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rainandhotchocolate · 5 years ago

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Blackout - Part 10

A/N WHEW PART 10 we are 20k deep in this fic friends what a wild ride. This one is a bit intense sorry - but the next one will be fluff city promise ;) Enjoy!!

(Last section of part 9)

“Again?” Y/N watched her sip some coffee and smile awkwardly at her. “Lily… was I at this job before I went to hospital?”

~~~~~~

Part 10

“No, you weren’t.” Lily grimaced as she replied, staring up at her awkwardly. Y/N felt something click into place in her head, the emotion that had been swirling around her, the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“For how long.”

“Six months.”

“SIX MONTHS?” Y/N yelped, “I haven’t been at this job for over half a year? Why did they even take me back?”

“The healers told us it would be best to keep you doing what you remember doing before the attack, so we reached out and they said it would be fine.”

“Did you know why I quit last time?”

“Yes… but I wanted you-“

“To get there myself yeah, yeah,” Y/N huffed, “So you’ve been watching me have a shit time at work every day, knowing that I had already realised this and left months ago.”

“Well that makes it seem harsher than our thought process.”

“You keep saying our.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at Lily who was now looking a bit sheepish. Good.

“Well, James, myself, the boys, Marlene-“

“What you’ve been having fun secret chats about me?”

“Y/N this isn’t some secret club where we talk about you, we were- are trying to let you heal properly, and if that meant reliving some things then that was what we were going to do.”

Y/N pressed a finger to her temple, trying to relax the headache that had been building over the last few hours. Or probably days. She took in a deep breath and looked around the room, thanking Merlin that it was late in the day and the area surrounding the little café was almost empty.

“I know, this is just very overwhelming.”

“Are you ok?” Lily leaned forward and placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s just a headache, the healers said this is common in the weeks after an injury.” Y/N winced as a throbbing pain reached her temples again.

“Maybe I should take you home?”

Y/N nodded, grimacing as the pain became worse, moving down into her neck.

“Come on, I’ll send a note up to your office as we leave.”

Lily helped Y/N up and led her towards the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius had only felt helpless a few times in his life. The first was when his mother taught Regulus and himself how to use the crutiatus curse and then practice on each other. The second was when he saw his mother’s eyes, black as the night, staring daggers at him when he came home for the Christmas in his fifth year and stuck posters of Muggle girls and Gryffindor merchandise across the walls of his bedroom, cursing them to stay up forever. This was the third.

“So, we’ve found our favourite member of the Black household, or perhaps we can’t call you that anymore?”

The voice of Lucius Malfoy hissed in his ear, making him growl. He hated that it still stung, the burn that he was sure sat in his parents drawing room where Sirius’s face was meant to be.

“I didn’t know I was your favourite, Malfoy, I would have dressed up more to see you,” Sirius crooned in return, trying not to wince as he pulled back a chunk of his hair and dragged him backwards into the room Sirius and Marlene had just been leaning against.

“Now, do you want to tell us what you two are doing here, or would you rather we get it out of you ourselves. Both ways work for us.”

“You keep saying us,” Sirius tried to keep his voice light, but found he was struggling to stand upright and edge away from Lucius as he kept a tight grip on his hair. “Who is the other lovely death eater addressing us tonight.”

“That would be me,” a slimy voice crawled out from the edge of the room and Sirius felt his blood coil. Snivellus.

“Ahh Snivellus, pity that’s the case isn’t it, Marls,” Sirius tried to shake his head in mock sadness but let out a cry of pain as Lucius kicked out his legs and kept his hands wrapped around his hair so it felt like they were coming out of his roots.

“Couldn’t agree more, Sirius,” Marlene called from the other side of the room and Sirius felt his heart lighten slightly at her voice. At least we weren’t killed on sight.

“And why’s that?” Severus growled at them, walking closer to Sirius so he could see his face in the soft moonlight, holding Marlene with a wand at her throat.

“Cause we were really hoping to catch someone important tonight.” Sirius sighed loudly and winked at Marlene who grinned. She mouthed Now.

Quickly, Marlene had elbowed Snape in the ribs and ducked out of his wands range rolling out of sight to presumably get her wand. Simultaneously, Sirius twisted under himself, letting his hair twist into a ponytail in Lucius’s hand and kicked towards him, hard. He landed right between the legs and grinned to himself as he snatched Lucius wand and pointed it towards Snape.

“Step the fuck away from her.” Sirius snarled towards Snape who was circling Marlene like a hawk, one hand pressed hard on her hand that was outstretched towards her wand.

“Or you’ll do what? Don’t have James to save you now do you.” Snape turned to look at him and smile as he pressed down and dug his foot into her hand. Marlene let out a blood curdling scream that echoed around the room. Before he could even think, Sirius had yelled out a curse he thought he’d never use on another living soul.

“Crucio!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lily and Y/N reached the Potter’s in record time, though Y/N wasn’t sure if she might have begun to drop in and out of consciousness as Lily apparated her in sections across different towns.

“James open up, it’s me!”

“What do I call you when we’re alone.”

“Christ almighty, Lilypad, now let us in!”

“Us?” James echoed as he unlocked the door and Lily powered through past him and into the living room with Y/N chuckling beside her.

“Good to know you have your sense of humour.” Lily rolled her eyes and got Y/N comfortable on the couch, “James, can you call St Mungos?”

“St Mungos? What’s going on?” James followed them into the living room and sat next to the fire, grabbing some floo and yelling “St Mungos!”

“This is St Mungos for magical ailments and injuries, what can we help with today.” A false sounding voice came from the fire.

“Y/N Y/L/N, previous patient, going through – Lily you haven’t told me what’s happening yet?”

“She’s getting headaches and keeps fainting, has been coming on over a few days.”

“Please wait a few moments,” the voice called again, “Your concerns are of utmost importance to us.”

“Lovely,” Lily grumbled, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just need to get some rest, they said this would happen sometimes.” Y/N murmured, closing her eyes as she lay back on the couch. It felt like there were flashing lights pulsating into her brain, thrumming on her veins. She just wanted to fall asleep for a week.

A new voice came from the fireplace, a male one, familiar sounding.

“Whilst this is definitely commonplace for anyone who has gone through bodily trauma, we want to keep a close eye on it all the same.”

“Is there anything we can do?” James was quieter this time, as if she couldn’t hear him as he sat a metre away.

“She should rest, not do anything strenuous, drink lots of water – honestly there’s not much more to do than that, unless you have some numbing potions for the pain. If it lasts longer than a few days, and if any fever or more intense symptoms come up then send word again.”

“Ok, thanks.”

The light dimmed in the room and Y/N presumed that the face had disappeared from the fireplace. There was a few moments of silence before Lily and James spoke. They were likely having a conversation with expressions only to avoid scaring her. The pain had eased with her eyes shut, but she was still getting painful throbs across her neck and temple, and there was light bursting behind her eyes in pulses.

“I don’t know whats going on there, but it sounds like I won’t die, and I would really love one of those pain destroying potion whatevers,” Y/N mumbled, her voice soft from the effort.

“Yeah of course, I’ll bring you upstairs, Lil can you get the –“

“Yep, on it.”

Y/N felt arms wrap around her and then suddenly pull her upwards, carrying her presumably up towards the guest bedroom. She felt like sinking downwards into his arms until she was asleep, but the pain kept bringing her back up to the surface.

Eventually James lay her on her bed, pulled off her shoes and pulled up the blankets so they were covering her properly. Soft padding heading towards her bed indicated that Lily had followed them up.

“Here, sit up for a second,” Lily helped Y/N pull herself up and began pouring things into her throat. Y/N coughed at the coldness of the potion trickling down, but it quickly began to numb most of her body and she felt heavy and tired… so tired…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius hissed, pain coursing through every vein, every muscle, every tiny particle that could have made up his body. He’d long since trained himself not to react, but he was sure his eyes were betraying him, bulging out and searching for Marlene who he heard scream moments before, but it was fading away as if they were dragging her somewhere else. Get the fuck up, now, do it, NOW.

He felt the pain ease slightly as whoever was casting took a moment before casting again and he took it, using every inch of strength he had left in his body. It felt like he was made of water, each limb reforming into flesh and bone as he pulled out his wand and cast across the room. Flames burst from each corner of the room, the pain easing almost completely as it did, the caster yelling loudly across from him. Sirius swung around to where he heard the noise, spotting Snape and flicking his wand towards him.

Snape was momentarily caught off guard but dodged out of the way and threw a spell back at him.

“Protego!” Sirius gasped, his feet slipping against the carpet as he edged towards the door and away from the fire.

“Don’t think you can get away from me so easily,” Snape growled at him, his eyes dark and menacing.

“If there’s anything in this life I’m counting on it’s being able to easily dodge you.” Sirius winked at him and threw a large stone like object into the room. Snape stepped back quickly, his arm outstretched – and then there was darkness, the room covered almost entirely in black dust. Sirius moved quickly, sprinting towards the door and sliding through it before Snape had a chance to fire off a spell in his direction.

He kept running down the hallway, listening closely for voices before he heard the snarl of Marlene’s voice behind him and he skidded to a stop and smashed into the door he could hear her from.

Lucius turned around quickly, glaring dangerously at Sirius but he shot a spell towards him instantly. Lucius blocked it with ease, but it gave Marlene the second’s distraction she needed to slide forwards off her chair and slam her feet into the backs of Lucius’s knees. He fell forwards and Sirius bounded over to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the nearest window.

“Ever done a moving apparition before?” Sirius said, unlatching the window and opening it.

“I’m always ready to try new things.” Marlene grimaced.

“Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

They jumped from the window, Sirius closing his eyes and spinning as fast as he could as he thought of home. Of being with Y/N.

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norhimorovine · 5 years ago

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Saffron for Mistletoe

Norhi was in the yard next to the shop today. She had a hammer, a big tin of nails, and a stack of cut wood on her left. And on her right, was a stack of crates that she’d just put together. In front of her, Dischaus and Lhissa stood with their own small hammers and tins of nails.

Norhi carefully laid out three pieces of the wood side by side and then another piece across them on one end. As she began to nail them into place, she instructed her siblings, “Now, arrange them across the sawhorses like this. And we hammer two nails through each, so that there’s six nails, all the way down the cross piece. Once they’re all the way through, we take one more cross piece and do the other end. Then, we flip it over like this, and clinch the nails. Like so.”

Dis scrunched his nose, watching Norhi hammer the ends of the nails so they bent over flat against the wood. “Why do we bother with that? Why don’t we just leave them? Or buy shorter nails?”

Norhi chuckled. “Shorter nails are usually too thin to hold this wood together solidly. And to get this thickness in the right length, I’d have to custom order them from the blacksmith. Which gets expensive, for the number of crates we go through. And if we left them, someone might scrape their hand reaching in for a bottle. Or one of the nails might scratch and damage the product.”

Lhissa tilted her head. “The blacksmiths don’t make nails for crates normally?”

Norhi shrugged. “Oh, I imagine there’s a blacksmith out there that does. But… they don’t live near the Hawthorne Hut. And I do try to buy from our local blacksmith instead of traveling out of my way just for nails that I only need for crates. Especially since we also use these nails for repairing the cart, or for shelves for the shop, fences for the groves, and so on. Easier to buy bulk from a blacksmith that knows me. And… kinder to the Wood as well.”

Dis and Lhis exchanged confused looks. “How does buying nails from a local blacksmith be kind to the Wood?” “I thought the Forest didn’t like metal.” “And we’re using it to hammer wood from the Forest!”

Norhi laughed and set aside the finished panel, before starting another. “Well… That’s a story.”

“Story!! Tell us!”

Now, in a little village, deep in the farther reaches of the Twelveswood, there was a merchant. He was a well to do man, with a nice shop. People from the village depended on him. And they respected him. After all, he was the one who secured furs and meats from local hunters, and items from traveling traders that could not be made in their own homes.

Life seemed perfect and content. Their village knew peace. The shop was successful. And the only complaints were the local boys getting into mischief.

Now, the summer festival was upon them. The merchant set up his shop, opening the great window and setting out the crates of goods. His wife hung garlands of flowers from the eaves, and a wreath on the shop door. The other businesses around them - the blacksmith, the tavern, the baker - were all doing the same. And traveling traders came in from the roads, setting up their little carts of wares, also decorated for the festivities. The feast was set up, the dance floor was filled, the conjurer was giving out blessings and purification masks. All in all, it was going to be a grand year.

As the day began to draw to a close, the merchant and his wife began to slowly pack back up. But before they could finish, a foreign man in bright silks and gold jewelry, came up to the open window. “My good sir! I would like to trade with you!”

The merchant was rarely one to refuse the idea of business. So he turned back to the window and smiled, “Of course! What can I help you with?”

The foreigner gave the man a cat-like grin and pulled a strange pouch from his voluminous coat. “I have here a spice from the far east, which we call saffron. It is most rare and hard to produce, requiring the careful, skilled hands of artisans with a lifetime of work. These fine yellow threads will add a wonderful fragrance and flavor to any savory dish! They are sought after by the richest gourmands of the great cities!”

The merchant seemed unsure, as he answered, “That sounds like an invaluable item indeed. Why bring it to me? We are humble people here.”

The foreigner’s grin spread a little more. “Oh why? Because, my good sir, what a better way to liven up a humble life, than with a few exotic treasures and treats? No doubt your village headsman’s wife would give great gil to have this delicacy in her kitchen.”

The merchant rubbed at his chin, thinking that it would be nice if the headsman’s wife was a little more generous in her next shopping trip. He then narrowed his eyes at the foreigner. “And how much would this little bag of spice cost me? What good does it bring to reach for exotic treasures we can’t afford?”

The foreigner held aloft a finger, as if revealing a secret. “Ah, but for you, my good sir, it is not so expensive. For you see, these very piles of walnuts you have in this crate, are not so common back east. To us, they are the exotic treasure!”

The merchant shrugged. “But they are not so hard to gather, nor require a lifetime of experience. My own son gathered these from the forest yesterday.”

The foreigner nodded. “True, true. But also, you have these little plants here, this… mistletoe. It is quite useful for alchemists. And this variety does not grow in the east. No doubt this is a little harder to gather.”

The merchant mused on this for a moment. “That is true. So, how much of my mistletoe and my walnuts, do you want for that one bag?”

The foreigner grinned, “For all of your mistletoe and all of your walnuts, I will give you half of my saffron.”

The merchant shook his head. “I have people here who will want some of these still. I will give you two-thirds, for half of your saffron.”

The foreigner seemed unconvinced, almost putting the little pouch away again. “Then, all of your mistletoe, and half of your walnuts. For half of my saffron.”

The merchant snorted. “No no. The conjurer’s wife will come for some of that mistletoe tomorrow morning. She always does. No. Four-fifths of the mistletoe, two-thirds of the walnuts, for two-thirds of your saffron.”

The foreigner seemed to waver before finally smiling. He reached out and shook the merchant’s hand. “A deal we have! I will go bring your saffron.”

The merchant grinned. “And I will bag up your walnuts and mistletoe.”

Soon, the exchange was done. And that night, the foreigner left.

The next morning, the conjurer’s wife came to the shop. The conjurer’s wife was sad to see that there was so little mistletoe left. The merchant apologized and said they would have more soon. The conjurer’s wife nodded and bought what was there, making her way out with a sigh. The merchant felt some guilt at this. He did not like that he had disappointed her.

But this worry soon fled, as the headsman’s wife came in the door. The merchant happily showed her the saffron, telling her of the qualities the foreign man had espoused the night before. Being the vain woman she was, she happily bought a hefty sum of the saffron.

The days following, more villagers came to buy the saffron, after sampling the headsman’s wife’s cooking with it. It soon ran out. And they were sad for its loss. But life went back to normal.

A moon later, the foreign man returned. He gave the merchant a sly grin. “The saffron brought you riches, I see.”

And the merchant, who had profited well enough to afford a new waistcoat, nodded. “I suppose you can say that I did. What other exotic treasures do you have?”

The foreigner grinned his catlike smile and opened his cart.

The next day, the merchant hawked his new fabulous wares. And the villagers loved it. Though, no few of them were disappointed to find that there were no walnuts or mistletoe at all. And that there wasn’t as much of the potting clay or alumen, as usual.

The merchant grew richer off of his new wares. Though, he found that when he went to buy potions from the conjurer’s wife, that they were almost gone. It seemed she did not have enough materials for what she needed. And when he got home, his wife complained that the local potter couldn’t make her a new jug, since he’d just run out of clay. He consoled his wife, saying he’d go to the next village to buy what they needed.

Several moons passed this way. The foreign man would show up and trade his exotic goods for things that the village rather needed. And when the villagers came the next day, there was so little left for them of their usual goods, that they began to complain. And when they weren’t complaining of that, they were arguing over the exotic wares, competing to get to them before they ran out too. What’s more, the merchant had begun to make regular trips to the next village, to buy the things the village was no longer making, for his own household. The trips were becoming costly. And the neighboring village was growing suspicious.

Finally, the foreign man returned again. The merchant shook his head. “I cannot. No longer. My village needs these things you ask for. The exotic treasures you bring, they are wonderful. But they bring strife too. Our potion-maker no longer has potions, because you bought all the plants she needed. Our potter has no jugs, because you bought all the clay. And the village bickers over the things you trade to us. They’re wonderful. But they’re also a curse. I’m sorry, but no longer.”

The foreigner frowned sadly. “Are you certain? Perhaps if I sent you word in advance. Tell you what things I wish to trade for? You can stock up enough for the village and for me?”

At this point, the village headsman and the conjurer, followed by several more of the village, stepped forward. The conjurer bowed low, as he spoke, “Dear sir, you have brought an expensive lesson to our lives. But we cannot do as you ask. We cannot over-harvest in this forest, lest we anger the elementals.”

The headsman nodded in agreement. “We have our ways here. And while we do not mind a little variety now and again, we are too small a village for the expenses you bring us. Please return with the next festival, but no other time.”

The foreign man mused on this for a long moment and then nodded. He reached into his cart and pulled out a bag of tea leaves. “I understand. It brings me grief to know that I have caused such turmoil for your lovely village. As an apology, here are the rarest tea leaves I could bring from the east. Brew them and offer them to your elementals for my wrongs. When I return with the next festival, I will bring treasures that will befit a festival, instead of thinking of my own pockets.”

The conjurer accepted the bag of tea leaves. “Be safe on the road, kind sir.”

The merchant shook hands with the foreign man once more, before turning back to his shop. But as he turned, he spotted a glimmer in the trees, just out of the village’s edge. He thought for a moment that it was some large bird, except that it glowed with radiant magic. The creature vanished in a wink, leaving the merchant staring in shock. He turned back to the conjurer and said, “I will help you offer the tea to the elementals. It was my decision to accept the trade, that started this whole affair.”

The conjurer smiled knowingly and nodded. “Of course. Let us go do that.”

And after that, the merchant never saw the glowing creature again, the foreign man only came at the festival time, and the village once again knew piece.

Norhi picked her hammer back up, as she finished the story. “So… I buy nails from our local blacksmith, because it’s good for people to support their neighbor’s businesses.”

Dis scrunches his nose. “But you travel all over to sell Zuzu’s potions.”

Norhi nodded. “True. But I also buy things in all those places, after selling our wares. So… some of that money is going right back into the markets. And… I tend to stick to big cities. Their markets are built for foreign trade, unlike small villages. And… I imagine that the story probably could’ve ended differently, if someone who understood trade and markets, was there to create a better solution. As it stands, that story teaches us to be thoughtful of our clients and our vendors.”

Lhis grinned. “So, big nails for everything!”

Norhi wilted. “That… I just… Lhis, no.”

#FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite #Miqo'te Tales

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destiniecomeau · 5 years ago

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A Shout Out for International Women’s Day

Taking a step away from my own knowledge and experience in writing, I wanted to take today to talk about some women in writing that inspired me to become what I am. This will be a kind of top ten list with short reasons as to why the person (or group) is on the list. Let’s go!

First, some honorable mentions: Margaret Atwood, Toni Morrison, Mary Shelly, Maya Angelou, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Gertrude Stein, and a number of recent fiction writers I don’t have the space to list.

#10. Sylvia Plath

Sylvia is a writer I only discovered in the last year but I fell hard for her nature writing and her connection to setting.

#9. Virginia Wolf

Is it strange that my favorite book by Wolf is the one I understand the least? “The Waves” introduced me to the stream of consciousness style of writing and though I don’t think it fits with my own writing, I appreciate the value it has for others.

#8. Jane Austen

I’m a sucker for Pride and Prejudice. Probably for the same reasons every other female my age is, but also because I appreciate the ebb and flow.

#7. The Bronte Sisters

I’m putting the sisters together because I can’t decide who has influenced me more. “Wuthering Heights” was my intro to them and proved I don’t have to like the characters to like the book/story. “Jane Eyre” is my most recent read and I appreciated it just as much.

#6. Arundhati Roy

If you haven’t read “The God of Small Things,” go read it. Now.

#5. Emily Dickinson

I know a lot of people that don’t enjoy Dickinson’s poetry. I’m not one of them. I think Dickinson’s writing is elegant and beautiful and the images I find myself lost in while reading her work have heavily inspired some of my most emotional scenes.

#4. Mary Oliver

I discovered Mary Oliver when I picked up “Dog Songs.” She passed soon after I really began to appreciate her work. She certainly brought back my love of poetry after years of indifference.

#3. Maggie Stiefvater

I don’t think i realized how much Maggie Stiefvater’s books influenced me until her most recent book, “Call Down the Hawk” was released. I’ve followed her work since the “Shiver” series and her style heavily influenced my emerging writer brain. I love the beauty of her metaphors and images and I don’t know that I’ve read another author that has written modern teenagers so well.

#2. Jesmyn Ward

There is only one thing separating this wonderful woman from the number one spot and I’ll get to that in a moment. First, I have to say that I cannot praise this woman’s writing enough. The beauty of her style, her stories, her metaphors, and images truly draws me in and grapples my heart. If I could someday be compared to Ward in ability, I will have succeeded as a writer. Go read “Salvage the Bones.”

#1. J.K. Rowling

Remember how I said only one thing kept Jesmyn Ward from this spot? It’s time to explain that. Young Destinie hated reading. Despised it with all of her being. She grew into it, slowly, with the help of books like “Eragon” and “A Series of Unfortunate Events.” But Young Destinie never would have put pencil to paper if not for Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling inspired me to become a writer, and for that, she must sit at #1.

#internationalwomen'sday #women writers #reading #writing #writers #author #poetry #writing community

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thedepthsremember · 7 years ago

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20 Questions: Choices fanfic writers edition

Tagged in this by @breaumonts! Thanks :D

1. When/what age did you start writing? In elementary school, I wrote and drew my own picture books, which at that age I definitely thought was the best thing to do forever. In middle/high school, there was some self-insert Spider-Man and Harry Potter fanfic that I hope stays buried forever. I picked it back up more regularly during an awful period in college where I lost my love of drawing (unfortunate, considering my major) but still needed to express somehow. 2. What inspired you to start? Similar to my art it's been a way to express myself, to tell my side of how I'm seeing things. A lot of the time it's like solving a puzzle, what was that character thinking? And then I just keep chasing that thought.

It weirds me out that writing feels more like..... excavating. Like it was there and I’m just uncovering it. Drawing doesn’t feel like that at all. 3. Where and when does inspiration usually strike you? I do a lot of driving, so usually then, or if I'm doing something repetitive at work and I can let my mind wander. While I'm getting a massage is a random one but I'm relaxed and my mind can just play without getting in its own way.

4. Where and when do you usually to write? Morning? Late at night? On the bus? In bed? Lately it's been my favorite way to procrastinate sleeping because it's like I'm being productive! Hahaaa

I'll write entire scenes in my head before I write anything down. Sometimes I'll dash down little parts on paper or in my phone to make sure I don't forget.

5. Do you listen to music while writing? If so what genre/playlist? A lot of chill video game instrumentals are a good default, unless I have a playlist or an artist I know will set the right mood. I'm pop trash so usually that'll fall to the background enough that I can focus. 6. Which category do you like best? Angst? Fluff? NSFW? Other? I would love to wrote more fluff, but it seems to tend towards a lot of angsting and anxiety with some humor thrown in, I guess because that's how I deal with my own thoughts. I do get to give them happy endings, so that's nice! 7. Which category do you find most challenging to write? Smut is really difficult and awkward for me, partly bc part of the appeal of the actual acts irl are they help me turn my brain chatter off, so it's hard to put that back into descriptions. Plus I'm just self conscious about how personal that is.

Also anything with an actual plot. I can give you moments and that's about it. 8. If you had to pick your favourite Choices book, which one would it be and why? TRR is the one that sucked me in and stole my soul for whatever reason, BUT I can also admit a lot of that is for what it could be. It's a good thought playground. Like Harry Potter.

Perfect Match is shaping up to be my jam, I live for sci fi and found families and all that "what is the nature of humanity" nonsense. It's like Dollhouse without being built on a base of creepiness.

I also really love the ILITW cast, enough that it balances out how much of a wimp i am when it comes to scary things. 9. If your Choices LIs were real, which one (and only one!) would you personally want to be with? I've said before that Damien from Perfect Match is the closest to my irl type, but right now I'm kind of exhausted of that "I'm too cool to like things" sort of dude. Idk let's give older Lucas (ilitw) a shot. He's motivated but has a playful side, we might balance each other out. Especially after he figures himself out more in college. 10. Do you share any physical characteristics with your Choices MCs? Pics/selfies optional :) Riley is small and ready to brawl and I've basically given her an idealized version of my body type when I draw her. Uhhh like half of the others end up being long haired blondes because even though that's not my hair anymore it was like that for most of my life. 11. Which MC do you share the most personality traits with? Perfect Match MC feels the closest, a lotta the other MCs are leader types, PM MC is like Alright yeah let's kick ass so we can go home and eat ice cream. Feels very purple Hawke.

TRR MC in her more absurd moments also feels very familiar. I have a story about the fancy hats. 12. Which Choices character do you feel you have the best grasp of in terms of personality? I get Drake bc that fucker is every guy I've befriended who then caught feelings because he's not used to being treated nicely. :| He also has a “the people I care about deserve the things I want more than I do" thing that I am only now realizing feels.... awfully familiar....... :| …...let’s move on.

13. What’s your favorite Choices pairing to write for? Obviously Maxwell x MC. I love pairs that have a good push and pull, where they can be silly but care about each other.

Sidedish of MC+Drake friendship because my wish fulfillment fantasy is those previously mentioned guys stop ruining a potentially good friendship with their moping and actually be a pal, dammit. 14. What is a pairing/s you hope to start writing for? Like anything else, lmao. More friendship stuff? Hana's only been in one of my fics which bums me out.

Pretty sure some Damien x MC and Hayden x MC will be coming now that PM2 is happening. Something with more ladies. Eleanor x MC from THOBM! Ghost gf fitting into the modern world has plenty of potential. 15. What do you hope to improve in your writing? Current struggle is I keep trying to write smut and then distracting myself with what happens before/after. Gah.

More actions / feelings. I feel like too much of my writing comes from dialogue with actions peppered in to meter the rhythm.

16. Any pet peeves related to writing? So. Words have always been a finicky thing for me. Things will make sense in my head, and then I say them out loud and realize people aren’t seeing things from the same spot. So sharing my writing is A VERY SELF-CONSCIOUS TIME.

In terms of the actual process: When I just wanna write something self-indulgent and I start actually trying, and then we're like 5 miles off track from the fun part. I also get pretty self-conscious that the OOC police or something is going to come for me. 17. Are you inspired by any IRL experiences when you write? Care to share? A lot of flaws or traumas I'll saddle my characters with are my own but tweaked, because I like the idea that someone can have them and still succeed. 18. Is there any particular piece of work you consider to be your ultimate writing goal? uhhhhh i. don't. know? If I could make someone laugh and cry in the same fic that's golden. 19. Did/do you write for any other fandoms? If so which ones? I have a bunch of drabbles for Dragon Age. I also just checked my ancient FF.net account to make sure the really old stuff is gone and found some Teen Titans and ATLA stuff I completely forgot about. 20. In your spare time (when you’re not writing) what other hobbies do you pursue? Art mainly, I'm back into digital for the first time since graduation (I majored in animation/illustration) so that's kind of exciting right now. VIDEO GAMES. I like to bake but my housemates have way more self control than I do, meaning I always end up eating most of whatever it is, so that's dangerous. I do like to work out. Share and tag fandom writers! @riseandshinelittleblossom and anyone else who wants to!

#vee life #meme me

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a-wanderin-whirlybird · 7 years ago

Text

Trust, Stress, and Love A Mighty Nein Fic

Ooookaaay. I’m gonna put my hand into the Critical Role fire and first gonna explain this web of a Poly ship I have for the Mighty Nein. Fjord, Caleb, Jester and Molly are a unit, Yasha and Beau are a unit and Nott has a massive crush on Yasha. So yeah not gonna explain the platonic and familial connections I headcannon here but enjoy the fluff!

Nott for all her abrasiveness and selfish tendencies, really did like the family she had found herself in. And, though she feared to even think of such a thing, she trusted them very quickly. Caleb was a given, he was her boy, but realizing that she trusts Beau, Fjord, Jester, Yasha and even Mollymauk scared her. But no matter how much her own trust scares her she wanted to show them all she cared, that she did trust them and wanted them to be ok. And for one of them she wanted to show them that she cared just a bit more. The plan arose after the failure of a heist at the High Richter’s home. Tensions were high, and everyone was stressed to hell and back. Nott had just realized how much she wanted to watch over these childish idiots, they had become her family as well. And the plan had entered her mind. Now it had been a year and it was done she just needed one more thing but... It required trust.

"Do you trust me?" Nott asked over dinner that night to the confused glances of the Mighty Nein. In a great stroke of luck even Yasha was there and she watched Nott carefully.

"Of course, Nott!" Jester said with a big smile.

"I'm more curious why you're asking." Fjord said in his slow drawl. "Don't think it’s that important right now."

"Oh, but it is. Because I've been doing something, and I need you to trust me when I finish the last bit of it." Nott said trying to dodge exactly what she had been doing.

"You're not planning on blowing up on of the Trispires are you?" Molly asked in his usual Casual voice.

"Oh no! Gods no! It’s a surprise but I need a bit of Hair from each of you. Just to finish it off."

"You're not cursing us or anything yeah? Cause if you are-"

"-You'll beat me senseless. I know Beau. But I promise that its good, but it’s not done, and you won’t know what it is until we need it. Please just trust me!" Nott begged. She wanted this to work.

Suddenly a matted lock of black and white hair was thrust into Notts hand and was quickly joined by a greasy red lock and a fluffy blue Lock. Nott looked up and smiled at Jester, Caleb, and Yasha.

"Thank you." Nott mumbled as a Lavender lock, a green lock and a brown lock joined the pot. Though the latter was given reluctantly.

"Now Nott, we are putting our trust in you blindly, try not to lose it." Molly warned, trying to look serious, but there was that playful twinkle in his eyes that showed when Molly was excited.

"I know. And I promise it won't hurt anyone." Nott then darted upstairs with a big worried smile. She was so close.

The next day Nott was gone before anyone woke up. She grabbed the hair and her bag and quickly made her way to the Invulnerable Vagrant. As she had for the last few months she snuck around back and knocked. One of the Pumatts opened the door with a beaming, if sleepy, smile.

"Well! Come on in little Lady! We have the last ritual all ready if you got the last ingredient."

"Yes! I have it and I'm ready!" Nott smiled as she hurried in. It would take some time before she knew if this all worked. But Nott could be patient when the need arose.

It took a week for Nott's surprise to reveal itself. Sadly, it wasn’t at the most opportune time. They were back in the Gentleman's presence when Molly, who had been subtly fidgeting as Cree stared him down, suddenly vanished in a puff of peacock feathers. Nott mentally smiled, the exit had occurred as she wanted but now she had to do damage control. It was surprisingly easy to lie to the collected criminals about what happened. She simply said that 'Lucien' likely wanted to go check on something and used a magic item to teleport. It helped that the Gentleman trusted her more now. After that things went downhill.

Beau was the next one to vanish, her anger getting the better of her and she vanished in a puff of fluttering blue fabric. Which in turn made Jester, Caleb, and Yasha vanish. Jester vanished in a puff of glitter, Yasha had flower petals, and Caleb had paper. Fjord waited to round on Nott until they reached the tavern where he immediately vanished in a puff of green smoke. Nott nodded and whispered a command word to join her family, leaving behind a plain bag on the floor of her room.

Nott popped into existence in a maze of pottery and glass. It was all still intact which made Nott worry.

"She probably didn’t find it yet. Its fine." Nott muttered to herself as she made her way past the maze and to a large space filled with paints, paper, clay, and all manner of art supplies, also all untouched. Nott really began to worry as she passed the beach, the game filled alley, the sparring ring, and the library and all had been untouched. Maybe it had failed? Maybe they had vanished, and Nott had just lost the family she fallen so hard into.

"Nott?" Nott froze as she was darting through the stocked outdoor kitchen and turned to find Yasha, an arm full of all kinds of flowers and a bag of books behind her. Nott released a shaky breath at the sight of Yasha. A small blush crossed her hooded face at Yasha’s almost soft and innocent stare.

"I-is everyone here? They're ok?" Nott shakily asked, Yasha nodded.

"They're in the field. Nott did you-" Nott didn’t hear a word Yasha said, she was rushing off to the Flower Field. That Field took four months to finish and every ounce of Nott's intelligence to make. Nott was relieved to find everyone sitting in the field staring around at the blue sky and the rolling clouds as a light breeze blew by. Jester turned to see Nott and dashed towards Nott scooping her up into a massive hug.

"Nott this place is amazing! Did you make this?" Jester asked in a whisper as the rest of the party joined. Caleb joined the hug wordlessly as Nott nodded.

"Yeah, well everyone gets stressed all the time and I thought a place just for us where we could relax, and you know, be us would be good."

"How much did this cost?" Fjord asked. " I imagine you didn’t do it alone and this could not be cheap."

"The Pumatts helped a lot but don’t worry about it."

"You didn’t sell yourself to some shady business, did you? Do we have to beat someone up for you?" Beau asked cracking her knuckles.

"No! No no! I just have to help Pumatt with a new spell he's working on. And well I don’t have a collection anymore but that's ok. This is better." Nott said, her voice muffled by the now growing group hug she was enveloped in.

"Nott, you didn't need to do this." Caleb whispered sounding more relaxed than ever.

And that’s why she did it. Everyone was always stressed. None of them really had a childhood. That’s what all the games were for. And sometimes you just needed to break stuff, or draw, or find a quiet corner out in a field or by a lake shore. Or maybe a nice meal in peace.

“What is this place even?” Fjord asked looking around at the Mountain rimmed valley. “Is it a Pocket Dimension or what?”

“Well no. Um we are in a bag, but the bag is more like a portal to a Valley in the Wilds. Pumatt and I spent a long time finding a good Spot with enough Ley Lines to get the Protection enchantments set up.” Nott fidgeted a bit as Fjord and Molly joined the group hug. In her nervousness Nott used an age old nervous habit of hers. She info dumped.

“See I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel like you were in a confined space cause Molly and Caleb don’t like those, Jester likes the sky, Fjord and Yasha are used to open spaces and Beau always looks happier outside of a building. But doing a Dimensional Pocket wouldn’t give you that you’d know you were in a pocket and an enclosed space, so we decided doing a portable portal to a secured place in the wilds would work best. So we spent two months using a lot of divination to find a good place and we found here and no monsters come here and no travelers come through here because there is no resources or roads but we still needed to make it safe and no random person or monster could wander in and the Gentleman couldn’t track us so Pumatt and I made protective enchantments but we had to invent them ourselves and once they were in place I had to get it all nice and warm. So I sold my Collection to get the supplies I needed to dam up a River and divert it down here and make the lake and beach and get water for the field and so I could build the Kitchen and the Library and stock it and so I could get the alchemy ingredients to change the weather from cold and snowy to nice and comfortable and I had to talk to so many kids to figure out what Games they like and how to play them and I bought out about 30 potters and glassmakers and Pumatt enchanted everything so they will repair themselves and the Kitchen will never run out of food and I had to figure out how to plant the flowers and get them to grow and I had to go into Chastity Nook to get all those romance and smut novels for Jester and some specially picked ones for Beau and Molly and lots of History books, and other stuff that Fjord and Caleb would like and Yasha too. And the Sparring arena took a lot of time cause I had to sneak into the Kobold Sol to see what they had and by then I had no money so I did a lot of work for the Gentleman so I could get the money and stuff I needed quickly and then I needed your hair so that The portal enchantment would recognize you and if you got too stressed or needed an out it would teleport you here there’s even a safe word and its Hawk so if you need to go quick without waiting you can just say it and If you want to leave you say Lollipop and- oof!” Nott was very quickly smothered by her family giving her the biggest hug, even Beau had joined in.

“Nott… thank you.” Molly whispered.

“You really did good. This... This is amazing.” Yasha said a little awkwardly.

“Yeah. ya did good.” Beau added.

“Nott. this is amazing. You did amazing, thank you.” Fjord said his voice a bit shaky.

“We can keep adding stuff to it I think. But we can’t really sleep here because it’s a portal in a flimsy bag and if it breaks then everything falls to shit here. but uh, it is ah good... it’s good.” Caleb added, knowledgeable as ever.

“Nott just one question,”

“Yes Jester?”

“What does Pumatt and the Gentleman want in return for all this?” Jester asked, fear trickling into her voice as the Group hug separated, though Caleb kept holding Nott on his hip.

“Oh well, I just did some Sensitive jobs for the Gentleman that were high stakes and I did them really well. Pumatt had to call in some favors from the Cerberus people and so he wants me to test a new enchantment he’s working on and report the effects to him. He said I might like the Spell’s effects so I’m not too worried, but I will have to stay at his shop for a week or two.”

“Oh Nott.” Jester said with a Little gasp.

“Nott. You really... that’s a lot. Just for us? That....” Yasha trailed off unsure what to do, Nott was a bit hypnotized by the light blush on Yasha’s face. Beau... Beau and Molly looked to each other and to Fjord who nodded.

“Right we can discuss that later. Now Nott you know how to play those games yeah? Care to teach us?” Nott brightened and nodded. This was good. Very good.

As Fjord, Jester, Caleb and Yasha were led away by Nott, Beau and Molly turned to each other. Beau hissed.

“I have the Gentleman. You go to Pumatt.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Molly sneered. “If that fuck tries anything kick his ass.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you.” and with that they both spoke the exit word and moved through the tavern and out into the city at Dusk.

First, Beau moved to the Evening Nip proper. She bustled down with a dangerous air, and the Gentleman smiled, like he was expecting perhaps a request for a job. Beau slammed one of the many business ends of her staff down on the sweaty elf’s table and glared him down.

“What the fuck do you have on Nott? Whatever the fuck it is I want it gone. Now.” It was satisfying to see the Gentleman’s face screw up in confusion and... Oh! Ooooh! There was some fear there! Oh, that was beautiful! She had to get Jester to immortalize this and stick it in the new Kitchen for the future.

“I... do not know what you mean.” He said, carefully.

“You know that I know that you know what I mean.” Beau hissed, leaning in real close to the elf’s sweaty face. “She took some shadier than usual jobs from you. Things that she won’t mention outright but you can use to blackmail her later. I know how this dance goes. I’ve fucking danced it myself so I’m cutting it off here, now.” Beau’s grip on her staff tightened as she whipped around and smashed it into the Goliath’s face, she then brought down the end of the staff and vaulted herself up and kicked the Ogre in the face. The two went down like a sack of bricks. As the Gunslingers took aim she flipped back and pulled a dagger, holding it to the Gentleman’s throat.

“Woah, woah! No need for that!” The Gentleman coughed. “Men, please. Put those away. Cree? Please fetch the... contracts for our friend Nott’s work. And get Cara to cover any... extra tracks.”

Everyone started moving except Beau and the Gentleman. Only once Beau watched as every single bit of evidence of Nott’s involvement in any incident in the city or beyond was erased did Beau release the Gentleman. She made a show of scraping the ashes away and with a smirk walked silently out of the Evening Nip, right as she reached the open air, Beau vanished in a flurry of blue fabric.

While Beau made an impression on the Gentleman, Molly strode to the Invulnerable Vagrant. He had purpose and he looked uncharacteristically grim. Nott put a great deal of trust and love into the little Family Molly had found and joined. Molly was never one to think too much on things but... the entire deal with Pumatt sounded wrong. He needed to at least know what it was Pumatt was planning.

“Ah, it’s good to see you again my friend.” One of the many Pumatt’s drawled. “Did you like the Little Lady’s surprise?”

“Oh, we certainly love it but there is one little thing that needs discussing.” Molly said leaning against the counter.

“Ah well, if something’s wrong with any of the enchantments we’ll be happy to fix them for yea.”

“It’s not about the Magic friend, that works wonderfully. It’s the matter of the deal you and Nott made.” the Pumatt’s brow furrowed.

“Ah I see you’re worried about the agreement. Do not worry the spell we are working on is something very good, we just don’t want the Little Lady getting hurt and not be close by, so we can fix it yea see?”

“I understand that completely, but it would put us more at ease if we knew what you were trying to accomplish.” Pumatt twisted his lips into a confused pout.

“One moment.” The Pumatt then vanished into the back room. For a while there were some hushed whispers that put Molly at ill ease. Then Pumatt prime appeared.

“Alright. I understand your fear, so I’ll even show you what we are working on, but you have to promise me one thing yea hear.”

“Of course.” Molly said.

“Don’t tell the little Lady. It’s a surprise for her.” Molly nodded and joined Pumatt Prime in his workshop, his worry slowly fading away.

After a long day of Showing her new family their new hidden safe space, which they named the Nein Valley, Nott and the others went to sleep. Nott watched as Beau and Molly whispered with everyone else. When she asked about it Molly just told her they tied up a lose end and that they trust her and asked if she trusted them.

It took a lot of effort to admit that she did out loud, but it made Molly smile and even Beau smiled her terrifying smile. It was good to. Nott turned to Caleb with a little smile and caught a glance at Yasha. A small sigh and a frown pulling at her lips. She had done good. Very good. It FELT good to! But. But…

She was still a Goblin. Always a Goblin. And sure, Caleb never said that he cared and Jester put flowers in her hair and call her pretty. But. Yasha never looked. That was something Nott secretly wished, she wanted Yasha to look. To really look. And maybe to see someone pretty.

But that wouldn’t happen. Nott knew that. It was like she told Molly under that Charm spell. She needed to change. She wanted to be normal, and pretty. Maybe then Yasha would look at her.

Then the next morning Nott went to Pumatt’s like she had for an entire year, bright and early. When she entered the Magical ritual, she had seen Pumatt Prime make for 5 months was finally ready with the four Pumatt’s waiting in their places. Pumatt 2 (Nott had learned how to tell which one was which, she did not know what to do with this knowledge) smiled and beckoned her into the center of the ritual circle.

“Alright Little Lady, just sit there, now you may get sleepy, that’s fine you can go ahead and fall asleep. Now yea ready?” Nott nodded nervously as she sat.

The ritual lit up and after a few minutes Nott suddenly crashed into unconsciousness. which was fortunate, Pumatt 3 would not later. She wasn’t awake to feel the sudden large surge of magic wash through her. Two hours later the ritual stopped and the Pumatts smiled as they began to check the Sleeping Nott over.

Caleb and Molly waited in the front of the Invulnerable Vagrant, Pumatt had sent for them a few hours ago stating that Nott was good to leave, and they didn’t need to wait a full week. He did not mention if the spell was a success or failure, so Molly was trying to comfort Caleb while the man paced nervously. When Pumatt walked out with Nott wrapped in a blanket Caleb shot forward and took his friend from Pumatt, not even stopping to look down. Molly sauntered over and smiled.

“So. This was your spell?” Molly asked as Caleb held onto the sleeping Nott.

“Yea well, the Little Lady spent a few long nights here and mentioned a few things here and there. We figured she could use a nice gift to yea know?” Molly smiled as Caleb gasped.

Nott woke up feeling warm, and with a light breeze washing over her. She blinked in the bright sunlight of the Nein Valley sitting up from her spot in the Nesting grounds as Jester named the pit full of blankets and pillows. As Nott tried to stand a blue hand shot up and pulled her back into a cuddle pile that had formed around her. As Nott went tumbling down she caught sight of something odd.

Her skin was a deep brown and her hair was tightly curled, poufy, and black. Nott started to shake. Jester sat up pulling Nott into a hug and yawned.

“You awake Nott?”

“What? What is it?” Nott hissed between breaths.

“Pumatt’s spell worked, do you want to see?” Jester asked already reaching into her bag of holding and pulling out a mirror. Nott didn’t say anything, she just gasped.

She was a young, normal, Halfling girl. With brown eyes, Brown curly hair, and tan skin, her ears were pointed but not as big as they used to be. Nott felt like crying.

“I’m... I’m normal.” Fjord sat up from beneath Jester, pulling them both into a hug.

“It’s a more powerful Disguise Self spell. No one can dispel it but you, and it doesn’t show as a spell. But if you ever want to go back to be your nice Goblin self you can. You can also be your equally nice Halfling self.” Fjord said with a yawn. Nott froze.

“You... you like me as a Goblin?” Nott asked her voice shaky.

“Of course!” Molly said sitting up, his arms and leg’s tangled with Caleb’s. He pulled Caleb up with him as he rose, and Caleb blinked. “You’re Nott either way.”

“You’re still our slippery little thief either way.” Beau said from Yasha’s lap. “Oh, by the way, The Gentleman sends his regards, and all proof of your involvement with him is ashes.”

“You beat the crap out of his men, didn’t you?” Fjord asked, and Beau laughed.

“Hell, yeah I did! Jester drew a picture of the Gentleman’s face when I did it!”

“It’s a really good face.” Jester said with a giggle.

“But so, I can be a Halfling as much as I want? And you guys don’t care if I am not a Halfling? But...” Nott trailed off and Yasha moved over and picked up Nott from Jester’s Lap. There was a gasp as Yasha kissed Nott, right on the lips. Beau whistled.

“Hot! when do I get one?” Beau teased and got flicked on the head by a laughing Caleb.

“Uh... what?” Nott asked.

“Nott I’ve wanted to kiss you since we cleared out the Will-o Wisps. You’re beautiful as a Goblin and as a Halfling.” Yasha hissed quickly.

“But... I thought you liked Beau?” Nott asked Beau laughed.

“Girl’s got a lot of love for us Ladies. I like you Nott but not like that. But I’m willing to share Yasha since Yasha’s willing.” Nott suddenly blushed. This had to be a dream.

“Ow!” Nott squeaked as Jester pinched her.

“Nnnnope! Not a dream!” Crap she said that out loud!

“Yeah you did.” Molly teased.

“Still didn’t get your answer Nott! Yasha wants to date you Goblin or not!” Beau called. Nott nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah ok! I do want to try this! Yes!” Nott exclaimed kissing Yasha herself to the snickers and cheers of the family around her.

Trust built families. Trust built lives. Trust built love. And Nott would be damned if she didn’t love these people and trusted them with all her soul. And they loved her to.

#Critical role #The mighty nein #Nott the brave #caleb widogast #fjord critical role #Mollymauk #Yasha #Jester #Beau #fluff

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trashmenofmarvel · 8 years ago

Text

Homeward, Part 10

Pairings: Ward x friend!Reader, Danny x friend!Reader

Prompt: Reader is an abusive relationship with a member of the Hand and seeks out her childhood friends for help. (prompt by @rune-of-a-writer)

Warnings: Swearing, Implicit Domestic Abuse, Angst

Word Count: 3,416

AO3

Master List

You opened your eyes and immediately froze. It took a few harrowing seconds for your eyes to adjust until you recognized the corners and shapes of Danny’s bedroom. You finally released your death-grip on the comforter.

It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. I’m safe.

It had been jumbled and confusing, but you were fairly sure your ex had been involved, and you were trapped. Unable to escape, even though the door to your old apartment was wide open. A pressure gripped your neck tightly, and you were paralyzed, unable to save yourself.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest. Not quickly, but slow and hard, and the tips of your fingers and toes tingled from sudden blood flood.

Shaking off the foul nightmare, you climbed out of the bed and stumbled across the darkened room, wondering what time it was. Picking your phone up from the nightstand, you realized it was half past seven.

“Shit,” you hissed as you put the phone back into your pants pocket. How long had you been asleep? Danny was probably pacing a trench into his lush, expensive carpet at your departure while Ward rolled his eyes at him.

Ward is worried too, you told yourself with a furrowed brow. Even if he hides it well, he wouldn’t bother unless he cared. Right?

The question was left unanswered as you opened the bedroom door and walked down the hallway into the living room, expecting to find one or both of them lounging as they had the night previously. Instead, you were met with a silent apartment. Lonely with bright lights filling the empty spaces.

Dejection filled your chest, and you immediately tried to shake it off. Danny and Ward weren’t here at your beck-and-call; they had lives of their own, and you were a guest in Danny’s home. A poor guest at that, judging by the fact you had just ditched them for the last several hours to nap away your feelings.

Rubbing your arms to ward off the feeling of isolation and loneliness, you walked into the kitchen to find it was also empty. Where are they? The question hung over your head as you opened the cupboards one by one, eventually finding the glasses you sought. You weren’t quite brave enough to raid Danny’s fridge and pantry for food, but you could at least draw yourself a glass of water.

After you filled the cup with water from the sink, you stared at the wall above the facet. Instead of a window, there was a small painting in a dark frame. It was simple but beautiful; elegant black ink was etched across the thick paper, depicting a mountain range topped with snow. A solitary brown hawk floated above its peaks, and it only served to make you feel even more separate from the rest of the world. As if you were the only person left on Earth.

You didn’t know how long you remained that way, ensorcelled by the painting with its haunting lines and mesmerizing grace, but you didn’t sense the presence behind you until it spoke.

“You’re awake.”

“Shit!”

You cursed loudly as the cup you were holding slipped from your startled grasp, banging noisily in the sink.

At least it didn’t break. Thank God for that.

You spun around, heart pounding once more even though you recognized the voice and knew its owner wouldn’t harm you. Ward stood in the kitchen doorway, and… you couldn’t stop staring.

Ward had changed into something far more casual, a dark blue shirt with black jeans and boots. His hair had been rinsed of whatever product he used to slick it against his scalp, and now it hung around the edges of his temples in a loose frame.

There was no way you could avoid noticing the appealing way his shirt clung tightly to his torso and arms (since when the hell did Ward have muscles?), nor the way his jeans fit snugly against his slim hips and long, lanky legs.

“Sorry,” he said in a low voice, glancing from the sink to your face, and you prayed nothing of your thoughts had escaped into your expression. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I… I didn’t know anyone was here,” you responded, mentally patting yourself on the back for your words not coming out in a squeak. “I just woke up,” you added, as if that weren’t completely goddamn obvious and your mind wasn’t spinning in its tracks as you continued to stare at your friend as if you had never seen him before.

“I can tell,” he said with the barest hint of a smile, eyes flicking upward to the mess that was your hair. You could feel the heat creep into your cheeks, embarrassed by how ruffled you appeared compared to this veritable Adonis in front of you.

“Sleep well?”

“Uh…” Holy hell, when had Ward gotten so damn attractive? Why did the ability to form words suddenly escape you? “Yeah, I guess. Uh. Where’s Danny?” You were desperate for a change of subject, but also wondered where he’d gone and… Why was Ward still there anyway? Didn’t he have a home to return to? He was obviously wearing different clothing and he looked like he’d washed up, so why was he still in Danny’s apartment?

“Out,” he said with a half-hearted shrug, but he looked away from you as he did. “You know how he is.”

Actually, you didn’t have a clue how Danny behaved normally, so you just kind of stared at Ward until he cleared his throat and pulled his phone from his pocket.

“You’re probably starving. There’s a Thai food place around the corner. I’ll order us some food. If you want,” he added, looking up from his phone with a seriousness that would have been sort of endearing if you weren’t still reeling over the fact that he looked like some kind of Tommy Hilfiger model.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you responded automatically, and Ward gave an amused snort.

“You’re not.” He went back to his phone, sliding his thumb across the screen as he casually added,” If anyone is a burden and an annoyance to Danny, it would be me. Do you have any food allergies?”

“Huh? Oh. No.” You blinked from the abrupt change of subject and wondered what he meant about bothering Danny. But Ward didn’t say anything further, so you slowly walked forward, stopping about halfway across the kitchen as you leaned against the island counter.

Ward finally looked up from his phone, said, “Done. Food should be here in a bit,” before blinking as he saw you had somewhat closed the distance. He was even more astonishing up close, and you were amazed that he somehow hid this casually, yet irresistibly alluring aura under the starched, refined business exterior.

“I wanted to apologize for this morning,” you blurted out before you lost your courage, your left hand gripping the edge of the counter as if for balance. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It was dick move on my part, especially when you were just trying to help. You and Danny have been nothing but wonderful to me, and I’m… I’m really sorry.”

Ward didn’t respond immediately to your awkward, heartfelt apology, though his forehead creased as he studied your face carefully.

“I shouldn’t have spoken down to you like a child,” he finally said, his expression relaxing in a way that made him look younger and less beaten down by the world. Even his dark eyes didn’t seem as hard as they usually did. “It’s not what you deserved. You’re an adult, and I should have treated you as such. I… also apologize.”

“Thank you,” you replied with a small smile, and for just a moment you had the insane urge to move forward and wrap your arms around his chest. If he had been Danny, you probably would have, as he seemed receptive to casual physical contact. But in that moment, all you could think about was Ward clinically describing to Danny how his father beat him. And how you had rushed at him the night before. You had no idea how Ward felt about being touched, and from what little you had observed there was a significant chance it would only make him uncomfortable.

So instead of wrapping your arms around him like you really wanted, you smiled up at him in a way you hoped was composed as you asked, “So. What should we do until the food gets here?”

“Um.” Ward seemed to flounder at the question, his jaw working but no words came out, and you took brief pleasure in not being the only one to have your tied tongued.

“I wonder if Danny has any movies,” you commented with a perfectly innocent tone, noticing that Ward turned to continue watching as you walked past him into the living room. “I hope so. Poor guy has a lot of catching up to do when it comes to pop culture references.”

Ward followed you to the far side of the living room where the wall-mounted flat screen was located, but didn’t speak as you kneeled in front of Danny’s collection of DVDs.

“I can’t believe he bought actual physical copies,” you murmured as you opened the cabinet below the screen to begin pulling them out, examining their covers before placing them back. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. Danny seemed to have collected the biggest hits of the early and mid-2000’s.

Just after he and his family went missing, you realized with a start. The thought made a stone drop into the pit of your stomach. Danny had missed so much, the rest of his childhood stolen from him. It really did feel as if Danny had come back from the dead, and an echo of the grief you had experienced over his disappearance rang in your chest.

“You think that’s bad,” Ward responded wryly, snapping your attention back as you rapidly blinked. “I had to stop from buying an old VHS after he wouldn’t believe me that they don’t make cassettes anymore.” You looked over your shoulder to find him standing next to the couch in front of the TV, standing with his arms folded over his chest. You had to look back to the collection of films to keep from letting your eyes roam over his body, like some kind of degenerate pervert.

“I bet he was pretty impressed with how advanced cell phones are now. A lot different from the flip phones we used to have,” you commented as you finished going through the sparse library. You found the one you wanted, and pulled it out with a barely suppressed grin. Perfect.

Ward gave an amused snort and said, “Danny thinks they’re ridiculous. Said a phone was for making calls, and if he wanted to use the Internet he would just get on a computer. He’s a regular Luddite, our Danny.” You felt an unexpected flush of warmth from hearing Ward say those words. Our Danny. You didn’t know why. What you did know was, you wouldn’t be able to hide the blush in your cheeks now.

“Find one?” Ward asked when you didn’t speak, silent and cross-legged on the ground.

“I did.” You stood up, praying the blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt, and walked to Ward with your heart pounding faster than normal. You held the DVD case up to him, trying to keep a straight face and failing. Ward squinted at the title.

“Is that the one with the talking fish?”

Your smile faded.

“Are… are you serious?”

Ward rolled his eyes and said, “Do I look like a ten year-old child to you?”

You made quite the offended noise as you pulled the case back, hugging it against your chest.

“Finding Nemo is a classic! It’s for people of all ages!” You peered at him when he didn’t respond, and you realized he was actually serious. “You’ve really never seen it?”

“I have better uses of my time,” Ward responded, fixing you with a partial glare that you found oddly exciting rather than intimidating. What was wrong with you?

“Well, not tonight you don’t.”

Ward blinked and opened his mouth to object as you turned back to the DVD cabinet. The DVD player was sitting on a shelf next to the collection of films, and you supposed Ward had been unable to sway Danny into buying a Blu-ray player and was forced to settle on the older DVD player. The thought made you smile even wider as you placed the disc into the tray after it popped out.

“We are not watching a movie about cartoon fishes.”

“They’re high-quality, animated, CGI fishes,” you corrected him patiently, quite enjoying the exasperation in his voice.

“I don’t care if they’re magical, real-life guppies who can talk out of their asses—“

Ding-ding.

“Door,” you responded while looking over your shoulder at him, grinning widely. He gave a grand rolling of the eyes before turning away, striding toward the front of the apartment on legs that were so long they should have been outlawed.

“Classy, (Y/N). Real classy,” you grumbled under your breath as you got to your feet, moved over to the couch and plopped down on it. You really had to get your lust under control. It was weird, and distasteful, and very, very inappropriate.

Unfortunately, it was also helpful. You realized you hadn’t thought about the incident since you had woken up from your nap and Ward had appeared. He had successfully managed to take your mind off of things without even consciously trying. It made a slow, warm sensation spread across your chest, and you found yourself grinning like some kind of blissful idiot.

“Food’s here,” Ward announced as he placed the bag of take-out on the coffee table in front of the TV.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Danny?” you asked, sitting up as Ward lifted out two white take-out containers and set them on the glass surface.

“He can eat his portion when he gets back.” Ward pulled the utensils from the bag next, two sets of plastic forks.

“And when will that be?” you asked curiously.

“Haven’t a clue. He didn’t say.”

Your brows furrowed from the cavalier statement, but Ward didn’t seem to be worried, so that was probably a sign you shouldn’t call in an APB on Danny just yet.

Still, Ward didn’t have to be so obtuse about it. As petty revenge, you reached over and grabbed the paper-wrapped chopsticks he had just pulled out of the bag. It earned you a glowering look which you ignored as you ripped the paper, pulled out the chopsticks, and split them apart. All with a little, cheeky grin on your face.

“Really? You know how to eat with chopsticks?” he asked in a disbelieving tone and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“Uh-huh,” you responded impishly, glancing up to savor the look on his face. It was an expression cause somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

“So, what did you order for us?” You pulled a box toward you and opened it to see thick noodles, bright carrots, green onions, and green beans. And on closer inspection, what you thought were chunks of meat was actually something else. “Is that… tofu?”

“It’s Danny’s favorite place. All vegetarian. I can’t get him to order from anywhere else,” Ward added, almost seeming sheepish at the confession. It made you give a small laugh, which felt really good after everything that had happened. The idea of Danny being stubborn and obstinate about everything while an exasperated Ward tried to reason with him was probably one of the most enjoyable mental images you’d had in a while.

“You two sound close. Closer than I remember, anyway,” you asked in a smooth tone, glancing sideways at him. Ward didn’t seem to buy your nonchalance as he peered back at you carefully. His own box of noodles was opened in front of him, but he seemed much more intent on you than the food. It made you want to squirm, his attention making it feel like there was a spotlight on you in a way it hadn’t before.

“I suppose. We do run a company together.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Okay. What did you mean, then?” You could tell he was trying to keep the impatience out of his voice, but he definitely wasn’t the sort of person to beat around the bush.

You inwardly winced at broaching the subject, but it had to happen eventually.

“I mean, are you two, like… together?”

Ward stared at you blankly. Apparently, you would have to clarify.

“You know, as in… are you two a couple?”

Ward blinked once. And then burst into laughter so sudden it actually startled you. He threw back his head and guffawed, and it was so unexpected you nearly dropped your chopsticks too.

“Are… are we…”

Ward could barely speak, he was laughing so hard, and all you could do was stare in disbelief. You had never heard him laugh like that before. It was a deep, throaty sound, and totally unlike the stiff, serious man you knew. You didn’t know whether to be impressed or deeply disturbed.

Ward was wiping away the tears from his eyes now, still chuckling but managing to get his laughter under control.

“Wow… okay… Not what I expected, but okay…” he responded after a moment. You continued to stare at him in muted shock, and he cleared his throat as he tried (and failed) to wipe the grin off his face.

“No. Danny and I aren’t together. I can barely be around the guy for more than five minutes without wanting to strangle him with his own girly tie.” Ward gave another chuckle, pulling apart his own set of chopsticks as he shook his head. “God, can you imagine if we were dating? Rand would need a new CEO or two after one of us murdered the other in a homicidal rage. Plus, the office probably would have exploded. Again.”

That made you blink, remembering. The top floor of Danny and Ward’s office building had had a gas leak a few weeks ago, and basically leveled the penthouse floor in the middle of the night. When you had heard the news, you’d called Danny immediately. It had come as a staggering relief that Danny and Ward hadn’t been there when it happened.

You also remembered how Josh had asked you who you’d been talking to on the phone, his tone even and relaxed but you could hear the anger on the edges.

You violently shoved the memory as you pulled your focus back to Ward. The smile was slowly fading from his face, and you fervently hoped nothing had been revealed in your expression.

“Why do you ask?” He was definitely looking at you more closely now, and you fumbled awkwardly with your words as you tried to compose yourself.

“Oh. Uh. Just curious.” Ward didn’t seem to buy that for a second, and the intensity of his stare forced you to look away. You picked up the remote from the coffee table, hoping to start the movie and change the subject of Ward’s life (which was none of your damn business anyway).

“I know I’m not the easiest person to open up to,” he responded slowly, inevitably forcing your gaze back to him. “But you can speak your mind here. No one will judge you. Certainly not me.” He shrugged, almost self-conscious as he focused down at the box in his hands, poking at his contents with his own chopsticks. “Just a thought.”

“Thank you, Ward,” you responded, and you meant it. It had been a long time since you could be honest about your thoughts and emotions. About anything, really. Josh hadn’t exactly been big on communication, especially towards the end.

“No need to thank me, just stating the obvious,” he said with a shrug you could have sworn was embarrassed, and it made you smile. It was startling how comfortable you felt in Danny’s apartment, sitting and chatting with Ward. Much more at-ease than you had been in your own home.

Just the thought of your ex sent an unpleasant shiver up your spine, and you turned your focus back to the television.

Next Chapter

#Ward Meachum #Danny Rand fic #Danny Rand #Ward Meachum fic #Iron Fist #Iron Fist fic #reader-insert #Danny x Reader #Ward x Reader #Homeward #Homeward part 10 #prepare for more fluff next chapter ;)

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dicehoard · 8 years ago

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Pen & Paper Caster

Take your blue Potion's and load your Staff. Let´s talk about casters, and by caster, I mean any kind of Magician, Wizard, Spell slinger or Warlock. The list is longer then Dumbledore's Beard. A caster is basically what you would call a glass cannon, devastating and maybe beautiful range weapon of mass destruction but oh so fragile. Usually the one with the thinnest Armor and worst agility and strength… think about Stephen W. Hawking with a pointed Hat (you get the idea). But they make up for it with by having the most devastating power in pen and paper, Magic. It comes in many Flavours, be it Fire, Ice, Electricity, Gravity, alteration of Nature, Summoning, Necromancy, Holy Powers, Metalomancy, or general psychic energy, pretty much anything can be magic. Some modern games like Shadowrun even consider technomancy (the skill to manipulate and alter mechanics and electrical devices with their mind).

Beside a Warrior the caster is the most iconic Fantasy themed character you may encounter. Harry Potter, Jaina Proudmoore, Merlin, Rincewind, Gandalf, Dumbledore. Just to name some of them, they are fast spread all over the genre. Basically … if it´s fantasy there will be a caster … trust me.

Run you fool:

There are many reasons why your caster could have started the adventure. Often in of search a Magic artefact or place they found in a book, as part of their studies to proof them self. Bringing back some stolen book from the magic academy. Like everyone fresh out of school, the first thing you need is something to drink. Time to stock up on potions and magical powder to keep your powers flowing (a caster out of juice is a sad caster indeed). Because without enough magical resources a caster is as useful as a kettle made of chocolate.

Is it okay if I´m a bit unstable?

The personality of a caster can be the full spectrum. You want a caster who is brooding, edgy and mysterious? Congratulations you are a perfect fit for the dark arts. You are the adventuress type? Say hello to the element of fire. Let go of your feeling and switch to ice magic. You are horrible with cardio but love having pets like a pathfinder? Maybe you should have a magical familiar fighting for you. You want to go headfirst in combat side by side with a warrior and a Scoundrel? Grab a magical sword and light Armor and be a Battlemage

A Wizard's Staff has a Knob on the end:

Time to gear up. Depending on what kind of caster you play, you will mostly stick to light clothing like common wool or silk. As a caster, you can have magical spells protecting you. A few excuses are the rather uncommon battlemage's they gear up in leather or magical material Armor and join the battle in close combat.

The Weapon of choice is in most cases a Staff or Wand. A staff is a tall two hand mostly wooden stick engraved with runes and a head ornament. They will be either worn them on the back or held in hand to focus magic with it. Or when push comes to shove hit someone with it (you know big hard stick and all). Alternatively, you could carry a Wand. Magic Wands are short hard pieces you hold in your hand and fling to spray Magic away, the plus side is, your other hand is free to hold a FOCUS. Focuses are magical items like magic books, bags with dust, a Cristal, or a fairy in a jar. It doesn´t matter really, as long you can draw magic power from it. If you enjoy going head on into a fight why not grabbing one of the many magical weapons. Have a sword which never goes blunt, or a dagger that can paralyse the enemy. And as an extra bonus on top you can cut with them.

But NEVER forget to stock up on resources again which you may lack after a fight. If you are into necromancy you often need some body parts like teeth or squishy unmentionables. Stock up as often as you can.

If your group camps outside, caster often summon food or drink to help out. But be careful with alcohol or drugs. Magic is like operating heavy machinery. Not to forget traveling often gets dull, a caster often has a magical pet or familiar with them. These are good for getting stress of or help to entertain on long journeys.

Tasting tests:

Moving on the Classes 101. I will now go into detail on some of the bazillion specializations. You can mix up anytime depending on the game type you play providing the gamemaster rolls with it.

The Element free (Arcane):

The arcane does not roll with elemental benefits but goes with pure energy. Flinging magic missiles or explosions of pure energy or sound. Using ley lines to boost their power, they often hold some artefacts given down from teacher to student through which they focus their vast raw magical power, often portrayed in dark blue, purple or white outfits they peek out in a crowd. An animate magical object like a luggage or even the staff itself is many times seen as their companion. Sometimes sentient creatures make for good pets as well.

Pyromancer (fire magic):

Impulsive and dangerous like a Bonfire, the Pyromancer sets anything on fire, throwing molten stones or try to boil someone in there Armor. The colours worn are often red, yellow, orange, and brown. Typically, their gear consists a bit more of heavy duty leather. Remember, you can spot a smart Pyromancer by seeing them still having their eyebrows. A small talking, dancing, never fading or incinerating flame is a perfect familiar

Cold elementarist Frost/Ice caster:

Basically, the entire difference to the pyromancer is that a Cold elementarist uses cold winds, water and ice in their spells. Freezing the ground under the enemy’s feet or letting them freeze and slowdown in there Armor. If you think a Fireball in your face is brutal, wait till you get Impaled by a spear of magically hardened Ice right through your sternum. They WILL give you the chills. Wearing white and light blue mostly. For example, a never melting ice golem is a common Familiar.

Necromancer/warlock:

Now things get nasty. Death is their job and they do it good. A necromancer casts evil spells of poison and sickness. Letting a face melt like wax from a candle, Corpses explode. Necromancer often go into close combat. Like other casters, Necromancer often carry unholy items or demonic weapons. Scythe, sicles, ravenhooks, sacrificial knives and several preserved body parts. These guys do not go along with priests and holy in general. Mostly pale in skin, long haired and ornamented with fur and bones. They dress in blood red, poison green or black until they find something even darker, or a shroud of darkness itself. Good Familiars are Raven's or Rats and living skulls, or small demonic imps.

Alteration Caster:

Rare among Casters, the Alteration or Mutator deals mostly in a nonviolent way. But they are dangerous in other ways. „What is small wholly and goes bahh?”. The victim of an Alteration caster.

They disarm their enemies by changing the weapons and Armor to wood or the ever so amusing bouquet of Flowers. Not standing out in a crowd, they dress plainly.

The Summoner:

Micromanagement at its finest. The Summoner stays way back and calls for help by a magic pet. These Helpers can be anything, be it an elemental entity of fire, ice, water, arcane, curse, unholy or ghosts, golems, even living animals, dragons and treants. The modern variations are drones and robots. Depending on the game set they may need some parts of the creature they want to call, for example a dragon tooth or scale, some small magical metal item to summon a metal golem, a feather for a griffon, or some horsehairs for a horse. Sometimes Summoners engage in close combat. To arm themselves for it, they will call forth the „essence“ of a weapon, an illusion of a sword filled with the pure being of a sword so that the edge will be there. Dressing more useful then elegant, carrying often huge bags and a small magical focus.

The Cleric/White mage:

The White mage is the friendliest of all, using sacred oils and spells from holy books. They are on a mission from god to spread the good word and drive away evil. They mostly heal wounds, cure illnesses and purify things. They never harm anything except two things… Unholy creatures and Daemons. Basically, the exact mirror of a necromancer. Dressed in white often with silver or gold. They swing a small ritual mace. Familiars can be anything considered holy or pure, be it a dove or even a floating magic Tome.

Druids/shamans:

Force of nature personified. Since the first man ate a mushroom and went on a trip, they became closer to Nature. This is ancient and wild magic. Shapeshifting into Bears, wolfs, boars or birds is just one aspect, they control the will of nature, letting roots entangle them self around their enemy’s feet, and showing them that a lightning can hit the same target twice. (If you still need inspiration go watch Aang and Korra) dressed in basically anything but wilder kinds tend to dress in tribal clothing. Actual real animals are good Familiars.

How to fight:

A caster basically is a glass cannon, in case of wonder try it. You stay behind (way behind) and throw spells to damage your foes or aid your allies. If it doesn´t die in the first try, fry and fry it again. Remember enemies may absorb or be resistant to some elements (depending) on the dungeon master.

Unholy and undead foes often can be damaged with healing spells. Try to lower the enemies defence and slow them down.

Alright that´s all for now. Keep your mind sharp, and your fireballs hot!

#dicehoard #pen and paper #necromancer #druid #mage #wizard #gandalf #white mage

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borrowingfaces · 8 years ago

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Icarus Draco/Harry

Mature content First fanfic in a while ........... Draco's mouth was dry and a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. Warm to touch despite the chill of his dungeon dormitory the Slytherin Prince twisted in his sleep. Gasping breathless with thin fingers curled into his pillow the blonde rocked and rolled as if in the grip of some unseen sufferance. By pure luck he was alone in the shadows of the room when he woke. Jolted from sleep into the full harshness of conscious. He felt more feverish than he had before passing out and drew a shaky breath in a bid to control the shivers trailing through his flesh. It failed and he dragged sweat damp sheets across his body, huddling from the room hidden beyond his bed curtains. He did not need to see to know he was alone; the lack of snoring and wheezing breath told him as much and he was thankful to whatever power allowed him such privacy. Trying to focus on the irregular state of his being rather than the dream that had caused it he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. Immediately he leaned forward upon his knees, running his hands across his face before pushing sweat slick locks away from his eyes. His hands stayed there, resting on each side of his head as if attempting to stop it from falling off. It was spinning, throwing a helter skelter hell of thoughts through his mind. All reason had gone and he knew it, desperately dragging in deep breaths to calm the rising panic. It took a few moments before the usual defences rose and rage took the place of worry. The subtle trembling of his figure ceasing once the old familiar friend of anger had settled across him like a warm blanket. He lashed out suddenly slamming a fist into his bed, half snarling through his gritted teeth as he did so. It was unbecoming for such a pure blooded young man to act in such ways yet as soon as the thought hit him another took its place. He was unbecoming for the pure blooded family he came from. He in his useless entirety was the whole problem, not merely a harbinger of unsuitable traits. Sighing he fell back across his bed and stared unseeing into the canvas that hung above. Laid out like a corpse on a morticians slab, pale and unmoving, he held his breath; wondering how long it would actually be before he died. Well, how long it would be before his father's glorious idol ordered his death. There was no way Voldemort would waste time on Draco by killing the boy himself. It would come from any number of known faces at any time once the truth came out. Draco swallowed hard, remembering his dream with a faint reddening of cheeks. If he was this fitful when he was supposed to be happy someone would catch on. His two brutish allies were far from smart enough to notice something but Blaine Zabini had the eyes of a hawk and where there was one restless night of sleep there were others. With no one around to see or hear anything the blonde felt at ease enough to berate himself with gusto. Hitting himself on the side of the head he growled barely there words through gritted teeth. Things like 'how could you?' And 'of all the people you could have' and a lot more 'you're fucking disgusting. You are so fucking disgusting.' It was not as if anyone who may have heard it would have found any sense to it but that was part of the problem wasn't it? It had to be. He was, because of recent stresses in the 'workplace' he was clearly losing his mind. The fact that he had not decided this sooner was laughable, quite literally so as the waif of a student shuddered with near silent rolls of laughter. Meanwhile... High in a hogwarts tower the famous Harry Potter lay trapped in dreams and nightmares he would prefer not to understand. He woke with a start to the banging of a door and stared, ready for an attack, through the gap in his curtains as the familiar figure of Neville longbottom hurried to his bed. Slowly his body began to relax, drawing back its alertness for a sensible weariness instead which pushed Potter back to the comfort of his mattress and blankets, the latter dragged close around him to hide the ever so slight trembling of his limbs. Sleep had not been the cure all he had hoped it would be before he had gone to bed. Instead it had thrown him images of a brief nothing that didn't matter over and over again. He had no idea what it meant and had no desire to repeat the memory of something so insignificant being played over and over and over again in full surround sound. That was what his dreams had been; like sitting in a giant 360• screen cinema, trapped in a circle of minutes played, rewound and played again. It had made him feel small, the incident towering over him, jeering. Harry rubbed his scar, knowing it would never hurt again and pondered the value of knowing your enemy. He had been bound to Voldemort, their minds intertwined and that was how he had defeated the dark lord, with a lot of help from his friends and that tedious tether that had shared things vital to their resistance. He had been linked to that enemy so knowing it had become sort of normal but the incident his mind refused to drop was anything but that. Staring blurry eyed at the canopy above Potter squinted in an attempt to focus the image without putting on his glasses; it worked, sort of but he was already being dragged back into his own thoughts. Lying there still but for the twist of fingers in sheets and the steady rise and fall of his chest Harry dared himself to think willingly of what had happened. It had been a weekend and the day had been foul. Those who had not gone to hogsmeade had stayed in the warmth of common rooms, all but two. Thinking himself alone and still not fully comfortable in a school full of ghosts of people who had fought in the war by his side, he had grabbed his broom and marched to the rebuilt quidditch stands. Desperately seeking solitude and finding solace in the wind that roared by his ears deafening his own thoughts. It was a blessed relief to still be able to cross the grounds and he welcomed it hungrily. Not wanting to remember the school for the war and eager like others to finish his education Harry currently now sought to bring some of the better memories back to life. Seeing no one, not even Hagrid who was rarely put off the weather, Harry took out the snitch Dumbledore had left him and watched smiling as it shot off towards the quidditch pitch. The gryffindor's gaze soon losing one golden thing for another paler creature flitting across the heavens. All thoughts drawing to a halt, all but those questioning the scene before him. Draco flew the way Harry imagined angels would. Dipping and riding the slip stream winds, elegant in a way no quidditch player could manage whilst remaining successful. What Draco was doing was not flying, Harry decided from his hidden position by the stands. What Draco was doing was some sort of confessional, a dance, a masterpiece of wizardry that had the Gryffindor mesmerised. Too taken with his voyeurism of such an exquisitely vulnerable moment to pay attention to his own feet as they carried him toward the pitch; drawn in like a moth to the flame. No care for the risk. As he moved closer, silently watching the ballet of movement above Harry felt his heart stutter and catch within his chest. This invasion would come at a price yet awe overtook panic as he turned in circles, unwilling to take his eyes off of the pale creature drifting effortlessly across the grey sky. It was so strangely appealing to watch that he was reminded of the quidditch World Cup or rather the Bulgarian team mascots. Harry suddenly struck by the belief that Draco could quite easily have veela blood somewhere in his family. It would explain the sudden need within Harry to witness such a strange masterpiece in action. His mind so adrift in wonder that thoughts of reason slipped away leaving Harry reeling. As he stood plain as day upon the pitch, twisting and turning to follow Draco's path. He was soon surprised to find himself watching the slytherin effortlessly dismount his broom straight into a stroll that led him straight toward Potter, his broom tucked over one shoulder. Feeling his fingers twitch for want of his wand Harry held still, fighting the urge to hex as hard as he fought the heat growing in his cheeks. Why was he blushing? "Enjoy the view Potter?" The drawl was carried off by the growing breeze that warned of more to come as the clouds above began to darken. The growing gloom seeming only to add to the few positive qualities Harry could see within his classmate. Draco's sharp features softened, either by the lighting or the war, his skin glowing faintly with the pearlescent shine of sweat. Harry said nothing, unwilling to tell the truth and too caught up in being caught during such strangeness that any lie hovered just beyond his grasp. Silence was better than admission of enjoyment here, silence held honour and pride and most of all the slim amount of dignity Harry believed he had kept alive through all his hardships. It was not something to be thrown away simply because Draco's flying had left Harry speechless and most certainly not worth confessing what he had seen of his own heavy heart in the Slytherin's elegance. Silence protected the truth of his hummingbird pulse as it fluttered violently making his fingers tingle and his mouth dry. Silence protecting Harry from what other things stirred beneath the surface of his mind, lighting a fire within green eyes. "Gone deaf?" The annoyance in the blonde's voice halfhearted, already seeming to be bored of his fellow student as he sneered, turned in the mud and started towards the locker rooms. Stuck for a retort the gryffindor found his gaze drawn once more to the slytherin. Noting the subtle curve of hips and arse, the almost sway that accompanied each step reminding Harry of Ginny; or rather how easily she stole his attention. Watching the shadow of Draco disappear through the locker room door Harry took a deep breath in a bid to calm his now erratic heart. Flustered and unwilling to accept the reason behind why he was so confused whilst the breeze around him rose to a wind, sending shivers to the base of his spine. Unwilling to follow for anxiety of what may happen, what he may say or do, he was eventually chased in by the start of a downpour that had him drenched and dripping by the time he joined his enemy in the shelter of the locker rooms. He knew his mistake immediately as his heart leapt to his throat at the sight that greeted him. Draco was half sat half sprawled upon a bench, knees spread wide with his broom resting against his thigh. Thin fingers curled around the handle, rising and falling in a motion that stole the breath from Potter's mouth. The green eyed boy reading into the gesture exactly what was being implied. Unable to ignore the smugness upon the pale boy's face Harry clenched his fists in a bid for some semblance of control. Shivering violently beneath the weight of his sodden clothes, with green eyes fixed on grey, he waited a moment, assuring himself it was safe before struggling out of his dripping sweater which hit the floor with a dull squelch, much to Draco's amusement. "I had no idea you were into stripping Potter." The words chased Harry's thoughts around his head, hounding his senses and diving into the darker parts of his mind where anger twisted with other passions into something altogether wrong. Wrong for him. Wrong for someone who hated Draco. Wrong for someone who had managed to be a hero and now stood more uncomfortable in his skin than he had ever been. Searching for a response, fumbling over the words in his head his fingers tightened into fists once more. His limbs adorning a subtle tremble of nerves that coiled within his gut, spreading warmth beneath the waistline of his trousers that felt suddenly too tight, too close, too restrictive. "Cat got your tongue?" Draco purred, his head lulling to one side as if in mock concern that was spoilt by the mischievous smile upon his lips, matching the sparkle in pale eyes. Harry may have defeated Voldemort, finally managed to date Ginny and had returned to life from death but right here right now, standing in a pool of rain water of his own making, he felt trapped. Almost helpless but not without comfort as if the others attention somehow eased the panic tearing through his bloodstream like a muggle drug. "I saved your life." He managed to say in an almost whisper that could have easily been covered by the tempest growing outside. It was however another mistake for no sooner had he spoken Draco had risen and began to creep closer, pointing his broom in Harry's direction. "I saved yours too." He chimed, his ease almost predatory as he advanced. His pink tongue darting out to moisten the curve of pale lips, drawing the gryffindor's attention to his mouth whether intentional or not. Harry suspected it was on purpose, suspected or hoped. "Ginny been holding out on you?" Now standing barely a foot from Potter, speaking so gently that the chosen one had to lean in to hear. Harry imagined he could feel the warmth of Draco's breath ghost across his cheek sending yet another shiver through him where it spread out, sparking new life in nerve endings that soon felt charged with potential. Harry managed a silent shake of the head, his jaw set firm with the muscle twitching ever so slightly in his cheek. Yet his eyes gave him away as they followed the path of Draco's peeking tongue, studying the lines of the sly mouth that appeared frozen open in an inaudible gasp. He had no idea where it came from and he wasted no time in attempting to find reason in what was happening but simply gave in to the new hungers stirring in his chest. The beast that once growled and purred over Ginny now as transfixed as its host, lured willing in. Draco, despite appearances was surprised when Harry crashed into him, body pressed against body, lips to lips, demanding attention that came without hesitation. The blonde let his broom fall from his hands and filled them instead with fistfuls of Potter's damp clothes, fingers tracing brief patterns across the flesh hidden between the buttons of Harry's shirt. Seeking the same closeness that had his enemy's hands desperately clawing at his own attire until they found his hair where they coiled and tightened. Harry thought he could feel Draco's pulse through the savageness of the kiss. Tongue flitting against tongue whilst his fingers found platinum locks and pulled, releasing some of his loathing whilst offering proof of his strength even if his will to resist had been broken. Using his hold to command the moment, harry was rewarded by a noise that whispered from Draco's chest, a delicate hungry noise that only fed Harry's needs further. He was tired of being careful, tired of being a hero, tired of doing the right thing and the slytherin felt all too perfect pressed against him hip to hip. Neither student seeming to care for the obviousness of their arousal as Harry tested the moment with a rough grind that was met with similar. The pair soon furiously tugging at one another's clothes, trying to get closer, trying for more friction as heavy breathing and dulcet moans escaped through their animalistic kiss. The noises of their illicit game drowned by the storm now raging outside. It was as far from affection as war, lips bruised and aching, cocks painfully restrained within clothes. It was hateful and demanding, neither giving up the reigns as they fought for control. Both refusing to listen to the voices of reason within their minds which were soon drowned out by the insistent mantra of 'more, more, MORE'. Draco pulled away first, withdrawing from the kiss but not the hands that ran across his clothed flesh and left nail marks upon his hips and arms. "You kiss like your girlfriend." The laughter in his voice enough to draw a kiss-drunk Harry back to earth with a crash. The gryffindor's mind suddenly drowning in reasons not to do this, not to have done this and yet he found himself licking the taste of Draco from his mouth, struggling to keep his hips from seeking further friction. Letting his hands drop from where they caressed hair and cheek, throat and the boyish curve of the hip Harry gave in to one more urge. Finding immediate gratification as he watched his fist strike the unsuspecting boy in the jaw. Doing his best to resist confusing impulses that thrilled at the sight of blood upon Draco's mouth and yearned to lick it clean. Stepping away whilst the other boy straightened himself from a stumble, Harry shook his head, pleading internally for the sanity that seemed to have abandoned him on the pitch. Making him wonder if magic had been at work despite the gnawing feeling in his gut that told him otherwise. "That's more like it." He heard the slytherin whisper behind him, sounding just as breathless and lost to desire as Harry felt. Though at least he was trying to fight it unlike Draco who wore all the signs of an impulsive life upon himself like badges of honour. Of course he knew about the dark mark that stared at him when Draco rolled up his sleeves; but there was more. Even from a distance, even in such poor lighting he could make out the tell-tale needle marks in the other boy's arm, the bird bone fragility of long limbs and the flourish of bruises across what flesh was visible. It all seemed only to lift the hunger higher, fuelling his want of the brat prince of slytherin as much as his desire for revenge. Near mindless with years of snide remarks, duels, injuries and battles raging through his mind at full steam Harry clenched his jaw and struck out at Draco again. Unable to deny the throb of satisfaction in his cock as his knuckles struck flesh again, the stinging in his fist only reassuring him somehow that this was right. It had to be right because Draco was smiling, pushing hair out of an already swelling eye, licking lipstick-like blood from the line of his mouth. It felt strange but good, incredibly wrong but oh so natural to draw the blood of his enemy who stood willing and eager before him like a personalised punch bag. He knew what it felt like to be beaten, sort of, his cousin had beaten him enough but there was more here beneath the surface. An undeniable call to violence that had Harry's fists shaking with the temptation to continue, barely holding back as Draco swayed enticingly before him, lithe fingers stretching the distance between them to run fleeting across the hardness contained within Harry's trousers. It stole a gasp and was almost enough to draw him in again but as if sent from the gods a rumble of thunder shook Harry's thoughts apart. It forced him to step back, to get away, to put space between them despite how badly his fingers itched to run across scars he was sure were hidden beneath the thin fabric of Draco's shirt, scars he had caused. Scars whose mere idea sent a wave of guilty pleasure through the gryffindor's frame and pushed him further back. As drunk on arousal as Potter, if not moreso, Draco could nevertheless see his brief hold over Harry was breaking and prepared himself for what came next. Each punch may have left him reeling but each had filled the beast within his chest with a hedonistic joy that fed the mischievous grin now written across his face once more; pumping almost-there pleasure through his veins. It hurt but it hurt in the good way that Draco had learned to want since first tasting the delights of violent intimacy. It spread a warmth through him that others would get from embracing a loved one and appeared to make him glow, saint-like in his beauty and blood in the shadows of the locker room. He knew it too. Knew how he looked the second Harry turned back to face him and let his eyes drag all the way over Draco's body as if choosing a steak for dinner. He thrived off of it and despite a history of poor planning and poor choices he knew what had to be done and turned his back on his bewildered enemy. Crouching to retrieve his broom before turning to face Harry once more, he dug around in his pockets, ignoring the painfully obvious line of his cock that begged for attention as his fingers searched deeper into his pockets. Making no attempt to bite back the almost moan bought by his innocently rummaging hand. He tilted his head back, allowing bliss to dance briefly across his features before he met potter's gaze to be sure they both knew exactly what had happened. "You hit like your girlfriend too." The words carried on a cold flutter of laughter, suddenly throwing something golden and glinting towards the gryffindor before turning without further warning and disappearing out into the rain. Of course Harry had caught the snitch he had released earlier in hopes of a bit of private practice but by time he had opened his mouth to reply he was alone. the sounds of the storm and his still racing pulse all that kept him company as he sat down to wait out however long it took for his body to forget the enjoyment Draco malfoy had given it. Harry growled at himself under his breath as he recollected the incident, focusing on how it felt to be pushed up against Draco's slighter frame and how the other body had smelt. The blonde had smelt faintly of heady spices, summer rain and broom polish along with a peppermint touch to his breath. Harry had been able to taste it when they'd crashed together, breathing in one another's exhalations, limbs intertwined without rational plot. Harry felt his heart pick up speed and rested his hands over it. Though no one could see him, though his roommates were awake and no one knew what had happened he felt as if he had betrayed them. Fighting was not the plan of the future and lowering himself to letting Draco get so near was an embarrassing fault. It would have been worse if he admitted to himself how it had felt, beneath the surface layers of blind hatred. Harry bit his lip hard and tasted blood. Draco had smelt of that too during their encounter after Harry had struck him. There was a hearty pleasure in that and the gryffindor closed his eyes to the peace it brought. The chosen one happily ignoring the root of that pleasure which had begun to burrow deeper, through the cracks into places that were raw and unknown.

#drarry #fanfic #hogwarts #post wizarding war #flying #snitch #Draco malfoy #Harry potter #slash #new to this #please be kind

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