chicagowizard-blog

[chicagowizard-blog]

His foot nudged the chalk, releasing the energy back into the world and sighed.  “Honestly, it could have been anything.  People get scared of things, they remember events.  Traumatic stress, nightmares, anything can really set it off.  The last time I had to handle one of these, it was because my then-apprentice had drilled psychic holes into people’s heads.”  Harry remembered, shuddering slightly.  The Doom of Damacles was never something to joke about, having it now twice on his head.  He thought, and realized he was the only one to actually have had it twice.

Harry’s grip on the staff tightened as he walked into the park.  “Someone felt it, and then something else felt that too, and sent it over to them.”  His eyes turned to see a clear bit of goo on the concrete, sizzling in the dim Chicago sunlight.  He sighed, almost a little relieved; he really didn’t want to have to go through that again, and have to defend some poor kid.  Or watch them be beheaded.  The memory of Morgan’s blade slicing through that kid’s neck had him shaking the blood tainted picture out of his head.

“So, good news: it’s not a phobophage.”  Scuffing his boot against the ground to point to the goo.  “Bad news, it means that I’m going to be getting in a lot of trouble.  Unless this thing was just a new ghost out and finding a place to stay, something is powerful enough to send ghosts out during the sunlight.  And, strong enough for them to keep up.”  Harry shook his head.  He had some work to be done.  And as much as he hated to really admit it, now the Doctor was going to have to be in on it too.  Passing stranger or not, the guy seemed to know something.

“Back to the apartment.”

[chicagowizard-blog]

Sorry for not being around, guys. Work has been extra crazy and on top of that, I got sick again. This time, added cough and mucus junk on top of (shock and surprise to no one) losing my voice again!! Who's a happy camper? Not this amalgamation of soul and salt.

[chicagowizard-blog]

all right !  because a better-worded post needed to be made than like 99.9% of the ones floating around :  i’m okay with you writing dark topics ( whether it’s murder or torture or gore or something else ), and i’ll write them, too. if you’re writing dark topics without glorifying them out of character, i’ll appreciate the integrity of your work. that said, i also won’t shame you if you’re uncomfortable with them, and i’ll respect you by tagging them, listening to you if you think something needs to be treated with better respect, and understand that you may need to unfollow or block me for doing so. it’s 2017; let’s respect that dark topics can be explored without belittling and condescending those who aren’t comfortable with it being in their presence.

[chicagowizard-blog]

                    WHAT’S IN THE BOX ?

a loaded question. fan of time & space? of clever fools, wandering souls & reversing neutron flows? of those who consistently try to do what’s right despite the enormity of the odds against them? look no further, you’ll find it inside. if you seek adventure & mayhem, love & heartbreak, hope & daring - you might find it inside. if you’re scared of the unknown but also infinitely curious as to what lies in it - you might find it inside. the void is infinite but so is imagination. nothing is impossible - not while you’re inside. freedom to create, freedom to learn, freedom to be and grow - you will find it inside. thirteen out of thirteen doctors recommend starting the day with a strong cup of tea & a taste for adventure. so what are you waiting for? 

                                                      WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO START?

[chicagowizard-blog]

[chicagowizard-blog]

Harry looked over his shoulder at the Doctor, raising a brow and shaking his head.  “Actually, no one here seems to know what it is.  I’m one of the fortunate ones who’s picked it up, and then returned it.”  He shrugged, continuing down the Chicago street until he hit the archway near the park.  A nice little thing, not a lot of grass but still enough to really allow for people.  Kids, mostly; some parents and joggers going about their way but he didn’t see the shadow.  Damn it.  

He listened to the Doctor and snorted, immediately fishing through his pockets for a piece of chalk and found it.  Bright blue, for defensive magic, and stood just out of people’s way and sight.  Around his feet, he drew up a circle and as he closed it, forced a bit of his will to snap it shut and give him some clarity to concentrate.  Now that the big ball of power wasn’t clouding his judgement, he could actually try to figure things out.  “First things first, Doc: big, ugly and black usually means trouble for me.  It could be a couple of different things, for starters.

“Phobophage, a manifestation of fear; a ghoul or ghost that just happens to be wandering about in the middle of the day when sunlight hurts them; someone that shouldn’t be around...or something that’s going to start attacking.”  Harry shook his head and closed his eyes, allowing his Sight to come into play.  When a wizard Sees, it’s like peering into someone’s soul.  They can be ripped apart, tormented or, in the case of the Doctor, stitched together like a rag doll.  He had different parts, pieces of himself that didn’t match the outside and he was a brilliant shade of gold.

The other bit that made him worry about who this guy was, was the small black hole that was inside him.  Swirling away and sucking at the gold in the middle of his chest---no, two holes.  Two black holes.  So, now Harry had to worry.  The thing he needed to See was beyond the wall and it wasn’t bright.  More purple and blackness, swirling and stricken across the stomach, almost bleeding out onto the pavement.  He could even see where it started from, the trail leading back a long ways.

“Nope.  Not nice.”

[chicagowizard-blog]

This has been on my mind for long but I’m gonna do this - please reblog this if you’re comfortable with pre-establishing relationships. I do not mean “met at the grocery store two weeks ago” or “have a common friend”, but rather stuff like “have been best friends since kindergrden”, “go for a beer every friday”, “friends with benefits”, “dated in highschool”, “hate each other’s guts because -insert reason-”  etc. Something meaningful (but not necessarily shippy) and I mean with muns/characters you have not interacted with, because I cannot believe I am the only one who prefers jumping right into the heart of the human interaction.

[chicagowizard-blog]

“Right...you don’t know.  Red Court probably wiped your memories.”  Harry looked at her, eyes of a distant relationship past.  She’d endured so much and had gone through endless pain, but he knew she was dead.  Or, if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t come looking for him here.  So.  Either he really was just hallucinating her here, or this was someone else.  Didn’t look good on either side.

“All right Cassie,” he stated.  “I’ll help, but I don’t think you can afford my wages.  Especially on a journalist’s salary,” Harry added at the end.  Leaning against the desk, he pulled out the rawer and began to shuffle through it, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.  “Start from the beginning----you have a cat?”

He glanced at the black soot sprite in her purse and tilted his head.  Cute.  “Suits you.  So what exactly have you been experiencing, ‘Miss Leigh’?”

(x) continued from here

He hated it.  He hated turning down any sort of money, even money from a woman.  His chivalrous demeanor was calling to him, and making the decision to turn her down ground down in his mind.  Harry couldn’t decide whether to keep denying her, or actually take on what she wanted.  He made a noise and stood, bruises covering his neck and a slight cut on his lip.  As he grabbed his staff for steadying himself, the wizard took another glance to the girl.

Though, ‘girl’ would be a weird description of her.  She wasn’t a teenager, probably ‘young adult’ would be a better name.  Her hair was in ringlets, down to the middle of her back, shining in the dim light of the Chicago sunlight.  Her eyes, like the fields of Faerie and made him stop.  The right height, the right build…the right eyes.

“I’m not going to help you…because you’re not real.  What are you doing here, Susan?”

[chicagowizard-blog]

(x) continued from here

He hated it.  He hated turning down any sort of money, even money from a woman.  His chivalrous demeanor was calling to him, and making the decision to turn her down ground down in his mind.  Harry couldn’t decide whether to keep denying her, or actually take on what she wanted.  He made a noise and stood, bruises covering his neck and a slight cut on his lip.  As he grabbed his staff for steadying himself, the wizard took another glance to the girl.

Though, ‘girl’ would be a weird description of her.  She wasn’t a teenager, probably ‘young adult’ would be a better name.  Her hair was in ringlets, down to the middle of her back, shining in the dim light of the Chicago sunlight.  Her eyes, like the fields of Faerie and made him stop.  The right height, the right build...the right eyes.

“I’m not going to help you...because you’re not real.  What are you doing here, Susan?”

[chicagowizard-blog]

Morning.

I am here.

[chicagowizard-blog]

Unusual questions for your muse

🛌- Does your muse prefer to sleep under many layers of blankets or only under a few? 🎀- Does your muse like to accessorize? What are their favorite pieces of accessories? 🎐- Does your muse like to collect/hoard anything? 🛋- Does your muse like to have company over? 📱- Is your muse the “oversharing” type? 🐰- Does your muse prefer soft, plush textures or smooth and glossy textures? 💎- Is your muse drawn to things that sparkle? 🔖- Is your muse a daydreamer? What do they tend to think about? Have they ever caught themselves while lost in thought? 📰- Does your muse like to read the news? 📇- Is your muse a gossiper? 🕹- What does your muse do to occupy themselves when bored? 🏚- Does your muse like to explore dangerous places? 🌋- Has your muse done something stupid and not regret it? ⛪️- Does your muse enjoy attending churches they don’t belong to? 🛣- Is your muse considered a wanderer? 🐺- Would your muse consider themselves a lone wolf or a social butterfly? 🤝- Does your muse forgive others easily? 🖖- What “Fandoms” would your muse belong to? 🎖- Does your muse enjoy praise? 🎟- Do they like “so bad it’s good” movies? 🎠- Does your muse like amusement parks/carnivals/festivals? 🏝- Could your muse survive on an uninhabited island all by themselves?

[chicagowizard-blog]

I have spent too much of my life bent over bodies.

(did I cause them, or did I just miss saving them?)

[chicagowizard-blog]

write in the tags the lyrics of the song currently stuck in your head

[chicagowizard-blog]

Harry leaned forward to look at the paper, squinting.  The guy must have been older than he looked, chiseled jawline and a buzz cut that said military.  The paper was faded, and he couldn’t quite make out what it read on the sheet, though he could have sworn it flickered slightly.  Probably just the laminated sheet in front of it but whatever.  He didn’t feel like calling Murphy and asking about a guy named “Doctor” for backup, or whether or not he was legit.  He’d known plenty of off-the-record guys.  Kincaid.  Thomas.  Michael.  To name a few. “Please.  While those books have some roots with traditional magic, Rowling should have written a new system.”  Turning to continue down the street, he sighed.  “Latin roots, it’s too easy to mispronounce anything.”

░▒▐   chicagowizard  ✧  :

The tone made him dislike the guy even more.  The Doctor?  That’s all he went by?  Guy probably thought himself pretty high up on the university’s list if people just refer to him as “Doctor” without a second thought.  He had a nose big enough to sniff papers and ink out.  No Harry, don’t be mean to the guy.  He probably doesn’t know.  With a roll of his eyes, the man shoved his hands into his pockets and stood up straight.  Being six foot something made him a little more intimidating, but the “Doctor” seemed to be a few inches shorter.  Figured.

“Yes, a cab.  You know, taxi?  Meep-meep?”  He motioned to beeping a horn, this guy really didn’t know what he was getting his leather jacket into, did he.  “My name’s Harry Dresden, I’m the resident wizard of Chicago.”

   ❛ oh, for— i know what a cab is. ❜ the doctor fought the urge to roll his eyes, reaching into his pocket in search of his sonic screwdriver and psychic paper. the brief lustre of having somebody to share in this new mystery with him was quickly evaporating. ❛ just meant i wasn’t expecting to hear somebody say it to me, is all. not that people don’t tend to want me gone initially, but by the end of things they’re usually beggin’ for my help… where is- aha. ❜

   finally excavated from his pockets were his sonic and a thin wallet, the second of which he flipped open to show dresden the paper inside.

   ❛ so as you can see, i’m as much needed here as you seem to think you are. when you say wizard, is that as in harry potter, or are ya just really adept with computers or somethin’? ❜

[chicagowizard-blog]

reblog this if you actually like following me.

[chicagowizard-blog]

The tone made him dislike the guy even more.  The Doctor?  That’s all he went by?  Guy probably thought himself pretty high up on the university’s list if people just refer to him as “Doctor” without a second thought.  He had a nose big enough to sniff papers and ink out.  No Harry, don’t be mean to the guy.  He probably doesn’t know.  With a roll of his eyes, the man shoved his hands into his pockets and stood up straight.  Being six foot something made him a little more intimidating, but the “Doctor” seemed to be a few inches shorter.  Figured.

“Yes, a cab.  You know, taxi?  Meep-meep?”  He motioned to beeping a horn, this guy really didn’t know what he was getting his leather jacket into, did he.  “My name’s Harry Dresden, I’m the resident wizard of Chicago.”

[chicagowizard-blog]

“Hodge podge.”  He blinked and shook his head.  This guy, the Doctor of something, wasn’t going to actually give any information.  So the guy had a doctorate and wasn’t actually studying anything.  Political Science or English, maybe?  There was an exhibit going on with a bunch of old texts at the museum, it was possible that the man was there to read or receive an award.  Again: why was he walking around the haunted forest if there wasn’t a real reason? Harry was about to really ask what he was doing here when the man held a finger up to his lips, for silence.  He made a face and shook his head.  Who did that?  Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time that anyone put their finger to their lips to shut him up.  Other than Murph, but...those were extenuating circumstances in the first place.  Plus, police officers (she’d kill him if she heard Harry say ‘cops’) had their own hand gestures for ‘silent’, ‘go’, ‘wait’ and ‘bring me more donuts’.  That was his favorite game with Rudolph.  Now that he wasn’t talking, he heard...nothing.  Not a damn thing.

The forest was home to birds, rodents, even the occasional wolf --- which was probably Billy and Georgia -- but now it sounded dead.  Like life had been sucked out of it and nothing was there to begin.  Not even the wind from the city hit the trees, nothing whistled through branches and creaked against the bark and that set the wizard on edge.  Everything, even rustling leaves underneath them were still.  His mind started to roll through every creature that he could go through.  From ghosts to ghouls to Sidhe and Unseelie that he’d encountered.

Nothing was coming up.

“Get out of here.”  It wasn’t really a request, but Harry felt that small bit of power and started to walk towards it.  “Run until you get to the police station and ask for Karrin Murphy.  Tell her Harry’s in trouble.”