEN DID MELISSA MEET ISAAC PROPERLY? WHEN did that HAPPEN?

....so why didn’t Derek answer the phone? They literally never explain? He shows up, so...why didn’t he answer?

I’m SO InCredibly Disturbed by Jennifer having everyone’s phone numbers. HOW? In What Way is that REMOTELY appropriate? WHY did no one question it? Why didn’t STILES or LYDIA question it?

So tiny, bugs me so much. He didn’t turn his phone off. He turned his screen off...is it that hard to have him do the right one?

uhhh. Werewolves can smell other werewolves. Wanna tell me why Isaac can’t tell a werewolf just walked in the room? An ALPHA no less?

why TF are Kali’s iris’ and pupils so fucking massive?

So...what was the deal with the birds? Don’t they say later that Jennifer like summoned them? So they aren’t from the Alpha pack scaring animals? And also, how would the Alpha pack be scaring animals if they’re like, in the middle of town? They said in S1 that “wild animal sightings are up” like what 75% or something? “As though something is scaring them out” but that made sense, bc we knew Peter was running around in his full-shift (it’s a fucking full shift, it’s just fucked up) in the woods. But these Alphas aren’t, they’re integrating. So is it Jennifer that the animals are afraid of? Like, does she have sPoOkY aura or something?

More bad CGI.

WHy is no one responding to the woman stumbling around in nothing but a hospital gown?

ONCE AGAIN. Werewolves can Sense Werewolves. SCOTT you sensed Isaac in a BOYS LOCKER ROOM. DUKE IS RIGHT THERE. WHT THE FUCK?

angry smoker doctor  “Why don’t you wheel this joker out of here?” “I’m gonna go smoke” Grrr

Sir. clearly your mask wasn’t tied on appropriately. it shouldn’t just Fall Off when you touch it. there are Protocols! STOP THE SPREAD. also, someone wanna tell me why none of these alphas can keep their claws in? A lil flashy flashy red eye would’ve done the trick just fine.

Okay no, seriously what the FUCK is up with these contacts, you guys? THEY”RE MASSIVE???

Ugh, can I just *swoons* “I’m an Alpha!” slice “So am I.” That is just so fucking smooth. Woo. I feel so safe ohmygod. PLUS. Derek KNOWS Ennis. I can’t imagine how satisfying that had to be.

Uh, Derek, honey. You’re Isaac’s legal guardian. You can just Sign Him Out of the hospital. With clothes and everything. What are you doing?

Honey, what do you mean the county took it over? If they were gonna do that they’d have done it six fucking years ago. Unless you gave it to them, it’s still yours? I did the research. Like HOURS of it.

What do you MEAN there’s a magic healing herb that helps with Alpha wounds? Since when do Alpha wounds need extra healing, I thought they just took a lil longer? ALSO why is it growing INSIDE your house???? SCOTT. Isaac is fucking UNCONSCIOUS. Can your tattoo fucking WAIT A MINUTE?

I have so many questions. WHY does Braeden know who Allison is? If Lydia’s immune to magic, WHY is Braeden able to bruise her? WHY can Braeden DO magic? and WHY is Chris allowed to take Lydia out of school?

ALLISON you had Geometry LAST YEAR why are you holding a GEOMETRY BOOK??

ohhhhmygod, Derek. Derek. DEREK. Your eyes are pretty on a normal day. That little Blink and ruby reds thing? Ohmygod. I just. I wanna take a picture and just stare at it BUT. how tf does this whole red eye thing work? You can see in the dark....but now you also have x-ray vision? You know, I could believe it was thermal vision...maybe? If Scott was still healing for some reason maybe the tattoo would be brighter? Otherwise I have no idea what is going on.

BUT SCOTT”S NOT 18??? He’s Still fucking 16, or even 17, but not 18. WTF? He needs parental consent in the first place (i should’ve mentioned this in the other note abt the tattoo)

uhh...seriously? When someone breaks up with you and tells you not to talk to them anymore...why do you need a reward for doing as they asked? Like, yeah, you’re sad, I feel that. But making it a ‘reward’ sounds kinda weird. You know what makes it really easy not to text the ex that doesn’t wanna talk to you? Delete her number.

WHY THE BLOWTORCH? SOMEONE WANNA EXPLAIN? Peter’s not covered in tattoo from when he was literally burned alive, why the FUCK would a blowtorch create a black tattoo on Scott’s skin?

DEREK. HONEY. Why would Stiles be able to hold Scott still??? Scott’s a werewolf.

All this bullshit to explain away Posey’s tattoo that he got. Like, damn dude, we all like tattoos, but you have a job that needs bare arms on the regular. That was kinda rude.

Where did braeden get clothes? I forgot to ask.

uhhhh. Ephemeral might technically work in that sentence, but that’s still really awkward.

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DESTROY HIS DOOR? YOU FUCKING ASSHAT. And WHY the instant fucking grr face? “why’d you paint the door?” uhh, leave him alone? He can do what he wants? It’s his house? Also, don’t get all fucking rude about the alpha pack. He told you it was a rival pack.

KALI. PUT SOME FUCKING SHOES ON. JESUS.

Why exactly does Scott see the symbol and INSTANTLY put together that it’s got anything to do with the Alphas or the animal attacks? Where is the logic jump there?

What exactly was the POINT of popping your claws if you were gonna kick her in the face???

UH, Melissa? Why didn’t you tell Scott that there was a whole other person with Isaac?

What is with the face touching, Duke? I’ve never known a blind person who actually wanted to rub their hands on my face to ‘find out what i look like?’

Really not a fan of all these weird jumps and camera angles with the awkward reflecting.

WOah WOah. Allison gets to PAINT her APARTMENT? Wtf kinda BULlshit is that? My landlord won’t let me do that. Rude.

I know they’re imprisoned and it sucks, but they’ve been there for four months, they had to have gotten bored. Do you think they broke into any of the security deposit boxes to see if anything was left behind?

Last thoughts: They really went for it with this episode. I have plans to change a lot of it. Hopefully I can mesh the changes with the general plotline.

[freckled-words]

For The King - Part Three

Are you READY for the beginning of some Dragon King antics? Cause I am stoked to get your thoughts on this chapter. This is where I picked up the actual idea that Anon was requesting ah ha ~

Edited by @the-wild-ego​

PART ONE / PART TWO

By the third year of your duty as the King’s personal servant, you had confirmed a suspicion you’d had of him when you were a child.

Fierce, greedy, and cruel as he could be, King Phantom still had moments of vulnerability. It was these moments that you saw the truth of why he’d wanted to keep you at his side. He was wanting companionship.

Not the romantic variety of companionship, that was certain. There had been numerous attempts by courtesans, noble daughters and sons, and widowed royalty to woo the Dragon King. All had been treated with disdain and were dismissed. 

One particular incident involved a cocky prince being thrown out of the palace. From the roof. Into the flesh eating fish moat beneath. ( King Phantom received a letter from the newly appointed Princess of that Prince’s kingdom in thanks, along with a small chest of treasures.) 

As much as you wanted to move on with your life, and pursue your passions away from servitude, you never once considered asking for your freedom. 

At night on your cot, when you asked yourself why that was, you answered with, “My being here might make a difference one day.” Given that the King had not changed his disposition in the centuries of his rule, you didn’t think it possible, yet it was still a hope.

************

“Y/N, come here.”

You’d been dozing in the back corner of the throne room while the King addressed the citizens concerns.

The last had just left, and the guards had followed along to close up the large throne doors. It was nearing noon at this point and the rest of the day would normally be spent with the King lounging or looking over reports from his generals and spies. King Phantom sincerely didn’t care just how much you knew about the goings on.

Going to his side, you reflexively asked, “Yes, my King?”

“Tell me, in your own words, what would cease my people’s constant complaints? Dealing with their petty problems grows more bothersome by the day, as of late.” King Phantom shifted in his throne, angling himself to have a clear view of your expression. After that day when you had spoken frankly to him as a dragon, he found he rather enjoyed seeing your moments of genuine expression and hearing your thoughts. It was refreshing after being praised or cursed for hundreds of years.

This had, indeed, left you bewildered. Here was the King asking you, the servant, on how to handle the common people. 

Trusting the King to keep his word about ending your life quickly, you told him bluntly, “For starters, and I ask your forgiveness, but you did ask, you could be less of a jackass your Majesty.”

King Phantom rolled his eyes, “I’ll continue acting as I please. Give me another.”

Your posture relaxed and you looked down at the expanse of the throne room’s vast hall, “What if you didn’t have to listen to the complaints? Instead you assigned an advisor, or appoint a group of people that know the city best to handle the people they know? If there are any major crimes or blood feuds, then you step in.” 

With a few years in attendance to the King’s meetings with the people, you’d noticed that he didn’t care enough to give fair judgments. Often leading to bigger feuds or issues a few months later. If people that knew the locals, and knew the King’s laws best, were put in charge less problems could arise.

King Phantom mulled this over. It would remove a majority of the complaints in the morning, if not all together, and free up his time for more leisurely activities. 

He flicked his hand in a sign of dismissal and conjured a small orb in his palm. This spell allowed him to summon people he needed, which at present, was a scribe to write down letters of summoning. 

You went to the kitchen from there, to see if you could beg the cook for a small tidbit. It wasn’t quite noon meal time yet, but you’d eaten a smaller breakfast that morning. Not by your own choice, of course, you’d been pulled away by the King demanding you help him choose which tunic to wear that morning. 

You were in luck, the cook was in a good mood and was happy to give you a roll and a handful of grapes. 

You ate and walked back towards the throne room, as it had been plenty of time for the King to get his ideas in order and deal with whoever needed dealing with. 

As you passed an alcove, you heard hushed whispers. Being unfortunately curious, you pulled back against the wall and listened.

“I swear it will work!” Insisted a man.

“For all that she paid for it, it better. Or she’ll be taking her gold back out of our hides! How are we supposed to use it?” Questioned a second man.

“I’ve got an in with a sweetheart in the kitchen. She’ll sneak it into his noon meal.” Explained the first man.

“He spells all his food, if anything is poisoned it burns up!” Complained a third man. There came a sound of flesh hitting flesh, and a muffled “Ow!”

“Keep your bloody voice down and listen you sod. That’s why I’m saying it’ll work! The witch I bought this from brewed it up special, it’s not going to burn up. He’ll think it’s safe, and ta-da, the monster King is dead.” The first man proclaimed smugly.

You’d heard enough. Spinning on your heel, you hurried back the way you’d come. 

You had to warn the King. Regardless if that supposed poison would truly work or burn up, you didn’t want to take a chance of it succeeding. 

You couldn’t identify the three men talking, meaning they were either new to the palace, or were usually not within your sphere of interaction. They’d sounded like men that didn’t have the smarts to come up with an elaborate plan, and they’d mentioned a woman’s involvement. If a group like that were investing their money in killing the King, then they’d have plans that could spell trouble for the rest of the Kingdom after.

He wasn’t in the throne room where you left him. Spotting a page cleaning up, you asked if he’d seen where the King had gone. The page said he heard the King muttering about food.

Your heart crept up your throat. He’d gone to the dining room, which was nearly the other end of the palace. If you didn’t reach him by the time he’d tested his food, you may be too late.

All sense of decorum was tossed aside as you ran as fast as your legs would carry you. A bell tolled from the city center, alerting everyone that it was the point in the day when the sun was at its peak. Time for the noon meal. 

Any palace personnel you passed in your mad dash stopped what they were doing to watch. They would often rely on you to know of the King’s mood. To see you in a state of panic, told them that something must be terribly wrong. Any not in the middle of completing a necessary task, abandoned their work and hurried off to warn others.

*****

King Phantom took his seat at his large table, and surveyed the food waiting for him. He ate light in the mornings, heavier at noon, and heavier still at night. There were plates loaded with dried meat, cooked meat, cold meat, and stewed meat. Despite popular belief, he did enjoy fruits and vegetables as well. Leading to bowls of plump grapes, sliced apples, peeled oranges, soups loaded with onions, broccoli, carrots, and peas. Potatoes cooked in various forms were a favorite. And of course, a vast array of desserts ranging between pies, puddings, cakes, and a recent treat that’s been quickly becoming popular, caramel candies.

By reflex, King Phantom flicked his hand out and sent a shimmering wave of red power over the food. 

To his disappointment, the only thing to turn to ash were the bowl of caramel candies. He’d really been looking forward to trying them. A servant immediately cleaned away the bowl of ashes, and a dish with a raspberry chocolate cake took its place. He cast the spell once more, and the cake came up clean. 

Having taken up the mantle of King, Phantom had learned the proper etiquette expected of his rank. Which meant eating his food in a certain order. He pulled the nearest bowl of stew towards himself and breathed in its savory scent. Potatoes, beef, carrots, peas, onions, corns, and a dash of spice seasoning to give it a kick. Exactly how he liked it.

Behind him, one of the kitchen maids twisted the handkerchief in her apron pocket. She’d taken a guess at which bowl the King would reach for first, and her guess had paid off. Her man would be pleased with her. 

King Phantom filled his spoon with a chunk of beef and broth, and raised it to his lips.

“YOUR MAJESTY, STOP!” The spoon was slapped from his hand, the bowl was swept off the table. The broth splashed across the wood floor, splattering on chair legs and the base of the table.

The servants present froze in place, not daring to even blink.

King Phantom could only stare in genuine shock as his servant collapsed to their knees, gasping for air as they struggled to breathe. 

The sound of sizzling drew his attention to the mess on the floor. Wherever the broth and food pieces had landed, now eroded from their poisonous touch, leaving blackened holes in their wake.

He’d just about swallowed poison that had managed to withstand his magic. This was a working that would have certainly ended him, as anything that could withstand the magic of a dragon could kill that dragon. 

The food had been laid out before he had arrived, which would make the perpetrator safe from his scrutiny. Or so they’d hoped.

He snapped his fingers and the bowl’s sides took on a ruby glow showing where fingers had touched. Turning in a circle, he scanned over each person present in the room. He stopped when he faced the maid that had taken up the station behind him. Her hands were clasped in front of her, giving him a clear view of her now glowing fingers.

Advancing on her, he demanded, “Did you place the poison in my food? Speak truth, wench.” Another flick of his hand and his shimmering magic covered her.

She pressed a hand over her mouth, fighting to keep her lips still as she furiously shook her head in denial. 

King Phantom slapped her hands away, and pinned her to the wall with a hand to her throat, “Speak!”

Gasping, she broke into tears, “Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Guards, take this filth from my sight.” He threw her to the ground and left her to the guards that immediately swarmed on her.

In this time, you’d finally calmed your breathing. Getting to your feet, you met your King’s infuriated gaze. You hadn’t anticipated this, causing you to take a startled step back, “Y-your Majesty?”

“How did you know? Were you part of this? Were you working with that waste of life to get rid of me and changed your mind at the last second?” He stepped closer, looming over you with his anger barely in check.

You lifted your hands up in defense, “No, Your Majesty! I overheard some men talking about it! I came here as quickly as I could!” 

When you lifted your hands, King Phantom saw a swatch of black across your palm. You showed no sign of pain, did you not realize it was there? If you’d known the poison would cause a reaction to flesh, you would have merely stopped him from eating, not thrown it as far from him as possible and risk being splashed yourself.

Even with that conclusion made from his observation, he recalled your expression as you’d slapped away the spoon. Pure, unfiltered panic and determination. You’d been set on saving him and had run yourself ragged to reach him. 

His anger evaporating, he took hold of your hand. You stiffened, never having been touched by him before. His grip was firm, ensuring you didn’t pull away. A flash of pain hit you as you finally registered the magical burn, causing you to hiss and give an involuntary jerk. 

“Hold still.” He demanded quietly, as he held his other hand over yours. 

You did as told, biting your bottom lip to have something to distract you from the pain.

A shimmer of power dusted onto your skin. The blackened patch took on a ruby glow. The pain immediately ceased, allowing you to watch as the glowing spot shrank, leaving behind fully healed skin. 

King Phantom didn’t release your hand until he’d turned it over to inspect for any missed places. 

You poked at the place where the magical burn had once been, and muttered an awed, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“You said you overheard men speaking of the poison, did you see their faces?” King Phantom asked, putting a hand to your shoulder and guiding you out of the dining room. 

You obeyed, walking where he directed, and shook your head, “No, I didn’t get a chance. Once I heard of their plot, I took off at a run to reach you.”

“Show me where.”

[shestillhasherquill]

All’s Fair in Love and War (6/?)

At the time of a brewing battle, there are tough decisions to be made, alliances to be forged. The Princess of Misthaven has no choice but to comply with the demands of the Council and wed the Prince of Camelot. But what happens when she falls for his half-brother, Killian? A war like never before.

A Reign-esque twist to an Enchanted Forest AU that no one asked for.

Read on FF.net/AO3

@welllpthisishappening​ is an angel for looking through my changes so last minute so quickly. I am super sorry for the long wait, but the next chapter will be up sometime next week! This is the chapter - PAIN + CS in the same room!!

@distant-rose​ totally helped me figure out a difficult part in the upcoming chapters and if you haven’t checked out her Little Pirates verse, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

Also @accio-ambition​ you’re gonna love this. Trust me.

-/-

“Did father tell you anything about this princess?” William asked Killian, for what seemed like the hundredth time, making him roll his eyes.

“Nothing, brother. I promise you, all he told me was how much this alliance would mean for Camelot, so try not to muck it up, aye?” he groused, earning a scowl from William.

“I just want to be prepared,” William mumbled, his eyes darting away from Killian’s sharp gaze.

Killian resisted the urge to chuckle, knowing that as experienced as his brother was when it came to leading a troop of soldiers, he was nothing but a green lad when it came to women. Usually somewhat stoic, William hardly gave much importance to learning the art of wooing women, preferring to learn how to best run a kingdom. Killian on the other hand was anything but saintly; he enjoyed the company of women, and while he has not entertained the idea of committing to anyone since Milah passed, he hadn’t exactly been celibate.

Clapping William on the back, he spoke in a reassuring manner, “You never can prepare for women, brother. So, at ease, Your Highness, you aren’t approaching enemy lines.”

“I’d much rather face off an entire army than a woman, right now, Killian. We are at a time of war, this isn’t the time to ‘woo a lady’ as you say,” he said, almost whiningly.

Killian tried not to roll his eyes again, smirking at William. “Believe me, brother, you will soon be singing a different tune.”

William shook his head, as if he disagreed before nodding forward. Killian turned toward the road, the ride uphill finally tapering off to the castle gates. More than a week of travel, and they had finally reached their destination.

“Are you ready, Your Highness?” Killian asked, sending a sidelong glance his brother’s way.

William nodded curtly, looking forward as the gates slowly rolled open, King David’s entourage awaiting Prince William’s arrival. Killian easily recognised King David from his previous visits to Misthaven. The man was charming to a fault; he’d even heard that his late (first) wife used to call him ‘Charming,’ a fact that had made him chuckle then.

Killian was the first to dismount, standing behind William as he got off his horse and walked the short distance to greet King David.

“Your Majesty,” William smiled widely. “I am Prince William, Heir Apparent of Camelot. I thank you for welcoming us into your home.”

King David shook his proffered hand, grinning back at William. “Welcome to Misthaven, William. It is a pleasure to have you and your people with us. I must apologise for my daughter’s absence.”

“Oh, not at all, Your Majesty. I would much prefer to meet the Princess for the first time in a more formal setting - er, and perhaps not weary and gritty of days on the road.”

David had a twinkle in his eye as he asked, “But it is alright to meet the King in such a manner, is it?” he questioned, eyes narrowed.

Killian suppressed his chuckled, watching his brother sweat.

“O-of course not, Your Majesty. I-”

“Calm down, son,” David laughed. “I was merely jesting.” He clapped William on the back, making the prince let out a sigh of relief. “Come. I will have someone show you and your people to their quarters. I am sure you would want a warm bath and bed.”

-/-

Emma leaned against the edge of her balcony, watching as Prince William’s group walked towards the castle. She sighed deeply, her gut churning with anxiety. She was still reeling from Duke Bravian’s ‘gift’, her heart racing from simply thinking of the jeopardy she and her father were in. She hadn’t confided to her father about the dead pigeon, not wanting to put him in any more danger than he was already in. As much as she wanted to stop the duke, she had to be more careful. She couldn’t even try to contest against him, and the council until she had something up her sleeve. The only thing that would work would be an ambush; they cannot suspect anything.

Which meant that she couldn’t passively avoid Prince William’s courtship, let alone refuse to partake in it. As far as the council was concerned, she was to wed Prince William. She didn’t really have any choice in the matter. As a political leader, she could understand how this was a move towards a stronger alliance, especially at a time of war. But this fight that she was set on fighting, it wasn’t just so she could marry whomever she wanted. It was to fight against corruption – corruption was the reason the council was formed, it was fitting that it was also the reason for its end. If the duke’s warning meant anything, it meant that he wanted her to be docile, to conform to the council’s - no, to his demands. She was trapped in her own kingdom, and she had just seen a taste of what was to come.

She pressed her forehead to the stone railing, the dew from dawn still clinging to it, chilling her. She felt a tightness in her chest, an urge to rip the laces on her corset so she could breathe freely until she had to fight for that too. But no matter how much she tried, she would never get enough air to rid herself of this breathlessness. Over the years, she had become used to this feeling – this restless energy that made her nerves itch and bones ache. All the signs usually pointed to the same thing – her magic needed release.

Her magic, as she had discovered, had been a part of her from a very young age. But she had also grown up with stories of how dangerous magic was, how the Dark One and his powers wreaked havoc on the lands, terrorising people. Magic had always been seen as a curse, as something evil. Emma had initially tried her best to hide her magic, afraid of it and unable to control it. She became recluse, not knowing what to do and too young at the age of four to understand it any better. Both her parents had worried and tried coaxing the problem out of her, but she hadn’t known what it was at the age to voice it. All she knew was if she became too angry or upset, or even too happy…things just happened.

She had been so horrified with her discovery as a child, and when her mother inevitably found out, she had been certain that she would be punished. While Snow was beyond happy, understanding that Emma’s magic was born out of True Love, her eyes had welled with tears when she had seen how much her daughter feared this part of herself. Snow had taken it upon herself to make sure Emma learned to not just accept her magic, but love it, nurture it. See it as a gift and not a curse. They had decided to tell her father the same week her mother had passed. And after that, Emma could never find the courage to tell him for a long time, and when she had decided to tell him, he had decided to marry Elizabeth. Out of fear that they would reject her, she had decided to keep it a secret.

Now, even knowing Elizabeth as well as she did, she could not risk anyone finding out. People were still wary of magic, despite it being practically non-existent in the last couple of decades. Fairies were now the only known wielders of magic, anyone else was seen as an enemy. She had heard stories of people who were suspected of witchcraft being burnt at the stake, horrified at the maltreatment. Despite all that she’d accused her father of being, she was as much a coward, if not more.

A soft knock on her door startled Emma from her thoughts. She cleared her throat, calling for her visitor to enter, retreating from the balcony, and into her much warmer room. She heard a familiar voice call for her, her mood immediately lifting.

“Belle!” she exclaimed happily, rushing to hug her friend. “How are you? It has been so long!”

Belle laughed, hugging Emma back hard. “I missed you as well, Emma.” She pulled away, her hands holding Emma’s arms. “You don’t seem well, Emma. Are you alright?” she asked, taking in her friend’s paler-than-usual complexion.

Emma smiled slightly, touched by Belle’s care. “Well, much has changed since you went to visit Aunt Ruby. Prince William is here to ‘court’ me. Which is more a formality, than anything else. The council is tightening its grip on Misthaven.” Emma shuddered.

“I actually travelled some distance with the prince and his group. I never actually talked to the prince, but his half-brother seems nice enough. Can’t say the same for his half-sister, though,” Belle wrinkled her nose at the mention of this half-sister.

Emma’s brows furrowed. She wanted to ask further, but she could see how tired her friend looked. “Worry not about this woman, Belle. You look exhausted; I shall have my staff prepare your quarters.”

“Oh, Emma, that’s not necessary!” Belle protested. “I am fine back in my cottage.”

“Nonsense! I will be needing your assistance in the upcoming days, and your cottage is quite a distance for daily commute. I insist, you must stay here. I shall have your room prepared in a minute.”

-/-

William adjusted his cuffs, staring at his reflection in the mirror in the quarters provided to him. From his short time here, he could see how much bigger Misthaven was compared to Camelot. Misthaven was more powerful than Camelot could ever be. This alliance could be beneficial for Camelot, especially with King Stefan’s threat hanging over their heads.

He turned around when he heard his door open, Regina standing there with her hand over her eyes. “I hope you are decent, Your Highness,” she called out, a hint of teasing in her voice.

He laughed, shaking his head. “You do know that it’s customary to knock before you enter. I am your future king.”

She scoffed, removing her hand from her face. “William, you may be my future king, but you are also my brother!” she teased before her expression shifted to something more serious, her gaze dropping. “Unless, of course, recent events have made you question our relationship, and my loyalty? I-I know that it’s not typical for bastard child-”

“No, Regina. Of course not!” he cried, cutting her off. The look of offense on his face only made her shrink more into herself. He felt his conscience prick him, a small voice telling him that she had every reason to doubt his affection towards her, considering how quickly he had been ready to give her up for the sake of Camelot in a moment of panic and weakness. It was not the mark of a true leader - nor a brother.

If Killian’s reasoning from a few days ago hadn’t made him see the light of day, this would have. He had grown up with Regina, and never in all these years has he seen her look so unsure of her place with their family. And yes, while it was unconventional for illegitimate children to be so close to the heirs, that was not the case in Camelot. Not only was it a small, tightknit kingdom, so was the family. He never really did speak to Regina once she’d returned from King Stefan’s capture, but he was quickly realising that he should have. For that trauma to have changed her so much, it really must have been worse than he had initially assumed. He felt a deep shame rise up, remembering his reaction when Killian had brought her back - his concern for country had once again won over his own family.

His throat felt tight, heart hurting, seeing how skittish Regina was being. He crossed the distance between them in two long steps, gathering her in his arms. He couldn’t ignore how she froze in his embrace if he wanted to. “You will never stop being my sister. Ever. You are so bloody strong, sis. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you. That was never my intention. I just never knew what to say.” He pulled back, meeting her gaze. “I am so sorry. I was so worried that I would say the wrong thing. You were barely conscious your first week back home, and you- you just-” He cut himself off, unable to get the words out.

She pulled away, her expression sharp. “I am not weak, William,” she snapped, arms crossed and back ramrod straight.

“I know that! I never said you were! I am. When it comes to my family, I am weak. But I can never show that weakness on the outside, because I can’t risk anyone taking advantage of it.” He looked ready to break down, his eyes wildly moving around the room, a sudden restlessness gripping him.

“William, calm down. What are you talking about?” Something clicked in her mind, prompting her next question. “Does it have anything to do with the letter you received from father?” When he hesitated to respond, Regina clamped tight to it, already having an idea on what it could have been about. No matter what, she had a right to know. She was tired of everyone hiding things from her in the name of protection. “Tell me.” And then as an afterthought, added, “Please.”

William sighed, knowing that he would have to face Killian’s wrath for this. But their sister had a right to know, and she was much stronger than his brother and father seemed to believe her to be.

The more he revealed the more she seemed to unravel before his eyes. When he realised his mistake, it was already too late. Regina was quickly backing out of the room, eyes wide with horror.

“Are you insane?!” she shouted. “You cannot lose King Stefan’s support. Then we would lose the support of more kingdoms, maybe even lose this alliance with Misthaven. If it’s me they want, let them have me! I will not let you sacrifice the future of our home, bloody hell, William!”

“Regina, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped. “I am leaving right now,” she hissed at him. “I would ideally wait until after your welcome ball, but time is a precious commodity and we cannot afford that now.”

“What the bloody hell do you plan on doing, once you leave?” he challenged, frowning at her.

“Surrender myself, you idiot. You should have told me, William. Killian and father are sentimental fools, but you know better. If it had been you, you would gladly sacrifice yourself.” And with those words, she stormed out of the room. William slumped on a chair, hands cradling his head, dreading the consequences of his actions.

-/-

Regina felt her heart pound loudly, William’s revelation leaving her reeling. She could not believe that Aurora would allow this to happen. She had taken the blame when King Stefan had found out about their dalliance because she thought that that would protect her love from suffering the wrath of her father. She’d been to many kingdoms in her years, and there were still a few which view love between people of the same sex as an abomination, as something against nature. And in those places, she had been careful not to reveal that part of herself. And yet, despite knowing how much danger she was putting herself in, she had fallen for the princess.

The part that makes her sick to her stomach was the knowledge that Aurora never loved her, not like Regina did. If she had, she wouldn’t have let Regina take the blame, not when she’d been aware of how severe the punishment would be. Regina had not anticipated the literal whipping she had received, even now able to hear the sound of the whip as it flew through the air, the blinding pain of it as it seared the flesh of her back.

Regina stopped walking, her breathing too rapid for her to control. She was in an empty corridor, her mind too fast and her heart too heavy. Her legs gave out from under her, leaving her slumped against the wall, her knees pulled to her chest as she tried to regulate her breathing. But try as she might, she did not seem to get enough air in her lungs, she felt like she was underwater, drowning with no way to resurface. She heaved, her face wet with tears and her throat thick with a need to sob out loud.

She would look a sight if anyone were to walk this corridor. And as her luck might have it, she heard the padding of footsteps, growing louder and louder in the empty corridor. She tried to get up, to move from her position on the ground, but she was paralyzed. She leaned against the wall, giving up on trying, breathing shallowly. She heard a soft voice float around her, feminine and accented. She tried to hold on to that, to help pull her from her state of mind.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, the contact startling her into reality as she looked up at the girl who travelled with them, a look of deep concern etched across her face. She seemed to have been trying to get her attention for a while now, Regina realised, blinking at her.

“Regina? Are you alright?” Belle asked, shaking her.

She swallowed thickly, blinking again as spots began to appear in her vision. She shook her head ‘no’, gasping as she struggled to breathe. She closed her eyes, her heart racing faster as her panic became worse. Just as her senses began fading from the lack of oxygen, she left a great relief in pressure around her chest, forcing her to suck in a sharp breath.

Regina’s eyes watered, her lungs burning from her struggle as she gulped in air. When her mind cleared of the haze of her panic, she looked back at Belle. “Wha-what did you do?” she asked, panting.

“I ripped your corset at the back,” Belle replied, almost shyly. “It relieved the pressure on your lungs. You- you were having a panic attack, weren’t you?”  When Regina took too long to answer, Belle shook her head, helping the other brunette to her feet. “Let’s get you into a fresh set of clothes and a cup of hot tea, alright?” She led Regina down the hall, and to the rooms assigned to herself.

-/-

Prince William, Killian, Lord Cramwell and Camelot’s royal legal advisor were announced into the throne room. This was a more formal welcome for the prince, as well as an opportunity for him to meet Princess Emma. To say that he was nervous would be an understatement, but beneath that, he was extremely worried about Regina. He had gone in search of her, hoping to stop her before she did anything drastic, but before he could find her, she found him. Or more, the woman who’d travelled with them – Belle. She’d assured him that while Regina was fine at the moment, she seemed to have suffered from a panic attack and needed rest. He could not find the words to express his gratitude to this woman, and had vowed to return to his sister’s side at his earliest.

Killian nudged him, whispering, “Have you seen Regina?”

William stiffened, nodding curtly. Before Killian could say another word, the double doors to the throne room opened, King David striding through them as everyone stood in respect. A woman he could only assume to be Princess Emma walked behind him, a soft smile gracing everyone present.

He heard Killian suck in a swift breath behind him, and he couldn’t agree more with that reaction. Princess Emma’s beauty was breathtaking, without a doubt. Everyone in the room settled back down as King David took to his throne, Princess Emma sitting on one on the lower dais.

“Welcome to Misthaven, Prince William.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty.” William bowed his head in respect. He turned back, grabbing the dagger and scabbard from Lord Cramwell. “Allow me to present Princess Emma with this token from Camelot, sire.”

At David’s acquiescence, William approached Emma with an open smile. Kneeling in front of her on bended knee, he offered her the dagger. “I’d heard that you were a warrior by every right, Princess Emma. I hope that this gift would be more appreciated than any other treasure that I could present you with.”

Emma looked taken aback for a moment, eyes wide and mouth gaping, before she quickly composed herself. She stood up, smiling at Prince William as she took his proffered gift, drawing the dagger from its scabbard, testing the weight in her hands. Impressed by its lightness and steal work, and resisting the urge to examine it much closer, she looked back at him with a grin. “This is definitely far more appreciated than your gold or treasures, Your Highness,” she replied graciously. “Welcome to Misthaven, Prince William,” she added, almost blushingly.

“Please, Princess. Call me William,” he insisted.

“Then, please call me Emma. This was a thoughtful present, William.”

-/-

Killian observed the exchange between his brother and the princess with a look of pride, knowing that his gut instinct at been right. Killian had heard that Princess Emma was well-versed in all forms of swordplay, especially at throwing daggers with great precision, and preferred being out in the field, fighting, rather than cooped up in the castle. She had her mother’s fighting spirit, and having had the pleasure of meeting Snow White as a child, before her unfortunate demise, he’d felt that the princess would appreciate a weapon more than any expensive jewelry. Which was why he’d had this dagger commissioned, giving it to William a day before they’d started their journey.

The way his brother’s eyes had lit up at that, already having begun fantasizing about competing with the princess in a duel, Killian had to suppress a chuckle. For all his seriousness, William was still very much a young lad.

He admired the interaction between the princess and his brother, his eyes trained on the princess for longer than was appropriate. But her beauty was enchanting, her laughing eyes pulling him in. Killian had to physically shake himself from his reverie, chiding himself for his fantasies. That woman was to be betrothed to his brother, and even if she wasn’t, she was royalty. He was nowhere near her station, and he should learn his place. His sister had paid the price for trusting her heart with royalty, he wasn’t about to do something foolish like falling for his brother’s to-be-bride.

He scoffed at himself, sounding like a love-sick bard. He’d just seen the woman, and no matter how astounding her beauty, he would never fall for royalty. He was brought out of his thoughts when King David announced a ball to be held in the following evening, in Prince William’s honour. Brilliant, Killian thought, a chance for him to let loose, and maybe find charm a Lady-in-waiting back to his rooms.

When he felt eyes on him, he looked up, his gaze meeting striking emerald ones. A jolt passed through him, as he held the princess’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary before dropping his gaze, the tips of his ears burning. He heard William and Emma exchange few more words, Emma welcoming him to break fast with her and her father, which his brother accepted readily.

Killian exchanged a smiling glance with Lord Cramwell, knowing that things had gone swimmingly in their favour. King David looked content enough, and Princess Emma seemed impressed with William. If everything else went this well, they would be engaged in a few weeks and Camelot would have a great ally. He breathed a sigh of relief as King David dispersed everyone to breakfast. While Killian has worn his fair share of formal attire, he was far more comfortable out of all the layers, preferring a shirt and vest to their more formal counterpart.

He rushed out of throne room as quickly as he could without running outright. Now that his worry about William’s meeting with the princess had dissipated, he was more anxious about Regina’s absence. She was supposed to be with them, not in any official capacity, but his father had hoped that she would take back her position of foreign ambassador. If she had missed something this important, something bad must have happened. That had to be the reason, which only made his worry multifold. Just when he started to feel desperate, having no clue where to start looking for her, he spotted Belle, who was quickly approaching him.

“Ser Killian! I am so glad I found you!” she exclaimed.

“Just Killian, lass, please. What happened?” he asked, his hand resting on her shoulder to steady her.

“It’s your sister. She- I found her having a panic attack in the corridor a while back, and took her to my room. She’s resting, but she seems very agitated, so I came to find you.”

Heart in throat, Killian asked hoarsely, “Where is she?”

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 59)

Qrow knocked on Blake and Penny's bedroom door. <Hey, Penny! I need you in Ruby and Weiss' room, stat.>

The two of them looked up from helping Blake improve her reading in Nivian. <What happened?> Penny said as she turned off her holo-projector. <Is it a medical emergency?>

Qrow paused. <It's uh… you should probably just go there and see for yourself, and fast.>

Blake and Penny looked at each other, before they got up and did so.

The door had been left open for Qrow's rushing, and Ruby and Weiss were still sitting on her hammock, lips still frozen together. They had tried to move, but it was both painful and difficult, and neither wanted to risk finding out first-hand what would happen if one of them broke away without melting the ice first.

Penny and Blake stopped in the doorway for a few moment, both of them processing the scene in front of them.

“Beginning dispelling and separation attempts...” Penny said as she walked in, her hands glowing.

Blake turned to Qrow. <Did Weiss…?>

<Accidentally freeze their lips together while they were making out?> Qrow replied. <Seems like it.>

Weiss made a frustrated noise and squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks still burning red.

“Hey Whyss?” Blake asked.

“Mhmm?” she replied.

“Aym rilly sorry, but aym gunna lahf rilly hardd at yu guyz ryte naw,” Blake said, before she did just that.

Weiss grumbled under her breath. Ruby patted her on the shoulder. Blake tried reach for the door frame for support, missed, and ended up on the floor, curled up and clutching her sides from how hard she was laughing.

Penny put her hands near their lips, quickly separated the two of them, and healed any of the physical damage.

“Woo!” Ruby said as she smacked her healed lips, no longer severely chapped. “Thanks, Penny!”

“You're welcome, Ruby,” Penny said. “Are there any more concerns either of you have?”

“Nothing else from me,” Ruby replied.

“Can you revive the parts of myself that have died from embarrassment?” Weiss asked.

Penny shook her head. “Sadly, my mender protocols have their limits.”

“Then you can you at least help me forget everything before we I ended up freezing our lips together?”

“Unfortunately, I can't do such precision memory erasure unless I had access to much more complex equipment than I currently have, or you also had a chronicle installed.”

Weiss sighed and shook her head. “You know what? Just shock me unconscious again...” she muttered as she laid down on her side, away from the others.

“Can you do it for me, too?” Ruby asked as she got up to give her room. “I was planning on going to sleep, but Weiss got me all fired up, and I don't want to nod off on my shift later.”

“I can and will, though I must advise against too frequent use of this!” Penny said as she began to charge up her hands with a different frequency of magic. “This was only ever meant for temporarily curing extreme cases of insomnia, and non-lethal take downs; repeated use will seriously disrupt--”

“Just do it already!” Weiss cried.

Penny paused, before she shrugged. “Administering treatment!” she said as she put her hand on Weiss’ back.

There was a brief flash in her vision, before she blacked out once more.

Weiss came to by noon, feeling somewhat better now that she'd caught up on her lost sleep.

Ruby was in her nest, still unconscious and drooling all over her pillow. Weiss bit her lip, debating whether or not she should wake her up and ask her all the new burning questions on her mind, before she decided not to.

She grabbed her work dress and her gauntlet, then tiptoed it out of their room and outside the house. Tending to her crops and her new orchard provided some much needed distraction for an hour, but the after she closed the lid on the storage box, there was no avoiding it anymore:

“I kissed Ruby.” Weiss thought. “And she kissed me back. And then I froze our lips together.”

She whined in distress as she leaned on the box, a flood of mixed emotions welling up inside of her:

Confusion, as she wondered just what exactly this new relationship would entail, as though Ruby wasn’t Weiss ‘first girlfriend, she was the first person she’d dated across species lines.

Excitement, as she remembered how amazing her lips felt on her, how well their bodies fit together, the way her touch brought all sorts of interesting reactions to her that she’d never felt before with anyone else.

Dread, as she worried if Ruby was going to change her mind about her now that she knew how quickly things could go south because of her lack of control over her powers.

Horror, as she imagined just how much worse that incident could have gone if her powers had leaked out in greater amounts, or if they had been doing much more than just kissing each other on the lips.

Arousal, when she imagined what exactly those acts would be, sans the mood-killing magical mishaps.

“Weiss?” Penny asked.

Weiss screamed and jumped into the air, face burning red. She looked in worry at the thin layer of frost that had formed over the lid, hurriedly dispelled it, before she turned to Penny.

“Y-Yes…?” she asked, trying and failing to act casual.

Penny hesitated a moment. “I just came over to remind you that you're due at the Weaver's Terrace in an hour, 2 PM as Elder Goodwitch had ordered,” she replied.

Weiss blinked. “O-Oh, right… I… should I do anything before I go?”

“I would heavily advise dressing in your full weaver's armour, and eating a heavy lunch as you skipped breakfast, preferably something high in carbohydrates as you will begin your Elemental Weaving training today. Even with your naturally high stores of mana, performing magic will still tax your physical body, if just your mind and willpower.

Weiss nodded. “I guess I should go get cooking...” she said as she prepared to head back up to the house.

Penny stopped her. “Actually, Weiss, I was wondering if I could ask you how is your relationship with Ruby, given your recently discovered powers.”

Weiss sighed. “Well, it'd be hard to tell how it is, given that the whole thing just started this morning!”

“It's been two weeks at least, hasn't it?” Penny asked.

“No, no it has not!” Weiss snapped. “For the last time, me and Ruby are—well, I guess we are together now, but again, only since this morning!” she looked away uneasily. “We… we haven't really had any time to discuss it, either, so I guess I'm just assuming we’re girlfriends now...”

She looked back uneasily at Penny. “… Do Fae have platonic friendships that happen to involve things like kissing…?”

Penny nodded. “Some do. But there are always long discussions beforehand laying out the terms exactly, and Ruby strikes me as the kind of Fae who would not just kiss someone unless she were romantically interested in them.”

She looked around, her ears rotating on her head like satellite dishes, before she leaned in and whispered, “And please don't tell Ruby, but I'm aware of the incident where she attempted to get intimate with Lifira in a Honeydream; as part of my duties as the Keeper's Chronicler alongside Qrow, I'm privy to the records stored in her and Yang’s dreamcatcher.”

With another check to make sure Ruby hadn’t heard, Penny leaned back and resumed talking to her normally. “Anyway… how would you say your relationship is looking, then?”

Weiss paused. “I don't know. I've… never really been good at this dating thing.”

“How so?”

Weiss debated it for a moment, before she shook her head. “I'm sorry, but I don't feel like sharing the intimate details of my love life, when I know there's probably an army of chroniclers itching to dissect every word after your next brain drain.”

Penny nodded. “Understood, and shall not ask again!”

“Thanks. By the way… did the Council happen to put you up to this?” Weiss asked. “Ask me questions about how me and Ruby are doing once you're unmistakably sure we're together…?”

Penny shook her head. “Oh, no, not at all! Aside from the fact that I had wrongly assumed you were a couple for most all of the time we’ve been together and had been treating you two accordingly, Keepers are actually given plenty of autonomy, and the Council rarely steps in their personal lives.”

“Exceptional circumstances aside, they’re more than happy to let them ‘do their own thing,’ as you humans might say.”

Penny suddenly looked away; she couldn't blush, having no blood nor modifications to her “skin” that could simulate it, but Weiss could tell she would have if she could. “… And in the interest of transparency, this was also motivated by my own desire to learn more about courtship and how to attempt it myself.”

“You want to try dating?” Weiss asked, more curious than incredulous.

Penny looked back and nodded. “My creators were mates, actually, and to use a shared expression between our cultures, they never let the flame of passion die out.

“It's been quite interesting observing them, how this arrangement that seems to cause such stress, conflict, and anger is also the same thing that gives them incredible relief, peace, and happiness.

“They had actually fed me a large amount of anecdotes, records, and sometimes even live observations of their moments together, as part of their attempts to make me more like an organic being, and expand my knowledge in general.

“The only thing they've excluded is whenever they get intimate, though that's more for avoiding the risk of my becoming collateral damage during the act itself.”

Weiss raised her eyebrows.

“One of them is a Water Weaver,” Penny replied. “Emotional arousal has been proven to affect your alignment's magic even more than that of Fire Weavers, if less destructive. Generally speaking, at least...”

Weiss looked at her gloved hand, and winced. “Right.”

“Back on topic: I became quite curious about romance in general, and even with the information available through me to the Codex and the Info-Grid, there's only so much you can learn from theory before you have to experiment.”

“So you tried dating?”

Penny nodded. “The Trance was great for that. I assumed false identities, and by that point my intelligence had been upgraded and grown to such a level where I could convince anyone I was, well, anyone I wanted to be!

“It helped that most assumed that you are not being entirely truthful about who or what you are 'IRL,' and identities and histories were easy enough to acquire then erase or obfuscate to avoid suspicion, so long as you know what you're doing—or alternatively, can hack and manipulate the server’s code at the machine language level,” she said, beaming with pride.

Weiss’ eyes widened. “Oh, sweet Shepherd, please tell me you didn't get swarmed with creeps like I did...”

“I had been, though honestly I'm not bothered by it these days,” Penny replied. “If anything, studying the data afterward left me feeling sad for them than anything else, especially when closely examining the records of our interactions and the trends in their responses and actions.”

Weiss shuddered. “Let's move on, please!”

Penny nodded. “As you wish. I fostered some 'serious' relationships, but eventually, I realized that though romance in the Trance is possible and there are numerous precedents, there was the caveat that many couples eventually decide to reveal who they are 'IRL' as a show of absolute trust, that they are truly committed to each other.

“And, well...” Penny gestured at herself.

Weiss nodded. “I could see where that'd become difficult.”

Penny hummed. “I attempted to construct a human identity for myself. One that was completely biological, had been born to normal parents, and had both the mental and chronological age of a 15 year old.

“But it just felt… wrong.

“So I decided to start going as myself, being honest about my identity as a completely artificial being, though obviously, my true origins and the nature of my creators were kept secret.”

“Were people… bothered by your appearance?” Weiss asked, eyeing Penny up and down. “Your design is kind of...”

“Unnerving?” Penny offered. “Disturbing? Creepy?”

“'Unusual!' I was going to say 'unusual,'” Weiss said. “I stopped being weirded out by your floating arm… thingies… pretty quickly, and considering everything else I've seen in the Valley, that's really saying something!”

“They weren't actually all that bothered by my design,” Penny said. “If anything, they wanted to know the schematics or at least the scientific principles behind them, so they could attempt to build their own prostheses similar to mine.

“I'm still getting requests for plans, with Non-Disclosure Agreement drafts, and reputable lawyers to modify them with at my discretion, though for obvious reasons, I've had to decline every one.”

“And they're not bothered at all by the fact that you're an AI? Or a golem, I guess.”

Penny smiled. “That would be surprising indeed, considering the community I ended up with is united by their mutual interest in cyborgs, androids, and artificial intelligences.”

Weiss blinked. “Wait… so that's what 'Mechanical Love' is? A dating site?”

“It's more a forum and centralized location for resources such as reputable independent prosthetic engineers for more 'exotic' enhancements, though yes, they do have a subset for those that would like to become romantically involved with cyborgs, or even completely artificial beings like myself.

“I'm actually well-known as one of the most advanced and ‘human’ of the latter.” Penny smiled. “The irony is not lost on me.”

Weiss chuckled. “You must get a lot of attention.”

“I do, though it's mostly intellectual inquiries, or those wishing to attempt to create personalities similar in complexity to mine. I've exes who wish there was something fundamentally different about my personality if with the same level of complexity and intelligence, or that they could clone me and try a second time with a fresh slate, so to speak.”

Weiss paused, before she laughed. “Of all the things I never thought I'd be talking about, it'd be a robot's exes...”

“It makes for interesting conversation at community events, that's for sure!” Penny chirped.

“So are you about to reveal I'm not the only human involved with a Fae here?”

Penny frowned. “Sadly, my search for a potential mate for a long-term relationship has been unsuccessful. Though, if anything, all those failures have helped me refine the my most important criteria—my 'type' so to speak.”

“And that is…?”

“Someone who is enthusiastic about my being an artificial being, first and foremost! There's something that irks me about people that simply ignore such a vital part of myself, than accepting that I was made, not born.

“Second is that they are 'nice' as you humans would say; the 'Mender' personality type who is caring, more concerned for others than themselves, and is generally reserved and polite. I get enough excitement from all of you, no offense.”

“None taken.”

“And lastly, they would have to be female, taller than myself, and a natural redhead, though the last is optional given the rarity of its occurring still, and the propagation of 'hair dye' mods.”

“Why natural redheads specifically?”

Penny smiled as she touched her own hair. “Because they're incredibly rare, just like myself; it's why I chose this combination of hair and eye colours, actually.”

The conversation came to an abrupt end as Weiss' stomach began to growl.

“Aw, crap, how long have we been talking here?” Weiss asked, pulling out her comm-crystal.

Penny's eyes widened. “Much longer I originally intended...” she muttered. “I'm sorry.”

Weiss sighed as she hurried back to the house. “You can apologize by helping me cook something up real quick!”

“I was already planning to!” Penny chirped as she followed after her

They came into the kitchen, where Blake was already sitting at the table reading, and enjoying a plate of sashimi from some fish she had caught last night.

As Penny got out pots and pans and heated up the oven, Weiss opened the fridge to see what she'd have to work with.

Inside was another plate of sashimi, carefully wrapped in plastic with a sticky note on it.

This time, the doodle of Weiss' face was much more flattering, with a checkmark beside it.

She pulled her head out of the fridge, and smiled at Blake.

She looked up from her reading, and smiled back.

[tumbloncat]

dude, for the picture you just reblogged, just -- mafia au man. even better if newt is the leader but an anonymous one so not even the high ranking members know what he really looks like

firstly - i’m terribly sorry - i’m on queue most of the time. so i had to go through my dash trying to find the pic you were referring to. it’s this one right??

but oh gosh. can you IMAGINE? I LOVE IT? it also fits into an alternate verse i yelled a lot about earlier on but didn’t end up writing. i never quite decided if percival would also be mafia, or if he’d be part of the coppers tryin’ to catch newt, because it’s YUM either way. but that’s not the main point.

the main point is newt - cute innocent newt, with his wide eyes and shy tilt of a smile, is a mafia don only known on the street as ‘The Englishman’, because no one knows what he looks like, only that he’s got a posh english accent and he’s terrifyingly ruthless in regards to people who encroach on his territory.

there’s rumours across the channel that The Englishman first base of operations was there - in nice olde london town. and over there, no matter how dirty the witch or wizard was, they all knew not to do two things:

1. no trafficking of magical creatures

2. no involving innocent bystanders

that tough as nails bunch of ex-cons from azkaban? a gibbering mess within a week when they dared to capture a unicorn to trade its blood and hair and bone.

the hard ass street gang who’s granddaddies were running london back in the day? the moment they killed a civilian who was just in their line of fire, they’re destroyed - all their hideouts razed to the ground, each of them hexed to kingdom come that one night when The Englishman sweeps through, as unseen as a demiguise, as deadly as basilisk venom.

The Englishman’s tale grows with each piece of the london underworld he takes - before long they’re saying that he commands an army - but not of flesh and blood, rather of monsters he keeps in his pockets, setting them loose on his victims without remorse.

so when whispers hit the streets of new york that The Englishman is on american soil, in their city no less, the new york underworld goes berserk. the petty criminals are jumping at shadows and digging their little hidey holes as deep as they can, praying to merlin that The Englishman doesn’t come knocking. the more shadowy powers are torn between sneering at these mere rumours, or rallying their men for a fight they know is coming.

if percival is also part of the mafia world - he’d be the one who comes across newt one day, in broad daylight as well, casual as you please. of course he doesn’t know that this charming young man who can’t quite meet his eyes is the notorious Englishman.

percival can’t resist something so pure, so beautiful, so he woos newt, with flowers and extravagant gifts and he just gets more and more enamored with the way that newt never seems impressed with these priceless jewels or sleek cars.

“they’re nice, shiny,” newt says, running his finger over the hundred thousand dollar diamond that percival’s bought for him and dropping it into a box where there’s already glittering piles of sapphires and rubies and emeralds.

so percival tries secret midnight rendezvous, kisses stolen in the rain and making love under the stars. and newt, he finds out, is gorgeous when he smiles, breathtaking when he laughs and percival has literally never wanted anything else more in his life - neither power, nor money can ever compare to just newt.

he likes the way that newt sighs his name when they’re pressed together, the high flush of colour on his cheeks when bites down on the pale arch of his neck to mark him as percival’s. it’s good, this thing they have, and he starts thinking that maybe this is what it means to be happy.

except, eventually one day, he’ll wake up one morning, tracing the scars over newt’s body, look at the case he carries, thinks of all the magical creatures he helps to feed and it just all clicks for percival.

newt will blink awake that same morning, take one look at percival’s face and sigh, because he knows that this has been coming - percival’s too smart to not put the pieces together (maybe he’s actually hoped that percival would find out and they could still be together -). “all good things must come to an end.” and it ends with blood across the walls that they painted together not even two months back and teardrops scattered across the wooden floor.

if percival is still macusa though - he’d be the one on the case, working day and night trying to crack down on magical crime in new york. at first he thinks that it’s a vigilante, a rogue witch or wizard (maybe a group of them perhaps? with the mayhem that always seems to result) who’s tearing down the old criminal empires, one at a time. by the time he hears the name ‘The Englishman’ it’s almost too late - he’s bleeding out from a hard curse that hit just below his ribs when he tried to bust a group of criminals - walking directly into the crossfire between them and The Englishman doing his rounds. it’s a stray shot by a wild-eyed wizard, who’s long dead now, but it’s definitely hit something vital and there’s blood everywhere and his vision is going blurry.

he’s convinced that the man who crouches down by him is a hallucination, who kneels on the dirty cobblestones without a single thought to his expensive tailoring. there’s the trickle of something icy cold across his side that turns to burning heat the next moment and when percival looks down - his wound is healing, the gaping flesh knitting up before his very eyes.

the man who is definitely not a hallucination rocks back on his heels smiles and he’s young and very beautiful, despite the blood across his hands and splattered across his white silk shirt. “phoenix tears,” he murmurs with a tiny quirk of his lips and stoppers the tiny vial, tucking it into his coat.

“you’re a good man,” he says to percival, and this time percival hears the lilt of his accent. and it’s like a shock of cold water to his bones because his instincts are screaming ‘danger’ and he just knows that there’s no one else that this can be but The Englishman.

“what do you want from me?” he demands because he owes this man and if there’s one person that percival can’t be indebted to, it’s him. The Englishman only smiles though, leaning forward close enough that percival can see the bright blue of his iris and almost feel the touch of lips against his.

“you’ll find out soon enough,” he says and he walks away into the smog, coat fluttering around his ankles, footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

If you hate getting stopped at airport security, you need these travel beauty kits

http://fashion-trendin.com/if-you-hate-getting-stopped-at-airport-security-you-need-these-travel-beauty-kits/

If you hate getting stopped at airport security, you need these travel beauty kits

When it comes to packing your holiday beauty essentials, no matter how many times you write a checklist, you always forget something. Having all your favourites in under 100ml for the plane, and remembering what you’ll need while you’re there, can be a bit of a headache. So, to lighten your load, we’ve worked out the fail-safe travel-sized beauty product must-haves that’ll ensure you feel summertime fine from take off to touch down…

The Skin Kit

Wish you could travel with a facialist on hand for your best-ever skin on holiday? It’s now one step closer, thanks to The Ultimate Renew Beauty Kit, £65, devised by the the beauty experts at NET-A-PORTER. With a selection of 12 skin cleansers, oils, peels, serums and eye brighteners, from cult brands such as Sunday Riley, Omorovicza, Lancer and Dr Dennis Gross to name just a few – it covers every skincare base for glowy holiday skin. And best of all it’s cleverly packed into a transparent pack so there’s no decanting or squishing into a clear plastic bag. We’re all up for treating ourselves to first class beauty, even if we do turn right on the plane.

On The Plane

Ear plugs, tooth kit, eye mask: Yes, some airlines offer them, but surprisingly some don’t and it’s a bleeding nightmare if you’re stuck next to someone who insists on keeping their reading light and you want a kip. Better to be safe than sorry.

Nasal spray, painkillers: The single best travelling trick I know is to use a chemist-bought nasal spray such as Vicks First Defence (£6) when flying. Using it when you first get on the plane will significantly reduce the threat of developing bugs from inhaling the air conditioning. If, though, you tend to get a headache from the air-con, bring painkillers. It’s a killer not to have them.

Moisturiser, pillow spray and muscle cream: Hydration will literally be sucked from your skin whilst on a flight so take a thick and nourishing cream such as Charlotte Tilbury’s Magic Cream (£70) to lather on when your face feels a little dry. Admittedly, pillow spray is an added luxury but, a little lavender mist (Susanne Kaufmann pillow spray (£18) can really help to relax you during the flight and don’t forget the muscle cream. It’s not something many people think of but if you wake up with a stiff neck, it’ll be your saving grace. We love This Works In Transit Muscle Therapy (£18) – it really does tingle the right spots.

Facewash and deodorant: When you get the “breakfast wake-up” having been hunched in the same position for seven hours, there really is no better word than “rough” for how you’re probably feeling. The best quick-fix is a good facewash, a slick of deodorant (we love Aesop’s (£23)) and a scrub of the old nashers. Take Kiehl’s travel-sized Ultra Facial Wash (£7.50) for the best kind of in-flight wake-up. Its gel formula lathers the skin in a creamy foam, leaving it moisturised and refreshed.

For The Hotel

Yes, the hotel will provide the shampoo, conditioner and shower-gel frills but there really are some key items missing on their stock order…

Sun cream: If you take only one item on holiday, let it be this. There is nothing more important when it comes to health and beauty than taking care in the sun and we highly recommend using no lower SPF than factor 30. You need to bring a body sun cream and a face SPF.

After sun, body lotion, body oil: It may seem excessive to pack all three moisturising products, but if your suitcase allows, do it. Use the after sun straight after the beach. For evenings, choose a lovely scented, deeply moisturising butter and use an oil on your legs. You can reapply just before you go to bed to allow your body to absorb the maximum moisture it can overnight. This will help to prolong your tan and keep your skin nice and plump.

Face mask: For many people, a holiday is a chance to go au-natural, allow the skin to breathe and avoid having to wear make-up for a couple of weeks, which we totally get. But, whether you fall into this camp or still maintain your normal beauty regime, the extra time you have whilst away is a great opportunity to pamper yourself and a face mask is the way to do so. Face masks such as SK-II’s legendary Facial Treatment Masks (£86 for a pack of 10) will help to restore moisture alongside your normal night cream and rejuvenate the skin after sun exposure.

Straightners or curlers and salt spray: Just because the hotel will have the hair cleaning products and a hairdryer, it doesn’t have the finishing touches to take your hair from day to night. Bring a set of stylers and a product such as a salt spray to get the ultimate beach waves, tousled look. We love Bosch’s mini straighteners-come-curlers (£23.99), perfect for squeezing in a suitcase and Davines’ Sea Mist (£15) for voluminous texture.

Make-up essentials

Concealer, tinted moisturiser, highlighter: Skin tends to clear up and look a whole lot healthier after being a little sun-kissed so leave all your thicker foundations and cover-ups at home. Take a concealer to use if your bags won’t budge and those dark spots and fine lines keep clinging. We love Hourglass’ Hidden Corrective Concealer (£23) for instant improvement. When it comes to a tinted moisturiser, select a shade one darker than what you normally wear if you tan. The best we have found is Estee Lauder’s Sheer Tint Release (£38), which adapts to your skintone, whatever it is. Lastly, the power of a good highlighter to enhance your holiday glow shouldn’t be underestimated. Try Nars’ Illuminator (£23) on your cheekbones, cupid’s arrow, brow bones and temples.

Eyebrow products: Don’t forget to fill those brows in, the sun will naturally make your hairs lighter. Benefit’s Brow Zings (£24.50) is a winner with its powder and wax options.

Mascara: Take a waterproof mascara such as Clinique’s High Impact (£17.50). That way, you’ll look fresh in the water as well as out. Don’t underestimate the power of humidity and sweat to smudge your look even if you are on dry land.

Lipstick: Yes, you’ve been told to always keep a red lippy on you at all times, but it’s for a reason. It’s the quickest, easiest, most effective way to glam up your look and is the symbol of classic beauty. You can’t go wrong with Mac’s Ruby Woo (£15.50). With its blue neon undertone, it’s got a really fun edge, which translates well to a holiday vibe. Also make sure to pack a nude lipstick so you can achieve different looks on alternate nights without having to bring a trunk full of colours. We recommend Tom Ford’s Sable Smoke (£37) for a sparkly, sheeny finish.

For Tempermental Hair

If the idea of using hotel shampoo and conditioner has you cringing (yeah look, sometimes they’re not great), Sachajuan have got you covered. We like the moisturising pack for summer holidays, to rehydrate the hair after too much sun and swimming. And just like the Net-a-porter skin kit, it comes in a clear carry case so you’ll be able to whizz past security and straight into your seat without a worry.

This is the ultimate hack for beating frizz